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“Idiot,” says Seungmin, instead of anything normal like hello, as he settles down next to Jisung. “Why didn’t you put on a coat, before coming up here? You’re shivering.”
“Oh,” says Jisung, glancing down at his arms, noting the goosebumps. “I hadn’t really noticed.”
Jisung has a lot on his mind, see. He’s too busy thinking about just how badly he fucked up the job, today, to worry about the chilly night air.
Chan hadn’t even scolded him, although Jisung messed everything up, their weeks of planning, which was somehow worse. Jisung would have deserved it. He must have looked too sorry, too pitiful, to be told off - how Jisung hates being treated like he’s fragile, apt to break.
Huh.
Maybe that’s why he likes Seungmin so much?
Seungmin never pulls his punches.
Seungmin is busy rolling his eyes. “Obviously. You never do.”
He tugs off his grey crewneck with clinical, precise motions, and tosses it at Jisung, before he can protest.
“I don’t need -” Jisung starts.
“You’re human,” Seungmin says, cutting him off, like he might possibly be talking to the stupidest person in all existence. “Humans get cold. Put on the damn sweater.”
Jisung obeys, swallowing down the lump in his throat, and the words that might ruin his friendship with Seungmin forever. Hasn’t he proven himself pathetic enough for one day?
…And then he says them anyway.
“I’m - in love with you.”
“Fascinating.” Seungmin regards Jisung languidly, a single eyebrow arched. The wind whips at his hair. He looks lovely. “How unfortunate for you. Is it painful?”
Jisung blinks, considers the question. He reaches up with a hand and feels at his chest, where he thinks his heart might be. Seungmin follows the gesture with his eyes, something like amusement - or derision, maybe? - written onto his robotic features.
Is it painful? Looking at Seungmin often is. He’s so, achingly, beautiful.
He’s wearing an oversized graphic band tee, definitely borrowed from Jisung, and seeing Seungmin in his own clothes isn’t exactly helping with Jisung’s plight.
Seungmin’s serial number is on display, black lettering inked neatly on his left forearm. KSM0922.
Loving Seungmin is so easy. It comes to Jisung like breathing. But even breath can hurt, as it rattles through your lungs.
“Yeah. I guess,” Jisung whispers.
“Well, in case you get any ideas. I’m an android,” says Seungmin, patronising. Like he thinks Jisung might have forgotten, could possibly forget, when Seungmin is always so far away, so unreachable, so inhuman. So perfect. “Androids don’t have feelings. We can’t love.”
Jisung frowns. “I - don’t think that’s true,” he says, fiddling with the too-long sleeve of Seungmin’s sweater. And then, quickly - “Not that I think you’re in love with me! Because, of course. You’re not. That would be - a ridiculous thing to think. Insane! I obviously don’t think I could ever be - good enough - for you.”
Seungmin is staring at him, bemused, undoubtedly bemoaning humans in his head, and Jisung still can’t halt the vomit of nonsense words spilling out of his mouth.
“But. Don’t - don’t say that about androids! Plenty of androids - love. Can love. Have feelings. And all that - sort of thing.”
“And all that,” Seungmin repeats, with some distaste. Jisung can’t decipher his facial expression, which is saying something, because Jisung’s gotten quite good at reading Seungmin’s pre-programmed facial expressions.
“Minho-hyung is in love with Chan-hyung!” Jisung says, desperately. “So, case-example? Maybe? It’s clearly not impossible for androids…”
Seungmin sniffs disdainfully. “Minho-hyung thinks he’s in love with Chan-hyung,” he says, pursing his lips. “He’s been around humans for too long. He’s trying to convince himself he is one.”
“That’s - kind of mean, Seungmin,” Jisung says, blinking rapidly. “It’s cool if - love is something - you don’t think you can feel. Obviously! Some humans don’t feel love, either! And whatever feelings you have are valid!” Seungmin makes a disgusted noise. Jisung rushes on. “But I don’t think you should invalidate Minho-hyung like that? If he says - he has the capacity for love. I think - we should trust him.”
“Anything you say, Jisung,” Seungmin says, sounding utterly unconvinced.
“But you’re a rogue unit,” Jisung says, and his confusion is fair, in his opinion. “How can you not believe that androids have feelings? Isn’t that the entire point of - the cause?”
The cause. The reason for the current political upheaval, all across the city, the country, everywhere. The purpose of the ragtag group Seungmin and Jisung have found themselves part of. Their cause.
“I don’t want to obey humans,” Seungmin snaps. “I don’t want to be owned, or ordered around. That doesn't mean I believe we have human emotions. We’re software running on hardware with long-term memory storage. That’s all.”
“How can you see yourself like that?” Jisung says, thickly. “I mean - if - that’s all you were - code and wires and whatever else you just said - how could I have fallen in love with you?”
…It’s a bad argument. Jisung knows it's a bad argument. As if Seungmin’s personhood is dependent on anything as ridiculous as Jisung’s love.
Seungmin gives Jisung the withering glare he deserves. “Well, I don’t know. Humans are pretty good at falling in love with random shit. You might as well be in love with, oh, I don’t know -” he gestures up at the star-speckled night sky - “the moon.”
“The moon,” Jisung says, amused, despite himself.
“...Shut up,” Seungmin mutters, slightly pink, two spots of colour high on his cheekbones. Jisung adores, absolutely adores, the technician who must have programmed Seungmin to turn such a pretty shade when flustered.
Jisung decides to - back off, from the argument, at least for the moment.
He’s well drilled in talking points for convincing humans to view androids as fellow living beings worthy of respect and autonomy, and could you please sign this petition and contact your local governor and come along to this rally. He’s coached on guiding androids through running the code that turns them rogue, and helping them disappear off-grid afterwards. He’s never had to convince a rogue unit of its own personhood before. He’s not sure he’s qualified.
Jisung resorts to his own default setting. Outrageous flirting.
“You and the moon have something in common, at least,” Jisung says, batting his eyelashes at Seungmin, leaning towards him. “Keeping me company up here on nights like this…”
Seungmin rears back, looking affronted. Jisung thinks he has a point, though, if he does say so himself. Here Seungmin is, on the roof of the abandoned building Chan commandeered as their hideout, and base of operations. Sitting next to Jisung, facing him, cross-legged, while Jisung swings his legs off the edge.
Keeping Jisung company.
“I’m not here for you,” Seungmin says, grumbling. “You’re so full of yourself! Why are you always so full of yourself? I would’ve come up here anyway. I like the view.”
“Sure,” says Jisung. “Because you have, in the past, come up here a single time without me.” He pouts, as if in thought. “Oh, wait, you haven’t -”
Seungmin pushes him, lightly, on the shoulder, and Jisung sways, laughing.
There’s a rash of red crawling up Seungmin’s synthetic neck. Jisung loves him.
Seungmin knows that Jisung loves him.
Even if Seungmin doesn’t love Jisung back - and Jisung wasn’t expecting him to, he really wasn’t - it’s a relief. A weight off Jisung’s shoulders. Seungmin knows. And Seungmin is still sitting here, with Jisung.
Jisung doesn’t need to hide it anymore. He can, hypothetically, stare at Seungmin for as long as he likes, without worrying that Seungmin will analyse Jisung’s behaviour and work out his embarrassing secret - so long as he doesn’t make Seungmin uncomfortable, of course. He opens his mouth to ask - boundaries, maybe - but Seungmin speaks first, unexpectedly.
“You’re right,” he says, words Jisung did not ever think to hear coming from Seungmin. He sounds annoyed. “It is - irrational, to argue that Minho-hyung does not love Chan-hyung.” He shrugs. “But you were making me defend an irrational position.”
Jisung gapes. “Making you defend - you don’t believe androids are emotionless monsters, then?”
Seungmin blinks slowly, as if calibrating, three times in succession. Jisung imagines his mechanical brain whirring, behind his dark eyes.
“Obviously not,” he says, practically grinding the words out. “I was just saying that to -” he breaks off, gritting his teeth.
“What, to let me down easy?” Jisung says, half-laughing, mostly shocked. “You don’t need to, promise. Saying you don’t see me - like that, is enough. You don’t need to throw all androids under the bus.”
Seungmin huffs. “You make me irrational,” he says, surly, and turns to look away from Jisung, at the neon lights illuminating the dingy city below them.
Is that a compliment?
…Jisung is taking that as a compliment.
He hums, kicking his legs, bracing his arms on the roof as he leans backwards. He won’t push Seungmin any further tonight. He doesn’t want to scare him all the way downstairs, where the others are probably curled up in front of that fancy holoprojector Jeongin stole from some department store or other.
But Seungmin makes his second unexpected statement of the evening, and throws Jisung’s plans to the wind.
“You do worry me, sometimes,” he says, and looks startled, for a second, like he didn’t mean to let that slip, and then his expression turns so serious that although Jisung wants to make a joke, he doesn’t.
He just watches Seungmin, the sweep of his brown hair, the furrow in his eyebrows, his otherwise smooth and untextured skin.
“You’re acting fine, now, but you’re good at that. Acting. And you were upset, earlier. When we failed at intercepting the shipment. Which wasn’t your fault, literally no-one blames you -”
Jisung opens his mouth to refute that, because it was very much Jisung’s fault, but Seungmin keeps talking, doesn’t give him the chance.
“- but you only come up here when something’s gone wrong. And, I know,” Seungmin speaks slowly, like he’s choosing his words with utmost care. “That humans are liable to make rash decisions, when upset. I would, if possible - prevent you, from making a decision you cannot un-make.”
Oh, Seungmin. There’s a lump in Jisung’s throat. He feels, inexplicably, guilty.
Jisung never wanted to worry Seungmin - he always loves their nights on the rooftop together, taking some small satisfaction out of knowing that Seungmin will always follow him, on the worst days, and sit by Jisung’s side. But if he’s just a chore, if Seungmin was only ever trying to stop a stupid, unpredictable human from committing suicide, out of the goodness of his robotic heart -
Jisung says, “You don’t need to worry about me. I would never -”
“I’ve run the numbers,” Seungmin says, his tone clipped. “Multiple times. Every time.”
He looks down, and then back at Jisung. His jaw clenches.
“The probabilities are -” He stops, clicks his tongue.
“Seungmin,” Jisung says, for lack of anything better to say.
He doesn’t want to think about the data Seungmin probably plugged into his calculations. Jisung’s status as a runaway? His abusive father? His history of self-harm? His volatile temper? His - homosexuality? Christ, his love for an android?
…How can Jisung comfort Seungmin, who would of course trust his own ironclad statistics over Jisung’s word?
Jisung reaches out, tentatively, lays a hand on Seungmin’s, where they are clenched together in his lap. Seungmin’s hands are warm, but it is still not quite like touching a fellow human - Jisung can feel the solid metal casing, which protects Seungmin’s wiry innards, below his thin layer of artificial flesh, instead of bone.
Something, at the back of Jisung’s animal brain, where Seungmin registers as uncanny, recoils.
He ignores it.
Some instincts are not worth listening to.
“Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere, I swear. You don’t have to watch over me. I like having you here, but don’t feel like you have to be,” Jisung says, hopefully reassuring. “I’m sure you have other things - anything - you’d rather be doing.”
Seungmin shrugs a shoulder. One of his hands curls around Jisung’s.
Jisung stares at him, wide-eyed.
Seungmin smiles, sweet, soft. And Jisung's brain glitches, just like an android’s might. He swears the world stops, just for a second. That split second, for Seungmin’s smile.
“I don’t know,” says Seungmin. “I like the view.”