Chapter Text
“Urgh, Lee Chan,” Seungkwan huffs, pushing his weight against the apartment door to bang it shut.
“What?” Lee Chan’s distant call comes through the wall of his bedroom. Seungkwan rolls his eyes as he staggers into the apartment.
“You’re so infuriating!” Seungkwan calls through the wall.
“What have I done now?”
“You were the one who told me to go!” he shouts, trying to feel his way across the kitchen in the dark. He kind of wants some ramen, but his head is still spinning as the pleasant edge of alcohol wears off. If he eats something this late there’s a fair chance he’ll throw it up again. “You told me to go to the… to see the others… and Seokmin looked so good! Fuck you!”
“You’re welcome,” Chan drawls back, door still shut. Rude ass.
“I can’t stand it anymore,” he says, turning on the tap and cupping his hands under to gather water. It’ll take too long to get a glass out, but on his first attempt of drinking from his hand he dips his nose in the water instead of his mouth. The second attempt is more successful, but even the water tastes funny on his tongue, and he gives up after the third lap of funny water. “What am I going to do!”
“Stop shouting at me!” Chan shouts back. “Hansol is asleep!”
Seungkwan immediately feels bad. He doesn’t know what the time is, but the strip of light from under Chan’s door is the only light on in the apartment, and Hansol needs his sleep when he can get it. But he doesn’t know how to turn his volume down at the most sober of times.
“It’s your fault!” he repeats, making his way towards the light.
“Go to bed, Seungkwan!” Chan shouts, and Seungkwan reaches his bedroom door, slamming his hands up against it to feel around for the handle.
“No, you’re going to listen to me now—”
“No, wait!” Chan shouts, and Seungkwan can hear him quickly stepping across the room. Seungkwan gets to the handle before he can get to the lock, and he triumphantly swings the door open, stumbling straight into Chan with the momentum of the door.
Chan grabs him with both hands, and Seungkwan does the same, shaking him. “What do you have to say for yourself, huh?”
“You’re wasted,” Chan tells him, voice level, not rising to Seungkwan’s teasing like he’d expected. “Go to bed, you can tell me about Seokmin in the morning—”
Seungkwan frowns as Chan starts to back him up out of the room again and plants himself firmly in the doorway, squirming away from his grip. “Why are you being so weird?” he grumbles, prising Chan’s hands off him. Or tries to, anyway—even as he pulls away, Chan holds on fast.
“Come on, please don’t do this tonight—” Seungkwan finally wrenches himself away, stumbling to the side and landing on Chan’s bed. Landing on something under Chan’s covers that yowls.
Seungkwan screams and stands again, now stumbling into Chan’s chest of drawers and hitting his hip hard. Then there’s an angry meow from under the covers, and a cat pops its head out from the side of the bed.
“Sorry, sorry,” Chan says–not to Seungkwan, but to the damn cat!--kneeling down and holding his hands up. “He didn’t mean to do that, don’t take offence!”
“Chan! Why do you have a cat in your bedroom!”
“Do you have to say it so loud? Why do you even care?”
“Wha—because I live here too! And we’re all going to get kicked out if you start bringing stray pets into the apartment!”
“It’s not just a cat,” Chan hisses. “This is it! I’ve finally found it!”
“Found what?”
Chan stands again, gripping Seungkwan’s shirt. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, which is why I wasn’t going to tell you, but there is a very intelligent life form living in this cat. I’m trying to save humanity here!”
Seungkwan rolls his eyes so hard his vision goes black for a second. “Don’t tell me this is part of your alien conspiracy bullshit—”
“I saw it with my own eyes! It went from one cat to another, it’s looking for a host! If I can persuade it I’m good for the job—”
“You’re losing your mind!” Seungkwan tells him, voice going up at the end of the sentence. “More than usual these days! It’s a cat! There are no aliens!”
“I told you, it needs to bond with other life forms—”
“Says who? Your conspiracy theorist friends online? Come on, Chan, you can’t seriously believe this is going to work!”
“Like I’ve ever needed your approval? Can you just leave me alone to sort this out?”
“You’re way too optimistic about this. What sort of creature would want to bond with you?”
Chan’s reply is cut off by the sound of another yowl, and the cat leaping from the bed and latching onto Seungkwan’s back. His reaction is delayed and hazed by the alcohol, but he still screams when he feels the claws sink in through his shirt, the small weight on the top of his back clinging on even as he backs up against the drawers again and Chan releases him.
“Get it off!” he yells, turning around to try and shake it off, not wanting to reach back and get his hand bitten off. He can feel the little claws digging into him, and the cat feels viscously wet, like Chan had picked it up from a sloppy mud puddle right before bringing it home.
“Calm down!” Chan is saying. “Can you hold still?”
The cat releases Seungkwan of its own accord, meowing in a higher pitch now and dashing between their feet to slip out through the open bedroom door. Seungkwan’s spine feels strange for a moment after the sudden disappearance of the weight.
“No, wait!” Chan shouts, running after the cat without even stopping to check if Seungkwan is alright. Which he’s totally not, his heart running a mile a minute, feeling around for blood on his back. He doesn’t find any, but he’s seething at Lee Chan’s absolute dumbassery for bringing a feral cat into their apartment to bargain with about being an alien host. He’s definitely telling everyone they know about this in the morning so that they can all side with Seungkwan.
He leaves Chan’s room, squinting into the bright living room light that’s now been turned on. Chan is standing on their balcony, peering over, and Seungkwan comes out to join him. The cat had slipped out of their partially open balcony window and is now jumping from balcony to balcony to reach the bottom floor, like some sort of parkour night demon.
“Serves you right,” Seungkwan sniffs, leaning back again before he feels sick from the height. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’m going after it,” Chan announces, taking off through the apartment to find his shoes.
“Don’t die,” Seungkwan says, making his way towards his own bedroom.
Chan doesn’t even take the time to bite back you wish before he’s out of the apartment, slamming the front door behind him. He must really be pissed about his cat alien.
“Whatever,” he mutters, without the energy to do anything but collapse straight into bed. He’s so tired, but he still lays there for a few minutes, brain working over the strange encounter. He can barely see his phone straight, but muscle memory takes him through the process of sending a message to Chan which he hopes says, don’t stay out too long, stay safe. Chan may be the biggest idiot he’s ever met, other than maybe Mingyu, but he’s still worried, and he’s still Seungkwan’s friend. He passes out not long after that.
-
By some miracle, his hangover isn’t that bad the next morning. He doesn’t have a headache, he doesn’t feel like he’s going to throw up—he even feels relatively well rested, no aching limbs, none of his usual symptoms after sleeping off drink. What he does feel is absolutely ravenous—he really needs food in him, right now.
He manages to pull on some clean clothes before he’s beelining for the kitchen, the ones from last night sufficiently disgusting now that he’s sober enough to notice it. Hansol’s bedroom door is left ajar, already gone for the day, and though the fridge is calling to him he has the mind to look over at Chan’s door too. Shut, but they’d left it open the night before.
“Chan?” he asks, voice rasping as he knocks on the bedroom door. He clears his throat then tries again. “Can I come in?”
There’s a grunt that he takes as affirmation, opening the door to see Chan curled up under his covers, facing the wall.
“Chan,” he sighs. “I’m sorry about last night. I was a mess. Did you find the cat?”
“No,” Chan says. “It’s gone. I was so close—it was right in my hands…”
Seungkwan rubs his face with his hand. “Sorry. I’m sure your alien friend will turn up somewhere else.”
Chan scoffs. “I can’t imagine the amount of manpower the government has out there looking for it right now. It’s a miracle I found it in the first place. My chance is gone.” He rolls over to face Seungkwan properly. “Why are you apologising? I know you don’t believe me.”
“Because I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. So take my apology.”
“Fine. Apology accepted.” Chan rolls back over again, burying his face into his pillow and scrolling slowly through his phone.
“You really shouldn’t have brought an animal in here though,” Seungkwan says, shutting the door again before Chan can retort.
He gets back on track. Food. They don’t have much in right now—they’re desperately overdue to go shopping, but Hansol is never around to do it with them and then always complains about the brands they get—but there’s some leftover takeaway pizza the other two must’ve had yesterday. He scoops out a slice to snack on as he goes about fixing up a real breakfast. He’s really fancying budae jjigae right now.
He gets one bite into the pizza before he’s spitting it back out. The mouthful of half-chewed pizza falls miserably onto the floor by his feet, and he looks back up at the slice. Why did he do that? The pizza is fine. A bit greasy, maybe, but he’d spat it out without thinking. Weird.
The second bite has him throwing the whole slice in the bin, spitting the mouthful after it. He reluctantly picks up the mess from the floor and throws it in after. This is the weirdest hangover he’s ever had, but it’s nothing some budae jjigae can’t solve. Maybe he’ll start off with just some ramyeon though, to fend off the hungry gnawing in his belly.
As he sets a couple of packets in to boil, he goes back to his bedroom to root around for his phone. Unlocks it to see his text to Chan last night, barely legible, was read at nearly 5am. He also missed a text from Josh—you were so wasted last night man haha hope you got back okay!—a conversation Seungcheol and Jihoon had in the group chat several hours ago about how lucky the others are not to be working this morning, and an unread message from Seokmin. Just seeing the notification has his spirits lifting, and he can’t stifle the heady anticipation of opening the message, though he and Seokmin text every day. It’s always nice to be the one sought out first.
Kwan-ah!! I can’t remember if we agreed on a time last night but I’ll be at yours for lunch okay? We have plans to discuss!!
The warmth in Seungkwan’s chest sinks into nervous anticipation. The time on his phone reads 12:24—he’d overslept by a long way. It’s nearly lunchtime, and Seokmin is coming here? What did they discuss last night? He slaps his forehead, trying to remember—he’d been tipsy before even leaving the flat, and Seokmin had also been a little buzzed when they’d hugged hello, laughing and shouting in Seungkwan’s ear over the music. Seungkwan had been so pleased that Seokmin had wanted to dance with him that it’s the only thing he remembers clearly from last night.
Later into the night, when they were both too far gone to dance anymore, they’d sat in the booth and shouted a conversation at each other. There was something about… plans… to go somewhere? He can’t remember for the life of him what that was about.
Eat, a voice in his mind says, and he turns back to the kitchen automatically. Right, he’s hungry, so hungry… but Seokmin is coming so soon! He stops at the mirror in the hallway only to find his hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction, and he’s pulled on a pyjama shirt with toothpaste stains on the front. He needs to sort this out first.
“Seokmin’s coming over!” he shouts through to Chan’s room.
“Now?”
“Soon!” he replies, pulling a new shirt from his wardrobe. No time to overthink this. He needs to shower and change immediately.
“Why?”
“I don’t know! Apparently we decided on this last night!”
Chan laughs at him. “You’re so stupid!”
He needs to sort out the ramyeon. He skids across the kitchen towards the stove, fresh clothes in hand, and turns the heat off. It’s mostly cooked now anyway, right? He’s hungry. A bite won’t hurt. He digs around for the metal chopsticks in the drawer with slightly frantic hands, taking a mouthful out of the pan and shovelling it into his mouth. He chews, and chews, and frowns—
He manages to get to the sink this time, spitting it out there. He stares at the depressing splay of noodles, and then frowns back at the pot. What is wrong with him today?
“I’m getting in the shower,” he shouts at Chan. He’ll put a real meal on after that, when Seokmin is here, and then he’ll be fine. He just needs proper food in him, is all. “The ramyeon in the pan is all yours.”
“Gee, thanks,” Chan says, but it sounds like he’s making movements to get out of bed as Seungkwan hastens over to the bathroom.
“If Seokmin comes while I’m in the shower don’t be a nuisance to him,” he orders, locking the door behind him.
“Why did you make so much?” Chan shouts after him in response. “There are five packets in the bin and you haven’t eaten any of it!”
Seungkwan doesn’t reply, focusing on getting in the shower instead.
-
“Seungkwan-ah!” Seokmin sing-songs as he steps straight into their apartment, because he’s one of Seungkwan’s friends, and no one in their friendship circle knows how to knock or use inside voices aside from Hansol and Wonwoo. If it were Mingyu or Jeonghan he’d be whining at them for waltzing right in, but he can’t help but smile at Seokmin. He just has that effect on people. “How are you today?”
At least Seokmin asks him these sort of niceties. Because he’s Seokmin, Seungkwan knows he’s actually interested in the answer, too. “Surprisingly great, considering how much I had to drink last night. You seem in high spirits too, considering all the spirits you had to drink?”
“Ha!” Seokmin points at him and slaps his thigh. “That’s pretty good! You’re right, I’m doing okay. I was sick when I got home last night though, so I guess that got it mostly out of my system.”
Seungkwan is still starving—he’d managed to have his shower, partially dry his hair and set about making the budae jjigae before Seokmin had arrived, and he’s feeling pretty pleased about it. Chan is sitting on their couch watching TV as he works through Seungkwan’s abandoned ramyeon, and Seokmin sits at the kitchen barstool to watch Seungkwan cook for them.
“Someone is smiling down on us both today, for real.” He takes the pot off the heat and carries it over to the trivet on the kitchen side, then fetches them both bowls and chopsticks.
“It’s because we have lots of plans to make!” Seokmin says, beaming over the bowl Seungkwan hands him. “Oh, thanks! If we’re going to make this happen, we have to prepare a great plan to get the others on board.”
“Right,” he replies as they both dig in to get themselves servings of the stew. “What is it we’re planning again? I’ve totally forgotten what we talked about.”
Seokmin laughs again, as if Seungkwan is joking. “Our trip together! We have to do it, it’ll be so much fun!”
Seungkwan’s heart jumps in his chest. “Trip? Where are we going?”
“Camping! We were talking about—do you really not remember? Because Hansol and Mingyu couldn’t come to the celebration last night since their courses haven’t finished yet, we said we should do something else with all of us for when we all officially graduate! We can all go camping, or stay in a house together, take a trip away for a bit—go on pretty walks, cook food together. Ooh, maybe we could rent some campervans! Wouldn’t it be fun? Hansol was always saying we should do that anyway, and I know Minghao would be in. Chan, are you up for it?”
“Sounds like fun,” Chan says, completely deadpan.
Seokmin glances over at him. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Chan says. “Seungkwan scared my cat out of the house last night, so I’m in mourning for his life when she comes back to kill him.”
“I didn’t know you had a cat?”
“We don’t,” Seungkwan says. Or he tries to—the budae jjigae he’d spooned into his mouth a minute ago has been sat there on his tongue, making his eyes water slightly with how hot it is. He’s afraid of swallowing it for fear that he might end up spitting it back out again—but had forgotten about it when he went to speak. He tries to swallow now, thinking keep it down, keep it down, and carries on. “Please ignore him.”
The food goes down, and he full body shivers. His stomach grumbles, and he puts the bowl back on the table, dropping the chopsticks with a clatter.
“Hm?” Seokmin looks concerned now. “Are you guys okay? Did something happen between you last night?”
Not that, his mind says, and he frowns into his bowl. Then what?
“I’m fine, my appetite is just so strange today.”
“I can tell,” Chan says, holding up the pot of ramyeon he’s still working through. “Is this some sort of diet karma?”
“Is it your hangover?” Seokmin asks, pressing his palm to Seungkwan’s head. “You’re not sick are you? I don’t know why I did that, I don’t know what your temperature is supposed to be like if you’re sick. How do you feel?”
“I’m really fine, I probably just need to wait a bit longer before I eat. Eat what you want, I’ll save whatever’s left for Hansol.”
Eat, the voice in his mind says. He looks up at Seokmin. EAT! He chases away the thought. Now is not an appropriate time for thinking about how Seokmin looks good enough to eat.
“If you’re sure,” Seokmin says. “Do you want to see the places I thought of for our trip?”
They move to join Chan on the couch after Seokmin finishes eating, talking about potential ideas for their trip as an animal documentary plays out on TV. Chan offers his two cents about a camp site near Busan that offers good amenities, then ignores the rest of the conversation in favour of scrolling on his phone.
As much as he’s usually a fan of spending time with Seokmin alone, for once he wishes Chan would join in to bear the load of socialising with him. Seungkwan’s hunger only grows over the course of the afternoon, even as disgusting shots of a tiger eating an antelope play out on TV. He can’t help but watch it even then, and that’s how he knows he’s hungry. There’s just something so enrapturing about the adrenaline of the chase, the sharp teeth in raw flesh… the food… the meat… eat…
“I think you didn’t avoid your hangover after all,” Seokmin says, snapping him out of it.
“Hm?”
Seokmin is still smiling at him. “You’ve been distracted all afternoon! You should take an early night tonight. Do you think you’re up to eating something now?”
“Hmm…” he replies. Eaaaat… “Yeah,” he says, staring at Seokmin. Food.
“You have been weird today,” Chan remarks, finally looking up from his phone. “Did you take new supplements or something?”
“No,” he mutters, looking back to the TV. The tiger has blood in its fur. “I’m fine.”
He can see Seokmin and Chan looking at each other out of the corner of his eye. He does feel kind of removed from the conversation, but he can’t pinpoint why. He’s just so hungry.
“Sure,” Seokmin says, running a hand down the back of Seungkwan’s head briefly, and he suppresses a full-body shiver at the touch. “I’ll head out so you can take a nap, okay? Take care of yourself, Kwan-ah!”
“You don’t have to,” he starts, but his voice trails off the sentence. He does feel really weird. Maybe he should take a nap.
“It’s alright,” Seokmin beams. Seungkwan wants to tell him he’d feel better if he stayed and continued to smile at him like that. “I’ll see you soon, okay? We have brunch on Friday!”
“Right,” he agrees. “See you then, Hyung.”
He shows him out of the apartment, then goes to the fridge to stare at where the rest of the budae jjigae is sitting in a container on the shelf. He really wants it, but he can’t eat it.
“Perhaps you should try toast or soup,” Chan suggests. “Something really plain?”
“I don’t want that either,” he whispers, eyes skipping over the rest of the contents of the fridge and turning back to face Chan. Eat that.
“What?” he says out loud, and Chan stares at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.” THAT!
“You’re being really weird,” Chan informs him, and Seungkwan slams the fridge door shut. He can’t stop staring at Chan.
“Fuck,” he says aloud. EAT! His mind screams at him, so loud he almost jolts. It’s strange—the voice in his head sounds like another person talking, not his normal inner monologue, visceral enough as if it were someone in the room talking with them.
“What?” Chan asks again. “What is it? Just say it!”
Want to EAT! He’s staring at Chan and wondering how his brain would taste. EAAAAT!!!
“Fuck!” he says again. What the fuck. Where did that come from? He’s walking across the apartment before he even notices it, towards a dumbfounded Lee Chan, and physically pulls himself in a different direction. “Nope!”
“Nope what? Seungkwan, do you need me to call for help—?”
“No!” he says, finding himself at the apartment door, hands pressed against it. What the hell is wrong with him?
Hunger! No more waiting!
He turns to look at Chan again. There’s something heaving in his chest, something pushing to get out, and it terrifies him to his core. There is something sincerely wrong with him.
NO MORE WAITING!
The thing in his chest expands, and Seungkwan’s feet move forward of their own accord. Chan is staring at him with real concern now, wide-eyed, and Seungkwan hands are reaching out to rip off Chan’s head—
“No!” he shouts, backing himself up again, shoulder banging into the apartment door. “No!”
“I’m calling an ambulance,” Chan says, and Seungkwan’s head jerks up to look at him.
“No!” he says again, swallowing down another urge to—to—
“Seungkwan!” Chan shouts after him, and Seungkwan registers that he’s running out of the apartment door way too fast, sprinting down the corridor in bare feet quicker than he’s ever run before. He jumps over the railing of the stairs to drop down five flights of steps, straight down to the ground floor, wind rushing past his ears, fully expecting to break both legs and die at the bottom.
He doesn’t. When he lands, it’s on his feet, something inside him shifting and expanding to take the blow of the fall. He’s running again almost as soon as he lands, straight through the empty lobby, out the front door of the apartment block. Seokmin had been over all afternoon, and it’s starting to get dark outside, the buildings lighting up against a purple sky.
“Seungkwan!” he can hear Chan still shouting after him back at the stairs, so he runs again, no idea of where he’s going. It’s a frosty February evening outside, but he barely feels it when he steps out of the building–he doesn’t feel the concrete against his bare feet, doesn’t see the stares people send his way as he runs alongside cars and streams of people. The only thing he can focus on is the voice.
EAT! HUNGRY! EAT!!
No! I don’t want to hurt anyone!
IF YOU DO NOT EAT, YOU WILL BE THE ANTELOPE!
What the fuck does that MEAN?
EAT!!
He finds himself launching at the nearest person on the road, a bulky man who looks nearly a foot taller than him. The man shakes him off, and Seungkwan feels the thing in his chest growling and contracting. Seungkwan swerves himself to the side before the voice in his head can make him leap at any more people.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he says, carrying on down the road. Someone shouts after him, but he doesn’t stick around to listen. What the fuck is going on.
You are going to eat.
He comes to a stop at a quiet bend of road, leaning into a few backstreet stores. There’s an alleyway off to his right that he walks towards with a sudden calmness. The alley crawls up the back of several small fast-food places, a dead-end with a dozen industrial-size bins skewed under one faint streetlight.
We can start small.
There’s a small group of rats crowded around one of the trash bags, eating away at the rubbish spilling out of one corner.
“I don’t want to eat that,” he says, eyes widening, but he can’t tear himself away. He walks towards the rats without making a sound.
I do.
The weight against his lungs thins out. For a moment, he thinks the thing in his chest might leave him completely, whatever it is—give him his peace of mind back, leave him as it slinks away to eat rats—and then he feels it spreading over his own skin, a slick, smooth feeling of something rolling right over him. Under the faint streetlight, he sees the skin of his arms take on a metallic tint, and he feels his hair push back off his face. His whole body feels different, in weight distribution and size, every dimension pulled and reshaped. He turns to look in the dark back window of one of the restaurants, and in his reflection sees—doesn’t see—it’s strange—
There’s a strange man standing there, eyes glinting, smile sharp. There’s also himself, wide-eyed and afraid. He and the unnerving-looking man are in the same spot, in the same clothes—they are both standing here. But there are dimensions to his vision, and he knows—somehow, feels instinctively—that no one else would see him in that reflection. Just this man with his bright eyes, his manic grin.
“So hungry,” he says, and moves quicker than Seungkwan knew possible, tearing them away from the shop reflection and diving for the rats, grabbing one in each hand.
Seungkwan’s pretty sure he blacks out then. When he comes to he doesn’t know where he is or what has happened, but it can’t be too much later—he’s still moving, or the thing is still moving with him trapped inside, and he doesn’t know where they are. What he does know is that when the thing runs, he runs too—when Seungkwan speaks, the thing speaks back to him. They’re the same, in the same place and the same body, minds inseparable.
What are we doing? he asks as they slink down a new alley. He thinks of the alley they were in when he last blinked, of the sight of rats scurrying away, and pushes the thought away. He’s doesn’t feel so hungry anymore.
“He will taste the best. You want to eat him too, don’t you?”
They’re walking along the street like a regular human being now, not running flat out, but Seungkwan isn’t in the driving seat anymore. He still looks like this strange man, who’s answering his questions out loud and getting strange looks for it from passers-by.
Seungkwan registers where they are, now. They’re two streets away from Seokmin’s apartment building.
He slams the breaks on, hard, and the thing holding his body comes to a wavering stop. The relief is second to none—he can do that much, at least.
Not him! Not anyone! I don’t want to eat anyone!
Their legs move forward again. His legs? His mind is struggling to keep up, but he can’t black out again—he can’t let this thing get to Seokmin—
“You do want to,” it says. “I only want him because you want him.”
Not like that!
They’re one street away. He knows the code to Seokmin’s apartment, which means this thing does too.
Please, don’t. We can find a compromise.
Then how about him?
The voice brings his attention to Chan, who is stood further down the road, waiting on the steps outside Seokmin’s building.
Not him either. No eating people, please, I’ll do anything else.
Anything? You could barely eat the little snacks from before.
That’s because they were live fucking rats! Not little snacks!
“Hello?” Chan’s voice calls out, and they look over at him. Seungkwan wonders how he can look this thing in the eye.
“Hello,” it replies, and Seungkwan is so afraid for him, but Chan might be the only person who can get him out of this mess.
Chan looks up at him carefully. “Are you… my cat?”
The thing using his body fucking grins. “Yes.”
Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Chan takes in a sharp breath, waiting a good several steps away from him. “Okay. Good thing I’ve found you then. I want to help you.”
The thing tilts his head. “How did you find me?”
Chan gestures up at the building without looking at it. “I understand some of the basics of your kind. I know what you want. And I know how the things you want overlap with the things your host wants.”
I like this one. We will not eat him.
Fuck. Thank fuck.
“Can you help us eat?”
“Yes,” Chan says, taking a tentative step forward. “I know what you need, and I can get it for you. Will you trust me?”
Is he trustworthy?
On a normal day, he would have a laundry list of issues with Lee Chan. But he’s never had a day quite like this one. Yes. He’ll help us.
“We trust you.”
“Good.” Chan swallows, taking another step forward. “Will you… can you give me Seungkwan back? I want to help him too.”
“Food soon?”
“Yes, yeah. Food as soon as we get back to the apartment. As soon as I know he’s okay.”
“I take care of my host, even if my host does not take care of me.” The thing sounds almost offended at Chan’s request to see Seungkwan is alright.
The top layer of his skin peels back in a strange wave, looking malleable and slightly shiny as it rolls up his arms, leaving his more familiar hands, soft palms with beauty marks and rounded nails. His feet are starting to sting, and when he looks up, the world has a different clarity to it. Like he was looking through a lens before without even realising it.
“Chan,” he tries, and his own voice comes out, albeit shaking, barely there. Chan takes the last few steps towards him, and Seungkwan accepts the hug, the touch that’s meant for him. “What did you do to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Chan says, chin hooked over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean for this. But technically, it’s the cat’s fault.”
The thing inside him laughs into his mind. We should have found her to eat instead.
“Nope, no,” he says, and Chan leans back out, concerned.
“Let’s go home,” he says, hand not leaving Seungkwan’s arm. “Come on. I know how to fix this.”
-
The taxi driver doesn’t say a word about Seungkwan’s bloodied feet or shaking hands all the way home, or the fact that Seungkwan’s torn skin has healed of its own accord by the time they arrive back at the apartment. Chan tips him generously, and then holds Seungkwan’s arm all the way back through their building, as if afraid he’ll run off again.
Seungkwan takes the whole trip in a haze, torn between ignoring the voice in his head and screaming at it.
Are you normally this boring?
Stop it. Stop talking to me.
Why?
Because I don’t want you here. Why are you here?
I needed a host. You were the only one compatible. We are going to be great friends!
“Hyung?” Chan’s voice brings him back to the present. They’re standing inside their flat again, Chan finally having released him to shut the door and lock it behind them. “Do you want to sit down? I need to get something. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
He lets Chan guide him to the sofa, and doesn’t say anything.
We are never going to be friends. You eat rats as snacks.
What else am I going to eat? The dead meat you ate earlier? The silly string food?
I need to eat these things to live. I don’t know how it works where you come from, but people don’t eat other people here.
You don’t need those things anymore. We need real food.
“Here.” Chan is back in front of him, dropping a heavy shopping bag onto the table. “This is for you.” He reaches into the bag to pull out a family-sized bar of chocolate, one of many in the plastic bag.
“What,” Seungkwan says, dangerously close to tears of fury or fear, he can’t tell which. “Chan—”
“I’m not messing with you right now, I swear. I told you I’d prepared for this, right? But it was meant for me, not anyone else.” He opens the packet and places it in Seungkwan’s hand. “Eat. He’ll like this.”
Seungkwan bites down. Chews the chocolate, swallows it. The voice in his mind hums appreciatively.
This… this is good. This is not dead things.
He has to admit, it is good. And it sits in his stomach just fine.
“Going down okay?”
“Yeah.” He takes another bite. He hasn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours now, and the taste of real food on his tongue is divine. The rats definitely do not count—he refuses to accept that he might have them somewhere in his system right now. Not thinking about that, never thinking about that.
“Good,” Chan says, sitting down beside him tentatively. “That means the information I have is correct.”
Seungkwan turns on him. “You mean you didn’t know if this would work?”
“I was fairly sure!” Chan says with his hands up. “My knowledge has all been right so far hasn’t it? But some of the data is guesswork, and it’s all translated from English anyway, so I can never be totally sure—”
“Are you getting all this information from your dodgy conspiracy websites? Do I even want to know the answer to that?”
“It’s data from the US government that was leaked and circulated in groups online. Like I said, it’s the language that’s the biggest barrier.”
“Government?” He doesn’t stop eating as he talks. He’s already half-finished the bar, the voice humming happily in his head the whole time. “How?”
“An alien just like this one landed in New York last year. That’s how I knew the signs, had the data—you remember the asteroid that crashed into the Yellow Sea two weeks ago?”
Not a crash. A completely controlled landing.
He jolts. “That was you?”
Your atmosphere is not so pleasant to travel through.
“I’m assuming you’re not talking to me,” Chan says, handing him another bar wordlessly.
“It talks in my head,” Seungkwan says. “But you know that already. What happened to the one in New York?”
“Hard to say, but we’re pretty sure it escaped in some American host and is living somewhere in secret. Much like our friend here.”
“This thing is not our friend. You’re not befriending it, Chan, no matter how much you want to! I want you to get it out of me!”
The sensation comes again—the thing is unnoticeable when it’s still, but when it moves in him, slinking from one part of his body to another, it’s like something alive is crawling around in his bloodstream. A rolling gooey sensation travels up one of his arms, latches out at his elbow, and forms into the approximate shape of a human body sitting beside Seungkwan. It’s the man he’d seen before in the window, silver skin, glinting teeth, vivid blue hair—he’s still grinning at him now. He’s made his own clothes this time, similar in style to Seungkwan’s but opposite in colour, all darks to his lights.
Seungkwan shouts and stands up to back away, but there’s a string of silver goo connecting the two of them at the elbows. He grabs at it, trying to tear it out, but it’s malleable in his hands. He knows this thing is connected at a level deeper than skin.
“Get out of me!”
“Woah,” Chan says, staring at him. “Hi, there.”
“Hello,” the thing replies.
“Don’t fucking talk to it!” Seungkwan says, and they both look at him. “You!” he exclaims, pointing at the silver-skinned alien currently leeching off him. “What do you want from me?”
“I need a name,” it says, matter-of-fact.
“Don’t you have one?” Chan asks.
“We do not have birth names,” it replies, looking between the two of them. “The closest I have is a species name.”
“Wha–well you’re not having mine!” Seungkwan exclaims.
“We already share your name. I want one of my own!”
“What’s your species called?” Chan asks.
Seungkwan wants to hit him. “I thought I told you—!”
“The translation is difficult. I am like the tiger from the screen… my race is known as predatory, fast and strong… but not all of my kind can hide like I can. Like the tiger stripes for camouflage…” it trails off. “Will you call me tiger?”
“Alright, Horang-ssi,” Chan starts and Seungkwan reaches out to throttle him. Chan bats his hand away.
“Oh! Hoshi!” It grins, delighted. “I like that!”
“Not what I said, but that works too,” Chan says agreeably.
“Fuck this,” Seungkwan says, throwing the half-eaten second chocolate bar on the floor. “I’m not doing it! You don’t get a name!”
“Hyung, won’t you just hear him out?”
“He made me eat rats! I’ve heard all I need to know!”
“I was learning.” Hoshi has the pure nerve to pout at him. “We were so hungry. We are still hungry—pick up the chocolate!”
“No!”
Without warning Hoshi stands in a sweeping motion, his gooey body snapping over Seungkwan’s skin like a case over a phone. Hoshi proceeds to bend down and pick up the chocolate bar again, taking a too-large bite out of it. Seungkwan screams into his—their?—head.
FUCK YOU!
“Why does he not like eating?”
“Trust me, food isn’t his problem. It’s compromising with people.”
Lee Chan is so going to die for this.
“You didn’t want me to eat him earlier.”
“Aww, you saved me from being eaten, Hyung?”
If I change my mind on the murder thing, tell him he’s first on the list.
It is not murder. It is mealtime.
You really should’ve taken a class on basic civilised humanity before you crash landed here.
“What else do you know about me?” Hoshi talks to Chan now, ignoring Seungkwan as he throws another tantrum in their headspace again. It’s frightening not to be his full self as he does this—he still feels like he’s here, interacting with Chan, but he’s not. Hoshi is the only one hearing his yelling and feeling his anger, and he doesn’t like that at all.
Chan sits up straighter. “I was hoping you would tell me. You share a body, right? And a mind? Why did you choose Seungkwan for this? Let me tell you, that guy is not the best at following instructions…”
Oh, yeah. He’s definitely dying first.
“Humans are very diverse. Too different from one another. He is the first one I have found who is compatible enough to cohabit with me without killing him quickly.”
Killing me??
“…but Seungkwan will be okay, right? If he’s compatible with you?”
“Yes. He will live a long time.”
Let me out right now! I don’t want any of this!
“You hear that, Hyung? He even healed your feet after you ran over concrete! Seems pretty handy to have around.”
Hoshi retracts back into Seungkwan just in time for him to start his tirade, possibly not wanting to be the only one on the other end of it.
“I wouldn’t have run barefoot over concrete in the first place if he hadn’t been here! You are absolutely not allowed to petition the benefits of this to me!”
“I’m just trying to help!” Chan stands, crossing his arms. “We can find an alternative to this, okay? There must be other people out there who could potentially be compatible with Hoshi, we just have to find someone else who wants him around!”
“No one’s going to want a crazy alien monster running around in their head,” Seungkwan laughs, feeling borderline hysterical, pulling at his hair.
It is not a matter of want. I have been wandering this city for two weeks looking for a compatible host, and you are the first. I was losing hope anyone on this planet would ever fit.
“But I don’t want you here.”
Doesn’t matter. You’ll get used to it.
Seungkwan kicks their low kitchen table with his bare foot, a bone clicking and his toes flaring with pain. How does this hurt, but jumping down five flights of stairs earlier was fine? “I feel fucking insane,” he says to the room at large. “You have no sense of common decency!”
You thought that about Seokmin earlier, and you like him lots.
“He’s much better than you! In every way!”
“Hyung,” Chan says, warily. “If we’re going to be stuck with this for a while, you’re going to have to get a handle on the whole talking to yourself thing.”
Seungkwan turns on him. “We?” he seethes, pointing in Chan’s direction. “What do you mean, ‘we’? I’m stuck with this! Thanks to you! What am I supposed to do now? He can’t leave, he won’t leave, but I can’t have him here! I can’t live a life like this!”
“We’ll figure it out!” Chan replies. “For now you just need to swap your diet out for chocolate and adjust to a live running commentary in your head. Not too much, right? We should keep this a secret from anyone else, too, since you were already running like mad through the streets barefoot this afternoon. We don’t need any more interference.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk about interference—”
There’s the sound of a hand on the apartment doorhandle then, and they both freeze, turning to watch as the person outside types in the code for their apartment. Knowing how fast he can move, he’s sure Hoshi could hide them if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He just coos inside his head, pleased.
We like this one too, don’t we?
Hansol walks in, eyes on the ground. Seungkwan looks down to see him tracking a trail of bloody footprints through their apartment building, which lead inside their apartment all the way up to Seungkwan himself.
“So it’s you who’s tracked blood all through our building?” he asks, looking him up and down. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Ah,” Chan says. “He’s okay. I’m going to go and clean that up.” He scurries away to find their mop and cleaning materials, and Seungkwan doesn’t move a muscle, glaring after him.
Hansol looks after him too. “He’s doing that for you? Willingly?”
“It’s his fault, so he should,” Seungkwan says, taking a deep breath in then releasing it again. “But I’m fine. Ha! Don’t worry about me.”
Hansol stares at him. “Okay.”
You should ask him about the groceries. I want to see how many types of chocolate we can buy.
“Are you free to go shopping tomorrow?” he asks, surprised at how keenly the alien had remembered their empty fridge. His priorities seem to be food, and only food.
“Uh-huh,” Hansol says, diverting into his bedroom to drop his backpack to the floor. “I only have study hours tomorrow, so I can carve some time out of that for groceries.”
“Great. I’m free all day.”
Chan reappears, clutching the mop and bucket, and doesn’t speak to either of them as he jogs out of the apartment door. Hansol looks between them again, and Hoshi giggles inside his head.
This is fun!
“I hate you,” Seungkwan says out loud, and is grateful when Hansol assumes it’s meant for the departed Lee Chan.
-
Trying to sleep with Hoshi in his head is like being transported back to his birthday sleepover at 10 years old, where no one had wanted to sleep and instead talked about anything under the sun until as late as possible. Except his guest in this scenario is an alien goo-monster newly obsessed with chocolate, and the room is the inside of Seungkwan’s head.
What will we find at the grocery store tomorrow? Will there be lots of chocolate?
We already have plenty. Chan gave us a whole carrier bag full.
But I want the variety! I want to see all the types! I want to try them all!
Fine, we can buy some. But we can’t go overboard, Hansol isn’t supposed to know about you.
So we have to buy the boring trash food too?
I told you, humans need it to live.
And I told you that you don’t need it anymore. If we cannot eat anything living, we must have plenty of chocolate instead.
Hansol and Chan are still human, they need the food. And I need to keep up the act. And you’ll be gone soon, anyway.
I will not be gone soon. I am here to say!
Seungkwan whines out loud, rolling over in bed. If this thing doesn’t start working with him he might have to try an exorcism, because he’ll go crazy if he has to withstand even a few days of this.
Klyntar.
What?
That’s what my people are called. You can stop calling me ‘thing’ and ‘alien’. It’s not nice.
You’re not nice.
What did I do? Don’t say the rats again.
Excuse me if I’m not, and will never be, over the rat thing! It was disgusting! I can hold grudges for a long time, you know.
I told you! I was learning! We do not have to eat rats anymore now that Chan found us something yummier.
I will never forget.
Fine. Be like that. You do not have to like me anyway.
Good, because I’m not planning on it. Why do you want to stay with me if we can’t agree on anything?
It is not a case of want. I told you this before. This is survival.
Why are you even on this planet if you can’t survive here on your own? Why not go back home?”
The controlled landing destroyed my ship. I cannot leave unless I find another of my kind who would take me home. Besides, I do not want to leave. This world is very big. You have so many different types of people. I am a traveller, and I could explore this world for many years.
And if I don’t want to?
Hoshi shrugs with Seungkwan’s shoulders, a startling sensation. Our needs will align better as our bond grows stronger. Besides, I do not need to travel yet. I have many things to learn about humans first.
You want to sit in for the ride? Seungkwan thinks incredulously. On my life? I’ve just graduated, I’m going into the world of boring office work for the rest of my life. Trust me, it won’t be that exciting.
It’s very exciting. We don’t have offices back on Klyntar. Only hunting and eating. I want to use a computer! I want to use the internet!
Seungkwan sighs, rolling over again. There is plenty of time for that later. Please sleep now.
I do not need to sleep.
Well, I do. So be quiet.
Why?
So I can sleep!
Will we get all the chocolate tomorrow?
Only if you sleep.
…That is a clever ploy. I am learning that you don’t hunt for food here because you can manipulate others into doing what you want with food. I will need to adapt to this. Please fall asleep quickly. I can only be quiet for so long.
-
They head out to the HomePlus Mart together earlier in the day than the three of them have done anything together before. Hansol believes it’s early so they can drag him out before he disappears into his revision notes, but the reason is really because Seungkwan was woken up by Hoshi singing with Seungkwan’s mouth while it was still dark outside. Chan looks like he hasn’t slept all night, but is keeping an attentive eye on Seungkwan as they set out. This only makes Seungkwan feel more unnerved, but he doesn’t remark on it, knowing it’s probably necessary.
Hoshi is amazed by the sight of the supermarket. He’s making delighted noises inside Seungkwan’s head from the moment they enter the mart, gazing around every which way he can to spot the different items on the shelves. The food is repulsive to him, but in a morbidly fascinating way—Seungkwan knows all these products, which means Hoshi knows them all, but he rejects any knowledge of the taste or fond memories Seungkwan has for them like they’re a dirty thought. Looking around at the range in here is only making Seungkwan depressed, reminding him of the fact that he’ll never get to eat any of them again as long as Hoshi shares his body. The terrible, foreseeable future.
Chan must see him making sad eyes at the shelves—that, or the strange look Hansol is sending Seungkwan for not trying to take charge of the shopping cart and list as usual—and sends him on a non-food related errand of buying him some new bedsheets.
“Some nice ones, please, the last ones were awful and ripped when I was literally just trying to put them on my bed. I don’t care if they’re a bit more expensive, just get me something worthwhile.”
“Okay,” Seungkwan sighs. “Do you want to come and pick me up when you’re done? I think I’ll just stay in the homeware section until we need to leave.”
I thought you wanted to come here to act normal? You’re grumpy today.
Oh, is that so? I wonder why that is? It couldn’t be because there’s an alien in my brain that hates food and I’m currently walking through a HUGE MART that primarily sells FOOD?
Moody, moody…
“Don’t you want to come and pick out the fruit…?” Hansol asks in a stilted way, squinting at Seungkwan.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll get the sheets and the chocolate. Don’t worry about me.”
YES! CHOCOLATE!
You’re like a child. A clingy, clueless, invasive child.
Am not! I can live ten times longer than your kind can. I’m already older than you can ever dream to be!
Would you happen to be in the toddler phase of that lifetime?
We do not have child phases and adult phases. Only hunter or prey!
Oh, lovely. I won’t ask which you are, rat boy.
“The confectionary is at the other side of the store, though,” Hansol says, ignorant to the way Chan is trying to lead him away from Seungkwan by dragging the cart along. “We can easily get—”
“NO!” he shouts, taking all three of them and everyone else in the condiments aisle aback. “Sorry. I mean. No, I really need a lot of chocolate… for this thing I’m doing with Seokmin. So don’t worry about it. Ha ha! Keep going, I’ll see you later.”
He turns around and walks away from them, not sure where he’s going but knowing he’ll reach homeware or confectionary eventually, and starts to seethe inside his head.
You cannot do that!
What?
Shout out whatever you want whenever you want! Be rude to my friends! If I’m stuck with you then we need to set some ground rules, and number one is that you don’t come out and do things like that without asking me first!
You’re very mean, Hoshi mentally pouts. Seungkwan has to pat his face quickly to make sure Hoshi isn’t making him pout physically too. Why would you give me rules? We are one and the same!
I’m perfectly reasonable. And we are not the same in anything. Don’t you want to give me certain rules? It’s called setting boundaries.
No, Hoshi grumbles. I don’t think you’re understanding the concept of a bonded existence.
And you didn’t get the point of ‘leave me alone I don’t want to be bonded with you this is the worst experience of my life,’ so here we are. I’m compromising.
‘I’m compromising,’ Hoshi mimics. You humans are so silly and small-minded. You would have died if you’d jumped down those stairs without me before. You can run further than ever and heal back from life-threatening injuries thanks to me. I’m helping you, and you’re helping me, can’t you see?
YOU were the one who threw us down the staircase! I never needed saving from anything! And no, I don’t want to do anything spectacular like that! I’m not cut out to be a superhero. I told you, I’m going to work in an office for the next fourty years and pine over cute boys for probably a similar length of time, and the most exciting thing to happen to me will be when I’m able to move into a proper apartment and get a dog. Then I’ll die, alone and gay, not by choice but because of the stupid alien in my head.
Seungkwan comes to a stop at the end of the store. He turns left like a toy robot might, stiff and automatic.
Homeware, Hoshi says. Sure enough, the aisle in front of him has rows of sheets, pillows, blankets, bedside lamps, and curtains. At the end of the aisle, two model beds are set up. It’s completely devoid of other people. And if you are bonded with me, you will not be completely alone when you die.
Great. How comforting.
Is this about the boy in your thoughts? Hoshi asks as Seungkwan wanders down the aisle leisurely, checking the different sizes on the packets. Seokmin?
You do not get to talk to me about him, Seungkwan thinks angrily, snatching a folded packet of sheets from the shelf. You were on your way to eat him before!
I was extremely hungry! I would not have tried to eat him if you were eating proper food! Like chocolate! When are we going to see the chocolate?
Once I’ve checked this aisle. I don’t know what exactly Chan wants. And I’m still not sure if I should feel grateful or annoyed at him.
Chan is good. He is trying much harder than you are.
I never asked for this. I bet he’s having the time of his life knowing he has an alien roommate now.
Your complaining is boring. I want chocolate!
Seungkwan reaches the end of the aisle and sits down on one of the beds, dropping his head into his hands. I genuinely can’t stand this. If you manifest physically, is it possible for me to choke you?
I’m attached to all your major systems, including respiratory. So no, not without killing yourself. But didn’t you just tell me not to come out in public?
Not without my consent. You have my consent to get throttled.
I just told you that it would kill you too.
That’s not a major deterrent at this time.
His hand squeezes the silk bedspread underneath him, and he doesn’t realise it’s not of his own accord until the hand starts running along the bed, stretching right across to the other side until Seungkwan is lying down on his side
“Hoshi,” he says through gritted teeth. At the end of the aisle here, he’s in sight of numerous other shoppers walking along the back of the shop, and extremely aware of it. Behave.
But it’s so soft! Hoshi’s mind-voice is tinged with awe, even though Hoshi shares all his own memories and definitely already knows what silk feels like. It’s different to experience it in person! I love it! Can we eat this?
This is not edible, Seungkwan deadpans, and Hoshi laughs at him, running his other hand along the bed too. Stop that!
No! I like it!
You’re already breaking my first rule! I haven’t even made any others yet!
Life is not meant for rules! Why do you hate fun so much?
Trust me, it’s not fun that I hate.
His fingers reach the fluffy blanket laid out along the end of the bed, and they audibly gasp. Oh! This is even better! He starfishes onto the bed, pulling the blanket up and shoving his face into it.
I swear to God, Seungkwan thinks, feeling himself tingling warm with embarrassment. He must look ridiculous. Stop this. We’re standing up now and leaving before anyone asks us if we need help of the clinical kind.
I prefer this blanket to you. It’s much nicer.
Since Hoshi has the disposition of a child, Seungkwan takes the approach of dealing with one. I take it you don’t want to go to the aisle with the chocolate, then?
“Aha!” he says, springing up from the bed to find himself face to face with a young woman looking down at him, concerned. The bribery! It is back again! I can tell the trickery of words is your strength on this planet, the way subtlety and disguise is my skillset back home.
Seungkwan takes control of his body again, smiling at the woman through a grimace and speed-walking away down the next aisle, hastened on by Hoshi. I don’t think you’d know subtlety if it hit you over the head with a brick, which is something I’m seriously considering doing anytime now.
You did not notice I was inside of you for the first twelve hours we were bonded.
New first rule. You are never allowed to say you are ‘inside me’ ever again.
You say I am the child. This is the most literal description of my state.
And I hate it. It’s a no-go. If you won’t respect my boundaries, please at least respect my sanity.
Hoshi shrugs with Seungkwan’s body, causing him to quickly grab one of his own shoulders and look around to see if anyone noticed. You give me chocolate, I give you sanity. Good trade! We are getting along better already!
Seungkwan almost bursts into laughter completely of his own accord. He has to cover his mouth with a hand to stop himself. You’re funny, you know? Terrible, but at least you’re funny about it.
Thank you, Seungkwan! We really are going to be friends!
Unlikely.
We’ll see about that.
The chocolate aisle isn’t much better. Seungkwan is struggling to keep Hoshi contained when he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of Seungkwan’s chest at the sight of so much range in front of him, but at least they spend a good thirty minutes without scaring anyone as Hoshi becomes engrossed with inspecting all the different flavours and brands. He decides they have to get ten of everything for the sake of variety, which Seungkwan negotiates down to two of everything with the promise they can come back to get whatever Hoshi likes best. They end up having to get a cart of their own to put it all in, because Seungkwan can’t hold even a quarter of everything they’re buying.
Chan and Hansol finish the rest of the shopping and come around to meet them in the sweet aisle. Chan looks relieved just to find him still in the store, but Hansol’s eyes almost pop out of his head when he sees everything Seungkwan has in his cart. Seungkwan just stands leaning against the shelf, defeated, shrugging his shoulders when Hansol asks him what the truly excessive amount of chocolate is for.
It's quickly becoming obvious he’s going to have to tell Hansol about Hoshi sooner or later. He’s a medical student like Mingyu, so the two of them finish several weeks later than the rest of them and are still busy with deadlines, but once he has free time in the summer he’s definitely going to start noticing Seungkwan eating chocolate and only chocolate for every meal. If he’s already asking questions, it doesn’t bode well for keeping such a secret when they share an apartment together.
“Is Seungkwan okay?” he hears Hansol ask quietly when they’re standing at the checkout scanning their items. His hearing must be another thing improved by Hoshi, because they’re far enough away that Seungkwan knows the question isn’t intended for him to hear. “I should check the news, maybe Wonder Girls disbanded.”
“They already disbanded years ago, Hyung, it’s not that. He’ll be fine, he just needs to work through something.”
Seungkwan snorts, and turns to see both Hansol and Chan looking at him. He offers them a smile that probably borders on slightly manic and nods at them encouragingly, then carries on scanning a packet of chocolate corns.
I don’t think you’re doing a good job of acting normally.
If you say one more word, I will personally dump all this chocolate in the Han River.
You will not. You value your money too much. You cannot make empty threats when I see the whole inside of your mind.
Don’t test me, slimy. I’ve changed a lot in the past two days. Even I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore.
I know what we are capable of, and throwing a big bag of delicious chocolate into the water will not happen. Don’t call me mean names.
While you’re using my body as your personal house and home, I’ll call you what I like.
“Hyung!” Chan’s voice says, waving a hand in front of his face. Seungkwan blinks to see Hansol and Chan are done buying their food, Hansol busy packing the last of their bags, and Seungkwan is stood there with a box of choco pies in his hand. “Stay with us, will you?” He laughs a little nervously as Seungkwan sends him a death glare.
“Don’t you tell me to stay with anything,” he says, swiping the packet three times before it scans and then throwing it into the nearest bag. “Both of you just be quiet for five minutes and let me think, okay?”
Chan raises his hands in surrender and goes back to helping Hansol pack. Hoshi doesn’t speak either, but Seungkwan is sure he hears a mental snigger in the back of his mind.