WIP GRAVEYARD

BODYGUARD
829w, 🦌🦅
heejay at the end of the world. vague apocalypse shenanigans are happening in the background i kept it pretty vague. was supposed to culminate in all of enha teaming up to try and find a safe haven but i never got that far bc i got bored whoops.

( one )

Three days after the apocalypse starts, Jay spots Heeseung Lee trying to hitchhike outside of the abandoned high school.

“Um?” Jay says as he slows down to a stop in his mom’s shitty 1997 Plymouth Voyager. The engine sputters pathetically as he rolls down the window. “Heeseung? What are you—?”

Heeseung looks like a deer in headlights. His permed bangs hang frizzy over his forehead, his old backpack from middle school slipping off his shoulders, and his Pokémon shirt looks like it’s been gnawed on.

“Jongseong? You’re here?” Heeseung asks, he takes a step closer to the car before tensing.

“I mean, yeah,” Jay stutters. “I graduated, like, two weeks ago. Just sticking around for the summer—no plans really.”

Heeseung stares at him more, probably in disbelief. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jay nods. The thick of the summer isn’t here yet, it’s not so hot that Jay spends all his time burning gas so he can be cool inside of his car, which is kind of his home right now. He feels sweaty anyway.

“Do you wanna—,” Jay coughs. Heeseung leans in, there’s a smear of dirt across his cheek. “Passenger seat’s free. If you wanna.”

Heeseung’s eyes widen. He looks at the car and then the cracked sidewalk.

“Okay,” Heeseung nods, his free hand reaching for the passenger door. “That’d be great.”

*

Considering the circumstances, Jay thinks he’s done a pretty great job of not freaking out. Heeseung tells him as much over a stolen Capri-Sun shared on some scrapped development lot Jay has parked his car on.

“No offense,” Heeseung starts, while Jay braces himself, already knowing he’s going to get offended and do a very poor job at pretending the opposite. “But I thought this would be kind of your worst nightmare.”

Jay knows what Heeseung thinks of him, so the assessment is not exactly unsurprising and also unfortunately, on the dot.

“I think this is most people’s worst nightmare,” Jay says, feeling like there’s a frog in his throat. He squeezes the empty pouch in his hand.

Heeseung nods, like he hadn’t considered that. “I guess you’re right,” he says, looking off into the blank sky, a muted blue with no birds flying by.

Jay had never been the type for horror movies. Or really, he never really saw the point. Jay doesn’t like getting scared and he doesn’t have some sick twisted satisfaction out of being scared. Who wants to think about a zombie eating their face off? Or their entire family dying? No thank you—he’s good.

He’d always be roped in eventually, however. Staring at the screen between his fingers, watching those exact things happen. It didn’t matter it was some monster, a killer, man vs. self, the horrors of the universe. Jay didn’t care for any of it. Heeseung took it like a champ however, always giving Jay a sympathetic pat on the shoulder when an eerie violin started to crescendo.

The worst part though, in 28 Days Later or The Legend or whatever movie he was forced to sit through for movie nights, was the quiet. The loneliness. The main character, drudging through miles of silence and nothing. Jay never thought he could do it.

He still doesn’t think he can.

“I was thinking of getting out of here soon,” Jay says before he really thinks about it. Heeseung turns. “Maybe doing a little sight-seeing—picking up some things.”

Heeseung’s fingers pick at the loose threads at the end of his sleeves. He looks like he did in middle school, long limbs and ears too big for his head.

“Oh yeah?” Heeseung replies.

Jay nods. “If you think you can handle more of me.”

He wants Heeseung to say: of course I can—why wouldn’t I? It’s you. Because ten or so years is probably supposed to justify a response like that, but Jay has never gotten what he wants from Heeseung. They haven’t talked in a long time. It’s a lot to ask.

“Okay,” Heeseung says. “Beats this place.”

*

In a way, this had always been part of Jay’s idealized future. This being: Jay and Heeseung, driving together with their future in the backseat out of the town they grew up in.

It’s not anything like that however, in actuality, because Jay actually feels a bit terrible leaving behind his house. He made sure to lock it with his key on the way out, as if that would prevent anyone from breaking in. It sits there like a husk, paint peeling and curtains drawn. Jay wants to lock himself in there forever.

Heeseung might be feeling similar. Or who knows. He’s already spent the better part of a year living a hundred or so miles away from his home. Maybe it’s so foreign he feels a bit freer leaving it behind. Jay would ask, but he hasn’t even mustered up the courage to ask Heeseung why he was back in town.

Either way, Jay doesn’t feel like his future is sound, or even imaginable.

HOMECOMING
1,952w, 🦅🦮🐩
one of the SEVERAL love triangle 02z fics i was trying to create. this one had a much more teen comedy coming of age vibe which i still like.

( two )

“What are you doing here?” Jay asks with a scowl when he opens the door. It’s a rhetorical question, of course. Jake knows that. He still fumbles for an answer.

Listen. Deep down, Jake knows that he’s in the wrong. He’s not insane. It’s just that—Jake doesn’t really like the idea of admitting it.

“I’m here to apologize,” Jake stutters. He’s wearing a clip-on tie and his hair is haphazardly gelled back, just because Jake thought at the very least, it would make Sunghoon laugh. Because Sunghoon laughs at most things Jake does—no matter how stupid. He thought, maybe, that would be the way back into Sunghoon’s heart.

Jay’s frown deepens, he pulls the door back ever so slightly and Jake can catch someone peeking behind a corner in the house. Jake knows who it is, duh, he can see the slow blink of Sunghoon’s eyelashes against his cheek, even from this distance.

“You look like an idiot,” Jay comments, glancing over Jake with a familiar critical eye. The collar of his stupid Oasis shirt is stretched. “You didn’t even bring flowers did you?”

Jake flounders for a moment. Like an idiot, he asks, “was I supposed to bring flowers?”

Jay rolls his eyes. From behind him, the corners of Sunghoon’s mouth deepen. He’s not even pretending to hide himself now and Jake takes a step forward. Immediately, Jay closes the door an inch, quickly looks behind him and realizes that Sunghoon is watching.

“Goodbye, Jake,” Jay says, with something a little kinder than pity.

The door closes and Jake is left frozen on the steps of Sunghoon’s house, mind still stuck on the dozen colors that were blooming on the pale cast on Sunghoon’s arm. Jake knows his name is nowhere to be found.

*

To clarify: Jake knows on some level, that the unfortunate events that led up to Sunghoon’s arm being broken had to loosely do with him. Some may even say he had everything to do with it (Jay), but the jury’s still out.

Again, he’s not a complete idiot. He was the only other person with Sunghoon at the time of the incident, although Jay was supposed to be meeting them soon which Jake wasn’t all that excited about, but, whatever.

The main problem is: Jake was there to hear the sickening crunch of Sunghoon’s arm against the concrete, and Jay was there a moment later to save the day while Jake floundered. Jay holds it against him and Sunghoon’s opinion on the matter is up in the air—or, as Jake likes to say, “guard-dogged by Jay.”

“‘Guard-dogged’ isn’t a word, Jake,” Heeseung says over the phone. “And are you sure he’s giving you the silent treatment? That isn’t really like him.”

Jake sighs, long and pitiful. He watches through the window as Jay serves another customer, charmed by his blinding smile, a cup of yogurt. Sunghoon’s sitting at a nearby table, carefully dipping his spoon in with his unbroken arm.

“Jay’s had it out for me since—since—“

Heeseung cuts him off. “I’m not talking about Jay, dude. Duh. I’m talking about Sunghoon. I didn’t think Sunghoon could be mad at you. Like ever. Even if you deserved it.”

“Okay,” Jake says. “I don’t know about all of that—“

“Jake. We’ve talked about this—don’t be mean,” Heeseung chides in that familiar tone. The one he always uses when he gets overly invested in Jake’s personal relationships because partying at Berkley apparently isn’t enough for him. “Sunghoon’s just—“

Jay steps out from behind the counter once the customer leaves. Jake watches from afar as he takes the seat across from Sunghoon and a big happy grin splits across his face. He watches the stars in Sunghoon’s eyes. Jake turns away and starts walking back home.

“When are you coming back?” Jake asks, voice small.

Heeseung pauses. Jake tries not to think too hard about it.

“Next week,” Heeseung says. Right before he hangs up, he jokes, “try not to burn the place down, okay?”

*

Here are some fun, completely separate and not-at-all tied together, facts about Jake:

Jake got his acceptance letter from Santa Cruz during the middle of March. Jake has been friends with Sunghoon since seventh grade. No matter which way you look at it—Jake does have something to do with the fact that his friend group is preemptively splitting apart before they go off to college.

This is especially bad considering the fact that Jake has been friends, and then best-friends, with Sunghoon since seventh grade, when they were all pimpled-faces and squeaky voices. The longest they haven’t talked to each other is for 6 days, when Sunghoon helped Jake bleach his hair and a chunk fell out on Jake’s bathroom floor.

Jake, rather foolishly thought, that Sunghoon and him would be a forever sort of thing. They stuck with each other through embarrassing crushes, applying for college, planning each other’s futures, fucking—puberty, why would it end before they even got to retire and own that café together?

Somewhere along the way, between studying for APs and Jay—Jay being there, everywhere—Sunghoon grew just a bit out of Jake’s reach. Out of his league. And maybe Jake didn’t really care to notice.

“Sunghoon is like, really attractive,” one of the girls in Jake’s science lab group had commented while staring at him from across the class. Jake wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it, but she started looking at Jake after, as if waiting for him to add on.

Jake tilted his head, stared at the smooth slope of Sunghoon’s nose, the way his hair flopped over the goggles they were required to wear when working at the stations, the pink of his lips. Jake felt a pain in his lower stomach; he wondered when that happened.

“Huh. Yeah—“ Jake said, licked his lips and turned back to the beaker. “—I guess he is."

And well—Jake’s getting ahead of himself. The story isn’t over yet.

*

“Oh,” Riki says. “So you’re the one who broke Sunghoon’s arm? The person Jay’s been complaining about?”

Jake stops. His character on-screen dies to the tune of 8-bit notes. “Jay’s been talking about me?”

He hates the awkward amount of air that settles on the bottom of his stomach. Jake feels like he’s going to pop—he misses Sunghoon so bad. His loud laughs whenever Jake makes a bad joke, whenever Jake says something and his accent curls the word so carefully in his mouth that Sunghoon can’t help but giggle. Jay feels like a step closer to Sunghoon, at this point.

“Well. To be fair—he’s being exclusively referring to you as ‘the asshole’ so.”

“Okay,” Jake says, the brightness of his TV makes him shy away. “I don’t love that.”

“Me either,” Riki shrugs, his bangs flopping out of his face. “I think it’s all kind of stupid. Please don’t tell me you’re being stupid about this too.”

Jake throws his controller to the side and falls onto the carpet floor. He’s being a little more than stupid about this all. He hasn’t even properly apologized yet, with flowers and everything. All he did was cry out something resembling “I’m sorry” in the backseat of Jay’s car as he drove Sunghoon to the hospital.

“Don’t worry about it, Riki-san,” Jake says, throwing an arm over his face. “S’all good.”

Riki throws his controller to the side as well. There’s a beat of silence before Riki asks, “are you sure you can’t drive me to the mall?”

“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ I don’t have a license—that’s how the law works,” Jake groans, rolling on his stomach.

Riki snaps his fingers, like he’s some kind of cartoon character. “That’s right—that’s why the bike. Damn.”

There’s a thump next to Jake. Riki probably rolled on the floor as well. Jake can feel the warmth of his body.

“Yeah,” Jake mumbles. “Damn.”

*

The math goes like this:

Sunoo’s birthday party takes place a little over two weeks after school ends. Which also means that it’s been over a week since Jake unintentionally broke Sunghoon’s arm, over a week since Jake has properly talked to Sunghoon, and over a week since Jake screwed up the rest of his life. Somehow, the takeaway is that there are four months until they all go away to college.

Jake has been worrying about it all a reasonable amount. Before graduating, he had already dutifully planned out the summer of his dreams in his head. He would try to hangout with his friends everyday, go to the beach, maybe take a small road trip, up until he went to visit family in Australia during late July.

Unfortunately, those hopeful plans were ruined four days into summer. Jake is still wallowing in self-pity when he’s stopped by Sunoo while walking his dog.

“Jake! Jake Sim! Don’t ignore me—I know you hear me,” Sunoo yells, coming to a stop right as Layla squats in front of him and starts pooping. “Oh, ew.”

“Sorry about that,” Jake says, digging up a plastic bag in his pants pocket. “Hi—what’s up?”

Sunoo takes a leap away from Layla and positions himself safely by the side of Jake. “I heard about everything that happened. Are you still coming to my birthday party?”

“Oh. Um,” Jake coughs. He starts staring at the steamy poop Layla made in the grass. His fingers twitch. “Honestly I didn’t think you would want me there. I don’t wanna make it awkward.”

Truthfully, Jake was planning on making up some kind of excuse the day of, saying he was too sick—his tummy was cramping, something—and then dropping off his carefully wrapped present some time before the party started, making a clean escape before anyone could spot him. It was a fool-proof plan.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Jay is just being a baby—Sunghoon’s not even mad at you,” Sunoo whines, grabbing Jake by the shoulders and shaking him a little bit. He juts his lower lip out, he looks oddly sad when he says, “just—please. Please come. I wanna hang out with you guys as much I can before you go.”

After a careful moment, where Jake tries to even out his thoughts after hearing Sunghoon’s not even mad at you and Jay is just being a baby, Jake realizes how stupid he was being—how selfish most of all. Because it’s not really about him. It never was. It’s not his summer. That’s not how months work. All he’s done is ruin Sunghoon’s break. He’s not going to ruin Sunoo’s as well.

“Fine—of course! I’m being dumb. How could I miss my favorite junior’s 17th birthday,” Jake coos, leaning in to pinch at Sunoo’s cheeks, who only curls away and waves his hands in embarrassment.

“I’m going to be a senior in the fall, you’re the one who’s going to be a freshman all over again,” Sunoo teases back. “But thank you—it’s birthday rules that you have to do what I say and if you didn’t—I would’ve joined Team Jay.”

Jake pouts. “You don’t mean that. I’m innocent.”

“Sure,” Sunoo shrugs. “I’m glad I caught you—but I gotta go I have honor band rehearsal. I’ll see you later, Jake!”

Before Jake can blink, Sunoo runs off with a salute and a wink, leaving Jake with the stinky pile of Layla poop. She whines and pulls the leash. Jake sighs as he goes to pick it up.

*

So, again, the math:

Sunghoon is apparently not mad at him. (Eureka!) Jay has been talking about Jake behind his back. (Unfortunate, but not surprising.) Jake will be attending Sunoo’s 17th birthday party. (Confirmed—no take backs.) Sunghoon and Jay will also be attending.

Jake can only hope the outcome will be positive.

GO BIG OR GO EXTINCT
3,585w, 🦅🐩
if i were smarter and cooler and better i would’ve made an 02z pacrim au with them all fighting in one jaeger and wreaking more havoc on the world than any kaiju ever could but alas i made this instead. from sept of 2023 LOL so its very messy~

( three )

“Well,” Sunghoon says, licking his lips. There’s sweat sticking the framing pieces of his hair to his forehead. “I think that went well.”

Jongseong throws the helmet of his drive suit to the floor. The hit is audible but Sunghoon doesn’t flinch, which kind of pisses off Jongseong more.

“I’m looking forward to working with you again,” Sunghoon says when Jongseong doesn’t reply. He reaches his hand out, as if to try to shake Jongseong’s own hand. He’s achingly sincere and it makes Jongseong want to punch him. Right in his pretty face.

“Fucking hell—“ Jongseong groans, ignoring his co-pilot and walking out of the cockpit.

He barely registers Sunoo talking through the comms and instead, keeps walking until he’s back in his bunker, drivesuit still on and sweat dripping onto the floor.

*

Jongseong is nine-years old when the first Kaiju attack happens. Years later, it’s referred to as K-DAY, but at the time, it’s just thought of as the end of the world.

The media names the beast Trespasser, which even as a child feels a bit too on the nose. The monster crawls its way out of the Pacific and attacks the San Francisco Bay, demolishing the Golden Gate Bridge in under an hour.

The whole thing lasts for six days before the U.S. government finally sends three tactical nuclear missiles to blow Trespasser to shreds. By then, the death toll is already too high to count and six cities get destroyed in the process.

San Francisco is a little over eight-hundred miles away from Seattle—a twelve-hour car ride if you want to measure it like that. Still, Jongseong’s father moves their family to South Korea less than a month later.

Jongseong can’t watch any of the Godzilla movies afterwards.

*

Okay, to be clear: there is no problem. It’s just that Jongseong tries not to get into silly disputes or petty arguments when there are things like war going on. It feels stupid; and Jongseong doesn’t like feeling stupid.

So the whole thing with Sunghoon? It’s not a problem. It’s the furthest thing away from a problem. Jongseong is just peachy. He’s wanted to be a ranger since he was eleven and all the late-night talk shows were filled with Jaeger pilots being interviewed about their latest kill and highlight reels of said Jaegers absolutely crushing Kaijus.

(At one point in his life, Jongseong wanted to be a chef. Then the Kaiju War broke out, and well, preparing dishes for rich people sort of fell to the bottom of Jongseong’s priority list.)

The thing with Sunghoon allows Jongseong to be a pilot. Without him, the whole thing kind of falls apart. Once upon a time, there was Jongseong, neurally linked with another boy, one he cared wholeheartedly for, but then he fell down the rabbit hole and they were both ripped out of the cockpit with their noses bleeding and Jongseong’s heart aching.

Whatever. Jongseong gets to be a pilot thanks to Sunghoon. Really, all he should feel is gratitude towards the younger boy. And sometimes, in brief seconds, it’s true—and everyone’s happy. But then Jongseong wakes up.
It’s a twisted sort of cycle.

So yes, thanks to Sunghoon and Jongseong—and their Jaeger—there’s one less Kaiju in the world. The Hong Kong port is safe. It’s all Jongseong has ever wanted. Because being a ranger is the only way Jongseong can live with himself in their Kaiju-infested world.

“To be clear,” Jake says, almost conversationally. “You hate the kid.”

And well. Jongseong doesn’t really have a good reason for it. But yes, he does. It’s stupid and petty, and Jongseong feels both of those things towards himself, but he can’t deny it, or really get rid of it.

The joke is: Jongseong has one of—if not the best—drift-compatibility rates of a cadet that the PPDC has ever seen. It was like that in the Academy and continues that way once he becomes an official cadet at the Shatterdome.

He has a unique way of getting along with almost anyone you put him in the cockpit with, his trainers would marvel and write down in the files that eventually get him shipped to the Shatterdome. Jongseong’s ability to connect with his peers is unmatched.

The punchline is: Jongseong hates his co-pilot.

“Yes,” Jongseong responds, with only a little bit of shame. He adds, to soften the blow, “I don’t like him.”

Jake guffaws, because of course he finds this funny. “And the reason for that is?”

Jongseong would shrug in response but that feels like it lacks too much tact. The reason? The short and simplified one? Park Sunghoon gets on his nerves. The long, tangled version?

In the beginning, there was Jongseong, watching a Kaiju attack the streets of Tokyo. There isn’t another living person in sight, only a boy, the same age as Jongseong, standing shell-shocked as a Category II Kaiju barrels straight at him. The news will report later on, that the boy was alone in the rubble with the Kaiju for an unprecedented 41 minutes before a Jaeger takes the beast down.

When the entertainment shows finally get their grubby hands on the boy, a barely-healed scar on his face and shaken beyond repair, they put him under studio lights and interview him for all of the nation to see.

His name is Park Sunghoon, he is twelve-years old and Korean. He was visiting Tokyo for an ice-skating competition. Sunghoon will not be ice-skating again.

And just what makes you so special, the host asks, a gleam in his eye as he peers down at Sunghoon. It’s what the whole world is asking. Why did Onibaba kill so many just to let the boy in front of him live? How did Park Sunghoon live? Why is he alive?

Sunghoon responds in short answers for most of the night. But there, at that one question, he musters up a few more words.

“I’m not special,” he says plainly, with a slight lisp. “It would’ve been better if I just died.”

The whole world goes silent. The live audience doesn’t even react. No pins drop.

Jongseong watches the show from the safety of his home. When Sunghoon delivers those final lines before the host urges his team to cut to the commercial-break, Jongseong sees red.

*

See, the problem is that there’s no problem at all.

Jongseong and Sunghoon’s drift-test goes off without a hitch. The first time they get deployed into the field, they successfully kill a Category III Kaiju. The whole mission goes perfectly. No kinks. No hiccups.

For some reason, Jongseong still seethes.

*

“This is your fault, y’know,” Jongseong tells Heeseung as they eat their lunch on one of the viewing docks overlooking the Jaegers. “I blame you.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes and gives Jongseong a small piece of bread from his tray. “No you don’t. Even though you probably should—you don’t.”

Jongseong hates Sunghoon so easily, but is unable to muster up a slight tremor of hatred towards Heeseung. It’s more than a little messed-up. Jongseong feels bad if he thinks about it too hard; so he doesn’t.

It’s true, though. If Heeseung hadn’t freaked out in the cockpit and closed off his mind so tightly that Jongseong was forced to deal with his own memories so severely he fell down the fucking rabbithole—it would be the two of them.

Once upon a time, Jongseong and Heeseung were set to co-pilot Karma’s Fury and take on the world together.

In retrospect, it’s probably a good thing things fell apart when they did. Heeseung wasn’t fit to pilot a Jaeger, to let someone take on part of the load with him, to let someone into his brain at all. At the time, it just felt like betrayal. Jongseong sort of gets it now, how Heeseung would never be okay in charge of a Jaeger, but a part of him will always ache for what could have been.

Heeseung fell apart, but he took Jongseong down with him.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Heeseung says, voice too calm for comfort. “But just cut him some slack. You can’t be angry at him because you can’t be angry at me.”

Jongseong’s head turns. “That’s not what this is.”

Really, it’s not. Jongseong has hated Sunghoon since before he even met Heeseung. The two don’t even connect. They’re not even perpendicular.

Heeseung tilts his head. It feels like pity. “Are you sure?”

Jongseong looks away. He’s so sick of being mad all the time.

*

When they first meet, under the yellowed lights of the Kwoom Combat Room, Jongseong is already over it. The thing about big dreams is they never really disappear, it’s just that you do. Jongseong doesn’t know if he’s exactly all that different, but he’s definitely a lot less hopeful than he was when he first graduated from the Academy.


Still, when Jongseong is called in, bright and early, and told that the new Mark-4 Jaeger from the U.S. needs pilots and that he’s at the top of the list—a shoo-in—it feels like deja-vu. Jongseong has been at the top-of-the-list a few times before. The first time ended in heartbreak, the second with a reopened wound, and well, everything after was just repeated disappointment.

(It seems to be the world’s biggest and most used joke. Jongseong, perpetual second-choice, friend to all, drift-compatible with every pilot on both sides of the Pacific—yet stuck floundering the halls of the Shatterdome.)

So when Jongseong sees a distantly familiar face lined up to spar with him, it’s easy to feel like he’s part of some cosmic joke.

Sunghoon is tall, though only as tall as Jongseong. His skin is pale in stark contrast to his pure black hair. He doesn’t look like he belongs anywhere near one of the PPDC’s combat rooms. Jongseong hates him for it.

Yet, the saying repeated at the Academy always was: the deeper the bond, the better you fight.

That’s of course not to say that superficial bonds cannot produce good pilots. Or that pilots need to even know each other relatively well before initiating a neural handshake. The Drift is still widely unknown; too many mysterious factors and still no clear confirmation on whether it's completely science or somewhat spiritual. The PPDC has essentially cut corners by simulating the fight first, to determine if there’s a bond to begin with.

All to say, it is not completely unreasonable for Jongseong to be drift-compatible with a complete stranger. It makes sense, somewhat, that Sunghoon is a potential candidate. Although, Jongseong had no idea he was even looking to be a pilot. Not that he would know. Jongseong doesn’t know Sunghoon.

What Jongseong does know is that in person, Sunghoon is frighteningly static. From the middle of the line, he watches as Jongseong fights candidate after candidate with little care or emotion.

Each time Jongseong strikes someone to the ground, he’s staring. Every time Jongseong watches someone new shuffle in front of him, Sunghoon remains blank.

Jongseong, rather quickly, gets pissed. He knows the Marshal can tell, with the way that Jongseong’s hits become stronger and quicker. Anyone who has seen him fight before can tell that his moves are a little sloppier from anger, but just as successful in taking down his opponent.

In all honesty, Sunghoon doesn’t fight like he knows what he's doing.

“You're very easy to read,” Sunghoon says, in the hall afterwards, both of them sweaty and bruised, looking at Jongseong with such impassivity that it makes Jongseong clench his jaw.

Jongseong turns away on his heel and tries to control the heat rushing to his face.

*

“Hey, asshole,” Sunoo greets. “You might outrank me now but that doesn’t mean you can ignore me when I’m giving you explicit instructions on how to not fucking die in a 100-billion dollar robot.”

He slams down his tray on the table they’re occupying in the mess-hall. It’s not necessarily a hall, as it is a semi-private part of the deck where the sound of the Jaegers constantly being tinkered with is dull instead of aching. The word ‘private’ is used stingily as any word said in the “hall” echoes considerably.

Point meaning: everyone stops chewing their bread to instead, watch Sunoo chew out Jongseong.

“Do you even understand the reason why we have a Drivesuit room? It’s so a team of professionals can take the million dollar suit off of your body, protecting your dumbass and the pinnacle of modern technology you wear, not so you can strut out of your Jaeger—after a successful mission by the way—because you have some stupid hate boner for your co-pilot.”

Jongseong is red all the way up to his ears. It takes a lot of effort not to throw up pathetically everywhere.

“Sunoo-ah,” Jongseong says timidly. “Can we—”

A few tables away, someone gets up from their seat and tosses their tray to the clean-up bin. The heels of their shoes click and echo loudly as they walk away. Jongseong already knows its Sunghoon, but admitting it makes the heat under his skin burn hotter.

“You are not a child,” Sunoo scolds, pointing his finger at Jongseong like he very much is a child. “Fix your shit. You’re supposed to be a professional.”

Jongseong swallows down the embarrassment and the tiny shred of anger he feels. He is not mad at Sunoo. Sunoo is doing his job. Sunoo is trying to help prevent the apocalypse from escalating.

Somewhere along the way, Jongseong lost focus.

*

Because he has a strong moral compass, Jongseong treats life like the delicate thing it is.

Some would argue that becoming a ranger is a death sentence, and therefore, the complete opposite of Jongseong’s belief. And sure, Jongseong doesn’t disagree. Jaeger pilots usually don’t live past their late 30s, but Jongseong knew this even before he joined the Academy. Death is natural but is still something to be feared. However, Jongseong doesn’t think he could let himself die in any other way.

(Being in the cockpit of a Jaeger is a death sentence. No matter how long you last there, it will always come to an end. But it’s one that Jongseong feels comfortable with.)

That’s all to say, Jongseong wants his life to be worth it. He wants to die fighting for the cause or not dying it all. It’s what pushes Jongseong to the Academy, besides the shiny robots and shiner smiles all his favorite pilots shoot at the cameras.

Kaiju blue has the remarkable ability to stain anything it comes into contact with. It’s impossible to scrub away. Jongseong could never escape even if he wanted to.

*

Sunghoon is in the middle of pulling his shirt on when Jongseong walks through the door. His dog tags bumping against his chest as the fabric is pulled over his head.

It’s been a few hours since dinner in the mess-hall and Jake had been the one to tell Jongseong that Sunghoon has stayed isolated in his—their room since. Which Jongseong was only mildly peeved to find out about.

Jongseong ducks his head, because that’s the respectful thing to do, even though Sunghoon is now fully clothed. Jongseong waits for him to acknowledge his presence before saying anything.

“You can look at me, you know,” Sunghoon says in stilted English.

Jongseong slowly lifts his head, coughing awkwardly into his fist. He doesn’t really know how to talk to Sunghoon. Especially given the added layer of tension between them. It should be weird, considering they’ve been in each other’s brains. There probably isn't anyone who can understand them like each other.

“I’m sorry,” Jongseong starts, figuring that’s the right direction. He’s still standing in the entryway of the room and he’s too scared to move too much.

Sunghoon stares at Jongseong with fixed eyes. “For what?” he baits. His face is blank again, as if he doesn’t care. Jongseong doesn’t have it in him to carry on with his apology.

“Don’t give me that,” Jongseong spits. “You know what.”

Sunghoon sighs, as if this conversation is beneath him. As if Jongseong is a child needing to know what’s wrong from right. “I really don’t know what I did to upset you, Jongseong-ssi,” he says, switching to Korean.

The formal tone only ticks Jongseong off more. How does he know that Jongseong even speaks Korean?

“It’s really none of your business,” Jongseong replies anyway. Because it isn't.

“Who cares?” Sunghoon’s voice rises. It’s the most emotion Jongseong has seen so far. Sunghoon waves his hands around uselessly, almost desperate. “I still want to know. It’s affecting me. It’s affecting us.”

“Is it? Our sync-rate is fine. Stellar even. 100% drop-rate,” Jongseong replies, even though they’ve only been put in the field once. Really, it’s all such a non-problem. Who’s to say when they’ll need to be deployed again. “You’ll live.”

At this, Sunghoon looks put-out, almost sad. Jongseong looks away. He can’t help but be reminded of the Onibaba and the broken boy he left behind. Instead of the usual bubbling of rage, Jongseong feels sad as well. Like the fight has been sucked out of both of them and left to linger in the air.

“I don’t really get you,” Sunghoon admits, his voice strained.

Jongseong looks up to stare at him but Sunghoon is looking at a dust-bunny in the corner of the room.

“You’ve been in my brain,” Jongseong replies, because, well, there's really nothing more intimate than that. The fact that Jongseong and Sunghoon have been inside of each other’s head; the fact that willingly continue to be in each other’s head. One of them can tap-out if they wanted, but they don’t.

Sunghoon shrugs. He looks up at Jongseong for a brief moment and catches him staring. Sunghoon looks away but Jongseong doesn’t. It feels like something.

“That’s not the same,” Sunghoon says.

Jongseong releases some of the tension in his shoulders. “You don’t have to get it—I don’t get you. You just have to trust me.”

He feels so hypocritical saying it, trust me, even when I don’t like you, you need to trust me. Jongseong has strong convictions, but he’s still a hypocrite. A liar too, sometimes.

“I do trust you,” Sunghoon says lowly. He finally makes eye-contact with Jongseong and doesn’t look away. “That’s why this worked.”

“Okay,” Jongseong murmurs, heat creeping up his neck. “I trust you too.”

Jongseong can be a liar. He tells white-lies when it’s to spare the feelings of someone else, like any human would do. So yes, Jongseong trusts Sunghoon, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an inkling of fear every time they step into the Conn-Pod together. That doesn’t mean that Jongseong doesn’t think about twelve-year old Sunghoon who was so ready to die, to die without fighting back, without running for the hills, every time he tries to sleep at night.

And okay, maybe that’s where the whole problem stems from. Sunghoon had a once in a lifetime chance, whether someone views it as a divine intervention or a warning from some higher being—the truth is, Sunghoon was lucky.

Jongseong doesn’t understand how someone can go through that and still not understand the sheer amount of luck they were given. Sunghoon survived a Kaiju attack and lived to tell the tale on prime-time television. Jongseong would go fucking crazy from the thought.

Whether or not he can comprehend it, Sunghoon was offered a second chance. Jongseong doesn’t understand why, for even a second, he would want to throw it all away.

Sunghoon retreats off to his bunk and Jongseong shakes away the brief shyness he had felt. After he turns off the lights to their room, he crawls into bed and listens to Sunghoon’s even-breathing.

Once again, Jongseong thinks about the boy who didn’t cry and that same boy being the one snoring above him. He does not fall asleep that night.

*

The fact is: Park Sunghoon is the only person recorded to have survived meeting a Kaiju outside the cockpit of a Jaeger. Jongseong thinks of holy words and acts of God. None measure up in the face of a Kaiju.

*

Only three days later, the two of them are woken up at 5AM when a Category III Kaiju crosses the breach. Paradox Invader is called in, along with Blockbuster, and two other Jaegers and their pilots that Jongseong has idolized since his pre-teens.

Ordinarily, it would stress Jongseong out—having to be put in the cockpit again. And with Sunghoon of all people.

But the thing is, they’re fine. Sunghoon looks less tense as the drivesuit team puts his armor on and Jongseong doesn’t make any targeted snappy comments. They didn’t really solve anything but at least they talked about it. Some of the mystery is gone. It’s good. They work.

It’s even more abundantly clear that they work when the beast—given the codename Knifehead—crosses the Miracle Mile for Anchorage, Alaska. Blockbuster uses its plasmacaster to tear a hole in Knifehead’s belly. Jongseong and Sunghoon, in perfect drift-compatible harmony, use Paradox’s chain sword to split the wound from its underside, up until it cracks at the shell-like armor of its back.

By 7AM, Paradox Invader officially has 2 drops, 2 kills, under its belt. They’re back at the Shatterdome by 10AM, and as Jongseong cleans up and wipes away the last drops of sweat off his body, he tries to ignore the way his eyes keep drifting towards Sunghoon in the shower stall next to him.

QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT
3,661w, 🦅🦮
one of the first enha fic ideas i started to whip up after a long writing hiatus. therefore, was just too big of a task in terms of plot and scale. maybe i'll come back to it but i feel like my writing style has already changed and doesn't fit anymore. includes: merman 🦌, witch 🦅, werewolf 🦮, vampire 🐩, fae 🦊, catboy/werecat 🐈 LOL, and baby werewolf 🐥 at college. never wrote the beginning section so it kind of just starts in the middle of the action sorry!

( four )

And, okay, it makes perfect sense as to why Jay would be here. He and Heeseung are high school friends or something dumb like that, not that Jake can relate seeing as though he moved to a different continent to attend a magically diverse college in the States and hasn’t talked to any of his former classmates in months.

Whatever. Heeseung and Jay have history—far more than Jay and Jake. No shit Jay would be here tonight. Of course he would. Because even if Jake didn’t account for Heeseung’s weird web of friends, he can always account for his truly terrible luck. He really needs to find out if he’s been hexed or something.

“Alert, red alert,” Jake starts hissing, punching Sunghoon in the arm. “Fucking—alert. Abort mission! Abort!”

Sunghoon immediately goes to hold his own arm, as if Jake had hurt him, because he’s dramatic like that, and in the process, ever so slightly tips over his red solo cup, pouring some of his stupid Vampire concoction right on Jake’s skinny jeans.

“Ow,” Sunghoon whines. “Ah, fuck, sorry about that. There was blood in there too.”

Jake puts his head into his hands and doesn’t even bother to muffle his scream. It might even be sobs, Jake can’t really tell over the ear-splitting LMFAO playing throughout the frat house. If there’s one thing that Jake has learned from hanging out at Heeseung’s mermaid frat, it’s that they really fuck with EDM. And that Sunghoon, at every available opportunity, will be there to humble Jake.

“What’s wrong, wolfie?” Sunghoon asks softly, immediately bending over to rub behind Jake’s ears and slip his stupid trench coat over Jake’s back, like he’s a baby. A big, dumb, dog-like baby. “I’ll help you wash out the blood, okay? It probably won’t stain.”

“I don’t even care about your stupid drink,” Jake croaks wetly. “There’s a boy. The one boy. The mean one—he’s over there. And now I’m crying and I smell like blood, and y’know what? I do care about the drink. What the fuck man?”

Sunghoon ignores his beratement and tilts his head, his stupid sunglasses perched on the top of his head slowly slipping backwards. “What boy? I’ll beat him up.”

“You know the one. He’s literally over there,” Jake whispers harshly. He’s finding out that he’s a little bit mad at Sunghoon the more he talks. He points uselessly to where he last saw Jay, wearing a well-fitted blazer and his hair slicked back. Jake can’t really see anything anymore—his vision is too blurred.

“Jake.” Sunghoon says gently. “I don’t have the memory or the brain dexterity to keep up with all of your situationships.”

Jake punches Sunghoon in the arm again, this time, causing Sunghoon to fully drop his cup onto the ground in a bloody mess.

“I’m talking about Jay, you dipstick!” Jake shouts into Sunghoon’s ear, somehow competing with the room-shaking volume of Party Rock Anthem. He realizes his mistake as soon as he opens his mouth, but the world kind of switches into slow-motion, and Jake is forced to watch the whole thing play out as if he’s astral-projected from his body.

Too many heads turn towards them, or rather Jake, because of course they do—Jake just fucking yelled. Not like a drunk girl trying to talk to her friend across the room, but like a crazy person. And the most important part, the reason why Jake is an idiot, is who in particular turns to look at Jake hit a new low point during the night.

Hint: it’s the boy Jake was making a scene over in the first place.

Jake watches as Jay lowers his own solo cup from his shiny lips. He has a perfect view of Jay’s dangly silver earrings, the dip in his collarbones, and the less-than-impressed look on his face as he watches Jake scream his name, three months since the last time they talked and with blood on his pants.

He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that some earth witch at the party takes mercy on him and makes the ground swallow him whole. Sunghoon makes a sound of recognition, “oh, that Jay. The one walking over here right now.”

At that, Jake’s eyes immediately shoot open. “What?”

Low and behold, Jay is walking over towards them. He’s staring daggers at Jake, although the daggers are more Jake’s interpretation rather than the actual look on Jay’s face. It just kind of feels like there are hundreds of daggers poking Jake’s stomach right now. Or he might just need to throw up.

Jay actually looks kind of guilty, his small mouth is pinched, and Jake doesn’t really know what to think of that. Daggers feel safer for some reason, rather than believing that Jay is looking at Jake with pity.

Thankfully, it’s Jungwon that actually takes pity on him, moving from the sidelines and gripping Jake and Sunghoon’s arm with his tiny fists and pulling them off the couch. His tail hits their hips as they retreat.

“You two have a natural talent for embarrassing yourselves,” Jungwon chides, although he sounds like he’s trying to hold back laughter. That’s usually the case when he’s around Sunghoon. “I don’t even know who that guy is but you owe me a month’s worth of curry.”

Jake, in his haze, as they stumble through the hallways in the restricted part of the frat house, babbles, “you’d probably really like him. He’s sweet. Like chocolate frogs.”

“Chocolate frogs aren’t a thing. You’re thinking about Harry Potter—oh god, we’re losing him,” Sunghoon starts squeaking as Jungwon finally pushes them into Heeseung’s—thankfully empty—bedroom.

“You two—” Jungwon says, pointing between Sunghoon and Jake as they flop onto Heeseung’s waterbed, “—are slobs. Sleep. And drink from hyung’s waterbed if you get thirsty.”

Jungwon’s tail waves as he talks and Sunghoon tracks it with his eyes. Jake feels sick. He feels sweaty. He feels like Jungwon simultaneously saved him from a bad moment and also stopped the most romantic reunion of Jake’s life. Jay was looking at him. He looked so good. Jake needs to sleep.

Jungwon turns the lights off and slams the door shut, yelling “sleep!” through the walls one last time before he officially leaves them alone.

Sunghoon’s already trying to cuddle him on Heeseung’s stupid jiggly bed, his sharp nails digging into Jake’s back as Jake tries to wiggle out of his bloody skinny jeans. He’s so sleepy, his pants drop to the floor, sleep is good, his legs are cold.

The last thing Jake does is make a mental note to check with Sunoo if there’s some curse on him before he finally succumbs to his wolfsbane-vodka mix and passes out.

*

The truth is, there’s nothing to warrant the freak-out Jake made at the party. Maybe it would be justifiable if they were scornful ex-lovers who had a steamy love affair that crashed and burned, or ex-boyfriends meeting again after their 2-year relationship ended. Awkward situations all around.

Unfortunately, they barely counted as boyfriends, let alone exes. Jay took Jake out on two dates, paid each time, and before Jake could seal the deal with a third—Jay ghosted him.

Despite the briefness of their relationship, it continues to be one of the more embarrassing moments of Jake’s college career, which is saying a lot considering that he regularly makes a fool of himself in public. One time, at another one of Heesung’s dumb frat parties, Jake lost his balance while trying to drink from a levitating keg and fell on his butt. Jungwon had laughed so hard he peed and Sunghoon posted the entire sequence to his Snapchat story.

Maybe Heeseung is the cause of Jake’s misery, not a curse. He seems to be the common denominator.

The point is, Jake really liked Jay. Like really liked him. As in they only texted for a month-and-a-half over Instagram DMS but Jake still found himself kicking his legs in genuine nervous excitement whenever Jay would tell him about the new book about divination he was reading. Maybe it’s partially Jake’s fault for falling head-over-heels immediately after Jay sent him a personalized Spotify playlist, but Jake couldn’t not swoon. It was a reasonable reaction.

Jake doesn’t know what the nail in the coffin was, whether it was too much rambling about physics in relation to transfiguration or the fact he wasn’t Jay’s type or something stupid, but in the end, Jake was left on seen after a semi-desperate text imploring about a third date.

It wasn’t heartbreak, but it was something slimy and heavy in Jake’s chest, that kind of made him feel like a fool for even trying. Sunghoon tells him not to dwell on the past but Jake is also a chronic over-thinker. He replays moments in his head for days after they’ve happened—throws a pity-party for himself too.

Unfortunately, Jay happens to be the cause for most of them recently. Whatever. Jake will get over it. Probably.

*

The first thing Jake does after waking up is walk over to Sunoo’s dorm.

He’s serious about the curse thing. Partially.

Listen, it’s not the silliest conclusion. Jake is a believer of science. A man of physics. He also happens to live in a world where every full moon, he loses his shit a bit, and has the ability to turn into a wolf. These things can coexist. So, sure, maybe Jake has bad luck. Maybe he really did get on someone’s shit-list and got a hex put on him. Who knows? Sunoo certainly might.

Jake sneaks into Sunoo’s dorm building as someone in front of him opens the door, and before he’s even knocked, Sunoo is already opening the door with so much force Jake nearly gets whiplash.

“How’d you—even know? I was—” Jake stutters, staring back and forth at his knuckles and Sunoo’s glowing face. Fuck the fae, seriously. Jake knows he looks like shit and Sunoo’s peachy natural glittered skin only adds to his pain.

“I know everything,” Sunoo says very seriously. “What are you doing here? I mean—hi, nice to see you. What are you doing here?”

Jake tries to use his best puppy-dog eyes, the big watery ones that make Sunghoon stop being mean to him and Heeseung give him ear rubs. He juts out his lower lip too, pouts, the whole shebang.

“Can you help me?” Jake asks, leaning close to Sunoo. “I think I’ve been cursed.”

Sunoo gasps and covers his mouth with his hand very cutely. He’s a sucker for drama, although he pretends not to be. Jake’s got him, hook, line, and sinker.

“Forreal?”

Jake nods, pretending to be glum. “Forreal.”

“You’re lying to me,” Sunoo says, opening the door wider. “But I’m letting you in anyway. This better be good.”

Jake cheers and steps into Sunoo’s room, which is impeccably clean—far cleaner than Jake’s own dorm. His own bed is kind of a nest at this point, but he has that to blame on his werewolf instincts rather than his young-adult boy habits. Sunoo has fairy lights, which is kind of on the nose, but looks really fucking pretty.

“I need your magical expertise okay,” Jake says while Sunoo gestures for Jake to sit on a pillow on the floor while he sits in his desk chair. Jake happily curls up. “You’re the most skilled person I know when it comes to… all that,” Jake explains, waving his hands and hoping Sunoo gets what he’s trying to say.

“You know I’m not a mind-reader, right?” Sunoo asks, very sincerely, putting his hand on Jake’s and everything. “Or, like, an empath? I just took an Intro to Card Reading class. Those are all of my qualifications.”

Jake doesn’t roll his eyes, because if he did they’d probably get stuck there. Instead, all he croaks out is a pathetic, “Help me. Please. Help.”

Sunoo scrunches his nose.

“Okay, you’re seriously freaking me out. Your energy is off. I think. Tell Uncle Sunoo what’s wrong—oh god, I hated that.”

Jake takes a deep breath, lets the calming energy of the fairy lights and the pumpkin scented diffuser melt into his sticky bones.

“I saw Jay last night,” Jake says with all the seriousness in the world.

He saw Jay last night and it wasn’t the end of the world, but Jake is stuck feeling so many big things in his chest he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Jake’s being overdramatic, he knows, but that doesn’t lessen the pure nerves he wants out of his body. He saw Jay. That’s it. The whole story. Jake just wishes there were some kind of satisfying conclusion where the punchline wasn’t his feelings.

“Oh,” Sunoo says, very passive. Then he tilts his head, “you know Jay?”

“Fucking—dammit. Shit,” Jake groans. “Yes, I know Jay. We went out on two dates.”

Sunoo hums in acknowledgement while he reaches over his desk and pulls open a drawer where a velvet purple bag sits. Sunoo pulls it out and removes his deck of tarot cards from it and begins shuffling them around.

“Just two?” Sunoo asks, raising a brow.

Jake tries not to visibly squirm. A little miserably, Jake admits, “There never got to be a third.”

Jumbling the cards and letting them flop onto the table, Sunoo hums again. He looks at Jake with sharp eyes that Jake doesn’t even attempt to not shy away from.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be reading cards? Not acting like my therapist.”

“Okay,” Sunoo deadpans, dropping the cards onto the table in an instant and giving up on the vibe he was creating. “First, clearly you need to go to therapy if this is what you think it's like. You’d benefit a lot from that. Second, shut up. Don’t deflect.”

Jake flops onto his back, rolling off of the pillow and wiggling around the floor like a child.

“Fine. Whatever. I was upset,” Jake admits again. He throws his hands up in the air, although, at the angle he’s laying in, they’re kind of squished into the side of his body. “I wanted there to be a third and then he just—fucking ghosted me. And then I saw him last night and he’s like, walking over to me? What’s that all about? This is why I don’t date men.”

“That’s actually probably because of your internalized homophobia but, yeah,” Sunoo makes sure to point out. “Sure.”

Jake ignores the comment, for his sanity, and continues.

“I don’t know. I really thought there was something there. Like, I felt this pull with him. Is that weird? I’ve had crushes before but—when we went out, there was just this magnetism and—I sound like a nerd. Whatever. I thought we had something.”

His heart feels like it's been laid out for Sunoo to dissect. Something to poke and prod at. Jake knows, on some level, that he’s a little crazy, but more in the metaphorical way. Jake has big feelings. Jake likes showing and expressing those big feelings. He does not like dealing with the fallout.

Jay had been sweet. Jake had taken the dates serious enough for him to not cringe at the affection he was letting himself feel for someone he hardly knew. For him, it was a feat—to not shy away and hide how Jay wining and dining him made him feel. Jake thought, looking across the table from Jay, at some fancy Italian place he had picked out, I could get used to this. Jake felt the pull. He thought Jay felt it too.

Sunoo looks at the cards on his table and then at Jake very thoughtfully, as if he’s coming to some sort of conclusion. Sunoo doesn’t judge—not in a mean way, but he always observes very critically. Being on the opposite end of Sunoo’s gaze feels like there’s someone lovingly dissecting you.

“Maybe you two did,” Sunoo settles on saying after a few moments. It feels important. “I think that has far more credibility than a curse. I think you’re just constipated, emotionally, and have a tendency to embarrass yourself. That’s all. I’d say look into the Jay thing though.”

“What—how?” Jake guffaws.

Sunoo glances at the digital clock sitting on his desk and then tenses.

“Sorry, Jake, you know I love our chats but I actually have a dick appointment coming over in like—now?” Sunoo rushes out, sitting up out of his chair and suddenly pulling Jake off of his puddle on the floor. He at least looks sheepish when he says, “so we really need to cut this short.”

Jake’s jaw drops even more. He doesn’t fight back, because he’s pretty sure Sunoo could beat his ass, but he lets his body drag across the floor.

“What the—what do you mean?” Jake yelps. He still has so many questions. “You’re seriously kicking me out for dick? And what do you mean Jay thing? How do I even—”

Sunoo’s a lot stronger than anyone gives him credit for because within seconds, Jake is already being pushed out the door, forced to say goodbye to the pumpkin scent and the pretty fairy lights that Jake is definitely going to order when he gets to his dorm.

“Bye Jake! Let’s brunch soon!” Sunoo smiles cutely as he closes the door in Jake’s face.

Jake still feels the lingering feeling of a pull in his chest that he always gets when he thinks about Jay too hard, but he comes to his senses in the empty hallway. The door closing sounded like clarity.

Okay, so. Jake’s not hexed; just fucked. Great.

*

To be clear, Jake is not emotionally inept—no matter what Sunoo, or Sunghoon, or literally anyone says. He happens to be very in touch with his emotions, Jake just doesn’t usually like what he’s dealing with. So he accepts them, ignores them, fails, and overthinks until his brain pops.

Jake is also not an idiot. There’s the fact that he’s studying Physics and for some reason, enjoys it, despite how much it’s life biggest puzzle and because of that, a mind fuck. But school and the education system only account for so much. So, yes, Jake takes his academics very seriously. He’s still not an idiot.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself, Jake,” Heeseung says, taking a sip from his tea. “I think you're a big idiot. The biggest.”

Jake groans. “Why do I even hang out with you?”

“We may never know,” Heeseung says, shrugging. As soon as he sets his drink down, Riki is grabbing it and taking a sip. Jake personally wouldn’t let that happen. He’s pretty sure Riki backwashes.

“I didn’t know you had beef with Jay-hyung,” Riki comments, tea still in his mouth. A little bit dribbles out while he talks and Jake resists the urge to clean it for him. Like he’s his mother. Ugh.

Jake, instead, flips Heeseung off. “Why are you telling our kid about my… personal problems.” He turns to Riki and pointedly adds, “Jay and I don’t have beef. B-T-W. And how are you at hyung status with him? Since when do you speak Korean?”

Riki shrugs, he looks eerily similar to Heeseung when he does. “I dabble. Occasionally. And Heeseung’s not allowed to lie to me; it’s in our contract. I’m the baby.”

“He’s the baby,” Heeseung echoes, scrolling through his phone and ignoring Jake.

“You’re evil,” Jake hisses, pretending to lunge at Riki from over the table. Riki flinches so hard he starts cackling and Jake rubs his hand through Riki’s artfully styled hair, messing it up. “That’s what you are.”

“Well,” Heeseung cuts in, finally setting down his phone. “I’m glad you and Jongseong aren’t ‘beefing’ because that’s gonna make Seraphim Weekend a lot less awkward.”

Jake tenses and shoves garlic bread in his mouth to distract himself. “What? He’s going? With us?”

“He needed a ride and he offered to drive,” Heeseung explains, very calmly. He’s staring at Jake as he does so, like he’s trying to see Jake’s reaction to the news. “I don’t want to, Sunghoon only drives stick, and no one else has their license.”

Riki cuts in, “I have my licen—”

“You’re not driving,” Jake states.

Heeseung continues after taking another sip. “Plus: it’s Jungwon’s rich roommate Ricky’s car and Jongseong is the only one responsible enough to not crash it. Or get it dirty.”

Jake feels his stomach getting fuller, but he’s not sure if it’s dread, garlic bread, or puke waiting to shoot out his throat. His odds aren’t looking so good. From all angles.

“Riki?” Riki questions, tilting his head. He points to himself. “I’m Riki.”

“No, not you,” Jake chokes, throat dry. “Other Ricky.”

“There’s another Riki?” Riki asks, getting madder at the prospect. He’s pouting but the sight doesn’t even manage to cheer Jake up.

“Yes,” Heeseung says under his breath. “There are like, a thousand.”

“We’re talking about R-I-C-K-Y. Not R-I-K-I,” Jake says, trying his best to enunciate very clearly, although he has a feeling Riki doesn’t quite understand his accent anyways. “Chinese vampire millionaire-baby Ricky.”

“He’s a baby too?” Riki whines. “What the fuck.”

“Okay, I’m ignoring you now.” Jake turns his attention back to Heeseung, answering his long-forgotten original point. “But fine. That’s cool. I’m cool—with that. It’s cool,” Jake answers very coolly.

Heeseung doesn’t look like he believes him but he nods, a little patronizing. “Cool. Make sure you bring gas money too.”

Riki groans, slumping his entire body into Heeseung’s side. “We have to pay?”

Jake can already envision the weekend. Him falling on his face and crying in front of Jay. Jake accidentally playing a song that Jay had recommended to him when he’s on aux. Jake ripping off all his clothes and shifting into wolf form in front of Jay. What the fuck.

“Cool cool cool,” Jake mutters, like a broken record.

Unsurprisingly, it’s actually not cool. Nothing is cool. Jake wants to scream.