Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Donghyuck?” Jaehyun asks, “Are you listening?”

And Donghyuck comes back into focus. 

“Yeah,” his voice is croaky, it’s early in the morning, “Sorry, I just zoned out.”

Everyone on their closed in porch looks at him with the same expression of painful pity. Donghyuck won’t deny it, he’s been out of it since he got home yesterday. It was a long week in the Super Management infirmary. Being in a cast was hard enough, but constantly being harassed by all the healing specialties on staff certainly made it tiring. He’s home now with said cast thanks to their accelerated healing. Hopefully sometime in the coming two weeks he’ll get it off with finality, but until then he’s been relegated to the superhero equivalent of desk work: investigation. All of these things are dragging Donghyuck down, he won’t deny that either, but he’s hoping that it’s all they think is going on with him. Mark, beside him, is the only one who looks at him with truly knowing eyes. Even then, he really only has the half of what he overheard and not the half that makes him feel cold despite the East facing windows of this porch. 

He hasn’t heard from Jaemin in a week. 

“It’s okay,” it’s Taeyong’s voice that pulls him back this time, Donghyuck can’t believe he zoned out again, “We can tell you again later if you’d like, just didn’t want you to miss anymore.”

Donghyuck nods, and Taeyong nods back before leaning back to address all of them; Jaehyun, Yuta, Doyoung, Mark, and himself. 

Taeyong continues,“Anyways, I’m going to meet up with Kun after we do the press release and see the city’s task force for the missing experiments. Vision have been trying to find the way the monsters were released into the ocean, and if there’s any more that are just hanging in the water.”

“Did it sound like they had anything?” Yuta asks as he props his feet on the glass coffee table their coffees rest on.

Taeyong shrugs, “Can never tell with him. Always so professional over the phone, can’t get anything off his tone.”

“It’s almost like he was chosen to lead a covert superhero unit,” Doyoung says, purposefully yet gently unkind. 

Taeyong bats the back of his head quickly before saying, “Like I said, it’s a mystery. I am looking forward to seeing him though.”

Yuta sighs before taking another sip of his coffee, “I miss Vision.”

Donghyuck cocks his head to the side, but doesn’t end up asking the question. Mark seems to notice his confusion and leans in to whisper, “When we were less busy, the guys in Vision used to come over a lot. We are technically two halves of the same team.” 

Donghyuck nods, doesn’t prod any further. He’s kind of glad that he hasn’t gotten the chance to meet Vision yet. He’s gotten a bit more secure in his role in 127, but that’s a far cry from feeling like a deserving hero in the big shoes he’s filling. Winwin is a much more powerful hero than he is. No amount of self-assurance can change that in Donghyuck’s eyes. He doesn’t think he’s quite ready to face him and compare his lack of developed specialty in real time. 

Doyoung hums, “I don’t miss having the noise from you and Winwin’s room keeping me up all night.”

“Hey!” Yuta’s feet slam down from where they were propped, “It was not that bad!”

Taeyong’s face falls into his hands and Jaehyun uses his own to stifle a giggle. Doyoung only raises an eyebrow in response, which endears Donghyuck to believing that Yuta is the one in the wrong here. 

“Noise?” is all Donghyuck asks. 

He looks to Mark, expecting the person walking on the least amount of glass around Donghyuck to give him the frankest answer. Instead, he finds his friend with a face so red it seems to radiate heat. When he looks out into the room, there is a similar avoidance of Donghyuck’s glance. Except for Doyoung, who looks particularly smug. 

“You’ll find out in good time.”

“Regardless!” Taeyong announces, “We can brief on what Kun tells me after we all get home.”

There’re some brief hums of agreement that Mark cuts off, “Are we assuming the threats from last week are coming from the masked guy?”
Everyone pauses, deferring their eyes to Taeyong, a sort of uncertain expectation in the air. 

“Yes, that has been the suspicion,” their leader tells, “but it wouldn’t hurt to look into it. Is that something you guys want to look at?”

“Now that I think about it, I don’t think Mrs. Park ever showed us the actual threats,” Jaehyun adds, “It might be a good idea.”

“We have to go to Super Management today anyways, so you can see the healers,” Doyoung nods to Donghyuck, “We can swing upstairs and take a look at the footage. You’ve seen all the threats, right Taeyong?”

“Yeah, my stuff should have all of them,” his phone beeps beside him and he sighs before standing up, “That’s our ride, Jaehyun.”

“Got it,” Jaehyun stands up too, pushing his half empty coffee mug to Yuta, who takes it enthusiastically. 

The two of them walk to the door back inside. Jaehyun walks in after taking a pause to ruffle Donghyuck’s hair, a small action that makes them both smile. Taeyong pauses to look back at them. 

“I’ll see you all tonight, stay safe.”

There are a few mumbled goodbyes before he also closes the door behind him. 

Yuta sighs and looks over the lawn they have no way to tend, “Oh work. My greatest pleasure.”

“You can stay home if you’d like,” Doyoung suggests.

Yuta takes a swig of Jaehyun’s coffee, it makes the hairs on Donghyuck’s arms rise the smallest bit, “I’m tired from patrol last night. I might take you up on that if you mean it, Doyoung.”

“Yeah I mean, we can grab someone else, three people is more than enough,” Doyoung declares, “We’re just looking at footage. It’s not a high stress activity.”

“Yeah. I can handle it,” Mark adds. 

Doyoung looks over at Mark, but not as fast as Donghyuck does. However out of the two of them, Doyoung is the only one to speak, “Are you sure, Mark? You went out last night too, you can have the day off if you’d like.”

Yuta nods and leans back in his chair, “I personally feel like it’s a good day to bully Jungwoo into doing some investigation.”

“No, no. I want to come. I’ve got nothing to do today.”

Yuta raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anymore. Doyoung nods. 

“Okay, we’ll head out soon. I still need to eat something.”

Mark nods, and Yuta and Doyoung start chatting about something. Donghyuck doesn’t bother to zone into it. Instead, he looks at Mark, who is already looking at him. 

“Is that okay with you?” Mark asks quietly. 

Donghyuck nods, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

Mark shrugs, “Just making sure.”

Donghyuck gives him a small smile, forced but with genuine sentiment. 

Before he can muster some other conversation topic, a sharp and dragging tone pierces the air. Yuta lets out a groan of annoyance and stands up to lean across the table and bang on the glass in front of them.

“Fucking squirrels,” Yuta swears, “Doyoung, can you get the alert?”

Doyoung nods, leaning up to a panel in the wall above his head. Donghyuck had assumed in the past that it was some sort of breaker or AC unit. Truth be told, he hadn’t given it much thought to it at all before today. His eyes flick out the floor to ceiling glass walls and meet a small squirrel running and jumping from their high fence. Doyoung enters a string of digits into the panel, and another, much kinder, alert goes out. 

“What was that?” Donghyuck asks. 

Yuta stops glaring out into the garden to answer him, “Did we never put alerts on your phone? We have a motion sensor around our fence. It’s a pain in the ass but you know, the one time we’ll need it I’m sure we’ll be glad.”

“Seems a bit excessive,” is all Donghyuck can think to reply.

“Yeah, well, some creeps got up to f(x)’s windows once and a need was born,” Yuta shrugs, “It’s fine. You have like a minute to turn it off.”

“We’ll have them put it on your phone when we go in today,” Doyoung adds. 

Donghyuck nods and pulls his own, near empty, cup of coffee to his chest. He’s still feeling cold, even though this morning (finally at home) has felt better than most in the past week. He tries to sink deeper into his hoodie and feel the warmth that lingers on his mug. When the door opens behind him, he barely even hears it. 

“Yuta,” Taeil adresses, “Did you get the fence?”

“Yeah, didn’t you get the second alert?”

There’s a telling pause, “That’s possible.”

Doyoung snorts and Yuta breaks out in a brilliant smile, “Never change, Taeil.”

Donghyuck looks over his shoulder at Taeil and the awkward hand he has rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Can I join you guys?” he asks softly. 

“Sure,” Doyoung says, standing up, “but I’m about to go eat some cereal.”

“No, Doyoung,” Yuta drawls out, “Make me eggs.” 

“Make your own damn eggs,” Doyoung snaps as he walks by. 

Yuta jumps to follow him and Taeil takes his seat, “I won’t make them, but I’ll watch you make them.”

“I swear—“ 

And the door closes before Donghyuck can hear the rest of whatever threat Doyoung was starting to snap. 

The words that typically come so easy to Taeil feel stuck in Donghyuck’s throat. Donghyuck is beginning to wonder if that’s why his throat is feeling sore. It’s not the tears he sheds or the water he’s been forgetting to drink, but rather the silence of the past seven days lodging in the back of his mouth. He coughs a bit into his coffee as he takes a drink and doesn’t look at the imploring glance Taeil is offering. 

“How’s your morning going, Taeil?” Mark breaks the silence. 

“Alright,” Taeil answers, still looking at Donghyuck, “What are you guys getting up to today?”

“We’re checking footage today with Doyoung, investigation stuff.”

“Do you need any more help? I could come,” Taeil implores, looking at Mark with only a degree less intensity. 

Donghyuck squeezes his mug tighter, breathes out when Mark says, “Doyoung said we only really need three. You should take the day anyway, you went out last night too.”

Taeil, caring as he is, seems very reluctant to take that answer. Still Taeil, understanding as he is, takes it anyways, “Alright, but let me know if anything comes up,” he looks at the coffee in their hands and gets up, “I’m going to go get some coffee, do either of you want more?”

“I’m okay.”

And then the attention falls to Donghyuck. 

“I’m alright,” and he musters himself some strength, looks up at Taeil, “Thank you though.”

His friend has so much worry written on his face it’s almost painful to keep looking. Still, he does. He doesn’t want him to think that this stillness is Donghyuck’s own volition, he wants him to know that he’s trying to be warm. It’s just hard. It’s hard right now.

Taeil places a hand on his shoulder before he leaves, “Alright, I’ll see you both tonight then.”

They both bid him bye before he leaves. Donghyuck looks out over the lawn. The sun is fully risen now, the morning here for better or worse. 

“You okay?” Mark nudges his arm. 

Donghyuck tilts his head sideways until it falls onto Mark’s shoulder. He shuts his eyes. Says no more. 

How are you holding up?

The hum of the elevator is as persistent as the ache in his leg. He had forgot the sort of numb throbbing healing can inflict. Reading Jeno’s text, however, hurts in a completely different way. 

I’m out of the infirmary now. It’s a little more comfortable.

The numbers creep closer to the floor they’ll be stopped and their phones confiscated. It’s quiet.

Only a little?

The door dings open, Donghyuck types quickly. 

Much more awkward.

They step out and to the desk postured at the entrance to the 74th floor. The three of them hand over their phones, Doyoung making a quick note to install the perimeter warnings on Donghyuck’s, and like that they walk back to the elevator. Going up to the 76th now, it’s still tense. It stays that way up until the doors open again, and Donghyuck sees the VR room empty of all but— 

Mark perks up immediately, “Boah!” 

She smiles at the three of them, “Hello boys, how have you been?”

They all step out of the elevator. Donghyuck’s shoulders feel less tense now that Boah is smiling at them. What he thought before of her was proven true last week. He trusts her. 

“It’s been good, Boah,” Doyoung tells with his own easy smile, “if not a little stressful.”

“I believe it,” she takes a step forward, pulling up a chair next to the monitor that watches over the simulations. Her nod goes to Donghyuck, and for the first time since he cried onto Mark’s shoulder, he’s glad for the thoughtful pity. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks once he’s situated, crutches to his left. 

“I heard you were coming up here earlier,” and she smiles at him, “I missed my favorite boys and thought I’d drop in before my meetings.”

Mark turns off to get into a VR suit and Doyoung moves to sit on the floor near them, “What kind of meetings? If we’re allowed to know.”

“I see no harm. We’re talking about bringing some heroes back, taking some people out of retirement. Hopefully before Heroes’ Day,” Boah nods to the interface, “Did you want to pull up the missions you were interested in, Doyoung?”

Donghyuck pauses on her words as his teammate wordlessly shuffles forward on his knees, coming between Donghyuck and Boah on the floor. Heroes’ Day is soon, the holiday celebrating Boah overthrowing the old government. Also, his and Jaemin’s anniversary. 

He swallows the lump in his throat and watches over Doyoung’s shoulder with Boah. It’s then the true meaning of her words set in. 

“Why would we need heroes out of retirement?” he asks.

“In case this escalates quickly,” she reclines back against the table, less relaxed and more resigned, “Red Velvet have been promised to Tokyo for a little, they’ve discovered a small outbreak of organized villainy and want it crushed before it leaves the streets. We need some more people on guard. The problem is everyone not on active duty has either left the country or started a family.”

On the screen, the familiar scene of their living room at night comes into focus. Doyoung reclines back and rejoins the conversation with ease, “That is a problem, isn’t it? Even EXO has begun to slow down a bit, barely anyone is on constant patrol.”

Boah shrugs, “At the very least Hyoyeon has been interested in working again. I’m sure more of Girls’ Generation will come too; it’s just a question of what will be enough in the worst case, and if we can get that.”

Donghyuck smiles at Boah, “At least we’ll have you?”

Boah snickers, “I’m flattered you’d think my power could hold a flame to monsters, experimental weaponry, and whatever else made it out of that building. I don’t have the same confidence in myself.” 

Doyoung seems like he’s about to refute her himself, but Mark walks out of the changing room as he does. 

“Ready to go?” Boah asks. 

“As I’ll ever be?”

Without further cue, Mark walks into the VR space. Donghyuck has been back here a few times since his training, but the way the mirrors shape and quickly obscure the inside of the room never stops being a disconcerting sight. 

“Good to go, Mark?” Doyoung hovers over the button to start the simulation. 

“Good to go, Doyoung.”

He clicks, and they all watch Mark’s vision as he’s thrust into that first night the threats came. It’s later, not when it was discovered. Rather, it’s once Super Management officials arrived and Taeyong had changed into his suit. He’s on the job, and so is everyone else. Mark scans the scene as the man in front of him explains the plan for the locks. In his eyes, Donghyuck sees the whole of his team that was home at the time in various states of wariness. Johnny and Jaehyun are by far the most awake, Jungwoo and Doyoung fall in last. Donghyuck can’t tell if Mark’s restless eyes are only looking for where the threat lies or if he’s just as hungry for the reality of that first night as Donghyuck is. It doesn’t matter, soon enough, the officials start heralding out the door, and a few of the more tired heroes go off to bed. Johnny and Jaehyun stay stuck on the couch, suitless. Donghyuck can’t imagine doing anything else after having what is held over their head reveled in. 

The camera shifts as Taeyong begins to move towards the far wall, however, Mark’s glance reals him over to the table by the two teammates left. There’s a thin piece of crinkled paper near them. That’s it, that’s obviously it. Taeyong said that it would be on his footage, so he must look at it at some point, but it’s impossible to see from here. Donghyuck is about to suggest pausing the footage so Mark can explore the scene. If Taeyong saw it, it should be rendered by now. However, a voice coming from behind the camera stops him. 

“Taeyong, we’ll stay here for the night, watch over the tunnel until everyone gets home.”

Mark’s gaze whips the camera back around at a nauseating pace. However, the quick whip of his head is what lets them see something Donghyuck would have never expected to see. The wall next to the door is only briefly visible, quickly being covered by a boy hardly older than him, reclining back against their blue paint after materializing from nothing. A boy who could be invisible. A boy he has never seen before who could turn invisible in his home . 

Doyoung hums beside him and it’s an enlightened sound. He didn’t know this had occurred, but it isn’t a shocking piece of knowledge like it is for him. 

“That would make me feel better, Yukhei,” Taeyong’s voice sighs. Mark stays trained on this Yukhei’s concerned face, “Not even SM knows you’re here, it would be a good precaution.”

In the moment following that statement, another boy emerges on the wall. The first one was gorgeous, Donghyuck won’t deny that, but he was a billboard sort of glamorous. Something from wall ads and infomercials and magazine spreads that are far removed from Donghyuck’s life. This other boy has something much more regal, princely about him. It’s a kind of beauty that Donghyuck has fallen for before, one that’s breaking his heart right now. Instead of shock at this new boy’s appearance, Donghyuck just feels an ache in his heart that nothing will really fix. 

“It’s no problem, Taeyong, it’s the least we can do,” New Boy assures. 

Taeyong nods, “Just don’t freak anyone out when they get back, they’ll have had a long night.”

“Isn’t Haechan out right now?” The New Boy asks, devilishly curious. 

Taeyong’s reply is sharp, “Yes, but don’t bother him.”

“Can’t even introduce ourselves?” and wow, this Yukhei has killer puppy eyes. 

“No, not tonight,” and Taeyong pushes them lightly towards the door, “Now leave, I have to put people to sleep.”

Yukhei swerves out of Taeyong’s grasp, smiling, “I’m just going to say goodnight to Jungwoo, I’ll be right back,” he pauses, “And Mark isn’t home, is he?”

Their leader’s scoff is matched by Doyoung’s beside him, “No.”

A thin blush graces Yukhei’s face, an eyebrow raises on Donghyuck’s, “Alright, well tell him I said hi.”

Taeyong waves him off and sends the other boy into the tunnels. A thick sigh leaves him once the door shuts, and he finally looks over to the threat. 

“Who are they?” Donghyuck asks Doyoung. 

“Yukhei and Kunhang,” Doyoung answers, eyes still trained on the screen, “They’re from Vision.”

Donghyuck’s heart seems to stall for a second, a rush of panic is all it takes to start it back up, but the hollow shock still lingers. Because this is his first glance at any members of Vision outside of Winwin, and they’ve surely gotten their first glance of him, if the fact that they were invisibly watching over the tunnel that night is the truth. Donghyuck walked right by them. He knows it was impossible to see them, but he still feels silly for missing them. 

He can’t dwell on it long, Taeyong finally makes it over to the table. Donghyuck watches as Taeyong gently reaches forward to pick up the paper, leaving Jaehyun and Johnny to themselves. 

The room’s air goes shock still and burningly cold when it comes into view. 

“That’s not possible,” while Donghyuck’s adrenaline verges more on something like fear, Boah sounds nothing but incredulous at the state of the screen. 

Fuzzy. Blurred out. Censored. 

“Who would have had access to this…” Doyoung trails off. 

Boah leans forward and in front of Doyoung into the control panel, “Mark,” she commands, shutting down the simulation, “Come out.”

The room of mirrors quickly becomes a hollow room again, and the pallor of his skin shows his own disturbance at what is blatantly corruption of footage. 

Boah is already clicking out of the footage and back into the memory drive for Taeyong’s suit, “What other days would he have seen threats?”

“It was the morning and the day after that,” Doyoung answers, his determination hardening towards the state of Boah’s. 

She clicks into the next file, the one at the capitol building. She scrubs to the end, where they all convened around the note to debrief. They follow Taeyong’s eyes, the threat is missing from this file as well. 

“Day after as well?” she confirms, they all nod. 

Next they’re in the news building, it’s missing there too. 

Boah rocks back on her heels. The tension stays unbroken. 

“Should we check someone else’s?” Mark proposes, “Johnny would have seen some of them.”

She shakes her head, “I reckon it’s not worth a shot, they would have done it to everyone’s.”

Her eyes whip up, looking over the three of them. She looks harsh as nails, it’s a sharp reminder that she really is one of the most important heroes of all time. There’s thought behind her eyes and the biting gaze she scans across them. She pauses on Donghyuck and, before he can panic, they soften. It seems that whatever calculations of information and possibilities she was doing seized with him. He doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“This, what happened here, does not leave this room,” she commands, “Until we find out who did this, we do not say that we noticed it.”

“127 all knows we were here,” Mark interjects. 

“Well let’s assume we can trust them for now,” Boah says, “Just don’t make a big deal of it, don’t let anyone know. Things like this always get worse when panic spreads.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Doyoung still sounds riled up.

“I’m going to speak to Sooman and I’m going to try and get the metadata on who accessed these files, and if they touched any other ones.”

She pauses for a long minute, then looks back at them.

“Go home,” she commands, “There’s nothing left to do here. I have to go to my meeting. So go home. It should be safe there.”

Donghyuck’s voice is all but a whisper, “It’s not safe here?” 

“If I’m not with you,” she assures, “if Sooman is not with you, if your team is not assembled then no; it is not safe here. Go home, where no one can listen in on you or take more of your information.”

Mark mumbles something about getting changed and stumbles away. The three that remain are in a fragile silence, one Boah breaks with a sigh. Donghyuck remembers, in the sound of that breath, that Boah has dealt with dangers like this before. Dangers like this, one’s from the inside, are the reason she’s a hero. The reason why there are heroes.

“I have to go,” she looks regretful, “Take care of each other.”

And she walks away without another word. 

The ride back home is stiff. Usually a ride would at least be calm, silent as people either slept or absorbed themselves in their phones. Today, there’s nothing going on but stares out windows. Even the driver seems to be catching on, if his anxious glances to the rearview mirror are anything to go by. 

They get dropped off in the later part of the afternoon, the sun just verging on setting. It’s a silent and slow walk through the tunnels, Donghyuck’s crutches not quite equipped to the narrow passage and the thin stairs leading down and up. Doyoung stops them all before he opens the door, his gaze severe and sad.

“Remember,” he murmurs, “don’t tell anyone.”

And he pushes open the door into a space much harsher than the tunnels below. The coldness encasing Doyoung melts in a second, and Donghyuck watches with wide eyes as he beelines to where Taeyong, Johnny, and a stiff yet slightly shaking Jaehyun stand. 

“What happened?” Doyoung lays a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder as his eyes find Taeyong’s.

Mark shuts the door softly, and Donghyuck sits on the bench they’ve propped by the door to get his shoe off. Still, it’s hard to do that when his eyes are stuck on the scene across the room. Mark slips his own shoes off and after a moment of deliberation, sits with him. 

“I went to the station alone to talk to the public investigators,” Taeyong’s voice is slow like snow, peaceful as a forest long dead, “Jaehyun went back alone with a company driver and—“

“I was followed,” Jaehyun concludes. Bluntly. Plainly. Afraid. 

It’s at this point Doyoung’s hand falls from Jaehyun’s shoulder, but only because Johnny pulls his significant other into an embrace from behind. 

“We’re not letting this happen again,” Taeyong states, his tone ringing of the leader he is, “Everyone stays in pairs from now on, especially you three,” he looks to Donghyuck with the same heightened concern. 

Donghyuck just nods. He doesn’t think he’ll pull anymore of the stunts he tried last week anyways, he’s okay to always be accompanied after the events of today. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t just some unmarked tabloid truck? Something like that?” Mark inquires. 

Jaehyun sways in Johnny’s arms, looks up slowly. 

“They tried to run us off the road.”

A more adjusted Donghyuck would have slept poorly that night, but the Donghyuck that he is now is recovering and desperate to escape from his thoughts. He sleeps like a rock early in the evening and wakes up after Taeil has left their room. Donghyuck checks his phone first thing to find no texts and about an hour and a half before he has to go to Super Management to do a healing session. He already would’ve healed faster as a super, but as a hero they’re determined to get him on his feet as soon as possible. The ache in his body and the heaviness of his eyes makes him wish, not for the first time, that he was simply allowed to get well on his own time. 

Donghyuck opens his phone again, not quite willing to pull his crutches closer any time soon. This time he catches the date, the day of the week. 

It’s Thursday. Tomorrow is his team’s first evaluation without him. 

Maybe he should go back to sleep. 

As if summoning it in his lament, Donghyuck’s phone lights up with a call. He jumps slightly at the loud tone in the otherwise quiet room. Hope bubbles up in his throat before he looks to the name; it doesn’t pop but certainly does deflate when it isn’t who he’s been hoping for all week. 

Donghyuck answers regardless, this person is really one of the few on his side recently, after all, “Good morning, Jeno.”

“Morning, Donghyuck.”

“What do I owe the pleasure of this call, dear Jeno?”

“The fact that I tolerate you,” Jeno maintains a gentle facade, “and, on occasion, miss you.”

Donghyuck smiles, “Can’t say I feel the same.”

“ Boo,” Jeno exclaims, it makes Donghyuck giggle, “Not the warm conversation I was expecting.”

“Sorry to let you down, how are you, Jeno? How are you calling me at this time of day, Jeno?”

“Mrs. Park’s off today, we have a hole in our schedule,” Jeno answers.

The mention of Mrs. Park puts a pit in his stomach. He pushes past it, “And you’re not practicing for tomorrow? Tsk, tsk.”

Jeno scoffs, “Listen, you’d want a break too. It’s been a long week.”

Donghyuck closes his eyes and lays back into his pillow, “I’m with you there. Do you think tomorrow will go okay?”

“Yeah, it will be fine,” Jeno sounds tired but truthful, “Things are quiet but they’re not tense. It’s just, a little too still for my liking.”

Donghyuck hums in understanding. They’re all terrible at talking when no one’s willing to twist arms to make it happen, it’s not news to him. At least there doesn’t seem to be any infighting. 

“Any hint at what the problem is?”

Jeno sighs, “Definitely Jaemin, and Renjun absolutely knows why. Beyond that, well, I guess there’s—“

Jeno’s name gets called from somewhere on the other side of the line, and it’s no voice Donghyuck is particularly adept at identifying, so he assumes it’s Yangyang. The person comes closer, and he becomes certain of his guess. 

“Did you want to practice some joint stuff with me? Everyone else is taking a nap or eating,” Yangyang asks, as chipper as Donghyuck remembers. 

“Yeah if you give me a second, I’m on the phone with someone,” Jeno says kindly. 

“Oh yeah sure, with who?” Yangyang asks. 

“Donghyuck.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck’s eyes shoot open, his voice is so distinctly smaller than it just was, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“See you in a bit,” Jeno calls, before pausing, and whispering to Donghyuck in a conspiratorial way, “See? Did you hear that? Somethings going on there.”

“Does he have something against me?” Donghyuck’s not entirely sure he could handle something like that right now. 

“No, it’s almost like the opposite. Did you say anything bad to him before you left?”

“No?” now Donghyuck’s confused, “We were like, sort of friends before I left? I don’t know what’s up with that.”

“Me either, me either,” Jeno sounds tired, they really have both had bad weeks, “I just wish I could get any sort of clue at any one problem.”

“It is weird that Jaemin hasn’t talked to you about it yet,” Donghyuck has been thinking about that, “You’re like family to him, I thought you would’ve been clued into something that major.”

“I don’t know,” Jeno admits, “I kind of understand, you know? Like I know I can tell my family anything, but sometimes that makes it all the harder to actually do it.”

Donghyuck ignores his pain at his half understanding, no family in the sense Jeno’s talking to compare to, “I guess.”

“It’s probably harder to tell me to because it’s about you,” Jeno goes on, “you’re my family too.”

That abates the ache, makes him smile, “Yeah, I guess that could be a reason.”

Jeno hums, “My mom misses you by the way, she’s really proud of you. She thinks you’re a very charming hero.”

In Donghyuck’s mind he plays the smile of Jeno’s loving mom, the one he’s become accustomed to spending summers with Jeno and Jaemin at the Lee house. It’s only been two at this point, but it’s only now that Donghyuck realizes that it’s a home that will always be open. Maybe he doesn’t get that closeness now, but one day he will. 

“Tell her I miss her too, I can’t wait to see her again.”

The sound of his bedroom door interrupts his thoughts. He leans up slightly and sees Taeil in the door, smiling with open worry he’s been holding for Donghyuck. 

“Taeyong made breakfast,” Taeil says softly, “Do you want to come down?”

He should and leave Jeno to keep Yangyang company. He nods, but holds up his free hand. 

“Jeno, Taeyong made breakfast, so I think I’ll have to leave you.”

“I’m still so jealous you have the most notable heroes in the city making you food.”

“I still don’t believe it,” Donghyuck jokes, not, “I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Of course. Have good one, Donghyuck.”

“You too, Jeno,” Donghyuck pauses, but then frantically calls out what he remembers, “ And good luck tomorrow! ”

Jeno cackles on the other end of the phone, “Don’t need it, but thanks. Bye Hyuck.”

Donghyuck smiles, “Bye, Jeno.”

The sound of an ended call rings in his ears; Donghyuck puts down his phone. His hands push him up until he’s sitting facing Taeil, he smiles. Taeil, watching fondly, smiles back. 

“Do you need any help?” his friend asks, stepping further into their room. 

“I’m okay,” says Donghyuck, and he swings his feet over the side of the bed, minding his left foot as he keeps it above the ground. 

Taeil sits down beside him anyways, handing him his crutches before smiling. 

“If there’s anything I can do, Donghyuck,” Taeil near pleas, “please let me know.”

Donghyuck feels a shot of guilt chased with a hit of confidence. He gives Taeil the same kind smile in return and finds a few of the many words stuck in his throat. 

“It’s not that you can’t help, it’s that I need to figure this out on my own,” Donghyuck admits, “I can’t, well I guess it’s not bad to depend on people when you need help, but this is my own thing I need to do. It’s my own responsibility. And if I tell you, then I know that there’s nothing I can do to stop looking to you for advice.”

“It’s okay to need advice.”Taeil assures. 

“It’s important to me that I fix this on my own,” Donghyuck affirms, “It’s my own mess, I need to know I can get out of it.”

Taeil pauses, shifting his glance to his broken leg.

“This goes beyond that, right?”

Donghyuck nods, and Taeil sighs, stands. 

His hand reaches out to him, “Can I at least help you up?”

Donghyuck’s returning smile is natural, if he didn’t feel its tug on the corners of his lips, he would have hardly noticed it was there, “Yeah,” he reaches back, “I’m okay with that.”

Doyoung gets a text while a healer labors over Donghyuck’s leg. 

He looks up at Donghyuck and Mark, who’s hand is currently being squeezed though Donghyuck’s discomfort. 

“Are you alright to go upstairs after this?” Doyoung asks them casually, eyes sharp with a contradictory urgency. 

Donghyuck nods, and Mark does the same. He assumes whatever it is, it relates to the reason why it’s the same three of them here today and not a different cast of teammates. 

The ride to the VR floor is quiet, as most of this trip has been. Distrust is thick in the air every time they pass someone in the halls or spot a camera on the walls. Still, they step out onto the empty floor and Doyoung makes a beeline for the main computer. Mark goes on his own to the changing room, leaving Donghyuck to hobble on his own. 

“So, what’s the deal?” Donghyuck makes his way much more slowly, sits in the chair left from their visit yesterday. 

“Boah told me,” Doyoung mumbles between clicks, “all the footage from the day at the docks has been edited.”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen, “Everyone’s?”

Doyoung nods and pulls up someone’s video. It’s Jaehyun’s, which makes sense to Donghyuck. He was one of the first there and got the longest action with one of the monsters. 

“Did Boah mention anything else? Anything to look for, or who did it?”

Doyoung shakes his head, “No, the login data is corrupted and they can’t get any more specific than the fact that they were tampered with. We don’t even know if more footage has been corrupted, they just started the scan with our team for the past week. I think they’ll be looking through Red Velvet’s soon too, in case there was anything outside of the threat locations.”

Donghyuck sighs, that feels like such a bare start. However, a voice inside him, that sounds uncannily like Taeil, tells him that at least it’s a start. 

Mark heads into the room, calling a “Just look for anything blurred out?”

Doyoung gives him a thumbs up, and once Mark is inside, they start the simulation. 

The worst part of this, for Donghyuck, is the fact that because they are looking for discrepancies and what they mean, they have to watch everything Jaehyun saw the day. That includes Donghyuck’s fall. 

Neither Mark nor Doyoung had seen it themselves, and Donghyuck hadn’t heard the reactions of the people who had seen it. It’s a lot worse than Donghyuck thought at the time. 

Jaehyun sees Donghyuck as he hears him, when he breaks his leg. Theres a thin moment when none of the three heroes that were there knew how to react, too stock still to move. Taeil acts first, leaping into the air and firing a tether to drag him forward as fast as he can. Yuta shouts a profanity and they both follow in the milliseconds that follow. Still, it’s not fast enough. Donghyuck catches himself of the ground, and they all arrive right after. Donghyuck looks bad, he had no idea he looked that bad. When he faints on them, he sees the panic on Taeil’s face. Donghyuck, finally, can’t take it anymore. He looks away. 

Doyoung reaches out and lays a gentle hand on his knee as the clip finishes. From the corner of his eyes, Donghyuck can see the shining of his eyes. He chooses to ignore it. 

They cut off the footage, Mark steps out of the room. He meets Donghyuck’s eyes, and they’re just as somber. Just as glistening. 

“I didn’t notice anything,” Donghyuck quips quickly, a leap over where the conversation wants to start, “Did you?”

Doyoung seems reluctant to move on but Mark, not always perceptive but tuned in now, answers for him.

“I didn’t see anything, which doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t they all have something wrong?”

Doyoung nods, so does Donghyuck. He has an idea, though he doesn’t like it, but he knows it would be for the best, “Put on mine, Doyoung.”

Doyoung’s face twists, his eyes wide and worried, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Donghyuck affirms, trying to keep his lie believable, “That way I can tell you if anything I remember isn’t there. It could just be that their patch job is better this time.”

Doyoung’s reluctance is not hidden at all, but he still pulls up the file. Mark goes back into the room, and they prepare to see what Donghyuck saw. 

It’s not as bad as it could’ve been. The most distressing part would be relieving the exhaustion, feeling how heavy it feels. Instead, Mark’s gaze, the way he controls the camera, hardly gives away how off center he felt. Everything seems alright for the first part of the fight, it’s not until Donghyuck ties the pulley around the monster’s neck does he see it. 

“Pause!” he commands Doyoung. 

His teammate clicks quickly, the frame on the screen displaying Donghyuck’s view of the wan monster’s neck. It was nothing that he noticed then that is missing now, but rather a small discrepancy he knows didn’t jump out at him before but does now. 

“Do you see that too, Mark?” Donghyuck asks. 

From the speaker, “Yes, that’s weird.”

“Where?” Doyoung leans into the screen. 

Donghyuck points at the slight fuzz, a clone stamp of one section of grotesque skin moved elsewhere. It’s small, but irregular, right in the middle of the frame. 

Doyoung’s eyes alight with a wideness of understanding, “What was there?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck admits, “I didn’t notice anything before, just that there’s a coverup now.”

“Me either,” says Mark, “I never saw anything on any of them.”

Doyoung mutters, “Me too.”

There’s a long, thoughtful pause after that admission. Donghyuck stares at the screen, thinks about what it could’ve been. He would’ve noticed a wound, or a tag, or some sort of obvious flesh discoloration. It must be sub surface, something the person knows they only would’ve found while scrubbing the footage. The problem is, Donghyuck doesn’t know what that could be, and why it would be worth covering up. 

“It’s gotta be something beneath its skin, right?” Donghyuck thinks aloud, “Some kind of microchip?”

“Tracking?” Doyoung adds on. 

“Wait,” Mark announces, “Control.”

The thought tensing Donghyuck’s face releases, his jaw loosens in relief of understanding. 

“Both, maybe,” he says, “That’s how they fight, get them to fight.”

“Why would they cover that up, though?” Mark wonders. 

Donghyuck doesn’t get the opportunity to think it through because Doyoung gasps, “So that we wouldn’t know to look for it,” he puts his head in his hands, “We took their bodies out of the water to examine their composition. If we didn’t know to look for it, they could’ve taken it before the autopsy.”

A creeping dread settles over Donghyuck, “And we could’ve traced those chips.”

“Probably easily,” Doyoung admits. 

He lifts his head out of his hands, looks at Donghyuck with determination, “Think that’s it?”

Donghyuck shrugs, the swell of dread burning hot and much more driving now, “Only one way to find out.”

Mark tells them to start the footage again, and they go back to watching. 

There are no more discrepancies until Donghyuck is on the roof. He is staunchly ignoring Doyoung’s distressed eyes watching the fight when he hears it, or rather doesn’t hear it. There’s too long of a pause before the fateful “ Fuck you” that got Donghyuck thrown off the building. 

Doyoung pauses before the Donghyuck of the past loses his footing, and the Donghyuck of now is quick to interject, “They cut what he said to me.” 

Doyoung looks up at him, and behind him Mark exits the room.

“What did he say?” Doyoung’s voice is tense with confusion. 

“Something about how we should leave him alone,” Donghyuck recites, “How what he’s doing is not the worst thing that could happen.”

Doyoung goes quiet. Mark’s voice is small behind him. 

“I don’t like that this person thought that needed to be cut.”

“Me either,” Doyoung whispers. 

Donghyuck himself is of the same opinion, but he keeps it to himself, “This person is clearly smart, it could’ve just been to throw us off.”

“Or it could’ve been because he’s right,” Doyoung says, closing out of the footage window with harsh clicks. 

“You don’t actually believe that he’s justified, right?” Donghyuck refutes. 

“No, of course not,” Doyoung turns off the computer before looking at him with a level of worry Donghyuck has not seen on him before, “but I do think that’s an admission that there is something else evil at play, something that has its hands in the building.”

Doyoung stands up, sighs, “Get changed, Mark. Let’s go home.”

The heat of the takeout in his lap fades away with every minute Donghyuck spends looking at his phone. Around him, some of Team 127 chatters away over dinner while he hovers his fingers over the keyboard. 

He needs to text Jaemin before evaluations. He has to. And he wants to give him time to process it before the thing, because he knows that either way a text from Donghyuck will affect him. So it’s now. It has to be now. 

He types quickly, not letting any apprehension cloud his honesty.

Good luck tomorrow! You guys are a strong team, you’ll do great.

He sends it quickly, and after a brief moment off thought, another. 

I love you and I’m sorry. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here .

Donghyuck then sets his phone to the right, on the arm rest. Out of everyone else’s sight, but not his. He spares it another longing look, and then turns to the greater conversation happening around him. 

“The information Kun could gather was incredibly redacted,” Taeyong says, “Only knowing what the experiments are makes it somewhat understandable, but even then there’s stuff we don’t know.”

“Well,” Doyoung asks, “what do we know?” 

“How many guns they made is redacted, but we know it was a few crates worth, and that they were only prototypes. they were planning on marketing them to foreign governments after a test run.”

“And the monsters?” Yuta asks around a bite.

“They made twenty-five, and four died before reaching maturity. We don’t know how many are still alive, five have died after encountering us so we have a max of sixteen left unaccounted for.”

Mark, beside him, sets his empty food container on the coffee table, “Could be worse?”

Its quiet for a second, Donghyuck uses the pause to take his first bite. 

“What don’t we know?” Doyoung asks, a little more somber. 

Taeyong shifts in his seat, “There’s another experiment.”

Mark leans forward, “What?”

Taeyong shrugs, “Heavily redacted, but it was another with living components. That’s about all we can discern right now. We don’t know if it got out of the building.”

Yuta huffs, “Let’s hope not.”

There’s a moment of pause, in which Jungwoo and Jaehyun come downstairs. Taeyong mumbles a greeting and pushes their food towards them. 

Jungwoo, Jaehyun, and Doyoung are the ones going out tonight, so they’re the ones most focused. In that drive, the conversation is lost. The rest of their meal goes in relative silence and speed. 

After the three have parted and left for the door, Taeyong and Yuta part ways as well. All that leaves is Mark and Donghyuck alone on the couch.

Donghyuck finishes his food with Mark watching him, “Are you alright?”

Donghyuck slurps the last of his noodles and places the box on the table, “Yeah. Their first evaluation without me is tomorrow.”

Mark’s expressions are so poorly managed, it’s endearingly awkward to watch, “Um. I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck smiles a little bit at the effort of comfort, “It’s okay, it’s just weird.”

“I bet they’re going to do great.”

“Yeah, of course they will. They always do.”

Before Donghyuck can get carried away with the thought, Mark speaks up again, “Want to watch a movie or something?”

Couldn’t hurt, “Sure.”

Mark gets up and heads to the TV stand, “Do you want to go see it?”

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, “Could we?”

He knows from the fact that Boah and hypothetically some members of 127 have seen his evaluations, there must be some leniency in letting heroes watch them. But even then, since Doyoung is on patrol and the healers will be busy with any evaluation injuries tomorrow, he and Mark weren’t going to risk going to SM. Even if they were, Donghyuck doesn’t know if he has permission, or a right. Even if Jaemin wouldn’t know, it feels a little wrong to try and see him from behind a wall of privacy Jaemin would never be afforded himself. 

“I mean, Boah would help us pull some strings, if she’s in the building tomorrow.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, “No. It’s alright. I’ll find out later.”

Mark shrugs, “Alright,” he sighs in frustration, “Do you see the remote?”

Donghyuck looks around and hums, sticks his hand in the break between the cushion and the couch. Nothing there. He lifts up the cushion beside him to see, finds nothing, then shuffles over to lift the one he was sitting on up. No remote, but as he goes to set it down something catches his eye. 

“Mark,” he pushes the cushion up to rest back, makes sure his friend is looking at him and then points. 

It’s something, no bigger than a dime but just as shiny, stuck in the meeting of the fabric of the arm rest and the base of the chair. Mark walks over silently, seemingly understanding Donghyuck’s hesitance to speak and lack of mobility to duck down and pull it out. Mark has to twist it for the disc to come free, and when he holds it up Donghyuck can tell it’s due to the small metal spine protruding from the back. He brings it closer to Donghyuck, and together they look down. 

It’s small, brushed silver and nearly indiscreet. The pin on the back seems to be for it to be held in inconvenient places like this one, and it does not seem to have much more to its design than the rim of thin and densely woven black metal around the sides. 

Donghyuck’s eyes are wide when they meet Mark’s. They’re both still quiet, Donghyuck’s so glad he made that call. 

Bug, Mark mouths. Donghyuck nods. 

Just like that, their little circle of knowing trust narrows. 

Boah, Doyoung, Mark, Donghyuck. 

Mark.

Donghyuck.

Donghyuck and Mark do, as a result of that revelation, go to SM the next day. 

They had eaten breakfast together, and Mark’s palms had blue ink smudged into the creases, We should see if the tech’s ours.

Donghyuck then asked, “Do you want to watch any tapes today?”

So here they are. Donghyuck sits in the same chair he’s taken to, crutches set to his left and eyes mindlessly scrolling through thumbnails of missions. He has no real purpose in looking, only to seem purposeful in his presence if someone else comes up. Mark left awhile ago, to browse their tech floor and see if the bug was something made in house. He left Donghyuck up here, claiming he sticks out too much with his injury. He doesn’t disagree, but it’s way too much time to sit in his thoughts. 

It’s mid afternoon, nearly seventy stories beneath him, the evaluation is going on. 

Jaemin never texted him back, but he did read it. Donghyuck texted Jeno this morning and got a response in the form a ^-^ , so things can’t be too bad. Still, what he needs to do is lingering on his mind. He’s antsy. He knows he’s personally at his own breaking point. If he were back in the dorms, Jaemin would have been cornered, a conversation would have at least been attempted by now. It’s been too long. The longer it takes the start, the harder it is. And Jaemin has trouble looking down his problems anyways. Still, he holds all the cards. Donghyuck can’t fix anything till Jaemin decides he can, but Donghyuck is feeling more and more like he can’t wait anymore. 

The elevator dings. 

Donghyuck’s scrolling had slowed to a start, and his cursor shoots down the screen in shocked overcompensation at his company. Donghyuck tries to look over slowly, not give away the way his heart rate is rising. The way he chokes on his own inhale fails to keep in line with this. 

It’s Lee Sooman. 

“Hello, Haechan,” the president walks over. 

“Hi, Mr. Sooman,” Donghyuck straightens his back, his voice still comes out quiet. 

The President walks over slowly, a friendly gate and smooth smile luring Donghyuck towards relaxing. Boah may not be trusted in regard to the bug, but he extends the same trust to her as he extends to the rest of his team. A trust that is, in essence, false. It simply does not seem to be her, his evaluation of her character makes him believe that he can trust her in manners of the mole. As an extension, he knows she trusts Sooman the same way. In his steps to be by Donghyuck, he tries to decide whether that means he should give him the same courtesy.

The President doesn’t have anywhere to sit, which leaves him leaning back against the desk while he looks down at Donghyuck’s screen. There’s a tense moment where neither of them speak and Donghyuck tries to decide if it’s worth pulling up something to scrub. Instead, he stops. When he looks up at Sooman, he’s already staring back. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” the President’s voice is soft. 

His fingers freeze up on the mouse. If he wanted to pull something up to stall, he wouldn’t have found himself able to. 

“That’s fine,” he continues on, non-plussed by Donghyuck’s stillness, “You’re right to be suspicious, and I know that you’re doing the right thing. Not much else matters. I came here to tell you a few things, and then leave.”

“How did you know where I’d be?” Donghyuck interrupts. 

“The same way I know what I’m about to tell you,” Sooman seems unbothered by Donghyuck’s suspicion, “Now listen. I don’t care what you do, as long as you think its the way you need to go forward. Go behind my back, the back of the company, whatever you need to. I won’t punish you for hiding it.”

Donghyuck nods. He intended to, though it is both relieving and frightening that Sooman knew his commitment to working without approval. 

“Anything else?”

“Trust Vision.”

His grip on the desk is all that keeps him from overcorrecting his shock and smacking his cast to the ground. 

“Trust Vision?”

“I know you haven’t met them yet, but it’s imperative. I don’t know why, but it’s important that you do.”

Donghyuck, he nods. Not sure what else to do and thrown off by his conviction to force his thrust onto a group of people that (despite their affiliation) he doesn’t know at all. 

“Take your time, but keep it in mind,” and Sooman pushes up again, “And tell Mark I say hi.”

Mark comes back soon after. 

“It is,” and that’s really all Mark has to say. 

Donghyuck closes out of the viewing software and grabs his crutches. Mark makes his way over, watching attentively but not intervening in anyway that would hinder Donghyuck. He stands up, and they make their way slowly back to the elevator. 

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, “You seem a little out of it.”

“I’ll be okay,” Donghyuck responds, “Just have some stuff on my mind.”

“Like?” They step into the elevator and the doors slide shut behind them.

Donghyuck hums, it falls into the background noise of the elevator, “Sooman came up. He said some weird stuff.”

Mark grips his fingers tightly, the tips of them turning white in his hands, “What’d he say?”

“That he knows we’re going behind SM’s back and he doesn’t mind,” he figures he can say it out loud, since the President had already, “And that he trusts us to do the right thing even without his approval.”

Mark nods, and his grip loosens, “Anything else?”

Donghyuck thinks about the Vision thing, but he’s still not sure about how he feels about it. It was so specific, so unprompted. He doesn’t mind that President Sooman decided to give him a blessing he wasn’t seeking, but he isn’t willing to strain his trust much more than he has. 

“No, that’s all,” and the doors slide open to the 74th floor. 

They make their way to the desks and the secretary goes to get their phones. They’re both quiet, but Mark is flicking glances at him. He’s hesitant and unwilling to look at him for more than a second at a time, still Donghyuck can tell that he doesn’t buy that he’s told him everything. 

And there is another thing, that doesn’t deal with Vision. He’s more than happy to deflect. 

“And I'm thinking about the evaluation.”

Mark takes that as an invitation to look him in the eyes. The secretary is coming back, but he still asks, “Have you heard from Jaemin yet?”

They go quiet while they check out their phones. Both of them turn to go back, but before they move he checks his lock screen. It’s empty. 

“No,” Donghyuck states, “I have not.”

They get to the elevator, and Mark calls it back up, “Not even once?”

“No,” Donghyuck feels a bit relieved to get it off his chest properly to someone on the team, but his voice is still small with his overwhelming hesitation, “I think it’s been building up for longer than I knew, and Jaemin is someone you kind of need to corner into talking. He’d ignore every problem forever if he could, it’s the one thing that’s difficult about him.”

The doors slide open, and Mark gives him a half smile, “Just the one?”

It shocks a laugh out of Donghyuck, “Well, the only one that’s really a problem.”

Mark hits the ground floor button an exorbitant amount of times and swipes his ID, something Donghyuck has learned to be the signal to open the back doors instead of the front. They’re quiet for a second, but then Mark frowns, “When does the evaluation end?”

Donghyuck checks his phone again. It’s late in the afternoon, approaching the fall sunset, “It might’ve just finished.”

Mark’s foot taps the ground twice, and then he hits the button for the floor of the dorms. 

Donghyuck’s heart races, “Mark.”

His friend looks at him, “It’s not fair that you can’t fix this. You’ve hardly been allowed out at all, and that’s not right. We’ll go home right after.”

It’s rushing in his ears, “Okay. Okay, thank you.”

The rest of the trip down is quiet, and seemingly much shorter to Donghyuck than it has ever been before. His crutches shoot out in front of him when the doors open, and he’s looking around before he’s properly on his feet. 

No one’s home yet. 

“Let’s go wait in their room,” Donghyuck says, quiet even though there’s no one else to hear. 

He leads them across the room and into the place he used to call home. The door closes behind them, and Donghyuck is immediately overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all. It’s still a mess, undeniably; clothes falling off their beds and onto the floor, a pillow out of place (having obviously been thrown at someone), the way their lights were on even with nobody home. It’s all the same. Donghyuck’s heart sinks a little bit to see his bed occupied by sheets, but then aches differently when he notices Jaemin’s is not. They always ended up on Donghyuck’s since it was a bottom bunk, he guesses Jaemin moved onto it fully sometime after he left. 

He hobbles over to the mattress while Mark looks around in curiosity. Donghyuck sits down with no small amount of difficulty, and lets the nostalgia wash over him. 

“How long can we wait?” Donghyuck asks. 

Mark shrugs, “A little bit, we just need to get home before they start eating. Nobody should know we were here.”

Donghyuck nods. It’s in that moment that they hear the first murmurs of conversation. Both he and Mark look up and towards the closed door. The pulse in his ears starts to come back full force. He never thought he’d be so nervous to be back here again. 

It takes a while, and a lot more noise, before the door pushes open. Park Jisung comes in with is headphones on, eyes trained to his phone and not recognizing the two people in his room. It’s so expected of Jisung that it makes Donghyuck laugh. It’s only then that Jisung jumps and looks up at them. His eyes are wide, flicking between Donghyuck and Mark, and he doesn’t say anything before the door opens again. 

Chenle, unlike Jisung, sees them both right away. His jaw drops, and then he smiles incredulously, shutting the door behind him, “Is that Mark Lee?”

Donghyuck giggles again, “Hi Chenle.”

“Hi Hyuck!” Chenle waves, then nearly snaps back to a very intimidated Mark, “Are you Mark Lee?”

Mark laughs awkwardly, “I am, yeah.”

Donghyuck remembers all of Mark’s hang ups about his friends and rolls his eyes fondly. 

Chenle bounds forward, “It’s so nice to see you again! I don’t know if you remember me—“

“I remember you.”

“That’s so cool! ” Chenle’s voice cracks through the second half, and Donghyuck laughs again, anxiety not ebbing but happiness flowing beside it.

“Donghyuck?” Jisung seems a bit more reserved, “What are you doing here?”

Donghyuck swallows down his heartbeat, “Where’s everyone else?”

“Um,” Jisung stutters, walking closer but looking over his shoulder, “They should be here soon. They hung back a little bit longer than us.”

And then he sits next to Donghyuck and gently hugs him from the side. Donghyuck’s cheeks are going to start hurting at the rate this is going. It’s an awkward angle, but Donghyuck hugs back. 

“Aw, I missed you Jisungie.”

“Missed you too,” Jisung mutters into his shoulder. 

Chenle is still chattering Mark’s ear off when the door opens again. Renjun and Jeno walk in, Donghyuck makes a point to yell a quick, “ How’d it go? ” before either of them can take in the room. 

Jeno looks shocked, but Renjun snorts and says, “Better than we ever were with you here. Crushed it. We were the top six.”

Donghyuck pumps his fist, a little overdramatic, “Amazing.”

Renjun’s eyes soften, and Jeno seems to adjust to his surprise, “Can I get in on what Jisung is?”

Donghyuck blushes, “Sure.” 

Jeno wraps around his other side. Renjun shoots a very flustered Mark a quick wave before he moves to stand in front of Donghyuck. 

“Where’s Jaemin?” Donghyuck asks, a little ashamed to be so clearly here for him. 

Renjun laughs, “Here to make nice?”

Donghyuck whines, “And to see you.”

“But mostly to make nice.”

He pouts and gives Renjun a stubborn little nod that Chenle returns with an emphatic, “Fucking finally .”

“He was asked to stay back by Mrs. Park,” Jeno explains, and Donghyuck’s eyes shoot to meet Mark’s across the room, “She said she would show him back after.”

Renjun’s head cocks, seemingly the first to sense the shift in the room. Donghyuck nods at Mark, and his teammate tells him what he already knew, “Then we need to go.”

Jisung’s head lifts up, a little too fast to be comfortable, “What? Why?”

Donghyuck tries to shrug in his confinement, “It’s complicated.”

Jisung looks like he’s about to say something else, but it’s Jeno who untangles to respond, “Okay, do you want to leave a note or something?”

That would work, “ Yes , please.”

Jeno stands up to grab a notebook from his stuff. Jisung doesn’t release him as he goes, and Donghyuck makes a point to tug him a bit closer while he still can. 

Jeno gives him the paper. It takes him a second to think, and he would take all night to write it out if he could, but the threat of Mrs. Park seeing them is pressing much to hard. He ends up scribbling something about how much he misses him. How much he loves him. He says he wanted to stay, but can’t tell him why he couldn’t on paper. That if he gives him a call to let him apologize, he would tell him why it couldn’t have been in person. That he’s still sorry. That Jaemin is the most important person in his life, and that’s he’s so, so sorry for not being a partner he could confide in. For hurting him. 

He sets it face down on Jaemin’s pillow, then points a threatening finger at Chenle, “Don’t read that,” then at Renjun, “Don’t fucking read that.”

Chenle gasps in faux offense, while Renjun just rolls his eyes. Jeno goes to help him stand off the low bed and Jisung hands him his crutches. He gets one more hug from Jisung and a parting one from Chenle before Renjun and Jeno walk him to the door. 

Donghyuck turns to his two friends, “I’m sorry. I really did want to be here longer. I really want to be here more. I’m sorry I’m being such a bad friend.”

Renjun shakes his head, but Donghyuck keeps his eyes trained on Jeno. He’s the friend he’s been leaning on the most recently, with little of his own to give in return. However, Jeno just smiles, “It’s okay. You’re doing all you can. Come back when it’s safe for you, whenever that is.”

“Yeah,” Renjun lightly smacks his chest, “‘cause we do miss you too, you know.”

“I know,” Mark taps his shoulder, and Donghyuck nods, “Bye guys.”

Jeno smiles sadly, and Renjun just waves, “Bye Donghyuck.”

He and Mark move as fast as they can through the crowded lobby, miraculously fast with Donghyuck’s crutches. By the time they’re standing in the thankfully empty elevator, the first person has only just noticed they were out of place. 

“ Holy fuck , Donghyuck Lee was back?” And then the doors close. 

Donghyuck exhales a million different emotions, then looks up at Mark. 

“Thank you so fucking much,” Donghyuck whispers. 

Mark looks overwhelmed in his own unique way, and it makes his smile all the more passionate, “It was nothing, Donghyuck.”

Neither of them stop grinning on the way home. 

They manage to get home before the team eats. Taeyong cooked. It was fantastic. But that’s to be expected. Mark, Taeil, and Yuta are back on the roster to go out again, and they leave just after sunset. The chatter fades away as people peel off. The whole time Donghyuck keeps his phone pressed to his chest, only moving it to slip Jaemin’s hoodie over his head.

Just waiting. 

He’s sitting on their glassed off porch, watching the moonlight. The playlist he’s blasting is a somber one. It’s their date playlist, full of chill R&B that he’s almost heard exclusively on rooftops. He’s so lost in Ella Mai’s voice that he genuinely jolts at the sound of his ringtone. 

His hands shake as he pulls his screen up to his eyes. When he reads Jaemin’s name, he can’t hit answer fast enough. 

“Baby?” Donghyuck talks before he thinks, tries to correct course, “Jaemin?”

There’s a gentle scoff on the other side, but Donghyuck knows this voice well enough to know it’s more disbelieving than mocking, “Hi Donghyuck.”

He takes a deep breath in, wants to launch into talking but can’t quite think of where he needs to start (he never really figured out where he needs to start, “Jaemin, I—“

“Wait. Please. Donghyuck, can I go first?” and he doesn’t sound angry, not like Donghyuck feared, he might even sound more afraid than Donghyuck. Something he had not realized previously was entirely possible. 

“Of course you can go first,” he does his best to make his voice soft, “Please, go ahead.”

Jaemin takes a breath on his side, and the space lets in the ambient noise around him. Jaemin’s on a street, he’s not inside the dorm, “Can I see you?”

The fucking sadness, the shame of it all slams into Donghyuck, “Jaemin, I want to, but I can’t.”

He chuckles, and it’s the first time he’s heard a little bit of the edge from a week ago sneak into his voice, “No sneaking out?”

Donghyuck remembers their strict instructions, don’t go out alone . He’s defied them before, and he certainly would right fucking now if it wasn’t for the fact that if someone did find him, he couldn’t protect either of them from that fight. 

“Jaemin, I’m in a cast,” he whispers, “I broke my leg last week. I would sneak out, but we’d be in deep shit if someone with a vendetta found us.”

“Oh,” and he’s back to just the quiet, only more ashamed, “I didn’t know that, no one said anything about that.”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck reassures him, “I didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

A pause, “That’s my fault too.”

Donghyuck pointlessly shakes his head, “Not yours alone.”

There’s quiet over the line between them, then Jaemin asks, “Can you, go outside of your house?”

Donghyuck frowns, “No. I mean. Our public house is just a front, and people camp the front of it all the time. It would be bad for you to go there.”

“So you live somewhere else?” Donghyuck isn’t even sure he should be saying this, but he hums, “No outside space there?”

Donghyuck chuckles, “One way in, one way out. Have to go through some fucking secret tunnels to get out.”

“Shit, really?” Jaemin’s warming up, “That’s kind of fucking sad.”

Donghyuck fails to fight down a small smile, “Isn’t it. We have this stupid fenced in yard, but our porch is glassed over. I don’t know who maintains it, but it’s so fucking ridiculous to me.”

“You have a yard? Like a backyard?” 

“Yeah, but like I said we’re still glassed in. No accidental exits and all that.”

“Send me a pin, I’ll come jump your fence.”

It shocks a laugh out of him, “ No, I’m pretty sure our neighbors are heroes too. If you get the wrong house, you’ll be a felon.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything for a second, “Come on,” he’s so fucking persuasive, “It’s date night, isn’t it? What’s a little trespassing.” 

But he won’t give in, he won’t, “Jaemin—“

“Donghyuck. I’m really fucking sad that I missed you and I want to at least see your face. Can I please come try to find you?”

The thing is, Donghyuck would do the same. 

It’s hard to say, hard to give in, but still, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Jaemin doesn’t sound like he expected to get this far, “Send me it. I’ll call you when I’m in the neighborhood.”

“Alright,” Donghyuck pulls up his maps, sends it, “Be safe.”

“I will,” he hears the ding of his text coming through on the other end, “Be right back.”

And he hangs up. 

Donghyuck stares out the glass to the moonlit yard. 

He’s going to see Jaemin tonight. 

His crutches feel a little more unsteady than usual when he stands up. He makes sure the door to the porch is shut tightly. No one typically comes out in the night, but he still hopes the door dissuades anyone who might. He makes sure his phone is at the ready and moves to sit next to the keypad to turn off the alarm. Then he just sits. 

Waits. 

It’s about half an hour later that Jaemin calls back, and Donghyuck is quick on the draw to answer.

“Are you here?” Donghyuck whispers. 

“I think so,” Jaemin hums, “You know, there actually is a gate to your yard, but it’s locked. I’m still gonna have to jump.”

The pit of anxiety Donghyuck’s cultivating grows, “Are you sure it’s my lawn?”

“Here, I’ll do a little jump.”

Donghyuck looks out over fence. A hand quickly shoots above it before falling back down. Donghyuck smiles.

“I see you.”

“Sweet. Okay, ignore my fumbling for a second.”

Donghyuck hears the distinct sound of a phone being shoved into a pocket, then sees Jaemin climbing over the fence. He waits till his boyfriend has two feet on the ground, then punches the code in to turn off the alarm. 

In the house, he hears footsteps coming down the stairs, but his eyes stay tracked on Jaemin, who’s looking back at him from across the way. 

“I’ve got it!” Donghyuck calls, as Jaemin pulls his phone back out. 

“Thanks Donghyuck!” he thinks Johnny shouts back, before retreating back up the stairs. 

“All good?” Jaemin asks. 

“All good.” Donghyuck tells him. 

Jaemin walks up to the glass, and Donghyuck shuffles around the coffee table to meet him. Jaemin’s eyes get stuck on his cast for a little, sadness so strong on his face, before he meets Donghyuck’s eyes. They’re face to face, no more than a foot away, yet there’s still some stupid fucking barrier between them. It’s just not fair. 

“Can you hear me through the glass?” Jaemin asks, clear on the phone but hardly audible through the thick glass. 

Donghyuck shakes his head, “Not really.”

Jaemin’s lips pull back in an imitation of a smile, “Yeah, me either. Guess we’ll have to stay on call.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, “Oh no, how terrible.”

It’s nice to see Jaemin smile again. 

His boyfriend lowers himself to the ground, sitting in front of the glass. Donghyuck, for his part, uses the crutch on his good side to pull the coffee table closer to sit on. He looks down at Jaemin, hair wet from a shower and worn clothes for a long night, and just appreciates him being here. 

“Are you warm enough?” he asks through the phone. 

Jaemin nods, “I’m alright, it’s not that cold yet.”

Donghyuck doesn’t believe him, but that’s alright, “Should we talk about this, then?”

He can see Jaemin gulp, “Yeah. We should.”

Then neither of them say anything. Because love or not, they’re both a little too hesitant, perhaps even prideful, for their own good. Eventually Donghyuck figures it’s his burden to bear first, and opens his mouth only to be cut off by Jaemin. 

“I’m really sorry.”

Donghyuck tries to smile, “Me too. I was such—“

“No, no , Donghyuck, it’s not—,” Jaemin huffs, and it fogs up the glass in front of him, when it clears, Donghyuck can see his eyes are glassy, “It’s my fault. It’s not yours. I was stressed and didn’t let you know at all why, and then I handled all of this like a fucking kid. I’m just, I’m sorry. It’s not at all your fault.”

Donghyuck takes that in, is glad to hear that Jaemin knows what Donghyuck wanted an apology for, “It’s okay,” he sighs, “Well, it’s not, so lets not do it again. But it’s over, I’m not mad at you for it. I was just worried. I’m sorry too. For pushing you too much and not being kind when I knew you needed me o. For not being there when you felt like you could open up. For stressing you out.”

“You can’t control that last one. You can be sorry, but figuring out how to deal with it is my burden. You’re a hero now, and when I’m a hero you’ll have to figure it out all the same. It’s just going to be part of your lives.”

Donghyuck smiles and shakes his head, “That doesn’t mean it’s all on you. You can still be worried, and I should still do my best to be safe. It’s not fair that you have to be worrying alone for so long. So, I’m still sorry.”

Jaemin presses his head to the glass, “Okay. Sounds good,” he pauses, “And everything else, it’s fine. It hurt, but it wasn’t just you that made it that way. Though we do still need tot get better at making time for each other.”

Donghyuck nods, “We do, and I’ll keep working. It’s the most important thing to me right now.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Smooth talker.”

“ Says you .”

Jaemin laughs again, rolling his head slightly to the side and closing his eyes. 

They both sit in silence for a little while, but the tension on Jaemin’s face tells him that he knows what they need to discuss next. 

“What’s going on, Jaemin?”

He looks up at Donghyuck, eyes the kind of playful that hides a much deeper, much more somber emotion, “More like what went on. It’s over now.”

Donghyuck shakes his head, “What happened?”

Jaemin takes a deep breath in, and it gives feedback across their call as he exhales, “My family.”

Donghyuck’s face opens in surprise, “Your family?”

“Yeah,” Jasmin shifts, pulling his knees up to his chest, “About a week after you were spotted, I think? Around the time of your interview, they contacted me. I didn’t want to tell you at first, because I didn’t know if it would last and I knew you were going through a lot. Then I kind of still kept it because it was something so weird and so much that I just didn’t want to burden you anymore than you were.”

Donghyuck very gently lowers himself to floor, extending his legs out and leaning towards Jaemin, “You’re not a burden, Jaemin. What’s going on with you isn’t a burden to me.”

Jaemin hums, “And maybe one day I’ll believe it,” Donghyuck bangs the glass lightly, but Jaemin carries on, “Regardless of what’s true, I didn’t want to say anything. But it started getting weird. They asked about you a lot. I didn’t say much, but they kept inferring things, saying terrible things. They were being so nice, and then they would tell me about how busy you must be, about how different our lives are now, that you couldn’t trust me with your troubles anymore because I was just a civilian.”

Donghyuck remembers his words on the phone, feels so fucking guilty. 

“And I knew it wasn’t true but it’s so hard to not listen, y’know? Especially when the self conscious part of me wanted to believe it so badly. But the fucked up thing is that they never cared. They didn’t care at all.”

Jaemin’s eyes are trained on the ground now, but Donghyuck stays looking at him, “What do you mean, baby?”

His voice is barely above a whisper, “Don’t be mad I didn’t mention it, but I started showing signs of a specialty this week,” his eyes go wide, “Nothing concrete yet, but I’m having the physical symptoms of a change, so they think it will come soon. As soon as they found that out, were reminded that I was a freak after all, they went no contact. Until my sister texted me like two days ago and called me a selfish motherfucker. When I asked her why, she said that I should have just given them more information. I asked about what, and that’s when she told me my parents were in talks with a tabloid about trying to do an exposé about you.”

Donghyuck can hardly breathe. 

This person has threatened you on the basis of you lacking a specialty and claims that they have ways to shift public opinion on you. 

Jaemin’s voice sounds wet, “They were using me the whole damn time. Didn’t even go through with it because I still freaked them out too much. They couldn’t have just left things as they fucking were, I really hope they’re gone for good this time.”

“Baby,” Donghyuck croons. He wants to hold him so fucking badly. 

Jaemin finally looks at him, and a single tear tracks his cheek. 

“That wasn’t fair of them, that was evil,” Donghyuck murmurs, “and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to put my foot so far up their as they’d have tasted it.” 

Jaemin smiles but doesn’t laugh. Donghyuck presses on.

“I will never be too busy for you. I will never not care about you. You will never not be my closest confidant. I love you more than anything, and that won’t change over this, no matter what,” he takes a second to see if Jaemin wants to add anything, but then says, “And I am so fucking happy for you. I’m so happy you’re getting your specialty, it’s going to be amazing. You’re going to be so fucking sexy.”

He finally gets a laugh from Jaemin, and it warms his heart so much. 

“No matter what’s going on with me, you can always tell me about something like this. I want to be there for you no matter what, if you’ll let me. No matter how heavy what you’re carrying is, I’ll always want to help.”

Jaemin nods, “Okay. Okay. You know I feel the same?”

“Of course I do, I never doubted it.”

They take a moment to just enjoy each other, enjoy looking at each other. Jaemin bring his hand to the glass and Donghyuck places his on top. Tries to fake himself into feeling the heat through the glass. 

“I love you more than anything, Donghyuck,” Jaemin whispers. 

Donghyuck chuckles, “Ew.”

“You said it earlier .”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I hate you.”

“You just said—“

“Absolutely nothing. Not a single thing.”

Donghyuck giggles and places his head next to Jaemin’s as well. 

“Are you comfortable out there? Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“I’m fine, is your leg okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

Jaemin hums with his eyes closed, then laughs, “Are we really going to fall asleep here?”

Donghyuck closes his own eyes, “I don’t see why not.”

“I’m not sure we’re done talking.”

“I think we’ve done the important parts, we can figure out the rest in the morning.”

And there’s a morning. There’s another conversation, more to fix. But some of it’s already good, already alright. 

“Okay,” Jaemin’s voice is gruff, soft, “I missed falling asleep with you anyway.”

O