Chapter Text
Choi San is quick and clever, and the streets blur under the wheels of his cycle. He has little to fear, nothing but the early morning emptiness of the Outskirts and the whipping air punishing his cheeks. The Wilds are the great equalizer.
Not far away is his home, nestled amongst the rocks and bits of long-lost wreckage. San keeps his fingers gripping just tightly enough and balance centered, and he swims his way upstream without resistance. Few leave the city nowadays, but San does not fear attracting attention. It is not as if he breaks the law, anyways.
Their base is another relic of times gone by; the gate opens as San speeds by, heavy metal drawing back just in time for the bike to pass through. The road to the buildings is long and twisting, kickbacks sending San leaning so close to the ground that his elbows almost brush against the pavement. They need to repave it, he muses, feeling new cracks that began to spread sometime after the last rains. That can be a job for Mingi, perhaps. He resists the urge to bite his own tongue in concentration, knowing that one slip-up can take part of it off.
As always, the lights are dim on the outside of Sunrise . San pays it little mind and lets the garage scan his optics, sighing in the warmth of the building as he wheels his cycle in. Large buildings always carry a sense of liminality, of being forgotten and moved on from, even though Sunrise is plenty well inhabited. San does not have to wait long to encounter another, however, as he is tackled against the wall within his first few sets of steps. He catches something about so long and how is the Center? and did he get any mods this time?
San sighs into Wooyoung’s hair and lets the tension drain from him, processing slowing to neutral levels once he’s under less pressure. Wooyoung clings to him with warm fingers tucked against the skin-covered metal of San’s ribcage, no doubt trying to will some warmth into San’s temperature-regulated circuitry by sheer willpower alone. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” San coos, knowing that Wooyoung will only be truly appeased once he has the chance to check San over for injuries himself. “Nothing happened, it was perfectly routine.”
Still they stay there in the hall, Wooyoung pressing San against black walls with a perfect mirror shine, framed by the distant city lights. For once in his life, Wooyoung is silent, and together they breathe into the space shared between them. Then, “Come on, I’ll get you some juice in the kitchen.”
It’s not alcohol, but that makes it the good stuff. San sips it quickly, likely faster than he should, considering how he can feel the burn in the pit of his stomach. Wooyoung’s fingers are ever-moving upon his wrist, never staying in the same place for too long. “Can you work here for a bit?” Wooyoung asks him, chewing on his lip to avoid breaking the silence too many times. Once, San would have thought he was nervous; now, he knows that it is a habit from energy, from unmet needs, from the drive to be doing something right now. San huffs, not quite in mirth, but not in disgust either. It’s something halfway between exhaustion and loss as black bars dance across San’s vision.
“Yeah, I can do the analytics here. Always nice to have some peace and quiet to work in comparison to the city.” Wooyoung laughs then, really laughs, and it’s enough to make San’s lips quirk up as well. “Not that you’ll let me have much of that, of course.”
“Of course!” San lets himself be dragged off of the stool and into one of the hallways, shoved into their shared bathroom before he can truly consider all the steps he still has to take before he can go to sleep. “Brush your teeth so I can kiss you later. You can say hello to everyone in the morning.”
San does as he’s told, barely glancing at himself in the mirror while washing his face and brushing his teeth. Still, his eyes are bright, unnaturally so despite their lack of backlight. The others, however, have never seemed to mind. San spits the residual toothpaste out and shuffles his way to the room he shares with Wooyoung and Yeosang. His partners are already there, of course, blinking bleary eyes at him as he emerges from the darkness of the unlit bathroom. Their smiles are wide and eager in turn. “Welcome home!” Wooyoung choruses again, and Yeosang nods and echoes it. San mumbles something and is barely awake enough to faceplant in the general direction of the blankets before shutting down.
“Is he awake? Is he going to be alright?”
“Yes, Wooyoungie, you ask this every single time.”
“…. I know. Why does he always stay out so long?”
He awakens slowly, rebooting far more sluggish than is typical. His charge is steadily increasing, however, and when he checks his visual display, he finds he must have been plugged in a little over half an hour ago. For being the only android in the household, San is lucky the others care for him so well.
He can run and fight and work for them until he crashes, but unlike a person, there’s only so much he can do when he hits rock bottom. He needs someone to pick him back up again. Luckily for San, this time there are several of them. He comes to to Seonghwa’s palms cupping his cheeks and Hongjoong crouched in the corner, supervising his charger. Sure enough, Wooyoung is still clutching his wrist. Surprisingly enough, at least to San, Yeosang is still in the room, plastered against Wooyoung’s side. There are more who aren’t around, but San does not complain; he’s plenty revealed with the ports on his sides exposed, even though he loves all of them and they all love him. Part of loving them, San has found, has been finding what each other needs. What San tends to need is this—someone to quietly lift him back up, or maybe a few someones, who don’t have to discuss it again with him once he’s awake again, but who also won’t abandon him at the first sign of alertness. “There you are,” murmurs Seonghwa, tracing the sharp lines of San’s jaw. It is a soft gesture, of course, but San also recognizes that it is how Seonghwa can measure his response time. San lets his eyelids flutter closed, but forces himself to open them before the elder worries. “Gave us all quite the scare.”
San hangs his head. He knows it is true even without retaining any memory of it, knows how much Wooyoung hates seeing him collapse and how much Yeosang hates seeing the ports on his side revealed in situations like these.
San is a black box. He is going down.
So he bites his lip and braces for the fall. Hongjoong measures San carefully, studiously, and even though it isn’t his area of expertise he is quite good at it. Some insidious voice in San’s head tells him not to watch, that it doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong, but San is nothing if not stubborn—he watches anyway. He might have Jongho check him over in the morning, if he can bring himself to face the consequences of his own actions. Then again, you’ve never been one to run away, Wooyoung thinks to him, and San mentally shakes his head in bemusement.
Didn’t know you were listening in, San pushes back towards him.
You think quite loudly when you’re like this. Sure you’re not just distracting yourself?
San does shake his head externally this time, making Seonghwa’s arms shake with the motion. He forces his body to still for fear of tearing a cable. Some times are tougher than others; San does not know when he’ll next be able to visit Minghao for an upgrade, and would rather not spend his credits just yet. At least not until he’s processed this round of data. And Jongho is counting on him.
He cycles his optics again, mimicking a blink, and Hongjoong blinks back at him. San had not even noticed that they were making eye contact. “You can go back to sleep,” Hongjoong prods, quiet in the equally quiet room. For the space to be so silent with so many people in it is nothing short of a miracle—well, so many people and one android.
And he listens. He does not even fight it. There, cradled between Seonghwa’s palms and the life-giving current recharging his power unit, San gives in. He lets time slip by as he so rarely does, and when he wakes, he is still not alone. Hongjoong and Seonghwa are asleep together on the couch near the door to the room, but the charging cords are unplugged, and San’s charging ports are covered once again in a courtesy to San and Yeosang both. As soon as San moves his arm, Wooyoung rolls over on top of him, starfishing across both him and Yeosang and taking up much of the bed in the process. Still, despite the sleep-laden atmosphere, San finds himself restless. There’s a drive in him, a fire in him, that tells him he’s either going up or down. Sometimes he can’t tell which. Most of the time he can’t tell which, but the others stay beneath him regardless, there with safety nets and warm drinks and plenty of space.
Just as he slipped into Sunrise, San slips out of his bed and tiptoes past the couch to the door. He escapes almost entirely unnoticed, save for Hongjoong, who blinks his eye open to catch whoever is making a break for it. He does not nod at San, but crinkles into a smile, and San passes him by with one of his own. There’s no need to keep a secret, merely courtesies.
As expected, lights are on in Jongho’s workshop. San listens carefully before knocking at the door, but does not hear any power tools. In fact, all he can hear is their youngest’s subdued breathing and the tap of his fingers on the keys. Programming, then, San decides. His fingers are firm against the smooth walls, ringing out in two sharp knocks. Jongho looks up at that, his hair messy but not disheveled, and his smile broad. “Come in!” he greets, and San steps inside with no further prompting.
Like every other time San visits, the workshop is acrid with oil, canned air, and whatever material Jongho was cutting with the handsaw earlier in the day. “Did you use your breathing mask?”
Jongho tuts at him, and San ducks his head; it’s more of a rehearsed interaction than an actual scolding, and both know so. “Of course. Who am I, that red-haired greasemonkey?” San chuckles at that, knowing full well who Jongho refers to, and also that they get along swimmingly despite a rather intense rivalry. “Hey, I finished up SHIBER’s latest version while you were away. Do you want to take a look at him?”
The mech hangs suspended in his charging booth, and San cannot help but smile when he sees the creature’s latest changes. “Hey buddy!” he greets as always, even though he knows SHIBER is currently asleep. “Can I turn him on now?” San struggles to hold his hands back from touching, from pushing buttons without Jongho’s permission, but he manages to restrain himself. It wouldn’t do to lose all power to the base, especially in the middle of the night. The blackwings might get them.
With a simultaneous click of the charging cables disengaging and a hiss of compressed air from the cables disconnecting, SHIBER lowers to the ground in front of San. “Go ahead!” San does not have to be told twice; his fingers are dancing beneath SHIBER’s collar and pressing the correct combination of switches to turn the mech on as soon as Jongho is ready. The period between when San switches SHIBER on and when his optics light is always excruciating, even though San promises himself he can be patient every time. Jongho seems to know this, however, and as always endeavors to fill the time. “Did you know Yeosang helped me with his updated charging setup?”
Stones drop into San’s stomach; his palms turn clammy. “What?” He tries to envision the charge flowing through SHIBER’s circuits instead, but for once thinking about that makes him nauseous. For once, thinking about the charge that flows through him makes him nauseous, too. San bites his lip hard enough that it would bleed if he were human, but he is not, so it merely indents the fine skin-mesh.
“Yeah, he helped me improve the safety features and gave me good ideas regarding the shared grounding.” San rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, silent as Jongho slowly feeds him more information. “Don’t worry, he wanted to help! He knows how much SHIBER means to you and wants him to be as safe to use as possible. Especially when you two link up and stuff.”
SHIBER’s optics flicker on, bright baby blue, and as he meets San’s gaze, he wags his tail. San sinks to his knees and opens his arms for the mech to greet him properly. Sure enough, as always, SHIBER climbs onto his thighs and licks his chin, dragging his soft metal tongue across San’s cheeks. “Easy boy, easy,” San urges, and the mech settles down after a little prompting. “Miss me? Were you good for Jongho and Yeosang?”
Yes, replies SHIBER, speaking gently in the recesses of San’s conscious mind. Hongjoong took me out to work, too. I love to work! Why couldn’t you take me with you this time? I know I wasn’t slated for upgrades yet.
San chews on his lip again, rubbing across SHIBER’s ears while he thinks of what to say. “I had to travel lightly. Don’t worry, I didn’t steal anything, but I still had to move fast.”
You always move fast. What’s the extra rush this time?
Jongho looks at him and San looks back. SHIBER resolutely stares at his designated person—or not-person—and waits for an explanation. “Alright. I got some data regarding the upcoming election, and I got asked to decrypt the messages in it. I didn’t know if you would stick out too much where I was, so I couldn’t take you with me. I’m sorry pup.”
SHIBER jumps up and bats at San’s thighs and sides, ignoring his protests and complaints. You’re forgiven, but don’t think I’ll let you slip by so easily next time.
San giggles then, suspended in the night’s strange aura accented by the stale electronic smell of Jongho’s workshop. “Sure. Let me look at the data then.”
“Right now?” Jongho’s at his elbow. San had not even noticed him move. “Isn’t it late?” Then, not even a moment later, “Ah. I was going to send you back to bed, but that’s a bit hard if I’m not in bed either. Let’s get some chocolate first, at least, and you can tell me and SHIBER all about your exploits.”
“They’re not exploits,” San protests, but he still follows Jongho into the kitchen. SHIBER pads along behind them, happy to be included. “They’re more work trips than adventure,”
Box of chocolates clutched in hand, Jongho narrows his eyes. “Sure,” he says, and watches San’s face scrunch. “And you didn’t kiss Mingi on top of his car before you left, either, is that right?”
“Jongho!”
The city lights do not flicker in the depths of the window, but Jongho’s laugh does. San settles in and lets Jongho kiss his cheek while they eat, and SHIBER lies obediently at their feet. “Come on,” pokes Jongho after some time, “There’s work to be done.”