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“You’re basically my wife anyway,” Minseok replies easily when asked. Jongdae is surprised to find that for once, he doesn’t sound flustered at all. The casual way he accepts the offer actually makes Jongdae’s blood rush to his cheeks, the need to wail into his hands growing ever stronger.

“How are you so calm about this?” he whines instead, face pressed against the cold, unforgiving surface of the table between them. He deserves it for coming up with this whole con. “We’re going to be lying to everyone and for what? Just to take advantage of couple deals at coffee shops?” Each cup is going to be bitter with guilt and regret.

“They’re great deals, I’m glad you told me about them” Minseok argues gently as he takes Jongdae’s hand and rubs soothing circles into it with his thumb. “We’ll just spend an extra five minutes in the confessional next weekend then, right after the marriage vows.”

“Your jokes are worse than Junmyeon hyung’s these days. You are worse than Junmyeon hyung these days.”

“That’s not true,” Minseok says, resting his head on the table as well so he can meet Jongdae’s eyes, “otherwise you would’ve asked him out instead.”

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.

The estimated flight time is almost twelve hours. Minseok spends a majority of that time emulating their leader at his very best, curled up in his seat with one of the airplane's blankets draped over him. His beanie has long since fallen off due to a mix of tossing and turning and turbulence, so Jongdae holds tight to it for him. If his fingers cling a little too tightly to the fabric, it's only because it's one of Minseok's new favorites. He can't exactly go losing it.

Minseok shifts in his seat and nestles his head on Jongdae's shoulder.

"He looks comfortable," Tao whispers from Jongdae's other side in shoddy Korean, and even without looking, Jongdae can tell the younger boy has turned away from the window. There's nothing interesting to see out there anyway, just a load of blue whether he's looking above or below. They're still a few more hours before landing, before they even catch a glimpse of land. "And you do too."

"Of course, we're in first class," Jongdae answers back in Mandarin, keeping his eyes focused on the seams of Minseok's beanie and his mind on whether he's using the right inflections, "That not good enough for you?"

Tao makes a face at him, even managing to shove him with one of his bony elbows. "Not what I meant."

Jongdae knows what Tao means though, even with the language barrier. There's a reason why one of Jongdae's shoulders is awkwardly lowered, why he's half-draped over the armrest between him and Minseok, why he hasn't been able to focus on the in-flight movie even though it has one of the best OSTs he's ever heard.

"You're a brat," he laughs, "and your Korean is still bad. I was wrong -- Sehun's is better." His throat is hoarse from the rehearsals they had before they left, from their long, ongoing flight over the endless Pacific. He's too used to singing songs he doesn't understand; words he doesn't mean no longer affect him.

Tao rolls his eyes and turns back to the window, his pride obviously wounded. His shoulders are hunched and he presses his forehead against the glass, staring out at the endless blue. Jongdae wonders what else he sees.

"Loser," Tao mutters grumpily in Mandarin, almost too low for Jongdae to hear it.

He tightens his grip on Minseok's beanie, wishes that it was warm flesh underneath his fingers instead of just fabric. He hears liar instead.

Jongdae slides his arm around Minseok, nice and easy and unhampered by Luhan's almost constant presence for once. There's no one else to monopolize Minseok, no manager to order them around, no cameras to stare endlessly at the two of them as they attempt to carve a place for themselves amongst the millions, billions of people in China.

No, the only carving going on is that of Jongdae's ass into the dorm's worn-out couch. Minseok's ass too, but that's a topic Jongdae avoids thinking about too often.

"What's on?"

He leans closer, close enough that he can nudge the sides of their heads together. It's nice being this close to another person out of his own volition rather than because the crowds are pressing against him too tight or because the cameras can only fit so many people on screen at once. The angle is still uncomfortable, but it's the only thing that is for once.

Minseok's initial reply is just a simple humming noise, the tone clearer than any of his lines in their songs so far. No Mandarin to stumble over, no words period. Jongdae closes his eyes and imagines this smooth, careless confidence replacing all of Minseok's hesistant pauses during their recordings.

But then he opens them; he knows better than to want too much, too soon.

"A comedy?" Minseok finally guesses. He squints at the television screen, tapping his index finger on one of his cheeks to a steady rhythm Jongdae probably wouldn't be able to pick up even if he could hear it. "Or maybe a drama. One lady just poured her drink on the other."

Jongdae laughs anyway as he watches the pretty Chinese actress scream until her face turns purple, as he watches Minseok imitate the movement of her lips, mouthing words he doesn't even understand.

"Is someone going to have to practice their Mandarin a bit more?" he teases, although it's not like he gets what the program is about either. They might as well be watching a silent film in his opinion.

He hears a tiny huff, made louder only be their proximity but mollified by Minseok rolling his eyes. Annoyance tempered by amusement, or maybe amusement masquerading as annoyance? There are as many ways for Jongdae to read Minseok's actions as there are for him to inflect a tone in his shoddy Mandarin even after spending months studying both, but strangely enough only one of the two actually frustrates him.

Jongdae doesn't get a chance to take in much else though, not when Minseok starts trying to shove him off the couch in retaliation. Even the sight of Minseok's somewhat gummy grin as he pushes Jongdae's face back with the palm of his hand is no match for pure arm muscle and determination though -- Jongdae stays latched on, burying his face into the older boy's shoulder.

"Get off me! Jongdae!"

Minseok doesn't mean it though. Minseok never means it, not when Jongdae drapes himself over him during the middle of a recording or when he crawls into Minseok's bed late at night, burrowing into the one other place other than his own lonely sheets that make him think of a lonely little peninsula across the Yellow Sea.

"I'm sorry, hyung," Jongdae chuckles anyway, letting the familiar honorific linger on his tongue. Here in China, Jongdae only really has one after all. After a lifetime of wasting it in more ways than he can bother to remember, the word has become a far more precious commodity here.

It's not just because of all of the Mandarin he's had to cram through his eyes, into his brain, and out his mouth though, or the ge's he's had to dole out since first stepping foot in Beijing all those months ago. It can't be, not when Jongdae feels his arm tingle so often it's as if he really does control lightning, when in reality it's just Minseok leaning into his arms and creating a warm buzz throughout his body.

Minseok exhales, so deeply his shoulders rise and fall and take Jongdae with them.

There's something precious about that too.

"Hyung," Jongdae whines again before Minseok can make any indication of accepting his lackluster apology. He wonders how much of his feelings can fit into that one syllable, wonders if Minseok will understand it any better than the lyrics of their songs.

"Jongdae," Minseok replies, his voice airy and light and soft. He turns his eyes away from the screen, focusing instead on Jongdae as he raises an eyebrow. The upward tilt of the corner of his lips tells Jongdae everything he needs to know though, and his tone would be no less clear in Seoul, his message neither.