Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A warm breeze sweeps across the deck of ATEEZ, Kim Hongjoong’s floating galleon. The captain leans on the worn wood of the helm and gazes across the beautiful sky beyond. Fluffy clouds the color of candy floss fill the horizon, backed by a lavender sky. Warm sunlight trickles between the pretty clouds, silhouetting them with golden halos that give them an almost divine quality.

Captain Hongjoong takes a deep breath and basks in it. The sensation of elation, the feeling of freedom, of knowing that the sky and all beneath it is just at his fingertips.

“Land ho!” A shout comes down from the crow’s nest.

The captain grins at his lookout, Yeosang. The lookout grins, waving his binoculars.

“Is it-?”

“Yes!” Yeosang points ahead.

Another flurry of utter ecstasy bubbles up inside of the captain’s gut. They found it. They really found it. The maps scrawled across their deck and in the war room are proof enough of their efforts. Though the scrawl and scribblings are myriad, not even the mess they’ve made of the ship can compare to that inside the captain’s mind. Countless nights were spent sleepless, contemplating their collection of maps and the arcane artifacts to discern its true location. He’s efforted for his entire life to find it, that enigmatic thing, the fabled Treasure.

And now, he is on the very cusp of discovering his life’s goal. He can hardly contain himself. Hongjoong dashes down the deck toward the bowsprit. His crew clamors beside him, hanging over the railing to take a gander at the culmination of their goals. 

There it stands, not a click from their position - a little island. From afar, there isn’t much of note. amethyst rock formations, purple palms and mushrooms - standard island flora. He was prepared for that, though. Certainly Treasure would not be so plainly apparent that anyone could find it from the skies.

The crew lets out cheers, embracing one another and gesturing enthusiastically toward the island.

“Everyone, prepare to drop anchor!” Hongjoong demands. 

“Aye!” “Yes, captain!” “Yes, sir!” “Will do!” The loyal crew shuffles around, unravelling rope and securing things per their anchoring procedure. He watches, brimming with satisfaction. How far they had all come - not just the vessel upon which they’re flying, but them as a team. Though they all came from such different walks of life, all eight of them managed to come together under one common mission. They overcame danger and conflicts both internal and external to arrive at their true goal. 

“Preparing to drop anchor, captain!” Wooyoung shouts from the larboard.

“I’m on starboard, captain!” San follows.

“Wait for it!” Hongjoong steers the ship lower. “The sails!”

“Yes, captain!” Yunho shouts, grabbing a rope hanging off of the foremast. 

The little island grows with each passing moment, and Hongjoong briefly worries that they’ll collide with one of the amethyst mountains jutting out of the land. Thankfully, Yunho is adept, and they begin to slow as they descend.

“Drop it now!” Hongjoong orders his crew! The pair of assigned deckhands unravel the chains as they approach. Being an air ship, they prefer to let down their anchors in the shallows of the shore. The large hunks of metal drop unceremoniously toward the ground. The wet “thud” that follows indicates they’d hit their mark. The ship joggles forward momentarily, its instinct to move with the winds bogged down by the anchors.

After a couple of minutes, the wobbling vessel stills.

Anxiousness and excitement well up inside Hongjoong’s chest, so mirthful and whelming he feels fit to burst. He nearly shoves the others out of the way just to be first to the chains. When their feet finally hit the ground, none of them can contain their curiosity any longer. The crew immediately fans out, looking glasses and compasses in hand.

Hongjoong has to steel himself for a second. The sheer happiness surging through him starts to make him lightheaded. He nearly stumbles over. Thankfully, before he can faceplant into the sand into the sand, a voice cuts through his daze.

“Captain! Over here!” It’s Jongho - their crew’s youngest member.

Hongjoong nods. He wrings his hand over his face a few times before following the sound of Jongho’s voice. The captain plods through the sand, squeezing between a large amethyst formation. When he emerges from the rocky corridor, his jaw drops.

The captain gawks. “Holy- Is that-?”

“The Compass! It’s the Compass for sure!” Jongho jumps excitedly, pointing at the massive white Compass lodged in the sand. It must have been sitting there, collecting dust for centuries. 

Hongjoong gasps, “But how is it so-?”

“Pristine?” Mingi finishes the thought. “I don’t know. One would think after millenia in the sand, it would be dilapidated beyond repair, but…”

“It’s totally clean, like it’d just been put there,” Hongjoong says. “There isn’t even a scratch on the glass and- Look! The needle is moving!” The observation is met with a collective gasp, and the others step closer.

“But what does it mean?” Seonghwa mutters absentmindedly. The blond scratches his nape, contemplating the thing.

“Well, it’s a Compass, isn’t it?” San remarks. “Maybe we should follow it?”

“I was about to say the same thing!” Hongjoong declares. “Look- Notice how the needle wavers, but it slightly stills pointing…” His gaze follows the needle through more amethyst crags. “That way. I see no reason to hesitate, so, shall we?”

“Yes.” “Yes, sir!” “Yes, captain.” “You’re so right…” The others utter in response.

Hongjoong regards his crew with a smile and a nod before marching off in the direction granted by the Compass itself. He leads his crewmates over and through more amethyst crags until they finally emerge into a clearing.

“It must be close,” Hongjoong says, scanning his surroundings. Iridescent palms paint rainbows on the sand below. Twixt the trees tall white roses grow along with more mushrooms. All well and good, beautiful scenery and whatnot, but not what they need. Hongjoong ventures further in and gasps. “There!”

“Is that a- An hourglass!” Yunho dashes toward the floating timepiece, tail wagging madly. “This is so cool! Oh my gosh! Is this it?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so…”

“Captain- Here!” Yeosang points in the distance.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Over there, that formation is that a-?”

“A cave! Well, shall we?”

“I don’t see why not. Doesn’t seem like there’s much here.”

“Agreed.” Hongjoong turns to his crew, “Come on everyone!”

“Yes!” “Yes, captain!” “Coming!” The others follow their captain as he ventures into the amethyst cave.

Upon entering the cavern, a cool breeze blows over the crew. The light at the entrance trickles in, illuminating the violet foliage draping down from the cave’s ceiling. Long, translucent curtains hang from above, bending light and obscuring the crew beneath a veil of soft lilac tones. The crew’s murmurs echo across the cavern as they venture further and further into its depths.

“Do you see that?” Hongjoong says, voice bouncing across the stone walls loudly. “Up ahead- it’s a light!”

“I do!” “Oh my god, is it-” “It must be!” “Let’s go!” “Oooh!”

“Toward the light!” Hongjoong’s blood starts pumping and he bounds forward. The mysterious light strobes slowly, almost as if it is speaking, beckoning the captain forward. Abstract shapes silhouette against the translucent plants, blurring in Hongjoong’s peripherals. It’s so close. The Treasure is so close. He can feel it inside his bones, his want, his need, the conclusion of everything he’d striven for is just waiting a short distance ahead. His heart pounds and the edges of his vision blurs.

The light grows - stronger, stronger, stronger - until he enters a space full of it. Hongjoong staggers, bumping into the wall behind him. His temples pulse with pain while he strains to adjust to the flooding of light. When he blinks the bleariness out of his eyes, the captain observes the strange place he’d found himself in.

It almost appears… Blank. An empty space, nearly devoid of anything. A few stubborn trees penetrate the white emptiness. Their pale bark nearly blends in with the terrain itself. If not for the bright blooms adorning their branches, Hongjoong probably would’ve missed them. The source of Hongjoong’s near-blindness turns out to be rods of floating light. They glow bright and true, filling the space with light.

“Fan out, everyone. I have a feeling it’s in here,” Hongjoong orders his crew. 

To his surprise, he receives no response.

“Did you guys hear me? I said-” The captain turns on his heel to address his crew more directly, but his thought halts immediately.

Where have they gone?

“Guys?” Hongjoong calls out.

There’s nowhere to hide in the light-filled cavern. If one of them was up to something cheeky, he’d definitely be able to tell. But there’s nobody in sight. Not a single sign of life (save for the plants, of course). 

“Hello?” He tries.

Nothing.

“Hello?”

Not a soul.

“If you guys think this is funny you- hey!”

Something moves in the corner of Hongjoong’s eye. He pivots on his heel and searches for the strange movement. His gaze lands on the path he came from. At first, it appears unremarkable, impossibly dark compared to the almost excessively light-filled cavern he stumbled into. However, as he watches more carefully, he can just barely make out something past the violet curtains.

“Hey!” He calls out to the thing. He assumes it’s a person - he hadn’t seen or heard any type of creature on the way in.

The captain sighs, resigned that he’ll have to go back into the dark, “Hey! You!” 

He steps through the violet veils and casts himself into the strange, obscure light once more. The strange blur of black shuffles about ahead of him.

“Hey! This is not funny! I’ll put all of you on shoe-shining duty if you don’t cut this out!” Hongjoong hollers. He picks up the pace, eyes straining to focus on the silhouette with nothing but the strobing light at his back. He’s grateful that at least his pace is rewarded as he can now definitely say he is following a person.

Though not particularly tall there’s something broad about them.

“Stop! I said- I said stop it!” The captain shouts. He picks up into a full out run, arms flailing out in front of himself to cast aside the strange violet veils. No matter how fast he goes, the other person doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. The excitement he felt earlier starts getting stamped down by consternation.

Where the hell is the crew?

Why are they playing tricks now of all times? When they’re so damn close?

“Alright, I’ve had enough!” Hongjoong sprints toward the silhouette. “It’s time for you to sto-ahh!” His foot catches something, and suddenly he loses control of his body. The laws of physics take over, throwing his body forward.

The captain groans upon collision with the rocky cave floor. He grips the wall nearby to help himself up. He was moderately annoyed before, but now he’s just angry. The person has stopped, at least. A small consolation for what is otherwise an unnecessary setback in their journey.

“Okay, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to- you… You need to…” Hongjoong narrows his eyes. 

The strobing light illuminates the figure before him - at least, it reveals their silhouette. Their utterly odd silhouette. Hongjoong’s eyes go right to the person’s head, upon which a big, wide-brimmed hat is perched.

“Who are you?” He asks.

Hongjoong just barely hears a soft whisper echo across the cave. He can’t make it out, though.

“Wha- What did you say?” He narrows his eyes, trying to better observe the person’s features in the strobing light.

“........s…” The noise is audible but still completely illegible.

“Wha- Who- Who are you?!” Hongjoong demands, using the wall to support himself as he stands up. “You better tell me who you are or else-”

Light strobes, filling the passage more brightly than it had before. Though it lasts for only the quickest of instants, it’s enough for the person to make a lasting impression on Captain Hongjoong.

The stranger is dressed from head to toe in black, their long coat and mask leave little left for identification. Their wide-brimmed hat very nearly covers their eyes. But it doesn’t - just not quite, and that’s enough for Hongjoong to look into them. 

They’re dark, abyssal even in the glow of the bright strobe.

“Open… Your eyes…” The whisper is louder. Though finally loud enough to hear, knowing what the other is saying grants Hongjoong no comfort. On the contrary, it only further twists the nerves tangling in his gut.

“Wha-?”

“Open your eyes.”

Hongjoong wakes with a start, shooting up panickedly. His hand flies to his throat while he gasps for air.

“Open your eyes.”

“What the-?” Panic spikes in Hongjoong’s chest, and his head whips around, desperately trying to grasp at what’s going on. The room around him is a blur of unfamiliarity. Shelves, a lamp, an incessant voice insisting:

“Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your-”

“What the-?” Hongjoong finally manages to find the source of the droning. It happens to be a literal drone. He blinks confusedly at the bouncy little bot floating about right in his face. The little round bot’s eyes glimmer with blue light, its ears bobbing with its bouncing motion.

“Open your eyes, Hongjoong! It’s the start of another beautiful day.”

“Huh?” Hongjoong grunts dumbly.

“It’s time to wake up!” The bot announces with entirely too much glee. Its eyes flicker, and a beam projects from its eyes displaying the time:

06:13AM GST.

“Wha-?” Joong wrings a hand over his face, still dazed. Though he doesn’t remember what he dreamed of, the aftereffects remain. His chest throbs with a dull ache, and his mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy and cottony in his mouth. “But where am- what is- wha’s-?”

“It’s time to get up!” The gleeful little bot nudges him on the cheek. “Come on! Up, up, up! Today’s your first day back from summer break!”

“Summer- summer break? Hold on, lemme just- wait…” He holds a hand up to hush the busybody bot. He takes a deep breath, then another, and sits still, allowing reality to set back in.

Gradually, everything trickles back to him. He’s sitting up in his bed, inside his bedroom. The walls are lined with built-in shelves stocked with curios. A few slideshow projections adorn the walls along with animated posters and art Hongjoong had made himself. A few articles of clothing are scattered about - but they’re mostly in his closet and dresser. Mostly. 

Glancing out the large window by his bed, he’s met with the barely-there morning light. The sky is still periwinkle, not yet illuminated by the sunfield’s schedule rising. From the second story of his house, he can see the tops of a few trees and the street below. Many houses much like his line the gridrows of the modest subdevelopment. The gray roofs line the horizon like studs on a jacket before receding into the city skyline.

“Today’s weather will be clear with highs of twenty-two and lows of fifteen - make sure to take a light jacket!” The bot, apparently unable to be silent any longer, cheerfully rattles off factoids about the day. Another projection of a to-do list crops up beside the bot. Blocks of color accompanied with text denote the day’s tasks: wake up, breakfast (‘yoghurt smoothie with grain bar’), commute, classes, club, exercise… The young man’s head is nearly sent spinning again at the sheer volume of itemized tasks. “It’s time to get dressed!”

“Oh… Okay,” Hongjoong swings his legs over the side of the bed. The little drone floats over to a large poster on the wall opposite his bed. It’s a print of an old painting depicting a clocktower against the night sky. The drone lets out a soft “beep”, and suddenly the tall poster fades, revealing his closet behind.

Joong stumbles toward his closet, hands reaching for his uniform. He picks out the right pieces based on pure instinct - a crisp, white shirt with the crest for the pilot program embroidered on the shirt pocket and black pants.

“Hongjooong!” A voice drifts into his room - one that most definitely does not belong to the little alarm drone. 

Joong’s head darts in the direction of his door - where it’s coming from. He knows that voice. He’s certain of it. But… From where? It sounds so very familiar yet foreign at the same time.

“Hongjoong!” The person - a woman - calls again.

The university student hesitantly approaches his bedroom door and cracks it open.

The holler again. “Hongjoong! Breakfast is ready! Come down and get something to eat!” 

“Mom?” Without a second thought, Hongjoong dashes out of his door. He rushes down the stairs (nearly wiping out in the process) and practically lunges into the kitchen. For some reason that he can’t explain, his heart is beating so fast he can hardly take it. Something almost suffocating wells up in his chest, a ball of emotion so strongly steeped in joy it makes borders on overwhelming.

There she is, her back to Hongjoong as she prepares something on the kitchen counter. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s got an apron on over her work clothes. The aroma of fresh baked goods drifts into Hongjoong’s nose - the scents of cinnamon and honey hanging heavy in the air, awakening his dull senses. His mouth waters and his heart aches for some strange reason.

“Smells good in here,” A man descending the steps says.

“Dad?” Hongjoong tears his eyes away from his mother to face his father also dressed in his coveralls for work. 

“Son?” The middle-aged man raises his brows and gives Hongjoong an amused grin.

“M-Mom?” Joong turns back toward the kitchen counter, just to make sure she’s there.

Finally, she turns away from the fresh baked batch of grain bars she’d taken out of the oven. She tilts her head curiously at her son.

“Yes, sweetie?”

Yet again, Hongjoong’s body moves by instinct rather than thought. He damn near tackles his own poor mother before pulling her into a tight hug. Though he’s never been particularly affectionate, he can’t suppress the urge to nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. She’s warm and soft and smells like cinnamon and coffee and home.

“I love you so, so much,” Hongjoong says.

“I- I love you, too,” She chuckles.

“Hong,” His dad says, approaching the pair, “Have you been exploring any new recreational drugs that we need to know about?”

“Dad!” The student swiftly switches from his mother to his father, giving his dad the same over-affectionate treatment, squeezing the life out of him. “Good morning.”

“What in the-? Are you feeling alright?” His father asks.

“I- I’m fine,” Hongjoong insists, finally backing off. “I’m fine. Just. Happy to see you is all. I dunno.”

His parents exchange dubious expressions.

“Is there… Anything you want?” His dad ventures.

“No.”

“Honey, are you okay?” His mom leans forward and sweeps a finger across his cheek. She swipes away a tear. 

Hongjoong blinks confusedly. He didn’t even notice that he’d been crying. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. Sorry, just um. Emotional, I guess.”

His mom shakes her head, “Hormones. Even as an adult, those things can still happen. Just because you’re in university doesn’t mean you’re done growing.” 

“I sure hope not. I was hoping he’d get the tall gene in the family,” His father quips.

“What tall gene?” His mom smacks her husband playfully.

Hongjoong laughs at their jabs at one another. Warmth spreads in his chest as if he’d just had a sip of nice hot tea. He can’t explain the strange sensation in his chest, but he knows he likes it. 

“Wait!” Suddenly, all things come to a screeching halt for Hongjoong. An alarm bell rings loudly in his head.

Something is off.

Something is missing.

Or, more properly: someone.

“Where’s Yunho?” He asks with sudden urgency.

Once again, his parents exchange befuddled looks.

“I don’t know. Have you tried the house next door?” His dad answers. “You know, the one that he’s lived in for the past twenty years or so?”

“Huh?” Without asking for further explanation, Hongjoong dashes straight out the front door to see for himself. He runs across the cushiony lawn of green grass straight into the neighbor’s landingport and shouts. “Yunho? Yunho!”

For a second, he’s stricken with the sudden thought of “What am I doing?!”; however, it’s quickly cast aside when a window on the upper floor flies open.

“Oh- ‘Sup, Hong!” A familiar friend hangs out the second story window and waves, tail wagging behind him.

“Yunho!” Hongjoong grins from ear to ear and waves enthusiastically.

“How are you so awake right now?” Yunho asks.

“I- I don’t know. But I’m happy to see you!” 

“Okay, whatever. See you in, like, fifteen minutes!” 

“Y-Yeah! Wait- Why-?”

“Uh. We’re walking to the station- same shit we always do.”

“Language!” A woman’s voice barks from beyond the window.

“Sorry!” “Sorry Auntie!” Yunho and Hongjoong shout sheepishly. The two break down into laughter for a few minutes until Yunho finally ducks back into his house. Hongjoong gives the other a parting wave, excitement surging through him like electricity. His heart is beating so fast - and he can’t even understand why.

He decides not to question a good thing. Instead, he figures it’s best he calm down just a little bit. Stepping back onto his lawn, Hongjoong takes a deep breath and takes a few quiet moments to himself. He gazes idly down the street of their humble suburban locale. A few houses have robots already outside, watering lawns or trimming hedges. Hovercrafts amble down the street at the sluggish mandated speed limit - commuters on their way to work, no doubt.

“Hongjoong!” Joong’s mother calls from the door. He pivots on his heel and smiles at her. “Yes, sweetie, I’m very glad you’re in a good mood this morning, but why don’t you come in and put on actual clothes.”

“O-Oh. Right. Yeah,” The student chuckles sheepishly. He trots in, hoping not too many of the neighbors got a view of his fuzzy socks and rumpled sleeping shirt. 

“Hurry up! You need to catch the shuttle to school! You know how unreliable those things are,” His mother chides him.

“Seriously, one would think with all the technology today those things would run on time,” His dad chimes in.

“Right! Right! I’m going!” Hongjoong runs toward the stairs. He hops up a couple when something abruptly halts him. 

His reflection.

“Wh… Red hair?” His jaw drops as he observes his reflection - most notably his short, blazing red hair. He runs a hand through the mussed mop, fascinated with the vividity of the tone. “I’ve always wanted to go red.” He mutters absently. He’s not sure why he said it - after all, he is a redhead.

“You’ve been red for three months now,” His mother sighs. “Seriously-” She turns to her husband, “-what has gotten into him?”

“Beats me. I work with machines, not people,” His dad answers her. “Speaking of which-” 

“I know, I know. Go. Go!”

Hongjoong turns away when the two go in for a goodbye kiss. Even though he’s an adult, it still makes him cringe. His parents are usually cool, but occasionally they have extra sappy moments - the type that a kid really doesn’t want to witness.

The student focuses on getting ready. He gets dressed with haste. His bunny drone helps comb his hair while he pats serums into his face. He decides to oblige the drone’s suggestion and tops the outfit off with a fuzzy cardigan to combat the minor chill in the air. The season is transitioning, and soon it’ll be autolia, the season of harvest and fireside stories.

For now, Hongjoong opts to shelve his fantasies of red noses and hot cider for the present - a.k.a. School. When Hongjoong emerges from his house (after having a grain bar thrown at him by his mother), Yunho is already waiting on the sidewalk. He looks dashing in his uniform. The mechanic department has a dark overshirt. They’re more laid back, though, and let the students wear canvas or denim (lucky bastards).

“What’s with that look on your face?” Yunho asks, a lopsided grin on his face.

“What look?” Joong replies, joining the other’s side. They pick up into a steady stride down the sidewalk. Hongjoong’s walked the route to the shuttle so many times, his body carries him effortlessly, knowing the way on its own.

“That dumb smile,” The humecanis bumps his shoulder against the human’s.

“What? Something wrong with me smiling?”

“Before seven in the morning? Yeah. Usually you’re like undead at this hour. You got a crush I don’t know about? Get a naughty holo from a hottie?” Yunho singsongs jokingly.

“Wha- Oh my god- no.”

“Good.”

“Good? Wha- You don’t want me to be happy?”

“No! Good because I’d be pissed if you were messing around with someone and you didn’t tell me, your best friend.”

“Okay, fair. But, has it occurred to you that it is my life and I can do what I want without your express consent?”

“Yeah, but-” The canis fake pouts,”-that’s not very nice… So… Do you-”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “No. I am not currently drooling over anyone, unlike someone I know.”

“Why do I feel targeted by that statement?”

“I dunno. Maybe because you’ve been giving that Venusian polisci guy fuck-eyes for, about, what’s it been-? A month?”

“Fuck-eyes?!” Yunho snorts. “Am not.”

“Yes! Fuck-eyes! You’re not subtle, you know. Your tail is wagging like crazy, by the way.”

“D-Dammit! Every time! Can’t even pretend to have a fucking poker face.”

“ Language , Yunho,” Hong jokes. The dumb jab earns him an elbow in the ribs - luckily, Yunho’s good natured enough not to actually hurt him. (Well, not this time.)

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up while you still can. If you ever fall for someone in the future, just you wait. I’m gonna give you so much crap.”

“If it happens, you’ll be the first to know. Not like I can hide shit from you anyway.”

“Damn right, you can’t. Well, except for today, that is?”

“Today?”

“Yeah. Today. I can’t figure out why you’re so damn chipper .”

“Oh,” Hongjoong laughs. “I just- I dunno I guess I’m…” He shrugs. “I’m just really happy today. I feel… Grateful. I- It sounds weird, doesn’t it?”

“Aw. No, that’s nice.”

“Beep! Beep!” A shrill mechanical chirping from Hongjoong’s pocket comm interrupts their tender moment. The little node automatically floats up, projecting a small bulletin.

The little robotic voice announces, “Shuttle to Ludere Station departing in five minutes. According to your current position you are approximately two-hundred and fifty meters away. Should you wish to board the shuttle during-”

“Uh-! Dismiss!” Hongjoong waves at the floating node, a wave of panic washing over his relaxed contentment. He and Yunho trade terrified expressions. 

“Run?” The redhead proposes. Yunho nods, and the two of them break out into a full-on sprint to make their shuttle ship.

Even amidst the horrific prospect of missing a shuttle looming over his head, Hongjoong can’t help but feel exhilarated. Something about the mundanity, the familiarity, the simplicity of it all - of his life, his family, and the people around him - it fills him with utter bliss.

Hongjoong heaves a sigh and lays his head on the desk in front of him. His happy high from the morning has long fetered out, leaving him grasping at the exhaust fumes for energy. His four classes each run over an hour long, and he tries to squeeze in exercise, meals, and study time in between, too. All around him he observes that very many are on the same ship he is - tired, downing caffeinated tonics and dozing over their coursework. It reassures him a little bit that he’s not the only one struggling. Of course, there are always the select few overachievers who bust curves with a smile and a six-pack. Thankfully, the library appears devoid of any of those black holes of self-esteem.

The student stretches languidly in his seat in an attempt to rouse his senses. He wants to go home, but… He’s forgetting something. He’s certain of it. He has to do something.

But what?

As if prompted by his very thoughts, his pocketcomm drifts out of his bag and hovers above his work surface. The redhead raises his brows expectantly at the little robot, waiting for its message.

“Reminder! This is your reminder that you have club activities in thirty minutes. Do you confirm your acknowledgement?”

“They couldn’t have thought of a less wordy way to ask for an ‘okay’?” Hongjoong grumbles.

“If you would like to change my speech patterns, you can go into my settings and adjust them to your liking any time! Do you confirm your acknowledgement?”

Joong narrows his eyes at the thing. He swears that the first bit sounded just a little passive aggressive.

“Yes,” He answers. He’ll let the damn thing get away with it this time. “I’ll show you speech settings.” He grumbles as it slips back into his bag. “Club. Club… I’m in a club. Wait- Where is club?” The absentminded student reaches in again and inquires with the drone. Thankfully, its answer as to the club’s meeting place is concise.

When Hongjoong steps out of the library, his feet take him in the proper direction immediately. Muscle memory guides him toward the meeting spot (a building on the north side of central campus) which allows him to zone out a bit. It’s a clear, pleasant evening. The nice weather has brought out the student body in droves, it seems. People zoom up above on hoverboards and lounge on blankets and floating hammocks. Some people toss discs around while others set up netfields for volleyball. Even if he did make the time to laze on campus, Hongjoong is pretty sure he wouldn’t be among the sporty crowd. Save for the occasional pick-up game of football, he’s more of the indoor, artsy type. He’d probably be under one of the trees with the guitar players and poets. 

Not today, though.

Today, he’s got other activities.

Hongjoong steps into the entry corridor of the very cutely named Building 1024. Panels line the far wall to help students navigate to their target section. It’s empty in the evening, thank goodness. The queues for the panels can get pretty long during peak times.

Joong steps right up to one and punches in the room number into the numbered panel, and prompts pop up on the screen above. A robotic voice orates the words displayed:

“Room input… Confirmed. Party of… One person. Confirmed. Room 1117’s current scheduled activity: Vintage Cinema Club. Readying lift. Projecting barrier field. Please hold onto the railing...”

The floor beneath Hongjoong jostles slightly, and a curved railing emerges from below. A safety field emerges with a glimmer of light, the blue luminescence pulsing to remind him that he’s secure. Once the panel beneath him lifts, it’s a fairly smooth ride. He watches the entry corridor shrink as it takes him up, up, up ten stories. Hong supposes it beats climbing stairs like he has to in older buildings. The modern inputs like 1024 utilize a specialized lift system of sorts. They optimize the space by eliminating real hallways and instead using a grid through which the lifts can navigate. The ones at 1024 can go up to twelve people, but Hongjoong has heard that other places have systems that can load up to fifty! It’s not always practical, but there is something cool about watching a bunch of people on little, personalized hoverlifts floating between the classrooms.

The robotic voice announces,“Approaching Room 1117. Remain still until the platform is at a complete stop. Arriving…”

The hovering platform slowly ambles up to the flank of Room 1117. They part when the hovering platform locks into place, revealing what’s beyond.

“Arrived at Room 1117. Please unload in an orderly fashion. The platform will not move until the sensors…”

Hongjoong steps off before he can hear the rest of the message. He steps into Room 1117 - well, the entryway. Most of the classrooms have a sort of waiting-reception area with seating, bulletin boards and even vending machines sometimes. The actual classroom lies beyond the double doors across from the lift entrance. 

Given that he’s not there waiting for class to start, Joong sees no reason to wait around. He marches onward, throwing the doors open. Though he felt worn out before, the thought of seeing his friends reinvigorates him. 

“Oh! Hi!” “Hey, Hong!” “Hello!” “Look who’s here!” “Hi-hi!”

“Hi, everyone!” Hongjoong responds to the chorus of greetings. He can’t help but smile ear to ear when he looks at everyone lounging around. They quickly turn back to one another and resume chatting about whatever (probably off-topic) thing they’d been chatting about.

The formerly unfounded happiness starts to well up in Hongjoong yet again. But this time he knows why he’s so glad. 

It’s because it’s them. His people. They’re all there, together, happy. They’re just shout-talking at one another, laughing, joking, flirting, being inappropriate. Being just them .

There’s Yunho, of course, draped over the instructor’s podium, tail wagging madly. Unsurprisingly, he’s drooling over Mingi - the political science major from Venus. He was the talk of their school for a brief spell. Everyone was curious about the Venusian dandy who chose their pedestrian institution over the prestigious ones on Venus. Some people even insisted he was a prince or a noble of some sort, travelling far for anonymity.

In Hongjoong’s opinion, Mingi’s the prince of bullshit and little else. He can barely imagine the guy presiding over preschoolers - let alone a royal court. But that’s neither here nor there. Yunho likes him, and he’s grown on Hongjoong (and the rest of them) too. As unbearable as Yunho is, at least he’s not Wooyoung .

The second-year dance student has no shame. Not a single gram of it! He can’t keep his hands off of his pretty little boyfriend for five seconds. Even now-

“You know there are other people here, right?” Hongjoong barks at the couple in the corner.

Wooyoung unlatches himself from his pretty little siren boyfriend, San, and smirks, “They can join, too.” San just giggles, a happy flush tinting his fair cheeks. When Wooyoung nailed a date with the siren, everyone immediately slapped him with the “he’s a real catch” joke. But, in all seriousness, he is a catch. The guy is gorgeous, has a cute personality, and he’s kind. Though he’s had a lot of adjusting to do to their land-dwelling culture, he’s taken it all in stride with a healthy attitude of curiosity. 

Seriously, what is it with his friends and hot exchange students? Sometimes Hongjoong wonders when his hot exchange student will transfer. He’s already a third year. They’re running out of time, dammit! Where are they?

“We have one more coming,” Yeosang - the honest-to-gods brains of the operation - says. He got a full ride for bioaugmentation engineering. A damn well deserved one, considering he made all of his augments when he was a teenager . Not only is he smart, but he often serves as Hongjoong’s much-needed bastion of sanity. Him and Jongho, their youngest. 

The first year swipes across a projection of pictures idly. Probably pictures he’d taken earlier - the kid’s a real shutterbug.

“Wait, what do you mean one more?” Hongjoong asks, just realizing what Yeosang said.

“Well…” Yeosang coughs awkwardly. “The university might have, uh, erased our eighth.”

“What?” “They erased our eighth?” “Our baby?”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Hongjoong asks, feeling left out. The others in the club all look at him bemusedly. It’s Yeosang who answers:

“Really? How could you forget about number eight? The definitely-a-real-student we registered as our eight member so we could… Spread the joy of our club with no incentive for funding or university recognition whatsoever.”

“Oh. Right. That eight. Yeah- Duh. Sorry, I was just- brain lapse. Well, what happened?”

“I think they did a system update. Decluttered the student database and, well…”

“Number eight was clutter,” Hongjoong frowns. “Aw.”

“I know.” “So sad.” A couple of the others respond.

“But!” Yeosang claps happily. “I managed to convince a friend of mine to join! Our new initiate should be here soon.”

“Not a very good first impression to make if they’re late,” Hongjoong pouts.

“He has a class that runs a little later. I’d figure it’s fine. Especially considering that we spend half this club dicking around, anyway.”

“What? We do very important work all the time!” Wooyoung feigns offense. He approaches Jongho’s side and drapes himself over the youngest who appears entirely ambivalent. “Isn’t that right Jjong?”

“Mhm,” The other grunts, eyes not leaving his screen.

“See? Jjong agrees!”

“Right, well, we have actual shit to do, so we should get ready,” Yeosang says. “Actually- Captain, why don’t you take the reigns.” He looks at Hongjoong.

“What did you call me?” Something flashes in Hongjoong’s chest. A quick, instantaneous something. It sort of feels like his heart skipping a beat. 

“Captain,” Yeosang’s brows knit together with confusion. “You know ‘cause you’re captain of the club. Or leader or whatever. Why do you look so confused by that?” He chuckles.

“No. No I’m not. Just- just, um- brain. Not working.” Hongjoong laughs it off and approaches the large screen at the front of the classroom. He taps an input pad at the far side, and it comes to life, pale blue light spanning the massive panel. The text reads: “Awaiting signal…”

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to think further than that. His pocketcomm once again drifts out of his bag and approaches his side.

“Ready to initiate club protocols?” It prompts him.

“Uh, yes?” He doesn’t know why it’s more of a question than an answer. The machine obliges regardless.

“Initiating club protocols. Loading meeting docket onto Board-A1117.”

With that, the big screen comes to life. A projection emerges from the large panel with nodes containing text and video. A large header at the top reads:

“VINTAGE CINEMA CLUB”

One textual node lists goals and tasks for the meeting. Another is a roll call for members (with a conspicuous “????” as a placeholder for member number eight). Hongjoong starts skimming the contents of another text node:

“ACTIVITIES FAIR 21 DAYS OUT. Possible ideas for booths/activity: 

• maid cafe (woo’s idea)
• Trivia quiz(?) - yeosang
• Orgy
• Send help
• Raffle off a gift package”

It could definitely use some work, but before Hongjoong can make a comment, the doors part behind him.

“Shiff.” “Sorry I’m late,” Someone says. They stride in hastily toward Yeosang. The cyborg’s face lights up and he waves toward the new entrant.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet our number eight,” He says.

Hoongjoong’s eyes follow the cyborg’s gesture, and upon seeing the newest addition to the Vintage Cinema Club, his heart drops.

Oh no.

It’s him.

Hongjoong’s guts coil with absolute revulsion at the sight of him. Why, of all people at the university - of all the people in their galactic sector - did he have to be the one that Yeosang enlisted?

“Everyone, this is Park Seonghwa.” Yeosang introduces him with a smile. “Wanna, um, tell us a little about yourself?”

That’s right. Evil has a name, and that name is Park Seonghwa. Hongjoong’s pretty certain that ashy blond undercut hides a pair of devil horns. His heart withers knowing that Seonghwa is going to be their eighth. He has half a mind to protest, but everyone else seems fairly ambivalent, more focused on one another than the prim, pompous blond at the front of the room.

The blond obliges,“Well, uh, like you said, my name is Park Seonghwa. I’m a cyber intelligence major and, uh-” His gaze finds Hongjoong’s, and for a second, his cool exterior falters. He winces, his nose wrinkling ever so slightly as if he smelled something rotten. Hongjoong narrows his eyes, and the two engage in a nonverbal exchange of animosity for a second.

If anyone notices, they don’t say anything, and without a hitch, the CI major continues. “-Uh, yeah. I just. Met Yeosang in a class and thought it’d be cool to join. Um, thank you for having me.”

“Welcome!” Yeosang claps enthusiastically, and everyone else joins along. Hongjoong throws on a constipated looking smile and does the same. Though he is not happy with this development, he refuses to let it ruin his day. It shouldn’t be too bad, he figures. So long as he doesn’t have to look at or hear the other, things should be fine. Right?

Yeosang raises his brows at Hongjoong expectantly, making the third-year remember that he has a job to do. He’s their leader, and it’s up to him to, well, lead. Hongjoong nods and takes his place at the front. After some gentle prodding, he manages to herd the cattle into their seats. He gives the docket board a quick read and starts:

“Well. Uh. Thanks for being here like always, everyone. And, uh, welcome to our new member. I’m sure we can all agree we’re glad to maintain our official organization status with the school. So. Yay!”

“Woo!” San lets out a small cheer in support.

Hongjoong chuckles, “Thanks- Thank you, San. Anyways- our main goal for this meeting is for us to…” He glances at the screen again. “To decide on our activity fair booth! We’ve got twenty-one days - that’s three weeks - to prepare. As you can see, we’ve already pitched in ideas.”

“Some better than others!” Wooyoung interjects, getting a couple of snickers form the group.

“Whatever it is we pick-” Hongjoong continues, ignoring Wooyoung, “-it should attract members and provide some sort of enriching look into the cinema of yesteryear. You know, ‘cause the school loves cultural education shit like that. So, um, any… Any other ideas? Let’s think of this club’s means-”

“You mean paying out of our pocket?” Wooyoung interjects.

“Uh- Yes, exactly. So, whatever it is cannot be too grandiose.”

Jongho remarks, “Well, as the cinema club, wouldn’t a movie event make sense?”

“But it’s an activity fair. That’s not exactly conducive to a regular viewing. We want lots of people stopping in and out,” Yunho responds. “Plus, that’s kind of like our normal club activities, anyway.”

“Um, if I may-” Seonghwa actually raises his hand as if in class. Hongjoong has to school his face into a calm expression, suppressing the grimace he very much wants to give.

“Yes?” Hongjoong prompts the other. Because apparently he needs to take the floor.

“What if, at the booth, we run a screen with… Old PV reels. A recurring loop that will spark interest and tease the season’s viewing schedule.”

The leader tries not to pull a face. It’s… Not a bad idea. Not that he’s about to lavish the guy with praise for it. At least he’s being useful - even if his presence does radiate a pungent aura of haughtiness.

“That’ll draw eyes. How do we get them to talk to us, though?” Hongjoong counters. “We’re not gonna be the only ones running a screen. Sure, the content is unique, but what’ll stop them from gawking and leaving?”

“Me, obviously,” Mingi grins and strikes a pose.

“Thank you, Mingi. Your glowing complexion and tall stature will surely bring people to the club in droves.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, look, we’ll add PV reel to the notes-” As Hongjoong says it, the words appear on another screen panel under “NOTES”, “-but I dunno, I feel like we can do better. We need something more...”

“Yeah, I get that,” Yeosang murmurs.

The leader nods, “We have to think: what makes someone really wanna stick around and talk? Anyone?”

A brief spell of silence falls over the club. They exchange a few murmurs and whispers until, finally, one of them breaks the quiet.

“Food?” Yunho says.

“Dude- Yeah.” “Yeah, food.” “Definitely food.”

“ Free food,” The canis clarifies.

“Yeah!” “Of course.” “It’s gotta be free.”

“Um-” San cuts in, “-we can home make things! Bulk ingredients are affordable.”

“Ah- That’s a good idea, Sannie!” Wooyoung beams. “I can use the communal kitchen at our dorm to make snacks!”

“What if we did drinks, too?” Mingi asks.

“Is that possible? Wouldn’t that be too much for the budget?” Jongho wonders. “Are we running a restaurant or a cinema club?”

“For the sake of garnering business, why not both? I mean- we normally bring snacks to our viewings anyway,” The Venusian posits.

“That sounds a bit involved, though,” Hongjoong furrows his brow.

“It could be like- like a cafe moment,” Mingi posits. “A little movie cafe. It could emulate the experience of our club in an easy to approach, bite-sized way.”

“We could pre-prepare things so they’re easy to hand out. I think it’ll be cute,” Woo says with a smile.

“Okay, so- I mean, it’ll come out of our pockets,” Hongjoong presses his lips together. No doubt he can spirit a few baking ingredients away from his pantry, but most of the others live in dorms. He’s never comfortable asking people to reach into their coinpurses. “Do you think that’s the best plan, though? I mean- I agree, free food is definitely gonna get attention.”

A few chuckles echo across the vast, empty room.

“Of course we do.” “Yeah, that’s fine.” “Seriously, it’s okay.”

“Hong,” Yunho smiles warmly, “We all want this to succeed. There’s eight of us now - for real - between all of us, I think we can chip in and get something really nice together.”

“Right. Yes, of course, I- thank you. Thank you all,” Hongjoong replies. (He so badly wishes he could tell Seonghwa “except you”, but that would be rude. And he wouldn’t want to be rude to the guy’s face .)

“Okay, so. Kind of a… Movie cafe concept - is that good?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah!” “Yes!”

Hongjoong grins with satisfaction. The dizzying high of happiness trickles back into his veins. He feels like a star is twinkling in his chest, its glow warming his body through.

“Dinner smells great.” Hongjoong beelines it to his dad in the kitchen and gives him a side-hug.

“Thanks. Set the table?”

“Of course! Lemme just drop my bag off and change.”

“Sure thing. Your mother will be home in a few.”

“Awesome!” Hongjoong shouts back as he rushes up the stairs.

He throws his bag into his messy room and disposes of his uniform with similar haste. Less than five minutes later, he’s downstairs in comfy clothing, setting the table as his dad asked. His mother steps in and undergoes a similar routine as he did.

“Table’s set!” Hongjoong proclaims proudly after laying out three place settings.

His father eyes the dining table dubiously, “Hong, you only put three.”

“Uh- Yes?”

“Have you… Forgotten how to count?”

“What?”

“There are six of us, Hongjoong. You, your mother, myself, Yunho, his parents-”

“Wait- The Jeongs are eating dinner with us tonight?”

“...Hongjoong. They eat with us… Every night. Well, not literally every night, but most nights. Ninety-percent of nights.”

“...Oh,” Hongjoong’s head suddenly goes vacant. Every night. They eat as a family unit every night?

How…

How could he forget something like that?

His heart dips, concerned about his own apparent memory lapses. They’ve been happening often, it seems. Why?

Before he can reflect on it any further, a loud noise interrupts his reflection. A cacophonic chorus of hellos and warm greetings echoes across the open living space. Hongjoong forgets everything he’d just been thinking about, mind utterly empty at the sight of his aunt and uncle.

The Jeongs treat him like another son (or even better, Yunho would allege). Hongjoong finds himself in a tangle of outstretched arms and wagging tails. Yunho’s mother sets a massive platter of grilled meats on the table to accompany the Kims’ stew and rice. The delectable spread makes Hongjoong’s mouth water, and he happily heaps his plate the second it’s deemed acceptable.

Everything progresses in a dizzying blur of happiness, banter, and animated conversation. Their parents ask about their school days. Yunho talks about his flight simulator glitching and Hongjoong informs everyone of his upcoming midterms. They tease one another and talk about what’s on the news or the new shows. Mr. Jeong talks about an idol group (“They’re hot with you kids, right?”) that has a catchy single out he likes, and Hong’s mother fondly remembers her hardcore fangirling day, bragging about how she used freebie posters like wallpaper. When Hoongjoong is just about ready to burst, his mom starts plating up fruit for dessert - and, what is he going to do? Say no?

Hongjoong isn’t quite certain how he manages to get up the stairs. Though the Jeongs said goodbye about ten minutes prior, they still haven’t gone beyond the door jamb. He figures they’ll say bye another three times before actually going into their house.

Hong knows he shouldn’t fall asleep too early, but he feels so… Sated. He can’t possibly think of anything else he would want from his day. He made good progress on his coursework during the day, so he doesn’t need to work on it now. He could game with a few friends or meet up in virtual space, but he’s kidding himself if he says he has the energy.

He takes a bath to stave off sleep, but it only serves to make him even more tired. 

So, clean and utterly satisfied, he throws in the towel and lays down in bed.

“I’m going to bed,” He mutters. Prompted by the command, his little droid flickers in response, rattling off the next day’s alarm and tasks. It picks a spot on the window ledge next to Hongjoong’s bed for its resting place.

Hongjoong sighs happily, wiggling around to cuddle in his plush duvet. When he finds a position that feels just right, another spark of joy courses through his body. The window right next to him gives him a view of the houses and the night sky. Little cubes of yellow light paint the horizon beyond his view. Beneath the night sky, the houses look cute and quaint, all organized, an assembly of glowing squares. Above it, stars span the sky, tiny, beautiful, imperfect. A couple gleam brightly while others are tiny, barely visible flickers. Sometimes, he wishes he had a moon to gaze upon, but his planet doesn’t have one.

For some reason, his eyes start stinging with heat.

Tears well up from a place Hongjoong doesn’t quite know. He can only conclude that they’re joyful ones, because he’s so, so content. He doesn’t think himself very emotional, but the more he dwells on it, the more teary-eyed he becomes. 

Everything just feels so nice. In spite of his obligations and anxieties, he feels so utterly lucky to inhabit the life that he’s been given.

Hongjoong sniffs loudly, trying to hold back tears.

His eyelids get heavier by the second. Something passes through his mind in his last moments of consciousness. For some strange reason, he gets the feeling that he’s forgotten something.

But, for the life of him, he can’t remember what.