Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Park Moondae always felt his aura like a low static hum in the back of his mind. It was not annoying, just present. Like a background melody playing on an old radio. Most people spent their lives chasing that elusive moment, that perfect "click" when their aura finally synced with someone else's. Moondae, ever the pragmatist, just figured it would happen when it happened. Or not. He had bigger things to worry about, like his survival in this cutthroat idol industry, especially now that he was part of TeSTAR.

Their practice room was always buzzing with different energies. Ryu Chungwoo, their leader, exuded an aura like warm, steady earth, grounding everyone. Seon Ahyeon's aura felt like soft moonlight, calm and artistic. Cha Eugene, a ball of boundless energy, had an aura like popping candy, fizzy and bright. Kim Raebin's was sharp and precise, like a perfectly tuned instrument. Bae Sejin, the other Sejin, gave off a gentle, comforting aura, like a soft, worn blanket.

And then there was Lee Sejin. Moondae watched him glide across the practice room, all effortless charm and blinding smiles. Sejin's aura, Moondae imagined, probably felt like sunshine and glitter. It certainly radiated enough blinding energy. Sejin was talking animatedly with someone, hands moving expressively, a born performer. Moondae found him immediately irritating. Too bright, too loud, too… everything.

Their first real interaction, beyond group pleasantries, was during a vocal lesson. Moondae, focused entirely on hitting the high note, bumped into Sejin coming out of the booth.

"Oh, careful there, Moondae-Moondae," Sejin chirped, his smile still intact. "Almost took me out."

Moondae just grunted, adjusting his mic pack. "Watch where you are going, Sejin."

Sejin chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Feisty. I like it." He paused, his bright eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to decipher something in Moondae's expression. "You know, your aura feels interesting."

Moondae frowned. "My aura feels like a hum. Like everyone else's." He was not about to get into a philosophical discussion about unprovable, invisible feelings.

"No, no," Sejin waved a dismissive hand. "It has a texture. Like old velvet. Very unique." He grinned, leaning closer. "Mine feels like sparkling cider. Bubbly, you know?"

Moondae rolled his eyes. "Of course it does." He tried to walk away, but Sejin stepped into his path.

"Just saying," Sejin continued, completely unfazed. "Weird, right? Sometimes when you are around, my aura feels a little sharper. Like it is trying to tune into something."

Moondae scoffed. "Probably just tuning into how annoying I find you." He finally managed to sidestep Sejin and escape. But as he walked away, a fleeting image flashed in his mind: a single, forgotten red button lying on a cracked sidewalk. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving him disoriented. He shook his head. Too much practice, definitely. Sleep deprivation.

Sejin watched him go, a curious hum in his own ears. Red button on a cracked sidewalk? That was a very specific thought. And it was not his. He shook his head too. Probably just a random thought from the universe. Still, Moondae was very, very interesting. And his aura... it definitely had a delightful texture.

Moondae tried to ignore Lee Sejin. He really did. But it was hard when Sejin seemed to pop up everywhere, usually with that bright, bubbly aura of his singing. Sejin had a way of being endlessly cheerful, even when Moondae was clearly in no mood for it.

"Moondae-Moondae," Sejin chirped one afternoon, sliding onto the bench next to Moondae in the dance studio. The rest of the members were scattered around, either stretching or checking their phones. "You seem extra intense today."

Moondae kept his eyes on his reflection, adjusting his pose. "Just practicing."

"Right, right," Sejin hummed, then leaned closer. "But seriously, did you sleep? Your aura feels like a tangled headphone wire. And mine keeps getting caught in it." He pouted, a surprisingly cute expression.

Moondae finally looked at him, annoyed. "What are you talking about?" He had not felt anything unusual, just the usual static hum of his own aura.

"It is subtle," Sejin admitted, waving a hand vaguely. "But like, sometimes I get these random images in my head when you are nearby. Like that red button on a sidewalk thing yesterday." He paused, then his eyes widened. "Oh! And just now, I saw a dusty old music sheet, kind of yellowed."

Moondae stiffened. A dusty old music sheet? He used to have one, a gift from his grandmother, tucked away in a box somewhere. He had not thought about it in years. "That is weird," he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Right?" Sejin beamed, excited now. "It is like our auras are playing a game of charades, sending each other random pictures. Do you get anything? Like, do you ever see a tiny, very sparkly disco ball?"

Moondae stared. A tiny sparkly disco ball? No. But the specific details of Sejin's visions were unsettling. It was not just random guessing. "No," he lied, looking away quickly. "Just my own thoughts."

Chungwoo, who had been quietly observing, cleared his throat. "Aura-sharing visions are usually a sign of a strong connection, you two." His earth aura seemed to expand slightly, a gentle warning. "It is not always pleasant, but it is rare."

Ahyeon nodded, his moonlight aura calm. "It means your auras are beginning to resonate. Like two instruments trying to find the same key."

Eugene bounced on the balls of his feet, his popping candy aura buzzing with curiosity. "So like, are you soulmates? Are you going to get the big 'click' soon?" He clapped his hands together excitedly.

Raebin, sighed, his instrument-like aura giving off a note of exasperation. "It is far more complex than a simple 'click,' Eugene. The resonance can be a difficult process."

Bae Sejin offered a soft smile, his blanket aura comforting. "But it is a journey. A good journey, usually."

Moondae just wanted to disappear. Soulmates? With Lee Sejin? The man whose aura felt like an explosion of glitter and sunshine, constantly annoying him? He pictured Sejin's bubbly aura trying to intertwine with his own dusty velvet one, and shuddered. 

Moondae spent the next few days trying to avoid Sejin as much as possible, which was difficult when they shared a dorm and a demanding schedule. Every time Sejin came near, Moondae braced himself, half expecting another strange image to flash into his mind. He never got a tiny sparkly disco ball, thankfully, but sometimes he would get a fleeting scent, like something sweet and citrusy, which he guessed was Sejin's bubbly aura manifesting in a new way. It was incredibly annoying.

One evening, while practicing their choreography, something happened. They were working on a particularly intricate formation that required them to be very close. Moondae was spinning, and Sejin was stepping back, their shoulders brushing. It was just a glance, a quick physical contact, but then it happened.

Suddenly, Moondae saw it. Not just an image, but a full, vivid scene. He was standing in a brightly lit kitchen. There was the smell of freshly baked bread, warm and comforting. A small, slightly chipped ceramic mug sat on a wooden counter, steam curling from it. It was so real he could almost reach out and touch it. And then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the familiar dance studio.

Moondae stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Whoa, Moondae-Moondae, you okay?" Sejin was there instantly, his hand on Moondae's arm, his sparkling cider aura flaring with concern. "You looked like you saw a ghost."

Moondae shook him off, trying to regain his composure. "I just got dizzy." He looked at Sejin, whose eyes were wide.

"No way," Sejin whispered, pulling his hand back. "Did you happen to see a kitchen? With a chipped mug? And bread?" He was practically bouncing with excitement. "I just saw that too! It smelled so good!"

Chungwoo, noticing the commotion, walked over. "What's going on?" His earth aura felt particularly stable tonight.

"We saw the same thing!" Sejin practically shouted, pointing at Moondae. "Like, a whole memory! It was crazy!"

Ahyeon tilted his head, his moonlight aura thoughtful. "A shared memory vision. That is a significant step in aura resonance. It means your auras are intertwining more deeply."

"So they are soulmates for real!" Eugene cheered, his popping candy aura practically exploding. "When is the 'click' going to happen?"

Raebin adjusted his glasses, his precise aura taking in the scene. "Shared memories are complex. They can be from either person's past, or sometimes, glimpses of a shared future. It is not necessarily a precursor to the final 'click' but rather an indication of deepening connection."

Bae Sejin walked closer, a soft smile on his face, his blanket aura radiating warmth. "It means your paths are aligning. Even if it feels strange right now, it is a sign of something very important happening."

Moondae felt a pang of something he couldn't quite identify. Not just annoyance, but a strange mix of fascination and dread. A shared memory ? He had seen that kitchen before, dimly remembered from his own past, a distant comfort. And Sejin had seen it too. This was far more than just random visions of red buttons and music sheets. 

Moondae's attempt to avoid Sejin is now basically impossible thanks to this incident. It felt like their auras, previously just trying to tune in, had now decided to actively broadcast to each other. Random flashes of images, scents, or even faint emotions would pop into Moondae's mind whenever Sejin was nearby. Sometimes it was a brief glimpse of a bright, sun-drenched beach, which Moondae figured was definitely Sejin's bubbly aura in action. Other times, it was a sudden urge to hum a forgotten melody, a quiet, almost melancholic tune that felt distinctly not his own. It was disorienting, like having a second, uninvited consciousness whispering in his head.

"Moondae-Moondae," Sejin bounded over during a short break, holding out a half-eaten granola bar. "Want a bite? My aura just told me you are hungry."

Moondae scowled. "Your aura talks to you now?"

Sejin shrugged, taking another bite. "Kind of! It is more like a strong suggestion. Like, just now, I saw this incredibly sad puppy in my head, and then I realized it was your aura feeling hungry." He grinned. "So, hungry?"

"No," Moondae said firmly, pushing the bar away. "My aura does not feel hungry. And it does not have a sad puppy." He was getting increasingly frustrated with Sejin's cheerful interpretation of their bizarre connection.

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic tang filled Moondae's senses, followed by a fleeting image of a bright, flashing stage light. He winced, rubbing his temples.

"Woah, what was that?" Sejin asked, his own expression tightening slightly. "Did you just feel a weird buzz?" His sparkling cider aura seemed to crackle around him.

Chungwoo looked up from his phone. His earth aura, usually so calm, now had a faint ripple. "Are your auras acting up again?"

Ahyeon, whose moonlight aura usually radiated serenity, looked concerned. "That metallic scent… and flashing lights. That sounds like an overstimulation feedback loop. Their auras are trying to process too much information at once."

Eugene, whose popping candy aura was usually effervescent, looked a little overwhelmed. "Does that mean the 'click' is going to be really loud?"

Raebin sighed, his instrument-like aura vibrating with analytical thought. "It means their resonant frequencies are becoming unstable due to conflicting sensory input. They need to find a way to harmonize, or it could lead to severe aura fatigue."

Bae Sejin, his blanket aura wrapping around them both, looked worried. "Maybe you two should spend some time together, just the two of you. To try and understand what is happening."

Moondae immediately shot down the idea. "Absolutely not. I am not spending extra time with him just so my brain can fill up with his glittery nonsense."

Sejin, however, looked intrigued. "It might work, Moondae-Moondae. We could try to make our auras play nice. Maybe we can find out what that kitchen memory was." He had a hopeful, almost pleading look in his eyes.

Moondae stared at him. The thought of deliberately spending time with Sejin to "harmonize" their auras felt like a punishment. But the random flashes and sensory overload were getting worse. He really could not afford to be dizzy or distracted during their demanding idol schedule. He sighed, defeated. "Fine. But if I get any more sad puppy feelings, you are paying for my dinner."

Chapter Text

Moondae regretted agreeing to "aura harmony sessions" almost immediately. It turned out Sejin's idea of harmonizing involved watching a cheesy romance movie in the dorm living room, with the logic that "Shared pleasant experiences make auras happy!" Moondae just wanted to stare at the wall. Sejin however, was fully invested, sniffling dramatically at emotional scenes, his sparkling cider aura practically overflowing with sentimentality.

"Moondae-Moondae," Sejin whispered, nudging him with his elbow, "Aren't they just meant to be?"

Moondae felt a faint, sugary taste in his mouth, the essence of Sejin's emotional aura bleeding into his own. He grimaced. "It is a movie. None of it is real."

Suddenly, a faint tremor ran through Moondae's aura. It felt like tiny dust motes dancing in sunlight. Then, he realized he was getting a faint echo of Sejin's joy, not just the sugary taste, but the warmth of it, like sunlight on his skin. It was unsettlingly pleasant.

"Did you feel that?" Sejin asked, turning his head, his wide eyes earnest. "Mine just felt clearer, less fuzzy." He paused, then giggled. "And I just got a mental image of you looking very grumpy, but with a tiny, sparkly crown."

Moondae flushed. "I do not have a sparkly crown." He definitely did not want a sparkly crown. But the dust motes and the warmth, those surely felt different. It was less jarring than the previous glitches.

The next day, during their vocal practice, Moondae was struggling with a particular phrase and felt his own aura feeling tight and constricted with frustration. He could feel Sejin's bubbly aura nearby, usually a source of irritation. But then a soft, soothing hum seemed to wrap around his own, like a comforting hand. It was the distinct feeling of Bae Sejin's blanket aura.

Moondae glanced over. Bae Sejin was across the room, talking quietly with Chungwoo. He was nowhere near Moondae. Yet, Moondae had felt his aura so distinctly.

"Did you just get a wave of calm?" Sejin leaned in, eyes twinkling. "It felt like a super chill blanket just got draped over my head."

Moondae stared at him. "You felt Sejin hyung’s aura?"

Sejin nodded excitedly. "Yeah! It was like my aura was sending out stress signals because yours was all tied up, and then hyung's aura just jumped in to comfort us both!"

Chungwoo, overhearing, walked over, his earth aura radiating a subtle disapproval. "You two are still accidentally connecting to others' auras? That is highly unusual for resonance. It suggests an incredibly sensitive link."

Ahyeon, his moonlight aura calm as ever, added, "It is rare, but some soulmate pairings develop a wider empathy net. They can sometimes perceive the auras of those close to them, through their partner's connection."

Eugene’s popping candy aura fizzed with awe. "So you are like super soulmates?"

Raebin, his instrument-like aura tuning in, provided his usual analysis. "It indicates a developing resonance. However, without conscious control, it could lead to severe sensory overload, especially in an environment with multiple strong auras like ours."

Bae Sejin just smiled softly, his blanket aura feeling even more comforting now that Moondae knew it was actually there. "It is a lot to take in, but it means your connection is very strong. Maybe even stronger than typical soulmates."

Moondae felt a new kind of dread. Not only was he stuck with Sejin’s bubbly aura constantly invading his space, but now he was apparently also linked to the emotional states of his entire group through their bizarre soulmate connection. This "harmony" thing was proving to be a lot more complicated, and interconnected, than he had ever imagined.

Moondae’s frustration simmered. He knew he could not ignore the aura harmony sessions because the constant emotional bleed-through from Sejin, and now the occasional echoes from the other members, was actually affecting his focus. He could not afford to be distracted, not with their next comeback just around the corner. So reluctantly, he found himself sitting across from Sejin in a quiet cafe corner, far from the buzzing energy of the dorm and practice rooms.

"Okay, Moondae-Moondae," Sejin began, stirring his iced americano, his sparkling cider aura a little less fizzy in the calm setting. "So, the experts say we need to 'harmonize.' How do we do that without, you know, getting each other's grumpy or glittery thoughts?" He paused, then leaned forward. "Also, I swear I just got a flash of a very determined-looking tibetan fox. Was that you?"

Moondae sighed. "No, that was not me. And I do not know how we 'harmonize.' What even is that?"

"Well," Sejin mused, tapping his chin, "They said it is like two instruments finding the same key. Maybe we need to talk about our auras? What they feel like?" He looked genuinely curious, not just trying to annoy Moondae.

Moondae considered it. He had never really thought about his aura beyond its persistent hum and the old velvet texture Sejin had described. "Mine is just a hum. And yes, I guess it feels like old velvet. And… dusty, sometimes." He admitted the last part quietly.

Sejin’s eyes softened. "Dusty velvet," he repeated, almost tenderly. His own aura seemed to dim slightly, a hint of genuine understanding. "Mine is sparkling cider. Bubbly, sweet, and sometimes a little sticky if I am not careful." He chuckled. "But it wants to be light. It wants to dance."

As he spoke, Moondae felt a faint, delicate fizz in his own aura, a response to Sejin's words. It was like tiny bubbles popping softly, a quiet complement to his dusty velvet. It was strangely not unpleasant. 

Then, Moondae saw another memory. Not the old kitchen this time, but a child’s hand, small and slightly grubby, tracing patterns in condensation on a cold windowpane. The window overlooked a blurry city skyline at night. It was a fleeting image, but it was filled with a quiet longing.

"Did you see that?" Moondae asked, his voice barely a whisper. He looked at Sejin, who had gone still, his eyes distant.

Sejin blinked, a slow return to the present. "A cold window and... a child’s hand." His voice was soft, laced with a sadness Moondae had never heard from him before. His sparkling cider aura now felt muted. "That was mine."

Moondae felt a pang in his chest. It was not from Sejin's aura, but from his own feelings. The air between them, usually charged with Moondae’s irritation and Sejin’s relentless cheer, was now quiet.

"That memory," Moondae finally said, breaking the quiet. "That was yours?"

Sejin nodded slowly, still looking at his iced americano, tracing patterns on the condensation with his finger. "Yeah. It is an old one. From when I was little. I used to just sit by the window and watch the city lights. Wishing for something." He chuckled a weak laugh. "Pretty depressing for a bubbly aura, huh?"

Moondae felt a strange pull in his chest. He did not know what to say. He was not good at comforting people, especially not Sejin, whose entire existence felt like a challenge to Moondae's personal space. 

"Everyone wishes for something," Moondae suddenly muttered. He did not elaborate on his own childhood wishes, but a faint echo of the dusty old music sheet memory flickered in his mind, a silent acknowledgment of shared longing.

A faint, warm flicker passed through Moondae’s aura. It felt like a small, tentative hand reaching out, a direct response from Sejin. 

"Moondae-Moondae, do you..." Sejin was about to ask Moondae something but was interrupted when Chungwoo came to view. He called from across the cafe, signaling it was time to leave for their next schedule. Sejin thought he was being slick but Moondae actually noticed the tsk that came out of his mouth when they were called. He can't help but wonder what the rest of his question was. 

As they walked back to the van, Moondae found himself looking back about that memory, the child's hand on the cold window. It was so simple, yet so profound. And the fact that he had seen it, felt its sadness, almost as if it were his own, was a testament to how irrevocably their two worlds, and their two auras, were becoming entwined. And frankly, he's terrified. No one has prepared him for this. As if the idol life isn't already hard enough, he now has to deal with this s-word thing.

The days that followed the cafe conversation felt different. The aura glitches did not stop, but they seemed mild. Less like an annoying invasion and more like a quiet murmur in the background. Moondae would still get fleeting images or scents from Sejin, but now, mixed in were the auras of the other members.

Sejin, for his part, seemed more subdued around Moondae. The relentless bubbly cheer was still there, but it was now laced with a quiet thoughtfulness. He would sometimes just watch Moondae during practice with an unreadable expression on his face. Their casual touches, during choreography or just passing by, sometimes caused a subtle hum to resonate between their auras, a gentle thrumming that was neither unpleasant nor intrusive.

One afternoon, during a lull in their schedule, Moondae found himself sitting alone in the dorm common room, scrolling through his phone. Sejin entered, carrying two mugs of instant coffee. He silently placed one in front of Moondae before settling onto the couch opposite him. His sparkling cider aura felt calm.

"Thought you might need this," Sejin said, taking a sip from his own mug. "Your aura felt a little tired."

Moondae looked at the coffee, then at Sejin. He had not realized his aura was broadcasting his fatigue. He picked up the mug. "Thanks."

"It is okay to be tired, you know," Sejin continued softly, his gaze gentle. "This whole aura thing. I get it, it can be a lot."

Moondae hummed in agreement, taking a sip. The coffee was surprisingly good. He felt a wave of comfort from Sejin’s aura, the almost domestic warmth surprised him. It was not the overwhelming fizz.

Then, an image flashed into Moondae’s mind: a worn, leather-bound notebook, filled with neat, handwritten lyrics. It was Moondae's own notebook, tucked away in his drawer, something very personal he rarely showed anyone. He had just been thinking about it.

Sejin's eyes widened slightly. "Your song notebook?" he whispered, a hint of awe in his voice. "I just saw it. It felt very precious."

Moondae’s heart gave a strange lurch. This was different from the casual shared images or the old memories. This was a current thought, a very private thought, plucked right from his mind. He felt exposed, but also understood.

"Yeah," Moondae admitted, his voice barely audible. He looked directly at Sejin, for the first time truly seeing past the bubbly facade to the earnest, intuitive person beneath. "It is."

A faint shimmer passed between their auras, like two distant stars finally connecting. It was not the big "click" everyone talked about, but it was a quiet, profound moment of recognition. Moondae felt his own dusty velvet aura unfurl just a fraction, no longer so tightly bound, allowing a tiny, almost imperceptible sparkle to integrate into its texture. Sejin's aura, in turn, seemed to deepen, gaining a new, earthy richness beneath its usual effervescence.

No more words were exchanged for a long moment. They just sat there, drinking their coffee, the unspoken understanding between their auras stronger than any dialogue. The world outside, with its idol schedules and demanding expectations, seemed to fade away. In that quiet dorm room, Moondae realized that this strange, unexpected connection with Sejin was not just a burden. He admits that while he found it annoying at first, the more time passed, the more he doesn't seem to mind it. 

Their new comfortable rhythm hummed along smoothly. Until one day.

It was during practice when Moondae felt a jarring disconnect: Sejin's sparkling aura, usually a clear presence, simply vanished from his senses. Everyone else's auras were fine, but Sejin's was gone, as if blocked on purpose. Moondae spun around, called out for Sejin and asked what is happening. He merely shrugged and showed his goofy smile, "It's nothing, Moondae-Moondae." He insisted. Right. Nothing. But then Moondae noticed the other members exchanging worried glances, their unease a silent confirmation that this was far from "nothing". Something had clearly happened. A moment later, Eugene's terrified scream tore through the room.

"Oh my god! Blood! Hyung is coughing up blood!"