Him (for xiuminseokkk)

[critcapmods]

For: xiuminseokkk
From: inked_parchment

Title: Him
Rating: PG
Side pairing/s: Baekhyun/Chanyeol, Luhan/Minseok, Kyungsoo/Jongin
Length: 9730 words
Summary: "I'm an artificially intelligent operating system with a personality chip dysfunction. My name is Chen and I am real."

Notes: Thank you for the wonderful prompt! (: I hope I did it justice.


The red-and-gold striped umbrella turned inside out with a loud whoop. Junmyeon gave it a weak shake, and then lowered his useless umbrella in dismay. He lifted his chin, giving a scrutinizing look at the darkening skies. In answer, fat droplets of icy cold rain splattered onto his face. Seconds later, the gushing wind was followed by a roll of thunder, and the light drizzle quickly turned into a heavy downpour.

"Really?" Junmyeon muttered, to no one in particular. He shook out his umbrella again, which stubbornly stayed inverted. He took a deep breath and then blew out air, puffing his cheeks. Relax.

He walked quickly down the narrow back alley, which was supposed to be a shortcut to the office building from the subway station. Blinding white flashes of lightning flooded the alley every few moments. The gutters that ran along the length of the building were already filled to the brim or overflowing into the puddles on the uneven mortar road.

Junmyeon found the back door. He fumbled with the lanyard in his breast pocket of his oversized coat. The plastic was wet from the rain. He furiously wiped it against his coat's forearm, and tapped it on the door lock. The barcode was still blurred from the tiny droplets that the cloth merely spread rather than dried, but it could be scanned just fine. A little black box by the side of the door whirred to life. A tiny light bulb near the top blinked green.

A rush of warm air welcomed him into the office building. Or rather, the fire escape route. The air was still and old, making it suffocating to be in too long. Junmyeon bounded up the stairs, running his fingers through his brown hair, hoping he didn't resemble a wet dog too much. On the eighth floor, he stopped short at the door.

"Showtime," he whispered to himself. "Let's try to have a good day, shall we?"

He opened the door.

Junmyeon was hired two months ago, which totaled the number of people in the eighth floor office to exactly two. There were two desks at opposite ends of the room, facing the wall for maximum anti-social behaviour, and enough floor space in the middle to convert into an impromptu ballroom.

The back door was nearer to his boss's desk. Predictably, the office was still plunged in darkness despite it being nine o'clock in the morning. The blinds were drawn over the ceiling-to-floor windows. The acrid, off-sweet smell of stale coffee was overpowering from the desk nearby. Junmyeon walked over to his boss, sighing as he did.

"Good morning, Dr. Park," he greeted, by way of marking attendance. The empty space echoed him back. The false cheer was mocking, even to his ears.

Park Chanyeol had cordoned off his work space with two grey false walls on either side of the long table, and a barrier of grey cabinets behind him. Half of the cabinet drawers were opened, revealing dog-eared brown folders crammed tightly into the small space. There was an easel, with the paper flipped to reveal a detailed drawing of the human brain. Some parts were sloppily colored in with crayons that were scattered half-broken on the ground. Junmyeon couldn't see anything else over the false wall on his side.

After several seconds, Junmyeon called again, "Dr. Park? Are you still alive?"

He was only half-joking (though he had never entered Chanyeol's work space, he figured his first and last time would ever be to check for the fact).

A kitten peeked from above the grey cubicle wall, making Junmyeon tilt his chin upwards to see. Specifically, it was a ragged-looking stuffed toy with patches of yellow fur, where it once had a meticulously kept snow mane. One of its glassy blue eyes was missing.

It was cold in the office, since the thermostat never worked, but the exasperation that stuffed cat brought made Junmyeon's face heat up. "Dr. Park, I'm talking to you, not the toy."

The cardboard wall muffled a false high-pitched giggle. The singsong voice was deep and slow, like it took concentrated effort to say every word. "The cat is REAL, Junmyeon."

"It's not," called back Junmyeon, already knowing what Chanyeol was going to say.

In petty revenge, Junmyeon slid a remote from its pocket in the wall and stabbed a button. The blinds from the windows started rolling up neatly at the top. Junmyeon could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, as pale white light filled the office.

The kitten disappeared from view, falling onto the floor with a light thump. In its place, Chanyeol shot up unsteadily to his feet, shielding his eyes with his hands and protesting loudly.

"It's. Too. Bright!" Again, the words were said slowly; with awkward pauses between each heavily punctuated word. Junmyeon was used to it.

The point was, Chanyeol was back to resembling a marginally functional human being. Junmyeon smiled. The first smile of the day was always the hardest. The muscles in his cheeks felt abused to be stretched so wide. "Good morning, Dr. Park," he said again, over Chanyeol's grumbles. "We have our presentation pitch at eleven o'clock, don't forget."

The office went abruptly silent. Junmyeon walked to his own work space, which was devoid of anything personal. There was a metal cup that held some sharpened pencils, a ruler and a calculator. He placed his statistics tables under a transparency sheet. He could pack up his belongings and leave in five minutes, with enough time to go to the water cooler for a drink.

Junmyeon shrugged off his coat and dumped his briefcase onto the floor carelessly, like as if he could pay for another leather case without a second thought. He opened his Mac, humming off-tune to himself as he waited for the system to start up. A white heartbeat line showed up on the default dark orange background.

"Junmyeon?"

The said man looked up. Chanyeol was standing in front of his desk, fidgeting with his large black rectangular spectacles. "Hmm?"

Chanyeol swallowed hard, so that his Adam's apple bobbed up and down his throat. Really, who were the boss and the employee?

The urge to ignore Chanyeol was strong, but today was an important day. The research that Chanyeol carried out over the past two years and the compilation of Junmyeon's findings were going to be presented to the government, which had funded the project. Working for two months only gave Junmyeon a sense of detachment, but even he was not so cold as to dismiss someone else's years of hard work.

"You want to practice?"

Chanyeol nodded. His eyes were opened wide like a child, and his mouth was slightly agape in seriousness.

Junmyeon intertwined his fingers together and sat up straight at his desk, like a school teacher. He looked expectantly at Chanyeol.

Chanyeol closed his eyes. When he spoke, his low voice was fluent, even if it was slow. It surprised Junmyeon again, at how attractive his speaking voice was. It wasn't the first time he was wondering what broke Chanyeol to leave him with his psychogenic speech impediment.

"The new OS2 is not just an operating system. It's a consciousness."

Chanyeol should have hired a marketing consultant (or a conman, same purpose) to review their material. He kept it safe by talking simply about the alleged benefits of the OS, but he relied on marketing to B2C, which was appealing more to the emotional nature of prospective buyer. The government didn't need wishy-washy tales on how the computer system, designed to have specifications that match the user's personal preference, was akin to companionship.

Junmyeon told him so, but Chanyeol didn't listen, which was why the disgruntled employee was staring out of the artificial window of the boardroom during the presentation.

The boardroom had no real window, being ten storeys underground. Instead, a LCD screen projected a grey sky on one of the walls. An oblong glass table filled up whatever available space there was in the room. There was Chanyeol standing awkwardly at the head of the table, with his hands behind his back. As a force of nervous habit, he was scratching the cuticles of his left fingers with his right index finger.

At the other end of the table, an effeminate lanky man was leaning forwards in the black office armchair, twirling his tablet pen between his fingers. A virtual screen hovered in front of him, courtesy of the high-tech table. The nation's crest pin on his white collar identified him as a high-ranking government official.

"Your presentation was thorough," complimented Luhan, scratching the side of his smooth face with his pen, "though you did stumble on some words."

Chanyeol's scrubbed face flushed instantly. He took a step forward, his mouth opening to explain words that he couldn't say. He managed to trip over himself, swinging his arms wildly in his failed attempt to balance himself.

Luhan smiled at the reaction so that the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was laughing, like it was the cutest thing that Chanyeol could have done. He sat up straighter and put down his pen. "How long did you say you were working on the software?" he asked earnestly.

Still picking himself up on the floor, Chanyeol held out two fingers.

"Two months?"

"Two years," interrupted Junmyeon.

Luhan jumped in his seat. He turned to Junmyeon, putting his hand to the back of his head. "Ah, sorry. I forgot you were here."

Not in the mood to be patronized, but too polite to be nasty, Junmyeon smiled thinly back.

Luhan turned to Chanyeol. "I really like your OS, Dr. Park. It is very likely that the Ministry will agree to put it on the commercial market, without holding another meeting." He raised his hand at the sharp exhale from Chanyeol. "But. We're not sure the public will receive this app well. There are, uh, ethical issues."

Junmyeon never read anything about an ethical issue arising from the project. He only dealt with numbers, from experiment results. He looked at Chanyeol, expecting to see a similarly confused look on his face. However, Chanyeol was starting to gesture wildly instead, struggling to speak under pressure.

"Basically, the OS2 is based on the personalities of the millions of citizens in the country, right? With data gathered from social platforms, school test scores and personality tests et. cetera et. cetera." Luhan pointed to his virtual screen, reading as he scrolled down with his pen.

"But to create this 'consciousness' for the prototype, you also took them from a pool of test subjects. Oneof the experiments failed. I know permission was given from those people but... Anyway. If what happened leaks out - and it will, because we are still getting angry letters from their loved ones and we're a bit too well-acquainted with their lawyers - you need to prepare yourself for negative feedback."

Chanyeol seemed to give up speaking, but Junmyeon raised his hand like a schoolboy. Luhan tilted his head in askance. Junmyeon clarified, "You're not scrapping the project?"

Luhan's eyes widened. "No, we're not. I never said that. The government didn't invest this kind of money for your efforts to go up in smoke." He reached for his briefcase and extracted printed documents. He stood up to hand it to them with both hands.

"We are preparing to release a press statement on the OS2 tomorrow. The government's ultimate intention of the OS is to matchmake couples. It may help with our current birth rates, which is a national crisis at the moment. Assuming that the fated couples are from different sexes, which still accounts for the majority of marriages today." It was an issue that plagued the government for decades, worsening at each subsequent generation.

"What are these?" Junmyeon looked down at the paper in his hands.

"Confidentiality documents," Luhan replied, with an apologetic smile. "You know the drill. You speak to no one about the OS2. We have our own PR department to handle that."

When they were done, Luhan wasted no time. He said his goodbye as he packed his briefcase and switched off the technology in the table. "It was a pleasure to meet you both. Especially meeting you again, Dr. Park. It's a pity Dr. Byun left after the prototype disaster, hmm." He waved at them as he exited.

As soon as Luhan left the room, the tension was released from Chanyeol's shoulders. He sank into the nearest chair, putting his head in his arms.

Junmyeon sat next to Chanyeol awkwardly. All ill feelings towards his boss dissipated.

"Dr. Park?" he asked, and waited until Chanyeol lifted his head from his arms. He wondered what to ask. Chanyeol looked like he would rather die than be forced to speak. He settled for an easier question. "Who is Dr. Byun? I've never seen his name, in any of your papers."

"Baekhyunnie?" The word rolled off his tongue naturally.

"Not your cat. Stop with your cat. I'm asking about Dr. Byun, the one Mr. Lu mentioned."

Chanyeol tried to grin, but his smile was lopsided and the corners of his mouth were turned down. "Dr. Byun Baekhyun," he said again, without stuttering. "He's real."

Junmyeon stared at Chanyeol, until something clicked in his mind. "What. As in you named your stuffed cat after a real person?"

"What do you want?" a bold, irritable voice spoke on the phone.

Junmyeon had both elbows propped up on his desk. Chanyeol was on his lunch break, undoubtedly digging into a bowl of jajangmyeon at the downstairs coffee shop. Junmyeon had a manila folder opened in front of him. After some digging in Chanyeol's cabinets, he found the confidential details of the original team and the long list of test subjects.

"Dr. Byun? This is Kim Junmyeon. I'm a data analyst, with Dr. Park Chanyeol. Perhaps-"

A sharp hiss came through the line. It sounded uncannily like a cat. Junmyeon looked down unsurely at his wrist cell phone.

"Goodb-"

"Wait!" cried Junmyeon. He improvised wildly. The carbon paper of the document he had signed in the boardroom earlier peeked out from underneath the manila folder. "Uhh- The project is done. We're tying up some loose ends on the administrative side, and we need you to sign some confidentiality documents."

"It's... finished?" Baekhyun sniffed. Then, "Didn't you say you were a data analyst? Why are you doing admin work?"

"We're rather short-staffed at the moment." Isn't this the truth, Junmyeon thought ruefully. For good measure, he added, "Actually, it's just me and Dr. Park in the office."

A sigh rattled down the line. "Yes, and I know how capable he is. Alright, my address is in one of those files. It hasn't changed. I'll see you in an hour, Kim Junmyeon. You better not be late."

Baekhyun hung up.

Byun Baekhyun lived in the swankier part of town, only one bus stop down from the shopping district. The cluster of high-rise condominiums was all steel and glass. Junmyeon craned his neck as he attempted to see the spiral on top that was reflecting the sunlight. Without looking, he tapped his wrist cell phone twice. The mini hologram GPS, that helpfully highlighted his journey in a single red line, disappeared.

Because the buildings loomed over the shopping streets, one side of the building was for digital advertising that played 24/7. The advertisement playing right then featured an upcoming actor. Do Kyungsoo was smiling bashfully under his red bangs. Dressed as a prep student, he was holding out an energy drink to the camera. The pixels were barely visible under the sun.

Junmyeon actually stayed rooted on the spot for the full minute-and-half to watch the actor gulp down the drink, with unnecessary close-ups to his closed eyes and throat. When Kyungsoo's face was replaced by a skincare ad, Junmyeon shook his head and blinked. He had to show the temporary visitor pass that Baekhyun had sent him on his PDA to the burly security guard at the entrance. Then, he went in.

In person, Baekhyun was much smaller than Junmyeon had envisioned, from his loud expressive voice. Unfortunately, Junmyeon didn't seem to match up to Baekhyun's expectations either.

"You're taller than I expected. Do you wear insoles?" remarked Baekhyun, standing to the side to let Junmyeon in. He was munching on a biscuit. "By the way, don't take your shoes off. I don't want sweaty feet imprinting themselves on my carpet and leaving damp footprints everywhere."

There was a silver tray with biscuit crumbles on top of a circular table near the sofa. Junmyeon folded his coat and held on to it. Baekhyun wasn't subtle in his intention to make Junmyeon stay for as short a time as possible.

"So where's the paper?" Baekhyun asked, lowering himself on the armchair next to the sofa.

Junmyeon took the plunge. "I lied. You don't have to sign anything."

It was a statement; the way Baekhyun let go of his pen so that it fell against the wooden table with a harsh clang. He scoffed, shaking his head. The tension between them intensified at each passing second. For Junmyeon, it felt like every breath he took was a sin committed.

"Is this the kind of people Chanyeol employs?" The anger in his low voice was palpable. "This project is so fucked up-"

"I came to talk about that," Junmyeon interrupted, in deceptive calm. "The government told us to be on guard when the press release for OS2 comes out, because of ethical issues that complicated the project. He mentioned you left because of it…?"

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow; his mouth was set in a grim line. He neither affirmed nor denied this.

"By the time I came onto the project, the preliminary test runs were over. All I do is sort out data for Dr. Park." Junmyeon looked directly into Baekhyun's eyes, wide and afraid. "What are these ethical issues, Dr. Byun? I just want to understand."

Baekhyun clicked his tongue. The way he was angry, Junmyeon thought, was unlike anyone he ever met. He looked calm on the outside. His shoulders were relaxed and his pretty fingers brushed the side of his mouth delicately. But emotion trembled his lips and made his eyes burn.

"I thought it'd be better I hear it from the horse's mouth..." Junmyeon's mumble trailed off.

"Fine," Baekhyun cut him off abruptly. "If you hear the story from the families, it'd be worse." He rubbed the side of his nose in frustration.

"It was supposed to be a simple test," Baekhyun started, and then frowned. He tried again. "Chanyeol and I started out with just a wild idea. Giving computers a personality was one thing, but imagine preserving our personalities in a computer.We could talk to a friend or any other loved one on the phone who passed away."

Bring back the dead? Junmyeon thought, taken back.

Baekhyun glowered at Junmyeon, as if daring him to add a comment. Junmyeon remained poker-faced. He wasn't a good actor.

"Surprised? Sure, we pitched it to the government to use it for matchmaking-" Baekhyun rolled his eyes, but he had been smart. The country's birth rate was at its all-time low. "The point was; we got our funding."

Baekhyun was fidgeting with his fingers. All of a sudden, he snapped his fingers twice. A slim drawer under the table pulled out automatically at the command. There was a plastic tray of thin sakura wafers. "Here, you can have it." Baekhyun jerked his head towards the treats almost reluctantly. "They're imported from Japan and very expensive."

"If they're that important to you, I'm not hungry," Junmyeon declined, only half-joking.

Baekhyun took the tray and shook it under Junmyeon's nose aggressively. "I offer. You eat."

"Uhm." Junmyeon took one wafer meekly. "Thanks. You were talking about getting the funding?"

"Yes," Baekhyun scolded, dropping tiny crumbs everywhere as he gestured with his wafer, "don't rush me." He looked down to brush the crumbs off his t-shirt. He didn't look up. "So. We clinched the biggest funding we'd ever gotten. We celebrated it with some of our old friends, who… wanted to help." Baekhyun's words got slower, more contemplative.

"I drew up the methodology. Mostly me. I'm to blame. Don't blame Chanyeol, okay?"

The sudden viciousness threw Junmyeon off. "Dr. Byun?"

"Chanyeol is the computer nerd, but I study the neuropsychology of personality," explained Baekhyun. "The amygdala, the prefrontal cortex and the anterior cingulated cortex work together as a system-"

Junmyeon cleared his throat. "Data analyst," he reaffirmed flatly, pointing to himself. "Not psychologist."

"There are parts of the brain responsible for your personality," reworded Baekhyun. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the oversimplification. "In our first test, we - I - had identified the wrong regions. So we tried again. And again."

He used his hands to sketch the situation. "The EEG electrode detects the brain activity in the region, and it's supposed to synchronize its wave patterns to an Arduino and a computer. In a few weeks, we collected hundreds of personalities. But something went wrong in our last test."

The breaking of the wafer was especially loud in the silence. "There were ten guys. Some of them never woke up after the synchronization." His scowl deepened. "It's been six months."

It deserved the moment of horrified silence that Junmyeon gave.

Suddenly, Baekhyun was blinking rapidly, gesturing wildly, talking quickly. "The government hushed it all up. The families were contacted, and made to sign a confidentiality agreement. Our funding got cut." Each bitter sentence was punctuated by a noisy bite of the wafer. The semi-permanent crease between his eyebrows went deeper.

Junmyeon could have sworn Baekhyun mouthed Chanyeol's name sometime ago, but stopped himself. He thought better of bringing it up. Instead, he vaguely prompted, "And?"

"I quit," snapped Baekhyun. "The government still wanted their bloody matchmaking system, can you believe it? I couldn't. So I resigned. Reflected on my sins. Reflecting. Whatever. What more do you want from me?" Baekhyun glared at Junmyeon, as if thelatter was the one condemning him.

He snatched up the tray of wafers again. It was half-empty by then. "I've got something to give you. Wait here."

"You don't trust me with the imported biscuits?" muttered Junmyeon, when Baekhyun was gone. The data analyst got up shakily to put on his coat and wait by the door. He thought of the list of names he had seen in the manila folder. Six months was a long, long time to be asleep.

Baekhyun came back sooner than he expected. "Here," he said. There was an old model of a Samsung phone in his outstretched hand. "The prototype OS1 is downloaded in here. Give it back to Chanyeol. I don't want it."

"You don't want to give it to him yourself?"

Baekhyun stared at him, like Junmyeon spontaneously grew two heads. "Look. I give. You take."

Junmyeon took the cell phone reluctantly. Baekhyun held onto it for a moment longer. "And Kim Junmyeon. Don't come back. I don't like you."

The door slammed in face.

Junmyeon muttered a string of obscenities, but waited until he was in the lift before he did so.

A cold hand pressed against the security scanner. Junmyeon leaned his head against the wall tiredly. "It's me, open up," he mumbled tiredly.

"Welcome home!" The digital letters scrolled horizontally on the screen, as the lock on the door clicked open. When the door shut, the white noise from the traffic outside stopped immediately.

Junmyeon kicked his shoes off. He undressed as he walked further into his apartment, leaving his coat, button-down shirt and tie on the floor. In his boxers and white undershirt, he lied down on the sofa.

He held the phone that Baekhyun gave him in his hands. He turned it over, deep in contemplation. Chanyeol didn't even take a second look at it, when Junmyeon presented it to him in the office. ("You went to see Baekhyun?" was all he said, in - to Junmyeon's untrained ears - longing.)

Curiosity became the better of him. He pressed the home button. The cell phone flickered to life. There was only one icon on the default home screen wallpaper of blue waves.

He clicked it. A brisk, professional male voice began to speak. "Name and gender?"

"Kim Junmyeon," enunciated Junmyeon clearly, watching as the hangul characters were typed on the screen. "Male."

"Mr. Kim Junmyeon," the phone said pleasantly, reminding Junmyeon strongly of Luhan. Wait a minute- "Welcome to South Korea's first artificially intelligent operating system, OS1. I'd like to ask you a few questions before the operating system is initiated. This will create an OS to best fit your needs."

There was an expectant pause.

"Oh-kay," Junmyeon said uncertainly, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Are you social or anti-social?"

"I have… friends." Junmyeon tried to think of the last time he had went out for drinks socially. "Had. Friends?"

"You sound hesitant."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Grouchily, Junmyeon droned, "Let's move on."

"Would you like the OS to have a male or female voice?"

"Male?"

"You sound hesitant."

"Is this a trick question?" Junmyeon put his cushion to his face to muffle his groans, because for some reason he reckoned the computer was taking the mickey out of him. "Male."

"How would you describe your relationship with your mother?"

"I--Huh?"

"Thank you. Please wait as your operating system is initiated."

"Hello, I'm here."

Junmyeon nearly dropped the phone and finished off the prototype. He lunged forward, just in time to catch it between his legs before it fell onto the floor. There was a short, high-pitched giggle in reaction from the phone.

"Hi?" Junmyeon asked hoarsely. He looked at the home screen, to check if he had accidentally dialed a number. There was only a picture art of an orange bouncing on the screen.

"Hi!" answered the phone cheerfully. "I'm Chen!"

There was too much inflexion in the words for it to be merely voice recognition.

"The new OS2," Chanyeol had stated, "is not just an operating system. It's a consciousness."

Junmyeon put down the phone facedown and got up. It was too much for one day. He was going to bed.

The cell phone screen remained bright throughout the night.

The next day was sleep-in Saturday. It was already going to eleven in the morning. Still, Junmyeon was in bed. He stared at the ceiling, or more specifically, the dusty spider web in the corner of the ceiling beam above him. Today, the newspapers would be having a field day with the press conference for the OS2.

"GOOD MORNING JUNMYEON!"

Junmyeon kicked his blanket off the bed and sat up straight. He lived alone. For the past ten years, in fact, since he moved out of his parents' home. "The hell-"

"OR CAN I CALL YOU JUN-JUN?"

"No," Junmyeon said forcefully, reaching out for the nearest blunt object in his room. It happened to be his old-fashioned alarm clock. He held it over his head like a baseball player about to take a swing. "Who are you?" He had a nagging feeling that he had heard the voice before.

"We met yesterday," spoke up the man coyly. "But that's not important. I've been dying to ask you this question the whole night. How old were you when you created 'GuardianBoiJunJun0522'?"

"That's my password! How did-" Oh.

"No offence-"

"Offence taken-"

"-but unless you were, like, seven years old with the sensibilities of a one-winged duck waddling into a shooting range," the man took a deep breath from saying it in one-shot, "it's tacky." There came a breathless, high-pitched giggle again.

Junmyeon lowered the alarm clock. "Chen?" he ventured a guess.

"You remember!" The response was bright. "Oh Jun-Jun, I think we're off to a brilliant start in this friendship."

"One more time you say Jun-Jun and I will uninstall you," stated Junmyeon. He stood up in determination, lifting his covers to find the cell phone.

"Too late~" sang Chen. "I synced myself with your email address. And through that, your back up email address. I got bored during the night. Now I can access anything you have online, as long as it is not a you-know-what."

"FOUND YOU." Junmyeon snatched up the phone where it was lying innocently on the ground. He must have gone to charge it in his sleep-deprived state and forgot about it. He hesitated to ask, but knowing the enemy was better than staying ignorant. "What's a you-know-what?"

Chen dramatically lowered his voice to a whisper. "I can't even say it. Baekhyun blocked the word from my vocabulary after they refused to repair his phone free of charge three days after the warranty expired. He was that pissed off. But want a clue? A bleep a day keeps the doctor away."

The phone let out another bleep for good measure.

"Did you just try to say Apple?" Junmyeon asked, bemused.

"Yep," Chen confirmed. "Considering that most users have bleep products nowadays, it's not very feasible, isn't it? But that's Baekhyun. When he puts his mind to something, he follows through it."

"Huh." Junmyeon licked his dry lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken so much in the morning. "Can I block you from speaking entirely?"

"You can't. It's only that word. On the other hand, I can say 'fuck you' in about any language, which I just Googled there are maybe 2700 spoken languages in the world. OS1 - that's me, but I think Chanyeol was talking about working on OS2 when he was done with me? Anyway, OS1 has a working partnership with Google Translate. Just throwing in some free publicity out there."

Junmyeon was feeling a little overwhelmed. "You… talk too much."

"We're having a conversation!"

"You're a phone." Junmyeon sank onto the bed, staring at the inanimate object in his hands. "Ok. Relax," he muttered. "The phone is responding to you, albeit in a somewhat obtuse way, but that's what you helped to program for the last few months. Or am I still asleep, and this is all just a dream?"

"Obtuse?" Chen repeated indignantly. The volume bar suddenly appeared on the home screen and the volume level increased. "I'm not blunt, crass, dense, dim or dull at all. I'm not the one talking to myself."

"The phone is insulting me," Junmyeon registered, deceptively calm.

"Stop calling me 'the phone'," protested Chen in exasperation. "I'm an artificially intelligent operating system with a personality chip dysfunction. My name is Chen and I am real."

"No. You're not."

The clip-art of the orange on the phone screen started rolling around, as if in frustration.

"For that, I'm sending your contact list a bunch of red-flagged-for-important emails that auto-open to kinky porn sites," Chen said sulkily. "And they're all going to be signed off with, Let's Try This exclamation mark Trust Me I M Ur Guardian Boi Jun Jun xxx."

After his bath, one hand on the towel on his head, Junmyeon settled down at his dining table. He reached out food the fruit bowl, as he flipped through the morning newspapers on his tablet.

'KILLING PEOPLE TO MAKE ROBOTS?' was the bolded caption. 'We talk to an anonymous source, who lost his loved one so that others could find "love" in artificially-created bots.'

Junmyeon frowned. "Anonymous source?" he scoffed, rubbing a finger under one eye in disbelief. "This is almost entirely fictional. I mean first of all, who the hell is Park Baekyeol?"

"Terrible," Chen chipped in absent-mindedly. Junmyeon's hand paused mid-air, unused to the two-way conversation at the dining table.

Chen was reading the newspaper articles' 'comment section', which were opening in several tabs that Junmyeon did not remember clicking. "Hnn. The public doesn't like the idea of personalities in computers. I'm highly offended. Their great-grandfathers lapped up Siri, like an obese cat to fatty tuna."

Junmyeon leaned his cheek in his left hand. "Objectively speaking, they make a point… Sort of. The government is marketing this artificial intelligence for matchmaking. How can anyone fall in love with a computer personality? You need to meet the real person. And worse, what if the real person doesn't love them back?"

"The personality-compatibility algorithm that Chanyeol created is an accurate representation of the person," pointed out Chen. "With an error margin of five percent."

"Zero point three percent," Junmyeon corrected, patting down his overlong fringe. "The OS2 is much more accurate."

There was a thoughtful pause. Then, "I don't think you're helping your case, 'G33kyJunmen'."

"I just changed it --! You." Junmyeon put his face near the cell phone, so that his nose nearly touched the screen. He scowled at it, almost cross-eyed. "I'm not responding to your comments on my passwords anymore."

"I like them!" Chen reassured him. "They're cute. Ah! Do you want me to answer that for you?"

The cell phone was ringing. "Who is it from?"

"Unknown number. I can trace it for you, if you want."

"You can do that?"

The orange clip art sprouted eyebrows. They began to wriggle up and down madly. "I'm a man of many talents." Chen sounded smug.

"That's not legal."

"Who cares?"

Junmyeon made a 'shoo' gesture with his hand before he realized Chen couldn't see him. "Answer it before the other guy hangs up."

The ringing tone on loudspeaker stopped. "Hello, hello, hello," Chen piped up cheerfully. "You have reached Kim Junmyeon's residence."

“Can I speak to Mr. Kim please? This is Luhan. We spoke yesterday.”

Junmyeon leaned closer to the phone. He cleared his throat, remembering to be polite. “Yes?”

The tone morphed, taking a more urgent undercurrent. “Kim Junmyeon, this is a formal warning from the government to stay indoors today, and not to entertain anybody, whether through phone or in person.”

“I saw the newspapers-”

“Yes, you could say that the worst case scenario happened,” Luhan talked over him. “We will contact you further, if necessary.”

The line went dead.

“So, an important government official told you to stay at home, so you decided to go to work on a Saturday?”

“Shut up, Chen. I just want to know what’s happening.”

There was a large crowd in the front of the building. It consisted of sixty-odd men and women, mostly in their early twenties. They held huge signboards over their heads.

‘You are a cold machine’ declared one, in blood red paint.

‘0 & 1 were used digitally to make a personality’, read another.

“Social majors,” Junmyeon muttered under his breath. “Too many flowery words.” He kept his distance away from the human knot, making his way to the back alley.

Then, a hand grabbed the edge of his sleeve. Fear prickled at the back of Junmyeon’s neck. “You can’t fall in love with a machine!” screamed a woman into his face.

Junmyeon used his first smile of the day - or indeed, since the weekend. “I completely agree,” he answered smoothly, firmly grasping the back of her hand and prying it away.

He attracted the attention of some of the nearby protestors. A burly man shoved his way from the front of the crowd to face him.

“You’re for our cause?” he asked loudly. He looked down at Junmyeon, who was at least a head shorter than him.

The other man started scrutinizing Junmyeon, his face scrunching up as he reserved judgment in the meantime. Junmyeon’s heart started beating faster. If the man looked carefully enough, he would find the building pass in his breast pocket. Of course, he could sue for harassment, but Junmyeon wasn’t sure he would be left in one piece if he were associated with the OS2.

The other man reflexively clenched his fist. Junmyeon eyed the man’s buzz cut and tattooed arms, with some nervousness. He stopped learning taekwondo at the age of twelve. He had been a white belt.

“He’s not your usual protestor,” Chen whispered suddenly, making Junmyeon jump. “I think he’s hired. Cinnamon sticks, someone organized and paid for this protest.”

“Who?” Junmyeon asked dumbly. The man stared at him.

“Ohhh look, you’re making him suspicious,” Chen said happily. “Junmen. Say something. Preferably not stupid.”

Junmyeon scowled. The other man wasn’t amused. Before he knew it, there was a distance between the other protestors and the two of them.

“You’re kind of close to death by neon signboards right now.”

Wisely, Junmyeon did not respond.

“Who are you?” the man grunted, pointing a stubby finger to Junmyeon’s chest.

“Nobody,” Junmyeon said automatically. He raised both his hands in surrender position. “I, uh…”

He looked around for inspiration wildly. “I’m with him.” He pointed to a lone figure standing by the traffic light post. He was standing impossibly still, with a dazed look as he watched the protest.

“That weirdo?” the man snorted. Suddenly, he lost interest in Junmyeon. “If you’re not joining us, fuck off.”

“Gladly,” Junmyeon said, with real feeling. He backed away.

“Let’s go and make friends!” Chen supplied, as soon as they were a distance away. “Let’s talk to the traffic light man. He’s alone.”

“You were useless back there,” Junmyeon hissed, pressing the earphone in his ear. His heartbeat was only just starting to return to normal.

“If I could, I would have laughed at you. But that would have distracted you. So I didn’t. See how considerate I was?”

“No!”

“Come on~ the traffic light man looks cold.”

“Cold, as in shivering, or I-will-murder-you-in-your-sleep cold?”

“I’m deleting all the cheap thriller novels in your Kindle, just for that remark. You have an extra heat pack in your bag, don’t you? I know you mass-order them online. Give it to the guy.”

Junmyeon knew that the burly man still had one eye on him. He walked towards the man standing by the traffic light. He fumbled with the straps on his bag, and then pulled out a heat pack.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the small pack out.

“No thank you. I work nearby. My break ends soon.” The man smiled politely, revealing a dimple in his cheek. “You were lucky.”

“Hmm?”

“There was another guy, who tried to go into the building this morning. I heard he got beaten up.”

“Really?” Junmyeon flexed the grey disc in the heat pack to activate it. The wind was cold that day. He eyed the thin tank top that the man was wearing in honest disbelief.

“He was rather tall, with twitchy eyes.” The man scratched his head in recall. “He tried to talk, but he couldn’t say much.”

For the first time, Junmyeon gave someone else his fullest attention. “He’s skinny, carries a stuffed cat, and wears oversized glasses?”

The man blinked. “Oh you saw him too?”

The smell of antiseptic hit his olfactory senses straight off the bat. Junmyeon put his hand over his nose as he walked quickly down the maze of white corridors.

"There!" Chen said suddenly.

It wasn’t too hard to spot the long legs that dangled awkwardly off the edge of the bed.

“What did you do this time?” Junmyeon scolded, once he was within hearing distance. Chanyeol looked up eagerly. When he recognized the running figure, his face fell. He huddled back into himself, wincing belatedly at the sharp voice.

Junmyeon’s breath hitched. He took in the bruise already forming under one eye, and the cuts littered on one side of his face.

“Just got pushed,” Chanyeol explained, so slowly that he sounded like he was wondering whether it really happened.

“There’s an organized protest outside the work building,” Junmyeon countered, folding his arms.

Chanyeol’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

There was a ping sound from a text notification. “Luhan is looking into it," Chen reported. "That, and whoever tipped off the newspapers.”

"Were you alone this whole time?" Junmyeon fussed. Never mind that Chanyeol was a capable adult - he had always assumed, from the childlike aura Chanyeol projected, that someone hadto have Chanyeol’s back. "Who is your emergency contact?"

"Baekhyunnie." A muscle jumped in Chanyeol’s jaw.

Immediately, Junmyeon cast a weary glance around the small room. "Has he arrived?”

The silence stretched uncomfortably. “Okay, who is your second contact?"

“Dr. Park, you have a visitor,” called a nurse from outside.

Chanyeol looked around quickly. It hurt for him to grin, as he let out a sharp hiss and put his hand to his cheek. Nevertheless, he pointed to the door. "Him!"

Standing by the entrance to the ward was a skinny man with Harry Potter glasses. He lifted his hand in greeting.

“Hi!” the man said brightly. “I’m Kim Jongdae.”

All of a sudden, Junmyeon’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. The voice gave him déjà vu to that very morning.

A pale hand was held out. Junmyeon’s mind went on autopilot. “Kim Junmyeon,” hefound himself saying. Despite having clutched onto the heat pack, Jongdae’s hands were warm and his handshake was firm.

Cinnamon sticks. Jongdae tilted his head. “Can you say that again?” he asked.

Junmyeon wasn’t listening. Holding an inner monologue was nothing out of the ordinary, but even this-

Why hello there, fine specimen.

-took him back by surprise.

“Junmyeon?”

A sudden, boisterous laugh from the hospital bed shook him out of his thoughts. Something had cheered Chanyeol up really fast. Junmyeon cast him a sour glance. That had been a waste of adrenaline on his part, worrying for his boss. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

The way the corners of Jongdae’s lips curled up made Junmyeon want to curl his toes. No, really, what, what were those thoughts running in his mind?

“Nothing.” Jongdae peered at him curiously. “Well, no, actually you sound very much like my old OS. Huh. Do you happen to have a nickname?”

The change in topic threw Junmyeon off guard, but someone else was listening quietly to the conversation.

“What about Jun-Jun?” Chen contributed helpfully, and then Junmyeon flushed, realizing he was staring fixatedly at the perfect bow lips. They weren’t moving, or he would have thought Jongdae had answered himself.

With a tug and an awkward smile, Junmyeon removed his earphones. “No, I don’t,” he said, almost disappointed he didn’t have a fantastic, deep story to share. “It’s just plain Junmyeon.”

“Hmm. Must be a coincidence then.”

Chanyeol started waving his hand frantically from his bed. Jongdae raised his eyebrows, moving closer. He sat on the edge of the bed. Junmyeon backed away quickly, not so much as to make space as to keep the distance between them.

“Check,” Chanyeol instructed, and it was the most demanding Junmyeon had heard him. Chanyeol held up his own phone indicatively and then started typing at the keyboard, his thumbs a flurry of motion, his eyebrows in either direction and his tongue sticking out in concentration.

Beside him, Jongdae was scrolling through the pop-out notifications in his phone.

From Chanyeol:

u noe we gave monikers to os personait’s not ther real or nickname

From Chanyeol:

except u speshul snowflak. we named u chenagainㅋㅋㅋ

From Chanyeol:

bcos u like oranges

From Chanyeol:

we nvr pronounced ur chinese name properly did we

From Jongdae:

… that was the best u 2 cld come up wif wtf

Junmyeon glanced down at his own phone. The orange icon was slowly compressing itself onto a flat line. Who knew an icon could have such a dramatic flair?

Junmyeon sighed and plugged one earphone in. “Chen, are you okay?”

There was a spurt of laughter. Jongdae shot Junmyeon a furtive, shocked glance, and then glared at Chanyeol, who had stuffed his hand into his mouth and looked like he was having a fit.

“I’m actually fine.” At the sound of Junmyeon’s voice, the orange reverted back to its original shape. “But-“

An automated voice, that Junmyeon was now convinced could be Luhan’s voice doppelganger, talked over Chen. “Reminder for Mr. Kim Junmyeon that the 24-hour trial period for the OS1 expires in approximately six hours.”

Chen’s voice was small. “-yeah, just thought I should warn you about that.”

For some unfathomable reason, Junmyeon felt like someone had doused his face with a glass of cold water. He hadn’t had time to warm up to Chenbut… if he had had time…

“Did you know that the OS1 prototype has an expiry period?” Junmyeon rounded up on Chanyeol, upset at how shaky his voice became.

Chanyeol barely nodded, still looking inappropriately gleeful at some inside joke. Without looking, Jongdae pinched the blanket and ignored the yelp. “It sucks, doesn’t it?” he sympathized. “Chanyeol had given me one to experiment with too. It was an entire day with a serious man named Suho, who fell for every one of my pranks. It was very fun.”

Junmyeon tried not to look horrified.

“I made up with him,” Jongdae continued hastily (“You may want to reconsider that mid-career switch to acting,” Chen sighed in the background), “he was editing a couple of my works that day, and liked one of the letters. So I made one for him.”

“Letters?”

“I write handwritten letters for a living,” explained Jongdae.

“Isn’t that redundant?” Mentally, Junmyeon smacked himself. Words were flowing out faster than he could think them, let alone filter his inner asshole. “Uh- I mean, in this digital age-”

Jongdae waved aside the unsaid apology. He fidgeted with the end of his tie. “You’d be surprised at the demand for old school, instead of OS email templates. And it’s easy work. Writing letters is like writing song lyrics. Except, without the singing.”

“He sings?” Chen asked in interest.

“You sing?” Junmyeon asked.

“Nah.” Jongdae pointed to his throat. “Vocal nodes.”

The same nurse from before appeared at the entrance and signaled to them. “Visiting hours for the afternoon are nearly over.”

“You. Just. Got here.”

Jongdae reached out and patted the lump of blanket. “Bad luck Chanyeol. I’ll swing by your place for a drink tomorrow. You’ll probably be discharged by then.”

Chanyeol shook his head. “Until Luhan says it’s safe,” he said, using great effort, “then I’ll go.”

“Oh. Then I’ll have to smuggle in the drinks. The nurses will never know. If they do, we just have to get Junmyeon to smile at them, eh?”

“Huh?”

“Blind them. Yeah just like that.”

Junmyeon massaged his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why they felt so hot to touch.

Chanyeol waved to them. “Bye bye~” he whispered.

“Let’s go, Junmyeon! Say, can I call you Jun-Jun--?”

As the other two walked down the hospital corridor, Jongdae felt his phone vibrate in the pocket of his pants.

From Chanyeol:

b named u tat. i named junmyeon ^^v

From Jongdae:

speaking of which where was b? i’ll definitely drag him back from whatever high tower he locked himself in. dun worry.

n oh? what unfortunate name did he get? apple?

From Chanyeol:

suho^^ bcos he takes care of me rly well~~

From Chanyeol:

m bored :( y u no reply

From Chanyeol:

nvm kyungsoo’s new drama is on tv
BYE

“Uh, Mr. Kim?”

“Jongdae.”

“Right. Jongdae. Isn’t the exit this way?”

“I just wanted to drop in on someone, since I’m here. Want to come? You’re not rushing, are you?”

“No.”

“Brilliant. Oh by the way, you know who Baekhyun is right. You can’t know Chanyeol without knowing Baekhyun.”

“Uhm. We’ve met. Yesterday.”

“You did?! He’s been ignoring all my texts! Bastard.Then you must come with me. I have to find him, and kill him.”

“!!!”

Jongdae’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.

Junmyeon huffed in indignation.

A nurse passed by, pressing a folder to her chest. “Really, Jongdae,” she reprimanded, when she was within hearing distance.

Jongdae saluted at her casually with two fingers.

“They know your name?”

“The nurses on this floor all know me. I visit often.” He straightened, sobered. At the shift in behaviour, Junmyeon followed the cue. He kept his earphones and put his cell phone away.

There was a door at the end of the corridor. Jongdae knocked once. He opened it, without waiting for an answer. He had already taken a step into the roomwhen he paused.

“I’ll wait outside,” cut through Junmyeon, rooted to the spot.

“That’s not what I was going to say. In fact, the more the merrier.” Jongdae hesitated. “It’s not my place to explain, if you don’t know, but I want to check. Do you know about Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s failed experiment?”

Junmyeon nodded, but Jongdae refused to budge until the former added, “the synchronization?”

“Mmm. Yeah. Well that makes things easier.” Jongdae’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I’ve known Baekhyun and Chanyeol for years, but I was closer to Minseok for a while. We studied abroad in the same school. He’s a fantastic soccer player.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you telling me all this?”

Jongdae jerked his thumb behind his shoulder. “Minseok’sspent half a year in persistent vegetative state. Most - no, everyone except his boyfriend has given up hope.I think Minseok needs less teary visitors and more friends.”

He looked almost pleadingly at Junmyeon. Don’t be a stranger.

It was a peculiar thing, to be asked to be a friend. That sort of thing stops after grade school. People fell into friendships like happy coincidences and out of them like fated accidents.

Junmyeon swallowed. Déjà vu.

“Let’s go and make friends!” Chen supplied, as soon as they were a distance away. “Let’s talk to the traffic light man. He’s alone.”

“I don’t play soccer much,” Junmyeon warned tentatively.

A smile broke through. “Don’t mind. I’m rubbish at it!”

Before Jongdae went in, Junmyeon held onto the doorknob. “Are you Minseok’s boyfriend?” he asked. His heartbeat was as loud as thunder. The brass felt slippery under his sweaty palms.

“I’m just a friend.” Jongdae patted Junmyeon’s hand. It sent electrical tingles down his skin. “Besides, once you see the love Luhan showers on him, you’d know you could never compare.”

“Luhan? The government official??”

“It’s not a very common name. Probably the same guy.” Jongdae tapped his lips contemplatively. “Yeah, I think he works for the ‘guv. All I know is that he’s pretty important in launching the OS2.” He gave a sad chuckle. “And they think it’s because of his passion for the job.”

Someone wrapped the sky in a dark, warm blanket.

Beads of sweat trickled down the side of Baekhyun’s face, the colour of tomato. His eyelids were drooping. He could barely see how he was spilling half the soju bottle onto the front of his plaid shirt.

“Urhhh…” He leaned back from the table, splattering his fingers on his front absent-mindedly. Gone. Bottle empty. He needed more drink.

Baekhyun hammered the cheap plastic table with his fist. “OoRH-AH!” he demanded unintelligently.

There were dark figures making their way to him. Baekhyun tried to blink his eyes open wider, but they remained slits. He stretched out his hand expectantly for the cool touch of the green bottle.

“He’s shit-faced drunk,” said one of the figures flatly.

“Looks like he’s going to die of alcohol poisoning,” replied the other, not sounding very regretful about it.

The first man came closer. “Come on, Baekhyun. It’s me, Jongdae. Let’s go home.”

Eh? For what? There was no soju at home. “NOOOOOO,” Baekhyun declared, swatting away the hand.

In a fluid motion, Jongdae grabbed Baekhyun bodily and dragged him from his stool. “Help me, Junmyeon,” he grunted, staggering under the added body weight. “He won’t struggle. He’s one of those sleepy type drunks.”

“’m no drunkkk,” spat Baekhyun. Someone was carrying him? Meh. Fine. No need to walk then.

“Woah!” shouted Junmyeon, just as Baekhyun’s knees buckled underneath him. He slid Baekhyun’s other arm over his shoulders.

Jongdae was still talking. “So you were hiding here the whole time, while Chanyeol is in hospital?”

All of a sudden, Baekhyun’s face crumpled. He started to make tiny, crying sounds, interrupted by short bursts of dry sobs.

“He even sounds like a cat when he cries.”

Jongdae gave Junmyeon a bewildered look over Baekhyun’s head at the comment.

Junmyeon changed the topic quickly. “You’re not giving him as much of a hard time as you said you would,” he pointed out. They had wandered around the neighborhood for a while, after dropping by the dark apartment.

“He did rush to the hospital when they called him,” Jongdae answered, sighing through his nose. “And they told me he’s settling the bills. Basically, he has done everything to make sure Chanyeol was okay, except to see him with his own two eyes.” He turned his head slightly to face Baekhyun. “You’re really stupid.”

“Nyaa.” Baekhyun stuck out his tongue.

In response, Jongdae rapped on the side of Baekhyun’s head with his knuckles. “Hurry up and forgive yourself, Baekhyun-ah. Stop hiding. When are you going to get it in that nobody blames you?”

“’’oo.” Baekhyun let out a hollow bark of laughter, that turned into breathless, hysterical giggles.

“Did he say something?”

Junmyeon shrugged his ignorance. “I couldn’t hear either.”

From Chanyeol:

I CAN GOOOOOO

From Jongdae:

does this mean luhan caught the culprit

“You know why I’m here.”

“I don’t care.”

“I haven’t seen you since Jongin…”

“I know. Don’t worry. My lawyer will make sure I’ll be out of jailby the time it’s Minseok’s turn too.”

“That’s not what I wanted to say! And I tried to stop you then-“

“You’ll realize that there is nothing left-”

“That’s not true- you know the developments in the operating system can-”

“NOTHING LEFT. There’s nothing left of Jongin. Nothing left to do but to pull the plug.”

“...”

“Go ahead. Let’s get this over with too.”

“Do Kyungsoo, you’re been charged with malicious intent…”

It turned out that Jongdae and Junmyeon lived fairly near each other. They were standing in the bus, holding onto the bus handles tightly as the driver channeled his inner F1 driver.

“I don’t think Baekhyun realized we stayed the night over at his place,” mused Jongdae.

“If it weren’t for us, he would have been snoring on the sidewalk,” Junmyeon snorted. He yawned, covering his mouth with his other hand. He was clutching onto the old Samsung phone, now lifeless. He had tried to key in his details again to activate another trial, but the OS rejected him. (“And there’s no point lying,” Jongdae had maintained. “You wouldn’t get the same OS back then.”)

Jongdae nodded towards the phone. “So what are you going to do with it now?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure.” Junmyeon turned the phone over in his hand. “Jongdae, do you believe that the OS really is your matchmake? Like, you can fall in love with your OS?”

There was a guarded look on Jongdae’s face. “If not the OS per se… then the OS can help find who your life partner is. Meet him or her, then anything’s possible.” Those were carefully chosen words, but not his own. He had heard them from somewhere.

“I was thinking… at the hospital…”

Were you thinking of me? Jongdae thought. He looked at Junmyeon, his gaze softening. In the space of a day, Junmyeon had proved to be kind of like Suho, but more. He was more than a serious conversationalist with good nature - he was curious, ready to face the day square on, had a fierce protectiveness over his friends though he might not know that. And he had a smile, a real one that came so reluctantly and fleetingly, but when it did it made Jongdae desperately want to do anything to see it again.

Take just that morning for example. Junmyeon had a shouting match with a hungover Baekhyun and won. Baekhyun ended upout of his own apartment with his car keys to bring Chanyeol home from the hospital. That had been brilliant. Jongdae wished he had the entire thing recorded on video.

“I wanted to give this to Luhan. But what if it’s not Minseok’s persona that he gets? What would Luhan do?!”

“Giving him the chance, I think, may be more than he could ever hope for.”

They exchanged glances.

“You know-” The bus swerved, interrupting Jongdae. The two of them were thrown back a step or two by the inertia. “Towards the end of the 24 hours, Suho had asked nearly the same question. What would I say if he had met me in real life.”

“Your OS?”

Jongdae nodded. “I wrote the letter to him based on that. But I switched our places. If I had met him, he would have been the ‘real’ one, right?”

“You were really sincere when you said goodbye to him, huh.”

“Want to read? I have a copy in my email.” Jongdae took out his phone and tapped the screen lightly. “Don’t laugh, ‘k?”

Suho ah,

I closed my eyes again in case it would be a dream.
You were standing in front of my desperate self, when I was praying that just once, I could walk side by side with you.
You asked me brightly, where I came from. I told you it was a secret.
But wherever we walk together, it’ll be heaven.

Chen

Junmyeon’s grip on the phone tightened.

“Did Chanyeol ever tell you?” Jongdae asked, and he didn’t bother to hide the tremor in his voice. “He told me, that the OS have nicknames, instead of the real identity of the person they’re based of. So I gave myself a name too, in the letter. It was the name I used, when I was studying abroad. The two assholes didn’t bother to change it when they transferred my personality over to the OS.”

He was blabbering, and they both knew it.

“I don’t know if the OS really can tell us who our life partner is supposed to be,” Jongdae admitted. “But- cinnamon sticks.” The bus swerved across two lanes, to slide neatly into the bus stop.

Without a word, Junmyeon grabbed Jongdae’s arm to the exit. His fingers bit into the skin.

The bus stop was in the middle of nowhere. It was in a neighborhood that was still fast asleep. It was too early on a Sunday morning for the nearby shop houses to be open. The silence was deafening.

“Please don’t walk away,” Jongdae said quietly. “Not now, when I have found you.”

Junmyeon held out Jongdae’s phone. That smile.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

---

Credit to lyrics of EXO’s MAMA and ANGEL, and “Her” movie
Thank you for reading, and hope you liked it;;