#707 ic.

[ofhope]

707: girl are you broccoli? because u make my stomach hurt

[ofhope]

Assignments took weeks, months if Vanderwood weren't a diligent reminder, metaphoric steel always pressed right to his temple. Business was business, and most people worked five days a week, higher execs usually less, workload shifted onto that of tighter-wound strings... a little overtime never hurt anything, even if there was no promise of any additional pay. Contrary to Vanderwood's own perceptions, Seven did keep a job or three prior to this one, he knew how some normalcy worked--

but then, just a couple days later, his scam, er, not-scam was answered. Snickering to himself with a joy befitting that of a well-fed mouse, Seven settles comfortably in a hardware not his own. Blip! A chatroom all their own, tucked away in-between lines of functional code. Load-bearing code, that is, like a pixel one inch too wide or a plate texture left in for seemingly no reason... were the stranger to find this intrusion, a deletion would result in their entire rig unwriting itself.

Genius! Genius Seven!

"Hallloooo~" reads a pop-up message, accompanied by the cutest emoji in existence. "I will be your no-no spam-go!"

"Seven Zero Seven Bot is ready for business! This free trial won't require your credit card info, unlike [COMPETITON HERE]. lolol Bot humor, beep beep. Seven will keep your information secure and all yours! By ridding your inbox of these pesky scammers, you will see a 99.99.99.99.99.99.99% increase in online safety! No stolen identity! No stolen credit card! Yippee!"

No name present, only USER's laptop... no recent Jmail sign-ins, either, or any Woohoo! Answers logged. Suspicion etches upon otherwise playful features before dissipating; clever, but how clever? Perhaps this was just a bigwig that deleted his history a lot. A lot of people believe that to be very beneficial.

Seven knows otherwise.

"What may Seven Bot call his Master~? Nyaaa~~"

@thekavseklabs, continued!

[ofhope]

"Ah~ we're up all night to get lucky~... Yoosungie's up all night for a five star."

[ofhope]

❝ i am eternally yours. until the stars go out. and maybe, even after that. ❞ (casper to sae! )

Intensity wears him down. Was there anything left? A milky way of dust, a crumble of what once-was, so much as an atom? Remaining terrified him, an ounce of himself existing outside of life a fate he actively fought against. Saeyoung Choi didn't exist in official records. Luciel, destroyed after this began. A collective of faces torn from pages, birthdates scratched out, names nonsense made-up on the spot, scraped together from dramas, posters, names of cologne--

What was this, anyway?

A coincidence as minute as him opting for cherry cola, his original out, discovering a new taste that enlightened his senses. A fingernail snagged on wool, split just enough to hurt. One last treat, right when he needs it. An itchy spot where an ingrown hair sprouts.

Grim--Casper's--words eluded to a history only partially recovered. His name ringing a bell, but it couldn't, he didn't go to school, didn't graduate. No accolades on the front page, no "hey, remember this guy?" from BookFace. Saeyoung left no footprint, no viable way of finding him, discovering him, but somehow this man, this entity, knew him in a way too fragile, too chest-deep, tangled too irreparably in his veins.

It terrified him.

You don't mean that, Saeyoung means to say. You don't know what you're asking for, Saeyoung means by that. You don't want that, Saeyoung mouths, but his throat is so, so dry. There's a joke on his tongue, a don't fall for me yet!, a cheeky reminder of Casper's stubbornness, how he hadn't loved him, how he couldn't stand him.

Saeyoung had wanted that. Desperately held it to his chest, prayed that was the case.

They kissed, once. Clumsy. Casper didn't know how to slot his mouth, and Saeyoung showed too much enthusiasm. He hadn't washed his sheets before Casper unceremoniously appeared, his socks had holes in them, Mary hadn't cleaned, and-- and it was perfect. He hated that it was.

"It'll hurt," Saeyoung promises, eyes glistening. "You'll hate me for it."

I'll make you hate me.

"I don't think I'll go to Heaven. But if this is all I get... it's more than I deserve."

The hand that seeks Casper's own is clammy. Cold, not due to the wintry chill pinkening their noses. It shakes, but finds Casper's regardless--and holds fast. Yet a vise, but ever near.

[ofhope]

"Ki..ss?"

A rummage of the brain. Deception? No, she wasn't that kind of person (unlike him). Joke? No, she wouldn't do that (unlike him). Flirtation?-- No, no one flirted with him, he flirted, and all of it, every syllable, falsified.

But her eyes were so kind.

Seven preferred monitors, the click of keyboards and repetition of scrolls, no earnesty had to slip out. No doll-glossed eyes, no sneaking smiles, no audible laughter-- this scene was one forged from nightmares, and with every second, his heart threatened to burst from his chest. Remove the hollow bone there, and whisk itself away to a happily ever after far away from his body. Nobody in their right mind would think of this, but she was. The urge to cut-and-run annexed his body, cool sweat steadily dripping down his temples, his eyes still yet to blink.

Hands, he needed something to do with his hands, so he wrings them, scratches behind his ear just-so.

"You don't want that," Seven says, matter-of-factly, yet wonders absently just how her lipstick would taste, because she has to be wearing some -- nobody's naturally that... that perfect, "Seven's a drooler. Drools on his pillows, on his sleeves, once in Yoosungie's hair during a sleepover ～s-so, Seven's, on a scale of one to ten, a Seven on the worst kissers list. Seven used to be a one, but--" cue pointing to his lips. "Dry! So dry!!"

@crimsontwins!

[ofhope]

"Don’t make me chase you." - for Seven.

It's an odd turn of words. Seven - Luciel? - Saeyoung tosses them about in his mind, chase you, chase you, chase you, but that doesn't make them more palatable. Saeyoung knows the definition. He's ran for as long as he could remember, chasing after sepia-toned memory, but he's always been in pursuit. He's been the one with banged-up knees and exhaustive breaths, he's the one that fills page after page with details, overviews, minute means to find the past he let slip from his fingers--

But she faces him now, beet-red cheeks, trying to grab onto the coattails he's tried to have snipped. No one's... he's never thought... it's too good to believe, too good to comprehend. Nausea builds, but all that comes from his mouth is stuttered half-sentences. Seven's guise slips from his face, clatters to the ground, and his visuals aren't blurred purely from his lack of lenses. Chaesun is still, waiting, and that almost makes it worse, doesn't it? To believe yourself never worth pursuing, but someone has taken up that idea, that burden, and instead of letting the message fall from her, instead of letting it fall behind her footsteps, she... waits.

"I'm --"

Sorry, he wants to say, because he's never really said it toward her, never really meant it toward her, but would that make the word mean more or less? Saeyoung bends to grab his glasses, worsening their smear with a hurried brush of his sleeve. They've only just settled into this life, yet Saeyoung almost fractured it... as with all delicate things when held in his clumsy grasp. In lieu of an untrustworthy voice, Saeyoung steps forward, arms seizing her in a comfortable, yet firm, grasp. You almost didn't get this, Saeyoung thinks, don't ruin it.

"I won't. I'm - I'm not, Chaesunny. I'm... I got..."

You almost didn't get this. Don't ruin it.

"Scared. So scared. Hah--I'm usually- by now, I've got a new name, a, ah, a new house. Apartment, sometimes. I don't have - or I have one of those now, and not the other. Thank you. I mean, I'm - sorry. So, so, so sorry. Old way of thinking, huh? I won't do that again. I can't. Not for you. I, I'm, I mean - not to you."

Saeyoung allows himself to relax, shoulders dropping, head balanced atop her own. His legs still itch to move, but he stills them; has to.

"I'm here. Thank you."

[ofhope]

"Honey!!!"

As tradition: arms wide, beckoning and receiving a beloved embrace! Squishing his to-be tight to his chest, Saeyoung circles back in spite of distractions (cocoa and rose, or was it sugarplum and lily? linens too, freshly slept on, her sweater plush and welcoming to since calloused hands--) and urges Chae arms-length apart, nudging his glasses up with his finger. Eyes dark, a puzzle! A glint in the corner, like all nerdy mysteries!

"Competition!" triumphantly said, cockiness bleeding into his posture. "A competition ∼ Saeyoungie won. Ah, is it winning when your competition is..."

Jutting a finger southward, Chae would find a sleepy Saeran, leant over one of the many human-sized obstacle towers. Saeran had rolled his eyes, yet kept to-rhythm with Saeyoung's speed, 'till he heard little snorts, little sighs. Saeran was always a snorer. She hated it. Saeyoung loved it.

While their milage certainly wasn't on the other side of the globe, Saeyoung... hadn't felt this far away from her... ever. Breathing comes easier. Instinct rather than learned. Anxiety still rattles his chest in the mornings, leaves him in a sweat, worries Chae, but they work through it. He works through it, rather than shoving it down, blotting light from reach. A tactic he wouldn't have learned were it not for her.

Saeyoung, somewhat absently, sets his chin atop Chae's shoulder. There's so much to do, still. The framing for their bed still isn't unpacked, and though Zen spoke of the health qualities of sleeping on the floor, Saeyoung's back was unforgiving.

(He didn't complain about being Chae's mattress, though. Her laid above, nosing his collarbone... had he ever felt more love?)

"All that matters is if my honey ate," Saeyoung says... then sighs. "Is what I would say, if we were back in the Messenger. I've got to do better! So... I'll clear the way! Hop on!!!"

Offering his back, Saeyoung the Steed builds momentum!

"We'll bring Saeran something back!" eyes flit to the still comatose Saeran, unaware of the antics ensuing. "Prommy!"

@serenitasmusas, continued!

[ofhope]

"To remind Yoosungie to pray for forgiveness regarding his gacha habit, I've rigged his inbox to play Like a Prayer upon visiting ~ he thinks it's gospel music~"