SHINee Duets 2012: sestinande & static_abyss (part two)
Part One
They get in three days after Minho decides he’s telling Jonghyun everything. He’s sitting outside of their room, their legs stretched out as they gather the courage to open the supply closet door.
The entire place goes silent for a moment even the low whines from outside disappear. It’s like the building is taking a deep breath, holding it in. Minho feels his shoulders tense from some long forgotten instinct that is trying to tell him to run. He can feel Jonghyun’s fingers digging into the back of his hand, but Minho doesn’t look because he knows what’s happening even if he doesn’t know how.
The silence breaks in tiny pinpricks; the sound of glass hitting the floor, low at first and then it explodes. Minho can hear the shower of glass against the polished lobby floor. The building carries sound well and then the whining is trailing up the stairs like a caress.
"They’re in," Jonghyun’s whisper is hoarse.
Minho stands in a long fluid motion. His hand reaches for Jonghyun and then he’s running for the stairs, kicking the door open. The smell is stronger than the sounds they make as they flood into the lobby. Minho can almost see them, the way they’ll walk up the stairs, their feet slow, but sure. They’re probably all over the lobby now.
"The roof," Minho says and Jonghyun nods.
It’s easier than Minho thought it would be, the way his brain is searching for answer. He thinks about his lab, the stairs on the roof. If they’re lucky, it’ll rain and they can walk to the closest building. If they’re not, they can wait for just enough cover and run for it.
The idea comes to him as Jonghyun is locking the roof door. Minho can feel the soft breeze ruffling his hair. He doesn’t see a fire escape, just a long drop to the bottom.
"Fuck," Jonghyun gripes. "What do we do?"
"We jump," Minho says and he knows why Jonghyun is looking at him like that, but this is it.
"Are you crazy?"
Minho can hear the expletive behind the words. He's almost sure his own face is mirroring the crazed look on Jonghyun's face because he is so close.
"No," Minho's whisper is urgent and desperate as his fingers dig into Jonghyun’s wrist. "Listen, we have to jump. Even if they can't get through that door we have no food, no water."
"You are fucking insane,” Jonghyun growls tugging against Minho’s grip. "Let go."
"Trust me," Minho begs, voice hoarse.
He’s always prided himself in being a well-read intellectual, logical, and clear headed. Minho likes books and people who don't mind sitting down to read whatever crappy novel they can get their hands on. He knows when to walk away and if he has a competitive streak when it comes to sports, it’s only because he was never good enough at anything else before college. He knows a lost battle when he sees one and he recognizes the signs on Jonghyun’s face.
But, Minho's never been particularly good at keeping calm when it came to Jonghyun. Exasperation, a growing desire to grab Jonghyun and shake him, to make him see, spreads out in concentric circles starting from the center of his stomach. His eyes linger on the rips in Jonghyun’s jeans and the perfectly clean tee-shirt and nothing makes sense, but he needs it to and it’s frustrating to know that he can’t have at least that after so long.
"I don't know you," Jonghyun tells him.
Minho's grip on his wrist goes slack and Jonghyun snatches his hand away.
Minho blinks and focuses his eyes on the roof door over the top of Jonghyun's head. The blue paint is peeling on the top right corner, flecks hanging off and flapping in the wind. The doorknob is washed out gold paint. Further up is the brass chain with the grey padlock that Minho locked. His eyes trace the parallel horizontal ridges that run around the padlock and when he gets to the end of the last one at the bottom the padlock opens, the click loud even with all the noise.
Jonghyun turns, but Minho's fingers wrap around his elbows keeping him in place.
"They can get in now," Minho says, slow so that Jonghyun can't miss anything. "You can wait for them and die that way." he pauses, the words crazy to his own ear. "Or you can trust me and jump."
Jonghyun is still looking at him like he’s crazy, but Minho has his attention and he wants that thing you always see in the movies. The thing where everything freezes and Jonghyun realizes that he doesn’t know who Minho is but he trusts him for whatever unfathomable and stupid reason. And honestly, this is close enough to a movie and Jonghyun is closer than he’s ever been to Minho.
"Hey," Minho grins taking a step onto the ledge of the roof. "I know you think I'm crazy, but trust me, you are fucking insane. Loud too."
Minho waves his hand out towards Jonghyun in some vague motion that he thinks is supposed to mean something. "You like to jump all over the place like you can’t stand being still for a second. And when I want to read a book or sleep, you can't just sit there and give me a minute."
Jonghyun narrows his eyes, but there is still nothing there, nothing old, just all the new, "Who are you?"
Minho thinks he's getting too old for this. He shrugs, his open coat billowing out behind him as he stands there on the roof. He leans back, but he miscalculates the width of the ledge. He can feel his left heel press back into air and there's a pressure against his chest. He makes no move to touch the hand Jonghyun throws out, fights against the urge to windmill his hands.
It's a testament to his willpower that he can squash instinct so completely like that.
The last thing he sees, before the impact of wind against his stomach makes his body curl inwards, is Jonghyun with a foot on the ledge, body leaning forward, hand stretched out, eyes wild.
3.
Minho wakes up alone, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He closes his eyes again when the room blurs into focus, the computer screen in front of him mocking him with numbers, letters, all a language Minho hates.
"They brought you something to play with."
Minho opens his eyes to glare at the girl from tech support who backs out again without closing his office door. He chucks off his suit jacket even though his ten by ten foot office is mostly empty and cold. He’s on his third cup of coffee and on his fifth hour of rechecking equations on his sleek, flat screen computer. Minho stretches and the room in front of him goes bright when he gets up too fast. He can feel his muscles straining against what feels like paper thin skin. He rolls the sleeves on his black dress shirt up to his elbows, but stops before he touches his hair.
Minho’s been expecting the transfer. The new guy’s supposed to be good, but Minho can care less if the new guy draws on menus with crayons as long as he can plug equations into a computer. He’s gotten tired of sitting in front of his desk because there’s no one else to do it. Minho’d rather be testing, practicing how to build realities in dreams. He’s desperate to get to the actual action, has been itching for it ever since he was told what the government was working on exactly.
The window is fogged up when Minho goes over to close it. He presses his hand against the glass to clear a space. The car is black, unmarked, and the shock of blond hair when the guy gets out catches Minho’s attention. He’s tired of the flashy Tech Support guys and the girls who like to leave his door open when he’s working. He can’t stand the way they all grin at him as he sits on his computer as if they thought he was wasting his time. Their lack of understanding for how science works rubs Minho the wrong way because he’s good at what he does and he doesn’t appreciate the way Tech Support brushes it off.
It’s been a long day and Minho thinks fuck it as he runs his hand through his hair. He pulls and goes back to his computer, tie loose around his neck as he leans back into his chair. The ceiling is as interesting as it was that morning when he clocked in and opened up the files.
"Are you Choi?"
"Yeah," Minho answers still looking for any kind of mark on the even ceiling.
He swivels his chair around and a short guy with blond hair is leaning against his door frame. He has Tech Support written all over his faded jeans and untucked shirt.
"I heard you were working."
Minho shrugs, "I don’t have time for snide remarks. You can go back to Tech Support and tell them to fuck themselves. I’m working."
"Wow. Classy," the guys smirks. "They told me you were professional."
Minho pictures all the Techs in their white shirts and khaki pants huddling downstairs and talking about him. He has no time today and even though the guy at the door is at the very least pleasant on the eyes, he doesn’t want to have to deal with this right now.
"Listen," he says. "I don’t know who sent you, but my computer’s working just fine. I’ll call Tech Support if I need help I promise, now will you let me work. I’m expecting someone and I’d like to have this batch of equations finished before he gets here."
The guy raises and eyebrow. "Tech Support?" he laughs. "You think I’m here to fix your computer?"
Minho frowns and stands up. He can tell even before he gets to the guy that he’ll tower over him and he can’t help the self-satisfied smirk.
"You’re kind of short," he says.
"And you’re kind of stupid," the guy snaps.
"Touchy."
"Fuck off."
Minho grins and lets his shoulder rest against the open office door. The corridor over the guy’s shoulder is noisy with the low hum of printers from the offices down the hall. Minho’s eyes crawl back over the guy’s face and the sharp cheekbones. He frowns at the amount of stuff in the guy’s hair.
"Like what you see?" the guy smirks.
Minho shrugs, “Nothing in particular, no.”
"Well then, since you’re not planning on hitting on me, can we just do this?"
"Do what?"
The guy shakes his head and steps past Minho into the office. Minho watches as the guy glances at his computer and starts flipping through the papers on Minho’s desk.
"You did the math wrong on page two. z=5x-6y is a plane not two intersecting lines."
It makes sense, but Minho refuses to acknowledge it as he moves over to type it into his computer. He inputs the new numbers into the program file labeled Deception because their government likes to be obvious.
"My name’s Jonghyun,” the guys says when Minho turns back to him. "I’m not Tech Support."
Minho thinks oh. He doesn’t like feeling stupid and he doesn’t like that Jonghyun is smirking at him, half laughing at Minho’s expense.
"Good, get to work then. I need a break."
Jonghyun blinks at Minho and they spend the first minute after their introduction waiting for the other to look away first. Minho can feel his eyes watering as he stares down Jonghyun and he feels like he’s fifteen and stupid, but there’s something that won’t let him give Jonghyun even that small victory. He waits, counts off in his head, but he’s the first to look away in the end.
"I don’t have time for this," he sighs shoving his sleeves up higher over his forearms. "This is the last batch of equations before we can start actual testing and I’d like to have this done because I’m bored out of my fucking mind."
Jonghyun barks out a laugh and Minho feels a smile on his face.
"All right then,” Jonghyun nods. "Explain exactly what we’re doing."
-
"Extraction is the simpler of the two programs," Minho tells the board members. He can feel all eyes on him as he points to the charts and diagrams of his presentation. He can feel the grant within his reach now and all he has to do is make sure he gets his point across, why the people in this room want this, why the government is wasting money it doesn’t have to support Minho’s research.
Jonghyun is sitting in front of him taking notes.
"Extraction works with three people. One to hook the architect, the extractor and the dreamer into the machine," Minho points to his last diagram. "It’s the size of a suitcase and the wires connect to a bracelet on your wrist. The extractor is trained to find information, to recognize signs that the brain produces to guard its secrets. In a dream, the dreamer’s subconscious mind will call up a safe, a locked room, things of that nature to hide his or her secret. The extractor has to be trained to pick locks, disarm safes because everything you know in the real world translates into dreams."
Jonghyun nods just enough for Minho to see.
"The architect makes the world," Minho catches the smile on Jonghyun’s face. "He or she has to make the dreamer believe that what they see is real. With a good architect, the dreamer would be stuck in the dream without ever knowing that there was someone trying to get information from them. Architects, puzzle designers, engineers would all fit the description for this job."
"What is the purpose of the third person?"
"To make sure the other two don’t get stuck," Minho says. "If you create a world you can start to believe that it’s real, get lost in a dream. If for any reason the architect and the extractor should forget that they’re in a dream, the third person pulls them out by disconnecting the machine."
Minho can see the same question in the eyes of the board members in front of him, but none of them asks it.
"How do you know how long to wait before you pull the other two out?" Jonghyun asks.
"Time runs faster in dreams. We won’t know the exact numbers until we run actual experiments, but from the calculations, it looks like an hour is the equivalent of six in a dream. Depending on what the job is, I’d say it wouldn’t take more than two hours at a time."
"And if you die?"
Minho shakes his head. "Everything is theoretical at this point, but in a normal dream, you’d wake up."
The room starts buzzing with conversation as the board members look at one another. Minho can see the men in business suits at the back of the room, arms folded over their chests, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Their arms are massive, the outline of the guns in their shoulder holsters obvious beneath their jackets. Minho looks over at Jonghyun who mouths explain some more.
"Basically what I’m saying," Minho leans forward, adjusts his tie. "With this program we could go into anyone’s head while they sleep and take any information we want. We could even implant ideas. It’s a weapon and we want it, you want it because if we don’t perfect this some other scientists in another country will."
He looks down at his notes. "Inception," Minho explains, "is the introduction of new ideas into the unconscious mind of another person. The same principles as extraction apply, but it’s harder to introduce a new idea than it is to get a secret out of someone. You’d have to do it so that the dreamer didn’t know you were doing it, subtle so that while they dream they think it was all their idea, that the extractor had nothing to do with it."
"There’s potential in this and that’s why I’m asking for the chance to study the idea further," Minho concludes. "I thank you for your time."
There’s a wait after that as the members leave the room to think things over. Minho watches them leave and he thinks back to the day he got his doctorate. He’d been the one to leave the room then. He’d sat in a small room with white walls as the men in the next room discussed whether he was worth their time. In a few days, he’ll know whether he was worth these men’s time.
He waits until the last of the men are gone before he starts taking down his diagrams and equations. Jonghyun picks up the papers by the podium and nudges Minho’s shoulder as he passes. Minho nods at him, but doesn’t say anything as they carry the things out of the auditorium.
"Thank you," Minho tells Jonghyun when they’ve taken all the papers and diagrams back to his office. He wants to go home and sleep for hours. Minho’s done thinking about whether his equations are correct. It won’t matter until the first check comes into the lab.
"Yeah no problem," Jonghyun says sounding distracted. "But I’ve got something to ask you."
Minho nods as Jonghyun organizes the papers on the desk.
"I’m stranded and I need a ride. If it’s not too much to ask." He looks at Minho over his shoulder. "Well. Shit. I don’t actually have anyone else to ask, not to play the pity card."
"What about the woman you came with?" Minho asks just because he can see the curve of a smile beginning on Jonghyun’s lips.
"Well, I don’t have anyone else that I want to ask, if that clarifies things."
"Not really."
"You don’t go out much, do you?"
"Are you hitting on me?"
Jonghyun grins, "I can explain in the car."
-
They've been on seven official dates, minus the times Minho stays over at Jonghyun’s small apartment-one bed that takes up most of the space in the bedroom, a yellowing kitchen with a gas stove, a living room that serves as a dining room and the cupboard of a bathroom-when the largest checks come in. Jonghyun’s moved all his clothes to the single, cherry wood dresser in his apartment to make room in the closet for Minho’s clothes. They haven’t talked about it yet, but Minho knows they’re almost there.
Jonghyun has never asked about where Minho lives or why Minho’s never taken him to his place. They’ve been pushed past the part where they throw around the words boyfriend or move in together, too concerned with the project, what it means to the entire nation if they can do this, if they can just find a check large enough. But, Minho knows what it would mean when he finally takes Jonghyun to his place, the one step they haven’t taken because Minho likes his space, his privacy.
He glances at the check he'd pulled out from his mailbox after getting home that morning, the zeros after the first number. He looks up at his living room, the floor length glass walls that make up half of the oval living room, the black leather couch, dark wooden coffee table, his large screen TV mounted on the dresser that serves as his bookcase. Everything is too clean, Minho thinks as he walks up the three steps that take him to the main floor level of the apartment. His kitchen is to the left, a stainless steel fridge, dishwasher and electric stove. To the right there’s the hallway, the first door on the left is the smaller of the two bathrooms, a closet before he gets to the two bedrooms. Minho hasn’t opened the door to the other room although he knows there's a bathroom in there too. It was in the description when he bought the place.
He can imagine Jonghyun walking in and making fun of how clean everything is, how there's not a single article of clothing out in the open, not even when Minho goes into his room. Jonghyun's bedroom is lived in, worn in a good way, papers on his dresser, magazines and books on his bedside table. There are clothes in the closet, shoes lining the bottom, old boxes crammed on the top shelf. Minho's place is sterile, dust free because the woman who takes care of that came in this morning. It's dark because his curtains are made to keep out the light when he works late on Fridays and wants to sleep until midday on Saturday.
Minho steps out of his room, ignoring the dark red sheets that his mother picked out for him last Christmas, ones he hasn't bothered to replace with the blue ones she bought him this past Christmas. Everything is taken care of by his housekeeper and Minho leaves it to her.
The doorknob to the other room is cool in his hand when he grabs it. He turns it and steps through, into the white walls and dark wooden floor, two small cabinets on either side of the King sized bed, and a dark dresser with another TV Minho didn't even know he had. There's light in this place, no curtains covering the large, crystalline windows that take up most of the far wall. He can see the coasters his housekeeper lays out on top of every table and bedside table to remind Minho, in case he forgets, that the wood cost ridiculous amounts of money and that he has to take care of it. He runs a hand over the dresser holding the TV. He would bet his entire week's salary that that's where Jonghyun would leave his first circular cup mark.
Minho sighs, steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He racks through his things trying to find something to wear, but everything feels wrong. He doesn't understand the sudden urge to be out of his home, doesn't like how his footsteps resonate in the large closet or the vastness of the living room. He calls Jonghyun, flirts blatant and shameless over the phone for the first time since they met then asks him out to dinner.
"Maybe now you can get a place that actually fits two people," Minho tells Jonghyun later when they're sitting in the restaurant, lights low in the far end, away from prying eyes. Minho likes the way Jonghyun's shirt clings to him, knows there's another better, tighter tee-shirt underneath, one that Minho wants to touch, to pull over Jonghyun's head to see if his hair will keep the form it has. He thinks of all the things they could do on the large leather sofa back in his apartment, against the windows to christen Jonghyun's new room, on the extra kitchen counter he's never found any use for.
"Do you cook?" Minho asks.
Jonghyun laughs in his face.
"Good," he says. "I don't either."
There's a slight flicker in Jonghyun's eyes and Minho devours it, every little move, every shift in shadow across Jonghyun's face from the lights overhead. He likes the way Jonghyun's cheekbones look sharper in the low light, the deep, dark red colored walls sharpening Minho's senses.
"I have the check," he blurts out.
Jonghyun just nod and as Minho tries to explain the waiter comes over. They're told that the wine is from the women two tables over and Jonghyun turns to look at them. The women smile at them and their teeth are the kind of synthetic white you only get from bleaching. Minho nods at them and holds up his wine glass until they return the toast. Jonghyun smiles at them, not the same grins Minho is used to getting, something softer, flirtatious.
Minho leans over the table and digs his fingers into Jonghyun's forearm. "You should pay attention to me when I'm trying to fuck you with my eyes."
Jonghyun laughs but Minho hears the catch, sees the way his eyes flicker back. Minho smiles at the women over Jonghyun's shoulder and leans forward until he can feel Jonghyun's breath against the side of his neck. He turns, the tips of Jonghyun's hair brushing the top of Minho's cheeks. He lets his lips brush as if by accident over Jonghyun's earlobe.
"Get the fuck on with it," Jonghyun snaps and Minho feels the fingers digging into his forearm.
"I want to fuck you right here on this table." Minho whispers. "Bend you over so that everyone can see. I want you to look at them all when I fuck you so that they know what you look like losing it because of me."
Jonghyun's low laugh is not what Minho is expecting. "There's a bathroom here right?" Jonghyun whispers. "If we stay in there long enough it's the same thing."
Minho's half formed arguments about bacteria, germs and viruses die on their way out of his mouth when Jonghyun breathes against his neck. Minho is well aware that even though half the restaurant can't see them, the other half can. He leans back into his chair, but makes sure he doesn't lose Jonghyun's eyes as he reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket. Minho is glad the place isn't fancy enough to have taken their jackets at the entrance. He knows he's just lucky because he'd just picked the best place everyone else knew without bothering to check.
"I have something for you," Minho says starting to pull out the envelope.
He sees Jonghyun's narrowed eyes and pauses.
"That better not be, I will kill you."
Minho grins because he thinks he gets it. He drops to one knee anyway and laughs at the murder in Jonghyun's face when he hands him the envelope. Minho can hear the low string of profanities as Jonghyun opens it. He can see when the numbers and realization hit Jonghyun and Minho understands what he, himself, was feeling at his apartment, where the restlessness he felt came from. Minho feels like he can do anything and he wants to ride the high, push Jonghyun down onto every surface he can find and kiss him, press the freedom he feels into Jonghyun's skin. One check and they can do everything.
"I think we have to go." Jonghyun rasps.
Minho wants to say yes, but they haven't had their dinner yet.
He opens his mouth with the intention of chastising Jonghyun for blowing off such an elegant restaurant. "You want to come over?" he says instead.
Jonghyun raises an eyebrow as if to tell Minho just how stupid the question was. "No," Jonghyun rolls his eyes. "I’d rather go home and take a cold shower."
"All right," Minho laughs and it’s liberating and thrilling all at once to know that he’s taken the last step in this.
The waiter comes back when they're putting on their coats and Minho gives him a bigger tip than he usually would. He keeps his eyes on Jonghyun all the while, the way his jaw works when they step out into the cold. He's aware of every shift of eyes Jonghyun makes, every movement of his hand, exhales, inhales.
They walk for a good ten minutes before Minho remembers it's too far to walk and hails a cab. They sit too close together in the back. Jonghyun is pressed against Minho's side but their hands are resting next to each other with enough space so that Minho can't even feel the heat from Jonghyun's fingers.
When the cab pulls up in front of Minho's apartment building, he gives over the bills to the cab driver, wraps his fingers around Jonghyun's wrist and drags him out. He hears the sharp inhale from Jonghyun and Minho doesn't know if it's because of the tall, clean and clearly expensive building in front of them or because of Minho's fingers digging into the tender part of his wrist.
Minho counts the eight steps to the main entrance, punches in the access numbers and walks in with Jonghyun following close behind. He motions Jonghyun in front of him, presses his hand on Jonghyun's warm back. They ignore the elevators in favor of the stairs and Minho crowds behind Jonghyun, pressing as close as he can to Jonghyun's back.
"What floor?"
"Five," Minho answers.
Jonghyun trips twice on the way up and Minho kisses him each time. When they come out into the fifth floor hallway they're gasping for breath and Jonghyun is the one shoving into Minho's back, his fingers dipping into the front of Minho's jeans so that Minho has to push in his key code twice.
"Shit," Jonghyun says when Minho opens the door to his apartment. "Just how many checks did you get?"
Minho turns and huffs a laugh against Jonghyun's mouth. He doesn't answer, just presses him against the closed door and decides that they'll try the kitchen counter first.
-
Jonghyun moves in a week after Minho's ready to run the test.
They have a government trained bodyguard type, who can't stop smiling and is supposed to learn from them, although Minho suspects he's there more to report on him and Jonghyun than anything else. Jonghyun is the architect. Minho is the dreamer and he's going to take notes.
The machines they're hooked on are going to test their heart rates, blood pressure, and brain waves as they sleep. Minho barks out instructions to the staff helping them get settled even as he lies down. He watches after Jonghyun who is wearing the excitement Minho can't show out in the open. He's calm about this, knows there is very little that could go wrong because Minho planned this for years. He has absolute faith that everything will be okay.
"Wake us up in ten minutes," Minho tells the girl who is going to connect them to the dream machine. "That will give us an hour in whatever world Jonghyun wants to make."
He pauses, turns to Jonghyun. "Go for something I know so that we don't get attacked by whatever defenses I have subconsciously."
"Can that happen?" Jonghyun asks and only Minho gets the teasing underneath.
"Yes," he answers. "The mind is an important place. It follows that there should be defenses even if I let them down."
The when you're around is implied and Jonghyun smiles at Minho.
"Just like sleeping," Minho says.
"Right."
Minho wakes up alone feeling like he's been stepped on. He rubs his eyes, tries to adjust to the light wherever he is.
It's Jonghyun's old apartment but with Minho's things in it, crammed into all the extra space. Minho remembers the yellow kitchen walls that Jonghyun told him were white once. He runs a hand over the gas stove and the texture is exactly as he remembers, minute bumps over the top of the grills from food that stuck and Jonghyun never bothered to clean off. The microwave time is four hours behind the time on the clock that hangs over the refrigerator. That used to be white once too, Minho remembers.
"Minho?"
He walks out into the living room, the dark red settee pushed against the farthest corner from Minho right next to the TV. Jonghyun is standing by the low, narrow hallway doorway that Minho always used to forget to duck for. It's not until he walks over that he realizes this hallway doorway is high enough for Minho to walk through without hitting his forehead against it.
"Nice on texture, color and modifications," Minho says. "But, you probably shouldn't have changed the doorways."
"I don't think so," Jonghyun says. "I intended for them to be even lower. I don't really understand why they're higher."
Minho grins, cocksure. "You can't really lie here."
"I'm letting that go because we're here and this is fucking real and much more important than you are right now," Jonghyun grins back.
Minho wants to see the rest of the apartment, but he's stays turning around on the spot. "Take in your surroundings." he tells Jonghyun. "The subconscious has its own desires, but these are, for the most part, founded in reality. Your unconscious mind made this, but your subconscious is what makes the changes you didn't intend to make. That's what you have to learn to control."
Jonghyun nods towards the exit. "Let's go see what it looks like outside."
Minho follows him out. The main hallway is littered with the same garbage Minho saw on the day he helped Jonghyun move into his place. There's an empty beer bottle nestled in between the corner where Jonghyun's apartment and the one next door meet. The black garbage bag with the dead rat the size of a cat is in their way when they go down the stairs.
"You're overdramatizing things," Minho says. "That was all outside of the apartment."
Jonghyun shrugs. "My world, my rules."
"My dream, my defenses."
"There's nothing here. You probably have no defenses."
"Your mom has no defenses."
Jonghyun stops on his way down the stairs and Minho walks into him. "What," Jonghyun asks, "the fuck was that?"
"A comeback," Minho says.
"Your mom is a comeback?"
"Your mom."
"God fuck, what did I get myself into?" Jonghyun groans, but Minho sees the wide grin on his face and he knows he's not the only one riding on too much excitement.
"As if your defenses would be any better."
"Bet they would. Definitely better than yours."
Minho can feel his entire body shaking with the need to explore, to see and suddenly an hour doesn't seem like enough time. He wants to cover every inch of this world with Jonghyun, to see what else Jonghyun chose to put in it, how far he stretched it.
"Suppose I chose to change the world outside," Jonghyun says and Minho lets him be the serious scientist. "What do you think you're defenses would do if I decided we were going to come out somewhere completely different from where you know this exit leads to."
"Don't," Minho warns.
"Too late," Jonghyun grins.
He pushes the door of the building open and they come out onto a street that's lined with brand new apartment buildings, one set of floor length glass windows on each floor. Minho knows their apartment is on the fifth floor and that Jonghyun's old place is half an hour away from where they live now. The street is right though, the trees that were planted five feet from each other to give the illusion that the construction companies were pro-Mother Earth are all there.
There's a building in front and to the left of them that Minho has seen before. The base is red brick, with the third floor made of glass. The third floor catches the light from the sun and Minho's vision goes white.
"Why is it so bright?" Minho complains.
"I don't like the rain," Jonghyun says simply.
Minho rolls his eyes, but files the information along with all the other information he's gathering. Jonghyun doesn't like the rain seems as important as the fact that the world can change if the architect wants it to.
"Why do you think your supposed mental defenses aren't attacking me?" Jonghyun asks.
Minho shrugs because I don't want them to hurt you sounds stupid even to him.
He steps forward and notices that the street changed, is wrong now, wider and with more cars than Minho has ever seen his street have. They zoom past ignoring the traffic lights.
He glances at Jonghyun who looks like he's enjoying himself.
Show-off, Minho thinks. "Traffic?" he yells over the horns of the cars rushing past them.
Jonghyun shrugs and closes his eyes for a brief second. The street is empty, but there are people around them, watching them and Minho takes Jonghyun's hand as they run across the street. He forgets that they're there to record and observe. He gets lost in the wild abandon in Jonghyun's eyes, his exhilaration and Minho kisses him against a half done building that looks like the one that's under construction across from their place.
"Your defenses suck," Jonghyun gasps against Minho's mouth.
"Not really the thing that should be sucking right now though."
Jonghyun laughs against his mouth, long and loud, shoulders shaking. Minho tilts his face up and kisses him again.
"Where now?" Jonghyun asks. "Do you want to see what Italy looks like?"
"You've never been there."
"Didn't say I had been. I just asked if you wanted to see what it looks like."
Minho's caught in between saying yes and trying to calculate the number of people in the street to their right. He's sure those are what pass for defense in his mind and he's pretty put off that they're mostly lanky teenagers with long hair.
"Yeah," he tells Jonghyun. "Show me Italy."
They're on a yellow gondola that looks more like a hollowed out banana when Minho catches himself pushing away the thought that this isn't real. He stops, takes Jonghyun's wrist and turns him.
"Where are we?"
Jonghyun frowns. "In your dream," he says. "Or on a hollow banana that totally floats in water even with us in it."
Minho says nothing.
"You were starting to forget weren't you?"
"No, just not trying to remember."
"Kind of like when I don't tell you things," Jonghyun smirks. "It's not lying, just withholding information."
"No," Minho tells him. "That's lying."
"You lie then," Jonghyun tells him. "You lie a lot."
"Fine," Minho consents. "You don't lie."
It's all a blur revised equations and of simulations with the very real knowledge that Jonghyun is always next to him in ever one after that.
-
Someone buys the old building in front of Minho and Jonghyun's place and for a week the sound of falling bricks and the whirring of machines wakes them up too early. Minho and Jonghyun adjust their schedule so that they're never home when the construction is going on. Minho thinks that's the reason why weeks later when he looks out the window at the construction site, there's a mostly finished glass building that fits much better with the other buildings in the street. The first two floors are dark brick red, but the rest is all glass from what Minho can see, pinched in the middle like someone wrapped a fist around it.
Minho decides that it's safe to come back to the living room now that the building is about done. He sits on the end of the leather couch closest to the windows, directly in front of the other couch and to the left of the TV. He reaches for the remote, but there's a novel he's put off since the project started and he gets that from the bookshelf instead.
Minho is two chapters in when he hears Jonghyun walking around the kitchen. He doesn't complain like he does every morning that there's no milk for the coffee, probably because he's too tired to do it. Jonghyun had called last night to let Minho know that he was working on something and that he'd be home whenever. Minho keeps reading, too absorbed in what he's doing to hear Jonghyun come into the living room.
"What if I told you I knew how to run the program with only one person?"
Minho looks up from his book. Jonghyun is perched on the edge of the coffee table, his face right in Minho’s space. He smells like hairspray and the cologne Minho bought him for his birthday.
"I’m reading," Minho says going back to his book.
Jonghyun’s fingers push it down again and Minho catches the wild gleam in Jonghyun’s brown eyes. They look darker now that Jonghyun has decided to stick with his natural dark brown hair.
"I can do it," Jonghyun insists getting up and taking Minho’s book with him. "I was thinking about it last night. No. Listen before you say something that will make me want to punch you."
Minho rolls his eyes, but Jonghyun turns away to dig through the boxes stacked by the entrance.
"If you have timers instead of people," Jonghyun mumbles lifting up a stack of papers.
Minho can’t see where his book went, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are glued to every move Jonghyun makes, to the way the vein on his neck works to show his excitement. Minho thinks Jonghyun says something about deeper levels, but he’s not concentrating.
He’s across the room in three strides, his hand around Jonghyun’s wrist as he turns him only to press him against the wall. Minho catches the surprise in Jonghyun’s eyes before he fits their lips together, one of his hands on the back of Jonghyun’s neck, the other sliding into the mess of Jonghyun’s hair.
"What the fuck do you put in your hair?" Minho says when they break for air, but there’s no bite behind his words.
Jonghyun rolls his eyes and drags them to the bedroom, murmuring theories even as he reaches behind him to get Minho's bedroom door open.
"If it works," Jonghyun murmurs against Minho's mouth. "we could go deeper than we've gone in the earlier phases of the program."
"Yeah," Minho nods. "I intend to."
Jonghyun snorts, but then Minho pushes him down on the bed and pins Jonghyun's wrists over his head. He reaches down between them, working one handed to pop open the button of Jonghyun's jeans and works a hand in. He does his best to jerk Jonghyun off, but the angle is awkward and his wrist cramps. He keeps going because Jonghyun's breath comes out in ragged gasps. He throws his head back and Minho bites down on the vein by the side of his neck, jerking his hand, making up for the loss of speed by tightening his fist until Jonghyun arches further, almost bends back completely and comes into Minho's hand.
Minho goes to sleep that night with Jonghyun whispering about timers and how deep they can go. His last thought is that Jonghyun needs to work on his pillow talk.
-
Jonghyun does most, if not all, the research and Minho follows him around, brings him coffee and makes up dares to ease the crease on Jonghyun's brows. He listens when Jonghyun needs to run an idea by him, but this seems like something that Jonghyun wants to do alone. Minho respects him enough for that even if he thinks, the more Jonghyun talks about them, that the idea of timers are impractical, too dangerous to ever really take hold. He sits anyway when Jonghyun wants to bounce ideas off him and the look in Jonghyun's eyes, like he's sharing some great secret keeps Minho's mouth shut for a few more days.
It's the lack of sleep that makes him talk in the end. He's in Jonghyun's office, same white walls as his, same window, same desk but with more papers, monitors blinking back equations that make no sense to Minho. Jonghyun has been going over calculations for the past six hours. Minho is running on his second day of no sleep. Jonghyun is on his third.
"You have no idea what you’re doing do you?"
"I know exactly what I’m doing," Jonghyun informs him.
"You have no fucking clue. Could you please just stop and ask for help."
"Hey rich boy," Jonghyun snaps using the only insult that ever made Minho truly angry. "I’m in charge so we’re doing this my way. If you don’t like it you can go ask the supervisor to demote you to tech support."
Minho glares. "Fuck you and tell me what we’re doing."
They’ve been at each other’s throats more than usual, both at work and at home. The difference is that at home Minho can bend Jonghyun over the kitchen counter and fuck him until both their throats are raw from yelling. In the office, one of them has to give and they both know they’ve never been good at that.
"Just look over the readings on the fucking monitor and tell me if anything looks off to you."
Minho can’t read anything on the monitor. It all looks strange to him and he doesn’t trust it because he knows this is impossible. It made no sense to him when Jonghyun suggested it the first time and it makes no sense to him now.
"It’s not going to get you any grants," Minho says finally. "You can’t even tell what the equations are on the monitor. How do you expect to have it running before next week?"
"I can do it," Jonghyun says.
"No you can’t," Minho grinds out, his jaw tight. "And it would be all right if you were the only one staying awake all night to do this, but you keep me up too."
He doesn’t regret what he says even when the anger in Jonghyun’s eyes gives way to hurt for a brief instant. It’s gone so fast though that Minho thinks he imagined it.
"I didn’t ask you to babysit me."
"I’m not babysitting you," Minho snarls. "I’m doing the work you can’t do so that you don’t kill yourself if by some miracle you get the funding to actually try this thing."
"I don't need you to fucking babysit me," Jonghyun whispers, angry. "If you don't want to do this then leave. I wouldn't be losing anything."
"Fine," Minho says, eyes narrowed at Jonghyun. "Fucking fine. If you want to waste time then do it alone."
Minho storms out, slamming the door harder than he intended on the way. His office is cramped, too hot and he ends up taking his jacket and leaving the building. The anger lasts long enough that Minho is about half an hour walk from the lab without a car before he can think clearly again. He ends up at a night market, the people bustling past him, the noise welcoming. He hasn't been out this late at night to do things other than work ever since he'd gotten into graduate school.
At first it had been the studying, then his thesis and in the end, he'd just stopped trying to find time. He was good at studying, at memorizing the formulas, the ideas, at expanding. His professors had recommended him for the government program as soon as he graduated and Minho had thrown himself into his work. He was rarely good at anything specific while growing up, nothing that didn't involve sports, but when he found things he was good at, Minho gave it everything he had.
He hadn't though that he'd ever settle down into a life that resembled normality. Minho had always just assumed he'd wander around working and when he stopped that he'd sit around and read anything he could get his hands on. There had never been room in his set life for another person, but then Jonghyun had come in and thrown everything Minho had planned for himself out the window. He was up in the middle of the night, running on the three hours of sleep that Jonghyun didn't get just because he wanted Jonghyun to do what he so clearly believed in.
Minho knew he would always be there, right when Jonghyun thought he couldn't do something, to make sure that Jonghyun did everything he wanted to do. He'd made it very clear when they moved in together and got their first check, ran their first simulation, that he and Jonghyun were doing this together. Minho believed it, that he was in this for the long run, that whatever happened after he was there for Jonghyun, sleepless nights and all.
Minho runs a hand through his hair, tugs like he does when he knows he's wrong or he's exasperated. He puts his hand back in his coat pocket eventually and goes on walking, nodding at the whispers of sorry he gets when someone bumps into him. The people rush about him, but Minho takes his time, taking in the food the vendors keep trying to push into his face. He smiles at them, but shakes his head when they offer him a taste. At the end of the first line of vendors there's a woman, with her daughter, selling bracelets.
The black, leather one at the very end of the second row of them catches Minho's eye. The color is the same one as the couches back at home, the ones that Jonghyun complains are a waste of good leather.
("You sit on them."
"Yes, that is the idea."
"But it's leather. It's a waste.")
Minho secretly agrees with him about that. Minho secretly agrees with him about a lot of things, things he's never said out loud because he and Jonghyun don't exactly work that way or didn't when they first met. They both just know. They're too much alike sometimes now not to know what the other person is thinking. It's that, that scares Minho sometimes because he's never known someone as well as Jonghyun, never been so attuned to the slightest changes in attitude. He knows, as he pays for the leather bracelet, that Jonghyun wants his work on timers to work, that he's going to keep trying even if turns out that it's all bullshit. Jonghyun wants to believe.
Minho had just told him that it was stupid to believe.
He thanks the woman, smiles at her daughter. When he walks back to the lab he's the one pushing past people, throwing casual I'm sorry's over his shoulder. He's been gone two hours when he pushes his way into Jonghyun's office only to find him sprawled on his office chair with the monitor off. There's a flare of anger in Minho's chest, all the half formed apologies gone. It annoys him that Jonghyun wouldn't keep working, that Jonghyun doesn't believe in himself when Minho so firmly does. He tosses the bracelet wrapped in tissue paper into Jonghyun's lap.
"What’s this?" Jonghyun asks.
"I figured since I broke your little girl heart I might as well get you something," Minho snaps and walks back out.
It a new level of frustration for Minho as he paces around his office. He thinks he's two steps away from admitting that this might be more serious than he intended, that he's invested too much now to walk away without leaving some part of himself with Jonghyun. The bracelet is one foot over the edge for Minho and he's waiting for Jonghyun to come through his door before he puts the other one over.
"You are an idiot," Jonghyun tells him when he does push the door to Minho's office open.
Minho is sitting on his chair staring at the ceiling and admiring the smoothness of it all. He doesn't bother looking over at Jonghyun. He doesn't want to know what's on Jonghyun's face, what he thinks about it all, about the silent confession in the form of a bracelet. It says I know what you like. I remember what you don't. I give an actual fuck.
"Fuck you," Minho answers.
"You couldn't keep your mouth shut for one fucking second."
"No," Minho says. "I couldn't."
The sound of the door closing behind Minho echoes around the room, louder than Minho thinks should be possible. He can feel the anger, the heat, radiating from Jonghyun and he knows Jonghyun didn't leave even before Jonghyun turns Minho's chair around and smashes their lips together.
Minho's grip on Jonghyun's hips says that he's not entirely sure he forgives Jonghyun for what happened earlier. But, the way Jonghyun bites at Minho's lower lip and digs his fingers into Minho's shoulders says that he's not over it either. The messy way their tongues push against each other, desperate underneath all the initial frustration, throws all thoughts of stopping this far from Minho's thoughts. He pushes against Jonghyun's mouth, fits his hands on the back of Jonghyun's head to tilt, get at a better angle.
He pushes down on Jonghyun's shoulder, tries to grab the nonexistent belt on Jonghyun's pants to get him on Minho's lap, on the floor, closer. Jonghyun drops down on his knees, his hands undoing Minho's belt in one go, tugging so that Minho has to sit closer to the edge of his chair. Jonghyun mouths hungry at Minho's hip, groans when Minho's cock presses against his cheek. Minho watches him as Jonghyun opens his mouth wide and obscene and sucks half of Minho's cock in one go.
The outline of his cock against the inside of Jonghyun's cheek makes Minho's mouth go dry. He reaches his hand down and presses his thumb against the edge of Jonghyun's mouth. Minho can't help the low groan when Jonghyun opens his mouth and sucks on his finger too. He lets his head go back with the feel of Jonghyun's tongue on his thumb, lets it all wash over him, the trembling in his thighs. He feels the scrape of teeth, the low keen from Jonghyun when Minho pulls on his hair.
Minho stands, drags Jonghyun up by the hair, returns the murder he sees in Jonghyun's eyes and kisses him until they're both gasping. He lets Jonghyun walk them backwards as he pops open the buttons on Jonghyun's shirt. He stops, turns them over so that Jonghyun has his back pressed against the windows. Minho does quick work with the shirt, tugs all the excess clothes off. Jonghyun complains about how much stuff is in the way when their hands gets caught in the middle and Minho takes a step back to push only what's necessary out of the way.
He catches the glint of hunger in Jonghyun's eyes and he returns it, running his eyes over the muscles on Jonghyun's arm, the way his jaw tightens when Minho tilts his head up. It's slower now even when Minho turns Jonghyun over so he's breathing into the window and presses two fingers into him. Jonghyun's head lolls back onto Minho's shoulder and he kisses him, shoving Jonghyun's head away when Jonghyun sucks on his tongue.
"You have to fucking stop that." Minho pants.
Jonghyun makes a noise that could be consent but is probably an insult mixed with Jonghyun's own version of hurry the fuck up.
Minho doesn't know how to say I'm sorry so he pushes a hand down between Jonghyun's shoulder blades to ease him down-presses kisses to the nape of Jonghyun's neck, wraps his fingers around the back of Jonghyun's hand, traps it against the fogged up glass, eases in slow but definite-and hopes that says it for him.
-
They don't talk much after, once Jonghyun's got his clothes back on and is leaning against the wall next to Minho's window. Minho can't take his eyes away from the long gashes outlined by Jonghyun's breath, the fingerprints, Minho's palm high above the mess below from where he'd pressed it into the window to steady himself after he came. Part of him wants to leave it there, but it reminds him too much of the silent confession he made. He reaches a hand over and Jonghyun catches his wrist.
"Don't," he says.
Minho just looks at him.
"I'll be in my office."
"Yeah," Minho nods. "Okay."
He doesn't look at Jonghyun, his eyes still focused on the window. Minho can still hear all the promises Jonghyun made as Minho pushed into him, the way the hand not squashed against the window had dug into Minho's hips, urged him to move faster, harder, deeper. It's the last image though, the sight of Jonghyun catching his wrist that makes him move from his office.
He walks out, shoes loud in the lab hallway. Minho nods to a couple of the people who try to talk to him, but he doesn't see them. All he can see as he makes his way over to Jonghyun is the leather bracelet around Jonghyun's left hand when he reached for Minho.
Jonghyun's standing, head bent over the papers on his monitor desk, the hair on the back of his head standing on end whether from his fingers of Minho's, Minho can't be sure.
"Hey," Minho says, awkward and out of his element. "Are you, that is, are we-"
"Yeah," Jonghyun nods. "We’re fine. I just want to do this alone."
Minho knows the look on Jonghyun’s face well now. He intends to drive home and shower before coming back to get Jonghyun because there’s nothing else he has to do. The only reason he’s still in the office so often is because of Jonghyun and his research on timers and deeper levels of dreaming.
"No," he says turning back to Jonghyun’s office. "I’m going to help you."
Jonghyun looks him up and down and raises an eyebrow. Minho looks down at his own untucked shirt and his rolled-up sleeves. His hair is a mess and he knows his eyes are probably popping out of his face he’s so tired.
"You look like shit."
"You look worse," Minho assures him.
The bags under Jonghyun’s eyes look painful. He’s paler than Minho has ever seen him and the skin on his wrist looks like crumpled paper. The front of Jonghyun’s hair is a hanging over his eyes the way it was after his shower that morning, limp and tired. He’s lost weight and Minho has a sudden, urgent need to pick him up and take him home.
"Let me help you," he doesn’t intend for his whisper to come out rough and urgent. "You need to rest."
"I’ll be done in two days."
"Teach me," Minho says stepping up behind Jonghyun. His hands settle tentative on Jonghyun’s hips. "We’ll finish this tonight and sleep for a day and you’ll be right on schedule."
Jonghyun sags against Minho’s chest and they’re both so tired they could sleep leaning against the desk that holds the monitor.
"All right," Jonghyun agrees. "Help me."
They finish just as the sun is coming up. Minho locks his office door with Jonghyun’s jacket still inside.
"M’not a fucking girl," Jonghyun complains when Minho throws his gray coat over Jonghyun’s shoulders.
"Shut up," is all Minho can think of as he drags Jonghyun down the hallways, past the offices that have already started to fill with early workers. They take the stairs because the elevators are stuck down at the lobby. There are three doors at the bottom floor, one directly in front of the staircase, one to the left and another to the right.
Minho gets it right the second time, but Jonghyun doesn’t say anything.
"Someone needs to make a sign for that door."
"Someone needs to make a sign for your face."
"You make no sense," Minho sighs but he’s smiling as he walks them to the car.
"Your face makes no sense," Jonghyun says sounding irritated and very much like he means it.
Minho hums his agreement and gets into the car.
When they get home they fall into bed with their clothes on and sleep for sixteen hours.
-
"The program is based on dreams, but more than that, the dreamer. They’re the ones who have to believe what they see, what they feel, no matter how ridiculous the scenario," Minho says pacing in front of the room. "There are levels to dreaming, a dream within in a dream, that we hadn’t researched in the first phase of the program. Theoretically there can be an infinite amount of levels as long as you have enough people for three at each level. The deeper you get, the more people you need and the slower time runs."
He sees Jonghyun sitting in the front row of the auditorium of board members, arms and legs crossed, looking like he wants to laugh in Minho’s face.
"The point is to have someone at each level who knows that it’s not real in case the extractor and architect forget, but it’s messy to have so many people in the same dream. Things can go wrong. The goal is to have the least number of people and the highest number of levels within a dreamer’s head and still be able to do the work usually done by, say, fifteen."
Jonghyun shakes his head even as the others in the room look impressed. Minho waits while everyone looks down at their notes and comes up with questions. Jonghyun catches his eye and Minho waves him off.
"Jonghyun," he goes on speaking to the people in the room, "has been working on a program.
"Jonghyun jumps up and goes onstage even though Minho hasn’t invited him up yet.
"Imagine," Jonghyun says and Minho has to step out of his way as he paces. "Imagine that you could do all of what Minho was just saying and with only one person."
Minho hears the chatter from the crowd in front of them. He knows the idea is ridiculous and he’s had more than his share of conversation with Jonghyun. But at the moment he can’t drag his eyes away from Jonghyun’s face, the determined set of his eyes or the way he paces restlessly like he’s been waiting all his life for that exact moment. For a second Minho believes him, no words necessary because the expression on Jonghyun’s face says he can do it.
"Extraction and Inception are dangerous," Jonghyun continues giving no one time to stop him. "If we can manage to do all the programming involved with just one person we could get closer to targets, faster, easier. It would be more efficient. There would be less chance of getting caught."
"It’s not possible," one of the men sitting in the back calls out.
Minho pays him no attention.
"I have a program. With permission from the Head of Research, Programming and Experimenting," Jonghyun stops to wink at Minho. "I’ve gone over the equations for months now and I’ve run all theoretical outcomes. Everything worked on the program, perfectly. Now, all that’s left is funding to run an actual experiment."
Minho watches impressed as Jonghyun answers all question directed at him for the next half hour. By the end of the presentation Minho believes him and by the number of checks and cards exchanged, all the people in the room believe him too.
Part Three