Chapter Text
“You’re early.”
He hums, leaning back against the mirrored counter. “Yeah, got here before you.”
“Have you not been sleeping well?”
He looks up. “Oh.”
“Did you seriously think I was Jisung again?” He laughs at the indignant tone and shakes his head.
“Not this time. You sounded more like Chan hyung with the whole ‘are you not sleeping well,’ thing,” he points out. He receives a glare for his efforts and stands up, half smiling.
“Aww, poor Changbinnie,” he coos, hugging his arm and tickling the underside of his chin. “Is Binnie upset hyung didn’t notice him?”
Changbin glares harder. “Stop acting cute, it doesn’t suit you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m not cute?”
“I’m not not saying that,” the younger evades, lifting the panel up and setting his bag down on the stool behind the counter. “Seriously hyung, you look like you haven’t slept in ages. You never come down here during my shift.”
The older shrugs, picking the bag up and sitting down on the stool instead. He rests his face in his palm, the blue-hued pink glow casting a shadow over his face, highlighting the slant of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, dancing over his sharp jawline.
Changbin doesn’t realize he’s staring until the older points it out curiously.
“I know I’m pretty, but I really haven’t slept in a while, so you don’t have to keep staring.”
He rolls his eyes, clears his throat and looks away. Pulling two identical bottles from the mini fridge behind the counter, he offers one to his friend, gaze falling onto a swirling pattern.
“When did you have time to get a new tattoo?” he asks, gesturing with a bottle filled with liquid that glows cyan at the right angle. “I thought you’ve been at the Bureau for the past week.”
He frowns. “What tattoo?”
Changbin stares at him, taking his friend’s wrist in his hand and running his finger over the sangria colored bubbles that stare back at them before tracing them with a finger, the black nail contrasting against the bright tones. When he doesn’t say anything, he moves to let go of the wrist in hand.
“You painted them again.” A hand is now loosely curled around his wrist, the one that holds the tattooed wrist in his own.
“Minho hyung.” He isn’t sure why he says it, especially when Minho lets go of his wrist. He mourns the loss of contact for a second, although he’s more concerned about a tattoo he might not even remember getting, but before he can say anything Minho gently tugs him forward and wraps his arms around Changbin’s waist and rests his cheek against his torso as he turns back to the window.
The rain plops against the illuminated glass, each drop a different shade of pink, of blue, of purple. Changbin isn’t sure why Minho’s acting like this, but he leans over a little to put his hand on Minho’s shoulder anyway.
“Seriously hyung, are you sure you’re okay?” He feels more than sees the nod against his chest and hears a mumbled, “just haven’t been sleeping well.”
When Minho finally pulls away, he looks a bit better, as if a single hug could refresh him and give him a bit more energy.
His hair looks a bit fluffier too, and it takes the edge off his normally sharp and icy visuals. He’s reminded of their time at the academy and the sleepovers they’d had with all their friends, eight teens huddled on the small dorm room bed; Felix tucked into their oldest Chan’s side, their maknae Jeongin in the middle leaning slightly against Seungmin, Jisung next to Seungmin, curled around a pillow.
Changbin was in the corner, leaning against the frame with Hyunjin’s arm tossed carelessly over his legs. Minho sat between Jisung and Changbin, Hyunjin leaning against his chest in a rare moment of peace between the normally chaotic duo.
The dorm power was out, and the academy didn’t even allow the old projectors the size of the phones that they held instead preferring the fingernail sized projectors that linked to the Network by default, but Chan had rewired an old one to let them watch movies. Whenever they’d gotten together, they often found themselves browsing through the older movies, the ones saturated with color and sunlight and storms: a stark contrast from their constant grey skies, dirty rain, and neon lights.
He flinches at the sound of the morning siren, grabbing Minho’s hand to pull him down, leaning over the hatch and tugging it aside. “Hyung, come on.”
“What are you doing?” Minho doesn’t look like he’s moving anytime soon, and illuminated by the flamingo colored backlight, he almost wants to tell him to stay, if only to admire his silhouette more, but the curfew has been getting more and more serious; he doesn’t want to risk it.
“There’s a tunnel back to 3racha’s place,” he says, knowing that it doesn’t explain anything, but they don’t have time for that. “Hyung, come on .”
This time, Minho listens, slipping through the trapdoor and slipping a little on the edge of the grate at the bottom of the tunnel, steadying himself with hands on Changbin’s waist. The younger stares back, eyes wide until Minho nudges him around, resting his chin on his shoulder as he closes the panel over their heads.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re enforcing curfews a lot more now.” He steps around a muddy colored muddle, gesturing at it so that Minho won’t step in it either. “I thought Chan hyung would’ve told you by now. The sentient task force seems to be looking for something now, but no one really knows what it is. If anything, you might, given your connections to the Bureau.”
“As far as I know, the Bureau’s last policy was the sentient task force, but that was before time, so I doubt that’s what all this is about. I don’t remember hearing about the curfew at all though.”
Changbin shrugs. “Worth a try. Just keep an eye out for anything about it, I guess. I don’t know much about them either; it’s just that Chan hyung and Felix seemed really worried, but all they said was they didn’t think they were real.”
“The Australian sector might know more about it; I could check their files,” Minho offers, stopping to look around the tunnel. “Not sure if I’ll have access without filing a request, but there are ways to go around that. Why are we going to 3racha’s place?”
He glances over his shoulder to see the elder looking up a vented shaft and pulls him out from under it before any waste falls through. “Don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble. The task force hasn’t spared anyone yet. Not even a lowly convenience store worker like me.”
“You’re just as skilled at hacking as Chan hyung, if not better in terms of deep-diving,” Minho counters. “You’re just not as good at hiding your trace.”
He scoffs. “I know that, but they don’t. At any rate, I’m better than Jisung at retracing. He gets messy, even if he gets the job done.”
“High praise, Seo-sshi,” Minho murmurs, trailing off as he looks ahead. “Should we call Hannie and let him know the SpearB praised him. He might actually cry. We’re in the Buried District, aren’t we?”
Changbin smirks wolfishly, tilting his head in response, but doesn’t say anything more. He hears Minho scoff and can almost imagine him shaking his head. The door ahead of them is manual, one of the remaining few that hasn’t been digitized. He pushes the bar through the lock, turning the dial this way and that until it slides away, revealing an embossed number three on the other side of the door in a faded red. The camera at the top scans his vitals, then Minho’s before letting them pass at the absence of stress in Changbin’s.
When Chan had first established the place, he’d had Jeongin and Seungmin adjust a standard grade scanner to only permit entry for Changbin, Chan, and Jisung, with the scanner searching for signs of stress or unwillingness if they were to ever come with anyone.
Changbin had been worried for a moment when the scanner had taken a second longer than normal to let them pass, but it had only blinked pink as a mocking smile and let them pass. He cursed under his breath; of course Jeongin would give a security scanner a personality.
Chan’s already waiting for them when they get there, but if he’s surprised to see Minho, he doesn’t comment on it.
“That fast?” is all he asks. Changbin nods.
“They would’ve gotten there sooner if you hadn’t stalled the lights; how did you know to do that, by the way?”
“Saw Minho on cams,” Chan admits. “I feel like I should be asking you why you’re awake now, but the power’s off in your pod too, so I figure Jisung would know.”
Changbin frowns, opening his mouth to ask why Jisung would know, but Chan shakes his head. He knows the two of them had flirted with the an on and off thing, but neither of them had done much about it and the feelings between them appeared to have faded.
Still, there are times where he wonders if that’s really true or if he’s convinced himself it is. Neither Minho nor Jisung have addressed it, not like they ever did in the first place.
But it appears that Minho is as lost by the implication as Changbin is, if the furrow in his brow is anything to go by. “What does Jisungie have to do with anything?”
Chan blinks, tilting his head. “You and he didn’t—No? Never mind. Why is the power off in your pod then?”
“AVA’s loud in the mornings,” he answers, absentmindedly pressing his thumbs against his temple. “Thought I’d bless Binnie with my visuals on his shift.”
“It’s not even really morning yet,” Chan points out when Changbin flushes and doesn’t respond. “Doesn’t the Bureau require you to keep it on?”
Minho shrugs, taking in the large screens that line the wall in front of Chan. “Don’t think it’s mandated yet. I’ll probably move out if they do.”
His building is unique to the members of the Bureau, and accessible to only them. Each pod comes equipped with AVA, electricity, and all the other commodities the Bureau can’t bother to give the district’s other residents. Minho often sneaks his friends up so they can use the facilities free of charge, but more often than not, security is too tight even for that.
“Don’t quit your job just yet,” Chan cautions. “There’s still plenty we could learn from the Bureau. Felix and I were investigating it before, but it was never safe to talk about it in the district—the Bureau was always listening, and the sentients were a concern too, but have you found that they’ve been looking for anything specifically?”
He turns back to the screen, beckoning over his shoulder for the other two to take a look. Changbin leans against the back of the chair, staring at what appears to be a blueprint of the district.
Next to him, Minho winces, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head away from the light of the screen. Changbin places a hand on his arm, but Minho flinches away, leaving his hand awkwardly in the air.
“You don’t hear it?” His voice is strained as he reaches up to cover his ears, coming away with red on the tips of his fingers. Changbin stares in horror, but Chan’s expression is harder to read.
“Hear what?” The oldest of the three asks. Minho points blindly in the direction of the screens.
“That whirring noise, it’s literally screaming; how do you not hear it?”
At that, Chan stands up, pressing a button on the side. Minho flinches once more at the click. While Changbin helplessly stares at the situation in front of him, Chan pulls out a small vial, filled with a silver liquid that doesn’t stick to the sides of the bottle regardless of how he swirls it, along with a thin sealed needle.
“Hyung, what—”
Changbin stops short when Chan holds the vial out to Minho. “It’ll help,” he whispers, voice level despite how quiet it is, needle in his other hand.
“Minho, we don’t have time now, but I promise I’ll explain when I can,” Chan continues. “You need to take this so we can move. It’ll dull the sensory overload for a little bit.”
“Hyung, what’s going on?” Changbin demands, although he does take care to whisper too, gaze flickering between Minho’s crouched stance on the grate and Chan kneeling next to him, offering the needle and liquid. “What sensory overload?”
“Do it,” Minho interrupts, before he can answer. “The Bureau is already on their way. There’s no way they haven’t figured it out yet.”
“They’ve been tracking you?”
He nods, but it’s not the full story, not with his eyes still clenched shut as Chan carefully helps him to his feet. Once he’s standing, Chan turns to sterilize the needle, heating it careful with a small flame. Minho leans over to see, stumbling slightly. Before Changbin can think twice, he’s steadying him with a hand holding his elbow.
He expects Minho to flinch and pull away the way he did before, but when he only exhales heavily, he moves to let go on his own.
“Don’t.”
He blinks, looking back to meet Minho’s gaze. As pained as it is, he seems to be clear in his meaning. Changbin leaves his hand where it is.
“This is going to hurt,” Chan warns, to which Minho scoffs. “Can’t be any worse than whatever just happened.”
Chan looks back at the screen, the flickering teal light illuminating his ruminating features. “It’s not overwhelming right now?”
“It is. It just comes and goes. It’s never been this bad before though.”
Chan nods at that, blowing the green flame out and filling the needle. “You should be sitting down for this. Changbin, can you hold him?”
“Hold him?”
“Hold me?”
“The sudden sensory deprivation will hurt less if there’s someone for you to latch onto as soon as it hits. I can’t hold you and administer the treatment, and besides that, Changbin’s a better choice.”
He nods slowly, letting Chan maneuver them so that Minho’s sitting on the guardrail platform next to the monitor platform with Changbin standing between his legs, arms loosely looped around his waist, so he won’t contribute to the sensory overload before the deprivation sets in.
“It’ll take effect the minute the needle’s empty. We have two minutes from when I inject it for your senses to return to normal; after that, we need to get out of here. That gives us barely enough time before the Bureau figures out that we’re not in the district plaza.”
Minho sets his jacket aside, the turquoise light bouncing off the reflective material before tugging his hoodie off halfway so that his right arm is bare. Changbin runs his fingers over the mesh in the back, absentmindedly slipping over bare skin before trailing back up the mesh material again. When he trails them over the tattoo below his ribs, Minho inhales sharply, exhaling only when the fingers drift away from the inked words.
Chan wipes an antiseptic swab over the inside of his elbow, gloved hand pinching the vein to make it easier to inject. The needle isn’t too big, but it is longer than the ones the medicinal department typically uses, if Hyunjin’s fear of his own job is anything to go by.
Minho only winces when Chan inserts it, hand tightening where it grips Changbin’s shoulder. He feels the hand tighten in time with the silver liquid draining from the body of the needle and can even pinpoint the minute it takes effect.
The older practical slumps forward, forehead resting on the top of his head. “Any better, hyung?” Minho leans back a little, but only enough to be able to meet Changbin’s worried gaze.
“Yeah,” he murmurs thickly, tucking his head into his neck and shuddering a little when his hands settle at his waist to help him down without breaking the contact. “‘S nice. You smell nice.”
His eyes widen and he sputters to answer while Chan just laughs in the background, the jerk. He’s already shut off the screens, folded them into the pockets of Minho’s coat, and shrugged the coat on himself. He dims the lights using a rusted panel by the door, locking the vault from the inside to buy them whatever time it can.
Minho’s two minutes are up, and Changbin wishes it had lasted longer as he steps back and helps him straighten out his hoodie, running his hands against the mesh back once more before tugging his own hood over his head. He hands Minho his spare visor, the alien glow in the underground district casting patterns over the exposed pipes.
Chan leads them through another tunnel to their left, turning once, twice, thrice, before Changbin’s sure he’s lost any semblance of direction in the abandoned district. When they do finally stop, he finds himself staring at two very familiar hovercycles.
Minho is the first to speak. “Absolutely not.”
Changbin is inclined to agree. There’s no way the Bureau won’t notice their two most wanted hovercycles, not to mention three people riding them, only one of whom is the racer they’re looking for.
“Hyunjin said you wouldn’t mind,” Chan shrugs. Minho clenches his jaw before exhaling shortly.
“ Hyunjin is not here right now,” he grits out. “We agreed to stop because it was getting too risky. There was no way the med department wasn’t going to notice it was him if he kept growing his hair and refusing to wear a helmet.”
Changbin raises his eyebrows skeptically, tugging the indigo hair at the back of his friend’s neck. “Your hair’s getting pretty long too. And it’s not like you wore a helmet either.”
“Sure,” he agrees easily. “But I wasn’t attracting attention the way Hyunjin was. And as the hyung of that relationship, it was my responsibility to make sure we didn’t screw things up.”
“I still don’t get why you stopped,” Changbin muses, catching what Chan tosses to him before frowning. “Wait, these aren’t for hovercycles. And I’m pretty sure you were attracting the same kind of attention, if not more.”
I would know, is what he doesn’t say. Jisung wasn’t the only one who saw you that day, he doesn’t say.
“Jisung worried a lot,” Chan comments offhandedly. Changbin catches Minho’s eyeroll and wonders what all that is about.
“ Jisungie worries about you too, hyung,” Minho bites out, expression betraying nothing. “Things got pretty complicated when the Bureau implemented the sentient task force. I was only promoted after they’d confirmed the force, otherwise I would have probably applied to be a part of it. The races would have compromised everything we’d worked towards, so we mutually agreed to hold off until things calmed down.”
He takes the tablet from Chan, swiping his fingerprint over it before scanning his eyes too. “You know this’ll only make it more obvious that you’ve got someone from the Bureau on your side?”
“Just because they’ve been looking for a leak in the Bureau doesn’t mean they’ll connect it to 3racha,” Chan clarifies, pocketing the tablet and unlocking the door to a vehicle they most definitely should not have.
“Okay, since when have you had a hovercraft?”
Minho turns to Chan with a smirk, eyebrow arched. “You didn’t tell him.” It’s not a question, but a smug, prideful statement.
Chan has the decency to look sheepish. “It’s not mine , really.”
Minho outright laughs, hood slipping off his dark indigo hair. “It’s not his at all, is what he means. Hyunjin and I stole one from the Bureau when we first met; Innie and Seungmin practically stripped it for its parts and played around with it until they managed to figure out cloaking, all while disabling the Bureau’s tracking algorithm.”
He starts the hovercraft with the ease of someone who might as well have built it, though Chan and Changbin both know Minho’s hopeless when it comes to any engineering endeavors. His skill set lies in the matters of the mind and the body, as a Bureaucrat and general menace to the district. Changbin climbs in behind him, leaving behind the aegean gray walls and poor recessed lighting for the red toned screens flickering in the hovercraft. Chan seals the second panel once more, closing the hovercraft behind him.
“I’m driving,” he says, sending Minho’s seat to the back with a swipe of his finger.
Minho frowns. “I’m the best pilot you have.”
“And you’re compromised temporarily, so I’m driving.”
“You said that would help.”
Chan glances over his shoulder, tapping the calibrator on his forehead and checking the mirrored light on the rear camera. “Temporarily, yes.”
At this, Minho huffs and sinks down on the second chair, glaring as he looks off to the side. Changbin hesitates, standing by the door awkwardly until Chan notices.
“What are you doing? Go sit down,” he says. “We’re primed for takeoff. Minho, feel free to share your seat with Changbin.”
Changbin sits down stiffly perpendicular to him in the passenger’s seat, his legs over the older’s lap and Minho’s arms resting loosely over his thighs. In front of them, Chan slides the gear into the first phase, the engine hum quieter than footsteps under them. He pulls the tablet from a sealed side pocket behind him, unlocking it and switching to the Buried District’s security camera system.
“The Bureau just arrived,” Minho murmurs, resting his chin on Changbin’s shoulder as he watches the screen. “Hyung, you’ve got a minute to take off before you’ve used up too much time.”
Chan nods, sliding the gear into the second phase, lifting the craft with a tap to the calibrator sitting over his left tle. The hovercraft angles smoothly enough, tilting backwards until they’re practically vertical, Minho’s arms tightening to keep him in place. From there, Chan guides it out of the narrow passageways with minor fumbles that have Minho grumbling about how he could have flown it better.
By the time the Bureau manages to unlock the door, they’re already halfway back to the rendezvous point; an abandoned parking garage that towers over the old android manufacturing city. The smog is bad enough that they’ll need to switch out their cloth masks for filtered ones, but the building is the Bureau’s worst blind spot, so it’s the best they have.
When they land, Jisung and Felix are already waiting for them; Jisung in his ragtag fashion, a combination of the district’s staples and his own color scheme, and Felix in a crisp trench coat and neatly kept boots with brightly colored blue laces to match his hair.
“Minho hyung!” Both yell at the same time and Changbin thinks he’s the only one that notices Minho tense up, despite the silver concoction Chan gave him to cancel out the sensory overload. Still, Felix gets there first, throwing his arms around the older and hugging him tightly.
Minho has a soft spot for all of them, even if he never shows it, but especially for Felix. When Felix and Chan had been assigned to the district, they had planned on transferring together, but the process had fallen through. Felix had found himself lost in Bureau territory, where Minho had taken him in and helped him reconnect with Chan, all while teaching him the language.
Minho ruffled his hair under the hood, tugging the bandana over his eyes and cackling when Felix slapped his arm in retaliation. “What’s with the welcome, huh?”
“Chan hyung told us what happened,” Jisung interrupts, shoving Felix to the side to try and get his own hug in, but Felix refuses to budge. “Hyung, are you okay?”
“Yah, the respect really,” Changbin grumbles. “Minho hyung, you would really think these two hadn’t seen you in years, the way they’re crying all over you.”
While Felix and Jisung immediately begin to defend themselves, Minho smirks, one arm around Jisung’s shoulders, another around Felix’s waist. “Aigoo, go show poor Changbinnie some love too, he’s just jealous I’m your favorite hyung—”
“That’s not it at all!”
“Yeah!” Jisung choruses. “Chan hyung is my favorite!”
Chan mutters something on the side about not wanting Jisung as his favorite and thinking that Felix thought he was his favorite, but Felix just smiles smugly, rubbing his hair in Minho’s face, bandana back in place.
“Hyunjin agreed to take a look at your vitals when he gets home,” Chan announces, resisting Jisung’s forceful hug. “Minho, when’s Bureau curfew?”
“There isn’t one,” he admits. “Bureaucrats' hours vary, so they never set a curfew. Can we get off the roof now?”
He’s eyeing the side of the building as if it’ll drop off and leave him stranded mid air, but in his defense, Jisung looks equally uncomfortable. Chan, picking up on their acrophobia, guides them to the elevator, a broken rickety thing that they only bother taking because it’s faster than walking down 129 floors on their own.
He glances back once to check that the hovercraft is properly cloaked before closing the elevator doors. Felix briefs them during the descent, still clinging to Minho with a slight smile.
Changbin suspects that both Felix and Chan know more about what happened, and that whatever they know scares Felix enough into behaving the way he is now. He knows that they all trust each other, but when it comes to Felix and Chan, their relationship is simply more complicated.
The elevator slows to a stop, quieter than it ever has before, but the metal gates still screech when they push on it. Thankfully, the sound of the former manufacturing facility turned electronic waste processing facility covers up the sound, allowing them to slip back into their district undetected.
On the way to Hyunjin and Felix’s apartment, they decide it’s best for them to all stay the night there, just to be on the safer side. The odd curfew hours keep shifting and it’s in their best interests to avoid the Bureau at all costs.
Chan and Felix keep looking at Minho as if he’ll break any second, and Changbin thinks their paranoia is rubbing off on him. It’s clear the person they’re concerned about has noticed too, rolling his eyes when Felix attempts to carry him through the medic’s hall. The Bureau seems to have abstained from curtailing their medic’s movements, so there’s still a party down the hall, lights colors reminiscent of their movies slipping through the crack in the door.
The security at the front door hadn’t given them a second glance, fast asleep by the camera screens, which Chan had taken the liberty of intercepting the signal of, giving his phone direct access to the building’s security footage.
The hallway where Hyunjin’s pod is remains relatively quieter, the soft static of the screens lights the hallway in a pale glow, but nothing as intense as the kaleidoscopic parties on the floors below.
“Hyung!” Hyunjin’s exclamation has Minho flinching again, although this time, Changbin’s certain Felix has caught on too. He pulls Minho from Felix, practically dragging him to the common area, immediately checking his pupils and pulse.
When he’s finished reviewing his basic vitals, Hyunjin admits he can’t see anything wrong on the surface, but that further testing would draw the attention of the Bureau.
“Now that you mention it, actually, they’ve been super nosy lately,” he says. Chan scoffs, perched on the holographic arm of the sofa.
“When aren’t they?” Felix nods in agreement as he reemerges from his room, clad in a graphic t-shirt and a pair of track pants. He offers the rest of them clean clothes to change into, rather than sitting in their polluted outerwear.
Hyunjin shakes his head. “No, they’re definitely looking for something. They were never that interested in med work before this. There’s more, but I’m sure you guys’ll want to get more comfortable before we figure them out.”
Chan and Jisung head in first, not minding sharing a shower with the holographic screen separating them. Changbin tries to not think about how it’ll be his and Minho’s turn next, although he’s not sure why. The technology is advanced enough and realistic enough to be a real display screen and not a projected on.
“Seungminnie and Jeonginnie said they’ll be here any minute now,” Felix reports, looking up from the purple screen in the kitchen. “Has anyone seen Chan hyung’s phone? He said he has access to our security cams now; I want to make sure they get in alright.”
Minho huffs a laugh from the sofa, his head tilted back over the end. “Security’s literally sleeping on the job. Don’t think you’ll have too much to worry about, Lixie.”
Felix smiles at the nickname, but he still takes Chan’s phone from Hyunjin to monitor the situation.
“What’s the verdict then?” Changbin asks their resident doctor. He hears the running water shut off down the hallway and tenses.
Hyunjin shakes his head, patting Minho’s hair a little before resorting to brushing his fingers through his bangs. “Honestly? I have no idea. Sensory overload hasn’t been a problem since JYPCorp tweaked their cosmetic implants, but that’s not exactly the problem either, since it’s not a constant sensory overload. The implants were my best bet, based on what Chan hyun told me, but they also permanently dim the senses, and I don’t see that helping him in any way.”
“What about the tests you were considering?” A cyan light in the corner flickers; Minho squeezes his eyes shut. Instinctively, Changbin rests his hand over his eyes, watching as he exhales slowly, relaxing into the silvery pattern.
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything and when Changbin looks up, he finds the medic staring at his hand. He goes to move it away, but Minho places his own over it to hold it in place.
“Feels nice,” he murmurs. “‘S cold.”
He got like this last time too, Changbin remembers. All soft and pliant and relaxed.
“That’s certainly interesting,” Hyunjin muses, a knowing glint in his eyes that suggests nothing but trouble in their future. “Although I doubt it, hyung, would you consider yourself to be touch starved?”
Under his hand, Minho blinks, eyelashes flitting against his palm. “No? Felix was just clinging to me like a baby koala; I literally slept over last week because Felix wasn’t home and you felt like cuddling.”
Hyunjin nods as if he expected that to be the case, but then he looks at Changbin knowingly, leaving him to wonder if the question was for his benefit and not Minho’s.
“Shower’s free,” Jisung announces at the same time that the pod door opens. “Oh, Seungminnie, hi.”
Seungmin looks affronted at the greeting. “ Oh, Seungminnie, hi yourself, Hannie. You could have at least left a note instead of just disappearing like that. I get up to get those gummy snacks you asked for and when I come back you’re gone. I seriously would have thought the Bureau had gotten you if Chan hyung hadn’t messaged me.”
Ignoring his guilty (but still confused) friend, he turns to the trio on the sofa. “Minho hyung, how are you?”
“Yah, why is everyone acting like I’m dying? I’m fine, really, it might just be the fumes from construction getting to my head.”
“Hyunjin, what’s the diagnosis?” Their youngest, Jeongin, asks from behind Seungmin. Hyunjin shrugs, standing up to dim the window.
“Why’s Changbin hyung’s hand over your eyes?” Jeongin asks when Hyunjin offers nothing more.
Minho huffs a laugh, turning in to the aforementioned hand. “Just feels nice, Innie. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
In the kitchen, the sound of a glass shattering has Minho flinching and Jisung jumping up to see what happened. Chan and Felix look out over the counter guiltily.
“Sorry Minho,” Chan apologizes.
“Yeah, sorry hyung,” Felix adds. “We’ll try to be a bit quieter.”
They both offer their silence without him even asking, so Changbin supposes that’s why he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he sighs and slowly lowers the hand from his face with a loose grip around the wrist, blinking up at the Changbin under the purple light.
“Shower’s free,” he echoes. And Changbin gets it, so he helps him to his feet, letting him lean against him just in case, but also subtly enough that the others won’t immediately comment on it.
Jisung and Chan left the lights off, but when Changbin reaches for the panel, his hand is batted away, before he’s led to the bathroom. The large glass wall on the side of the shower provides a view of the city, but more importantly enough light to be able to shower without having to turn on any additional light, and they’re high enough that no one can see them either.
“Right or left?” Minho asks, hand pressing where Chan had administered the serum. Changbin pries the hand off and interlaces their fingers to keep him from bruising his own arm with the pressure.
“Don’t really care,” he says. “We could honestly both just look away so we don’t have to turn on the divider screen either,” he offers after a beat. When Minho sighs in relief and nods, he can’t help but feel a little better, despite how awkward he still finds the situation.
They strip and shower in silence, the only fumble when they both reach for the same towel. Changbin drops his hand quickly enough, but he can still hear Minho’s slight giggle at the mishap as he hurriedly dries himself with the other one. The clothes Felix has set out for them fit poorly; Hyunjin’s shirt is too short for Minho and Felix’s pants are too long for Changbin, but they’re far more comfortable than the necessary industrial wear.
“That thing Chan hyung gave you is still working right?” He thinks it is; Minho’s not curled up on the floor and his ears aren’t bleeding, but he knows that the other is good at hiding his pain too, so he asks to be sure.
Minho shrugs. “It’s worked so far, but it’s wearing off; I can tell.”
“He has more with him if you need it,” Changbin offers, remembering the silver liquid dancing in the bottles lining Minho’s coat, stuffed between 3racha’s screens. Minho shakes his head, draping the towel over his wet hair.
“It’s not so bad,” he says. “I’ll manage.”
“Sure, for now, but you can’t go back to work until we have a better way of helping.”
“Hyunjin doesn’t have any ideas on what the diagnosis is, let alone the cure. Not to mention that it’s never been this strong before, so it could be a freak accident.”
Changbin shakes his head. “It’s not a freak accident; it could be a reaction to something in the Buried District.”
“While I agree that something there likely triggered it, I don’t think it’s the root cause.”
“Still. Sorry.”
Minho scoffs, pushing Changbin to the side as he turns to leave. “What are you sorry for? I was the one who showed up unannounced and almost got you caught. I’m sorry, if anything, that you had to step in. I really should have remembered, and I swear I heard it somewhere, but I guess I just haven’t been sleeping too well.”
“That’s not your fault either,” the younger points out, pulling Minho back with the hand he’d pressed against his shoulder previously.
Minho presses his lips together, looking out the window that’s now fogged up with the steam from their showers. “Maybe it’s the lack of sleep.”
“Chan hyung literally never sleeps and I don’t think he has ever had a breakdown over the screen buzzing. Hyung, your ears were bleeding and neither of us even heard it.”
He nods slowly, drying his hair lazily with the towel before letting it fall around his neck. “Hyunjin had more to say though. I wouldn’t worry too much, Changbinnie. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”
He certainly hopes so too.
When they get back to the common area, Jisung settles himself in his best friend’s lap with arms thrown haphazardly over Minho’s shoulder as he rests his cheek against his shoulder and his back against the sofa’s armrest.
Minho pulls Changbin down in front of him with his free hand when he decides to sit on the other end of the sofa and give them space, the other resting around Jisung.
“So they’ve finally figured it out?” Chan is asking, when Changbin finally tunes back into the conversation.
Felix shakes his head. “They’ve had to have known for a while now, for sure. The Bureau is insanely methodical; they’re searching the med department as a last resort for sure. Remember how little they cared about Hyunjin and Minho hyung’s racing? It’s only because they stood to gain from it. They probably could have stopped the races anytime they wanted, now that I think about it.”
That’s a serious thought, and one that has all of them glad that for whatever reason, Hyunjin and Minho remain free from the Bureaucratic eye. Changbin glances at Minho, who is now leaning against the Jisung.
Well, mostly free, anyway.
A light flickers in the corner, the room no longer illuminated by purple but a blue glow that takes its place. Hyunjin holds one of 3racha’s screens in his hands, scrolling through their archive.
“They’ve honed in on JYPCorp and the implants,” he says, handing the tablet in Jisung and Changbin’s direction. “I doubt JYP has anything to do with what they’re looking for—the company loves the Bureau—but their focus has been on the sensory overload implants. They’ve obtained access to every S.O patient we have on file—that’s why I didn’t want to risk doing the scans.”
Seungmin stands up to look at the screen in Jisung’s hand. “Do you not have the schematics of the scanner? Jeongin and I could try to replicate it.”
“We have old blueprints,” Jisung admits, patting Minho’s head softly. “I’m assuming they won’t work, though. The current models are far more accurate and safer than the scans we have.”
Jeongin crosses his arms, the sofa squeaking when he shifts his legs. “We could make the modifications, but I’m not sure how safe they would be,” he admits. “Is there any other way to figure out what’s going on?”
Changbin glances over at Chan and Felix once more. The former Australian District residents seem to still be withholding something, whispering back and forth between each other. Normally, he wouldn’t even care—that’s just how Chan and Felix were, in their own world, sometimes—but if they had any information that could help the situation, it would probably make a difference.
“Chan hyung, you mentioned the task force and sentinels?” Changbin prompts finally remembering the word he’d meant to ask Minho to look into, watching Chan and Felix both jump at being interrupted. In their own world indeed.
Chan frowns, sharing a pointed look with Felix before turning back to the group. “Sentinels are—”
“An extremely complicated cryptid of a myth with no substantial evidence available to the public on whether their existence is real or not,” Felix interrupts, calculated gaze trained on a pulsing light in the kitchen.
Minho raises his head, blinking. “What’s that ticking noise?”
They all turn to look at him. “There is no ticking noise,” Jisung murmurs, but Minho shakes his head, pushing the younger off his lap and pointing in the direction of where Felix had previously been looking.
“There,” he states. “It’s ticking.”
Seungmin and Chan share a look before cautiously making their way to the kitchen while Minho verbally guides them. Hyunjin packs the screens up in a bag, grabbing whatever else he deems important and throwing that in there as well.
“Is it a camera?” Jeongin asks, standing on the sofa to get a broader field of vision.
Before anyone can answer, Minho raises his arm. “Wait, get back!”
“It’s a timer,” Changbin surmises. “An EMP, right?”
“We need to get out of here,” Felix says. “The only exit route out of here is through the front door, but if we start the hovercraft now, we’ll make it to the roof in time for it to land. It’ll be a tight fit, but they’re definitely designed to handle at least twice as much weight, so we won’t be losing any speed either. The only problem is figuring out where to do.”
“The android wasteland,” Hyunjin breathes in a rush. “Minho hyung, sorry it’ll be a nightmare for your senses, but Chan told me he has a temporary suppressant so it should hold out long enough for us to be able to get to the outer ring, right, Felix?”
Felix nods. “That would work.” At his okay, Chan and Seungmin turned away from the kitchen.
“Okay, Jeongin, call the hovercraft to the roof. Jisung, Felix; get whatever we’ll need from here. Hyunjin, help Minho up to the roof. Seungmin, keep watch. Changbin, you and I will sync the phones and start the countdown.”
Jisung nods, and he and Felix both turn to their rooms to gather anything that could help them. Seungmin stands by the door, monitoring the entrance panel closely. Hyunjin follows Minho out the door, a hand carefully on his back to keep him steady just in case, presumably up one last flight of stairs to the roof.
Changbin takes the screen from Jeongin, who’s already called the hovercraft before joining Jisung and Felix in packing. “Sync’s a success,” he informs Chan. “Should we scramble the Bureau’s signals to the building as well?”
“The EMP will draw their attention regardless,” Chan answers. “It would be pointless to mess with their system when their own setup will mess it up on its own. As long as those three have everything, I think we’re good to go. Changbin, Seungmin, go ahead and join Hyunjin and Minho up on the roof—we’ll meet you guys there in a minute.”
Changbin nods at Seungmin, who locks the door behind them. The hallway is empty, and darker than it was when they landed. Even the artificial light of the illuminated windows barely lights their way. The stairway is darker still, the only light being from a single red led strip on each step.
Minho is clinging to Hyunjin on the roof, knuckles turning white where he’s gripping the younger’s arm. He doesn’t turn around when the other two join them, but he does seem to relax a little when Changbin holds his other hand and Seungmin stands behind him.
The hovercraft lands just as the remaining four arrive on the roof. “There’s only two seats,” Chan clarifies. Jeongin gives him a weird look.
“There’s six pop up seats under the closing panel.” Changbin glares at Chan for no reason other than his own embarrassment and discomfort from their ride here. Chan pointedly looks away, helping Felix load their supplies into the side compartment while the others get in.
“If there’s seven seats, then I don’t have to sit on anyone,” Changbin announces. Jisung winces slightly.
“But hyung we’re eight and you’re the smallest.” Changbin is ready to fight him right now, never mind that he’s Minho’s best friend. The kid’s a centimeter taller than him, where does he get off saying he’s the smallest?
Seungmin, their most rational, nods in agreement. “Yeah, and Minho hyung’s the strongest, so he’ll be able to stand your weight.”
Minho’s death grip tightens. “I see we’re still pretending we don’t have a good pilot among us,” he mutters darkly, risking a glance at the edge of the building, before raising his voice. “At least let Hyunjin drive. He’s likely a better pilot than Chan hyung anyway, since the hovercycles are similar enough to the hovercrafts.”
Hyunjin attempts to drag him towards the hovercraft. “I’ve also never driven before, so I’ll pass on that, hyung. Hurry up and get in here.”
Minho does as he’s told, although he drags Changbin in with him, his grip on his hand unrelenting.
The minute they talk off, as per Felix’s prediction, the building folds inwards, the EMP blast knocking the entire floor out. The residents were likely saved by the transmitter, but the Bureau’s arrival is sooner than they had planned for.
“Can this thing go any faster?” Chan complains from the pilot’s seat. Next to him, Felix and Jeongin are reviewing the panel functions in an attempt to help him figure it out.
Below Changbin, Minho is still grumbling about how they wouldn’t have had to worry about any of it if they had just let him drive.
Their landing in the android wasteland is rougher than Chan’s previous, and it has all of them clinging to whatever they can as the hovercraft screeches to a stop.
“You,” Jisung pants from where he’s doubled over on his stool, “are never driving again.”
Seungmin and Hyunjin mutter their agreements from where they’ve fallen over each other, each clinging to the other’s seat. Felix and Jeongin appear to be the best off, tucked under the passenger seat. Chan looks just as shocked by his own driving, eyes wide and breathing heavily.
He mumbles a sheepish apology, but Changbin’s no longer focusing on that. Minho’s entirely tense, eyes squeezed shut once more. Changbin leans closer, placing his hand over his eyes when he notices the light on his face.
“Hey, you okay?” Minho doesn’t say anything, breathing shallowly as he leans into the hand. He can’t tell if he relaxes much; his eyes are still too tightly closed. Changbin moves his hand away, Minho chasing it with a soft whine, before he brushes a finger under his eyelashes, over the delicate skin under his eyes.
Hyunjin looks apologetic when he interrupts them, needle and vial in hand. “Chan hyung gave it to me, but if it’s worked so far, it should be fine now too. I check the chemical makeup and it should be safe to take another dose now, since you didn’t react to it badly before.”
In front, Chan shuts the hovercraft down, the red light fading into the dull ochre of the wasteland. Hyunjin preps the needle meticulously, filling the barrel with the silver substance. They move to the bay window to give Hyunjin more space to work with, Minho leaning back against Changbin.
“Do you want me to get anyone?” He asks Hyunjin, watching the younger set the vial aside.
He shakes his head. “Nope. Chan told me it worked just fine with both of you the first time around, and I don’t want to experiment with that yet. The sensory deprivation might be worse this time, so just stay close for a bit longer, you could probably just carry him and walk if it’s really bad.”
He’s more disciplined in administering the needle and releasing the liquid and obviously far more precise than Chan. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to make a difference in the amount of pain in the way Minho tenses, his other hand tightly holding his knee. Hyunjin helps move Minho so that he’s able to comfortably lean his side against Changbin, head against Changbin’s shoulder before sitting down on the other side and wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist while waiting for the others to join them once more.
“Chan hyung screwed up,” Jisung announces too gleeful to be serious. “I mean, Seungmin and Innie are going to have such a hard time fixing this up again, and after all the trouble Minho hyung went to… Chan hyung, you’re never driving again!”
He notices the three curled together in the windowsill and raises his eyebrows. “Oh. Minho hyung, seriously, what did you do?”
He sits next to Minho’s leg regardless, resting his chin on his thigh like an overgrown housecat regardless of his question. Minho lazily swats him away once, but gives up on his second try, simply resting his hand on the younger’s head.
Felix plops down on Changbin’s other side, practically cackling as he walks in, but sobering up when he notices their little cuddle session. He leans over to pat Minho’s thigh comfortingly before leaning back.
Seungmin and Jeongin both walk in with thunderous looks, Chan following them with a sheepishly guilty smile. “So, the hovercraft would not be camouflaging anytime soon if it wasn’t for our amazing engineers,” he explains, closing the door behind them, but leaving the glass untinted, the filtered orange haze casting a shadow over the steel cabin.
He hesitates, about to sit in the pilot’s seat once more, but after glancing at Jeongin and Seungmin, settles for the passenger’s seat. “Minho, how are you?”
“Hyunjin knows how to use a needle, so you know, there’s that,” Minho says. “You’re all overreacting; I’m just tired.”
Not unexpectedly, no one believes him. Jisung even mimes biting his knee, for whatever reason. Before the silence that follows his claim can get too awkward, Chan nods brusquely, tapping the side of his chair.
“We really hoped it wasn’t going to come to this,” he begins. “Seriously, we never had no idea the Bureau would figure it out this quickly. We thought we had more time, so we waited, but looking back—”
“We may have made a mistake,” Felix interjects softly, bangs obscuring his vision. “So we’re sorry.”
Hyunjin sits up abruptly, mumbling an apology to Minho, who’s jostled by the movement. “Wait, is this the thing you couldn’t tell us in my pod? Sentient-somethings?”
Felix looks away, slowly shifting away from Changbin. The older holds him in place with a hand on his knee, but says nothing. He isn’t sure what to think of all of this. On one hand, maybe Minho wouldn’t be in the condition he is now if they’d told them. On the other hand, they might have told them and things might not have changed. Not to mention Chan and Felix telling them now might not even change anything.
He isn’t sure which is worse.
“Now that I think back on it, what was that all about?” Seungmin questions from the pilot’s seat.
Jeongin, who has stayed silent for the most part shifts. “We all know there was a reason you and Felix transferred, but none of us ever asked about it because it wasn’t our business. But if it can help Minho hyung, then why didn’t you tell us?”
“I’m not an invalid, Innie, I’m just temporarily handicapped. Wouldn’t be too fair to all of you if I was always good at everything, now would it?”
Jisung huffs a laugh, but even he doesn’t sound like he believes it. Chan sighs, shifting his gaze to the floor, eyes tracing the seams of the hull. Felix brushes Changbin’s hand off his leg and stands up, arms crossed and a leg resting on the bay window where he’d previously sat as he leans against the side of the craft.
“Sorry Minho yah,” Chan mumbles, finally looking back up to meet all of their gazes. Felix looks worse; if Chan looks remorseful, the kid looks heartbroken. Changbin wants to say he doesn’t care about how they’re feeling—it’s their fault they never said anything and now feel guilty about it—but that’s not the truth either. He’s worried about Minho for sure, but he can’t say he doesn’t feel anything for his friends either.
It’s just a messy situation
“Stop stalling and spit it out,” Changbin finally sighs. “Hyung, whatever your reasons for keeping it a secret were, it’s pointless now.”
“Now that we’re away from the Bureau’s range, I guess it’s time for us to come clean.”