Archive of Our Own

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 29 | W956721 ]

It’s Tuesday. 

Taeyong doesn’t know that for sure — he may have miscounted, since the sols here are a little different than on Neo. But it feels like a Tuesday, and Tuesday mornings are dedicated to checking the inventory.

He sits up and stretches his arms out in front of him, slowly rising from his bunk. There’s a clean pair of sweatpants and a sweater folded on the chair across from him — right where he left them. Taeyong peels his sleeping clothes off, folding them and putting them on the bed. He pulls his day sweater on, fingers lingering over the logo on his chest. The words written underneath are faded — ERA: Exploration and Research Academy . 

A six year school training young minds and bodies for intergalactic travel and research. The catalogue promised a stimulating and nurturing environment to bright-eyed fifteen year olds and their guardians. And, the catalogue boasted, all graduates seamlessly transition into IHERO, the Intergalactic Human Exploration and Research Organization. It’s an honor to serve your planet and your species this way. 

Taeyong lowers his hands, absently tugging at a loose string on the fraying hem. The sweater is old and worn. There’s a small tear at the elbow on the right sleeve, patched up by careful stitches that Taeyong learned to do by hand himself, because sometimes he likes the feel of something human-made, not done by machines. There’s a small stain by the collar that Taeyong never managed to clean completely, from one of those free nights he had gone out to a food stall with some of his batch-mates. The crew sweater is unflattering at its best, downright ugly at its worst. He could have easily replaced it, or gotten rid of it all together, but Taeyong just hasn’t had the heart to throw it away. It might be silly, especially in this profession, to cling to things, to material objects, when they’re always moving around. But this sweater holds memories, little moments weaved together, that Taeyong doesn’t want to forget. The academy wasn’t perfect, but he wouldn’t give those years up for anything. Even if the people aren’t around him anymore, the sweater always will be.

Taeyong sighs softly and wraps his arms around his waist, as if to hug the sweater closer to himself. He limps over to his desk. The main console in the cockpit is damaged, and he can’t connect to the Neo network, but he still has his own tablet, and the pod, thankfully, still functions at minimal power.

“Activate WideView Mode,” Taeyong says softly. The screen lights up with the UTablet logo before holograms of his main widgets pop up, laid out neatly in front of him: a list of daily tasks, his log journal, and a tally of how many days he’s been here. 

He marks off another morning, then reads his list for Tuesday, though he knows it by heart: send a daily message to HQ, inventory, analyze samples, and check outside for any changes. 

That’s what most of his days are like now, with a few differences here and there. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he works more in his makeshift greenhouse. On Sundays, he spends more time outside (that’s sometimes pushed back, though, if the weather disagrees with him). 

Schedules are good — they make things feel normal.

And normal is what Taeyong needs when he’s stuck on an uninhabited planet on the outskirts of the galaxy, too small and unimportant to have a proper name given by human civilization: W956721. 

He was supposed to be on Phuridas, just about 300 million kilometers away. Everything had been going well. His proposal had finally been approved, he passed his training without an issue, and his supervisor couldn’t find any flaws. It was meant to be a short solo mission, his first by himself — a new initiative by IHERO where agents could do short, independent projects outside of Neo on the approved bases of other planets. It would be one or two months at the most, and from there, they could expand their project if it proved fruitful. 

Taeyong expands his tally, a sigh escaping him. 152 sols. 

Soon, it’ll be five months.

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 01 NEOSOL 16 | W956721 ]

Taeyong is in a tiny kitchen, pacing in front of the oven. His cake should be done soon. It’s chocolate flavored with a layer of whipped cream, rolled together with strawberries in the middle. It’s a recipe he’s been wanting to try. His great-grandmother apparently loved it. Having a sweet tooth must run in the family.

The cream is on the table and the fresh berries are sliced neatly.

He lingers in front of the door, debating if he should manually open the oven and take a peak — just to see if it’s turning out the way it should — when a voice interrupts him.

“Hey.” Johnny greets him with an easy smile. He looks around the small space, gaze falling on the mountain of dirty bowls and spoons piled up in the UWash. “What’re you up to?”

“Baking!” Taeyong beams. “After I take the cake out, I’ll add in the rest of the ingredients. You’ll have some, right?”

“I’d never say no to your cooking, Taeyong.” Johnny hops onto the counter, legs swinging a bit before he settles. “Isn’t there an easier way to do this, though?”

Taeyong shrugs. “Cooking it the old way is fun. There’s something charming about Earth customs.”

Johnny hums in agreements.

The oven beeps. Five Minutes Left , the screen promises.

“It’s almost done,” Taeyong says. He taps the screen to get a visual on the progress, then turns back around. “After that, it’ll need to cool, and then…”

He trails off. The kitchen is empty.

“Johnny?”

Taeyong finds himself outside. Maybe Johnny left. But why would he leave? Where’s he going?

It’s windy. Taeyong’s hair whips at his face, dust and debris clouding the flat landscape. He cups his hands to his mouth and calls out: “Johnny!”

The wind picks up, and suddenly Taeyong is in the air, rising up higher and higher. He can’t see. There’s dirt everywhere, and there’s smoke now too  — stinging his eyes and filling his mouth, filling his lungs until they’re about the burst, and —

Taeyong jolts awake to pain shooting down his leg. He’s drenched in sweat, and his blanket is on the ground. He shivers when the cool air of the pod hits his arms. His back feels like it’s on fire.

It was a dream, he realizes. It didn’t happen. There isn’t any cake. Johnny isn’t here with him. No  — Johnny is millions of kilometers away. It’s just Taeyong here, with his lab equipment.

Taeyong rolls onto his side with a groan and props himself up. He reaches for the water and first aid kit he keeps by his bed, easily finding the medicine that’s supposed to help with the pain and inflammation. The UMedic logo on the bottle seems to gleam despite the lack of light. He takes a few deep breaths, then shakily presses the pill onto his tongue and drains the bottle. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and lays back down onto the bed. 

He stares up at the ceiling  — or as far as he can see in the darkness of his room  — until a dreamless sleep claims him this time.

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 29 | W956721 ]

In terms of work, it’s not that different from before.

To be a researcher for IHERO is to be alone a lot of the time. Sure, there would be some collaboration, there would be checks, but in his department, agents kept to themselves most of the time. Taeyong knew early on that his career would be like this, and he was fine with it most of the time. Content. Because he’s always been better at working with sediment and plants than he is dealing with people. He enjoys handling the insects in his experiments, secretly naming some of the ones for his longer projects.

But sometimes, the quietness here gets to him.

Because even if he was holed up in the lab back on Neo, even if he preferred staying inside, he knew there were still people around him. If he were to step out, he’d find himself in the bustle of the city. He’d see UTransports zooming through the air. He’d hear the occasional chirp or bellow from one of the creatures in the sanctioned off areas designated by the Society for Animal Preservation. There was still life around him.

It’s disorienting, now, to look out the window, to gaze out at this barren planet, and know he’s the only person here. To know that no one would hear him if he spoke.

On W956721, there is only the wind — slow enough to be silent most of the time. But some days it howls, rustling the entire pod and haunting him, leaving Taeyong to cling onto the rails of the emergency room, heartbeat loud in his ears, until it settles. Sometimes, it would only be a few minutes, sometimes a few hours. Once, it had taken almost a full sol to stop. 

(Sometimes he wonders what others would do in his situation. How would Johnny react, if he was in Taeyong’s place? Seulgi? Ten? Jaehyun? And what about—?)

Taeyong is in the kitchen when he hears a clank against the side of the pod. 

He’s been trying to find a pattern in the weather of this planet. It’s tiny, the cycles vastly different from Neo. The afternoon has stronger winds than any other time of day. The harsh winds, bordering on tornados, are harder to predict, though.

It’s only a small clank, but Taeyong wonders if he should make his way back to his tiny room in the back of the pod with the rest of his meal (a thick, grainy liquid inside a bottle with a UNourish logo slapped onto the side).

There’s a soft hiss, the easy glide of metal sliding, a gentle click. The door of his pod is opening. Taeyong usually doesn’t secure the intricate locking system, since he’s the only being on the entire planet. He freezes.

Someone else is here.

Did his distress signals finally go through? Was someone sent to bring him back? But if communications were in fact working, wouldn’t IHERO let him know they were coming for him? Could it be someone else? But what were the chances of that? In the minimal research that exists on W956721, there has been no signs of life on the surface or underground in millenia, and hardly any beings would stop by the planet otherwise. Why would they?

So who is this? And why did they come here — into his pod?

He should move. Maybe to accost the intruder. Maybe to hide, because what if this being wants to harm him?

But Taeyong can’t seem to move. His feet are glued to the ground. Why does taking a simple step, just putting one leg in front of the other, feel like it would take up every last bit of his strength? Why does it feel completely impossible?

He feels like he waits for hours, breath loud in his ears, before there’s the faint sound of footsteps approaching. They’re not too clunky, not too light, and it sounds like only one being, thankfully. Taeyong swallows and wills himself to relax.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. 

Slowly, the being makes its way into Taeyong’s field of vision. Two arms, two legs, bipedal, and they seem to be roughly Taeyong’s height. A human height, he dares to hope. But their suit doesn’t have the markings of IHERO, any human organization, or any division of the diplomatic intergalactic union. It doesn’t look like anything Taeyong has seen before. 

“Identification?” Taeyong’s heart is in his throat. It’s pure luck that his voice doesn’t crack, doesn’t come out strangled.

The figure halts. There’s no visible objects that seem threatening. His muscles relax the slightest bit at this. But he knows he shouldn’t let his guard down.

“Who are you?” Taeyong repeats the question in the language he knows is used often in this quadrant, just in case his or the stranger’s universal translator is faulty.

The figure raises their hands up slowly, as if to say, I mean no harm . Taeyong swallows, his fingers curling into fists.

Gloved hands carefully make their way up to the switch at the neck of the suit. There’s a soft snick. The figure takes off their helmet, and oh —

For a second time, Taeyong feels himself freeze in place, breath catching in his throat. 

Because he knows those eyes, he knows the slope of that nose, the cut of those cheekbones, and the delicate shape of his mouth.

He knows that sweet, airy voice when he opens his mouth and says: “Taeyong?”

[ YEAR 131 MONTH 02 NEOSOL 08 | NEO ]

“Could I sit here?” A voice causes Taeyong to raise his head from where he was staring at the formulas on his tablet, hoping they’d ingrain in his mind. “I’m Doyoung — we have a class together.”

Taeyong blinks. It’s that kid from his Introduction to Physics lecture. The so-called prodigy — the only person who’s been able to get into ERA a year early, apparently. Taeyong doesn’t really know why. He doesn’t listen to gossip much. But he has heard the name Doyoung Kim whispered in the halls.

It’s a free day, so he isn’t wearing his uniform. His outfit isn’t anything special or memorable, considering what most of their peers wear on their free days. But the fitted shirt and wide-leg pants look good. 

It’s better than what Taeyong’s wearing, at least. He’s dressed head to toe in the academy’s baggy grey tracksuit, because Johnny somehow convinced him to join him at the gym in the morning. He had mostly watched Johnny lift weights and held his ankles while he did sit-ups, which really, was completely unnecessary. But Johnny insisted it’s more fun to work out with company.

“Oh. Hi. I’m Taeyong,” he says softly, belatedly realizing he had just been staring at Doyoung without replying. He opens up the table controls and raises another chair for Doyoung.

Doyoung settles into the seat and offers him a small smile. “You sit in the back corner of the lecture hall, right?”

Taeyong nods. He’s surprised Doyoung noticed him at all, let alone where he sits. Doyoung’s seat is near the front. He’s always pushing his button to answer the teacher, or to ask clarifying questions (which Taeyong is immensely thankful for. He doesn’t have the guts to ask anything himself or even write in questions after class).

Doyoung pulls his tablet out and sets it on the table carefully. “The first exam is coming up.” He doesn’t sound particularly nervous.

Taeyong hums. “I’m studying for that now.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s found biology comes to him easily, and chemistry isn’t so bad. Physics is another story.

“Would you like to study with me?” Doyoung’s eyes look open and inviting. His face is soft, Taeyong notices for the first time, his cheeks round and slightly pink. Taeyong isn’t sure why Doyoung is asking him of all people. Surely, there’s more competent people he knows. “Studying with another person can be helpful.”

Taeyong never properly studied with someone else, not even in group projects in primary school. But Doyoung looks like he knows what he’s doing, so it wouldn’t hurt to try, would it? “I’m reviewing the early humanity laws right now. We could —” No. “If you don’t mind—” No. “Do you want to start there?”

If Doyoung thinks Taeyong’s skittishness is weird, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods and pulls up his notes. “Newton’s Laws first?”

Doyoung leads, and Taeyong follows. There’s something easy about talking to Doyoung that Taeyong rarely feels with anyone else. At least not right away. Even with Johnny, he had been terribly shy: six years old and clinging to his sister’s leg until Johnny showed him a hologram toy with different bugs. 

He knows this is different. They’re just reviewing class material. There’s nothing more impersonal than that. But still — it doesn’t feel as awkward as it usually does.

Taeyong loses track of how much time passes, but feels like he could use a nap after reviewing the old three laws of planetary motion. When he looks across the table, Doyoung doesn’t look tired. But he does seem like he’s itching for a break too, his gaze flitting between his notes and the holo-window near their table. 

Finally, he sets his tablet down and pulls out a container from his satchel, setting it in the center of the table, between himself and Taeyong. “Peanuts?” He offers.

Taeyong’s stomach grumbles. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. A quick glance at the clock tells him he completely forgot about lunch. Roasted peanuts suddenly look like the most appetizing thing in the galaxy. “Uh.”

Doyoung must’ve heard it from the other side of the table, because he pushes the peanuts closer and grins, this wide smile that shows off his gums and transforms his whole face.

“Thank you.” Taeyong smiles back. 

He doesn’t want to presume Doyoung would want to study with him again, but he does start carrying extra snacks in his bag to share, just in case.

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 29 | W956721 ]

Taeyong can’t stop staring, even as Doyoung raises a cup of tea to his lips and takes a tentative sip.

This type of tea — the leaves mixed along with sweet, warm spices — is a rarity, even more so here and now, when Taeyong isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be on this planet and how long his supplies will need to last. It’s a treat that Taeyong only brings out on days he’s feeling especially down. He supposes he’d make a cup of tea on special occasions too, like his birthday, if he does end up being here that long (if he could even survive until then). 

This could count as a special day, though — how often is it that your best friend from the academy appears out of the blue after years of no contact? 

Taeyong’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Doyoung is actually sitting here, across the counter, in his kitchen, using the mug Taeyong has used countless times before. 

Taeyong wants to say something. But he can’t seem to open his mouth. What could he even say right now? 

He chews on his lower lip, eyes trailing over Doyoung’s face again. He’s lost the softness his cheeks used to have, lines at the corners of his eyes speaking to weariness and age. He’s got a thin scar running down the side of his face that makes Taeyong’s stomach turn in worry. Doyoung is a mechanical engineer. Was there some sort of accident? What has he been doing?

Doyoung sets his cup down gingerly and offers a small smile. It isn’t the kind he used to have, back when they were young — too wide and a little awkward, though Taeyong always found it endearing. This smile is subtle, just a slight quirk to his lips. “How have you been?”

Taeyong swallows, trying to push down the lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat. 

He’s admittedly imagined it more than a few times — what it would be like if he could talk to Doyoung again, what he might say. He imagined tearful reunions, or maybe ones where a joke would break any ice that may have formed between them over time. He imagined Doyoung pulling him into a hug, explaining in a rush of words what happened, and that he was alright.

Taeyong didn’t expect this — shakily asking Doyoung if he’d like something to drink and Doyoung mumbling, “that would be nice”. He didn’t expect such a distant, formal question. How have you been?

Did he mean currently, right now, stuck on a barren planet with no means of leaving? Or did he mean in the past six years they’ve been apart with no contact?

“You were missing in action,” Taeyong finally says. He’s taken aback at the flatness in his own voice.

Missing , the report said. Kim, Doyoung. 24 Years. IHERO Engineer. Last seen on Derth’ka Base, 139 10 18. Taeyong has it burned into his memory.

He hadn’t mourned for Doyoung — that would mean his best friend had died. Missing meant he could be found. He could come back. Taeyong was sure of this. He had to come back.

Taeyong has so many photos and videos of the two of them together, of them with their friends. But then one year became two, then two became three, and no matter how many UClips of Doyoung he looked at, no matter how realistic the holographic images appeared, Taeyong was starting to forget what it felt like to brush his shoulder against Doyoung and casually hold his hand. It was becoming harder and harder to think of what Doyoung might say, how he might react.

“Ah. Yes.” Doyoung presses his lips into a thin line. “That’s what was reported, I guess.”

Taeyong frowns at that. “What do you mean? What happened then?”

People thought you were dead, he wants to scream. He presses his lips into a thin line.

Doyoung raises the mug again and takes another sip. He lowers the mug, his movements excruciatingly slow. “I left.”

“You left?” Taeyong could laugh — but this isn’t particularly funny. “What do you mean you left? We can’t just leave.” They have contracts: a minimum of twelve years of working for IHERO, in part to repay for their schooling. Even after that, agents rarely left, preferring to rise up through the ranks and retire comfortably at eighty. 

“They…” Doyoung drinks more tea. Taeyong wishes he’d finish it faster. “They aren’t doing what we thought they were. They aren’t using our studies the way they should be.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Doyoung, this is all very...Vague.”

Doyoung smiles sheepishly. “Safety precaution.”

“You don’t trust me?” They scanned each other’s NeoIDs, confirming their identities, but it’s starting to feel like a stranger is sitting in front of him.

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal?” Taeyong echos. As if they hadn’t been friends for nearly a decade. As if Taeyong didn’t know him like the back of his hand, and Doyoung understood him just the same. His eyes burn, but he blinks hard and tries to file his feelings away. Still, he needs to know: “How did you end up leaving?”

It’s hard to believe that a top-student, the most ambitious in their batch, would end up like this.

“I...met someone.” Doyoung looks down and traces his finger over the rim of his now-empty mug.

“Oh.” Is it ridiculous, the way it feels like something in Taeyong’s chest is shifting out of place? It shouldn’t. It’s a good thing if Doyoung found a partner, isn’t it? He didn’t date at all while they were in school, only mentioned in passing that he liked someone, but never pursued them. Taeyong thinks anyone who would date Doyoung would be lucky. The Doyoung he knows is incredible. He deserves to be loved. “Um, I’m happy for you. Have you two — how long have you been seeing each other?”

Taeyong’s mind is running on overdrive, all of his thoughts jumbling together. He has, admittedly, thought about what Doyoung’s life might be like if he never left. He’d be happy, successful. After completing his twelve years with IHERO, he’d probably make a good teacher. He’d spend his free days trying out new recipes. But whenever Taeyong would think about Doyoung with someone, he’d draw a blank. 

He reaches for the glass of water in front of him and gulps down half of it.

“What? No — no .” Doyoung’s eyes widen. “Yuta and I aren’t — they have two partners. And even if they didn’t, they aren’t my type.”

Taeyong has to bite his tongue not to ask: what is your type then? Why would that even matter? He cares of course, Doyoung is his friend. He wants his friend to be happy, even if he disappeared for years without a word and won’t give him a proper answer to anything, sounding more suspicious than anything else.

Taeyong’s cheeks grow warm, suddenly embarrassed. Ashamed, even. Of everything going on right now, how did he end up focusing on Doyoung’s romantic life? 

“Anyway.” Since Doyoung doesn’t seem like he’ll give more detailed answers to his previous questions… “Why are you here ? There’s nothing here.”

“You’re here apparently,” Doyoung says. His ears, Taeyong notes, are a curious shade of pink. “I needed a place to stop, and no one would think to look here. You know the stories, right? I’m thinking we could leave in three sols.”

“The stories? What are you talking ab— wait. We ?”

“I went into the cockpit first. Your pod is severely damaged — it’s amazing you have any power at all.” He looks over Taeyong critically. “And it seems like you’re injured. You’ve been walking strangely. How long have you been here? How long has your ship been like this?”

“Five months,” Taeyong says quietly, honestly. Despite everything, there’s still a big part of him that trusts Doyoung. “I’ve been sending out distress signals to IHERO. I send one out every day.”

“And have they replied?”

“Well — no.” Taeyong shifts in his seat. The first two he had sent, while he was still in flight, had gotten confirmation. They had gone through — from his end at least. Perhaps they failed to reach the MidBase and Neo. That’s the only thing that makes sense. “Not yet.”

Doyoung gives him this indiscernible look. It isn’t a look of pity, Taeyong knows that. Doyoung wouldn’t do that to him. Or, at least he wouldn’t have before. “And you haven’t wondered why?”

“The main network connection is down.” That’s logical, isn’t it? “I tried to fix it, but it’s either beyond my skill set or completely unrecoverable.”

“Five months without any correspondence.” Doyoung leans forward, elbows resting on the counter. “Have you considered that maybe they don’t care?”

Doyoung’s voice is soft but his words are like ice, and they settle on Taeyong’s neck, slowly sliding down his spine.

“Sorry,” Doyoung adds quickly, recoiling like he’s the one who had been stung. “I’m sorry, that was too much.”

“I don’t know what this Yuta person has been telling you, but…” But? But what? Taeyong doesn’t know himself. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel like he’d been abandoned. 

“This is something they do all the time,” Doyoung says, a little more gently. It doesn’t do much to appease the anger slowly bubbling in Taeyong’s veins. “If they think it’ll take too much time and too many resources, they won’t bother.”

“So — what?” Taeyong feels something in him snap. Everything he’s felt in the past five minutes, in the past five months, that had been tucked away so neatly comes spilling out, mixing together into this horrible cocktail, splashing past the rim of the glass, splattering everywhere. “You want me to come with you? Just drop everything and run around with you and Yuta, doing whatever it is you do now? What are you doing now?”

Doyoung’s gaze flickers away for a moment. “Well, it’s better than staying here, isn’t it?”

Another non-answer.

“You can’t just — you can’t come back after six years of no contact and expect me to just listen to you with no explanation, Doyoung.” Taeyong stands up quickly, gritting his teeth at the pain shooting down his leg, the cold sensation in the back of his thigh, the throbbing in his ankle. “I have work to do. We can catch up later, if you care to do so.”

[ YEAR 139 MONTH 08 NEOSOL 02 | NEO ]

“Hey,” Taeyong says softly, smiling at the hologram of Doyoung that pops up from his tablet once the call goes through. The connection isn’t too good — they are in different quadrants, so that’s to be expected. The image of Doyoung flickers a bit before settling on a lower quality.

“Hey, how are you?” Doyoung smiles back. He runs his fingers through his hair — it’s shorter than he usually keeps it. He must’ve recently had it trimmed. The makeup from the day has been scrubbed away, revealing grey smudges under his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

A few days since they last messaged each other, but maybe a month since they UCalled like this. He’s busy, Taeyong understands. Taeyong has his own work too, though sometimes he wonders if what he’s doing here on Neo is anywhere near as important or interesting as what his friends seem to be doing in different quadrants, on planets so far away from home. “I’ve been doing pretty well.”

They talk about work, Doyoung’s noisy co-workers and Taeyong’s unreasonable supervisor. Doyoung tells him more about Derth’ka and how he never expected the annual acid rain shower to look so beautiful (from a distance, of course). He shares a few UVids of it. Taeyong recounts lunch he had with his neighbor, Baekhyun, and how they went to the flower park again. 

(“Oh. You seem to be spending a lot of time with him. I didn’t realize you two were this close.” 

“Yeah, he’s really nice! Did I tell you he has a VirtUDog?”)

They talk about this, and that. Taeyong enjoys being able to hear Doyoung’s voice and see an image of him, almost tangible. They could talk about nothing, and it would still be nice. 

Today, it feels just the slightest bit off. Usually, Doyoung is the one who has a lot to say. He knows how to keep a conversation going, even with people he’s only just met. But today, he’s more quiet. His gaze keeps drifting. He seems distracted.

“Doyoung…” Taeyong starts. It must be getting late for him. Taeyong would feel awful if he’s the reason Doyoung is tired at work tomorrow.

“Oh!” Doyoung looks at the screen, at Taeyong. He puts on a wide smile. “This was supposed to be a surprise, but I’m coming back to Neo in three months.”

Taeyong sits up straighter in his bed. “What? Really?” It’s been over a year since he’s seen Doyoung in person.

“Yeah, just for a month, I think. Five weeks, maybe. They said they have another assignment for me, but they haven’t given me the details yet.”

“There’s a new restaurant in Section 7 we need to go to.” Taeyong beams, warmth settling in his chest at the mere thought of hanging out with Doyoung again, the way they used to. “The best ramen I’ve ever had. When I tell you it’s good enough to make you cry…”

Doyoung grins back, leaning forward in interest. “Do they have okonomiyaki too? I’ve been craving it. Like from that one place, what was the name of it? It was by that one bar in Section 6. You know which one I’m talking about?”

“The one where Joy got too drunk and started flirting with a bot?” Taeyong chuckles. “How could I forget.”

“In her defense, that hunk of metal was pretty handsome.”

Taeyong laughs, a snort escaping him, which just makes him laugh even harder, and Doyoung is laughing too, covering his mouth with his hands. Taeyong wishes he could move it away so he could see Doyoung’s smile, gums and all.

“I’ll send you the menu,” Taeyong says, after they settle.

“Thanks. The food on base here just isn’t the same. Oh, and—” Doyoung points at Taeyong, eyes widening. “It’s gonna be your treat. Don’t pout at me, I pay for you almost every time we go out!”

Taeyong pouts anyway, just because he knows it’ll make Doyoung roll his eyes. “Fine. Just hurry up and come back home.”

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 29 | W956721 ]

Taeyong loses track of how much time he ends up spending in his lab.

This new line of solo pods was designed to have an expandable lab space. Taeyong had set his lab out while in flight to start setting up the mini-green room. Luckily, after the crash, it had stayed out.

He stretches his arms above his head, grunting softly when there’s a crack in his shoulders. He hasn’t gotten much done. Somewhere in the third month mark, all his findings were becoming repetitive to the point where he’d zone out and just go through the motions. Doing something was better than sitting idle, and though he had taken up drawing again — he felt like he was slacking if he didn’t spend a chunk of his time researching. 

Taeyong looks down at the sparse notes he had taken today. He had been too preoccupied, too caught up in his own head, to focus or even fool himself into thinking he was working.

His initial anger from earlier had subsided — though he isn’t sure if he’s more upset at Doyoung or frustrated with how long he’s been here. How much longer would he have to be here? And what would happen if — if — he happened to go with Doyoung? Maybe after they get off this planet, he could find a way to go home? 

Taeyong slows to a stop in front of the door. Doyoung might still be in the pod. Part of Taeyong hopes so, and another part of him is — scared? Worried? Uncertain?

Is this even the same Doyoung he had grown up with in school? A lot can happen in six years, he supposes; a lot can change. Doyoung is still Doyoung, objectively. There’s no doubt about it. He’s still got a scar at the corner of his mouth that he could’ve gotten fixed but never did. The way his eyes widen when he’s flustered is exactly how it was when he was sixteen. The way he talks is similar. And despite how distant he feels, despite his words, he’s still him. He’s just — rougher around the edges. More intense than Taeyong remembers. 

Taeyong wonders how much he’s changed. He thinks he has, in some ways. He wonders if Doyoung can see it too, what he thinks.

When Taeyong enters the main quarters again, Doyoung is sitting on the sofa, outer suit off, hands folded neatly, like he’s been waiting for Taeyong. 

There’s an inexplicable spark of annoyance in Taeyong’s gut, but he wills himself to calm down.

“I owe you an apology,” Doyoung says before Taeyong can even open his mouth. “A proper one.”

Taeyong takes a seat on the other end of the sofa, mimicking Doyoung’s stiff posture. One thing that has changed is that Taeyong knows how to ask for what he wants. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“Right — I’m ready to do that now.” Doyoung drops his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to scan the pod for bugs, just in case.”

Taeyong doesn’t point out that all communications are down, and if his pod was bugged — something he doubts IHERO would do — they would know he’s stranded and would have come by now to retrieve now. But maybe Doyoung’s forgotten how the organization works. It’s been years since he’s gone missing — since he left. “I’m guessing you didn’t find anything?” 

“No bugs,” Doyoung confirms. He wrings his hands in his lap, sighs. “I’ll start from the beginning, then. From when I was stationed on Derth’ka.”

Taeyong knows bits and pieces of the Derk’ka mission already, from IHERO news and from what Doyoung would tell him. It wasn’t anything major, overall. Derth’ka and Neo have good relations, and they had Doyoung working on UTransports on the Neo Base there. A pretty standard job for new, low-ranking agents.

“But that part isn’t important,” Doyoung says and skims over the details. “I think it was two or three months before I was meant to come back to Neo. One of those nights I ended up working overtime — that’s when it started.”

Taeyong nods. He remembers the way Doyoung would complain about overtime. He’s a hard worker, but he likes to work in his assigned hours and nothing more. 

Once, Doyoung had UCalled Taeyong after an overly long shift just so he could have someone to vent to, face to face. That conversation hadn’t lasted long — Doyoung had been laying down and after his initial rant had ended, he fell asleep just about seven minutes later. 

“My supervisor had asked me to bring something from one of the upper level labs. It was pretty late in the evening, so there weren’t too many people around. I heard a loud sound like — I don’t even know what to compare it to. I rushed to check what happened, make sure no one was hurt.” 

Doyoung pauses. Eyes flickering away from Taeyong for a moment. And as much as he would want Doyoung to take his time in any other situation, he needs to know now. “What did you see?”

Doyoung seems to contemplate his next works. “A weapon.”

“What?” Taeyong’s eyebrows furrow in disbelief. A weapon. It’s not a word commonly used — one of the many old Earth terms that had been phased out. “What do you mean?”

“I’m serious. At first I doubted my own eyes, but they were making weapons on the base. Not a defense tool, but weapons in every sense of the word. I saw it in action — I don’t think I could ever forget.” Doyoung’s eyes are wide. “They used laser technology on a much larger scale. But instead of a medical or construction setting, they — they aimed it at a slab of concrete and shattered it. The way they used it was different too — a single, powerful shot.”

“But weapons aren’t allowed.” Taeyong frowns, trying to create a mental image of what Doyoung’s describing. 

As part of the Diplomatic Union of Sonaris, none of the twenty-five planets were permitted a military or any form of major weapons. The Union had a militia, made up of beings from all the planets, in case of the rare outside threat from within and outside of the galaxy. And even this was under strict regulation: Members were trained on a separate central Base. Weapons were made there as well and were not permitted on any of the planets. There is no flow of information, and individual planets certainly weren’t permitted to make weapons of their own.

“I left so quickly that I forgot what I had gone for. If that was really a weapon, then I definitely wasn’t supposed to see them. I did try to check on it again, the next day, but I didn’t have clearance to go in.” Doyoung turns in his seat so he can face Taeyong properly. Taeyong does the same. “Fast forward a month — I’m at a bar off base.”

“They let you off base?” The furthest Taeyong’s been from home is Cebbagg, just two planets away from Neo. All he had known there was the lab and his dorm. 

It wasn’t that interacting with non-humans was banned. But in the months agents were assigned there by IHERO, they were expected to work.

“Derth’ka Base has always been a little more lax.” Doyoung shrugs. “At the time, I thought — as great as it would be to go back to the dorm early, might as well explore. When am I going to be on Derth’ka again, right?”

Taeyong nods, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, his mind going back to what Doyoung claims to have seen. IHERO making weapons just didn’t make sense. There had to have been another goal — a productive goal — in mind. And if it was a weapon, it might’ve been the actions of a small group, rebelling against the higher ups. IHERO couldn’t really let this happen, could they?

“That’s where I met Yuta. They stood out as the only other human there and all. They bought me a drink, we started talking — normal stuff, about Neo, the latest episode of whatever UShow was popular at the time.”

Taeyong’s stomach twists weirdly.

“It was nice and all, until I told them I worked for IHERO. I’ve never seen a person look that disgusted, they didn’t even try to hide it.” Doyoung shifts. “Normally, I would’ve defended myself. I took pride in my job and my degree.”

Taeyong nods in agreement. He does too. They all do and should.

“But I was curious. I had questions, and it seemed like they had answers.” Doyoung considers for a moment what to say next. “Of course, a bar isn’t the best place to do that. So they agreed to meet up with me and talk more. And we had a few meetings like that. They told me things — not just about IHERO, but the other branches of Neo’s government too. They told me things about the other planets in the Union. Everything we’ve been raised to believe — maybe half of it is real.”

“You’re being vague again.”

“I don't even know where to start, Taeyong. It was a lot of me to take in at the time, and you…”

“ I... ? Do you expect me to just believe that the very thing we dedicated our lives to isn’t what we expected based on what sound like conspiracy theories?” His mouth is moving faster than his mind. “You want me to believe you because we were friends at one point?” 

The moment the words leave Taeyong’s mouth, he wants to take them back. He wants to swallow them down and hide them away in an abyss. Where had that even come from? 

Doyoung is staring at him with glassy eyes. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He does that a few times, before he finally says with a thick voice, “You’re right.”

The silence that overcomes them is unbearable. Why had he said that? What’s wrong with him? Doyoung isn’t just another person who’s come in and out of Taeyong’s life.

Doyoung inhales loudly, blinking a few times. “Taeyong…”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Taeyong says quickly. More than the silence, he’s scared to hear what Doyoung has to say.

The ban on weapons wasn’t just a law of the diplomatic union. War had been one of the reasons why Earth fell apart, why humanity spent a century mass migrating out of the Milky Way. 

War and weapons are of the old ways. It’s primitive. It wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. Neo, in its foundations, was supposed to be safe from all this. Human-kind was supposed to be better.

Doyoung licks his lips. He sighs and can’t seem to decide if he wants to fold his hands together or curl his fingers into the material of his tunic.

“Neo has had some tension in the past two decades with Jorkap when it comes to trade. That’s our best guess as to why they’re arming themselves. Our, as in the network I’m part of.”

“There haven’t been reports on this tension. Relations are good. Everything is peaceful, Doyoung. Everyone is —”

“Happy?” Doyoung finishes for him. “There’s an Earth saying — ignorance is bliss. It’s what our society has been founded on, if you think about it.”

Taeyong stays quiet.

“It’s hard to get better information, since we don’t have an insider on Jorkap. But we do have some documentation showing friction exists. There’s other theories, too. I can show you all of it, if you want.” Doyoung bites his lower lip. “I don’t expect you to be on board with this right away. But consider what I’m saying at least?”

“I do need time to take this all in,” Taeyong says. He stretches his arms in front of him. His mind is still spinning, but something in him feels a little more settled. 

Doyoung nods. “And — I’m sorry. I really am. For how I went about this, and what I said. I’m really sorry for not contacting you. I truly am. It’s not that I didn’t want to, but…”

When Taeyong looks at him now, it’s like he’s looking at Doyoung when he was twenty; sturdy and sure, yet not hard enough to go completely unscathed. There was a distinct warmth he would radiate. It’s a little masked now, less encompassing.

But it’s still there.

“It’s evening,” Taeyong settles on saying. “How about we have dinner?”

He’s sure Doyoung had a reason to not reach out. But they can delve into that a little later. There’s only so much he can handle right now.

Doyoung nods, offers a hint of a smile. “Dinner would be nice.”

[ YEAR 139 MONTH 12 NEOSOL 10 | NEO ]

Taeyong fixes his hair one more time and straightens the collar of his shirt. There’s one person ahead of him in the queue for a UCall with the Department of External Affairs, and he’s surprised he managed to get an appointment this quickly. The first time he had tried, they had made him wait around two weeks before even giving an appointment.

The hologram screen flickers from a waiting screen to an image of a middle aged person sitting behind his desk, placed awkwardly in Taeyong’s living room. “Taeyong Lee?”

Taeyong clears his throat. His identification had already been scanned in before he entered the queue. “That’s correct.”

The agent looks bored. “State your purpose.”

“I’m inquiring about the status of Doyoung Kim. He’s been missing in action since 139 10 18. Are there any updates?”

There’s a pause. Then: “There are no updates.”

“Any clues of what happened, even if it isn’t solid evidence? A trace of him?” Taeyong leans in.

“There have been no updates on Case 2068.”

“He’s not a number, he’s a person,” Taeyong mumbles, more to himself. He sighs. “Is there a search party? I’m an IHERO agent, I could be of assistance, if needed.”

Doyoung had gone missing in Derth’ka. Taeyong already mapped out a potential plan of searching the planet and surrounding areas. He had contacted the NeoBase there earlier, as well as the ones on nearby planets, but they hadn’t given him any information. Please refer to the DEA for all matters involving Missing Persons. 

“That won’t be necessary.”

“We need to find him.” The words leave Taeyong in a rushed breath. His eye caches on the HoloFrame in the corner of his room: A UPic of himself and Doyoung that he had taken on LuneA. “Something could’ve happened, he could be hurt. We can’t just leave him alone out there. It’s been months. We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

The agent, who had been watching Taeyong with a blank face, smiles. It’s too pleasant, in a way that makes Taeyong’s skin itch. “Are you suggesting we do not care for our citizens?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I just —”

“If there are any updates on the status of Case 2068, the family will be informed.” Their voice is final.

Taeyong bites his lip. He knows when he’s being dismissed. “Thank you for your efforts.”

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 29 | W956721 ]

Dinner ends up being instant ramen, two packets out of the nine Taeyong has left. 

Doyoung sits stiffly in a seat across the counter. He seems like he’s unsure if he wants to watch Taeyong cook or not, his gaze constantly shifting between the countertop and the stove. 

Taeyong doesn’t like conflict. 

He’s confused, and he’s still upset. But he doesn’t want to keep up tension between himself and the only other living being he’s seen in months. Especially if it’s Doyoung.

With the power outage, Taeyong had to regress to using more basic kitchen functions. He had been annoyed at first, but he’s come to appreciate it over the months. Cooking — at least, the motions of boiling water, then adding in noodles and seasoning — helps calm his mind a little. 

He switches the stove off and distributes the instant noodles into the two bowls that he has, staring down at them for a moment.

This is the food he had grown used to eating every day, but what if Doyoung hates it? He had asked if Taeyong wanted to come on to his ship to eat, but Taeyong had insisted he had enough food for both of them. He’s starting to wonder if he should’ve taken Doyoung up on that offer.

Taeyong bites his lip and brings the bowls over to the counter, setting one in front of Doyoung. “This isn’t the meal I thought I’d treat you to when we reunited.” Taeyong smiles ruefully. He had run out of his ration of vegetables and meats months ago. He couldn’t even try to make this taste more interesting. “But I hope you enjoy it.”

“It’s who you eat with that matters the most, right?” When Doyoung grins this time, Taeyong catches a flash of teeth.

And he can’t help but smile back, wider than he has in a while. It feels weird, the muscles on his face moving in a way they haven’t done in months. “I guess so.”

They eat in silence, Taeyong not sure how to bridge the rift between them. 

The steam from their bowls wafts up and between them, surrounding them with a familiar aroma. Taeyong hadn’t realized it before, eating alone. But now, with Doyoung sitting across from him, it feels like he’s been transported back twelve years. “This is what we used to have during study sessions for statistics, wasn’t it? You had a whole collection of flavors back in your dorm room.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Doyoung’s smile, the one Taeyong knows, comes more easily now. 

He even looks a little impish now, reminiscent of the way he used to look at Taeyong just before he’d say something to bait him into banter. “Remember that time Ten added whole red chilis to his bowl and said we wouldn't be able to eat one, let alone in ramen?”

“I can’t believe I took him up on that challenge, and I can’t believe you just let me.” Taeyong almost whines. Almost. When was the last time he had talked to someone like this? 

Turns out the chilis Ten had offered up were modified, but Taeyong didn’t find out until much later.

“What can I say.” Doyoung chuckles. “My best friend’s a fool.”

A small huff of laughter escapes Taeyong, but the giddiness is quickly replaced with a sinking guilt. “I’m sorry, Doyoung. For what I said before. I...” He looks down at his bowl. It’s almost empty now. Because we were friends at one point? Distance and time and difference didn’t mean they weren’t still friends. Right? “I really missed you.”

When he looks up, Doyoung’s lips are still curved up at the corners, his gaze soft. “We went about this the wrong way didn’t we?” He sets his chopsticks down. “Hey, it’s me, Doyoung. Your best friend. I know we haven’t seen each other in years, but I really missed you, too.”

Something in Taeyong’s gut flutters, but not uneasily. 

It feels exactly how it used to be, the way they fall into conversation after that. They talk about old classes and their friends — how Johnny and Ten are doing now (“Ten finally asked him out, they’re engaged now”, “it’s about time, how long have they been pining after each other?”), how Taeyong’s parents and sister have been.

Doyoung is still thankfully in touch with his own family, though communications are sporadic. He tries his best to see them every other year. Taeyong is glad he has that at least. He’d be beyond devastated if he could never contact his family again, if he had to live knowing they thought he had died.

Dread settles over Taeyong’s heart like a stone. It’s been five months since they've seen him. He’s tried not to think about it too much, for his own sanity, but now that it’s on his mind, he can’t stop. 

What do they think happened to him? Are they trying to find him? Do they think he’s dead ? Would he ever be able to see them again?

Doyoung reaches across the table and gently covers Taeyong’s hand with his own. His skin isn’t as soft as Taeyong remember’s, but the weight of his hand, the way his fingers curl, is still the same. 

“I know you’re still trying to process everything and aren’t sure what to do. But no matter what you decide, I’ll make sure they know you’re alright.” 

They still get each other, Taeyong thinks. They’ve just fallen out of sync. 

Taeyong can only nod and turn his hand so Doyoung’s palm brushes against his. They’re not really holding hands, just Doyoung’s calloused fingers resting on top of his own. 

They finish the rest of their meal in silence — comfortable for the most part, but there’s an underlying tension there that Taeyong doesn’t want to touch yet. 

What is he going to do now?

[ YEAR 134 MONTH 06 NEOSOL 12 | NEO ]

“Curfew is soon,” Doyoung says quietly. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Taeyong doesn’t raise his head from where it’s buried in Doyoung’s pillow. He had come to Doyoung’s room and promptly taken over his bed as soon as his Piloting class had ended. Doyoung hadn’t said anything right away — which Taeyong appreciated immensely. Instead, he put on some music and did his homework, gently offering some of the snacks he had stashed in his closet (which Taeyong took without much persuasion). 

“Tomorrow is a free day,” Taeyong mumbles into the material of the pillow. “Johnny’ll cover for me.”

“Are you saying you want to stay here?”

Taeyong turns his head to look at Doyoung. At some point, he had changed out of his uniform into casual night clothes — cotton pants and a loose t-shirt. 

“Would you let me?” He very much does not want to leave this room on the off chance of seeing any of his batchmates.

Doyoung sits down on the edge of the bed, and Taeyong turns on his side so he doesn’t have to crane his neck. Doyoung’s roommate, Dowoon, had set up a room dividing screen that mostly worked to sound-proof the two halves, and Taeyong’s never been more thankful for it. 

“Of course, Yong.” Doyoung smiles. “Do you also want to talk about what’s bothering you — if you’re comfortable with that?”

Taeyong always feels comfortable with Doyoung. Just being in his presence is grounding, even if they don’t talk. Taeyong doesn’t tell him, though. He nods instead and shifts back on the bed until his back hits the wall. He pats the space in front of him so Doyoung can lay down too.

“You should probably change out of your uniform before we sleep,” Doyoung tells him, but he lies down anyway. It’s a bit of a squeeze now since Doyoung’s shot up and grown taller than Taeyong. But they manage.

“I will.” Taeyong supposes he’ll have to borrow Doyoung’s clothes. It’s nothing they haven’t done before.

They lay in silence for a moment, as Taeyong gathers his thoughts. 

Doyoung shifts a little, pillowing his left arm under his head, his right hand falling into the narrow space between them. He waits. And that’s one of the things Taeyong really likes about Doyoung — while the younger could talk tirelessly, he knows when to listen too. He doesn’t push Taeyong when he isn’t ready.

Taeyong lets out a breath. “I came from flying lessons.”

Doyoung nods, waiting for him to continue. It’s a mandatory class all fourth year students take, regardless of the track they’re on. All students are expected to know how to fly, even if they never end up piloting a spacecraft themselves. 

Taeyong is, as his senior instructor had so kindly put it, a disaster of a pilot. “I messed up today — really messed up. We had the asteroid field simulation today, and I can barely fly in a straight line to begin with, and…” Taeyong bites his lip, cheeks heating up the way they had a few hours ago. Thinking about it is humiliating, he wants to forget the details. “I basically let the whole team die in the simulation. My instructor decided to make a spectacle of it.”

He can’t bring himself to look Doyoung in the eye, even though Taeyong knows he’s the one person who wouldn’t look at him differently for his faults. Instead, he keeps his gaze trained on the neck of Doyoung’s shirt, how it sits over his collarbones. It’s something to focus on.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung starts slowly. “Not doing as well in one class doesn’t reflect on you as a person. No one, including yourself, should expect you to be good at everything right away.” His voice is low and soothing. “Piloting is difficult. I’m sure in time you’ll be able to get it right, though. I have faith in you. Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?” 

Taeyong nods, gaze flickering up to Doyoung’s face. He still doesn’t feel great. It’s not like Doyoung can single-handedly banish all the negative thoughts in his mind. But having him here, with Taeyong — it helps a lot.

“Also,” Doyoung adds. “Your instructor’s a dick.”

Taeyong snorts softly.

“He really is.” Doyoung narrows his eyes. “Don’t let him get to you.”

Taeyong frowns. “I’ll have to see him again on Monday.”

“Maybe you could get someone else to help you out? Like a tutor? Seungcheol, from my class, is a good pilot. He’s nice. I could ask him.”

“I’ll think about it,” Taeyong says softly. “Thank you.”

Doyoung chuckles. “I haven’t even asked him yet.”

“I mean for…” Taeyong feels his cheeks warm up again, pleasantly this time. “For this. For everything.”

“Oh,” Doyoung says. He smiles, a little awkward, a little bashful. “Well, we’re friends, after all.”

Taeyong grins wide at that. He reaches out for Doyoung’s hand and squeezes, watching Doyoung’s smile mellow out.

His smile is cute. 

He’s cute, Taeyong thinks. The way his eyes shine when he’s excited and his pouty lips when he's tired. The way he dotes on the younger students that he tutors, despite all his classes. The way he’s solid in times like this, but isn’t afraid to be transparent himself. The way Doyoung doesn’t just let Taeyong lean on him, he welcomes him in. He’s warm.

Taeyong doesn’t realize he’s staring until Doyoung speaks again, voice barely above a whisper. “What’s on your mind?”

Taeyong’s thinking about how he’s never felt so close to a person the way he is with Doyoung. How Doyoung just seems to understand him without Taeyong saying anything. He’s thinking about how important Doyoung is to him, how he probably wouldn’t get through school as well as he is now without his best friend. 

“I’m…” How could he tell Doyoung all of this? It’s overwhelming just to think about it. His face is burning at this point. “I’m just happy I met you.” 

Doyoung’s lips part at that, he blinks a few times.

For some reason, Taeyong can’t help but notice how pretty the shape of Doyoung’s lips are. They’re the same shade of pink as peaches rationed out on Thursday mornings. They look soft too. 

Has he ever kissed anyone? Doyoung would tell him, surely, if he did. Wouldn’t he?

Right now, Taeyong realizes, if they both just leaned in just a little closer, they’d be able to kiss. Not that he would kiss Doyoung. Taeyong’s heart jumps in his chest at the thought of it.

He isn’t opposed to it, really. But they’re best friends. Nothing more. And he’s sure Doyoung doesn’t want to kiss him either. 

Doyoung clears his throat. He squeezes Taeyong’s fingers back. “I’m happy I met you, too.”

Taeyong smiles and lets his eyes slip shut. He tries to get his heart to calm — there’s no reason for it to be racing like this, after all.

“But Taeyong, you should really change out of your uniform now.” 

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 30 | W956721 ]

“You didn’t really tell me before — what do you do now?” 

They’re sitting in the cockpit of Taeyong’s pod — Doyoung on the ground, Taeyong perched on the arm of the pilot’s seat. 

They had come to the consensus earlier this morning that Taeyong’s pod is definitely beyond repair. The half full fuel tank is no use to Taeyong now — if IHERO were to rescue him, they’d have to use another ship entirely. Doyoung asked if he could check if the fuel would be compatible with his spacecraft, and if he could use it. Taeyong agreed. It might as well be used for something.

“Hm?” Doyoung replies, distracted. He’s trying to work open the tank from the inside, since it’s impossible from the outside with how the pod landed. 

“You left IHERO, you’re working with Yuta — but what do you do?”

“Ah.” Doyoung sits back and takes his protective mask off. “Well, Yuta and I are part of a team that works under a bigger intergalactic trade network. I guess you could call it that, at least.”

“Trade?” Taeyong repeats slowly. That’s the last thing he would’ve imagined Doyoung doing. 

“We…” Doyoung turns the mask in his hands a few times. “We transport necessary goods that don’t exactly fall into Sonaris Regulations.” He pauses. “Ah — that’s part of why I’m here . We were found out by some people who aren’t exactly pleased with our business and had to split up temporarily.”

Taeyong raises his eyebrows. “You’re a smuggler.”

“It’s not like we’re moving something bad.” Doyoung’s eyes widen a fraction, light up the way they always would before he got into an argument. “Our unit mostly deals with medicine, we have a couple of doctors too. This is really helping beings. There’s a lot of those who can’t afford what’s on the market — even on Neo.”

“Oh.” Taeyong shifts. The arm of the chair is starting to feel uncomfortable under him. “I didn’t know.” 

“Most people aren’t aware. I hadn’t been until Yuta told me” Doyoung soothes. “It’s mostly in the areas furthest from the capital, away from the bigger cities. It really isn’t something widely known. They don’t want us to know.”  

Taeyong nods. He had time to organize his thoughts a little last night. Before, he had never really been given a reason to question anything. Or maybe there had been signs, and he ignored them. Aside from his work, he had always been focused outwards, on planets and moons far away, so enthralled at the possibilities that laid beyond, to think about the issues at home. 

“I can’t say too much more for now — security reasons.” Doyoung mumbles something to himself, that Taeyong makes out as: I’ve probably already said too much . “My captains would be able to explain in more detail, if you’d like to learn more.”

Taeyong nods. “I understand.”

Doyoung sighs and wipes his forehead off with the back of his hand. At this time of day, W956721 gets extremely hot, and even the pod’s internal temperature regulator can’t properly keep the heat at bay. Taeyong’s grown used to it, and has gone out a couple of times without a problem.

Doyoung must be accustomed to cooler climates, though, because he’s pulling his outer top off and setting on the side. He had already taken off his UTemp Jacket off, saying it was hard to work in. 

Now he’s left in a black sleeveless shirt that clings to his chest. Where he used to be lanky, there’s lean muscle now. It’s not much, nothing compared to Johnny or Jaehyun’s physique, or even Taeyong’s own arms when he was in better shape. But it’s something.

Doyoung puts his mask back on and goes back to working on removing a wall panel, his biceps flexing with effort.

“I’m going out.” Taeyong abruptly. He stands up. “I’ll see you later.”

“Out?” 

“To collect samples.”

Doyoung turns around to look at him. “You still…”

“I mean — I might as well, while I’m here. Who knows. I might find something new.”

Doyoung looks at him up and down. “Stay safe, then.”

“You too.”

[ YEAR 138 MONTH 07 NEOSOL 05 | NEO ]

Taeyong plays with his fingers anxiously as he stands in attention in front of the captain of Area 3’s Geological Research Department. His hands are behind his back, so luckily his nervousness can’t be seen. Taeyong hopes it isn’t obvious. He’s keeping his face as neutral as possible.

“I look at your proposal,” the captain says. The file is open on a UTablet — months of Taeyong’s research, despite the minimal resources available. “You want to look into Zone 7 for farming?” 

“Yes.” Taeyong keeps his voice steady. “According to the surrounding Zones and reported trends in that region over the past ten years, I believe the soil would be ideal for rice growth. Location wise, it could be beneficial for those living in Section 12, since—”

“Zone 7 is above your security clearance and off limit to locals.”

“Yes, I know — I was thinking, perhaps, even if those in IHERO could use a portion of the land, if a team could go in to see the potential—”

“Are you questioning an executive decision?”

“No, captain.” Taeyong swallows. The room feels too cold, even though Taeyong knows it’s set to the most ideal temperature for the human body. “I apologize.”

“You could be charged for treason, if my superiors heard about this proposal.” The captain tosses the proposal file away with the flick of her wrist. She’s never liked Taeyong much, though Taeyong isn’t sure why. For years, he’s worked hard, fulfilled his responsibilities, kept his head down. This was his first idea that was reaching beyond the projects he usually did.

“That wasn’t my intention — I was only thinking of what’s best for Neo.”

“We know better than you what’s good for Neo.”

“Of course, captain.” 

“There’s rules and regulations for a reason. You are not to pursue this any further.” 

Taeyong nods, resists the urge to break eye contact. “I understand, captain.”

The captain leans forward in her seat. She’s shorter than Taeyong, just about as wide at the shoulders. Her hair is long, tied back and sleek, making her features sharper. It’s her steely gaze that makes her so imposing. Her face is stern and unchanging. The way she looks at Taeyong always makes him feel like the Earth insects he learned about in primary school — small, strange, easy to crush. “Dismissed.”

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 30 | W956721 ]

When Taeyong returns to his pod, he finds Doyoung in the living quarters, slumped back on the sofa, staring intently at something on his tablet. He’s frowning, eyebrows knitted together.

Taeyong pulls his external suit off. He didn’t do much work while he was out, instead walked around aimlessly, mind wandering. He’s found that short, slow walks helps ease the pain in his leg, but going on for too long causes it to flare up again.

He stores his suit away and gingerly takes a seat on the other end of the sofa. “Is something wrong? Is the fuel of my pod incompatible?”

Doyoung looks up from the tablet. “No, it’s fine. The transfer went smoothly.”

“Then what’s with the face?”

The lines on Doyoung’s forehead smoothen out, but the corners of his mouth are still drawn down. “When I went back to my ship, I tried to connect to the Neo Network from there — risky, I know, but I think we should be fine. Two of the kids from our team developed a program that lets us be untraceable on the system within a ten minute time frame.” 

“Why were you trying to connect?” If he was double checking fuel compatibility, any network would’ve been fine.

“I had been curious about something. I saved some of the files offline to read properly, and — well…”

He hesitates, his grip tightening on the UTablet. 

“Doyoung, what is it?” 

“It’s…” Doyoung sighs. “Brace yourself, alright?”

He shifts closer and expands the files into WideView so they can both see.

It’s a NeoNews report, the rotating logo at the top instantly recognizable. Taeyong hasn’t been able to read these reports in months, and of all the things to see, he hadn’t expected to be met with a photo of himself staring back at him.

It’s the photo on his identification file that had been taken last year. His own expressionless face makes his stomach turn.

Next to his portrait is a block of text:

MISSING IN ACTION

NAME: Lee, Taeyong

AGE: 30 Years

OCCUPATION: IHERO Geologist, Botanist (Agro-Geology Division)

LAST SEEN ON: Section 7, Neo

DATE: Year 145 Month 01 NeoSol 03

Taeyong reads it again. And again. And then a few more times until a lump settles in his throat.

That was the day he had left Neo. He had checked in with his superiors on Mid-Base 16.3, a Neo air base just about 600,000 kilometers south east from where he is now. Final preparations, all well documented, were done there. And then on NeoSol 05, he had set out for his mission. 

NeoSol 05. The fifth day of the month. He’s so sure of it — it’s logged into his travel and research journal. He had even sent a message out to his parents on the fourth that he had arrived safely and was going to be leaving soon.

Taeyong scrolls down, frantically reading the details below, squeezing his eyes shut when the letters start to dance in front of his eyes.

They hadn’t even mentioned he was meant to be on Phuridas. It was like his mission had never existed.

“Taeyong…”

“You were right.” Taeyong forces out a laugh. When he opens his eyes, his vision is blurred. He blinks hard, trying to force the tears away. “You were right — they don’t care. They left me here to die.” 

Doyoung sets the tablet down and shifts closer. “I’m sorry, Taeyong. I wish…”

“I think I knew, deep down, that they weren’t going to come for me. Like you said: I’m just one person. Replaceable. It doesn’t matter to IHERO if I make it back or not, does it?”

Doyoung tentatively reaches out and places his hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. His hand is warm through Taeyong’s shirt, comforting as he strokes his thumb over his clavicle. But he’s not meeting Taeyong’s eyes fully, he’s licking his lips. He’s nervous.

“There’s more,” Taeyong whispers, voice quavering. “What else did you read.”

“It’s not anything I read from the Neo Channel. Our network has a database, and in the past few months, there’s been a handful of reports about solo pod missions from Neo. I didn’t think anything of it before. It didn’t click until I was working in the cockpit and reading up on the details of your pod.” Doyoung squeezes Taeyong’s shoulder. “I haven’t looked at the reports closely yet, but these pods have been crash landing, like yours.”

He pulls up five files and spreads them out in front of them. At the top of four of them, there’s a stamp that reads: [DECEASED].

Taeyong takes a shaky breath. (Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat). Doyoung’s hand moves down to start rubbing slow circles onto his back.

The last report catches Taeyong’s eye, a familiar face staring out at them. He reaches out and expands it.

Momo Hirai. She landed on Areizout in Quadrant Two last month. Thankfully, she’s still alive.

“Wait, I’ve met her. She was a year below us, right?” Doyoung turns to look at Taeyong. “She got all these awards for her piloting skills. Even in the worst conditions, I wouldn’t think she’d be capable of having a bad landing.”

They read through her report carefully, and then the others, Doyoung taking notes the entire time. He offers Taeyong drinks and snacks that he must have brought from his own ship. Most of them are unfamiliar, but Taeyong nibbles on them absently. His head hurts. His eyes are burning. 

Taeyong feels like he’s sinking by the time they reach the last one. Doyoung’s just about keeping him afloat. 

“Doyoung...” The end of each report had details on the pods themselves. He doesn’t like the connections he’s making, the conclusion he’s coming to. He doesn’t want to be the one to say it aloud.

“Doesn’t it seem like there’s an issue with all the pods?” Doyoung presses his lips into a thin line. “We’ll need more evidence but...It feels like IHERO’s covering up faulty manufacturing by saying agents are missing. We’d have to look at more NeoNews articles to line it all up…”

“Faulty manufacturing,” Taeyong mouths. He doesn’t know what else he could say. 

This entire time, he had blamed himself. It was his fault he crashed. He hadn’t been ready for this mission. Despite all his extra lessons, despite how much he practiced, he was a bad pilot. 

Some days, the guilt of it all would wrap itself around his head, fogging up his brain. It would travel down and prod at his back, squeeze at his ankle and make it throb. 

Doyoung sets the tablet down and pulls Taeyong closer, his arms secure around him. 

Taeyong inhales sharply. He folds in on himself at first, then allows himself to relax. His arms tentatively settle against Doyoung’s flank. How long has it been since he’s hugged someone?

“It’s not your fault,” Doyoung whispers. Because somehow, after all this time, he still knows what to say.

When Taeyong had first landed, he had cried a lot. He was confused, he was in pain, and he didn’t know what to do. But after the first two weeks, he’d make himself stop. 

Anytime his eyes started to prickle with tears, whenever his mind was becoming too much for him to deal with, he’d find a distraction. He’d go over his findings, he’d explore the planet, he’d manually clean the pod until his hands were raw. He’d completely lose himself in what he was doing until he was exhausted, until he couldn’t think anymore.

Now he buries his face into the crook of Doyoung’s neck. 

He curls his fingers into the material of Doyoung’s shirt. 

Now, he lets himself cry.

[ YEAR 141 MONTH 02 NEOSOL 01 | NEO ]

The ice cream is mint flavored, creamy, with flakes of dark chocolate mixed in. It had arrived just on time, right as Taeyong came back from work. It’s the last part of the menu for tonight. The scoop Taeyong places in the UCool Bowl is a little lopsided, but it’ll have to do.

“Is everyone here?” Taeyong turns around to face the holograms in his living room.

It’s a small event. Ten and Johnny, in full color, are seated on his sofa. They’re close by, both calling in from Greitas. They must be in the same room, because Johnny’s arm is resting on Ten’s shoulders and Ten’s leaning into his touch. They’re wrapped up in a conversation with Joy, who is perched on one of the chairs Taeyong’s pulled out. Jinyoung and Jisoo are on the other side of the room. And there’s a couple of senior agents, Seulgi and Irene, talking to Gongmyung quietly.

“Jaehyun’s going to be a little late, but he’ll make it,” Ten says. He shifts a little to make room for Taeyong, squishing further into Johnny’s side. Taeyong’s lips quirk up at the corner, and he takes a seat.

It’s been a while since he’s had this many people in his home, even if it’s virtually. Some of them don’t even know each other, but they’re all connected by one thing.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming in this evening. Today is Doyoung’s twenty-fifth birthday. And even if he’s not here right now, we can still celebrate it together.” These are words he’s told himself over and over again in the week leading up to today. “I got some of his favorite foods ready — I can send over some food to those of you within the quadrant.”

The UTransfer Food Share is still in its beta phase, and it works pretty well for planets close to each other. Taeyong’s been sending Johnny and Ten dinner the past few weekends just because he can and they’ve been craving some Neo specialities. 

“But if you’re in the next quadrant over, and really in the mood for a smoothie, Taeyong’s got you,” Johnny quips, drawing out a few chuckles.

The atmosphere relaxes more after this. Jaehyun makes a beeline for where Taeyong, Ten, and Johnny are sitting as soon as he joins the call. 

The group dissolves into easy conversations, about work, about life, about Doyoung. Taeyong had braced himself for the worst, afraid of breaking down in front of everyone. But hearing other people talk about Doyoung — how kind he is, how caring he is, how intelligent he is — just makes Taeyong feel warm.

So many people love Doyoung. And with all the love he put into the universe, he doesn’t deserve anything less.

Gongmyung approaches Taeyong while he’s dividing up the food to send out. Irene and Seulgi are too far out, but everyone else can get a plate. Luckily, Taeyong made just enough.

Gongmyung places his hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. Taeyong can almost feel the weight and warmth of the comforting touch. He’s out filming on LuneB, the closest of all the guests. The signal is strong enough that it feels like he’s really standing in front of Taeyong.

“Thank you for doing this,” Gongmyung says. Taeyong hadn’t really noticed until now how similar his smile is to his brother’s. “Doyoung — wherever he is, I’m sure he’d really appreciate this. Knowing his friends still celebrate and remember him like this.”

It’s been over a year since Doyoung has gone missing. Taeyong hasn’t given up hope on him yet, and neither have Doyoung’s family.

“Of course,” Taeyong says. “I could never forget about Doyoung. He...He’s my best friend.”

Gongmyung looks like he wants to say something, but he seems to reconsider and turns his attention to the spread of food on the table. “This all looks amazing.”

“A lot of these are Doyoung’s recipes.” Taeyong grins. “I can only hope I did them justice.”

“I’m sure you did. Doyoung’s told me you’re a really good cook.” Gongmyung pats his back — or tries. It’s the thought that counts. “He really admires you, you know. You mean a lot to him.”

“Oh.” Taeyong swallows hard. He knows. Doyoung’s told him that before. But to hear it from someone else, Doyoung’s brother, is different. “He means a lot to me, too.”

Gongmyung smiles. “I know.”

Guests start to filter out after about two hours or so. There’s at least six different time zones here and everyone has work tomorrow.

Johnny lingers, looking at Taeyong with open concern. Taeyong gets it. Johnny’s seen the worst sides of Taeyong. And he’s seen him try to process everything that’s happening. “I’m fine,” Taeyong insists. “Really.”

Besides, he doesn’t want Johnny to keep worrying about him.

Johnny sighs. “Don’t hesitate to call me. I’m here for you, Taeyong.”

“I know.” Taeyong smiles. He wishes they could hug right now. He’s not sure where he’d be if it weren’t for Johnny. “Thank you.”

Jaehyun ends up being the last to leave. Doyoung would always claim he didn’t have favorites, but Taeyong knows Jaehyun was his favorite underclassmen. He can’t blame him. Taeyong has a soft spot for Jaehyun too.

“I’m going to be back on Neo next week.” Jaehyun smiles, all dimples and perfect teeth. “We should catch up more. Over lunch, maybe?”

“That would be nice,” Taeyong hums. Come to think of it, he hasn’t spent time with anybody in months, at least in-person.

Jaehyun leaves after they’ve set a time for Saturday next week. “See you soon.”

Going out is good. Being with people is good. 

Taeyong grins to himself as he settles into the quietness of his home again. He thinks of all the times he’d barge into Doyoung’s room and drag him outside.

(“There were fifteen minutes left of the episode,” Doyoung whines.

“Your drama will be there when we get back,” Taeyong laughs. “But the limited edition coffee buns at Pandora’s Box will not be.”)

He should probably clean up. But he’s hit with a wave of tiredness, and all he wants to do is curl up on the sofa with some ice cream. So he does.

The mint chocolate ice cream is still perfectly cold. Taeyong takes his time to savor it, sinking further into the cushions with each spoonful. It’s not his favorite — he prefers fruit flavors — but it’s not bad. “Activate WideView Mode,” Taeyong says into the emptiness of his living room.

He navigates easily to his Doyoung Folder. Every video, every photo, every message is saved for him to look back on, almost tangible moments. Taeyong thinks he must have gone through all of them at least once, even before Doyoung had disappeared. There’s some he’s caught himself looking at over and over again.

Taeyong must sit there for hours. His eyes are heavy with sleep. His bowl is empty. The image of Doyoung’s smile in front of him is so dazzling, it makes his entire chest ache.

Taeyong wipes at the tears beginning to form and laughs wetly. “Happy birthday, Doyoung.”

There are thousands of people around him. Millions on Neo. Billions, trillions, and even more in the planets around him. There were just nine people in his living room.

So then why does he feel so lonely?

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 31 | W956721 ]

Taeyong wakes up before his alarm.

They had gone to bed early, after Taeyong had cried himself dry. But he hadn’t slept much, turning over in his bunk, unable to get comfortable, thoughts of IHERO keeping him awake.

How many other people had suffered the same fate as him? How many more will? Before these missions, how many people had just been left to die?

Taeyong sits up, shifting until his toes touch the floor. He flexes one foot at a time, grimacing. He wishes he had taken more than one anatomy class so he could have a better grasp on how to help himself but…

The past can’t be changed. Taeyong sighs and grabs the half-full bottle of water by his bedside. He takes a few slow sips until the fog around his brain has lifted.

He can’t stay here.

That’s obvious. He’ll die if he stays here. But he can’t go back to HQ or Neo — at least not yet. 

He can’t imagine completely detaching himself from his home planet, though. His mother, his father, and Boah are on Neo, after all. He has to let them know he’s still alive. He doesn’t want to continue to work for IHERO, but his friends are there. Johnny, Ten, and Jaehyun— are they alright? 

If IHERO really are trying to cover up their flaws, he doubts they’d welcome him back with open arms. More than that, the weapons Doyoung was talking about, the way resources are being distributed...How much more were they hiding? How high up did this go?

Taeyong sets his now-empty bottle down and makes his way to the central quarters. Doyoung is already there.

“You’re up early,” Taeyong says, drawing Doyoung’s attention away from his tablet.

“You are, too.” Doyoung smiles, pleasant but tense at the corners. Like he doesn’t know what to expect after last night. “Did you get any sleep?”

Taeyong shakes his head. Doyoung looks like he hadn’t slept much either, hair messy and shirt ruffled. He’s in the same clothes as yesterday. 

“Did you sleep here?” Taeyong frowns. There’s no reason for him to — Doyoung surely has his own room and his own bed on his ship. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Doyoung chuckles, sheepish.

“If I had known, I would’ve brought you a blanket at least.”

“It’s fine.” Doyoung runs his fingers through his hair and pats it into place. “The sofa is far more comfortable than it looks, honestly.

Taeyong doesn’t quite believe that. He sits besides Doyoung and raises an eyebrow at the barley soft surface. “Why did you even sleep here?”

“Just…” Doyoung licks his lips. He isn’t looking at Taeyong fully. “Just in case.”

Just in case I need you?  Taeyong isn’t bold enough to ask, but he’s daring enough to hope. He clears his throat.

“Today is your last sol before you leave right?” Taeyong picks at the hem of his ERA sweater. “Before we leave.”

Doyoung had been looking at the sweater — now he finally meets Taeyong’s gaze, eyes wide and searching. “We?”

“Well, I’m not going to stay stranded here, Doyoung.” Taeyong smiles. His chest feels lighter than it has in months. “At this point, they aren’t coming for me. I still need to think about everything you told me. It’s hard to accept it, but...For now…” Taeyong considers his next works. “If there’s anyone I’d go with, it’s you.”

“Oh,” Doyoung says. He has his indiscernible expression before it morphs into a big smile, showing off his gums. “We’ll leave tomorrow, then. I want to give myself — give us — a little more buffer time.”

Taeyong nods. “I’ll spend the day packing what I need. We could bring whatever is left of the pantry. But first — I want to show you something.”

Doyoung raises his eyebrows, but he nods. “Alright.”

[ YEAR 133 MONTH 11 NEOSOL 17 | NEO ]

Doyoung is sulking.

He wouldn’t admit to sulking, and if anyone were to say he was, they’d face a rather chilling glare. Taeyong has only been on the receiving end of it once, in their first year, and he doesn’t particularly want to deal with it again.

So instead, Taeyong falls into step with Doyoung as they make their way out of the canteen. He puts on a kind smile. “Hey.”

Doyoung raises his eyebrows, looking over Taeyong once. “Hey?”

Taeyong isn’t exactly good at this whole thing, at comforting people. He’s never had a friendship that really involved talking like this. And it’s a little disorienting, when Doyoung is usually so warm, so see him in a mood like this. But Doyoung has always been there for him, so he should be there for Doyoung too. Taeyong wants to be there for him.

“Do you wanna see something cool?” They side-step a crowd of fourth year students and turn right, heading towards the second year dorms.

Doyoung sighs softly. “Will it take long?” He sounds like he’d rather be doing anything else, but he isn’t refusing or walking away.

“Ten minutes, maybe?” Taeyong guesses. He isn’t sure himself how long this would take. If he’s honest, it would probably be longer than that. But he doesn’t want to give Doyoung more reason to not go along with this.

Doyoung doesn’t question him as they pass by Doyoung’s hall, then Taeyong’s own room, heading for the shuttle station at the end of the floor instead. He follows Taeyong, looking out the window of the UTransport as they cross the campus to the main academic building. He doesn’t say anything until Taeyong leads him to the elevator and presses the button for the 81st floor.

“Isn’t that the roof?” Doyoung’s eyebrow’s furrow. “Are we even allowed up there?”

Taeyong hopes his smile is reassuring. He’s been up there by himself a few times, and nothing bad has happened yet. “There isn’t a rule saying that we aren’t.”

“But what if a teacher finds us here?” They step out of the elevator, but Doyoung doesn’t follow as Taeyong starts to make his way down the narrow hallway.

“I’ll say we’re here for a project. And if we do get in trouble, I’ll take all the blame — promise.”

Doyoung still looks apprehensive, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, so Taeyong steps closer. He gently takes Doyoung’s hand in his own. “It’ll be okay, Doyoung. Trust me.”

Doyoung’s lips part, his eyes darting between their hands and Taeyong’s face. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Taeyong. He’s about to pull away, wondering if he overstepped by holding Doyoung’s hand like this (he’s held him by the wrist before, and Doyoung has done the same — is this any different?). Then, Doyoung says, “Okay.”

The roof is empty — as expected — and Taeyong wastes no time bringing Doyoung to his usual spot close to the ledge (but not too close — Doyoung is terrified of heights). 

There’s a slight breeze that ruffles Taeyong’s hair. It’s a little cold, too. Taeyong doesn’t bother adjusting the temperature of his uniform coat. He likes the biting air and how it makes his cheeks turn pink, likes the goosebumps that form on his arms.

They settle on the ground. Doyoung hesitates at first before laying down beside Taeyong, using his bag as a pillow. And then he finally looks up at the sky.

“Oh.” Doyoung’s eyes widen as he takes it all in. 

This is one of the few places they have a good view of the sky, a clear path given for the observatory on the West end of the building. 

LuneA seems bigger than it usually does. Of Neo’s two moons, this one is closer, full tonight, and it casts a gentle silver light over the metropolis below. And then there’s the stars — what Taeyong really comes up here for — glittering and bright, existing lightyears away but seeming close enough to touch. 

They just lay there and stare, for far longer than ten minutes, Taeyong is sure. 

Then, Doyoung asks quietly, “Do you come up here often?”

“Not often,” Taeyong says. He had ended up wandering after an exam, feeling overwhelmed and uneasy, not willing to see people. The sunset had been stunning that time — the UPhotos he had taken didn’t even do it justice. “But definitely more than more than five or six times.”

“It’s nice.”

Taeyong nods. He turns his head to look at Doyoung. The tightness in his jaw has smoothed out and his eyebrows are no longer stuck in a furrow. Taeyong swallows, nervous. He tries to think back to what Doyoung would say to him in a situation like this. “Doyoung?”

“Mm?”

“If something is, um, bothering you. You can tell me, you know?”

Doyoung turns to look at Taeyong too. The light of LuneA makes his skin glow. He licks his lips and studies Taeyong like he’s a specimen under a microscope, analyzing him. Then, finally: “Johnny and Ten were joking around — I know they don’t mean anything, but it’s been a long day and I just didn’t feel like dealing with it.”

Taeyong shifts his hand until it bumps against Doyoung’s, then tentatively threads their fingers together. He’s not sure how many other people can see that Doyoung is sensitive. Delicate, even. He always wears his heart on his sleeve, so transparent. “Do you want me to say something to them?”

Taeyong doesn’t like confrontation, but for Doyoung, he could try.

“No, it’s okay.” Doyoung shifts slowly so his fingers intertwine with Taeyong’s more easily. “Thanks for showing me this place. We see the sky all the time, but there’s something different about looking at it from here.”

This is, by no means, the tallest building in Section 6. Taeyong’s parents live in a building taller than this. It’s all about building up, not expanding across, the Neo history books say. 

But it’s quiet up here. UTransports don’t fly above this height on campus, so there aren’t any whirring sounds or bright lights. No noise from the dorms or the streets below. There’s just solar panels and the surface of the roof. No distractions.

“On Earth,” Doyoung starts again. “Humanity had constellations.”

“Stars grouped together to form an image.” Taeyong brings his gaze away from the profile of Doyoung’s face and looks up at the sky again. “It’s interesting, isn’t it? How they had all these mythologies and stories because they didn’t know how the world worked.”

Doyoung hums softly. “Is it weird that sometimes I wish we had something like that?”

“Like a creation story?” The discovery of Neo was well-documented, and so was every step of building up the New Earth and becoming a part of the Diplomatic Union of Sonaris. There’s no room for interpretation.

“I don’t know, just — something .”

Taeyong squints up at the sky, trying to find a pattern in the stars, like his ancestors might have. “Let’s find our own patterns, then.”

Doyoung squeezes Taeyong’s hand gently, a small huff of laughter leaving him. “Okay. What do you see?” 

Taeyong shifts closer to Doyoung, then points up at the sky, fingertip just over the brightest star he can find. Doyoung leans in too, cheek grazing Taeyong shoulder. 

“There,” Taeyong says softly. He traces out a simple, serpentine line, connecting five stars together. He imagines a dragon, from an Earth mythology book his sister had given him for his eighth birthday, and adds a head. 

Doyoung stretches his arm up next to Taeyong’s and traces it with his fingers, too. When Taeyong turns to look at him, his eyes are bright, like he’s got the stars sparklingly in their depths too. 

“So. What should we name it?”

Doyoung shrugs. His smile is gentle. “I don’t know. We can always figure it out next time we come up here.”

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 31 | W956721 ]

W721956 is a barren planet, currently devoid of life and anything that could sustain life — according to Taeyong’s research, at least. The weather fluctuates wildly, and winds are horrible, tornadoes ravaging the surface on occasion. The surface is hard and troublesome to drill. Taeyong has determined it would cost more to farm the land than the return of resources. 

But, despite it all, there are moments when the planet is beautiful.

Like now — early in the morning when the frost is slowly melting away and the sky starts to change: a deep purple that fades into a lilac as the Sol rises on the horizon, until the brilliant pink of daytime fills the sky. 

There’s a small outcrop near Taeyong’s pod that he used to find himself climbing when it became too stifling inside. It has a gentle incline, manageable enough for him to walk up without straining himself. Usually he would stare up at the planet’s moon, small yet full, bright in the sky.

That’s where he takes Doyoung. 

“I’ve never seen the sunrise from up here.” Taeyong follows the familiar path he's formed for himself, leading Doyoung. “But I imagine it would be a great view.”

“The color of the sky reminds me of Eurtho.” Doyoung climbs behind him slowly. “But the pollution has made it a little hazy.”

“Really?” Taeyong stands upright once he reaches the top. He usually stands at a ledge, toes right at the edge of the rock, but he has a feeling Doyoung wouldn’t want to do the same. “The UVisions always made it out to be a paradise.”

“We do business there sometimes, you could find out for yourself if you’d like.” When Doyoung finally reaches the top, he freezes in place. “Uh.”

Taeyong smiles gently and reaches out to wrap his hand around Doyoung’s wrist, reassuring. Doyoung stares at him, for a moment, with wide eyes and — maybe he hasn’t changed as much as Taeyong thought. “This way.”

Taeyong guides him, unhurried, to the widest part of the outcrop, far from any unstable rocks or harsh edges. They settle on a large, flat rock in the center, still a little cold from the night. Taeyong’s still holding Doyoung’s wrist, and he can’t bring himself to let go. Doyoung isn’t pulling away either.

This early in the morning, in the cloudless sky, there’s still some stars visible, shining lightyears away. Taeyong points at a cluster. “I usually come here at night. Doesn’t that pattern look a bit like a bird?”

Doyoung follows Taeyong’s finger and squints at the sky. “Looks more like a dog to me.”

“What? No way. Look.” Taeyong tugs Doyoung a little closer without thinking, tracing the lines of the bird in the sky. “There’s the wing, the head, the beak—”

“Beak?” Doyoung chuckles. “That’s obviously a tail, Yong.”

Taeyong feels his cheeks warm as a smile spreads across his face. It’s been a while since anyone’s called him that. “Ridiculous. It’s like you’ve never seen a dog in your life.”

“You touch a real dog once and suddenly you’re an expert?”

“More of an expert than you . You were too scared to get within a meter of it.” Taeyong nudges his shoulder against Doyoung’s playfully, and Doyoung laughs.

At the edge of the horizon, the deep violet begins to fade and their playful banter settles into a comfortable silence as they take it in.

He’s thought about Doyoung a lot in the years they were apart. One of the things he missed a lot was how he could just be with Doyoung. They didn’t have to say a word, though there were times they didn’t run out of things to say — but sometimes just sitting, shoulder to shoulder, was more than enough.

There’s loose sand on top of the stone from the dust storm six sols ago. Taeyong uses one finger to trace their names into the dirt, carving out each letter carefully. The light breeze is already brushing the characters away, but it’s alright. Taeyong knows what he’s written. He knows this moment is real, even if he leaves this planet without leaving a trace of himself behind.

“Thank you for showing this to me,”  Doyoung whispers, after a while. 

Taeyong turns to look at him, traces over the gentle lines of Doyoung’s profile with his gaze. Even under his helmet, the gentle pink-tinted light of the sun makes him glow. He’s ethereal. “Thank you for being here.”

-x-

Doyoung’s ship is sleek and unlike any models Taeyong’s seen before. It’s at least three or four times bigger than Taeyong’s pod, and the spacious kitchen has technology that doesn’t look human-made. 

“What would you like?” Doyoung had spent the last few days trying to convince Taeyong to eat on his ship (“I have plenty of food, you don’t need to do this”). But Taeyong had been reluctant for some reason. There was no real logic behind it, just this weird feeling that if he followed Doyoung, he wouldn’t turn back. Of course, now, that’s changed.

“I haven’t had a decent meal in months, Doyoung.” Taeyong leans against the counter in the center of the kitchen. “Literally anything you give me will be fine.”

Doyoung gives him a look that says I’ve been trying to tell you , but he doesn’t comment further. 

“I’ll make a little bit of everything — we’ll need the energy to pack up and move all your stuff.” He opens a large refrigerating unit and looks through it thoughtfully. Taeyong peers around him to take a look too. “Before I landed, I stressed-baked a bunch of pastries — they’re probably still good. Want to start with that while I cook?”

Taeyong laughs softly. “Old habits die hard, huh? What do you have?”

Doyoung pulls out a transparent box with jam filled danishes and sets it down on the counter. It’s an older model of self-heating containers, but it does the job well, bringing the desserts to room temperature in just a few seconds.

Taeyong had every intention to be formal and polite, but that resolve crumbles away the moment he sinks his teeth into the flakey crust and the jelly hits his tongue. He all but moans, savoring the sweet, tart flavors mixing with the buttery bread.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow.

“This is amazing,” Taeyong says through a mouthful. Usually, he’d be embarrassed, but Doyoung’s seen this from him before and worse. 

“Is it now?” Doyoung sounds amused as he rummages through the fridge. 

“Mmnm.” Taeyong takes another bite. “You’re amazing.”

“I don’t know about that.” Doyoung laughs and sets a few more containers down — one has eggs. “Oh, you’ve got a bit of…”

He leans across the counter and brushed his thumb over the corner of Taeyong’s mouth, his lower lip. It might be Taeyong’s imagination, but it feels like Doyoung lingers before pulling away. “Crumbs.”

It’s not exactly something new — Doyoung’s done things like this before. The way Taeyong’s skin tingles at the contact isn’t new either, though he had forgotten. 

“Thanks,” Taeyong whispers. 

Doyoung nods, licks his lips. He straightens up the containers, opening the lids of a few to look through them. As soon as Taeyong finishes his pastry, Doyoung passes him another baked good, this one savory.

Taeyong eats mostly in silence, watching Doyoung. This moment reminds him of their evenings on LuneA. After work, when they’d come back to the living quarters and settle in the kitchen. If they weren’t tired, they’d try out a new recipe — usually of pastries. Taeyong would sneak some of the ingredients as a snack, in part because he was impatient and hungry. Partially because it was always fun to watch Doyoung’s eyes get wide as he complained.

On long days, they’d filter into the kitchen quietly and work side by side to get dinner ready as soon as possible, working together seamlessly; the perfect machine.

And when work was rough, they’d go out. Or, they’d order food in and curl up on the sofa with a movie on until their plates were empty and stomachs full.

Taeyong brings his attention back to the Doyoung in front of him, the Doyoung of now. He’s staring down at a container in his hands with an unusual amount of concentration. Taeyong wonders if Doyoung looks back at these memories fondly too, if at all. He wonders what he’s thinking about now.

Doyoung must feel Taeyong’s gaze on him, because he looks up, forehead smoothing out from where his eyebrows were furrowed. He offers a small, hesitant smile.

 “Could I tell you a secret?”

Taeyong smiles, tries to ignore the buzzing under his skin. “I thought it was too much of a security risk to tell me anything big.”

Doyoung chuckles, airy and melodious. He sets the container down. “A different kind of secret. And I promise you’ll get more details once we reunite with the crew.”

Taeyong nods and takes another bite, finishing the bun. “What do you want to tell me?”

Doyoung licks his lips again, then sucks the lower one between his teeth — a nervous habit, Taeyong remembers. “Back in the academy…And even after we graduated, and started working in the Lunar branch...” He pauses. His cheeks bloom a pretty red. “Ah. Well. I used to be in love with you. Pretty much since the day I met you.”

The first time Taeyong saw Doyoung was in their first year, eight o’clock in the morning, in their Introduction to Botanical Studies lecture. Taeyong had a late start in the morning, and he made it one minute before the class started. He was sweaty from the humidity of the greenhouse. He probably looked like a mess when he took the last available seat next to the so-called prodigy who had been accepted into the school despite being a year younger than the rest of the incoming class. Dongyoung Kim, his uniform had said. 

Taeyong can hear his heart beating in his ears. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in an instant. I don’t know how my life's going to change. I’ve learned it’s best to just — speak my mind instead of keeping it bottled up inside. Regret after instead of regretting not doing anything at all.” His eyes widen. “If this makes you uncomfortable — I don’t mean to make it seem like I’m—”

“Doyoung.” Taeyong takes a breath, tries to let this wash over him gently instead of letting it crash into him like a tidal wave. He thinks about their study sessions together. How they had gone from doing homework to meeting in the canteen for meals to spending almost all their free time together. How one day they just seemed to click, and were inseparable since then. He thinks about how what started off as friendship, his platonic love for Doyoung, had turned into something else — something equally strong, but so different — without him even realizing when it happened. 

“Taeyong…” Doyoung starts, then trails off. He looks down.

Taeyong thinks about how he’s liked other people, casually. But nothing could compare to the way Doyoung’s eyes and his bright smile lodged a hook in Taeyong’s gut and tugged. He had this gravitational pull, kind words and teasing jibes bringing Taeyong into his orbit, every touch and gentle laugh drawing Taeyong closer into his atmosphere, until Taeyong was burning up and didn’t even mind it. He craved it. He wanted nothing more than to fall into Doyoung and hold him tight, to breathe him in and —

“Doyoung? I...”

Doyoung looks up from staring at the counter between them. He had spoken so confidently, but there's uncertainty in the way he holds himself now, shoulders curled in. “Yeah?”

“I was in love with you, too.”

[ YEAR 136 MONTH 12 NEOSOL 21 | NEO ]

“More shots?” Ten grins, face flushed and sparkling. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “More shots.”

He drags up the menu at the end of the booth with a flick of his wrist and scrolls through, quickly ordering for all of them. Taeyong’s lost count of how many rounds they’ve had, but he’s far from sober enough to really be worried about how much this is all going to cost.

Midterms ended today, and to celebrate, Johnny had insisted they all go out, before Doyoung had the chance to even think about going back to the dorms early and sleep. 

They’ve become regulars of sorts at this bar. It’s a little further off campus than some other places, but Johnny insists this is the only reasonably priced place that doesn’t water down their drinks. Taeyong can’t complain. It’s a nice place. They have control over the music in their own booth and there’s an old fashioned bar, too, which Johnny and Ten both frequent, because the bartender there is charming and makes them off-menu drinks when it isn’t busy.

The end of their table opens and a tray with their order rises up, drawing out a cheer from Doyoung, who is seated next to him, knee knocking against Taeyong’s.

“I ordered your favorite,” Ten says, sweet and playful as he slides a fluorescent pink drink in front of Taeyong. His own drink is green. Johnny and Doyoung’s are a rich crimson color. 

“Thank you,” Taeyong giggles. He wants to hug Ten, but he’s all the way on the other side of the table. Taeyong presses his lips to his fingertips instead and sends a kiss to Ten, who accepts it gleefully. 

The four of them raise their glasses, then tip their heads back and drink at the same time. Fruity flavors explode across Taeyong’s tongue, burning a little on the way down. A little bit dribbles out of the corner of his mouth, and he giggles, wiping it away with the back of his hand. “Oops.”

He feels eyes on him. Not Johnny or Ten, who are wrapped up in their own conversation. Taeyong turns to find Doyoung looking at him, empty glass still raised to his lips.

He looks good. He always does, but there’s something about seeing him in civilian clothes — the fitting of his pants, the wide neck of his shirt — that makes Taeyong warm with appreciation. His lips look redder than usual, and his cheekbones seem to glow. His hair is styled back, pushed away from his face, making him look sharp. He’s mesmerizing. 

Doyoung opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. He licks his lips instead and turns towards Johnny and Ten, easily jumping into their conversation.

Taeyong pouts at that a little. But it’s fine. He gets to look at Doyoung’s profile now. The soft line of his nose and the cut of his jaw, the way the tops of his cheeks dimple a little when he laughs.

And Taeyong’s thoughts, unfiltered, are as follows: He’s cute. His cheeks are cute. Someone should kiss them. I’m close enough to kiss him.

So he does.

He leans in closer, while Doyoung is talking about welding or something, and presses his lips gently to Doyoung’s jaw, lingering there until Doyoung freezes under him and whispers: “Taeyong?”

He shifts and pecks Doyoung’s cheek quickly then leans back with a smile. Even under the dim lights, he can see Doyoung blush. “You’re so pretty, Doyoung.”

Doyoung laughs softly at that, awkward, bashful, and so, so cute.

Taeyong giggles too. He kind of wants to kiss Doyoung again, maybe even on the mouth, but Doyoung is turning to look at Johnny and Ten again. So instead, he rests his head on Doyoung’s shoulder and hums, content. 

His shoulders are nice; broad, strong, steady. He’s comfortable.

Across the table, Ten starts up a game, trying to explain the rules as best as he can when he’s half gone. It’s too hard for Taeyong to focus on it, even if they’ve all played it before. He takes Doyoung’s free hand and examines his fingers. They’re long and elegant like the rest of him, and Taeyong thinks they fit against his own perfectly. If only he could hold Doyoung’s hands all the time. 

He smiles and snuggles closer to Doyoung’s side, intertwining their fingers, then closes his eyes.

-x-

Taeyong wakes up with a dry mouth and a pounding headache.

He’s in comfortable clothes and, he realizes, he’s tucked into his bunk at the dorm. Taeyong slowly pulls his blanket down from where it was covering his face. The lights are luckily on one of the dimmer settings. Taeyong can make out his roommate on the other side of the room, and there’s a bottle of InstaCure and a sandwich sitting on the table by Taeyong’s bed. Johnny’s truly a lifesaver. 

He sits up slowly and downs half the bottle (this one is apple flavor). He slowly unwraps the sandwich and nibbles on it.

Last night, he remembers he and Johnny came back to the dorm late. Johnny had to help him clumsily change his clothes, Taeyong mumbling the entire time.

(“Want…” Taeyong smacks his lips. “Doyoung.”

“What was that?” Johnny sighs and works Taeyong’s shoe off.

Taeyong stretches his arms over his head. “Wanna sleep with Doyoung.”

The other shoe comes off. Johnny looks up at him with a smirk. “I’m sure you do.”

“Let’s go to Doyoung’s room…”

Johnny shakes his head. “Unbutton your pants so we can get them off you.”

Taeyong flops back against the seat Johnny’s placed him in. He pouts. “Doyoung would do it for me.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to even imagine the look on Doyoung’s face if he saw me try.”

Taeyong huffs, but he undoes his pants slowly, eyes drooping. “I miss Doyoung…”

“You had a little too much tonight, didn’t you, Yong?”

“Tasted like strawberries…”

The button-down comes off after the pants. Taeyong feels a bit like a doll as Johnny pulls a baggy shirt and pair of shorts onto him, then walks him over to his bed.)

Taeyong’s face is on fire. He’s not sure what’s worse: how childish he was or how he couldn’t stop talking.

He can only hope Johnny doesn’t remember — or at least won’t bring it up.

Taeyong slinks into the bathroom that’s shared between his room and the one next to them. When he finally feels like a person again, Taeyong ambles over to where Johnny’s sitting at his desk. He leans on his roommate’s chair and peers over his shoulder. “Good morning.”

Johnny chuckles and turns to look at Taeyong, eyebrows raised. “Morning? You’re about two hours late.”

Taeyong pouts and ignores the fact that he’s slept almost the entire sol away. They have the day off and it’s not like he was planning to do much anyway. “What are you doing?”

Johnny has his Earth-style camera sitting on his desk and a couple of apps open on WideView on his tablet. 

Johnny had always enjoyed Earth History classes. On one of their free days a few years ago, the two of them had come across an antique shop, and Johnny had completely fallen in love with a bulky old camera, handling the columnar lenses with care. The photographs are nowhere as good as what current technology can do, but that doesn’t stop him from using it when he could.

“Editing photos.” Johnny expands the tab with all the raw photo files. “Wanna see the ones from last night?”

“I didn’t realize you had time to take any.” Taeyong leans closer to watch Johnny slowly scroll through them. There’s a lot of photos of Ten with his holographic shirt and glittering eye makeup. His hair is silver now, and Taeyong can’t even tease Johnny for the excessive amount of photos — Ten looks incredible.

There’s a handful of photos of Taeyong and Doyoung, too, and of the bar and the night streets. In a lot of them, Taeyong notices, he’s looking at Doyoung — smiling, laughing, just staring with this soft look in his eyes that Taeyong hopes no one else can recognize for what it is.

Johnny, thankfully, doesn’t say anything — until he reaches a photo of Taeyong with his lips sloppily pressed to Doyoung’s jaw. Taeyong hadn’t even noticed the camera at the time. He feels his face heat up, but he can’t bring himself to look away. Doyoung is smiling — soft and shy — and his cheeks are the sweetest shade of pink. 

“So.” Taeyong doesn’t need to look to hear the smile in Johnny’s voice. “You kissed Doyoung.”

“On the cheek,” Taeyong says, flustered. “I’ve kissed you on the cheek before.”

Johnny turns in his seat so he can look at Taeyong properly. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“We’re friends,” Taeyong insists. And maybe he does want more than that, but if Doyoung says they’re friends — the best of friends — who is he to ruin what they have with something like feelings . 

“What you and I have is friendship, Taeyong,” Johnny says slowly, like Taeyong is a child. “What you have with Doyoung is —”

“Stop.” Taeyong was aiming for firm, but he just sounds pleading to his own ears.

Johnny raises his eyebrows, undeterred. “What you two have is something else.”

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 31 | W956721 ]

“A UMover would be very useful right now.” Taeyong huffs and sets down a small box of samples. “The new models can even organize your wardrobe according to color.”

“I’ve been saying we should get one...” Doyoung is moving a heavier box of samples. He had sternly told Taeyong to leave the heavy-lifting to him, so his back doesn’t flare up. “But I think Xiaojun actually likes doing stuff like this.”

“One of your crewmates?” 

“Co-captain, along with Yuta.” He flops onto the sofa in the spacious shared quarters. The walls are decorated and there’s soft animal-shaped pillows on some of the seats. It’s much more homey than Taeyong’s sterile pod. “Let’s take a break.”

Taeyong takes a seat on the other side of the sofa. There’s just the kitchen supplies left now. Doyoung said they may take the mattress too for the medical bay. It hadn’t taken long to pack Taeyong’s room and lab, considering how few things there were. He imagines they’ll be done in just another hour or two.

“How many people are in your crew?” 

“Seven of us total.” Doyoung turns to face Taeyong properly. “Yuta and Xiaojun are our captains, Yuta is more focused on diplomatic relations and Xiaojun on medicine. Sicheng is our doctor. Kun is our pilot. And Donghyuck and Yangyang are our technology and communications team. Some duties overlap here and there. We all help each other out.” He chuckles. “Kun’s kinda freaking out that I’m the one who ended up taking the main ship when we split. This ship is practically his child.”

Even in a brief description, it’s clear that Doyoung cares about them. They seem close. Taeyong can’t help but worry if he would be accepted by them as an IHERO agent — or, ex-agent. He wonders if Doyoung’s mentioned him to them over the last few days (or if he’s ever brought him up in the  past).

“They’re all really kind. Of course, we have arguments here and there, and sometimes it feels like Donghyuck and Yangyang exist to bother Kun and I, but…” Doyoung smiles. “I think you’ll like them.”

Taeyong smiles back. He’s nervous, but he does want to get to know the people Doyoung’s been living with, the people who have taken care of him, who he’s taken care of. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

Doyoung gets a notification on his watch, and they fall into a comfortable silence as Doyoung takes care of whatever message he had gotten.

A box sits in between them, holding some of the items from Taeyong’s room. A flash of silver catches his eye and he notices a small silver sculpture had turned upside down during the move. Taeyong picks it up carefully. 

He turns the miniature tree model in his hands, admiring the long leaves coming off the branches. It’s one of the few decorations he had brought with him on the mission. He’s not really sure why this of all things.

“What’s that?” 

Taeyong holds it out to Doyoung and smiles. “A model of a Gulthian tree. Your brother actually got it for me as a birthday gift.” He’s always wanted to visit the planet that’s entirely submerged under water. “I didn’t know he'd been to Gulthia.”

“He hasn’t,” Doyoung mumbles, almost inaudible. He clears his throat, says louder: “You held onto it after all this time? You brought it on a mission?” 

Taeyong rubs his thumb over the trunk of the tree. It’s not that it could be considered a treasure. In fact, it’s probably just a tourist trinket. But he had formed a strange attachment to it, chalking it up to a desire to visit the planet and see this plant in person. He shrugs. “I just — I really like it.”

Doyoung’s eyes are soft, his smile — Taeyong dares to think — seems tender. “I’m glad.” 

-x-

“And this …” Doyoung holds up a large, opaque bottle. “Is a Vulxin delicacy.”

Taeyong grins. They finally finished moving everything from Taeyong’s pod into Doyoung’s ship an hour ago. Now, Doyoung’s giving him the grand tour. “Is that alcohol?”

“Sort of — it’s even better, actually.” He hands it over to Taeyong. “It’s technically Xiaojun's bottle, but Xiaojun is Vulxindian, so it won’t be hard to get more.”

Taeyong studies the label on the bottle while Doyoung searches for glasses. It’s been years since he’s had a drop of alcohol. If his tolerance was horrible before, it must be even worse now.

“What’s nice about this is it won’t give you a hangover.” Doyoung takes the bottle back and pours them each a glass. “Sicheng said it metabolizes differently for humans, so you don’t exactly feel drunk either. Just — good.”

Taeyong’s never been fond of the taste of alcohol, preferring to mask it as much as possible. But this, by itself, is like nothing he’s had before. The drink itself is light, but the flavor is rich, sweet with a hint of warmth. “It reminds me of something, but I can’t quite tell what…”

He wanders into the shared quarters again, taking a more careful look at the wall decorations. He stops in front of a DigiPoster with a TuneCode at the bottom.

“It’s hard to describe.” Doyoung follows him and scans the code. “Xiaojun and Yuta really like this band. They’re dating each other and Sicheng, by the way.”

Taeyong nods and takes another sip, filing that information away for later. The first song that plays starts out slow, but rhythmic. It sounds like the kind of music Doyoung used to like when they were younger. 

“Do you still sing?” Taeyong asks, swaying gently to the music. 

“Sometimes.” The corners of Doyoung’s lips lift into a small smile.

“Can you sing for me?” 

Doyoung’s voice is lovely. Soft, yet strong, and blending with the instruments perfectly. When Doyoung sings, he immerses himself. Taeyong has wondered more than once what Doyoung would be doing if he never joined ERA. 

When the song ends, Doyoung flashes him a smile, gums and all. Taeyong’s chest feels tight, like it couldn’t possibly contain his own heart fluttering around his ribcage. He is so overwhelmingly fond, he’s not sure what to do with himself. So he finishes the rest of his drink.

“What was it about?” Taeyong asks. He could use his translator, but he wants to hear Doyoung’s thoughts on it too.

“Mm, it’s a love song of sorts.” He raises his glass to his mouth. “Missed chances, stuff like that.”

They spend the rest of their evening like that: drinking, listening to music, and at some point, Taeyong pulls Doyoung closer to dance with him, giggling at Doyoung’s flustered expression. It’s less dancing, more standing close with giddy smiles and swaying off-beat. He isn’t drunk, he knows that, and he certainly doesn’t feel like he is. 

He’s just...Happy. 

Taeyong finally settles on the sofa, drowsy and warm. Doyoung sits beside him, his cheeks flushed. He’s smiling wide.

“You’re staring,” Taeyong says. He laughs softly. 

Doyoung doesn’t look away. “You’re still really — kinda cute.”

“Kinda?” Taeyong grins. It feels like old times. He bats his eyelashes, just to see Doyoung’s reaction. 

“Yeah, kinda.” Doyoung laughs. He reaches out to pinch Taeyong’s earlobe between his fingers, tugging at it playfully. 

Taeyong bats at hand half-heartedly, immediately missing Doyoung’s touch when his hand falls away.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung says, just above a whisper.

“Mm?” Taeyong shifts closer, until he can feel Doyoung’s breath against his skin. It smells like liquor, but Taeyong doesn’t mind. He likes it, even. 

He missed Doyoung so much.

“I know these circumstances aren’t ideal, but I’m happy we found each other again.”

“Found each other?” Taeyong echos. 

Doyoung’s eyes are bright. They remind Taeyong of the nights they would sneak out to the roof to count the stars glittering in the sky. “What are the odds of the two of us meeting again after so many years, by chance, on an uninhabited planet?”

“You’re making it sound like destiny.” Taeyong laughs and hopes it covers up the way his flush is spreading to the tips of his ears, down his chest. “Oh, what was that thing you said years ago?”

“Yong…” Doyoung says, wary.

Taeyong grins. “What was it? In the end, it’s you ?”

Doyoung opens and closes his mouth a few times. He shoves at Taeyong’s arm weakly. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” Taeyong hums. He might be teasing him. He reaches out and catches Doyoung’s wrist. “I like it. Seriously.” He lets Doyoung move his arm, until they’re holding hands instead. “In the end, it’s you.”

Doyoung shakes his head, his expression mellowing out. He rubs small circles with his thumb against the back of Taeyong’s hand. 

Taeyong’s gotten good at counting the minutes, hours, and days without a proper clock. But right now, it seems like time is frozen and the only thing that matters is Doyoung: his slow inhale, the soft puff of breath on his exhale. 

Doyoung said he used to be in love with him. But how does he feel now? Because when Taeyong said he used to love him too, it was half a lie. He never stopped loving Doyoung. 

“I missed you,” Taeyong murmurs. He reaches up with his free hand and cups Doyoung’s cheeks, fingers just brushing against his skin first before settling. Doyoung blinks a few times, eyelashes fluttering. He’s beautiful.

“Taeyong.” Doyoung’s voice is barely audible. 

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Taeyong stares for a moment. He watches Doyoung lick his lips, his cherry blossom lips that Taeyong is sure are as soft as they look, and he wants. He’s wanted this for so long. “Yes.”

Doyoung’s breath hitches, like he wasn’t expecting it. He leans closer, tentative. And Taeyong meets him halfway.

He doesn’t think anything in the universe could be more perfect than Doyoung’s lips gently pressed against his own.

[ YEAR 145 MONTH 04 NEOSOL 32 | W956721 ]

In the morning, Taeyong is almost startled by the arm draped across his waist, a shoulder pressed to his cheek, the warm line of another body against his.

The bed they’re in is much larger than the bunk Taeyong had gotten used to sleeping in. The pillows are softer, the blanket thick and comfortable.

They’re in Doyoung’s room, in his ship, Taeyong recalls. Taeyong had suggested he could sleep in the medical bay, but Doyoung shook his head.

(“Don’t be silly. That won’t be comfortable at all. There’s plenty of space on my bed.” Then he flushes, realizing the implications. “I could take the bed in the MedBay instead.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own room.” He nudges Doyoung’s side. “And it’s not like we haven’t slept together before.”)

Taeyong hadn’t gotten much of a chance to look around last night. After changing into a set of Doyoung’s clothes and taking some pain relievers, he laid down, drifting off quickly.

Doyoung keeps his room neat, like he’s always down. There’s a small refrigerator and cabinet, probably filled with snacks and drinks, an upgrade from the meager cooling box he kept in school. One wall of the room is covered in small potted plants, most of which Taeyong knows well, and a handful he’s never seen before. 

Taeyong slowly turns back to face Doyoung, shifting until his ear is over Doyoung’s chest, so he can hear the steady thump-thump of his heart, slow and even as he sleeps. Last night wasn’t a dream, and neither were the days before that.

Doyoung is here. He’s real. And he kissed Taeyong on the mouth. 

Taeyong shifts back again after a moment to get a better look at Doyoung. This time, the movement causes him to stir. He blinks at Taeyong a few times before breaking out in a slow smile. His voice is a little rough when he says: “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Taeyong whispers back, stomach fluttering pleasantly. He hasn’t felt like this in years. “Your plant collection...I didn’t realize you enjoyed botany this much.” 

“Honestly…” Doyoung lifts one hand and brushes back a strand of hair from Taeyong’s face. “My interest started because there was someone I wanted to impress. See, there was this cute boy who was super into Zuvian flowers.”

Taeyong lets out a small huff of laughter. 

“Then,” Doyoung continues. “I genuinely began to like it. Ever since I started over here, I’ve been collecting and maintaining a garden. And it...reminded me of you.” 

Warmth settles in Taeyong’s chest, slowly spreading across the rest of him, all the way to his fingertips and toes. 

Doyoung shifts a little. He had been wearing a simple chain around his neck, most of it disappearing under his shirt. Taeyong hadn’t given it much attention before, but with movement, the rest of the necklace had slipped out. Weighing it down is a small, columnar pendant, some of the paint chipped off to reveal a smooth gray surface. 

Doyoung follows his gaze and lets out a bashful laugh. “Ah…”

“You still have this?” Taeyong had bought this for him years ago. At least a decade ago. They must have been sixteen at the time.

For class, they had visited the Museum of Earth during one of their breaks. Everything about it was set up like it would have been on earth, with hundreds of rooms to walk through, each area with real artifacts. 

In the music section, Doyoung had been captivated by the old technology on display: real antique pianos, guitars, and microphones. The museum had an old Earth-style store too — a physical store with shelves filled with inventory, a person taking orders and processing payments. It was the first time Taeyong had been to one. 

(“Here.” Taeyong pulls Doyoung’s hand forward and drops the charm onto his palm. They’re sitting side by side on the UTransport taking them back to campus.

“What? What’s this?” Doyoung looks between the trinket and Taeyong, floundering. “What’s this for?”

“A gift.” Taeyong grins. “It’s a microphone! You liked those, didn’t you?”

“You noticed?”

“We practically had to drag you out of that section,” Taeyong chuckles. He watches Doyoung take the charm between his fingers, holding the chunk of aluminum delicately. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs.) 

Doyoung clears his throat. “Well you still have that tree model. So.”

Taeyong studies Doyoung’s face: the light flush spreading across his cheeks, the way he refuses to meet Taeyong’s eyes.

Wait...

“So.” Taeyong grins. “How is Gulthia?”

Doyoung’s blush deepens. “It’s incredible. You need to see how ships land there, describing it won't even do it justice. I can — we can — take you there if you want.”

“I’d love that,” Taeyong murmurs. He leans in and tentatively kisses Doyoung’s chin, then the corner of his mouth when he smiles wider. 

Doyoung tilts his head down and catches Taeyong’s lips with his own.

This time, Taeyong’s head is more clear and their lips are a little chapped. Doyoung kisses him so carefully, so tenderly, but with an intensity that makes Taeyong’s head spin. He curls his fingers into Taeyong’s shirt, inhaling sharply when Taeyong swipes his tongue over the seam of Doyoung’s lips.

Taeyong’s thought a lot about kissing Doyoung in the past. He’s daydreamed every scenario. 

All of that pales in comparison to the real thing, though. Because kissing Doyoung is just so easy. It’s like coming home And when Doyoung sucks on his tongue, it feels like there’s electricity running through Taeyong’s veins. 

“Taeyong,” Doyoung says breathlessly, dragging out his name. It almost sounds like a moan, and Taeyong chases the sound, nipping gently at Doyoung’s lower lip. He wants to lay Doyoung out and explore every centimeter of him, wants to discover every noise he can make. 

Doyoung threads his fingers into Taeyong’s hair, tugs just the slightest bit, just enough to make Taeyong hum into his mouth. 

They kiss, enjoying each other, understanding each other, until Taeyong’s lips feel swollen. Doyoung pulls away slowly, his own mouth red and shiny.

“We should talk.” Doyoung licks his lips. “About us.”

Taeyong is tempted to just rush back in again, because he wants more. But he supposes if he’s waited nearly ten years for this, he can wait just a little longer. He nods. Besides, Doyoung is right. He usually is. 

“We should have plenty of time to do that now. Murrion is a while away. At least three NeoSols, isn’t it?”

“Right. We’re taking off today,” Doyoung says, maybe more to himself. Then to Taeyong: “Are you sure about this?”

Taeyong raises  his eyebrows. “You were the one who convinced me, weren’t you?”

“I know. I just — don’t want you to think I’m forcing you. By coming with me, you’ll be betraying IHERO. This is a big deal.”

“I know.” Taeyong says. “I know what I’m getting myself into.”

He knows what he’s getting himself out of, too.

“Are you nervous?”

Taeyong smiles. “I think it would be weird if I wasn’t.”

“That’s true.” Doyoung finds Taeyong’s hand and laces their fingers together. “I know it’s silly to make promises like this but...I’ll try my best to keep you safe.”

“We’ll keep each other safe. I trust you.”

“Yeah?”

Taeyong closes the space between them. He smiles. He kisses Doyoung one more time. “Yeah.”

-x-

It’s Tuesday.

Taeyong confirms it on the UClock hologram, seconds going by in green under the date. He must have been a few days off in his own tally. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do today, or the day after. For the first time in his life, there is no plan. No schedule, no itinerary, no orders, no expectations. He’s completely unprepared.

But he won’t have to figure it out alone.