Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Everything is dark, until it isn’t. Minho blinks at the door in front of him, his mind feeling foggy and as heavy as his body. It’s like he’s moving through liquid: the dull, distant sound of his own heartbeat the only thing he can hear. There’s an eerie blue light escaping from the gaps in the doorframe and looking at it for too long makes his eyes hurt, so he raises an arm to shield them.

That’s when he realizes his fingers are curled around an object, holding on tight. It’s a key, simple and old-fashioned. The metal is warm in his hand, and it almost seems like it’s pulsing. If it wasn’t so difficult to string together any thoughts at all, he’d probably be disturbed by that.

His legs move of their own accord, bringing him closer to the door, and then it seems natural to put in the key and turn and push and—

“Welcome to the Velvet Room.”

Awareness rushes back into Minho and leaves him shaking, stumbling and barely able to remain standing. For a second, it seems like everything is spinning around him and he gasps, blindly reaching out for any sort of purchase to steady himself. Instead, he finds himself with someone’s sure, gentle grip on his shoulder, holding him still and upright.

“Easy there.”

Minho squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and when he feels somewhat less like keeling over, he opens them to focus on the man standing in front of him.

The first thing he notices is a shock of wild, white-blonde hair and a pair of unnervingly yellow eyes. Minho freezes, his stomach dropping. But then the man’s face breaks into a smile and Minho finds himself instantly relaxing.

“Alright, looks like you’re with me now. Sorry about that, it’s always a bit of a shock the first time.” Then the man cocks his head and huffs out a laugh, though Minho can’t figure out the joke for the life of him. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Minho is herded to a couch and pushed into it, sinking into the plush material. It’s dark blue and impossibly soft under his hands. He takes a moment to collect himself and then he looks around, still somewhat dazed. There's not much to see, barely any furniture, no windows, and everything seems to have a subtle blue glow to it that is going to give Minho a headache.

He startles when he catches sight of another person in the room, leaning against a big armchair. It's a boy, maybe Minho's age, and the colours of his hair and eyes are exactly the same as those of the man who's now taking a seat opposite Minho.

The boy grins when their eyes meet, and it's like his whole face lights up. Minho squints at him, suspicious.

The man in the armchair clears his throat and says, with an expansive, sweeping arm gesture, "Welcome to the Velvet Room."

"You already said that," Minho says on autopilot.

The boy snickers, but the man in the armchair seems unfazed.

"My name is Chris, and this is my attendant, Felix. We've been waiting for you, Lee Minho."

It should probably alarm him, the fact that these people he's never seen before know his name, but Minho is strangely calm about the entire thing. He just waits, unmoving, for Chris to go on.

“This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It’s only accessible to those who have formed a certain kind of contract. Or maybe that is still in your future. Let’s find out, shall we?”

Chris pulls on a thin pair of white gloves, and then Felix hands him a deck of cards — not playing cards, they’re too big for that. They might be tarot cards, Minho thinks, leaning forward to observe the sure movements of Chris’s hands more closely.

He shuffles the deck with ease, splitting it into two equal parts and setting the cards down on the table in front of him. Then, with a quick, unreadable smile at Minho, he flips over the top card on one of the piles.

Felix lets out a low whistle, leaning in to look at the cards over Chris’s shoulder. Chris nods slowly in apparent agreement.

“What?” Minho asks. He turns his head a bit to try and look at the card, but Chris takes it and holds it up so he can see it clearly.

“The Tower, in the upright position,” he says, and Minho guesses the picture does look kind of like a tower. It’s being struck by lightning, part of it breaking off, and he feels unsettled just looking at it.

“This is your immediate future,” Chris continues. His voice is measured and calm even as he goes on to explain the card’s meaning. “A terrible catastrophe is imminent.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Minho mutters, eyes never leaving the card.

“Next, we will look into your future beyond that,” Chris says and flips over the top card of the other pile, once again picking it up to show Minho. “The Moon, again in the upright position. Hesitation and mystery. Very interesting.”

Placing both the Tower and the Moon back on the table, Chris studies them for a moment longer. He’s humming something under his breath, a short melody that Minho doesn’t recognize.

“Well,” he says at last, his eyes intense as he looks up at Minho. “It seems like you will encounter misfortune at your destination. A great mystery will be imposed upon you.”

“Imposed?” Minho echoes quietly. Chris’s smile turns rueful.

“I’m afraid you won’t have much of a choice in the matter. The coming year is a turning point in your destiny, and if the mystery goes unsolved your future may be forever lost.”

Minho twitches, his eyebrows furrowing. Even through the curious haze of something that seems to be numbing his emotions, he can feel himself getting irritated.

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” he says.

Felix is the one who picks the cards back up from the table, folding them back together into one neat stack, and with a wink at Minho and a flick of his hand, they’re gone.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says, leaning back in the armchair and crossing his legs, hands folded neatly over his knee. “My duty is to provide guidance to my guests, to ensure that the worst does not come to pass. Trust me. We’ll get you through this.”

And the thing is, Minho does trust him. He doesn’t know why, and maybe he shouldn’t, but he does. He nods, ever so slightly.

“Wonderful,” Chris says softly, and the world around Minho starts to dissolve until nothing is left but deep, velvety blue and two pairs of yellow eyes. “You will enter a contract soon, and then you will return. Farewell, Lee Minho.”

Minho jerks awake when his stop is announced, banging his head on the train window and cursing under his breath.

A quick look around assures him that nobody has seen him embarrass himself; he's almost alone in the compartment. It's not surprising, Minho thinks with an abundance of bitterness. Who even wants to go to this middle of nowhere town in the first place.

The train slows down then, and Minho grabs his bag. Most of his things have been shipped to his cousin's place already, so at least he doesn't have to lug all his bundles around by himself.

As he goes to stand by the door and stare out at their surroundings, his mouth twists at the sight of a thick fog covering the landscape. It had been clear and bright in Seoul, and sunny still when he transferred trains.

He looks in his bag for a mask, but realizes with extreme annoyance that he must have left it at home. Whatever. He can just go buy a new one.

When the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open with a hiss, Minho takes a deep breath and steps out. Time to see his new home for the next year.

He almost wants to turn around and get back on the train when the cold hits him, biting and even worse than back in Seoul. Shuddering, he hurries from the tracks to the tiny station building. Someone bumps into him on his way through the door, almost making him drop his bag, and by the time he’s got it secured again and turns to apologize, the stranger is already gone.

“Rude,” he says under his breath, pulling the door closed behind him.

It’s not that much warmer inside the station building than it is outside, to be honest, but at least there’s no fog. He pulls out his phone to check when Sohee will be here to pick him up, but then a voice calls out to him. “Minho-hyung!”

Minho looks up in surprise to see a familiar-looking boy jogging up to him, and it takes him a moment, but then he recognizes Sohee’s brother, much older than the last and only time the two of them had met in person. But it’s been almost ten years, so that really shouldn’t come as a shock.

“Seungmin?” Minho asks, as his cousin comes to a stop next to him.

“Welcome to town,” Seungmin says, tugging his giant scarf down so Minho can see his face properly. “Sohee-noona says sorry that she can’t come, but she’s busy at work. So I’m here instead.”

“Alright,” Minho says, blinking slowly. “Nice to see you. It’s been ages.”

Seungmin smiles. “Yeah, it really has been. Come on, let’s get going. It’s freezing today,”

Minho follows him out of the station and looks around for a bus stop, but Seungmin is already pulling at his arm. “This way, hyung. It’s only a fifteen minute walk.”

Minho’s face falls. “Walk?” he asks, incredulous. Seungmin just laughs and drags him along.

By the time they make it to Sohee and Seungmin’s place, Minho feels like he’s lost at least half of his toes and is definitely regretting his forgotten mask. His lungs are probably frozen now.

Seungmin ushers him inside, and once they’ve taken off their shoes and shed their layers of coats he orders Minho to go sit down in the living room while he goes to make tea.

Minho does as he’s told, rubbing his hands together and looking around the small but surprisingly modern room. He doesn’t really know what he expected, but this isn’t all that different from Minho’s family’s apartment back home. Even from the outside the house looked nicer than its neighbours. Maybe his aunt and uncle had had it renovated before they let their children move in.

There’s a picture on the wall with the four of them on it, and Minho grimaces at the overwhelming awkwardness of it. His aunt and uncle, impeccably dressed, looking at the camera like it personally offended them. Sohee, in her police academy uniform and her back ramrod straight, expression tight whereas Minho usually associates her with warm smiles. Seungmin, much smaller than he is now, a sulky kid if he’s ever seen one.

He doesn’t know the full story, only what he overheard when his own parents were talking. Sohee’s decision to become an officer instead of joining the company as had been expected of her since she had been young had created a rift in their family. And then she had even applied for a job back in the small, sleepy home town they’d long abandoned for the big city.

Minho doesn’t know how Seungmin had ended up going back with his sister, but their parents, much like Minho’s own nowadays, spend a lot of time away on business. Maybe that’s why.

Either way, it’s been years now since they’d moved, and Minho only ever sees Sohee when she's on one of her rare trips to Seoul. Seungmin had always stayed home during those, probably because of school.

“Tea’s ready,” Seungmin says behind him, and Minho turns his back on the photograph at last, feeling weirdly guilty. It’s none of his business, really.

“Thank you,” he says, and accepts the cup Seungmin hands him gratefully.

They sip their too-hot tea in silence for a minute, not familiar enough with each other for in-depth conversation and already out of most basic small talk after their walk here.

"Are your parents already on their way to the US?" Seungmin finally asks.

Minho nods. "They texted me when they got on their flight. Shouldn't be much longer now."

"And you didn't want to go with them?"

Minho pulls a face. "Not really. My English isn't all that good and I only have one year of high school left. I just want to get it over with. If they'd let me I would have stayed at home and gone to my old high school. It's not like I can't take care of myself."

His words sound bitter, more so than he'd planned on revealing. Seungmin of all people shouldn't have to listen to his whining about people making life-changing decisions for him.

Minho can’t help but feel frustrated, though. Coming here was a better option than going to the US, but it still meant leaving behind his friends, his dance school, and his entire life on short notice. He doesn’t want to resent his parents, not when they’ve always done their best to give him all the support and resources he could possibly need, but part of him still feels betrayed.

“It’s not so bad here.” Seungmin’s tone is casual, but he’s not looking at Minho as he says it. “Maybe not as convenient as Seoul, but I’ve grown to like it. Noona and I have made our home here. Maybe you can, too.”

Minho thinks about Seungmin as he remembers him: a small, quiet kid that let Minho, older and much more assertive, boss him around without complaint. He likes the idea of that kid growing up out here, finding his place in the world.

“Yeah,” Minho says, the sliver of a smile on his lips. “I hope so.”

By the time Sohee finally comes home that night, Minho and Seungmin have long since prepared, eaten and cleaned up after dinner. Seungmin is a good cook, but something tells Minho that it’s more out of necessity than anything.

Sohee's smile is tired but warm as she fusses over Minho, making the kind of nonsense observations he’d usually expect from older relatives like his grandma.

“Look at you!” she coos, holding Minho by his shoulders and giving him a thorough once-over. “It’s so good to see you. You really grew up handsome, didn’t you! And when did you get taller than me?”

Minho is pretty sure he’s been taller than his cousin since he hit his growth spurt at 14, but he doesn’t mind indulging her. Seungmin seems more embarrassed by this display than Minho is, in any case.

“Noona,” Seungmin says with a heavy sigh, pulling out the leftovers to heat up for his sister. “You sound so old when you say stuff like that.”

“Oh, shush,” Sohee says, sharing an amused look with Minho. “Come on, sit down with me. Did you get here okay?”

“Yeah, no delays,” Minho says, taking a seat next to her. Seungmin joins them a minute later, handing Sohee her dinner.

“Thank you.” Sohee reaches out to ruffle Seungmin’s hair and Seungmin whines, ducking out of the way. Minho does his best to suppress a laugh. Even from this short interaction he gets a sense of how comfortable they are with each other. It’s nice.

“Your boxes arrived last night,” Sohee says in between bites. “Just look through them to see if everything’s there. We can go shopping tomorrow if you need anything, or you can stop by the supermarket on the way back from school if you don’t want to wait for me to get off work.”

Minho doesn't think he has it in him to unpack everything tonight, but he nods anyway.

"I went to the school last week to sort out your paperwork, so hopefully that will all be in order. Still, you should go to the front office first thing in the morning."

"I will," Minho says.

He's not really looking forward to being the new guy at school. In a town like this, everyone knows everyone, and the rest of his future third year classmates have probably all been together since elementary school.

It's a feeling he keeps to himself, however, focusing instead on catching up with Sohee while she eats her dinner.

It really has been a while since they've seen each other, maybe over a year by now. Minho's parents adore Sohee, and she never fails to visit them when she can, but she doesn't make the trip to Seoul all that often. Minho wonders, sometimes, if it's because she wants to avoid her own parents.

Sohee does ask about Minho's parents' travels, but aside from that they mostly talk about the logistics of Minho's transfer and the town. Safer topics, Minho thinks, until Sohee gets a troubled look on her face.

“Usually this is a quiet place, but there’s been a string of murders lately,” she says, her mouth twisting as she stares out the window. “So I want you to be careful.”

It takes a moment before she tears her gaze away from the darkness outside. When she focuses on Minho instead, she looks a bit sheepish.

“I know it’s not really my place to tell you what to do. You’re old enough. But I would feel better if you didn’t run off on your own or stayed out too late.”

Telling Minho not to do something is usually a surefire way to get him to do just that, but he can tell that Sohee is seriously worried. His cousin already looks stressed and worn out. He doesn’t want to add to that.

“I won’t,” Minho says quietly, and Sohee gives him a grateful smile.

“Seungmin will walk you to school tomorrow and show you around,” she says.

Seungmin, who’s kept quiet so far, nods quickly.

“I’ve given Minho-hyung a tour of the house already, and he has his uniform for tomorrow and everything,” he says, grabbing Sohee’s empty plate and chopsticks. “You should go get some sleep.”

Sohee looks after Seungmin with something like resignation. But all she says is, “Thank you, Seungmin-ah.”

She gets up with a sigh and pats Minho’s shoulder. “I know this whole situation isn’t ideal, but I hope this will be a good final year of high school for you.”

“Thank you,” Minho says, and it’s genuine. “I’m really grateful that you’re letting me stay here. I’ll try not to get in your way too much.”

“No need for that.” Sohee shakes her head. “Just make yourself at home, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she leaves for the second floor. The silence left in her wake is awkward, Minho sitting uselessly at the kitchen table while Seungmin does the last of the dishes without another word but with a lot of noise.

Minho wonders if maybe he should ask Seungmin if he’s okay. But even though they’re related, they barely know each other. There are family dynamics at play here that Minho isn’t used to, and he feels a bit like an intruder.

As it turns out, all he has to do is wait. Seungmin turns around after rinsing the last plate and setting it aside, leaning back against the counter with a heavy sigh.

“Noona has to work late a lot,” he says, sounding tired himself. “But ever since these murders started it’s even worse than usual. At this rate she’s just going to collapse, and what is her boss going to do then?”

"Has this been going on for long?" Minho asks.

Seungmin shakes his head. "Not really. Maybe two months now? But there's been 3 victims already, and I think someone else just went missing. Not that noona will tell me about any of it."

Seungmin sounds bitter, just a bit.

"Well, it's not like she can just tell you about ongoing investigations, right?" Minho reasons, because he's watched his fair share of crime dramas, and he thinks there are rules about that kind of thing.

"I guess," Seungmin mutters, unrepentant, and Minho bites back a laugh at that.

"Anyway," Seungmin says, pushing himself off the counter. "It's getting late and we need to get up early tomorrow. Let's call it a night."

Minho agrees with a stifled yawn, exhaustion settling heavy in his limbs, and by the time he makes it to his room he can barely keep his eyes open. He crawls into his bed, draws the covers up to his chin, and then he's out like a light.

The darkness fades slowly this time, like it's clinging onto him. It's difficult to make out his surroundings, but he doesn't feel afraid. His steps are sure on what seems to be a wooden floor. He walks and walks through the fog for what feels like ages, but he doesn't get tired, and when something tells him he should stop, he does.

He doesn't have to wait long.

With a gust of wind almost strong enough to sweep him off his feet, the fog clears. And then the Persona is just kind of there, like it blinked into existence from one moment to the next.

It's huge, floating in the air and just looking at Minho. He should probably be scared. He should be wondering how he knows that this is a Persona, and not some kind of monster. But he doesn't.

Nor does he question why there's suddenly swords in his hands, the kind they use for sword dancing: straight and double edged and with tassels tied to the hilt. He's never held a sword, not even a fake one, but his grip is sure and his movements graceful as he raises the swords into position.

Fighting, Minho thinks with a curious sense of detachment, is a lot like dancing. There's a rhythm to it, something beautiful. He strikes and feints and parries and spins out of the way of lightning bolts, electricity crackling all around them, painting white-hot lines on billowing grey clouds.

He can feel it when the end of battle is near, an overwhelming certainty that all that's left to do is take his swords and plunge them deep into the Persona's chest.

The effect is instant — once again there's a gust of wind so strong that Minho has to cling onto the handles of his swords with a death grip or risk being blown away, and a burst of light that should be blinding, but somehow isn't.

As the fog and clouds clear around them, revealing the reds and pinks of an early morning sunrise, Minho's eyes stay locked on the Persona's. There's a voice in his head, or maybe it's all around him, deep and deliberate, each word carrying the weight of purpose.

I Am Thou.

Thou Art I.

With a start, Minho wakes up.

On the first day of school, Seungmin leaves him with directions to the front office and apologies about not being able to join him for lunch this first week because of club duties, but Minho just waves him off. He'll be fine. He's tired anyway, wrung-out from his weird dream last night, and if he makes it to noon he'll probably just find a quiet place to crash.

He keeps having to blink sleep out of his eyes throughout his conversation with his homeroom teacher, Ms. Im, but if anything she seems amused by it.

Ms. Im thankfully doesn't make him introduce himself in front of the whole class like he'd feared, but he does enter the classroom alongside her. He can feel the curious looks of a couple dozen students on him throughout the entire first hour of class, and his new uniform is stiff; not yet worn in. Altogether it makes for a rather uncomfortable start.

Once their first break comes around Minho manages to plaster a strained smile on his face at the handful of people that come up to introduce themselves, answering their questions and trying to commit their names to memory even as he realizes it's futile. He'll remember them in time, hopefully.

Minho tends to think of himself as a pretty confident kind of guy but between the new environment and the emotional drain of moving away from home and his parents, he's not really in top form.

Unconsciously, his gaze keeps flicking away to take in the room full of unfamiliar faces, until one in particular catches his attention.

There’s a guy sprawled sideways on his chair in the second row and while the rest of their class is spread around talking to each other, everyone seems to give him a wide berth. His face is sharp, his expression dark, and Minho can hear the heavy bass from the guy’s headphones even where he’s sitting a good distance away.

Something about him draws Minho’s attention like no one else in the room. It might just be that he envies the guy his personal space, considering the cluster of people still crowding him, chattering away about the school and the town and more things they think Minho absolutely needs to know right now.

He doesn’t want to sound like an asshole, it’s really nice of everyone to welcome him like this, but he’s tired and overwhelmed and would really just like some peace and quiet.

“Dude, stop staring at Changbin,” a guy standing next to his desk hisses, and Minho glances up at him for a second.

“Who?”

“Seo Changbin. Over there,” the guy (Juyeon, Minho thinks) says, and the rest of the people around them titter nervously. “He’s bad news.”

“Even the teachers are scared of him,” a girl says, and another one chimes in with, “I heard he beat up five guys from this other high school and didn’t get a single scratch on him.”

“Oh?” Minho says, amused at what are clearly rumors spun wildly out of control. Intrigued, he looks back at Seo Changbin, and as if he heard him over the loud music blaring from his headphones, Seo Changbin looks right back at him. His glare is impressive, but instead of backing down, Minho does what he does best.

He raises an eyebrow. He smirks. And then he winks.

The change in Changbin’s expression is instant and hilarious — his face just goes kind of slack, his eyes wide, and Minho is pretty sure he can see a flush on the guy’s cheeks.

Delighted, and with his mood suddenly improved, Minho returns his attention to the conversation still going on around him. Maybe this isn't as bad a start as he'd feared.

When lunch time comes around, Minho can already see a couple of people circling to approach him again, and for a moment he considers his options. He's really not up for more group question time, but spending break alone would be boring. He supposes he could go find Seungmin and force him to spend time together out of familial obligation despite his club schedule, but Minho's not that mean. Well, not all of the time, anyway.

A thought strikes him when his gaze catches on a pair of big, black headphones towards the front of the classroom. Minho blinks a couple of times, contemplating, before he gets up.

Is this a stupid idea? Probably. Is Minho going to do it anyway? Hell yeah.

"Hey," Minho says, leaning against Seo Changbin's desk. Out of the corner of his eye he can see a group of his new classmates gaping at him. Changbin himself isn't doing much better, clearly confused as to why Minho is talking to him.

He looks around a bit, furtively, like he thinks Minho might be addressing someone else, and then he says, "What?"

Minho smiles his best, most winning smile, and introduces himself. "Lee Minho. I just transferred here."

"I know," Changbin says slowly, and now he's looking less confused and more suspicious. Minho doesn't let it deter him.

"And you are?"

"Seo Changbin."

Minho waits to see if he's going to say anything else, but he doesn't, so they end up just kind of staring at each other until Minho breaks the silence.

"Okay then, Seo Changbin," he says, "Let's have lunch together."

Minho thinks he can actually hear someone squeak in the background, but he doesn't let it distract him. Changbin opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, searching for words.

"Why?" he says eventually. It comes out uneasy, kind of like Changbin is trying to figure out if Minho is playing a trick on him, and that has Minho dropping the overly shiny smile, opting instead to let something more genuine shine through.

"I don't know, you seem chill," he says, shrugging. "And like you're not going to ask me a million questions about moving. Not really up for that today, I'm kinda beat."

He sighs and rolls his shoulders. Changbin eyes him a moment longer, but then he nods.

"Okay, sure," he says, "I know a spot that not many people pass by."

"Perfect," Minho declares, standing up straight and waiting for Changbin to grab his bag before they head out of the classroom.

The silence between them is a bit awkward, but then Minho asks, "What were you listening to earlier?" and Changbin perks up instantly, telling him about a new underground rapper he's discovered lately.

Minho is really more of a ballad kind of guy, but even if his knowledge of hip hop is limited to what he's danced to in the past, it's interesting to listen to Changbin talk. He's clearly passionate about the topic, and for someone who looks so closed off, he's turning out to be rather talkative.

"Sorry," Changbin says suddenly, interrupting his train of thought and rubbing the back of his neck. "You said you were looking for some peace and quiet, and here I am, talking your ear off."

Minho shakes his head. "It's cool, I don't mind."

Changbin doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he lets it go as he drops his bag on the ground.

They've made their way to the top of a deserted staircase, one that looks like it leads out to the rooftop. There's plenty of space on the landing, and a handful of old chairs scattered around a desk covered in sharpie scribbles.

Minho wonders why the school hasn't thrown the chairs out, especially in between terms, but when he says as much, Changbin just shrugs.

"We have an in with the school staff," he says, dropping into one of the chairs and pulling out his lunch.

"We?" Minho asks.

"Ah, me and a couple friends. They're second years, and they're busy today. I can introduce you sometime this week, maybe? I mean, only if you want to, you don't have to hang with us, obviously. But, yeah. If you want," he trails off awkwardly.

"Sure," Minho says easily, digging into his own lunch. Seungmin will probably appreciate not having to entertain him, and besides, he's curious to see Changbin's friends, because the guy seems more like a loner. But maybe that's just the impression he got from the gossip earlier.

"Our classmates seem to be afraid of you," Minho muses, not really thinking about what he's saying until Changbin's face falls. He freezes, unsure what to say as Changbin sinks in on himself, shoving half a triangle kimbap into his mouth and chewing furiously.

"Yeah, well," he mumbles eventually, not meeting Minho's eyes. "I guess I just have a scary face."

"I don't know, you seem alright to me," Minho blurts out, and then immediately regrets it, because that was embarrassing.

"Anyway, you live close to school?" he throws in, which isn't much better, because of course Changbin does. This town is tiny, everyone lives nearby.

Still, Changbin rolls with it, and then they thankfully move on to safer topics, like age (Changbin is a year younger than Minho) and family (he lives with his parents and his older sister) and hobbies (Changbin is into music production, which honestly sounds very impressive).

With Minho's blunder forgotten, the conversation flows easily, and before they know it, it's time to return to their classroom.

"Thanks for, y'know. Letting me join you," Minho says as they pack up their things, and unlike his earlier gruff expression, Changbin's smile is bright as he replies.

"Sure thing, hyung. No problem."

"How was school?" Sohee asks late that night, when she finally comes home from work.

Minho just shrugs and says, "Good."

He feels about as exhausted as Sohee looks, but more than anything he's relieved to have it over with. Their teachers seem decent, and there are already a couple classmates Minho thinks he can get along well with. Changbin, of course, and this girl Dahyun who struck up a conversation with him when they were sent to retrieve something for Ms. Im.

After a moment, Minho notices that Sohee is still looking at him with something like amusement, and he quickly shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, today was kind of a lot," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"That's okay," Sohee says, "I'm sure you'll get used to it soon enough. You should hurry up and go to bed, yeah? You didn't have to wait up for me."

Minho still being awake has less to do with waiting for his cousin and more with apprehension about weird dreams, but he keeps that to himself.

"Can they really make you work this late?" he asks instead, and Sohee sighs.

"It's a small department, so we don't really have a choice. We need all hands on deck to search for—" she catches himself before he says anything else, looking a bit embarrassed about the slip. "Ah, nevermind. In any case, I won't stay up much longer. You should go ahead and get some rest."

Something is going on at the police station, that much is clear. Minho wonders what Sohee was going to say, but in the end his own exhaustion outweighs his curiosity.

"Good night, noona," he says, suppressing a yawn, and Sohee waves him off with a smile.

Minho falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, and for once, there are no strange dreams to disturb his rest.

Minho gets his introduction to Changbin's friends sooner than expected. The very next day, they're on their way to the vending machines downstairs in between classes when a voice behind them calls out, “Changbinnie-hyung!” and Changbin turns to greet two boys running up to him.

“Yo,” he says and gives them a lazy wave. “Jisung, did you dye your hair again?”

Minho assumes he means the guy with puffy cheeks and bright orange hair (and seriously, isn’t that against school rules?), but before he can really give that one a proper once-over, his attention is drawn to the second boy, because—

“Felix, hi,” Changbin says, and Minho is sure his eyes must be popping out of his head, because what the actual fuck?

Felix, the boy from his strange dream, is standing right in front of him. The name, the face, it’s all so familiar — except his eyes aren’t yellow, and his hair is a much darker blond. And when Felix looks at him, there’s no recognition on his face, just a polite smile.

“Sunbaenim, good morning.”

“Uh,” Minho says, very eloquently. “Yeah. Hi.”

“These are Han Jisung and Lee Felix,” Changbin introduces them dutifully. “They’re both in second year. Guys, this is Minho-hyung. He’s in my class.”

Orange hair guy — Jisung, Minho tries his best to remember — gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Binnie-hyung,” he says, very loudly, “You made a friend?”

“Shut up!” Changbin hisses, and his face goes really red. If Minho weren’t so distracted by the presence of Felix and all the implications that come with it, he’d probably find it very funny.

If Felix is real, does that mean the Velvet Room is also real? He thought it was just a really vivid dream, brought on by the stress of moving to an unfamiliar place. Maybe he’s seen Felix’s face somewhere before, saw him on the train or something, and then his subconscious had incorporated him into the dream. That must be it. Right?

"Felix is part of the dance club," Changin says, ignorant of Minho’s state of confusion. "You said you used to dance back in Seoul, right?"

That definitely draws Minho's attention. He didn't even know this school had a dance club, he'd just kind of assumed he'd be stuck practicing by himself.

Felix gasps, excitement lighting up his face as he turns to Minho, grasping his hands and stepping in close in a shocking disregard for personal space.

"Do you want to join us?"

His eyes sparkle so much, Minho could swear there are stars in them.

"Uh, sure," Minho says, because he loves dancing above all else, but also because he isn't sure he could say no to this kid even if he wanted to.

"Yes!" Felix says, jumping in place in his excitement. “Half our club just graduated, so we could really use new members. How long have you been dancing? Did you take classes? What styles are you into? We mostly do hip hop, but we have a couple people who do breakdancing and modern dance, too—”

“Felix, slow down,” Changbin says, pulling him back a bit until he lets go of a rather alarmed Minho. “Don’t overwhelm the poor guy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Felix says sheepishly, while Jisung just laughs behind him.

“Don’t mind our Felix, sunbaenim,” he says, throwing an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “He’s just very excitable.”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, still a bit stunned. “I don’t mind. And I’d love to join you, really. Where do you meet?”

Felix perks up again, but Changbin stops him before he can say anything.

“Break is almost over, so we should really get going. You can tell Minho-hyung all about it during lunch, alright? Or I’ll give him your kakao id.”

“Okay,” Felix says, apparently satisfied with that solution. “Nice to meet you, sunbaenim!”

“Likewise,” Minho says, but then Felix is already being dragged away by Jisung, who gives Minho a parting salute and an easy grin.

“See ya, sunbaenim!”

Minho doesn't get much time to think about the mystery of Felix, in the end.

They’re 15 minutes away from the end of their third class of the day when the PA system chimes, drawing everyone’s attention and interrupting Mr. Park in the middle of his sentence. He looks annoyed at first, but when the announcement comes through his expression turns dead serious.

“There has been an incident in the school district,” a voice filters through the speaker, presumably one of the secretaries. “All members of the staff please assemble in the teacher’s office immediately. Students must stay in their classrooms. Do not leave the school until further notice. Thank you.”

There’s already a storm of whispers by the time the second chime signals the end of the announcement, and Mr. Park has to raise his voice to be heard over the din.

“Class president, you’re in charge,” he says, and Hongjoong, freshly elected, snaps to attention.

The whispers explode into loud speculation the moment Mr. Park closes the door behind him, but everyone remains calm for the most part. Minho slips out of his seat and wanders over to Changbin, leaning against his desk.

“What’s that about?” he asks quietly, but Changbin just shrugs.

“I don’t know. But it’s pretty weird for them to call in all the teachers like that. Couldn’t they just wait until break?”

Before Minho can reply, he’s distracted by a girl over by the window gasping loudly and calling out to her friends. “Look, isn’t that a police car?”

A couple people join her, crowding together to peer outside.

“I can’t see anything with this stupid fog,” one of them complains, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is having more luck.

“It’s been like this every time it rains lately, hasn’t it?” someone else says, but Minho is only half-listening at that point. He feels something like worry gnawing at him. He thinks of Sohee, and for a brief moment he wonders if he should text her. But no, if she’s working she doesn’t need any unnecessary distractions.

They end up waiting in uneasy silence, but it doesn't take more than half an hour for the second announcement to be broadcast.

"There has been an incident in the school district," the same voice as before repeats. "Police have been dispatched to the area. Classes have been canceled for the rest of the day. All students please contact your parents or guardians and head straight home without delay. Do not disturb the officers."

Once the chime rings out, the class explodes into a flurry of excitement once again, speculating wildly about what could have possibly happened.

Changbin looks alarmed, gathering his things and pulling out his phone.

“Are you alright to get home?” he asks, and Minho is pleasantly surprised by his concern but waves him off.

“I’m good,” he says, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Minho wanders off to his own desk once they’ve said their good-byes, packing up his books and slinging his backpack over one shoulder as he leaves the classroom along with everyone else.

He decides once again not to bother Sohee — clearly she of all people would know that something happened to cancel classes — and figures he should call Seungmin instead. But before he can even unearth his phone from his bag, he sees Seungmin waiting for him at the exit, face drawn.

"Hey," Minho says once he reaches him. "Let's go?"

"Yeah," Seungmin says grimly.

They don't really talk much as they head out, turning in the direction of home once they pass the school gates. The heavy fog still hovering over the town makes everything seem muted, dreamlike.

Suddenly, however, a voice calls out from behind them, breaking the silence.

“Seungmin, hey!”

Minho is surprised to recognize the voice as that of Jisung, Changbin’s second year friend.

They both turn to watch him come jogging down the street after them, waving at Seungmin.

“Hey, are you—” Jisung starts when he catches up to them, but then he does a double-take at Minho. “Oh, Minho-sunbaenim, right? Didn’t see you there. You guys know each other?”

Seungmin looks back and forth between Minho and Jisung with his eyebrows raised.

“We're cousins,” he says. “He’s staying with us for the year. I didn’t realize you knew him.”

The way Seungmin talks to Jisung is weirdly restrained, colder than Minho would have expected, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care.

“Changbinnie-hyung introduced us earlier,” he explains, and then turns to Minho. “I knew you were a transfer student, but I didn’t realize you had ties in town! Oh, Seungmin and I are in the same class, have been since middle school. Felix, too!”

“Yes, among other people,” Seungmin says dryly, but Minho isn't really paying enough attention to notice the snipe. Jisung is grinning at him, wide and unrestrained, and his eyes are really bright, and it’s altogether very distracting.

"Let's walk together, Felix ditched me," Jisung says, not sounding particularly upset about it.

Minho glances at Seungmin to gauge his reaction, but he doesn't seem to mind. The three of them fall into step, making their way further down the street while Jisung takes charge of making small talk, asking Minho about his transfer and how he’s liking the town.

“Can’t really tell yet,” Minho answers honestly. “I haven’t seen much aside from school. But it’s a bit of an adjustment, compared to back home.“

"Oh man, I bet,” Jisung says. “I actually used to live in Incheon when I was a kid. But we moved here towards the end of my final year of elementary school, so it's been a while. My big brother moved back to Seoul once he graduated, though, and I guess I might do the same."

“Not much to do out here?” Minho guesses, and Jisung shrugs.

“Not the kind of work I wanna do.”

His teeth chatter as he says it, and he rubs his bare hands together to try and generate some warmth.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves? Don’t tell me you lost them again,” Seungmin pipes up, and for all that he sounds annoyed, Minho thinks he can sense some genuine concern in that question. It’s somewhat at odds with how distant Seungmin is acting, and it leaves Minho wondering just what the deal is between those two.

“I just left them at home,” Jisung protests. “I didn’t think it would be this cold today.”

“It’s even worse out here than it is in Seoul,” Minho mutters. “I thought for sure there’d be snow today.”

“It’s actually supposed to rain for most of the week,” Seungmin says, which is not helpful.

Jisung lights up at his words though, clapping his hands together and grinning at them. “Hey, have you heard about the Midnight Channel?”

Minho frowns, confused at the apparent change in topic, but Seungmin seems at least vaguely familiar with whatever Jisung is talking about.

“That soulmate stuff?” he asks, voice dripping with judgment. "Really?"

"What, it's not like I believe in it," Jisung protests. "But some girl from class C swears she saw Mr. Lee on there. The young one, not the one who teaches history."

"Yeah, right," Seungmin says, rolling his eyes.

"What's the Midnight Channel?" Minho asks, tired of following conversations he lacks context for.

"It's just a stupid rumour," Seungmin says, but that doesn't stop Jisung from launching into story mode, lowering his voice to sound more mysterious.

"On dark, rainy nights, when the clock strikes midnight," he says, his eyes glinting, "You have to look at a TV that's turned off, and if you do? It will reveal your soulmate to you."

Minho blinks a couple of times. "Right."

Seungmin snickers at his unimpressed tone, and Jisung deflates a bit.

"You guys are no fun," he complains. "Come on, the next time it rains we can all do it, and then we'll see for ourselves."

"I thought you said you didn't believe in it," Seungmin says, and Jisung full-on pouts, turning big eyes on Minho.

"Sunbaenim," he whines, but they never find out what his next words would have been, because that's when they turn the corner and see the police line.

There's a number of bystanders loitering in the area despite the weather, whispering and craning their necks.

"They already took the body down," one of them says, sounding disappointed.

A chill runs down Minho's back when he hears it, and Seungmin stiffens beside him.

"Another one?" Jisung says softly, pushing towards the front of the small crowd. Two ladies with shopping bags give him nasty looks when he squeezes in between them, and when they step aside, it opens up Minho's view of the scene past the police tape.

There's a number of police officers in uniform moving around, but Minho's eyes are instantly drawn to Sohee, standing still in the middle of it all. There's another woman next to her, and they seem to be in the middle of a discussion when Sohee glances over the crowd, and her eyes widen as she catches sight of Minho. Or rather, Seungmin.

Sohee says something to the other woman, and then she's moving, taking long strides towards them.

Minho would have never thought of her as imposing, but right now, the stormy expression on her face enough to make several of the people loitering step aside in a hurry as she ducks under the tape, he finds himself reminded that she could kick his ass any day of the week, and he unconsciously shrinks back a bit when she comes to a stop in front of them.

"Seungmin," she snaps, "What are you doing here?"

Seungmin seems frozen, not a word crossing his lips, and in the end it's Jisung who answers, suddenly popping up next to Minho again.

"Noona, hi," he says quickly, and Sohee startles at his sudden appearance. "We were just walking home. They canceled classes, there was an announcement. Didn't they tell the police?"

"I— No," Sohee says. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Seungminnie probably didn't want to disturb you, right? Right," Jisung says, getting a quick nod from Seungmin. "And it's not like he's alone, the two of us are with him," he adds, gesturing between Minho and himself.

"Right," Sohee says, finding her composure, shoulders no longer drawn up tight.

Minho throws Jisung a calculating look. It seems like he has practice talking himself out of trouble. It also seems like he's comfortably familiar with Sohee. Minho supposes they must know each other through Seungmin.

“What happened?” Seungmin asks, finally speaking up, but Sohee just shakes her head.

“Please just head on home,” she says, already distracted again by whatever is happening behind the yellow tape — the woman she was talking to earlier is looking in their direction, arms crossed and a frown on her face. “This is an active crime scene, and we already have our hands full with all these onlookers. Don’t be like them, alright?”

“Okay,” Seungmin says quietly. “Sorry.”

Sohee sighs, reaching out to touch a hand to Seungmin’s cheek.

“I really need to get back to work. Don’t wait up for me, who knows how long this is going to take us. I’ll just get some take-out. Jeongyeon owes me dinner anyway.”

With that and a nod Minho and Jisung’s way, Sohee turns and jogs back over to the police line.

Minho stares after her for a moment, and Seungmin seems rooted to the spot, so it falls to Jisung to get them moving.

“Let’s go,” he says, sounding subdued. “If we stay here any longer I really am going to freeze to death.”

Minho nods, and Seungmin seems hesitant, but the three of them start walking along the wet pavement again anyway, none of them saying a word until it’s time to part ways.

It's only later, when he and Seungmin are at home with the television running in the background while they clean up after dinner, that they find out what exactly happened.

Both of them stop in their tracks to listen to the newscaster, soap suds dripping down Minho's arms. He wipes at them absentmindedly.

Police are asking for information regarding the disappearance and subsequent death of a teacher at a local high school and even if Minho has never seen the man whose picture they show on screen before in his life, he can guess what’s going on.

Seungmin confirms it when he sets down the bowl in his hands with a sharp clink and moves closer to the TV, eyebrows drawn together. “That’s Mr. Lee,” he says, more to himself than to Minho. “I had no idea he was missing. Did the school keep it quiet?”

To Minho’s alarm, he seems a bit shaky, and Minho has no idea how to deal with that.

“You knew him?” he asks carefully, but Seungmin doesn’t even look at him when he answers.

“Yeah, he’s...he was our PE teacher last year. I don’t...I don’t understand how—”

He cuts himself off abruptly, shaking his head. There’s an expression on his face that’s difficult to look at, and right in this moment Minho feels maddeningly, frustratingly useless.

“I’m sorry hyung, I think I’m gonna go to my room. Is that—”

“Yeah, sure,” Minho hurries to say. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Thanks,” Seungmin chokes out, and then he’s out of the room in an instant, his footsteps on the stairs barely audible over the sound of the TV.

Minho hurries to turn it off, cursing to himself in the sudden silence that follows. He feels weirdly affected and unaffected at the same time, because he doesn’t know the victim, but is still connected to him in a way. It already has him dreading school tomorrow.

Minho sighs. “No use worrying about it now,” he says into the silence of the empty room, and goes back to washing the dishes.

With everything that happened that day, Minho almost forgets about the conversation he had with Seungmin and Jisung, until the sound of heavy rain hitting the window makes him look up from his phone, where he had been entranced by a reptile video.

The clock on the wall tells him it's 3 minutes to midnight, much later than he had planned on staying up, and that's when he remembers the rumour about the Midnight Channel.

He turns to look at the small TV set up against the far wall, the screen reflecting the light of the street lamp outside, flickering and distorted from the rain.

It's not that he believed what Jisung was telling them, not really, but he still can't help the buzz of anticipation that goes through his body, eyes fixed on the TV.

Predictably, nothing happens.

After a few breathless seconds, Minho shakes himself out of it, feeling a bit silly.

"Yeah, as if," he mutters to himself, looking for his charger so he can plug in his phone and finally go to sleep.

Except then the clock strikes midnight.

The sound of static fills the room, not loud per se, but sudden enough that Minho flinches. Slowly, disbelieving, he turns his head back to the TV.

"What the fuck," he whispers, the words barely making it past his throat.

He knows he didn't turn the TV on himself, because he doesn't even remember where he put the remote. The small red light is still on, indicating that it should, in fact, be turned off.

He gets up as if entranced, taking unsteady steps towards the TV. There's the grey-white flicker of static on screen, but the closer he looks, the more he thinks he can make out the dark shape of something. Maybe a person.

He reaches out one hand, not even sure what he's doing, and touches the screen.

Except his fingers don't hit a solid surface.

The screen distorts, ripples moving outwards from where Minho's fingers are sinking into it. It feels like he's plunging them into water, or something denser but still liquid in consistency, and his brain is absolutely refusing to process what the hell is going on.

Minho wonders, faintly, if this is a dream. If he fell asleep and this is his mind trying to work through the events of the day, incorporating that strange rumour Jisung told them about.

It feels so real, though.

He pushes his hand in a bit further, and then, suddenly, something pulls him forward. He yelps, trying to catch himself as he loses his balance, and instead knocks his head on the edge of the TV. With a strangled curse, he braces himself against the desk the TV is standing on, digs his heels into the ground and pulls with all his might.

I Am Thou, a voice booms in his head, almost unbearably loud.

Thou Art I.

Thou Art The One That Opens The Door.

Whatever force is trying to drag him in is strong, and Minho is almost at the limit of his strength when it suddenly disappears, sending him toppling backwards. He almost crashes into the lamp standing in the corner, barely catching himself, and then he sinks to the ground with a shuddering breath.

"What the actual fuck," he breathes out, staring at the now innocently dark TV. His hands are shaking, and the muscles in his arms ache, and Minho is really freaking out now.

He has half a mind to go find Sohee and ask her what the hell is going on, but something stops him. Maybe it's the shock, or maybe it's the guilt at the thought of waking his cousin when she looked so tired when she finally came home two hours ago.

Despite the terrifying experience, or maybe because of it, Minho is exhausted, too. So in the end, all he does is crawl into bed, keeping a suspicious eye on the TV before he finally, thankfully slips under.

From the moment he opens his eyes the next day, his mind is on the Midnight Channel. He thinks about it all through breakfast, barely paying attention to Seungmin’s attempts at conversation.

Morning assembly passes by in a haze as well. The only thing really registering to Minho are the shocked faces of the students around him, trying to process the death of the man who used to be their teacher. The classroom stays half empty even as the school does its best to give them a sense of normalcy. Minho feels bad for the other teachers, wondering why the administration didn't suspend classes for another couple of days.

Jisung joins him and Changbin for lunch, though Felix is nowhere to be seen. The mood is dampened, all of them mostly focusing on their food, but Minho keeps catching himself staring at Jisung.

He almost asks, the words on the tip of his tongue, if Jisung saw the same thing as Minho did last night. The TV that turned on by itself, the static, the barest outline of a person. But Jisung doesn't bring up the topic himself, and Minho bites his tongue.

Maybe it was just a dream, after all. A hallucination, maybe, produced by his over-tired brain in an unfamiliar environment. Yes. That must be it.

So Minho tries his best to compartmentalize and focus on classes. He’s in his final year of high school, after all. He can’t allow himself to be distracted like this.

Still, he’s relieved when it’s time to head home for the day, meeting Seungmin at the exit so they can walk together. Minho grimaces when they step outside, drawing his scarf higher around his face. The weather really has been unpleasant, and the heavy fog that covered the entire town yesterday is only slowly receding. The forecast said it would rain again, too, so they’re probably going to end up with sleet and iced-over roads.

"Seungmin, do you have any spare masks?"

Seungmin shakes his head. "I don't think so. You wanna go buy some?"

"Yes please," Minho says immediately. "And I need to get new headphones, too. One of the earbuds died on me on my way here."

He honestly meant to go get everything on his first day, but in the end he was so tired that he couldn't bring himself to go outside again. And he doesn't really want to bother Sohee either, what with how busy she is.

"Well, there's an E-mart not too far from here. Or there's a Lotte department store a bit further away," Seungmin says. "I was actually planning on going there this week, I have a couple things I need to get."

"Lotte it is, then," Minho says, because he doesn't really care either way. At least Seungmin seems pleased by his answer.

And, Minho thinks an hour later, as he follows Seungmin through the department store, at least chain stores are the same no matter where you live. He's already grabbed a pack of masks, so now they're just going down Seungmin’s shopping list, one floor at a time.

"Sorry again that I couldn't really show you around school," Seungmin says as they walk along, but Minho just shakes his head.

"You don't have to, seriously. I know you're busy. I can just ask Changbin to give me a tour."

"Right, he's in your class, Jisung mentioned that," Seungmin says absent-mindedly, scanning the aisles they're passing. "Oh, hold on, I need to get some things for school."

He veers off, and Minho trails behind, scanning the shelves for anything he might need himself.

"They're close friends, right? Them and Felix. I haven't spent much time talking to them yet, but they seem fun," Minho says.

"Yeah, Felix is cool," Seungmin says, squatting down to take a look at the lower shelves, and Minho raises an eyebrow at the obvious exclusion.

"And Jisung?" he probes, barely hiding his amusement.

Seungmin sighs. "He's alright," he admits. "I've known him for a long time now."

"Did you guys fight or something?" Minho asks, idly picking through a bin of pens with cute little animal heads on them, searching for a cat-themed one.

He doesn't get to find out what the beef between Seungmin and Jisung is just yet, however, because someone loudly calls out his name from the other end of the stationery department.

"Minho-sunbaenim!"

Minho turns around in surprise to see Jisung, who almost knocks over a cardboard standee with his waving.

"Speak of the devil," Seungmin mutters, going back to comparing the prices of two identical looking binders.

Minho ignores him, instead waving back at Jisung as he runs over to join them. He’s a bit surprised by how pleased he is to see him, considering they don’t really know each other all that well, but he’s willing to roll with it. Jisung seems like an interesting guy, anyway.

“Here for school supplies?” he asks once Jisung’s in earshot, nodding at the notebooks in his hands.

“Oh, this?” Jisung says, looking a bit embarrassed. “Uh, no, they’re actually for lyrics, but— Whoa, Seungmin! I didn’t see you there!”

Seungmin heaves another sigh as he stands back up, binder in hand. “Jisung,” he says, and it sounds a bit grudging. “Hi.” Pleasantries apparently over and done with, he turns to Minho. “Hyung, I think I’m done here. Do you need anything else?”

Minho hums in thought. “I still need headphones,” he says. “The electronics department should be on the next floor, right?” And then, because he really can’t help himself: “Jisung, wanna come with?”

“Sure!” Jisung says, the bright smile on his face a stark contrast to the annoyed look Seungmin is sending Minho’s way.

“Excellent.” Minho grins. “Lead the way.”

Grabbing new headphones is a matter of minutes, and Jisung and Seungmin’s strange dynamic is all the entertainment Minho could ask for, but there’s one thing he didn’t consider.

There's TVs. Big ones.

Minho finds himself standing stock-still in the middle of the electronics department, transfixed by his reflection in one of the shiny, brand-new screens. Seungmin and Jisung are going on and on, arguing about where they should go next, but Minho tunes them out. He thinks about last night: the television turning on by itself, the static, the way his hand had pushed right through it like it was water.

It must have been a dream, right?

But it felt so real.

Slowly, numbly, he reaches one hand out towards the big flat screen television in front of him.

He touches the surface.

His hand—

"What the fuck?" Jisung says, way too loudly, and Minho pulls his hand out of the TV in an instant, whipping around to see his two companions staring at him.

Seungmin has one hand clasped over Jisung's mouth to prevent any further outbursts, but they're both wide eyed in shock.

"Did you just," Seungmin starts, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times.

Jisung claws Seungmin's hand away from his face and looks around nervously to check if anyone's paying attention to them after his really very loud outburst, and then he whisper-hisses, "Did you just put your hand inside that TV?"

Minho’s throat feels unbearably dry, and he’s honestly incredibly freaked out, so it takes him a moment to answer. His voice sounds strange to his own ears when he says, “Yeah. I think so.”

He stares at his hand, trying to stop shaking. He’d come so close to convincing himself that it had all been a dream, but then he just had to go and let his curiosity get the best of him in the middle of a goddamn department store.

Jisung, his eyes wide in wonder, drags Seungmin with him as he approaches Minho and the TV, inspecting it from all sides as if he’s looking for some sort of explanation, any evidence that Minho might be playing a trick on them. When he doesn’t find anything he turns back to Minho, getting almost too close for comfort.

“Do that again!” he demands, and he’s so intent in his excitement that all Minho can do is nod on instinct and reach out to the TV.

Next to him, Seungmin takes a hasty step back, eyes glued to where Minho’s fingers break the surface of the screen, ripples spreading outwards like waves.

“Hyung,” Seungmin says, quiet but frantic. “Hyung, how are you doing that?”

“I don’t know,” Minho answers helplessly. “I really don’t know, it happened last night and I thought it was just a—”

He breaks off with a yelp when he feels something tugging on his hand, and then everything happens too quickly to even think. Minho is pulled off balance, dropping his bag and blindly grasping for something, anything to steady himself, but the only thing in reach is Jisung, who is not prepared to counterbalance the sudden weight as Minho fists a hand in his shirt.

“Holy shit!” Jisung screeches, and somewhere behind them Minho thinks he can hear Seungmin yelling his name, but the only thing he can focus on as he falls through the screen is Jisung’s expression, twisted in fear.

At first there is nothing but the sensation of falling and the sound of blood rushing in Minho's ears. Then there's an impact, hard enough to knock the breath out of him, even though it feels like he landed on something soft.

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes right away, feeling dizzy and disoriented, and for a moment he wonders, idly, if he's dead. But then he hears someone whine, "Owww," right next to his ear, so he blinks and pushes himself up a bit.

There’s Jisung, lying under him, his face startlingly close and looking like he’s about to throw up. It might have something to do with the way Minho’s elbows are digging into his stomach.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Minho says, hastily rolling off of him.

"It's okay," Jisung wheezes, struggling to sit up. "I'm okay."

"Yeah, you're really not," Minho says, standing up slowly to make sure he didn't hurt anything, and then reaching down to help Jisung up as well. Jisung stumbles a bit, holding his back in pain, but at least as far as Minho can tell he's not seriously injured.

"Thanks for breaking my fall," Minho says, and then pats Jisung's shoulder awkwardly when all he gets in reply is a glare.

Jisung stretches a bit, face still contorted in a grimace that slowly fades as he takes in their surroundings. "What happened? Did we really just...fall into the TV? What is this place?"

It’s a difficult question to answer, because Minho can barely see anything that’s farther away from him than Jisung himself. There’s a heavy fog covering the area, moving and shifting despite the total lack of wind. Squinting hard, he thinks he can make out some sort of metal rigging above them, but no ceiling, even though the flooring he’s standing on makes him think they must be in an enclosed space.

He digs his phone out of his pocket and checks the screen, relieved that it seems to be intact despite their rough impact. But when he unlocks it there’s no service, no Internet, and no GPS. The maps app won’t even open, lagging until he gives up.

He tries to wrap his head around how they ended up here but fails miserably. They were in the department store just seconds earlier, and it seems impossible that they could end up somewhere like this, somewhere so completely different, but they have. Is this a dream? Jisung is there with him, though, and it certainly feels real. Is this what would have happened to Minho if he'd been sucked into the TV last night?

“Wait, are those...cameras?” Jisung asks, taking a few steps away, and Minho hurries to follow him. He doesn’t want to risk being separated, not when they don’t know where they are. Or who else is here with them.

There really are cameras, though. Big ones, the kind they use for movies, and there’s a couple TV monitors stacked haphazardly in the area as well. They’re the old kind that they don’t even make anymore, bulky and square, screens blank.

“It’s turned off,” Jisung says, checking the camera and pressing buttons at random. “So I guess at least we’re not being filmed. But what is this, a TV studio? A movie set?”

“It’s fucking creepy, is what it is,” Minho says, pulling Jisung away from the camera. “And this fog is giving me a headache.”

“Yeah, same,” Jisung says, his voice a bit shaky, and he lets himself be dragged along without protest.

Minho is looking for an exit, or other people, or at least a place where the fog will let up a bit, but it’s all to no avail. All that surrounds them is the fog and the quiet, their muffled footsteps the only sound that reaches his ears.

“Listen, did you watch the Midnight Channel last night?” Minho asks eventually as they climb a set of metal stairs, half out of desire to distract them both from freaking out, and half because it really has been on his mind all day.

“What?” Jisung asks, eyebrows drawn together as he tries to figure out what Minho is talking about. Then his expression suddenly clears as he gets it. “Oh, you mean that thing about seeing your soulmate? No, with the murder and everything I didn’t even think about it. Why?”

“I saw it,” Minho admits, and Jisung almost trips over a step at that.

“What?”

“The Midnight Channel. It was raining last night, right? And I swear the TV was turned off, but then it started flickering and showing static. There was...a shape. Something. I couldn’t quite tell, but it might have been a person. And when I reached out to touch the screen my hand went right through it, just like earlier.”

“That is...seriously fucked up,” Jisung says, and Minho laughs.

“Yeah, I know. I was convinced it must have been a dream, but now I’m not so sure anymore,” he says, gesturing at the world around them.

“So what does that mean?” Jisung asks, less like he expects an actual answer from Minho and more like he’s trying to work through his thoughts out loud. “Is the Midnight Channel connected to whatever this place is? And if we were able to enter the TV like this, does that mean other people can, as well? Could there be someone else in here?”

“I have no idea,” Minho admits as they finally arrive at the top of the stairs. “It felt like I was being pulled in, but not like someone grabbing my hand or anything.”

Jisung looks even more disturbed by that, but Minho barely notices, his attention drawn away by something in the fog.

“Hey, what’s that?” he asks, and Jisung whips his head around to look ahead.

“A building?” he guesses, squinting at it. “Sunbaenim, should we go check it out?”

“Just call me hyung already,” Minho says absentmindedly, already walking towards it.

“Oh,” Jisung says, startled. “Alright. Hyung.”

He hurries to catch up to Minho as they leave the stairs behind and metal rigging turns into solid ground again. It takes them a good 5 minutes of walking towards the shape in the distance until they can finally confirm that it's an apartment building. It's maybe 10 stories high, bleak concrete made even more featureless by the all-encompassing fog, and their path ends right at its front door.

Minho and Jisung share an uneasy look, but now that they've come all the way here, they might as well check it out.

"Let's go," Minho says and pushes at the front door.

It gives way easily, swinging inward to grant them access. Beyond lies a foyer of some sort, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights, and Minho's eyes are still adjusting to that when he hears Jisung gasp beside him.

"What?" he asks, but when he follows Jisung's gaze he sees it too.

There's a couple of them on the floor, scattered haphazardly. It's only at the far corner of the room that they start covering the wall almost completely — posters, black and white on glossy paper, and Minho thinks they might be headshots or portraits of a person. It's difficult to say, however, with the way they're slashed and torn and defaced with angry strokes of red.

For a moment, Minho thinks it's blood. But then he steps closer and realizes, with a certain sense of relief, that it's paint. There's no way it could be blood, not with how bright it is in its dried state. Right?

"That's…" Jisung's voice is strained, barely audible above the roaring in Minho's ears. He's picked up one of the stray posters from the floor, and his face is drained of all colour as he looks at it.

"That's Mr. Lee."

It takes Minho a moment to catch on.

"The teacher?" he asks before he corrects himself. "The victim?"

Jisung nods, handing him the poster so Minho can see for himself.

It's more intact than some of the others, at least, but the eyes are scribbled out with red, the same colour that was used to cover the rest of the paper with writing. 'Liar' is scrawled aggressively over the person's mouth, characters so distorted that it takes Minho a moment to decipher them. Much worse words take up the rest of the poster.

Minho lets it drop to the floor without care. He only saw that one picture of Mr. Lee on the news for a handful of seconds, so he can't tell if it really is him, but if Jisung says so, then it must be true.

“Well,” Minho says, his voice hushed despite himself. “Might as well check this out, right?”

He nods over at the stairwell. Jisung seems hesitant, but once Minho starts walking towards it, he falls into step, sticking close to Minho’s back.

The light gets more sparse once they start climbing the stairs and leave the foyer behind. Minho supposes that even if there were windows, they wouldn’t be able to see anything through the thick fog outside. He starts looking at his feet, both to make sure he doesn’t trip and because the posters don’t make for particularly pleasant wallpaper.

The concrete below their feet is stained in strange, irregular patterns. Paint, Minho thinks, the same red as on the walls. He catches himself trying to not step on it, like a kid pretending the floor is lava, but then he forces himself to stop being ridiculous. Behind him, Jisung’s breath comes in short, audible bursts.

They pass a couple of landings until they get to one that leads to the first floor, and Minho would be wondering about the improbable layout of this building if his attention wasn’t being drawn in by the way the posters start tapering off, leading away from the stairs that go further up and instead clustering towards the open doorway.

“Huh,” Minho says, stepping forward to poke his head into the hallway beyond. He can’t tell where it ends and neither are there any other doors immediately apparent. All he can see is carpeted floor and the same fluorescent lights as downstairs, flickering a weak, sickly yellow.

“Whoever designed this place had some serious problems,” he jokes, throwing a look back at Jisung, but his smile falters as he does.

“Hyung,” Jisung says faintly, his face white as a sheet, “I really think we should turn back.”

Minho frowns. He’s about to protest, insist they go on, but then he notices Jisung’s hunched up shoulders and the slight tremble of his hands where they’re clenched into fists by his side. He seems rooted to the spot, and Minho follows the line of his gaze back to the dark hallway in front of them.

Now that he’s standing still and on high alert, Minho can feel the dread building up inside of him. There’s something lying ahead of them, something dangerous, and there’s no telling if they’ll be able to get out of it alive. The darkness seems to be moving, almost. Shifting like the fog outside, beckoning and drawing him in—

Minho frowns, shaking himself out of the strange daze he seems to have fallen into. It’s just a hallway. There’s nothing there, he’s clearly just imagining things. Still, Jisung looks kinda scared and uncomfortable, and it doesn’t seem like heading this way will lead them any closer to getting out of here, so there’s really no need to keep pushing forward.

“Alright,” Minho says with a sigh, and Jisung almost sags in relief, grabbing at Minho’s arm and pulling him back the way they came.

They walk fast, neither of them looking back until they’re out of the building and well away from it, almost halfway back to the metal stairs that led them up from the strange TV studio. Jisung finally slows down then, tension replaced with nervous, fidgety energy.

“Sorry,” he says, and he sounds a bit sheepish about it. “I don’t know what it is about that building, but it really freaked me out.”

“It’s okay,” Minho reassures him quickly. He really can’t blame Jisung for getting scared in this strange, twisted world. It’s not like Minho is doing much better. “Let’s just go back to where we came in, okay? Maybe we missed something.”

Jisung still looks a bit shaky, but he nods anyway. Minho nods back, relieved that he seems to have calmed down a bit. So of course that’s when a squeaky voice pipes up from right behind them, scaring the shit out of both of them.

"Who are you?"

Minho whirls around, and then Jisung shrieks and almost jumps on his back, and he has to try really hard to balance himself so that they don't fall to the ground.

There's a fox. Except not a regular fox, more like some kind of fox mascot on two legs and with perpetually closed eyes, looking altogether very 2D. It's a light sandy colour with a white snout and a black bandana tied around its neck.

Fascinated, Minho moves back and forth to look at it from different angles, Jisung clinging onto his shirt the entire time.

"What the fuck," Jisung whispers frantically. "Hyung, what the fuck is that thing?"

"I'm not a thing!" the fox protests, pouting and stomping its foot. "And I can hear you just fine, you know?"

Minho isn't listening to either of them, eyes glinting as he stares at the fox's enormous ears and fluffy tail. It's cute; it doesn't want to kill them, probably; and Minho is going to pet it.

"Hey there," he coos, slowly stretching one hand towards it and offering his hand, like he would with a stray cat.

The fox seems alarmed and Jisung tries tugging him away, hissing a muffled, "What are you doing?" that Minho ignores.

After that, a number of things happen in very quick succession. Minho, determined, lunges for the fox, dislodging Jisung's grip on his shirt in the process. The fox shrieks, evading Minho with a mad dash forward that brings it directly into Jisung's path. Jisung, showcasing some frankly very impressive reflexes, karate chops the fox's head right off.

It goes flying in a beautiful, high arc, and it's then that Minho realizes that the fox doesn't only look like a mascot suit, it is a mascot suit. One that somehow remains standing even though there's absolutely nothing and no one inside of it.

And then Jisung is screaming, and the beheaded fox mascot is somehow also screaming. Minho screams, too, but it's mostly in solidarity.

“Why would you do that?” The fox-head yells as his empty shell of a body wobbles over in his general direction, stumbling like a drunk person, arms reaching out like it’s searching for something.

Jisung’s face goes white at the sight of it, and for a moment Minho is afraid he’s going to faint, so he takes a step towards him just in case. “Are you okay?”

Jisung turns to him slowly, eyebrows almost up in his hairline. “Am I okay?” he repeats. “Hyung, we fell into some sort of alternate dimension full of creepy cameras and murder houses and headless talking monsters and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

His voice gets louder and louder as he speaks, his hands reaching out to hold onto Minho’s arm in a deathgrip. Minho frowns. “No need to yell at me,” he mutters. “I was just worried about you.”

Jisung laughs, but it sounds decidedly hysterical. “Well I’m very touched by your concern, but maybe we could focus on more important things? Like, again, headless monsters?”

“I’m not headless,” the fox says, making them jump. His head has apparently found its way back to his body, and he’s adjusting it as he speaks. “And I’m not a monster.”

Jisung eyes him warily. “Oh yeah? Then what are you?”

The fox seems happy with the position of his head now, letting out a little satisfied noise and carefully wiggling from side to side as if to make sure it’ll stick. Minho still really wants to pet him, but maybe they need to work up to that.

“I’m Jeongin,” the fox declares, which does not answer Jisung’s question at all. “Who are you?”

Jisung seems a bit stumped, so Minho takes it upon himself to introduce them. “My name is Lee Minho, and this is Han Jisung.”

The fox steps a bit closer, his ears twitching as he considers them. “Okay, Lee Minho and Han Jisung. What are you doing here?”

“Rude,” Jisung mutters beside him, but Minho ignores him. For all he knows, this strange fox kid might be their way out of this mess.

"We came here by accident, and we're looking for our way back home," he says. "Could you point us in the right direction?"

"What is this place, anyway?" Jisung adds.

Jeongin tilts his head from side to side, eyebrows drawn together. "This place is what it is. I live here."

"Ooookay," Jisung says, drawing it out a bit. "Is there anyone else? Like, does anyone live in that building back there?"

He points over his shoulder in the direction they just came from, towards the seemingly abandoned apartment block, but Jeongin just shakes his head.

"It's just me and the Shadows here."

He looks remarkably unconcerned as he says it, and Minho resolves to just not ask what Jeongin means by 'Shadows' for his own peace of mind.

"Wonderful," Jisung says flatly, and then he tries to get them back on track. "So, is there an exit? We fell in down there, where all the big cameras are, but we didn't see a way back out."

"Fell in?" Jeongin repeats before he gasps and points an accusing finger at them. "You!" he yells, "Are you the ones who keeps throwing people in here?"

"What? No!" Jisung says, as he and Minho exchange confused looks. Jeongin is about as threatening as, well, an actual fox, but he looks genuinely angry, so Minho hurries to add: "We didn't even know this place existed before today. What do you mean by that, anyway? Someone is throwing people into— into the TV? If that’s what this place is?"

"Yes, and it's really messing up this world when they get trapped in here," Jeongin huffs. He still seems suspicious of them, but at least he stops with the accusations. "They can’t get out on their own. It's such a headache, so I just want whoever’s responsible to think before they do stuff like that. Or better yet, I want them to stop."

"Well, it's not us," Jisung insists. “And what do you mean, ‘can’t get out’? There has to be an exit somewhere, right?”

He’s starting to sound a bit panicky again, so Minho reaches out to put a hand on Jisung’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. It doesn’t really do much, but luckily Jeongin’s next words are a bit more promising.

“I can open a TV for you,” he says, and Minho doesn’t really follow at first, but then it clicks.

“So we can go back the same way we came in?” he asks, and Jeongin nods his head energetically.

“This way,” he says, and then he runs off in the direction of the stairs without even waiting to see if they’ll follow.

Jisung hesitates, shooting Minho an uncertain look. “Hyung,” he says, “Are you sure we can trust him?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” he says, and then he grabs Jisung's hand to pull him along. “Come on, hurry up before we lose him.”

They all but run down the stairs, their steps loud against the metal, but as it turns out Jeongin is waiting for them at the bottom.

“Over here!” he calls out to them, and then he leads them further into the fog, until they’re at what Minho thinks might be roughly the center of the studio space. There’s another stack of those old-fashioned TVs there and Minho could smack himself for not thinking of this earlier. If they came in through a TV, then he supposes it makes sense to go out the same way.

Relieved, he flings his hand out to touch the surface and almost sprains his fingers from the force of impact against the solid screen.

“Ouch,” he winces, drawing his hand back. “Wait, why isn’t it working?”

Jeongin gives him a weird look. “You need to turn it on, silly,” he says, and then he hits his fist against the side of the TV, hard.

The entire stack sways a bit from the force of it, but it doesn’t topple over. Instead, there’s a strange electrical noise, and then the screen comes to life, showing a pattern of red and black swirls. It kind of looks like a screensaver, now that Minho thinks about it.

“Here, now you can go back,” Jeongin tells them, and Jisung heaves out a sigh. “Finally!”

The TV is much smaller than the flatscreen back at the department store, but it seems big enough to let them through. Jisung steps forward first, holding onto Minho’s shoulder to steady himself as he carefully puts one foot through the screen. It sinks in easily enough, and Minho lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at the sight of it.

“I’m going ahead, hyung,” Jisung tells him, clearly more than ready to get out of here. “Thanks, fox boy!”

“My name is Jeongin!” Jeongin huffs, but Jisung is through the TV before he can say anything else.

Minho steps up to the screen as well, though something makes him stop before he starts to climb through. He doesn’t quite know why, but he turns to look back at the strange fox mascot that brought them here and hesitates. Jeongin looks almost lost, and Minho wonders what he’s going to do after they’re gone. “It’s just me and the Shadows here,” Jeongin had said. Minho isn’t sure what to make of that.

But either way, Minho needs to get back to the real world.

“Thank you for your help,” he starts and then stumbles over what to say next. It’s not really like he can tell Jeongin ‘see you later’ or anything, since he has absolutely no intention of coming back here. This was an accident and he’ll be glad to leave it behind.

In the end, all he can offer is a tentative, “Good-bye.”

Jeongin, small in the expanse of their surroundings and light fur stark in contrast against the fog, gives him a tiny wave. “Good-bye!”

And with that, Minho climbs into the TV.

The journey is much shorter this time. He steps through with one foot and immediately sets it on solid ground on the other side, the rest of his body following in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs that almost sends him to the floor again. He barely catches himself in time, but apparently Jisung wasn’t quite as lucky — he’s sitting on the floor, once again holding his back in pain.

“Ow,” he moans pathetically, and Minho almost laughs at him, but someone else speaks up behind them just then, making him whirl around in surprise.

“What. The fuck.”