Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

30 HOURS EARLIER

The first time Hongjoong had taken to the stars, he was fourteen. It had been the first time he’d ever left his home planet and the last time that he’d see it.

He remembered clenching every last muscle in his body as their shaky junk ship lifted off. Both he and Yunho feared that the thing wouldn’t even clear the atmosphere. Though crossing the threshold of the stratosphere had literally shaken them to the core, once they cleared the exosphere, everything quieted down.

He and Yunho had shared expressions of jubilation, laughing until reality caused tears to well up in their eyes. They watched as the place they’d called home for their entire lives disappeared in the distance. Before them, the stars stretched out, a seemingly endless expanse full of possibility and wonder.

Six years didn’t sound like a long time, objectively. However, it felt like a lifetime to the captain of ATEEZ. Though the starry universe will always inspire awe within him, he no longer felt like a foreign object among them. Instead he felt at peace. At home.

It almost scared him, thinking that almost a third of his life had been spent afloat. His time travelling the stars would soon exceed that in any sort of stable home.

These were the thoughts swimming through his mind as he spent an afternoon swivelling in one of the pilot’s seats in the bridge. In lieu of their rather eventful gig on Pomsch, the crew unanimously decided to take a few days of decompression time. After doing a quick supply run for basics, they headed out with haste. Yunho had put their trusty combat freighter into a slow cruising speed and routed them somewhere obscure.

Hongjoong stretched as a yawn worked its way through his body. At some point, they would have to try coaxing the Compass into functionality again. But how? The thing worked mysteriously, seemingly on a whim. Though it very much acted like a malfunctioning machine, Hongjoong couldn't help wondering if it had a consciousness of some type. It always acted so… Temperamental. Almost emotional or impulsive.

He figured that could, of course, be his own projection. Perhaps his brain simply wanted to rationalize the strange sputtering of the archaic mechanism in a way he could understand. He wasn’t like Yeosang. He didn’t get machines. He understood feeling and emotion. 

“Shiff.”

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled Hongjoong from his reverie. He swivelled around in his chair to face the new entrant.

“Oh, hey, captain,” Wooyoung gave the other a wave. His ashen undercut was wet and tousled, skin shiny with that nice, post-shower glimmer. He was among the fortunate few who didn’t have too many bruises and bumps from their last encounter. Even so, he still bore a few scrapes and burns from their encounter with the Stray Boyz. The old welts flushed brightly from the warmth of the shower.

“Hi. What’re you doing up here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Mmn. Fair.” Hongjoong murmured. His gaze wandered back out the viewing window. “I dunno. I just… Like it here. Best view of the stars, you know?”

“Yeah, true.” Wooyoung padded over softly, joining Hongjoong on the other pilot’s seat. 

The two lapsed into a short spell of silence. Their gazes got lost in the starscape beyond. Hongjoong appreciates it. He appreciated the quiet, the beauty of space, the way their ship softly thrummed with life beneath him - all of it.

“Why’d you come up here?” Hongjoong asked after a while of nothingness.

“Huh? Oh.” Woo chuckled. “Just wanted to check on things.” He swept a hand across the dormant pilot’s console, bringing it back to life. Blue lights illuminated one by one until all manner of gauges, maps and indicators showed up.

The myriad nodes baffled the shit out of Hongjoong. Back on his old ship, he had a fuel gauge, docking software and some basic navigation stuff. That was it. ATEEZ was five times the size and fifty times more complicated. There were readings he couldn’t even decipher. Waste compilation hydraulic pressure? Shield matrix structure settings? Lateral axis optimization?!

He was thankful that Wooyoung and Yunho seemed to have it covered. Wooyoung must have had some training, Hongjoong figured. What kind of training, he has no idea. The guy knew Coalition tech in and out. He hacked into their ship. That wasn’t something a mere hobbyist could achieve. Even Yeosang isn’t that knowledgeable about Coalition tech protocols. “I have to take something apart to figure it out” - He’d always say frankly.

“Everything, uh, look good?” Hongjoong asked.

“Wha- Yeah, it’s fine. You know this is a major hub, right?”

“Hm?”

“The pilot’s console. You can control lots of aspects of the ship from here.” Wooyoung said as he casually swiped through holographic screens as if searching for something. Upon finding the thing - a brief of sorts - he slid the indicator point high up.

“Right. Well, shit seems to run fine, so I’m fine leaving it to you. What are you doing anyway?”

“Oh, nothing.” Wooyoung smirked. “Nothing at all…”

“Aaaaahhhh-!!” A muffled scream echoed up from the kitchen, followed by laughter.

Hongjoong leapt up in his seat and his eyes widened. Wooyoung’s snort gave him away, and Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the first-mate.

“What did you do?” 

“I- Nothing. I did nothing.” Wooyoung laughed.

“What did you…?” Hongjoong leaned over to see exactly what Wooyoung had touched. The screen he had open was a simple slider, the caption above reading: KITCHEN SINK HOSE MANUAL FLUSH - ON .

“-t won’t stop !?” A distressed voice - Prettyboy’s, Hongjoong realizes - filtered back up.

“It’s just water.” Wooyoung said, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“That’s-” Hongjoong suppressed a laugh. He shouldn’t encourage or allow harassment on his ship. But…

Well, squirting someone with the kitchen sink hose wasn’t that bad. Prettyboy would likely be fine. Hongjoong already knows from firsthand experience that the other won’t melt from contact with the stuff (unfortunately).

“-ahhhh!!” “-etting everywhere!” Their pressed crewmates lamented from down below.

“Okay, turn it off.” Hongjoong laughs. “Turn it off, turn it off-”

“Okay, fine!” Wooyoung replied with a giggle, switching the “manual flush” off. The two tittered like schoolchildren for a few moments, entirely too satisfied with the petty prank.

The soft “thud” of footsteps ascending the steps to the bridge made them stop.

“Shiff.”

“I think there’s a problem with the sink.” Prettyboy said calmly. His tone greatly contradicts his appearance - which is drenched. From his chest down, the poor bastard was completely soaked. His simple white tee clinged to his torso, and the tan woven pants sagged from the weight of the water. Hongjoong’s eyes widened at the sight. The shock of how fit the other was beneath his clothing distracted him momentarily. Had he been doing situps in his cell for the entire month? It was unfair, honestly!

“What’s it doing?” Wooyoung asked, devious grin on his face. If Prettyboy understood the other’s mischief, he didn’t show it. He pointed at himself with an unamused expression.

“This happened.” He replied.

“You took a shower clothed?” Hongjoong responded, trying not to laugh.

“No, I did not-! I- I was at the sink, rinsing something off, then the affixed hose assaulted me!”

“I dunno. Maybe the soil detection software decided you were dirty.” Wooyoung supplied.

“I am not dirty.” Seonghwa gasped, affronted.

“Maybe it smelled your personality.” Hongjoong added - in response to which the blond gave him the finger. “See?!”

“I find it incredibly ironic that you of all people would call me unclean.” The blond retorts. “Have you looked in a mirror? You’ve been wearing the same eyeliner for the past two days.”

Hongjoong scoffed,“It’s waterproof, and trust me, I tried. I liked the smudged look anywa-”

“Incoming transmission!” ATEEZ’s robotic voice cut through the banter like a plasma knife through copper.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened and his heart dropped, gaze immediately shooting to the viewing window. A projected screen popped up, the flashing beacon’s words mimicking those of the voice.

“Incoming transmission!”

“Who the fuck is that?” Hongjoong whispered for some reason - as if the person calling could hear him.

“Incoming transmission!”

“Well… Are you going to answer it?” Seonghwa asked, appearing more vexed at the notification trill than being wet.

“No!” “Fuck no.” Hongjoong and Wooyoung answered at the same time. The captain rolled his eyes, pressing a button on the pilot’s HUD to hang up the call.

“Incoming transmission!”

“What the-” “Fuck.”

Hongjoong grimaced. He pressed the “hang-up” button yet again only for the trill to resume just seconds later.

“Someone really wants to call you.” Seonghwa said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, no shit. I’m sure people are dying to ask us out to the harvest season dance.”

“Captain…” Wooyoung frowned. He pressed a few buttons on the pilot’s hud, and a screen cropped up in front of him. The image on the screen depicts their ship’s position and the five-hundred kilometer radius surrounding it from a top-down perspective. A blinking dot just southwest of them indicates that there’s something in their midst. 

Something swift approaching.

Hongjoong swallowed nervously, muttering under his breath,“Motherfu-”

“Incoming transmission!”

“Fuck off!” He shouted angrily at the ship, pounding the hang-up button.

“I- I don’t think it’s going to stop.” Seonghwa commented, wide-eyed and nervous sounding.

“Gonna go into manual,” Wooyoung said. He pressed another button, accessing the intercom, calling out: “Yunho to the bridge? And, uh, everybody else hold on.”

“Wait- Wait- Wait a minute!” Seonghwa rushed forward, wet feet squeaking across the floor. He inserted himself between the two seats in the pilot’s console and gripped each one in a hand. “If we speed away, we’ll for sure look suspicious.”

“If we just chug along at a leisurely stride, our asses are fried.” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the water dripping down Seonghwa’s arms onto his chair.

“He’s got a point,” Wooyoung conceded.

“What?” The captain felt betrayed by his own first-mate.

“Wh- Why do you look so offended?” The other chuckled. He shrugged. “It’s true. Running without proven guilt looks hella guilty.”

“I’ve been imprisoned without proven guilt.”

“I- Okay, fair. Fair point.” The first-mate nodded. “So, do we just, uh-”

“Incoming transmission!”

The sound of it sent another pang of dread through Hongjoong’s body. It gave him an eerie reminder of the day they’d escaped and Yunho accidentally hit the button.

“Incoming transmission!”

Seonghwa’s grip tightened on the seats, “Just- Just answer it.”

“You don’t give the orders, Prettyboy,” Hongjoong said indignantly.

“Look, best case scenario we slip away. They come for us, at least you can talk to stall.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” Wooyoung muttered.

“Incoming transmission! Incoming transmission! Incoming transmission! Incoming transmi-”

“Beep!” 

Hongjoong’s hand slams down on the console. Nervousness flows into his veins like someone turned a faucet on. Despite the utter dread and anxiety induced by the strange call, he concedes that the stalling method has its merits. A holoscreen pops up over the control console. The image of a blackcoat staring directly at them sends a jolt of fear through the captain’s chest. There are thousands of wanted criminals across the charted universe; even so, Hongjoong can’t help being terrified that the other will recognize him on sight.

“Good afternoon, gentleman,” The blackcoat said. They were heavier set, hair buzzed close to their scalp - like the stereotypical street cop one would find stationed outside a convenience store. “I’m an officer of the Galactic Coalition, naval division,” They flash a badge. A separate beacon crops up next to the Coalition officer’s screen - a flashing eight-pointed star, the Galactic Coalition emblem; it’s a result of the inbuilt ship software validating the badge’s authenticity. Unsurprising that a vessel such as ATEEZ would have the scanning software latent - overrides or no. While the fancy little verification tech is neat, Hongjoong is more worried about the implication:

Their blackcoat is no phony. This is a real threat.

Hongjoong decides to play cool. Thankfully it’s mostly his face in the frame of the image intake. There’s a wet hand gripping the back of his seat in a vice just barely in the viewport.

“Hello, officer,” Hongjoong greets stiffly. “May I ask what the reason for this call is?” He side-eyes the radar screen by Wooyoung. The vessel is just beside them at this point. Wooyoung mouths something to Hongjoong. It takes the captain a second to interpret the other’s exaggerated lip movements:

“I’m readying us for jump.”

Hongjoong almost nods, but he stops himself. That might look suspicious. He feels tense, coiled more tightly than a spring - or perhaps a cobra, ready to strike. Oh, how he’d love to strike, too, if only he could. ATEEZ does have firepower, but he doesn’t know what they’re up against yet. Any conflict they have will leave a trace. That’s the last thing they need: breadcrumbs. It seems like, so far, they can’t help themselves. No matter where they go, there’s always some fallout, some bruise left in their wake - and he’s tired of it. It’s more than a hangar door with a blasthole the size of their ship or a Coalition issued cruiser left deserted in the middle of nowhere.

There are real, physical reminders of their run-ins with the blackcoats - welts, healing ankles, and shiny scar tissue in the shape of a ballistic bullet. It’s waking nightmares of men with obscured faces. It’s whispered conversations with shifty eyes and someone’s cries echoing down the corridor, so soft it’s barely there. 

All these traces of their bumbling journey have left them beaten down in more ways than one, and, if possible, Hongjoong would like to avoid that. Just this once.

“Your craft has been randomly selected for a credential audit. Can you please verify your ship ID number and registration colony?”

“I- I’m sorry, random?”

“Yes. Ship ID and registration colony, please.”

“Officer, I believe you’re mistaken. I- this is a- a cargo ship-” Like they’ll buy that. Hongjoong realizes just how conspicuous they are. They’re in a diamondback for fuck’s sake. It’s not a popular model, much less for civilians. While to most it doesn’t really warrant more than a sidewards glance, for a blackcoat, it might be just enough to arouse suspicion. Especially in a barren starscape with no charted civilization anywhere nearby. “You don’t have the right to-”

“I am, in fact, within my right to request this information from you and more if need be. Random inquiries are, in fact, allowed in this sector. If you continue to resist, I will have to board your craft and detain y-”

“Resist?!” Hongjoong panics. “I- I’m not resisting. I just- What? You can’t just stop people and demand-”

“It’s true,” Seonghwa’s voice is barely a whisper.

“What is your name, sir?” The blackcoat demands.

“Mine?” Honjoong wasn’t prepared for that question, of all things. “I- I- It’s- Ho-Ho-Hyunwoo. Kim Hyunwoo.” His tongue trips over the name of his father. He side eyes Wooyoung, desperate. Thankfully, the first-mate gives him a little nod. Good. They’re ready to jump, if need be.

“Mr. Kim, where is your ship registered?”

Hongjoong grimaces at the formality.

Mr. Kim.

That’s what the patrols would say - how they’d greet his dad at the door during their own ‘random inspections’.

“Mr. Kim, where is your ship registered?”

“U-Uh- I’m sorry, it just-”

“Answer the question, Mr. Kim.”

Wooyoung’s hand hovered over the console, at the ready.

“Officer, if I may, I- you’re- you’re making me nervous. I’m sorry-” The captain side-eyes his first mate, but he makes a gesture of sorts. They’re ready to jump, but- but…

“The other ship is too close.”

Hongjoong knew that there needed to be a certain berth in order to execute a jump. It wasn’t wide, per se, but given that the radar is showing the blackcoat’s vessel mere meters away, he could see why things could be problematic. Hongjoong’s body jostled slightly as Wooyoung picked up speed. He could hear the hum of the engine thrumming through the walls. The dot on their radar grew further away, but it was hardly cause for relief. The officer on screen furrowed his brow.

“Mr. Kim, your acceleration can be interpreted as resisting a Coalition officer. Are you resisting a Coalition officer?” The little dot representing the cruiser sped up.

“Officer, I- I don’t consent to this audit.” He made a motion off screen for Wooyoung to speed up. They just need enough clearance around the ship to initiate it.

“I didn’t ask for consent-”

“I do not consent-”

“Mr. Kim, I do not need consent. As a naval officer of the Galactic Coalition, I have the authority to-”

“You have the authority to kiss my ass!” Hongjoong retorted. His words were sure, but his hands shook as he slammed the console to hang up. “Just- Just go.” He ordered the other. His body jerked again as Wooyoung picks up the speed. Seonghwa stumbled, the sound of his wet feet slipping on metal echoing across the bridge.

“Just- Go, go, go!” Hongjoong repeated.

“Yes, captain,” Wooyoung nods. The manual steering illuminates on the console. Woo deftly uses one hand to begin the steering while the other navigates to the intercom. “If you’re tripping over your feet, it’s probably because we’re speeding up right now. Gonna jump as soon as possible, so, uh, yeah. No concussions, please.” “Click.”

Hongjoong’s body suddenly jerked, a series of clangs and thuds following.

“Superficial laser hit on the shield. Shields down to ninety-eight percent.” The ship’s AI said calmly as if announcing the weather.

“Motherfucker,” Hongjoong hissed. “Why are we being fired at over a random stop?!”

“Why are you looking at me?” Prettyboy gasped, affronted.

“Well, isn’t this your territory?”

“ Was , first of all.” Park crossed his arms and his eyes narrowed. “Second of all, I certainly didn’t do traffic patrols.” He was still dripping wet, which made the image of the incensed blond even funnier. He looked like a cat that’d been given a bath - all the fluff was gone leaving nothing but a surprisingly scrawny, cranky creature afterward.

“Right, you were just tethered to a d-!” Hongjoong’s word gets cut off by another sudden bump to the ship. This time, a dull bang echoes through the hull. 

The force sent poor, slippery Seonghwa sliding across the floor. His arms flailed in an ill-fated attempt to catch himself, resulting in a sad, slightly wet “thud” echoing across the bridge. Hongjoong cast the other a glance, almost sort of pitying him. The guy didn’t seem concussed, at least. Seonghwa wasn’t high on his worry list, anyway. They were being fucking chased. That was his priority.

“Superficial laser hit on shield. Shields down to ninety-five percent.”

“Okay, so here’s the problem,” Wooyoung said, gripping the pilot’s console to keep himself steady.

“You mean we have one aside from the very obvious pursuit?” The captain huffed.

“Yeah, well, the ship is still too close for us to jump, and I’m pretty sure standard issue cruisers are gonna be faster than us.”

“Seriously? Isn’t this, like, a warship?”

“It’s a combat freighter,” Seonghwa said as he used Wooyoung’s chair to hoist himself up. He leaned heavily against the first mate’s chair, grimacing with pain from the fall.

“And?” Joong narrowed his eyes.

“That’s not the same thing by a longshot. These things aren’t built for speed. It’s good for long trips and efficiency along with having great defensive capabilities, but we’re not outrunning a Coalition issued cruiser.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, it’s-”

“Superficial laser hit on shield. Shields at ninety-one percent.” The ship interjects.

“-it’s barely tickling us. Is this asshole really going to hit us with his little water-gun for the next hour?” Hongjoong rolled his eyes.

“He’s stalling.” The platinum blond replied with a frown. “Mind you, most civilians don’t have a ship so… Fortitudinous as this. It’s usually fine, but in cases like this, well, they’re probably waiting for backup. They know we need clearance for a safe jump, so they’re just going to be a nuisance until someone stronger arrives.”

“Oh. Fan-fucking-tastic.” The captain said. “Uh- Suggestions?”

“This is a combat freighter. Use a weapon.”

“But then we would hurt them,” Hongjoong frowned. Prettyboy let out a pained groan.

“Do you know what the word irony means?”

“Oh fuck off.”

“What about hypocrite?”

“Okay, children,” Wooyoung cut in, gaze focused on the screens and viewing window in front of him.

The captain heaved a sigh, trying to hide how embarrassed he was that Wooyoung called him out for being petty. It wasn’t the fucking time for squabbles with the blond. He conceded that, in their current position, a little bit of firepower wouldn’t hurt. Surely it wouldn’t be immediately fatal so long as they chose something relatively mild (as far as combat ship weaponry goes).

“Can we, like, hit an engine to slow them down?” Hongjoong asked, glancing at the radar. The cruiser was close to overtaking them. “I- I don’t even know what we’ve got. Except for that very dangerous laser.”

“Yeah, well, we could aim that laser.” The first-mate said. “That could work. Just go for one of the thrusters. It’d fuck the ship up, but shouldn’t compromise life support systems.”

“Okay. So. Let them pass us.”

“Right. I’ll slow us down slightly, let them think they have the upper-”

“Beep! Beep! Beep!” A red beacon lit up above their radar, the symbol bearing a singular exclamation mark in the middle of a triangle. Suddenly, half a dozen little beacons appear behind them.

Talk about quick backup.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened,“Is that-?”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung grimaced. His hands began sweeping across the piloting console frenetically. He pressed all sorts of buttons, opening up controls for things Hongjoong couldn’t begin to identify. He had the slight inclination that Wooyoung didn’t even know what everything was - ATEEZ was, after all, still quite new to them. Even so, the first-mate was well versed in a lot of things Coalition and combat alike, Hongjoong trusted Wooyoung to do, well, something. “Can you, uh, tell everyone to hold on?” The first-mate asked.

“Uh- Um, yeah.” The intercom was something Hongjoong could manage. He used his side of the console to bring up the controls. “Hey, everyone. This is your captain speaking. We are, uh, kind of under attack, so, please find somewhere to sit and hold on. It’s, um- we should be fine. We’ll be fine. Yeah, don’t worry about it.” “Click.”

“You really know how to instill confidence in people,” The pretty blond snarked.

“Thank you for your valuable, helpful input.”

“Okay-” Wooyoung once again cut in. “-new strategy. Full speed ahead, pray for good jump clearance? Somewhere remote.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

“Incoming call! Incoming call!”

“Oh for fuck’s-! Fuck off!” Hongjoong slammed down on the console angrily. “All this over a random fucking-”

“Boom!!”  

The massive noise resonating through ATEEZ’s hull sounded like thunder striking. The captain, first-mate and former officer all lurched with the sudden impact. Shit. Hongjoong felt like the movement bounced his stomach into his throat, but he knew it was nerves, really. 

“Ballistic anti-barrier hit to hull. Shields at… Shields at… Unable to calculate shield fortitude at this time, please check error report.” A projection bordered with yellow cropped up following the AI’s grim announcement. It outlined details regarding the shield’s failure along with error codes. Hongjoong couldn’t give less of a fuck about the nitty gritty stuff. All he could understand was that their shields were, in some way, fucked up, and that meant they, too, would be fucked up if they couldn’t get away.

“This is quite an excessive reaction for a random inspection...” The blond muttered in response to the catastrophic failure of their defenses.

“Wooyoung, go.” Hongjoong urged the other.

“I- I’m going-”

“Just go. I don’t give a fuck how, just- we need to get away before-”

“Baaang!” The entire ship shook, and Hongjoong swore he heard something break elsewhere in the ship.

“Unable to calculate shield fortitude at this time. Please-”

“Fuck,” Hongjoong let the curse drawl out as his mind reeled, panicked. He could hear the crew’s disarray echoing up the steps. If not for how damn bumpy their ride had become, they’d likely be crowding the bridge right now, asking questions. ATEEZ droned on about the anomaly with the shields, which did nothing to soothe Hongjoong’s fraying nerves.

Until it did.

“Fuck the shields.” He said with a dire tone.

“What?” “What?” Both Wooyoung and Seonghwa responded in disbelief.

“Fuck the-” “Boom!” (Their bodies jerked forward so roughly that Hongjoong nearly face planted into the pilot’s console.) “-the shields. If they’re being shitty, just- just divert power from them and put it all into the thrusters.”

Wooyoung responded nervously,“They’re starting to surround us.”

“So act fast.”

“This ship is not built for that. I- I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and if we completely say fuck shields, we’ve got nothing-”

“I’m the captain. I make the orders. Divert as much power as you possible fucking can. Hell, turn the lights off. We just need enough distance to get a good jump. Then go.”

“I-” Wooyoung took a sharp breath in before nodding. “Yes, captain.”

“Wh- The lights?!” Prettyboy scoffed in disbelief.

“Are you afraid of the dark? Because I’m afraid of getting fucking caught.” Hongjoong found himself pressed back into his seat as ATEEZ sped up more and more. He could hear the sound of machinery whirring in the walls, engines coming to life while other things powered down.

“Don’t you think it’s a little risky?” The blond asked.

“Yes. But our entire life is risky. Welcome to the fucking crew.”

“What if we fai-ail?” The other’s protest got stunted by the jerky movement of their assailed vessel.

“Failure is getting caught. We wouldn’t be in this situation if someone hadn’t made an arrest in the first place.” The captain glared at the blond.

“Oh? Oh-? You’re really going to do this right now?”

“This is literally-” “Bang! Baang!” “-your fault.”

“You were trafficking illegal substances.”

“I was an accessory. An involuntary one at that!”

“Look, I- I get that now, okay, but-”

“Boooom!” “Fuck!” “Fucking shit!” Seonghwa nearly flew across the bridge. His vice-like grip just barely kept him anchored to the back of Wooyoung’s chair.

“They’re starting to surround us,” Wooyoung said grimly. Hongjoong tore his eyes away from the annoying blond and looked back out the viewing window. His heart dropped at the sight of cruisers passing them.

“They wall us off, we can’t make a jump, can we?” 

“Yeah.”

“So then go faster.” Hongjoong urged, as if it would change anything.

“I’m trying, but I just- there are- there’s fucking inbuilt caps to this. Safety measures prevent this thing from going a certain speed.”

“Override them.” Seonghwa said.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. Prettyboy was the last person he expected to say something like that. Override inbuilt safety measures? Didn’t he just go off about how risky their plan was?

“Don’t give me that look,” the blond groused. Despite his tough veneer, Hongjoong could see the other’s ears tint pink. It was a small concession, one the captain could perhaps appreciate later. When they’re not being overwhelmed by Coalition vessels.

“I, uh, sure, I guess-” Wooyoung nodded.

“Actually, let me.” Seonghwa stepped around and reached toward the console in front of Hongjoong. Despite being bothered at the proximity (and getting water dripped on him because of it) Hongjoong didn’t protest. If the other could help, fuck it, let him. 

Despite the blond’s efforts, the controls didn’t stir.

“Um- Let me,” Hongjoong coughed awkwardly. He leaned forward, trying his best to avoid contact with the other, and activated the controls. He’d had Yeosang rig it to stay asleep if Seonghwa tried touching it - a precautionary measure to assure the other didn’t pilot them straight back to KQ or some other big, shiny prison. The blond nodded and muttered something that could’ve been “thank you”. Between the loud noises echoing through the ship and the thunderous beating of his heart against his chest, Hongjoong had a hard time hearing.

Seonghwa did as he said he would, going into the safety menus and overriding numerous settings.

“You should be good to go,” he said.

Wooyoung nodded. He pressed something, and Hongjoong’s body nearly launched from his seat. Reflexively, the captain reached out to catch the blond, and thank god he did. The poor bastard would definitely have gone flying otherwise. The stars and scenery around them begin to blur as they noticeably speed up. Hongjoong felt like he was on a thrill ride.

A muffled “What the fuck?!” echoed up the stairs which Hongjoong took as a good sign. His crewmates were conscious up to that point.

Much to his relief, the g-forces they had to endure weren’t for naught. He could see the little dots surrounding them begin to loll behind, struggling to keep up with ATEEZ. The entire ship quaked violently, tremors reverberating into the captain’s bones. His entire being shook and shuddered as if liable to crumble to the ground at any second.

“Initiating jump now,” Wooyoung had to shout to be heard over the sound of their ship. It was clear that they were pushing ATEEZ to its limit. He just prayed they would make it through the jump. Hongjoong braced himself - and Prettyboy - for lightspeed. He registered the other wrapping his limbs around the captain and holding on for dear life. Joong couldn’t even find a millisecond to be mad about it, because as soon as Seonghwa secured himself, the receding silhouettes of GC cruisers twisted and distorted beside them. The stars stretched and pulled until their light swelled into a brilliant flash of light. Hongjoong squeezed his eyes shut, then everything went quiet.

Upon realizing that they had, in fact, successfully jumped, Hongjoong heaved a sigh. It took him a minute or two of just breathing to come down from the peak of his panic. In the meanwhile, the platinum blond courteously unravelled himself from the other. Neither made any comment on the desperate embrace. It was, after all, done out of concern for safety. Hongjoong didn’t like Seonghwa, but it’s not like he wanted the guy to break a bone. He’d probably be extremely cranky and even more unbearable than usual.

“So… We good?” Hongjoong broke the silence in the bridge, his voice breathy. 

“Mm. Yeah. Yeah, we’re fine, I guess,” Wooyoung nodded, eyes still fixed out the viewing window.

“So, um, where are we?” The captain asked.

“Oh, um, Sector 2708. Kind of the boonies out here.”

“Right. Okay. Well, then, um- fuck. The ship- the ship isn’t okay, is it?”

“I would imagine not.” Wooyoung said flatly. “But! I accounted for this.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of. This is a throughpoint for a lot of couriers going to the outer reaches.”

“You’ve been around here before?”

“Not me, no, but I know people who have. It’s, uh, nothing special, but I know there are a few outpost stations.”

“Outpost stations…” Hongjoong scrunched his nose.

Outposts are small space stations that exist solely to service couriers and travellers, basically. They’re not large, but have the necessary amenities a freighter would need - fuel vendors, restaurants, basic shops, inns for folks with cramped ships that want to sleep in nice(ish) beds, inns for folks in cramped ships that want to fuck in nice(ish) beds, maybe a park if it’s nice. They’re basically giant shopping malls.

Given that their function is more to be a waypoint than a settlement, there are few actual residents outside transient types who stay for a few weeks and people who work there. Consequently, such places get a whole heap of ambivalence from the Coalition. Patrols swing by periodically, but most don’t even have a single officer stationed there. It makes outposts ideal stops for people who want to conduct business quickly and discreetly. Outposts aren’t exactly reputable, high-class stops for anyone’s journey, but they do the job. Figures that Wooyoung knows folks who make stops at fringe outpost stations.

“Oh my god, it’s fine,” Wooyoung chuckled at his captain’s hesitence.

“They’re just- is it safe?”

“Safer than, like, anywhere else we’ve been.”

“I guess, I just. I dunno. I mean- It’s fine, I’m just-”

“Oh, jumpy, are you?” The first-mate laughed.

“My parents always warned me not to stop at an outpost station unless it was, like, a last resort. Mom said they were full of shady people.”

“Captain, we’re shady people.”

“He’s right,” Prettyboy chimed in absentmindedly.

Wooyoung ignored him and continued to make his case, “Look, it’s got what we need. We can dock and assess the damage. If we need to fix anything, we ought to be covered unless it’s, like, a super weird, niche part. Plus fuel cells… We probably just about drained what we’ve got with that fucking stunt.”

“We have extra from the Anaconda, don’t we?”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t hurt to have more. If we find ourselves in that situation again, we need to be prepared.”

“You’re right.” Hongjoong sat up and nodded. He clapped Wooyoung on the shoulder and smiled. “And that’s why you’re the first-mate.”

Wooyoung beamed, “That, and cause I said so!”

“Shiff.”

“Holy fuck .” Yunho’s exclamation filled the bridge. All three by the console turned to him. Apparently, they looked pretty banged up, because the humecanis’s eyebrows went sky high.

“Shit. Okay,” The canis muttered sheepishly. “I- We’re good? Are you doing alright? What’s the plan?” Despite the dire situation they’d just gotten out of, his tail wagged.

“We’re going to an outpost to assess the ship’s damage.” Hongjoong responded.

“An outpost? Oh my god. I don’t wanna get taken.”

“I’m not gonna let you walk around alone.”

“Oh. Okay. Good, good. Sounds good.” Yunho nodded. “Shit, that was some crazy flying back there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Wooyoung gave the other an apologetic smile. “But, um, you’re okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Um, a little bruised up- oh!” Yunho gasped, a light flicking on behind his eyes suddenly. “That reminds me why I came up here! San threw up.”

“Oh.” “Yikes.” The captain and first-mate replied.

“Did he have dairy?” Woo asked.

“No, no,” Yunho shook his head. “Pretty sure it was motion sickness. He’s still not exactly used to being on a ship, and that shit was pretty, uh, intense.”

“Oh, damn. Now I feel bad.”

“Well, I came up here to ask, um, do we have a mop?”

The captain, first-mate, and Prettyboy all exchanged bewildered expressions. None of them knew. Apparently, between the three of them, not one had thought to even look for a mop on the ship ever before.

“We… We’ll add that to the shopping list,” Hongjoong said decidedly. “Wooyoung, find us the nearest outpost.”

“Yes, captain,” The first-mate nodded, opening up the navigation to plot their course.

“Fan out, and do not- I mean it do fucking not - leave your buddy!” Captain Hongjoong commanded as he bid half of the crew farewell. Upon docking at Cres Outpost Station, they decided to split up. After assessing their ship damage, they ascertained that they’d need a few parts. ATEEZ’s self-repairing would do most of the work, thankfully. Even so, they needed a few additional parts to assure peak performance. Yeosang and Yunho went in the direction of a parts depot to get fuel cells and some other technical junk for the ship. 

While they did manage to sort of sop up poor San’s sick with towels, the crew agreed they still ought to invest in some basic cleaning supplies. Typically ships would be stocked with them, but nobody felt like fussing with hunting for cleaning things in the multitude of closets. They figured there wasn’t any harm in some cheap extras. Eight people made a lot of mess, naturally. Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Mingi ended up on cleaning supply pickup duty.

The rest of them - San, Wooyoung and Jongho - got tasked with indulging in something they haven’t had much access to of late: fresh groceries. Well, “fresh” - fresh as they can be in an outpost. Some outposts do have hydroponic gardens, but even if something had been shipped in from lightyears away, at least it’s not a flash frozen Coalition ration.

Wooyoung giddily took the siren’s arm in his, and the two started skipping in no direction particular as Jongho followed. His eyes seemed far away, fixed out the massive window lining one side of the outpost walls. 

He’d been like that for a while - spacey, eyes always outward. Pensive. Wooyoung wished he could ask why, but he had a feeling that, even if he did, the other wouldn’t say anything. Woo had come to learn that Jongho was rather reserved. He didn’t lack for wit, personality or even affection, but he didn’t overtly share those things, either. Wooyoung could tell the other hadn’t quite gotten comfortable among them yet. Over time, he’d thawed, but there was still a ways to go. Wooyoung wondered what kind of person the mysterious, strong Jongho would turn out to be.

San, on the contrary, was sunshine. He was pure mirth and curiosity bundled up in the most exquisite, lovely package. Wooyoung felt so, so grateful that the other had forgiven him. He knew that he wasn’t worthy of the other’s grace, really. But, if San wanted to be close, Wooyoung could hardly deny him. He was too selfish to keep away.

No doubt he would fuck up again one day.

Death. Taxes. Messing up.

Wooyoung regarded those as the inevitabilities of his life. It wasn’t “if” but “when”. When would he fuck up again? When would he hurt San?

When would San finally realize that he was beautiful and perfect and deserved so much better?

Questions like this rolled through Wooyoung’s head like stormclouds on a summer day. Even when skipping hand in hand with the other, those clouds contested with the other’s solar presence, nearly snuffing it out.

“What’s that?” San halted abruptly, neck craned up.

Wooyoung followed the other’s gaze to a small storefront ahead of them. A hologram display jutted out in front of the window - two people on pegasus horses flying around happily. Woo let the other lead him toward the store front, drinking up the way the other’s eyes lit up with wonder. 

“What is a… S… R… Game? What is that creature?!” San pointed at the unicorn.

Wooyoung giggled, “That’s a pegasus. It’s like a horse with wings.”

“Horse… Horse… I… I do recall horses, I believe. Yes, they’re quadrupedal mammalian animals. Humans domesticated them. The illustrations in our books did not have wings, though. To think that they’ve developed such an impressive adaptation.”

Wooyoung giggled, “They’re not real silly.”

“They’re not?!”

“No! This just, well, okay, an SR Game is a simulated reality game. It’s like- fuck, it’s a bit weird to explain. It’s like a game that puts you in a dream. You, um, you lay down, and they hook this stuff up, and then you get transported into sort of a dream world that’s designed to be fun or challenging or have puzzles. You’re in no real danger, though.”

“What if you want to wake up?”

“Oh, it’s just a game so there’s like, menus and stuff. It’s high tech, so it’s not a household thing. They’re super immersive, though, which is really nice. People come to places like this to get away for a bit. Usually they charge by the hour.”

“You enter a… Dream world,” San clearly struggled with the concept. He squinted to see past the hologram into the shop. “I don’t see how there would be a dream world in there. There’s only a few chairs and a counter.”

“Well, usually you go into a booth or room or something.” Woo chuckled sheepishly. The more he spoke about it out loud, the shadier the concept seems. He couldn’t help blushing a little.

“Would you like a demonstration?” A lanky woman appeared seemingly out of nowhere, making Wooyoung and San jump, startled.

“Oh, uh, hello.” “H-Hi.” They both waved nervously.

“I would love to have you,” She said with a courteous smile. “Sorry to scare you. I’m Dr. Intra. I’m actually the developer for this lounge.”

“Really?” Wooyoung raised his brows. Typically SR lounges just had licenses for popular virtual properties. He heard that there was an indie scene, but Wooyoung wasn’t really into SRGs to begin with. They were known to be addictive, and he was too afraid to fall into the trap.

“Yes. Actually, I’ve just finished developing something new, and I need beta testers. I was gonna ask around the outpost, but since you’re here, would you like to check it out?”

“Oh, uh, actually we needed to do some shopping.”

“How about fifteen minutes of your time. It’ll be free of charge, of course.” The tall woman gave them a kind smile.

“Fifteen minutes in a dream world?” San asked. Though he tried not to show it, Wooyoung could tell the other wanted to. 

Fuck, Wooyoung wanted that for him. He wanted to be there and watch San experience a fantasy world for the first time. It made the first mate’s chest feel tight and stomach flip. What he wouldn’t do to see that look of wonder in San’s eyes - like the first time they lifted off of the siren’s home planet. He’d been there for San’s first lifting off, he’d been there for San’s first encounter with a colony. Why not be there for this? For something simple and fun?

“Just fifteen minutes is fine.” Wooyoung said, looking more at the siren than the developer. “Right? Um- Right, Jongho?”

It was easy to forget that Jongho was with them, especially given that the other had meandered a few meters away. Jongho woke up from whatever daze he’d been in and glances over his shoulder.

“Oh, um, I’m good.”

“It’s free.”

“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll wait here.” Jongho said.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Intra tried. “It’ll be fun.”

“Uh, I’m positive miss.” The youngest replied more politely that time.

“Alrighty then. If you change your mind, just come on in. They might be a bit longer if they’re having too much fun.” The woman smiled. She waved toward her shop. “Come on, follow me.”

San bounced giddily, eyes alight with excitement. Seeing the other so happy made Wooyoung’s heart swell.

“I’m a bit nervous now,” The siren admitted, ears tinting a sweet pink shade.

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand the entire time,” Wooyoung said, following the other in. The front of the shop was unimpressive - as they often are. There was a reception desk and a few waiting seats where people likely filled out forms and waivers.

“Why don’t you take a seat for a second while I pull up the forms?” Dr. Intra gestured toward the waiting seats. “Oh- And here.” She stepped out for a moment, two bottled waters in hand. “Why don’t you have a drink of water? It’s good to stay hydrated, trust me on this.” She winked at San. 

Wooyoung wasn’t sure what she meant by that. He mused that perhaps she’d been referring to how people who spent too much time in SRGs neglect their physical body. People who played for hours on end would faint in-game after forgetting to eat or hydrate or even sleep. He thought that, maybe the kindly doctor-slash-developer was rather health driven due to some ambiguous background in healthcare. As he sipped the doctor’s offering, he figured that fifteen minutes wasn’t too long, anyway. It’s not like they’d have to get up for a pee break which was a common excuse people used when they said they didn’t want to drink too much before playing.

“Wooyoung?” San’s voice sounded strange to Wooyoung. It sounded… Thick or slurred. He wasn’t sure if it was his ears or the other’s throat making him sound so peculiar. 

“Hm?” Woo grunted his response.

“Is this part of the dream?” The siren’s grip on Wooyoung’s interlaced fingers began to slacken. His palms felt sweaty and clammy.

Wooyoung thought that-

Suddenly, thinking became very, very difficult.

The edges of the human’s vision began to fade to darkness. The last thing he saw was San, scared and confused, lips wrapped around words that he lacked the strength to speak.

PRESENT DAY, PRESENT TIME

“Is any of this coming back to you?” Yeosang asks.

“Um. Kind of,” Hongjoong shrugs. “Bits and pieces. The whole ship fiasco’s pretty clear, but the entire outpost is kind of a blur. So, they were the first ones, then…?”

The cyborg sighs, “We were approaching two hours, and we hadn’t heard from them. Jongho finally came to us and told us they’d gone to beta test an SRG.”

“SRG… Simulated Reality Game.” Hongjoong’s head still hurt, something to do with being thrown into a video game for some indiscernible amount of time, probably. Also dehydration. He really couldn’t remember shit after their jump into the sector. Everything else is a smear of vignettes tainted with nightmarish visions of his simulation experience. “Fuck. The simulation. They got conned- we all got conned, but how-?!”

“Jongho said he thought they got carried away at first, but then he got worried. We all went together, and the lovely doctor-” Yeosang outlines the doctor part with air quotes, “-invited us to come back and get them ourselves. She then proceeded to drug the shit out of us, and here we are.”

“How’d she knock us all out?”

“Fucking gas in the vents.”

“What the fuck? I- How even- Why? Just why?”

“I don’t know, Hongjoong. People are fucked up, and when you think about it, this is the perfect spot. It’s a frequent stop for nomads, criminals and couriers who are constantly on the road. They’re easy targets. Nobody will know they’re gone - at least, not until it’s way too late. It’s not a bad demo for an SRG, either. Boring life on the road, sick of the inside of their ship, why not go into a simulated fantasy world?”

“I… I regret asking,” Hongjoong says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s logical. Wrong and disgusting, but it’s logical.” Yeosang shrugs. “Don’t worry, though, none of that is important now. What matters is that we got you out, and now we have to get the rest of our crew.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait I just-” Joong takes a deep breath. The information dump is making him dizzy, but he needs to know more. “If I needed help… How the- how the fuck did you get out, then?”

“Cyborg.” Yeosang supplies as if it answers everything.

“Wha- Seriously?”

“I’ve got firewalls in my brain.”

“Oh come on. That is a fucking cop out answer and you know it.”

“It’s true!” Yeosang gasps, feigning offense that Joong would imply otherwise. “It’s just- that’s the simple answer. The genuine answer is incredibly complex and would likely go completely over your head.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, I- Fine.” Yeosang rolls his eyes, but his smile reveals how humored he is. “I won’t go into technical detail, but the short version is- well, you’re aware my eyes are ocular implants, yes?”

“Right.”

“They record everything I experience, and those memories are fragmented, encrypted, and uploaded to a scattering of private, secure servers across the galaxy. It happens when I sleep. Well, it did. I’ve been offline since, like, the day after I met you guys. It’s hard to trace, but it’s still traceable, so-” He shrugs. “It was a personal decision I made, plus I realized I- nevermind. Philosophical shit.”

“You can tell me.” Hongjoong says softly.

The cyborg just shakes his head, “It isn’t relevant. What is relevant was the point I was getting around to. Due to the fact that my recorded memories are stored not just in my flesh brain but also in my cybernetics as well, I put a lot of protections in place to secure them. My memories are personal and precious, so I never want anyone to be able to access them, external or otherwise.”

“Huh. So you really do have a firewall in your brain.”

“Basically. As soon as the program began attempting memory implantation, it failed pretty spectacularly. I didn’t even get into any type of simulation.”

“Shit. Fuck . I love you and your genius firewall brain so much right now,” Hongjoong chuckles despite himself. “Wait- But the doctor?”

“Oh she was easy to take. I mean, I was kind of hungover from the drug, but I was able to knock her out when she came close to troubleshoot. I managed to find a trash chute out the back entrance and threw her down. She should be fine. Probably.”

“Fuck. You get… The golden star today,” Hongjoong laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You can thank me later. Come on. Think you can walk?” Yeosang extends a hand toward the captain.

Hongjoong takes it, face scrunching with soreness as he’s hoisted onto his feet. His headache is from the simulation, but he’s pretty sure the rest of it is a result of getting tossed around the bridge.

“And it was really only a day?”

“Yep. Well, it’s been a bit more than that now.”

Hongjoong frowns, “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m used to functioning on very little sleep. I do look forward to passing out when we get back to the ship, though. We just need to get everyone else first. I figure it’s most efficient if we split up. I can set you up, of course, but then- I dunno, hopefully it’s easier. You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

“I- Me?” Hongjoong flushes again. “Wait- I- How- how much did you see?”

“Why? Afraid I saw something I shouldn’t have?” Yeosang smirks. “Some deep, subconscious desire?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off. Apparently my subconscious desires were boring as hell.”

“They sure the fuck were. I had to watch all of it.”

“But I don’t- how does the time thing even work?”

“Well, it’s like being in a dream. The program was able to kind of protract time, stretching a number of hours into weeks.”

“That’s… That’s scary.”

“Yeah. The doctor is as smart as she is unethical, it seems. I’ve never seen or even heard of an SRG this sophisticated.”

“No kidding. I- What was that- that ‘subconscious’ thing, anyway? I mean, that can’t be real, right? Because seriously? College?” Hongjoong’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. Even though his supposed fantasy was truly boring, something about it being just visible to Yeosang slightly mortifies him. Maybe there was something in there revealing that he isn’t even aware of. Though he wouldn’t dare admit it, he knows he’ll find himself ruminating on the contents of the simulation for some time - after they get everyone out of the ordeal, of course.

“What I understand is that, essentially, the program starts formulating your ‘life’ by sending your brain various messages. There’s a pretty long list of scenarios, themes, imagery and other things that go into making a universe. The program then reads your brain’s response - whether pleasure receptors light up, pain receptors, adrenaline. All the fun stuff that goes on in the amygdala. It creates a scenario based on what makes you the happiest, basically. Or, I guess more aptly, what elicits pleasure responses from the brain- but it balances it, too. Throwing in proper stressors without being too traumatizing. Like I said: unethical but smart.”

“Huh.” There’s definitely stuff to unpack there, but the last thing Hongjoong wants is the spotlight on himself. Being stuck in a simulation is scary, but knowing that simulation was created based on subconscious desires is what’s going to keep Hongjoong up at night. “So we have to… Go get everyone else?”

“Yeah. And before you ask, no we can’t just shut shit off. I… I’m not sure what that’d do to the subjects in the simulation.” Yeosang frowns. “It would be disorientation and memory loss in the best case scenario, but this simulation essentially hijacks your brain. If the subject isn’t cognizant of their situation and the plug gets pulled, I’m not sure if their consciousness would get pulled with it. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I apologize. I mean, if I had more time I could learn more, but-”

“You’ve done enough.” Hongjoong reassures the other. “You’ve done more than enough. And trust me, I’m glad you’re not risking shit. I trust you. What’s the plan, then?”

“We can divide and conquer. Just invade everyone’s simulation and shake them awake.”

“And if it tries to kick us out?”

“Just keep trying. I have a feeling the others won’t be as difficult as you.” 

“Ugh-” Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Just- Show me where shit is, and how to do the thing.”

Yeosang starts walking, and Hongjoong follows. Beyond the room he’d been held in, there’s a small observation area with a window looking in. There’s a long desk with a couple of seats and a dozen or so screens varying in size floating above it. Yeosang leads him out another door, taking him from the observation area to a long, narrow hallway. It’s lined with doors similar to the one they’d just walked out of.

“This hallway is full of rooms like the one we just got out of. I don’t know who’s where, but I figure we can go down the hall and just take a side.”

“Sure.”

“Left or right, then?”

Hongjoong glances down the hall and considers his options. 

“Right,” He says, patting the wall behind himself.

He has a good feeling about the right side.

The right side can go fuck itself, Hongjoong decides. His face scrunches into an expression of disgust as he taps the passcodes into the keyboard as Yeosang instructed him.

The cyborg gave him a quick walk-through on how to port himself into the simulation without going braindead or getting sucked in. He puts in a few more codes before affixing a node to his forehead that’ll allow him to enter the simulation.

Prettyboy Park Seonghwa.

Of course it had to be Prettyboy Park Seonghwa.

Hongjoong groans as his vision blurs. The world around him fades away, replaced with an expanse of white, like a blank room. A single beacon flashes before him. Red text reads: PORTING INTO SIMULATION…

After a few moments, another world comes into view. Bit by bit, piece by piece, pieces of this new universe materialize into existence. At first, it’s just basic shapes. There’s a floor beneath his feet and something large obstructing his view from another area. The space before him seems to be open and high, very high.

Then come textures. Metal grates below him, a massive pipe in front of him, a catwalk above suspended from a high ceiling. Natural light comes in through what appears to be a large opening in the space - a door? As the world refines itself, coming into an unsettling realness, Hongjoong puts more and more of the pieces together. 

He can hear the familiar hum of thrusters roaring and engines whirring. They sound distant, muffled by the metal walls surrounding him. The smell of fuel, oil, dust and metal fills his nose, and soft chatter echoes across the space. The captain steps out timidly and turns around. He gasps as the final piece of the puzzle slots in. Docked in the middle of the massive, open metal bay is a ship. A few people mill about around it. They seem to be enjoying some banter, loud laughter bouncing across the metal walls and into Hongjoong’s ears. The captain ventures sneaking just the slightest bit closer. He doesn’t want to show himself just yet. Even though the simulation supposedly won’t hurt the “subject”, he’s still unsure how he’ll fare as an outsider (or an “intervention measure” as the program deems it).

“-ood ass haul, though.” “Yeah we can visit … In the infirmary later … Needs rest right now…” “...is pissed, though… watch out…”

Hongjoong can’t make out the whispers well. Just as he considers getting closer, the people by the ship suddenly stand ramrod straight.

“Captain!” They all say in unison.

“Captain, we finished taking stock of the samples from our latest mission.”

“Good. Shit. That was close, but… Another new planet discovered. It’s worth it. Thank you all.”

Wait, is that…? Hongjoong blinks confusedly. He wedges himself behind a couple of metal crates and peeks out from the shadows.

“Captain, you were so cool fighting off that lizard plant! You were all like pow! And it was like rawr- and you were like pew-pew! And you totally bailed our asses out!” One of the apparent crew bounces as they deliver the praise.

“It- It was no big deal.” The captain says shyly. 

Captain, huh?

Hongjoong narrows his eyes at none other than Park fucking Seonghwa, apparent Captain of some explorer crew. He looks different, in his fantasy. A bit taller, Hongjoong swears he’s a bit taller, and, shockingly, his hair isn’t blindingly platinum blond. He’s still blond, but it’s subdued. Normal looking, one could even say. He’s wearing some leather outfit with an impractical number of buckles, complete with big boots and a shooter holstered at his hip. He looks like some jackass video game protagonist, contrary to how Hongjoong would’ve imagined him. For some reason, he figured Seonghwa would fantasize about suits or something. He seems so prim, the whole jackass video game protagonist look wasn’t something he thought he’d see out of the guy. 

“Okay, but don’t forget how he piloted our asses out of that gnarly atmosphere!” “Seriously, nobody else could’ve done it with our pilot out of commission like that…” “And the emergency first-aid literally saved my life, captain.” “Literally.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. He’ll probably laugh about it later, but right now being stuck in Park Seonghwa’s wet dream is probably the most irritating experience he’s had in the past two days - and that includes fake exams. Fake fucking exams.

“You’re so kind. I- I hope I can be a captain worthy of your regard,” Seonghwa says “modestly”. “I, um, I need to go, though. I was actually looking for someone.”

“Oh.” “Oh I know who that is.” “Be kind to him, okay?” “You’re not gonna be too harsh, are you, captain?”

“Well… We’ll find out.” Seonghwa’s expression darkened, and he heaved a sigh, walking past his bantering crew. The leather-clad man starts walking toward Hongjoong, giving him a jolt of panic. Despite the fact that his goal is to be seen , for some reason, he panics and hides as the other walks toward the crates. He freezes up and holds his breath in hopes that he’ll recede into the backdrop - as if Seonghwa is some predatory animal with bad vision. The steady thud, thud, thud of heavy boots approaches with haste, growing louder with each step nearer.

Then they stop. 

Hongjoong can see the shadow of the other’s silhouette in the crack between the crates. The figure hesitates, as if contemplating something. Joong ventures a peek over the crates so he can better assess the situation. By the time the other is in his sights, he’s already disappearing through a door that happens to be right next to the crates Joong is cowering behind.

The captain - the real captain - takes a deep breath to steel himself. He doesn’t know what he’ll say exactly. Something akin to “this is fake” and “please wake up I don’t want to be here anymore”. That ought to work. The realization that this simulation technically doesn’t have real world consequences dawns on Hongjoong as he sneaks through the door. Just as he begins contemplating the merits of punching Seonghwa (in simulation, of course), the sound of voices triggers Hongjoong’s fight or flight again. 

Being himself, Hongjoong of course chooses flight.

The captain finds himself in what appears to be some type of storage room. This one is rather bare, unfortunately. Thankfully, it’s also badly lit. There’s a few pendants hanging from the ceiling, but little more. The shadows painted beneath are thick and black, giving Hongjoong an easy hiding spot underneath the grated stairs to the second level. As he positions himself to see who’s present, he bumps into the wall behind him. He winces at the noise made, terrified for an instant that he’ll be found, but thankfully he isn’t. Joong reaches back to rub his sore backside when his fingers graze a metal object.

Hongjoong’s eyes widen and he shuffles forward, reaching behind him to confirm his suspicions. 

He didn’t just walk into some storage room. He walked into an armory, and he just backed his ass up onto a gun that could very well be loaded. Like hell if he knows decorum or gun practices. The captain eyes the killing device wearily. He considers putting it back, but he’s afraid that would make more noise than keeping it. It could come in handy, who knows. The only real people there are him and Seonghwa, anyway. He wonders if he could shoot Seonghwa. It’s just in simulation! He’d be fine in real life.

“Are you just going to brood in here all afternoon?” 

Speak of the devil.

The blond captain steps into Hongjoong’s view. He’s definitely talking to someone. Hongjoong ducks out slightly just to see more. In the middle of the room are two figures - Seonghwa and someone else, someone with their back turned.

“Maybe. Why do you care?”

“Because you’re a member of my crew.” Seonghwa says sternly.

Oh brother . 

Without meaning to, Hongjoong waddles ever so slightly closer. He’s starting to get invested in the melodrama playing out (not that he would ever admit it).

“Come on. You know I’m not like them.”

“But you’re still one of us, and that comes with rules and responsibilities.”

The other person sighs loudly and moves to walk away, but Seonghwa grabs them by the collar of their worn down jacket. In doing so, Seonghwa swings the person around and-

Oh fuck it’s him. Him as in Hongjoong.

The captain nearly gasps out loud at the sight of Seonghwa manhandling, well, him. It’s undeniable in the face, the body. The only real deviation is the hair. Even the color is the same, but it’s conspicuously shorter in the back. Seonghwa always talks shit about the captain’s hair, so it figures his fantasy world wouldn’t have mullets.

Virtual Hongjoong struggles against Seonghwa’s grip but doesn’t succeed in breaking it. He just glares up at his “captain” angrily. Hongjoong finds it immensely surreal to watch himself, but it makes him all the more enthralled by the bizarre world he’d hopped into. This is Seonghwa’s world, and knowing what he knows now, Hongjoong can’t help wondering: what role does he play in it?

He lets the scene play out.

“I did the right thing and you know I did.” Virtual Hongjoong says through gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t matter if it was the right thing. You did it the wrong way.” Seonghwa asserts, grip still balled up in the canvas of Virtual Joong’s jacket. Seriously, why does he insist on holding him in place? Is he afraid Virtual Hongjoong is going to make a break for it otherwise?

“Nobody got hurt, Cap-”

“But they could have. When will you get it through your head! You’re not just some marauder on a cutter anymore. You’re part of a crew. Start acting like it.” Seonghwa speaks assertively. His icy blue eyes bear down on the shorter man, all stern intimidation. Even the real Hongjoong shudders at the intensity of his gaze. Whatever happened was serious, apparently. So serious that Hongjoong finds himself getting lost in it for a second.

“Fine.” Virtual Hongjoong responds, clearly upset. “I’m sorry.”

Seonghwa sighs, tension visibly leaving his body as he releases his hold on the other, “It was… A lapse in judgment. I trust you won’t make it again.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Virtual Joong casts his eyes downwards and frowns.

“...What’s with the face?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go wash up-”

“Hey, wait. Are you crying?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Hongjoong almost groans. Why is he crying!? Sure, he concedes that, yes, “Captain” Seonghwa is kind of intimidating - but enough to make him cry? Seriously!?

“Sorry- I mean- No- I mean-”

Seonghwa leans in and speaks softly, “It’s okay, Hongjoong. Why don’t we talk about it? What’s got you so upset?”

What the fresh hell is this? Is he being nice ? What the fuck? If Hongjoong was watching a TV show, at this point he’d be yelling at his screen. Who the hell is this nice person and what has he done with Park Seonghwa? The real Seonghwa would never give a shit about Hongjoong’s problems! He’s just lying to himself at this point.

“I just-” Simulation Hongjoong sniffles (which in turn makes real Hongjoong scowl), “-I’m not like you, okay. I’m not all good and honorable and shit.” He meets Seonghwa’s eyes with his own, dark gaze wet with tears just ready to come bursting out. Disgusting. “I’m a total fuck up-”

There it is. That’s what Park Seonghwa truly thinks of Kim Hongjoong. For some strange, voyeuristic, masochistic reason, Hongjoong continues to let the ridiculous scene unfold.

Virtual Hongjoong continues, “I’m a total fuck up and- and I don’t know what I’m doing and I just- you took a chance on me, and all I do is disappoint you, and I just-” Tears start falling down his face. “-I dunno. I just-” He breaks down into a sob and Seonghwa grabs his shoulders. Simulation Hongjoong pathetically leans on the other, making sickness swell up in Hongjoong’s stomach. The image of Seonghwa holding him is just- it’s indescribable, the feeling it elicits.

“Captain Mars, I wish I could be more like-”

“Baang!!”

“That’s it. I’m gonna vomit,” The real Hongjoong couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He steps out from his hiding place, ballistic gun barrel still smoking from the ignition.

Seonghwa’s eyes go wide and his mouth falls agape as Virtual Hongjoong’s life light fades in his arms. He appears dazed when he first sets eyes on the real Hongjoong. Joong opts to keep the gun pointed in his direction (just in case, of course). The blond’s eyes dart between real Hongjoong and Virtual Hongjoong a few times until he finally lets out his weak, squeaky response.

“C… Captain? Oh… Oh- Oh-”

“Yeah. Oh .” Hongjoong responds, irritated.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Yeosang smiles at Seonghwa as he steps out behind Hongjoong. 

“Seonghwa, help Yeosang with the left side of the hall. I’ll continue with the right,” Hongjoong says tersely. He wants to erase what he saw from his memories. It is, objectively, far from the most traumatizing experience he’s had. Still, the image of him falling into Seonghwa’s arms like some fairytale damsel in distress irks him viscerally. As much as he wants to avoid thinking about it, he has a feeling it, too, will be added to the list of things that’ll keep him up at night.

“Yes, captain,” Seonghwa takes the order well. About ten minutes prior, it was him giving the orders. It must be weird for him to return to reality.

“Wooyoung’s in this room, but his program is bugging out,” Yeosang says, nodding to the door behind him. “I had to reboot him, so we can move onto the next one while his is working.”

“Right.” Hongjoong nods. He quickly enters the next door down the line to distract himself.

Divide and conquer works fairly well, but that isn’t to say it’s simple. His crewmates have their quirks, making some harder to awaken than most.

When Hongjoong ports into Mingi’s simulation, he’s asleep. Virtually asleep. Very much like real life, Mingi is a damn heavy sleeper. No amount of noise or light works. Hongjoong has to hoist himself onto a giant ass bed the size of his childhood apartment, throw Virtual Yunho’s naked body off of the Venusian, then shake him violently . Only then does his majesty deign grace the world with his presence. After that, Hongjoong spends another half our or so (in simulation) shouting like a lunatic about how nothing is real. Mingi very nearly calls the guards on him, but then some menial detail clicks for him. Upon truly understanding that he is truly in a simulation, he has the gall to ask for “a few more minutes to cuddle with Yuyu”.

Hongjoong initiates the termination sequence immediately after that.

When he and Mingi emerge, Yeosang and Seonghwa meet him with a newly acquired Jongho. Jongho - as always - turns out to be a special case. He was just sleeping the entire time. Somehow. Hongjoong knows the other is an anomaly. The guy shrugged off a literal metal bullet like it was a bee sting. The captain knows he’ll probably be kept up some other night thinking about that, too. He’s too occupied to dwell on it presently, though, and they move on. A couple of them move onto wake Yunho up after a debriefing while others move onto San.

Hongjoong notices Yeosang hovering outside Wooyoung’s door. The cyborg paces with a vexed expression, muttering to himself.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I- I don’t know,” Yeosang crosses his arms. He glances past Hongjoong, watching others disappear into doors before continuing. “I’m sorry.”

“Wha- Why are you apologizing?”

“His program is fucked, and I- I don’t know how I’m gonna get him out.” He starts biting his nails - or, well, he simulates the gesture. Hongjoong is fairly certain Yeosang’s mechanical hand doesn’t have nails. That’s probably for the best, Joong muses as the other shoves his fingers between his lips and absentmindedly nibbles. “I just- If I can’t-”

“Hey, hey calm down. There’s no ‘I’ here, you’re not alone.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but, to be frank, I doubt anyone else has the capabilities to even begin understanding the simulation.”

“Okay, I- Fair. But what I mean is that, like, you can’t take sole responsibility for this, okay? This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but I-”

“Ah-ah. No buts. Captain’s order.”

Yeosang pouts but accepts the ordinance, “Fine. I think I’m gonna go back in there. Maybe this time it worked out.”

“I’ll go with. I- I know I can’t do the smart stuff, but I- you don’t need to be alone. You never know. Talking at me could help.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Yeosang’s stress thaws slightly, a small grin gracing his lips. He nods, leading Hongjoong through the door into Wooyoung’s holding chamber.

Their ash-haired first-mate lays limp and unconscious past the viewing window. His chest rises and falls with steady breath. Without context, one would think him in a pleasant, deep sleep. Hongjoong can only wonder at what the other is truly experiencing.

Yeosang heaves a sigh, bringing the captain’s attention to the various controls by the observation window.

“Still nothing,” He frowns. Hong follows the other’s gaze and watches the viewport. Under normal circumstances, it would be displaying the subject in their environment - sort of like a movie, or a third-person video game. There’s a bunch of other stuff too - vitals, various neurological signal readings, realtime data compilation. But for Wooyoung there’s nothing. It’s all error messages, and the viewport doesn’t show anyone, just some idyllic beach scene with nobody in it. It’s so vague and generic, Hongjoong wonders if it’s some stock footage.

“It’s pretty.” Hongjoong comments inanely. Yeosang starts messing with the viewport, searching for sign of any consciousness in the simulation. “Do you think it’s his ideal world?”

“Last time it was just… Just some nice city. There was someone in the last one. Just some… Some kid. A humecanis walking to school.”

“Yunho?”

“No. I didn’t recognize them. It didn’t show their face.”

“Huh.” Joong’s eyes wander back to the viewport. “Someone he knows?”

“No idea. They didn’t say anything, and I didn’t see their faces.”

“Wait- did- did they have a face?”

“Hm?”

“Like, did they have a face or was it blurred out?”

“Blurred…?”

“You know, like how it glitched for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I- You said you tried to glitch the hell out of mine.”

“Oh, yeah, I did. Don’t remember blurring faces, though. Of course, I just kind of fucked around with the code.”

“Huh. Well- Sorry, that’s just- well, wait if you could glitch shit and insert it into my simulation, what if you did that with him?”

“What, like… Insert him into it? Whatever version of him I put in there would be… Uncanny at best.” Though his words aren’t exactly encouraging, the cyborg definitely seems to be thinking about it.

“He is, in theory, seeing what’s in the viewport, though, right?”

“Right. But he’s not… He’s not present, so I’m not sure what his level of self-awareness is. I’m afraid that doing a hard shutdown could have irreversible consequences. I mean- The memory implantation is strong . If a world is created without you in it, would you even know who you are?”

“Maybe you would if you recognized yourself - or a version of yourself.”

“Hm.” Yeo nods. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“Thank you. I have lots of not bad ideas.”

“Okay, um, guess I’ll… Attempt a Wooyoung.” Yeosang casts a glance through the viewing window before getting to work. Hongjoong feels a bit useless just standing by and watching, but he knows that badgering Yeosang with questions would only hinder the other.

Hongjoong watches the screen intently. He lets out a gasp when a Wooyoung actually appears onscreen. The simulation looks exactly like the one sleeping on the exam table in the other room - ashen hair slightly mussed, wearing the same dark shirt and denim he wore the day they broke out of jail. The image sticks out, a jarring, dark smudge against the dreamy beachscape. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything. Just stands still, staring in no direction in particular as waves lap at his ankles. 

Then, suddenly, the screen flickers. The image distorts, flecks of color flashing across the screen until the viewport feed finally goes black.

“SIMULATION FAILURE. SIGNAL TERMINATED.” The message on the viewport reads.

“Fucking hell.” Yeosang mutters, clenching his fists. “I don’t understand.”

“It crashed, right? Shouldn’t there be a crash report?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I mean- That’s progress, in a way.”

“It is?”

“It is. Before, I couldn’t find anything wrong. All the logs and diagnostics said things were working fine. This could be a starting off point.” Yeosang navigates the directories of the program, opening up the latest crash log and skimming it. Hongjoong gives the other a few minutes to go through it. He can hear the crew chattering loudly in the hall, waiting for them.

“So, any idea how to proceed?” Hongjoong asks.

“I- It… It seemed to work, in a way. It didn’t wake him up, but according to what I’m getting there was recognition of self. He saw himself and came to the realization that it was him. I think seeing himself in such an uncanny way upset him, though. If a subject is under too much duress, the simulation usually tries to assuage it, but it seems like the stress at sighting his virtual self upset him so greatly that it just… Shut down.”

“Right. Okay. Okay, good so it’s a start. We know he can and will recognize himself.”

“But it freaks him out too much.”

“So maybe we reboot, put in someone familiar, and maybe he’ll be less spooked?”

“Anyone other than ourselves is just gonna be some haphazardly fabricated thrall, so I think the ‘someone familiar’ is gonna have to be us.” Yeosang posits.

Hongjoong shrugs, “I’ll go in.”

“No, let me. I should’ve figured this out earlier.”

“Yeosang, please stop blaming yourself. This entire situation is fucked up. You’ve done the best you can. You don’t have to do everything.”

“But I want to.”

“Well, I want to help.”

“I mean- I guess we could both port in.”

“Sure, let’s do that. Twice the dosage of reality. Seems like he’s more stubborn than me. Wait- what happens if it shuts down or crashes while we’re in there.”

“We’ll be fine. We’re not fully immersed, so it’ll go black for a second and we pop back out, but… I have a good feeling about this one. Here.” The cyborg hands Hongjoong a port node. Joong affixes it to his forehead, and he nods to signal he’s ready.

“Alright. Let’s go in. See what default fantasy world we show up in.”

“It’ll be fun to find out. Hopefully, Woo’s actually in this one.”

“Hopefully.” Yeosang agrees. He types in a few commands to initiate the port.

Just like the times before, Hongjoong’s vision starts to tunnel. Everything fades as the program notifies him “PORTING INTO SIMULATION…”. Unlike the last time, there’s someone with him, though. Yeosang is crystal clear beside him. It’s the rest of the universe that needs to catch up. Gradually, layer upon layer of the world materializes around them. Crude shapes take on color, then texture. The milky gray horizon begins to show space beyond their immediate vicinity. Smells begin trickling into the air and sound starts echoing into Hongjoong’s ears.

“I… I think this might be it,” Yeosang murmurs. His voice echoes strangely in the odd chamber they’d found themselves in.

“Yeah… This is something. Definitely not stock.” Hongjoong takes a look around. They appear to be in some sort of castle if the large stone pillars are any indicator. Colored banners hang off of them, some strange insignia woven into the rich purple fabric. It looks like something out of a fairytale book, except, Joong doesn’t remember any fairytale castles underwater. The massive hall they’re standing in is surrounded on each side. It reminds him of the air chamber on San’s home planet - strange walls of water warping their surroundings. The smell of salt lingers in the air, affirming his suspicion.

“Underwater palace. Okay. Uh, I guess we find him. He’s probably somewhere around here.” Yeosang says. The two both shrug at one another and pick a direction. Their footsteps echo loudly down the corridor, bouncing off of the vaulted ceilings and between the water walls. There’s definitely dampness hanging in the air, but it doesn’t feel profoundly uncomfortable. They shouldn’t be long, hopefully.

They pass through an arched threshold of sorts into an area that’s solely stone walls. It’s smaller - but only slightly. Ornate sconces with amberlight illuminate the hall. They paint dark, inky shadows across the stone throughway. Voices echo down the hallway into which they’d emerged. The two exchange a sort of questioning glance and nonverbally agree to follow the noise. As they approach, they notice two people standing by the hall. Though they can’t make out any distinguishing features, what they can see from the distance is that each one is armed with long, pointed spears. Hongjoong and Yeosang press themselves against the wall, behind one of the conveniently placed columns.

“You think they’ll be nice?” Hongjoong whispers.

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be super friendly,” Yeosang answers sarcastically.

“If we die in the simulation, do we die in real life?”

“Wha-? No. What do you think this is, a horror movie? We’d get booted out.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you sound disappointed?”

“I’m not I just- I dunno. But we’ll feel it, won’t we?”

“We will feel it.”

“Ouch.”

“Yep. Oh- Fuck- They’re moving.”

“Looks like they’re walking away.”

“Thank god. I don’t feel like being skewered today. You think Wooyoung’s in there?”

“I have a good feeling about us. The simulation never ports you too far away.” 

“True… Well, then. Cyborgs first?”

Yeosang rolls his eyes as he takes the lead. Hongjoong tails the other wearily, paranoid that the lancebearing guards will return. Thankfully, the short walk over to their post is uneventful. The double doors that they’d been guarding look heavy and bear fanciful carvings. The golden handles are molded into the form of serpents (or perhaps sea serpents, given the context). Hongjoong and Yeosang shrug and go for it, each taking one and hoisting the doors open.

The room they enter is significantly lighter than the corridor. It’s also massive. The walls are covered in finicky mosaic scenes, and the furniture is ostentatious and heavy. It all fits perfectly with the over-the-top fantasy aesthetic of Wooyoung’s apparent subconscious fantasy world. Hongjoong is almost jealous. How come Wooyoung’s fantasy is so cool and grandiose while all he got was fucking college?

The two scan the area for signs of their ally, but he doesn’t appear to be in the first part of the chamber. It appears to be a sitting area, complete with a fanciful chaise and chairs that look profoundly uncomfortable to actually sit in. Hongjoong spies another portion of the “room” (it’s more comparable to a flat, in his opinion) through an opulently carved out arch with a velvet curtain hanging from it. He nods to Yeosang, signalling for the other to follow him. As soon as they part the curtain to see the second part of the chamber, they both groan simultaneously.

“Oh for fuck’s sake-!” “Dammit, Wooyoung.”

“Are you the entertainment for the afternoon?” They’re greeted by a very obviously princely figure perched in a massive cushiony chair. The crown perched atop his head is what denotes his status - well, that, along with his manner. His majesty dons a very pretty flowing tunic of sorts, its neckpiece draped across the shoulders to show off gratuitous decolletage and highlight the prince’s gills. It cuts up the sides, showing gratuitous leg wrapped in silken ribbons that criss-cross all the way down to the soles of his feet. Of course, it’s not the ribbons around the prince’s feet that Hongjoong and Yeosang are fixated on. It’s the man perched beneath them.

Wearing simple, ambiguously peasanty clothing is none other than their lovely first-mate, Wooyoung.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Wooyoung, get up.” Hongjoong huffs. Yeosang’s face is fixed in an expression of distaste, like he’d smelled something bad. (Or like he’d seen his good friend acting as a footstool for his wet dream siren prince.)

“He’s busy.” Simulation Prince San snarls possessively. “And who said you could use his name?”

“Shut up. You’re not real.” Hongjoong tells “his majesty” off frankly. He steps over toward the prince’s “footstool” and squats down so he’s closer to Wooyoung’s eye level. “Hey, idiot, get up. This is fake and- what the fuck?” He glances up at the prince. “What did you do to him?”

“Hm? You have the gall to question me?” Virtual San doesn’t even bother getting out of his chair. Even though he’s sitting down, he still manages somehow to look down his nose at the intruders. “My thrall hasn’t much need for agency, so I have him under a spell.”

“Man, that’s kinda messed up,” Yeosang mutters.

“Messed up?” San responds, incensed. “Please, he’s the happiest he’s ever been. You ought to be thanking me.”

“Thanking you? You made him, like, a zombie!” The captain exclaims, wide-eyed.

“He’s relieved of the burden of thinking. I saved him, I’ll have you know. He was going to be executed before I got my hands on him. He’s found his rightful place as my pet and, well, other things.”

“Other things is sex, isn’t it?” Yeosang asks rhetorically. “Fuck- It’s sex. He’s a sex slave-”

“Wake up!” Hongjoong ignores the cyborg’s laments in favor of trying to get at Wooyoung.

“His mind creates a hyperrealistic world of fantasy and it’s this?!” 

“Oh for fuck’s- wake up, Wooyoung!” Hongjoong, feeling less inhibited due to them being in a simulation, slaps the other. The sound echoes across the Prince’s bedchamber loudly.

“How dare you!” Virtual San gasps. He kicks Wooyoung over and jumps out of his seat, fists clenched at his side. “I’ll call the guards if you don’t stop this nonsense, now.”

“I feel like your depiction of San isn’t the most flattering,” Yeosang says to the still enthralled Wooyoung. He hadn’t stirred since getting kicked over like a piece of furniture. He just lays there, eyes hazy and faraway, expression vacant. It’s unsettling, especially considering that his consciousness is the real one in the place.

“He’s mine and I will not let you take him,” The siren says.

“You’re fake, and he’s mine if anything. He’s my first-mate.” Hongjoong retorts. He grabs Wooyoung under his armpits and hoists him up. He isn’t heavy, but his body’s lack of cooperation makes things all the more difficult.

“Just because I am a royal doesn’t mean I’m incompetent.” San slips a hand into the slit of his tunic, withdrawing a knife that looks way too large to hide there. Hongjoong is so shocked by where the knife came from that he doesn’t immediately connect the dots of action to intention. The siren lunges toward Hongjoong, and in a panic, the captain drops his poor first-mate’s (virtual) body onto the ground. He leaps back, eyes wide.

Yeosang joins the fray, reaching out in an attempt to disarm San. The siren gracefully pivots to face the cyborg slashing his extended arm. The blade easily pierces the fabric of Yeo’s shirt, but the simulation doesn’t account for the fact that Yeo’s got a cybernetic augment. Virtual San’s eyes widen in shock. The momentary lapse gives both Hongjoong and Yeosang a chance to overtake him. Yeosang shoves him to the ground, and Hongjoong quickly straddles “his majesty”, pinning his wrists down. San is capable, yes, but he’s incredibly slight. With some focus, Hongjoong is able to keep him semi-subdued. 

The siren writhes and squirms beneath him as he shouts curses, “Guards! Guards! I- I’ll have you killed. I’ll have them drain every onze of blood in your body and bathe in it. Let me go! He’s mine! Mi-”

“Thud.”

Yeosang winces as he lands a swift kick to Virtual San’s temple. 

“Sorry, San,” The cyborg murmurs. 

“Wha…?” A croaking noise comes from across the floor, reminding them that there’s someone else present. With the siren knocked out, there’s nothing keeping him entranced. Wooyoung blinks dazedly as he comes to. “Why… Why ‘m I… Wake?”

Yeosang shifts his attention over to Wooyoung, helping the bedraggled human peel himself off the ground.

“Wooyoung, none of this is real. You’re in a simulation, and we’re gonna help get you out, okay?”

“Why am I awake?” The human asks again, dazed.

“You’re not awake, Wooyoung.”

“But I- I’m…”

Yeosang sighs softly, “I’m sorry I have to do this.” He leans forward and cups Wooyoung’s face, giving the other’s cheeks a soft pat. Then, he lifts one hand, bringing it high.

“Smaaack!!”

“So, uh, we’re not gonna talk about-”

“No.” Hongjoong cuts Wooyoung off.

“Okay. I mean. You won’t-” Woo looks down the hall dubiously before lowering his voice, “-you won’t tell San, right?”

“Fuck no. Honestly, I’d rather forget what I walked into.”

“Good. Good. You- You do that.” Wooyoung nods.

“There he is!” “Hey!” “Wooyoung!” The other crew members milling about greet the straggler warmly. Woo joins them sheepishly, accepting hugs from Yunho and San. Something about him still seems off. His smile doesn’t look genuine, and his laughter doesn’t reach his eyes. The captain hopes it’s just whiplash. Most of the crew dealt with the transition fine, but it’s pretty jarring no matter what simulated world they come from.

Hongjoong does a quiet head count. One, two, three… Eight of them. Good. Eight present, the entire crew. 

“Hey!” The captain rallies their attention. He isn’t sure where to go from here. Despite the trouble they found themselves in, they didn’t really cause much of a stir (to his knowledge). There’s no bulletins going out for their arrest, no alarm bells ringing or officers banging on the doors, demanding answers. No. Much like most things in outpost stations, their entire ordeal happened behind closed doors. For once, they should be able to get out quietly.

The crew’s chatter dulls to quiet whispers and hums, all eyes on him.

“Hey, okay. So, we’re all here. We’re all okay… Thank fuck. Um. We should tread carefully, but I… I don’t think anyone knows what happened. We should be able to leave with what we need and head out to the Compass’s next set of coordinates. Just be quiet.”

“Wait.” Prettyboy holds up a hand almost timidly. Hongjoong raises his brows, waiting for some snarky comment or protestation. 

“What?”

“If- If I may suggest…” The blond’s hands wring together nervously. All eyes are on him, and he’s probably not used to having the undivided attention of the crew. At least, not unless they’re teasing him or giving him a dirty look. “This… This entire operation. I- This entire place ought to be burned to the ground.”

“I- Arson isn’t very discreet.” Hongjoong responds, eyes wide.

“I didn’t finish. I just- I understand immersive technology is common, but the ability to hold one’s consciousness hostage, to even bind them so that their mortality can be linked… It’s sickening. This technology shouldn’t be in anyone’s hands.”

“So we… Wreck everything?” Shockingly, it’s an idea Hongjoong can get behind. He doesn’t fancy himself some vigilante, but the SRG facility can only collect dust for so long. Inevitably, someone’s going to check it out, and who’s to stop them from picking up where Dr. Intra left off?

A few of the other crew members mutter; “I’m down.” “Hell yeah. Let’s wreck shit-” “Just let Jongho loose.”

“Wait-!” Seonghwa holds a hand up again.

“Wait?” Hongjoong chuckles. “Wait what? Wasn’t that your idea?”

“I- I still wasn’t finished.”

“Then get to your point.”

“Well, I- Yes, we ought to destroy as much harmful technology as we can, but- but- couldn’t we get… Get something of- of value first?” The blond’s voice pitches up as he makes the proposition, ending on a nervous squeak.

“Of… Value?”

“You know. We could- could-” It’s clear the idea he’s trying to convey makes him nervous as hell. His fingers fidget, and his eyes dance across the ground as he stutters out his thoughts. “You know. L-loot the place?”

The entire crew gasps. It almost sounds rehearsed. They’re all so damn shocked that, of all people, it’s Prettyboy, previous Coalition officer, goody-two-shoes Seonghwa proposing they commit (gasp) theft.

“Are you proposing we do a crime ?” Hongjoong tries not to sound smug. How the tables have turned. The Petty Officer of a few weeks prior would be mortified at the prospect.

“Well we- we’re already criminals.” The other grumbles resignedly. “It just- It seems practical given our circumstances. There are few regulatory agents present at outposts, so we could likely see immediate liquid benefit-”

“The resident good boy’s gone bad!” Wooyoung laughs, color returning to his cheeks. He claps the platinum blond on the shoulder, making the former Coaliton officer flinch. “There may be hope for him yet!”

“We have to be smart, though. Can’t be too conspicuous.” Hongjoong says. Though he doesn’t love going along with one of Park’s ideas, he concedes it’s… It’s alright. “Fan out and see what we can unload. Yeosang, you’d know what parts are good to take, yeah?”

The cyborg smiles ear to ear, “You realize I’m keeping some of it, right?”

“Take whatever you want.”

“Hm. Maybe I could keep a copy of the program.”

“No.”

“It’s pretty crazy shit. Could be fun.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You mean you don’t wanna be Prince San’s footstool?” Yeosang whispers with a smirk.

“Fuck off. The sad part is, that’s only the second most traumatizing thing I had to see.”

“Oh?” The cyborg’s brows raise.

“And you’ll never know what the first is.” Hongjoong shouts down the hall again, “Like I said, fan out! Let’s find some shit to sell!”

ATEEZ’s brief recess at the Cresc Outpost Station turned out to be more fruitful than anticipated. The prosper came at a price, but at least they could bandage over the anxiety and shock with padded purses and new necessities. After assessing the ship’s condition, they made the call to disembark. The shields hadn’t completely regenerated, but it was enough for them to be safe. They didn’t want to risk being around when somebody did find out about Dr. Intra. Yeosang went into the security feeds and covered their tracks the best he could, but that didn’t account for any measures the outpost itself took. Even though the alarm bells probably wouldn’t be rung for a while, they decided: better safe than sorry.

Wooyoung sorts through his own bounty in his room as the ship lifts off. After unloading some computer parts and other miscellany, they each got a share. He managed to get some more clothing basics and even found a brand of face cream he likes. The little plush unicorn sticks out jarringly against the dark clothing. That’s not for him, though.

The first mate heaves a sigh and grabs the adorable (albeit slightly silly looking) plush.

It’s stupid, right?

Maybe even tasteless?

He bought the thing on impulse after passing by a little hut with toys and other sundries. It’s big, dumb eyes called out to Wooyoung, and, at the time, it seemed like such a good gift idea. Now he feels like an idiot. He toils with whether or not he ought to give the plush to the intended recipient or just hide it in one of the built-in cupboards, never to be seen again. Normally, his cowardly self would default to the latter. He’d bury the apologies just to avoid confrontation and wallow in his own guilt. He knows better now, though, and he’s trying. He doesn’t want to be the old Wooyoung. He doesn’t want to keep hurting people, and he sure as hell doesn’t want anymore shouting matches in the brig. So, despite how much it viscerally terrifies him, he’s going to try being more forthright.

Wooyoung heaves a sigh and steels himself. He doesn’t exactly have a speech prepared, but he’s optimistic that he won’t completely shove his foot in his mouth. Probably. Hopefully?

Before he can talk himself out of it, Wooyoung grabs the plush unicorn and heads out of his room. The hall is almost eerily quiet. Most of the crew retired to their rooms shortly after returning. Despite the hours of unconsciousness, most of them felt exhausted. Their “sleep” was far from restful. Plus they got right to work stripping the place, selling stuff and shopping right afterward. That’s another reason Wooyoung put it upon himself to make haste. He’s afraid succumbing to sleep will make him lose his nerve by the time he wakes up.

He just hopes that the other hasn’t passed out yet.

“Knock. Knock.”

Wooyoung raps on the metal door softly, weight shifting from one foot to the other. The few seconds it takes for a response feel agonizing. He nearly dashes back to his room next door, but the soft “shiff” of the door sliding open stops him. San blinks at him questioningly from his bed.

“Hi,” Woo says, quickly hiding the plush behind his back. “Um, can I come in?”

“Mhm.” The siren nods.

The door shuts behind Wooyoung as he steps in. His nerves kick up, skittering around in his gut like corn kernels popping. He plays with how to ease into a proper apology, but instead he ends up just blurting it out.

“I’m sorry!” “Wooyoung, I want to apologize.” The two speak over each other.

They exchange bemused looks.

“Um-” “Ah- I- I-” They stutter over another again. Embarrassment makes heat swell from Woo’s gut to his reddened cheeks.

“San. Can I- Can I sit?” He asks sheepishly.

The siren nods. He scoots over on his bed and pats the mattress beside him. Wooyoung obliges the other, sitting close. Before they can awkwardly speak over one another, he makes his case again - soft and insistent.

“San, I- I just- I’m sorry, San.” Woo frowns. “The entire thing… Everything that happened was my fault. I should’ve sensed something was off. I should have never let you go into that place.” Just thinking about what happened makes tears well up in his eyes. He feels so stupid. So fucking stupid. He’s been working with criminals and ambiguously nefarious types for years. He should’ve known something was off about the “generous” Dr. Intra. He should’ve questioned the free thing just dumped in their laps, shouldn’t have let the other drink water without getting a good look at it, should’ve just kept them in line with their mission as first-mate - there were so many fuckups along the way, and if he’d just done one of those things right, they probably wouldn’t have ended up losing a day of their lives to someone’s malicious experiment. 

Even though he’s teeming with remorse, Wooyoung tries not to make it about him. He’s apologizing to San. He’s sorry to San - and the rest of the crew. He’ll apologize to them later. It’s San he’s most worried about, though, because San trusted him. San talked about wanting Wooyoung to help see him through his transition. He trusted Wooyoung despite knowing how imperfect he can be. And what did Wooyoung do? Squander it. Again.

San’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, “Wha-? No. No, Wooyoung, I- I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” The siren reaches out and squeezes the hand not clutching a plush behind his back. “Wooyoung, I’m really sorry. I pressured you. You only went in there because I wanted to.”

“I should’ve known better. I could have just said no.”

“But you didn’t! And that’s because you were being kind to me.” San frowns. “I could have said no, too. I was blinded with a selfish desire to have fun instead of work, though.”

“Please. Everyone wants to have fun sometimes, and I- I know your experience in the human world hasn’t exactly been fun. I wanted that for you. But I know better.”

“You couldn’t have anticipated what was going to happen.” San frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Wha- No. I’m- I’m not taking an apology. You don’t need to apologize. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not, it’s mine.”

“I told you it’s mine.”

“Wooyoung, I don’t want you to blame yourself. You take too much blame for everything, and you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t-” Deserve your kindness - that’s what Woo thinks, anyway. He manages to hold his tongue. He has the feeling that saying so will only make things even worse. It’ll put San in an uncomfortable, obligatory position where he has to console the other, and that’s not fair. This isn’t about him. “I don’t want you to say sorry.”

“But it was my foolishness that nearly compromised the entire crew,” San says, eyes falling to the ground.

“And my foolishness let you follow that awful woman into the place, so… So what if we just… We call it even?”

“Even?” The siren doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“If we both feel at fault, well, maybe we can share it? Even if we disagree about who takes more blame, if we bear it together, it’ll be easier, right?” Wooyoung tries.

San takes a moment to consider the human’s words before nodding, “Together… Well- well I suppose that makes sense.”

“And no more saying sorry for this.”

“I- I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Well, at least stop apologizing to me. Maybe we can… We can both talk to the crew later.”

“That sounds reasonable, I suppose.”

“Okay. Okay good.” This feels like progress. No argument, no back and forth, no bathing in tears of self-pity or remorse. Just an agreement to share responsibility for a fuck-up. Yes. It’s progress. 

The weight on Wooyoung’s shoulder relinquishes slightly. He could almost float with how light he feels after the fact. He almost forgets the other reason he’d come to see San.

“Um- I did get you something, though.” Wooyoung smiles. 

“Wha- For me?” San’s eyes open wide.

“Mhm.” Woo takes the stuffed unicorn out from behind his back and presents it with a soft, “Ta-da!”

The siren’s jaws drop, and Wooyoung swears, literal stars glimmer in his eyes. San’s hands timidly drift toward the stuffed toy. With a few more remarks of reassurance, he finally takes it. Upon touching it, another soft gasp leaves the siren’s lips. The silly, fluffy creature enraptures the siren. Watching San gingerly pet and squeeze the thing gives Wooyoung an indescribable high. His heart swells in his chest, fondness overwhelming nerves as he watches, rapt in his own rite. San’s slender fingers comb through the high pile of the fake, velvety fur. He lets out little satisfied hums as he appreciates the sensation of fluff beneath his fingers.

“You know, I- where I’m from, nothing feels like this,” San says, breaking the calm silence that had fallen over them. “It’s so… Soft?”

“Soft is a good word,” Wooyoung replies. “Fluffy is another one. Furry.”

“Furry?”

“Yes, furry.”

“Fur does not feel like this where I come from.” San chuckles.

“It doesn’t feel like this on most planets. This is fake just- just for a kid’s toy, but it’s nice, isn’t it? It makes it comforting and huggable.”

“Huggable…” San latches onto the word, squeezing the stuffed toy tight to his chest. His dimpled smile comes out in full force, making Wooyoung’s heart skip a few beats. “It is huggable, this creature. It is… This is a horse? With a horn?”

“It’s called a unicorn. They’re similar. Honestly, they just look different. A lot of old fairytales have stories about them being mystical and having magic in their horns.”

“Magic?” San’s jaw drop. It’s ironic that he’s so spellbound by the idea. Most would consider his abilities magic. “Are they extraordinary?”

“They’re… Like you.”

“Hm?” The siren chuckles, eyes fleeing Wooyoung’s shyly. “I’m not magic.”

“Well, neither are they - modern day unicorns, that is. They exist today because of experimentation, adaptation and evolution. But, in a way, that’s magical too. Isn’t it?”

“Superimposed adaptations are magic?” The siren laughs.

“I guess it sounds silly when you put it like that.” Woo blushes, embarrassed at his pathetic attempt at sounding profound or something. “I guess I wanted to say you’re magical or something, I- I don’t know.” 

“I’m magical? You just said they’re not. Therefore, I’m not.”

Another wave of humiliation washes over Wooyoung. He’s typically so much better at flirting and compliments than this. However, whenever it’s just him and San, it’s inevitable he trips over his tongue. He supposes that saying something dumb and silly is better than accidentally offending the other. San is laughing at his expense, but he’s laughing. Wooyoung decides to consider that a win.

“I- I mean- You are magical, San! You are!”

“I’m not, though. I’m just a regular siren.”

“Not to me.”

“I- That’s-” San chuckles awkwardly. His face warms into a pink tone as he stutters, flustered. “You only say so because- because you haven’t met others!”

“Others probably would have killed me on sight.”

“That- Well, that’s true, but still-!”

“No ‘still’! No anything. You’re magical. Accept it!”

“But why?”

“Because… Because you’re you. You’re brave and cool and curious. And you have pretty dimples.” Wooyoung punctuates the point by dipping a finger in one of San’s dimples illustratively.

San giggles and hugs his unicorn closer. Mirth bubbles inside Wooyoung’s chest. He feels liable to burst, to explode, to do something drastic. He doesn’t fucking know. What he does know is that San is beautiful, gracious, and happy and that was his doing - well, the last part was. It reassures Woo that he can actually do good by the siren sometimes. Even if it’s just something little and stupid that doesn’t at all compensate for his fuck-ups. It still means something. 

Right?

Wooyoung wants to allow himself to indulge, to enjoy the other’s company fully and just be happy; but he’s scared. He can’t help feeling as if their little moment is a delicate bubble in danger of being burst. As good as the moment is, Wooyoung can’t help wondering: when am I going to fuck this up? He gets so lost in his contemplations that it takes him a minute to realize his finger is still on San’s face.

Woo suppresses his reflex to draw his hand back suddenly. He knows that San would interpret the abrupt removal as rejection, and in truth, he doesn’t want to. Instead, the human softly taps the other’s cheek a few times before calmly taking his hand back. Part of being a better friend to San is the little things, Wooyoung has come to realize. No hot and cold, no uncertainty. The siren needs reassurance and security. It’s not something Wooyoung can always promise, but in that moment it’s something he can achieve. Realizing that sends another jolt of pleasure through Wooyoung’s system. According to his mental tally, he’s scored another point in the “don’t fuck up” game - it’s not a “game” he’s great at, so he eagerly takes the boon.

“I don’t know what sirens do, but for a lot of us humans, we like to snuggle plush toys when we sleep.”

“Snuggle?”

“You know, hold close?” Wooyoung makes the gesture.

“Oh!” San imitates the other cutely. Pitiful as it is, the conscious thought passes through Woo’s mind that, god , he wishes he was that unicorn.

“Yeah.”

“I guess that makes sense. People like to hold one another while they sleep. If they don’t have another, something nice and soft is a pleasant alternative.” San muses.

“Ah- Yeah.” For some reason, another wave of sweltering heat crashes over Wooyoung. He doesn’t like to be presumptuous, but it almost feels like an invitation. No, he thinks. That’s his perverted, naughty mind talking. San said something wholesome, that’s all. It’s not fair to turn it into something more than what it is. Woo mentally slaps himself on the wrist. “Um, I just- Yeah I wanted to say sorry and give you that, but I think we’re all pretty tired. So, um-”

“Yes, of course. It certainly wasn’t restful, that sleep. I was actually about to fall asleep when you knocked. Though… Can I- Can I tell you a secret?”

Wooyoung nods, leaning in slightly.

San bites his lip nervously, toiling over his elaboration before finally admitting: “The truth is that before I was found and everything, before I knew it was fake, I-” His voice softens to a whisper. “I had fun.”

“You did?”

San nods, “I- I know what she did was wrong, that doctor. It’s not what either of us wanted, of course, but I… It took me to a place that was- it was nice. Interesting.”

“Were there pegasuses?”

The siren’s smile upturns into something coy and mischievous, “Maybe I’ll tell you one day. But for now-” He flops over, “-it’s bed time.”

Wooyoung laughs, “I’ll leave you to it. Good night, San.”

“Good night, Wooyoung.”

Woo stands up to take his leave. Just as he reaches the door, the siren speaks up.

“Wooyoung?”

“Mhm?” Part of Wooyoung prays for an invitation to join. He gives himself another mental slap for that. Figures his dumbass brain can’t help itself, always chasing the thrill of pursuit, of closeness.

“Thank you for the unicorn. It was… Very kind of you to think of me.”

“I think of you all the time.” The admission slips from his lips without forethought. Nerves make Wooyoung’s stomach lurch, so he quickly absconds. “Good night, San.” He supplies before making a rushed exit.

Wooyoung has trouble falling asleep afterward. His heart beats fast, head whirring with remorse, desire, sadness and joy. The image of San’s twinkling eyes and dimpled smile plagues him until everything fades to black, giving way to a genuinely peaceful sleep.

Hongjoong stretches with the yawn wracking over his body. The remnants of his nap still linger in his body, but his mind was too restless for him to stay in bed. He felt antsy. He had to do something . Most of the crew is still sound asleep, hungover from the fitful “sleep” that the simulation imposed on them. Hongjoong - as much as he loves them - is actually pretty damn grateful for the quiet. It’s easier to think.

Weeks ago, the Compass spat out two sets of coordinates. They followed one, which led them to Tierrohada. The next took them to Tass. It has yet to grace them with another set, but something tells Hongjoong that it’ll be soon. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows that their coordinates will come when the Compass is ready. When they’re ready. Somehow, he’s assured of this. Like the knowledge and assurance is baked into his bones. 

His heart hammers, anxiousness fizzling beneath his skin like static electricity. He wants to know - what does the Compass have in store for them this time? What kind of place will it be? Will it be rural, on the edges of the universe like Tass? Will it be verdant like Tierrohada? What if it’s a colony this time? Or a GC stronghold?

There are so many possibilities - more than there are charted planets. Only time will tell. Until then, all he can do is wait.

Sure, he tried to poke and prod and plead with the thing. He asked nicely, then he asked not so nicely for a fresh set of coordinates. The jittery, flickering image of the starmap teased him by flashing a few times. But still, no dice. After almost an hour of shouting at an inanimate object, he decided his time was better spent elsewhere.

The captain took up a new post at the kitchen table. He had bought a few journals and writing utensils for cheap at the outpost and decided to break one in with some inventory notes. Per their normal agreement, ATEEZ’s crew divided their profit from selling off Intra’s shit evenly. Eight shares to each member, plus one for a “communal needs” fund that includes food, first-aid supplies, cleaning stuff, and other things that they all use. Even with Yeosang keeping a pile of parts for himself, they made a decent sum. Hongjoong figures that, in a creepy, awful way, it was like they did a twenty-four hour job. It’s not much, but he’ll take what positives he can get. Salvaging something good from the entire shit show helps him feel less awful about it happening in the first place. Even though he wasn’t there when the first two got lured in, he still feels responsible. It’s his crew. They split off under his direction. Maybe there’s something he could have done.

The captain heaves a sigh, urging his brain to focus on what he’s got in front of him. He’s listing off inventory, not regrets. Going down the remorse hole is an inevitable path to guilt and dread which isn’t going to help him or his crew. What will help the crew, though, is figuring out how to allocate their communal stuff fund.

Hongjoong stares at the list he’s got so far:

• Food
• Toilet tissue
• Cleaning solution

It is, admittedly, not a very good list. He knows there’s other shit they need, but (of course) he’s blanking on it. The second he actually needs something, he’s sure it’ll pop up, and he’ll groan “dammit, I forgot”. It’s not like they’re swimming in cash, either, so once he manages to get the list together, he’ll have to prioritize, too. No doubt food will remain at the top, but other things - well, he still needs a better sense of how quickly it’s used. First-aid is unpredictable - wait, first-aid, he’d forgotten that on the list.

Hongjoong pens “first-aid” quickly, satisfied that he’d remembered something else. The infirmary is still pretty well stocked to his knowledge, but he concedes it’s been a couple of weeks since he’d really been in there. Last time he had a good look at the place, half of its contents had been spilled across the floor.

The captain’s eyes keep going back to food. He makes a note on the next page of his journal (a tentative to-do list) that reminds him to do a proper inventory count of rations. They’ve been going through a lot. Eight young men eat a lot, unsurprisingly. They picked up some fresh stuff at the outpost, but that probably won’t even last them the week.

Food is tricky as hell, too. They have big appetites, but when, where and how they eat aren’t exactly predictable. Prices are also incredibly volatile. Even simple staples like sugar can vary greatly in cost from colony to outpost to planet. Even if they plan meals, their budget might not always be adequate. Hongjoong’s brain hurts thinking about it.

He’s never been good with numbers. Shit was so much easier when it was just him and Yunho. They just sort of divided stuff down the middle. Yunho always had a bigger appetite, so it was an easy arrangement of them buying meals and Hongjoong handing over his leftovers. Food aside, they were used to sharing pretty much everything since childhood, so splitting income and resources was a piece of cake. But now, as self-appointed leader of eight, Hongjoong has to be good with numbers. There’s so many more variables in the equation, and they’re all depending on him. It’s his job to oversee everyone and, yes, he gets the nice ass room with the private bathroom, but that also comes with the responsibility of making sure everyone’s fed, (relatively) clean, healthy and happy. He knows he’s not succeeding super well on all of those fronts, but if he can at least assure people aren’t hungry, he’s satisfied with that.

Unfortunately, feeding everyone has to require math . The captain heaves a sigh. Numbers . They are not his friends. He wishes he could pay for food in poetry or something. He starts zoning out, the penned digits on the paper blurring together as he starts imagining a world where the barter system accepts hastily written poems as payment for potatoes.

“Thud. Thud. Thud…”

The sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen rouses his attention. Hongjoong lifts his gaze from the journal to see who it is. His nose scrunches at the sight of a half-asleep platinum blond standing in the hall.

Prettyboy very clearly notices the captain at the table. Why wouldn’t he? Hongjoong is literally the only one there. He’s got the lights low, sure, but he’s still very obviously visible. Their eyes lock, and the air quickly thickens with awkwardness. Hongjoong’s heart climbs into his throat from nervousness. Despite himself, he can’t look away. They have both - in a silent, uncomfortable, nonverbal way - acknowledged one another; but, are they really obligated to speak? Hongjoong sure as hell hopes not. He silently begs the other to keep his mouth. Please , just don’t say anything - he pleads internally.

Alas, the fates did not favor Captain Kim Hongjoong that night.

“Captain,” Seonghwa says quietly. He pads over toward the galley, but his cerulean eyes remain fixed on Hongjoong.

Hongjoong raises his brows expectantly.

Captain…

The word brings Hongjoong back to Prettyboy’s simulation world. As much as he wants to forget, he can’t. The mental image of crewmates clamoring to their precious captain is burned into his retinas. Even moreso is the image of himself - well, the blond’s version of him, anyway. Hongjoong suppresses an expression of disgust as the memory surfaces, making him shudder. That short-haired, whiny, pouty, needy thing wearing his face haunts him.

“Captain?” Prettyboy tries again. He wants a verbal response, apparently. Great . The blond is filling a cup with water as he watches Hongjoong, awaiting an answer intently.

“Can I help you?” Hongjoong replies. 

Seonghwa stops the faucet and thumbs at his cup in a fidgety way. He’s nervous. Why? Hongjoong narrows his eyes at the other. The status quo for them is to sling insults at one another, but usually that doesn’t happen unprovoked. So what does he have to say? He seems a bit tired to start a fight, but who knows. Maybe he’s bored. Hongjoong can’t begin to tell. Things between them are perpetually weird. While their spats aren’t pleasant, Hongjoong almost prefers them, because the alternative is… This.

Strange, tense, awkward silence. Hesitant glances. Stuttered words and fidgeting hands. It’s weird. Like they both want to be civil but they very clearly don’t want to be friends. They both hold back around one another while simultaneously walking on eggshells. It’s just strange .

“Captain, I just- I came out for water and saw you, and I- I just want you to know that… That what you saw- I mean to say- if- if you would…” The blond looks so red as he talks, Hongjoong half wonders if he’s forgotten to breathe. Thankfully the other takes a deep breath, assuring Joong that he doesn’t need to perform mouth to mouth. (Another trauma memory relating to Prettyboy that Joong has - all thanks to Wooyoung and San.)

“If I would…?” Hongjoong urges the other to finish speaking. He would like to go back to solitude. Any minute now.

“If you would not tell anybody. About what you saw. In the simulation, I mean.”

Ah, yes. The simulation. The one that Hongjoong himself wants to erase from his memory. They’re in agreement about this one, thankfully. Hongjoong nods.

“I think it’s best we don’t speak of it. At all. Deal?”

“Please,” Seonghwa’s body sags with relief. Upon realizing that he had (gasp) shown some type of vulnerability, the blond quickly resumes his straight, proper posture. “I mean- It’s a deal. Thank you, Captain.” The blond nods and starts walking off; however, just before he’s out of view, he stops. Hongjoong’s brows raise inquisitively as Prettyboy regards the captain over his shoulder.

“The damn thing was in ill-repair, anyway - that program. Trust that if that thing had truly catered to my ideal world, you wouldn’t have been present at all.” He says coldly before striding off toward his bedroom.

“Noted.” Hongjoong says after him.

Asshole.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. Figures, he can’t go away without leaving some nugget of negativity.

As much as he hates to admit it, the guy has a point, though. Seonghwa was in his world, too. Hongjoong definitely considers the other’s presence less than ideal. As a matter of fact, Seonghwa’s behavior is what really tipped Hongjoong off in the end. Had he been excluded, he may have gone much, much longer without realizing his entire life had been phony. The irony of it draws out a chuckle from the captain.

He wonders why the hell the program opted to include the other. Maybe the simulation just populated everyone’s simulation with recent contacts automatically. Yeosang might know, but Hongjoong didn’t care enough to ask. As cute as his little university fantasy was, it was just that, a fantasy. The Vintage Cinema Club, the private island on the faraway planet, the cute little neighborhood he lived in - those were all as much a fantasy as Captain Mars and Crybaby Hongjoong were. They were just-

Wait.

Hongjoong puts his pen down. A spark of recognition ignites in his mind.

Captain Mars.

Captain Mars.

Where had he heard that before?

He wonders.

“No...” Hongjoong mutters to himself. His eyes drift toward the entry to the kitchen, where a certain blond had just been standing.

But it couldn’t be.

Right?

Captain Mars.

“Nah.” Hongjoong shakes his head. His head’s still jumbled from the simulation, that’s hall. He’d ported in and out of so many, he decides that he’s probably just confused, that’s all. He’s mixed up - that’s it.

He makes a conscious effort to toss away all of his rumination on the simulations - at least for the time being. He had more important matters to tend to. 

College? 

School activities?

Him?

That’s ridiculous. It’s time for him to get back to reality and resume his journey across space for the fabled Treasure. 

That’s reality.