Chapter Text
Seungcheol lays in his bed, staring into the dark of his room when Minghao comes knocking on his door. In the past, he used to give adults chase, always disappearing when they weren’t looking. Now, he is a man of routine even more predictable than the typical Jaeger pilot.
“Jeonghan’s asking for you,” Minghao says from behind the closed door.
He already knows. New recruits. Seungcheol considers feigning sleep. “Got it,” he calls back instead.
When Seungcheol finally arises from his bed, he spends a couple more minutes sitting on the edge of it, the cold of the room floor brushing his toes. When he opens the door, he finds his darling girl waiting as she gives a bark, fluffy tail wagging in delight. He retreats into his room with her in his arms, wiping her paws clean and brushing the dirt out of Kkuma’s fur.
“On time, as always,” Jeonghan says pointedly when Seungcheol eventually walks into his office, taking the seat across from him.
“Got lost on the path of life.” Seungcheol shrugs, avoiding his gaze. “Happens.”
Jeonghan sighs and pushes a manila folder towards Seungcheol. He sits up straighter, deciding not to test any more of his friend’s neverending patience today as he begins flipping through it.
“As mentioned in the morning’s debrief, the latest trimester at Jaeger Academy just ended,” Jeonghan begins in his calm drawl. “Out of the cadets that made the final cut, 3 applied for the Busan Shatterdome. We’ve booked the Kwoon Room for tomorrow for the candidate trials. There’s one in particular I have high hopes fo—”
“88 drops and 88 kills?" Seungcheol marvels, voice booming in the small room. He clears his throat. "That simulator score has to be a typo.”
Jeonghan grins, his palms hitting the desk. “I went to see him myself. Of course, it was 85 that time, but he’s the real thing. Best cadet I’ve ever seen and definitely more polite than you. Smaller guy but imposing.”
“Oh, he’s from Busan. 25 though? Doesn’t really look like it,” Seungcheol questions, studying the headshot of a young man with sharp eyes. Pretty face. Round. There’s not much else to Lee Jihoon’s file. It's not even redacted, just empty. One living parent. High school. The only notable part is a note about his civilian bravery amidst a Kaiju raid.
“Says the man with the same face I met at Jaeger Academy six years ago. A little less peppy though.”
“I wonder why he enlisted now,” Seungcheol wonders to himself. The Pan Pacific Defense Corps isn't offering the same benefits to pilots that they did when 20 year old Seungcheol enlisted six years ago. The Jaeger pilot system was still in its early years, tested and true but they needed manpower so they took care of entire families and paid out a hefty sum when pilots were killed in action. Nowadays, with budget cuts and money being prioritized elsewhere, pilots were only promised some fame and the wonderfully high chance of dying on the job.
“You can ask him tomorrow. Just one last thing,” Jeonghan says slowly.
Seungcheol doesn’t have to look to know his temperament is being gauged like a lion in a cage. He slumps in his chair again. This is the fourth time they’ve gone through this and the toll it takes on Seungcheol is one thing, but Jeonghan knowing the toll all too well is another thing. His friend remains hopeful every time and Seungcheol can’t help but admire him for it. When the Busan Shatterdome was in shambles with their best team down for the count, the previous Marshal had stepped down in disgrace and absolutely no one was prepared for the responsibility. Jeonghan wasn't, but he made the hard decision to become the youngest ever Marshal, and the search for Seungcheol's co-pilot began.
“Go ahead,” Seungcheol acquiesces, making due on his promise to be less difficult.
“Just…" Jeonghan trails, watching his own hands fidget. "It’s okay if we never find you someone to be drift compatible with. We’re doing this because you wanted it. So, please, don’t drift away, Seungcheol.”
Seungcheol decides to forgo the farce of professional propriety they try to maintain as he bounds over to his friend sitting behind the desk and maneuvers to wrap his arms around him.
“That was cheesy and not very funny.” He pats Jeonghan’s head, thinking of Kkuma. “Thank you.
It’s almost time for the candidate matches, so Seungcheol practices more with his wooden pole while he waits for everyone to arrive. It had been awhile since he had used it as a weapon, plus his training was as intense as an active pilot’s, so he had been in the combat room since the morning to practice with the coaches. He is a little tired but he is sure he can still keep up with the other two. It's Jihoon who he is concerned about, and while it isn't a fight, there's no hope if Seungcheol doesn't stand a chance.
Besides, he never did like losing.
The room fills quickly, many of the other pilots coming to observe. He hears Seungkwan’s boisterous voice and sees the three candidates on his heels. Wearing a shirt that drowns him, Jihoon is easy to spot as he trails behind the others, taking note of his surroundings.
They all get a few minutes to warm up but before anyone can strike up conversation, Seungcheol resumes his practice exercises on the other side of the room.
With an air of command, Jeonghan walks in with Joshua at his side carrying a clipboard. He catches Seungcheol's eyes, gesturing to the space between him and the candidates. He checks in on them first before walking over to Seungcheol. “You do know this is a physical compatibility test, right?”
“Couldn’t forget if I tried.”
Jeonghan claps him on his back and Joshua sends him a sweet smile before they both take their place at the head of the room, the room hushing. Jeonghan calls one of the candidates to come up.
Four strikes to win, but the first match goes by a little too quickly. A dull victory for Seungcheol. The second candidate fares a little better. She’s probably around Jihoon’s size and she manages to get one point from him, but her movements are awkward and the match easily ends in his favour.
And then it’s quickly time for the last match. When Jihoon steps up to the center, Seungcheol finds himself directing his greeting to Jihoon’s bare sculpted chest before snapping his eyes up to look the man in his face. Jihoon simply greets back politely and in a lower tone than Seungcheol expected.
For a moment, he wonders if he should say anything else but he hadn’t to the others. Let the match speak for itself, he decides. Stepping back, he readies into his starting position and Jihoon follows, poles raised in defence.
Seungcheol holds Jihoon’s gaze and after a mutual nod of respect, Jihoon slowly shuffles closer and then lunges, his pole splicing through air. Seungcheol parries it, and swiftly moves his pole to hover above Jihoon's side.
“One point for me,” he notes, eyeing Jihoon warily. Seungcheol isn’t bad but he was expecting more from this man who they have high hopes for.
He decides to move forward first this time, feigning a strike which gets blocked easily. He launches a barrage of rapid attacks that pushes Jihoon on the defensive, and when Seungcheol is about to aim for a winning point, he freezes before coming into contact with the pole already hovering directly across his neck.
Jihoon smiles after winning his first point and Seungcheol notices how it softens his stoic face, which makes him look even prettier up close than in his photo. He looks lovely, and Seungcheol almost says so.
Almost. “Nice. Don’t go easy on me again,” Seungcheol warns, even if the effect is ruined by his upturned lips.
As if his words flipped a switch, there’s no hesitation in Jihoon as he swings his pole to Seungcheol’s side before he registers it’s happened. “Two,” Jihoon says.
A prickle of annoyance flows through Seungcheol, a wave of excitement following.
Ah, he’s missed this. This was where he thrived best—having a physical opponent in front of him to take down. For perhaps too long, he had been locked in a room with the war his mind waged against him. And Jihoon was now offering him a challenge, being more nimble and quick. The other two candidates weren’t even up for consideration anymore.
Working to his advantage, Seungcheol side steps and begins attacking aggressively but Jihoon dodges with even lighter footwork. Seungcheol is already a little tired from the morning practice combined with the past matches and Jihoon is giving him a workout. Intentionally, by the feel of it.
Both irritated and dazzled at how he was being toyed with, Seungcheol lunges to win another point.
“Two for me. We’re even again,” he says, smirking.
Wanting to annoy Jihoon a little back, he opens his mouth to speak but is caught off guard as Jihoon aims for Seungcheol’s side for the second time, winning a point. Jihoon gently uses the pole to make contact with Seungcheol, patting his side. “Three. You keep leaving yourself open.”
Seungcheol feels himself grinning maniacally, “Am I?” he drawls. Oh, he is good. Seungcheol is definitely rusty and his mistakes are being preyed on, but there’s an excitement to it.
Jihoon moves first this time, and Seungcheol dodges with agilely. He surges forward for his own blow but is parried away. They launch into a continuous series of blocks and strikes, filling the room with the symphony of clashing wood and swift footwork as though it were orchestrated, moving forward and back in an equal balance. He's close enough that he can feel the heat emanating from Jihoon. They both retreat at the same time and as if calling for a truce, stand with their poles raised, slightly out of breath and smiling at each other.
It lasts for a moment before Seungcheol rushes to strike first. It’s easily dodged and he is forced on the defensive, slowly stepping back as Jihoon gains momentum and masterfully maneuvers his pole and a spare arm to flip Seungcheol onto the floor. Seungcheol almost lands on his back, but manages a clumsy defensive roll, landing with one knee on the ground and one bent.
By the time Seungcheol raises his head, Jihoon is aiming for his neck. “My win.” Jihoon grins brightly, eyes turning into crescent moons.
Dazed, Seungcheol grasps the hand extended to him. It’s sticky and sweaty but so is his own. The cheering in the background slowly registers but he’s too occupied watching Jihoon, skin glistening with beads of sweat, chest heaving with exertion, face pinched. “Can you please work with me?” he huffs, tugging on Seungcheol’s hand.
Oh, right. He giggles from his place on the ground, enjoying the struggle now. His reward for losing. Jihoon rolls his eyes and lets go of his hand in defeat, but Seungcheol grabs it again, standing on his own. He looks down at the man as he faces the crowd, raises their clasped hands and hollers, “Found my co-pilot.”
He watches Jihoon, as his eyes focus on the ground, a smile set on his lips as Jeonghan gives a cheer that drowns out the others.
At the sound, a tight knot unfurls from Seungcheol’s chest and blooms, a blanket of comfort wrapping his body. If he remembers correctly, it feels a lot like hope.
On most days, Seungcheol loves being a dad. His Kkuma is the reason he gets out of bed most mornings, because she needs to pee outside of course. Today, however, his little sweetheart is being a little menace.
Joshua had called Seungcheol over to go over some details with a Jaeger-Tech rep visiting from Shanghai Shatterdome so he actually had to be on time, and he timed everything perfectly to take Kkuma on her walk, but it is just one of those days. She’s got her leash on, but she’s grounded her little paws on the floor in protest, and if she doesn’t go on her walk, she will have an accident in his room in less than an hour because like Seungcheol, she has a routine. It usually makes him proud when she takes after him, but right now, he’s becoming desperate.
Opening his door a peek, Seungcheol looks for any living person to help. Kkuma is generally loved by all and if Seokmin had a problem with her, even though he claims otherwise, then he’d just have to put up with it today, but the only person turning the corner is wearing an oversized shirt and shorts.
Jihoon.
Not ideal. It had been two days since their match, but he hadn’t actually spoken to Jihoon and had no idea where his room was or what he did, not that he tried to find out, being too preoccupied with being in his own room whenever he could be.
Oh, whatever. It’s for Kkuma. Seungcheol opens his door wider and snatches Jihoon by the arm just as he’s walking by.
Bad idea. Seungcheol is forced on his knees, his arm restrained behind his back. He gives a little wail before he realizes but it does the trick as Jihoon lets go.
“What the hell,” he murmurs as Seungcheol stands, ignoring the pain and walking into his room to lead Jihoon, who seems as stubborn as Kkuma. Great. One won’t come in, one won’t go out.
“Sorry about that. Hi, it’s Seungcheol. You have great technique, both at the match and today, you had me down instantly. Teach me later. Anyway. You need to take my dog on a walk.”
It’s more than he’s said to one person in one go in awhile.
“I need to?” Jihoon challenges, face contorting.
“You need to,” Seungcheol repeats, wondering if Jeonghan would consider this as abuse of power, but whatever, it’s for Kkuma. “Please Jihoon,” he whines, reaching for his arm.
“Okay, okay,” Jihoon says, removing his hand and taking the leash from it. He crouches down to pet Kkuma.
Seungcheol beams, eyes wide and glistening.
It’s easy to trust a man with your life, he’s done that with strangers in combat. But Seungcheol is about to allow this man to access every precious memory he has, connect to every emotion he’s ever felt and share the same instincts with this stranger who he does not know.
So, Seungcheol figures, maybe he should start by letting him walk his dog.
The meeting goes great. Their new Jaeger is very nearly ready for action, and then he and Jihoon can finally be put to the test to see if they’re Drift compatible.
Jihoon had told him to meet at the Shatterdome's fitness gym so he is over there in record time afterwards, searching for his daughter. Mingyu finds him first and after one look at Seungcheol’s face, he leads him over to the seated chest press machine where he finds Jihoon sitting, a calm Kkuma resting in his lap as he uses the machine.
This time, he makes sure Jihoon is aware he is approaching first. Jihoon gently takes her from his lap and passes her to Seungcheol who immediately cradles his baby. She’s all right. “Thank you,” he says to Jihoon, his face buried in Kkuma’s fur.
“You’re welcome,” Jihoon replies, standing before he starts to wipe down the equipment.
“Oh.” It’s the third time he’s seeing Jihoon and once again, he’s without a shirt. Even Mingyu doesn’t do that, but mentioning it would be boorish, so instead he says, “Will you be okay in the Drivesuit in the Jaeger? There’s the bodysuit layered with the battle armor, so it can get kind of heavy and sweaty," which he now realizes isn't much better.
Mingyu gives Seungcheol a look, but Jihoon doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. It was part of training.”
“Okay, just making sure,” Seungcheol clarifies absently.
He’s in the middle of wondering how he’s ever going to be drift compatible with anyone when Mingyu saves him by telling him Jihoon is as big of a gym rat as he is. Seungcheol nods, his brow furrowing as his unease grows.
“Anyway," Mingyu says, "See you tomorrow again, my new perfect gym buddy who doesn’t say much but is basically a professional trainer. Happy I upgraded after someone abandoned me,” he accuses teasingly, walking away.
Seungcheol pouts. “But Gyu! Jeonghan’s going to make sure I’m here regularly from now on anyway,” he loudly whines to Mingyu’s back.
“Too late! It’s what you get for hiding from me.”
Opening his mouth to refute Mingyu as always, Seungcheol finds he can't as Mingyu walks through the locker room doors. Mingyu was the guy Seungcheol needed to get through a workout because it was always fun with him and the competition was motivational. Since he only went when no one was around nowadays, usually late at night, it wasn’t the same without Mingyu. So he went less often. He clutches Kkuma tighter, loosening when she lets out a low growl.
“You can just join us here when you feel like it,” Jihoon says, walking away as well.
Seungcheol watches Jihoon’s back until the doors close behind him.
He is on the ground on all fours, head on the same level of Kkuma's as he's in the midst of his best dog growl imitation when Jihoon walks out of the gym. He scrambles to stand up, almost stepping on his daughter in his hurry.
"Um.” He gestures for Jihoon to lead the way as they start walking, Kkuma trotting along in the middle. “I just wanted to say thank you again,” Seungcheol explains. “Taking her meant a lot.”
“You looked like you were going to cry.”
“I mean, it was a possibility.” Seungcheol pauses. “Did she go okay?”
“She was a bit stubborn, but yes.” Jihoon watches Kkuma turn the corner with her tail wagging. “She’s a good dog,” he adds, murmuring a little fondly.
A warmth spreads through Seungcheol, so he crosses the space between them to put a gentle hand on Jihoon’s arm for a moment, hoping he’ll feel it too.
“Jeonghan made an exception for me,” Seungcheol starts slowly. “Shatterdomes are only meant to have bigger, trained watchdogs. But he let me have Kkuma when I needed her.”
Jihoon nods and a comfortable silence settles over them until Jihoon stops them in front of his room door. “Well, if you ever need help again, just come by.”
Seungcheol smiles, watching Kkuma run around in circles by Jihoon’s feet until he disappears behind his door.
Seungcheol takes Jihoon up on his offer the next day. It’s just him and Mingyu in the gym, like before. It’s fun. Then Jihoon joins and it’s as Mingyu said, he’s a professional. He keeps pushing Seungcheol, telling him he can do one more, then one more after that, but his hands are steady and he’s patient and Seungcheol realizes he can do one more. Surprise.
Seungcheol also takes Jihoon up on his other offer the same day. He’s laying in bed, surrounded by the dark encroaching his thoughts when he makes the decision. He softly shuts the door and leaves a sleeping Kkuma behind as he takes the short walk to Jihoon’s room.
It’s late and the Shatterdome is silent, his footsteps echoing through the hall. The sound unnerves him and he almost walks back to his room but trudges on. Standing before Jihoon’s door, he knocks softly. It’s not long before it opens.
“Were you already awake?” Seungcheol asks quietly, noting Jihoon's ruffled hair but bright eyes.
Jihoon nods, then gestures for him to come inside. It’s bare, like most rooms, like his own room before he got Kkuma. People don’t often have much attachment to material things in a life like this, in a world like this.
“Is something wrong?” Jihoon asks once the door is shut, eyes searching Seungcheol’s. He’s not wearing a shirt again, of course.
“No, no, nothing like that,” he reassures calmly. Maybe being here was a mistake. “I just couldn’t sleep so,” he bites his lip, “I came here. I hope that’s alright.”
“It’s fine,” Jihoon yawns. “I’m a night owl so this normal sleep schedule thing doesn’t match me.” He looks around his room. “Um, I can take the chair and you can lay down?”
Seungcheol walks over to the chair, sprawls over it and gestures to the small bed. Jihoon shrugs, walks to the bed and falls face forward into the pillows.
“So,” Seungcheol begins.
“So.” Jihoon rolls around, facing Seungcheol as he finds himself a comfortable position in bed.
“Why did you join?” Seungcheol asks what he’s been wondering since before he met him. “You’re older than most new recruits.”
“Same as everyone else—propaganda,” Jihoon answers. “Jaeger pilots are cool, the benefits were good. My dad was sick. But then they took it away so I ended up doing anything to make money…” he trails off.
Seungcheol is silent for a moment, trying to put the pieces together. “Did you fight on the streets?” he asks, a little too loud.
From across the room, he hears Jihoon laugh, high and soft. A chorus he can’t help but be drawn into by. It’s the first time Seungcheol hears it. It’s nice.
“No,” Jihoon says, grinning. “I learned to fight because my dad wanted me to learn how to defend myself.”
“Mine too. Taekwondo. Although, I thought he was scamming me.”
Jihoon nods. “It was worth it.” He frowns and continues, “He passed away, then mom remarried and moved. I stayed here. And one day, there was a Kaiju raid. I don’t remember much. Adrenaline rush, I guess. I just tried to save some people.”
Seungcheol recalls what he once read in his file. “So you hijacked a car and went on a suicide mission.”
“Worked out, didn’t it?” Jihoon grins, sheepishly. He rolls to look up at the ceiling. “That was the bravest and most reckless thing I’ve ever done.”
“You’re amazing,” Seungcheol says, truthfully. “But I think joining the Jaeger program tops the list.”
Jihoon hums in thought. “I wouldn’t say that. Or at least, not yet.”
They lapse into silence but Seungcheol's mind is still whirring. “What was growing up like?” he asks carefully. Jihoon’s file had been so empty. He wanted to fill in all the gaps he didn’t know.
“Tooniverse.”
That gives Seungcheol pause. “Huh?”
Jihoon mutters to himself then sighs. “I’m an only child. I spent a lot of time watching the anime channel.”
“Oh,” he says simply, squirming in his chair. “I didn’t watch it much, except for the winter months. I was always busy with my friends to watch much of anything.”
“I guess you weren’t lonely growing up,” Jihoon wonders, quietly.
Seungcheol thinks of before the Breach opened and Kaijus roamed the Earth, when his parents had sent him and Hansol to live with his grandma. How she had taught Seungcheol kindness and love with how her palms overflowed with it for them, even as Seungcheol would want nothing more than to be at Taekwondo class or under the Daegu sun with his friends, people whom he hardly remembers now. How Hansol would go home early while Seungcheol would always want to stay out longer—just until sunset, just one more hour, and then another. How when he came home with bleeding knees, he cried because he wished it were his mother’s hands holding the clean bandages.
And then after the Breach opened when he was in high school, he heard through the daily phone calls from his parents who were away again, this time to protect not only the boys, but the world. How Seungcheol was happy that they finally wanted to talk to him. How that had ended quickly. How he watched them through headlines as the Jaeger program was launched and they quickly became renown pilots, his classmates jealous of his cool parents who were saving the world. How he watched through a screen, sitting on a couch with Hansol sobbing into his neck, as he saw live footage of their Jaeger being clawed through by a Kaiju. How it had just been him and Hansol left.
Seungcheol bites his lip. “I was never alone much, but I wouldn’t say that.”
“Jihoon,” Seungcheol says into his ear as he removes his hands from Jihoon’s eyes. “Meet SERENITY.”
The Jaeger’s sleek curves and glistening armor are a work of art, a testament to human ingenuity as its baby blue metallic surface glints with purpose, adorned with markings and symbols that tell a story of valor and sacrifice in pale pink.
Jihoon says the only thing he can. “It’s beautiful.”
Months and months went into the Jaeger and it felt rewarding to see it stand so tall. Joshua had come to involve Seungcheol in the project. If he still wanted to be a pilot, he needed a Jaeger. It gave him something to do, a chance to learn how to build them better and stronger and it gave him hope that he could one day pilot a Jaeger again.
“It took a long time. Joshua did a really good job.” The words come out thickly and when Seungcheol tries to swallow, he finds his mouth is parched and waits until he can speak again. Jihoon stands closer and waits until he’s ready. “It’s a mix of what we had left of my parents’ ROSE QUARTZ and my ROSE QUARTZ 2.0, but it’s mostly completely new tech.”
“Didn’t want to name it ROSE QUARTZ 3.0?” Jihoon teases, throwing an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder.
Seungcheol feels his body melt, shuffling so he can rest his head down on Jihoon’s shoulder. It’s not the most comfortable position, but it’s a happy one.
“Something about SERENITY just felt right.”
Standing before Seungkwan and Chan’s doors, side by side, he weighs who would be easiest to lure with fried chicken and beer and open to sharing with the other. It’s decided for him when a head pops out and Seungkwan’s fingers are tugging his collar, growling “Get in here,” as he is pulled into his room. To Seungcheol’s relief, he is saved from navigating how to convince Seungkwan to invite his co-pilot when Chan drops by himself and he shoves past Seungkwan to grab a beer as the smell of warm chicken meets his nose.
They’re a few drinks into the night, cheeks red and spirits high. The boys dig into the food and leave little for Seungcheol, but he is more interested in drinking tonight anyway.
“You know, we even got a pair of bead bracelets that spell SERENITY,” Seungcheol bemoans as Chan cracks up laughing, and he only gets louder when Seungcheol rolls down his left sleeve to show them. “Joshua made them. He said it could help us Drift? I don’t know.”
“Oh my god,” Chan barely spits out, clutching his stomach. “Shua is awful. I love him.”
Seungkwan rubs circles on Seungcheol’s back, “You’re kind of pathetic. It’s cute to see you like this.”
Without missing a beat, Chan pipes in, “To be fair, we haven’t seen much of him at all.” Seungkwan reaches around to clink his beer can against Chan’s.
They’re hitting him where it hurts but he was prepared for it.
“I’ve been trying,” Seungcheol wails dramatically, clinging onto Seungkwan's arm.
Seugkwan pinches his cheek. “We know you are. We all are. Anyway,” he pats Seungcheol’s head and he knows Seungkwan is being condescending but there’s a part of Seungcheol that likes the extra attention anyway. So Seungcheol lets him be. “The first Drift is the hardest. That’s just inevitable.”
“Just gotta bear through it and then it’s smooth sailing from there. At least it was for us,” Chan says, gesturing to him and Seungkwan.
“It’s just. Jihoon has the potential to be the best pilot,” Seungcheol says to the quiet hum of the night. “And we get along well. So I know it’s all in my mind but that’s the thing. Sometimes, my mind doesn’t feel like just my own.”
They all hush as the silence speaks.
For Seungcheol, it was bigger than them. It was everyone who helped him along the way and was rooting for him. Sure, he was getting along with Jihoon now, which was really nice actually, but so much weighs on them. Drifting is such a unique experience—sharing memories, instinct and emotions sends a cold wave of terror through him. He doesn't want to let Jihoon down.
And yet, despite it all, that’s also what Seungcheol yearns for so desperately. To connect so unnaturally and let himself go in the Drift. To command a Jaeger together and place himself in defense between Kaiju and humanity. The exhilaration is unlike anything. He’d been a pilot for so long and he’d spent time looking for other corners of himself and felt like he came up short. His identity is so wrapped up in being a Jaeger pilot, it’s all he wants to be again.
He is scared to have it again, and he is scared to lose it all again.
“The way I see it,” Seungkwan says, “You’re just going to have to jump and hope it works.”
“I'm just worried,” Seungcheol whines insistently.
“Not sure why. We all saw that combat match and that was back when you barely spoke to the guy,” Seungkwan points out.
“Yeah, you didn’t even have matching bracelets then,” Chan adds.
There’s two pieces of fried chicken left, one seasoned and one unseasoned. He places the dark red piece on Seungkwan’s plate and his chopsticks clatter against Chan’s plate as he leaves the plain fried there.
“You’re just jealous.”
They pay him no mind, happy to fill their mouths with their favourite food.
“Everyone, please give us a lot of support,” Seungcheol says with a nod to Jihoon, his co-pilot , trying not to let it prickle him. The crowd of faces in Mission Control smiling from behind their computers is oddly comforting. Despite the fear nipping at his nose, he resists the urge to rub at it, finding strength in the truth of his own words. “Jihoon’s new to this but he’s already a pro.”
“Conn-Pod ready,” Wonwoo says through the speaker. “You are clear to enter the cockpit, pilots.”
“You first,” Jihoon says with a tilt of his head.
It’s been awhile since Seungcheol last went through these preparations, but he tries to see it for the first time, like Jihoon is. Getting rigged up in the harnesses, watching the HUDs switch on, and hearing the voices of the command center on the speaker, double-checking and running through preparations.
Wonwoo’s familiar voice in his ear again, reminding them to take a moment to breathe before launching into business. “Pilots are on board and ready to connect. Prepare for Neural Handshake.”
Seungcheol looks to Jihoon and reminds him, “The drift is silence. Stay in it.”
Then he closes his eyes.
“Initiating Neural Handshake,” Wonwoo says. “Neural interface drift initiated.”
Their consciousnesses intertwine and they are sucked into a whirlpool of sensations and emotions. Seungcheol tries to recall the familiarity of emptying his mind, even as his being is ravaged with the tidal wave of emotion and memories from past and present. He tries to let the memories pass by him like old friends as he looks for the silence, for the merging of their psyches.
Seungcheol went into this like he does most things—hoping for the best, but still expecting the worst. So when he feels the Drift morph as Jihoon latches onto a memory, he’s not surprised. His own mind flashes with how he had done the same years ago, but he stamps it out immediately.
No amount of advice or warnings will prepare for the mind meld. You cannot anticipate the first Drift.
He lets it all goes by. Everything that is you is laid bare in the Drift.
His grandmother apologizing to the neighbours after he broke their window. His first kiss with a girl in an empty classroom. His first kiss with a boy in the locker room, still in their Taekwondo uniforms.
“We can do what they did. I need you. Let’s save the world together!”
No, he needs to find Jihoon. He can't feel him. Where is he?
Memories he doesn’t know arise. Eating dinner alone in front of a television. Singing while walking to school. Practice and more practice, he’s holding a clarinet, then a guitar, and then drums. High school baseball team. Putting up a Busan Shatterdome poster in a room. Ditching high school classes to waiter. Picking up whatever odd jobs could. The Kaiju looming overhead, the adrenaline rush when he saves the group of civilians.
But Seungcheol is surprised when he finds himself standing in a memory with Jihoon, watching another Seungcheol.
“Jihoon, listen to my voice,” Seungcheol commands, voice low. He raises his arm and covers Jihoon’s eyes, pressing lightly. “Now, describe what you see.”
The sounds of their breath waft in the space between as moments pass by. He remains frozen until he finally hears Jihoon speak. “Not a thing. It’s finally silent, but I can still feel you.”
“Right hemisphere synced,” Wonwoo says.
Seungcheol doesn’t say anything in reply, allowing their neural connection to take over as he sinks further.
“Left hemisphere synced. Neural handshake holding strong.”
When they come back, Jeonghan is the first to greet them. “Congratulations, boys. You’re drift compatible,” he says. “Now, rest. If you feel unwell, go straight to the infirmary. I’ll check up on you two later.”
Seungcheol doesn’t say much to Jihoon. He pats him on the back and he’s pretty sure he gives him and the team words of praise, but when Jihoon tries to catch his eyes and says with all the conviction in the world, “It wasn’t your fault,” like he had felt in the Drift and knew he would say, Seungcheol can’t hold them for more than a second and averts.
He relies on muscle memory to bring himself back to his room and Kkuma, having found him at some point on his walk. When the door shuts behind him, he just barely has the strength to pick her to lay in bed with him before his cheeks wet with tears.
It’s several hours of staring at the ceiling, playing with his daughter and taking short naps as he goes over and over what happened, what he saw. Some of it is already escaping him, but he allows himself now to latch onto memories. His own and Jihoon’s, which might as well be his own now, too.
It's far too familiar walking to the infirmary. He might know it better than the one to his room considering he can note the unique cracks in the floor tiles. Kkuma trudges alongside him, as she always does. Seungcheol opens the door and she waits expectantly, as she always does. When he doesn’t invite her in first, she moves out of his way as he closes it behind him gently, knowing she will be there whenever he opens it again. It was Soonyoung who had told him that she sits in front of the door, guarding it.
Jihoon is already there, of course. Sitting in Seungcheol’s designated seat beside the bed, his back to Seungcheol.
Otherwise, the room is as he left it when he was here just before the Drift trial. The bedside table holds their old laptop that does nothing but play Hansol’s DVD collection. His favourite pastime that Seungcheol began to indulge in after the incident.
He begins stepping forward, but quickly stops when he sees Jihoon has one of Hansol’s hands clasped tightly in his.
The steady beeps of the machines holding his brother’s life by a thread sully the silence as he remembers he is in a room with the only people who have ever been allowed inside his head in the Drift. His heart thunders in his chest as he reminds himself this is expected. This was always going to happen. Just as Seungcheol’s mind is also Jihoon’s, Hansol’s is too now.
“To the world, he’s dead,” Seungcheol says to the quiet of the room. Even as the words fall from his mouth, he wonders who he says it to. He was here because he knew Jihoon would be, because Jihoon now knew what Seungcheol knew.
It had been over a year now but everyday, Hansol’s last conscious moments haunted him. Between the two of them, it wasn’t Jihoon’s fault he was ensnared by the strong memory. He had thought about warning him, but Jihoon would have gone in thinking he was not going to think about it, and that would have led him to the same destination anyway. Besides, Jihoon had always known him as everyone else did nowadays—son of the famous original ROSE QUARTZ pilots, one half of Busan Shatterdome’s prized duo, now a useless mourner who let his brother die in a Kaiju fight. Or killed him, if anyone asked Seungcheol. They both knew he was going to feel the memory regardless.
He tries to remember how he was with Hansol. How did they speak when so much of what there is to say is obvious? Jihoon already knows everything that matters. What a weird feeling to experience again, but with a man he’s only known a few days. He supposes it will take time to get used to this time. No words needed.
It’s different than it was with Hansol, of course. He had lived so much of his life with his brother by his side. Their memories had converged and from the start, it was hard sorting out whose feelings belonged to whom, where Seungcheol’s memory began and where Hansol’s ended. It only got more confusing with each new voyage into the Drift and their lives became even more similar than before they joined the Resistance.
So this was new, to know someone without having lived those experiences with them, but also having done just that through the Drift. To have felt what they’ve felt, even if just purely as a memory. It was like he had experienced the Drift in a new way. Their memories, thoughts and feelings melded but he could still decipher which parts were Jihoon and which were Seungcheol. Maybe that would change along the way.
“But not to you,” Jihoon finally says, turning so his gaze catches Seungcheol’s. He wants to look away but he wills himself to hold those sharp eyes. “And not to me.” Jihoon turns back, his words soft. “Not when he’s this warm.”
Seungcheol’s heart clenches a little in his chest as he watches the small hand holding Hansol’s bigger one, Jihoon’s dainty fingers patting it softly. With a speeding heart, he moves forward.
There’s no protocol for first Drifts. They're simply allowed some days to recover and process on their own. Pilots go through one of the most strange, unique experiences and sometimes, it goes dangerously horribly, but sometimes, when the innate connection that no algorithm can predict is there—it goes right. And for them, Seungcheol knew the Drift was strong. It doesn’t make it any easier though, feeling another person’s memories and feelings as strongly as his own.
But things slowly get better as the days pass, and him and Jihoon recalibrate. He joins Jihoon and Mingyu on most of their gym sessions and sometimes, he’ll just tag along to spend more time with him. Jihoon will drop by Seungcheol’s room to check in on him, and Seungcheol will drop by his with food. Sometimes Jihoon will tag along to visit Hansol. They practice and practice, and practice some more. They learn how to fight together harmoniously and live in each other’s minds.
Their first two Kaiju attacks go smoothly. But it’s their third Kaiju when they’re sent in a team of 3 in the middle of the Yellow Sea that they find trouble. Seokmin and Soonyoung are in the midst of battling a Category 2 Kaiju while Seungkwan and Chan are tackling a Category 3 Kaiju. Wonwoo senses another rising signature, and deems it a Category 4—the first of its kind, headed straight for Busan.
Having been on stand-by, Seungcheol and Jihoon actively pursue the Category 4 on their own.
“As expected!” Jeonghan yells out in glee to the crowd, as he walks towards the SERENITY pair. “There's something special between those who can connect well!”
Standing with his arm thrown around his co-pilot’s shoulder, Seungcheol feels the man stiffen under him at Jeonghan’s words. He almost blushes in a room full of the world’s best Jaeger pilots as he thinks about the hundreds of more hours they’ve clocked in the Drift together than them. Peeking down to see Jihoon’s ears, he giggles as they grow impossibly more red by the second.
It’s later when they have a moment to themselves and Jihoon is trying to review their battle plan that Seungcheol interrupts by taking hold of his hand.
“Don’t tell Hansol,” Seungcheol whispers conspiratorially, “but you know that you’re the best pilot to me, right?”
He sees Jihoon’s eyes turn to crescents before he looks down, smiling wide, but somehow still small and shy as Jihoon murmurs, “Thanks.”
It’s a little ridiculous how Seungcheol relishes it, feeling like he’s been awarded a medal of honour.
He thinks maybe there’s some hope for them yet.