Work Text:
Where is my angel?
The end of a tiring day.
“Someone come and save me, please”
Is overshadowed by a sigh…
MC stared up at the ceiling, her phone held limply in her grasp. The Mystic Messenger app blinked sporadically with the “Normal Route” logo. Her lips wobbled and she hadn’t realized the sob that wobbled in her chest.
Everything had felt so real. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had spent eleven days with the most amazing people that she would know in her lifetime.
She fell in love with the most amazing man she would know in her lifetime.
Her breath quivered and a small squeak came out with her exhale.
Living and in the flesh, Jumin had been real—every word, every touch, every bit. Same for the others. So why was it now that she suddenly woke up from the dream? Now the real world heaved a sigh and existed all around her as it had before the game. She didn’t think miracles were real, but being transported into the world of the game had been a blessing. It saved her and in turn she was able to save someone she loved.
Except now.
MC turned off her phone, unable to bear the sound of the upbeat music or the warm yellow glow of the videogame.
Little time had passed since she’d been brought in and out from the videogame world, less than eleven days (probably less than eleven hours even). No one had worried about her, no one cared. She bit her lip and forced herself to not think about the near-empty contacts list on her phone.
She was forced back into reality and she would live. As she always had.
The color that had been so suddenly and vibrantly splashed into her life was striped away with the harsh scent of acetone and paint remover.
She walked to work. Her manager greeted her with a practice smile and gave her the laundering list for the day. MC nodded mutely, pulled on her apron and went to the back of the dry cleaning facility. The party recipients were gone, and the lavish ballroom the RFA held their party in also dissipated. Only the sound of chirring machinery and the rustle of clothes, either in bags or not, now existed. MC stared at the rows of slowly shifting suits on the conveyor racks and wondered how often Jumin took his suits to a dry-cleaner. She momentarily fancied the idea of him just purchasing a new suit everytime he dirtied and old one—and she giggled. It was the first time laughing since she came back home. But the immediate pang in her heart at the idea of Jumin’s bemused grin and his narrowed grey eyes caused her to swallow back a cry. Because he totally would find her notion silly, before saying something like “I only have the finest launderers in all of Korea dry-clean my suits. And I do leave a mean tip, if I say so myself, darling.”
MC hated this.
She found that the world existed in faded hues of blue and grey. The sky glimmered in a dull linen blue, brushing up against the greyed horizon while the sun faded from view. Walks were the only thing MC found she could stomach after long twelve hour shifts. She hadn’t the heart to delete the Mystic Messenger game, but she couldn’t look at the sprites or the characters knowing she’d interacted with them as real breathing people. So it was a little comfort, but the cool breeze and the nighttime air in the city made her feel closer to her RFA friends even though they weren’t there.
City nights in general made her feel closer to Jumin.
MC wondered if in some other universe, or world, or timeline, Jumin lived…missing her the way she missed him. He was far too expressive to be a simple videogame character after all.
She wondered if she was just a game to them too, a little person all coded up nice and neatly for them to choose their preferred routes.
A park between her work place and her apartment sat quaintly in the city. It was safe and hardly used at this time of night. For the past few months since returning, MC had made it a habit to eat dinner here, enjoy the night, and pretend she could see the stars. Tonight was no different. Pulling her thermos from her backpack and a bottle of water, she found a comfy spot on a children’s jungle gym and sat down to eat.
Cars honked and neon signs buzzed. People walked on the streets. People talked loudly. She could hear it all from her little spot, and it felt almost nostalgic. For all the secrecy, Rika’s apartment had sat in a fairly occupied part of Seoul, and from the little one bedroom MC had always been able to hear the city life.
She could hear it too, from Jumin’s penthouse.
Closing her eyes, she tried to picture her friends.
Zen was probably at rehearsals now. He worked late into the night, practicing, doing his best for whatever upcoming role he may be participating in. Jaehee was probably still at work too—although MC had thoroughly chewed Jumin out for working his poor secretary too hard—since she’d been allowed a revision of her schedule, late nights turned into noontime sign-ins for work instead of the usual eight o'clock.
Yoosung and Seven probably weren’t doing too differently. Yoosung was probably causing another bout of sleep deprivation by playing a LOLOL tournament. Seven was also probably sleep deprived, but from doing secret spy stuff rather than having fun. She hoped regardless, that they were doing well.
And Jumin?
“And Jumin,” MC sighed, sinking her head onto her knees and squeezing her eyes shut.
A deep and familiar baritone followed. “And me?”
She’d done this frequently, in her return. Imagine him there next to her, hear his voice, feel the ghost of his touch.
A warm hand gently rested on the top of her head, slowly smoothing out her hair.
She wrapped her arms around her legs. “You’re probably at home, staring out at those stupid French doors in the living room watching the nightlife live on. Elizabeth the Third is probably at your feet, being the cute thing that she is before going off and finding something shiny that catches her eye.”
There’s an answering chuckle and her breath shatters in her chest.
Please, she begged. This isn’t funny, this is just cruel.
There’s quiet and the presence of the hand on her head gone. MC knew she was alone again. She won’t go home yet, she needed a minute to collect herself.
But then there’s a shuddering breath and the most gentle murmur. “And if I were to say I’m beside you again?”
MC reeled back so terribly that she fell off the jungle gym. A sharp yelp escaped her as she landed on her tailbone and stars circled in front of her eyes. Hurried footsteps and the panicked shout of her name met her ears—she stared in a daze as Jumin hurried and crouched before her, worrying over her.
She gazed dumbly.
“My love, are you hurt?” Jumin’s voice is urgent, and he gently lifted her arms, her ankles, twisting her shoulders, checking for injuries.
MC stares and stares and stares until she’s squinting.
To his credit, Jumin bears her scrutiny without flinching. Just that same urgent and worried look.
“You’re here.” She finally breathed.
Relief visibly washed over Jumin and he relaxed. His hand, it’s warm—so, so warm—gently cupped her cheek and MC leaned into the touch without question.
Jumin’s nose brushed against hers. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
“That’s what you’re apologizing for?” MC whispered, not knowing if she was supposed to laugh or cry or both.
A velvety laugh rumbled in his chest and he rested his forehead against hers. “Darling, I can’t apologize for you being clumsy.”
MC choked, shaking her head. Her hands tenderly cupped his face, thumbs sweeping along his jaw. Jumin closed his eyes and pressed a little closer to her, his breath feathering along her cheek with every heave of his chest.