Archive of Our Own

Yangyang was no stranger to shitty housing. His university accommodation had been described as ‘the slums’ for a reason. Whatever domestic monstrosities you could name, he’d probably faced it already.

Cockroaches? Silverfish? Rats?  Psh, those were nothing to Yangyang. Little pests could no longer strike fear into his heart. He’d been completely desensitised by the torrent of rats that had flooded out the air vent like a scene in Ratatouille in his first year at university. Opening a cupboard to see thousands of dead woodlice and cockroaches come shooting outwards had happened one too many times.

Broken plumbing? Yes, there’d been some suspiciously yellow water that Yangyang refused to drink or shower in no matter how much the accommodation office had tried to convince him it was safe. Blocked toilet? He shuddered to think of when the toilet had overflowed, regurgitating all the bodily waste they’d flushed into it in the past week. He’d never forget the smell of raw sewage lingering on his clothes for days, the pain he’d been in as he’d had to bin the trainers in his collection that couldn’t be saved.

Roommates, he’d had the worst luck with them. One lad had used the same wok to fry his chicken breast every single day and never washed it. Even when the bottom of the wok was always orange and Yangyang had given him a heads up, he just kept using it. Till he ended up in hospital with severe bowel inflammation to no one’s surprise. Overall, the guy had been an unhygienic asshole.

Then there was the alcoholic roommate who had been found pissing in the middle of the street, stumbling around, and trying to unlock the door with a wine cork. They’d been so drunk Yangyang had enlisted someone from upstairs to heave the ungrateful bastard into bed and tuck them in. Always boasting about how many pints he could down at once and coming home at five in the morning.

Last but not least, there was the flatmate next door who never stopped screwing their boyfriend like they were rabbits in heat. It wasn’t even once a day or at night. In the morning, during the afternoon, it was never-ending. And when confronting said person, they had just smirked and asked if Yangyang wanted to know how their boyfriend had gotten them to make those noises in the first place.

When Yangyang finally saved up enough to get a nice one-bedroom apartment for himself (with a little help from his parents), he was elated. It was newly developed, one of many blocks in the new estate so all the appliances were modern and worked. There would be no freshers blasting music all night long. Even if his neighbours were noisy, Yangyang was sure he could handle it anyway.

It would be the perfect peaceful home he deserved, after years of horrible luck.

The first few days were great. Yangyang settled in quickly and unpacked and relished the peace and quiet. The bliss of being able to watch TV without always having to wear headphones or scroll through his phone without wondering if someone was getting laid near him.

That was until he realised he needed noise. He’d been so used to hearing bass thumping through his walls and the sounds of drunk people yelling at each other that the night felt a little empty without it. When that had become his lullaby he wasn’t sure, but Yangyang now had to resort to white noise to sleep.

The weird noises that began at night were almost a blessing to him. Other people might have been scared at the tapping and creaking Yangyang heard from newly oiled hinges that shouldn’t have made a sound, but Yangyang was happy about the free noise. To think he’d moved up to the twentieth floor to escape the hubbub of the city only to realise he lived off of it.

However, things really took a funny turn when the groaning started. They were small and so quiet at first Yangyang thought it was himself, grunting involuntarily. But over the next few nights they got louder and more garbled and started sounding less human and more monstrous.

Then finally, there was a roar.

Liu Yangyang lay under his duvet, clutching his Sasuke body pillow (a joke gift from Hendery, OK?) to himself as his heartbeat picked up.

“Raswwwhgggraaww!” something screeched from right under his bed.

All those years of terrible housing experiences hadn’t quite prepared Yangyang for how to deal with supernatural occurrences. But it had hardened Yangyang considerably and deadened him to shock. He was level-headed and cool as a cucumber under pressure.

“Asssgrrrwrrrahhhrrr!” The mysterious creature continued, getting louder and louder. Yangyang smirked to himself. The monster probably thought Yangyang was shaking under his sheets, about to piss himself in terror. But they had underestimated Liu Yangyang.

If you heard weird noises at night, simply make weirder noises to assert dominance.

What a simple solution. When his flatmates fucked too loud, Yangyang would moan back at them. He’d drown out the music outside with cute anime music for petty revenge. If the talking kept going at 2am, Yangyang would play a sitcom on full volume. He was no one’s bitch.

Yangyang sat up stock straight in his bed and sent a telepathic apology to the people on the floor above and below him.

When the monster started up again, Yangyang struck hard and fast, interrupting their roar.

“Hrrrakkkgrbrrawwu-”

“GRAWWWWHHSGAGHJOOIHOOOOWWWWGGOOOLLLYUUUUUUUSSAAAGHJJIOO!!!” he screamed back with his whole chest then immediately regretted it. His throat felt like it had burst into flames.

Yangyang would be lucky if he could do anything more than croak tomorrow. And if he would be alive. If the monster, you know, killed him and ate him gruesomely or something.

Well…

There was an immediate dead silence, followed by intense yelling from the neighbours banging on the ceiling, no doubt telling him to shut the fuck up. His phone pinged from the bedside table. They were probably blowing up his phone in rage. Faintly, Yangyang could hear a baby start to cry. He’d woken the kid downstairs, oops.

But there was a monster under his bed. Yangyang was sure he could come up with some kind of believable excuse for why he needed to scream. Maybe he’d stepped on an upturned Lego brick or something.

Then there was a small huff, much like a defeated sigh. It sounded a lot less scary than earlier.

“Okay Jesus, I’m sorry,” said someone in exasperation. It sounded like it was coming from under the bed.

The monster??

It was a pretty normal voice though. Kind of bass-boosted and deep but just like a normal person’s.

“As you should be,” snapped Yangyang, plastering on a brave face and a whole lot of sass just as his sister had taught him. “The noises were okay at first. But the growling? Zero outta ten for that. No fun for anyone.”

There was a growl from his bed, but it felt more like the indignant purr of a kitten than the angry roar of a lion.

“You weren’t very scared,” grumbled the monster. “God, I suck at this shit.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t scared at all,” Yangyang lied through his teeth. “If your job is to scare me, you fucking sucked.”

“H-hey,” the voice stammered. “That’s not very nice. You could at least try to give constructive criticism.”

“You’re pretty eloquent for a monster under the bed.” Yangyang retorted. “I think you’re the coward. Quit hiding and face me man-to-man.” Or man-to-monster, as it were.

He quickly paled as he saw the shadows stretching out on his carpet, illuminated by the moonlight coming through his window. It looked absolutely grotesque. Tentacles, too many limbs, the whole works. Scaly mottled skin of some mysterious scaly texture.

Yangyang got one eyeful of the monster, a gloopy slimy mess of misshapen limbs and what appeared to be fourteen eyeballs(?) and his own eyeballs rolled upwards as he slumped back onto his bed in a dead faint.

“Oh no! I forgot to change! I’m so sorry!”

That was the last thing he heard before everything faded to black.

When he came to, there was a very panicked-looking man next to him. His distinguishing features were two lovely bushy eyebrows and a rather strong dinosaur-like aura. Kind of like that fucked up monster Yangyang must have hallucinated.

“Ah, you’re awake!” cried the man, leaping forwards and grabbing Yangyang by the shoulders. He looked over Yangyang’s face before breathing a sigh of relief. “An excellent meal though, even if not received in the most orthodox manner.”

“You’re going to eat me?” Yangyang shrieked, batting the man away frantically. “First monsters, now cannibals in my apartment? What twisted universe is this?”

“N-no! You’ve got the wrong idea!” cried the man, flapping his arms frantically trying to defend himself. Well, tough luck. Yangyang’s elbows packed a mean punch if he jabbed them in right. The man doubled over and groaned. 

“I’m-the-monster,” he grit out, clutching his ribs. “Shape. Shifter.”

Yangyang blinked innocently.

“Oh,” he said. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

 “I was trying,” scowled the monster-man-shapeshifter, furrowing those magnificent eyebrows. “I forgot to transform back when I came out. I must have given you quite the fright.”

“Not at all,” Yangyang bluffed, crossing his arms. He realised the sun was now up. “Oh shit, what’s the time?”

“Nearly eleven.”

Nearly eleven? Yangyang had a date at twelve he had to get to!

“This is your fault,” he shot at the monster guy, throwing the covers aside and sprinting to the bathroom. The man trudged after him as Yangyang realised he was barefoot.

“Look, I already said I was sorry.” He scratched his head and watched Yangyang curiously as Yangyang started brushing his teeth. “You’re weirdly relaxed about finding a supernatural shapeshifter in your apartment.”

“I’ve faced worse,” Yangyang mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste and saliva. He rinsed his mouth out then reached for the razor. Huh. Not much to shave anyway.

“Well, I guess I can explain a bit to you,” the man said grandly, continuing to watch Yangyang’s rushed morning routine. “Of course, it must be a shock but the supernatural exist.”

“A long time ago, long before the universe was created there was a type of energy-”

“That’s cool and all,” interrupted Yangyang, now fixing his hair. “Can I get the short version though? I’m in a rush.”

The man scowled again but complied. He was seemed so harmless. If Yangyang was a grandma, he would have pinched the man’s cheek. Maybe Yangyang could try to keep him as a pet or something. A shape-shifting monster pet. The dream of every child.

“Well…I’m a shapeshifter. And I live off the fear produced from scaring my targets. That’s what gives me energy. Hence, I tried to scare you. But you were quite surprising.”

“You picked a bad target,” Yangyang said, rifling through his wardrobe. Should he go for sexy or more casual? “So, you basically do photosynthesis…but with fear?”

“Why do you make it sound so lame?”

Smart-sexy? That could be a thing, couldn’t it? A leather jacket, a nice turtleneck and some wire-rimmed glasses would do the trick.

“I got a lot of fear from you when you fainted,” the man added, “I could have left but you were kind of interesting so…”

“Do you have a name?” Yangyang asked. Then he narrowed his eyes. “And is that my Balenciaga t-shirt?” 

“Xiao Dejun,” said Xiao Dejun. “But my friends call me Xiaojun! Or… DJ, if that’s hard to pronounce.”

“Um and sorry, I didn’t mean to wear your clothes.” Xiaojun looked very sheepish. “But I didn’t have anything to wear after I shifted back into human form.”

Yangyang tried not to imagine Xiaojun naked. Now he looked closer, Xiaojun’s face was very pretty. His pupils had flecks of liquid gold in them and were framed by long curved lashes. Shaking that thought aside, Yangyang completed his outfit, added some eyeliner, and checked himself in the mirror. He’d been promised his date was extremely hot.

“You have a Chinese name?” He asked Xiaojun, who nodded dazedly. “Do I look okay?”

“Absolutely sumptuous,” blurted Xiaojun then he coloured. “I mean, you look presentable by modern standards.”

Yangyang considered his English skills pretty decent, but he had no clue what Xiaojun had meant with those long fancy words. It sounded like something out of Pride and Prejudice.

“Thanks bro,” Yangyang said, assuming it was a compliment. “Stick around and we can chat after I get back.”

“You can’t order me around!” spluttered Xiaojun, puffing up like a peacock. “I’m a higher being than you! I’m superior, I’m the dominant species! The apex predator!”

“Well, I just did.” Yangyang rolled his eyes and patted Xiaojun on the shoulder. Xiaojun jumped like he’d just pressed his body onto a hot stove. “See ya later.”

He’d just finished tying his laces when he saw Xiaojun beside him vibrating with anger, fists clenched like he was the Arthur meme.

“You have the fortune to meet a friendly neighbourhood shapeshifter and you blow them off for a date!” yelped Xiaojun. “For all you know, I might never come back and you’ll never learn about the mysteries of the world!”

It was kind of cute how wound up he was getting. Smoke was coming out of Xiaojun’s ears. Literally. But Yangyang had a gut feeling Xiaojun would stick around. He seemed far more curious about Yangyang than Yangyang was about him.

For some reason, Yangyang wasn’t that put out by the situation. His life had hardly been threatened besides seeing that scary-ass monster. All that he was left to deal with now a short angry man. That was nothing compared to the things he had been through.

“Sorry Xiaojun, but I really do have to go before I’m late,” he said to the shapeshifter who had crossed his arms grumpily.

“I’ll destroy your house,” muttered Xiaojun. “I’ll vandalise everything.”

“Love you too!” He watched Xiaojun start spluttering again before slamming the door in his face. Jesus, what a weirdo.

The date was in a coffee shop which already made Yangyang deduct brownie points. He hated the taste of coffee, the travesty that was bitter bean water. Having said, it was a classy place with highly Instagrammable aesthetics. He’d certainly be snapping a selfie before he left.

Then again, he wasn’t expecting too much out of this date in the first place because Chenle and Jisung had been the ones playing matchmaker over a lunch out.

“You’re both Chinese, sarcastic and have the same vibes,” Chenle had told him, “He likes art and aliens and he’s a weirdo like you too.”

“You’re setting me up with myself, basically?”

“What Chenle’s trying to say is,” Jisung hastily backtracked, “Renjun and you have a compatible personality. We’re sure you’d get along. He’s your type, right? Pretty, arty, witty and a little bit insane.”

“I didn’t know that was my type,” Yangyang said flatly and bit into his sandwich, chewing noisily.

“Well it is, buddy,” assured Chenle with a heavy slap to his back. A little piece of lettuce shot out of Yangyang’s mouth and landed on the floor from the force of the blow. “Don’t make us prove it to you.”

Jisung fanned out his fingers, smirking slightly.

“One,” he said. “Doyoung-hyung.”

“Two, Donghyuck,” Chenle added after. God, Yangyang hated it when they pulled their telepathy act on him.

“Do I need to say more?”

Yangyang had admitted defeat very grudgingly. He didn’t want to hear any more of his unrequited crushes being listed out.

He skirted around the café, looking around for someone who fit the description of ‘arty, witty and a little bit insane’. It was easy enough to spot Renjun. A man with two-toned hair, half white and half brown, was doodling into a napkin with a worried frown. He was wearing a fluffy white sweater and light blue jeans, with a beret matching the jeans.

“Renjun-ssi?” Yangyang called and grinned as the man looked up and swivelled his head in the direction of Yangyang’s voice.

“You’re Yangyang?” said Renjun said in Chinese as Yangyang sat down in the seat in front of him.

“Indeed I am,” Yangyang replied. “How did Chenle and Jisung convince you to be here?”

Renjun scowled darkly at the mention of their names.

“Apparently we’re both Chinese and you’re my type.”

“And what’s your type?”

“Not you,” Renjun admitted casually. He adjusted his beret delicately with his fingers.

Yangyang choked on his own saliva.

“Excuse me?”

He was almost about to walk out the café altogether till Renjun cracked a smile.

“Sorry I was joking,” he said with a wicked grin. “But they said my type was arty, witty and a little bit insane.”

Hang on, why did that sound familiar?

Yangyang frowned to himself.

“That’s exactly what they said to me!” He blurted in realisation. “Those little shits told me the exact same thing! That you’re arty, witty and a little bit insane!”

Yangyang wouldn’t have described himself like that too but he guessed it could have fit. But what the hell? He was going to kill Chenle when he next saw him. Even if Chenle and Jisung were a combo, Chenle was nearly always the ringleader. And to add insult to injury, Renjun hadn’t mentioned pretty. No one thought Yangyang was pretty.

They both facepalmed.

“So…” Renjun said, “Shall we order then?”

They fell into avid conversation over their iced Americanos, a flavour Yangyang had forced himself to get used to in Korea. Renjun also got a slice of cake, which he offered to share with Yangyang. They talked about everything from their jobs – Yangyang as a radio DJ and Renjun as an artist and occupational therapist, to hobbies and it was going very well. It was really comfortable and the atmosphere never got awkward. Renjun was also very cute, his voice sounded positively angelic and he loved using sarcasm which Yangyang totally appreciated.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” asked Renjun in a hushed whisper. “Aliens? The supernatural?”

Yangyang considered. He hadn’t really ever thought they were real…to be honest. It was more like people created these supernatural stories to explain things they couldn’t before. Like there was that disease that gave you symptoms that basically matched how a vampire was.

But then he thought of Xiaojun, who was probably lounging around in his apartment right now, wearing his Balenciaga t-shirt. He had seemed pretty real when Yangyang left in the morning.

“Not really,” Yangyang admitted, despite wanting to explain further. He didn’t want to be sectioned and detained at the nearest psych ward. But Renjun’s smile drooped like a wilted flower.

“Not at all?” he said, sounding immensely disappointed.

“Wait, don’t jump to conclusions,” Yangyang said desperately. “Until I met a supernatural creature.”

Renjun’s eyes widened like to the size of saucers.

“You had an incident!” He shouted excitedly. Too excitedly. People in the café turned around to glare at him.

“Just let the whole world know, will you?” hissed Yangyang, nearly upsetting his drink with his elbow. To add insult to injury, the way Renjun phrased it made it sound like he had just wet himself. “There was a monster under my bed.”

He explained everything to Renjun, who listened with absolute enthrallment.

Yangyang ended up taking Renjun home. But not in the sexy way he’d been hoping. No, because he was about to introduce Renjun to his new friend.

“He said he would destroy my house,” Yangyang said. “I hope he hasn’t actually…”

“I mean from what you said, he might have left entirely.” Renjun replied. “And then I’ll just be in your house for no reason.”

“Well then, we could fuck?” suggested Yangyang, not entirely joking. Renjun was still hot as fuck. If he was willing…

“Absolutely not.” Renjun’s mouth wrinkled. “No offence but I’d rather be your friend.”

“Eh, doesn’t hurt to try.” Yangyang said, ignoring the tingle of disappointment that Renjun hadn’t even considered it for more than one second. “Well, you can stay and we can play some games or something if Xiaojun’s disappeared.”

“I mean, it’s quite the ploy to get me into your house if he doesn’t show himself.” commented Renjun snidely.

“I thought you believed me?” Yangyang drooped sadly. He prayed to God Xiaojun was still in there so he wouldn’t look like a total loser-weirdo in front of Renjun.

He unlocked his door, only to smell cooking. Which was weird because Yangyang could count the number of times he’d cooked a real meal on one hand.

“I’m home!” he called. “You better have not blown up my house!”

“Don’t come in!” he heard Xiaojun call, sounding frantic. “I-I’m not done vandalising everything yet!”

Ignoring him, Yangyang and Renjun tiptoed into the flat, only to see Xiaojun in an apron, stirring something in a large metal pot Yangyang swore he didn’t own. Come to think of it, he didn’t own an apron either.

“That’s the shapeshifter?” Renjun said curiously. “Why does he have cat ears?”

Said cat ears swivelled around to point at the source of the sound.

Yangyang doubled over.

“Oh my god!” he wheezed. “He thinks it’s cute?”

“He wants to be a catboy?” Renjun wondered.

“I can hear you!” screeched Xiaojun, brandishing the ladle threateningly. The cat ears flattened momentarily before perking back up. Then he noticed Renjun was here.

“Who the hell is this?” he said, extremely rudely. The ears instantly disappeared and his aura became heavy and oppressive.

“That is not how you greet a guest,” Yangyang scolded. “You should be polite.”

In response, Xiaojun turned into a shapeless mass. He definitely had quite the attitude.

“Hi, I’m Renjun!” said Renjun quite happily to the writhing blob. “Yangyang said you’re a shapeshifter! Whoa! He didn’t lie!”

A mouth appeared on the blob on the floor.

“Why would you tell people about me? Do you want me to kill him?”

“More like get you killed,” scoffed Yangyang. “I could tell the police and they’d come and lock you in a lab for nasty experiments.”

“No because no one would believe you and you’d end up in an insane asylum for thinking there’s a monster under your bed.”

“They don’t have insane asylums anymore,” Renjun said, looking mildly offended. “Can you turn back into…like…something else? You look ugly like this.”

Wow, Renjun really didn’t play around. Yangyang loved him for that.

Xiaojun was clearly in a mood. He turned into Renjun.

Except Renjun was sporting a handlebar moustache.

“Why does no one respect me?” muttered Xiaojun in Renjun’s voice. “I’ve been alive for over two millennia, terrified countless souls and yet these mere mortals don’t even bow to me. I’m the stuff of legends yet they do not cower before me and beg for my respect. I will make them fear me.”

The two of them stared at him, unimpressed.

“As if you could scare me,” Renjun bragged, perhaps unwisely. “The occult is like my homeland.”

Of course Xiaojun was going to rise to meet that challenge.

He resumed his original form, the one Yangyang had first seen him in. Even on second exposure and knowing that Xiaojun was basically harmless, Yangyang still screamed.

“Jesus, give me a guy a warning won’t you?” he yelled at the towering blob of eyes and body parts. “Fuck, go back!”

“That’s nothing to me,” Renjun said calmly, crossing his arms. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“You’ll regret that,” the monster croaked in a deep voice and promptly transformed again.

It was a man that Yangyang had never seen before. His face was elvish and could have been carved from marble. Everything was perfectly proportioned.

“Renjun, I’m disappointed in you.” The man said softly. His gaze hardened. “I really expected better.”

Yangyang watched as all the colour drained from Renjun’s face.

“T-Taeyong-hyung?” he gasped weakly. “Why are you here?”

Taeyong walked towards Renjun. His gaze was piercing. His tone was ice cold.

“I don’t want to see you in my office ever again.”

Renjun’s knees collapsed under him, and he folded like a lawn chair. Xiaojun-Taeyong let out a grin.

“Hyung!” wailed Renjun. “I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”

And just like that, Xiaojun resumed his original form. Once Renjun realised there was no ‘Taeyong’, he blinked.

“Huh? What happened?”

“That’s why I told you not to underestimate me,” said Xiaojun smugly, crossing his arms, back to original form. “I am an immensely powerful dark creature, with centuries more wisdom than you after all.”

Renjun weakly tottered out the tiny kitchen and collapsed on the sofa in response, sighing dramatically.

“Centuries old but with none of the maturity,” he muttered under his breath. Yangyang coughed loudly. Xiaojun levelled him with a suspicious glare but didn’t probe.

So Xiaojun could read people’s deepest fears or something. Yangyang shivered. He was relieved Xiaojun hadn’t used that on him yet. He didn’t even know what his deepest fear was and wasn’t keen to find out.

“So you’re like a Boggart?” said Yangyang quickly, thinking back to Harry Potter. “But with a few more upgrades?”

He expected Xiaojun to get insulted and puff up indignantly again at being compared to a fictional creature, something about how it could never capture his magnificence. But no. Xiaojun’s eyes began sparkling like a child’s.

“Oh!” gasped Xiaojun, pitch increasing with the length of his ‘O’. “You like Harry Potter? I LOVE Harry Potter!”

He began bouncing up and down in excitement. Whatever was on the stove was beginning to boil over and he hadn’t even noticed.

“N-not love!” spluttered Yangyang, feeling second-hand embarrassment from Xiaojun’s enthusiasm. “The pot!”

A considerable amount of foam gushed out the pot, but Xiaojun shrugged as he turned the heat down.

“No damage done,” he said. “So you read Harry Potter?”

Yangyang groaned.

“Renjun!” he called. “Have you read Harry Potter?”

Renjun gave him a little snore in return. The adrenaline of the shock Xiaojun had put on him must have worn off and now his energy was sapped.

Yangyang was left completely without support as Xiaojun proceeded to talk in length about the HP universe. It was cute, he admitted hesitantly, to see Xiaojun so passionate.

Renjun had called Xiaojun immature for his age but Yangyang saw it another way. Rather, he was impressed. How could someone be an ancient dark monster yet seem so happy and unjaded? Yangyang had only been on this planet a mere twenty-odd years and he was already sick and fed-up of shit like capitalism, global-warming and unrealistic beauty standards. And had to cope with considerable amounts of sarcasm and maladaptive daydreaming.

As Xiaojun babbled on and the kitchen warmed with the scent of his mysterious dish (that didn’t smell all too bad), maybe Yangyang’s heart warmed a little too.

“Dinner time!” Xiaojun declared. “You should tell your date to wake up if he wants some.”

“And what exactly is it in there?” Yangyang asked dubiously, unable to see through the thick white steam billowing off the top. “Is it edible?”

“Do you think I could survive for centuries without knowing basic life skills like cooking?” Xiaojun rolled his eyes haughtily. “I’m great at cooking.”

“But you don’t exactly have to eat food to survive,” Yangyang pointed out. “You feed off fear.”

“I’ve cultivated the palate for both!” insisted Xiaojun. “Now go wake up Renjun!”

Yangyang wondered the best way to go about that. Not that he was scared of waking Renjun or anything. But the man looked so peaceful dozing away. He tried words first.

“Renjun, dinner’s ready. Time to wake up.” Nothing. Not so much as a grunt or a movement.

Yangyang repeated his words and squeezed Renjun’s shoulder gently. Still nothing. So he squeezed a bit harder. And a bit harder. And a bit harder. Until-

Renjun’s eyes shot wide open without warning and shoved Yangyang viciously away from him with surprising strength.

“I said I’d go walk the unicorn, Chenle!” he growled, clearly still away with the fairies. Did fairies exist if Xiaojun could?

“AAAH!” Yangyang was falling over in the meantime. Xiaojun poked his head around the kitchen in alarm. There was a flash and Yangyang found himself landing on something rather soft that decidedly wasn’t the hardwood floor.

Then he screamed. Why had Xiaojun turned into a pig of all things to cushion his fall.

The pig gave a despondent oink before it grew wings, shrank a little and flew back into the kitchen.

“Thank you?” Yangyang said. Xiaojun oinked again in response. “Is it hygienic to be in the kitchen as a pig though?”

“I’m a very clean pig,” Dejun said, clutching the pot with two hands. He had several extra arms also carrying bowls, cutlery, and mugs of tea. He set the table with impressive speed as Renjun sidled over, yawning.

“Sorry about that, Yangie,” he said. “Dinner smells…uh…interesting.”

Yangyang blushed at the nickname and the three of them sat down to whatever Xiaojun had spooned into their bowls. It looked very weird. It was some kind of stew but Yangyang couldn’t identify half of what was in there.

“What exactly is in there?” Renjun said. “I’m allergic to mushrooms, by the way.”

“I might have switched a few dimensions to get all the ingredients,” Xiaojun said brightly, looking very proud of his creation, “But just taste it! And it has no mushrooms, so don’t worry.”

Renjun shrugged and began eating. Yangyang on the other hand, continued to stare dubiously at his bowl. He saw Xiaojun’s wounded puppy-eyed gaze and immediately stuffed a giant spoonful in his mouth, burning his mouth. With a blistering tongue and watery eyes, he swallowed.

It wasn’t bad. It was just…different. Textures and flavours that Yangyang was unfamiliar with but still worked together if he didn’t think too hard about where it had come from. Renjun, unfortunately, had also read Harry Potter and Yangyang was forced to sit through another rendition of Xiaojun gushing over it. It had been cute. Now it really was getting slightly annoying. Renjun clearly thought so too because with a lot of effort, he raised his eyebrows at Yangyang to help him shut down the nonstop Harry Potter babble and change the subject.

“Are there others like you?” Renjun asked. His bowl remained untouched and he was stirring it slowly, giving the impression of eating.

“Of course,” said Xiaojun airily. He was on his second bowl. “But I can’t tell you all of it. There’s rules and regulations regarding that.”

“So you have a full society of supernatural creatures?” wondered Yangyang. If they had laws, then there was a system in place, which would only be needed for a fairly large amount of supernatural creatures. “I’m curious about all the different types.”

“Well,” hesitated Xiaojun, seemingly torn between keeping to the rules and being able to seem cool and mysterious. “There’s more than one of me. I won’t say anymore.”

Yangyang had nearly finished his bowl and Xiaojun held up the ladle to indicate offering him more. Although almost full, Yangyang found himself nodding. Dejun had worked so hard to cook for them and he didn’t want to offend him.

Across the table, Renjun gave him a funny look.

“So are you allowed to show yourselves like this to us?” he asked. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

Xiaojun smirked at that.

“I’m old. That gives me power. I don’t have to abide by everything I’m told to do.”

“Isn’t that corruption?” Yangyang quipped. Huh. Even with primordial creatures like Xiaojun, there was no such thing as a perfect society.

“It’s complicated. The creatures who made the system aren’t around anymore and while we abide by the original sentiment, whoever is in power can interpret them as they wish. And currently, they’re a bit stricter than my liking. Beside what are they gonna do if I don’t listen? As if they could even touch me.” Xiaojun sounded very confident.

“Even if they hunted you down?” Yangyang continued, eyes wide. Was Xiaojun like a god?

“I have allies. Connections, you know,” Xiaojun scoffed. “Anyway, why are you asking? It sounds like you’re worried about little old me.”

“I’m not!” Yangyang snapped then realised he sounded extremely rude. “Um, the food was great by the way.”

After dinner, Yangyang’s jeans were straining uncomfortably at the zipper. They helped Xiaojun clear the dishes and washed them together, chatting about all sorts of things. Xiaojun was pretty up to date with things in the human world and enjoyed pop culture just as much as the rest of them. Renjun, sadly, seemed to have no interest whatsoever in Yangyang beyond friendship.

Somehow Yangyang’s dashing looks and charm hadn’t been enough. Yangyang was a little disappointed, mostly due to the fact he hadn’t gotten laid in ages but was happy enough to be friends with Renjun. Their similarities (no thanks to Chenle and Jisung) made them get along splendidly.

As Renjun announced he needed to get home, Yangyang offered to escort him out.

“You should rest, you did a lot of cooking,” he said to Xiaojun.

Or, in other words, he wanted to say goodbye to Renjun by himself. Thankfully Xiaojun got the message and poofed into a dog before hopping onto the couch and curling up. Whether he was flexing his powers or genuinely preferred sleeping in dog form, Yangyang didn’t know.

“Do you think Xiaojun is cute?” Renjun asked, pulling his coat off the hook on the wall.

“What?” Yangyang whisper-shrieked. “Do you? Are you one of those? A monsterfucker?”

“You didn’t answer me,” Renjun said, smirking.

“Of course not!” Anyway, why was Yangyang getting interrogated here? “What about you?”

Renjun shrugged, cool as a cucumber.

“Yeah, he is. He looks like a K-pop idol.” Ack! Why was that so easy for him to admit? Not that Yangyang was finding it hard to admit anything about Xiaojun but it almost seemed forbidden to let his brain to formulate the concept of Xiaojun being attractive. His tongue didn’t quite want to form the words.

“What, do you like him or something?” Yangyang couldn’t help blurting. Renjun stared at him like he was five years old.

“I can appreciate someone’s looks without being emotionally attracted to them,” he replied dryly. “And even if I did, what’s it to you?”

“Well, I’m not sure how I’d handle dating a supernatural creature,” Yangyang shrugged. Now that he thought about it, how would that work? Given Xiaojun seemed immortal and all that. “Anyway, see you around?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in touch,” Renjun said, putting his coat on. “I think we’ll be good friends-” Yangyang’s heart let out one last squelch of disappointment. “-and I want to know about more supernatural creatures.”

With that, he walked out into the night.

After Yangyang shut the door, he wondered if he should have offered to walk Renjun back home. Nah, this was a safe neighbourhood. In fact, he was more at danger in house than outside considering he could be obliterated any second.

Now.

“Why are you still here, anyway?” Yangyang demanded, prodding the Beagle on the sofa which whined and shifted away from him. “Don’t you have a house? And if not, you better start paying rent if you’re going to live here.”

Xiaojun resumed human form again and crossed his arms. He was wearing clothes. Yangyang didn’t really understand how the whole clothes thing worked with transformations. Why had Xiaojun been naked the first time they’d met? It was another mystery of the universe that he’d have to ask Xiaojun about later.

“I’ve just never met a human who’s reacted to me like that,” The monster in question said loftily. “I find you very fascinating.”

“Why are you turning red?” Yangyang pointed out curiously. “Is it too warm here?”

Xiaojun if anything, flushed an even darker shade of crimson.

“No!” he scoffed. “I just find you interesting, the way a researcher is fascinated by the specimens in his laboratory. And…”

Yangyang tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. Could Xiaojun just get to the damn point?

“I wish to make your acquaintance,” Dejun mumbled and turned invisible.

Yangyang stared at Xiaojun – well, at the dent on the couch where he was sitting invisibly.

“You want to make my what?” He said, flabbergasted. “Aren’t you positively ancient? Don’t you have friends?”

Why me, was what he really wanted to say.

“Of course I have a plethora of friends, spread far and wide across multiple universes,” Xiaojun said irritably. “Just none that are human.”

Fair enough, Yangyang supposed.

“But are you actually planning on living here?” This was a freaking one-bedroom apartment! “Don’t you have some shadow realm house you can teleport to?”

There was a sigh and Xiaojun flickered back into view. There was still a fading blush high on his cheeks.

“I do but…” He let out another longer, even more drawn-out sigh. “It’s a long story but as of now, I cannot return.”

“What happened to being above the rules and all that bragging you were doing earlier?”

Yangyang retorted but he could feel himself melting. Goddamnit! It had to be those big boba eyes Xiaojun had – surely he had shapeshifted them on to make Yangyang more receptive to his charms? Like a siren, or something.

“I take it you want me to leave, then?” Xiaojun said sadly, getting up as if to go. That was definitely the most logical decision. There was no reason for Yangyang to house him. However, for argument’s sake, it would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience to spend time with a supernatural creature. Yangyang could tell his grandkids about it one day. Xiaojun was also watching him and fluttering those long eyelashes, which framed two big brown eyes.

“No, no!” Yangyang said wildly, pushing Xiaojun back down onto the sofa with a thump. “Y-you can stay here! As long as you do some chores at least! If you’re not going to pay rent!”

Xiaojun cheered loudly. Fire burst from his nostrils and singed Yangyang’s eyebrows. The acrid stench of burnt hair filled the flat. Abrupt horror made its way across Xiaojun’s features.

“Don’t make me change my mind now,” Yangyang threatened, his eyebrows smoking.

“I’m so sorry!” Xiaojun cried, hopping around. He threw a glass of water at Yangyang’s face. “It only happens if I’m really excited or happy! You see, my original form can breathe fire!”

With water dripping down his chin and blackened eyebrows, Yangyang clenched his fists.

“Maybe you should turn into something that can absorb impact because I’m going to fucking beat you up right now.”

So that was why Yangyang was sleeping in his bed with a dog at his feet. Sometimes it was a cat. Other times a bird would roost on his coat rack. He’d forbidden Xiaojun from ever being a cockerel again – being roused at dawn by Xiaojun cock-a-doodle-dooing at 5am had been hellish. Sometimes Xiaojun would serve as a giant heat-emanating body pillow in the form of a tiger or a llama which had really helped Yangyang save on heating bills.

The only other condition aside from helping with the chores was Xiaojun was not allowed to scare him and try and feed off his fear.

When Yangyang got to the studio in the morning, Hendery asked him why he had a pet dog.

“I don’t have any pets,” Yangyang mumbled blearily, voice still croaky with sleep.

Xiaojun had still been asleep when he left, living a semi-nocturnal life. Because of the rules, he would go out at night to feed. Yangyang decided to be tactful and not inquire into Xiaojun’s feeding habits, aka how he terrorised other people to an inch of their life.

“Then do you just house strays?” Hendery pressed, jabbing a finger at the photo of Xiaojun asleep as a Beagle on his bed. Yangyang had forgotten he’d uploaded it on his story. “And now a cat?"

His evidence came in the form of another photo, a Siamese cat sleeping on his sofa. Yangyang panicked. Shit, he hadn’t realised Hendery was so perceptive.

“Yeah, I did get some pets,” he relented. “Just fucking with you, bro.” Hendery let out a self-satisfied laugh, having managed to pry the appropriate information from Yangyang. But then he frowned again.

“I thought the landlord didn’t allow pets?” Ugh! Yangyang almost slumped over the table so he could bang his head against it. Why was Hendery suddenly playing detective today of all days?

“It’s a secret,” he said. “One of them randomly found their way into my house and somehow I just keep stumbling across animals.”

It wasn’t a lie, Xiaojun had suddenly appeared under his bed.

“They look cute,” Hendery lamented. “Let me come by sometime and see them!” Outside the recording room, the producer signalled at them to say the ads were beginning to play.

“Sure,” blustered Yangyang, flipping the pages of his script. Had it always been so many pages? “I can’t lie, I can’t wait for today’s shift to end.” Hendery rolled his eyes.

“Dude, you say that every week but you always end up having fun. What are your pets’ names by the way?”

“The dog’s Bella,” said Yangyang blurting out the first name that came to mind. “The cat is called…Louis!”

“A French name!” exclaimed Hendery delightedly. They went through the script, discussing a few trending topics and some light banter on what they had been getting up to. As Hendery had predicted (although Yangyang didn’t want to admit it), he could feel himself perking up. It was a fun job, even if morning radio involved an early start to the day.

Next was the fun segment, where listeners could send in pretty much whatever they wanted. Sometimes it was to ask for advice, other times it was to share funny stories or just messages from fans of theirs. Yangyang was honestly still shocked that a small radio show like theirs had gathered a decent following - there’d even been talks of them branching out into podcasts.

“Next up, we have a message especially for DJ Young Money,” Hendery said, pulling out the old, cringy nickname Yangyang had jokingly adopted. “This message is from listener Hip-hop Otter, love the name, by the way. It’s quite a short message. Has anyone ever told you that you look like Lightning McQueen when you smile?”

There was a pause as both Yangyang and Hendery burst out laughing. After Hendery recovered from his laughing fit, he continued on.

“Hip-hop Otter has also sent us photographic evidence.” The comparison images were pulled up on the TV screen behind them. “Do any of our listeners agree?”

Yangyang groaned. The comparison wasn’t exactly wrong. He looked at the comments flooding the live chat.

they’re carbon copies!
petition for yangyang to change his DJ name!
whoever sent this in must be taking crack
who the fuck is lightning mcqueen?
how does someone manage to look like a car???

“I’ve been compared to worse,” Yangyang remarked drily. “My ex used to call me a lazy cheating bastard.”

“Really?” Hendery snorted. “I find it hard to think you could get someone to date you, let alone another to have an affair with.”

The chat chimed back in agreement.

“Yeah, you got me, I made that up,” Yangyang relented. “But I’m insulted that no one seemed to think I had enough moral integrity to not cheat.”

“Is it that deep, bro?” Hendery said, quickly salvaging a possibly depressing trajectory the conversation could have taken.

“Moving on,” Yangyang continued. “While I may be Lightning McQueen as of today - Hip-hop Otter, if I find you there will be consequences, we have another comparison, this time about our lovely Hendery and his resemblance to Donkey from Shrek.”

”I admit it!” Hendery said immediately. “But now I’m confused. My duality seems to be off the charts. The last time we did this, I was Prince Eric. Now I’m a donkey.”

They moved into the final segment on music then wrapped up for the day. Yangyang had indeed cheered up. There were some production meetings - boring stuff, then he was finally free to go home and see what Xiaojun had been doing.

“So, I’m coming over for dinner today, right?” Hendery announced, swivelling backwards on his chair. Yangyang was packing up his stuff.

“When was that ever a thing?” Yangyang jabbed back, rolling his eyes. He put his coat on and shrugged his rucksack onto his shoulders.

“You don’t want to treat your wonderfully kind and generous ge from time to time?” Hendery said beseechingly. He started packing his bag, as if Yangyang had agreed.

“Is this kind and generous ge in the room with us right now?” Yangyang retorted. “Ouch!” Hendery had elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re proving my point!”

He headed home, Hendery following behind him. Xiaojun didn’t even have a phone so Yangyang could only hope he was in an appropriate state when they got home. He wasn’t sure how often Xiaojun reverted to his original form, but his best bet was Xiaojun being in his Bella form. Hendery would never let him hear the end of it if he found a man in Yangyang’s house.

When Yangyang got his front door, he tried to make as much noise as possible.

”Hendery, why are you taking soo long to walk here from the elevator?” he called slowly and deliberately.

”I’m literally right here?” Hendery said in confusion. “I want to see the animals!”

”Bella! We have guests!” Yangyang shouted into the hallway. “Uncle Hendery is here to see you!”

”What?” He heard Xiaojun shriek from inside and his heart sank a little. Hendery narrowed his eyes.

”Is there a person in here?” he whispered, looking fearful all of a sudden. “Yangyang, has someone broken in?”

”No, that was Bella barking,” Yangyang lied boldly. “She sometimes sounds so human. Dogs are funny, huh?” Thankfully, Bella the Beagle indeed came bounding out the bedroom, howling like a guard dog on alert.

Hendery shrank behind the sofa at the sudden noise, then his eyebrows came into view, relieved to see it wasn’t actually a wolf.

“Why does she do that…?” he said, gingerly reaching out a hand for Bella to sniff. Yangyang did not have the slightest idea.

“She acts like that whenever strangers come round,” Yangyang explained, surely that was a logical answer? “It must be some leftover survival instinct.”

Bella nudged Yangyang’s leg with her head meaningfully, and tilted her head sideways, gesturing for him to follow.

“I’m just gonna give her some more kibble,” Yangyang said to Hendery. “You can just sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

His words were unnecessary as Hendery had already kicked off his shoes and was putting his feet on the sofa.

“Or do that.” Yangyang deadpanned, tossing him the television remote. He followed Bella into the kitchen, only to be met with Xiaojun.

“Who’s that?” Xiaojun whispered, eyes darting furtively around the room. It seemed as if he wanted to say more but was holding himself back.

“Hendery, you remember me talking about him?” Yangyang said. “He’s my coworker.”

Xiaojun looked relieved to hear that and relaxed considerably.

“Oh, him.” He pursed his lips. “Well, you could give me more warning if you’re going to bring someone home.”

Hey, now that was hardly fair. This wasn’t ‘bringing someone home’, whether Xiaojun had meant for that to be a euphemism or not. Who owned this flat again?

“Who’s the freeloader here?” Yangyang said dryly. “He’s just coming for dinner and because of you.” At the ‘you’, he jabbed a finger into Xiaojun’s chest, making him yelp.

“Is Bella okay?” Hendery called in concern.

“Bella’s just being a little shit,” Yangyang called back as Xiaojun glowered at him. “He wanted to see Bella!”

“I can’t help the fact I make such a cute dog,” Xiaojun said, a tail materialising and wagging on his backside. “Plus, I’m not the one who uploaded these photographs with Bella onto the interweb!”

“It’s called the internet,” Yangyang corrected. From what Xiaojun had told him, it had been quite a while since he’d come to the human realm, so he was slightly behind on new technological advancements. Yangyang had no clue where he got celebrity news from. Maybe there was so supernatural platform.s “Either way, you’re gonna have to be Bella while he’s here.”

Xiaojun scowled, unamused by the suggestion. “I want to talk to him.”

“Why?”

Xiaojun smirked to himself, with an air of superiority.

“He’s cute.”

“Cuter than me?” Yangyang spluttered in outrage. No way. There was just no way. He had to lean back and let the kitchen counter support his weight, he was that shocked.

“Who said anything about you?” Xiaojun sniffed, with pink ears. “You’re the one who seems to be gatekeeping Hendery. Maybe you find him cute and want him all for yourself.”

This was gaslighting. Yangyang had no clue how all of this was now circling to him. Xiaojun was trying to make him feel crazy. Unfortunately, it was working.

“Well, do you want to be Xiaojun the human or Xiaojun the primordial shapeshifter?” Yangyang asked. There wasn’t much harm in Xiaojun meeting Hendery if he seriously considered it. He’d known Hendery for a long time and he was unlikely to tell other people about Xiaojun.

“Depends how much you trust him,” Xiaojun declared. Yangyang considered that. Hendery was a little silly, but he could keep secrets.

“OK,” Yangyang made up his mind. “You can meet him, but only if you scare him first.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because it’s funny?” Yangyang echoed him. “Duh.”

Five minutes later, Yangyang was putting Hendery into the recovery position after he had passed out. He’d been lying on the sofa anyway, so it just seemed like he’d fallen asleep. Xiaojun ribbited regretfully, currently a goliath frog.

“I didn’t realise his fear of frogs was so intense,” Xiaojun said, sounding guilty. “It was only meant to be a small scare. I don’t need to feed for the next few days.”

“I didn’t realise either,” Yangyang said in a small voice. He promised to treat Hendery to dinner the next time they went out to make up for it.

Hendery opened his eyes with a groan.

“Did I fall asleep?” He wondered out loud. “You’ve got a good sofa here, Yangyang. I had the worst nightmare about frogs and THERE’S SOMETHING BEHIND YOU!” He let out a shrill scream, with a frequency Yangyang had only achieved once in his life after his sister had kneed him in the balls.

Yangyang wearily glanced behind him to see a woman with dark matted here and a hole for a face. He joined Hendery in his screaming.

“Not funny!” Yangyang squeaked out. “Not funny at all!” Hendery was starting to look very pale again so Yangyang had no choice but to man up and kick the woman in the shins.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist!” wailed Xiaojun, hopping around on one foot, resuming human form.

“I think I’m still dreaming,” muttered Hendery and he shut his eyes again. “I need to escape this dream as soon as possible.”

Yangyang gave him a gentle poke.

“It’s not a dream, buddy.”

Hendery shushed him.

“God, why is Yangyang so annoying even in my dreams?” he said.

“Hey!” Yangyang said and this time he shoved Hendery off the sofa. There was a thump as his body made impact with the carpet. “You’re the one who invited himself to my house!”

Now that Hendery was fully awake, Yangyang began to explain Xiaojun’s existence.

“So that’s not your boyfriend pranking me?” Hendery clarified, staring at Xiaojun with a mixture of fear and awe. “That’s a shapeshifter thousands of years old, who turned up in your house one day and now wants to be friends.”

“Why would I have a boyfriend?” shouted Yangyang miserably, picking up a cushion to whack Hendery with, only to slowly put it back down. The poor sod had been through enough for today. “And certainly not him!” Xiaojun made a noise of indignation.

“So that’s Bella,” Hendery said mournfully. “A man in disguise.”

“Hey, this isn’t even my true form,” Xiaojun said hotly. “You want to see what I really look like? I could wipe your puny existence from this planet in mere seconds if I wanted to!”

“Can’t you just go back to being Bella instead?” pleaded Hendery. “Or for fuck’s sake, just stop scaring me. Please consider my cardiovascular health. High blood pressure runs in my family, you know.”

“I’m surprised you know such a long word,” Yangyang muttered as Xiaojun blushed and stumbled over a string of apologies.

But of course, it didn’t end there.

“Yangyang put me up to it,” said Xiaojun, officially ratting him out. “I didn’t want to scare you, but he forced me to. I would never hurt a soul intentionally. I am not a malicious person. This is the kind of person your friend is.”

“You stay alive by scaring people!” Yangyang protested, but he quickly sidestepped to avoid Hendery’s rugby tackle.

“I was going to blame it on you anyway,” Hendery grunts, having caught Yangyang in chokehold from behind. “But this just gives me all the more excuse to do this!” Then he twisted Yangyang’s arm behind his back, making his eyes water with excruciating pain.

Xiaojun had the nerve to look gratified at his suffering.

*

“I knew the weird people that appeared at the end of my bed weren’t just hallucinations,” Hendery confessed over hotpot, a devilishly red spicy broth bubbling between the three of them. Xiaojun’s chopstick-bearing arm halted over the tofu knots he was about to fish out the pot.

“What weird people?” he said, alarmed. Yangyang supposed those people could be one of his friends.

“Oh, I don’t remember it very well,” Hendery said, waving casually. “But they were always arguing with each other when I just wanted to sleep. Sometimes they would tell me to do my homework.”

That sounded totally normal, Yangyang thought. He scooped up the beef slices from the broth and dumped them onto the sharing plate for everyone to take. Despite technically not needing to eat, Xiaojun was thoroughly enjoying every bite.

“Why are you so scared of frogs then?” he asked. “Did the shadow people turn into giant frogs or what?” Yangyang had known Hendery for almost two years, but it was the first time this phobia had ever come up. They just hadn’t been in a situation where a fear of frogs was relevant. He had known Hendery was scared of other things but frogs were very random.

Hendery shuddered even at the mention of those wretched amphibians.

“Oh, that. In biology class, they tried to get us to dissect frogs. They made me grab a frog out the tank and it jumped out my hand onto my face. So now they freak me the fuck out.” It was quite a rational explanation, compared to what he had just revealed.

Yangyang found himself struggling to see how a frog on your face was more psychologically scarring than shadow people talking to you but that was why people were unique. Hendery was built different. He couldn’t tell if Hendery was a wimp or not.

Xiaojun became the next subject of scrutiny.

“So, what are you scared of?” Hendery prodded. “If your turn into your own worst fear, what do you become?”

The longer Yangyang thought about it, the more he was starting to think Xiaojun was like a Boggart with extra shapeshifter add-ons. Did Boggarts have a worst fear? But unlike a Boggart, Xiaojun had a personality beyond scaring the living shit out of everyone.

Xiaojun blinked, yet again drawing Yangyang’s attention to those long lashes – were those part of him or just something he wanted to have, Yangyang wondered?

While Xiaojun shrieked and yelled and got worked up all the time, it was true that Yangyang had never seen him truly scared.

“I see myself,” answered Xiaojun, looking very smug. “I see everyone’s worst fears all the time so the only thing to fear is what I can become.”

“Talking just to talk,” muttered Yangyang under his breath.

“But surely there are things you genuinely fear?” Hendery said, propping his chin on his elbow. “In cases like this, usually people’s worst fear is their loved ones getting hurt or fear itself.”

Xiaojun’s lip curled in distaste. Yangyang felt a chill settle over him and Hendery clearly did too because he gulped.

“You’re a mortal of barely two decades and you’re questioning me, someone who has been surrounded by fear, is fear itself, for over two millennia?”

“I’m not,” squeaked Hendery, bowing his head in apology. Yangyang was once again reminded that Xiaojun was a deadly supernatural creature. Hendery must have touched a rough spot.

The table went uncomfortably quiet.

“We should see who’s the bravest!” Yangyang piped up, unsettled. “Let’s go to a scary place and see who gets the most scared!” He was aware he was talking like a kindergarten teacher, but it seemed to break the tension because Xiaojun’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Oh, I haven’t done that since my apprenticeship,” he said in delight. Hendery kicked Yangyang under the table, right on the shins.

Biting back profanity, Yangyang swiftly retaliated and took pleasure in Hendery’s handsome face contorting in pain.

“I was saving your ass, bro!” he hissed into Hendery’s ear. “I’ve never seen him get mad!”

There was a round of rock-paper-scissors that Yangyang won, so the three of them left the restaurant, with Hendery’s wallet a lot lighter than before and headed to the ‘scary place’, which happened to be the dark alley next to the restaurant.

“Is this really a scary place?” Xiaojun said, looking at the overflowing dumpster and bins. “The only scary thing here is the smell.”

Well, Yangyang was actually a wimp. There was no way he was going into some old, abandoned building at night. Even if Xiaojun was some powerful ancient creature, who knew if there were things Xiaojun couldn’t save them from?

“It’s very scary!” he argued back. A raccoon scurried out from the rubbish and ran off. “Look, there’s wild animals and it’s very dark…someone could come out the alley and run at us with a chainsaw!”

Hendery thankfully backed him up. He was shivering, although Yangyang knew he would say it was just from the cold.

“The racoon could have rabies,” Hendery said, as if he was doing a dramatic poetry reading. “We’re brushing shoulders with death tonight.”

And Yangyang agreed, dark allies were always the place you were most likely to get attacked in films. Ignoring the fact this was real life, it was the most dangerous place in the fictional universe.

“Let’s just go to the end of the alley, touch the wall then come back,” Xiaojun suggested. “I can be the judge. If I sense the most fear from you, you lose.”

The three of them shook on it. But who was going to go first? It had been raining and the wet cardboard was congealing on the floor like mould growing on a surface.

Another round of rock-paper-scissors later, it was going to be Xiaojun, then Hendery, with Yangyang last.

It was extremely anticlimactic, as Yangyang had expected (correction: hoped for). Xiaojun walked up the alleyway, disappeared into the darkness for about ten seconds than returned, looking unruffled.

Hendery didn’t hesitate either, but he pretty much sprinted there and back.

“You’re actually scared?” scoffed Xiaojun, wafting his fingers through the air as if he was beckoning the scent of fear into his nostrils. “Even with us here?”

“How is the presence of you two meant to reassure me?” Xiaojun whacked Hendery with a third hand. “Anyway, it’s Yangyang’s go!”

Bracing himself, Yangyang counted to three, took a deep breath and started walking. It was fine. He watched horror films all the time. Only people in horror films got jumped in dark allies. His steps took him to the part of the alley where the streetlights could no longer reach and his vision was pitch black.

Just a few more steps, Yangyang thought desperately, then he could touch the wall and go back. First, he needed to calm his heart rate and breathing though because no matter what, Hendery was not going to win over him.

It was a no-brainer that Xiajoun would come first – Yangyang had intentionally selected this dumb challenge in the first place so it would cheer him up and make him forget about Hendery ruffling his feathers. It was actually just a test of courage between him and Hendery.

Except nothing seemed to ever go right in Yangyang’s life, because something cold and slimy encircled his wrist. A light flickered on above his head, a bulb that must have been broken…up till now.

Yangyang was about to scream but found his vocal cords paralysed by whatever crawled out the shadows. It leered at him with a melting wax pool of a features, swirling together in an insidious mess.

His first thought was Xiaojun was pranking him deliberately, so he’d lose.

“Hey, why aren’t you playing fair?” Yangyang shrieked into void.

“What’re you on about?” Xiaojun and Hendery’s voices echoed across the walls of the alleyway ominously.

“I’m not scared of you!” Yangyang shouted at the sludge thing, despite his sympathetic nervous system kicking into overdrive. His heart rate shot to 130 beats per minute and his palms moistened with sweat.

In a terrible attempt at bravado, Yangyang tried to assert his dominance once again, the way he had done to Xiaojun.

“You do not have power over me!” Yangyang bellowed, and punched the wall next to him with as much force as he could. There was a loud crunch and a cloud of dust floated in front of his face. “I. Am. Fearless!” The grip on his wrist was quickly released.

Wow, he was so hardcore. There was no way he wasn’t the winner now.

As the dust cleared, the entity was gone and in front of him was Xiaojun, eyes narrowing.

“Are you OK?” he asked frantically, gently wiping the dust of Yangyang’s cheek. “I thought I felt something.”

Yangyang began to immediately feel hot all over. He thought it was Xiaojun’s close proximity but then a shiver rushed through him, followed by white-hot pain radiating from his fist upwards.

“Did I win?” he croaked, as his hand slowly began to swell like a balloon. Hendery grimaced at the sight of his hand.

“Well, I actually…” Xiaojun hesitated, pursing his lips. “Never mind. You won, Yangyang.”

“Fuck yeah,” Yangyang managed to squeeze out in celebration before he extracted his hand from the wall. “Please take me to hospital.”

His fingers were now pink fleshy sausages and he could no longer unclench them, stuck in a fist.

“Why did you try so hard?” groaned Hendery, but he acknowledged Yangyang’s totally authentic win without a fight and accepted his loss gracefully.

They had arrived very quickly at the hospital, as Xiaojun had simply turned into a dragon and hurtled through the clouds at breakneck speed.

His hand was indeed broken.

Maybe Yangyang didn’t really have to hold Xiaojun’s hand the whole way through, but he swore to God it helped with the pain.

“But my presence doesn’t?” Hendery sniggered at him.

“It’s because he’s old,” Yangyang replied blithely, greatly offending Xiaojun in the process (“Old!?”).

His fingers were straightened one by one and Yangyang decided on a neon green cast, for no specific reason. Something about the colour gave him déjà vu. Perhaps it was a reminder of his past life. It must have meant something significant to him in another universe.

Hendery left earlier, having to get back home while Xiaojun kept him company.

Maybe just to humour him, Yangyang rode bareback on Xiaojun (horse form) all the way home. It was almost one o’clock in the morning.

After struggling to unlock the door for five minutes, Yangyang came to a grand realisation.

“Fuck, this is my right hand.” he said with belated dismay. Xiaojun pressed the prescription-strength painkillers into his hand and he swallowed them dry. He was so tired was just going to flop down and pass out in bed.

“You need to brush your teeth,” Xiaojun ordered sternly, steering him to the bathroom then leaving him.

Yangyang put out his left hand and attempted to unscrew the toothpaste with one hand. He was so tired his vision was blurry. There wasn’t much fight in him.

“Xiaojun!” he called defeatedly.

“You OK?”

“The toothpaste cap…”

But now Yangyang was finally laying down and ready for bed. He felt the warm weight of Bella between his legs and dozed off immediately.

The following few days, Yangyang discovered the challenges that came with your dominant hand being in a cast. At least he could still bend his elbow, otherwise life would have been even harder.

He could get dressed just about but needed help with zips and buttons. Accessories like necklaces were impossible. Yangyang would do things in his daily life unconsciously only to realise he was terrible at using chopsticks with his left hand and had been reduced to fumbling with a spoon.

That was till Xiaojun, fed up with watching Yangyang repeatedly spill rice all over the table, snatched his spoon and officially declared himself Yangyang’s nurse. He fussed over Yangyang and iced his hand to reduce the swelling as well as giving him the odd shoulder massage.

“I can manage fine,” Yangyang insisted, ignoring it had been half an hour since they’d started eating and his food was stone cold.

“You have rice all over yourself,” Xiaojun chastised and brushed them away with his thumb. Yangyang unwisely chose this moment to look up, as Xiaojun cupped his chin.

No way in hell.

He prayed to the universe Xiaojun couldn’t sense this kind of fear. Because it was scaring him how handsome Xiaojun looked. But beyond that, it was the gentle way he was touching Yangyang, like he was something to…freaking…cherish. Yangyang was about to vomit from…happiness.

“Are you really going to humiliate me by feeding me?” Yangyang mumbled, feeling his body react traitorously, cheeks burning.

“Be humiliated then,” Xiaojun sighed and placed the tip of the spoon between Yangyang’s lips. He obediently swallowed. “It’s no use if you don’t eat properly while recovering.”

The next bite was delivered to him.

“Good boy,” Xiaojun said, patting him on the head. Oh, it was no use. Yangyang was dirty-minded, but most importantly he was just a man. A man with a heart, a functional one that pumped him full of feelings.

The five stages of grief commenced shortly afterwards. Yangyang sat at the table, dumbfounded, as Xiaojun began to clear the dishes away. His stomach was full, but his head was empty.

1. Denial

There was just no way Yangyang was developing a crush on a supernatural creature. Someone who seemed immortal. He hadn’t even considered their age gap.

“Two thousand and forty-two years,” Xiaojun informed him.

There must be something unethical about that! Was a thousand-age gap common? Or legal?

“Do you have laws about age gaps in your realm?” Yangyang asked further. Xiaojun had shrugged.

“As long as everyone is an adult, no one really cares.”

But this just couldn’t be happening. He didn’t want to be Bella from Twilight. Xiaojun was not going to be his Edward Cullen (or Jacob, depending on your personal taste).

“Team Edward.” Xiaojun insisted, upon their Twilight marathon. The movie had not been picked by Yangyang.

“Team Jacob.” Yangyang retorted. He actually didn’t give a rat’s ass, but it was extremely entertaining to argue with Xiaojun for argument’s sake. “Maybe you just side with Edward because you’re both lonely immortal creatures.”

“First of all, I am not lonely.” The sunlight hit Edward onscreen and he sparkled radiantly. Xiaojun stopped arguing long enough to shoot love hearts from his eyes at the screen. “Uh, secondly. Look at that. How is Jacob meant to top that?”

“Because wolves are cool,” Yangyang didn’t have a clue what was going on. He was just developing a burning hatred for Robert Pattinson, Edward Cullen and Cedric Diggory all at once. It had nothing to do with Xiaojun’s fanboying whatsoever,

“Wrong! Jacob is impulsive, selfish and just an overall loser!”

“Jacob’s just trying his best!” Yangyang cried with a passionate outburst, not quite sure where it was coming from. “Uh, forget it.”

He wasn’t crushing on Xiaojun. It was impossible. What two-thousand-year-old entity cried while watching Twilight?

2. Anger

In stage two, approximately a week after he’d fractured his hand, Yangyang realised he was not safe at home. He found himself hyperaware of Xiaojun’s actions and was constantly wondering what he was doing.

To make matters worse, Yangyang had been forced to take two weeks off work to rest and recover, despite his insistence otherwise – he was just a radio DJ for crying out loud, but the production team had refused to hear his side of it, point-blank. At least they were giving him full pay during his sick leave.

So, unless he went out on walks or skulked in cafes around town to avoid Xiaojun, he was stuck inside, going progressively crazier with each day.

That was the point anger set in. At himself, Xiaojun, Hendery, the lollipop man outside by the zebra crossing, everything and everyone in the world was to blame for his problems.

Why did Xiaojun’s human form have to look so damn gorgeous?

“Do you choose your human form?” After a sleepless night where all he could think about was squidging Xiaojun’s cheeks together, Yangyang had confronted him. A bowl of pork and century egg congee sat in front of him, courtesy of Xiaojun.

“No?” Xiaojun answered, stirring the pot on the stove. “Most shapeshifters have a default human form, beside our original and primordial one. I don’t know if it’s a genetic or societal thing though. I could change it if I really wanted to but this is just me.”

“Come eat,” Yangyang mouthed, gesturing at him to sit. While he knew Xiaojun cooked as a hobby, rather than as an act of indentured servitude, he still felt bad about it. Which was why he always did the dishes and laundry on time now.

“So how are you born then?” Yangyang continued. The kitchen had never been so clean and the morning sunshine only highlighted that. He tried a spoonful of congee and promptly burnt his tongue. “Or are you turned…like a vampire or something?”

“Something in between,” Xiaojun mumbled between mouthfuls of food, unbothered by the thick steam rising from his bowl. “Not born, just made. We just spawn like monsters in video games.”

“As in, totally random? How many of you are there?”

“No one really knows. When there’s a rip between form and time. Whenever that is.” And whatever that meant, Yangyang thought. Then Xiaojun smirked. “So, now you’re interested in knowing about who I am?”

“Huh? Not at all,” Yangyang lied very poorly, taken by surprise. Xiaojun saw right through it, but rather than continuing to gloat he looked concerned.

“It’s suspicious, actually.” Congee forgotten, he leaned over the table to stare Yangyang down as an intimidation tactic. “You aren’t planning on reporting my existence to the government? To scientists?”

Wait a second. Yangyang’s previous anger had been the silly kind. Not silly per se, but it wasn’t like he truly felt antagonised, mostly because he was too busy drooling over – never mind.

But this one hurt a little. As in his chest did a weird little twinge at the insinuation.

“Do you want to make money off me? I’m telling you, I’m not that easy to fool!” Yangyang was pretty sure Xiaojun was joking. There was a hint of mirth in his voice and he leant back and continued eating with gusto.

That was until he realised that Yangyang wasn’t saying anything.

Sensing something was amiss, a finger poked Yangyang, a third arm sprouting from Xiaojun’s back. Yangyang shook it off, feeling wronged.

“I was joking, Yangyang.” Xiaojun finally said, laying off him.

“I’m not,” Yangyang said, allowing the hurt to creep into his tone. “You know I’d never actually do that, right?”

“Hey, hey, where’s this coming from?” Xiaojun said, frantically. “Why do you think I’m staying here? Of course I trust you!”

“Good,” Yangyang replied, his limbs feeling too long and out of place. He had gone and made breakfast a solemn affair. “Yeah.”

He bit back a smile as he began to wash the dishes after breakfast.

3. Bargaining

Yangyang only wished the rest of the day could have passed as idyllically. But as per usual, trouble came knocking on his door – quite literally, in the form of Chenle-and-Jisung. They were such a package deal that Yangyang regarded them as a single entity.

“Leave,” Yangyang deadpanned as soon as he opened the door to one Chenle grinning like a reincarnation of the Cheshire Cat and Jisung, his conjoined twin, who bowed his head politely in greeting.

“We come bearing gifts,” Jisung negotiated, presenting a bouquet of yellow roses, shoving them right in Yangyang’s face.

“I have hayfever,” Yangyang rattled back, trying to push the door closed. It was too late, Chenle had already wedged his foot in the crack.

“I also come with food, homemade by yours truly,” Chenle said, slipping inside neatly, shaking some a plastic bag full of Tupperware boxes. “I know you love me really.”

Yangyang held the door open to let Jisung in too. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“I don’t trust you to cook, you see,” Chenle continued, already making himself at home. They’d both taken their shoes off at the door and his fridge had already been opened. “Oh my, what’s this?”

Yangyang dashed into the kitchen, worried Xiaojun was there, only to discover Chenle waving the container of congee leftover from breakfast.

“You’ve already been having visitors?” Jisung said in surprise.

“I have other friends beside you two!” Yangyang grumbled, “Beside, maybe I’ve learnt to cook.”

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly,” Chenle snorted. “Or when Jisung learns how to cook.”

He shrieked as Jisung tickled him, almost dropping the congee.

“Either way, spill.” Chenle ordered, with surprising authority. Yangyang herded them out his kitchen to the living room.

“Your place is much cleaner too,” Jisung observed, sitting down.

Yangyang proceeded to exercise his right to remain silent.

“No fun,” Chenle said after ten seconds of silence. “Boring.”

“Or I could ask Renjun-hyung,” Jisung said slyly, pulling out his phone. Yangyang dived towards him to snatch it but was intercepted by Chenle, who came behind him and snaked his arms under Yangyang’s armpits, pulling him backwards.

“Are you going to try and refracture your arm?” Chenle snorted.

“My hand,” Yangyang corrected, just to be pedantic. Jisung’s phone let out a dreaded ping, signalling his imminent doom.

“Probably that Xiaojun guy who lives with him…?” Jisung read aloud then dropped his phone in shock.

“YOU LIVE TOGETHER!?” Chenle bellowed, releasing Yangyang from his grasp. “Who? Where? What? Why? When?”

“How?” Jisung chimed in.

Curse Renjun. Yangyang was going to throttle him the next time they met. Or get Xiaojun to terrorise him, whatever would scare him most.

Jisung and Chenle were babbling at each other in hysterics, talking so fast that Yangyang had no idea how they even understood what the other was saying. They weren’t even speaking in full sentences, just snippets. Yangyang caught the odd phrase here and there, ‘egg and tomatoes’ and ‘involuntary celibate’ and felt his blood pressure begin to skyrocket.

“Calm down!” Yangyang shouted, slamming a hand onto the table. The slap stung his palm. “It’s not like that!”

For some reason, his voice cracked at the end, making his declaration sound more pathetic than anything.

Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“But you want it to be?” Jisung suggested, resulting in a pillow flying his way. It missed by an inch, sailing past his ear.

Yangyang hated emotions. They were so stupid and irrational. He wished he could be a robot. Or a zombie. And not have this obsession with Xiaojun eat away at his brain.

“Fine, maybe,” he admitted, “but I don’t know how it’d work…even if he liked me back.”

He explained the situation the best he could, leaving out the supernatural bits and making out like they’d somehow ended up as roommates.

They seemed to buy it, until Chenle remembered that Yangyang’s flat only had one double bed.

“He sleeps on the sofa,” Yangyang said immediately. “My bed is too soft and hurts his back.”

There was silence, then Jisung patted him on the back.

“Good luck,” he said sombrely. “It sounds tough.”

Yangyang was about to go off on a depressing tangent of how he wished he could get rid of these feelings when the man himself entered the flat.

Xiaojun was home, with two reusable shopping bags straining at the seams. He was humming a little tune to himself.

“I’m going to make steamed fish for dinner,” he announced as a greeting, before he caught sight of the two visitors. “Hello…acquaintances of Yangyang?”

“Hi…Yangyang’s roommate Xiaojun?” responded Chenle in kind. “I feel like I’ve seen you from somewhere.”

“It’s impossible,” Xiaojun replied curtly, and he went into the kitchen to put the groceries away. No doubt with the use of extra limbs, he came back about ten seconds later.

Chenle immediately engaged him in conversation, leaving Yangyang to lie there, wondering how a get-well-soon visit had turned into confession of his feelings and now Xiaojun making friends with his friends.

“What do you do?” Jisung asked him.

“I’m…” Xiaojun looked at Yangyang for help, eyes pleading. Yangyang was tired, he wanted Chenle and Jisung to leave so he could crawl under a mound of his blankets and mourn. “A singer?” It came out as a question.

This led to demands for a performance, which Xiaojun shyly agreed to, standing up in front of the TV.

Yangyang straightened his spine, not just zoning out. A singer? He’d heard Xiaojun hum or sing casually around the house many times, but always softly.

Yangyang knew Xiaojun loved music but until now, Xiaojun had never expressed a desire to perform. In fact, Yangyang was disappointed in himself that he’d never picked up on this. Then he would have asked Xiaojun to sing more!

Xiaojun began to sing, some kind of pop ballad and Yangyang’s jaw dropped. Ashes, by Celin Dion. Xiaojun wasn’t just a good singer. He was simply phenomenal. Yangyang couldn’t claim he knew much about singing but Xiaojun sounded so at ease singing, every note coming as naturally as speaking. His timbre was dark and smooth and he varied easily between power and softness. And then there was how much emotion he was pouring into this, even though it was just a casual performance among friends. Next to him, Chenle and Jisung looked similarly taken aback, twin expressions of awe.

Xiaojun sang the song in full, eyes half-shut, seemingly lost in emotion as well. Yangyang was so fucked. Xiaojun had never looked so beautiful to him before. When the last note faded away, it seemed the air had stilled around them and became tranquil.

A few seconds of stunned silence – then Chenle started clapping rapturously, followed by Jisung. Yangyang was still as a statue, still in a daze.

Xiaojun looked pleased at the applause but he seemed to be waiting for something more – form Yangyang. A look was directed his way.

“I didn’t know you could sing like that,” Yangyang said, a little breathless. “You never told me.”

“You never asked,” Xiaojun returned, but it wasn’t snappy, he was smiling. Yangyang held his gaze and felt his lips draw up in a smile too.

They didn’t notice the looks of disgust Chenle and Jisung exchanged.

“Thanks for the performance!” Jisung said loudly, clapping his hands together. Yangyang blinked, startled. “On that note, we should probably get going. Thanks for letting us come by and get better soon! We’ll, um, leave you guys to it.”

The two of them stood up but like the clumsy giant he was, Jisung knocked his foot on the sofa and proceeded to fall over. But before he fell. Xiaojun had already reached out to steady him, despite being furthest away.

By instinct, two arms grabbed Jisung’s shoulders, leaving Xiaojun with double the amount of arms he had seconds ago.

“Good reaction,” Jisung said, turning to thank his saviour when Chenle proceeded blast their ears with a dolphin-like scream.

“What the fuck?!”

“Here we go again,” Yangyang sighed, facepalming. “You should have just let him fall, Xiaojun.”

Cue the subsequent explanation that yes, supernatural creatures were real, Xiaojun was a shapeshifter, and no, he didn’t kill and eat people. Renjun had to be called to testify his innocence and thankfully, no one had to go see the psychiatrist.

“I mean, I can’t say I’ve never killed anyone,” Xiaojun admitted innocently. Yangyang watched as Jisung’s eyes widened in fear and Chenle’s in…awe?

In fact, Chenle’s reaction had been abnormal throughout all of this. Jisung had been gobsmacked, an ordinary reaction but after Chenle’s initial scream, he had remained calm. He hadn’t even asked any questions when normally he ran his mouth a mile a minute.

Finally, the duo left, having been pinkie-sworn to secrecy. Chenle had rolled his eyes.

“Please, why would I tell anyone? This just made my life way more interesting.” Which didn’t sound foreboding at all.

4. Grief

Now he knew Xiaojun could sing, Yangyang regularly requested karaoke and performances from him. He also continued to have an increasing number of heart attacks every time Xiaojun had be within close proximity to help him with his arm.

He had no idea how well his hand was healing but it hurt less with each passing day and didn’t ache as much every time he accidentally jolted it.

Renjun had come by to visit too, along with Hendery. By now, Xiaojun had also met Yangyang’s sister and mother, who had cooed over him and his sister had given Yangyang a wink as she left. Xiaojun was effortlessly charming, in an endearingly clumsy way. He wasn’t exactly smooth, but he was very approachable. Well, he’d had a long time to perfect the art of socialising.

While Xiaojun had a deep knowledge of pop culture, he was still an old person in terms of using technology. It had taken a while to explain the induction stove and the air fryer to him. Yangyang also got him a basic smartphone with money that Xiaojun had presented to him – without explaining where he had got it from, Yangyang decided not to ask. But at least he could call Xiaojun now and have an idea of where he was, even if Xiaojun wasn’t the best at answering.

His cast was due to be off in a week and Yangyang was back to his radio shows. He had a vague feeling he was being trolled, as if the universe was fucking with him cosmically, based on the messages listeners had been sending in.

“We have a message from listener Frog-faced Deer. Would love to know the story behind that name. I think my house is haunted. But the ghost seems to be friendly. I keep coming home to find that someone’s done my dishes when I swear that I left them in the sink. It’s either supernatural or I’ve got early onset dementia. What should I do?” Yangyang and Hendery had exchanged knowing grins at first from the mention of something supernatural.

“On our topic of embarrassing stories, we have one from…um…NASA Know Aliens are Real.” Yangyang’s eye twitched. Why did that remind him of a certain someone? “When I was little, I had a bad case of eighth grade syndrome and thought I was cursed and slowly mutating into a monster. I told my dad my voice was weird and I was growing hair everywhere. That was when he explained the concept of puberty to me.”

Honestly, why did everything seem to relate to monsters and the supernatural? The final strike was in the confessions segment.

“A final message from Big Head No.1 Curry Fan.” Yangyang’s eye twitched yet again. It was obviously Zhong Chenle. He hadn’t even bothered to be subtle with his nickname. Hendery began reading, blissfully unaware.

“Hi, I recently got a new roommate and now I’ve got a huge crush on him and act like a pathetic loser whenever I’m with him. My friends are very grossed out and sick of me acting this way. What should I do? They think he likes me back but I’m too dumb to make a move.”

Right. That wasn’t the universe fucking around. Chenle was actually trolling him.

“Well,” Yangyang said rather curtly. “I think you should ignore your friends and tell them to mind their own business.”

“Am I missing something here?” Hendery said, looking befuddled. “Anything personal to share, YangD?”

Yangyang gave Hendery a glare so fiery that he gulped and shut up instantly.

*

Ah, where was he? Still in the fourth stage of the cycle – grief. Yangyang went home after he threatened Chenle’s life through a lengthy Wechat voice message. In the end, he had admitted it was quite funny of him. But now he was just sad.

Yangyang had long gotten past expecting these feelings to fizzle out so instead he was grappling with the depressing state of unrequited love. No, unreciprocated feelings. It was too early to say the L-word.

He couldn’t even cry peacefully about it at night in bed because Xiaojun was always sleeping beside him, or more accurately, by his feet. There were only so many times he could say ‘it is what it is’ before he shattered into a thousand pieces.

Despite his tender age of twenty-two, Yangyang couldn’t help but think ahead. Over a month had passed since he’d discovered Xiaojun under his bed. Surely at some point Xiaojun would move on.

Yangyang considered himself decently interesting but what if Xiaojun got bored staying here? There were many people in the world more interesting than Yangyang. For example, the cool guy with long hair and tattoos who owned a florist shop near the recording studio. Yuta or something.

Yangyang? He was just your average young person struggling to adult. Renjun was far more put together. He was more cultured too, and enjoyed art, poetry and deep philosophical discussions. Yangyang’s idea of stress relief wasn’t painting, it was cursing into his headset while gaming – although to be fair, Xiaojun was slowly becoming a gamer thanks to his influence.

Circling back to the problem at hand, it seemed inevitable that Xiaojun would leave him one day. What was he supposed to do then? Try and get over him? Xiaojun’s presence already felt so strongly embedded into his life that Yangyang could barely remember what it was like living in this flat alone.

Would Xiaojun ever return his feelings, despite Chenle’s insistence? Would he want to date a mortal? From what Yangyang heard, Xiaojun hadn’t come to the human world in a very long time. But he felt that sooner or later, he would disappoint Xiaojun and whatever sparkle that had drawn Xiaojun to him initially would fade.

Yangyang found himself lying despondently on his sofa, surfing Netflix for anything to numb his brain. He wanted a lobotomy but mindlessly watching TV would have to suffice for now. He couldn’t even go talk to a therapist about his concerns, they would definitely send him to hospital.

Yesterday, they’d gone to Renjun’s house for hotpot. It had been a fun night of playing games and messing around. Drinks had been poured and Xiaojun dissolved into a tipsy state, laughing more raucously than usual and was even easier to wind up.

For once, Yangyang had to be the one to help Xiaojun get ready for bed, supporting his weight as they got into the elevator to the flat. It had proven to be very tricky as Xiaojun was shapeshifting so constantly it was hard to keep up. One moment he was an ostrich, then a fly, then a large golden phoenix.

Yangyang ended up sharing his bed with a large polar bear. He had to actively hold himself back from the urge to kiss Xiaojun goodnight. What was happening to him? Him and Hendery had always joked about going out to clubs and getting all the bitches, yet here he was, entertaining monogamy and a domestic married life at the tender age of twenty-two.

When Xiaojun interrupted the TV drama to announce dinner was ready, Yangyang wearily trudged to the table. He barely had an appetite, despite Xiaojun’s first attempt at pasta being more than passable. He was distracted and kept losing his train of thought during their conversation and probably radiating doom and gloom. Xiaojun had looked concerned and also a bit put out Yangyang hadn’t asked for seconds. He seemed determined to feed Yangyang up. Then he’d reached over the table and given Yangyang’s hand a squeeze, which only made all of Yangyang’s feelings bubble to the surface and everything got monumentally worse.

Yangyang returned to the sofa after doing the dishes to continue rotting with Netflix in the background. He had almost finished the entire season, but the blue light emanating from the TV was starting to hurt his eyes so he called it a day.

Xiajoun had picked up a new hobby a few days ago and had been spending evenings engrossed in constructing a 6000-piece Hogwarts LEGO castle. It currently took up all the floor space on the living room and about five million plastic bags of LEGO pieces were strewn around the rug the castle was sitting on top of.

“I think I’m gonna have an early night,” Yangyang told him. “You can stay up and keep building the castle.” He was probably going to doom-scroll on his phone and pretend he didn’t exist for a bit.

This plan was busted immediately as Xiaojun accosted him as soon as Yangyang came out the bathroom in his pyjamas. He sat Yangyang down on the bed with a serious look on his face.

“You’re not okay,” he stated plainly, reaching out to take one of Yangyang’s hands. “You’ve been off today.”

Oh no. Yangyang was terrible at talking about his feelings. And he especially didn’t want to explain to Xiaojun that he was feeling down because of said feelings for the man himself.

Yangyang was a terrible liar, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie anyway, with how worried Xiaojun looked.

“I was just thinking,” Yangyang swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “How long are you planning on staying? Are you going to – when are you leaving?”

Xiaojun didn’t say anything and kept holding Yangyang’s hand, which was sweating profusely, all cold and clammy.

“How long do you want me to stay?” he asked gently. Yangyang blushed furiously, and his heart began to feel like someone was squeezing it to test their grip strength.

“You can’t ask me something like that!” Yangyang burst out, ripping his hand from Xiaojun’s grip. “You-!” Was Xiaojun seriously asking this innocently, with nothing behind it.

“I’m the one taking advantage of your hospitality after all,” Xiaojun said. “It’s your choice.”

Yangyang swallowed. Forever was too heavy and even Yangyang couldn’t guarantee he would always feel that way. And he didn’t want to tie Xiaojun down.

“Stay as long as you want,” Yangyang decided, dumping the responsibility back to Xiaojun. “I like how it is now though. Us two.”

Xiaojun suddenly broke out laughing, breaking the moment.

“Is that why you’ve been moping all day? You were sad I was going to leave?” he said, eyes creasing with mirth. “I have to be truthful, that’s very precious of you.”

“Shut up,” Yangyang muttered, shoving him lightly. “It’s not like I chose to feel that way.”

He kicked Xiaojun’s butt to signal for him to stand up so he could get under the covers.

“And besides, we needed to discuss this at some point,” Yangyang reasoned. “Look, I’m already more mature than you.”

Xiaojun snorted at that.

“Do you feel better now though?” he asked sincerely, watching Yangyang intently.

“I’m still a bit sad,” Yangyang pouted, crossing his arms. He didn’t know why he was acting cute, but he couldn’t just stop. It was the curse of being the youngest in his family. He liked being spoiled. “I think I need a hug.”

He extended his arms, waiting patiently. Now Xiaojun spluttered too but quickly regained his composure. He walked into Yangyang’s arms and they embraced tightly, Xiaojun’s chin settling on Yangyang’s shoulders.

“Feeling better?” Xiaojun chuckled into his ear. Yangyang knew he was sporting a shit-eating grin right now.

“Not yet,” he complained. “I think I need a bit longer.” His brain was making loud whooshing noises (Interpol! Interpol!) and there were sirens and buzzers going off but his thoughts were stolen away by Xiaojun’s hair tickling his face and Yangyang trying to subtly inhale Xiaojun’s scent.

Finally, when it was starting to feel corny, they let go of each other. Things felt a bit different, like an invisible boundary had been crossed between them. Yangyang got into bed and Xiaojun began to tuck the covers over him, when Yangyang stopped him.

“We,” he began bravely then his courage failed him. “We can both fit. Here.” Unable to face the mortification of Xiaojun’s response, he simply dragged him into the bed as well.

“That’s alright with you?” Xiaojun stammered, his body ramrod straight.

“Yes, I’m tired, I need to sleep, shush,” commanded Yangyang and with boldness he didn’t know he possessed, he wrapped his arms around Xiaojun’s waist.

They both went silent as it turned in their heads they were essentially cuddling.

“Good night,” Xiaojun whispered to him.

“Night.”

5. Acceptance

Yangyang finally came full circle with his feelings. His cast got removed, which led to the discovery that not moving your hand for six weeks really weakens its muscles. His hand was so stiff he had to use his other hand to bend his fingers at first.

The doctor prescribed physio for a while and the physio gave him a list of stretches and hand exercises to do. Xiaojun insisted on massaging Yangyang’s hand every day as well and of course Yangyang agreed to it.

After another busy day at work, Yangyang unlocked his door and blinked. He appeared to be either hallucinating, or Xiaojun had gained the ability to clone himself. Alternatively, his house was now hosting some zoo escapees.

A black cat was standing on his counter, hissing at a large brown bear who tried to swat the cat with a huge paw in return. Now that wasn’t something you got to see every day.

Yangyang cleared his throat, prepared to slam the door and run if it was actually a bear. His instincts suspected these animals were of the shapeshifting variety, but he couldn’t be sure.

The bear and cat turned to him and then Yangyang finally discovered his worst fear. It was a pretty generic one, just his loved ones dead and bleeding on the ground but nevertheless, it was very effective. Except Yangyang knew it wasn’t real now. He’d had enough experience fighting off Xiaojun’s jumpscares that he was almost immune to them.

“Riddikulus!” he cried, brandishing a fake wand at the intruders. Then he called out the same words he used back at the alleyway. “You have no power over me. I am fearless-ARGH!”

His declaration was ruined by him tripping over a stray trainer at the entrance and him falling backwards onto his butt. Great.

“For the love of all that’s holy,” Yangyang groaned, his left butt cheek throbbing. “Is it so hard to knock?”

“We don’t need to wipe his memory,” the cat said to the bear. “He knows.”

“You can wipe memories?” screeched Yangyang, scooting backwards on across the floor nervously, still on his butt. “Don’t you dare! My memory already sucks as it is!”

The bear facepalmed.

“Shut the door, kid.” It (?) said, with such authority Yangyang couldn’t help but obey. “Ah, hang on.”

The bear shrank down as the cat grew larger, till there were two people standing in front of him, naked. Yangyang respectfully closed his eyes.

“Oh, I forget clothes don’t materialize here,” one of them said and snapped his fingers, conjuring up clothes that instantly fitted to both their bodies like they’d been tailored. “Sorry about that.”

Yangyang pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. His day was just getting better and better, from talking animals to naked strangers.

The first man bore resemblance to the bear, with light wavy brown hair but with none of the ferocity. He looked more like a teddy bear, soft and squishy. His eyes were a warm chocolate brown and looked kind. Yangyang instantly felt more relaxed. This guy looked like he knew what he was doing.

The other man was almost the opposite. He was slighter and slenderer, much like how the black cat had been. He had cunning catlike eyes too and multiple tattoos. Yangyang thought he seemed intimidating.

The energy emanating off them was very different to Xiaojun’s. The way they stood implied they owned the place and everything in it. Yangyang’s gut told him they were powerful, maybe more so than Xiaojun. He couldn’t ever remember Xiaojun’s abilities extending to summoning clothes or wiping memories. Just who were these guys?

“I’ll start the introduction then,” Yangyang stuttered out. Out of nerves, he gave them a ninety-degree bow. “I’m Liu Yangyang.”

“How rude of us,” the bear-man said, bowing to him in return. “I’m Kun.”

The cat-man didn’t bow. He sized Yangyang up then grinned with lots of sharp-looking teeth.

“Oh, you’re so cute.” He said and Kun rolled his eyes. “Do you want to be my baby?”

“Sugar baby?” Yangyang blurted, unable to stop himself. “If you have money, yeah.”

“Oh god,” groaned Kun, placing a hand to his forehead in apparent despair. “You need to stop collecting your babies. We’ve got enough on our hands already. And you haven’t even introduced yourself yet.”

“Ten,” said Ten simply. “I’m not talking about money. Come here and give me a hug.”

Well, that totally wasn’t creepy at all. Yangyang took two steps back, cowering away from Ten. He liked Kun more right now. Kun didn’t look at Yangyang like he was going to dissect him.

“Would you like some tea?” Yangyang squeaked out. “I have English breakfast or pu’er?”

“Chinese sounds good,” Kun responded and without being invited to, made himself comfortable on the sofa. Ten followed suit except he spread himself leisurely across it, plopping his feet into Kun’s lap.

Yangyang busied himself in the kitchen and put the kettle on. His hands were shaking from the overbearing weight of their aura. He pulled his phone out and typed a message to Xiaojun.

Come home asap.

Bzzt. As Yangyang got the tea set out, he rinsed all the cups with hot water and checked to see what Xiaojun had said.

I’m in a church choir! Sorry! I’ll leave asap!

“Of course he was,” scowled Yangyang to the kettle.

IT’S AN EMERGENCY. YOUR KIND OF EMERGENCY.

He hoped that would get the point across.

In the living room, Yangyang set the tea tray down and poured everyone a cup of pu’er tea.

Kun delicately sniffed the steam rising out his cup.

“Splendid,” he said, taking a sip and smacking his lips. “Aged raw pu’er, dating to around five years ago. A very deep flavour.”

Yangyang resisted the urge to scream. They were like old people, so fricking slow. He was starting to feel more and more like his grandparents had come over.

“Pass me my cup,” Ten ordered and Kun complied immediately. “Nice stuff.”

“So…are you two shapeshifters? Like Xiaojun?” Yangyang pressed on. “Do you know him? Is that why you’re here?”

“Slow down, boy,” Ten said (rather rudely, in Yangyang’s opinion). “First off, never call me a shapeshifter again. Xiaojun might allow himself to be described with such a silly word but I hate it. Such an oversimplification of our kind.”

“Sorry?”  Yangyang said, completely taken aback.

“You’re forgiven,” Ten waved his wrist carelessly. “Yes, we know Xiaojun. In fact, we’ve been wondering where he disappeared off to.”

“Before that,” interrupted Kun, cutting Ten off. “Yangyang, how much do you know about our kind?” Yangyang answered him dutifully, feeling like he was getting marked on an exam question.

“Could I ask how you met Xiaojun too?” Kun carried on. Ten let out a yawn and closed his eyes.

“There’s not much to it,” Yangyang said, fiddling with his fingers. “He was under my bed and tried to scare me. He roared, I roared back and then we kinda just became friends. And he needed a place to stay because he said he can’t go back to the realm…the place where he normally lives.

Ten snorted and Yangyang jumped a mile in the air. He thought Ten was asleep. To Yangyang’s surprise, Kun also appeared to have trouble suppressing laughter.

“Oh, wait till you hear the real story,” said Ten dryly. “Xiaojun’s really become a better liar these years.”

“So how did you find me anyway?” If Kun and Ten were looking for Xiaojun, then it wasn’t like they could detect each other across the world. Someone must have passed the information onto them.

“We have our sources,” Kun said. “Sicheng thought he saw Xiaojun in the human world. Then I got a firsthand witness account from your friend Chenle.”

“You know Chenle?” Yangyang was utterly flabbergasted. So flabbergasted that he forgot to ask who on Earth Sicheng was. He had thought he was special, being one of the first people in the world to know of the supernatural. But Chenle had known all along?! No wonder he had been so calm when he found out about Xiaojun. “Wait, so you two are here because of Chenle?”

“We’re also here to tell Xiaojun it’s okay to come home,” Ten sighed wearily. “Let me tell you what really happened.”

Yangyang’s chest tightened art that. If they wanted to tell Xiaojun that it was okay to go home, did that mean they wanted Xiaojun to leave? Leave him?

“If Xiaojun hasn’t told me what really happened, I’m sure he has his reasons for it,” Yangyang insisted, crossing his arms. “I don’t think you should tell him without his permission.”

Kun’s eyes widened in surprise. He nudged Ten and they communicated through a lengthy glance.

“Even if it was actually for a rather trivial reason?” Ten pressed on, looking curious.

“Trivial to you, maybe,” Yangyang shot back. He didn’t know where his attitude was coming from, but he just felt like he needed to defend Xiaojun, even if it was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “But it must be important to Xiaojun. If you’re really his friends, you shouldn’t talk behind his back.”

Ten collapsed in a fit of laughter and turned his back to Yangyang so he could continue laughing into the sofa.

“Are you close with Xiaojun then, Yangyang?” asked Kun. “You seem to know him well.”

“I suppose,” Yangyang replied cautiously. When was Xiaojun going to get home? “Are you two also…close?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. He needed to steer the subject away from whatever was between him and Xiaojun right now.

“We’re not close,” Kun said firmly. “We don’t really like each other.” Yangyang glanced pointedly at Ten’s feet in his lap.

“Yeah, we’ve just been putting up with each other,” Ten added without a hint of humour in his voice. “For millions of years.”

Ten didn’t seem to be using millions as an exaggeration. Was it possible they’d really known each other for that long?

Xiaojun took that as his cue to arrive home. He was dressed in a crisp white collared shirt and holding robes (from his choir), looking slightly ruffled.

“I got home as quick as I could!” he panted, doubled over. “What’s the emergency?”

Ten coughed. Xiaojun began to pale rapidly as he took in the sight of the two strangers.

“Kun, Ten,” he greeted timidly. “L-long time no see…”

“It’s good to see you too,” Kun said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked...almost angry? “Why don’t you come sit down and catch up with us?”

“Why are you here?” hissed Xiaojun at them, starting to vibrate furiously, like a mouse in a microwave. “How did you even find me?”

“Chenle,” Yangyang explained quickly. “Somehow he knows Kun.”

At this, Xiaojun’s face screwed up even further in disbelief. Seeing how agitated Xiaojun looked, Kun changed his approach.

“We’re not here to fight with you,” Kun said placatingly. “We were worried about you.” He stood up and held his arms out, waiting patiently.

Xiaojun looked back and forth between them wildly. He seemed like he in the middle of a fight-or-flight reaction, like a deer before headlights. Finally, he stopped buzzing and stilled, his expression trembling.

“I’m so sorry!” cried Xiaojun and he ran into Kun’s outstretched arms and began to cry. Yangyang sat there limply as he watched Xiaojun begin to cry a waterfall in Kun’s arms.

“There, there,” said Kun, patting his back. “We’re not mad, OK? We were just worried.”

Once Xiaojun calmed down and his sobs dwindled down to sniffles, he let himself out of Kun’s embrace and sat down on the sofa to face Ten.

“Ten-hyung…” Xiaojun said, bottom lip trembling again. “I disappointed you, didn’t I?”

“Come here then, you brat,” Ten sighed and held his arms out too as Xiaojun tackled him in a hug.

He had never seen Xiaojun so emotional. He had never seen anyone that emotional in front of him, in fact. His brain so busy trying to reconstrue his previous image of Xiaojun with the sobbing man in front of him, he failed to realise Xiaojun had detached himself from Ten and come up to him.

The Xiaojun Yangyang knew was self-assured, in spite of all his other instincts. In a crisis, Xiaojun was still level-headed but he was fun and childish in the best way. But to see Xiaojun crying like a child in their parents’ arms was new. He hadn’t seen much of Xiaojun’s vulnerability before.

“Are you ignoring me, Liu Yangyang?” Xiaojun’s voice startled him out of his reverie. Xiaojun’s eyes were red and puffy, and shiny with tears.

“Huh, no, what?” Yangyang spluttered. “Y-you want a hug too?”

Xiaojun huffed.

“Are you making fun of me?” He sniffled, snot sliding down his Cupid’s bow. Yangyang wrinkled his brows and offered him a tissue hastily.

“What, no!” he protested. “I didn’t know you were…taking turns with everyone.” Xiaojun levelled him with a glare but hugged him tightly anyway, his face in Yangyang’s neck. Privately, Yangyang hoped he hadn’t got any snot on him. The fingers of his left hand found themselves around the nape of Xiaojun’s neck, stroking gently.

Ten cleared his throat and Yangyang snapped out of it, stepping away in embarrassment. Thankfully, Xiaojun seemed none the wiser.

“So are you going to tell Yangyang the real reason you’re staying in his home?” he said. “Or should I?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Yangyang insisted.

“No, Ten’s right.” Xiaojun said, resigned. “I’ve been lying to you and taking advantage of your hospitality. That was wrong of me.”

I support Xiaojun’s rights and wrongs, his mind declared pathetically. But it was true. Yangyang didn’t feel like he’d been taken advantage of. Or wronged in any way. Except when Xiaojun had forced him to try his green tea slime dessert. And the Oreo cake. And the Guangdong taco. Yangyang suppressed a shudder.

They all settled on the couch, Yangyang next to Ten and Xiaojun directly across from him with Kun. Xiaojun heaved a sigh so heavy it could have tunnelled to bedrock and began his sorry tale.

“I could have gone back home any time,” Xiaojun admitted, not meeting Yangyang’s eyes. “Essentially, I ran away because I was too afraid to face the consequences of my actions.”

Well, that seemed understandable.

“What actions though?” Yangyang asked. Xiaojun’s face was growing so crimson. He turned invisible suddenly.

“Don’t look at me when I say the next bit,” he said.

“Technically I can’t,” Yangyang pointed out but obediently shut his eyes.

“I broke up with my ex and I was rather cut up about it,” Xiaojun still sounded saddened talking about it. It made Yangyang feel annoyed. “To cope with the break-up, I tried to find company in other people. But it was getting unhealthy so Ten and Kun intervened. I felt so embarrassed by my actions that I disappeared.”

It was still unclear what actions Xiaojun was on about; he seemed to be trying to be deliberately vague. Ten must have read the confused expression on Yangyang’s face because he decided to step in and explain more explicitly.

“Essentially, Xiaojun tried to drown his sorrows by hooking up with anyone he could get his claws into instead of facing his feelings. He was on some unstoppable sex spree, leaving a trail of broken hearts as he went.” Ten said, clapping a hand to Xiaojun’s shoulder. “Enough was enough, so Kun and I intervened.”

“Don’t put it like that!” Xiaojun protested. Yangyang assumed his face was probably as hot as a furnace by now, but Xiaojun was still invisible. “He doesn’t need all the details!”

It was somehow unexpected of Xiaojun but at the same time also something Yangyang could see happening. He found himself laughing hysterically, at a loss for words.

“Details?” Kun said. “You mean the fact your body count was high enough to give someone pelvic inflammatory disease twice?”

“You’re a bunch of bullies,” Xiaojun screeched, but it seemed to be normal banter for the three of them.

Yangyang’s mind was still spinning.

“How long had it been since you left?” he asked.

“Not that long, maybe a few decades.” Xiaojun said, forgetting time worked differently for mortals like Yangyang. “I wandered around for a bit then came to the human realm.”

“More like a century,” Ten corrected. “You must have been somewhere where time moved slower. We’ve been looking for you for almost a century.”

“Not the whole time, mind you,” Kun addressed this directly to Yangyang. “I have an informal network of spies across this universe. I had all of them keep a lookout for his whereabouts. Who knew it’d be a human informant?”

“How do you even know Chenle?” Xiaojun said, looking very disgruntled. “I didn’t know you had come to the human realm before.”

“I taught him piano,” Kun said, as if that explained anything.

“Hold up,” interjected Yangyang, trying to summarise. “So let me get this straight. Xiaojun broke up with his ex, hooked up with a crazy amount of people, you guys intervened, and he felt so embarrassed after he hid from you for a century?”

Yangyang levelled a sideways glance at Xiaojun. For all the grandiosity he kept spouting about being a powerful primordial creature, the whole situation was rather immature. Human-like, even. Xiaojun curled into a ball on the sofa like a frightened woodlouse, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Dude, that’s so uncool.” That was what Yangyang was thinking. But he gathered that this wasn’t what Xiaojun wanted to hear at the moment so he swallowed the words down.

“I don’t care,” Yangyang said instead, although he was insanely curious about this ex who had made Xiaojun act out like that. “We all make mistakes, right?”

“Listen to the kid,” Kun said, in the same tone Yangyang’s mum used to compare Yangyang to other children. “Two millennia younger than you and even he knows better.”

“I guess you can go home.” Yangyang said, although it was tearing him to pieces to say that. “If that’s what you want.”

Xiaojun was watching him carefully.

“Maybe I’ll pop back for a visit,” he said, “But you said I could stay here till I decide not to, right?”

The three primordial creatures lapsed into conversation, evidently having a century’s worth of things to catch up on. Yangyang found himself simply listening, in awe at how casually they discussed things that were breaking his worldview. Different dimensions and realms, casually hopping into different timelines. His brain was being seriously overloaded.

Somewhere in the conversation, a familiar name popped up.

“When did Sicheng see me, then?” Xiaojun asked. He was totally relaxed now, knees drawn to his chin as he was squeezed between Ten and Kun.

“He saw you when he came to the human realm to feed,” Ten told him. “Sicheng said he tried to scare some kid but it didn’t work. The kid started shouting and punched a wall.” Yangyang felt his hand twinge with phantom pain. Hang on.

“That kid is me,” Yangyang cut in with a frown. “I knew I wasn’t going crazy! Something fucking grabbed my wrist while I was in that alleyway, Xiaojun! And you didn’t believe me!”

“Sicheng’s good at masking his presence,” Xiaojun attempted to defend himself. “The human mind is excellent at creating illusions to be afraid of.”

“But the point is that it wasn’t an illusion,” Yangyang retorted hotly. “This Sicheng tried to feed from me!”

After another hour, Yangyang was getting sleepy and the conversation didn’t seem like it was stopping anytime soon. He hadn’t eaten dinner either and his stomach was growling in protest.

“I’m gonna order pizza,” he said, picking up his phone. “Do any of you guys want some?”

“Can we get pineapple?” Xiaojun said eagerly, perking up. “Extra pineapple for me.” This got quite an inflammatory reaction from Ten, who hissed at the mention, eyes flashing menacingly.

“No pineapple then,” Yangyang decided hastily for the sake of his continual wellbeing. “Everyone good with meat feast?”

“Ten doesn’t eat beef,” Kun said apologetically. “He’s a picky eater.” And here was Yangyang thinking that a million years alive might be long enough for you to acquire a taste for anything.

“You make me sound like a Karen.” Ten gave Kun a withering look. “Let’s just get two pizzas and have one without pineapple or beef. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Dinner passed in peace, save for an outbreak of bickering between Kun and Ten, which Xiaojun assured Yangyang was very common and nothing to worry about, even when it got violent.

“We’ll visit you tomorrow,” Ten said to the two of them, stretching as he got to his feet. “It’s been too long.”

He trapped Yangyang in an affectionate headlock.

“And I find you to be a cutie-patootie,” Ten cooed, flattening Yangyang’s nose with one finger. “I’m glad Xiaojun found someone nice enough to put up with him.”

Maybe Ten wasn’t so bad. Yangyang could do with more praise in his life.

“Put up with him? Yangyang’s not easy to deal with either!” Xiaojun protested indignantly next to them.

It seemed like Yangyang’s flat had become the new hotspot for shapeshifters to gather. Ten had said he didn’t like that word but Yangyang really had no other way to describe them. He went to work as usual while Xiaojun showed Kun and Ten around the city. They traversed a few countries per day, one of them having the power to teleport wherever.

They’d come home with pizza from Naples, cakes from a Parisian bakery and fresh local Thai food which was apparently Kun and Ten’s favourite human food. It definitely beat Deliveroo.

The infamous Sicheng had turned up eventually too, in the form of a tall, handsome man with inky black eyes. He apologised profusely to Yangyang for scaring him and causing him to fracture his hand before embracing Xiaojun in a tight hug. Somehow, all three shapeshifters ended up staying for dinner, which Kun took over his kitchen to make. He was a really good cook and for once, Yangyang didn’t even feel like complaining about the intruders in his house. Everyone was very nice, and they all babied him, as he was essentially a baby compared to the eons they’d been alive.

Furthermore, Yangyang was realising that much like Xiaojun, they only looked intimidating. Kun was a big softie who nagged at everyone and was ridiculed good-heartedly in return, especially by Ten, who seemed to have made it his goal to drive Kun up the wall. Ten could still be scary but he doted on everyone who he found cute – Renjun had come by and been subjected to Ten’s unique brand of parenting. Sicheng had been aloof at first, sitting silently in the corner but he was quickly revealed to be awkward and goofy, shrieking like a little girl when he got surprised.

Yangyang was almost sad when the three shapeshifters bid their goodbyes and told Xiaojun they were going on holiday somewhere. They’d all given Yangyang and Xiaojun a hug and waved goodbye before simply materialising away.

Xiaojun didn’t seem upset, but he had avoided everyone for a century out of embarrassment, after all. Being apart probably didn’t mean much to him.

“We’re used to not knowing when we’ll next see each other,” Xiaojun had explained. “Or not knowing exactly where one of us is. We have eternity together, so it doesn’t bother me. Especially as we know we’ll meet again someday.”

“But don’t you miss each other?” Yangyang said, unable to imagine it. Time was probably a different concept for someone like him, whose biological clock would slowly tick down to zero. “Wasn’t that why Kun and Ten were still trying to find out where you were?”

“Ah, that,” Xiaojun flushed and turned away from him. “That was only because I was purposely avoiding detection. Normally they can get to me if they want.”

Yangyang had also noticed that Xiaojun was more impatient with him than usual when his friends were over, especially Ten, because he liked to cuddle Yangyang. Kun had said it was because Ten had pets and he always missed them when travelling so Yangyang was acting as a sort of substitute. Xiaojun would seem more irritable and snap at Yangyang for things like forgetting to throw an empty can in the bin or forgetting to put his dirty socks in the laundry straight away. Yangyang had been hoping to talk to him about it after their guests disappeared through a portal.

There was also some cleaning to do, from last night’s dinner party.

“Xiaojun, can’t you just use your powers to clean the kitchen or something?” Yangyang ended up asking as he wiped the table. Xiaojun was doing the dishes in this cute yellow apron he had bought. “Do you have to do it all manually?”

“I could,” Xiaojun said, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn piece of food stuck to a bowl. There were soap suds on his nose. “But it’s nice to do things like this. Why do you think Kun likes to cook when he could probably just make a nice meal appear? Why does Ten draw if he could just create a painting with his mind? We’re relaxed with our time.”

“Then why’ve you been so impatient with me?” Yangyang said. Oops, he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. Embarrassed, he wiped the table harder, polishing an invisible stain with his gaze down.

“What did you say?” Xiaojun said. He set down the clean bowl and continued to work his way through the big pile of dishes. “I’m not going to make the flat magically clean, if that’s what you wanted.”

“No, I mean you seem like you’re more annoyed with me,” Yangyang said. He’d already put his foot in his mouth by getting all confrontational. “You keep snapping at me.”

“I haven’t,” Xiaojun said, with a disdainful sniff. That made Yangyang narrow his eyes. He just knew Xiaojun had raised an eyebrow too with that sniff. He wasn’t about to let Xiaojun convince him otherwise. Xiaojun had been sulking.

The table was sparkling clean now, so Yangyang moved onto the stove.

“You have,” Yangyang insisted. “You told me off yesterday because I didn’t get up fast enough to help you set the table. It was rude to do that in front of Kun and Ten.”

“You live here too! Am I meant to do everything around here?” Xiaojun demanded. He put a plate on the drying rack with more force than necessary. “I cook dinner because the food you make is appalling. The least you could do is set the table, not just sit in Ten’s lap!”

“I’m entertaining your friends!” Yangyang argued back. The stove was almost spotless already. “It’s cool to talk to them and I was literally just a minute slow. You didn’t need to get so mad.”

“You don’t think it’s cool to talk to me,” Xiaojun muttered so quietly under his breath that Yangyang didn’t hear what he was saying.

“What was that?” Yangyang said, abandoning the wipe in his hand to walk up to the sink.

“Nothing.” Xiaojun stressed, banging a mug down in the sink.

“Do you admit it, at least?” Yangyang said. “I don’t know what your problem is, but you can just tell me what I’ve done wrong instead of being passive aggressive.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Xiaojun said, in a tone that implied the complete opposite. The last of the dishes went on the drying rack so he had no choice but to turn around and face Yangyang in that ridiculous yellow apron.

“Do you feel annoyed just by looking at me, is that it?” Yangyang said sarcastically, his temper getting the best of him.

Xiaojun let out a cry of frustration and turned round to glare at Yangyang, his lip curled. It was powerful but Yangyang didn’t relent under the pressure enhanced by the downwards trajectory of his thick furrowed brows.

“Why do you always keep talking about how cool you find everyone else?” Xiaojun finally exploded at him in a frenzied outburst. “You’re always babbling on about how they seem so amazing but you-you never say that to me! You’re always making fun of me instead! It’s like you think I’m lame and they’re all better than me! But what about me?”

Xiaojun said it all in a rush, his chest heaving with passion at the end as he stared at Yangyang intently. He realised a second too late that he had succumbed to Yangyang’s bait and had effectively been goaded into confessing his innermost feelings. Unexpectedly, Xiaojun transformed into a armadillo and rolled into a ball.

“That’s what’s been bothering you?” Yangyang said in disbelief. “That I don’t think you’re cool?”

The armadillo rolled out the kitchen in silence, except for the clacking of his scales on the floor. Yangyang gave him a minute of recovery time before following him out to the living room.

Xiaojun hmphed at him and crossed his arms, marching away from him indignantly. Yangyang followed after him as Xiaojun sat down imperiously on the sofa, cross-legged.

“I’m just trying to be nice to your friends,” Yangyang explained, sitting down on the sofa across from him. “This is the first time I’m meeting them, of course I’m not going to joke around with them and tease them the way I do with you! I can make fun of you because we’re close, right? I don’t have to be careful around you!”

“Fine,” Xiaojun said, looking slightly mollified. He realised he was still wearing the apron but for once, he couldn’t be bothered to take it off. The apron vanished from his body and reappeared on a hook on the kitchen door. “But you still haven’t said if you think they’re better than me.”

Xiaojun seemed to be fishing for a compliment. Yangyang found that he didn’t want to give it so easily. If Xiaojun was going to be stubborn, so was he.

“What do you think?” Yangyang shot back at him. “Shouldn’t you have some faith in yourself?”

“I don’t know!” Xiaojun yelled at him. “You barely say anything to me when they’re here and only talk to them.”

“Because I thought you wanted to catch up with them,” Yangyang retorted. “Because you ghosted them, for like, a hundred years! I didn’t want to dominate the conversation or seem rude because I was only talking to you. I was trying to give you guys space to talk!”

“Yeah but-” Xiaojun said but Yangyang interrupted him. God, he didn’t understand what Xiaojun’s problem was.

“And for the record, it doesn’t matter who’s the coolest!” Yangyang spat at him. “From the first moment I met you, I’ve never thought you were cool!”

Seriously, Xiaojun was being such a child. Xiaojun didn’t need to be cool. He didn’t need to be anything. Yangyang was down bad for him just as Xiaojun was. That made Yangyang far lamer than Xiaojun. It wasn’t because Xiaojun was cool that Yangyang’s stomach did loop-the-loops whenever Xiaojun got too close to him. The moments his heart went crazy were when Xiaojun was at his silliest, humming to himself as he watered the flowers or gushed on about Harry Potter.

You see, Yangyang liked Xiaojun no matter how much of a loser he was. He was a sappy idiot.

“How dare you!” Xiaojun said, standing up. He looked utterly affronted. “How can you say that! What kind of friend are you?” That did it. Xiaojun didn’t need to rub it in, that Yangyang was merely his friend. That one stung a little.

Sorry that he wasn’t Xiaojun’s infamous ex who could hurt him deeply enough to make Xiaojun sleep his way across the universe in heartbreak!

“I don’t need you to be cool!” Yangyang shouted, standing up too. He took a step forward, so he was almost leaning across the coffee table where Xiaojun was. “I like you even if you’re lame! Why does it matter? Do you think I’m cool?”

“That’s not the point!” Xiaojun sputtered.

“And for the record, I find you cool because you’re uncool!” Yangyang said, even if that didn’t make sense in the slightest. “You’re cool when you get excited about what you like without embarrassed. When you’re not afraid to be yourself and do the lamest things like cry over Twilight and cook gross things like that stupid Oreo cake!”

“You think the Oreo cake’s stupid?” Xiaojun said in a small voice, looking woefully at Yangyang.

That better not be the only thing Xiaojun had got from Yangyang’s shouting fit.

“Forget it,” Yangyang said and stormed out the living room. He made a beeline for his bedroom, opening the door and collapsing on his bed.

“Yangyang!” Xiaojun called from the living room. Yangyang heard the slap-shuffle of his slippers before the door creaked open. “Don’t be upset, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset,” Yangyang insisted, turning over so his voice was muffled into his pillow. The bed creased as Xiaojun’s weight was added to the mattress.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for us to end up arguing,” Xiaojun said. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Then don’t,” Yangyang said petulantly.

“Look, I suppose I just felt insecure with everyone around you,” Xiaojun admitted. Yangyang rolled over to look at him. Xiaojun was sitting on his mattress, with his knees drawn up to his chin. “I’m the youngest out of them and they’re several times older than me. They’re all more powerful and knowledgeable and I’m also like a little baby in their eyes. I’m sorry, you’re right. I did end up taking it out on you.”

Yangyang mulled over Xiaojun’s words. He supposed it was valid. Xiaojun had also been on the end of some teasing about his own situation and being the only supernatural creature in Yangyang’s life might have inflated his ego a little. The presence of much older shapeshifters must have made Xiaojun realise he wasn’t all that in comparison. It was a bit silly, but Xiaojun was silly.

“OK, we’ve made up,” Yangyang said. “Do you wanna play a round of League?” He wasn’t one to hold grudges and he didn’t want to feel upset any longer. He liked that their fights were short.

Xiaojun let out a smile of relief at that.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be your best support,”

The following morning, Yangyang woke up in a place that definitely wasn’t his bedroom. He’d definitely settled into bed with Xiaojun, who was spending more nights in Yangyang’s bed in human form.

Yangyang had been kidnapped. He was in some ornate wooden chair, his limbs bound surreally with smoke that twisted around him like rope. This wasn’t right. The lights didn’t quite reach him, their rays falling a few metres short of his feet, leaving him shrouded in darkness.

In front of him was a wooden table of similar design, each panel carved with intricate patterns and beyond that was a raised platform. Yangyang suddenly realised. He seemed to be in court, with three judges before him. But what was he being tried for? What was his crime? He couldn’t really see the judges properly either, they seemed to blur and flicker from view every time he looked in their direction.

He craned his neck to look behind him. No one else was in the audience.

“Bring the defendant in,” someone said. There was a clicking sound and a spotlight shone down – but not on Yangyang.

Xiaojun appeared, bound to a chair the same way Yangyang was. He looked absolutely furious and was struggling at his restraints. His aura was stronger, grander as if he were a member of royalty. His hair was longer, skimming his shoulders and long enough to tie back. Yangyang realised there were antlers, no – horns, peeking out of his hair too.

What in the hell was going on? His first thought was that Xiaojun was playing a prank on him again.

Yangyang opened his mouth to ask no sound was being produced escaped his vocal cords. He tried to scream, and nothing came out. Not even a whisper.

This had to be a nightmare. The trouble was, how did he wake up? He thought he had already woken up. He couldn’t even pinch himself to check, his hands dangling uselessly at his sides.

“Xiao Dejun,” rumbled one of the three murky figures at the judges’ table. “You have been brought unto us for interfering with the business of the Fates.”

“So, you admit you’re acting beyond your authority and using your power to run unauthorised business?” Xiaojun opened his mouth to retorted cockily. His mouth was the one thing that hadn’t been bound. “Why, I believed you were meant to be impartial? What business do you have interfering in my matters?

Given the authoritative atmosphere of this place, Yangyang winced at his tone. It didn’t seem like the time to be mocking whoever could restrain you. Wasn’t Xiaojun meant to be super powerful? Why was it that he couldn’t escape?

The other glaring issue at hand was Yangyang wasn’t sure if Xiaojun even knew he was here.

“Silence.” Yangyang watched as Xiaojun was muted and continued to speak furiously, no words coming from his lips. “Let us commence.”

“Location: The Realm of Moirai. Time: obsolete. Defendant: Xiao Dejun,” The figure in the middle said, striking all sorts of fear into Yangyang’s heart. “Do you know why you have been summoned here?”

“Does it look like I do?” Xiaojun spat sarcastically before he was cut off from speaking again.

“Your unnecessary involvement within the mortal realm has been changing the threads of their Destiny,” the middle one continued. “As the Allotter, we cannot allow you to meddle any longer in our area of jurisdiction. What have you to say for yourself?”

Xiaojun looked livid, to say the least, face contorted with rage. Yangyang was simply terrified.

“Does the Weaver not account for the existence of creatures like me when weaving?” Xiaojun said. “Is JYP that inept?”

“You dare utter my name?” The figure on the left said, flickering into view briefly. Yangyang caught sight of a middle-aged man before it blurred into mist again.

“You know very well that divine interference is able to affect the threads of Destiny,” the figure on the right said, silent until now. “The existence of your kind is the same.”

Yangyang heard the derision in their voice loud and clear. It sounded like racism to him if shapeshifters were considered a race.

“I’m allowed in the mortal realm though!” Xiaojun argued back. If this was a court, surely Xiaojun had the right to demand a lawyer, Yangyang thought, if that was a thing. It seemed there were universal laws to follow and Xiaojun had somehow violated one. “Our kind have long since been permitted to feed there and interact with mortals. Is that not right, SM?”

“For brief occasions!” snapped the middle one – SM, as Xiaojun had deemed. Yet another middle-aged looking man fizzled into Yangyang’s field of vision. “In their measure of time, you have spent several months cohabiting with a mortal!”

They were talking about him, weren’t they? Yangyang was slowly getting the big picture. Apparently Xiaojun had done something wrong by living with him? Something that affected fate or destiny or whatever.

It wasn’t like he knew anything. Yangyang was just a mere mortal, after all. But Kun, Ten and Sicheng hadn’t mentioned this.

“It’s nothing new,” Xiaojun responded. “You speak of jurisdiction, but if your weaving does not factor in my kind, then it is beyond your authority to prosecute me for this joke of a crime.”

Yeah, Yangyang really didn’t know what was going on here.

“There are known mortal families who have ties with otherworldly realms too,” Xiaojun continued. “I don’t see you interfering.” Yeah, that made sense. Chenle and Renjun had both known about the existence of supernatural creatures. Chenle literally knew Kun.

“Your immortality is affecting the quality of his thread,” the right one said. “It has become thicker and harder to cut.”

“Get better scissors then, YG,” Xiaojun said scathingly. This time, Yangyang was fully prepared for the third middle-aged man’s appearance. It seemed like even supernaturally, middle-aged men were the bane of everyone’s existence.

“We have decided that in order to erase the effect of your interference upon this mortal, drastic measures need to be taken,” the one called SM said.

That was when the spotlights came down and finally panned over to Yangyang. He was the star of the show now! He squinted as the bright lights pierced his eyes and his chair moved itself to the centre of the room.

“You speak of my interference, but you’ve brought a mortal into the Moirai Realm!” Xiaojun shouted. “Yangyang, don’t worry. I won’t let them do anything to you.”

“Wait, so this isn’t a dream?” Yangyang said and found that he could talk now. “What’s going on, Xiaojun?”

“Liu Yangyang,” YG said with a rasp like dry gravel. “There is no need to fret. We will rectify the anomaly in your Fate. Any memories you have of those from outside your Realm will be erased, including this meeting. The same will happen to other mortals who have also had such encounters. No time will have passed in the Mortal Realm.”

When Yangyang finally processed it, his heart thudded with horror. Whether this was reality or

“You’re going to erase my memories of Xiaojun?” Yangyang said, completely aghast. His nervous system was going into overdrive. “You can’t do that! He didn’t do anything to me! He didn’t hurt me at all. We’re friends! I won’t tell anyone!” More than friends to me, he pleaded silently.

“Rest assured, little one,” said JYP. It sounded like he was trying to be somewhat comforting, but it came off as patronising. “The blame is not upon you. You will not be punished.”

“What if I don’t want Xiaojun to be punished?” Yangyang said desperately, locking eyes with Xiaojun across the room. He was still hoping this was a freakish nightmare and he’d wake up with Xiaojun snoring lightly next to him.

“Xiao Dejun, you are forbidden to contact him in any shape or form from hereon. If you wish to guarantee his safety.”

Yangyang thrashed futilely against his restraints. He was starting to realise this wasn’t a fair trial. This was a kangaroo court.

“Xiaojun!” he yelled desperately. “I don’t want to forget!” He turned to the three unfathomable Fates in front of him.

“Please, don’t do this to me!” Yangyang begged. It wouldn’t just hurt him, it would hurt Xiaojun too. Where would he go? Who were these weird guys, anyway? Rage ignited within him. “Leave me alone, you fucking weirdoes!”

“Don’t worry, Yangyang,” Xiaojun said softly. “I’ll find a way back to you, OK? I won’t forget you, even if you will. Wait for me.”

“Beautiful sentiments,” SM sneered, revealing their true colours. “But ultimately meaningless.”

Yangyang felt like his heart was getting put through a meat grinder. God, he was about to cry. This was officially the worst dream he’d ever had.

Then he saw the look on Xiaojun’s face. For the first time ever, Xiaojun looked scared. Fear was etched into his features and his eyes were wide with panic as he looked at Yangyang with anguish.

Hendery’s question to Xiaojun echoed in his mind.

“So, what are you scared of?” Hendery prodded. “If your turn into your own worst fear, what do you become?”

How had Xiaojun answered again?

Yangyang wondered if Xiaojun was afraid of losing him now.

There was the banging of a gavel.

It was now or never.

“Xiaojun!” Yangyang shouted out, throat straining. “I l-”

There was the final ring of the gavel, the sound of Xiaojun’s muffled voice and then, silence.

Yangyang woke up to sunlight filtering through his eyelids and curtains, head empty. His throat was dry, so he rolled to his side, feeling blindly for the glass of water he usually kept on his bedside table.

There was a clink as his hand collided with the side of the glass, sending it tumbling to the floor. It didn’t smash, much to his relief, instead emitting a dull thud.

Yangyang cracked an eye open and sighed. He’d been dreaming, he was sure of it. It had been vivid and bright, but it was all slipping away from him, flashes of colour and sound that didn’t form a full picture. Whatever the dream had been, it must have been sad because Yangyang felt like something was missing.

He got out of bed and picked up the glass, half-heartedly sponging at the wet floor with tissues before going to get a towel to do the job. There had to be a word for what he was feeling. He googled it while he was on the toilet. Desiderium, a feeling of grief or yearning for something lost.

His flat felt off-kilter, as if overnight someone had come and shifted everything two inches to the left – enough for something to feel wrong but not enough for him to pinpoint what it was. Yangyang brushed his teeth and stared at his reflection and watched as toothpaste foam dribbled down his chin. He must have dreamt so hard he’d astral projected and seen his past life or something. It would explain why his flat felt emptier than usual, despite it being the same as always.

Yangyang got ready for work, expecting his weird morning mood to dissipate as he sat with Hendery, flipping through his script and exchanging jokes.

“I had a weird dream this morning,” Hendery told him in between slurps of his ice Americano. “I don’t remember any of it, but I swear you were in it.”

“Huh,” Yangyang said. “I don’t remember my dream either, but I really wish I did. It’s been bugging me.”

There was a nagging at the back of his mind all day and he found that when he arrived home, it was still on his mind. Yangyang heated up a frozen pizza and a microwave bag of steamed vegetables and munched morosely on his unseasoned broccoli, finding the taste unfamiliar. He’d been eating like this for months though. His body should be used to it.

He ended up having an early night, eager to sleep and shake off the strange feeling that had been following him around.

Over the next few days, Yangyang began to feel more normal and continued with his life. It had been a while since he’d gone on a date. Chenle had been pushing another person at him, a music teacher named Zhang Hao but Yangyang hadn’t been particularly interested.

His last date had been with…who was it, Renjun. What happened again? Yangyang remembered Renjun had come to his house but nothing more than that.

He was also starting to wonder if Renjun’s belief in the occult was more than just a belief. Yangyang wasn’t one for superstitions but the black cat with amber eyes that kept appearing outside his flat was starting to make him uneasy. It would be outside when he left for work, and be waiting for him when he got home. Aside from the cat, on one occasion Yangyang thought he’d heard a dog barking at the cat, but he hadn’t been invested enough to watch the fight.

Yangyang was simply coasting, watching life pass by. Except for this damn cat.

It was sitting impossibly on his sofa, licking at a paw, looking up at Yangyang with smugness he hadn’t ever seen a cat exude before.

“You’re not slick,” Yangyang said to it, crossing his arms. “You’ve been stalking me for days now. I don’t know who let you in but-”

“Don’t scream,” the cat said, as Yangyang opened his mouth to do exactly that. “I said, don’t scream.”

“Are you a witch?” Yangyang said, backing up against his front door. He hadn’t taken his shoes off yet so if he needed to, he could throw open the front door and run for his life.

“As if,” the cat said, derision in its tone. “But we need to talk, Yangyang.”

“How do you know my name?!”

The cat elongated, body contorting and bones twisting like liquid, its shadow stretching up and up, until it became a short slender man with those same golden cat-like eyes.

“Supernatural creatures are real, blah blah, there’s multiple realms aside from this one, I’m what you might call a shapeshifter. Although I hate that name.” the man said. “We feed on fear and we’re immortal. Yeah, I said ‘we’re, I’m not the only one. What else did I need to say? Ah, I’m not here to hurt you. There was something else too. Oh, where are my manners? My name’s Ten.”

Yangyang blinked several times at the overload of information.

“I’m gonna need you to repeat that,” Yangyang said. “That was way too fast.”

“That’s the trouble with mortals,” the man said. “They’re so slow at processing.”

He summarised what he’d said earlier, emphasising that he wasn’t going to hurt Yangyang at the end.

“I wish you said that part first,” Yangyang said, lowering his guard. There was still too much to take in, but the main thing was that he wasn’t going to die. “Mr. Ten?”

“Just Ten,” said Ten with a smile that was kinder than Yangyang had expected. “Let’s sit down.”

Yangyang watched Ten offer Yangyang a seat in his own house, even going as far as to prop his feet on the sofa, hugging a pillow to his chest. It was weird. Ten walked around here like he was familiar with the area.

“Have you been here before?” Yangyang asked curiously. His gut instinct wasn’t screaming at him to run, oddly enough.

“We’ll get to that,” Ten said. “I need to ask you a question first. Does the name Xiaojun mean anything to you?”

Xiaojun? Yangyang thought about it for a second. Nope, didn’t ring a bell.

“Is he a celebrity?” Yangyang said. “Like Xiao Zhan or something?”

“You don’t remember?” Ten said, looking crestfallen. “You really don’t?”

“Should I?” Yangyang thought about the name again, but he didn’t have the faintest clue. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know who that is. Are you looking for them?”

To his surprise, Ten was looking at him with big, shiny eyes.

“Kun,” Ten wailed to no one in particular. “This is too sad. I don’t want to explain anymore. You do it.”

“For crying out loud, why is it always me?” There was a distortion of space and another man appeared, with kind brown eyes and glasses. “Why can’t you ask Sicheng?”

He walked over to Ten who put his arms out for a hug, which was returned, along with a comforting pat on the head. The stranger let out an exhausted sigh.

“You know you’re the best at this kind of thing,” Someone else, who Yangyang assumed was Sicheng also appeared. “You’re the oldest.”

This guy was tall, much to Yangyang’s envy. Maybe six feet? He had an elvish charm to his features and was dressed like he’d stepped out of a Chinese period drama, billowing sleeves and all.

“By two months!” Kun complained. “That’s probably a 0.001% difference between Ten and I!”

“So, people are just appearing in my living room,” Yangyang remarked to himself. “They’re ignoring me too. I’m going to ignore them back.”

“Sorry about that, Yangyang,” Kun said. “Let me explain everything to you.”

He proceeded to explain that Xiaojun was someone like them, who lived with Yangyang.

“Basically, this shapeshifter called Xiaojun was living with me but my memory of him was wiped?”

“That’s a good summary of it, yeah,” Sicheng said, perched delicately on the edge of the sofa. His balance was incredible. “You were good friends. Really close.”

“If we’re good friends, why hasn’t this Xiaojun come to see me?” Yangyang wondered aloud. “He hasn’t forgotten me, has he?

The smiles slid off the faces of the three shapeshifters in rapid succession. It would’ve been comedic if they didn’t all look so grave.

“He was forbidden to,” Kun said quietly after a short pause. “In order to protect you.”

Yangyang felt like the protagonist of an action film – with a little romance mixed in. This Xiaojun, whoever he was, clearly seemed to care about Yangyang, if he was willing to go this far for him.

Yangyang must have cared about him too, given the fact he’d let him live in his flat for months, apparently. Where had Xiaojun slept? Had he slept on the sofa, or on the floor?

To his horror, he felt his cheeks grow hot. Had they shared the bed? There was so much he wanted to know. It seemed unfair to him that this Xiaojun appeared to know him so intimately but Yangyang didn’t even have a face to put to the name.

“Can I get my memories back?” Yangyang said. “Is that possible? I want to know who this Xiaojun is.”

Sicheng glanced over at Ten and Kun surreptitiously.

“Fucking around with memories is their speciality, not mine,” he said. “If anyone can retrieve your memories, it’s gonna be them.”

Ten and Kun nodded at each other, then played a game of rock-paper-scissors in front of Yangyang. They proceeded to tie.  

“We didn’t tell you all the details earlier because we didn’t want to overwhelm you,” explained Ten. He’d settled into a more comfortable position on the sofa and had his head in Kun’s lap. No one reacted, so it had to be a normal thing for them. “The people who removed your memories are the Fates. You know, the people who control destiny and all that.”

Yangyang didn’t really know, but he understood the concept of fate well enough.

“Think Greek mythology,” Kun added on. “They’re three powerful figures who control the life and death of mortals and when they pass away.”

“But what would they want to do with me?” Yangyang said, flabbergasted. “I’m just Yangyang. I’m not special.”

It was absurd to think that the three Fates would single him out.

“You’ve hit the nail on the head,” Sicheng pointed out. “You’re not special at all. So, there’s the question of why they wiped your memories in the first place. They even summoned you to the Moirai Realm. It’s rare for a mortal to end up there.”

It was one thing for Yangyang to admit he wasn’t special but another for Sicheng to agree so easily. Maybe he wanted to be a little special.

“It seems to us that Xiaojun was unfairly targeted, perhaps due to a personal vendetta of theirs against us as shapeshifters,” Kun said. “It’s been a week or two since your memories were wiped.”

That was actually quite scary to think about. Yangyang had just been living unaware that he had a whole bunch of memories from the past few months missing.

“So, will these Fates give my memories back or what?” Yangyang asked. This was kinda traumatising. He could feel a restlessness descend in his veins now that he knew something was missing. The pieces were gradually coming together. It explained why Yangyang had been feeling so off.

“They will,” Kun said with certainty. “I’ll make sure of it. They targeted Xiaojun unfairly under the guise of a trial and they’re going to pay for it.”

From further discussion, Yangyang gathered that in a way Xiaojun living with him was wrong, but it wasn’t so black or white. The shapeshifters were preparing a case to reverse the decision of the Fates and had gathered a fair number of supporters to put pressure on them.

“We’ve got the Earth goddess Boa herself on our side,” Ten said, looking proud of himself. “I really reached out and used all of my connections. Taeyong too, king of the Seelies. On the witches’ side, I also managed to get Doyoung to vouch for us.”

“I’m surprised Doyoung listened to anything you said,” Kun muttered and was elbowed in the side.

“You see, the Fates hold absolute power when it comes to mortals but they can be influenced by other immortal creatures,” Sicheng explained.

“How long is that going to take though?” Yangyang said. Court cases took months for humans and he wasn’t sure he could maintain his sanity for that long.

“Oh, very fast,” Ten said reassuringly. “Time is obsolete in the Moirai Realm. It’ll be like no time has passed here and you’ll get them back immediately.”

“I should just wait here then,” Yangyang said, crossing his legs and taking out his phone. He had just started scrolling through his Twitter feed when there was a loud whoop of excitement.

“OK!” Ten said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve got your memories!”

Kun held up a small corked test-tube with misty tendrils of light swirling inside it.

“That really was fast,” Yangyang said suspiciously.

“For you,” Sicheng said. He let out a yawn. “We spent what felt like forever arguing with those stupid old crones. Had to get the big guns out and everything.”

“We threatened to destroy the mortal realm and obliterate their kingdom,” Kun said casually. “And to expose what they were doing in a proper trial with a full panel of supernatural creatures.”

Some things, Yangyang decided, were better left unanswered. The knowledge of everything beyond the mortal realm felt like it would crush him.  Kun made it sound like destroying the world would only take him a flick of the finger.

“Let’s get those memories back in your head then,” Kun said. He walked up to Yangyang and uncorked the tube.

From his periphery, Yangyang could see the coloured strands of light float around and get sucked into his brain. Once again, he was reminded of Harry Potter. First the black cat, now this. It was kind of like how Dumbledore extracted his memories to put them in the Pensieve.

Yangyang was suddenly hit with a massive throbbing headache that made lights flash in front of his eyes. He let out a litany of Chinese swearwords in response.

“What the fuck,” he managed to groan before he finally flopped down into a prone position on the sofa. “Head…hurts.”

“Oh,” Ten said above him with the tone of someone who had forgotten something important. “It might be because of the sheer volume of memories being restored. Should’ve mentioned it could hurt.”

Yangyang wished he had, because it felt like there was a monkey clapping symbols on his head. The only analogy he could come up with was when you downloaded a game and booted it up for the first time, and then your computer started to overheat as it tried to process all the files.

In the next thirty seconds that followed, Yangyang swore he could taste and breathe colours. Eventually, he zoned out as the memories settled themselves back in his mind, electrical connections sparking on and off in his brain, all neurons firing or something. Yangyang didn’t know. He’d barely scraped a pass in high school biology.

His thoughts were swirling like clouds in a hurricane. Slowly, they settled into place and Yangyang found himself back with his original train of thought, how the tube of memories reminded him of Harry Potter.

Xiaojun. He loved Harry Potter.

It hit Yangyang like a tidal wave, crashing over his body and overwhelming all his senses. Like a movie montage, scenes of his time with Xiaojun flashed before his eyes.

With each new vista of truth bursting before him, Yangyang also remembered how he had felt. How he felt right now.

He liked Xiaojun. A lot. Yangyang would even dare say he was in L-word with Xiaojun.

The last memory slotted into place, of that terrible time with the Fates.

Yangyang gasped as he relived Xiaojun’s frightened face and his own desperate pleading. His unfinished confession, interrupted as his memories were wiped.

“I wish I had some kind of power so I could go beat the asses of those stupid Fates,” Yangyang growled, body growing hot with anger. “God. Now I feel traumatised just thinking about it.”

“You’ve got it all back,” Ten said comfortingly. Yangyang didn’t know when, but his head was lying in Ten’s lap and he’d been stroking his fingers through Yangyang’s hair, petting him like he was a cat. It was familiar now Yangyang remembered all the times Ten had done that for him before.

“Thank you,” Yangyang said, a little choked up, suddenly overcome by feelings. Everyone had gone through so much effort just to retrieve his memories. Of course, it was as much for Xiaojun’s sake as his own, but Yangyang had only met them for a few short days. For Yangyang, it would be an experience he’d remember for the rest of his life, but for immortal beings like them, Yangyang wasn’t even a mere blot of ink in their diary. He was like a single star in their sky, shining along with millions of others.

“Aw, is Yangyang crying?” Ten said, sounding utterly delighted.

“Not crying!” Yangyang said, but he felt wetness on his cheeks and his tears pooling in his ears as they rolled down his cheeks, a fairly unpleasant sensation.

His head was still pounding and Yangyang was about to reach for his drawer and take out the paracetamol when Sicheng stopped him. With a wave of his hand, the pain vanished.

“Couldn’t you have done that before?” Yangyang asked. “Back when I thought my head was going to splti in half.”

Sicheng shrugged but he at least looked apologetic about it.

“I didn’t want to disrupt whatever electrical activity was going on inside your brain. One wrong move and I could’ve deleted half your memories or something.”

Fair enough.

Yangyang could finally focus. No wonder on the day that he’d lost his memories his apartment had felt so wrong to him. All the little changes that had accumulated with Xiaojun’s stay were gone and it was jarring to see the difference.

The yellow apron that hung on the kitchen door and all the dried ingredients that Xiaojun kept in the cupboard to make medicinal Chinese soups for him. The potted plants that they had been raising by the windowsill. Yangyang remembered that he’d purchased a dog bed for Xiaojun (or Bella), and that had become where Xiaojun liked to snooze when they were watching a film together.

Xiaojun’s toothbrush and toiletries in the bathroom, his strange preference for value supermarket 2-in-1 shampoo that made Yangyang cringe in horror. His clothes had a special corner in Yangyang’s wardrobe, because Yangyang had gotten tired of Xiaojun wearing all his clothes without telling him. And later on, because he wasn’t very good at handling his reaction to Xiaojun walking around in his hoodie, leaving them smelling like him.

But enough about Yangyang. He needed to see Xiaojun right this second.

“He can see me now, right?” Yangyang said. “We can go back to how we were before. You guys can tell him to come here right? Have you told him that I have my memories back?”

He recalled earlier, how everyone had looked dismayed when he’d mentioned seeing Xiaojun. Or, why Xiaojun hadn’t come to see him.

“He knows,” Kun said. “We told him before we came to you, actually.”

“So why isn’t he here?” Yangyang said in confusion. Had the two weeks they’d been apart been enough for Xiaojun to decide that he was better off without him? “Is he OK? Is he hurt?”

“It’s a bit complicated,” Ten said. “Right now, he doesn’t want to see you. But!” He interjected immediately, upon seeing the expression on Yangyang’s face.

Yangyang probably looked like a kicked puppy.

“He does want to see you! Just not in the state he’s in,” Kun helpfully clarified.

Yangyang frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

“Let’s just go see him,” he said. “I don’t care if he doesn’t want to see me. I want to see him. Where is he?”

“At our house,” Kun said, “In another time-space dimension.”

Yangyang found himself in a world that was upside-down. The sea rippled above his head and trees pointed downwards at him like icicles. Beneath him were clouds, his feet shuffling along bridges of flimsy planks and rope.

Kun and Ten’s house (Yangyang knew they were married or whatever the shapeshifter equivalent was) was huge. It was a traditional Chinese pagoda with a waterside walkway over sky, leading to a set of solid double wooden doors with giant metal rings for handles.

There was also roaring in the background, which was slightly concerning.

“Just the pets, don’t mind them,” Ten said, which didn’t clear anything up.

Yangyang followed them through a maze of corridors and rooms of different designs ranging from Bauhaus to Japanese sliding screens to a solid metal door that resembled a bank vault. It would’ve made for a great escape room experience. How Kun and Ten knew their way around was a mystery.

OK, fine, they’d had thousands of years to figure it out.

They finally came to a door that wasn’t really a door. It was a tree, mossy bark covering the entrance. Roots extended down, escaping down through the stone tiles which had been forced upwards and astray to make space for the roots to descend through.

“He’s in there,” Kun confirmed and touched a palm to the door. The wood rippled like water and small concentric circles spread across the bark.

“Xiaojun,” Kun said gently. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I don’t want to see anyone. Tell them to leave,” said a muffled voice then it was followed by a drawn-out sniffle.

Just the sound of Xiaojun’s dulcet tones filled Yangyang with longing. God, he missed Xiaojun so much. He wanted to see him, scratch that, he needed to.

Yangyang knew Xiaojun wouldn’t come out or agree for anyone to see him if he was in a slump. He would just brute force his way in and take it from there. He knew what Xiaojun was like.

With determination, Yangyang pushed at the bark. He’d expected his nails to scrape mossy bark, but his fingers sank through, as if he’d dipped them in water.

“Yangyang, wait! We needed to tell you something first!” Sicheng called, trying to grab him by the cuff of his neck. It was too late, Yangyang had already slipped through the fluid.

Yangyang found himself in the room, but it wasn’t really a typical room. It felt like a prison cell, without any windows or light. What was Xiaojun doing here, locked up like a criminal? It was like a swamp on the inside, oppressively humid with a musky odour. Yangyang’s clothes felt damp against his skin.

The floor was muddy too and there were plants growing near the walls, though something was distinctly wrong with them. The flowers were repeatedly blooming and withering, cycling through life over and over.

Tucked into the corner, underneath a large leafy canopy was a writhing mass of limbs.

It was…Xiaojun, but not the one Yangyang was used to seeing. It was the creature Yangyang had first met on that fateful night when Xiaojun had hidden under Yangyang’s bed. His primordial form that had made poor little Yangyang pass out in terror.

In the past, it might have scared Yangyang. Well, it had. But Yangyang’s heart already felt lighter just upon seeing Xiaojun, as if the sun was shining through the wall of this miserable room, into his soul.

Yangyang took a step forwards, his shoe making a wet squelch in the mud as he strode forwards in determination. Although he kept telling himself he wasn’t scared, his nervous system was still reacting to the unfamiliar sight in front of him. His palms broke out in a cold sweat, his heartbeat increased, and his stomach clenched.

Several eyeballs swivelled in the direction of the sound and Xiaojun let out a whimpering noise, raspy and high-pitched that seemed to emanate from several locations at once.

“Why-why are you here?” Xiaojun said and his form contorted as if being squeezed. “How are you here?”

“Because I wanted to see you,” Yangyang said. He was almost in front of Xiaojun and took few more steps, stopping about a metre from him. “I’m sorry for forgetting. I remember everything now.”

“How did you get through the door?” Xiaojun demanded. The room’s dimensions shifted, and the walls drew back, allowing Xiaojun to put more distance between them. “No one should be able to come through, I made it so!”

If the door was controlled by Xiaojun’s abilities then it made sense why none of the other shapeshifters had been able to see him. He must also be affecting the appearance of the room and the odd plants.

“I just came in,” Yangyang said to him, continuing to walk towards him. “Maybe you wanted to let me in.”

Xiaojun shrank away from him, scrambling to get away from him. The few eyes Yangyang could see from his vantage point appeared to be crying, tears dribbling pitifully.

“Not like this,” Xiaojun said, voice breaking. “Not when I look like this.”

“What do you mean?” Yangyang said, perplexed. “You can’t turn back?”

Understanding dawned on him.

“You can’t turn into anything else?” But why was that?

“Exactly,” Xiaojun said in resignation. “I can’t come back to you and live with you like this.”

Yangyang hesitated, thinking about how Xiaojun would manage in his flat. Yangyang didn’t know if his bed was big enough for them both. Xiaojun must have taken it for something else because he let out a little sob that wrenched at Yangyang’s heartstrings.

Of course, Xiaojun’s human form was beautiful, with his golden eyes and sharp features. Yangyang was very much attracted to it. It sounded soppy and cliched but what Yangyang truly loved – there, he’d admit to it – what he truly loved was Xiaojun himself. Not his appearance, but the person underneath.

While Yangyang usually fantasised about a human Xiaojun, he’d also seen Xiaojun as Bella, as Louis, in several different forms. Each one of them was still Xiaojun and Yangyang still loved him in each one. Yangyang was only twenty-two, his experience a pale shadow of Xiaojun’s. What did he know about love? Yangyang knew he loved his mum and his dad and his sister. He loved his friends. He’d thought he loved his high school girlfriend.

He knew he was young, but this love was something different. Because even as Yangyang stood there with his racing heart and clammy hands, affection rose up in him. It didn’t matter what Xiaojun looked like. He could be a worm and Yangyang would still cup him in his hands and keep him in a tank of soil and sand till he reached the final days of his worm life.

“I don’t care,” Yangyang said. “I’m not scared.” I love you. I’ve missed you. Please come back.

“You’re a good person, Yangyang,” Xiaojun said. “You don’t need to lie to me to spare my feelings. I can see you shaking from here. Your mind isn’t built to be exposed to my primordial form.”

“I’m not scared,” Yangyang repeated with determination. He was indeed trembling head to toe but he marched up to Xiaojun, not giving him time to shrink away.

“Stop!” Xiaojun said, letting out a garish grating noise. “Don’t come any closer!”

For the first time, Yangyang touched Xiaojun in his primordial form. He knelt down in the mud, uncaring of the mud that seeped through his jeans.

“I don’t care if you’re stuck like this forever,” he said, staring at the eyes. “I know it’s Xiaojun in there. You can live with me. We can still share a bed; I just don’t know if we’d both fit in it now.”

He caught one of appendages – something between a hand and a tentacle and held onto it.

“Why?” Xiaojun said brokenly. His voice echoed, as tens of lips spoke every word. “Why aren’t you scared?”

“Because I love you,” Yangyang admitted in a whisper, and Xiaojun’s limb went slack in his grip. “You’re very hot as a human, but I like you for who you are.”

Saying it out loud was far scarier than anything Xiaojun had ever done to frighten him.

He bent his head and pressed his lips to one of Xiaojun’s mouths. Then another. And another.

“Don’t leave me,” Yangyang confessed to him, hugging Xiaojun the best he could. “Please.”

He closed his eyes and just leant into Xiaojun and then gradually realised his arms were empty, void of anything. Yangyang felt like he was going to burst into tears and bit his lip. Had Xiaojun left?

“You really are an intriguing mortal.”

Yangyang’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Xiaojun’s human voice. Before he could process it, Xiaojun had thrown himself at Yangyang in a hug, knocking him back onto the mud.

Only when Yangyang landed with a thud, he felt dry soil and grass tickling his neck. Xiaojun’s breath was warm and his tears wet on Yangyang’s neck.

“You think you love me?” Xiaojun said, chin pressed into Yangyang’s shoulder. Yangyang peeked at him. Xiaojun looked the way he had done with the Fates, those horns on his head again, hair down to his shoulders.

“I know I do,” Yangyang said firmly. He could feel Xiaojun’s weight on him, a welcome presence.

“Then I guess I can do this,” Xiaojun smiled at him and tilted Yangyang’s jaw with his fingers. Then, they were kissing.

Taken back by Xiaojun’s boldness, Yangyang found himself frozen as Xiaojun’s lips moved against his. Quickly though, Yangyang acclimatised and kissed back, tangling his fingers clumsily in Xiaojun’s hair to bring him closer.

It was a desperate fumbling mess of hot and wet, as Xiaojun licked at his lips sloppily, opening him up. Yangyang’s blood coursed through him like quicksilver, heating him all over. Xiaojun kissed like he was attempting to devour him and Yangyang returned the effort greedily, till they broke apart, chests heaving with every breath.

Yangyang’s lungs sucked in oxygen as he stared up at Xiaojun, eyes a little glassy. That had been quite something.

“What, um, happened to being stuck in your primordial form?” Yangyang said thickly through swollen lips.

Xiaojun let out a little cough.

“I ended up like that because of you,” he confessed to Yangyang shyly. “When you forgot me, it…hurt. Incredibly so. And my shapeshifting responded to that. You caused this, so it only makes sense that you were also the one to fix it.”

Yangyang stared at Xiaojun, stricken. He could feel the tears welling up again. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if Xiaojun forgot about him. If the only place Xiaojun knew him was in his memories. It had been blissful for Yangyang to live in ignorance.

“I’m sorry,” Yangyang said.

“It’s not your fault,” Xiaojun said, shaking his head. “I should have been the one to protect you. I’m older and stronger.”

He climbed off Yangyang and laid down next to him in the grass. The room was brighter too was more like a flowery field than a swamp. They stared at the cornflower blue ceiling together, fingers linked.

“You’ll come back then?” Yangyang said tentatively. Xiaojun had kissed him but he hadn’t confirmed in words what exactly was going on.

“Yes, you idiot.” Xiaojun laughed. “Because I’ve gone and fallen in love with a mortal.”

Yangyang had a feeling this was the case, but his chest still gave a little squeeze at hearing it out loud.

“So are you ready to go face everyone else?”

The explanation had been fairly simple once everybody stopped freaking out. Kun had wanted to tell Yangyang about Xiaojun’s form before he’d gone inside of his own accord. The exact chain of events had been as followed: Xiaojun, heartbroken and miserable had barricaded himself inside this room and not permitted anyone to enter, nor had anyone been able to force their way in. The same fluid-like door also acted like rubber, bouncing anyone else off it.

When Yangyang emerged hand-in-hand with Xiaojun, there had been a collective sigh of relief from Kun, Ten and Sicheng who had been convincing themselves something terrible was going to happen.

“You’re both very dumb and very lucky,” Ten told Yangyang but he’d sounded too happy. “As for you, you’re a lovestruck moron.”

“It looks like Xiaojun never fails to do something embarrassing in the name of love,” Sicheng remarked dryly. “It’s always got to be dramatic.”

The whole clash with the Fates was officially over. Yangyang was back in his flat, with Xiaojun next to him, just how it was meant to be.

Except this time, Yangyang didn’t have to be moping and pining over his unrequited love. Him and Xiaojun tripped into the bedroom together and Yangyang pushed Xiaojun down onto his mattress, determined to give Xiaojun a good welcome-back-present.

When Yangyang’s memories of Xiaojun returned, as did the memories of Hendery, Renjun, Chenle and Jisung.

“And to think you called me a monsterfucker,” Renjun said haughtily. “Who’s the monsterfucker now?”

“Xiaojun is not a monster, he’s a shapeshifter,” Yangyang corrected, cheeks burning. “Don’t call my boyfriend a monster.”

“Whatever,” Renjun said with a dismissive shrug. “I have another date to get to. Chenle and Jisung set me up with someone again.”

“Who is it this time?” Yangyang said. The circle of people Chenle and Jisung knew couldn’t be that much bigger than his.

“Someone called Lee Donghyuck,” Renjun said and Yangyang choked on his spit.

“Haha,” he managed weakly. “I’m sure it’ll be a match made in heaven.”

From Chenle and Jisung, he only received two twin smug grins. Not even a congratulations. Yangyang hadn’t even invited them. They had just appeared at his doorway, to gloat at him like evil overlords. Xiaojun had answered happily, letting in his two ‘friends’.

“I knew it would work out,” Chenle said matter-of-factly. “I said he liked you back. You just needed to get your head out your ass.”

“No, that was me.” Jisung chipped in. “I got the vibes first.”

“My head wasn’t in my ass,” Yangyang huffed, crossing his arms. “You guys don’t even know the full story.

He was in fact, a romantic hero. He proudly relayed the story to them as such. Maybe he exaggerated the difficulties he faced with the Fates a little more for dramatic effect.

“I dare you to make fun of me again,” Yangyang said. “If you do, I’ll kick your asses out.”

“Wow, I can’t believe my memory got wiped too and Kun-ge didn’t even bother to come tell me,” Chenle frowned.

“That’s all you have to say?” Yangyang cried. “Jisung? Any words?”

“If shapeshifters are real, that means aliens must be.”

“Out! Get out, both of you!”

Xiaojun watched Yangyang boot the two of them out their flat calmly.

“It’s funny how they were telling you to get your head out your ass when I’m pretty sure they’re both in love with each other,” Xiaojun pointed out. “Especially that Chenle kid. He hasn’t even realised.”

Yangyang’s eyes widened. How had he never seen it before? They were going to regret ever teasing him.

The news of him dating Xiaojun was broken to Hendery over hotpot, as per tradition. Only this time, Xiaojun had brought the rest of his friends.

The six of them sat around the table, about a thousand plates of meat and vegetables between them all.

“I’d like to congratulate Yangyang on finally getting bitches,” Hendery said, much to Xiaojun’s chagrin at being called a bitch. “But, I feel like I need to address the elephant in the room.”

Sicheng looked around the room cluelessly in confusion for the elephant, to everyone’s amusement.

“You two!” Hendery cried, pointing an accusing finger at Kun and Ten. Ten started whistling and Kun began humming under his breath. “The people at the end of my bed!”

“I didn’t imagine a reunion, but here we are, I suppose,” Kun said with a grin. “It’s nice to see you all grown up, Guanheng.” He sounded like a middle-aged auntie at the family dinner. Yangyang supposed he was more of an end-aged auntie.

“You’re a very handsome boy now,” Ten said, clapping his hands together. “A toast to Hendery growing up!”

There was a confused raising of glasses as they made a toast.

Yangyang let out a snicker, grinning at Xiaojun. He liked this. Their little shapeshifter-mortal family.

He was lying in bed with Xiaojun, after the rather rowdy hotpot dinner.

“You know what’s funny?” Yangyang realised.

“What?” Xiaojun scooted closer to him, so he could spoon Yangyang from behind.

“This all started with you under my bed and now you’re in my bed,” Yangyang said. “Never would have imagined the monster under my bed would be my boyfriend.”

Xiaojun let out a deep sigh.

“Go to sleep, Yangyang.”

Yangyang commanded Siri to turn the lights off, plunging the room into darkness. Heh. He didn’t need to be scared of the monsters. He had one right here next to him.