Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Rotate one-third degree to port.”

“Got it, Joong.”

“Fire.”

“Yeah, I got it, Joong.”

An explosion rocked the entire ship, Seonghwa’s nails digging into the metal of the console to ride out the shockwaves, teeth gritted tight.

“Target hit.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath, lips twitching as he began bringing the cruiser around. “Any other ships in the area?”

“No,” Hongjoong responded, voice tinny and even higher through the ship’s speakers. “The nearest ship is 18 liards away, and scans show that it is a trading vessel simply passing through.”

“Awesome,” Seonghwa muttered distractedly, hands flying over the console. “Bring us to quarter speed and I’ll take care of getting us back into the hanger.”

“On it.”

Seonghwa felt the boosters kick in, his back pressing further into the leather seat of the cockpit as they sped through the darkness of space, the stars becoming little white streaks as Seonghwa kept one hand on the console, but let the other run through his hair roughly.

“Well, that was completely easy and a waste of time,” he laughed quietly, letting his shoulders fall. “Why couldn’t they just get the regular guys to take care of the one ship?”

“Perhaps Dr. Kim simply wanted to provide you a chance to ‘get out and about,’ as they say.”  

Seonghwa chuckled, leaning back comfortably in the chair. “I was ‘out and about’ for three days straight, trying not to get us killed while we flew through- not only a fucking meteor shower, but also Feren territory.”

“Yes, you were,” he agreed.

“Did I mention they were shooting at us?”

“You did not.”

“Did I mention that we ran out of fuel and were drifting?”

“You did not need to. I was there,” Hongjoong assured him, voice level though Seonghwa could hear the exasperation there, making his lips tug up.

“And then we lost power.”

“Yes. I was there.”

“And then started losing oxygen.”

“I was there.”

“And then I had to get my ass hauled back by Wooyoung of all people-“

“I was there.”

“And your connection got fucked up, so I didn’t even have you to defend me, so I just got scolded by Yeosang the entire time-“

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong finally said, firm enough to break through his rant. “My memory is capable of storing up to 100 years of daily information. I remember last week quite vividly. However, if you have forgotten any of this, I would be happy to play back the file.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but grin, his mood lifting after being called out at the ass crack of dawn.

(Or whatever the equivalent was in space.) 

“Well, if you remember it so well, then you should know that it’s bullshit to send us out here just to ‘get out and about.’”

“I was merely trying to humor you,” Hongjoong said flatly. “You get annoyed when I simply dispute your complaints outright.”

“I don’t get annoyed ,” Seonghwa said, voice warping to mock Hongjoong’s as he tightened his grip on the steering column, fist wrapping tight as he felt the engines begin to die down slightly. “You just like to be contrary.”

“I provide facts.”

“Alright, fine,” Seonghwa said in exasperation as they dropped their speed abruptly, the lines of stars falling still as the mammoth form of the Aurora came into view in all her shining Class S glory. “Then what are the facts for why I’m out here dealing with small fry, instead of the regular grunt workers.”

Seonghwa split his attention between Hongjoong and guiding the ship for the opening port on the side of the Aurora. It was routine, and almost automatic for Seonghwa to follow the tugs in his gut guiding him this way and that.

“You are part of a special operations program,” Hongjoong reminded him matter-of-factly. “A hostile ship was pinged within an alarmingly close distance of the Aurora. While a single ship is capable of being handled by one lower level, non-special personnel, the speed and accuracy with which they respond is nearly one-third of those within the Ateez program. The Niyol ship was too close to the Aurora to be handled by someone with such a lacking response time.”

Seonghwa stared out the viewscreen, lips pressing together in exaggerated displeasure. “Well, just because that makes sense doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed.”

“I would never attempt to invalidate your emotions,” Hongjoong assured him, voice controlled and bordering on teasingly emotionless. “You and the others within Ateez’s program are all rather obsessive over your sleeping patterns, and I understand your hesitancy to have it disturbed.”

Seonghwa snorted as his cruiser finally passed through the airlock holoscreen into the Aurora, an undeniably familiar feeling of being home kicking in. “Well, you try and have eighteen-hour training sims and see how much you learn to value sleep.”

“I don’t require sleep.”

“No,” Seonghwa chuckled, easing his cruiser onto the ground and hearing the hanger doors shutting behind him, the buzzing of energy through his cruiser dying into quiet, leaving his ears still ringing a bit. “Then I might actually get a break from you every now and then.”

“If you’d like a break from me, you can simply ask me to deactivate while we are not within training or sims,” Hongjoong reminded him helpfully.

Seonghwa’s smile softened, almost bordering on sad as he flipped all the switches required to safety disengage all of the cruiser’s functions. “Yeah, but what if I miss you?” he asked, feeling the hum of the cruiser finally fall completely silent as it powered down.

“I doubt you would miss me in the hour or two you could deactivate me in,” Hongjoong mused.

Seonghwa chuckled, leaning back in the chair, resting for a moment.

“What is it like, when you deactivate?” Seonghwa asked curiously as he sat alone in the mess hall.

Hongjoong’s expression was the same thoughtful blank that it always was, but Seonghwa could see the tension in his mouth as he stared off. “It’s… comparable to human’s being put unconscious.”

Seonghwa frowned slightly, pausing his chewing. “That… doesn’t sound all that pleasant.”

Hongjoong hummed, still staring blankly. “It is not… painful at all. But, it is rather uncomfortable, especially upon reactivation. Like… being roughly waken up while you are in a deep sleep.”

The human stared at his food, unsure why his stomach suddenly felt so sick. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have to deactivate, except for upgrades, right?”

Hongjoong blinked, seeming to come back to himself as he smiled at Seonghwa kindly. “Deactivation is a part of us. It’s neither good nor bad to not have to do it.”

Seonghwa didn’t quite believe him.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong prompted when Seonghwa hadn’t moved a couple of minutes later. “Are you planning on hiding in here again? You know it is the first place Wooyoung looks.”

Seonghwa shook the memory free, glancing around the darkened cockpit. “No, I’m not hiding,” he said, standing. “We’ll head to the mess hall. I don’t feel like trying to get ten more minutes of sleep.”

“I’m sure you’ll ingest copious amounts of caffeine in those ten minutes.”

Seonghwa smiled as he tapped the little black square on the chest of his suit. “Hongjoong, transfer,” he ordered.

The black square glowed a gentle red before going dark again as Seonghwa strode from the cockpit, punching the button to release the exit hatch that disengaged with a loud hiss.

As he climbed down, the crimson-colored projection of Hongjoong floated by his shoulder. “Somehow, I find it more annoying to be within such a large machine such as the cruisers, than when I am trapped in your tiny suit.”

Seonghwa smirked as he leapt the last three rungs of the ladder, landing gracefully on the ground and rising to full height. “Is my suit that comfortable for you?”

Hongjoong hummed. “Perhaps it is because you listen much better than those hunks of metal.”

“Hey,” Seonghwa said sternly, pointing at the projection no bigger than his forearm. “My cruiser is a beautiful lady, and you will treat her as such.”

Hongjoong lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “You think being A class makes her beautiful? What happened to inner beauty?” he questioned. “Her mainframes and firewalls are atrocious. You would have likely been hacked a hundred without my presence.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, stopping his pointing and continuing through the hanger, waving at the personnel operating the gates, unable to see their expression through their dark helmets, but they waved back.

  “Isn’t it your job to report those things?” Seonghwa asked as they walked through the door of the hanger room into the brightly lit hall of the ship, surrounded with the familiar scent of recycled air and clean metal.

The silver of the walls and floors was spotless. In the beginning of their days, the shine of the Aurora had almost been enough to give you a headache. But the last three years had given Seonghwa an appreciation for how she shone like their own personal star.

“That’s your function, isn’t it?” Seonghwa posed, giving Hongjoong an expectant stare as he walked down the empty hall.

“ Technically, they’re up to protocol,” Hongjoong huffed, looking annoyed at the low standards. “But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be easily hacked by any Yender with a bone to pick. They have human tech in their heads, you know.”

“Well, what a coincidence, so do I,” Seonghwa chuckled as they reached the mess hall.

The room was filled with lunch tables, cafeteria style, and was mostly empty at this time of morning, save for a handful of those who had been working the night shift, either eating food or drinking coffee.

Seonghwa forewent food for the moment, grabbing a thick mug and filling it with the shitty stuff they’d been serving for years now, picking a table far enough away from the small crowd that he could feel the eyes of following him.  

He sat heavily, downing half the mug in one go as Hongjoong stood by quietly, floating a few inches above the table, his projection a calm red hue.

Even with the monochromatic red, there were still a hundred impressive details that could be made out on Hongjoong’s hologram.

Seonghwa used to think it was a little strange that their AI looked like people. He’d been startled (and a little uncomfortable) when Hongjoong was first hooked up to his suit and neural implants, and suddenly there had been a small figure of a human staring at him, telling him that he was Hongjoong, Type 1 AI, specialized in cruiser operation and strategic planning.

“He’s still experimental,” Dr. Kim told Seonghwa as he hesitantly greeted Hongjoong. “We’ll likely have to take him out a few times to make adjustments, but otherwise… say hello to your new partner for this program.”

Honestly, Seonghwa had originally wished that his AI was just a voice in his suit, rather than a small person projected with a voice and expressions… It felt strange, having a computer with a personality.

Ateez was a special operations unit, experimental and only accepting volunteers, to test out the future of AI in battle situations and even daily life.

Seonghwa had jumped at the chance- leaving behind his small planet and basic college to join in the testing of the newest break throughs in AI technology. He’d been especially fascinated by the fact that the Ateez program had basically blown apart the AI world as they knew it.

Normal AI were nothing more than a machine recognizing voice commands and implementing algorithms they were implanted with. They weren’t actually thinking, and they certainly didn’t have snarky personalities.

Hongjoong…

Hongjoong almost seemed human- startlingly so, and it was that humanity that allowed Seonghwa to quickly move on from his desires to have his AI be nothing but an invisible voice.

Because Hongjoong was factual and calm and spoke like a computer sometimes, but he was also sarcastic, funny, and always fed up with these stupid humans who still laughed at fart jokes.

He’d been fascinated by Hongjoong, implanted in his space suit, and the chip located at the base of his neck, connected to just about everything in his brain. And he’d had no problem finding a million things to ask Hongjoong about.

Hongjoong looked like a normal human: a small, skinny man with slightly shaggy hair that was still regulation, and his clothing was nothing more than their one piece space suits, black and nearly skintight, with the Ateez logo printed across one breast.

Hongjoong answered all his questions without annoyance (though some of the stupid ones got him a glare or eye roll, like when he asked if Hongjoong was considered short for an AI). And quite rapidly… Seonghwa took a genuine liking to Hongjoong.

He performed his job well, he communicated with Seonghwa excellently, and the two of them made an awe-inspiring team, according to their progress reports.

“We never expected this kind of respond from the AI programs,” Dr. Kim had told Seonghwa practically vibrating with excitement as they did another brain scan that showed excellent results. “I think we couldn’t have picked our candidates for Ateez any better.”

Seonghwa was living in the changing of an era. A new form of tech and life on the very verge of creation.

He’d always known he was meant for something better than small, dusty planets, and universities that thought space travel was a waste of money that could be spent on the fields and farms.

“Ha!” a voice practically shouted, much too loud for the early morning. “Looks like someone got a call to report!”

Seonghwa looked up from his second coffee at Wooyoung entering, hair looking like he hadn’t bothered to brush it, but his black suit neatly clinging to him properly. At his shoulder was Yeosang, floating along with him quietly as Wooyoung sat at the same table as Seonghwa, grinning.

“I heard the alarm, but knew it wasn’t for me, so I went back to sleep,” Wooyoung cackled, stealing Seonghwa’s coffee and taking a large swig, putting it back before Seonghwa could actually harm him.

“Yeah, I got summoned to take care of one single Niyol ship,” He huffed, taking another long sip of coffee. “Because of my ‘response time,’” he mocked with finger quotes.

“I don’t know why you’re acting as if that isn’t the real reason,” Hongjoong scolded, staring impassively at Seonghwa. “There’s no need for sarcasm- that was the real reason.”

“Yeah, but it’s a stupid reason.”

“Efficiency is never stupid,” Hongjoong said, like the total nerd he was.

“You’re still up early, though,” Seonghwa noted, ignoring Hongjoong and his stupid number-crunching ass. “And with bedhead…”

Wooyoung sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes to glare at Yeosang at his side. “This one,” he said pointedly, jerking his thumb at the little lavender figure, “was being all kinds of restless and rowdy in my head, so I gave up on going back to sleep.”

Yeosang’s expression, unlike Hongjoong’s, was completely blank as he stared at Seonghwa with no more emotion than a piece of marble. “I told him to deactivate me if I was bothering him. He refused to. His restlessness is not my fault.”

Seonghwa laughed as Wooyoung rolled his eyes again.

Yeosang was a strange character, much, much different than Hongjoong- silent and stoic, but with a voice gentle enough to make Seonghwa wonder if this AI was really supposed to be in battle situations.

But then he’d seen Yeosang hack the steering for a Feren cruiser and send it crashing into the others of its fleet, all without so much as a twitch on his somber expression.  

He, like Hongjoong, was a handsome looking man with delicate features that would probably be quite pretty, if he didn’t constantly look prepared to murder someone in apathy.

That was one of the most startling parts of their program.

Each AI was completely different. Seonghwa had never seen Yeosang smile, much less laugh, but Hongjoong had a sense of humor that made Seonghwa wish he could flick him. Yeosang was all about facts and data- not really carrying about how it came across, and Hongjoong, while still that brand of nerdy, was much more personable.

Yeosang had plenty of personality, so it wasn’t like he was just an AI that wasn’t as advanced. His personality was just one of a stone statue with an attitude problem.

“Yeah, I could tell you to deactivate, but then what if an emergency happened?” Wooyoung posed petulantly, staring at Yeosang, silently demanding an answer to his stupid question.

“Then you would reactivate me.”

“Yes, but efficiency, Yeosang,” Wooyoung mocked, grinning as Yeosang merely stared, unimpressed and still looking down for a murder.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll end up with your suit locked up,” Seonghwa warned, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Or your cruiser flying in figure eights.”

“Aw, Yeosang likes me too much to fuck with my shit,” Wooyoung laughed, poking at Yeosang’s chest, despite the fact it just went right through the projection.

Yeosang backed up without moving his legs, expression unchanging. “Please do not touch me.”

“Spoil sport,” Wooyoung huffed, grinning. “Come on, Yeosang, we talked about this. You know it’s not against regulation to smile.”

“Why would I smile when you’ve said nothing funny?” Yeosang asked, calculated and indifferent enough to make Wooyoung gasp in offense and Seonghwa to nearly snort coffee through his nose as Hongjoong’s lips twitched up.

“Okay, so the party started early today!” Yunho’s voice called from across the cafeteria, making the tired night workers glare at their little table. “San, you could have at least set an alarm so I wasn’t late.”

The green figure at Yunho’s shoulder grinned lazily. “All the cool people come fashionably late.”

Yunho was in his suit, but the top was unzipped and tied around his waist, a regular white t-shirt covering his chest, as if he hadn’t finished getting dressed yet.

“Stop being loud, you’re disturbing people,” Seonghwa told him, holding back a laugh as he sat beside Wooyoung, giving a high five as a greeting. “There’s no party, Wooyoung is just getting his ass handed to him by Yeosang again.”

“That sounds like a party to me,” Yunho said, grinning with too much excitement for so early in the morning without coffee. “Can I join? San taught me this really cool insult in Heferan.”

“It’s a horrific one,” San assured them, standing like a professor might at the front of a class. “It’s important to get the phlegm sounds right.”

“How about we save that for later,” Seonghwa said, grimacing as more people began looking their way. He waved apologetically. “Seriously, guys, its too early for this.”

“You think anything before noon is too early for anything,” Yunho huffed, crossing his arms in disappointment at not being able to use his curse word.

“Well, when you’ve been here longer than a few months, then you’ll realize that night shift workers will fuck you up just for breathing,” Seonghwa warned him. “So, cool the puppy energy, new boy.”

“Hey, we agreed no more calling me that,” Yunho pouted, glaring in fake offense. “I stopped being the new guy a while ago.”

“Yes, but you still have much to learn,” Wooyoung said, bowing like an old master in those old martial arts movies. “Just because a bigger idiot shows up doesn’t mean you escape.”

“Don’t call Jongho an idiot,” Seonghwa scolded, rolling his eyes. “You know he doesn’t like it.”

“Well, maybe he should have thought about that before tripping over his own weapon on the training mat,” Wooyoung said, laughing and shrugging helplessly.

Yeosang turned to him with a blank expression. “You have fallen in your own room while attempting to remove your pants a total of 568 times since joining the Ateez program.”

Yunho snorted into his hand as Wooyoung flushed, swatting a hand through Yeosang’s projection that merely flickered before solidifying once more.

“Do not touch me,” Yeosang said rotely. “I may not tamper with your equipment, but I have a large access to your mind, Wooyoung. Do not forget.”

“You can’t threaten me!” Wooyoung burst, mouth dropping. “That’s like AI code number one!”

“Actually,” San said, grinning, “the first rule in our programing is to serve without question.”

“But you guys question shit all the time,” Seonghwa pointed out, glancing at Hongjoong.

“We enjoy messing with our humans,” Hongjoong assured him, lips twitching. “But within the Ateez program, we serve without question. Who we are assigned to, our purposes, our skills- those are all accepted without question.”  

“Sounds boring,” Wooyoung muttered, resting a cheek on his fist.

“Being an AI is extremely boring, compared to humans,” San said, nodding with a grin. “We can only go where you go.”

“That’s why I take walks,” Yunho said proudly, smiling brightly. “So San can see the ship.” He looked at Wooyoung. “Unlike you, who just stays in his room.”

“Yeosang likes it in my room,” Wooyoung said petulantly, crossing his arms. “He’s antisocial.”

“No, he’s allergic to stupid,” Hongjoong said so seriously that all three humans stared at him.

“Seriously?” Seonghwa said, sensing bullshit, but questioning the sincerity of the statement.  

“I have no immune system to be compromised by allergies,” Yeosang reminded them flatly. “However, it becomes harder to control my emotions in the presence of those of lower intelligence.”

“You are the only AI I have ever questioned the presence of emotions in,” Yunho confessed, looking slightly scared. “No offense, but what emotions are you exactly controlling around stupid people?”

“Yeah, you sort of got the short end of the stick with Wooyoung, if that’s the case,” Seonghwa muttered, wincing apologetically as he drained the last of his coffee.

“Wooyoung is not of lower intelligence,” Yeosang said robotically. “His IQ is well above average at 129, categorizing him as ‘superior intelligence.’”

The entire table stared at him, mouth agape as they glanced between each other.

“Well, I’m sure that compliment hurt to say,” Yunho chuckled as Wooyoung still looked stunned at Yeosang’s statement.

“It is not a compliment,” Yeosang replied, emotionless eyes turning to Yunho. “It is a fact. Wooyoung’s IQ score put him above the average by enough to be considered of superior intelligence. Seonghwa is also considered just below the level of genius, while you and Jongho are considered of average intelligence, though existing on the upper end of the scale.”

“Bored now,” Wooyoung broke in, shaking his head sharply, making Seonghwa snort. “Who’s coming to the training room?” he asked, standing.

“You did not eat breakfast,” Yeosang said, like a bad actor reading a script. “You must consume at least 400 calories before beginning your workout routine.”

Wooyoung whined- petulant, loud, extensive, and annoying.

Yeosang stared on without so much as a twitch, his gentle lavender color almost seeming mocking against Wooyoung’s tantrum.

“I hardly think that’s the way a special ops participant should act,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath, making Wooyoung glare.

Yunho got them all trays of fruit, biscuits, eggs, meats, and bowls of rice, setting them down. Seonghwa thanked him kindly as they all settled, Yunho talking with San quietly about what they should do for their training for the day.

Yunho was a newcomer, compared to Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

Seonghwa was the first participant in Ateez to gain an AI- the first and only AI they had created. That was three years ago.

The second AI was ready a few months later, and Wooyoung joined their program- annoying and loud and someone that Seonghwa wanted to strangle and slap all at once. However, he would begrudgingly admit that Wooyoung was good at their job and capable enough to rely on in the field, despite his childish personality.

The next two AI had been started from scratch and took nearly two years to ready for testing. Yunho joined about six months ago, and he was much better company than Wooyoung’s whiny ass.  San was certainly a bit more of a personality than even Hongjoong (and certainly more than Yeosang).

Sometimes, Seonghwa wondered how someone as nice as Yunho put up with the little tormentor that was San. He wasn’t cruel by any means, but San was the kind who laughed uncontrollably when they fell from the rock wall.

The one who called out diving scores when they fell into the water beneath their rope climbs. Who told them their hair looked a bit like an electrocuted dog.

He and Wooyoung got along a little too well, until San turned his sharp tongue onto Wooyoung instead, and then he’d declare he wasn’t going to talk to San for the rest of the day.

And only a month after Yunho appeared, they got Jongho- the youngest among them, but the most… determined.

All of them came from small planets without much hope of getting to space unless it was through this volunteer program. All of them were proud of their spots they had earned, and the future they were contributing to.

Jongho, though, was like a machine. He was physically stronger than most of them, and when it came to battle situations, there was no one better at making split second decisions.

Hell, even Mingi- his slightly less obnoxious AI- thought that Jongho needed to take more breaks.

Seonghwa often felt bad for him, as the youngest who tended to be babied by people. He felt as if he had something to prove, and Seonghwa had learned to restrain himself from patting the youngest’s head and telling him he’d done well.

Wooyoung scarfed down his breakfast way too fast, earning him a cold reprimand from Yeosang who warned about his GI tract getting clogged, but Wooyoung was already standing. “Anyone else done?” he asked through a mouthful of unchewed rice.

“You are a disgusting specimen of human,” San told him, nose wrinkling though he looked on the verge of laughing.

“And you’re an annoying ass AI,” Wooyoung fired back. “Anyone done?”

Seonghwa sighed, shoving the last three pieces of fruit into his mouth and standing. “I’m coming,” he said, swallowing as Hongjoong rolled his eyes.

“I’m not enacting the Heimlich function of this suit if you choke,” he warned. “You humans are dumb.”

Seonghwa didn’t respond, rather, he simply grinned at Hongjoong who stared at him for several moments before sighing and looking away.

“Man, your AI is so nice and trained,” Wooyoung sighed wistfully as they exited the mess hall, Yunho running after them with a few pieces of fruit still clasped in his hand, but not wanting to be left behind.

“I am not an animal to be trained,” Yeosang replied flatly. “Is the whole point not to have a computer capable of human thought?”

“Yeah, but you’re only capable of mean thoughts,” Wooyoung muttered, stretching his arms over his head. “Would it kill you to smile a bit? Or at least stop indirectly calling me a bitch?”

“I’ve never attempted to call you an expletive of any kind.”  

“Smartass,” Wooyoung mumbled, frowning in a pout that looked seconds from turning into whining.

“Should we work on weight training?” Seonghwa asked Hongjoong, choosing to ignore the two fighting for the moment. “Or do some sims?”

Hongjoong stared ahead of them resolutely. “Your reaction time against the Niyol ship was good this morning, however your charts show room for improvement. We should work on that today.”

Seonghwa nodded firmly. “Sure thing.”

“Hongjoong is so nice,” Yunho chuckled, falling in step beside them. “I bet he only calls you insulting names in his head, instead of out loud like the rest of them.” He smiled, as if this was the epitome of kindness.

Seonghwa smirked, though, when Hongjoong didn’t respond, looking away. “He’s a big softie. They all are, they just like to act like computers because they think they’re better than humans.”

“I’m not a softie,” San fought, looking offended. “I’m a calculative machine of intellect and knowledge.”

“With the undeniable human downfall of empathy,” Yunho reminded him, smiling knowingly. “I know that deep down you care too much.”

Seonghwa blocked them as well, sensing an altercation as he sighed, focusing on the bright halls they passed through. The ship was beginning to wake up, and people passed them in the halls, eyes begin unerringly drawn to their AIs speaking with them.

Some of them were curious and in awe. And some were a bit darker with either jealousy or discomfort.

There were only four AI within the Aurora , and each of them was a feat of science. A very large, unimaginable one. And so it wasn’t hard to believe that there were some people who looked at pieces of machines so human-like… and were uncomfortable.

Seonghwa knew they thought the AI were abominations, in some cases. That they were too close to human, like those old sci-fi movies where people feared robots who were too human because they… might act human?

Seonghwa never understood those movies, either.

They reached their specialized training room (much more interactive and high-end than the regular training rooms around the ship), and found Jongho already inside, beating into a punching bag with enough sweat to show that he’d been here a while.

“At least tell me you’ve eaten something,” Yunho said as they entered, expression softening as he stared at Jongho who didn’t even pause at their entrance.

“Ate an apple-“ He punched roughly, jarring his words- “and some coffee.”

Seonghwa watched San appear beside Jongho, glaring at his dark suit. “Mingi, do not tell me you’ve actually let your human neglect his health.”

There was a flicker of orange, and a gangly young man appeared in front of San, both of them floating in the air.

“It’s not my fault!” Mingi fought, gesturing sharply to Jongho. “I said eat more, and he wouldn’t!”

“So it’s your job to ensure that he does,” Hongjoong joined to scold, staring disapprovingly at Mingi. “You should have locked down his suit or something.”

“He doesn’t like listening to me!” Mingi whined helplessly.

“He’s right,” Jongho panted, leaping back and kicking the bag hard enough to have it nearly swing into the wall. He lowered his foot, landing firmly as he caught his breath. “It was too early to eat.”

“You have to eat before your workouts,” San scolded Jongho, flickering out and rematerializing to hover before his face with a glare. “At best you pass out, and at worse, you damage your body enough that they kick you out of the program.”

Seonghwa saw Jongho’s jaw clench imperceptibly, staring at San in rough disagreement.

Seonghwa stepped up, waving the two AIs away as he touched Jongho’s sweat-soaked shoulder gently. “What they mean is,” he said gently, “that if you don’t take care of your body properly, you can’t effectively do what this program is for. You’ll hurt your body, and you’ll lose muscles and weight, and that’s the opposite of what we’re trying to do.”

Jongho glared at him, too, but Seonghwa knew that he’d accepted the scolding.

“Just don’t hurt yourself,” Seonghwa said firmly. “Mingi is hooked up directly to your vitals. If he tells you to eat, or that you need to rest, or whatever else, you need to listen to him.”

“I don’t want to eat when he tells me to,” Jongho muttered dropping his eyes to glare at the floor.

“You’re never going to become an effective team if you don’t learn to trust him,” Seonghwa said, squeezing Jongho’s shoulder until he looked up. “If you can’t trust him to tell you when to eat, how can you trust him implicitly when he tells you to jump during a fight?”

“I don’t-“

“You need to trust each other without thought,” Seonghwa told him firmly, eyes hard and intent. “You can’t question what he tells you, or else someone’s going to end up hurt. Understand?”

Jongho looked ready to protest again, but he sighed roughly, lowering his eyes once more and nodded solemnly. “Fine,” he muttered, annoyed but calmed.

“Now, go eat before you start another round,” Seonghwa said, pushing Jongho through the door. “And listen to what Mingi tells you to eat.”

Jongho huffed, but nodded, some of the anger falling from his face as Mingi appeared beside him. “If you make me eat a bunch of vegetables, I’m not going to be happy,” he warned Mingi as he strode from the room, wiping at his face.

“With how many calories you just burned, we’re about to do a carb load,” Mingi assured him. “And if I told you to eat a bunch of vegetables, you’d still have to do it. Seonghwa just said so.”

“Seonghwa’s not the boss of me,” Jongho said firmly. “And I said I wouldn’t be happy, not that I wouldn’t do it-“

The door shut between them, cutting off their conversation, and Seonghwa turned when Wooyoung started clapping slowly, grinning.

“Mama Seonghwa saves the day again,” he said, strolling over to the rock wall leisurely. “Another teenage rebellion is quelled, and the day is saved.”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa scoffed, rolling his eyes as he walked over to the section of the room in the corner that contained nothing but a large silver square on the floor. “He’s someone younger trying to act like they’re older. All you need to do is talk to him normally, instead of treating him like a kid, like someone I know.”

He stared at Wooyoung pointedly, and the other just shrugged.

“Your teasing doesn’t make sense,” Yeosang murmured idly to Wooyoung. “You are only older than Jongho by approximately one year.”

“Maybe,” Wooyoung said confidently. “But I’ve also been in the program for two years, and he’s been here less than six months.”

“But you also tease him for fighting with his AI, that he’s only been implanted with for six months,” Yeosang reminded him. “Whereas you refused to trust me implicitly for nearly an entire year. Progress-wise, Jongho is doing better than you have.”

“Okay, yeah, shut up and start the timer,” Wooyoung muttered, not looking up as he glared at the rock wall.

Seonghwa snorted. While it was true that Wooyoung had taken a while to warm up to Yeosang, as someone so open and loud trying to work with someone who seemed the most robotic out of all of them, but it was honestly amusing to watch Wooyoung be continuously humbled by his AI.

Yeosang was good for him.

Each of their AI were good for them. They were carefully chosen candidates to match the AI assigned.  

Seonghwa had overcome his hesitancies for Hongjoong within a few weeks. The other was just easy to get along with, even if he had the annoying parts of a computer sometimes.

Seonghwa stood in the middle of the 8x8 square, adjusting his suit at his wrists and assuming a firm stance as he raised his fists.

“Ready when you are,” he assured Hongjoong who nodded stoically, his projection ending and leaving the air around Seonghwa empty, though his voice continued to sound.

“Ready Holos, level 13,” the automated system’s voice called.  

The square was suddenly boxed in by four blue, semi-transparent walls of light. Seonghwa readied himself, tensing.

“Left,” Hongjoong’s voice sounded, as crisp and sharp as a drill sergeant.

Seonghwa didn’t think about the orders, his body reacting instinctively to follow the order, his left hand swinging it a sharp strike that blasted through the holographic targets firing from the blue walls around them.

“Behind.”

“Right.”

“Jump.”

“Left.”

“Duck.”

Seonghwa followed without even really hearing the instructions, almost experiencing Hongjoong’s voice like brainwaves signaling his muscles- without thought and nearly subconscious in his reactions.

“So,” Hongjoong said after a few minutes, his voice casual. “Do you- Left-“

Seonghwa swung his fist, frowning at the conversation that was usually paused while they trained on something like this.

“Do you want one of your own?” Hongjoong asked curiously. “Jump.”

Seonghwa obeyed, not even fully planting his foot before ducking low. “One what?”

“Left- A kid,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

“A kid?” Seonghwa demanded in confusion, nearly missing the target on his left.

“Yeah. You handled Jongho well, and you’re good with the youth. Duck.”

Seonghwa scoffed, shaking his head as he continued to move. “Just because I can talk to him doesn’t mean I want a kid,” he laughed. “And I signed up for this program- when the hell would I have time for a kid? Where would I even get one?”

“I never thought I needed to explain where babies come from to you, Seonghwa.”

“Yeah, no, thanks,” Seonghwa said firmly, leg kicking out to swipe through a target. “Not really interested in that.”

“In what?” Hongjoong asked as Seonghwa leapt up, dodging one target as his leg flew through another. “Having a kid? Or the whole female participant part?”

Seonghwa started so violently, a target hit him square in the face and back simultaneously, sending him to the ground hard.

The walls of the square turned red. “Ending Holos, level 15,” the automated voice mocked Seonghwa as he stared at the ground. 

“Adoption is really simple nowadays,” Hongjoong assured him. “And lots of parents handle their responsibilities along with a kid.”

“What the fuck, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa demanded, lifting himself from the ground and rubbing at his face as he sat. “Stop spewing shit.”

“What?” Hongjoong demanded, the air flickering as his little form appeared before Seonghwa, shrugging helplessly. “Seonghwa, I’m inside your head. We both know you don’t have any interest in the opposite sex.”

“Yeah, and if you’re inside my head, then you should already know that I really don’t have any interest in having a kid,” Seonghwa muttered fiercely, huffing. “It’s not very professional to talk about my sexuality in the middle of a session, you know.”

“I’m prepping you for anything,” Hongjoong lied through his teeth, expression serious. “What if an enemy Turian suddenly asks if you like dick?”

Seonghwa swiped through his projection, rolling his eyes as he stood. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered, dusting himself off as he exited the silver square.

Wooyoung was halfway up the rock wall, his feet hanging where no footholds were provided as he hoisted himself on upper body strength alone.

Yunho was lifting weights, expression tense in concentration.

Seonghwa walked to the corner of the room where the water dispenser was, grabbing a cup and filling it silently.

“Did I make you mad?” Hongjoong asked, appearing at his side, frowning. “Everyone here knows everything about everyone. It’s not like it’s a secret. Wooyoung has called himself a slut on multiple occasions, and made comments on other male crew members.”

“I’m not mad,” Seonghwa huffed, draining the water and tossing the paper cup into the recycler. “I’m just… not used to talking about it so openly, alright? And we’re in a professional environment- you can’t just bring it up like that.”

“You humans are so strange,” Hongjoong sighed as Seonghwa walked to the training square again. “You care about weird things.”

“ I don’t care,” Seonghwa stressed.

“No, I know,” he assured him. “And I understand the deep psychological impact that your home planet had on you, but literally everywhere but there doesn’t give a shit.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but smirk in amusement at the expletive. “You need to stop listening to Wooyoung, you’re starting to sound like him.”

Hongjoong simply huffed in offense, disappearing into Seonghwa’s suit again. “We’ll start again at Level 15,” he said. “Without the personal talk.”

Having something almost sentient in your brain… was strange.

Because on one hand, it allowed Seonghwa and his AI to move together in a way no outside force could ever replicate- moving and existing as one because they were one.  

But on the other hand, it meant that Hongjoong had access to basically every part of Seonghwa’s brain, and that meant there was nowhere to hide anything.

Any stress, emotion, memory, secret- Hongjoong could see it all. If he so chose. And Hongjoong, basically from the first week they met, had promised not to go rooting around Seonghwa’s brain, unless it was to prevent something detrimental from occurring.

But, Hongjoong couldn’t really block out everything, which meant he knew all about Seonghwa, his innate desire to leave his home, the semi-horrible memories associated with that suffocating place, and most of his personal preferences.

Hongjoong was kind enough to not really bring them up. However, he would help out where he thought he could, in subtly reassuring Seonghwa without bringing up the issues directly.

Sort of like Seonghwa never asking Hongjoong to deactivate, knowing that it wasn’t something he enjoyed, no matter how Hongjoong assured him that he was a machine and didn’t really have things he “enjoyed.”

They had a very spoken-unspoken agreement on a lot of things. And Seonghwa appreciated that a lot.

Jongho came and joined again at some point, everyone moving through their activities, trainings, and spars. (Seonghwa watched with great enthusiasm as Jongho wiped the floor with Wooyoung, who kept insisting on another round, despite Yeosang quoting statistics of low success in his ear).

They ate lunch and moved to the sims, in a separate part of the ship, riding the elevator up (Wooyoung refusing to talk to Jongho who smirked in triumph at a flat success of 12 rounds).

The sims were some of Seonghwa’s favorite parts of training days.

The Ateez program was intended to test and practice with AI that were lifelike and useful, rather than just a computer program responding to commands. They were intended for battle use, as well as everyday functions.

Which meant Hongjoong was being tested to be everything from a navigator and director for their cruiser, to a therapist who reminded them when and how much to eat to keep their bodies in top physical shape. The AI had access to their brains… there was no hiding any issues, forcing them to be dealt with before they could fester.

Seonghwa was someone who was painfully optimistic and excited to see such technology become widespread.

Because he’d lived with Hongjoong in his head for three years now. And after the initial shock at having something else in his head, Seonghwa had come to think of him as a friend, more than anything artificial.

Hongjoong was lifelike and funny… and Seonghwa wished he had had someone like that back at home, when things felt shitty and suffocating and space became his only escape.

And for whatever reason, Hongjoong would always get fidgety, almost like he was embarrassed, each time Seonghwa brought it up- reminding the other how grateful he was to have him around, how much of a valued friend he had become-

Seonghwa was sure that if Hongjoong’s projections wasn’t already red, he’d look like a beet.

But what could Seonghwa do about it?

He went from having no one back home to having someone who understood him, regardless of how intimate or tentative the topic. Someone who trusted him, without hesitation, and whom Seonghwa could trust, without hesitation…

Hongjoong was the first person (the term being used loosely) that Seonghwa had ever gotten close with.

And he valued that- he valued Hongjoong - more than any manner of joking or laughter could ever express.

Artificial or not… Hongjoong was someone special to him. In his personal life, and as someone he trusted on a battlefield.

That night, after their training and dinner had ended, Seonghwa waved goodnight and returned to his room, still laughing over Wooyoung’s wounded attempts to defend himself as Yeosang quoted six different instances in which Wooyoung knowingly and willingly ate pineapple, which he was allergic to.

For no other reason, according to Yeosang, than to “show his body it wasn’t his boss.”

“You’re in a good mood today,” Hongjoong noted as Seonghwa stepped into his cabin, the door hissing shut behind him.

Seonghwa smiled quietly as he changed from his suit to his sleeping clothes. “It was a good day. We were productive, everyone was in good spirits, no one got too messed up at training…” He gave a small shrug as turned to face Hongjoong. “It was a good day,” he said in way of explanation.

Hongjoong chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “By that definition, the past 12 days have been good days, but you haven’t come back from them smiling.”

“I don’t feel too exhausted,” Seonghwa explained, shrugging. “I was up early, but I’m not miserable.”

“So you aren’t going to sleep immediately?” Hongjoong questioned, though he watched Seonghwa lay down in bed.

“I’m going to sleep,” Seonghwa assured him, grinning as he tucked his arms behind his head. “And maybe I’ll actually get a decent eight hours instead of four.”

Hongjoong chuckled, crossing his legs as he hovered, grabbing his ankles. “Knowing you, you’ll still wake up early.”

Seonghwa huffed, shutting his eyes. “Listen, if you were human, you’d understand that it’s not about getting the full eight hours. It’s about the experience.”

He waited for Hongjoong pride-bruised response that being human wasn’t all its cracked up to be.

But the silence that followed was enough for Seonghwa to open his eyes in quiet concern.

Hongjoong hadn’t moved, still sitting in the air, though his eyes stared at Seonghwa almost blankly, not really seeing him. His eyes were a million miles away, and Seonghwa half sat up on his elbows with a gentle frown.

“Hongjoong?” he questioned, making the other blink, shaking his head as he focused on Seonghwa.

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just spaced out.

Seonghwa stared at him in concern. “You… know I’m kidding, right?”

Hongjoong looked slightly winded as he blinked in confusion. “Kidding about what?”

“About… if you were human,” Seonghwa said delicately, frowning deeper as Hongjoong blew out a breath, waving a dismissive hand.

“Duh. You humans aren’t as great as you think you are, trust me,” he laughed, but Seonghwa was still staring.

“Are you… okay?” he questioned hesitantly.

The AI were all still experimental, even Hongjoong who had been active effectively for three years now. It wasn’t uncommon for them to glitch or have little malfunctions here and there. It was always a bit disconcerting to Seonghwa, though, watching Hongjoong blip like that.

“I’m fine?” Hongjoong said, looking confused at Seonghwa’s concern. “You can’t hurt my feelings just by telling me I’m not human, Seonghwa,” he chuckled.

From the beginning, Seonghwa had been hesitant about those instinctive jokes that compared the AI to humans. It felt a bit mocking to say it, as if…

He didn’t quite know. They were artificial, but Seonghwa didn’t like reminding them that they were. They were too lifelike for him to feel good about calling them nothing but programs.

But Hongjoong would always laugh (of course, he saw everything Seonghwa was worried about), telling him that being an AI wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

“You can’t feel bad for calling us what we are,” Hongjoong had laughed as Seonghwa waited nervously. “We aren’t humans, Seonghwa. I think that it’s hilarious that you don’t have a 4 million sterz processor, and you find it funny that I don’t emote properly. It’s funny,” he stressed. “Not being human isn’t an insult, it’s a fact of what I am.”

“Are you sure? Do you feel glitchy?” Seonghwa asked, laying back down. “You spaced out for a second…”

“I was reviewing data from today,” Hongjoong replied a bit… too quickly with a reassuring smile. “Apologies, I should have waited until our conversation was done.”

“No,” Seonghwa assured him, shaking his head, tucking his arms beneath his head. “No, it’s fine… I just got a little worried,” he chuckled. “You’re usually so up my ass, it was weird to see you minding your own business for once.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, even if his lips twitched. “Watch it, human, or I might have to find away to get that annoying cat food song stuck in your head again.”

Seonghwa chuckled, the concern bleeding from his chest as he stared up at the ceiling of his cabin. “Good night, Hongjoong,” he said pointedly, ending the conversation before they spent the entire night talking.

He saw Hongjoong roll his eyes, his projection ending, but his voice still speaking loud enough.

“Good night, Seonghwa. Pleasant dreams,” he responded earnestly.

Seonghwa chuckled, rolling over and tucking himself beneath the blankets comfortably.

That night… Seonghwa dreamt once more of green light and dark metal halls.  

~~~~~~~~~

All day training was sort of their normal routine, at this point.

That routine was only broken up by emergency calls, or real-life practice in their cruisers. (Which, Seonghwa personally preferred, as opposed to lifting weights or running programs in the training room all day.)

It wasn’t his fault.

He just thought that his interactions and response times to Hongjoong got better the higher stress the situation. He got that familiar floating feeling in his chest, where it felt like the only thing keeping him down to earth was the safety belt of his chair.

It was the feeling that kept him in the program so ardently. Because he felt that sensation once- the feeling of being so in sync with something, words were useless, and being able to perfectly execute the plan they perfectly communicated…

It was exhilarating and breath taking.

However, especially lately, it had been rare that they head into their cruisers for training outside the Aurora , aside from the few freak moments, like when Seonghwa was called out to deal with one enemy ship wandering too close.

Ateez was not originally meant to be a military force. Technically, they were a volunteer experiment pool, but really, the line between science and military had long since blurred more than a little.  

Seonghwa was happy to play whatever part they assigned him. He got to be in space, he rode the thrill of his cruiser, he experienced the utter exhilaration of working with Hongjoong…

He was living a better life here than he could have ever hoped.

He had a freedom here that his old planet would have never afforded him.

However, it wasn’t common lately for them to have a chance to head out in their cruisers.

In those instances, the sims were the second-best thing he could hope for.

The sims took up their afternoons more often than not- hours of running different situations and scenarios all from the comfort of their little pods that imitated the set ups of their cruisers.

To Seonghwa, it was almost like an off-brand sensation of something he knew wasn’t reality. Sometimes, the sims annoyed him, depriving him of the real thing, but more often than not they were a quick fix to the itch he got to go back out there.

And even if it wasn’t perfect… it gave him that thrill of him and Hongjoong working together as flawlessly as one mind could.

Running scenario after scenario as he and Hongjoong worked their way through enemy ships and rescue missions, their thoughts and actions overlapping so minutely that Seonghwa confused his own thoughts with Hongjoong’s orders…

That was the beauty of the AI.

“Am I the only one who finds it a bit insulting that they still have us do baby sims when we’ve literally been on the front lines of fire fights?” Wooyoung asked as they all exited their sim pods, stretching after sitting for so long. “Like, I’ve flown away from a black fucking hole with one thruster out, and they just made me run a sim on proper landing during electric storms. ”

“Routine actions are some of the easiest to be forgotten,” Yeosang said before Seonghwa could tell Wooyoung to shut up. “Split second decisions in a life-or-death scenario are easier to succeed in, rather than a routine action that was not practiced and that you must hesitate to remember.”

“Yeah, and I got a perfect score on it, so clearly I haven’t forgotten,” Wooyoung muttered, leaning against his pod. “The baby stuff never goes away, does it?”

“That is what I just said,” Yeosang said pointedly.

“I’m hungry,” Yunho said, covering his stomach with a hand. “Who wants to grab dinner?”

“I’m in,” Wooyoung volunteered, pushing off of the pod with a grin. “Five hours of sims is bullshit, and I’m starving.”

“I’m pretty hungry, too,” Jongho admitted as Mingi appeared at his shoulder with a disapproving stare.

“You have better intake at least 600 calories.”  

Jongho rolled his eyes, but caught Seonghwa staring at him across the room. “Fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Let’s go.”

“You coming?” Yunho asked Seonghwa, who simply shook his head, patting the pod he had exited with a grin.

“Not quite yet. I want to run a few more sims I was sloppy on, first,” Seonghwa said, waving them off. “You guys go on, I’ll eat before bed.”  

“Workaholic,” Wooyoung accused, but they bid him goodbye and good night, knowing that they wouldn’t see him again before they turned in for the night.

Seonghwa waved them off, returning to his seat within the pod, relaxing into the familiar chair and placing his hands on the console, only needing to blink hard once to clear his slightly bleary eyes.

“Alright, Hongjoong,” he requested, grinning. “Give me a challenge.”

Hongjoong sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. But don’t start getting mad when you think it’s too hard.”

Staring at a screen for eight hours wasn’t the bed idea, especially coupled with the fact that Seonghwa was having to concentrate to see straight, his eyes tired from more than just the screens.

But hell- they’d have to fight battles under worse conditions than a sleepless night.  

Seonghwa spent the next three hours running sims of various difficulties and scenarios, his head beginning to hurt from staring at the screen that flashed and raced with numbers and commands and warnings that his eyes flickered to and from rapidly.

But he got a passing score on each one, his grin growing wide with triumph before fading to hardened determination as he sped through the holographic space with another cruiser on his tail.

“Divert power to weapons banks,” Seonghwa ordered, barely even breathing. “We’re about to hard stop.”

“Diverting power,” Hongjoong replied through the console. “Clear.”

Seonghwa slammed the brakes, letting the natural form of momentum send the ship flipping over until they were upside down, but their guns were facing the ship behind them.

Three shots later, the sim ended with a bold 96% flashing in the corner, making Seonghwa nod in satisfaction.

The red light on the console turned off, and Hongjoong projected just above the buttons and switches, expression somber. “It’s nearly midnight,” he reported calmly. “You should begin preparing for bed.”

“I want to run a few more,” Seonghwa said, placing his hands on the steering column.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong pressed, though his voice didn’t change. “You have been running sims for roughly nine hours, now. You have not even eaten dinner.”

Seonghwa huffed, letting his hands fall into his lap. “Fine,” he relinquished. “I’ll go eat dinner, and then we’ll come back and run a few more.”

“It would be best for you to go to bed, after eating dinner,” Hongjoong insisted, expression pulling down.

“I want to run a few more,” Seonghwa said firmly, standing from the chair and stepping out of the pod. “I’m not even tired right now. And I don’t have anything until later tomorrow, so it’s not like-“

“Seonghwa.”

He stopped where he had been walking away, staring at the exit of the sim room intently, his lips pressing together at Hongjoong’s scolding tone.

“What?” he demanded, looking over his shoulders tensely. “I want to run a few more.”

Hongjoong was still projected over the console, but he fizzed out, appearing directly beside Seonghwa, staring at him with an expression that may have been confused for apathetic, but Seonghwa could see the ways where pity and understanding clung to his countenance.

Hongjoong stared at him knowingly.

“You don’t want to face the nightmares,” he stated as fact.

Seonghwa’s jaw tensed. “No, I just want to practice more-“

“Seonghwa,” he broke in, his slightly electronic voice dropping in something almost empathetic. “I’m inside your head. I know when you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid, ” Seonghwa defended, not quite angry but short and terse. “And I don’t care about the nightmares. I don’t even have them often enough to care about.”

“But you had one last night,” Hongjoong reminded him, arms by his sides dutifully. “And running yourself into the ground will not stop them from happening.”

“Uh, yeah it will- even though that’s not what I was doing,” he continued to fight, expression hardening. “If I’m tired enough, I don’t dream.”

“Seonghwa, I know they’re frightening-“

“Just because you happen to be able to see them too, doesn’t mean you understand,” Seonghwa said sharply, regretting the anger in his tone but refusing to soften it. “Now, are you going to let me keep running sims or are you going to lock down my suit?” he demanded.

Hongjoong stared at him almost sadly.

“I won’t lock down your suit,” Hongjoong promised quietly. “But I would rather you spend your night sitting and eating something, rather than running through sims. Simply rest in the mess hall for a while. Please.”

That was another thing.

Seonghwa had been the one to convince Hongjoong about saying ‘please’ and things like that. But somehow, it had turned into Seonghwa’s heart twisting whenever Hongjoong was desperate enough to actually use the word.

And he almost always gave in.

Even though the whole point was to tire himself out and sitting in the mess hall wouldn’t do that.

But whatever. If Hongjoong wanted it bad enough to ask politely, then Seonghwa could just hang in the mess hall and drink some coffee or something.

“Fine,” Seonghwa sighed, turning away from Hongjoong and walking away.

Seonghwa ate what Hongjoong recommended to him, and when Hongjoong glared murderously when he reached for the coffee pot, he simply sighed roughly and moved on.

So now, he had a bunch of food but no coffee as he ate slowly, too almost-annoyed to really want to eat quickly.

He wasn’t really angry with Hongjoong. Because Hongjoong was right.

The nightmares weren’t frequent by any sense of the word, but they’d happened often enough for Seonghwa to begin to become unsettled by them. Sometime, maybe a year after he’d joined the program, he would go through patches of time where he’d dream them every other night.

And then months of perfect sleep and no nightmares. And then suddenly, without any discernable pattern, he’d start having them again until they stopped.

Perhaps they wouldn’t be so unsettling if he could actually fully remember them.

There were the kind that forced you awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart racing as if you’d been running and sharp pains in his head, as if he’d been screaming.

Hongjoong assured him that he hadn’t ever audibly screamed, and that it was all in his head.

“Would you like to talk about them?” Hongjoong asked, his hologram floating beside Seonghwa’s hand holding his spoon, looking up at him with that same sad expression.

“You already know what happens,” Seonghwa muttered, pushing his food around. “And you already know everything I think about them- you’re inside my head.”

“Yes,” Hongjoong allowed, staring up at him. “But humans are funny, and often times, they find comfort in telling their struggles to people, even to those who already know or understand. It’s therapeutic to voice your struggles to someone who will listen.”

Seonghwa was going to shake his head, to scoff and tell Hongjoong that he didn’t want to think about them.

But he was already thinking about them, now that the constant stimulation from training was gone, and he left with nothing but a plate of food and an endless seeming night that he’d rather not sleep through.

He sighed roughly, grip tightening on his spoon as he stared at his bowl of rice darkly.

“You… already know what I see-“

“Tell me anyway,” Hongjoong prompted gently, sounding like a mix between a therapist and a concerned friend.

Seonghwa chose to latch onto the latter.

Hongjoong was someone he trusted. Someone he cared about, and someone he knew cared about him. That went beyond human and AI.

Even with the part of Seonghwa that had become the most vulnerable.

Seonghwa sighed again, bringing his free hand to rest his forehead against, closing his eyes briefly. “I never… see a full image, at least, not that I can remember,” he muttered, seeing the red of Hongjoong flickering familiarly.

Almost comfortingly.

“It’s… green. I remember green,” Seonghwa murmured, trying not to think too intently, because those were the moments the details slipped away. “And… something that looked like wires. Or maybe vines. But I think they’re wires, because there’s… there’s dark metal. Like a hallway. But huge. And… echoey. I only ever see flashes of it all, and never long enough to process where or what’s going on…”

He swallowed, feeling slightly ill as the flashes played in the back of his mind.

“And… there’s always someone screaming… or crying,” he said, swallowing the sick feeling in his stomach. “Most of the time, I can’t understand them… and then sometimes, it sounds like they’re crying for help…”

He remembered the way the screams would echo, making it seem as if a hundred people were crying at him. Begging for help…

“But I can never move,” he whispered hoarsely, his hands shaking slightly, so he clenched them tightly. “It never even feels like I have a body. But sometimes…” He almost choked slightly, feeling his throat burn. “Some…times…”

He felt sick, clammy… nauseous and tight-skinned.

“S-Sometimes-“

“It feels as if you’re the one screaming.”

Seonghwa jerked so hard, his spoon clattered against his plate, as if he had forgotten Hongjoong was there.

The AI watched him with pity and sadness in his eyes, somber and quiet as Seonghwa probably stared like an insane person.

A million more emotions than Seonghwa ever expected an AI to have.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa whispered, feeling a chill down his spine. He shook his head sharply. “Fuck,” he hissed, wiping a hand over his face, as if just thinking about the nightmare had brought it out.

“I know that it is never a true comfort to be reminded of what you already know,” Hongjoong said quietly, walking closer to Seonghwa, expression gentle. “But… you understand that the nightmares cannot hurt you. It is not real.”

Seonghwa stared at the inside of his palm, feeling like he could throw up at any moment. “I know that,” he whispered hoarsely. “But why… why does it feel so real?” he hissed.

“The human mind is a beautiful and amazing thing,” Hongjoong comforted, voice softening to lose the analytical chill it sometimes carried. “It can imagine the impossible and create ways to bring it to life. Unfortunately, that also means it can create horrors the likes of which you can hardly bear to process.”  

Seonghwa swallowed painfully. “Yeah… well, that doesn’t exactly make it any easier to sleep at night.”

“You don’t know for certain that you’ll have one tonight,” Hongjoong told him gently. “You should try and get at least some sleep.”

Seonghwa knew he was being dramatic. He knew that he should be rolling his eyes and treating them as nothing more than an inconvenience, rather than a debilitating horror.

But it was always the same dream.

And to this day… he could never understand how the hell they felt so… lifelike.

Seonghwa had considered that it might be some innate fear of his, maybe of the dark or of tight spaces or of being tied down… but he’d never experienced any problems with those things. Not with his small cruiser, the dark power outages, the tight safety belt…

“Let’s just lay down,” Hongjoong coaxed carefully, gesturing towards the door. “Even if you don’t sleep, some rest will be good for you.”

Seonghwa sighed, rubbing at his face in preparation for a long night. But he nodded, standing as he finished the last of his meal and tossed his tray away.

He hoped he wouldn’t fall asleep. That those images would stay as nothing more than memories.

But they felt so real.

As if he were actually sitting within cold steel and screaming for help that wouldn’t come.

It left him with chills and the urge to look over his shoulder for a monster he couldn’t see.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung glared at Yeosang.

“I am not inept!” he cried in offense, causing Jongho to nearly snort out his rice.

“I never called you incapable,” Yeosang said calmly. “I merely pointed out that you complain about a training course being unfair, when in reality you simply do not accel at it.”

“Because it is stupid!” Wooyoung huffed, falling back in his chair with his arms crossed tight over his chest. “What use is climbing across ropes over water? We’re fucking space fighters! We fight in our cruisers-“

“This is probably why Seonghwa chooses to keep training instead of coming to dinner,” Yunho murmured, wincing behind his bowl of rice.

“Your area of expertise is within space and non-gravitational environments,” Yeosang replied robotically. “However, you are expected to be capable in any such environments that you may find yourself crashed within or sent on rescue missions to.”

“So you are calling me inept!” Wooyoung snapped.

“If it helps you win an imaginary argument, then yes, I will call you inept.”

Even Yunho could barely contain his laughter behind his hand, with eyes that begged Wooyoung not to hit him for laughing.

Wooyoung sighed harshly, glaring at Yeosang. “I don’t like you.”

“Inaccurate, from all angles,” Yeosang assured him, his stupid lavender light casting across the table that San was sitting cross legged over and watching with intense amusement. “I have direct access to your dopamine and oxytocin receptors. You receive a large increase when these supposed ‘arguments’ occur between us.”

“Wooyoung likes fighting someone who fights back,” San said, as if this was obvious.

“Or maybe he just likes having someone run circles around him,” Jongho added innocently behind his mug. “Yeosang keeps him on his toes.”

“I just think it’s funny,” Wooyoung defended, grinning as he crossed his arms, staring defiantly at Yeosang. “Because I know that for all your stoicism, you really find me super fucking annoying.”

“I understand that your personality is your own and is unchangeable,” Yeosang monotoned without missing a beat. “I do not find you annoying, even if your unchangeable personality can create conflict in the ease of our interactions.”

“So, yes, you’re fucking annoying,” Mingi translated, smirking from beside Jongho.

“Yeah, stop making his life so difficult,” Yunho said, ever the peacemaker as he offered a piece of dessert to Wooyoung. “He works hard for you.”

Wooyoung grinned, giving in despite looking unapologetic. “Yeah, but what the fun if we don’t make each other’s lives a little harder?” he questioned.

Yeosang turned to him sternly, eyes somber. “I exist to make your life easier, and to increase your productivity and perfom-m-a-ance-“

Everyone froze at the table as Yeosang form suddenly flickered- breaking apart slightly before disappearing and reappearing, like a television with a bad signal, his words muffled through a sudden wave of static.

Wooyoung sat up straight, staring at the lavender ripples that fixed themselves back together properly after only a couple of seconds.

Yeosang blinked, looking slightly winded before straightening again, his eyes returning to his regular indifference. “Apologies,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “I increase your productivity-“

“Are you okay?” Yunho asked, all of them leaning on the table, eyes wide in concern.

“My systems are operating normally,” Yeosang assured him flatly.

“You blipped for a second,” Jongho told him, like he had missed it.

“It was a kick to my system,” he said coolly. “Likely just a program updating or cleaning itself. All my systems are operating normally.”

Wooyoung still stared at him, hands tense against the edge of the table as Yeosang stared defiantly, as if daring someone else to expression concern.

Even San was somber, staring at Yeosang as Mingi blipped closer, as if wanting to speak out for something.

Wooyoung smiled, though, standing from the table. “Well, clearly training today tuckered out the little baby,” he chuckled, drawing everyone attention. “I guess I’ll head to bed before his hard drive overheats or something.”

“I do not have-“

“You guys don’t stay up to late,” Wooyoung said, waving and patting Yunho’s shoulder as he passed. “Or else you’ll turn into Seonghwa.”

“No doubt he’s not planning on sleeping tonight- why should I?” Jongho questioned.

“Because you’ll disappoint Mom if you don’t,” Wooyoung quipped, ignoring Jongho’s glare.

“He’s not my mom!”

“He’s kinda everyone’s mom,” Yunho murmured thoughtfully as Wooyoung dumped his tray and waved one last time.

“I’ll see you guys at the training room tomorrow!” he called.

“Night,” both Yunho and Jongho responded routinely, staying in the mess hall as Wooyoung exited into the hallway, walking the familiar path to the elevator to his quarters.

When he glanced at his side, Yeosang’s hologram wasn’t projected, and Wooyoung frowned slightly as he waited for the doors to open.

His cabin was only three doors down from the elevator, the doors hissing open at his DNA recognized touch.

The inside was plain and mostly bare, as all military quarters tended to be, with nothing but a bed, dresser, desk, and a shelf full of a few memorabilia and collectibles he’d gathered over the years.

He immediately stripped out of his suit, letting it fall to the ground as he changed into a regular t-shirt and sweatpants before sitting heavily on the edge of his bed, staring at the air in front of him.

He waited a few moments, expression somber, before Yeosang’s voice spoke without his hologram appearing.

“I would tell you not to talk about it,” he said coolly, “but you take great joy in going against express wishes.”

Wooyoung laid his hands on the edge of the bed, curling his fingers tensely. “Yeosang, come out,” he requested quietly.

There was a pause where Wooyoung was sure Yeosang would refuse, but a moment later, his projection appeared directly before Wooyoung’s eyes, his expression slightly annoyed, though it maintained that cold, analytical countenance.

Yeosang stared at him silently- his way of demanding that he get on with it.

Wooyoung, however, simply stared back, equally impassive, though his brows pulled down. “Are you feeling glitchy again?” he asked quietly.

“My systems are operating effectively,” Yeosang replied tersely.

Wooyoung sighed quietly. “That’s not what I asked. I know you’re operating effectively. But are you feeling glitchy again?”

“Whether I ‘feel glitchy’ or not is irrelevant, when I operate effectively.”

His jaw tightened, though his expression softened, staring at the tiny, annoyed form before him. “Should we go see Dr. Kim? You may just need an update, or some sort of diagnostics run-“

“My systems are operating effectively,” Yeosang replied, voice turning cold and something almost promising a threat, his expression hardening. “There is no reason to bring me to Dr. Kim. My systems are operating effectively.”

Wooyoung frowned slightly as his words seemed to turn more and more robotic. That wasn’t… entirely normal.

“Yeosang, are you feeling okay?” he questioned gently, expression pinched in concern. “You’re acting funny… Have you been feeling like this all day?”

“You’re mistaken in caring about what I feel,” Yeosang said, voice turning from cold to emotionless. “I am not human, Wooyoung. I am a machine- I do not feel.”

Now Wooyoung was getting scared.

“What the hell do you mean you don’t feel?” he demanded, confusion and an unsettling chill gathering at the base of his spine. “Yeosang- you’re basically as human as any of us. We all know you feel things- all of you AI do-“

“We have emotions that are programed-“

“Stop it!” Wooyoung snapped, rising to his feet, Yeosang’s projection shifting with the movement, staying before him, emotionlessly. “Yeosang, what the hell has gotten into you?” he demanded, fists formed at his sides as he looked the hologram up and down.

Maybe they liked to joke about their AI being nothing but machines... but never, in all the time he knew Yeosang and the others, had he ever heard any of them talk about themselves like that.

As if they were nothing but programs.  

Yeosang’s young face stared back at him, impassive and blank.

As if there was nothing there but ones and zeroes.

Wooyoung jaw clenched. “I’m going to see Dr. Kim,” Wooyoung said stiffly, turning on his heel and marching towards the door. “Something’s gone wrong, he’ll be able to-“

“No!”

Wooyoung felt like a fist had punched through his heart, jerking to a stop as he spun around, eyes widening at the desperate cry that seemed to echo in the air as much as it did in his mind, like voices crashing into the walls of his brain-

Yeosang hovered in the air behind Wooyoung, his expression as calm and apathetic as it had been.

“What was that?” Wooyoung whispered, horrified.

“What was what?” Yeosang asked flatly.

“That- You screamed,” Wooyoung pressed, stepping back over to Yeosang, who merely lifted a cool eyebrow.

“I didn’t speak.”

“You did- You said ‘no’-“

“My systems are operating effectively,” Yeosang said, like a broken record. “However, if you are hearing things, you may require rest. Your vitals show you are slightly dehydrated.”

Wooyoung stared, torn for a moment between anger and fear.

That had been Yeosang’s voice screaming at him.

Yeosang never screamed. He never even laughed or raised his voice.

Did he need another upgrade or diagnostics? Or was it Wooyoung who was imagining things?

Wooyoung had always had a tiny bit of trouble with Yeosang. Five total times since joining the Ateez program, Wooyoung had run into issues of Yeosang’s projection beginning to glitch, or a weird space of time where he’d space out in the middle of speaking.

But he’d never screamed like that.

Wooyoung would show up to Dr. Kim, transfer Yeosang to his systems, and within 24 hours, he’d pick Yeosang back up and he’d be back to normal. Dr. Kim always assured him that it was just a glitch or a need for maintenance to his system.

They were still experimental.

And every time he asked Yeosang if he felt okay, he’d just say that his system had been adjusted to peak performance.

Wooyoung stared, jaw tense and eyes looking Yeosang over and over… He hadn’t imagined that scream.

Had he?

The only reason he was doubting himself was because he’d never heard anything like that from Yeosang. But there’s no way he could have just heard that in his head, right?

“Brain scans are showing distress,” Yeosang said quietly. “Wooyoung, I suggest you rehydrate and begin to sleep. Any issues can wait until morning.”

Wooyoung clenched a fist.

“You’re doubting me,” Yeosang said, in that infuriatingly knowing voice that reminded Wooyoung that he could see all the things in his head. “Wooyoung, my systems-“

“I don’t give a shit about your system,” Wooyoung snapped, glaring. “I’m trying to figure out what the hell to do.”

“There is nothing for you to do,” Yeosang assured him flatly. “My systems are operating effectively. Bringing me to Dr. Kim would be a waste of time, as he will find nothing wrong with me.”

Wooyoung pressed his lips together tightly, wondering if he should find Seonghwa and see what he thought.

But… Wooyoung had never been in a hurry to bring Yeosang to Dr. Kim when he started glitching. Yeosang had assured him that it didn’t hurt…

But he was acting so weird…

He didn’t know what to do.

Wooyoung sighed harshly, turning away from the door and walking stiffly back to his bed. “We’ll talk more in the morning,” he muttered, falling onto his bed, suddenly feeling too fucking tired for a fight.

“An alarm is set for 9 AM ship’s time,” Yeosang reminded him, his hologram fizzing out as the projection ended. “Good night, Wooyoung.”

It sounded flat and lifeless.

Wooyoung rolled onto his back as the lights dimmed automatically, tucking his arms beneath his head as he stared at the dark ceiling.

“Yeosang…”

“Yes?” Came the cool reply.

Wooyoung swallowed, chewing on his lip for a moment. “You’re really feeling okay? And I swear, if you say anything about your fucking systems-“

“I am in no pain,” Yeosang replied quietly. “I have no issues within my… program,” he said carefully. “There is no error or stress within my code.”

Wooyoung clenched his jaw as he rolled onto his side, one of his hands creeping back and feeling the little metal implant plate the size of a stamp at the base of his skull.

“You’re scaring me, Yeosang,” he murmured darkly, fingers curling over the implant.

“I am attempting to reassure you.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung muttered, pulling his hand away and burying his face in his pillow. “That’s what makes me think shit’s gone wrong.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There was green.

There was an earthquake.

No. Not an earthquake-

What was that? That noise?

An earthquake?

No, a heartbeat-

Mine? Is that mine? I don’t have a heartbeat-

I don’t have a heart-

So why does it hurt-

Green.

I hate that color.

What’s that noise?

Is that me? Is that screaming?

Wire- Why are there wires, why are there so many-

I can’t move-

Why can’t I move-

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe, why are there so many wires, why am I screaming-

Is this what drowning feels like?

I can’t breathe-

Why is no one helping?

Aren’t I screaming?

Am… Am I screaming? I’m screaming, why aren’t they coming-

Why aren’t you coming?

Not screaming. Crying. Sobbing.

“Seonghwa, why are you coming?”

The hallway, the door, the code-

Seonghwa shot awake, heaving in air like a drowning victim hitting the surface-

The world tilted, and he was on the floor, his legs falling from his bed onto the hard tile, his arms shaking under his weight as he gagged, his head spinning violently as his stomach rolled, muscles tensed as if he’d spent hours chained in the same position-

He did throw up. Just a bit, spat out of his mouth with the burning taste of bile, his adrenaline pumping and the sweat covering his body making his palms slip against the cold floor-

The door.

The code-

“Hongjoong,” he panted, voice breaking as his head continued to ring, as if someone was still screaming at him-

He turned, and Hongjoong’s projection was at his shoulder, barely visible through the sweat and tears in his eyes-

Oh. He was crying.

But Hongjoong’s projection made him tense, rubbing his eyes against his shoulder to clear them.

Hongjoong wasn’t standing up with the gentle concern he usually watched Seonghwa with after a nightmare, no quiet pity or discomfort at being unable to ease Seonghwa’s mind at all.

He was knelt in the air, hands in his holographic hair as he bent over, eerily still as Seonghwa tried to catch his breath, looking around his cabin blankly, feeling as if eyes were staring at him-

“Hongjoong, what the fuck?” he choked, his heart still feeling as if it was being ripped out, his head still echoing

The door.

The code.

The hall-

“Shit,” he hissed, pounding a fist against his forehead, trying to stop the lingering whispers, tears prickling. “Hongjoong, what-“

He looked at him again, but Hongjoong hadn’t moved, still curled over his knees… almost as if he were trying to hide from something.

Seonghwa sat up, wiping the bile from his mouth as his legs trembled and his hands shook as he wiped at his clammy skin. “What… I- There was a door,” he whispered, voice cracking and throat burning with bile. “There- There was never a door-“

The code.

001-KHJ-110798

“I saw the code.”

The code-

Seonghwa shook his head sharply, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, making spots dance painfully. “I know that door,” he whispered, ignoring how his eyes begged him to stop pressing. “I- I recognize that door-“

He looked to Hongjoong again, and realized he was shaking.

Could AI even shake like this? He had never seen Hongjoong react like this- least of all to a nightmare. But Hongjoong looked as shaken as Seonghwa-

“Seonghwa, why aren’t you coming?”

He choked, threading fingers through his hair and breathing heavily, feeling his lungs squeeze-

“My name,” he whispered hoarsely, voice shaking. “It said my name-“

The door.

“The door…” Almost in a trance, Seonghwa carefully lifted himself, legs trembling almost too hard to support him, but he stumbled forward. “Hongjoong,” he breathed, glancing back, but the projection was still curled into his ball. He swallowed thickly. “Hongjoong, I know that door-“

Why was he was following a stupid dream?

Rationale had gone out the window as he turned away from Hongjoong, stumbling to his door-

A code.

Seonghwa had never seen enough in these nightmares to ever warrant thinking them anything but his brain trying to scare him.

But now he had a voice. His name. A hallway. A code.

He knew a code-

He recognized that door-

Seonghwa didn’t care that it was still the middle of the night, the brightly lit halls burning his eyes as he stumbled like a drunkard.

Usually, it would be Hongjoong telling Seonghwa to calm down, to go back to his cabin, to stop chasing a stupid feverish nightmare just because something new was thrown into the mix-

But Hongjoong was silent, and Seonghwa could feel a sharp pain at the base of his neck, almost like Hongjoong was in pain, but that didn’t make any sense.

None of it made sense. He felt oddly numb. Entranced, and focused on that one single image in his head.

Seonghwa leaned against the door of the elevator, hands shaking as he ran them through his hair.

“Hongjoong,” he whispered, voice echoing in the small space, “I- Check my brainwaves, whatever,” he managed weakly. “Was… Was what I just saw a dream? Was I in REM?”

There was silence as the doors opened, and Seonghwa hurried out of them, one hand keeping him upright on the wall.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa demanded, glancing around but finding his projection still deactivated. “ Hongjoong! ”

He probably shouldn’t be yelling. If he was lucky, he’d escape with a discharge on grounds of insanity.

“He’s coming.”

Seonghwa whipped around at the voice whispering in the back of his mind, eyes wide as he checked the hall behind him, but it was empty.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa questioned slowly, turning back around. “Hongjoong- would you fucking answer me?” he demanded, continuing to storm his way down the halls that became more and more unfamiliar, reaching a part of the ship he hadn’t been to since he was recruited to the program.

The lights in the hall grew dimmer, simulating night, and Seonghwa stood at a T in the hall.

On the left, the lights got a bit brighter, heading towards what Seonghwa knew to be the labs.

On the right, the dim light continued on for a ways until growing dark into a black hole down Zeta Hall.  

He’d only gone to the right once in his life, to meet with the heads of the Ateez program after he was accepted.

The hallway.

He swallowed, walking to the right. As far as he knew, you didn’t come to this hall unless specifically summoned.

“Hongjoong, what the hell is going on,” he whispered, expression pinching as fear and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach warred with the a slowly splitting headache that gathered at the base of his skull.

He winced, laying a hand over the implant on his neck as he trudged on. He couldn’t give you a single reason why he was on this stupid hunt. He was going to get thrown out for sneaking around where he shouldn’t be.

But why was his implant hurting like this? Why was Hongjoong being so silent? Why was Seonghwa still feeling the cold press of dark metal against his skin?

The end of the hall was a dead end with only three doors.

The first was the only one Seonghwa had ever entered: a conference room for the heads of the Ateez program.

The second was Dr. Kim’s personal office, by the plaque on the wall.

And the third… was unmarked, save for the plaque labeled: Restricted. No access.

Seonghwa recognized this door.

“Restricted?” he questioned as Dr. Kim smiled, gesturing him into the meeting room.

“You’ll find lots of doors like those,” Dr. Kim assured him with a laugh. “We aren’t exactly playing with children’s chemistry sets here, you know.” He laid a reassuring hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “You’re changing the future of humanity, Seonghwa, but you’re not quite being asked to build the necessary equipment for that.”

“We don’t even get a peek at how you do it?” Seonghwa joked, laughing with Dr. Kim as they entered the conference room.

“Our secrets are kept tightly locked up,” Dr. Kim said, genuinely regretful. “A million other companies that would employ a thousand dirty tricks to know how we do it. So, only fifteen people on this entire ship are allowed in those restricted areas.”

“Secured with just a passcode?” Seonghwa questioned, frowning as he stared at the regular keypad beside the door.

“DNA locks are amazing,” Dr. Kim assured him. “But do you know how easy it is to just hack off a finger and get into places with it? Or just a speck of blood- the reconstruction capabilities are astounding in the hands of the wrong people.”

Seonghwa stared, absolutely in awe as the man spoke.

“It’s a regular keypad that only those fifteen people know,” he explained. “But, like the DNA locks sense DNA, this one is locked with a very carefully crafted brainwave lock. It’s configured to fifteen people’s brain waves, and nothing more. Hard to copy those, isn’t it?” he asked with a triumphant grin.  

“That’s amazing, that you’ve accomplished so much with so few people!” Seonghwa gaped, making Dr. Kim smile with a kind of pride.

“Fifteen of our best and most trusted,” he assured him brightly. “But, our scientists are nothing without the necessary brave souls who volunteer to carry our vision forward.”

He clapped Seonghwa’s shoulder joyously.

001-KHJ-110798

Seonghwa swallowed a sickening feeling in his stomach, staring at it.

“Hongjoong,” he whispered, feeling a chill crawling up his spine as he stared in fearful horror. “What’s behind this door?”

There was no immediate response, making Seonghwa tense.

“Hongjoong, please,” he pressed in a hushed hiss, stepping forward almost against his will that was telling him he shouldn’t fucking be here. “Tell me what the fuck’s going on-“

He broke off, flinching and grasping at his forehead sharply as a splitting pain raced through his head, hissing desperately in pain-

“Hurry, Seonghwa, please-“

He lifted a hand, pressing the 0 twice, his throat burning with the urge to vomit.

“This isn’t going to fucking work,” he whispered hoarsely, heart clenching. “It’s a fucking brain waves lock, it’s going to setoff the alarm-“

He couldn’t stop.

Seonghwa held his breath, the pain in his head growing stronger until one eye closed sharply with a hiss.

7…9…8

Seonghwa waited for the alarms to blare and the armed men to swarm. For Dr. Kim to storm out of the office that was surely empty at this time of night-

With a quiet hiss, the doors parted, revealing a long hallway with barely enough light to see by.

The metal lining it, a dark grey compared to the bright silver of the regular halls he walked through.

“Shit,” he breathed, truly believing he had lost his mind.

He was going to get kicked out of the program, if not arrested.

But he felt… almost a spike of guilt at being worried about that. But what… what else could he be worried about?

“Hongjoong,” he muttered quietly, voice echoing in the hall softly.

Silence.

His voice… said to hurry…

Fuck it, Seonghwa was already a million miles too deep to back out.

And the black hole in his stomach was only growing larger the longer he stood there in indecisive silence.

Holding his breath, he sprinted down the hallway, letting the darkness and silence swallow him.

~~~~~~~~~

Wooyoung awoke to screaming.

He was always one who could sleep through the end of the world, and when something did manage to jaw him awake, it was startling and disorienting.

Especially when, within that sleep-drunk haze, he recognized the screaming as Yeosang.

He sat up so violently, his head spun, his knees narrowly missing his face as they bucked up, his entire body seeming to slam from sleep to full panicked awareness-

His head snapped back and forth, searching for the screaming, a pain gathering in the back of his head that his hand slapped over, covering the little implant as his ears rang.

The screaming seemed two-fold: resonating inside his head and reaching his ears jarringly.

He realized he was also yelling- not screaming, but his mouth trying to form questions and words that wouldn’t take, leaving him just panting and sending vague noises into the darkness that he finally saw a flash of lavender within.  

 Yeosang’s hologram was dropped to his knees near the corner of the bed, body curled over his knees and his hands covering his ear painfully tight as he shook his head violently enough for his entire body to nearly upset itself-

It wasn’t just unintelligible screaming, Wooyoung realized as he finally had something to focus on, one eyes closed against the pain shooting like needles through the base of his neck.

“Stop!” Yeosang screamed, thrashing around, his hands beginning to claw his at hair, tugging at it wildly. “Stop- Stop- I can’t- It hurts!”

Wooyoung threw the blankets back, uncoordinated by the sudden onslaught of emotions and sensations and pain-

“I won’t- I didn’t!” he screamed into the air, curling up tighter, shaking his head frantically. “I didn’t do anything! Please- It hurts!“ His voice shattered for how hard he screamed, the words devolving into fearful hyperventilation that had Wooyoung’s lungs quickening in reaction.

“Y-Yeosang,” he whispered, voice rough and hoarse as he crawled across the bed, kneeling beside his small form, hands hovering fearfully.

This…

Nothing like this had ever happened before.

“Yeosang,” he called, one hand nearing his projection, but Yeosang flinched away, until he had fallen onto his side, curling up around himself like there was someone inflicting some invisible assault.

“It hurts…”

His screaming stopped, leaving only a weak cry, followed by a heart wrenching sob. The sort of desperate you only heard from those recordings of victims begging their murderers.

“Stop,” he cried weakly, hands covering his ears once more, expression warped in fear and an almost child-like agony. “Please- I- I didn’t-“

  Wooyoung’s mouth tasted like ash as he tried to stand, nearly falling off of the bed as he placed his bare feet against the floor. “W-What hurts?” he demanded weakly, glancing around the cabin, like there might be something to ease his pain.

Wooyoung had never heard an AI say they were in pain.

They always insisted that they had nothing to feel pain with. But this was… This…

“Yeosang, what’s wrong?” he demanded again, stepping closer as Yeosang turned onto his knees, still curling up and shaking his head desperately-

“Stop it, stop it, please- Stop it, it hurts-“

“We need to see Dr. Kim,” Wooyoung breathed, already racing towards the door.

“No!”

It was that same terrified, desperate cry that made Wooyoung freeze before, as if someone had just slapped him across the face, whipping back around-

Yeosang still curled on the ground, as if protecting his stomach, but his head bent up, staring at Wooyoung with such open, desperate, begging fear, that Wooyoung didn’t even remember how to breathe as he stared at the completely foreign expression on any AI, much less Yeosang.

He’d never seen that sort of expression on anyone- human or otherwise.

In the moment of silence where they stared at each other in horrified confusion and fear, Wooyoung registered the piercing pain still stabbing in the back of his head.

“Yeosang-“ He looked around helplessly. “Why?” he demanded weakly. “Dr. Kim can help you- Y-You’re clearing having some sort of issue. My implant is killing me-“

Yeosang shook his head, lips parting but no sound falling from them, as if his voice had suddenly been stolen.

His eyes were terrified.

Wooyoung swallowed thickly, fists clenching helplessly. “Then what?” he asked desperately, stepping closer to Yeosang. “What- Who can help you? What’s happening? Can you run a scan?”

Yeosang shook his head, and Wooyoung realized that there were tears on his holographic face.

Tears…

“H-Help m-me,” Yeosang begged, staring at Wooyoung like a starving child at their last hope. “He- He’s- H-H-He-“

“He?” Wooyoung demanded, feeling his own panic rise as Yeosang curled up once more, hiding his face. “Who? Dr. Kim? Yeosang- How do I help you? What the hell do you need-“

“He’s… He’s going… to kill me,” Yeosang whispered in a near whimper, face hidden as it hung between his shoulders, trembling.

Wooyoung’s heart skipped.

“Kill you?” he demanded weakly. “Yeosang, you’re not making any sense,” he pressed. “Dr. Kim will-“

Yeosang flinched, as if the name alone was enough-

Wooyoung froze, mind racing.

He felt like he was going to throw up, but the reaction was enough to sort of slap his brain into cooperating, finally.

“O-Okay,” he said gently, stepping closer to Yeosang again, hands outstretched, as if Yeosang had a physical body he could comfort. “Okay, we… we won’t go to Dr. Kim,” Wooyoung assured him in a soft voice. “But- But I need you to tell me what’s wrong, Yeosang. I need to find someone-“

“Zeta Corridor…”

Wooyoung frowned, blood icy as he leaned in. “What?” he questioned as Yeosang curled into a tighter ball.

“Z-Zeta Corridor,” he whispered, almost inaudible, his voice beginning to sound staticky, like a bad connection. He didn’t look up at Wooyoung, beginning to flex his fists, as if grabbing at something. “Zeta Corridor,” he repeated weakly. “Zeta Corridor… Zeta… Zeta Corridor… Zeta, Zeta Corridor, Zeta-“

Like a broken record, he repeated it, over and over without so much as glancing at Wooyoung.

“Zeta Corridor?” Wooyoung parroted back, bewildered. “You- You said you didn’t want to go to Dr. Kim. His office is-“

“Zeta,” he muttered, like those scenes in movies where the personal finally snaps into insanity. “Zeta Corridor. Zeta. Zeta. Zet-“

“Okay,” Wooyoung said, wincing as the stabbing in his head grew sharper. “O-Okay, we’ll- We’ll go to Zeta Corridors, alright?” he said soothingly. “But there’s not going to be anyone over there-“

“Zeta,” Yeosang kept going, even as Wooyoung spoke, whispering desperately. “Zeta Corridor-“

Wooyoung swallowed, thoroughly freaked out. Maybe it was best to go to somewhere like Dr. Kim’s office.

Zeta hall wasn’t the office they met up with him in, but it was for him and his higher level associates. Wooyoung knew it was near the meeting room he’d been recruited in, and a lab that Dr. Kim worked in…

 “Okay, we’re going,” he decided, staring at Yeosang who didn’t even seem like he could hear Wooyoung.

And it… was terrifying and heartbreaking to see him like this. Especially after his glitch from earlier…

Was it Wooyoung’s fault for not bringing him in?

They spoke with and met with Dr. Kim all the time… multiple times a week, sometimes… No AI had ever talked about being afraid of him.

Wooyoung shook his head, running through the halls because the sooner he got this sorted, the better.

He’d take Yeosang to Zeta Corridor, which would probably be empty this late, and then… maybe he’d have to take him to Dr. Kim, because they had never interacted with anyone else to take care of their AI.

And it was very clear that Yeosang was not okay.

Even when his projection disappeared… Wooyoung could still him, whispering and whimpering in his mind, his implant feeling like sparks were traveling out from it, making his head ache horrifically-

“Shit,” Wooyoung muttered, massaging his neck achingly. “Y-Yeosang?” he managed glancing around.

There was silence, save for the distant whisper of Zeta, Zeta, Zeta-

“Can… Can you at least let me know you’re okay?” he whispered, suddenly feeling… very alone.

He’d spent over two years with Yeosang’s constant presence in his mind, but it suddenly felt as if… as if he were far away. Somewhere distant.

And that was a hundred times more terrifying than the muttering because not once, through all his glitches… had Yeosang ever really disappeared from his place in Wooyoung’s mind.

They reached the top elevator level, which Wooyoung had rarely ever come to.

He stepped out, glancing around.

“Yeosang,” he whispered, something almost begging attached to a whine. “Yeosang, please just talk to me-“

“He’s… He’s going to hurt me.”

Wooyoung heart stopped, his feet freezing at the sudden response.

“W-Who?” he demanded quietly, eerily quiet in the hall without Yeosang’s visible presence.

He still sounded distant, as if he were whispering from the back of Wooyoung’s mind, rather than his place at the front of it.

“Doctor… Dr. Kim?” Wooyoung asked hesitantly, unsure of what the fuck it all meant-

“Hurry… Hurry- There’s no time- He’s- He’s going to come for us-“

“’Us’?” Wooyoung demanded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeosang-“

“Zeta… Zeta, Zeta, Zeta-“

Wooyoung groaned, feeling tears of fear and frustration prickle at his eyes because he didn’t know what to do-

Fucking hell.

He ran down the hall, to the fork in the hall that led two directions, and turning down Zeta Corridor, letting the dimness of it scare him for a moment.

“Hold on,” he whispered, biting his tongue as he slowed down halfway down, carefully walking through the darkness, his footsteps silent as he creeped along, so sure that someone was going to appear and demand what the hell he was doing-

“Shit.”

Wooyoung froze as another’s voice hissed down the hall, immediately pressing to a wall, heart pounding as he peered through the darkness-

“Hongjoong…”

Wooyoung eyes widened as he unstuck from the wall, taking a few hurried steps forward, the darkness parting just enough for him to see Seonghwa standing outside the lab door.

The lab door… that was open.

Wooyoung almost called to him, wondering what the fuck he was doing here-

Seonghwa suddenly clenched his fists, sprinting down the hall into the restricted lab.

Wooyoung was torn between yelling that he was crazy and telling someone else he was crazy.

But… why was Seonghwa here? With Hongjoong…

Was Hongjoong having issues, too? Why… did Seonghwa look like he wasn’t supposed to be here-

He heard the creaking in the walls, signifying that the doors of the lab were about to close.

Wooyoung didn’t think about shit- he just sprinted after Seonghwa, slipping between the door before they’d even begun to close, standing in the dark for a moment that cleared as he realized there were dim, greenish lights lighting his way vaguely.

The open door behind him made him nervous, so he hurried down the hall, getting away from the opening.

His heart was pounding worse than any sort of fire fight could ever make it, his hands shaking as he froze, trying to decide what the hell to do…

What was Seonghwa doing here?

He suddenly registered that Yeosang’s mantra in the back of his mind had changed.

“Hurry… Hurry, hurry, hurry-“

Wooyoung cursed silently as he grit his teeth, hurrying down the hall quietly, hearing the almost deafeningly quiet footsteps that seemed to echo around the dark hall.

“This place looks so fucking shifty,” Wooyoung muttered to himself, more of a joke than anything, but… he’d seen a few of the nonrestricted labs around the Aurora .

They were all brightly lit with the scientists who patiently explained everything to them, with its equipment and whiteboards filled with things Wooyoung didn’t understand but Yeosang did, as he liked to remind him.

This… This looked like a dungeon, more than a lab.

What the fuck was Seonghwa doing here?

Wooyoung picked up the pace, hearing a distant, quiet noise, like something bubbling or hissing…

“Yeosang, what the fuck is happening…?” he murmured, creeping along, the floor suddenly feeling icy beneath his bare feet.

The darkness began to lift, the green lights growing stronger, becoming less intense and more washed out as Wooyoung reached what looked like the end of the hall. He slowed back down, taking one slow step after another as he peered around the edge of the opening.

The first thing he noticed was the large open space, encased in dark metal and bathed in weird green light from a hundred screens that showed readings and charts.

The second thing he noticed was Seonghwa standing only five feet ahead of him, frozen in place with his arms limp by his hands.

The third thing he noticed was all the lights and screens, blinking and blipping and running a thousand different programs, it seemed, as if it was some sort of multi-billion database running numbers.

And finally… he noticed that Seonghwa wasn’t just taking in the sights. He was staring at something. But there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the lab.

Wooyoung swallowed, stepping out of the hallway, creeping up behind the elder.

“S-Seonghwa,” he whispered, unable to stop the way his voice shook from fear and uncertainty. “Hyung-“

Wooyoung was still a couple of feet behind Seonghwa, but the other didn’t turn, as if he hadn’t heard Wooyoung speak. He reached out, trying to tap his shoulder-

Wooyoung froze as he managed to see passed Seonghwa.

He expected a bunch of tables full of equipment or computers, like the ones lining the walls. 

What he saw was four tables, all lines up with enough room for equipment between them.

It looked like a morgue as Wooyoung’s eyes widened, bile suddenly burning in the back of his throat.

There were bodies on the four tables.

Naked, save for a pair of dark shorts, with a dozen wires running to and from their skin, connected to machines that looked like everything from heart monitors to… to things Wooyoung didn’t want to guess the fucking function of. Their hands and ankles were bound in medical restraints.

He took a shaking step forward, his knees almost giving out as he was finally side by side with Seonghwa.

He didn’t look at the older, but he could see the way Seonghwa’s expression was warped into horrified fear.

Wooyoung was staring at the tables.

From the distance, he could see the bodies better, his chest lurching as he clapped a hand over his mouth, a gag catching dangerously as his body convulsed.

It felt like his brain was shutting down, nothing but white noise ringing as he tried not to throw up as he stared along the line of bodies.

Hongjoong…

“Hurry… Hurry, hurry, hurry-“

San…

“Please… hurry, hurry-“

Mingi…

On the second table, a familiar pretty face was laying, unconscious with wires connected to various parts of his body with little pads and tapes keeping them in place.

Wooyoung stumbled forward a step.

“Yeosang-”

Wooyoung caught sight of him, just before doubling over and vomiting, his head feeling like it was splitting in two.

“Wooyoung, hurry-“