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The ringing phone startles him awake and he hardly has any time to rub the sleep from his eyes before he’s bolting upright, mind clear like someone had tossed a bucket of cold water over him.
The next few hours pass by in a blur that, paradoxically, Hyeonjun can remember with perfect clarity. To be fair though, who could forget the moment where they signed with T1?
The move in process is fast, and two days later, he’s moving in.
T1’s dorms are clean, shiny, and simultaneously well lived in. He probably has some rose-tinted glasses on because he still hasn’t gotten over the holy shit, T1, but he can’t help but feel almost horribly out of place, with bags tucked under his arm and suitcases by his side.
Thankfully, the dorms are empty, Minseok off at the military and Minhyung probably grinding away at solo queue again. Oner and Faker can’t be found anywhere either, and Hyeonjun’s honestly grateful for it. What would he say, anyway? He’d probably end up turning red and sputtering something incoherent. Better that he get some time to organize his thoughts before ungracefully doing the social equivalent of face planting in front of the Unkillable Demon King and his new jungler.
It doesn’t take him too long to unpack, but a glance at his phone has him hurrying out of his room.
On his way out though, he does spare a moment to look at the feathers mounted on the wall. Twenty-one unique feathers. The first—black and white—he recognizes immediately as Faker’s. A few spots down is a long peacock feather and that’s easy enough for Hyeonjun to remember as Wolf’s.
“Oh,” he breathes aloud to himself, walking closer. He doesn’t dare touch the feathers, pinned to the wall with nothing to protect them. He hadn’t realized that T1 had memorialized all of their old players like this.
Slowly, he walks along the wall. The deep blue feather—the color richer than Deft’s gifted heron feather sitting carefully in one of Hyeonjun’s suitcases—has to belong to kkOma. The long glossy black raven feather is Easyhoon’s, the iridescent blue-green is Minseok’s, and the very last one, soft brown, is Zeus’.
It’s really not too recognizable, chickadees having none of the flamboyance of macaws or hummingbirds or peacocks, but Hyeonjun knows immediately.
And again, he feels that briefest flash of alienness, but he shakes himself, dismissing the thought and resolutely turning away from the wall. He has a stream to start.
The elevator’s slowing ticking down to his floor when he hears someone call his name and Hyeonjun turns to see kkOma wave, all four sets of vibrant macaw wings tucked close to his suit.
Quickly, Hyeonjun bows back, and he straightens in time to see kkOma smile at him before disappearing around a corner. Those red-green-blue feathers sweep after him and Hyeonjun can’t help but stare, long enough that the elevator door nearly closes on him.
He shoves his hand through the closing gap with a yelp and the doors shudder back open. It’s only when they close again that Hyeonjun realizes he really doesn’t know which floor to go to. He’d been far too preoccupied with what T1 was going to ask and what he was going to say the last time he was here.
Thankfully, his eyes catch on the helpful plaque mounted beside the doors and after a moment of hesitation, he hits the button for floor 3. He should say hi, right?
The door slides open and he hesitantly shuffles in, peeking around the corners, hands tucked into the pockets of his new jacket.
The sound of clicking registers before the sight of Faker sitting at his desk, massive albatross wings splayed out behind him, does and Hyeonjun hovers awkwardly in between the glass panel doorway. He watches Faker clear the last of the minions before recalling, his Ahri twirling in her recall, and decides, better now than never.
“Hi,” he says, stepping forward.
Faker startles a little, turning his head. “Oh, hello,” he replies, mouth curling up into a little smile, dipping his head into a greeting bow. His wings twitch, folding in so that they’re not eating up almost all of the open space in the middle of the room.
Hyeonjun finds himself breathless for a moment. He knew they were big—five sets of nearly ten meter long wings—but he’s never seen them extended like this in person before.
His silence must last a little too long because Faker adds, “Welcome to T1.”
“Ah, thank you,” Hyeonjun replies, feeling himself flush red a little. “I’ve, uh, got a stream in a few minutes, but it was nice to meet you?”
Faker’s smile widens. “Okay. Good luck!” And he’s turning back to his game, clicking through his shop.
The streaming rooms are only a floor up, so Hyeonjun ends up taking the stairs. “That went well, I think,” he mutters to himself.
The muffled sounds of yelling are audible when he walks through the hallway, the On Air sign lit up above the fifth streaming room and Hyeonjun pauses, hand hovering over the doorknob of room three—his now, he supposes.
“I’ll say hi later,” he resolves, glancing at the time on his phone.
Hyeonjun honestly doesn’t know if he’s ever had so many people watching him, official matches aside. The chat moves blindingly fast, donations pouring in, and it’s…a lot.
But he’s just here to talk and he can do that. He can pay back the frankly frightening amount of love screaming at him from his dual monitors, at least a little bit.
“This room really is big though,” he says, spinning around in his chair, experimentally stretching his arms out in front of him, leaning forward. He turns back around, watching the chat type frantically.
“Oh, right,” he murmurs after a few seconds. “Wings. Did Zeus use this room before?”
Hyeonjun looks around, eyes skating over the bare walls and clean desktop as if he could find a trace of the former T1 top laner left behind here.
A squawk rings out through the walls, startling him out of his search and the chat reacts immediately, spamming “ㅋㅋㅋ”
He pulls himself closer to the desk. “What was that?” The muffled sound of cackling explodes from the adjacent room. “Was that…Oner?”
There’s a resounding yes in the chat and the laughter transitions into inaudible shouting.
This is going to get some used to.
True to his word—or text, Hyeonjun supposes—Minhyung’s already waiting for him the very next day when he wakes up, hands tucked into the pocket of his own branded hoodie, lopsided smile on his face. He lights up the moment Hyeonjun steps out of his room. “Hyung! There you are,” he says, hurrying over. “How did you sleep?”
“Really well,” Hyeonjun says truthfully, squinting a little at the bright sunlight coming in through the windows. “So are you just going to show me around…?”
“Pretty much.” They step outside together. Despite the sunshine, there’s still a bracing wind and Hyeonjun starts to huddle into his jacket again, when there’s the rustle of feathers. Startled, he jerks around, flicking a questioning gaze between Minhyung’s grinning face and the single white wing he’s extended around Hyeonjun, shielding him from the wind. “Don’t forget your coat next time,” he chirps, herding the two of them toward HQ, small figures darting around the top.
Wolf is, as usual, easy to spot, the sun glinting off his emerald wings and his long tail sweeping behind him. Someone else, dark brown feathers melding into a vaguely humanoid blob, darts around him, and the two pairs of wings means it’s either Tom or Bang. Probably Bang, given the way he dives at Wolf.
Minhyung follows his gaze. “Rekkles,” he says, and when Hyeonjun turns to look at him because what, he quickly adds. “They’re here and up there for Rekkles. It’s tradition for Worlds winners to learn to fly from the T1 roof and some of the older winners like to help out.”
He adds air quotes at the end of his sentence, a laugh bubbling up in his chest. Hyeonjun opens his mouth—though whether to ask a question or just react, he’s not quite sure—but Minhyung interrupts him. “Oh! Wait, here comes Sanghyeok-hyung.”
He points up and sure enough, visible at the very edge of the building, massive wings fully outstretched, is Faker. As Hyeonjun watches, he jumps off the edge, immediately catching the wind and soaring up with a single flap.
Bang and Wolf pause, then dart up toward him, as if in a chase, and the three of the weave through the clouds seamlessly.
And more than anything else—more than the nights spent at Hyukkyu’s house; more than living with GenG in close proximity with Ruler, Ambition, and CuVee or playing on HLE with DanDy, Mowgli, Viper, and Zeka; even more than the first time he’d see a pair of wings up close with Blank back on KT—Hyeonjun feels a sharp pang of want in his chest.
Minhyung nudges him and he tears his gaze away from the sky. “You’ll get yours,” Minhyung says confidently, almost a promise. “I know you will, hyung.”
Hyeonjun shakes himself, feeling the tips of his ears burn a little because really? He was that easy to read? “Thanks.”
Minhyung only pulls his wing in when they both step into the shop, the warm air inside making Hyeonjun relax. The tour is fairly simple—there’s the gym, empty for now, on the bottom floor, the lounge on the eighth and the cafeteria on the floor above it.
Someone swoops past the glass panels set into the walls of the cafeteria, unblurring briefly into Bang who spares a second to hover there, waving, before shooting up out of sight with a single flap of his wings.
There’s a glint in Minhyung’s eyes when Hyeonjun turns back around. “Hey,” he says casually, “want to see our famous roof?”
“…Sure?”
There’s no elevator stop, Minhyung explains as he punches in a pin and swings the steel door open, letting Hyeonjun into a fairly small room. Harnesses line a wall, carabiners hanging from them.
Hyeonjun watches with mild bafflement as Minhyung hands him one of the harnesses, helping him in, before clipping it to something on the ground.
“Yeah, I know it’s not too efficient, but at least this way you can walk around freely on the roof,” Minhyung says with a shrug. Hyeonjun runs his hand along the thick rope as he adds, “That sign—” and he jerks a thumb at the bright yellow warning sign declaring No access without supervision past this point “—just means anyone with wings. The harness will catch you if you fall off the edge since there aren’t any railings, but honestly, just stay toward the center and you’ll be fine.”
Hyeonjun nods. “Okay.”
“Cool!” And Minhyung pushes open the other door, winter wind immediately blasting through, sharp and biting. Hyeonjun powers through, Minhyung’s wings far less effective at shielding this high up, and once in the sunlight again, he looks up.
Bang and Wolf seem to notice them, swooping down and landing gracefully—far more gracefully than Hyukkyu had during the one time Hyeonjun and Jihoon had convinced him to fly in front of them—and Rekkles clambers out of the big inflated cushion sitting in the middle of the roof.
“Gumayusi! And Doran,” Wolf greets.
Bang shakes himself, wings flaring out before settling back down against his back. “Getting a tour of your new home?” Hyeonjun nods, honestly a little at a loss for words.
Rekkles waves, yelling through the wind, “It’s nice to meet you,” before he takes a running leap off the edge, robin wings catching the air far shakier than Faker, still circling lazily above, had.
Finally, after a moment, he manages to get his tongue unstuck. “It’s a very nice facility,” he says politely, and Wolf laughs.
“Yeah, you should have seen our first one.”
Bang snorts, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off as the door bangs open again.
Tom, and surprisingly, Bengi, step out, blinking in the light.
Bang and Wolf brighten immediately and again, Hyeonjun is struck with that feeling of alienness.
Rekkles has joined Faker in circling above the building now, the former occasionally twirling in the air, tucking his wings in close to his body before snapping them out to stabilize himself. Wolf’s iridescent green and blue trail glitters eye-catchingly in the sunlight and he sticks out from the gray-brown-white of Tom, Bang, and Bengi’s feathers. Minhyung, by his side, does nearly look like an angel, white swan wings half out and trailing on the ground and Hyeonjun feels terribly out of place with his worn harness tethering him to the ground.
“I told you they like to help out,” Minhyung stage whispers to Hyeonjun, leaning in. “Though I’m pretty sure it’s just an excuse for a get-together.”
“Yeah,” Hyeonjun says, trailing off, trying to beat back the voice that mutters you don’t belong here because he knows that even if he were to ever win Worlds, he still wouldn’t fit in, not when everyone had won at least twice in a row. Besides Mata now, he supposes, but everyone on this roof has.
He does belong. It’s why he was signed on in the first place.
It’s just a tiny bit harder to believe when he’s so painfully aware that there are only two top laners who have ever won Worlds twice, and he isn’t either of them.
He tries to keep it off his face. Judging by the look Minhyung gives him, he doesn’t really succeed. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” Hyeonjun replies, trying to wave him off. “I’m just a little cold—”
“Hey,” Bang suddenly pipes up, a glint in his eyes, “want to try flying?”
Hyeonjun’s mouth clicks shut.
What?
He glances around himself for a second and when he finds no one else besides himself and Minhyung, he just squints a little at the former AD carry.
“Ah…” Bengi says, practically a ball of feathers as he huddles into his honestly very warm looking wings, “that thing? Are you sure?”
Tom heaves a tired sigh, and Wolf cackles. “Come on,” he says, nudging Tom. “It was fun.”
“It was traumatizing, that’s what it was,” Tom grumbles. “You nearly dropped me.”
“That wasn’t me,” Wolf protests, “that was Seongwoong-hyung.”
“No, that was you,” Bang replies immediately, grin widening when Wolf squawks indignantly. “Anyway, Doran, do you want to?”
“I…what?” Hyeonjun shoots Minhyung a panicked look and gets the equivalent of I don’t know either back.
Tom sighs again. “When they got their wings in 2015,” he explains, “it was just Yechan—Scout,” he corrects quickly, “and I who couldn’t fly, so their solution was to just pick us up and jump off the top of the building.”
“Ah,” Hyeonjun says, immediately feeling himself quailing. He risks a glance to the side and toward the city and suddenly, he’s aware of exactly how far up he is, the wind incessantly roaring in his ears.
“It worked,” Bang says, shrugging and Bengi covers his mouth with a hand as if in an attempt to stifle his laugh at Tom’s utterly dead glare.
“Maybe we don’t try to kill our new top laner,” Minhyung cuts in, stepping closer to Hyeonjun, wings closing in protectively around him and honestly Hyeonjun is grateful because Bang and Wolf seem like they’re genuinely offering.
“Why are we discussing murder?” The wind buffets Hyeonjun’s hair as Faker lands, Rekkles half crashing into that cushion, though he quickly waves a thumbs up in the air before Faker can do much more than take a step in his direction. “Is this about the taxi flight thing?”
Tom’s expression is probably answer enough, given the way Faker’s mouth quirks up into that cat-like smile, but Bengi nods as well.
“I see,” Faker says mildly, turning to Hyeonjun. “It’s your choice.”
Hyeonjun scratches the back of his head nervously. “I…is it safe?”
Bang and Wolf both shrug but Tom makes a face. “Not really,” he says at the same time Bang and Wolf chorus, “It’ll be fine.”
“You’re definitely not supposed to do it though,” Bengi says.
How reassuring. Hyeonjun very carefully does not say that out loud.
“Maybe next time,” he says slowly after a pause. “I’m a little cold.”
Bang shrugs. “Okay then. Enjoy the rest of your tour!”
Hyeonjun quietly heaves a sigh of relief and lets Minhyung quickly steer him off the roof. Weakly, he asks, “Are they always like that?”
“Huh? Oh, that?” Minhyung shakes his head. “Not usually, but every time they get in the skies…” he trails off, smiling. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to listen to them, they won’t mind.”
Hyeonjun moves to the window, craning his neck in time to see Bengi swoop off the edge with Tom. Flying…does sound nice, if the thought of being carried around with nothing but someone else’s hands to keep him from plummeting to his death didn’t sound so terrifying.
He looks back at Minhyung. “Did you do it?”
“Fly? They never offered,” he says with a lighthearted shrug. “Honestly, this was the first time I’d ever heard of that and if they’d offered it to Hyeonjun—Oner—or Minseok, I’m pretty sure I would have heard about it.”
“Really?” Hyeonjun looks back out the window. Rekkles has joined them again, the six of them weaving in and out of clouds and around each other freely in the blue winter sky.
He bites back the why just me sitting on his tongue. Did they realize that he was the only flightless one too? He doesn’t want to think it’s out of pity, not with the sour taste it threatens to leave on his tongue.
So what was it then? Why try to include him in this?
Minhyung pats his shoulder, startling him. There’s a knowing glint in his eye and a secretive twist to his grin when Hyeonjun turns to face him. “Once you’re part of T1, you’re always part of T1.”
Hyeonjun stares at him as he spins and starts to walk out of the cafeteria.
He tosses a final smile over his shoulder. “Welcome to the team, hyung.”