Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Shit, man. What’s with all the dust?” Wonshik wheezed, having just ripped the car door open only to be hit by a face full of kicked up sand. He coughed hard and waved his hand in front of himself until something reached out from behind him, grabbing a fistful of his jacket, and tugging him back.

“Don’t stand there then,” Moonkyu chided from the driver’s seat. “Wait for it to settle.”

“Wait? We gotta mission to do, man!”

“The mission can wait thirty seconds. It’s better than you choking before we even start.”

Wonshik rolled his eyes. “Kai,” he whined. “Can’t you back me up here?”

“Hm?” Jongin quirked a brow, still in the back row of their small vehicle with his feet propped up on the seat Wonshik left. He’d been sleeping but was hoping to hide it

“Oh wake up!”

Moonkyu lifted a hand in a weak attempt to hide his chuckling, laughter purely at Wonshik’s expense.

“I’m up, I’m up.” No sooner than he said it, though, Jongin let his head fall back and yawned, mouth wide open and uncovered. He swung his leg back down and pushed himself from the seat, joining Wonshik in the doorway. The dust had settled. So he looked over his friend and cocked his head to the side, a small smirk on his lips as he asked, “You ready?”

Wonshik grinned back at him. “As I’ll ever be.”

They bumped fists, adjusted the masks over their eyes, and set out into the desolate ghost town.

“I’ve locked in on your coordinates.” Moonkyu’s voice rang through their small earpieces tinged with static. “Path looks clear so far but keep on your toes. I’m getting some readings on the fringes of town. I’d watch out around that saloon up ahead.”

“Who the hell thinks about the wild west while in Seoul?” Wonshik hadn’t lost the guard in his stance as they’d moved along, but his voice was low and casual.

“Didn’t I catch you looking at cowboy hats just the other day?”

“Th-that was for a theme party!”

Jongin snorted. “Wild west theme?”

Wonshik chose not to grace him with an answer to that. “I’m just saying, Kai. Don’tcha think it’s a little weird that some mid-level salary man’s whole consciousness is… this?” He gestured broadly in front of them both.

He wasn’t wrong, though. The area was eerily empty, despite the peppering of wooden buildings with pointed roofs, signage, and farming equipment. Sky and ground blended into one another in matching hues of sandy beiges and grays. And the only motion was the swinging of a creaky door or the rolling of a tumbleweed, all kicked up by the wind and the dust.

To get here they needed a name, a location, and a distortion—in this case, isolation. Loneliness. This place is quite lonely, Jongin thought, pausing to peer into the window of a General Store. Snacks of all sorts lined the shelving he could see, mixes of English and Korean on the packaging, and a small refrigerator cast a faint blue glow across the floor in the back. Looked well stocked, despite no one managing the register. Despite no one in this town at all. Jongin was shocked there was a register at all.

“I never thought a man would see his own house as… empty as this. He’s got a family, doesn’t he?” A family that seemed so full of love as far as Jongin could tell (even if personal experience made that a touch hard to empathize with). He hadn’t felt this much pleading from a request in quite a while.

“Yeah. His daughter was the one who put in the call,” Moonkyu replied, startling Wonshik so much that he nearly stumbled over. Laughter followed. “This isn’t our first mission like this, Ravi. You should get yourself together more, hm~”

“Why you—”

“Wait. Careful. Something’s popped up. Northeast of your current location. It’s moving pretty fast.”

Wonshik looked back to Jongin who nodded. “Got it,” he said slowly, eyes no longer bouncing between snacks trapped behind a locked door. He took a few steps back, around the side of the building, and ground his feet.

Now he could hear it— the metallic whirring that was getting louder and louder. Robots felt really out of place here, currently surrounded by enough sand, dirt, and dust around that Jongin was sure would short their circuitry. But just as the thought crossed his mind, the stampede of cybernetic security guards were upon them.

He turned to Wonshik. “Run.”

“Run?!” Wonshik baulked.

But they took off anyway, sprinting around the corner of the store and down the backroads as fast as they could go.

“Why are we running?” Wonshik shouted. “They’re on our tails!”

“Follow me.” Jongin pivoted and leapt, catching footing on an awning and pushing himself onto the roof of a bank. Wonshik landed sloppily beside him.

“Are you sure they can’t jump?”

“No,” Jongin said bluntly, giving a small shrug.

“Kai!”

“What else would you want me to do?” Jongin’s voice dipped into this deep whine, pout clearly on his lips. “They’re not behind us anymore at least.”

“Guys, heads up there’s—”

“They’re not. But I am.”

The pair spun around to see their target— Samsung salaryman Cha Minho. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he growled, tapping the brim of his cowboy hat with his knuckle. “It’s about time. I thought they would’ve sent you sooner.”

“Your family wants you back,” Kai said. “They miss you.”

“Tch.” The man’s chin tucked, dark and empty eyes starting to glow burnt orange. Around him wisps of black energy started to crawl off of his body. One wrong move and he’d be more monster than man. “They want my money.”

“That’s not true. And if you’re gonna make us prove it to you—” Wonshik’s voice broke off as he shifted his stance. He flicked his wrists, calling two long daggers into his hands. “Then that’s just what we’re gonna do.”

“Wonshik!” Moonkyu grit out through his teeth and into their communicators.

There was the wrong move. Cha Minho threw his head back and wailed, suddenly consumed by black tendrils. His heel stomped against the roof and more robots cropped up around him. Two merged with his person, three speeding forward to guard him. Kai could just feel the grin spreading on Wonshik’s face as he lunged into battle. Calling his own weapons—a sleek pair of guns, one black and the other silver—Kai jumped into the fight.

Metal clashed against metal. Whenever he managed a hit on Minho’s dark matter form it proved successful, briefly short-circuiting his connection to his robot minions and decreasing the power behind his attacks. Otherwise bullets ricocheted off the robots and headed every which way. He misshot and ducked quickly, calling out, “Ravi!” to get him to drop too. They dodged their own fire, but Wonshik wasn’t so lucky with an enemy’s attacks— One robot's laser eyes hitting him right in the thigh. He dropped with a loud yell.

“Ravi!”

“Hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”

“Timoteo, be careful,” Wonshik muttered through gritted teeth.

Jongin slid into the open space between Wonshik and their enemies and shot a bit more wildly until he rendered half Minho's tentacles useless. The robots began short-circuiting too, suffering from the lack of connection to their master and rolling wildly into one another and off the roof. Jongin took the bought time, reaching into his black trench coat to reload.

He lined up his shot—and then Cha Minho drops to his knees before him?

The shadows of dark matter coursed off of Minho’s body and out into the open air around them. Jongin started to lower his guns when something flashed in the corner of his eye. He turned sharply and saw… nothing. Or rather, nothing more than a single butterfly wing that quickly flew out of sight. “Did you get that?” Jongin whispered to Moonkyu, hurrying back to Wonshik’s side.

“Get what?”

. . .

“Nevermind. Can you get Ravi? I’ll finish the job.”

“Coming.”

“Nnn—I can stand just fine, don’t touch me with those weird metallic tentacle arms of yours I—Hey!”

“Don’t flail, it’ll hurt you more,” Jongin called as he crossed over to Minho, kneeling carefully. Placing both gloved hands on their target's shoulders, he maneuvered the groaning man one way, then another, looking for the point of connection from that mysterious show. Whatever it was, the damage wasn’t detrimental. Actually, it helped them quite a lot. And whoever it was… they knew what they were doing.

That made Jongin even more uneasy.

But for now, they had a heart to rescue. He wiped away the lingering black gunk on their victim’s chest and set him upright. “Come back,” he whispered. “To your family. They miss you.”

“...Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your daughter wants her dad back. So go back, okay?”

The man looked up pitifully, wide, sad eyes almost imploring Jongin to let him stay, but with one shake of Jongin’s head he gave in and started to dissipate. In his wake, another robot.

“This is his treasure?”

“Take it and let’s go.” Moonkyu’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Right.” The ground was already splitting into cracks beneath him. Because without Cha Minho’s darkness powering this subconscious world there was nothing to sustain it. Jongin grit his teeth as he gathered the robot, though it was more like a limp collection of parts loosely staying together, under his arm and against his chest. With one more look around—and nothing returned, no sign of that butterfly—Jongin dove off the roof.

Moonkyu caught him with ease, his eyes never leaving the crumbling road before them. “This might be our closest one yet.”

Jongin looked over sympathetically, wanting to reach out but knowing that Moonkyu would rebuff his touch in an instant. Instead he offered up a soft, “We’ll get out of here. I know we will.” But whether or not they’d be in one piece was debatable. One look at Wonshik was enough to know that.

As a kid, Jongin had a lot of weird dreams. They’d take him from underwater utopias to backdrops that could rival sci-fi thrillers, challenging him to navigate new spaces in search of something. Something that to this day, 28 years later, he still hadn’t found or figured out.

And somehow, at the end of each one he’d find himself in a jail cell before formally waking up back in his bed. Even as the strange places—the cold mountains, the dewy forests, the cybertechnic landscapes—started to leave him be, the cell stayed. Jongin was here now, staring out into open nothingness. He turned his attention elsewhere, over familiar white and black stripes across his body and a number, 00088, printed across his chest. Then to his left where a broken mirror stayed fixed to the gray brick wall over a sink that had never worked once in his nights here. Biting his lip, Jongin pushed himself off of the cot and took the three steps needed to reach the front. Still nothing. As a kid it scared him, but now? It’s almost eerily familiar. This one constant in a life that was otherwise filled with moving. He wrapped his hands around the bars but decided against pulling on them. It didn’t feel worth it. What was out there anyway?

So he stayed fixed in quiet contemplation until the cell started to fall away from him, crumbling stone and metal moving slowly at first and then all at once. Just as it started to crash, Jongin woke with a flurry of blinks.

Then his alarm kicked off.

Jongin shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and yawning. His hand tapped against his blankets once, twice, and again until he found his phone and clicked it off. Or onto snooze. Oh shit, he didn’t know which and that meant he had to wake up. Rolling onto his side, he cracked an eye open again and swiped every which way onto its screen. Where is… Oh. He had cancelled his alarm. He could set another one but at this point he was already awake. Looking at the time told him he was already cutting it close if he wanted to shower, eat breakfast, and make it to the cafe on time. With a long, heavy sigh, he peeled himself out of his bed.

“Rrrrrrruff!”

“What?!”

Jongin stumbled back onto his bed with a hard thud and he let out a breathy “Oof” as a small weight landed hard onto his lap.

Minseok left his dog here on occasion, usually whenever his own boyfriend, Jongdae, was visiting with his cats in tow. Tan and the kittens didn’t get along well with one another, and Jongin didn’t mind the company. This apartment, and its lingering memories of his grandmother, could grow quite cold otherwise.

The pile of poodle poof grumbled again, pinning him down while padding in a circle across Jongin’s thighs.

“...Did I knock you off the bed?”

Tan ruff’d again.

“Ah...” Jongin brought his hand to soft puppy ears. “Sorry, Tan.”

The dog whined and shook his whole body, pressing easily back into Jongin’s touch.

“Will you forgive me if I make you breakfast?” I hardly have time to make myself breakfast— Tan cut him off with a long whine, like he could sense that Jongin was already growing grumbly and hesitant. “...Okay, okay.” Jongin wrapped both arms around a tiny brown body and stood, setting Tan down carefully on his way down the hallway and to the kitchen.
“Now that you’re fed, time to figure it out for me.” Jongin didn’t even have more than a few eggs, half a loaf of bread, and some water bottles in his own refrigerator. He glanced down to the dog whose can contained all sorts of fresh proteins and veggies. “How’re you eating better than I am? I… Need to go grocery shopping. After work.” If nothing came up. “Aw shit wait, I have to check on Wonshik this evening.” Grocery shopping another day then.

A soft chime rang from his phone— the second alarm telling him if he didn’t run he wouldn’t make it to work on time.

“But I haven’t even showered—” Or eaten. Where did the time go? Jongin huffed his way through a half-assed morning routine and sprinted out the door, toast between his teeth and Tan in a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“You’re late,” Moonkyu greeted in a half smirking, half chiding tone.

“What’re you doing here?” Jongin cocked a brow, busy hands tying his apron behind his back after he waved off his coworker and the customers that left with her.

“Waiting for you to make me my morning coffee.” Moonkyu wasn’t looking at Jongin, though. Tan had already freed himself from Jongin’s bag and climbed into Moonkyu’s lap. He welcomed the pets with a soft, contented sigh.

“It’s noon.”

“Didn’t you just get up too?”

“You’re always so smug,” Jongin grumbled. But that’s why he liked hanging around Moonkyu and a huge reason why they became friends in the first place, not long after Jongin had to move to the city and before all of this consciousness-hopping heart-stealing stuff. Moonkyu’s so smart, too. Jongin couldn’t imagine a more savvy partner.

And then there’s Wonshik, who would’ve been behind the drink counter with him if his leg hadn’t gotten mangled in their last mission. Loud and eccentric from the tips of his often spiked blonde hair down to his self-decorated sneakers, he may not have Moonkyu’s brains but he packed a strong punch. His confidence was unshakable too. It was Wonshik who was consoling Jongin in the wake of his injury, saying things like, “It’s just a scratch! I’ll be back at ‘em in no time!” Despite the number of stitches he’d just received from the hospital.

Jongin liked to think of himself as somewhat in the middle—keen enough to know what moves to make and strong enough to back those decisions. They picked him to be leader, after all, for both of these reasons and more. But he knew he’d be nothing without them backing him up. That’s why they’re a team—and a great one at that.

Jongin set Moonkyu’s finished drink down for him and collected the cash payment. Crossing to the register he asked, “Have you seen Wonshik today?”

“Called him. I’ll be going over to make him lunch when I’m done here.”

“How’s he sound?” Jongin asked.

“Like Wonshik.” Moonkyu chuckled. “He has to lift his legs with both hands to get in and out of bed but he still wants to come into work. To work. I don’t even want to go in on my best days.” His eyes flashed up to Jongin and he offered up a soft smile. “So don’t worry so much about him, okay? It happens. You should know better than anyone else.”

“Yeah but when it’s me it’s different.”

“For you, maybe. Not the rest of us.” Moonkyu collected the money returned to him and folded up a few bills to stuff into the jar nearest to him. “We can’t do much without our precious leader—” The door chimed and Moonkyu’s voice dropped. Tan buried into a ball in his lap. No more talking about their alter egos when civilians were around.

The pretty boy stepped up close to the counter, brushing back his blonde hair from his face to get a better look at the day’s pastries and breads.

Jongin put on his best customer service smile. “Welcome. Can I help you?”

“Of course you can.”

Jongin’s eyes floated over to Moonkyu’s, who met him on a shared thought of ‘Oh God one of those,’ but all his friend could do was shrug. “I’ll be leaving.”

Tan barked, too, as if telling Jongin, ‘I’m going with him!’

Jongin gave a nod. “Have a good day.”

Moonkyu snorted but what else could Jongin do? He had a customer to uphold appearances in front of!

A customer he was now left with. Alone. Maybe he should’ve asked them both to stay.

This man’s attention was hardly on Jongin, though. He kept bending and straightening his knees, body leaned over, alternating looking at the croissants on the top shelf and the muffins on the bottom. “What would you recommend?” He asked.

“The muffins are my favorite. If you like sweet things. If not, I recommend the almond croissants.”

“Almond croissant it is then. And a black coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

As he turned his back to start the order, something struck Jongin. Something… unpleasant, that had his stomach twisting in all sorts of weird ways. He couldn’t pin it. Even as he glanced over his shoulder and stole a glance at the blonde who had taken Moonkyu’s abandoned seat, he couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t know this guy.

So why did it feel like he did?

“Here’s your coffee,” he said, trying to ignore this creeping in the back of his head as he set the man’s cup down and gathered his croissant. “That’ll be 8,000 won.”

A black credit card was placed into his hand. Jongin blinked down. “Surely there are nicer coffee shops than this one,” he remarked with a laugh before he realized it. He pulled a face immediately after. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it meanly.”

“First time seeing a black card? No problem.” The blonde had brought his coffee cup to his lips, hiding the lower half of his face, but somehow Jongin felt his smirk anyway. “I’ll just have to keep coming back here. Get you used to it.”

“That’s, uh, quite a thing to say.” Jongin wanted to put the word ‘strange’ somewhere into that sentence but his work persona thought better of it.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not always the best with what I say. My friends always say it’ll be my downfall. Speak quick and say what I want without thinking about it. Let me try again.” He smiled. “I’m actually new here and this was the first place that popped up in my search for a good cafe. My name is Lee Taemin.”

Jongin could see that embossed in gold ink on his black card. But instead of saying it he quirked a brow and smiled back. “Kim Jongin. Welcome to Lupin. I’d say we’re the best in town but I’m a little biased. Here’s your card back.”

“Well as far as I know this is indeed the best in town.” Taemin placed his cup back in its saucer. “You really know how to make a cup of coffee.”

Jongin grinned and rubbed his collar with the back of his curled fingers. “I’m telling you, we’re the best because I am the best.”

Taemin’s eyes seemed to light at that. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Who’d I be challenging? You?”

Taemin hummed but didn’t say anything else, simply smiling and shaking his head before going for a piece of his croissant. He kept quiet for the rest of his visit, save for sparing Jongin a wave goodbye and an “I’ll see you soon” as he was out the door.

And to Jongin’s surprise, he did come back soon. Sooner than expected. The next day.

“Good morning!” He greeted. “Oh. You’re not alone today. That’s okay. One almond croissant and a black coffee, please.”

Jongin’s boss, Minseok, turned towards the drink counter but a soft “Ah!” from Taemin stopped him. “Mind if he makes my drink?”

“Me?” Jongin, pointing to himself, mimicked Taemin’s own finger. He was mid-yawn, after staying far too late at Wonshik’s last night for his own good.

“Tired?” Taemin chuckled. “I really liked my drink yesterday and I wanted to have it again.”

“Oh sure. I don’t mind.” Minseok shrugged. “Less work for me. Go get to it, Jonginnie!” With a louder-than-necessary smack to Jongin’s shoulder, Mineok went to gather the almond croissant instead.

“You did say you were the best,” Taemin said, accepting the cup of coffee with a bow of his head. “So why would I go elsewhere?”

“Isn’t this your second day in the city?” Jongin asked.

“Do you want me to go elsewhere?”

“No, he doesn’t!” Minseok clamped his hand down on Jongin’s shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. “He’d never say no to a customer. Especially not a soon to be regular?” Minseok may be grinning, he may have given Taemin a wink, but Jongin knew from the tone of his voice (and his vice-like grip) that he was not to be challenging this. Minseok’s scariness was not lost on Jongin.

But Taemin looked unphased, just sitting there smiling and sipping his drink. “A regular huh? That sounds nice.”

“You’ve just moved here?”

“Yes, over the weekend. I’m still getting my bearings. The city seems nice though.”

“Jongin’s relatively new to the area, too.”

“Is he now?” Taemin’s eyes flashed over to Jongin. But he’s just staring at Minseok, wondering why this man is talking about his business.

Minseok continued on like it’s nothing. “Yes. Came here and practically begged me for a job. And me, being the nice shop owner I am, created a place for him.”

“Yes. My one and only savior.” Jongin rolled his eyes. “What would I do without you?” Though it wasn’t entirely wrong. He just hadn’t come here begging—more like… running. Seeking out assistance.

Taemin nodded. “I see, I see. Well fortunately I have something to keep me busy. But if I ever find myself looking for work I’ll certainly stop by. And maybe another day you could show me around, new kid?” He wiggles his eyebrows at Jongin. His cup was empty now. “For now I should go. Thank you for another nice conversation. I think I’ll be back again soon.”

Like tomorrow? Jongin decided not to ask.

“Come by any time!” Minseok responded in Jongin’s place. He turned to Jongin after Taemin left. “He seemed nice.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No. It’s not that.” He just still felt like… something. And even though he and Minseok were close—hell, he owed Minseok so much for his new life—he didn’t want to share that now. He joked, “Any man with a black card is someone worth keeping, right? I just don’t need you pimping me out to customers.”

“Black card?! Jongin you better be bending over backwards next time he comes in.” Minseok grinned.

Jongin shook his head side to side and gave Minseok a half-smirk.

“What’s a manager for if not prostituting his subordinates?” Jongin shook his head and crossed to do dishes. Minseok spoke up again, “Hey, how’s Wonshik by the way?”

“Loud and annoying as ever.” There was a smile on Jongin’s lips. “I’d like to bring him some things from here tonight so don’t let me forget to buy it before I go.”

“Buy? Who do you think I am? Take it. On the house.”

Free pastries, warm drinks, and good company made for a nice night. Jongin could see tonight going well into the dawn like the last one.

“I’ve got to break up the good mood for a moment.” Moonkyu frowned slightly. “We’ve got another mission.”

“For when?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” Wonshik barked out. “How the heck am I gonna do that?”

“Uh, you’re not?” Moonkyu replied.

Wonshik turned sharply to Jongin for backup, but he only got a shake of his head in response. “No way.” Jongin said. “We can’t risk you using your leg.”

“So it’s just gonna be you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Jongin’s voice pitched up, his cheeks puffing out. “I’ll be fine!... Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just… since the first day it’s always been the both of us. We discovered that app the same day.”

Oh. Jongin understood now. Wonshik was getting all sentimental sad. Poor guy…

Before Wonshik could fight anymore, Jongin placed his hand on his shoulder. “I get it.” His voice grew soft. “I don’t want to be out there fighting without you but you have to heal that leg. I’d rather get you for all our missions in the future than lose you on the next one, you know?”

“I second that,” Moonkyu added.

Wonshik shot him a skeptical look. “If you’re saying you want to work together on all missions then you all must be serious.” Jongin would roll his eyes at that if he wasn’t trying to hold strong to their persuasion. Wonshik huffed a sigh. “Okay. I’ll stay back. But you better let me in on everything! I wanna know the target, the keywords, how it goes.”

Moonkyu swiped open his phone and shifted, planting both feet back onto the ground and propping his elbows on his knees. “Let’s get to it then. Get a good rest tonight.”

“Mmm…” Jongin grunted, raising his hand to his forehead. It was hard enough adjusting from the afternoon daylight to pitch darkness, but the flashing lights popping this way and that off of the building before him made it far worse. “A casino?”

“Seems so.” Moonkyu nodded.

Choi Gibeom, courthouse, greed.

Those were the three terms they’d needed to get here. Jongin hummed to himself. Greed fit, he figured.

“I’ll be there.” Moonkyu pointed upward towards the light polluted sky. “Unless you need me on the ground? I… feel weird about letting you charge in on your own.”

“It’ll be okay. I promise. You’ll be in my ear the whole time anyway. If I need you, you’ll come.” He placed his hand on Moonkyu’s shoulder, who returned it with a touch of his own. Jongin smiled. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

So Jongin took off, sprinting through the golden doors into a lavish front hall lined with ringing slot machines. If he thought the lights were fucking with his senses, Jongin wasn’t ready for the constant ringing and dinging and the damage it was doing to his ears. He winced once, stepping back until Moonkyu’s voice cut through the noise to tell him, “Guards are coming through the far hallways on the left and right. Get to another level now if you can.”

“On it.”

In the center of the casino hall was an elevator but Jongin knew better than to go for it. If it didn’t take a key card that he didn’t have, the time it would take for him to figure out whatever button sequence was needed to make it work would lock him into a long, shadow filled battle. Or maybe it’d be robots again. Jongin shuddered—after what happened to Wonshik, he no longer liked robots.

But at the back he spotted a bright green exit sign and pivoted to sprint that way. Red gloved fingers wrapped around the silver bar and he tugged once—nothing. Alright, again—still? Jongin’s brows furrowed, both hands firming up his grip, until all of his strength could destress the lock enough to crack.

“Heat sensors are growing around you.”

“I know, I know, hold on.” Jongin called his black gun to his hand and jammed the handle into the gap he’d forced open, using his new leverage to finally break the doors.

“Aw hell yeah!” Moonkyu cheered into his earpiece. “In you go!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jongin snorted, kicking the door back shut with the sole of his boot.

He wanted to make quick work of the stairs but something stopped him. Or rather, something caught his eye and caused his steps to slow. Wanted posters. A whole lot of them plastered up and along the walls. Paused mid-flight, Jongin turned. Every single one within his sight had the same subject: a smug human in a butterfly mask. It can’t be. The poses between each posted varied, though—some held up peace signs, some grinned, some had their tongue out. But the eyes in all of them stayed the same. And that mask… Jongin had been thinking a lot about that mask.

He started to climb again, much slower now in order to drink in the details. “It looks almost out of place,” he muttered to himself. “Shouldn’t wanted posters exist in that wild west world instead?” He lifted his hand, dragging his fingers across the torn and fraying edges. “What’re you doing here?”

“What do you see?” Moonkyu asked, voice tense on the edges because he’d asked three times and Jongin still hadn’t given him an answer.

“Posters.”

“Who's on them?”

“I don’t know.” But he felt like he did and that made his stomach grow even sour. What were all these feelings and why did they cloud his mind and tighten his chest?

“Stay alert. There’s a door coming up on the next landing. I’m getting a wild energy read behind it.”

Jongin grunted a soft reply. He leapt onto the landing, twisting towards the door, but something caught his eye. He turned slowly. A hand raised to adjust his mask, as if the red crystals might be reflecting into his eyes and fucking with his vision. Because printed in faded black on the last of the wanted posters at the top was his own face, smirking back at him. Next to it, Wonshik. A third stuck out as well, only a dark shadow and an exclamation point. That must be for Moonkyu. “Timoteo, hey.”

“Hey?”

“Do we know this guy?”

“The caller?” Moonkyu paused, making a noise in thought. “Not that I know of.”

“Someone’s onto us then. Someone—”

“Kai, watch out!”

The door burst behind him, shadows on shadows clamoring over one another and into the stairwell. Jongin ducked. His feet carried him down a few stairs in just enough time for the shadows to crash into the wall instead of him. They formed into one unit for a moment then burst out into a squad of armed soldiers poised all around Jongin.

I’m shit outta luck, huh? he thought, gritting his teeth. He’d called his guns to his hand, but with their positioning above him he’d be lucky to get a few shots landed before they were all upon him. Change of plan, then. Jongin fired towards the ceiling, shattering the glass above them. The lights cracked apart and plunged into darkness. Jongin took this chance to jump over the railing, his fingers clutching tight to the baluster. He pressed his body as close to the stairs as possible. Above him the shadows hissed and scrambled apart, crawling down the stairs and across the walls.

But not down the path Jongin had taken.

Thank god, he thought, breathless, as he hoisted himself back up. One shadow heard him because the shrieks that filled the stairwell grew shockingly loud and everything pivoted at once to find Jongin again. He slipped through the door and managed to shut it in the knick of time. Pieces of detaching shadow wisped around him or fell onto the floor hopelessly and at his back the remaining enemies threw their weight against the iron door. Jongin was only so strong…

“Well, well. You’re not going to let some level one shadows take you out, are you?”

Jongin’s turned sharply, only to be nearly thrown off by another sharp hit against the door. Nearly. He threw his weight right back onto it and continued to stare down the stranger.

“What? Don’t give me that look. I’m sure you saw my posters all over the place. Why wouldn’t you think I’m here?”

“You were at the last place too, right? The wild west town?” That butterfly mask was too obvious. So unless this stranger had a whole team of one-winged thieves running around the same targets Jongin, Moonkyu, and Wonshik were after, it had to be him right? Which still begged the question— why was he trailing their missions too?”

The man grinned. “I was hoping you’d see me.”

“Hard to miss a mask as big as that—Nnn!” Another hard push on the door cut Jongin off in a gasp. “I’m not going to hold them much longer. So either get out of the way or give me a hand because I’m letting them in.”

That smile on his face widened. The stranger snapped silver glove-covered fingers and took a stance, a thin, long sword poised in his grip. “Let’s do this.”

With a leap and a roll across the ground, Jongin freed the collective beasts. He landed on his knees and pivoted, eyes narrowed as he started to shoot. Every time Jongin managed to stun a shadow with his bullets, Butterfly swooped in with quick, precise strikes of his blade—slicing them apart into puddles of goo.

For a moment, Jongin flashed back to fighting alongside Wonshik. But it’s only the pairing of Jongin’s guns with a partner’s blades that is remotely similar. Wonshik’s two knives are nothing like this man’s sword and their styles are like oil and water. Because there was so much grace in this stranger's movements, in the ways that he flipped and twirled and slashed, that it almost looked like he was dancing. The shadows weren’t his partners, though; Jongin was. And that realization pushed him harder, deeper into the middle of the battle until the collective of shadows were no more.

Jongin’s arms dropped to his side, chest rising and falling with heavy pants, and he felt… alive; felt nothing but adrenaline coursing through his veins and pounding in his ears.

Around him, though, was eerily silent. Only static buzzed from the other end of his earpiece. Jongin tapped it a few times before calling. “Timoteo? Do you read me?”

“...I do.”

“Shadows are cleared. Are there any more on your radar?”

“None here.”

“Okay.” Jongin paused. “Everything okay?”

“Fine. I’m keeping an eye on your company.”

Jongin glanced over to Butterfly who was wiping his unmarred blade with his white jacket. He parted his lips then let that thought slide. “Thanks. I’m going to keep going. Let me know if anything comes up.” Clearing his throat after, Jongin called: “Hey, Butterfly.”

“Butterfly?” The man blinked, tilting his head like an innocent puppy. “Is that me?”

“Who else would it be?”

“I’d rather go by Ace.”

“Ace?” Jongin’s nose crinkled a bit. Sounded… pretentious. He didn’t have time to question, though, so instead Jongin nodded and cocked his head towards the stairwell. “Alright Ace. Let’s go.”

“Back to the stairs? Are you serious?” Ace let out a loud, bark of a laugh. “There’s an elevator right there.”

“With a keycard or code. I don’t have time to figure that out.”

“No? That’s a shame.” Ace reached into his pocket and flashed a whole set of keys clinking against one another on a large silver hoop. “Because I did. Guess you just gotta watch me, then.” He turned. “ I’m going to finish this mission.”

Dumbstruck, Jongin stood in the middle of the blackjack hall and watched Ace move towards the elevator, until the very last second where Ace threw a glance back to Jongin and asked, “You coming?”

“Of course!” Jongin bolted forward, frustrated, feeling like he’d become some stranger’s lap dog in the course of a few minutes. He slowed to a light jog just as Ace stuck a few keys into various places in the elevator’s console. Ace placed his hand over two, then nodded at Jongin to take the rest. “On the count of three. One.”

Jongin stepped into the small elevator.

“Two.”

He placed his hands over the untouched pair of keys.

“Three.”

They turned them in tandem. The elevator plummeted dowarnward. The ground escaped their feet and in a blink, Jongin had crashed towards the opposite side—the hand railing digging into the small of his back—and no sooner had he caught his breath did Ace slam into his chest. Jongin struggled to push air back into his chest, hands scrambling between pushing himself off the wall and prying Ace off of him.

“Kai?! Are you okay?”

“Hold on.” He wheezed, freeing himself finally. Ace spun once at his side, outstretching his hands to catch himself in the corner. His eyes met Jongin’s just as Jongin yelled, “What the hell!?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me! Why are we falling? I thought we had to go up.”

“Sometimes—” Ace’s voice broke off, drowned out in the screeching of metal on metal surrounding them. “You’ve got to go down to go up.”

Jongin shot him a look.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Ace said evenly, fully opposite to the way Jongin’s heart was ramming against his chest. “But what I think is right, so,” and he left it at that, adding a single shoulder shrug.

Right?! Jongin had to grit his teeth to keep it in. Fighting with this man meant nothing at this point. His moment of blind faith had brought them to this point already and now Jongin just needed to make it out and finish this mission. Still, he couldn’t help but think: Bullshit. I—

The elevator hit the ground with a thud far softer than its descent. And the doors opened as if nothing happened. Ace pushed himself away from the wall he’d wedged himself into and strolled out just as casually. Jongin forced himself to follow without hesitation.

Down here were the utility rooms. Damp walls and dripping ceiling tiles in the corners where a boiler room and a room filled with highly wired panels all surrounded them. And a green glow coming from the final one at the end of the hall. “Security,” Moonkyu whispered. “Careful, Kai.”

Jongin grunted a reply, busy now on finding their next move before something in security stirred or the elevator decided to take their lives for good.

“Ah!” He exclaimed under his breath. The vents. “Timoteo, you there?”

“Roger.”

“How’re these?”

“Clear looking. They only go up.”

“Then come on. Let’s go.”

And to his surprise, Ace did follow. He didn't say anything (which also meant he didn’t apologize for bringing them to the basement in the first place) but at this point, already set back by a mob of shadows and a malfunctioning elevator, Jongin didn’t want to take the time to talk further. Mission first.

Jongin picked the fourth grate they passed as their exit point, bracing himself with his legs against the walls of the vent system and his weight pushed outward.

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Ace teased, and if he weren’t positioned so precariously he would’ve shot the other a look. Instead he opted to roll his eyes. If he fell, where the hell would Ace catch him?

Jongin took in a breath, twisting at his hips to drive his elbow against the grate they passed. His arm shot out after it, catching it just before it clattered to the tile ground and gave their location away. Here, now on the fifth floor, they slipped out of the vents.

“Good choice,” Moonkyu said.

“You told me to make it.”

Moonkyu was surely smirking on the other end. “I know. That’s why it’s so good. There are some security guards lingering right behind the door on the far left. That one’s your only chance back to the main hall, though, so do it smartly.”

“Roger.” He glanced to Ace. “We have to go that way but—”

“Shadows?”

“Yeah.”

Ace snapped his sword back into his hand. “Then let’s get going.”

In one second the door was lock picked open and in the next, Ace had the entire brigade of shadow guards dissipated into a sticky, dark goo. He glanced back in time to catch Jongin blink and tilted his head casually. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jongin grunted, stepping forward until their shoulders grazed. “Just... good work.”

“I know. Keep up, will you?” He took off on a run that Jongin followed, with one passing the other then falling behind again all the way to the main hub of the casino. Ace jumped left and Jongin went right. Moonkyu’s voice glided him along the walls and up over banisters to where he pinpointed as the treasure room. Somehow, even without the guidance, Ace seemed to know the path too.

“Careful,” Moonkyu instructed. “Calling card’s out. He’s waiting for you.”

Nodding, Jongin glanced to Ace. No words left either of their lips, yet on a simultaneous count of three they burst through the door, guns and swords ready.

“T-two of you?” Choi Gibeom stammered. His eyes, burning red cybernetic orbs, fixated on Ace. “I thought—”

“A distraction,” Ace replied coolly. “Can’t have you knowing about the whole team, now, can I?”

“Whatever. One or two or one hundred of you, I don’t care! I’m not letting you take this place away from me!” With a snap of his fingers he called four different, human-sized playing cards in front of him— a jester, a queen, an eight of clubs, and a jack.

“Charging up above you, Kai. I got your back.”
As expected of Moonkyu. But actually, so did Ace. With a barked command from the man behind the butterfly mask, Jongin charged forward. Forgetting the mess ups from before, now Ace fully had Jongin’s trust. They moved surprisingly in sync. Jongin would fire, the bullet would be at first deflected, and then Ace would swipe in with his sword to ricochet it back towards another enemy. Ace would charge for his own attack and Jongin would stun the enemy in place with a well timed shot from behind. The two of them bounced back and forth between the walls of the casino, dodging and distracting their target’s last line of defense until the last card fell to the ground and disintegrated into bits.

“Go high!” Ace called, bringing both hands to the hilt of his blade. Jongin nodded. In one fluid, circular motion he swung it over his head and around his body, turning with the movement of his hands until he and Jongin hit the exact spot they needed. The sole of Jongin’s boot landed on the flat of the sword and he took off towards the ceiling. A glass chandelier that sat in the center became his target. He flipped even higher until he could land on the first ring of the cake-shaped ornament. With both guns gripped in his hand, he fired down on Choi Gibeom until his armory had shattered and he was nothing but human melded with shadows.

“Fine,” he wheezed. “You win.”

“That’s not enough.” Ace crossed the casino floor and looked down his nose at the man. They continued chatting—or rather, Ace spoke calmly while Gibeom begged. Jongin recognized he was keeping him conscious in his subconscious, giving him the time to unearth the treasure. He spotted it quickly—even faster than Moonkyu pointing out the treasure room to him this time—in the VIP room adjacent to where their battle had taken place. Jongin hopped in and out quickly, a silver suitcase now in hand.

“It’ll be fine now,” he said softly, returning to Ace’s side. “When you wake up, it’ll be better.”

“Can you promise?”

“Yeah,” Jongin replied. Ace snorted, breaking Jongin’s focus from the man just as he disappeared completely. “What?”

“What?” Ace parroted, voice pitched into something feigning innocence.

Jongin’s lips parted but he opted to shake his head instead.

Ace dropped the topic, too, and smiled back at him. “Hey, there.”

“Hm?”

“We make a great pair,” he said.

Jongin nodded in reply. They did make a great pair. Almost as good as him and Wonshik. And yet that didn’t help Jongin’s uneasiness—the questions of who this man was and why he was here.

"I'm impressed," Ace continued. He smirked at Jongin.

"That should be my line. You're the newbie here."

"Ah, yes. It seems that way, doesn't it." Ace took one more look over the treasure in Jongin's hand; even reaching out to caress the edge of the suitcase. "I'd be curious to see what you can really do. Against a foe that's more bite than bark."

Jongin quirked a brow behind his mask.

Ace chuckled. "That's my roundabout way of saying I want to duel you. One day. When the fate of society isn't on the line." He drew his hand back and slid his finger across the edge of his own glove.

Jongin laughed. He can’t be serious, was on his mind, but “Bring it on,” was what left his lips.

“And then he just took off?”

“Yeah.” Jongin muttered. One hand brought his mug of hot chocolate closer, the other scratched the back of his head. “Didn’t fight me for the treasure or anything. By the time it was in hand, he was gone.”

“What kind of thief doesn’t even try to take the treasure?” Wonshik mused, hands busy running through Tan’s fur. Minseok had ‘lent’ him to the crew to keep Wonshik from losing his mind while homebound.

“Well, not everyone is a treasure hound like you are.” Moonkyu chuckled. Since they’d reconvened at Wonshik’s apartment his nose has been buried in his laptop. His fingers hadn’t stopped click-cacking across the keys.

Wonshik made his voice even louder to compensate. (Not like it was needed. Wonshik could be heard clear as day across a crowded concert hall. While the band was playing). “The fuck does this guy think he is anyway? Just wait until I’m back on my feet. You don’t need any other partner!”

“I know, I know.” Jongin threaded his fingers through his hair and patted that palm to Wonshik’s shoulder. “We’ll give him hell when you’re back.”

“Hey.” Moonkyu waved Jongin’s attention back to him. He turned his laptop and pointed to the image on his screen. The wanted poster from the casino interior. “This is the guy right?”

“That’s him.” Same butterfly mask and smug smile. “How’d you find that?”

“I sent out a camera bug while you two were in the vents and snagged some before the place went down. I’ll try to cross check some databases and see if we can put an identity to the face.” His attention shifted back to the computer, pulling it back to face him. “And any insights to why he had wanted posters in someone else’s subconscious.”

“Did your bug see ours too?” Jongin asked.

“Yeah. I’ve got them. I’m not too bothered, though. It’s not like we’re 100% unknown at this point and from what you said the target was on high alert even before we stepped in.”

“He was. Just wondering how much of that was us and how much might’ve been the Butterfly,” Jongin’s voice lowered to a murmur. He looked away. “I’m probably giving him too much credit. Don’t pay attention to me.”

Wonshik and Moonkyu looked at one another, blinked, and then went back to Jongin. “Nah man.” Wonshik returned the shoulder pats. “Don’t worry about it right now. Relax. You had to do a whole mission on your own.”

“Yeah, Wonshik’s right—not that I ever thought I’d say those words but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Hey!”

Moonkyu smiled sweetly. “I’ll look into this Butterfly. You just relax and regroup for our next mission. We’ve got a few more people on the list to check off before next week so I think you should go get some dinner and get home.”

“You’re right.” Jongin stood. He grabbed his bag and opened it for Tan. “I’m gonna head out then. I want to stop by that chicken place before it closes.”

“Chicken? I want chicken.”

“Get some then.” Jongin glanced back to Wonshik and smirked. “See you later!”

Tan yipped in his bag, growing louder and more restless the closer they got to the food stand. “You want chicken?” Jongin chuckled, glancing down as his hand rose to get the pup to still. “Hey now. You’re drawing attention to us. Shhh. I know, you’ve been helping too. You deserve a treat. I’m sure Minseok-appa will give you one.”

Tan barked again.

“I don’t know. I don’t think fried chicken is very good for dogs.” There were growls bubbling up behind his shoulder and it took all of Jongin’s self control to not laugh.

“Fried chicken for dogs? Sounds like you might have a bit of a business idea on your hands.”

Jongin stiffened. Who was talking to him? Who had heard what he was saying? He turned to find… Taemin? “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too.” Taemin smiled. “I was just looking for somewhere to eat. I take it this place is good if you’re waiting in line for it?”

“Do you like chicken?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Jongin shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem like you could be a salad guy.”

“Salad!?” Taemin’s whole demeanor changed. “Salad? Who actively goes out to eat salads? Vegetables are the worst thing put onto this planet and the fact that we have to eat them to be healthy just goes to show there’s no God out there looking out for us and—”

“Woah there.” Jongin burst out into laughter. “Sorry I asked.”

Taemin went a little wide eyed and cleared his throat. “No. I’m sorry for the outburst. Ahem. Anyway yes, I do like chicken. Is this the place to get it from?”

“It’s my favorite.”

“Then that settles it. I’ll have dinner here tonight.” Taemin shifted and settled at Jongin’s side. Shooting a glance back over he smiled and added, “Thank you for the recommendation.”

“You’re welcome,” Jongin’s voice trailed, his eyes unashamedly taking Taemin in from the top of his blonde head, down the length of his beige trench coat, to his black boots. He wasn’t going anywhere and Jongin wondered why. Even as he inched forward, the queue before them lessening, Taemin stepped in time. He brought his hand to his neck and scratched absently. Taemin’s attention seemed elsewhere, even as he kept pace, and Jongin wondered if it was just that Taemin was new and needed company.

He was no stranger to that—feeling out of place somewhere unknown.

“When did you move here again?” he asked, causing Taemin to straighten and turn his attention back to Jongin.

“A few days before I wandered into your coffee shop.”

“Wow. That’s really not that long ago.”

“No.” Taemin shook his head and smiled. “But I also grew up here so I’m not a total stranger.”

“Oh really?” Jongin found his head tilting. “So you’re not all that new. What're you asking me for recommendations for!” He laughed.

“Things change!” Taemin protested. “Even five years is enough to turn a whole place upside down. No one I knew really lives here anymore. It’s kind of like being the new guy all over again.”

“Is that a nice feeling for you? I hated it. I needed to make friends and fast.”

“Friends would be nice.” Taemin was still smiling. His voice carried even and calm, almost like the words leaving them didn’t matter. Then he joked, “Maybe I’ll take yours.”

Jongin snorted. Taemin couldn’t have Wonshik or Moonkyu, those two were Jongin’s, but maybe he could fill a bit of that perceived void. Dinner tonight could at least be a start.

Which is why he was so surprised when Taemin mimicked Jongin’s chicken to-go order and then, well, took it to go. “I’ll report back on how I like it. Can’t wait for my morning coffee.” He winked and was off. Jongin stood with his plastic bag in hand, off to the side of the remaining queue, and blinked. “He’s gone.”

Tan wiggled his head free and poked Jongin’s shoulder with his nose. His eyes met Tan’s, certain he was reading something like ‘C’mon. Who cares? I’m hungry’ in the small dog’s eyes.

“Right right. Let’s go too.”

Who cares was a good question. The answer seemed to be Jongin.

“Good morning,” Taemin cooed from the doorway, walking in right at noon-thirty like always. “That chicken was so good. I didn’t think I’d wake up. I was so full.”

“Good morning!” Minseok called back, nudging Jongin in the ribs until he turned around. “Your friend’s here.”

Jongin made a show of rubbing his side and pouting, but when he finally greeted Taemin with his own soft, “Hey,” he was smiling like usual. “I’ll get your coffee and croissant ready.”

“No croissant today. I feel like I’m still digesting half a chicken.”

“You only ordered half a chicken.”

“Exactly.”

Jongin chuckled. “Hopefully the coffee helps.” He slid it over and was handed Taemin’s card in return; as he started to ring the order up, Minseok slipped away to take a call.

“Are you free this weekend?”

“Hm?” Jongin glanced back over his shoulder, his hands full with card and receipt and pen. All of those things were placed in front of Taemin. “What’s this weekend?”

“So I learned last night that my favorite jazz club is still around. I was wondering if you’d want to join me. I think it could be a nice night out.”

“Oh really?” Jongin wasn’t much of a jazz person. That was more like Moonkyu's scene. But Jongin wasn’t the type to turn down an invite either, and he always liked trying something new. “This weekend… I feel like I have something—” Oh shit, right. A mission on Sunday. “I could do Saturday night?”

“It’s a date.” Taemin grinned behind his mug. “Make sure you eat beforehand. They have the best drinks in town. At least they did when I was here.”

“Well if they don’t…” Jongin’s voice trailed because, What the hell do you think you’re doing right now? Why? Unable to answer either of those questions, he cleared his throat and pressed on. “I know a great bar in the city center. We could go there another time after.”

Blonde brows rose. “Yeah? Now this really sounds like a date.”

Jongin smirked. “If you think you’re ready for that.”

“Is that a challenge?” Taemin, who had moved from drinking his coffee to writing out a tip and his signature on his receipt, glanced back at Jongin cheekily.

“It can be whatever you want it to be.”

Taemin hummed. “I do love a good challenge.” His finger traced around the rim of his cup. “Something tells me, if anyone was able to give me that, it’d be you.”

“I have no idea what you could mean.” Jongin shrugged and laughed and turned to bag a croissant.

He liked this; whatever this was. Quite some time had passed since he last flirted and even now he couldn’t quite confirm that ‘flirting’ was what was going on. It seemed like they were just as ready to throw fists at one another as they were to hold hands. And Jongin couldn’t quite say he was attracted to the man who had sat at his cafe’s counter almost every day since they’d first met (Taemin had to miss one day a week which he always huffed about after the fact). But he was intrigued—interested in the air and aura around him and how easily he seemed to flit between places and things.

And yeah, he was pretty good looking too.

Taemin wiped sweet residue from his lips and stood; like clockwork, he always headed out around half an hour. “Thank you again.”

“Wait.” Jongin handed him the small brown bag. “It’s on the house.” Taemin moved to reply but Jongin cut him off with one more thought: “I’ll cover it. I’m no black card carrier but I can spare enough for a croissant. Take it in case you get hungry later.”

Taemin closed his lips again and smiled, nodding his head in thanks before he grabbed his bag. “Then I will. Thanks, Jongin.” At the door he paused and cast a glance back, smoothly looking for his shoulder and brushing his hair from his face all in one go. “Don’t forget Saturday night. I left the address for you.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jongin whispered under the jingling of bells on the cafe door. He tugged Taemin’s receipt closer, a time, location, and date written right next to his tip. “When’d you have the time to do that?”

Jongin plugged it into his phone and went back to work.

“You’re going on a date?! Wait Jongin don’t you dare hang up on me—” Oops. Wonshik’s voice was cut off with a quick press of a button. Jongin whispered an apology his friend couldn’t hear and hoped he wouldn’t hate him too much for hanging up on him. He had to get onto the train, though, and the metro had the worst service imaginable so it wasn’t like they could continue talking anyway.

Jongin wasn’t intending to hide his night out with Taemin either; it just hadn’t come up in conversation. He just dropped it now because Moonkyu had arrived with dinner at Wonshik’s apartment and they wanted Jongin to join them for their movie which he, well, couldn’t. Because of the date. So he had to tell them then. And now here he was, silencing his phone in case Wonshik decided to blow it up during the next few hours.

This jazz club was almost a half hour away from Jongin’s home station by the cafe. With the way it was tucked along streets of quiet apartment buildings he wasn’t even sure he could call it ‘in the city.’ But the address said so. So he wound his way through slender alleys and around neighbors riding their bikes, watching nearby cafes change their signs to ‘Closed’ and turn down their lights.

He almost missed the bar; nearly walking past it across the small street until Taemin’s voice calling for him caught his ear. He spun around. Jongin took a quick look around for any oncoming cars and when none were in sight jogged over to Taemin’s side.

“Thanks for that. I would’ve missed it otherwise!” It blended in too well with its surroundings, nothing more than a chalkboard sign with a saxophone drawn onto it and a faded awning with hanja across the top giving it away.

“No problem,” Taemin said. “That’s one of my favorite things about this place. Means you really have to want to go here to even notice it.”

Jongin nodded.

“And people really have to want to find it to even be able to find you.”

Jongin… nodded again; slower this time, with a slight tilt of his head.

Taemin was unphased by the words that left his own lips and instead turned and waved them towards the door. “Let’s go inside.”

A wooden stairwell descended into a small opening where a bouncer asked for their IDs. “Not yours though,” he said to Taemin. “It’s been a while since you’ve come around Taemin-ssi. We’ve missed you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. I’m glad to be back.”

He gave Jongin his ID back with a broad smile. “Keep an eye on this one. He can really get into trouble.”

“You’ll scare him away, hyung!” Taemin’s arm wrapped around Jongin’s, who blinked down in surprise, and he tugged him off his feet before Jongin even realized what had happened. The bouncer sent them off with a wave.

This was the first time the two of them had touched—were they really on a date?

But as soon as they were inside the underground club, surrounded by plush carpet and draping velvet curtains in all shades of red, the coo of soft music and the gentle mutter of drink orders being taken at dark wood tables, Taemin let go.

“We can pick our seats,” he explained, pointing out a few of the unoccupied tables. “Anywhere you want to be in particular?”

Jongin had to step up close to hear Taemin, and lean down to speak. “This is your spot, so do you have any favorites?”

“I do. But they’re in it.” Taemin pointed to a couple who seemed far more into one another than the show happening around them. “I guess this one in the corner will work. It’s still a good view, just a little less out of the way than I’d like. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Jongin’s mind lingered on that last bit. ‘Less out of the way than I’d like.’ Out of whose way? Taemin went from being known by the doorman to wanting to slink into the shadows, it seemed. And Jongin didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure you could have both. But those thoughts stayed buried in his own head in favor of drinking in the details of the bar.

Long fingers trailed over the edge of the menu but his eyes were slow to take in the text. He kept stealing glances at Taemin, even though the most he could see from his position was the other man’s arm. “I don’t know what to get,” he confessed, straightening his spine and spinning on his stool to look at Taemin properly again. “What’s good?”

“It’s all good,” Taemin replied with a smile. “But no matter what you order, I want to make sure we try that number 10. It’s the best.”

Jongin perked and looked down. Number 10: Revolver—Bourbon, orange peel, coffee liqueur, orange bitters. Jongin had to repress a grimace. The only ingredient he really liked of the lot was the orange, the rest put him off. Funny, for a man who worked at a coffee shop. That wasn’t lost on Jongin.

Taemin didn’t strike him as the type to take ‘no’ for an answer, though, which is how he ended up with a drink in front of him. Why couldn’t that peel be a whole orange slice? he lamented. At least that would give him a flavor to wash away the bitterness with. Well, he figured he could order another drink too.

“Cheers.” Taemin’s voice slashed through the rest of his thoughts. He brought his own glass into Jongin’s vision, fingers wrapped gingerly around the thin stem. Jongin picked his up too and they clinked with a light chime only barely edging out the noise of the music. Jongin squeezed his eyes shut and took a drink.

“Oh.” He blinked, rim still resting against his bottom lip. “That’s not bad.” He went in for another sip.

“Don’t you trust my tastes?” Taemin chuckled. “I wouldn’t give you something that tastes bad!”

“How would I know? I don’t even like coffee.”

“... You don’t?”

Jongin nearly snorted with laughter. “No. I don’t at all.”

“But you work in a coffee shop!” Taemin’s eyes had gone wide and he swiped the drink menu into his free hand. “I thought— I mean. I figured coffee’d be in your blood or something, you make it so well.”

“Then I have you successfully fooled. But you weren’t wrong, I do like it. And didn’t you say this is the best, which is why you wanted me to try it?”

Taemin’s brows furrowed. He was still staring at the menu instead of Jongin, to the point where Jongin waved a hand to try and get his attention back.

“Hello? Earth to Taemin.”

Finally, Taemin sighed. “I wanted to impress you,” he relented, tossing the menu back down with a little flourish and a light thud. “I thought if I picked the drink most to your taste you’d be even happier to be here.” He shook his head, but when his chin lifted again and their eyes met he was smiling. “At least I tried I guess.”

“It is to my taste.” Jongin took another sip just to prove the point. “Even if I didn’t think it would be.”

“Okay, but if you had had your choice, which would you have picked? So I know for next time.”

“This one.” With a base of apple liqueur, some sparkling soda, and plump red cherries.

“Then that’s the one we’ll try next.”

Jongin really wasn’t one to drink all that much, even if he had a bar he liked to frequent, but here, with Taemin, he was getting far too swept up in the evening to stop. They finished their revolvers, tried the apple-based drinks, and were on to looking for another. “The music here is nice, too,” Jongin commented a little more loudly than he would have if fully sober.

Taemin smiled up to his eyes and pressed a finger to his own lips to urge Jongin’s voice to go softer. “I’m glad you think so,” he replied. “I like coming here to clear my head. A place like this is one you come to miss when you’re no longer around, so thank you for giving me an excuse to come back.”

“An excuse? I don’t think you needed one. The whole staff seems to know you.” Even the manager had stopped at their table not too long ago.

Taemin just smiled and shrugged, brushing blonde hair from his face and turning back to the band. “Were things that simple,” was all he said on the subject.

They stayed as long as the band played and then some, sitting and talking about so much of nothing at all. Mostly notes about the music and the drinks, the food they wished they could eat if there’d been a kitchen, and the food that Taemin thought might still be around (but it had also been five years so who knew).

“I’m up for a little exploring.” Jongin offered as the table next to them emptied. He straightened his back and shifted his legs around to the side of his seat. He was ready to hunt down something fried and salty.

“What if it’s all apartment buildings and townhouses?” Taemin moved opposite to Jongin, letting his body slide forward towards the table even though Jongin had moved back. “Not a chicken restaurant in sight.”

“Then it’s alright,” Jongin said easily. “Saves my wallet and my waistline. Or something.”

Taemin brought both hands to the edge of the table and straightened, arching his back like a stretching cat. “You view the world so easily, don’t you Jongin?”

Jongin smirked. “Are you calling me easy?”

“Not at all. In fact I think it’s the opposite.” Another table emptied their seats and left, but Taemin’s still sitting there, speaking slowly with his eyes entirely on Jongin.

Their conversation felt like a bait and switch—an ask here, a compliment there, back and forth with both of them still firmly planted in their seats. “I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Jongin mused, peppered with laugher, as he drew his tongue over his lips. “But I think, ‘Why hesitate?’ Time passes anyway, right?”

Taemin’s smile suddenly grew wider, all the way to his eyes, and he pushed back from the table with the softest scuffling of the chair against the carpet. “You’re not shy at all. You just say it all, huh? Yet another thing to like about you, Kim Jongin.”

He offered a hand. Jongin took it but lingered, letting this leverage allow him to lean close. His eyes drifted to Taemin’s lips. Just for a second. While he bit onto his own then licked the corner, he kept his gaze there for a second.

Taemin spoke up again. “Should we go find some fried chicken?”

“Ah.” Jongin straightened, putting back the space that had just been between them. He nodded.

Except the second Jongin got to his feet he stumbled. A head and shoulders taller than the blonde and needing to be caught before he crashed to the ground. Taemin was laughing all the while, strong arms wrapping around Jongin’s shoulders and waist to hoist him up. And Jongin was laughing, too—drunk and dizzy, leaving three glasses more than his tolerance could handle in the wake of their night together. Walking to the door, feeling it all now that he was up on his feet, Jongin thought, What a rush.

“I think dinner might have to wait until another night,” Taemin cooed at the top of the stairs. He raised his hand to hail a taxi. “Let’s get you home.”

Light crawled through the crack in his curtains all across his face and Jongin truly wanted to die. He rolled over and groaned, burying his face in the indent of his curtains in hopes that that would ease the tension behind his eyes. When that didn’t work, he managed to peel himself from his sheets and pad over to his bathroom. Turning on the lights was too much, so he tapped around blindly for a bottle of aspirin and cupped his palm underneath his sink to gather water to wash the pill down. A handful of minutes later and he felt more like a person again.

Then a sound crooned from the living room and Jongin realized he wasn’t the only person here.

He shuffled out the door, hands pressed against the wall as he squinted at a pile of blankets and a peek of blonde folded up messily on his couch (he hadn’t thought to find his glasses and he definitely wasn’t putting in contacts right now). He only knew two blondes and Wonshik was still indisposed in his own apartment.

Which meant, “Taemin?”

Taemin grunted a reply. A little bit of rustling followed until his hand was freed from the fuzzy brown blanket on top of him and he waved at Jongin. What does that mean? Leave him alone? Come forward? Did he need something?

“Uh…”

Suddenly Taemin fwoomped forward, hair poking this way and that and eyes so laden with sleep Jongin wasn’t sure if they were even open. Taemin raised a hand to rub them, groaned again, and finally cleared his throat so he could speak properly. “Five more minutes?”

“To...sleep?” Jongin blinked and ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean. Sure I guess just—Wait. How did you get here?”

“Oh. You don’t remember how last night ended, do you?”

Jongin glanced away for a moment, tilting his head one way and another until he finally settled on no. He did not.

“Typical bathroom syndrome. You got up and your body realized how much alcohol was in your system. It hit you like a brick.” Taemin was chuckling now. “So I offered to take you home and when we got back you realized how late it was and offered to let me stay.”

“Ah.”

“You’re such a gentleman. But I can’t say I’m surprised. Every new thing I learn about you just seems to fit into place.”

“Uh, yeah.” But Jongin couldn’t quite say the same for Taemin. At most, he knew the guy lived here once, moved, came back again. He liked coffee and jazz and meat, hated vegetables. Plenty of facts about Taemin but hardly anything about the person himself, while Taemin seemed to have Jongin read like a book. It would bother him… if things like sunlight catching his vision and birds chirping around his apartment building weren’t already taking up most of his brainspace. Maybe post-hangover he could think about it, right now he needed a drink.

Of water. He crossed over to his kitchen and offered one to Taemin too.

“Here.” He handed a black mug over and waved Taemin’s legs to be drawn back under him so Jongin could sit on the couch too. “Sorry I ended up being a mess. I had fun as far as I remember.”

“You weren’t a mess! Funny though. Here.”

Taemin fished his phone out from under the blankets and swiped to his photo album—a video of Jongin singing along to the taxi’s radio station like it was their personal karaoke room, breaking off only to point out restaurants to Taemin that they ‘absolutely have to try.’ “See? Not bad at all.”

“Not bad? My cover was pretty good!” Jongin protested, pouted, and then smiled. “Thanks for getting me home. I am sorry we couldn't have that chicken, though.”

“Don’t be. I checked and there wasn’t a chicken place anywhere near the bar. We didn’t miss anything.” He paused for a second to take a sip of his water and brush his hair back from his face. “Guess this means that we’ll have to try out your bar next?”

For someone who seemed to have all of the suaveness in the world, who linked every thought with a logical connection, Taemin’s ask sure seemed out of the blue. Jongin took it as a compliment though. He may not wholly understand this man on the couch next to him, but he knew a request for a second date when he saw it. “As long as we stop after two drinks, I’m in.”

“Next week then?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. You look like you could use a long nap anyway—”

♫You'll never see it coming~ You'll see that my mind is too fast for eyes♪

Jongin’s voice softened, letting itself be drowned out by the sound of his ringtone. He glanced back towards his bedroom, then to the clock in his kitchen. Seemed awfully early for anyone he knew to be awake, unless it was Minseok looking for a fill. “Sorry. Give me a second?”

“Take all the time you need.”

Jongin left Taemin smiling from his couch, gesturing to go, and scratched his head as he grabbed his phone. Moonkyu? Jongin glanced back for a moment, then nudged his door shut with his foot. “Hello?”

“Today’s mission was cancelled.”

“It was what?”

“Yep. We got a thank you message on the board early this morning for the help, but none of us went. Unless.” Moonkyu’s voice dipped lower. “You opted for a solo mission without telling us?”

“Me? I was wasted last night.”

“Then I guess it was our butterfly friend. Hold on, I want to patch Wonshik in.”

The line went quiet, then clicked, and Jongin had to pull it away from his ear in preparation.

“What do you mean cancelled!? How in the hell?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have you both on the phone right now, would I?”

Jongin could picture Moonkyu right now: head in his palms, fingers against his temples, vein in his neck as he resisted all urges to wrap his hands around Wonshik’s neck. He’d chuckle but now wasn’t the time for it.

Moonkyu continued, “I think it might be our butterfly friend. There hasn’t been a single other person we’ve seen since that app appeared on our phones the first day. I can’t think of anyone else.”

“Do we have any reads on who that is?” Wonshik asked.

“None yet. I’ll double down today since we’ve got the time now.” Moonkyu sounded far from pleased with the sudden day off. “Let me know if you hear any leads too. I’ll be in touch.” He dropped from the call, disconnecting the group.

Wonshik’s name popped up on Jongin’s screen a moment later. “Hey. He seems real pissed.”

“I don’t blame him. Someone’s messing with our stuff…”

“I just don’t get it though. Why would they?” Wonshik asked. “What’s the point? Unless they want the treasure or something. But even then...”

“Yeah, I—” Jongin dropped onto his bed, huffing out a sigh. “God, I don’t know, Wonshik. A lot’s been feeling off these days from the Butterfly mask to those wanted posters and now this. I feel like we’re being watched or something. I know we’ve been known for a while, this is just—”

“Different. Yeah, I get you. I wish I knew what to say other than that.” Jongin could hear Wonshik running his finger through his hair. “We’ll figure it out, though. We always do. Sorry I can’t say much more than that.”

Jongin shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just focus on getting better. Working without you is weirder than all this other shit.”

“I fucking bet it is!” Wonshik had to be grinning right now. “I’ll be back in no time, Jongin. Don’t you worry.” He hummed for a second then added, “Come by later tonight? I’m gonna try to drag Moonkyu over too so he doesn’t drown himself in work.”

“Yeah. Text me and I should be able to make it.”

“Word. See ya.”

The bedroom door creaked open just as Jongin clicked ‘call end.’ Taemin poked his head in. “Hey. Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Nope. I just finished actually.”

“Oh, great timing then.” He pushed the door open all the way and stepped in. “I was wondering if I could use your shower. If there was enough time for me, too.”

“Yeah of course.” Jongin jumped to his feet. “Let me get you a towel.”

“You sure? I know you had plans today.”

“Yeah actually…” Jongin’s voice trailed as he went searching. Towel found, he placed it into Taemin’s hands and continued, “they were cancelled. I’m free all day.”

“Oh, are you?” Suddenly Taemin looked so intrigued; perked up like a dog who’d just spotted a squirrel. “Want to get something to eat?”

“I could go for something to eat,” left Jongin’s lips before his brain could turn a gear and realize what was happening. That this was happening. A second date already. No time after the first.

“My drunk antics last night didn’t put you off?” Jongin dared to ask, only about 50% worried what Taemin’s answer would be.

Taemin hugged the towel to his chest. “Not at all. I thought you were cute. Think about what you want to eat while I’m in there, okay? It’s my treat.”

So Jongin lost his mission but gained an outing. At least it’d be a good distraction from the confusion of the morning and the hangover from last night—Not that he wasn’t excited for more time with Taemin! There was just so much strangeness he couldn’t quite ignore.

He padded into his kitchen, pressing his hands against the granite of his countertop and letting his head hang to relieve some of the tension in his neck. He should get some water. Or maybe brew some tea. One was much easier than the other and honestly, Jongin didn’t have the strength for either. Tea would be nice to make for them both, though, so he did force himself back upright and shifted towards his kettle.

As it boiled, he rolled his neck one way, then the other, pressing his left ear to his shoulder then switching to the other side. It cracked appreciatively. Man, this mission… He couldn’t get it out of his head. Well, it was more like he couldn't shake Moonkyu’s terse, frustrated voice or the panic he felt brewing between the lot of them. Someone had taken over their mission, successfully. Someone was taking over their business. Or worse, someone was looking to end them entirely.

“Min Hyorin, Seoul High School of Performing Arts, Reality...,” Jongin muttered under the bubbling of boiling water. “Min Hyorin, Seoul High School of Performing Arts, Reality… Who else could’ve found Min Hyorin, SOPA, Reality...”

‘Locking on.’

“...What.”

Jongin staggered back, arms raising in an X before his head, as the room around him melted into red and black pixels. Back in the metaverse. Jongin was still in his pajamas.

“Couldn’t have at least transformed?” He muttered, taking a sharp look around for anyone—bystanding cognition, threat, target. Nothing, of course. Because that mission was over, but the keywords still worked. And Jongin realized suddenly—he’d left his phone in his bedroom. He took in a breath and spun on his heel. In the middle of the ground was Taemin’s phone, formerly on Jongin’s couch while its owner took a shower in Jongin’s bathroom. Taemin had the app to take Jongin here. He approached slowly, kneeling onto the concrete road that had replaced his wood tiled floor. A finger ran along the edge, then his hand recoiled before taking it in full and bringing it closer to his face.

“Why do you have this?” was the first question on his lips as he straightened and took another look around. “Better question...Why did it have to be you?” Jongin tapped around a few times, trying to find the unlock screen and then the emergency keypad. Clicking something had to get him out of here, right? Jongin regretted letting Moonkyu do this stuff for him.

But he lucked out! Because a quick press of...some button—Jongin wasn’t really paying attention to what he was clicking (he wasn’t great with technology, okay?)—had him whirling back into the real world almost as quickly as he’d been teleported away. He stretched a hand out behind him, finding purchase in his counter while his head hurried to catch up with the rest of him. Jongin needed to sit down. Wait, he needed to contact Moonkyu. He needed to find his own phone first. He needed to—

“Thanks again for letting me use your shower.”

Taemin’s voice made Jongin jump.

And Taemin standing there, shirt damp from the water still on his body and hair messed up by the towel still in his hands, did nothing to help the shakiness in Jongin’s chest and stomach.

“Hey, is that my phone?”

“Hm?” Jongin glanced over in time with Taemin’s pointing. “It went off while you were in the shower,” he lied. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything important.”

“Ah.” Taemin nodded. “As kind as always.” He held out his hand and Jongin obliged, giving it over. “Did you think about what you wanted for breakfast?”

“Yeah, I thought up a few places,” he lied again, quickly scrolling through the list of nearby restaurants he could remember off the top of his head. He offered up two choices then added, “I want to shower too, before we go, so you can decide between those spots?”

“Isn’t one of them across town?”

“Oh… Is it?” Jongin let out a little laugh. “My bad. I guess I had souffle pancakes on my mind.”

“I love pancakes,” Taemin replied. “Let’s go there.”

“Sure.” Jongin smiled. “I’ll be quick!” But that meant that he didn’t have time to actually shower and share his findings with Moonkyu. He snatched his phone from his bed as he stepped into the bathroom, but couldn’t bring himself to send a teaser message. Moonkyu would have him on a call the second it arrived and Jongin couldn’t risk taking Taemin’s time or him overhearing. It was bad enough that his lie could be cross checked with a simple click into Taemin’s recent calls or alarms. He huffed a sigh and wished silently for forgiveness from his friends. He would only keep them in the dark for half a day longer. He would tell them… Just after breakfast.

Now all Jongin had to do was keep up the act for the next few hours—pretend he saw nothing and knows nothing and shake away the wonder of how Taemin had that app on his phone in the first place (and what that meant, even if his stomach twisted at what the answer could be). He’d put on a face that Taemin wouldn’t see right through.

They switched from sitting side by side on the train to facing one another in the back of the small cafe. Jongin rubbed his hands together once they’d finally made it inside. He should’ve figured a small, specialized place like this would have a line down the street but he’d forgotten in their haste (and his muddledness for those other reasons). At one point he pitched out going to a restaurant Minseok and Jongdae frequented regularly but that was instantly met with a pout. Taemin wanted pancakes and Jongin couldn’t say no to that look on his face.

“It is pretty cold, huh?” Taemin teased gently. He was still in the same thin shirt, with the wide collar, and nice pants from the jazz bar last night. Jongin, who had the chance to change between outings, was a lot more layered up with a button up underneath his sweater. Still, he was the cold one between the two.

“Don’t tease me.” Jongin mimicked Taemin’s pout from earlier.

Taemin chuckled, shifting onto his feet and just a bit over the table so he could pinch Jongin’s cheeks. “But it’s so easy.”

He sat back just in time for a waitress in a cute, costumey getup to come for their orders. Jongin liked the way her light pink skirt floofed out from her body and the frills on the apron. He normally wasn’t a cute, pastel type of person but this place had him changing his mind for the moment. It complimented Taemin’s shade of blonde, too. He took in all of these details, but still hadn’t checked out the menu.

“I’ll come back in a few minutes.” She bowed her head and moved onto the next table.

“Is she your type?” Taemin asked with a gleam in his eye. “You were staring at her quite a bit.”

“She looked cute.” Jongin shrugged. “Anyone would look cute in an outfit like that.” He inclined his head towards Taemin. “You included.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Taemin singsonged, looking outright mirthful—like he caught Jongin in some corner. Which… he hadn’t? Jongin quirked a brow and just smiled back.

“Then what is your type, Jongin.”

Unfortunately, blondes who liked to turn everything into a challenge it seemed. Being short was a bonus. But he shook his head and shrugged again instead of answering. If he was backed up against a wall it was his own doing—falling for a man shrouded in too many secrets. Secrets that could pose a number of threats to him and his friends. Jongin swallowed to keep his throat from growing any dryer.

“Hello?” Taemin waved a hand in front of Jongin’s face. “Jongin?”

Jongin shifted from where he’d settled with both elbows on top of the table and his cheek smushed up against his palm. He met Taemin’s waving with some of his own then took his opportunity to strike, linking their fingers and bringing their hands down. Taemin hadn’t stopped smiling. Jongin neither. “I don’t have one.”

Taemin burst into a soft fit of laughter. “Boo. You’re so—”

“Lame? I know.” He wiggled their hands apart and pushed a menu Taemin’s way. “Come on, let’s order something before they throw us out into the cold again.”

They ordered a plate each for themselves and one to share—classic matcha, creamy mixed berries, and the limited edition creme brulee type—but somehow Jongin knew Taemin would be picking off of all three and he was very right. He watched him sneak his fork across the table, cut a bite and lean back with success written all over his face. Taemin’s lips pulled into a satisfied smirk as their eyes met again.

“It’s good, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t know. You keep eating them before I have a chance to take a bite.”

Taemin’s arm leaned against the table and he poked the prongs of his fork at Jongin. “Then stop staring at me and eat faster. Unless you want a show. I’m pretty good at putting those on, I think.”

That comment earned Taemin a snort and a shake of his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll eat.” Jongin even lifted a hand as if shielding himself from Taemin. “Spare me please, we’re in public!”

He brought his attention back to the food between them. As he ate, Jongin’s mind continued wandering back to the man he was now fighting for breakfast with, parsing out all the facts he had; the things he knew about Lee Taemin:

Taemin liked pancakes. Taemin took his coffee the same way every day. Taemin previously lived in Seoul but moved five years ago. Taemin liked challenges, whether that meant making them himself or drawing them out of Jongin. Taemin liked jazz clubs.

Taemin had the Metaverse app on his phone.

Plenty of facts about Taemin but hardly anything about the person himself, while Taemin seemed to have Jongin read like a book.

Who are you?

And.

Why do I care?

Their hands brushed as Taemin pulled away from his mug and set his back down on the table again again, pressed side by side. And neither of them felt the need to move.

...I like this, Jongin admitted to himself, nibbling on the corner of his lip. He liked what Taemin had become to him. How he came into the cafe like clockwork, and in no time became a fixture Jongin not only noticed but now found himself missing when he happened to skip a day. He liked last night at the jazz bar and this moment right now.

And the way Taemin could be both a mystery and ever present? This game that Taemin constructed and Jongin weaved his way into? He liked quite a lot as well.

But did he like it enough not to notice what lingered in the gaps—the holes where all of Taemin’s many secrets lingered. That, Jongin couldn’t quite answer. He just knew he wanted to figure him out.

When he looked at Taemin, who was wiping whipped cream off of his lips, he wasn’t scared. Whether it was hubris or confidence, Jongin didn’t know, but he felt he could take Taemin on. Just in what? That question persisted.

Jongin enjoyed games, but only when they were fun. With Taemin, he was having a lot of fun. For now, anyway.

When he looked at Taemin, who was now looking right back at Jongin with lips shining from the juice of a strawberry he’d missed with his napkin… he wanted to kiss him. He wanted that far more than any part of him felt like he needed to fear the other man.

It was such a shame, then, that even if those thoughts meant something… he’d still have to tell Moonkyu and Wonshik.

But I’ll figure you out. Just wait.

“I hope that hangover doesn’t bug you too much longer,” Taemin said. They had just paused at the subway station and were about to go their separate ways.

“Ah, yeah.” Jongin scratched the back of his head and met Taemin’s smile with his own. He’d lied again, trying to explain away the number of times he spaced out or found himself staring a little too hard at Taemin (or his phone). “I think a nap should help.”

“I hope I don’t hear from you for the next five hours while you’re resting.” Taemin laughed. “And thanks for joining me last night and this morning. I had a nice time with you, Jongin.”

“Me too. Let’s do it again soon—” Taemin was suddenly closer, pressed just a bit onto the balls of his feet and very in Jongin’s space. Taemin tilted his head, flashed his eyes up to Jongin’s wide ones, and pressed his lips to his cheek. It was brief, ending as soon as it started, but was more than enough to leave him still as a statue as Taemin pulled away and skipped back a few steps. “I’ll see you at the cafe, Jonginnie!” And with that he was gone, blending in with a sea of other bodies making their way in and out of the subway station.

Jongin’s hand fell onto that same spot, skin feeling warm to the touch, and he kept it there until he needed it to swipe into his own metro line and eventually fish out his apartment keys.

Jongin… liked it. The way his chest felt flight and fluttery and how warm his face had become, he liked that a lot. He liked Taemin a lot. And that made everything worse.

He flopped onto his couch, tossing his phone between his hands. He needed to call Moonkyu. He had to call Moonkyu. He owed it to his friends, and to the people who trusted their team to do good work. They couldn’t let their reputation slide thanks to a rogue. Even if that rogue was Taemin.

As his phone hit his palm again it started going off, cooing soft music and vibrating hard. Jongin jumped, scrambling for it before it could fall from his hold completely, and swiped his finger across the answer button. “Moonkyu?”

“Hey. Wonshik’s here too.”

“Yo,” Wonshik chimed over the receiver.

“Hey.”

“I found something,” Moonkyu said.

“...Oh?”

“Is your date done?”

“Yeah, it is. I just got home.”

“We can come to you. I’ll get Wonshik on the way.”

“Sounds good.” Jongin paused, licking over suddenly dried lips. “And Moonkyu… I think I found something too.”

“What is it?” Moonkyu asked the second he stepped through the door, nearly closing it on Wonshik behind him. Nearly, because Jongin managed to catch it just in time.

“Hey man! I know you’re antsy but don’t take it out on me.”

“I want to hear what you found first,” Jongin said as he ushered the other two to his couch. “Then I’ll fill in what I’ve got.”

Moonkyu’s eyes narrowed. The type of look that meant any bad guys in the Metaverse would be facing a fate worse than death, Jongin knew well. And he bristled having it turned onto him but he held his ground until Moonkyu relented. “Fine,” he huffed. “Let me get my laptop out.”

A few clicks of his mouse and clacks across his keyboard later, Moonkyu turned his screen to face the other two. “‘Fantasma.’ Apparently they used to do heart-thieving before we found that app on your phone, Jongin. Like, long before. It seems like it might’ve been a generational thing because traces of them go back a few decades. Seems like their rank ranges from three to five at any given moment but they all operate under the same team name.”

“Woah, you found all of that in a few hours?”

Moonkyu smirked and brushed his shoulder with his knuckles.

“Are there any pictures of them?”

“No… No code names either. They were pretty good about not getting caught. I only found what I did from digging into some pretty hard to crack places. Looks like a lot of law enforcement was out to get them at their peak.”

“So what happened? When we found the app it was like no one had been down there in a while. Everything was overgrown and antsy.”

“No one knows. But their disappearance seemed timed with a string of strange disappearances and some pretty gruesome accidents.” Moonkyu turned his computer back and started typing again.

“Wait.” Wonshik winced. “I was gonna ask for details but actually I don’t wanna know.”

Jongin caught his gaze and nodded. “Yeah. My stomach’s still queasy from last night.”

“Fair.” Moonkyu stopped, pulling back and folding his hands in his lap instead. “That’s what I’ve got. I’ll give you files before we part so you can look into the details in your own time.” Then his whole attention shifted to Jongin. “What about you?”

Jongin’s hands rose, rubbing his temples for a moment. “I found the app on some—on Taemin’s phone.”

“You what?!” Moonkyu and Wonshik yelled in unison.

“I was thinking about today’s mission. Then suddenly I was in the Metaverse and my phone was nowhere to be found. But Taemin’s...”

“Were you talking to yourself again?” Wonshik snorted, earning him a sharp glare and a small pout from Jongin.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jongin turned to Moonkyu who was having no part in their banter. Instead he was looking off to the side, palm cupping his chin and finger tapping at his cheek.

“When did you say he moved here?”

“Recently. Maybe a month or so ago.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Just hm.”

Jongin shifted forward again and reached across for Moonkyu’s computer, pulling it back towards him to show off the five silhouettes. Something dawned on him. “When did this group stop again? When were those accidents?”

“About five and a half years ago.” Moonkyu paused and slowly turned back to look at Jongin. “Why?”

“Fuck.”

Jongin brought both hands to his face and scrubbed furiously, trying to get this sudden throbbing behind his eyes and in his temples to stop. He could feel his friends shifting around him—coming closer like that’d help them get their answers.

“He said he moved away five years ago,” Jongin shared, finally, unable to look them in the eyes. “Lines up, right? Fantasma disappears in a string of gruesome accidents five years ago, Taemin goes with them. Now he’s back and we can’t get this butterfly guy off our trail. He has the app. It has to be him.”

Moonkyu took his glasses from his face and rubbed over closed eyes. “You really know how to draw them in, Jongin.”

“Don’t make this my fault—”

“So now what?” Wonshik cut in, rarely the voice of reason but stepping up to the plate now. “Do you call him up? Confront him?”

“No…” Moonkyu spoke before Jongin could answer. “I think we need to cut him off. Find him in the Metaverse and let him know we aren’t to be messed with.”

“But that means I can’t join,” Wonshik grumbled, stopped only by Jongin’s hand falling on his shoulder. He patted gently until he was struck with a thought and had to turn back to Moonkyu.

“What if Wonshik stuck with you? He can’t do too much damage with his leg like this.”

“Rude.”

“You’d be surprised,” Moonkyu scoffed. “But… yeah. Our next heist is going to be a big one. Lee Joongi, Big politician, lots of people talking, putting in requests for him. The man’s never not on TV so we’re going to have to work smartly. And quickly.”

“I bet he’ll try to beat us there too.”

Jongin nodded at Wonshik. “Probably. I guess we’ll have to camp out ahead of time.” Which begged a thought Jongin chewed over as he stretched his arms out in front of him and over his head. “I’ll go in early. The day we send the calling card. How does that sound?”

“It’s the best plan we’ve got. Wonshik can write it, I’ll get it delivered, and we’ll join you as quickly as we can. My guess is that your boy got wind of our last calling card going out yesterday and popped in to finish the job.”

“You don’t think he sent his own?” Wonshik asked.

“If he did, there aren’t traces of it anywhere. Ours went out across the forum last night.”

“It doesn’t matter now. We just have to beat him this time.”

“So let’s go.”

Jongin was rather used to cold, lonely nights like this—harsh lights from the office buildings and the bars around him illuminating the otherwise-empty streets. They were more common in the Metaverse. Most cognitions didn’t need to give him the time of day unless their owner felt threatened. But he’d had a handful of times in the real world, too, wandering aimlessly to pass the time before he found the friends he had now.

It was familiar, which is why he wasn’t too bothered sitting here waiting for his team to pull the trigger on their calling card. He brought a gloved hand towards his face and adjusted his mask and wondered what this space would bleed into when it was mission time. The city never stayed this way for too long.

Jongin shifted when he heard the first crack, leaving the bench he’d chosen to lounge on to stand and watch as red and black pixels broke the cityscape apart into bits, crumbling down like walls to give way to new scenery; to the correct distortions from the cognition of their next target and whatever enemies lie in wait for their arrival. He stiffened, however, when he saw once again that he was taken to… the Wild West?

The same abandoned storefronts and swinging wooden doors that they’d trailed the time Wonshik was injured surrounded him now. Jongin dared to take a step forward, shoulders stiff as he braced for another round of whirring robots and fiery lasers. He closed an eye and peered one way, then another, and being met with nothing straightened himself. It made Jongin bristle, this stretching silence that filled everything around him.

They had first come into this world on the keyword ‘loneliness’ but somehow now felt far more empty.

Jongin pressed a finger to the communicator in his ear. “Timoteo. You in yet? You read me?”

Nothing. Not even the crackling of an attempted connection.

He sank his heels into the sandy ground and drew an X. He could wait around or waste his time. Jongin remembered how the convenience store piqued his interest and thought to set out that way.

“Oh. You’re here?”

Jongin paused. A smirk spread across his lips. “Right on time.”

He turned casually. Now that he knew the face behind the mask, Jongin could kick himself for not realizing it earlier. That bright blonde, slicked back, the shape of his brows and nose and jaw. That glistening butterfly mask could only hide so much. “I wasn’t letting you take another one away from us."

“Your team’s that good, huh? Uncovered that the only other person you’ve seen running around these parts in a shiny mask was the one who took your treasure. I’m impressed.”

“Mock us all you want.” Jongin’s expression didn’t falter. “But we’re the ones who have got you pegged, Ace of Fantasma. Or should I keep calling you Taemin instead?”

Ace’s sudden flash of shock quickly gave way to a smirk, then a grin, and then he was all-out laughing, one hand draping across his abs in a feigned attempt to contain himself. “You caught me.”

Jongin’s chin tilted, eyes taking in Taemin up and down.

“Did you think I’d be more surprised?”

“No. I’m not a good liar. I know I left evidence on your phone.”

“Or a lack of.” Taemin laughed. “You’ve been so intriguing because you’re just so damn good at everything you do. I didn’t think little white lies were your downfall.”

Jongin turned his head the other way. ‘Intriguing?’ Huh. Whatever that meant, Jongin couldn’t press on it. They had so little time. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Why don’t you try to answer that for me?”

“I’m not here for games, Taemin. We’re on a mission—”

“Timoteo to Kai. Kai, you read me?”

Jongin’s jaw tensed. In a flash, one hand shot out to grab Taemin’s wrist while the other pressed against his ear piece. “I don’t trust you not to go anywhere,” he whispered before turning his attention to his teammates. “Kai here. I caught a butterfly.”

“Caught?!” Taemin barked out a laugh.

“Just as planned.” Wonshik sounded triumphant; Jongin could imagine the grin on his lips.

“Are you guys seeing the landscape? It’s—”

“Familiar. I agree. Ravi’s shaking in the back seat.”

“I am not!”

“But I’m not getting the same reads as last time. No robots anywhere.”

That doesn’t make me feel better. “We took care of this guy though, didn’t we?”

“You should check on him,” Taemin said softly, looking out into the town. “In the real world. How’s he doing?”

“What do you—Timoteo, did you hear that?”

“Loud and clear. Running diagnostics now.” Moonkyu’s clacking against his keyboard rattled Jongin’s eardrum and he pulled away just in time to hear a soft, “Oh shit…”

“What?”

“I knew it.” Taemin hissed under his breath.

“There’s a hospital record here. He was knocked unconscious by an unknown assailant. He’s been in a coma ever since.”

“And check the names.”

Jongin turned his whole attention back to Taemin. “What do you know?”

Taemin refused to answer, though; instead nodding his head back Jongin’s way.

“Ah. He’s related to our target. Some second cousin or something.”

“And? What’s that gotta do with anything?” Wonshik asked.

“Everything.” Taemin answered.

“What do you know?” Jongin’s voice stayed steady, even, despite the way frustration and confusion swirled in his chest. Logically, he knew Taemin would have insight into things far beyond what he and his team knew, especially if Moonkyu’s findings were right. But being left in the dark? No, more than that. This wasn’t just some cheeky competition anymore. He was being played for a fool by someone he thought he could trust, and it pissed him off to no end. This back-and-forth of theirs no longer felt even, and Jongin no longer wanted a part in it.

That didn’t stop Taemin, though, who jerked his wrist so his own fingers could wrap around Jongin’s sleeve. He tugged him closer, whispering, “We’ve got to go,” and turning to head off.

Jongin freed himself before he could be dragged. “I want you to answer my question,” he said, keeping at pace with Taemin’s steps.

“We need to find our target before it’s too late.”

“Taemin.”

The blonde huffed and shot daggers Jongin’s way. “You were a lot more fun when we were working together. Don’t you trust me?”

“No.” The answer came easy as breathing to Jongin, but it made Taemin falter. His steps slowed for half a second and those same sharp eyes flashed wide. Just for a moment, though. He regained his composure quickly.

“Well. Then I guess it can’t be helped.”

“Let’s go this way.” Jongin switched thoughts just as quickly as his feet pivoted to take them elsewhere.

“What?” Taemin blinked. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The townhall.” Jongin said in tandem with Moonkyu’s voice in his ear. Moonkyu gave a little cheer of “Let’s gooooo!” while Jongin continued with Taemin. “He’s a politician right? I doubt his ego would let him be anywhere else. Even in someone else’s cognition.”

“Heh. Lead on, then.”

This place was dark and eerie. As they went deeper into town, going from empty fringes to surrounded by well stocked buildings, Jongin thought it’d feel less isolated. Less alone. But he was experiencing the exact opposite. Low lantern light stretching across the ground before them only made it worse. “So this is the effect of a cognitive space without its owner?” He mused. Taemin nodded. Jongin couldn’t help but add, “Even having the robots around had felt less like a horror movie than this.”

A bright light just down the way caught his attention and he broke out into a sprint towards it. Just as he thought, the only signs of something seemed to be coming from this building: Town Hall.

“Anything in there?” he asked Moonkyu.

“It’s hard to tell. There’s something surrounding it that’s interfering with any thermal signaling. Proceed with caution.”

“Got it.”

Jongin jumped back into the shadows, pressing his back against the bank where it all went down last time and using it to guide him around to the side of the Town Hall. Taemin followed just a step behind, back bent. Jongin remembered from the last time how quickly Taemin’s senses could act. He just hoped he’d be kind enough to use that now.

“I’m getting nothing,” Taemin remarked, like some sort of mind reader. “The lights are on but I don’t think anyone’s in there.”

“Only one way to find out.” Jongin pulled a grappling hook from his belt—one of Moonkyu’s latest inventions—and shot it towards the roof. “Come on.” His arm slipped around Taemin’s waist without warning, only letting go when they landed.

A vent at the top led them inside. Jongin landed on plush red carpet with a soft thud and was quick to duck back into the darkest corner he could find. It wasn’t easy. Mounted lanterns in various parts of the wall cast light over the areas that the large chandelier in the center couldn’t reach, and bounced off the crystal and gold that filled wooden chests around them. There wasn’t a shadow to hide in.

There also wasn’t anything to hide from.

“You were right,” Jongin still kept his voice low for fear of setting something off. “I think it’s totally empty.”

“Leave it to a politician to leave a town barren but stock up on riches for himself,” Taemin mused, seemingly unaware of anything Jongin had just said to him. He turned after a moment. “Do you want to do a quick sweep of the place?”

“... Sure. Let’s do it together.”

“Okay. Together.”

“Don’t worry Kai,” Moonkyu whispered into his earpiece. “He’s locked down on my end.”

But Taemin didn’t move from the spot he was leaning against. Eyes looking out the largest side window, narrow behind his mask. He folded his arms across his chest. Jongin stared at him briefly, contemplating speaking again or letting him do his own thing. He walked slowly to the railing near where the stairs gave way to the second floor and dared to look down.

“Wait.”

Taemin suddenly peeled off from the wall, flicking the window open with a quick push of his fingers. Jongin spun around, watched in horror as he jumped from the second story. He rushed towards the window, palms slamming on the windowsill while Taemin, unscathed below him, rolled across the ground and smoothly returned to his feet. He took off at a sprint around the back of the building.

Jongin had to jump too.

W-wait! Jongin wanted to yell. He hit the ground at a roll, too, and pushed up carefully to chase after Taemin, around the corner and all along the back of the building they’d just leapt from.

“Is everything alright? What happened?”

But Jongin didn’t have the time to explain to Moonkyu right now. He didn’t have the answers, anyway. He continued to follow Taemin around the entirety of the Town Hall and towards a building just a ways away from it—the Auto Shop…?

“I saw something,” Taemin explained in a soft breath, chest rising and falling slowly while Jongin needed to press his hands to his thighs and pant beside him. He swiped his boot across the sand until the sole of his shoe clinked against something that rattled all around them. “Back, through the window. I think this is it.”

Jongin took a step closer as Taemin bent at his knees, swiping over the same spot until both could see the thick, metallic chain sunk deep into the ground.

“Good eye,” Jongin remarked, dropping to a knee as well. His fingers wrapped around it, testing the weight in his palm before he stood again. “Shall we.”

“Yep. Just—” Taemin’s voice broke off, his hands busy trying to uncover more. “Lift it again. I want to see something.”

So Jongin complied, inching more and more forward until they unearthed the point of the chain that broke off into a triangle and the section of ground connected to it.

Now Taemin was ready. Back on his feet and both hands securely on a section of chain a bit ahead of Jongin, he gave a soft countdown.

“Woah.”

“What’s up, Ravi? Timoteo?”

“A whole new section of map’s opened up.” Moonkyu said after a hush back to Wonshik. “Give me a second, I’ll do some scouting.”

Jongin dropped the chain with a huff and met Taemin at the opening. He lifted his hand to his eyes, needing to squint through the glow of icy blue light to see whatever the hell was down there. All he found was a ladder. “I guess we’re going in.” He tapped his communicator. “Timoteo, you catch that.”

“Got your back, Kai.”

A chill coursed through him as he descended, Taemin just below him, and Jongin was quick to realize that the color wasn’t the only thing cool about this new level. He pushed off from the ladder a few rungs from the bottom and nearly slipped. “It’s all ice,” he warned, but Taemin had already jumped and stumbled too.

“Damn, it's cold,” Taemin hissed under his breath, slipping one hand into the open side of his jacket while the other tugged both lapels closer to one another. “I miss the dry desert already.”

“Maybe we can keep it quick.” Jongin was cold too. “Come on.”

But there was nowhere to go? The space around them was filled with stacks of white foam coolers, one on top of another in high piles, some that reached the top of this strange cave they’d found themselves in. Jongin placed his hand on one to help his footing and found it sealed shut. “Hey.” He was back on his communicator again. “Are you seeing this?”

“Ye— ‘T…. Cchh...zzzz.”

“H-hey? Timoteo? Ravi?!”

“Ka——”

Jongin yanked the communicator from his ear, finding it far too hot to the touch, and Taemin must have heard it sizzling, too, because he snatched it from Jongin’s palm and threw it off to the side. It ricocheted between the two furthest walls then settled somewhere in the middle, growing so hot that the ice below it began melting and the device itself was glowing a burning red.

“T— Ace—”

Duck, was what he’d meant to say. But that would mean having the time to speak so many words—which they didn’t. Jongin’s hand gripped the back of Taemin’s jacket and he tugged him to his chest, both of them staggering back into one of the many towers of coolers.

In a big, bright flash, his communicator shattered into pieces. The coolers jostled from their fixed positions and tumbled erratically to the ground. And Jongin found his arms wrapping tightly around Taemin’s body—legs bracketing Taemin’s hips—his head ducking in search of somewhere to hide. Taemin wrapped his arms back in kind, palms pressed and fingers linked against the back of Jongin’s neck to protect him, too.

The glow of the cave dimmed around them, its light sources covered in the residue of the explosion. Taemin wiggled free of Jongin and they both pushed the coolers as far from their bodies as possible. Jongin wasn’t sure what was more confusing—how not one had seemed to break open, or how light they’d all been toppling around their bodies.

“Hey, look there.”

Jongin lifted a hand towards his eyes and squinted. The far wall now gone, he could see a path extended out and downward. Yet another icy blue glow waited at the far end, pulsing in slow and steady beats, beckoning them closer. The ladder was busted. So it seemed like this unknown path was their only option.

No connection to anyone. No idea why this place ran so deep and where it’d go. They had no other choice, but Jongin couldn’t will his feet to move just yet.

“Hold on.” His arm shot out to his side, stopping Taemin from going any further. His other hand dug out his phone. “Get your app out for me too.”

Taemin obliged, albeit hesitantly. He brought his phone screen towards Jongin’s and gasped as they touched, producing a whole new map for them to follow.

Jongin licked at the corner of his lip. “I guess that’s what we’ve got to do.”

Taemin looked up at him. “Lead the way, then.” Though he sounded far less convinced than earlier. Far less confident.

Jongin smirked anyway. He waved Taemin forward. “That’s what I do.”

The incline was sharp and steep and no less icy than the floor of the area they’d just left. Jongin grit his teeth as they descended, weight shifted back to maintain the slight bit of footing he had. Moonkyu’s airship would really come in handy right now.

Something cracked in the distance and stopped them in their tracks—a spotlight shuttering open in the distance that made Jongin wince and recoil as it hit his eyes. Taemin staggered behind him, stopping almost a second too late. His hands scrambled for purchase somewhere between the tail of Jongin’s black jacket and the side of their path. He sucked in air through his teeth, hissing out a soft ‘Sorry’ that was just loud enough to distract Jongin from the racing beat of his heart.

“Took you long enough.” A voice boomed out around them. “I thought you were good at thievery. Hah. What a laugh.”

From the light emerged a shadow—a large head attached to a seated body. The gilded throne their target sat on started glimmering from the backlight, refracting gold and silver and rainbow jeweled hues across the otherwise black walls. Taemin scoffed over Jongin’s shoulder.

“What a way to view yourself,” Jongin whispered.

“I’ve seen worse,” Taemin replied.

“Silence!”

Jongin recoiled again from the vibrations. Something about this man’s voice could affect their whole surroundings. In any other circumstance, Jongin would’ve tried to be careful. Now? He could only brace for whatever came next.

“Take my hand!”

Jongin grabbed it without hesitation, realizing only as their fingers linked that Taemin must really be some sort of mind reader. Because no sooner than they touched did the path beneath them crackle and shatter, sending them plummeting into a dark abyss. Or—would have if Jongin hadn’t been quick with his grappling hook, shooting it off successfully and latching onto a bit of the wall. He had to grit his teeth against the scream of the metal claw scraping through the ice that covered everything around them. He glanced back and saw Taemin pressing his free hand to an ear as well.

Both of their attempts were useless, but Jongin somewhat enjoyed that they both had tried anyway.

“Don’t think you’ll get away that easily!”

“I don’t,” Taemin grumbled under his breath, though still loud enough that it caught Jongin’s ears and made him laugh. Neither were sure if there was anywhere to go, and neither could get their phone out to find out. Yet.

There was light again, crawling up around them now. Taemin peered over his own shoulder and then back again. “We’re about to hit the bottom.”

“Is he coming?”

They both looked up. While they were freed from the big-headed bad guy, he’d unleashed a legion of shadowy minions after them—wispy and black, nearly indistinguishable from the darkness already around them. It was only when they came closer that Taemin and Jongin could see the deep ruby color of their eyes. And that meant they were far too close for comfort.

“I’m going to drop us. In three.” Jongin counted ‘three’ and retracted the grappling hook.

Together, they clattered to the ground in a soft flurry of grunts and groans mostly coming from Taemin.

“The app says there’s a tunnel to the right.” And above them, the clamoring of shadows was only growing louder. “Let’s go.”

The two of them pushed to their feet and tore off into the darkness. Taemin fumbled with something at his waist, finding a flair to send off ahead of them. It offered a brief reprieve and the chance to hurry their pace without fear of crashing into anything. As he lit their path, Jongin went again for his phone. “This part ends soon,” he said. “I can’t tell what’s—”

Next was an opening. A wide mouth entrance that broke off directly into something cold yet fiery beneath them. Flames in the same shade of the light that had been beckoning them further and further licked up the sides of the walls and underneath rocky platforms that surrounded…

“Is that a heart?” Jongin recoiled slightly from the large vessel pulsing and glistening in the dead center of the space, sending jolts of energy through long tendrils that extended all around and above it.

“Yes and no.” Taemin’s voice lowered as he shook his head. “It’s this man’s heart, engorged and syphoning everything from the town above us. No wonder it’s a wasteland. Typical politician.”

A sound echoed down the hall behind them and they both turned.

“Get that grappling hook of yours.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Jongin already had it readied, casting out towards the highest visible platform. Taemin’s hands were around his shoulders. Jongin wanted to crack a joke about the closeness and how easily Taemin found his arms around him again, but Lee Joongi’s booming voice overpowered him before he had the chance.

“Just come back, Ace! It’s not over. It doesn’t have to be!”

Jongin faltered. Ace. He managed enough composure for the soles of his boots to hit the smooth top of the platform, but he couldn’t find it in him to move otherwise. Not just yet. There were questions on top of questions already about Taemin’s existence in this world and the real one. Things that Jongin had shuffled to the side to instead focus on survival. But now? He really couldn’t avoid it anymore. He cocked his head back, glancing sideways, and though their eyes couldn’t meet just yet like this he knew Taemin was looking at him. Just like his whole attention was fixed onto Taemin.

“Enough of this. What are you hiding from me?”

“...Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t fuck around with me,” Jongin nearly snapped. “The game’s up. I’m not playing anymore.” This wasn’t fun anymore. “I want answers.”

“Don’t you already know?” Taemin’s voice came across both sturdy and shaken. “Don’t you have me figured out already, Kai? That’s why you were already here, isn't it not?”

Jongin’s jaw tensed.

Taemin continued, “I know you’re not an idiot and neither is that big brained teammate of yours back in his airship.” He took a small step forward, then another, his voice growing sharper. Harder. “So why don’t you tell me, then? Since your little team seems to have everything figured out anyway. Me. Heart stealing. This whole place. This whole fight. Easy, easy, easy isn’t it? Isn’t everything for you?”

“Stay back.” Jongin whipped around, his guns already called to his hands. He didn’t hesitate to press the barrel of the silver one to Taemin’s chest. With it, he nudged Taemin away.

“Or what?” Taemin outright cackled. “What are you, oh benevolent savior of Seoul, going to do to me?”

A fair question. Jongin had wanted answers, but to what reason would he admit: To maintain the integrity of what he and his group of friends and thieves had established? To continue shining light into the dark, shadowy corners of society? Or was it just to ease the dissonance rattling his brain that... That in the real world he was falling for Lee Taemin, but down here he couldn’t tell if Ace was an ally or an enemy?

Though the threat of Jongin’s guns was minimal—he hadn’t moved them since he first pointed them Taemin’s way—Taemin slowly started to raise his hands. He was mocking Jongin with the action, Jongin could tell by the smirk on his lips. “Do you hate me?”

Jongin didn’t reply.

“Empty it, then.” He nodded towards Jongin’s guns. “Into me. Delete everything in this damn place and take me with it. Destroy me. More.”

The shadows were upon them. They rose up in droves, echoing the sounds of too many claws scraping against hard rock walls. A few lunged their way, but Taemin, his attention still fixed with wide eyes on Jongin, drew his blade from thin air and had them slashed in half faster than Jongin could blink.

That same sword then turned to Jongin, the point resting just beneath his chin. Taemin twisted his wrist just slightly—just slowly enough that it pressed the blade right against Jongin’s skin. He made a small cut as he pulled back. “If I told you I was your real enemy, would you fight me then?”

“If I must.”

Taemin’s free hand moved instantly towards his lips, teeth sinking into the faux leather of his black glove and he whipped it off of himself and towards Jongin. “Then do it. Bring it on.”

Jongin was as quick to catch it as he was to jump out of the way of Taemin’s weapon. “So we’re really doing this?” He barked out between shoving it into his coat and readying his guns. But Taemin was immediately relentless. Chasing Jongin from platform to platform and striking in between.

“Why do you wait?!” Taemin roared.

Jongin winced as Taemin slashed across his shoulder, twisting his arm up towards the opposite shoulder to block something worse from catching somewhere more vital.

“What does waiting do!”

Finally Jongin raised his guns, closing one eye to align his shot. It rang in the space around him and sent his body off the platform with its recoil. Taemin’s eyes blew wide—somehow wider than before—and they both landed hard on rock bottom.

Taemin’s hands scrambled over himself—his chest, his shoulders, even his head, all of it… unscathed. Behind him, a pack of their shadowy adversaries shrieked. Those that hadn’t been blasted by Jongin’s silver bullets scattered back, their senses scrambled by the blast.

“What the fuck.” Taemin hissed. “Why— Hnnn—!” The air in Taemin’s lungs was forced out of him and straight into Jongin’s face, Jongin’s body landing heavily on his own. His legs bracketed Taemin’s hips, his hands forced him back by his shoulders.

“Why?” Taemin whispered.

“That’s my question.”

“Tch.” Taemin turned his head to the side and sneered. “Being ‘good,’ Jongin, is not good enough. It never has been.”

Jongin nodded, giving Taemin a silent Go on.

“Even the best people can become corrupt. You dangle the right carrot in front of them and it’s over, goodness be damned.” He turned his head back but now he was looking past Jongin; all the way up towards the faint pulse of the heart they’d just descended from. “That’s how all this happened.”

...

“Your… uncle?”

Taemin grunted a reply. “That’s him. Ol’ big brain up there.”

“But how?”

“My family’s been doing this for forever. Way longer than I’ve been alive. Like a… prophecy or something. Dad used to say it was written in the books. But it was only a matter of time, you know?” Taemin’s jaw clenched tighter. “Whatever they say about power and corruption… It was bound to happen.”

Jongin’s stomach soured as Taemin continued—outlining the betrayal, the ways in which his uncle brutally turned on the rest of their family. “Anyone who dies in the Metaverse dies in real life, even if it’s not your own palace. My father, my mother… He’d tried to kill me too but I was still basically a kid. The current assemblyman convinced him to lay off me and focus on their plan.”

“So those accidents…”

“All him, getting rid of his political opponents. He promised my uncle power and as you can see, he got it.”

Jongin drew away but Taemin stayed with his back against the ground. His eyes grew distant, and though he was faced towards Jongin he was looking far, far past him.

“I left out of shame. I couldn’t do anything but watch my uncle destroy everything our whole family had worked hard for. I couldn’t—” Taemin grimaced. His voice broke off in his throat. And beneath the bottom line of his mask, Jongin wondered if he was seeing tears. “He took everything from me. My parents. I couldn’t stay a-and be reminded of them everywhere. I had to go.”

Jongin’s gaze softened. He tried offering a hand to help Taemin sit up and was left hanging. So, he used that same hand to lift himself off of the other’s body and sit next to him instead. “What brought you back, then?”

“You.” Taemin’s head turned slowly so their eyes could meet. “...I wanted to know who was doing my work. These Nirvanas—what a fucking stupid name.”

That brought a chuckle to Jongin’s lips. “I’ll tell Ravi,” he whispered.

What else could he say? There wasn’t a thing Jongin could do to change Taemin’s lived experiences. He could offer apologies that he knew Taemin would rebuff, but that’d just waste more time they didn’t have. Jongin knew that for certain. Just like he knew that nothing would be able to change Taemin’s heart.

And just like he knew he wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t giving up either.

Eventually, Taemin pushed himself back upright. He drew his knees to his chest and looked up again. “I won’t lose,” he said under his breath. “Not to you. Not to this.”

Jongin’s head tilted.

“Tell me something, Jongin. Tell me something in return for all I’ve given you.”

“It’d only be fair.”

“Why do you do this? An app shows up on your phone that allows you to play hero in a dangerous place. Why are you here?”

“Because I don’t want to regret,” Jongin said simply. “I have the power to help the world, I’m not going to waste it.”

Taemin’s brows pinched. His eyes stayed narrowed. And then he… laughed. Maybe Jongin shouldn’t have been so caught off guard by that, considering all of their interactions up until now. Taemin was always a surprise.

“And you?”

A crash rang above them, sending shrapnel of ice and black rock raining down onto them. The pair scrambled back away from each other, and Jongin recognized that his question would have to remain answerless for now. Jongin drew his grappling hook out again.

“Are you—” coming, was resting on his lips, but Taemin had already dodged his way through the debris and was taking his hand. That same fire from earlier still burned behind his eyes.

“We’re going to end this,” he said low in his throat. “Once and for all. We make a great pair, after all, don’t we?” There was no mirth in his voice as he said it.

The metal claw latched desperately onto a mid-level platform and strained itself trying to hoist them back from the bit. Both of Jongin’s hands gripped tightly—one to the handle he was attached to and the other around Taemin’s waist.

“We’re surrounded,” Taemin whispered, prying Jongin’s hand from him.

“What’re you doing?!”

Taemin flashed a smirk at him. “Watch.” He winked.

Their palms touched and pulled away, drawing a light between them that solidified into Jongin’s black gun. How… Taemin had it now. And as quick as he was to relink their fingers together and let gravity shift his body away, he was even faster to pull the trigger; taking out every visible threat in their way.

“Nice,” was all Jongin could manage as they sped towards their first landing. Taemin’s body swung just a little ways beneath him, sending a silent signal Jongin heard loud and clear. He grit hit teeth, lifting the arm Taemin weighed down and used their shared momentum to throw him up a few platforms higher. Taemin took the lead on removing the threats around them, Jongin continued carving out their journey upward.

When they were on the same level again, Jongin’s arm welcomed Taemin back against his body to continue their climb. Taemin let out a breath, heart racing against his (and Jongin’s) chests as he clutched a little closer. Lee Joongi was in their sights.

“I’m going to give you your gun back.”

“About time.”

“Tch. Aren’t you a little preoccupied?”

Jongin pressed his hand to the small of Taemin’s back, slow, deliberate, and let it linger until their eyes met. It was his turn to smirk now. “Yeah. Very.”

Taemin breathed out an incredulous laugh.

They split apart as they landed—Taemin leaping to even further heights with his sword raised high and in both lands. He moved with grace, propelling himself off the backs of the shadows he wasn’t slicing apart. Jongin took the proactive route, taking out the enemies that lingered in the way between Taemin and their target.

Lee Joongi had more to him than an army of shadow dogs. Gun barrels baked into the armrests of his throne elongated and vollied round after round in Taemin and Jongin’s direction. The bullets were heat-seeking, which meant their quick hopping and swinging from place to place sent them into an aggressive overdrive. Most struck the walls and dropped pitifully, but those that struck did some damage.

Taemin severed two barrels from the chair, seering the rest of the opening shut with the heat curling off of his blade. He dropped before the remaining ones could fire into his face, but miscalculated his positioning and slipped off the platform he was aiming for. Almost. Jongin was there to catch him, securing them both onto the flat surface before he whipped around and fired back at their enemy.

“We can’t keep this up.” Taemin panted at Jongin’s side. His body was starting to bend, arched with pain from the injuries he’d sustained already. He draped his arm across his midsection, but that did nothing to stop the bleeding from his ribs.

“I know. I—Nnn!” Jongin staggered back, shot square in the shoulder while he’d been facing Taemin. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His whole body turned to face Lee Joongi. “We just have to go all out.”

“Right.” Taemin firmed his grip on his sword. “I can get you up there. On three.”

Jongin nodded.

“Three,” they said in unison.

Jongin took off at a sprint, jumping forward just as Taemin swung his sword around himself. Jongin’s footing caught the flat side of the blade and he took off. Now at eye level with the enemy, he positioned the barrels of both guns and fired.

One bullet pierced through the space between them, right before Joongi could get his force field up properly, and then the ones that ricocheted were caught by Taemin’s sword and sent firing back. The man may be protecting his face, but his chair was left wide open and Taemin seemed to have found the weakness. Jongin continued as a distraction until one good jump and a thrust of his injured arm sent Taemin’s sword right into the mechanism that made it levitate. Gears screeched to a horrifyingly quick halt. It stuttered mid air for a moment as horror washed over Joongi’s whole being, and then dropped in the next breath—taking Taemin with it.

“Ta—Ace!” Jongin scrambled across the platform, shot his hand over the edge and wrapped his fingers desperately around Taemin’s wrist just a second before he was out of reach for good. “I’ve got you.”

“Let me go.”

“What—”

“I can take him with me.” Taemin replied steadily. “I-if we let him recharge again it’ll be too late.” His eyes tore away from Jongin’s to the blood that was soaking through his black jacket, trailing over red gloves just to stain Taemin’s own clothes. “See?”

“But you—how will you make it out?”

Taemin’s lips split into a small grin.

“Taemin!”

“You said yourself—” He turned his head to cough, licking away the red that had suddenly splattered across his lips. “You don’t want regret. S-so don’t.” That piercing gaze was back again. “Don’t regret me. I’m getting what I want.”

“...And what is that, Taemin?”

“Heh.”

“Taemin. Tell me, please!”

“Because I don’t care. I don’t care how it ends.” His smirk melted into a smile. His hand slipped further from Joning’s grasp. “Get out and keep changing this world. You make it seem so easy anyway.”

“Stop—!” Despite the way his own body lurched forward, his hands trying desperately to regain their grip on Taemin, Jongin was too late. Or maybe, he was never in the right place to begin with.

Taemin freed himself and fell away.

‘Go.’ Jongin was sure he had read those words on Taemin’s lips but it was hard to be sure—and it was even harder to act on. Jongin wanted to jump off and follow—wanted to finish this together. He wanted to hope beyond hope that Taemin, the Ace of the Metaverse, who had witted and finessed his way through all realms, could make it out alive.

A loud crash, a violent tremor running through these cave walls, and a sea of flames erupting beneath him shook that hope away.

And Jongin… Jongin needed to go. If anything, it was Taemin’s last request and that he would have to honor.

The heat of the flames crawling up the walls disrupted and unsettled the veins that connected the vessel to the center of this place. Jongin had nearly forgotten it, until one tendril completely dislodged and nearly took him with it. The treasure must be there. He shot his hook towards another blue-pulsing sprig, rising until he was at level with the thing. It wasn’t that he wanted it for his own gain, knowing well that there wouldn’t be any heart changing happening tonight, but it wouldn’t be a mission complete without it. Somehow, he convinced himself that he owed Taemin that, too.

The soles of his shoes scraped against icy blue glass with a piercing screech. Poised awkwardly with his hand gripping tight to the trigger of his grappling hook and his feet providing tension to keep him upright. He used the handle of his gun to shatter the vessel open. Jongin recoiled as it rained upon him, but pushed forward until his jacket sleeves were shredded and he reached the deep inside. Jongin paused.

“...Of course.”

Despite being a crate made of styrofoam (fucking styrofoam yet again…) Jongin found himself struggling with the weight. Positioning it on his shoulder, he hoisted himself back through the cavern and sped to the drop that had first separated them from his team. Surely he couldn’t be that weak, he thought, faltering under the weight of the crate and regaining his steps a second after—as if his shoulder and arm hadn’t been torn up by bullets only minutes earlier.

But he couldn’t think about the bullets. He couldn’t think about the battle. If his mind lingered a second too long he’d find himself pivoting back around to the burning hole he’d just left. And then jumping in to find Taemin.

“Yo! Kai!”

“Huh?” Jongin blinked straight into the burning sunlight. He winced, one hand shooting up despite its injuries to shield his eyes.

“Hey, hey, careful, we got you!”

It was Moonkyu who scaled down until he hit the first mountain of crates and could climb the rest with ease. Wonshik manned the anchor of Moonkyu’s own grappling hook.

“If we use both we’ll be able to get everything up no problem,” Moonkyu said evenly. He looked from Jongin to the crate on his shoulder and then cast a glance down the dark hall Jongin had emerged from. When their eyes met again he swallowed but gave away no other thoughts. “Let’s go.”

Jongin shot his hook up Wonshik’s way as Moonkyu secured an arm around his waist. “It’s almost over,” he whispered on their way up.

“Yeah,” Jongin agreed. But for him, it’s already ended.

The crate came first, followed by two pairs of legs and they successfully climbed out.

“Open it.” Wonshik was beaming, hands already pressed on the styrofoam.

Moonkyu batted him away. “Ravi. Kai deserves the honors.”

Jongin slid his fingers across the seam. The top popped slowly and he brought both hands back to the front. He lifted the lid slowly, bending lower to reach inside.

“It’s… Dessert?”

His teammates stared in a mix of awe (Moonkyu) and confusion (Wonshik) as Jongin pulled a perfectly cut slice of vanilla and fresh strawberry cream cake from the crate, with a fresh, plump berry resting right on top. Next to the one he’d just taken were a few others of the same flavor, then a cluster of chocolate mousse cakes, a corner of fruit tarts, and something unidentifiable and yellow in color.

“I don’t get it,” Wonshik said what they were all thinking.

“Maybe because it’s a desert?” Moonkyu brought his hand to his brow and took a quick sweep of their location.

Jongin followed, the two large, hot suns were rising now, obstructing part of his vision but from what he could see— “We need to go.”

He threw the cake back into the crate and tried to hoist it, but a shock of pain in his shoulder sent it nearly clattering back down.

“Easy,” Moonkyu chided, pushing through the fact that his voice broke. “I can’t have both of you out of commission. I’ve got this.” He took the crate and tossed Wonshik a keyfob. “You call the ship.”

As they charged their way back to the airship—the treasure in Moonkyu’s hold and Wonshik in Jongin’s—Jongin had to look back. Just one more time, just to see if between the cracks of the earth splitting apart, in the middle space between the real world and Metaverse, he could see him one more time. A butterfly’s wing at most—to know he’s okay.

Their surroundings melted up into familiar streets and the soft buzzing of city life around them. Their clothes changed back to normal. The crate was now palm size: a small, well wrapped box with a bright bow and a tag sticking out the side. A birthday present to someone needing to be born anew.

And it was just the three of them.

Jongin’s head turned slowly, eyes squinted down the alleys surrounding them. All empty.

“I’m sorry,” Wonshik whispered at Jongin’s side.

“Me too.”