Chapter Text
Minghao is a collector.
He’s a collector of parts, of bone, of what makes a man tick. What makes a man. Minghao collects all of it. He’s an opportunist, a seeker, a finder. A hunter and a gatherer, like in the old stories. He thinks that’s what they were called, anyway. It’s been a long time since he heard the old stories.
“Jeonghan! I have a haul for you!” Minghao yells into the dark shop as he pushes his way through the front door, balancing a box in his hands. His cybernetic eye focuses a half-second before the rest of him. It’s a little strange, the lag, but Minghao is operating on OS18 and is a little behind the times. Jeonghan’s inventions only go so far. They certainly don’t reach OS25, not right now.
Jeonghan doesn’t look too happy to see Minghao when he comes to the front. “Did you pick the fucking lock again?”
Minghao grins, all sharp teeth. “You won’t give me a key.”
“For good reason,” Jeonghan says, rolling his eyes. His robotic arm squeaks with the effort of flipping Minghao off. “You’re a menace. What’d you bring me?”
“A few cogs, some sheet metal, and an arm.”
“An arm?”
“Fell off.”
Jeonghan blinks. “Do I want to ask how you know that?”
“You never do and I think that’s for the best.”
Jeonghan nods. “The arm is good. I need the nerve endings. I’ve got twenty pieces of silver for you.”
“Twenty-five.”
“It’s too late to barter.”
Minghao shakes his head. “It’s early, Jeonghan. Only 2 in the morning. Sun’s not up yet. Twenty-five or I walk.”
Jeonghan knows Minghao isn’t bluffing—Jeonghan is Minghao’s favorite, but Minghao will sell to more people than just him. At this point, Minghao is selective, sure, but he’ll walk. Wonwoo would love an arm. He kind of creeps Minghao out, but he would love an arm.
“Twenty-five,” Jeonghan sighs. He must really be tired if he’s not lowballing again. Minghao would ask, but they don’t know each other like that. “Give me the arm so I can get it on ice.”
Minghao hands over the box and Jeonghan rifles through his pockets for the twenty-five pieces of silver. Minghao counts them methodically before he nods and turns to leave.
“Any updates?” Minghao asks when he’s halfway out the door.
“Nothing,” Jeonghan says with a grimace. “I haven’t heard from him.”
They know each other well enough for this. They know each other well enough for Minghao to frown. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Have a good night, Minghao.”
Minghao slips out before he responds. He would have told Jeonghan to have a good night too if he didn’t know that Jeonghan was going to be picking nerve endings out of the arm all night. Not exactly Minghao’s ideal.
Like he said, it’s still early. There’s still time for the night to go to shit is what he really meant. He has high hopes that, coming off something like an arm, his night will go well enough. He can afford to spend five silver pieces if he’d like to get crazy, if he’d like to experience the high life. He probably won’t. He can get drunk off two silver pieces, can get high off three. Five is too many. Too luxurious for his taste.
The tavern is raucous at this hour, everyone celebrating the passage of another week with Smash and cheap Stims. Minghao has something bigger in mind that he can only get from Jihoon, who’s lazing at the bar and staring at Soonyoung. Minghao claps him on the shoulder and sits on the stool next to him.
“Speak of the devil,” Jihoon says as he side-eyes Minghao. “I was just telling Soonyoung that I hadn’t seen you in a bit.”
“I’m frugal,” Minghao says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not everyone’s an addict.”
“You’re just a highbrow one.”
“And you’re a drug pusher who can’t see the top of my head. Now what?”
Jihoon grins. “Now, I have what you’re looking for. Three silver pieces, please.”
Minghao hands them over happily. He’s got more than enough for his goals at this point, so he can take the hit.
Jihoon slips Minghao a small packet of Orchid in a skilled and practiced hand off. They have an easy flow at this point. Minghao is here often enough, frugal or not.
“Any plans for the night?” Jihoon asks pleasantly.
Minghao laughs. He wonders if his laugh actually grates on anyone else the way it grates on him. “You can guess.”
“So you’re going to jerk off to pictures of me in your head? Gross, Minghao.”
“That was only one time.”
Jihoon snorts. “Sure. I believe that. Go have fun. I’ll see you soon.”
“You say that like I’m an addict,” Minghao jokes. “See you later.”
Minghao nods at Soonyoung before he leaves, some kind of acknowledgement that they know each other and wish they didn’t. So it goes in their district, in the Night City in general. Minghao is more than used to it at this point. Soonyoung’s good enough for Minghao to not entirely pretend they’re strangers.
Minghao certainly isn’t good enough for that, but Soonyoung is nicer than he should be.
Locking the series of five front door locks behind himself, Minghao collapses onto his couch and takes the Orchid out of his pocket. He checks that the window is locked before he’s gone, gone, gone.
Minghao doesn’t fight. Not anymore, anyway. Not after his eye.
He certainly reaps the benefits of the fights though. He may not compete, may not enjoy watching it, but as he sweeps the ring for parts and pieces that have been left behind, he thinks that he’s grateful for the fights. He’s grateful that he made enough of a name for himself before he went down that he’s left to be the only one to sweep the rings, that he picks up the stray tooth or the useless prothesis that no one thought could be saved. He picks up a robotic foot tonight, nearly trashed, but Jeonghan will certainly have use for it.
He wonders, idly, who reaped the benefits of the jail fights. He wonders how much his eye went for, which buyer coughed up the change for it. It would have gone for less for how dark brown the iris was, but eyes are so complex that they go for a pretty penny. Minghao has only lucked out and picked one up once. He could have gotten such a good price for his own. It’s a shame.
As he’s walking out of the arena, Hansol stops him near the door. “Dude, did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“There’s a Synthetic on the loose.”
Minghao huffs out a laugh. “On the loose? You say that like they’re some crazy killers and not the Certain Ones’ prized show pigs.”
Hansol rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. A Synthetic escaped. Does that sound better for you?”
“Mhm. You mean they didn’t immediately find the Synth?”
“They’ve been looking for two days.”
Minghao sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s crazy. Wonder how much Synthetic parts would go for.”
“Is that all you think about?” Hansol laughs. “The price of a man?”
“That’s all there is to think about, Hansol. You got anything better?”
“Guess not. Just keep an eye out for motor oil.”
Minghao nods. “Heard that. I’ve gotta jet. See you around.”
“See you!”
Minghao makes his way to Jeonghan’s because he’s loyal, thanks. Only—
Minghao’s cybernetic eye registers the boy a half-second before the rest of him does, just like always. It gives Minghao enough time to really wonder what he’s seeing.
The boy’s left arm is hanging lower than his right, clearly mechanical but torn, and Minghao gasps softly when he sees the motor oil mixing with blood leaking from a wound on the boy’s temple. That’s something Minghao hasn’t seen before. That’s something he’s only heard of.
A Synthetic, walking toward Minghao. Escaped, apparently, but he shouldn’t be here, walking around the Night City by himself. He should be protected, safe. He shouldn’t be groaning in pain.
“Hey,” Minghao says softly as the boy passes him. “You’re leaking oil. Wipe it up before anyone else sees. I have somewhere you can go for that.”
The Synthetic looks startled. His name is tagged on his shirt: Junhui. “Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t. Follow me anyway.”
Minghao ducks into a dark alley on the way to Jeonghan’s. Junhui follows. They're quiet.
"Where are we going?" Junhui finally asks after ten minutes. Minghao wondered how long it would take.
"A friend's house," Minghao says before he shrugs. "Kind of a friend. He's a fixer. He'll be able to look at your arm."
"You're not just trying to strip me for parts?"
Minghao, regrettably, isn't. "No. I should though. Great idea."
"I didn't mean—!"
"I'm joking."
"Oh."
Minghao idly wonders whose fault it is that the joke fell flat. Probably Minghao's. He doesn't really make jokes. Isn't really used to them.
"It's fine," Minghao says dismissively. "You're already almost there. Might as well keep going. I doubt you have anywhere else to go."
Junhui hesitates before, "I don't. I guess that's obvious."
"We don't exactly see Synthetics running around," Minghao says with a shrug, "and you look like a Synthetic right now. Your clothes are too nice, torn or not. You look luxurious."
"I don't feel very luxurious," Junhui says quietly. "I feel like my arm isn't working."
"We've all been there."
Junhui nods. He goes quiet as Minghao picks the lock to Jeonghan's shop before pulling Junhui inside and into the dark.
"Jeonghan!" Minghao yells. He keeps a hand on Junhui's arm, trying to be soothing as Junhui flinches. He thinks it may just come off as controlling and he drops his hand. "I've got, um, something."
"Another arm?" Jeonghan asks as he comes into the shop, flicking on a lamp as he does. "I've got no use for another one."
Minghao shakes his head and steps aside so Jeonghan can get a good look at Junhui. Jeonghan is quiet for a moment.
"You've brought me a fugitive," Jeonghan says evenly. "You've brought me a Synthetic. Minghao, are you fucking insane?"
"Been accused of it."
"I should kill you for this."
"Can you help him?" Minghao asks, ignoring that. "His arm…"
"It got cinched in something," Junhui offers before he gives Jeonghan a small smile. "Hello."
"Hello," Jeonghan sighs. "Come here. What's your name?"
"Junhui."
"Hi, Junhui," Jeonghan says quietly, taking Junhui's arm in his hands. "You really messed this up. I'd imagine it got caught in your grand escape."
"Mhm."
"Well, it's going to take some work. Easier if you leave it here with me. Can you disengage it?"
Junhui grimaces. "Not really. I'm not actually… built like that. My parts are all kind of woven together."
Minghao clocks that as deeply interesting, if not only because it means Minghao can't really strip Junhui for parts. Well— He could probably manage it. Still, would be hard.
"Huh. That makes things hard."
"I can keep him with me, bring him back when the shop's closed," Minghao offers. He doesn't know why he offers it. He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.
"And are you going to pay for parts, Minghao?" Jeonghan asks. "I won't charge labor because he's obviously in bad shape, but…"
Junhui reaches out with his good arm to pull Minghao to the side, whispering to him. "I have, um, some silver and some gold. I can help."
"You have gold?" Minghao hisses. "Don't tell people that. We'll work it out."
"Thanks," Junhui says with a small smile. Minghao knew Synthetics were pretty, but Junhui puts the rumors to shame. "Thanks, Minghao."
Minghao turns back to Jeonghan. "We'll pay for it. Don't worry about that. I'll bring him back tomorrow night after close. I know it's late."
"That's the first time I've ever heard you say it's late before 3 AM," Jeonghan laughs softly. "Go take him back to whatever cave you hide out in during the day."
"I have a perfectly respectable apartment."
"You have your own apartment?" Junhui asks with clear wonder in his voice. Minghao would like to know how this boy has lived to be what looks to be mid-20s while still acting like this. Something about being a Synthetic.
"You're lucky I do since we need to hide you," Minghao says. He takes Junhui by the shoulder and starts to guide him out. "Bye, Jeonghan. Make sure to lock up behind us. Wouldn't want anyone breaking in."
"I hope you die in your sleep," Jeonghan says pleasantly.
Junhui and Minghao slip out of the shop and Minghao starts to direct Junhui through the alleys toward his apartment.
"Is he actually your friend?" Junhui asks softly. "It kind of seemed like it. I've never really had friends though."
"Okay, well, that depressing statement aside, no, we're not actually friends. He buys from me."
"Buys what?"
"Um—" Minghao has never felt awkward about his job before. "Parts. You know."
"Oh. So you really do strip people for parts."
"Only ones that they lose by themselves."
Junhui gives Minghao an unreadable look. "Ones that they lose. How?"
"Lots of ways. Just think of me as a scavenger. I don't take parts from anyone by force."
Sometimes he gambles for parts, watches men pull off prosthetics to settle debts. He leaves that alone, doesn't mention that. Doesn't seem like it would go over well.
"Okay," Junhui says hesitantly. "Sure. We'll call you a scavenger. Why are you helping me?"
Minghao doesn't really know. "You're like a baby bird. I can't just leave you out of the nest alone. That would make me heartless."
"A baby bird?"
"A baby bird."
"Okay, I guess," Junhui says hesitantly. "I guess I feel like a baby bird. We had birds at the house."
"You did?" Minghao asks. Interesting that Junhui calls the Certain One's compound the house, but Minghao has bigger things to worry about. "I've only ever seen one or two. I still don't know if they were real birds or not or if they were that fake shit people have been putting together."
"People put together fake birds?"
"You don't know anything, do you?" Minghao asks. "That's crazy."
"I know plenty of things. I know about, um…"
Minghao laughs. It grates on him. "Right. You know plenty of things. I trust you implicitly."
"You should!" Junhui says with a teasing smile. "I'm very trustworthy."
"Right," Minghao says again. They get to Minghao's apartment building and Minghao stops Junhui. "We're here. Go up those stairs."
"That's a lot of stairs."
"You're a strapping young twenty-something, you'll make it."
"I think I'm meant to be 27."
"There you go," Minghao says, choosing not to dig into that at the moment. He's meant to be 27? Whatever. That isn't Minghao's business. "I'm 26. By the way."
"You're so young to have so many scars."
"Thanks?"
Junhui shrugs and takes the stairs two at a time. Sure. Minghao follows, one at a time, and Junhui is waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Minghao unlocks all five locks on his door with different keys and Junhui watches him closely.
"Why so many locks?"
"Never can be too safe," Minghao says with a shrug. "It's better for you anyway, considering you're a fugitive. Hey, wouldn't you have a tracker of some kind?"
"Carved them out." Junhui holds up his human arm and sure enough, there's a bandage on it where he must have a wound. "Hurt."
"I can imagine, yeah," Minghao says, nodding. "Guess it worked if no one's found you. Make yourself at home, I guess. Do you need to shower or anything?"
"That would be nice."
Minghao points Junhui toward the bathroom. "In there. You can use whatever. I'll bring you clothes that don't say your name on them."
Junhui blushes red. He's got such a human face for someone so cyborg. He only visibly has one arm and one leg that are robotic, but Minghao knows Junhui leaks motor oil from his temple, so there's something else cybernetic in him. Something fundamental. Minghao wonders if Junhui is more human or robot. He wonders if Junhui knows.
"Go on," Minghao says, gesturing for Junhui to move. "Don't get so embarrassed. Not your fault you're a big fucking dork."
Junhui gives Minghao a weak smile before he ducks into the bathroom. He's tall, must be 6'2" at least. Taller than Minghao. Weird. Minghao doesn't like that very much. He isn't sure how much he likes any of this, but that's a serious con.
Minghao makes himself busy tidying up the living room portion of his studio for Junhui and putting clothes on the bathroom counter and it doesn't take long for Junhui to come back out of the bathroom, dressed in Minghao's clothes. His bad arm is hanging too low still, but he looks much more put together now, his hair clean and the dirt gone from his skin.
"Let me look at any wounds you have," Minghao says. "I have things to clean them up and fresh bandages. Start with the tracker wound."
Junhui grimaces, but he holds out his good arm. "I can't unwrap it myself."
"Come sit," Minghao says, gesturing next to him while he sits on the couch. Junhui joins him and sets his arm in Minghao's lap. Minghao methodically unwraps his arm, frowning at how deep the gash is. "You really dug in there."
"Had to," Junhui says softly. "Chip was deep. Small too. I crushed it at the house right before I got out so they couldn't tell how I left."
"How did you leave?"
"Through the walls."
Minghao nods, even if he can't really imagine that. "Alright. This is going to sting."
Junhui hisses, tears in his eyes, as Minghao cleans the wound to make sure there isn't any lingering dirt or soap before he wraps it again carefully. Junhui shakes his head when Minghao asks if there's anything else besides his temple and sits patiently while Minghao cleans the wound there too.
"We'll leave it to scab over," Minghao decides. "I don't particularly want to wrap your whole head and it's too big for a bandaid."
"I'll just be careful with it tonight," Junhui says softly. "Thank you, Minghao. You're really kind."
"I'm not," Minghao says. It's honest. He isn't kind at all. He isn't even sure why he's doing this with Junhui, but it's certainly not out of the kindness of his heart. Not really. "You're just really vulnerable. Anybody with half a conscious would help you."
"That's less people than you might think," Junhui says. "Enough people ignored me. I had to run a few times too."
Minghao frowns. "Sorry about that. Night City isn't exactly serene."
"No, but it's better than the house."
Minghao hums and doesn't dignify that with a response. He doesn't know how to bite his tongue enough to respond without calling Junhui a naïve idiot. Of course the compound is better than the city. Everything is, but particularly where the Certain Ones live. There are rumors that they have a field and a lake of clean water. Minghao doesn't know how the city could be better than that, with all of its grime and metal and blood.
Junhui yawns. "Can I have a blanket for the floor?"
"You can sleep on the couch, Junhui," Minghao says with a small smile. "I'll get you a blanket. I'll even get you a pillow. Generosity."
"You're full of it."
Minghao gets up to gather a pillow and blanket from his bed, handing them back to Junhui and flipping off the lights as he heads to the bathroom.
"Try not to light anything on fire while I'm in the shower," Minghao says. "Sleep. You need to rest."
"Thanks," Junhui says quietly. He closes his eyes as Minghao turns to go into the bathroom. In the shower, Minghao hums to himself and wonders how he's in this situation. He doesn't figure it out by the time he's done, still doesn't know when he walks out with his hair damp and finds Junhui asleep on the couch. He looks soft like this, peaceful. He looks soft most of the time, but still.
Minghao shuts off the rest of the lights and settles into bed in the corner of the studio, waiting for sleep to come. The sun is up by the time he drifts off.
Minghao doesn't wake up until what must be noon, the sun beating in through the windows. It's always hot in the city during the day when the sun is out, always cold at night. It only operates in extremes.
Junhui is already awake, staring at his bad hand and poking at it with his good hand as he sits. Minghao clears his throat and Junhui looks up at Minghao with a smile.
"Good morning," Junhui murmurs, like he's trying not to startle Minghao. "Well, it's afternoon."
Minghao sits up and nods. "I usually sleep through the morning. I'm out all night, so it works. Do you want lunch? Do you eat?"
"I eat," Junhui laughs. "I need less than everyone else, but I eat."
"Cool. You're a cheap date."
"Kind of," Junhui teases. "My whole broken arm that needs fixing kind of offsets that. I really can help pay for it, if not pay for all of it."
"We'll split it," Minghao decides as he gets out of bed. He has plenty and, "I don't want you to run out of money. You have no way to make any more right now."
"Fair enough," Junhui sighs. "I guess that makes sense. Thank you, Minghao. I owe you a lot."
Minghao should agree, should say that Junhui will owe him later. Instead, he finds himself saying, "you don't. Don't worry about it."
Junhui frowns. "Okay. I'll still help out where I can. Can I help with lunch?"
"Do you know how to cook?" Minghao asks. "I would have thought you would have cooks or something."
"I know how," Junhui says as he shakes his head. "We had apartments. We all learned how to cook."
Minghao hums. "Alright. Get over here and make some eggs, I guess. However you want them. They're lab-grown, so they may be different than what you're used to."
"That's fine, I'm not picky," Junhui says as he joins Minghao at the counter. He takes what Minghao hands him and gets started on cooking. "I didn't know they could lab-grow eggs."
"They can lab-grow anything these days," Minghao says with a shrug. "You, for example."
It seems to startle a laugh out of Junhui. "Guess so. Me and nine others."
"There are only ten Synthetics?"
"Mhm."
"Weird. I always thought they'd make more of you if they could."
"We're expensive, I think," Junhui says. "Besides, they're trying to see if we can reproduce. Won't have to build more if we can. Would just have to modify the kids."
"I guess that does save some silver, yeah. They want you to reproduce but there are only ten of you? They're not forcing you to…"
"No, no," Junhui says quickly. "We have free will, I guess. The freedom to mate with who we want to, at least. The options are just limited. Doesn't help that I'm not attracted to women. I don't think they meant for that to happen."
"I can't imagine that they would have," Minghao laughs softly. "Seems counterintuitive. I guess you really do have free will. That's fascinating. You're fascinating, even if you have cogs for a brain."
"Hey, you don't know that."
"You leak motor oil from your head."
Junhui frowns. "Huh. I guess so. Speaking of, would we be able to get any motor oil? It's what I eat, I guess, beyond human food."
"Cyborgs are something else," Minghao says, shaking his head. "Yeah, I can get you some. I don't want to leave you alone now or with Jeonghan, so I'll ask Seokmin to bring some over."
"Afraid I'll burn something down?" Junhui teases.
Minghao doesn't know how to explain that he has this horrible feeling that Junhui is going to disappear if Minghao leaves him alone. That Minghao won't be able to save him if anything happens while they're apart.
"Something like that," Minghao opts to say. "I'll call Seok. Give me a second."
Minghao goes to dig up his phone while Junhui finishes cooking, dialing Seokmin's number. It's his day off and he was already planning to come over. Minghao is just going to have some explaining to do when he gets here.
"Hey, Minghao," Seokmin says when he answers. "What's up?"
"Can you bring some motor oil with you when you come over?" Minghao asks. "A decent amount."
"Experimenting again?"
"Eh. Along those lines."
Seokmin laughs. It's always so much more pleasant than Minghao's. "Sure, I'll bring some over. Be there in an hour or so."
"Thanks, Seok," Minghao says quietly. He says goodbye and hangs up once Seokmin says it back, going back into the kitchen right as Junhui dishes lunch up. It looks good. Maybe he does know a thing or two. They sit back on the couch to eat, Junhui's blanket folded up, and it's quiet while Minghao finishes waking up.
"That was hard with only one arm," Junhui says eventually. "I'm scared I'm going to have to get used to that."
"I guess your anatomy doesn't lend itself to a clean prosthetic, yeah," Minghao says after a moment. "If you're all mixed together."
"I am," Junhui sighs. "It makes it hard to amputate and replace. Someone would have to know how Synthetics work and all of those mechanics are at the house."
Minghao hums. "We'll see what Jeonghan can do, okay? I know a few other builders who might be able to figure you out, but I trust him the most."
"Thanks," Junhui says quietly. "We'll see. I'll adapt if I need to. It isn't the worst thing that could have come out of escaping. Things could have been far worse."
"Correct. You could have been killed."
"They'd never kill me," Junhui says. "They'd capture and reprogram me or something. I don't actually know that they can do that at this point, but they'd at least try."
"Have you had your programming altered since you were born?"
Junhui frowns. "Well, I wasn't really born. I was built five years ago. To answer your question though, I haven't been altered. They set us loose."
"You're five years old?" Minghao has questions.
"I'm 27, but I was finished five years ago," Junhui says with a shrug. "So kind of?"
Minghao blinks. This raises more than a few ethical questions for him, but he's never really been great with ethics. Still, he's not that kind of creep. "So you were built to be 22?"
"Yeah. With all of the knowledge of a 22-year-old, that kind of thing."
That's kind of a relief, at least. Minghao has been thinking about sleeping with Junhui a little too much to not worry about his actual age.
"I was one of the first Synthetics they finished," Junhui continues like Minghao isn't having a crisis about fucking him. "So I'm 'older' than most of them, but we're all 27."
"Weird."
"Kind of, yeah."
"Alright then," Minghao says after a moment. "Ten hot 27-year-olds, all kept together, and no one's reproduced yet?"
"Not for lack of trying," Junhui laughs softly. "There are two couples. They've been giving it their best shot."
"Did they just assume the other six of you would pair up?"
"You know, I don't know," Junhui says as he seems to think about it. "They didn't tell us all too much about what they were trying to do by building us. Just that they wanted to see if they could program a human."
"Big task," Minghao says. "I know the gangs have been trying it too, but they haven't been nearly as successful. No one can make the cyborgs tick like humans do. They seem to have gotten it down with you guys."
"Thanks, I think," Junhui says. "I try."
It drags a laugh out of Minghao. "Good work. I'll do the dishes. You can raid my closet before Seokmin comes over."
"Thanks, Minghao," Junhui says with a pretty smile. Minghao blinks and turns to gather the plates.
By the time they're both dressed and ready, Seokmin is knocking on Minghao's front door. Minghao unlocks everything and opens the door, but he stops Seokmin in the doorway.
"I have something that I need you to keep a secret," Minghao murmurs. "It's a big secret."
"Yeah, of course I'll keep it," Seokmin says with a frown. Minghao knows he's being serious and he trusts Seokmin with his life. He can trust Seokmin with Junhui's and as long as Seokmin doesn't tell anyone, no one will ever know to put Seokmin in danger. "What's going on, Hao?"
Minghao steps back and lets Seokmin in, closing the door and locking the locks before he turns around. Junhui is sitting politely on the couch and Seokmin sets the motor oil in his hands down.
Seokmin laughs. "Is your big, dire secret that you have a boyfriend? Come on, Minghao, you're not that emotionally inept."
Minghao huffs out a breath. "That's not it. This is Junhui. He's a Synthetic."
Seokmin stops laughing. "He's what?"
"A Synthetic," Junhui says, standing up. He reaches out to shake Seokmin's hand with his good hand and Seokmin takes it, holding onto Junhui for a moment too long in his shock before he lets go. "Hi."
"Hi," Seokmin says faintly before he turns to Minghao. "Minghao, you're hiding a Synthetic? How is he even here? How do you know about him?"
Minghao guides Seokmin into sitting on the armchair before he sits on the couch with Junhui and explains how they got to where they are. He avoids any mention of why he's doing this. He still doesn't know.
"That's fucking insane," Seokmin breathes out, "but okay. I assume that's why I needed to bring motor oil over?"
"Yeah," Minghao says, nodding.
"I'll just, um, go take care of that," Junhui says. He's sitting so straight. "Leave you guys alone for a second."
Junhui stands up and picks up the motor oil in one smooth motion before he disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. It almost makes Minghao laugh, but Seokmin is staring at Minghao like he's grown another head already.
"Why are you doing this, Minghao?" Seokmin whispers. "You're not doing this for parts, are you?"
"No," Minghao murmurs. "I don't know. He just needed help."
"Like I needed help?"
"You're different," Minghao insists. "I knew you before I started helping you. Yours is just money too, it's not a big deal. This is— I don't know."
"This is bigger, yeah," Seokmin sighs. "I don't know what to say, Minghao. You've really done it now."
"I know."
"I'll help however I can though," Seokmin says. "He's injured, isn't he?"
"Yeah, but I've already enlisted Jeonghan. You don't need to do anything but maybe pick up more motor oil. I have no idea how much he needs."
"God, I can't believe you're harboring a cyborg," Seokmin says, putting his head in his hands. "This is insane even for you."
Minghao groans. "It is. I feel insane. More than usual."
Junhui comes out of the bathroom and Minghao doesn't know what he did with the motor oil, but when he sits back on the couch, Minghao has to wipe a smear of it off of his cheek with his sleeve. He can feel Seokmin watching them and he moves his hand back down quickly.
"So, Junhui," Seokmin says after a moment. "Tell me about yourself."
Junhui smiles.