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Most people take one look at Junmyeon -- at his tiny frame and smooth hands and large glasses and thick sweaters -- and immediately deem him unworthy of his trade. Nevermind that he's been in business for years, that he's accrued even the most unnecessary of certifications. Just because he isn't all rippling abs and ninety kilos of pure muscle covered in a healthy layer of sawdust doesn't mean he's not good at his job.

"It's just that you're so small. And you look like you'd cut your hand off with your own table saw," Chanyeol explains unhelpfully, which is exactly when Junmyeon starts to shove him out of the store. "No, wait, ajusshi-"

"Hyung."

"But aren't you like a hundred years old--"

"Hyung," Junmyeon emphasizes, his smile even more strained as they widen enough to expose his fangs, "Don't make me repeat myself, Park Chanyeol."

It's not much of a threat to be honest. Chanyeol's family has a long history of being regulars -- high paying and loyal, everything a craftsman could dream of barring having to deal with constant reminders of their scion's personality faults -- and Junmyeon couldn't lift a finger against Chanyeol himself even if he wanted to, except maybe to flick at his forehead.

However, on most days, it doesn't seem like Chanyeol is actually aware of that little fact. Whether he understands exactly how much power his family wields in Seoul's Underground still isn't all that clear even after years of knowing each other, but Junmyeon has no idea how else they explain getting away with all of Chanyeol's accidents besides the three B's: bribery, blackmail, and beatings.

"Your order will be ready in two weeks. I'll send an email," Junmyeon says, polite and formal as always.

"Two weeks?!" Chanyeol asks, as if that wasn't the usual amount of time it took Junmyeon to take care of one of his orders, "But hyung, what am I going to do with them until then? They won't have anywhere to sleep!"

"You'll manage. This isn't your first time. I have confidence in you," Junmyeon recites, just like every other time they've gone through this mess because of Chanyeol's lack of impulse control.

As soon as his, admittedly best, customer has been shoved past the threshold of the store, Junmyeon withdraws his hands. His security system will handle the rest. He watches with no small amount of satisfaction as Chanyeol knocks on the glass doors with the saddest of puppy dog faces.

"Park Chanyeol, you are no longer welcome here," Junmyeon states very clearly, sealing the deal and the wards. Chanyeol's face somehow manages to look even more miserable, so he adds a quiet "for now" to soften the blow. But it doesn't change the fact that their business has been settled and Chanyeol no longer has a reason for loitering in his store.

Thankfully, there's enough history between the two of them that Chanyeol knows better than to push his luck by even attempting to make it past the wards, so it's little surprise that he doesn't bother sticking around the storefront long after that. Even he has to abide by the laws of invitation, no matter whose spawn he is. And now that Junmyeon can finally hear the poppy music playing over his speakers once again, he can relax. Mindless idol music really is a pleasant alternative to Chanyeol's boisterousness, almost sounds like a reward for having dealt with his fellow vampire for as long as he had.

He gets maybe an hour to himself, swaying back and forth to the beats of each song and mouthing the words silently as he takes a seat and starts drafting up the designs for his latest commissions. More often than not, business is always this slow -- carpentry isn't exactly a highly sought after craft nowadays and not many people appreciate a properly made coffin anymore -- but during times like this, he can't say he really minds it too much. A century is a long time to get used to slow days.

The first draft of the latest set of caskets is almost done, and he's just starting adjust the dimensions to fit the size of Chanyeol's latest recruits when the bell above the front door chimes. The only thing that stops him from quickly sliding his designs away and out of sight is the familiar view of two young men walking in. Instead, he leaves the papers where they are -- it's not like neither Jongin or Sehun don't already know what he's working on. It doesn't even feel like that long ago when he first made their very first coffins to sleep in.

"Hey, hyung!" Jongin greets first, grinning more widely with each step he takes closer, "Guess what?"

"If this is about Chanyeol turning another couple of people into his new lackeys last night, I'm already working on that," Junmyeon answers dryly. He glances once more at the papers on his counter and resists the urge to sigh. Like population control in Seoul wasn't already an issue without the rest of them having to worry about guys like Chanyeol going around and accidentally gnawing on necks whenever they felt like it.

His guess is easily dismissed with a shake of Jongin's head. "No, it's not about that. You know that new guy who works at the art store down the street? The dimple guy?"

"Jongin..." Sehun groans, already tugging at his friend's arm roughly, like that'll hold back the news Jongin's all too eager to share, "you weren't supposed to tell anyone."

"You never said that," Jongin says quickly before yanking his arm out of Sehun's grasp and speeding over to Junmyeon's side. "But hyung, you know who I'm talking about, right?"

It takes a moment -- Junmyeon's seen a lot of faces in his time, so many that sometimes it gets difficult to tell one human neighbor apart from another -- but eventually his memory stumbles upon the memory of a human with a soft lilt to his voice and a sheepish smile whenever he got his words mixed up. Ah, the dimples and v-cut necklines man who dropped by the week before.

"Zhang Yixing," he finally remembers, "what about him?" He hopes the guy isn't any trouble. The last time they had a hunter move into the neighborhood had been such a hassle. He still owed Kyungsoo a rather large favor for taking care of the man before anyone in their community had been staked. It'd be preferable if he didn't have to go calling their pest control guy in again.

Jongin glances over at Sehun who fixes a weak but warning glare on him. If he had enough blood in him, his cheeks would probably be nice and pretty and pink like Junmyeon's last snack. "Well, let's just say Sehun has been in the mood for Chinese take-out lately," he laughs, slapping a hand wildly on Junmyeon's shoulder as Sehun looks like he wants to die a second death.

The deeper tunnels were strictly off-limits to all residents of Lagos. Minseok had never really questioned it before, had just accepted it as yet another ironclad rule of his father, the chief, and carried on with his life as he scavenged for supplies in the areas they actually were allowed in.

But then Chanyeol. Chanyeol and his strange stories and that even stranger slip of glossy paper -- depicting a ceiling that wasn't just dirt and wiring, that was blue and white instead. Even stranger was the fact that whenever Chanyeol let the paper slip from his fingers, instead of falling to the ground, it would drift up towards the ceiling.

"How did you get it to do that?" Minseok asks him before his last trip. He has a lot of questions for Chanyeol, who seems to know so much despite being a couple of years younger, but he always finds himself saving them for a later that never comes.

"That's just how it's made," Chanyeol shrugs, confusion in his eyes despite the smile on his face, "I've found a lot of things like that. They'll fly up into the sky if you don't hold them tight enough."

Maybe that's why Chanyeol himself disappeared. Because Minseok didn't hold tight enough and he drifted up into the sky like the photograph had wanted to.

But maybe he hasn't gotten too far. That's why Minseok is in the tunnels now, descending lower and lower into the darkness. The rope he has tied around his waist doesn't feel quite tight enough, but he doesn't actually notice it slipping away until he's too far down to do anything besides cling more tightly to the ladder built into the tunnel's walls.

More often than not, Minseok manages to slip away after his shifts in the laboratory, his footsteps echoing down darkened corridors he's long since learned by heart. The compound is always emptier in this sector, although he never really understood why -- compared to the bright entertainment and neon lights of the other rooms, the botanical rooms seem far more interesting, their contents far more precious.

"Hyung! Hurry up already!"

Even from a distance, Jongdae's voice is able to make Minseok's footsteps fall that much faster. He feels his chest lightening the closer he gets, a relief after a long day in the lab, a majority of his ongoing experiments and projects having been plagued by bad trials and worse results no matter what he tried. At least he's done with all of that now, at least for today.

"I'm coming," he calls back as he turns one last corner.

At the end of the hallway, Jongdae fidgets in front of the door, shifting from one foot to another in anticipation. Despite the nervous energy radiating off of him in droves, just the sight of him waiting there is enough for the last of the day's tension to ease itself out of Minseok's heavy shoulders. He lets out a deep breath, feels his lips begin to curl up. Nowhere near as much as Jongdae's mouth could, but Minseok doesn't think there's anyone whose smile could even come close to that.

It's as he's approaching that Jongdae turns his head and catches sight of him, eyes crinkling into crescents as he waves. "About time, hyung!" he greets playfully, "I thought you were gonna stand me up."

"Never," Minseok insists, masking his sincerity with his own playful grin.

There are multiple reasons Minseok has to be there, after all. He's the only one between the two of them with a master key to the botanical rooms. Jongdae would get up to too much trouble if left to his own devices -- or worse -- left with his friends. Minseok would miss him too much if they went a day without meeting.

"Laying down in the dirty grass is the best part of my day," he says instead, "I wouldn't miss it for the world." At least he means it, anyway.

Unlocking the door comes easily, especially in comparison to the first time the two of them had snuck away into it. Back then, Minseok had almost had a heart attack at every scruff of their shoes on the tile floors and every squeak they heard in the hallways. It had almost rendered the point of finding peace in the botanical rooms moot. Now, his fingers slip the card key through the lock much more smoothly, the door sliding open without any resistance. Jongdae is already buzzing with energy beside him, but it's a pleasant buzz. Warm and reassuring more than anything.

"Finally!" Jongdae crows, slipping past Minseok so he can enter the room first. He's usually more courteous than that, but maybe his own day had been just as stressful as Minseok's. They both come here to unwind after all, to relax after long, hard days. The compound's broadcasting department probably has as much trouble as Minseok's research division. Unlike Jongdae though, Minseok takes his time. The botanical rooms were his sanctuaries after all, and he enjoyed taking them in slowly.

For how dear they hold it, the contents of this particular room are actually quite meager in comparison to some of the larger rooms. The others were filled with a far more diverse collection of plants: trees of all sizes and bushes of all shapes and the occasional flower adding a splash of contrasting color against dark concrete walls. What awaited the two of them in this room was simply a small plot, barely large enough for them to lie down on. The only real similarities it shared with the other rooms were the small television monitors and radios strewn about, the channels almost permanently set to black and white static and the stations playing the sound of crickets and rustling leaves and everything Minseok imagines the outside world would sound like.

And yet, this is enough for him, and he knows Jongdae feels the same. This is as close as they'll ever get to going outside the compound, so it'll do just fine.

Jongdae's already making himself comfortable as Minseok carefully shuts the door behind them, peeking his head out into the hallway one last time to make sure they haven't been followed. "C'mon, hyung,' he says, "make yourself at home."

Minseok closes his eyes just as the lock clicks, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the compound. He takes one more deep breath, this time so that he can indulge in the smell of grass and dirt as it overpowered the hint of chemicals still lingering on him. It smells fresher than anything else in the compound, nothing like the stale air circulating outside.

"You're too impatient today, Jongdae. There's nothing wrong with taking our time and savoring everything."

His words of wisdom are met with a snort. "Whatever you say, Minseok hyung," Jongdae answers, his voice already starting to drift off. When Minseok finally looks over at him, he finds his companion already sprawled out on the plot, his head cushioned in a bed of green and purple ferns.

It's only after Minseok joins him, lying down in the opposite direction but with his head level to Jongdae's, that Jongdae opens his mouth one more time.

"Sweet dreams, hyung," he croons, far too sweetly.

Minseok lets his eyelids fall once more, because he knows that what he'll find when he does won't be the usual darkness. Instead, the sight of Jongdae's sharp features and his gentle smile, framed by the canopy of leaves overhead, is all he sees.




"How were your experiments today, Minseok?" his father asks over evening tea.

It's mostly been horrible as usual, he wants to say. Nothing of value had been gained, while plenty of time he could've spent dozing in the botanical room with Jongdae had been lost. He would much rather still be there, breathing in the fresh air and dreaming side by side with Jongdae, instead of seated at a table far too large and far too cluttered for a family of four. The only thing worse about having to leave the botanical rooms to come home was the fact that it meant Jongdae had to leave prematurely as well -- after all, despite all his rule-breaking, Minseok knows he definitely isn't allowed to hand over his master key, no matter how tempting the idea is.

Now's not the time for sulking or daydreaming or regrets though.

"We're progressing at our usual pace," he finally offers, taking a sip from his own teacup as an excuse to say little else.

His father hums approvingly, as if Minseok's words aren't emptier than they seem. "Well, keep at it. You had your own personal project too, didn't you? How's that coming along?"

Minseok almost chokes on his tea, feels the liquid burning down his throat. "Oh. Did I mention that to you?" he asks in-between coughs.

"Not very much," his father tells him, "just that you were working on something in your free time."

Right, the free time he had in-between all of his frustrating, officially ordered lab work and his time spent with Jongdae. There's not much of that, honestly. Today, he hadn't even been able to open the second lab notebook he kept just for that particular experiment, hidden deep in his desk where none of his fellow coworkers could accidentally find it.

"It's a little further along," he eventually admits, "but I still have some trials to run." Trials to test whether the purple fumes produced are toxic or harmful to living organisms, trials to test whether the effects he'd been aiming for would actually work. Dosages, duration, negative side-effects -- all of those things had to be tested somehow before he could finally make use of his pet project.

But if he could make it work, it'd be worth it.




Minseok wakes up to Jongdae humming under his breath. As soothing as their shared silence can be, it'd be a lie for him to say he prefers that to Jongdae's voice. Eventually, unfortunately, Jongdae's humming begins to fade away as he slowly begins to drift off again.

"Jongdae?" Minseok asks softly, unwilling to disturb the quiet that has settled down over them like a blanket. He stares up at the leaves overhead and the fluorescent light beyond them, wishing it was the actual sun instead. "How would you feel about seeing what it's like outside?"

"Mmng," Jongdae mumbles, rolling onto his side so that his lips are that much closer to Minseok's ear. "Cool, I guess... You gonna take me there, hyung?"

Minseok rolls over as well so that he can meet Jongdae's eyes, but by then they're already closed and he's back to sleeping soundly, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his skin. Minseok indulges in the view, a tender smile slowly creeping onto his face.

It's unfortunate he can't give Jongdae an answer. Not yet, anyway. But soon.




It takes a few more weeks of trial and error, but Minseok finally thinks he has a formula that'll work. It's passed all of his tests except the most important, but he waits until a day when Jongdae won't be available even after his usual work shift in the broadcasting department to finally try it out himself.

"I'll lock up today," he tells Kyungsoo, the only other person left in the lab. Luckily, Kyungsoo agrees easily enough, and as soon as he's done cleaning up his own mess he heads out, leaving Minseok alone with the lab.

Being in the lab is nothing like the botanical rooms. It's not like he minds the familiar smells of the different chemicals he works with whether they've been filtered through his gas mask or not, but there's no way he would ever choose it over the fresh air he and Jongdae get to share when no one's looking. Air that's clean and pure, with a hint of the earth they've managed to save in those rooms from whatever it is outside the walls of the compound. But the laboratory is familiar at least, and he easily sets up his equipment with the same ease with which he usually performs his officially sanctioned experiments.

But he knows that unlike the fruitless projects he is ordered to run, this time, everything will work out.

He's on the last step, just about the pour a flask of pink liquid into his mixture when he realizes he's humming one of Jongdae's little melodies to himself, muffled by his gas mask. He doesn't stop though, not even when he takes the mask off and not even as dark pink fumes begin to rise around him. Instead, he settles down at one of the stations in the lab, resting his head on his crossed arms, and closes his eyes. Thinks of trees and leaves and skies he's only seen on television screens, of Jongdae seeing them too.




Through the smoke, the first thing Minseok sees after opening his eyes are trees higher than any of the compound's ceilings, a cloudy sky with hints of sun peeking through and lining each cluster with silver light. The world he's in stretches endlessly in every direction he can see, and he's almost tempted to take off and see how far it goes.

But the thought of Jongdae stops him. He doesn't want to experience this alone, the same way he would never want to lie down in their plot alone. So he settles back down to wait for the effects of the smoke to wear off, resting his back against the rough bark of one of the many trees around him. It prickles against his back through his shirt, and if this were real there'd be thin scratch marks there as a result.

But there won't be, because none of this is real. Not the wind blowing through his hair or the bark pressing up against his back or the sunlight shining down on him or the soil he's digging into with his fingers. But it is a success.




He wakes up again, but this time under the bright fluorescent lighting of the laboratory, and grins.




"Are you done yet, hyung?" Jongdae asks, squatting in the corner as he watches Minseok set up his equipment on the plot. From the slight lilt of his voice, Minseok can tell he's getting more and more impatient. He can't really blame Jongdae for that though. he hasn't told him much of anything, just that he had a surprise for him.

"Almost," Minseok promises, as he checks over everything one last time, "you can go ahead and lay down. I just have one more thing to do and then we can start."

Jongdae is more hesitant today when he makes his way over, which is unsurprising. All sorts of rumors must go around about exactly what work they're doing in the labs, and not all of it is nice. "And you're sure this is safe?" he asks, "I mean I trust you and everything, but-"

Minseok stops what he's doing so he can look Jongdae in the eye, trying to convey nothing but pure sincerity in his gaze. "I really think you'll like this," he says as gently as he can, "trust hyung, okay?"

The corners of Jongdae's lips curl up into that familiar smile. "Alright, hyung. Now move over, you're in my spot."

It's not until Jongdae's head is once more cushioned by the ferns that Minseok begins to mix the chemicals together in two separate containers, with one positioned closer to Jongdae and one positioned closer to where he usually ends up sleeping himself. The smoke is already beginning to rise by the time he gets himself settled, and as soon as he's lying down, Jongdae reaches out for his hand.

"Just breathe it in, Jongdae," he instructs, taking in a loud, deep breath himself as a demonstration, "breathe it in and close your eyes. I'll be there when you wake up."

"You better be," Jongdae mutters, squeezing Minseok's fingers between his own one last time.




This time when Minseok starts to wake up, it's to Jongdae calling out his name. He feels slender fingers softly slapping his cheek before trailing down along his jawline, past his collarbones before finally running down along the fabric of his suspenders. There's a slight tug of the fabric, not quite strong enough to pull him up, but there's something about the way they hook around his suspenders that leaves him short of breath. Once the pull disappears, he opens his eyes and finds Jongdae's face hovering above him, framed by pink smoke and bursts of sunlight and a different canopy of leaves than he's used to.

"Hyung!" Jongdae calls out, smiling more brightly than the first time they had claimed the botanical rooms for themselves, "This is amazing! Hurry and wake up already!" He holds his hand out for Minseok to grab hold of, and as soon as they connect, he yanks Minseok up onto his feet.

"So you like it?" Minseok asks, watching Jongdae take in the greenery around them with wide eyes. "Didn't I tell you?"

All Jongdae can do is nod dumbly. He's already starting to walk through the trees, never once releasing Minseok's hand as he leads the way. A few times, he almost stumbles over fallen logs and stray plants half buried by the fallen leaves crunching underneath their feet because he can't take his eyes off of the sky overhead, so different from the tile and fluorescent lighting they've both grown up with, and Minseok holds back a laugh.

"You did," Jongdae admits, turning to look back at Minseok. "Can we explore? You didn't look around already, did you?"

"I'd never go without you," Minseok tells him. And when Jongdae takes off running towards the nearest clearing and never once lets go of Minseok's hand, he knows Jongdae feels the same way.

There were only six tokens left on the board. The sack of money, the boot, and the top hat had all been discarded with little surprise, and none of remaining players had really taken notice when their owners had wandered off on their own after they'd gone bankrupt, most of the funds ending up in Sehun's greedy hands. Minseok honestly didn't mind their lack of effort honestly, considering he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to continue playing either. The game had already run far too long for his liking -- he would have to call Changmin hyung later and apologize for standing him up at the gym.

"Kyungsoo hyung, it's your turn," Jongin whined as they all waited for Kyungsoo to finish texting Jo Insung or Lee Kwangsoo or whichever A-list actor had happened to exchange numbers with him after crossing his path. Minseok was honestly surprised he'd even managed to stay in the game as long as he had, given how distracted he was every time he rolled the dice. It'd gotten to the sad point where first Sehun, and then Chanyeol had started moving his wheelbarrow for him.

"Oh. Right," Kyungsoo said, reaching out blindly towards the middle of the board for the red dice without even looking up from his phone. Eventually, Chanyeol had to nudge them in his direction for him before he finally got a hold of them. "Thanks."

Minseok didn't even bother watching as Kyungsoo flicked his wrist and released the dice. He'd hadn't been rolling too well, and it honestly wasn't a huge surprise when he landed on yet another one of Sehun's many properties -- this one acquired from Junmyeon, who hadn't even fought for it -- and then made no move to either shift his token or hand over the rent money.

They all waited at least thirty seconds for Kyungsoo to look up from his phone, and when that didn't happen, Jongdae heaved a long-suffering sigh from across the board.

"Chanyeol, could you..?"

"Yeah. I'll take care of it. Minseok hyung, could you get his money?"

Casting a glance over at Kyungsoo who still seemed oblivious to the world outside of his chatroom, Minseok leaned over and started counting out the exact number of bills need for Kyungsoo to settle his rent while Chanyeol went ahead and moved his wheelbarrow right onto the property where Yixing had finally gone bankrupt before he left the game and where Sehun had just parked his racecar during the last round.

"Don't forget, it's has a hotel," Sehun said, far too smugly considering how horrible he usually was anytime they all sat down to play a game together.

Still, rent was rent. Minseok reached for the hundred dollar bills and watched as Kyungsoo didn't even bat an eye. At least his blatant disregard for the game eased Minseok's guilt as he watched Kyungsoo's supply of money dwindle down to a few twenties and a couple of railroads that he'd probably end up selling during his next turn if no one managed to land on them before then.

Sehun smiled as Minseok handed over the cash. "Thanks, hyung. It's your turn, by the way."

Honestly, either way Minseok was pretty sure he was doomed. At least if one of Kyungsoo's railroads were in the way, he wouldn't have felt so hopeless, but instead, the line of properties in the path of his thimble all belonged to either Jongdae, Jongin, or Sehun. Even Chanyeol's battleship had ended up on Jongin's property during his last trip through this part of the board, but at least there had been only four blue houses there instead of a shiny red hotel.

"Well, Minseok hyung, what are you waiting for?" Chanyeol asked, probably just wanting to get the whole game over and done with. He was at least doing better than Minseok and Kyungsoo, but that wasn't saying much.

Jongdae frowned, leaning over. "You're not going to give up, are you, hyung?" He almost sounded as sincere and concerned as he usually would, but then his lips curled up into a sly smile and Minseok remembered why he was considered one of Baekhyun and Chanyeol's own. "Though if you are, you could will all of your stuff to me, you know."

Before Jongin could start whining about the unfairness of that particular move, Minseok shook his head as he reached out for the dice. "No, just gimme a second. the game's not quite over yet."

Yixing has a reputation for being good with chemicals and not asking questions. That had been the sole reason Baekhyun had even bothered seeking him out. Unfortunately, whoever had spread that glowing recommendation had obviously been a fucking liar.

"You do know what you're commissioning is chloroform, yes?" Yixing asks, glancing over at the dead weight Baekhyun had brought along with him. There's a frown on his face, far too disapproving and judgmental for someone in his line of work. Baekhyun did not come here for this.

"Look, either you give me the chloroform so I can use it for its intended purpose, or else I'm gonna have to club this guy over the head again when he wakes up." He is not looking forward to that. Kidnapping, fine. Not like that wasn't already scratched out on his bucket list. But repeated battery of the prime minister's son?

Yixing sighs, giving Kim Junmyeon's unconcious body one more look of pity before he hands the bottle over.

Admittedly, Junmyeon's water clones are about as coordinated as he is, which is to say, not very. When he summons one or two, it's not so bad. Maybe they'll wobble a little here and there, but for the most part, they're reliable and pack a pretty good punch against his most of his enemies.

Unfortunately, two water clones don't seem to be enough this time around. He can't help but start to sulk as he watches the giant key slice his second clone in half shortly after making quick work of his first, and not for the first time does he wish that his elemental affinity had been something a little more solid.

"That was rude of you," he sighs, his fingers slowing as they pluck idly at his sitar, "I know they're just made of water, but those guys have feelings, too."

At least the mage seems to take his words to heart, lowering his staff so that it's only positioned in front of him defensively rather than poised for another hard-hitting spell. The same can't be said for the little guy waving the key around with far too much enthusiasm though.

"Don't listen to him, Yixing hyung! Water doesn't have feelings and neither do Nobodies!" the Keyblade wielder shouts with a voice far too loud for someone his size.

And this is why Junmyeon would rather lounge around at the Organization's base, playing meaningless melodies in peace and watching his clones attempt to dance along off-beat. Sure, the other members could be dicks sometimes -- he still hasn't forgiven Chanyeol for singeing the bottom of his too-long black robes, is merely waiting for the day he can douse him in the middle of one of his flashy pyrotechnics -- but at least they were in the same boat as him.

But letting some stranger be mean to him? Maybe the Keyblade wielder was right about Nobodies not having feelings, but that doesn't explain the constant simmering in Junmyeon's chest, right where his heart used to be before it'd been unceremoniously ripped out of his body. Steam starts to rise from the water under his control, streams of which begin to circle around the platform acting as their makeshift arena. A tiny whip of it lashes out at the Keyblade wielder before he can even react, leaving behind an angry burn.

"Fuck, ow!"

"Ah, Baekhyun! Heal!"

Yixing's staff glows green as soon as he utters the incantation, gold and green blossoms instantly appearing over Baekhyun's head. Light sprinkles down on him, healing the burn and any other damage he'd incurred in their battle so far.

"Thanks, hyung!" Baekhyun grins, cheerfully slashing his Keyblade in an x-shape in the air right in Junmyeon's direction to celebrate his complete recovery. Again, rude.

Junmyeon's eyes narrow, the embers in his empty chest starting to flare into something that'd make Chanyeol proud. Behind Baekhyun and Yixing, several more water clones form, steam still rising from their boiling hot bodies.

"Dance, water, dance," he commands, and despite the number of them, this time he has little trouble at all controlling them as they attack once more.