S4: Line of Flight

[xiuhunation]

Title: Line of Flight
For: S4
Pairing(s): Yixing/Sunyoung [f(x) Luna], Lu Han/Jongdae(/Kyungsoo)
Rating: PG-13
Length: 37.5k
Summary: Minseok is a pilot – he spends his life flying his bullet ship out into the Void in order to protect Earth from monsters. But the problem with living among the stars is that it can be hard to deal with life back on Earth.
Warnings:
Author's note: I took your prompt and ran off into the sunset with it. I hope you enjoy the results.

Thank you to J, J, G, and W: my brainstorm buddy, my xiuhun muse, my all-around lifesaver, and my wonderful, wonderful beta. Without you all this wouldn’t have been possible.




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PART I
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Stalemate
[steyl-meyt]
1. Chess. a position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check.
2. any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock.

When the Ijjen Empire launched their first offensive against Earth in 2218, they never expected Earth to hold out longer than a few weeks, much less twenty years.

Earth was nothing more than a baby, having only joined the realm of intergalactic politics three years prior. Humans were so poorly advanced that they hadn’t even been aware of the existence of the element Rhalnxonium, a metal invaluable to the production of robotics, which happened to be available on Earth in abundance. Rhalnxonium – abbreviated Xo – had been the Empire’s primary motivation for attacking. Ijjen’s plans were solid and simple: move in, knock out a world leader or two, and strong-arm Earth into a mercantilist colonial relationship. They just forgot to consider one very important thing.

Earth is inhabited by humans, and humans are damn stubborn.

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KOREAN SECTOR, ASIATIC FEDERATION, EARTH, 2238
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Minseok rolls out of bed and is already halfway across his room before he even opens his eyes or registers the sound of the alarm. He doesn’t need to think as he pulls on his flightsuit, leaves his room, and heads up to the hangar – the routine is thoroughly ingrained into him, honed by years of practice.

The hangar is already swarming with activity by the time he arrives. Mechanics run last minute preflight checks on the bullet ships as pilots rub the remnants of sleep from their eyes and wolf down protein bars. Minseok takes his place next to his ship and catches the protein bar Junmyeon tosses him. He calls out a greeting to his mechanic, Jongin, and opens his bar as he waits for control room to give their briefing. He doesn’t have long to wait. Just as the last of the pilots stumbles into the hangar, the giant communication screen in the back of the room flickers to life.

“Good morning, lovelies! What a wonderful day to be alive and fighting monsters!” A head full of frizzy blond hair and a smile that is entirely too wide for three-thirty in the morning appears on the screen. The hangar erupts into a mix of groans and laughter.

“How many energy drinks have you even had, Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asks from further down the row of pilots and ships. Usually his words would have a teasing tone, but at the moment they’re pure irritation. Baekhyun has never been a morning person.

“Too many,” another voice quips from across the connection. Chanyeol’s face suddenly disappears from the screen with a thump and a startled yelp. A new face looms into view – big eyes, fierce eyebrows, thick lips. The new person shoots a glare off the screen, presumably in Chanyeol’s direction. “He was also technically off shift half an hour ago.”

There’s a distant noise of protest. From Minseok’s left, Junmyeon hurries to cut in before a squabble can erupt.

“‘Morning, Kyungsoo. What do you have for us?”

Immediately there’s the sound of typing from the other end of the line, and another screen showing a giant map of the Void – the no-fly zone humans established around the solar system following Ijjen’s initial attacks twenty years before – appears next to the one showing Kyungsoo. The smaller computers at each of the pilots’ stations also turn on and display the same map. Minseok trains his attention on his map, leaning over and using his hand to zoom in.

“Our radars picked up a dragon out beyond Neptune,” Kyungsoo says. “Still too far away to tell where its target is, but if we can head if off before it gets much closer that shouldn’t matter anyway.”

Minseok locates the ping by Neptune, then taps on it to bring up an image. A large frontal attack robot, most likely equipped with explosives and hyperlaser capacities, appears on the screen – the dragon. As Minseok inspects the image, Junmyeon asks, “Are any other flight stations sending pilots out, or is it just us?”

“Just us,” Kyungsoo replies. “The Korean Sector radars were the first to pick it up, and it seems to be a pretty cut and dry case. We’re capable of handling it on our own.”

Minseok nods to himself in satisfaction. Since the bullet ship program was first established 2219, it has grown to the point where nearly every sector of every federation has at least one ship and pilot. While this abundance is useful at times, such as during the Ijjen Empire’s mass attacks that come every five years or so, having too many people on one case only leads to confusion. Smaller scale assaults from the Empire robots, colloquially called “monsters” by humans, are generally handled with correspondingly smaller groups. The pilots of the Korean Sector are more than enough for this assignment.

“Got it. Thanks, Soo,” Junmyeon says, then turns to Minseok and raises his eyebrows.

Minseok straightens from his screen and surveys the room. Junmyeon may nominally be their leader, but Minseok is the pilot with the most experience. He appreciates that Junmyeon asks for his opinions despite not technically needing to.

“How many of us are there right now?” Minseok asks. “Five? That should be enough for this. We’re definitely dealing with a dragon here, but we should stay alert just in case there’s a siren or goblin lurking. If Seulgi, Baekhyun, and I take it on directly, you and Joohyun can hold back and keep watch.”

Junmyeon nods in satisfaction. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” he says, then turns and steps away from the line so that he can address everyone at once. “Alright,” he calls out. “Baekhyun, Seulgi, you guys are on front with Minseok hyung. Joohyun, hang back with me. Now prepare for take off, I want us out of here in two minutes tops.”

Minseok joins the others as they salute and call out an affirmative. He waits until he gets a thumbs up from Jongin before climbing into the tiny cockpit of his bullet ship. He straps himself in, then runs his hands across the controls and inhales deeply. Above him, he can see the roof of the hangar opening, and he can distantly hear the bells warning all personnel to leave the deck. The last remnants of sleep have finally melted away, and he can feel the adrenaline that always comes with flight beginning to pump through his veins.

“Everyone ready?” Junmyeon asks across the ships’ communication system just as a giant countdown clock materializes on Minseok’s control screen. “First wave, get ready for takeoff.”

The clock counts steadily closer to zero as Minseok maneuvers his ship into position. His mouth twists into something between a smile and a grimace. The clock hits ten seconds and Minseok takes another deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

–––

Minseok arrives at the cafeteria slightly after the eight a.m. rush. Most of the tables are full, but the empty trays in front of most people suggest an imminent mass exodus. Minseok bypasses the remnants of the regular line and heads for the window serving the specialized diet for pilots. He takes a tray from the worker there with a nod and a smile of thanks, then makes his way to the table on the far end of the cafeteria where the pilots and other members of the flight crew, those who work with the pilots and the bullet ships, usually sit.

When he reaches the table and slides into an empty seat, he isn’t surprised to find the other occupants in various stages of wakefulness. Each person deals with middle of the night alarms in a different way, but most return to bed and try to catch a few more hours of sleep. Others have a harder time shaking the dregs of adrenaline from their veins. Minseok is one of the latter, and it’s nearly impossible for him to go back to sleep after a flight. Usually, such as the case this morning, upon returning to the Clocktower he’ll opt to go for a run before heading either to breakfast or back to bed.

At the table, Junmyeon is bent over his hologram tablet and reading while he eats. Seulgi mechanically spoons food into her mouth, and next to her Joohyun talks quietly with Sooyoung from the control room. Across from Minseok, Jongin is practically asleep on his tray. His eyes aren’t even open as he half-heartedly stabs at whatever is on his plate. Minseok laughs, reaching over to brush Jongin’s bangs out of his face.

“Come on, wake up,” Minseok says as Jongin finally blinks open his eyes. “If you keep trying to eat in your sleep you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Mmmmph,” Jongin says in reply, which Minseok knows more or less means Good morning, hyung. It’s the most he’ll get out of Jongin until either noon or the next alarm bell – whichever comes soonest.

Junmyeon laughs lightly, looking up from his tablet. He catches Minseok’s eye and smiles. There are dark circles under Junmyeon’s eyes, but otherwise it would be impossible to guess he had spent upward three hours that morning hurtling through space and shooting down robots. Minseok is more than a little envious.

“Baekhyun already passed through,” Junmyeon says when Minseok shoots a curious look down the relatively empty table. “I think his plan was to eat as soon as the cafeteria opened then go back to sleep for the rest of the morning. Jongdae’s back on schedule today, but I haven’t seen him yet. Yerim is still down Cityside, she’ll be back this weekend.”

Minseok nods, satisfied now that all of the pilots have been accounted for, and begins to eat. The pilots work on a sort of rotation system, in which each pilot gets one 36-hour block off per week. The off days work on a rolling schedule, so that there are never more than two pilots off at a time. In addition to this, each pilot gets a five-day block off every two months. Most pilots take the time to catch a shuttle from the Clocktower down to the city – that’s where Yerim would be at the moment, probably enjoying breakfast with her parents.

“Oh, also Baekhyun said that he’s thinking of going on a ghost hunt later,” Junmyeon adds as an afterthought. “If you want to join.”

Minseok chews his food thoroughly while he considers. While the robots called dragons are large and meant for assault, thereby making them easy to pick up on radar, the smaller “ghost” robots purely meant for surveillance are often able to slip by. It’s common for pilots to do search-and-destroy runs for ghosts in the downtime between alarms, in an attempt to keep the Empire’s intelligence gathering to a minimum. Minseok would be inclined to go, if for no other reason than to kill time, but his body is already protesting from his early morning jaunt into space.

“I think I’ll hang back this time,” Minseok says after he swallows. “Going to rest a bit in case we get another alarm later. Jongdae will probably be interested once he reappears, though.”

Junmyeon nods in acknowledgement, and Minseok is just about to turn back to his food when he remembers something else.

“Don’t forget that the Commander wants to have a meeting later,” he says. Junmyeon grimaces and stands up.

“That’s right,” Junmyeon says, powering off his tablet, tucking its small power base into his pocket, and then picking up his tray. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll try to make sure the kids are back in time.”

Seeing Junmyeon stand, Joohyun gets to her feet as well. Seulgi follows a beat later. They both hesitate, glancing from Minseok to his still-full tray to Junmyeon. Minseok smiles reassuringly and waves them off.

“Go on, I’ve still got Jongin and Sooyoung for company.”

Joohyun casts a doubtful look toward Jongin, who once again has his eyes closed, but when Junmyeon says his goodbyes and leaves both girls follow suit. Once they’re out of sight, a wave of exhaustion washes over Minseok. It’s all he can do to keep up with the conversation as Sooyoung scoots closer and starts telling a story about something Chanyeol and Kyungsoo had done the day before.

“Are you feeling alright?” Sooyoung asks after a while. Her face, so joyful while telling her story, is now full of concern.

“Of course,” Minseok says, shoving down his weariness and replacing it with a smile. “So what did Chanyeol do after Kyungsoo grabbed his ear?”

–––

The pilots always meet in one of the smaller conference rooms, one that is tucked into a corner far from the bustle of the central lifts that run between the levels. The room is peaceful when Minseok enters, with only the dust motes floating through the light to keep him company. It’s not surprising that he’s the first to arrive – there’s still almost half an hour left until the designated meeting time, and the others are probably still in the hangar after returning from their ghost hunt. It will be at least another ten minutes before they start trickling in.

Minseok makes his way to his chair, one spot away from the head of the table, and sinks into it. After some time alone and a workout in the gym, he’s feeling much more alive. He swivels his chair in order to look out the window. Just about any of the Clocktower’s many levels offer a nice view, but the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the wall behind the chairs in this room reveal a truly spectacular one. Through the wisps of cloud, it’s possible to see as far as the city skyline.

While Minseok is still staring off into the distance, the door opens with a gentle woosh. Minseok immediately swivels back around, then jumps to his feet and snaps a salute. The woman who walks through the door may be small, but every inch of her exudes poise and demands respect. It would be almost impossible to notice the slight limp in her step without prior knowledge of it.

“At ease,” Boa Kwon, Commander of the Bullet Ship Flight Program in the Korean Sector, says as she approaches the table. Even so, Minseok waits until she is seated before settling back into his seat. Boa smiles at him. “You’re here early. Didn’t feel like chasing specters with the others?”

“Not today,” Minseok says, returning her smile. Boa nods and doesn’t press the issue or ask him why not. She understands the exhaustion perfectly – after all, she used to be a pilot, too.

“How’s the hip today?” Minseok asks, much more casually than any of the other pilots would dare. But Minseok and Boa flew together for a year, and she has always been more relaxed around him.

“It’s acting up again,” Boa says with a grimace. “I think it’s going to rain this afternoon.”

It’s a joke, and Minseok laughs like he’s supposed to. It never ceases to marvel him how lighthearted Boa can be about the injury that permanently ended her flying career. Back when the flight program was first founded, artificial gravity systems had already in use on space ships for over a hundred years. They were such a normal part of life that the developers of the bullet ships forgot about the trials with blood circulation and bone density that had plagued the original gravity-less ventures into space so long ago. No one stopped to think that the partial-gravity system the bullet ships used since they were too small to support full-gravity might have negative health effects.

It wasn’t until the first generation of pilots began to fall ill that medical research into the pilots’ conditions began. Adjustments to diet and workout routines were made, and seemed to head off the symptoms. The second wave of pilots were kept on those health regimes and everything appeared fine. Then Boa, five years after becoming a pilot, fumbled a landing during a Taekwondo match. A tumble that should only have caused a nasty bruise instead resulted in her having more metal than bone in her left hip and thigh.

She tried flying again exactly once after that. There was some sort of reaction to the pressure, and she ended up in too much pain to even make it past the atmosphere.

Just thinking about it makes Minseok shudder. Flying is all he has, all he knows. The possibility of suddenly losing it like that terrifies him. Luckily, the diet and exercise regimes were reevaluated again following Boa’s incident. The current systems have slowed the progression of bone density loss considerably, making it possible for pilots to have longer flight careers.

“So what have you got for us today, Commander?” Minseok asks, shaking himself from his thoughts.

“Just the usual,” Boa replies. “I’ll wait to tell you until everyone’s here.”

“Just the usual,” Minseok repeats quietly. Just the usual deadlock, just the constant frustration of the same news without anything more to add. Just like always.

He must let a tinge of bitterness creep into his voice, because Boa gives him a sharp look. She opens her mouth to say something, but just then the door slides open and the rest of the pilots spill through. Boa is distracted by standing to greet them, and Minseok stands with her. Each pilot mechanically salutes before filing into their place. Minseok sits again and shakes his head to clear it of negative thoughts, then forces himself to focus as Boa starts speaking.

–––

When Minseok walks through the halls, people naturally move to make way for him. Even up here on the upper levels, where people see pilots every day, Minseok is regarded with a sort of reverence that makes his skin crawl. It’s even worse on the lower levels, to the point where Minseok seldom ventures down if he’s wearing his uniform.

During the Ijjen Empire’s initial offensive, Earth had scrambled to find a way to more effectively head off the attacks. The solution had come in the form of the bullet ships – an invention of scientists in the Korean Sector. And following the ships’ development, the pilots who flew them soon rocketed to the very upper echelons of society just as easily as they rocketed into space.

It’s not hard to see why: bullet ships are sleek and streamlined, small but powerful, and their pilots are much the same. The very first pilots, members of the Korean Sector’s air force – most of whom had never flown into space before – climbed into their tiny ships and blasted off to fight for all of humanity. Within a year the monsters that previously humans had hardly been able to hold at bay outside the atmosphere seldom ever managed to edge closer than Mars. Bullet ships were blasting off into space from all across the world, and pilots were laying down their lives so that the rest of the world could sleep easy. Pilots weren’t just the world’s heroes, they were its saviors.

Even so, the amount of attention lavished onto pilots makes Minseok uncomfortable. He’s not a superhero or a knight in shining armor. He’s just some guy who scored highly on the flight section of the military aptitude test all fourteen-year-olds take. There is little about him to warrant the respect, much less the almost worshipful status, that pilots are given.

Yet evidence of pilot’s place at the top of society is everywhere. The very structure of the tower the Korean Sector’s pilots work in reflects it. The Clocktower is a massive building, soaring into the sky with something like 160 floors. Minseok isn’t sure of the exact number, since they count downwards from the top, or even what precisely is on most of the lower levels. His life is almost entirely confined to the upper levels, the top seven floors – the pilots’ realm. The topmost floor houses the hangar and the control room, and the other six contain various rooms and facilities necessary for the pilots and those associated with them: sleeping quarters, meeting rooms, laboratories and study rooms, a lounge, and even a full blown fitness center including a sports field and a pool.

The Clocktower is only one part of the military compound that stretches across almost the entire northern edge of the Korean Sector. Other buildings and facilities fill the expanse radiating from the Clocktower out almost all the way to the city. Buildings equally as high tech, housing much more important military personnel – such as those actually in charge of political relations with the Intergalactic Congress. And yet the pilots get to transcend them all, looking out over the world from the top of their tower.

Minseok rounds a corner and almost crashes into someone coming the other direction. A younger girl, whose uniform identifies her as a lab tech of some sort. Minseok bows, apologizing for nearly running her over. The girl’s eyes widen, and she immediately begins to bow too. Multiple times, while voicing repeated apologies. Guilt twists in Minseok’s gut as she edges around him, still apologizing, before dashing down the hall and out of sight.

There’s only a short walk left to the gym, Minseok’s destination, but his feet feel heavy the entire way. Maybe at one time the type of awe given to pilots had been warranted. It was a dangerous job at first, when the bullet ships were little more than technology prototypes. But these days the ships designs are stabilized, and so is the conflict. It’s been twenty years since the beginning of the war, and Minseok wouldn’t be surprised if it’s at least another twenty before it ends. Earth and Ijjen are wrapped in a deadlock, neither able to move forward, but neither willing to back down either.

When a war lasts for a long time, it becomes part of daily life. And just like anything that becomes part of daily life, it then becomes monotonous. Routine. The image people like to paint of pilots as dashing space heroes leading lives full of adventure is little more than a myth. Sure, the bullet ships are cool, and so is flying through space. But the reality is that being a pilot involves very little adventure, and an awful lot of waiting. And when you spend a lot of time waiting, it’s easy to end up drifting.

Minseok enters the locker room and is in the middle putting on his gym clothes when an alarm pierces through the silence. Resignation, mild annoyance, and a small shiver of excitement run through him. The alarm rings out three more times before shutting off and Minseok sighs as he pulls his exercise shirt back off over his head.

“Couldn’t the monsters have waited another hour?” he grumbles to the row of empty lockers. Despite his words, he has his flight suit back on in record time and all but runs for the lift up to the hangar.

–––

Minseok pulls his hat down lower over his eyes as he slides into a window seat on the Cityside shuttle. The mask stretching across his face is a little stifling, but he prefers it to any chance of recognition. He knows that somewhere else on the shuttle, Baekhyun is clad in his pilot’s uniform and heading down to film for a CF deal. He doubtless already has a crowd of admirers vying for the seat next to him.

There are some people who thrive on attention, and Baekhyun is one of them. Some of the other Korean Federation pilots are as well. Minseok doesn’t begrudge them that, but he would personally prefer the eyes to stay on them. As soon as the spotlight turns toward Minseok, he finds himself searching for the quickest route away from it.

Minseok had opted to wear his civilian clothes down to the Cityside shuttle terminal for just this reason. Baekhyun may just be headed down for a few hours of filming, but Minseok is starting his five-day break. Minseok plans to make a beeline for his cousin’s house as soon as the shuttle lands, with a short detour to a bakery in order to pick up some treats for his cousin and her two kids, and the pilot uniform would complicate that process. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone to follow him to his cousin’s. People have been known to harass the families, friends, and significant others of pilots. Minseok can’t bare the thought of doing that to his cousin or her kids.

To take his mind off such unpleasant thoughts, Minseok considers his next five days. He’s excited for the chance to play with the kids, cook and eat homemade food, and not have to worry about monsters or space. He gets so caught up in his plans that when someone sits down in the seat next to him, he jumps.

The guy who just sat down also startles at Minseok’s reaction. His hair is dyed a light pink, as Minseok has heard is the trend among young people down Cityside these days, although this is his first time seeing it in person. Minseok can’t help but stare a bit, curiosity piqued, as he takes in not only the hair but the rest of the guy’s appearance as well. Strong eyebrows over soft eyes, a nice mouth. He is dressed in civilian clothes, like Minseok, instead of any form of uniform. Minseok briefly wonders where in the Clocktower he might work.

“I’m sorry, is it okay if I sit here?” the guy asks. Minseok hesitates, then nods. The guy visibly relaxes, smiling and giving a small nod of thanks.

Minseok watches from the corner of his eye as the guy settles into his seat and pulls out a hologram tablet power base. He flicks the projector open, powers it on, and some sort of article with a map of the solar system pops up. As the guy reads, Minseok subtly takes in his side profile. It’s really nice. Minseok is tempted to ask him what he’s reading about, get his name, maybe get his personacomm number, too.

But he’s also wary. There are people who search for pilots, who want a piece of the fame and glory for themselves. Minseok has taken precautions to hide his status, but it’s still possible a pilot-chaser could have identified him. It means nothing that the guy spends the whole flight reading and hardly even glances in Minseok’s direction – acting casual is a ploy that such people sometimes use. One had managed to make their way into Junmyeon’s bed through such means, just a year before. They went to great pains to make the process seem natural, and the fallout when Junmyeon had found the bragging posts online had been massive. Minseok isn’t taking any chances.

So the shuttle ride passes in awkward silence. Minseok repeatedly curses himself for leaving his earbud transmitters sitting on his desk, and ends up setting his personacomm projection to private view so it can at least seem like he’s busy doing something. When they touch down in the city less than fifteen minutes later, the guy powers off his tablet, flashes Minseok another small smile, then stands and makes his way down the aisle. A wave of regret washes over Minseok as he watches the guy go, and he forces it down angrily. It’s better this way, safer. There’s no use in regretting something that never could have been.

Minseok waits for the rest of the passengers to file out before standing. He slings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way out into the Cityside terminal. It’s bustling as usual, full of people coming and going not just from the military compound but also other sectors within the Asiatic Federation. Regardless of the crowds, Minseok takes a second to stand on his tiptoes and scan for a head of pink hair. As expected, though, Minseok’s seatmate is nowhere to be seen.

Stop being silly, Minseok reprimands himself, then heads for the southeast entrance. He still has a train to catch, pink-haired stranger or no.

It’s easy to blend in with the flow of other people going down into the Rapid Speed Metro station. The station is worse than a maze; more like a giant knot in the middle of several strings, with the platforms for different metro lines located down various interconnecting pathways. Every time Minseok comes he’s thankful that he already knows his way around. It must be a nightmare for out-of-town travelers.

Minseok catches an express train. Five minutes and four stops later, he’s disembarking in his cousin’s neighborhood. Once back out on the street he takes a moment to pause and look around. It’s always a bit jarring, coming Cityside after being up in the Clocktower for so long. Around him, people are dressed every which-way, from the ultra-retro ripped jeans and sweatshirts that have recently come back into fashion right up to the highest quality business suits which vaguely resemble Minseok’s flightsuit. People go about their business without stopping to bow to or salute each person they pass; there is no carefully constructed order that must be followed.

It’s disconcerting, and Minseok needs a moment to realign himself to his civilian mindset before he can continue on his way. He closes his eyes and takes in the chatter of people hurrying by, the acrid scent from rocket bikes zipping past that mixes with the tantalizing smell of sizzling meat from a street food cart, the slight breeze from hovercraft overhead. Minseok can almost imagine he’s a kid again, fighting against the commute to get to school.

Then someone bumps into his shoulder, and the moment is broken. Minseok hastens to move out of the way, and then sets a course for his favorite bakery and heads off into the familiar streets.

Even with a detour to buy some treats, Minseok arrives at his cousin’s apartment almost ten minutes before he had originally planned. He has to wait a moment after pressing the intercom button before the door slides open. His cousin is standing there, hands on hips and hair tied up in a sloppy bun.

“You’re early,” she accuses, giving Minseok the stern glare he has gotten accustomed to over the years. When his parents had sent Minseok to live with his aunt and uncle in the city for school, his cousin had been the one to step in and care for him. Five years his senior, she had become the older sister he never had.

Before Minseok has time to reply, she wraps him in a tight hug. Minseok returns it, picking her up off her feet briefly and getting a light slap on the shoulder for his effort.

“It’s good to see you, noona,” Minseok says when he puts her back down. Whatever his cousin might mean to say in return is cut off as two blurs rocket themselves towards Minseok. Laughing, Minseok opens his arms and wraps the blurs – which are in fact a five-year-old girl and a nine-year-old boy – into a giant group hug.

Mere seconds later he is led to the living room amid excited chatter about school and favorite toys and handheld games. The small apartment might look like chaos to an outsider, but Minseok navigates it with ease. Sitting on the living room floor amid a minefield of toys, watching some cartoon about princess cats with his cousin’s daughter on his lap and the boy telling him about a movie he saw the week before, Minseok can finally feel the knot of tension in his shoulders relaxing. There are no alarms here, just the occasional screams of children, and Minseok is grateful for the respite.

“Come on, he hasn’t even been here five minutes yet, let him breathe,” Minseok’s cousin chides as her children sprawl out across Minseok.

“It’s fine,” Minseok laughs. His cousin shakes her head, but gives them all a fond look.

“Welcome home,” she says, and Minseok grins.

“I’m home.” A temporary home, and maybe not his home, but still a home.

–––

There are pilots who shirk their prescribed exercise routines, but Minseok has never been one of them. The routines are there for a reason, and the consequences of not working hard are terrifying enough to motivate all on their own. Aside from this, though, Minseok finds time at the gym enjoyable.

Like everything else in the Clocktower, the gym facilities are gorgeous. The weight room and rows of bicycle machines are located on a mezzanine that overlook a full-sized track and field. Entire-wall windows on two sides fill the area with sunlight and give a dazzling view across the rest of the military complex. Parallel to the field, taking up the other half of that floor of the tower, is a pool and several sauna rooms. Although many of the pilots prefer swimming to the weight room, Minseok likes working with the machines. There’s something incredibly satisfying about being able to do more reps than before or finally increasing a weight amount.

It’s also fun to watch people who are out on the field while he takes water breaks. The health facilities are open to anyone in the tower, although a special permit is required to access them. There’s a women’s soccer team that meets on Tuesday mornings, and a group of elderly engineers who come and walk around the track together every Friday. But on the Monday after returning from his break, Minseok spots something he’s never seen on the field before: a head of pink hair is determinedly making its way around the track.

The moment Minseok sees it, the air leaves his lungs. He can’t see clearly at the moment, since the running person is facing away from him, but he’s almost positive it’s the guy who sat with him on the shuttle. The runner is going slowly but steadily, as if he’s been running for a while and plans to run for a while longer. His pink hair is bouncing in a steady, almost mesmerizing, rhythm.

Minseok ends up spending longer watching than he means to. He’s curious, despite all the resolutions he had made to forget about his seat partner – and he had forgotten about him. But now as Minseok takes another swig of water, he wonders. What is this guy’s job, does he work on the upper levels or did he need the special permit to access the field? Did he just start working in the Clocktower, or did he just suddenly decide to change his workout times?

The gym doors hiss as they open to admit someone, startling Minseok from his reverie. His water bottle is empty, and the pink-haired guy is still steadily making his way around the track.

Minseok pulls himself away from the railing and heads over to refill his bottle. Speculating about some guy isn’t going to get his reps done for him. If he remembers, he can ask around later or something. Jongin and Sooyoung know many of the younger people working in both the upper and lower levels, so they might have an idea. For now, though, Minseok has a workout to finish.

–––

There’s something about doctors’ offices that make Minseok feel inherently uneasy. Maybe it’s the feeling of waiting for bad news, or perhaps echoes of bad memories from the past, but even just sitting across from his doctor in the pilots’ health center on level five has Minseok feeling apprehensive.

The pilots are all required to check in with a doctor at least once a month to monitor the things affected by bullet ship flight: bone mass, blood pressure and circulation, radiation levels, and so on. Important checks that the original pilots hadn’t received, and had paid the price for.

Changmin hums as he looks over a copy of the x-ray Minseok had taken minutes before. Minseok focuses on the white lapel of Changmin’s coat, as if hoping the color will somehow calm him. Waiting is the worst part, biding his time as Changmin flips through the various images.

“Well,” Changmin says at last, and Minseok looks up. The projector next to Changmin’s chair has some sort of overlay effect going on, showing a progression of x-rays from the past several months both in succession on one side and superimposed over each other on the other. “Everything else is stable, but there’s a slight decrease in bone mass starting to show.”

Minseok’s stomach immediately plummets through the floor.

“A decrease?” Minseok asks. He tries to keep the nerves out of his voice, but Changmin catches it anyway. He gives Minseok a look.

“Yes, a decrease. But only a small one, and it’s only to be expected,” Changmin explains calmly. “You’ve been flying for what, nine years now?”

“Almost ten,” Minseok feels obliged to specify.

“Almost ten years,” Changmin continues without missing a beat. “It’s only natural for you to be showing the effects of flight now. We can take preventative measures, but they only do so much. Over the years, the semi-gravity state of the bullet ships will wear you down regardless. There’s nothing to worry about at this point, though. You have a while yet before it will affect your flying abilities too much.”

Minseok bows his head to show that he understands, but the words do little to calm him. The entire time Changmin is wrapping up their appointment, the words “decrease in bone mass” continue to spin around in Minseok’s head. He knew this was coming – it comes for every pilot – but it’s still hard to swallow. Minseok has done everything he can, taken every measure to preserve his health. He knew that his time as a pilot would have its limit. He’s not out of time, not yet, but this is the beginning of the end–

“Minseok!”

Minseok is almost out the clinic doors, walking on autopilot, when he hears his name being called. Turning back, he sees Yixing leaning out from the entryway to the x-ray lab, waving one arm in an attempt to get Minseok’s attention. Minseok smiles.

“What’s up?” Minseok asks, even as he begins retracing his steps. “I just saw you like ten minutes ago.”

“Yes, but I missed you,” Yixing says. He leans out with his lips puckered, like he intends to plant a kiss on Minseok once he’s near enough. Minseok stays carefully out of range, and Yixing pouts.

“Nice try,” Minseok says, struggling to keep a stern facade. His stomach is still in knots, but talking to his best friend is already helping to alleviate his mood.

“You’re no fun,” Yixing admonishes playfully. “Anyway, I was just wondering if you wanted to come over tomorrow. Sunyoung will probably be out late, so we could have a movie night or something.”

“We had a movie night last week.” Minseok raises one eyebrow, but Yixing just smiles placidly back. Minseok caves first, letting a small smile slip across his lips. “Alright,” he says holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as nothing comes up, I’ll be over sometime after dinner tomorrow.”

Yixing throws him a salute, then blows a kiss before ducking back into his lab. Minseok laughs, but as soon as Yixing disappears the feeling of dread begins to settle back into his bones. He’s overcome with a childish urge to run out of the clinic, as if doing so will allow him to leave Changmin’s words behind; let him pretend he never heard them.

Minseok takes a deep breath, quells the urge, and walks slowly toward the door. He’s being ridiculous, there’s no reason to panic. As if to prove this to himself, he forces himself to think about the pending movie night. More important than whatever they might watch is the fact that Yixing visits the exchange store more often than Minseok does, and he’s bound to have popcorn. That thought is enough to put a grin on Minseok’s face as he heads to the lifts.

–––

Minseok keeps his hand steady on the thrusters control as his ship hurtles up and up and up, through the thermosphere and out past the exosphere. It takes less than a minute after launching for the bullet ships to clear Earth’s atmosphere. Take off is always heady. The feeling of leaving everything behind, soaring above the world, up higher than most people will ever have the chance to go.

But even so, launch is nothing compared to the exhilaration of kicking into hyper acceleration once Minseok brings his ship fully clear of Earth. The drop in his gut as his ship lurches forward, going faster than he could ever imagine, knowing that he is traveling through space – Minseok will never tire of it, no matter how frustrating the war itself is. With the projection map in front of him and the controls under his hands, he has the ability to reach the edges of the Void in only a few hours. He can go anywhere in the solar system, glide past Saturn’s rings, dodge through the asteroid belt. It doesn’t matter how many times Minseok flies his ship, how many times he launches into space. Every time he presses the acceleration, he feels giddy with excitement.

Today Minseok isn’t going far, just out to Jupiter. He’s on a ghost hunt, searching for any surveillance robots that may be lurking around the large planet. The ride should technically only take a little more than ten minutes, but it’s necessary to slow down to maneuver through the asteroid belt. When at last Minseok is drifting beside Jupiter, he stops to review the map overlaying the left side of his view screen. He watches as first Yerim, then Jongdae’s bullet ship pulls in, flanking him.

“Group communication, activate,” Minseok commands. As soon as the system confirms his request, he says, “Everyone’s here now, so you know what to do. Spread out, take out any ghosts, and call if you find anything strange.”

The other two pilots give confirmation, then begin flying their ships in opposite directions around the planet. The robots humans call ghosts are small enough to escape the notice of Earth’s radars and scans, and they tend to hide in the shadow of planets while they collect information. Luckily they’re easy to eliminate, since surveillance is their sole capability.

Minseok focuses on one of Jupiter’s moons to start with, since the moons provide nice cover for the ghosts to hide behind. The most important thing is to keep moving, always on alert for a ping. He is completely focused on the hunt, moving his ship slowly and keeping his eyes trained on the screen, when his system announces an incoming private call. Minseok accepts, and immediately Jongdae’s voice comes across the line.

“So I heard you dodged another gala.”

Minseok resists the urge to snort.

“When am I ever not dodging galas?” he replies blandly. He’s a military pilot, not a socialite. Unless something is explicitly part of his job description, he sees little point in going.

“Junmyeon says that the board of directors is demanding at least two pilots from our sector, so he’s sending me and Joohyun,” Jongdae says, pretending to sulk. Minseok knows it’s an act. Jongdae excels at public events, particularly ones where he can use his silver tongue to charm rich people into donating to charitable causes.

“Look at it this way,” Minseok says. “Last time you went to a gala for me, you met Lu Han. Maybe this one will bring some sort of luck your way, too.”

Jongdae chokes, and Minseok grins. Two summers ago, the Asiatic Federation had staged some sort of inter-sector friendship gala, and invited pilots from each station within the federation. Junmyeon had wanted Minseok to go, as the most senior pilot, but he had turned the offer down and Jongdae had ended up going in his place. Jongdae spent the entire week before the gala whining, but shut up quickly when he got there and met Lu Han, a senior pilot from the Hebei Sector.

Before Jongdae can think of a comeback, Minseok notices a small blip on the corner of his scanner. It’s close to the moon, just as expected, and Minseok is positive it’s a ghost. Minseok grins and guides his ship closer for inspection – it wouldn’t do to accidentally destroy an Earth satellite instead.

“Hey Jongdae, I gotta go. I think I found my first ghost.”

Jongdae gives an acknowledgement, and Minseok disconnects. As he gets closer, the ping from his scan comes back strong enough that he can finally make out the shape. It’s long and spindly, unlike the round and compact satellites Earth prefers to use. A ghost for sure. Minseok’s grin widens and he hones in.

When at last the ghost enters his field of vision, Minseok feels a sense of grim satisfaction. Ghost hunts may not be as exciting as taking on dragons or goblins, but it’s still gratifying to know that he’s blowing holes in Ijjen’s intelligence map.

“Time for a blackout,” Minseok mutters to himself as he engages his ship’s attack mechanisms. He wastes no time in aiming, locking the target, and firing. Not even a second later the ghost explodes, any pieces of machinery that aren’t obliterated on the spot scattering. Minseok only allows himself a moment to watch before renewing his hunt. Ijjen usually launches ghosts in batches, and where there’s one there’s bound to be more. He can take time to gloat after he’s sure the area is clear.

–––

The chairs in the reading rooms in the study area on level three are always delightfully comfy. Minseok sinks into the armchair in the single-chair cubby he picked out and lets out a contented sigh. The study area is large, taking up more than a third of the floor it’s on. There are rooms ranging in size from those big enough to accommodate large groups to private cubicles, as well as both public and private reading rooms. The bright rooms and soundproof walls make the study area a popular destination for the engineers, scientists, and various interns with access to the upper levels.

There is a lounge just for the pilots and control room operators, with tables and a plump sofa and a state of the art entertainment system on level four. Minseok likes it well enough, but honestly when the other pilots are around it tends to be too loud. It’s nice to get away and spend some time somewhere he can hear himself think.

Minseok settles his tablet projector on his lap and pulls up one of the files he had downloaded from the main library database console by the front doors on his way in. It’s an academic article about changes in the Korean language since the Migration period, when Koreans had to abandon their peninsula to the rising sea and relocate inland. Linguistics is an old interest of Minseok’s, dating back to a lecture series the pilot trainees had been forced to attend. His interest had gone latent for a long time, buried under the workload of being a pilot, but had resurfaced a few months before with the encouragement of Yixing’s girlfriend, Sunyoung, an intergalactic linguist for the military.

Minseok’s personal research is slow going, though. A lack of formal education on the matter makes academic articles and papers difficult at the best of times and completely indecipherable at others. Minseok frowns, skipping past the lingo-laced introduction to the part of the article that discusses the vestigial existence of Pre-Migration Korean honorifics in modern Korean, something that had piqued his interest when he saw it mentioned in another article the week before. Then he settles in to read, with two extra windows pulled open for note taking and internet searches.

Minseok is so immersed in his research that when a flash of pink passes by on the other side of the glass walls that make up the reading room areas, he almost misses it. It’s the blur of color that catches the corner of his eye and jerks him out of his concentration. Minseok blinks owlishly, waiting for his eyes to refocus away from his tablet, then does a double take.

Right there before his eyes, tauntingly visible despite the entire row of glass-walled rooms separating them, is the pink-haired guy from the shuttle. He’s with a group of other people his age – interns, Minseok guesses – and laughing as he drops his bag on a chair.

Minseok sinks lower in his chair and turns his head away just enough that he can watch without appearing to. He may not be able to eavesdrop, but he’s still curious. The truth is, he’s become well acquainted with the sight of that pink hair over the past couple weeks. Minseok is positive that he had never seen that guy running before, but lately he been frequenting the track at the same time Minseok does his regular workout.

Out of sheer stubbornness, Minseok has refused to ask anyone about him. Has refused to even acknowledge that he’s increasingly curious. But seeing him here, on yet another new front, has the interest Minseok has so far repressed struggling to break free. If this guy’s some sort of intern, what is he studying? Admittedly Minseok only knows a small percentage of the people with access to the upper levels, but he’s positive he would have noticed this guy around. Is the dye job just new, or did he only recently get his position?

While Minseok is lost in his thoughts, the guy turns his head. Minseok doesn’t manage to turn away fast enough, and their eyes lock. Minseok can feel his ears burning, embarrassed to have been caught staring. The guy looks surprised, eyebrows rising towards his bangs. Then he smiles and inclines his head in a slight bow. Not sure what else to do, Minseok nods back then very deliberately turns back to his tablet. They may be separated by soundproof walls, but in his head Minseok can hear the guy laughing at him.

Minseok slumps even further into his chair and strengthens his resolve not to ask anyone about the guy. Getting caught staring is embarrassing enough. He doesn’t need to get caught asking around as well. Besides, his friends would most likely take the chance to tease him.

Another ten minutes drag past as Minseok tries to go back to his reading. He can’t seem to focus, though. The words swim before his eyes, looking more and more like one of the alien languages Sunyoung studies. At last Minseok gives up and powers down his tablet. He sneaks a peek over the edge of his chair. The pink-haired guy is deep in conversation with his friends, pointing at something spread out on the table.

Quickly, while the coast is clear, Minseok scoops up his tablet power base and makes his exit. There is nowhere to hide in the study area, since the walls are all glass, so he reluctantly sets a course for the pilot’s lounge. Studying is most likely a lost cause for the day anyway.

When Minseok enters the doors to the lounge he is greeted with chaos, as expected. Yerim and Baekhyun are in the midst of a passionate video game battle, yelling insults at each other as they maneuver their hover cars over a desert landscape. Seulgi is leaning over the back of the couch they’re on, offering advice that neither seem to be heeding.

On the other side of the room, Kyungsoo is sitting in one of the comfy armchairs. It is supposed to be a one-person seat, but somehow Jongdae has worked himself into it as well. He’s sprawled out, legs over Kyungsoo’s lap and back just barely contained by the chair’s cushions. Minseok bites back a smile at the scene – just about anyone else would be dead if they so much as tried to sit on the arm of Kyungsoo’s chair, yet somehow Jongdae is there, looking comfy as can be.

Minseok heads to the corner Kyungsoo and Jongdae are in, distancing himself from the gaming crew. Kyungsoo is reading something on his tablet, which he has to hold with one hand since Jongdae is blocking his other arm. Jongdae, for his part, is in the middle of a video call on his personacomm. When he spots Minseok, Jongdae looks up and smiles in greeting before turning back to the device strapped to his wrist. Seconds later he’s mumbling a “love you” and tilting the device so Kyungsoo can wave and say goodbye before Jongdae ends the call.

“Lu Han?” Minseok asks as he settles into the chair across from them. Jongdae beams and nods.

“They’ve been at it for the past hour,” Kyungsoo says. The look he gives Minseok makes it clear how put-upon he is, but with the skill that comes from years of interpreting Kyungsoo’s expressions Minseok can see the underlying affection there.

“Hey, I bring excitement to your life. If not for me, you would have been sitting here reading by yourself all afternoon. How boring.” Jongdae tips his head back so that he can grin at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo turns his deadpan stare to Jongdae, and uses the motion to twist his trapped arm free. Jongdae yelps and clings to Kyungsoo to keep from toppling off the chair. Minseok snorts.

“Where’s everyone else?” Minseok quickly asks, before the situation can devolve into Jongdae being dumped onto the floor.

“Seungwan’s off, Sooyoung’s on shift, and Chanyeol’s asleep,” Kyungsoo replies, accounting for the rest of the control room’s main supervisors.

“Junmyeon’s in a meeting,” Jongdae adds. “Man, I would not want his job. And it’s Joohyun’s off day.”

Minseok nods and pulls his tablet back out. Kyungsoo goes back to his reading, and Jongdae pulls up a messaging program on his personacomm. Minseok is just opening a message from his cousin with some pictures of the kids when a commotion that can only indicate the end of the video game match comes from the other side of the room.

Minseok glances over and finds Yerim and Seulgi high-fiving as Baekhyun slides off the couch and collapses on the floor in disgust. Seconds later, Baekhyun slinks over to Minseok’s side of the room as Seulgi takes his place on the couch and picks up his controller.

“They’re a bunch of cheaters,” Baekhyun whines. He tries to add himself to the pile on the other chair, and almost gets Jongdae’s foot in his stomach for his efforts. In the end he settles for sitting on the arm of Minseok’s chair.

“You should have learned by now that Yerim is undefeatable at that game,” Minseok says without looking up from his ‘comm.

“I know, but I’m bored,” Baekhyun says. “When I was training to be a pilot I never imagined it would require so much waiting around.”

Minseok smiles wryly and pats Baekhyun’s thigh in consolation. It’s true that the pilots’ job involves much more waiting around than most people would imagine. They may be on call 24 hours a day, but if there are no monsters out in the Void then there are also no calls. Meetings and reports only take up so much time, and so the pilots often find themselves in a state of limbo.

“Just keep your mind on the trade off,” Minseok suggests. “Hours of waiting around in exchange for being able to fly a spaceship around the solar system and blow up robots.” It’s advice Minseok finds himself more often than not needing to remind himself of. When he’s up in space, it’s easy to remember why he loves his job. Sitting around the tower, it’s a bit more difficult.

Before Baekhyun can reply, Yerim calls out from across the room, “We’re switching games, wanna play again?”

Baekhyun is off like a shot. Minseok laughs, shaking his head, then turns back to his tablet. Rest is necessary for health, but Baekhyun is right – after a while, monotony sets in. There have been many discussions, at least among the military, about what to do with pilots during their downtime. These discussions usually end in heated disagreement, with nothing actually achieved. Minseok personally belongs to the camp suggesting downtime should contain more things like drills, reviews, and tactical training on a wider scope. And who knows, maybe if the war really does last another twenty years the military will figure out something better to do with its pilots. In the meantime, though, all there is to do is wait.

–––

“Are you sure you aren’t too content with just waiting?”

Minseok pauses with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth and glances down at the top of Yixing’s head. Yixing is leaning against Minseok’s shoulder, with his feet tucked up under him on the couch. The lights are off, and there’s some action flick playing on the entertainment system. Since they’ve both seen it a million times, Minseok had started aimlessly chatting about his day in the middle of the movie. When he brought up the conversation he’d had in the lounge earlier, he had expected Yixing to make some sort of generic sound of agreement. What he hadn’t expected was for Yixing to turn the situation back on him.

“What do you mean?” Minseok asks carefully.

“You say that it’s a waste to just wait around, but you continue to do it. You’re contributing to it.” Yixing’s words are mild, a gentle statement of facts. He’s not trying to provoke Minseok, and it’s not like his words are wrong – Minseok knows that. Even so, Minseok can’t help but feel defensive.

“I could change, run my own drills every hour of the day and study until I drop, and it wouldn’t change anything,” Minseok says. “The military’s the one in control, and you know how they are about change. Until they’ve got dragons dropping in through the atmosphere and throwing bombs at their heads they won’t change a damn thing.”

Yixing hums in agreement, grabbing a handful of popcorn. When he munches his popcorn instead of immediately replying, Minseok figures that’s the end of it. He shoves his own forgotten popcorn into his mouth and turns his gaze back to the screen.

“I’m just worried about you,” Yixing suddenly says, almost five minutes later. Minseok jerks, surprised. Apparently unbothered by Minseok’s reaction, Yixing continues, “I know that you love flying, and that you’re good at it. But I’m worried that you’ll spend all your time on the ground waiting to get up in the air again, day after day, until one day you’ll wake up and realize that you’ve drifted for so long that you’ve ended up lost.”

Minseok stiffens, pulls away. Yixing also straightens and turns to look Minseok in the eye. There is nothing but genuine concern there, and somehow that makes it even worse.

“You saw the x-ray,” Minseok says. Not a question but a statement. Yixing stares levelly back at him. Of course he saw it, of course – he may not be Minseok’s physician, but he’s the resident radiologist. He’s the one who took the x-rays, the one who would have shown them to Changmin to start with.

For a second Minseok is lost in a wave of irrational fear. Maybe Yixing knows something he doesn’t, maybe Changmin hadn’t told Minseok everything, maybe the bone loss is worse than he thought. The panic must show on his face, because Yixing reaches out to place a reassuring hand on Minseok’s shoulder.

“You’re fine,” Yixing says. “I’m not worried about that, you’re doing everything right for your health. It’s just that you don’t seem to have much direction for the future. I wish you would give more thought to what you want to do later on.”

Minseok barely hears him, his already spiraling emotions intensifying as budding hysteria feeds into irrational anger toward his friend. They’ll be out of his control soon, and that knowledge is enough to have him clamping down hard. Stop it, he tells himself sternly. You’re fine – Xing just said so. And he’s only trying to help. Don’t let your fear control you.

Yixing squeezes his shoulder lightly, obviously concerned by Minseok’s silence. Minseok breathes in, forcing down the last of the apprehension over his health and suppressing the remnants of resentment toward what had felt entirely too much like an accusation. The emotions are still there, simmering under the surface, but they’re no longer threatening to take over.

“Sorry,” Minseok says on the exhale. “You’re right, I’ll be fine.” He pauses, forces a smile. “And for the thing about the future, I’ll– I’ll think about it.” The words leave him with a bitter taste. Yixing is right; Minseok hasn’t thought as much about the future as he probably should. But knowing his friend is right and openly acknowledging it are two different things.

“Okay,” Yixing says, giving Minseok’s shoulder another squeeze. He’s been friends with Minseok long enough to know not to push when Minseok backs down. Yixing pulls his hand away and gives Minseok one of his sleepy, disarming smiles. “Come on,” he says, gesturing to the forgotten popcorn bowl on the table, “the popcorn’s getting cold.”

And just like that, the conversation is over. Yixing turns back to the screen, and Minseok lets the tension drain from him. He leans back into the couch, and within seconds Yixing is sprawled halfway across him again. Minseok knows that he’s probably still worrying, but for now Yixing considers the conversation closed and is willing to let it go. That’s just how Yixing is, and it’s one of the things Minseok really appreciates about him.

Yixing grabs the popcorn bowl and offers it to Minseok. Minseok’s stomach still feels like lead, but he takes a handful anyway. The artificial butter feels viscous on his tongue. It does little to wash the bitterness from his mouth. The warmth of his best friend against his side and the repeated reassurances to himself that Yixing meant well do a much better job of that.

–––

The first thing Minseok notices when he enters the study area is that only one other room is occupied. That might not stand out to him on a normal day, but today there is a head of pink hair visible beyond the glass walls. The same pink hair Minseok had seen just two hours earlier, running around the track.

Minseok briefly considers leaving and studying in his bedroom instead, before scolding himself for being silly and heading over to one of the many empty study rooms. There’s no reason for him to avoid the guy. In fact, he’s somewhat interested in doing the exact opposite. Minseok may have embarrassed himself last time, but he’s still curious. And besides, if he studies in his room he’ll most likely end up taking a nap instead of reading.

Minseok enters a reading room four rooms over from the cubicle where the pink-haired guy is studying. The guy has his back turned to the main room, bent over his desk, but Minseok’s movement must catch his eye. He straightens at his desk and turns to look.

For the second time in two days, their eyes meet through the sheets of glass. At first the guy freezes, then a smile quickly spreads across his face. It’s a very nice smile, Minseok thinks. So instead of turning away like last time, he smiles back.

It’s just a small smile, but the effect is immediate. The pink-haired guy’s smile widens even further. He nods a greeting, and uses the motion to not-so-subtly give Minseok a once over. Minseok snorts. The guy must like what he sees, because he flashes Minseok another coy look before turning back to his work.

Minseok hesitates, standing in his reading room. He has his tablet power base clasped in one hand, and uses his thumb to pop the projector open and shut as he considers. On one hand, Minseok can’t even remember the last time he flirted with someone. His last relationship was three years ago. On the other hand, this guy is cute, and he keeps popping up everywhere, and Minseok wants to know. With one last decisive pop, Minseok shuts his tablet and heads back out the reading room door.

When Minseok knocks on the door of the study cubicle, the pink-haired guy whirls around. It’s almost comical, the way his eyes widen and go from surprised to panicked before he gets control over his expression. Minseok makes a gesture, asking if he can come in, and the guy blinks before nodding.

Minseok hits the button, and the door slides open. He steps inside and smiles.

“Hi,” Minseok says. Mostly because he’s not sure what else to do.

“Hi,” the guy returns. He’s still sitting, having to tip his head back slightly to look at Minseok properly. Suddenly Minseok feels awkward standing, and wishes they were in a room with more chairs so he could take a seat.

“I saw you, um, looking,” Minseok says. He raises his eyebrows slightly, inviting the guy to make the next move.

“Oh,” the guy says. He licks his lips – nervous. Funny, because he was so blatant with his flirting when there were walls between them, but now that Minseok’s here he doesn’t seem to know quite what to do with himself. “Yeah, well. It would be hard not to look.”

That surprises a laugh out of Minseok. For the first time since Minseok entered the room, the guy’s smile returns. Minseok’s heart thumps louder in his chest.

“Kim Minseok,” he offers, inclining his head slightly.

“I know,” the guy says. Then, seeing Minseok’s look, continues, “I asked around.”

“Since yesterday?” Minseok asks, shocked. He hadn’t thought his looks were quite that enchanting.

“No, I noticed you before, while I was running.” A smile, almost shy. “It wasn’t hard to figure out who used the gym at the same time every day.”

“Oh,” Minseok says. He blinks. It’s not often he doesn’t have the upper hand, and suddenly he feels off-balance.

“I had no clue you were a pilot though – you were always in gym clothes. I’m Oh Sehun, by the way.” The guy gives a half-bow from his seat. Once again Minseok feels awkward standing. He crosses his arms across his chest to try to make up for it, hugging them close.

“It’s probably just as well you didn’t know,” he says for the sake of something to say, still preoccupied with wishing he had a chair. “The first time I saw you I was afraid you were a pilot-chaser.”

“The first time?” Sehun asks, and immediately Minseok realizes his mistake. Great, now he seems like some kind of creep. Before he can explain, though, Sehun’s eyes light up “Ah!” he exclaims. “Were you that guy in the shuttle?”

Once again Minseok is caught off-guard. He was wearing a cap and a mask that day, there’s no way–

“It’s your eyes,” Sehun explains. “They’re very distinct. I noticed them, back on the shuttle. Sorry, that’s kind of weird.”

“A little bit,” Minseok acquiesces, in no small part because he’s still so surprised. He smiles to soften the words, but it doesn’t seem to help much. Sehun laughs and rubs the back of his neck, and they quickly descend into an awkward silence. Minseok desperately casts around for something else to talk about, and his eyes end up landing on the etch-tech sheet on Sehun’s desk. The sheet, actually a large, thin, flexible screen generally used for drawing or note-taking, is covered in equations.

“Are you with the engineering crew?” Minseok asks, gesturing at the sheet. Sehun glances down at the equations, then nods.

“I’m actually just an intern, but yeah. I used to have a position down in the middle levels, but I managed to get a spot up here with the flight design engineers a little while back.” Sehun grins, obviously pleased with what essentially amounts to having received a promotion. He swipes his hand across the etch-tech sheet, sending the equations away and pulling up an intricate diagram of a bullet ship. “Our intern group is working on an analysis project right now. That’s why we were in here yesterday, actually.”

The stiff atmosphere disintegrates as Sehun talks, the awkwardness no match for his enthusiasm. Sehun moves his chair to the side, a silent invitation for Minseok to come look, and Minseok smiles as he moves closer. Sehun must be a recent graduate from the Asiatic Federation Military Academy of Engineering, if he’s landing internship positions all the way in the upper levels. That’s no small feat – the AFMAE is the best of the best and extremely competitive. They had, after all, been the ones who developed the very first bullet ships.

Sehun chats eagerly as he flips through several designs and sketches, and Minseok does his best to follow what Sehun’s saying and give pertinent comments. His intimate knowledge of bullet ships is Minseok’s saving grace. Outside of his ship, he knows very little about engineering. Sehun seems impressed, though, so Minseok lets himself preen a little.

They move to talking about life in the tower, and how Sehun’s finding the upper levels. Minseok is just about to ask Sehun for his personacomm ID when the small alarm box up above the doorway to the cubicle starts blaring. It pierces through their conversation, resonating around the tiny room. To his credit, Sehun doesn’t so much as flinch. Minseok shoots Sehun an apologetic look and straightens from his position leaning against the desk.

“Duty calls,” Minseok says once the alarm clicks off.

“Go have fun saving the world,” Sehun says, waving him off with a grin. “See you around.”

Minseok finds himself smiling back. His stomach is a mess of excitement, from both his impending flight and the potential in Sehun’s words.

“Yeah,” Minseok agrees, backing toward to door. “See you.”

–––

Landing back at the Clocktower isn’t nearly as exciting as takeoff, but Minseok still finds something satisfying in precisely maneuvering his ship into place. It would be easy for someone inexperienced to misgauge the distance, to skid or even crash; there’s a reason the practice ships for trainees take off from the middle of a giant empty field. Of course none of the actual pilots would crash, but even so many of them simply land and then hop out as soon as their bullet ship is more or less in its hangar space. For Minseok, though, there’s a certain gratification for lining his ship up just right, getting it to fit exactly into its resting place.

This means that usually by the time Minseok hops down from the cockpit, the other pilots are usually already out and either stretching or heading for the exit. Minseok doesn’t really mind. Before the pilots even leave the hangar the mechanics are already on their way to check the ships. Hanging back means that while Minseok stretches he can also take the chance to chat with Jongin.

Jongin is always one of the first mechanics to reach ship-side. It may be Minseok’s ship, but it’s Jongin’s baby, second only in his affections to his niece. Minseok’s cousin asked him once if he found it scary being in space with just the ship to protect him, but honestly when he’s flying the ship is the least of Minseok’s concerns. Jongin knows the ship inside and out, every wire and screw. Minseok does his own in-ship safety checks before and during flight only out of habit. With Jongin on the job, Minseok knows he’ll be safe.

“Long time no see,” Minseok calls, teasing, as Jongin approaches the ship. He knows that Jongin tries to stack his off days to fall on the last and first days of the week as much as possible, so that he can get down Cityside to see his girlfriend in between his longer vacations. This may be the first alarm in a while, but Minseok hasn’t seen Jongin even at meals for the past three days.

“Yeah, I was down visiting,” Jongin says, confirming Minseok’s suspicions. He doesn’t even look at Minseok as he speaks, instead reverently running his hands over the side of the ship for a moment before getting to work.

“How’s your girlfriend doing?” Minseok prods. He drops into a lunge, losing sight of Jongin for a second.

“She’s good.” Jongin’s voice is muffled, meaning he’s probably in the cockpit now. “On my next long break, we’re going to head to the provinces to visit my family.”

Minseok can hear the excitement in Jongin’s voice. He smiles slightly as he switches to lunge down on the other leg. A trip home means Minseok’s personacomm will soon be filled with picture messages of Jongin’s niece.

They fall into a comfortable silence while Minseok continues his stretches and Jongin continues his inspection. Around them the hangar is a beehive of activity as the other mechanics finish up their work. Minseok also finishes his main stretches, but continues into a longer routine. Jongin’s company, even silent, is pleasant.

“You’re sure being thorough today,” Minseok finally calls when the last of the other mechanics have left. “I promise I didn’t scratch it on an asteroid or something.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Jongin says. He’s halfway underneath the ship now, checking some sort of hatch. “But I just got back right before the alarm, and I didn’t have a chance to do a full service check. I don’t trust the backup crew to be thorough enough.”

Jongin crawls back out from under the ship, face scrunched up to show his dissatisfaction with the other mechanics. Minseok laughs as he offers Jongin a hand up.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Minseok says. “See you at dinner.”

Jongin barely even spares time to give an acknowledgement before flitting off to check something else. Minseok shakes his head fondly as he turns away. He really is glad to have Jongin as his mechanic.

–––

When Minseok was a new pilot, he used to hang onto every word of every meeting with the Commander at the time. Hearing news of the politics taking place across the galaxy made everything seem much more tangible, even more so than routinely shooting robots from the sky. The politics gave the war purpose, meaning. Now, though, he hardly ever does more than listen with half an ear. It's not like the news has changed much over the past ten years.

"Why did the Congress reject our plea again?" Yerim asks timidly, almost as if she's afraid to pose a question in front of the Commander. Minseok glances at her. She's only been a pilot for a couple months, and therefore being privy to inside information is still new to her. All the public is ever told is that the delegations to the Intergalactic Congress are continuing to press for support against Ijjen, not any of the actual details about how successful those delegations actually are.

"We don't have enough proof," Boa replies. The way she speaks puts sarcastic quotation marks around her words.

"Like always," Junmyeon mumbles under his breath. Minseok only hears him because they're sitting next to each other.

"But we blow up Ijjen's monsters every day," Yerim says. "Is that not enough proof?"

"Not for the Congress," Boa says. "We can prove that they're Ijjen's monsters, but everyone buys robots from Ijjen. We can’t prove that Ijjen was the one to send them here."

"Everyone knows, of course," Junmyeon says, loud enough for everyone to hear this time. "They just don't want to get involved. This isn't their battle, so they're staying out of it by any means possible."

"They've been staying out of it for the past twenty years," Boa says dryly. "No one wants to risk conflict with Ijjen over a tiny baby world like Earth."

Yerim frowns, but doesn't press any further. Instead, Baekhyun props his chin on his hand and interjects:

"It's a wonder they haven't just given up and blown us to smithereens. It's not like they couldn't do it. Seems like that would save everyone a whole lot of time and money."

Boa shoots him a look. Baekhyun straightens his posture, but adds a shrug as if to say, I'm just saying.

"First, if they did that, the Congress would get involved. And that's a case Ijjen couldn't win – attack on a lesser-developed world is a massive offense, which is why we're still trying so hard to prove that they are, in fact, attacking us." Boa's words are directed at Baekhyun, but she lets her gaze travel across the row of pilots, fixing on each of them for a moment before moving on. "Second, the money they'd make off of our Rhalnxonium would more than make up for even a hundred years of war. There's a reason they're so invested in this."

"And if they blew us up, they would lose all the Xo as well, and everything would go to waste," Seulgi adds quietly from her seat between Jongdae and Yerim.

"Indeed," Boa says with a slight smile and a nod. "Now, if we're done having chit-chat time, I have a letter from the General I'm supposed to read you, and another from the prime minister."

As the meeting settles back into swing, Minseok finds his mind wandering again. The letters are nothing special: notes of encouragement and thankfulness, invitations to various public events. Things that, while nice, contain no actual information. Minseok's been hearing rehashes of these same words for years.

He finds himself repeating Yerim's question in his head, replaying the frustration and confusion. It's hard, going from the placations of "we're working on it" to realizing that the "work" isn't in fact doing any good. The political process is arduous, the stalemate draining for everyone involved. The pilots' jobs may be physically exhausting, but those involved in the political dance face mental exhaustion. For them, there's no break between monster attacks to recharge. Sunyoung will be gone for months at a time, attending the Congress, only to come home to 18 hour workdays and an endless stream of intercepted transmissions that need translation.

Knowing the amount of effort that goes into "working on it," coupled with knowing that this effort essentially adds up to nothing, is disheartening. And coming to terms with the prevailing sense of melancholy is tough. Some people fight against it and use that struggle as their strength and motivation. Junmyeon's like that, which is why Minseok holds no bitterness over Junmyeon’s position as the pilots’ leader. Those people are the ones whose passion keeps not only themselves but everyone around them going.

Minseok, in contrast, has found that it's easiest to accept the melancholy. Accept the deadlock and the frustration, and push on despite it until the stalemate breaks. So Minseok accepts the melancholy, embraces it, and holds it in place until the day it can be shattered.

–––

Minseok grins when he spots the familiar pink hair out on the track. If he's honest with himself, he'd been hoping to see Sehun here again. He'd meant to track him down again, but in the three days since that fateful alarm bell the world has seemed to be acting against him, as all of Minseok's usual downtime has been eaten up by meetings and appointments. Catching Sehun at the gym seemed like his best bet, yet each day Sehun had been missing. So seeing him now, Minseok finds himself wanting to sigh in relief. Finally.

Just then, Sehun looks up. He catches sight of Minseok and extends one arm over his head in a wave. Minseok waves back before turning away from the railing. He still has his weight routine to finish, and he actually already went for a run before breakfast, but none of that seems to matter at the moment as he makes his way down to the track.

Minseok is out on the field in record time. He jogs his way over to Sehun, who stops running and completely freezes in surprise when he sees Minseok coming. Minseok grins wider and waves again. Sehun is dressed much as Minseok is, in gym shorts and a t-shirt. Minseok allows himself a moment to admire what he can see of Sehun's long legs as he approaches. They're quite nice legs, and he has to remind himself to look up before Sehun catches him staring.

"What are you doing down here?" Sehun asks when Minseok is only a few steps away.

"I need to run later, anyway," Minseok lies with a smile. "So I thought I might as well get a head start."

Sehun gives Minseok a suspicious look, as if he doesn't quite believe him, but starts jogging again anyway. Minseok quickly falls into place next to him, syncing his shorter strides to Sehun's longer ones. Their steps beat out a pleasant staccato against the artificial ground, not perfectly matched but instead complementary. Minseok finds that he likes how it feels, comfortably keeping pace with Sehun. It’s much more pleasant than his normal solitary runs.

"Sorry for running off on you last time," Minseok says, testing the water. It would be nice to chat, but not all people enjoy talking while running. Relief washes over him when Sehun immediately offers a cheerful reply.

"It's fine, there were monsters out in the Void who needed vanquishing." Sehun slides Minseok a look, which Minseok only catches because he's shamelessly watching Sehun's face. He doesn't even mind that Sehun knows he was staring, because the smile Sehun gives him makes it worth it.

They jog on until they reach the side of the track that offers a view of the mezzanine where the weight room is located. It feels strange, to be down here with Sehun instead of watching from above, but Minseok thinks it's infinitely better this way.

"You know, I was hoping you were watching me," Sehun suddenly says, breaking the short silence. Minseok blinks as Sehun gestures up toward the weight room. "You would stand up there, and I couldn't really tell where you were looking. Even though I was all sweaty and gross, I still hoped you were looking at me."

Sehun's cheeks are stained slightly pink, and Minseok can't tell if he's blushing or just flushed from exercise. Either way, it has Minseok smiling.

"Yeah, well, you're kind of hard to miss," Minseok says dryly with a pointed glance at Sehun's hair. If it was Jongdae or Jongin, or even Junmyeon, he probably would have reached over to ruffle the hair in question. As it is, he stops himself, and in that moment of hesitation gets a joking elbow in his ribs.

"I'll have you know that my hair is the height of fashion," Sehun says with a dramatic sniff.

"Sure," Minseok replies, dragging the syllable out into a drawl. He gets another elbow to the side and laughs as he runs ahead slightly to get out of range.

"Like you're one talk about fashion," Sehun accuses when he catches up again. "I looked up your profile in the database. I saw that haircut."

"It’s military regulation," Minseok replies with another laugh. He has a bit more leeway now, but sixteen-year-old Minseok had been every bit as subject to the atrocious regulation haircuts as all the other trainees.

"That entire profile was a giant lie," Sehun pushes on. He sounds affronted, eyebrows scrunched in indignation, as if the profile had committed a personal offense against him. "It made you seem like a scrawny teenager, when you’re actually–” Sehun gestures to Minseok, apparently unable to find the right words to describe his decidedly not-scrawny stature. “And it said that you’re four years older than me, which, again, lie. There’s no way that’s true.”

“My age on the site is absolutely true. I am, in fact, twenty-six,” Minseok says, amused. “And that photo hasn’t been updated since I first became a pilot, that’s why.”

Sehun huffs indignantly. “You should update it, then. It’s a shame that anyone looking through the database will think you look like that, when you’re actually–” Sehun stops, obviously pulling short of what he intended to say. Then he shrugs and says it anyway: “–hot.”

The sudden acceleration of Minseok’s heart has nothing to do with their jogging pace. He fights down the smile that threatens to spill across his face and tries to remain nonchalant.

“It doesn’t really matter what people think I look like, as long as I can do my job,” Minseok says. “Speaking of my job, though, I would like to get your personacomm number today, since my job interrupted us last time.” He’s changing the subject away from himself, but Sehun doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah?” he says instead, looking at Minseok from the corner of his eye. There’s a smile pulling at his lips, and his bangs are flopping into his eyes. Cute, Minseok thinks as he smiles back and nods.

Sehun says something about doing one more lap then finishing up and exchanging numbers, and Minseok nods again as he agrees. It’s funny, this giddiness building up beneath his ribcage, pressing against his chest. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way, and Minseok finds that it’s rather refreshing.

“Race you,” Minseok says, already pulling ahead as he speaks. By the time he reaches a full on sprint, he can hear Sehun’s protests from behind him. The other handful of people out on the track are turning to stare, but Minseok doesn’t care in the least. The feelings bubbling inside him fuel his dash, and he laughs as he runs. The wind against his face is invigorating, and the exhilaration is intoxicating.

He can hear Sehun behind him, still yelling. Minseok spares a glance over his shoulder and sees Sehun gaining ground on him. When he notices Minseok looking, Sehun makes a rather rude gesture that has Minseok laughing again.

“Catch me if you can,” Minseok yells, then runs.

–––

The alarm bell is hammering through Minseok’s head, driving straight into his brain. Minseok groans and rolls out of bed. He forces his eyes open wide enough to glance at the clock – one in the morning, he’s been asleep for barely two hours. It would be tempting to crawl back into bed, but the alarm is still ringing in his head, filling his brain with images of the monsters waiting out in the Void.

Minseok hauls himself across the room, pulls on his flightsuit, and heads out. Just another night, just another flight.

----------------------------------------------------------------
PART II
----------------------------------------------------------------

The pounding of his feet against the track is hypnotic, lulling Minseok into a state of drifting consciousness. When he's running, he doesn't need to worry about monsters or meetings; he can focus solely on the beat of his steps and the distance updates from the fitness app on his personacomm. Minseok loves the exhilaration of his weight workouts, but his daily runs are in a way the most relaxing part of his day.

Recently, Minseok's runs have had another added perk. Three days a week, instead of running before breakfast, he pushes back his workout routine and meets Sehun on the track later in the morning. It was strange at first, adjusting his pace and getting used to having someone running next to him, but now they’ve established a rhythm. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they run in silence, but even without words Minseok finds that simply having Sehun there, jogging along next to him, seems to make his time on the track pass more quickly.

Minseok sneaks a look at Sehun as they turn the far end of the track. They're about halfway through their run, and Sehun's bangs are sticking to his forehead. Somehow he still manages to look handsome despite the rivulets of sweat running down his temples. Minseok looks away quickly, refocusing his eyes on the track ahead.

It's not like the track is their only point of intersection. Since exchanging contact numbers, they've messaged each other fairly frequently. They even met up at the study rooms a couple of times – Sehun laboring over a project while Minseok did some reading, although in the end they spent more time chatting than working.

Everything about the time they spend together is low-key, comfortable. Sehun is happy to talk, but he's also happy to lapse into silence. They can go from discussing movies to flirting to discussing politics at the drop of a hat, and it all feels so natural. No pressure. Being around Sehun is addictive, and Minseok finds himself making excuses to meet up.

The problem is scheduling. Sehun's internship is demanding, and a good portion of the time he doesn't spend in the lab is spent with the other interns, planning and making calculations. And then there's Minseok's schedule, which is by principle utterly unpredictable. Even the semblance of a schedule meetings and appointments give him regularly gets moved around in accordance to monster alarms. A flight one morning can still have repercussions on his scheduling two days later. Minseok's off days are their best hope, but so far none of them have landed on the same days Sehun has off. It’s frustrating to say the least, and although the messages of encouragement Sehun leaves Minseok on his ‘comm are cute, they just aren’t the same as an actual face-to-face meeting.

"What are you thinking about?" Sehun asks. They've finished running now and are walking along the outer edge of the track to cool down. "You've been really quiet today."

"You," Minseok replies. He does it mostly for Sehun's reaction, and he isn't disappointed. Sehun's eyes widen comically as he chokes. While Sehun is coughing to clear his throat, Minseok throws him an overdramatic wink.

Sehun reaches out to punch Minseok’s shoulder and Minseok’s reaction is every bit as dramatic as his wink had been. He leans away and gasps, clutching his shoulder as if wounded.

“How dare you hit your hyung?” Minseok jokes.

“Hyung my ass,” Sehun mutters, just loud enough for Minseok to hear. This time Minseok is the one who smacks Sehun.

“Punk,” Minseok declares. Sehun puts on an innocent face, eyes wide and smile sickeningly sweet. Minseok snorts. “Come on,” Minseok says, “let’s finish up and do stretches before turning in. I have to be back up at the hangar for an inspection in about an hour.”

Sehun nods, then bites his lip as if he wants to say something but is hesitating. Minseok has noticed that this seems to be a nervous habit Sehun has, biting or licking his lips before speaking. So Minseok keeps silent, waiting for Sehun’s next words – except they never come. Sehun just glances away from Minseok after a second and keeps walking. Minseok is curious, but he lets it go when Sehun moves on to talking about some drama among his coworkers. If Sehun doesn’t want to talk about whatever it was, Minseok figures there’s no point in pressing.

They continue on to stretches, and then all too soon they’re walking back into the changing rooms, with Sehun heading for his locker while Minseok makes his way over toward the showers.

“See you Wednesday, then?” Sehun asks just before he disappears down the maze of lockers.

“Yeah, see you,” Minseok says. Sehun grins, and Minseok’s stomach flips.

–––

The moment Minseok leaves the cockpit of his bullet ship, he knows something is wrong.

The transition from the gravity-controlled environment inside the ship to regular Earth-gravity is always a bit jarring, but Minseok has gotten used to it over the years. He can immediately tell that this is something different altogether. His vision completely blacks out for a second, then comes back into focus in bits and pieces like pixels materializing on a screen. Blood slams into his ears, making his head pound as dizziness overtakes him.

The sensation lasts only a moment, but it’s enough to make him fumble his landing as he jumps from the cockpit and to force him to grab the side of the ship for support. The dizziness fades slowly, leaving small bursts of light scattered across his vision. Minseok squeezes his eyes shut, hard, then opens them again. The pinpricks of light are faint enough that when he shakes his head they disappear completely.

Almost immediately there’s hand on his elbow and Jongin’s voice asks, “Hyung? Are you okay?”

Minseok inhales deeply, then lets it out slowly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Minseok says. He turns to look at Jongin and offers him a reassuring smile. Jongin doesn’t seem convinced, his eyebrows pulled together with worry.

“Are you sure?” Jongin asks. He hasn’t let go of Minseok’s elbow, even though Minseok no longer needs his support. “Do you want me to go get a medic?”

“No,” Minseok says quickly, sudden fear pumping through his veins. Dizziness is a sign of trouble with his blood circulation, of Minseok’s body slowly losing the battle against the effects of flight. If the medics know about this, they’ll have more proof that he’s deteriorating, that soon he’ll be unfit for flight–

“No,” Minseok repeats. He gives Jongin what he hopes will pass as an authentic smile and pats the hand still resting on his elbow. “I just lost my footing, that’s all. Nothing to worry anyone over.”

Jongin hesitates for a moment, but in the end he nods and moves away to start checking over the ship. Minseok lets out a sigh of relief as he starts doing his stretches. Since Minseok asked Jongin not to tell, he knows that Jongin won’t. There are very few people Minseok is willing to give his trust to, but Jongin is one of them. After all, he trusts Jongin with his life every day. So it’s easy to convince himself not to worry about Jongin – it’s much harder to convince himself not to worry about the episode itself.

“I’m fine,” Minseok repeats under his breath, his voice lost in the chaos of the hangar. “It’s nothing, it’s normal, I’m fine.” A little dizziness doesn’t mean he’s unfit to fly. It just means his body isn’t adjusting quite as well anymore. He doesn’t have to worry about it, not yet.

By the time he finishes stretching, Minseok has calmed down enough to throw Jongin a genuine smile on his way out. What he told Jongin was right, Minseok decides. There’s really no reason to worry anyone about this. It’s not a big deal, so no one needs to know.

–––

The lounge is blessedly quiet when Minseok walks in. Seulgi is curled up on the couch, reading something on her tablet with earbud transmitters in her ears, and Joohyun is sitting next to her typing a message on a hologram pull-up from her personacomm. Yerim is also in the room, watching some sort of video on her tablet while taking notes on an etch-tech sheet. She's at the main table, and Minseok moves to join her.

When Minseok sits down, Yerim looks up and smiles. Minseok smiles back as he pulls out his own tablet. Up close, he can see that she's watching a calculus lecture. On the hologram she has pulled up, a professor is using a giant tech board to solve complicated-looking equations full of more letters than numbers. Minseok whistles lowly and shakes his head.

"I don't know how you can follow that," he says. Yerim laughs and pauses the video.

"It's not that hard, actually. I find it really interesting," she replies.

"What I want to know is how she's still awake while watching that stuff," Joohyun chimes in from the couch. "After that monster this morning, it's all I can do not to fall asleep right now."

Personally, Minseok is inclined to agree with Joohyun. Early morning alarms are always difficult, yet also seem to be the most frequent – any pilot in the world will attest to that, regardless of things like time zones. The reason it's so quiet in the lounge today is probably because Jongdae and Baekhyun are knocked out somewhere, catching up on their stolen sleep.

"I'm not really sleepy," Yerim says with another laugh. "I had an energy bar earlier, I'm fine."

Minseok lets out a dramatic groan. "Oh, to be young again," he laments.

Yerim giggles and Joohyun laughs. Minseok is joking, but there's a tinge of underlying bitterness to his words. There was a time when he, like Yerim, was barely affected by the hectic pilot lifestyle. A time when the tiredness didn't seem to settle into his bones, weighing him down like lead in his limbs.

It's not that Minseok feels old, necessarily, but it's hard not to be envious of the energy he sees in the younger pilots.

"Why don't you go take a nap, oppa?" Yerim asks, eyes all wide and sparkling with fake innocence. "It looks like you could use one."

Minseok lets out a loud sigh and tips his head back toward the ceiling as if asking it for patience.

"I'm too old for this," he says to no one in particular. It gets the giggles he was aiming for, but the words taste like ash in his mouth. Too close to home, too realistic.

Too old.

–––

Minseok watches the people passing down the aisle of the shuttle from the corner of his eye. It feels like ages since he last took the shuttle down Cityside, even if it's only been two months. That's how it always is, though. Life in the Clocktower consumes so much of his time that whenever he gets to step away it's like reaching the surface of a lake and belatedly realizing he had been drowning.

Having learned from his mistake the last time, Minseok made sure to bring his earbud transmitters. He's fumbling around for them in his bag when someone clears their throat.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" the person asks in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Sehun's.

Startled, Minseok looks up so quickly that he almost bangs his head on the back of the seat in front of him. Sure enough, Sehun is standing there with a bag slung over his shoulder. Minseok blinks, just to make sure he isn't seeing things. When his eyes open again, Sehun is still there.

"Yes, of course," Minseok hastens to say, pulling his mask down over his chin so that he can talk properly. Sehun grins and slides into the seat. As Sehun stows his bag away, Minseok can't help but continue to stare. He had seen Sehun yesterday, had mentioned how excited he was to be heading Cityside, and Sehun hadn't said a single thing about coming down too.

"Someone asked me to trade off days with them so they could attend some event next week," Sehun says when he notices Minseok's look. "I was going to send you a message, but then I figured it would be more fun to surprise you. I wasn't wrong, either. You should see the look on your face."

Minseok makes an indignant sound and hits Sehun's arm lightly. Sehun smiles smugly. Minseok hits him one more time, for good measure.

The truth is, Minseok doesn't know much about the schedules for people outside of the pilots and those people immediately involved with them. The pilots' blocks of off-days were created to compensate for various factors like being on call 24 hours a day, but someone like Sehun wouldn’t have those same things affecting his schedule. Since Sehun gets two days off per week like everyone else not involved with the pilots’ schedules, and works semi-regular hours, Minseok figures it’s most likely that his break is three days long – just long enough to make a trip down Cityside worth it.

"Heading down to visit family?" Minseok asks, mostly to get the subject away from the silliness of his face. A majority of people in the Clocktower have family of some sort either in or a short shuttle ride outside of the city, so it seems like a safe bet. To Minseok's surprise, though, Sehun shakes his head.

"My family is part of the ethnic Koreans who ended up farther south after the Migration," Sehun says. "I grew up in Guangdong Sector. Even with the shuttles it takes a while to get there, so I usually only go home on long holidays." Sehun doesn't seem upset at all, which Minseok is glad for. Accidentally striking a nerve would not only have been awkward, but the thought of making Sehun sad over a stupid question has Minseok’s stomach twisting into knots

"Are you visiting friends, then?" Minseok asks, hoping friends are safer territory than family.

"Yeah, some buddies from school, back before I got scouted into the AFMAE." Sehun visibly brightens, and Minseok sags slightly with relief. They're back on safe ground. "One of my friends is working for the government now," Sehun continues. "His apartment is super nice – crashing there is the best. His entertainment system is seriously to die for."

Minseok laughs, pretty sure that he has a good idea of what the next few days hold for Sehun: lots of movies, lots of gaming, and lots of time spent on the couch.

"How about you?" Sehun asks. In his enthusiasm over his friend's apartment, he had placed a hand on Minseok's thigh. It's still there, and Minseok swears he can feel the heat straight through his jeans.

"I'm visiting my cousin," Minseok says. He's trying his best to ignore Sehun's hand, but it's hard. He keeps his eyes determinedly on Sehun's face.

"Your cousin?" Sehun is obviously a little surprised. He had probably expected Minseok to say he was going to visit his parents, just like Minseok had expected of Sehun a minute before.

"I lived with my aunt and uncle in the city so I could go to school there," Minseok says with a shrug. "The two of them were always at work, so my cousin pretty much raised me."

"Ah," Sehun says in acknowledgement and finally removes his hand from Minseok's thigh. Minseok lets out a silent sigh of relief. "Well if you have any free time, we should meet up."

“Sure,” Minseok agrees easily. “If you can pry yourself away from that entertainment system.”

Sehun laughs and smacks Minseok’s knee slightly. The hit isn’t hard enough to hurt, but Minseok’s knee tingles anyway.

They chat for the rest of the way down, and honestly it feels weird. Minseok never talks to anyone on the shuttle, even on the rare occasion that someone he knows is on the same ship. It’s generally easier just to keep his head down, lie low. Although it’s weird, though, it’s not bad. In fact, it’s kind of nice.

So Minseok sits back, enjoys his conversation with Sehun, and lets all the usual fears that chase him down Cityside melt away. He doesn’t worry about who might be watching, or having his identity discovered. He just focuses on Sehun’s words, the way Sehun’s face scrunches cutely when he laughs. He focuses on Sehun, and by the time the shuttle lands, Minseok feels lighter. When he pulls his face mask back up again, it’s with regret.

Later, on the express train, Minseok glances at his personacomm on his wrist and smiles, the memory of watching Sehun’s pink hair bob off through the crowd still fresh in his mind. He had intended to spend the next few days pretty much exclusively at his cousin’s house, but maybe he really should try to meet up with Sehun while they’re both in the city.

–––

It's been a long time since Minseok has been to a bar. Down in the middle levels of the Clocktower, there are two entire floors filled with food court restaurants for those who prefer variety over the free cafeteria food. Mixed in among the restaurants are a couple places serving alcohol, but Minseok rarely ever goes down unless someone like Yixing invites him. Being technically on the clock 24 hours a day does a lot to dampen any drinking habits one might have had, although Minseok has never been a heavy drinker in the first place. Even when he's down Cityside he rarely drinks, and when he does it's usually just a can or two of convenience store beer enjoyed with his cousin after the kids have gone to bed.

But Sehun had messaged him that morning, saying he was going out with his friends to celebrate his last day of break. He asked if Minseok wanted to come and sent him the address to a bar deep in the city's trendiest shopping district. Shopping is another thing Minseok doesn't do often, and the bright lights and crowds are overwhelming. Glancing around at the other people, Minseok's just glad that Sehun hadn't decided to go to a club – he hasn't owned any clothes that might be deemed even somewhat suitable for clubbing in years.

Once he finds the right building, Minseok has to dodge around people headed to and from the bar and the hovering trays, both empty and full of drinks, that trail behind them. By the time he finally locates Sehun and his friends, tucked into a booth toward the back of the bar, Minseok is wishing he had worn a plain t-shirt instead of a button up. It's warm enough inside to almost be stifling.

Sehun waves as soon as he spots Minseok and makes room so that Minseok can squeeze in next to him in the booth. There are two other guys on the other side of the table, both of whom appear to be about Sehun's age.

"Hey, hyung," Sehun says as Minseok nods his head to the other guys and takes his seat beside Sehun. There are already several empty glasses on the table, but Sehun doesn't seem to be drunk yet.

"Hey," Minseok replies with a smile. He's already wondering if he was wrong to come here. The bar is loud, the sound system turned up too far, and Sehun's friends are staring at Minseok with a sort of intense scrutiny that makes him want to melt into his seat and disappear. Sehun does a quick round of introductions, but Minseok loses the friends' names in the booming bass beat.

One friend gets up to go get more drinks and the other props his elbows on the table and leans forward. The look in his eye is devious, and Minseok wonders if he or Sehun should be more afraid.

"So how do you two know each other?" the friend asks, glancing between Sehun and Minseok.

Minseok hesitates and looks to Sehun for his cue. Well I'm a pilot and he's an engineering intern and we somehow became running buddies-slash-friends who flirt a lot somehow doesn't seem like a good answer, yet Minseok isn’t sure quite exactly how else to put it.

"I already told you," Sehun says. "We work together in the Clocktower."

Not exactly the truth, but better than what Minseok had in mind. Minseok nods, confirming Sehun's words.

"If you work in the Clocktower, you must be military," Sehun's friend muses. "And if you work with Sehunnie, that would mean you're an engineer?"

Minseok freezes. There's no specific rule against saying he's a pilot – pilots are, after all, supposed to be public figures. But the very thought has Minseok completely on edge, far outside of his comfort zone. Should he just say that he works in the hangar? Or maybe that he's part of the flight team support?

"Since he's military, that's classified information," Sehun cuts in smoothly while Minseok is still deliberating. His hand finds Minseok’s knee under the table and squeezes briefly. Minseok carefully maintains his expression to make sure the relief doesn’t show on his face.

Sehun's friend seems dissatisfied with Sehun’s answer, but before he can say anything more the other friend returns with their drinks. With alcohol to distract them, the conversation quickly turns to other subjects. Minseok sips slowly at his beer, listening to Sehun and his friends talk and occasionally adding a comment. Eventually, with the help of the alcohol and Sehun's thigh pressed against his, Minseok feels himself starting to loosen up. By the time Sehun's friends are standing up and excusing themselves, Minseok is wondering why he was ever apprehensive about coming in the first place. Even the entirely unsubtle looks Sehun's friends give Sehun and Minseok before leaving do nothing to dampen Minseok's mood. The alcohol has done its job; Minseok feels great.

"Do you wanna head somewhere else?" Sehun asks once the bill has been settled and they’re standing on the street outside the bar. Although he had considerably more to drink, Sehun doesn't seem any more affected by the alcohol than Minseok is, both of them teetering just beyond the edge of tipsy.

Minseok glances around, reorienting himself. It's Friday, and even though the sun has long since set the streets are still bustling. Someone bumps into Minseok, and Sehun only just narrowly dodges a couple who would apparently rather crash into someone than unlink their arms.

"Let's just get out of here for now, before we get run over," Minseok suggests as he pulls closer to Sehun to avoid getting smacked in the side by a passing purse. "We could, um, go for a walk or something?" As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets them. Let's go for a walk, wow, great job Kim Minseok, how exciting. Way to build up your 'Cool and Interesting' image.

To Minseok’s surprise, though, Sehun readily agrees. He even takes the lead, guiding Minseok down the street for a few blocks before cutting through an alleyway jammed full of restaurants. Seeing the alley, Minseok thinks he has a pretty good idea of where they’re headed, and his prediction is confirmed when a few minutes later they emerge out onto a street that runs parallel to the river that cuts through the city.

The street is actually the bottom layer of a two-level walkway that runs the river's course through downtown. The base level they’re at now is reserved for rocket bikes, air skates, hover boards, and other such things. Minseok and Sehun forgo that path and take the stairs to the upper level.

The upper pathway is lined with solar panels and paved in light-absorbing material that turns luminescent after dark, making its first impression nothing short of spectacular. As soon as Minseok and Sehun emerge from the stairway, they find themselves in the midst of a giant strip of sparkling pavement that extends far off into the distance. The colors of the pathway are intensified even further by reflections from the city’s lights, and as such actual streetlights are few and far between; surprisingly, other people are equally as scarce. During the summer this walking path is famous for being crowded with locals and tourists alike, but it seems the weather has turned chilly enough to deter most of the usual horde.

Minseok takes a moment to stand and admire the pathway. He's heard of this place, has seen pictures, has even come during the daytime. None of that can compare to how beautiful it looks now.

"Wow," Minseok breathes out as he takes a step forward. He looks down at the silhouette of his shoes, black against shimmering purples and blues. "It's like standing on a galaxy."

Sehun laughs, and only then does Minseok realize how silly he probably sounded. The chilly air has done a bit to chase the remnants of alcohol-induced fuzz from his brain, but apparently there's still enough alcohol in his system to make him spout off stupid things.

There also still seems to be enough alcohol left to make him a little braver and blur his judgments so they aren't quite in focus. Because when Sehun passes by to walk out farther onto the pathway, Minseok unthinkingly reaches out to grab his hand.

Sehun is obviously surprised, pausing to look back over his shoulder at Minseok. Even as he tips his head to the side in silent question, though, he twines his fingers through Minseok's and it feels so right that Minseok just smiles and pretends that he isn't actually embarrassed. He steps forward so that he's even with Sehun again, and together they set off along the path.

For a while they walk in silence, simply admiring the beauty. Eventually Minseok even forgets that they're holding hands. The swing of their linked hands between them feels natural, and if Minseok were a little more sober he would probably be worried. But he’s not, and so for now Minseok is able to keep any concern at bay.

So instead of pulling back he pulls forward, taking Sehun along with him as he heads to the railing for a better view of the river. The opposite bank is lined with bright lights to help guide the hovercrafts overhead, from the personal use craft hanging closer to the ground all the way up to the passenger shuttles up above the skyscrapers.

"You know," Minseok finds himself saying without even remembering having made the conscious decision to talk, "when the Federation first gave Koreans a list of possible sites for relocation prior to the Migration, a big reason they chose this site was because of the river. Coming here, the Koreans would be able to build our capital along a river, just like in Old Seoul. A sentimental reason to choose the location of your entire sector, especially when there were other sites with better resources and trade locations, but when your entire country is being swallowed by the sea I suppose a little sentimentality is understandable."

Sehun hums, acknowledging Minseok's words without actual comment. When Minseok glances up at him, Sehun is staring out across the river as if lost in thought. Minseok briefly worries that he's managed to bore Sehun with his impromptu history lesson. It’s happened before – most of the people he works with don’t care about history nearly as much as Minseok does. Then, just when the silence is stretching on long enough that Minseok is starting to get truly concerned, Sehun speaks:

"When I first moved to this city, I used to come here a lot. There was a river by the house I grew up in, so I guess it reminded me of home. I think I can understand why so many people decided to settle here. Having something you're familiar with helps to ground you when you're feeling lost."

Minseok watches the headlights from a passing hovercraft play over Sehun's face, yellow light turning Sehun's hair a shade of orangey-peach. Sehun finally turns to look at Minseok, a smile breaking out across his face when he catches Minseok staring. Minseok smiles back, then tips his head back towards the sky. Despite the absence of sun, a haze of light pollution hovers above the city and obscures the stars.

"When I can't see the stars, I start to feel claustrophobic," Minseok says. Not a direct response to Sehun's words, but rather a confession running tangent to them. "When I'm down here in the city, visiting my cousin and the kids, I'm at home. It's a very nice home, and one that I love, but it’s their home. It's not my home."

"At home among the stars," Sehun mutters, just barely audible. Then he laughs and shakes his head. "It all makes sense now."

"What makes sense?" Minseok asks. He refocuses his gaze downward, furrows his brows as he looks at Sehun.

"Why sometimes you seem so far out of reach," Sehun says with a wry half-smile that has Minseok's heart clenching.

"What are you talking about, I'm right here," Minseok says. He raises their linked hands as proof, squeezes Sehun's fingers more tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sehun stares at him for a moment, so intently that Minseok's heart starts hammering in his throat. Then Sehun does that thing again where he darts his tongue out over his lips. He's preparing to say something, Minseok can tell. Building himself up, carefully choosing the right words.

Two high school girls run past, yelling and laughing as they race toward some landmark, and just like that the moment is shattered. Sehun leans away from the railing, tugging on Minseok's hand. A sense of sudden loss bubbles inside Minseok and he wants to pull Sehun back, wants to ask what Sehun had been going to say. But he stops himself, bites his lip to keep from saying something he shouldn't; something he'll regret.

"We should head back," Sehun says, unaware of Minseok's inner turmoil. "It's getting late."

"Yeah," Minseok replies. He covers his emotions with a smile and teasingly bumps his shoulder against Sehun's. "Let's go."

–––

Minseok is exhausted. His eyelids feel sticky from lack of sleep and his nerves are jittery from energy drinks. There have been five alarms in the past two days, forcing the pilots to turn around and fly out again almost immediately after each landing. They’ve been driven to the limits of sleep deprivation and exhaustion, and the effects are starting to show.

It's like this all across the world – all of the pilots flying, all of them struggling to keep up with the sudden influx of monsters. Just one week earlier negotiations between Earth and a powerful empire from out past Centaurus had fallen through, and it seems that Ijjen is intent on punishing Earth for once again trying to use others to escape their trap. This time, though, rather than the mass brute force attacks that come every so often and which the humans can fend off well enough, the tactic seems to be less monsters, but coming in a continuous stream.

The onslaught will stop eventually – not even Ijjen has enough robots to keep the monsters coming indefinitely – but until then there's nothing the pilots can do other than grit their teeth and chug more energy drinks.

Just hours earlier, a sort of rolling shift-system spanning the globe had been put in place to make best use of the pilots and give them a chance to rest. Unfortunately, the pilots of the Asiatic Federation had been chosen as one of the teams on the first shift. They end up flying out past Neptune to head of some dragons sometime around 5 a.m., right on the heels of a flight to Saturn. They don’t get back to Earth until well after ten.

This time, Minseok knows that something is wrong before he even gets out of his ship. During the landing his stomach flips, bile rising in his throat. He hasn't gotten sick from a descent since he was a trainee, back before he had adjusted to the artificial gravity system in the bullet ships. These days landings don’t even phase him. As he's bringing his ship into the hangar and maneuvering it into place, though, it's all Minseok can do to keep from throwing up.

The moment he has his ship in the proper position, Minseok is scrambling out of the cockpit. He's more prepared for the dizziness this time, but even so he barely catches himself from falling as the world blinks out of existence, then tips on its side as it slowly reappears. Minseok manages to land in a crouch, one hand braced on the floor and the other on the belly of his ship. He needs the contact to ground him, orient him, because he's not entirely sure he knows up from down right now.

When the rush of blood in his ears finally subsides enough that Minseok can hear, the first thing he becomes aware of is Jongin talking to him.

"Hyung," Jongin is saying desperately. His hand on Minseok's shoulder is steady and still, thank goodness. Minseok isn't entirely sure he wouldn't puke all over if Jongin shook him. "Hyung, are you alright? Please answer me."

"I'm okay," Minseok manages to croak out. He clears his throat. The world is more stable now, everything back where it's supposed to be. His temples are still pounding, but it's tolerable.

"Hyung, stay right here," Jongin says. His face finally comes into focus, and Minseok can clearly see the fear on it. "I'm going to go get someone to help you."

"Wait!" Minseok says as Jongin stands up. Minseok reaches out and grabs his arm, keeping Jongin from leaving. "It's fine, you don't need to get anyone."

Jongin hesitates. He glances from Minseok to where the medics on duty are, on the other side of the hangar.

"But you're sick," Jongin protests. "There's something wrong, you should have someone look at you, they can help–"

"I'm not sick," Minseok insists, cutting Jongin off. "There's nothing wrong, I'm just... I'm just tired. I need some sleep, that's all." Jongin continues to waver, so Minseok presses on, "You don't need to tell anyone, really. Please promise me you won't tell anyone."

Jongin bites his lip, obviously unhappy, but at last he nods. Minseok lets out a sigh of relief and releases his grip on Jongin's arm.

"Thanks, Jongin," Minseok says.

"Sure," Jongin replies, guarded. Without any further words he turns and moves to the other side of the ship.

Minseok watches him go before finally standing. He feels bad for putting Jongin in this position, but his guilt is outweighed by his own fear. This episode was much worse than the first one, and even though he's sure the reaction was exacerbated by the strain of too many flights, the fact that it happened at all still remains. He rests his forehead against his ship for a moment, letting solidity of the metal – cool despite having blasted through the exosphere mere minutes before – calm him.

"You okay there?" a voice asks, startling Minseok. He whirls around, heart in his throat, to find Jongdae giving him a curious look. Panic immediately surges through Minseok. How much did he see? Minseok wonders frantically. How long has he been here?

"You know, if you have a headache or something I don't think putting your head against your ship will help you much," Jongdae says with a smile, inclining his head toward Minseok's ship. Minseok swallows hard, quelling his fear. Jongdae must have only walked over just now.

"I don’t have a headache, I was trying to see if I could communicate with it," Minseok says weakly. “You know, telepathically.” The joke is forced, but Jongdae doesn't seem to notice. He bursts out into laughter, then steps close enough to wrap an arm around Minseok's shoulder.

"I think the sleep deprivation has finally gotten to you," Jongdae says. "Come on, let's go. You need some sleep before you pass out on your feet."

Minseok makes himself laugh, pointedly not thinking about how passing out on his feet is exactly what he almost just did. With Jongdae's arm secure around him and Jongdae's chatter in his ear, it's easy for Minseok to convince himself that all he really does need is a good night's sleep. A couple solid hours of rest and he'll be fine. He was just too tired, this was just a fluke. He has nothing to worry about.

–––

Seeing Sehun waiting for him on the track is like a breath of fresh air. The past two weeks have been hectic; the steady stream of monsters trailed off as predicted, but were instead replaced by a frustrating string of sirens and goblins that have been luring the pilots into wild goose chases that can last for hours. At least the constant stream had been constant. These new monsters are back to being unpredictable, blinking in and out of existence on Earth's radars.

In the face of chaos, his runs with Sehun have been essentially the only stability in Minseok's life. They happen at a set time, on a set day, even if Minseok sometimes has to leave early or come late due to an alarm. It's starting to seem like the runs are just about the only thing keeping him sane – Sehun is keeping him sane. When he's with Sehun, Minseok can feel the weight of the flights temporarily lifting from his shoulders. He can relax, and run, and talk to Sehun, and not need to think about monsters.

"Thank you," Minseok says after he’s jogged over to where Sehun is waiting for him on the field inside the track. Sehun gives him a puzzled look.

"For what?" Sehun asks.

"For being here," Minseok replies.

Sehun regards him a moment before grinning and slinging an arm around Minseok's shoulder. Generally Minseok dislikes it when taller people do that – he’s famous for being able to dodge Chanyeol’s friendly arm – yet somehow with Sehun he ends up leaning into the touch. He finds that he fits perfectly against Sehun's side. Minseok is still trying to decide what to make of that Sehun speaks again.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The words are an echo, transporting Minseok back to a night that may have only been a few weeks ago but instead feels like centuries. The resonance is intentional, Minseok is sure. He turns to give Sehun a look and finds Sehun smiling down at him. Minseok's heart immediately stutters into overtime, even though they haven't started running yet. Without meaning to, Minseok finds himself smiling back.

"Good," Minseok finally manages to say. Sehun's smile widens and he practically beams. Then, suddenly, his grin turns mischievous.

"After all," Sehun drawls, "we both know you're useless without me."

No smile, no matter how charming, can save Sehun from the elbow headed for his side.

–––

It’s pretty hard to sneak through a place with glass walls, but Minseok manages. The soundproofed walls and Sehun’s utter concentration on whatever he’s doing certainly help. When Minseok presses the button to open the door to the study room Sehun is in, Sehun nearly falls off his seat as he jumps and twists around to look.

Minseok laughs and steps inside the room, the door shutting behind him with a quiet whoosh. From his position halfway out of his chair, clinging to the table for balance, Sehun pouts and glares. Rather than intimidating, he looks more like a puppy trying to growl.

"I came to study but noticed you in here and thought I'd stop in and say hi," Minseok says by way of both greeting and explanation.

Instead of his usual study cubicle, today Sehun is in a slightly larger room with a table and several chairs. As Minseok walks closer to Sehun, he can see why. In addition to his usual etch-tech sheet, Sehun has various materials scattered across the table: a stack of stiff sheets of paper, the likes of which Minseok is pretty sure he hasn't seen since his time making crafts in primary school; an exact-cut laser; various pens and pencils; several different measuring instruments for angles, distance, and just about anything else imaginable; and a couple sticks of sealing glue.

"Couldn't you have said hi without giving me a heart attack in the process?" Sehun grumbles. Despite his words, there's a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. This is the first time in a while they've been able to meet outside of running.

The surge of monsters has finally calmed down enough that the pilots, although still on alert, have a bit more space to breathe. Minseok truly had been heading here to take a break and do some reading to revel in the respite – finding Sehun had been an unexpected perk. Minseok smiles back as he takes an empty seat next to Sehun.

"What are you working on?" Minseok asks, picking up a pencil. He twirls it around in his fingers and marvels a bit. Other than tablet styluses, he hardly ever uses pens or pencils. There's not much need, since paper is so rare.

"Physical design model," Sehun says. He moves his etch-tech sheet so that Minseok can see the blueprint on it. It's a space shuttle, bigger than the bullet ships but smaller than a full vessel. According to the notes scribbled next to it, the ship would be used for transport of ten people or less – most likely to be used for shuttling military officers between Earth and the planet that hosts the Intergalactic Congress.

"It doesn't need to actually fly or anything," Sehun says as he picks up a pencil and taps it against the sheet of paper in front of him. There's a careful copy of the blueprint partially drawn on it. "I just need to be able to show how it should look."

"Wow," Minseok says, and means it. As someone who spends a considerable portion of his life flying around space, Minseok has always been in awe of the bullet ships and the people who invented them. But seeing firsthand the work that Sehun and the other interns – much less the full time engineers themselves – do absolutely blows him away. It’s hard to imagine that his ship, too, had once been laid out on paper like this.

Sehun shrugs and stabs his pencil into the paper eraser-side-down. He holds it there, pinning the paper with both his pencil and his glare.

"It's nothing special," Sehun says. He's still staring at the paper. "I just wish it would go together the way it's supposed to. I know the measurements are right, and yet–" Sehun sighs and drops his pencil. "They could have just printed it out on the 3D printer. But no, our supervisor just had to insist that it's better if done by hand for the first preliminary model."

"So he insisted, and then the other interns ran off and you got stuck with it?" Minseok asks. He knows the answer even before Sehun nods.

Minseok hums in sympathy and leans back in his chair as he surveys the table. On the far side there is evidence of Sehun's failed attempts: half constructed ships and a discarded tube of sealing glue. All the craft materials on the table have Minseok's fingers itching, the inner six year old in him dying to play with them. Minseok hesitates, looking from the stack of papers to Sehun's dejected face. Sehun’s expression is what convinces him to reach out and snatch a piece of paper.

"I can make ships too," Minseok says when Sehun gives him a curious look.

"Really?" Sehun asks, eyebrows rising. Minseok nods, utterly serious, then proceeds to fold a paper airplane.

"See?" Minseok says, proudly holding his finished product up. "The most perfect ship to ever exist."

Minseok probably shouldn't be wasting precious resources for this, but that’s the last thing on his mind when he sees the look on Sehun's face. Sehun goes from surprised, to disbelieving, to completely judgmental.

"That's not a ship, it's a plane," Sehun deadpans. "And you don't have proper counterweights. It probably won't even fly."

"It will too," Minseok huffs. To prove his point, he turns and tosses his plane back toward the door.

It flies for about two seconds, then makes a spectacular nosedive into the floor.

Sehun laughs so hard that he falls off his chair for real this time.

"Shut up," Minseok grumbles. "It's not like you could do any better."

He realizes the stupidity of his words as soon as they leave his mouth. Sehun immediately straightens, pulls himself back up into his chair, and grabs a piece of paper. Within seconds he's created some sort of winged monstrosity that involves more folds than Minseok can keep track of. When Sehun throws it, it soars all the way to the end of the room without so much as a wobble. The only reason it stops is because it crashes into the door. Sehun turns to Minseok with a smug look.

"You were saying?" Sehun asks. Minseok raises his hands in surrender.

"I just fly ships, okay," Minseok says defensively. "I don't design them."

"Yeah, that's what you need me for," Sehun says. He's practically preening now and it's simultaneously cute and obnoxious.

"You," Minseok says, pointing an accusatory finger at Sehun, "are a brat."

Sehun frames his face with his hands and widens his eyes innocently. He looks ridiculous, with his pink bangs parted down the middle because they've gotten too long and that silly expression on his face. Absolutely ridiculous, Minseok thinks, even as he’s overwhelmed by a sudden urge to lean over and kiss that smirk from Sehun's mouth.

The feeling hits him all at once, like a punch to the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Minseok balls his hands into fists and swallows thickly, resists the urge to shake his head to clear it. Sehun is wiggling his fingers now, to give a twinkling effect, and Minseok rolls his eyes as a way to mask the emotions swirling inside him.

"How about this?" Minseok asks as he mentally scolds his hormones to please get themselves under control. "I'll hold the pieces together while you glue. That should make it easier."

Sehun drops his cute act and shoots Minseok an incredulous look, and somehow even that looks attractive. Minseok's mouth is dry.

"The gluing wasn't the problem," Sehun says. "But sure, I guess, if you want to."

"The article I was planning to read will still be there later," Minseok says with a shrug. "I’d honestly rather spend the time with you, so let's see if we can get this thing figured out. I even promise not to waste any more of your paper on planes."

"That wasn't even a plane," Sehun says with a laugh. "That was a disaster."

Minseok pouts, but hands Sehun the cutting laser without protest when he asks. Maybe, Minseok thinks, working on the project really is a good plan. His mind is still chaotic, caught up in equal parts horror over his thoughts and regret over not acting on them. Focusing on the project will help him clear his head.

Sehun leans over the table, immediately serious as he gets back to business. His side profile is really nice.

Minseok swallows. Project. Clear his head. Right.

–––

The notification sound from the intercom on his door startles Minseok enough that he drops his tablet. Hardly anyone ever comes directly to his sleeping quarters, especially without messaging him first, so the sound catches him off guard.

"Com, identify," Minseok calls as he rolls off his bed. He had been in the pilots' lounge earlier, but left due to a headache. He doubts it would be any of the other pilots coming to see him, since they all knew why he had left. With the pilots eliminated, there aren’t a whole lot of options left.

"Zhang Yixing, medical staff member. Would you like to run a scan?" the intercom announces. Minseok blinks. Had he made plans with Yixing and then forgotten about them? With how chaotic everything has been, he hasn't seen Yixing in weeks other than in passing.

"No scan necessary. Open the door," Minseok says.

The door slides open and Yixing steps through with a wave. He's still wearing his uniform and his hair is tied up in a short ponytail, so Minseok guesses he just got off of work.

"Hi, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Yixing says with a smile before bending over to take off his shoes.

"You know," Minseok says, "most people message before they show up at someone's door, to make sure of that."

"Ah," Yixing says. He blinks, as if the thought had never even occurred to him. "Yes, I suppose I could have done that."

"How does Sunyoung put up with you?" Minseok asks affectionately. He moves back over to his bed and plops down on it, then gestures for Yixing to sit next to him.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Yixing says as he sits down. By sheer seniority, Minseok has one of the nicest of the pilots' sleeping quarters. It's spacious, with a south-facing window and a door that opens into a washroom that he shares with Junmyeon, whose bedroom connects to it from the opposite side. He also has a large bed, which Yixing now takes advantage of as he flops over backwards.

"So did you come over for any particular reason?" Minseok asks after a minute of Yixing just lying there. "Or did you specifically come here to become one with my bed?"

"Just wanted to hang out with my best friend," Yixing says. "Since I haven't seen him in ages."

"Ouch," Minseok says, clutching his chest. "Right in the heart."

Yixing reaches up and waves his arm vaguely in Minseok's direction until he manages to smack him. Minseok laughs and leans out of Yixing's reach.

"I'm serious, though, I've missed you," Yixing says. He lets his hand flop back down between them on the mattress. "Everything's been so hectic lately. I'm just about ready to fly up to the Congress myself and give them a piece of my mind."

Minseok snorts. "I'm pretty sure Sunyoung wouldn't appreciate you making her headache worse."

"I suppose you're right," Yixing says. He props himself up on his elbows so he can look at Minseok. "Speaking of Sunyoung, how's that engineering guy doing?"

"Sehun?" Minseok asks. He's not quite sure that he knows what the connection between Sunyoung and Sehun is, but he goes along with it anyway. "He's doing pretty good, why?"

"I was just wondering," Yixing says. "You seemed pretty into him."

"I am pretty into him," Minseok corrects. He had mentioned Sehun to Yixing a while back, after the running days became an official thing. He hadn’t made any attempt to hide his attraction to Sehun back then, so he doesn't see any reason to start now.

"Have you told him that?" Yixing asks, eyes sharp. Minseok shifts uncomfortably.

"Not exactly? He knows, but... Everything's been really laid-back and, I don't know. It just feels so natural that I guess I'm afraid if I say something I'll ruin it."

Minseok looks down at his hands. He knows that Sehun likes him, but how much? Will trying to put a label on it ruin everything? Minseok doesn't necessarily mind being a fling, but he doesn't want this to be a fling. Doesn't want it to end.

Yixing hums. He scrutinizes Minseok for a moment before flopping back down on the bed. Minseok thinks that might be the end of the conversation, but after a moment Yixing speaks again.

"You say that you're afraid of losing what you have," Yixing says to the ceiling, "but you can't have a relationship, or even a friendship, without communication. Tell him how you feel, don't just assume that he knows."

"I know that," Minseok says. "It's just.. hard."

"Of course it is." Yixing's voice is wry. "But it's necessary. I mean, you know I’m not sexually attracted to other people. So one of the very first things I did with Sunyoung when we started dating was sit down and talk that out. You can’t just skip out on communication because it’s difficult or awkward – imagine how awful things would have turned out if Sunyoung and I hadn’t talked."

Minseok knows that Yixing is right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before looking over at Yixing and smiling.

"Alright," Minseok says. "Point taken.”

Satisfied, Yixing turns the conversation around to his coworkers, and other various mutual acquaintances from the upper levels. He's in the middle of telling Minseok about his supervisor's triplets when he stops and sits up, as if having a sudden thought.

"You know, Donghae hyung said he was thinking of retiring."

Minseok blinks, trying to process Yixing's words. He feels like he has whiplash, going from three year olds to the flight instructor for pilot trainees.

"Donghae hyung?" Minseok repeats, just to make sure he was hearing right. "Why?"

Donghae hadn't been Minseok's trainer, but they had flown together for a few years before Donghae retired from being a pilot and moved to the trainer position. Minseok rarely sees Donghae anymore, but he's heard great things about his training from the younger pilots.

"Something about not getting to spend enough time with his kid, and wanting to be able to permanently move Cityside to be with his family," Yixing says. Ah, Minseok thinks. That explains the subject change. Talking about the kids must have reminded Yixing about Donghae. "It's not an immediate thing, but he's hoping to start phasing out sometime this year or next."

"Wow," Minseok says. "Good for him. I hope they can find a replacement, though. It’s tough to fill such a specific position. The Commander will need to bring someone in from a different sector."

"Yeah," Yixing agrees. They lapse into silence for a moment. Minseok is just thinking that maybe he should go down to the training field sometime to see Donghae when Yixing says, "Have you been feeling okay lately?"

"What?" Minseok asks, blindsided for the second time in minutes. "What do you mean?"

"Have you been feeling okay?" Yixing repeats. "For a while there everything was so crazy – you haven't been feeling any fatigue? Dizziness? Nausea?"

"Of course I was fatigued," Minseok says, perplexed. "Everyone was fatigued." Then it hits him, and his stomach sinks to the floor. "Jongin talked to you, didn't he." Not a question but a statement.

"He's just doing his job," Yixing says, immediately sensing Minseok’s change in mood and putting a comforting hand on his arm. "The mechanics are the ones who are closest to the pilots before and after flight. They're required to report anything strange."

"He said he wouldn't tell," Minseok says. The world feels like it's spinning out of focus, getting farther and farther away.

"He's worried about you," Yixing says. "You nearly passed out in front of him."

"So what if I did?" Minseok demands. Yixing is right and he knows it, but the knowledge does little to dampen the sudden spike of anger and sense of betrayal.

"You need to tell us these things, hyung," Yixing says. There's no animosity in his voice, only concern. "It's our job to monitor your health and make sure you're doing okay. Especially since your bone mass–"

"So that's it," Minseok says. Suddenly everything's falling into place, making a wave of nausea rise within him. "That's why you brought up Donghae hyung. You want me to take his job."

"No," Yixing says. "I mean, yes? But I don't mean you need to take it, especially not immediately, I just wanted you to consider–"

"I have a job." Minseok's back is rigid, hands curled into fists on his knees. His blood simultaneously feels like fire and ice as it hammers through his veins.

"Yes," Yixing says, desperate. "And you're wonderful at it. But it won't last forever, you know that."

"It will last for now," Minseok insists. It will, it has to.

"For now, and then what? What happens when 'now' ends? You’re always up in the stars, but you know that everything that goes up has to eventually come down."

“Only if there’s gravity involved,” Minseok persists, his stubbornness heightened by panic . “I fly a spaceship, not an airplane – there’s no gravity in space.”

"Yes, but you can't stay out in space forever, hyung.”

Minseok's heart is pounding in his ears. He hears Yixing's words, but they feel like they're coming from a different world. They're all the words he's been trying to keep himself from thinking, the same words he has carefully swept under a rug. Now Yixing has pulled the rug out from under him and Minseok is falling, down and down, leaving the stars behind and plummeting back to Earth.

"I'll think about it," Minseok says, but it feels like someone else is saying it, like Minseok is an observer from far away watching someone else speak using his body. The words are automatic, the defense mechanism he has created for himself. Divert and appease, rinse and repeat.

"That's what you said last time," Yixing says. His hand is still on Minseok's arm, and his grip tightens slightly. "Please stop deflecting, hyung."

Minseok opens his mouth, shuts it. Breathes in so deeply that his lungs are screaming. Exhales, and his mind is still blank. Every excuse and placation is gone, completely erased from his brain. Yixing is watching him, waiting, and Minseok can't think of a single damn thing to say.

Both of them jump when the alarm shatters the silence. It reverberates through the room, slamming into Minseok's skull. Just like that, his panic-induced stasis is broken, and he's filled with a calm sense of purpose.

"I have to go," Minseok says as soon as the alarm shuts off.

"Yes, of course," Yixing says. He's already standing, ready to leave. "We can finish talking later."

"Finish talking?" Minseok asks. He hesitates halfway between the bed and the door, his perfect escape suddenly ruined.

"Yes," Yixing says, firm.

"Okay," Minseok says, caving. "Later, then."

Before Yixing can say anything more, Minseok all but dashes out the door. He runs up to the hangar, as if doing so will allow him to run away from his fears.

–––

"I don't like it," Minseok says into the group communication line.

Upon arriving at the hangar, Minseok and the other pilots on duty had received information about some sort of monster detected out by Saturn. Over the course of the hour-long flight out to the planet, Minseok was able to clear his mind considerably. Now that he’s on the job, he once more feels completely in control of himself.

Which means that he feels safe trusting his instincts, and right now they’re telling him that there’s more to this trip than a simple run-of-the-mill monster spotting.

"Me either," Junmyeon admits. "The rings create too much interference. There could easily be another monster hiding somewhere, using the rings to dodge our radars."

The alarm had seemed straightforward enough in Sooyoung's briefing. A dragon, at that time just inside the outer limits of the Void. The fact that it not only slowed down near Jupiter, but in fact seems to be hanging close to the planet, has Minseok on edge. That's not what dragons are supposed to do. They're designed for pure force frontal attacks, blast-past-the-pilots-and-take-out-some-Earth-politician attacks. Dragons don't hide.

"My goblin senses are tingling," Jongdae chimes in. Minseok is inclined to agree. Luring the pilots in and then leading them off on a chase is something sirens do, but the fact that this is so close to a place where other monsters could easily be hiding – that type of trickery reeks of a goblin.

"Yes, it does seem that way," Junmyeon says thoughtfully. "Minseok hyung, you and Seulgi hold back. Cover us, and watch for any surprises. Jongdae, Yerim, come with me. If it's a siren, or even a dragon, the three of us should be enough to take it out."

They split up, everyone falling into formation with the ease of practice. Minseok hangs close enough to the three offensive ships that he's within range if they need help, but far enough away that he has a larger range of vision. Seulgi does the same, moving to provide cover from a different angle. Arranged this way, they creep closer to the pinging dot on their maps.

"Got it," Yerim suddenly says, and then a bright flash lights up Minseok's view screen.

"A siren after all," Jongdae says moments later, disappointed. “It didn’t even fight back.” At the same time, Minseok notices a shape detaching itself from Jupiter's rings – right from the middle of the gray no-feedback area on their radar maps.

Before he even has time to fully process what he's seeing, Minseok is yelling, "Watch out!" and engaging his attack mechanisms. The monster is already close enough that it's unlikely any of the three ships it's targeting can react in time, but Minseok is far enough away that he has no trouble aiming and firing. Another beam of light illuminates his front viewing screen, and in its brief glow he watches the monster break into pieces.

"Goblin," Seulgi warns a second later as yet another shape emerges from the gray zone. This time the pilots are ready, though, and it's gone before it even registers on the radar map, disintegrating under the hyperlasers of at least three different bullet ships.

"Well that was nasty," Junmyeon says after a brief moment of silence that had descended while they all watched the shattered pieces of robots drift away.

"Must have managed to sneak in earlier somehow," Minseok speculates. "Didn't Sooyoung say that the Brazil Sector took out a couple of dragons earlier? The goblins might have come in on their tail."

"It's possible," Junmyeon says. "I'll bring it up with Sooyoung and the Commander once we get back. For now, let's sweep the area and make sure there aren't any more hiding out."

The pilots give the affirmative, then head out. The immediate targets may be gone, but there's still work to do.

–––

Minseok is still riding on the tail-end of an adrenaline high when he hops out of his ship back in the hangar. They had spent an extra hour combing through the area around Jupiter, checking for other hidden monsters. Aside from a single ghost, though, they found nothing of interest. Even so, Junmyeon had contacted Sooyoung as soon as they were within stable communication distance again, and asked her to send out an alert to the global pilot network.

Caught up in thoughts of goblins and ghosts, Minseok had completely forgotten about his conversation with Yixing. It's not until he's starting his stretches and slowly calming down from his high that it all comes back to him with a jolt.

Just like that Minseok is hit with a wave of guilt. He really should find Yixing, even if just to apologize for how he had acted. But it's late now, the sun long since set, and Yixing has most likely been in bed for hours. Besides, Minseok is tired – he should probably head to bed, and then maybe find Yixing tomorrow instead of bothering him now. Yeah, tomorrow seems good.

Satisfied with his plan, Minseok goes about his stretches with renewed enthusiasm. Over to his left he can hear Jongin checking over the bullet ship, part of the usual background noise of the hangar. He's not ignoring Jongin on purpose; in fact, he's not even really thinking about Jongin at all.

Instead, Minseok's mind is wandering to his plans for the next day. It's not a running day, so he can do his workouts according to regular routine. That leaves his afternoon open. Minseok widens his stance and leans until his palms are flat against the floor. He could use that free time to file the inevitable report he'll have to write about the hidden goblins. Or he could do some reading, or maybe start looking into options for the future, like Yixing had suggested–

Or Minseok could take a trip outside of the upper levels. Usually he doesn't mind spending all his time on the same seven floors, but after a while it does get a little stifling. Since the prototype model was approved, Sehun and the other trainees have been spending a lot of time down on the testing levels. Although the research lab Sehun works for is on floor three of the upper levels, the actual testing facilities are down somewhere in the middle levels. There are actually several floors of workshops full of equipment and machinery for construction, with giant lifts that connect them to the other levels that have various testing capabilities. Minseok had gone to see the level with the wind tunnel once, but that was ages ago, back when he was a trainee. It’s been a long time since Minseok has been down, so maybe he should go pay Sehun a visit.

"Hey, Jongin?" Minseok calls out as he straightens from his stretch. Jongin, partway under the ship, jumps so badly that he almost bangs his head on the underside of the cockpit. He scurries out from under the ship in record speed and stands to face Minseok. Rather than meeting Minseok’s gaze he keeps his eyes on the floor, as if expecting a scolding.

The reaction immediately makes Minseok angry at himself – Jongin is his friend, and the fact that Jongin feels bad for caring about Minseok’s well being makes him feel awful. The hours in space had managed to extinguish the sense of betrayal Minseok had felt, along with the panic that had amplified it beyond reason. Now all that’s left is a lingering feeling of disgust and annoyance with himself for putting Jongin in such an awkward place.

He doesn't quite know how to express this, though, so to buy some time he asks, "The mechanics spend a lot of time down on the ship testing levels, right?"

Jongin's head jerks up and his eyes widen in surprise. Then he nods, slowly, as if unsure whether he is walking on thin ice.

"Do you know which level the upper level engineering interns' project is currently on?" Minseok asks. Jongin still looks perplexed, so Minseok adds, "I'm looking for Oh Sehun."

"Sehun? Why are you looking for–" Jongin catches himself, cutting his question off. "The interns are doing their work on floor 87. I was just down there earlier today, actually. They're still tweaking some things with the design before they finish the assembly."

"Great. Thanks, Jongin," Minseok says with a smile. Jongin fidgets, smiling back uncertainly. Guilt punches Minseok in the stomach again, and he forces himself to finally find the words for an apology. "I’m sorry for being stupid," he says. “And for getting mad at you and putting you in an awkward position. I should never have done that.”

Jongin stares at Minseok for a second, then seems to crumple in on himself. His shoulders sag and he reaches out to lightly grab Minseok’s shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, hyung," he says. "I'm so sorry. You just looked so sick, and I was so scared–"

"You don’t need to apologize," Minseok hastens to interrupt. He brings his own hand up to rest on Jongin’s forearm, reassuring. “You weren’t at fault, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

"How about if we’re both sorry, then," Jongin asks with a small smile. Minseok smiles back.

“Sure,” Minseok says.

Jongin relaxes with relief, his smile brightening. Minseok pats Jongin’s arm before pulling away. Now that the flight adrenaline has worn off, he feels like he might fall asleep on the spot.

“I’m gonna get going now," Minseok says. "I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

"Bye, hyung," Jongin says. He looks so much better already, quickly reverting back into his usual cheerful self. He even apparently feels up to joking – as Minseok begins to walk away, Jongin calls out after him, "Have fun with Sehun!"

"Thanks," Minseok replies over his shoulder. He feels much lighter. He's taken out some monsters, set some plans for tomorrow, reconciled with Jongin. All that’s left is to talk with Yixing, and he can sort that out later. He has time.

–––

It feels weird going to the central lift that will take him down to the middle levels rather than the lift that runs only between the upper ones. It feels stranger still to be waiting for the central lift wearing his uniform – usually when Minseok is taking the central lift, he's wearing civilian clothing and heading out to catch the Cityside shuttle.

Minseok fiddles with the transmitter clipped to his ear as he watches the overhead screen indicating which floor the lifts are on. The transmitters are a requirement for all pilots leaving the upper levels while still on duty, in case there's an alarm while they’re out. The full-area alarm bells are only used in the upper levels. Because, as Minseok had heard one sergeant put it, there's no need to give the entire Clocktower a headache over something that only affects a handful of people.

The lift arrives with a ding, and Minseok moves aside to allow the small group of people on it to exit and head toward the ID scanners. Once the way is clear, he enters the lift and presses the button for floor 87.

He may be the only person boarding from the upper levels, but the lift stops several times on its way down. Each time it halts Minseok takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the bowing and awkward crowding to ensure that he, as a pilot, has enough space. The deference pilots receive on the upper levels is already uncomfortable, but down here it's even more pronounced. When the lift finally reaches floor 87, Minseok all but sprints out of it and heaves a sigh of relief when the doors close behind him.

The workshop and testing levels, like the upper levels, require special permit to enter. Minseok approaches the scanners and swipes his ID, his pilot status getting him through without any trouble. Past the scanners, he finds himself on an elevated walkway that runs the entire perimeter of an open room with a high ceiling that gives it a feeling similar to the bullet ship hangar. Down below the walkway is a massive floor that must stretch for the entire area of the Clocktower, full of machines, people, and the bones of space ships, shuttles, and airplanes. Along the walkway are scattered observation and control rooms, made with glass walls and full of even more machinery and computer systems.

Faced with this giant room, Minseok hesitates. Jongin had just said that Sehun was working on floor 87, not where on floor 87 he actually was. A group of people in mechanics' uniforms pass by, too involved in whatever they're discussing to even glance Minseok’s way, and Minseok moves off to the side to get out of the flow of traffic. He considers turning around and leaving again, then firmly tells himself to finish what he’s started and activates his personnacomm.

Where is your work site? he quickly sends Sehun. He knows that Sehun keeps his 'comm on him at work, although he might not check it immediately. In the meantime, Minseok starts wandering. He arbitrarily decides to go left and begins slowly walking a circuit of the room. No one pays him any mind if he keeps out of the way, so Minseok keeps close to the railing and peers out over the work floor as he walks. It's fascinating to see the ships like this: all laid out in pieces, slowly becoming whole.

He's about a quarter of the way around the circle when Sehun texts him back.

level 87 why???

Where on level 87? Minseok replies.

booth 30 why?????????? Sehun sends a moment later.

Are you busy right now? It's a question that Minseok probably should have asked before, come to think of it. He mentally shrugs. If Sehun is busy then they set up an actual time to meet and Minseok will just come back later.

uhh not rly. were just running some tests. why tho??????????

Minseok snorts at Sehun's increasingly long trails of question marks and just sends back a smiley face. Then he glances at the control booth he just passed – it's marked with a giant 23 etched onto the glass walls. The next one ahead of him is 24, so Minseok continues walking in that direction.

When he's a couple booths away from 30, he sees a head of pink hair through the glass up ahead. Sehun had re-dyed recently, since apparently even long-lasting color isn't forever, so his hair is practically a beacon shining in the light. Minseok stifles a laugh and hurries closer.

When he's one booth away, he cues his personacomm to call Sehun.

Through the glass he sees Sehun jump. He bows, makes some excuses to the other people in the booth, and then steps outside of it.

"Hello?" Sehun says. Minseok can see his lips moving, although he's just far enough away that he can only hear Sehun's words through the line.

"Hey Sehun," Minseok says. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Nah," Sehun replies immediately. He leans back against the glass wall. "We're just running some diagnostics, it's pretty boring. What's up?"

"Look to your left," Minseok says, and steps out into the middle of the walkway.

Sehun looks, does a double-take, looks again. Then he hurriedly hangs up the call and practically sprints over to Minseok.

"Hyung!" Sehun says as he approaches. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you," Minseok replies. "I mean, if that's okay. If you’re busy I can come back later–"

"No, no, it’s totally fine" Sehun hastily reassures him. Then he pouts. "You should have warned me, though. I could have told you to come on a day when we're doing something cooler."

"I'm sure whatever you’re doing is plenty cool," Minseok says with a smile. Sehun scrunches his face, but seems eager enough as he leads Minseok back to the control room and introduces him to the other three other interns and his supervisor. The interns are suitably awed, and Sehun preens as they demand to know how the hell Sehun is on first name terms with a pilot. The supervisor laughs, and Minseok tries not to show his discomfort.

"Basically right now we're doing a whole lot of nothing," Sehun says once things have calmed down. A girl moves out of the way so Minseok can see the largest screen – not that Minseok can understand any of the things on it. "Our ship's built," Sehun gestures out toward the workshop floor, and sure enough there's a massive version of the paper model Minseok had helped Sehun glue together, "and now the computer is running tests to make sure all systems should run correctly. We're just waiting for the computer to finish doing its thing."

Minseok watches as lines and lines of text code flash across the bottom half of the screen. On a smaller screen to the right, there's a list of things in red. As Minseok is looking, another thing adds to it, and one of the other interns groans dramatically.

"That's a list of the errors the computer has found," the girl next to Minseok explains when she notices where he's looking. "So basically, a list of things we have to fix for the ten zillionth time."

"Welcome to the life of an engineer," the supervisor says dryly. Minseok laughs, but the interns don't seem nearly as amused.

Minseok hangs out in the booth for a bit longer, learning bits and pieces of the design and testing process. Sehun does most of the explaining, but every now and then someone else will chip in. Minseok does his best to keep up, but outside of the things he can envision in correspondence to his own bullet ship most of it goes over his head.

Instead he finds himself more focused on how excited Sehun gets while trying to explain a particular process or function, the way Sehun's eyes light up as he uses a spare screen to zoom in on the ship down below and give Minseok a closer look. Sehun's smile has Minseok's heart jumping around in ways he has to try really hard to keep outwardly hidden. He's not sure how successful he is though, because after about fifteen minutes the supervisor gives him a long look. Then he excuses Sehun and the other interns to go "show Pilot Kim something more interesting" while the computer continues to run.

Everyone jumps at the chance to get out of the booth, and Minseok spends another enjoyable half hour circuiting the walkway as the interns point things out to him. By the time they're approaching the main doors, Minseok has resolved to come down and visit the workshop levels more often. He had no idea so many fascinating things were taking place beneath his feet.

"I should probably head out now," Minseok says once they've reached the area outside the lifts. "It was nice meeting you all. Sorry for interrupting your work."

"Oh no, it was our pleasure," the girl who had been standing next to Minseok inside the booth says with a smile. "We were all dying of boredom, and Dr. Lee is usually such a stickler about protocol and staying in the room while the tests are running. You saved us, seriously."

During the exchange Sehun is oddly silent, standing awkwardly partway between Minseok and the other interns like he isn't quite sure where he belongs. One of the other interns notices as well, and punches Sehun lightly in the shoulder before suggesting the rest of them head back first. As soon as they're out of earshot, Sehun lets out a sigh of relief.

"The whole team will know about this by the end of the day," Sehun says, shooting a glare at his coworkers' retreating backs.

"Oh," Minseok replies. His good mood dampens at the thought of having caused Sehun trouble. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's all good," Sehun says. He turns back to face Minseok and grins. "I've always wanted to be famous."

"Being friends with a pilot shouldn't be something that makes you famous." Minseok frowns, glances down and picks at a thread on his sleeve. "People make pilots out to be such a big deal, but we're not really. We're just some people who got scouted by the military and learned how to fly ships."

"I dunno, rocketing into space and shooting down monsters sounds like a pretty big deal to me," Sehun says. He tucks his hands into his pockets, rocks back on his heels. Licks his lips. "You seem like a pretty big deal to me. I might be biased, though."

Minseok laughs.

"That was cheesy," he says with a smile. "But thank you."

"Anytime." Minseok expects Sehun to smirk like he usually does after dropping any sort of line, but instead his smile is soft. Like he's not just flirting; like he genuinely means it. Minseok's stomach flops.

"You should probably get back soon," Minseok says, hastening to shove his feelings away somewhere safe, where they won't make him say or do anything dumb.

"Yeah, probably," Sehun says with a sigh. "If I don’t they'll start making up wild stories about us making out in the washroom or something, I'm sure."

Minseok nearly chokes. He would like that 'wild story' to be a reality much more than he would care to admit. His brain suddenly feels somewhat fried.

"Oh no, we can't let that happen," Minseok manages to get out. It doesn't even sound strained, which he congratulates himself on, seeing as his brain is a giant puddle of mush.

Sehun laughs, apparently unaware of the damage he has just inflicted on Minseok.

"I'll message you later, hyung," Sehun says, and then he's gone with a wave and a smile thrown back over his shoulder.

"Bye," Minseok belatedly tells the empty space where Sehun had been. He stands there for a moment longer, watching Sehun's pink hair bob its way down the walkway, before turning to go into the lifts lobby. He very pointedly avoids looking at the washrooms there while he waits for his lift to come.

–––

Minseok is in the pilots' lounge when a message pops up on his personacomm.

At first Minseok wonders if the message is from Yixing – it's been a week since the day Yixing came over, and Minseok still hasn't found time to talk with him. He doesn't want to say that he's avoiding Yixing, but that's more or less the truth. Every time he works up the courage to send his friend a message or try to drop by to visit, something seems to conveniently get in the way. The number of alarms in the past couple days worked wonderfully as excuses, even if they left him exhausted.

Now, though, it's his off day, and Minseok is out of excuses. Yet here he is, sitting in the lounge and mindlessly scrolling through old messages on his personacomm instead of writing a new one to send off to Yixing. Most of the other pilots are out on a ghost hunt, so the only other person in the room is Jongdae. He's sitting next to Minseok on the couch, watching some documentary on the entertainment system.

Because Minseok is already staring at his 'comm, he sees the message as soon as it comes in. When Minseok takes a closer look, he notices that the notification is red, indicating that it's from someone ranked higher up. Minseok feels guiltily relieved for a moment before what that actually means truly sinks in. Messages from higher-ups are rarely ever good news.

Unfortunately he has his personacomm on hologram mode, displaying his messages in front of him, and the red notification also catches Jongdae's eye.

"What's that?" Jongdae asks, craning his neck to see better.

"I don't know," Minseok replies. He grudgingly taps into the message, and only barely contains an exclamation of surprise when he sees what it is: a summons from Boa for a personal meeting.

"Huh, that's odd," Jongdae says. He knows just as well as Minseok does that usually pilots are only called in for one-on-one sessions if either they have relevant information – such as the endless meetings Junmyeon's subjected to as the pilots' leader – or if they're in trouble. Minseok hasn't been involved in any situations of note since the goblin ambush a week earlier, and he already submitted his report for that. That doesn’t leave much reason for a meeting.

"Maybe there was something wrong with my report," Minseok muses, mostly to himself. Something tells him that's not it, though. The feeling of unease is only intensified by the fact that the message says to come immediately. Questions about a report shouldn't be that dire.

"Could be," Jongdae says with a shrug. "You should probably go find out."

Minseok’s feeling of disquiet follows him all the way to Boa's office. Her door slides open not even a full second after he presses the notification bell.

"Thanks for coming so quickly," Boa says with a smile after Minseok has saluted, and gestures for him to take the seat across from her. Minseok does so, trying to keep himself from glancing around too much in curiosity. He rarely gets an opportunity to come into her office, since their meetings generally take place in the main conference room. If he were here on any other business, Minseok would probably enjoy spending time in here – the view from her window is spectacular.

"I was just down the hallway in the lounge," Minseok says. He tries to return Boa's smile, but it comes out shaky. "I came as soon as I saw the message."

"If only certain other people could learn from your promptness," Boa says with a sigh. Minseok bites back a more genuine smile, remembering all of the scoldings he has witnessed over the years when people arrived late to meetings. "Anyway, I asked you to come here because I wanted to discuss a job position that will be opening up soon."

Minseok's heart sinks.

"It's Donghae hyung's job, isn't it?" he asks. "The flight instructor position."

"Yes," Boa says. "I think you would be the perfect match for it."

"You talked to Yixing?" Minseok's falling, drowning in panic even as he struggles to stay afloat. Somehow it had felt like putting off talking to Yixing would put off everything else. That jobs – both ending and beginning – would somehow be put on indefinite hold until he could muster the courage to take a closer look. Now that opportunity to wait has been ripped away from him, and the tides of panic are flooding into its wake.

"I did talk to Yixing. And to Changmin, and to the rest of the health professionals. Who, by the way, are not pleased that you weren't reporting things to them properly."

"I'm still doing fine, though," Minseok insists stubbornly. Desperately. "They said so themselves."

"That may be so," Boa says, "but 'fine' doesn't mean you have free reign to decide what should and should not be reported. Their job is to take care of you and make sure your 'fine' lasts as long as possible, and they can't do that if you don't let them know what's going on." She pauses to make sure Minseok has time to process what she’s saying, then smiles again. "Besides, it's always a better idea to start planning early. Having to make a sudden transition without prior planning isn't fun, trust me."

Minseok barely even hears her words. He’s underwater, drowning, choking on the panic as he fights to control it. In his fear he strikes out blindly, saying, "Why is everyone trying to force me out of being a pilot?"

"Pilot Kim," Boa says, and her tone is a bolt of ice that rushes through to Minseok’s brain and freezes his panic in place, finally allowing him to breathe even as Boa’s words crash into him. "I am going easy on you right now because I have enjoyed working alongside you for these past ten years, and because I know how hard it is to go through this transition and feel like you're having your entire life stolen from you. But I need to you to listen to me right now, really listen. Because I don't like to repeat myself."

Minseok gulps. His panic may no longer be overwhelming him, but now he has an entirely different reason to be afraid.

"Sorry, Commander," he says, bowing his head. "I'm listening."

"Good. Pilot Kim, no one is trying to force you out of being a pilot. Donghae told me about wanting to phase out, and I thought you would be a good match for the job. I didn't know whether bring it up with you, though, since you're such a good pilot and it would be a shame to lose you. Then Changmin came to me because of the health situation and asked me to talk to you about it. I'm the one who asked Yixing to talk to you, since I thought you might take it better from a friend. Obviously I was wrong."

Minseok hangs his head, ashamed. The way he had snapped at Yixing and his following silence over the past week seem even more horrible now.

"So I'm not asking anymore, I'm telling," Boa continues. "I want you to at least go down and look at the training site, talk to Donghae, consider it. If, after truly considering, you decide that you don't want the job, then so be it. But no one can be a pilot forever; remember that. This training job is a wonderful opportunity, and I don't want you to lose your chance for it over a bit of stubbornness." She pauses, then smiles wryly. "Also I really would rather get someone from here for the job. Having to do an inter-Federation search for someone to fill a position is a pain in the ass."

Minseok laughs weakly. He feels like he's had all the strength drained from him and then been laid out on the ground and thoroughly trampled on. It's not a pleasant feeling, but it's not all bad, either.

"Understood, Commander," he says. "I'll go take a look. I'm not.. I can't promise anything, but I'll go take a look."

Boa smiles, understanding, then says, "Good. I think that's all. Just also please remember to report your health issues properly from now on, because I don't like scoldings from the medical staff any more than you do. Dismissed."

Minseok returns to the pilots' lounge in a daze. Jongdae is still sitting on the couch, watching the same documentary. No more than ten minutes have passed, but to Minseok it feels like centuries. Jongdae looks up when he comes in, and there must be something in Minseok's expression because Jongdae's eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

"What happened?" Jongdae asks.

"I was being stupid, and I got scolded for it," Minseok says. He plops down on the couch.

"What did you do?" Jongdae presses. "You look like you just got run down by a dragon."

"I feel like I just got run down by a dragon," Minseok says. "I didn't report some health things I was supposed to." It's the short version, but Minseok figures he doesn't need to spend an hour telling Jongdae the whole thing. "Learn from my mistakes. Don't ever do that. Report everything."

"Duly noted," Jongdae says with almost a sort of reverence. "Do you want to go see if we can wheedle some chocolate out of the cafeteria staff or something? You seriously look like shit."

"Thanks," Minseok deadpans. "I'm fine, though. Except–" he pauses, hesitates, then decides to push on, "–when's your next free day?"

"Tomorrow. I pushed it forward so I could go to the Asian Federation pilots' press conference thingy next week." Jongdae gives Minseok a confused look. "Why?"

"Would you go somewhere with me?"

–––

It feels weird to be on the training grounds used by the pilot trainees. Not deja vu – it's been ten years since Minseok last set foot here, and the distance between that time and the present is palpable – but something more like a vague sense of unease, as if Minseok is staring into an alternate reality. Minseok spent three years of his life here; these are the same buildings where he ate, slept, and breathed the lessons that transformed him from an ordinary school boy into an elite pilot.

"Were we ever that small?" Minseok asks in wonder. He and Jongdae are standing on the indoor sky bridge that cuts across the empty space in the middle of the building that houses the flight simulators. The sky bridge is located on the fourth floor, and below their feet, on the first floor, are the three simulator machines. The pilot trainees are currently standing next to the machines, listening intently to the instructions Donghae is giving them.

"I don't know," Jongdae replies quietly. "It's hard to remember."

There are fourteen trainees standing there, arranged into lines of three, five, and six. The line of three is in the front, and Minseok assumes that they're the third year trainees. Of the other trainees, at least half will probably either drop or fail out of the flight program. Even so, Minseok is impressed that so many have made it this far. The kids who are picked from the aptitude tests are first subjected to the same basic training all of the sector's air force recruits go through. Then after that hell ends, another one begins. Flight training is both physically and mentally exhausting – Minseok had been the only trainee from his year to make it to the end.

"It's funny," Minseok says as the trainees all call out an answer to something. "Doing our job, it often feels like everything is stuck in one place. The war is unchanging, so it seems like nothing else is moving or changing either – but it is, isn't it? Even the training is different."

The acoustics of the building make it just barely possible for Minseok and Jongdae to hear what's going on below. Donghae is giving information on the best ways to go about a ghost hunt, how to utilize the ship to get the best radar returns. When Minseok was a trainee they had only been taught techniques used in active combat. Anything else, like ghost hunting, was secondary, to be figured out on one's own.

Jongdae doesn't laugh or make any quips about how of course things are changing. He just reaches out and lightly squeezes Minseok's shoulder. This is why Minseok had wanted to bring Jongdae along – because Jongdae understands better than just about anyone else ever could. He may have his own aspirations as a sector ambassador lined up for the future, but after Minseok explained his situation and asked him to come along today Jongdae hadn't hesitated even a second before agreeing. He gets it, and Minseok takes strength from his presence.

They continue to watch above, chatting quietly to avoid disturbing the lesson, as the third years enter the machines and run a simulated ghost chase together. Several screens on the wall behind Donghae show the trainees' progress from various angles. Their flight isn't anything exceptional, but it's not bad either. Donghae replays the run on the screens, allowing for analysis. When they've finished and the second years are preparing for their turn, Minseok pulls away from the railing. Jongdae silently follows him off the skyway and to the lifts that will take them back to the first floor.

"Are you going to talk to Donghae hyung today?" Jongdae asks once they're in the lift. Minseok had ended up telling him everything, and he knows that Minseok is supposed to do just that. Just coming here, though – that had already been a big step. Minseok had come to see, just like he said he would, and to be honest he was impressed. He's considering the position a lot more seriously now than he had before.

But even so, it stings. The thought of giving up his job, of no longer being a pilot. At least with this job he would occasionally still get to fly, but he can still feel the bars closing in on him, the cage door slamming shut. Seeing this job as anything other than an end is difficult for him; Minseok needs time to think, to adjust. Talking to Donghae right now would be too much, too soon.

"Not today," Minseok says, shaking his head. The lift doors ding open, and Minseok and Jongdae exit onto the first floor. The lift lobby is separated from the area with the simulator machines by a solid wall, but even so Minseok takes them out the back door. The thought of walking past the machines makes him uncomfortable for some reason.

Jongdae nods, not pressing the issue, and Minseok is thankful for his silent understanding.

"I'll come back, though," Minseok says as they leave the building. Jongdae, surprised, stops walking and almost has the door shut on him. Minseok bites back a laugh as Jongdae hurries to get out of the door's way. Once Jongdae's safe, he elaborates, "I'll think about it, and come back. And I'll try talking with Donghae then."

Jongdae looks at Minseok closely for a moment. When he's satisfied that Minseok is serious, he breaks into a large grin.

"Oh, good," Jongdae says. "When you were telling me about everything I was so worried but– I'm glad that you're going to come back, hyung. I really am."

Minseok is a bit taken aback by Jongdae's enthusiasm, but it helps to confirm the tentative optimism starting to take root inside Minseok's chest. He returns the smile and says, "Yeah, me too."

–––

"You know," Sehun says as they enter the upper food court level, "I think this is the first time our off-days during the week have ever matched up."

"I think you're right," Minseok agrees after considering for a second. "I'm hardly ever off on weekends."

That was why when Minseok's schedule was moved around to accommodate for the pilots who were attending the Asian Federation’s press conference, he had rushed to message Sehun. The engineers and interns operate on a weekday schedule, with weekends off, and Minseok wasn't about to let the opportunity to finally have aligned off-days go to waste.

Sehun hums, swinging their joined hands as they walk. It's the first time they've held hands since that night by the river. Not that they’ve ever talked about that night, or what it meant for their friendship – relationship? Minseok suddenly feels guilty as he remembers Yixing's relationship advice about communication. He may have met up with Yixing after his talk with Boa and apologized for being such an ass, but apparently he's still not doing too well with the whole "following Yixing's advice" thing.

"What do you want to eat?" Minseok asks to distract himself from his thoughts. In addition to the handholding, which Sehun had initiated this time, right after they left the lift, today feels more like a date than any of their previous meetings ever have. They're both dressed down in civilian clothes, blending in with the other residents of both the Clocktower and the rest of the military compound at large who had decided to spend their weekend here instead of going down Cityside. Sehun looks stunning in his fashionable ripped jeans and v-neck shirt, and Minseok is having a hard time keeping himself from staring.

"Ice cream," Sehun says immediately.

"Sehun," Minseok sighs. "It's dinner time. You can't have ice cream for dinner."

"It's still early," Sehun says. "We could get ice cream now and then eat dinner late."

Minseok squints at Sehun, just to make sure he's being serious. All of his logic is screaming at him to point out that in that case they should eat now and get the ice cream later, but Sehun is pouting and all of the words Minseok means to say get jumbled up and somehow come out as, "Okay."

Sehun beams and squeezes Minseok's hand. Minseok's heart, traitor that it is, flutters.

"Come on," Sehun says, pulling on Minseok's hand and leading him farther into the food court. "My favorite place is down this way."

Minseok follows Sehun as he winds through the various restaurants and seating areas until they reach a small storefront on the far end. It's located in a row of actual shops, unlike the stalls that make up most of the other restaurants on this level. A bell goes off as they press the button to get the door to slide open, and a worker appears from the back.

Minseok gets a scoop in a cup, and Sehun gives him a judgmental look before ordering himself a cone with two scoops. They take their ice cream back out of the shop, and Sehun finds them an empty seating area that's screened by some trees and has a fairly decent view out the window. Sehun does most of the talking while they eat, but Minseok is content to listen. It's comfortable, just sitting here and chatting like this, and Minseok feels something like longing tugging at his chest.

"Sehun," Minseok says when Sehun stops talking to munch the last of his waffle cone. Minseok has long since finished his ice cream, the spoon and bowl sitting on the table and waiting for him to deposit them at one of the dish collection sites. "What are you planning to do once your internship finishes?"

Sehun looks at Minseok, his bangs flopping into his eyes, and Minseok feels that longing again. It’s like some sort of magnetism that pulls him to Sehun, making him nostalgic for something that is yet to happen.

"I'm applying for a job here," Sehun says after he swallows. "Our supervisor said that they'll hire me on. I mean, I would have to start out working back down on the middle levels again. But he thinks I could get promoted back up in maybe a year. Why?"

"Just curious," Minseok says, trying to seem nonchalant. "I was wondering if you would be leaving."

"No," Sehun says, so forcefully that Minseok is taken aback. "I can't imagine leaving, this is my home.” Sehun stops as if struck by a thought and then gives Minseok a searching look. “Why? Are you thinking of leaving?"

"No, I can't imagine leaving either," Minseok says with a firm shake of his head. "This–" he gestures to the area around them, the Clocktower, the military compound "–is everything to me."

Sehun is staring at him so intently that Minseok can feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. He doesn't know when they ended up leaning this close, thighs pressed together under the table and Sehun's face tantalizingly near. Sehun licks his lips, and Minseok's eyes flicker down to follow the movement.

"That's good," Sehun says. "I didn't want to imagine a future here without you."

Then he leans forward, presses their lips together, and Minseok feels like he's flying. Sehun pulls away slightly and Minseok chases him, braces one hand on the table and places the other lightly on Sehun's chest. He kisses Sehun, and revels in the noise of surprise and delight that Sehun makes. Sehun's teeth catch against Minseok's bottom lip and Minseok presses closer, closer.

They kiss open mouthed and lazy in their secluded alcove, Minseok halfway in Sehun's lap and Sehun's arm wrapped around Minseok's waist. Sehun tastes sweet like his strawberry ice cream, and Minseok has never been overly fond of sweet things but he could get used to this.

"Wow," Sehun says when they finally pull away. His lips are red and shiny, and it makes Minseok want to kiss him again. "Why didn't we do that sooner?"

Minseok laughs, breathless. "I have no idea," he says. It seems so easy now, all the fears that had him pulling back melting away under Sehun's touch. "But let's do it again."

Sehun must agree with his sentiment, because he wastes no time in leaning down to place another kiss on Minseok's lips.

–––

Minseok hums happily as he waits for his mechanic to give him the okay to climb into his bullet ship. Baekhyun had looked at him strangely when Minseok cheerfully agreed to go on a ghost hunt not even an hour after getting back on shift, but Minseok is still riding on a high from the day before. The ice cream had indeed completely spoiled their dinner, but the time he had spent with Sehun – talking, laughing, kissing – had more than made up for that.

When the mechanic finally gives him the thumbs up, Minseok thanks him and climbs into his bullet ship. It's Jongin's break week, and that's the sole damper on Minseok's good mood. He had been looking forward to chatting with Jongin, maybe teasing him about his girlfriend some more. At least the replacement mechanic is friendly, waving before he heads out across the floor.

There are only three of them flying out on the hunt: Minseok, Baekhyun, and Seulgi. Minseok does a last check over his control panel, more out of habit than anything else, before confirming that the other two pilots are ready to go and signaling for the countdown.

Maneuvering his ship into position, Minseok grins. It feels like everything is falling into place, like the monotony he's been caught in for so long is finally broken. His hands are itching on the ship controls, impatient to get out beyond the exosphere and blast off to Jupiter. The second the countdown finishes he's off, thrusters on full, surging up into the sky.

As the most senior pilot, Minseok is the first to take off. This also means that he escapes Earth first, pulling to a stop to wait for the other two ships. It shouldn't take any longer than a minute, but out of habit Minseok checks his controls one more time while he waits. He's still so lost in his thoughts that he almost doesn't notice that one of the pressure gauges on the far left of his control panel is only showing at about 57%. When he does notice, he frowns. That gauge had been showing at 83% before take off, he's sure of it.

"Oppa, is something wrong?" Seulgi's voice comes from over the intercom system. Minseok jerks and looks up at his screen. Seulgi and Baekhyun are already flanking him, stopped and waiting for him to give the word to start the next leg of their trip.

"Sorry," Minseok says. "Hold on for just a second, I want to check something." Without waiting for a reply, he says, "System, connect to control room."

The connection to Earth lasts all the way out until about Mars before it starts going fuzzy. Messages can still be sent from farther out than that, but they have to be in text or code. Minseok is still plenty close enough that when Seungwan's voice comes across the line saying, "What's up?" she's loud and clear.

"Could you run a remote diagnostic for me?" Minseok asks. This close to Earth, the control room can also access readings on his ship. "The RVX-12 gauge is reading weirdly for me."

The line goes flat as Seungwan presumably accesses the system. Minseok taps his fingers against the edge of the control panel as he waits. His good mood has disintegrated, gone since the moment he noticed the gauge. There are cases where the gauges show incorrect readings because they haven't been calibrated properly, where it’s just an error in the display and not in the actual function. This is the most likely explanation – the ships aren't perfect, and it's probably nothing to actually worry about. For some reason, though, Minseok feels uneasy.

"All systems are checking out fine," Seungwan says after a minute. "It seems to just be a display error on the part of the gauge mechanism itself. You should be safe to go out."

Minseok hesitates, wavering on the edge of indecision. On one hand, he really doubts there's anything to actually worry about. The systems are showing clear, meaning his ship should be fine. On the other hand, the middle of hyper acceleration would not be a good time to find out that there really is something wrong. Besides, they're only going on a ghost hunt, and one fairly close to home at that. Baekhyun and Seulgi are fully capable of handling it on their own.

"I'm coming back down," Minseok decides. Seungwan voices a confirmation, and Minseok switches over to the inter-pilot intercom to explain the situation to Baekhyun and Seulgi. "I just have a bad feeling about this," he says. "Go have fun blowing up ghosts without me, and I'll see you down planetside later."

"Sure, see you later. Get back safe," Baekhyun says, and Seulgi echoes him. They're gone in an instant, accelerating out past Earth's orbit. Minseok eyes the pressure gauge warily one more time – it's still hovering at 57%. The reading does little to alleviate the feeling of unease that follows him as he repositions his bullet ship and prepares for descent.

Somewhere in the middle of the mesosphere, the pressure gauge goes flat.

The one next to it follows suit, and then another, and a moment later an oxygen mask is thrust out from a hatch over Minseok's right shoulder. Minseok manages to put it on one-handedly while still controlling his ship. He feels oddly calm, despite the surge of panic he can feel trapped somewhere in his chest. The fear stays lodged beneath his ribcage, overridden by his training as he breathes into the mask and keeps his ship on route for the Clocktower. He sends out a mayday signal as yet another gauge races toward zero.

His ship hurtles toward the hangar, and Minseok is suddenly more glad than ever that the Clocktower is built to withstand just about anything, from domestic bomb threats to one of Ijjen's dragons. Luckily none of his controls have failed, landing gear still in full function, but the sheer amount of adrenaline running through him has Minseok lacking any of his usual precision as he lands. He comes in at more of an angle than usual, and the bullet ship skids across the floor, screeching as metal scrapes on metal and leaves a trail of sparks. Minseok manages to bring his ship to a shuddering halt, and when the noise from the drag stops the silence is deafening.

Minseok gulps and loosens his death grip on the controls. With shaking hands he removes the oxygen mask. I can breathe, he thinks as he takes a deep breath. I'm alive.

If Minseok hadn't turned back, if he had gone out on the ghost hunt, he would have needed one of the other pilots to save him. If the pressure controls had failed in the middle of hyper acceleration and Minseok had needed to pull out short – if he had been left in the middle of nowhere while his teammates continued flying out to Jupiter, if no one had been able to get to him within about half an hour, Minseok would have died.

Someone knocks on the outside of the ship, and Minseok reaches for the controls to open the cockpit. It takes a couple tries before he manages to hit the right button. The roof of the cockpit retracts with a quiet pop and immediately Minseok is engulfed in noise.

"Are you alright?" he hears someone ask, while several other people crowd around asking similar questions. Beyond them, there are people running all over the place. There are at least two different alarms going off, and in the distance someone is screaming.

Minseok doesn't reply immediately. Instead he unbuckles his safety harness. It had kept him from flying through the display screen as he landed, and he pats it lightly in thanks. Then he stands slowly, braces a hand on the side of the cockpit, and hops over the edge. The crowd of people move out of the way, and he's grateful because he feels like he might suffocate. How ironic, if he survived an oxygen failure only to suffocate back at base.

The thought makes him laugh, hiccupping up a giggle and gripping the side of his ship for support. Someone puts a hand on his shoulder, but he barely even registers the touch. Minseok feels like he's underwater, the sounds and shapes around him distorted.

"Pilot Kim," someone says. A woman. The person with their hand on his shoulder. "I need you to look at me." Minseok does look, and recognizes the woman's uniform as belonging to the medical staff. "I need you to focus on me and answer some questions, okay?"

"Sure," Minseok says. All at once everything his entire body feels heavy. Too heavy to stand, too heavy to exist. "I think I need to sit down, though."

He never hears her reply, because as soon as he's done talking the ground suddenly rushes closer, and then the world goes black.

----------------------------------------------------------------
INTERLUDE
----------------------------------------------------------------

Sehun hesitates outside apartment 409. He's not sure if he's ever been this nervous before in his life. Not while he was taking his entrance exams, or even on his first day of work at the Clocktower. Yet here he is, mouth bone-dry and fists clenched so tightly that his nails are cutting into his skin.

It's not like the building itself is intimidating. The address Yixing had given him took Sehun through a middle-class neighborhood and led him to a fairly new apartment complex. The building is nothing fancy, but it's nice all the same. Now that Sehun thinks about it, it seems exactly like the kind of place Minseok would enjoy spending his time off.

Sehun had arrived at the building’s front door just in time to help an elderly lady haul her groceries inside, and then had felt too silly to go back outside, shut the door behind him, and use the call feature to be formally let in. Now that he's standing outside Minseok's cousin's door, though, Sehun regrets not just doing it anyway. Somehow even just being in the hallway, completely uninvited, feels too personal – too intimate.

But he's already here, and now he's just wasting time, so Sehun musters up his courage and reaches out to press the intercom button next to the door. There are a few seconds of silence before Sehun can hear a scuffling sound from the other side of the door.

"Hello?" a woman's voice asks through the com speakers. Sehun forces himself to look at the intercom camera instead of turning around and running like he wants to.

"Hi," Sehun replies, and is relieved when his voice comes out steady. "I'm, um, looking for Kim Minseok." It comes out more of a question than a statement, so Sehun hastens to add, "My name is Sehun. I'm his friend."

The word "friend" burns a little on his tongue, but Sehun doesn't know what else to say. There was never anything official, no actual words used to define their relationship. So Sehun sticks with what's safe, even if the word only further agitates the feeling of unease swirling around cold and heavy in his stomach.

"Oh!" the woman exclaims. "You're the guy Yixing mentioned." Immediately the intercom cuts out, and the door beeps before sliding open.

Sehun is overcome with momentary relief that Yixing had remembered tell Minseok's cousin about him coming. When Yixing had cornered Sehun outside the lifts on level three, he had looked so tired and harried that Sehun was surprised he still even knew coming from going.

Before then, Sehun had never actually met Yixing. He knew who he was, since Minseok mentioned him a lot, and he had seen him around on the upper levels, but they had never talked. So when Yixing marched right up to him and greeted him by name, Sehun had been too shocked to do more than bow and stutter a greeting in return. His shock had only multiplied when Yixing said he had a favor to ask.

"Minseok's personacomm got left behind in the health center after the Incident," Yixing had explained, using the name everyone seemed to collectively have agreed to use for Minseok's accident. The word "crash" was carefully avoided, as if it reminded people just how close of a call the entire thing had truly been. "I didn't want to send it in the mail, since it's so personal, but I've been too busy to take it to him. Is there any chance you could take it down?"

"Me?" Sehun had more or less squeaked, earning himself an amused look.

"Yes, you," Yixing had said with smile. "Minseok hyung needs his 'comm back, and I think he would enjoy seeing you."

Sehun only wishes he could be as sure as Yixing on that last point. Now that he's here, his doubt has actually amplified rather than dissipating as he had hoped it would. He tries his best to swallow back his anxiety as the opened door leaves him face to face with the woman who must be Minseok's cousin. She looks to be in her early thirties, short, with her hair pulled up into a ponytail. Sehun can see the family resemblance in her eyes. He's nervous enough that he can feel his hands starting to tremble, but Minseok's cousin's smile is kind.

"Thanks for coming all the way down here for such a small thing," she says as she moves out of the way so Sehun can come in. He tries not to trip as he takes off his shoes.

"It was no problem," Sehun replies, choosing to conveniently forget the effort he'd had to go through to bribe someone into switch vacation days with him so he could come down as soon as possible.

"Minseok's through this way."

Sehun follows Minseok's cousin down a short hallway, then stops dead on the threshold of the apartment’s small living room. The prospect of a visitor apparently hadn't been exciting enough to tear any of the room's occupants away from the cartoon on the entertainment system, but as soon as Sehun enters the room he finds himself pinned with three pairs of eyes.

Minseok is sitting on the floor, with his back to the couch, and his hair is filled with bows and sparkly hair clips. The styling seems to be courtesy of the little girl sitting behind him on the couch with a box full of hair accessories next to her. The boy on the other end of the couch barely even glances at Sehun before turning back to the cartoon, but Minseok and the little girl are staring. Sehun shifts uncomfortably.

"Sehun?" Minseok asks. He blinks, as if Sehun might be sort of hallucination. Minseok’s reaction is somehow cute, and Sehun finds himself smiling.

"Hi," Sehun says. His heart is hammering, trying to slam its way out of his chest. Minseok looks utterly ridiculous, but somehow that just makes him even more endearing. Since Minseok is still frozen with shock, Sehun decides to act first, and makes his way over to the couch. "I, uh, brought your personacomm," he says, pulling the device out of his pocket and holding it out.

"Oh," Minseok says. He blinks again and Sehun's heart gives a pathetic flop. "Thanks." Minseok reaches up and takes the watch from Sehun. Sehun hesitates for a second, not sure what to do next, then decides screw it and lowers himself onto the floor next to Minseok.

"You have a good taste in shows," Sehun says with a nod towards the entertainment system. "Rocket Kids is my favorite, too."

That seems to snap Minseok out of his shell-shocked state, and he snorts out a laugh. Sehun grins, feeling accomplished. This is the first time he's seen Minseok in two weeks, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, especially after the circumstances that led to his break. It's nice to see him laugh.

Sehun knew about the Incident, of course. The military was keeping it top secret, but as someone who not only works on the upper levels but is also part of the engineering team, Sehun had been debriefed on it. He had looked over all the system analyses that were run on the bullet ship, learned all the details of the system errors, studied the timeline of the breakdown, knew exactly how close to death Minseok had come.

He had actually heard about Minseok's personacomm being left behind, too. Shortly after arriving back Cityside, Minseok had used his cousin's 'comm to contact some people back at the Clocktower. He didn't have Sehun's number on hand, but he had gotten in touch with Jongin and asked him to let Sehun know that he was doing okay. So at least Sehun had had that much to go on, but actually seeing Minseok and being able to confirm with his own eyes that Minseok is, in fact, doing okay is a huge relief.

Their conversation falls into a lull as Sehun pauses, unsure of what to say next. There are so many things he wants to say that they all just kind of end up tangled up in his head. Things about the crash, things about work, things about Minseok, things about them. Sehun desperately wants to sort them out, to pick them apart like a knot until he can find the best place to start talking, but he just can’t seem to figure out how. Luckily he's saved by the little girl leaning over to whisper loudly into Minseok's ear:

"Uncle!"

"Yes?" Minseok asks, smiling.

"Uncle," the girl repeats, urgent. She points at Sehun and says, "His hair is pink," in a tone of utter reverence.

Sehun turns to look at her, resisting the urge to reach up and touch his hair. It's been pink for so long now that he sometimes forgets that the color isn't normal. Minseok starts to laugh but quickly manages to turn it into a cough to preserve the little girl’s feelings.

"Yes," Minseok says, falsely solemn, once he’s gotten over his ‘coughing’ fit, "it is."

The girl is staring at Sehun now and he stares back, feeling out of his depth. He's never been very good with kids. It's not that he doesn't like them, but he just doesn't know what to do with them. And she's looking at him so expectantly that he’s at a total loss. So he panics and does the first thing that comes to mind.

"Do you want to style it?" Sehun asks, gesturing to the box of bows sitting on the couch cushion behind his head. The girl's eyes immediately light up as she nods enthusiastically, and Sehun only has a brief second to fear for his life before there are little hands putting short braids all over his head.

Minseok looks like he's trying not to laugh, which Sehun finds rather unfair considering what Minseok's own hair looks like. His indignation doesn't last long, however, as the cartoon ends and another episode starts and Minseok nudges Sehun's knee with his own.

"So what excitement things up at the Clocktower have I missed?" Minseok asks, and just like that it's like two weeks haven't passed since Sehun saw Minseok last. Like they aren't sitting on the floor of Minseok's cousin's apartment while Sehun gets bows put in his hair, like Minseok's accident never happened, like Minseok didn’t just scrape so incredibly close to death. It's so easy to slide back into their usual routine, to fit back together. Sehun rambles about work while Minseok listens and puts in a comment every now and then, engaging with the stories and encouraging Sehun to continue. The topics they cover are completely mundane, but for some reason during the conversation Sehun can feel something warm swelling inside his chest.

Eventually Minseok's cousin comes back into the living room – and promptly chokes when she catches sight of Minseok and Sehun sitting side by side on the floor with their heads covered in bows. Sehun can feel his face turning a shade of pink to rival his hair, but Minseok just laughs.

"They're princes. From space!" the little girl declares proudly.

"Is that so?" Minseok's cousin replies, voice strained from barely contained laughter. Sehun's not sure whose feelings she's trying to spare: the girl's, or his. "Well, the princes are going to go out for a bit now, so they'll need to pass as regular humans. You should help them make their hair normal again."

The girl pouts, but dutifully begins undoing the braids she had just meticulously put into Sehun's hair. Sehun and Minseok, for their part, exchange confused looks.

"Are we going out?" Minseok asks his cousin. He reaches up and starts pulling bows out of his own hair.

"You're going out," his cousin replies. "While I do appreciate having a 24/7 babysitter, I think it would do you good to go out and get some fresh air with your friend. You're turning into a hermit." She has her hands on her hips and the expression on her face books no protests. Minseok sighs.

"Alright," he says in a tone that suggests he's well used to this type of exchange. It’s such a natural exchange, one honed through years of familiarity. Sehun shifts uncomfortably, suddenly aware all over again that he's in someone else's house, intruding on a highly personal side of Minseok's life that he had previously not been part of. He already gave back the personacomm, he's fulfilled the official purpose of his trip. There technically isn’t any reason for him to continue hanging around.

Sehun is just considering offering to leave when Minseok turns to him, wincing as he struggles to pull a particularly stubborn clip out of his hair.

"What do you think, Sehun?" Minseok asks, his face scrunched in pain. He finally frees the clip and lets out a victorious ha! before continuing, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

Sehun heart jumps at the thought of spending more time with Minseok. He smiles, reaches out to help Minseok pull another bow out of his hair, and says, "Sure."

–––

The river pathway looks so dramatically different in the daylight that it's like another place altogether. The sun is just starting to edge its way toward the horizon, taking on an orange hue that tinges the walkway gold around the edges. It's not as beautiful as the night view, but it's nice nonetheless.

There are more people around this time, bundled up in various ways to combat the cold as they go about their business. Sehun huddles down into his own coat, mourning the gloves lying forgotten in a drawer in his room. He tucks his hands into his pockets, then changes his mind when he spots Minseok's glove-less hands swinging near his side. In a split-second decision, Sehun reaches out and grabs Minseok's hand. Minseok glances up at him, surprised, then grins. He twines his fingers through Sehun's, then puts both of their hands into his own jacket pocket.

"It's weird to have to dress for the weather," Minseok says. "In the Clocktower the temperature is regulated, and I never have to think about fashion beyond my flightsuit. Then I get down here and suddenly I have to remember things like gloves. I don't think I even own gloves."

Sehun laughs, swinging their linked hands. They walk for a while, keeping to the side of the pathway so they don't get run over by mothers with strollers or groups of high school kids. They stick to the side closer to the river, and eventually locate a bench to settle down on. The metal seat is cold enough that Sehun can feel it through his jeans, and he finds himself subconsciously leaning closer to Minseok for warmth.

Their hands are still twined together, now lying in Minseok's lap as he plays with Sehun's fingers. His thoughts seem to be somewhere far away and Sehun is content to wait in silence while he thinks. Farther down the pathway a kid yells out, "Look mom, I'm a pilot!" and dashes forward with his arms spread out. He twirls, totters to the side, and almost crashes into someone coming the opposite direction. Minseok snorts and Sehun bites back a laugh.

"You're more graceful than that, I hope," Sehun teases.

"I try," Minseok replies with a wry smile. "I'm generally a good pilot, when I'm not crash-landing my ship into the Clocktower."

Sehun immediately freezes, the taunt he had planned dying on his lips. A mixed wave of worry and guilt washes over him. He hadn't meant to bring up the crash, but somehow he had introduced the topic into conversation anyway. He anxiously watches for Minseok's response but Minseok doesn't seem upset, just thoughtful.

"You know, they say that some people have their heads lost in the clouds," Minseok says after a moment, fixing his gaze on their joined hands in his lap, "but my head wasn't in the clouds, it was lost in the stars." He frowns, runs his thumb over a freckle on the back of Sehun’s hand. "I always knew I'd have to come back down at some point, but I never thought it would happen in quite that way."

Sehun hums in acknowledgment, leaning closer so their shoulders are touching. "Are you scared?" he asks. He would be, if it was him.

"Not really," Minseok says. "Not anymore. I was scared at the time, but it’s not like I'm scared to fly again. It's more like crashing forced me to put some things in perspective. Like the fact that maybe coming down to Earth isn't the end of the world."

Sehun takes a moment to absorb Minseok's words, considers them. There's a sort of finality to Minseok’s voice, a sense of resignation that sits oddly with Sehun.

"Coming down to Earth doesn't mean you can never go back," Sehun says slowly. "You say it's not the end of the world, but it doesn't have to be the end to anything, really. The way I see it, it’s more like a transition, or a new sort of beginning."

Minseok doesn't immediately reply and Sehun forces himself not to fidget. He’s not sure if he’s stepped over some invisible line, or if Minseok is just taking some time to think everything over. As the silence stretches on, Sehun finally gives in and turns toward Minseok. He expects Minseok to still be staring at their hands, or maybe looking out over the river, but he's not – he's watching Sehun with an intensity that has Sehun wanting to squirm away. It suddenly feels like he's in way above his head, like it’s the first day they talked in the study rooms all over again. It had been so easy to flirt with the cute guy on the other side of the glass, but it was another thing entirely when Minseok actually showed up to talk to him, and Sehun's tongue had tied itself right into a knot.

The panic must show on his face, because Minseok jerks slightly as if he's snapping out of a trance. He smiles, and shakes his head slightly.

"You know, a lot of people have told me that," Minseok says. "But I was too stubborn and scared to listen. Too stupid. Hurtling out of the sky admittedly wasn't the most ideal wake up call, but at least it finally got through to me."

Minseok trails off and frowns, getting lost in thought again. Sehun isn't really sure what to do, so he does the only thing he can think of and squeezes Minseok's hand. Minseok squeezes back and leans his head against Sehun's shoulder. They stay like that for a few moments before Minseok speaks again, words slightly muffled by Sehun’s jacket.

"Ever since I first tested into the pilot program, it seemed like space held everything for me. Not just my hopes and dreams, but all my opportunities. My future. Because of that, I spent all my time looking up. But it turns out that I have all of that down here, too." Minseok tilts his head so he can look up at Sehun and smiles. "Like you said, a new kind of beginning."

Sehun smiles back and uses his free hand to brush some hair away from Minseok's forehead. Minseok scrunches his face and it's so cute and Sehun is pretty sure Minseok can probably hear the way his heart is suddenly thudding.

“There’s still a lot of opportunities for you in the Clocktower,” Sehun says. “Like you said, it’s your home, and I’m sure you’ll be able to figure something out – there are a lot of people who will be there supporting you. The other pilots, your friends, Yixing, me. Even if it’s not what you originally planned or expected, it will all work out. I’m sure of it.”

Minseok sits up, straightens and turns toward Sehun so that he can give him a long look. "Thank you," he says after a moment. "I think... I think I can finally acknowledge that, and start moving forward rather than spending all my time only looking up.”

Sehun detaches his hand from Minseok’s so that he can wrap it around Minseok’s shoulder, pulling him close.

"You can do this, hyung," Sehun says. "I know you can."

Minseok leans away slightly, just enough to be able to see Sehun’s face. He meets Sehun’s eyes, dead serious for a second before breaking out in a smile bright enough to rival the stars.

"Thanks," Minseok says. "I think I’m finally ready to try."

----------------------------------------------------------------
KOREAN SECTOR, ASIATIC FEDERATION, EARTH, 2239
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Minseok tries to discreetly take a deep breath. His heart is lodged in his throat, and he feels like he might pass out.

He had been okay at first, when it was just him and Donghae in the classroom. But now that the first year trainees are here for their lesson, Minseok yearns for the big, open room with the simulators. Even though their classroom has one wall made entirely of glass, the six pairs of keen eyes have Minseok feeling claustrophobic. Donghae may be talking at the moment, but the trainees are all watching Minseok. He's something new, a change in their routine, a curiosity, and as such is something to be stared at. Minseok kind of wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

He's so nervous that he barely manages to bow properly when Donghae introduces him to the class. Outwardly at least Minseok keeps the fear tightly controlled, hidden beneath a perfectly blank expression. Unfortunately, though, not even the best poker face in the world can calm his pounding heart.

The new instructor arrangement for flight training is simple: first, Minseok will co-teach two lessons a week with Donghae. Then, after a few weeks, Minseok will completely take over those lessons, so that he works three and a half days on the upper levels, heading out to hunt down monsters with the other pilots, and two down in the training grounds, teaching the trainees. For now, Donghae is content with having two extra days. They're going to test it out for now, give it a try, and then maybe work on phasing Donghae out completely next year if things are going well.

Today Donghae is talking about hyper acceleration, and Minseok is thankful that at least it's a fairly straightforward topic. Donghae is introducing the mechanics first, and then afterward Minseok is supposed to talk about the actual controls and flying the bullet ships. He had prepared some notes the night before, but now he can't for the life of him remember a single thing he had planned out. At least he had a slideshow and a 3-D projector to help remind him.

Donghae is still talking when Minseok happens to glance over the kids' heads toward the classroom door. The entire back wall is made of glass, showing the hallway outside. Minseok isn't exactly sure what he expected to see outside the classroom when he glanced in that direction, but Sehun certainly wasn't it.

Minseok blinks, resists the urge to shake his head, and looks again. Sehun is still there, grinning now that he has Minseok's attention and giving a thumbs up through the glass. Minseok pulls his gaze away, refocusing on Donghae before the trainees notice anything and turn around to see what Minseok is looking at. Minseok isn't sure if he wants to kill Sehun or hug him. There's no reason for an engineer – even a full fledged one like Sehun is now that he's been hired on to the team full time – to be hanging around the pilot trainees' classrooms. He must have come specifically to see Minseok.

Minseok risks another glance toward the hallway and is rewarded with Sehun using his arms to make a giant heart over his head. It takes every ounce of Minseok's control not to burst into laughter. It’s a good thing that he manages to maintain his composure, because just then Donghae turns to him and hands over the controller for the projector.

"Would you like to take over now?" Donghae asks with a smile.

"Sure," Minseok says, automatically accepting the controller. He's still so busy trying not to laugh that he doesn't even have time to be nervous as he launches into his presentation. "As you can see, the controls for hyper acceleration aren't particularly complicated. The acceleration speed itself is controlled by just one sliding switch. The more difficult part is knowing exactly which speed to choose, and keeping control of the spring while in mid-acceleration."

Minseok looks out toward the hallway one more time, but Sehun is gone. His team has been busy lately with a new project – it must have taken quite a bit of wrangling to get some free time to come down. The thought has the nerves twisting around in Minseok's stomach transforming into something warm, a sensation that spreads up through his chest. He fights back a smile and continues with his lesson.

"There's nothing quite like the feeling of kicking into hyper acceleration. Once you get the hang of it, it's actually pretty fun. Think of the most exhilarating thing you've ever done, and multiply it by about a thousand." The trainees laugh and Minseok's heart swells, gratified. "It can be scary at first, though, especially if you aren't familiar with your other flight controls. In that case just try to stay calm, keep as steady as possible, and take a deep breath. Even if you get jittery and go off your projected path, that's not anything that can't be fixed. Just take it easy, and soon enough you'll get the hang of it and everything will be okay."

Minseok pauses and looks out over the room – from Donghae's gentle, encouraging smile to the six trainees sitting attentively in their seats, hanging onto Minseok's every word, to the empty hallway where Sehun had been just moments before. He thinks about all the people up in the Clocktower busy at work, all of his friends and coworkers who are supporting him and cheering him on. Minseok considers it, takes it all in, and smiles.

Everything will be okay.