Archive of Our Own ^beta

★★★

The little bells above the door jingle cheerily as it opens and Taerae feels that momentary burst of excitement that still bubbles up in his chest every time a customer walks in, no matter that it’s been three years now.

“Good morning!” He calls out, working a little faster to transfer the piping hot cookies from their baking sheet to the levels of the display case. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!”

The cookies are chocolate chip and almost the size of his face, thick and chewy and overflowing with chunks of dark chocolate. They’re packed with too much sugar— brown and white— and butter, but the smell of them is enough to soften even the grumpiest old customers.

He swings the door of the display case closed and sets the tray on the counter behind him, an expert at navigating the small serving area of the café now. Taerae wipes his clean hands on his baby blue apron— a reflex— and turns around, greeting his customer with a blinding smile and his signature dimples that have turned so many village grandmothers into loyal customers.

Eight beautiful men are gathered before him, dressed in dark suits and darker sunglasses almost as if they’re straight out of a mafia drama. They’re all tall and broad, filling their suits out well, white gloves peeking from the cuffs of their formal jackets.

Oh no, Taerae thinks, and his thousand watt smile drops. Here we go again.

“Kim Taerae?” The one right in front of him says, staring him down with those creepy reflective sunglasses in a way that makes him feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

Taerae glares at the taller man— boy?— and then glares at the others splayed out behind them, their bodies arranged in an actual diamond formation.

This is ridiculous. It’s a Sunday morning and he’d only just flipped the closed sign to open ten minutes ago and, with the way they’re taking up all the space, they’ll scare his regulars off. And Taerae will not have that— Mrs. Jung was going to tell him all about how her son became an idol today.

“You could at least have some creativity,” he scolds, feeling around under the counter for the little pink can of pepper spray he keeps there. “Wear a color other than black, maybe? I’m so tired of all of you showing up in the exact same way .”

The one in front of him— definitely the leader from the way his chest is just a bit puffed out— doesn’t say anything. They can never figure out how to respond to Taerae when he deviates from their script by not being terrified and awed and shaking in his little white sneakers.

They’re always too brainwashed to understand that he doesn’t, actually, want to save the world.

He grabs the broom from the corner as he comes around the counter, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows to check they don’t have an audience. He does not want to have to deal with the millions of questions his customers would be more than happy to pester him with for the next five years if they saw all these tall, pretty men in their dark suits and darker hair.

“Please leave,” Taerae says, starting to sweep the leader out of the café with his trusty broom, smiling tightly in the way he does for rude customers who act like the ceiling is falling down when they don’t get their coffee after five seconds. “It was so lovely to have you, I’ve enjoyed your visit very much, blah blah blah. Have a good day!”

The tall boy is forced to take several steps back as Taerae advances, the bristles of the broom hitting the tips of his shiny black dress shoes. Taerae almost snorts when he sees them— they’re in a tiny beach town with uneven sidewalks and roads that haven’t been paved in years and these silly people chose to wear dress shoes?

He keeps sweeping, advancing on the men and herding them neatly towards the door of the café as they quell under his practiced smile and aggressive politeness. He reaches out for a stray boy with his broom when he tries to dart around him, making a tutting noise all while increasing the wattage of his smile.

“Thank you so much for your business!” He tells them brightly when the boys in the back of the formation have their spines pressed up against the wood of the door, pausing and leaning on his broom for a moment. “Please never come back again!”

They’re very flustered, the clump of them shifting and peeking at each other and some of the ones in the back whispering. Taerae would feel sympathetic for them, he really would; he knows it’s hard for them to in such a new and confusing situation where they aren’t met with instant acquiescence, but it’s almost eight and he really needs to get back to his baking.

“Wait,” the leader hisses, raising his palms up like he’s trying to show he isn’t dangerous. “Wait, just— you’re Kim Taerae. Yes?”

Taerae sighs and takes the pepper spray out of his apron pocket, flicking the cap off the little pink bottle. “No offense, sir, but you’re a stranger,” he tells the boy, giving him an exaggerated pout. “And strangers are dangerous. Now please leave the premises, or I’ll be forced to use this on you.”

“Captain,” one of the other boys says, sounding worried, and Taerae’s honestly a little happy because this is a deviation from the angry shouting and threats that usually happen at this stage. “Perhaps— maybe we should go.”

“Yes, thank you,” Taerae agrees, nodding vigorously and beaming at the other boy, who has very silly looking ears. “I’m so glad we could settle this peacefully. Goodbye!”

And he starts to sweep them out the door again, pressing forward with quick efficiency until they’re all clustered up against the door and squished together like a pack of pesky rats. Taerae makes a face; he hates vermin and he’s very serious about keeping the café clean and up to health code.

“Please,” the leader begs, voice cracking in desperation. The second boy has a hand curled around his arm, obviously trying to pull him out the door, the figures gathered behind them shifting in anxiety. “Please, just— you’re our last chance. The world is going to end very soon. We need you, Kim Taerae.”

★★★

Taerae sits the men down at the large table in the corner that’s usually occupied by knitting groups and old men reminiscing over the exploits of their youth. He glares at them when they try to talk, shooing them all into the mismatched wooden chairs with little pats of his broom.

“No, sit down and stay down,” he instructs, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at them until they do just that. They all look stiff in the chairs, backs too straight and hands folded on the table like they don’t know how to relax.

Taerae rolls his eyes and sighs again, louder because it’s the weekend and he wanted to get through the day without a headache.

“Would you like anything to eat? Or drink?” He asks, taking a notepad out of his apron and scanning their faces. When none of them reply, all staring back at him with those creepy reflective sunglasses, he frowns. “Our drinks are very good,” he chirps, annoyed. “I can personally recommend the matcha latte.”

Nothing. They’re silent and stiff, not even a whisper of movement. Taerae stomps his foot a little, cursing every government agency and secret force to exist.

“Order something!” He snaps, smile dropping. “I’m a very good barista and my drinks are delicious! Also, take off those stupid sunglasses!”

They freeze for a moment longer and then the leader makes a gesture, some sort of signal that has them all removing their sunglasses and folding them into the necklines of their pressed white button-ups.

Taerae’s just a little bit softened by how pretty they really are, his eyes flicking from one perfect face to another. He gets a shock when he realizes several of them are very young, cheeks rounded with baby fat and eyes too big for their faces.

“Much better,” he praises, blessing them with a practiced smile because he believes in positive reinforcement. He flourishes his pen, getting his notepad ready again. “Now, what can I get for you this morning?”

The leader, who has very long eyelashes and a cute nose, stares at Taerae when everyone else turns to him like they expect him to speak for them. “Uh…coffee?” He tries, sounding very unsure.

“Mmm-hmm,” Taerae agrees, nodding encouragingly. “And what kind of coffee? Lattes? Espresso? Dark roast, medium, light? Do you want any syrups or add-ins?”

The leader’s eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights and he visibly swallows, the tips of his ears going red. “Yes,” he says after a moment too long, sounding very unsure. “All of…um, those. Thank you.”

Taerae smiles and nods, scribbling a little doodle of a flower down on his notepad. They’re all the same, these government types. Unable to think for themselves, completely clueless about the world or the way that regular people live. They’re so consumed by their missions and their preoccupation with preventing the apocalypse that they allow those important and pesky little life skills to fall by the wayside.

“Perfect,” he tells them, clicking the pen and already turning away. “I’ll have those out very soon.”

“Um,” a tiny voice pipes up, so light and quiet that he almost doesn’t hear. “Um, could I— could I have something else please?”

Taerae whips around, smile widening when he sees that it’s the youngest looking one who’s spoken. His eyes are very wide and shiny and he looks almost peaky, but he’s staring determinedly up at the barista despite the way the boys on either side of him are muttering in his ears.

“Sure, angel,” he agrees easily, smiling for real at the sweet young boy. “What would you like?”

“A…a hot chocolate, please.”

He’s so pink and slumped so low in his chair that his pointy little chin is almost touching the table, but Taerae can’t help making a cooing noise. 

“Absolutely,” he agrees, feeling very warm. “And would you like marshmallows and whipped cream with that?”

The boy nods, head ducked, the tips of his ears red too. It’s very cute.

Taerae hums to himself as he bustles around behind the counter, pouring water into the coffee machine and perusing his array of syrups. He can only hope none of the agents have any allergies because he’s absolutely using whole milk and as many differently flavored add-ins as he can.

He’s going to introduce them to the wonders of sugar and chemically produced flavors and nothing can stop him.

Taerae glances up every few minutes as he works, studying the eight strangers. They’re still sitting stiffly in their chairs though they are whispering to each other now, dark heads bent together. For as young as they are they seem very stressed and there’s an anxious air about them, something in their shifting eyes and pale faces that speaks of desperation.

Mr. Bahng comes in with his little terrier just as Taerae’s loading up a tray with all their drinks, a plate of cookies in the middle because he’s nice like that and because he really is a very good baker.

“Oh, hello Mr. Bahng!” He calls, waving enthusiastically and reaching for the jar of marshmallows on the far wall. “Isn’t it a lovely day? We’ve been having so much sun!”

Mr. Bahng, who normally likes to have a solid ten minute conversation with Taerae about the weather and his garden and the weather and his wife’s latest cooking attempts, gives the eight young men a look and purposefully sits as far from them as possible. He waves at Taerae and then picks his little dog up and sits her in his lap, quite obviously staring at the agents.

Taerae grits his teeth and aggressively sprays whipped cream into the mug of cocoa, adding chocolate sprinkles and as many marshmallows as he can reasonably fit because that sweet young boy deserves an indulgence. He expertly balances the tray in his hands, arms straining a little with the weight of all the cups and cookies.

“Your drinks, sirs,” he exclaims, feeling a little spark of pride when the agents visibly jump at his arrival. He distributes the heavy clay mugs— none of which contain straight black coffee— and gives the enormous cup of cocoa to the younger boy last, pleased when his shiny eyes widen. “Enjoy!”

Taerae takes Mr. Bahng’s order with ease, though the older man always ends up choosing the same thing each week. It’s their little secret that he comes here after his morning swimming class; his wife can’t seem to figure out baking for the life of her, and Taerae’s brownies are just too good.

“Friends of yours?” Mr. Bahng asks, lifting his thick white eyebrows and shooting the agents another look. Taerae, preoccupied with petting the little terrier, makes a noncommittal noise.

“Tourists, I think,” he replies, making a kissy face at the sweet little dog as her tail whaps against the worn wooden floorboards. “I’m sure they’ll be gone soon.”

“Strange looking tourists,” Mr. Bahng harrumphs, but when Taerae brings over his latte and two brownies— the corner pieces because he likes the edges— the old man smiles at him and quite happily opens his Sunday newspaper.

Crisis averted, Taerae scans the café and then makes his way over to the table full of men— boys?— pulling up an extra chair and squeezing in next to the youngest boy. He scans the table, frowning when he realizes none of them have touched their drinks because he’d worked hard on them, thank you very much; he takes his job seriously and he knows he’s good at it.

“Drink up, boys,” he tells them, folding his arms on the table and slumping over them, giving his spine a break. “I won’t listen to anything you have to say until you admit my genius.”

There’s an instant flurry of motion as they lift mugs to their mouths, the younger boy next to him making a happy little noise as he licks at the tower of whipped cream. Taerae hides a smile behind his palm and watches them all, noticing the way some of them take a first sip and then another and another, eyes just a fraction wider.

Their leader— a dulce de leche latte sprinkled with cinnamon— is the last to drink and his face stays expressionless, everything about him serious as he looks at Taerae. He takes one perfunctory sip and then sets the mug down, not even seeming to notice the perfect balance of spices the barista has achieved.

“Okay,” Taerae announces, already feeling tired. He scrubs a hand through his soft brown hair, wishing he’d decided to just take the day off and spend it walking along the beach or reading at home instead of coming to work. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, but that’s it— after you’re done, you’ll leave and you won’t come back. Deal?”

The leader’s face pinches but he nods after a long moment, though his jaw is bunched up in a way that means he’s grinding his teeth together. Taerae doesn’t care. He’s had enough of these encounters that men in black suits with code names no longer intimidate him.

“Go ahead,” he says tiredly, waving a hand in the air. “Give me your speech, I know you have one.”

The boy next to the leader— the one with the silly ears— rubs his back comfortingly and shoots Taerae a cold look. “You could take this a bit more seriously,” he murmurs, “it is the end of the world that we’re talking about.”

Taerae can’t disguise the ice in his eyes when he looks at the boy, any polite friendliness he’s managed to maintain up until now dropping off his face. “No, I don’t think I will,” he says firmly. “I’ve been having this conversation since I was eight and no one’s ever been able to change my mind.”

“This is different,” the leader blurts, his fingers curling into fists atop the table as he leans over it, staring intently at Taerae. “This isn’t like other times— we aren’t like the other people you’ve met. It’s real, this time. It’s really happening.”

Taerae hums and scratches his fingernail over a mark on the table, heart beating steadily in his chest because this doesn’t phase him anymore.

The first few times he’d had this type of conversation he’d curled up in his grandmother’s arms and cried and cried afterwards, trembling with reverberations of stress and guilt.

It’s gotten easier as he’s gotten older and it’s been close to four years since the last conversation; he’s almost forgotten how they go by this point. And yes, maybe he’d gotten a bit too comfortable, maybe it had been silly of him to settle down in this little seaside village and allow himself to fall into the rhythms of life here but Taerae had been tired of moving.

He’d wanted some consistency. He’d wanted to wake up to the same view every morning and he’d wanted to be part of a community and he’d wanted to be able to hear the waves of the ocean wherever he went.

“Our team,” the leader continues, sounding a little desperate at the way Taerae’s face is completely blank. “We’ve been training our whole lives for this. We know what’s at stake and we’re prepared to do whatever it takes but we need you, Kim Taerae. So we’ve come here to ask— to ask you to join us. To help us save the world. Save everyone on Earth.”

The other boys have stopped sipping their drinks and are sitting still as statues again, all of them staring at Taerae. Their leader’s eyes are so dark and earnest as he gazes at the barista, intent and pleading, that Taerae’s heart gives an odd little wiggle before he tamps it down.

It’s interesting that they’ve sent a team of actual heroes this time instead of just government officials or recruiters. Normally it’s the scientists or the mathematicians or the space-ologists who come to see Taerae, though there’d been two separate and notable occasions of presidents stooping under the low roof of his grandmother’s house.

He’s the tiniest bit curious, he has to admit. They’re just so young, most of them probably very close to his own age. He can’t stop the steady leak of sympathy in his chest at the way they’ve likely been entirely cut off from the world and normal teenage experiences.

Their leader is giving him such a beseeching look, chest rising and falling quickly with concealed emotion. 

Taerae softens just a bit more, glancing at the youngest boy next to him who’s staring sadly at his empty mug, whipped cream smeared across one round cheek.

Taerae looks back at the leader, looks at the boy with the silly ears and the rest of them who are all giving him those enormous puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t know your names,” he says suddenly, turning to the leader. “Which doesn’t seem very fair because you know mine.”

“Hanbin,” the leader says after a moment of hesitation, eyes squinting at Taerae like he’s assessing him. “I’m—.”

“The captain, yes,” Taerae finishes, working very hard not to smile at the ridiculous title. “I know. And you? You’re the second in command?”

The boy with the large ears nods, pressing his shoulder against Hanbin’s. They’re sitting very close together. 

“Zhang Hao,” he replies in a low voice, something about his eyes sharper than an eagle. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The rest of them go around and introduce themselves, their names blurring in Taerae’s brain until all he can remember is that the really beautiful one who looks like a model is Jiwoong and the scared child sitting next to him is called Yujin.

“Hanbin,” he says after a moment of consideration and they all perk up, leaning in towards him. It’s a little stifling. “I’m sorry to have made you come all this way for nothing, but I won’t join your team.”

And Taerae finds that he really is sorry, which is strange. He feels bad turning these boys away, feels bad for snuffing out the hope lighting up their eyes.

But he simply can’t say yes. He never has before and he isn’t about to now, especially when summer is coming and that’s the café’s busiest season.

And besides, he’s just started a new drama that airs weekly and his grandmother will be expecting him to visit and he has tomato plants out on his balcony that will need to be harvested by the end of August.

Taerae’s life might be a calm and cozy one but it’s still full ; he has events penciled into his calendar and plans for the next week and the week after that and he isn’t just going to get up and leave this all behind.

Hanbin’s mouth drops open just a little and he stares at Taerae, incredulous. “But— but we need you,” he says, blinking rapidly.

Next to him Zhang Hao’s face has gone stony and the rest of the boys are frozen, staying very very still, almost not even breathing. “I don’t think you understand, Kim Taerae. The world is going to end, very soon, and we need you to save it.”

Taerae nods, smiling along placidly. “I understand perfectly, Hanbin-ssi,” he agrees, laying his hands flat on the smooth grain of the table. “I appreciate you coming all this way just to ask me to join your team, but my answer is no.”

Yujin makes a squeaking noise and then sinks down in his seat when they all flick their eyes to him. “Sorry,” he whispers, turning bright red.

“Taerae-ssi,” Hanbin says, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. He’s speaking very, very slowly, like he thinks the barista has trouble understanding his words. “The world is going to end within the next six months. There will be horrible fires and plagues and people— people will die. Everyone will die. Everyone in this little town, everyone and everything you care about— it will all be gone. Don’t you see? You have to help us.”

Taerae bristles at that, his patience coming to an end. He’s never liked being told what to do and even as a small child he’d struggled with following rules so now, at twenty years old, it’s especially grating. He’s spent his whole life firmly announcing his own choices and taking control of his life and he isn’t going to give that up now just because some pretty boys ask him to.

“I don’t have to do anything, Hanbin-ssi,” he says clearly, softening just a bit by the end of his sentence because the leader looks so stricken. “And I wish you all the best, really. But I have a life here and I’m not interested in giving it up to save the world. I’m sure you’ll manage without me.”

And with that he gets to his feet, carefully returning his chair to its original table before giving the silent, stunned boys one last polite smile.

“Do let me know if you’d like any refills before you go on your way,” he tells them, glancing at the door when another regular enters and jingles the little bells. “They’re on the house.”

★★★

Taerae doesn’t notice when the eight boys leave the café, too busy whipping up drinks and chatting animatedly with Mrs. Jung about her son and how he’d gotten his start as an underground dancer. Apparently he’s doing quite well as an idol now but never has enough free time to come back and visit his mother and Mrs. Jung is very upset about this, though she tries to play it off as just their family dog missing her son.

The next time he glances over at the large table in the corner it’s empty, chairs neatly pushed in and cups stacked. He’s pleased to find the plate of cookies empty of even a single crumb and his heart gives an odd little twinge when he realizes they’d also collected all the spoons into one mug to make the dishes easier for him to carry.

But then Mr. And Mrs. Han come in, towing their twins Felix and Jisung, and Taerae gets distracted playing with the little boys and talking with Mrs. Han about  her plans for the community gardens. She’s the one who’d given him the tomato seeds and she’s been trying to convince him for weeks now to buy a small plot of land in the garden despite the way he keeps telling her he really isn’t sure he can keep anything alive.

So the day passes like almost any other, a steady flow of customers entering the little café and all wanting to have a conversation with Taerae. He talks about the weather and he wipes down tables and he brews countless cups of coffee. He pets dogs and he opens a new carton of milk and he serves slices of lemon poppyseed cake and, all in all, it’s a good day.

A quiet day, a calm day, a happy day that is perfectly regular and normal and without a single hint of greater purpose.

It’s exactly the kind of day Taerae likes to have and he hums to himself as he stacks chairs and sweeps the worn wooden floorboards, not noticing the way the fall of dust motes and the fluttering of the flag outside in the breeze slow under his gentle melody.

He walks home with his eyes turned up to the starry early summer sky and he calls a greeting to his apartment when he steps inside even though he lives alone.

He listens to soft pop music as he cooks his dinner and he watches the newest episode of the drama on his couch as he eats, gasping at all the right moments and swooning over the second lead because he’s just so much better.

Taerae pushes his hair back from his face with a fluffy headband as he does his skincare and he bends low over his tomato plants out on the tiny balcony, checking the tiny green leaves and congratulating the plant on working so hard for another day of growth. He locks his front door and props a chair under the handle but he goes to bed with a steadily beating heart, smoothing a cooling sheet mask over his face and spraying his pillows with lavender water.

He curls up under his soft blankets and drifts off into sweet dreams, the rolling of ocean waves a steady soundtrack to his sleep. There isn’t a worry on his mind and if eight beautiful boys call out his name in his sleep, their eyes alight with warmth as they reach for his hands, Taerae doesn’t remember in the morning.

★★★

Taerae’s completely forgotten about the strangers as he walks to work early the next morning, yawning under pale sunlight and still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He’s never claimed to be a morning person and normally it’s only the prospect of baking that gets him out of bed each day.

He fumbles with the keys to the café as he approaches it, a salty ocean breeze curling through his fluffy brown hair as he tries to focus on all the different pieces of metal. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice the boys waiting for him until a pair of dress shoes come into view, offensively pointed and shiny.

“No,” Taerae says when he looks up and finds all eight of them gathered in front of the café, dressed once again in neat inky suits and those horrible dress shoes. He can’t tell if they have multiple of that exact suit or if they’re just wearing the same clothes as yesterday; both options are bad. “No, no, not today. No thank you.”

And he turns himself around and heads right back towards his little apartment because it’s too early for this and really, he deserves a day off.

The sound of loud footsteps pounding against the cobblestones reaches his ears a moment before a hand curls around his arm and spins him, the pack of formally dressed boys having followed him.

Taerae gives them a very grumpy look and huddles down into his sweatshirt, wishing he had his trusty broom. “What,” he snaps, not even trying to look nice, “do you want? Do you not remember our deal? You’re supposed to leave me alone now.”

“I do,” Hanbin says, dark hair blowing attractively across his forehead. “I do and I’m sorry, Taerae-ssi, but I can’t respect the terms of our agreement. I just can’t because… because the world is going to end . It’s going to be over if you don’t help us, for everyone . Don’t you get that?”

Taerae narrows his puffy eyes at Hanbin and takes a step back, a tiny bit mollified when the taller boy easily lets him go. “I know,” he says, “you keep saying that. I understand you every time but it seems like you aren’t listening to me— I don’t care .”

Hanbin seems to have been struck silent again, mouth working but no sound coming out. Then Zhang Hao steps forward and Taerae shivers, just a little, because the pretty boy can look very scary when he wants to.

“Kim Taerae,” Zhang Hao starts, voice low and musical, a dangerous tilt to his head. “Do you have people you love? Things you enjoy here on Earth, or about your life?”

Taerae doesn’t say anything, simply waiting it out. His grandmother has always said that stubbornness is his best virtue and patience should be a close second.

“I know you must,” Zhang Hao continues, staring deep into Taerae’s soul in a manner that’s a little disconcerting. “We all do. Everyone has things they care about, people and places that they love.” His dark eyes dart to Hanbin for just a split second but Taerae catches it and oh, doesn’t that make sense.

“You want to save this world,” the superhero declares, finally tearing his gaze away from Hanbin and raising an imperious eyebrow. “Maybe you can lie to yourself right now, but it’s human instinct to continue surviving. Help us, and you’ll survive. Join us, and everything you care about will live.” 

Zhang Hao’s face is calm and cool as he stares Taerae down, every inch of his expression elegant insouciance. He is so obviously certain that he’s right, so clearly convinced that they are on the right side of history while Taerae is the silly, helpless boy in need of their guidance. 

Taerae opens his mouth and sings a few soft lines of an old love song, watching in satisfaction as the boys before him freeze, faces and bodies going completely still as if they’re carved from marble. The clothes on a nearby line stop flapping in the breeze and overhead, a morning dove is suspended in midair, wings spread in unmoving flight.

The world has become a nature-mort, a tableau that only Taerae can manipulate and move within.

He studies the boys before him for a moment, taking in their expressions which vary from worried to scared to frustrated, and then he picks up his feet and starts back towards the café.

“Sorry, Zhang Hao-ssi,” he mutters as he passes by the frozen boy, patting his shoulder lightly. “I have to get to work.”

★★★

Taerae’s been at work for a good half  hour before he sees the boys clustered outside the café again, dark suits blocking out the sunlight like a flock of crows. He grumbles to himself and simply turns his music up louder, hoping that they’ll respect the closed sign on the door.

They don’t.

They file inside in a line and while some of them, especially the younger ones, have the grace to look embarrassed, Zhang Hao and Hanbin don’t hold any qualms about striding up to the counter and staring Taerae down.

He’s getting very tired of them looking at him like he’s a prize or a tasty treat they want to snap up and so he ignores them, going on with his mixing as he gets ready for the day ahead.

Hanbin clears his throat loudly, leaning over the counter on his forearms. The plants on the shelves along the café walls seem to tremble for a moment, leaves and vines shaking in an invisible wind.

Taerae ignores the boy, measuring out several cups of brown sugar and adding them to his mixing bowl. He picks up a little glass bottle of vanilla and tips in three drops, considering for a moment before he adds cinnamon.

Hanbin clears his throat again, very loudly this time.

Taerae looks up, blinking dramatically at the gathered boys, enjoying the frustration clear on Zhang Hao and Hanbin's pretty faces. “Oh, hello,” he says, giving them his best wide eyes. “I’m sorry, but the café actually isn’t open for business yet. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You froze us, ” Hanbin almost snaps, completely ignoring him. “You used your powers on us and you froze us.”

Taerae rolls his eyes, turning away for a moment to grab a baking tray and a roll of parchment paper. He carefully sections it out, laying it down flat and checking to ensure the oven’s already turned on to the correct preheating temperature.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replies calmly as he turns back to the gathered boys, switching off the electric mixer and getting out the spoon that he uses for all his cookie dough. “I just walked away from you. It’s not my fault you weren’t observant enough to notice me leaving.”

Hanbin makes a sound like a strangled seagull and then gets pushed behind Jiwoong, the beautiful model boy who has yet to really speak but seems to always be standing next to a smaller, more muscled boy. Taerae thinks his name might be Minho or Michael but he really isn’t sure.

“Taerae-ssi,” he says in his lovely voice, propping his chiseled jaw in one palm and giving Taerae sultry bedroom eyes. The barista can’t help it when his heart jumps a little; this is exactly how so many of his favorite dramas start.

“You have an incredible power,” Jiwoong continues, the corner of his mouth curling up. He has very nice teeth and very, very good bone structure. “Hanbin isn’t conveying it well, but we’re all amazed at what you can do. It’s part of why we know you’re the missing piece of our team.”

“Oh, thank you,” Taerae says bashfully, pausing in scooping out little balls of cookie dough. He’s genuinely flattered and he can’t help it when he turns pink; he’s always weak for compliments from pretty boys. “That’s very nice of you to say, but my answer is still no.”

He gives Jiwoong a warm smile and then slides the tray of cookies into the oven, setting a timer on his phone before turning around. The boys are still gathered, whispering furiously among themselves, though Jiwoong’s half smile hasn’t dropped.

“Taerae-ssi,” one of the other boys pipes up, struggling against two others who are trying to silence him. “How long can you stop time for? It was so cool— we started moving and you just weren’t there!”

Taerae glances at Hanbin but the leader seems to still be recovering from his continued refusals to help them; he’s doing deep breathing exercises and Zhang Hao is murmuring in his ear, though the second in command takes a moment to shoot him an icy glare that makes the barista shudder.

“Oh, just for a little while,” Taerae says modestly, getting another tray ready for the next batch of cookies; oatmeal today, he thinks. “It’s really not as amazing as you think. I can’t sing along to any of my favorite songs without making everything stop and karaoke is absolutely off limits which is horrible .”

“Karaoke?” Yujin asks, peeking around Jiwoong’s arm and staring at Taerae with enormous eyes. “I think I’ve seen that in shows. Is that the thing where you go and sing? And there’s a box with lyrics?”

“Yes, very good!” Taerae coos, stopping everything to smile at the younger boy. “It’s very fun— maybe you could all try it out while you’re here? There’s a karaoke bar two streets over that I’ve heard great things about.”

Yujin nods enthusiastically, opening his mouth to respond, but a much calmer Hanbin and Zhang Hao are returning and the other boys withdraw, cool masks slipping back over their features. It’s enough to make Taerae huff to himself, annoyance in his chest at the way these children and teenagers are being forced to shoulder the literal weight of the world. 

“Taerae-ssi,” Hanbin says, clearly working to stay calm.“Please— please. Will you consider our offer again?”

Taerae hums and doesn’t even try to hide his grin when the leader flinches, shooting him an amused look. He takes longer to wipe down the counter than he needs to but watching all those dramas has rubbed off on him and now he lives for small moments of theatricality.

“I’ll consider sitting down with all of you and talking again,” he concedes at last when the counter is sparkling and cleaner than it’s ever been. “ If you leave. I don’t want to see a single shiny shoe until the café officially opens. If you want my time you’ll have to wait like everyone else.”

Hanbin nods so quickly that his hair falls into his dark, lovely eyes, distracting Taerae for a second. The barista can feel the warm glow of getting things his way and so he sends the boys off with a cheerful little wave, slipping Yujin a chocolate chip muffin as the younger boy tags after everyone else.

“And come back in normal clothes!” Taerae calls after their black-suited backs, feeling very grateful for his own jeans and sweater. “You’ll scare off my customers looking like that!”

That actually isn’t true at all— eight pretty boys in immaculate suits and with ironed button down shirts are exactly what the grandfathers and grandmothers of this town are always sighing over. They complain to Taerae so often about the fashion trends of their grandchildren, waxing poetic about the good old days when young people were respectful and knew how to dress.

He won’t ever tell the team of boys that, though. He’s already anticipating how absolutely uncomfortable they’ll look in jeans and t-shirts, Hanbin and Jiwoong especially.

Laughing a little to himself, Taerae takes the tray of piping hot cookies from the oven and replaces it with the tray of oatmeal cookie dough. Then he dusts his hands off on his apron and gets down to work, losing himself in mixing and measuring and creating sugary, delicious magic.

★★★

The eight of them come back at seven forty-five on the dot, lined up outside one after another like businessmen on their way to work. Taerae really thinks they should have briefcases draped over their arms and perhaps bald spots but he certainly isn’t going to bemoan their nice heads of thick hair.

“Welcome back, gentlemen,” he says wryly, holding the door open for them and ushering them inside. Zhang Hao strides in first, heading for the large table and completely ignoring him, but at least Hanbin gives him a tight smile.

The younger ones, who Taerae has realized always bring up the back of the group, at least have the decency to look embarrassed as they file inside and Yujin thanks him for the muffin in a tiny whisper. “It was really good,” he murmurs, shooting a wide eyed glance at the rest of the boys settling in, “thank you so much, Taerae-ssi.”

“None of that, angel,” Taerae murmurs back, pinching his cheek very lightly. “Call me hyung.”

Yujin turns pink and scampers off, but he looks very pleased when Taerae arrives at the table five minutes later to take their orders for the second morning in a row.

“We’ll have whatever you made us yesterday,” Hanbin says decisively, playing absentmindedly with Zhang Hao’s fingers. The two of them are once again sitting pressed close together. “Or whatever takes the least amount of time.”

Taerae isn’t falling for that though and so he just smiles politely, doodling a little wreath of roses on his notepad. “Wonderful,” he chirps, “I’ll get right on that. By the way, do any of you have allergies? Things you don’t like?”

They blink at him. Taerae blinks back, refusing to back down.

He’d taken an entire course on the importance of allergies, dietary restrictions, and food contamination. He certainly isn’t going to be responsible for any of these boys dying, not when the government already has all his information through his tax forms.

One of the boys, his features so icily perfect that he looks like a comic book lead character come to life, twitches.

Taerae catches it and practically pounces, raising his trusty pen with a light in his eyes. “You,” he says excitedly, wriggling his fingers at the boy. “You have something to say, don’t you.”

Zhang Hao frowns, turning to look at the boy. “Ricky?” He asks and his voice is noticeably softer, concern furrowing his eyebrows and humanizing him for the first time. “Do you feel sick?”

Ricky shakes his head, biting down on a perfect lip before he speaks. “No,” he murmurs and his voice is low, the way he talks syrupy slow. Taerae likes it very much. “But. Could I have something with strawberries?”

“Of course!” The barista exclaims, more than excited to have any bit of information to go off of. He genuinely likes his job and even though there are truly some horrible customers out there, for the most part he enjoys finding the perfect treat to satisfy the people in his café. “They’re in season right now! Anything else?”

The boy sitting next to Ricky, all gangly limbs and wide eyes, sits up a little straighter. “Could we also have more cookies?” He asks, steadily ignoring the way Hanbin is pretending to slice across his neck. “They were really good.”

Taerae melts a little, always a sucker for compliments on his baking. “Absolutely,” he agrees, smiling at the boy until his dimples pop out. “You can have as many cookies as you’d like. Was the chocolate chip okay?”

The boy nods enthusiastically, lips tipping up until they’re both grinning at each other. Yujin bounces in his seat, clearly excited, and Ricky is glancing between the other boy and Taerae, mouth just starting to curve up.

“And then you’ll stay and talk with us?” Hanbin confirms, leaning forward until Taerae’s forced to look at him. The barista’s smile drops and he rolls his eyes just a little, though he can at least be impressed by the leader’s steadfast and single-minded determination.

“Yes,” Taerae agrees grumpily, already turning away. “I’ll sit down and talk with you all, even if your suits give me a headache.”

★★★

He brings them each a different drink today, though Ricky’s strawberry milkshake and Yujin’s cinnamon white hot chocolate were perhaps crafted with a little extra care. The plate of cookies he sets in the middle of the table is noticeably larger and he’s added a few cupcakes and slices of lemon cake too— Taerae’s got a sweet tooth and he’s determined to spread his love of sugar to everyone, especially deprived government babies.

His own cup of mint tea is steaming between his hands, comforting and warm, and he takes a moment to simply sit there and appreciate the early morning sunlight shining through the windows and warming his back. 

Taerae knows if he opened the door he’d be able to hear the sound of the ocean, could smell salt on the breeze and hear the crying of the gulls.

The leaves and vines of the plants along the wall seem to almost twist in time with the gentle piano music he has playing but Taerae dismisses it as a trick of his tired, slightly stressed mind.

“I love tea,” he announces to no one in particular, taking a sip and then sighing happily.

Already the plate of cookies is mostly empty, the boys around him devouring the treats as if they’ve been starved. It isn’t something he wants to think about and so he doesn’t, shutting his brain off. “Do you all like your drinks?”

There’s a round of nodding and then a slightly delayed chorus of thank you’s, all the boys quelling under Taerae’s bright, expectant smile. Really, he finds it so amusing how the government can teach them about fighting and astrophysics and how to save the world but completely allows manners to fall to the side.

His grandmother would never stand for that.

But he can also see the way Hanbin is practically vibrating with energy and so Taerae sighs and sits up a little in his chair, feeling extra hunched with the way they all maintain perfect posture.

“Okay, Hanbin-ssi,” he says, rubbing his face, “you can try to convince me again.” 

Hanbin draws himself up, completely ignoring the chai latte Taerae had very carefully made for him which is honestly quite insulting.

“Taerae-ssi,” he begins, and oh, this isn’t good; he sounds measured and calm and intelligent already, like he’s got his whole argument planned out. Taerae kindof wants to bash his head against the table.

“Your power is— amazing. You can do so much with it and I’m sure there’s more we don’t even know about. Please, won’t you just— give us a chance? To show you our powers, to tell you about what we can do and why we’ve been chosen to save the world?”

Taerae sips his milky, overly sweet tea, thinking.

He’s never actually met another person with an ability; the men who came to his grandmother’s house in dark suits and little wired earpieces were always the directors or chairmen or officials in control. They were the ones sent out to collect children with extraordinary talents, the ones who answered to presidents or controlled whole armies of camouflaged soldiers.

“I guess you can,” he agrees at last, shooting another look at the door to the café and the empty street beyond. “But be careful. There could be customers at any time.”

Hanbin nods decisively, squaring his shoulders like he’s about to go into battle and really, all it does is make Taerae feel sad. These boys are so clearly still children and barely-there young adults, still growing into the people they’re going to be. The end of the world, saving everyone on Earth— none of this should be their concern.

He watches curiously as Hanbin flexes his long fingers, following the boy’s gaze until they’re both staring at the wall of plants. 

The long vines of the potted ivy plant tremble, shivering like there’s an earthquake before slowly rising up into the air, twining and twisting until they reform to form a butterfly, wings outlined in greenery. Buds emerge and tiny white flowers burst into bloom, an accelerated cycle of life.

Hanbin holds the display for a moment more, giving Taerae time to really look, and then he drops his hands, allowing the now flowering vines to fall down, limp and normal once more. “I can control nature,” he says, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck like he’s somehow embarrassed by his power.

“That’s amazing!” Taerae praises the shy older boy, tapping his fingers excitedly against the table. “I’d love to have that power. You could grow such pretty gardens!”

Hanbin’s face does something odd but he nods slowly, looking at Taerae like he doesn’t quite understand him. “I…could,” he agrees. “But I’ve really only ever used my ability to make shields or attack? I’ve never…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Taerae works hard to keep the smile on his face, stomach twisting with sympathy and pity.

Hanbin must be barely older than him and yet he’s somehow never grown a flower or a harvest of potatoes. He’s never been allowed to use his powers for good, for fun, not by whatever government department has sequestered these boys away and convinced them the world rests in their unblemished hands.

Zhang Hao seems to sense their leader’s consternation because he sets his mug down with a loud click, looking at Taerae. They stare at each other for a moment, nothing happening, but then the confused barista finds himself gently floating up into the air, chair and all.

He yelps and grabs onto the edges of his seat, kicking his feet as if that will drag him back down to the ground. Zhang Hao’s lip twitches as he tilts his beautiful face back, completely calm while they all watch Taerae rise closer and closer to the ceiling.

“Hyung, you’re being mean,” Yujin pipes up, throwing a crumpled up napkin at Zhang Hao’s perfect face. The older boy blinks, concentration breaking for a moment, and in that split-second Taerae and his chair start to thunder towards the floorboards.

Taerae shrieks, closing his eyes tight and praying for a quick end, too mindless to even think of opening his mouth and freezing time. He braces himself for impact, mentally wishing farewell to his grandmother and all the customers who rely on his sunshiny disposition for a good start to their day.

But impact never comes. There’s the sound of a scuffle and someone exhales loudly and then, a jolt. Taerae’s teeth click together in his mouth but he isn’t a flat pancake on the floor, isn’t covered in painful bruises.

“Taerae-ssi, you can open your eyes now,” a new voice says and, barely able to believe it, the barista does so. He and his chair are balanced in the grip of the shorter, muscled boy with angled eyes. The boy is smiling at him, eyes crinkled up in a way that makes him look just like a fox.

Slowly the boy sets his chair back down on the floor, not seeming to struggle at all with Taerae’s weight. The barista can only blink at him, hearts in his eyes and a fluttering in his stomach that definitely isn’t nerves.

He thinks he might be in love.

“My hero,” Taerae announces, turning in his chair and reaching out for the boy, grabbing his hands and holding on tight. “That was so perfect! It was exactly like the movies! Do they teach you that in hero training? Do you just practice saving people all day long?”

The boy laughs a little, trying to pull away from Taerae. Behind them Jiwoong is very alert, cookie and earl gray tea forgotten.

“It was nothing,” the boy reassures him, trying harder to pull his hands away. “I’m really strong, so it was easy.”

Taerae bounces in his seat, clapping his hands together and finally letting the other boy go. “Ooh, that’s a classic ability!” He says happily, wishing he could ask for another demonstration. “Very good! What’s your name, tiny muscle man?”

“Matthew,” the boy mumbles, very red now. He practically darts around the table, slipping back into his seat next to Jiwoong and leaning into the older man’s side, accepting the hand Jiwoong claps over his shoulder.

“Matthew-hyung is no fun to play with,” Yujin grumbles, slumping down in his chair and looking sulky. “He always wins.”

“Aww, my poor baby,” Taerae coos, turning back to the table and pinching the younger boy’s cheek, laughing when he tries to bat him away. “What about you, Yujinnie? What can you do?”

“I’m not sure this is a good place to—,” Hanbin starts but Yujin is already perking up, blinking his shiny eyes up at Taerae.

Then there’s a puff of smoke and in place of the teenager there sits an absolutely adorable Pomeranian puppy, tiny black nose twitching and shiny eyes watching Taerae. The puppy is fluffy and its little ears are perked and it’s so, so cute that the barista’s heart squeezes.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, strangled. “Oh, you’re so cute .”

Taerae snatches the puppy up before it can even bark at him, cuddling it close to his chest and burying his nose in its soft fur. He rocks the puppy back and forth in his arms, dropping kisses on its tiny, perfect little head, crooning at the small animal.

The puppy tips its head back and licks his chin with its tiny pink tongue, small tail wagging against his forearm.

“You’re coming home with me,” Taerae tells the puppy— Yujin— nuzzling against the small animal’s head, making kissy faces at it. “Yes you are! Yes, you are!”

“Taerae-ssi,” Hanbin says, interrupting both of them. The barista and the puppy turn to look at him as one, both of them confused at the way the gathered boys are hiding their laughter in their arms or each others’ shoulders.

Their leader is biting back a smile, trying to look serious, but even Zhang Hao is giggling next to him. “I’m sorry, but Yujin-ah has to come with us. We’re all wards of the state.”

“That’s stupid,” Taerae decides, frowning. He presses one last kiss against the puppy’s head and gently sets it down on the empty chair beside him, a little sad when Yujin appears in another puff of smoke, his face very pink.

“Sorry, hyung,” Yujin mutters, darting puppy eyes up at Zhang Hao and Hanbin before folding back down into his seat, curling in on himself.

“It’s fine, Yujin-ah,” Zhang Hao says quietly, his face and voice softening again in the way they had as he’d spoken to Ricky. “You have nothing to apologize for. You showed Taerae-ssi your power just like he asked.”

“And what a power!” Taerae exclaims, nudging Yujin’s shoulder and giving him a very bright smile. “It’s so cool, angel! I’d love to be able to shapeshift like that.”

The younger boy perks up a little, a shy smile spreading slowly across his face as he looks at Taerae, eyes incredibly wide and trusting. “You liked it?” He asks in a breathy little whisper, so vulnerable that the barista’s heart throbs. “Really?”

“Really,” Taerae says firmly, patting the younger boy’s knee. “I loved it.”

Yujin is so pink and so pleased that he looks like a little strawberry, boba eyes shining and teeth peeking out as he smiles.

Taerae glances at the door and the round metal clock beside it, sucking in a breath. “The rest of you have to be quick,” he tells the other boys around the table, a thread of anxiety in his chest. “Customers will be here soon.”

“I can manipulate dreams,” Jiwoong says, taking a sip of tea and looking very calm. Next to him Matthew is ripping a napkin into tiny little pieces, seemingly unaware that he’s doing it. “And make people fall asleep, when I want to.”

“Lovely!” Taerae praises, clapping his hands again, practically wriggling around in his chair with excitement. This is so fun. It’s just like the movies, just like all the superhero comics he’d hidden under his bed and secretly read late at night as a child.

Ricky and the boy beside him mutter to each other for a moment when they all turn to look at them, but then they’re raising their hands, palms flat. A ball of shining, glassy blue ice forms over Ricky’s pale fingers while in the other boy’s hand, a tongue of burnished orange-yellow flame flickers to life.

“Ricky and Gyuvin,” Zhang Hao says, stretching a little in his chair like this is just any other day. “Ice and fire manipulation.”

“Cool,” Taerae breathes, entranced by the flames dancing over Gyuvin’s hand but never once burning him. “I bet those are really useful.”

Matthew snorts, flicking scraps of napkin at the two boys still playing with their abilities. “Not always,” he says, long suffering. “Ricky likes to freeze our clothes when we’ve annoyed him and there isn’t a blanket in our dorm Gyuvin-ah hasn’t burned.”

The rest of the boys laugh even as Gyuvin squawks, conjuring more fire around his other hand and wriggling his fingers at Matthew like he’s going to burn him. Ricky tosses the ball of ice from hand to hand and then splits it into little slivers of ice that rain down into Matthew’s hot matcha latte, splashing frothy green liquid across the table.

“Careful, hyung,” he says calmly, blinking his angled eyes as Matthew groans. “I know where you hid your socks.”

Taerae blinks, confused at the threat and the way Matthew’s immediately started to apologize.

Yujin leans into his side, whispering; “Ricky-hyung freezes hyung’s socks and underwear in blocks of ice and then he has to chip them out— it takes forever .”

The barista feels a pang of some emotion he doesn’t quite understand, a twist of amused warmth and a little bit of what might be jealousy. These boys are so clearly a unit despite the burden weighing down on their shoulders; they know one another, grew up together and still live together and move as one.

“What about you?” Taerae asks, interrupting the bickering boys to look at the last person who has yet to share his ability.

This boy is enormous, broad shoulders and big limbs that contradict his sweet face and floppy hair. He reminds the barista vividly of an overgrown bear cub still figuring out his new body.

“I can teleport?” The boy says, fiddling with his spoon. 

It’s flashing between his fingers, small and silver, and then the spoon is halfway across the scrubbed table top. Taerae reaches out for it, feeling the smooth edges for a second before it vanishes once again and returns to the boys’ hands.

“Gunwookie is our talented baby,” Jiwoong praises, smiling when Gunwook blushes and ducks his head, letting his hair hide his eyes.

“I’m still working on it,” he mutters, tugging on one ear. “I can’t do really big stuff yet.”

“You did a car last month!” Matthew encourages brightly. “Don’t forget. Even the trainers were really happy.”

Hanbin has remained amazingly quiet throughout the little introduction of powers but when Taerae peeks at him, he sees only hints of softness on the leader’s face as he watches the boys talk over one another. It seems they aren’t a normal team, not in the slightest— there’s none of the strict hierarchy Taerae would expect from government robots.

“This is our team,” Hanbin says, fixing his eyes on Taerae and speaking firmly in a way that makes everyone else gradually settle down, Ricky and Gyuvin finally extinguishing the ice and fire they’d been playing with. “Zerobaseone. We want you to work with us, Taerae-ssi. You can complete our team and help save everyone.”

Hanbin is so clearly earnest, so obviously believes in their cause and their mission. There’s sincerity shining from every inch of his pretty face, his whole body turned to Taerae, heart straining towards the barista as every inch of him practically vibrates with need.

The rest of them are staring at him too, gone still once more.

They’re all looking at him with so much heavy expectation and it’s much more real, now that he knows their names and their powers, now that he’s watched them be silly teenagers before transforming back into trained agents.

“Haha,” Taerae says, grinning so widely that his cheeks hurt. “Would you look at the time? I really have to get going, haha! Responsibilities, baking, lots of coffee to make — all those things. You know!”

He’s standing up as he continues to babble, pushing his chair in and wiping his sweaty palms on his apron, talking a mile a minute and getting increasingly loud. 

Hanbin opens his mouth, frowning a little. Zhang Hao is rolling his eyes so hard at the ceiling that it’s definitely got to hurt.

Taerae’s prayers are answered when ancient Ms. Suliman totters inside, already breathing heavily. She has an absolutely enormous shawl wrapped around her body that might be a blanket but she’s a very sweet old woman and Taerae loves talking to her because she always has interesting stories from her youth hundreds of years ago.

“Ms. Suliman!” He exclaims, perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary. “How lovely to see you! Just the person I’ve been waiting for! Did you hear about our new passionfruit peach tea? It’s a summer special!”

He latches onto her elbow and half drags, half escorts her to an armchair in a patch of sunshine, smiling widely the whole time. The old woman pats his arm, seeming a little confused but also happy to be lavished in attention.

“So sorry to leave you!” Taerae calls over his shoulder, giving the agents, who are now frowning and staring after him, a very badly faked sad face. “But customer satisfaction is of paramount importance! Do come again tomorrow! Leave us a five star review on Yelp!”

He speeds away to make iced tea and a plate of matcha cookies for Ms. Suliman before he can be called back, feeling just the tiniest bit safer with the large barrier of the wooden counter between himself and the team of boys. And if Taerae takes an extra long time mixing up the tea and choosing the perfect ice cubes, well. No one has to know.

Ms. Suliman is knitting when he arrives with her order, very clearly settling in for what will be a long time. Taerae couldn’t be more grateful if he tried— with her here, the agents currently staring him down will have to act normal.

“Those boys,” Ms. Suliman says as he sets down her drink and cookies and lays out a napkin, needles clicking together. “Are they friends of yours? They’re very handsome.”

“Uh,” Taerae says, and then pretends to have a very violent coughing fit. Ms. Suliman simply watches him over the rims of her half-moon spectacles, continuing to knit. He isn’t sure if he should be offended or not. 

“They’re my classmates,” he says at last when it isn’t worth it to keep up his pretend choking. “From— from high school. I was part of the theater club! Yes, I was part of theater and they’ve come to visit me but they’re working on a script, which is why they’re dressed like that. They’re getting into character.”

He feels very pleased with this story and Ms. Suliman seems to accept it, turning in her chair to shoot the boys an interested look. “Oh, very nice,” she says approvingly, still knitting away. “It’s always lovely to see children involved in the arts. I do hope they’ll stay a while.”

“Haha,” Taerae says, stomach dropping down to his toes. “Lovely, yes. But I think they have to leave soon. How sad!”

Ms. Suliman wiggles her fingers at the table of boys in a little wave and, horribly, Gunwook waves back, giving her a bright smile.

“Very nice boys,” the old woman tells Taerae approvingly, turning back to him after a moment. “Invite them over here. I want to meet them and ask about their play.”

Taerae has a moment where he truly considers opening his mouth and singing time backwards until none of this had happened, until he’d never left his bed. But he won’t break the promise he made to his grandmother as a child and so he drags himself over to the table of agents, glaring at them when they all perk up.

“Don’t say anything,” he tells them through a forced grin, “and don’t be weird. You’re my friends from high school and we were all in theater together. You’re preparing for new roles as secret agents or chaebol kids in an upcoming play, whatever— just go sit with her. Answer her questions and then leave .”

“If we do this,” Hanbin says after a moment, tipping his head to the side. “Will you help us?”

“No,” Taerae replies swiftly, grin dropping. “My answer is still no. But I’ll let you come back and keep trying to convince me.”

“She looks nice, hyung,” Gunwook says, peering around Taerae at Ms. Suliman. “I want to meet her. It’d be cool to talk to a regular person.”

Taerae’s mouth drops open and he turns to Hanbin, incredulous, but the leader is already getting to his feet and gesturing for the others to follow. “We’ll speak after you finish work for the day, Taerae-ssi,” he says and it isn’t a question.

All eight of them troop over to Ms. Suliman, Gunwook the first to greet her as the rest of them drag over chairs and stools, settling around her in a little circle. It’s adorable and it reminds Taerae of small children at story time, but before he can sneak over and eavesdrop, the bells above the door jingle.

The café is hit with an influx of customers, men and women rushing in and out on their way to work and several unruly children trying to buy an end of term treat for their teacher followed by a very indecisive older man. Then there’s a mother of two small children with a thousand different dietary requirements and a teenager who spills chai tea absolutely everywhere and by the time Taerae’s done mopping that up there’s a whole line of customers at the counter.

So the morning passes in sandwiches and cups of coffee to go and many conversations with the people he sees every day and has come to know very well. Taerae wipes down the counter and piles up dishes and opens two new cartons of milk and, before he knows it, half the day has come and gone.

During the first lull he’s had all morning he glances over at where Ms. Suliman and the team of boys still sit, nerves wriggling around in his stomach when he realizes they’re talking. What if they say something wrong? What if they slip up, or don’t have the necessary life experience to accurately pull off his lie?

Taerae really, really doesn’t want to have to move again. He likes his apartment and he has a monthly subscription to the recreation center and the little family restaurant ten minutes from the café makes the best fried chicken he’s ever had. He doesn’t want to have to give up the daily pleasantries of his life here and start all over again somewhere new.

If this team of boys mess up his peaceful life here he isn’t going to pay taxes ever again, Taerae decides. The government doesn’t deserve his money after they’ve spent so many years making his life difficult.

He stacks oatmeal cookies high on a plate and sweeps over to Ms. Suliman and her captive audience, plastering on his most professional smile.

“Hi,” he practically coos, setting the plate down and then propping his hands on his hips, flashing his dimples at them when they all look at him. “How’s everything here? Can I bring you anything else, or is it maybe time for you to get going? Ms. Suliman, I’m sure you want your peace and quiet back!”

He blinks rapidly at Hanbin and Zhang Hao, trying to give them a hint that it’s time to leave, but they look remarkably comfortable. Settled in, almost.

“Oh, nonsense,” Ms. Suliman says, looking happier than he’s seen her in months. She seems to be teaching Gunwook how to knit, the younger boy holding a second pair of needles and a new ball of yarn. “Your lovely friends were just telling me all about their play— superheroes! How exciting!”

Taerae grits his teeth and tries hard to murder Hanbin with his eyes, wishing he could create lasers. “Haha,” he agrees, absolutely sure that he resembles a maniacal clown at the moment. “So exciting!”

“You can leave them with me, dear,” Ms. Suliman tells him, smiling at Matthew when he hands her a cookie. “I know you’re busy. Off you go!”

Taerae is neatly shooed away before he can do anything else to intervene and so he sighs, shoulders slumping as he walks back to the counter. It’s clear that this is a sign from the universe for him to just give up and resign himself to packing up his apartment for yet another move.

The remainder of his day passes in a similar rush, more orders than usual and a crowd of after-school teenagers who devour all the cookies left in the display case. Taerae’s exhausted by the time he waves goodbye to the last customer and all he wants to do is go home and crawl into bed, but he can already see the dark suits waiting for him outside.

He drags his feet locking up for the night and when he leaves the café at last, it’s as a defeated person. He’s so tired that he feels like he could fall asleep standing up and he’s nervous about the entire day they’d spent sitting and chatting with Ms. Suliman, wishing not for the first time that he’d been born without any ability.

“Hanbin-ssi,” Taerae grumbles when he turns away from the café door and is instantly crowded by the group of boys, all of them looking annoyingly refreshed and awake. “I’m so exhausted. Can’t you pester me tomorrow?”

He wants to eat pizza and do a face mask and burrow under his blankets. He’d like to walk on the beach one last time and he needs to do research on transporting tomato plants and, most of all, he’d like to be left alone and not have any more life disturbances.

Perhaps Hanbin sees a little bit of that in Taerae’s weary expression because he softens, nodding and stepping back, gesturing for the others to give the barista space. 

“Tomorrow, then,” he says and it’s a promise, clear as day.

“Tomorrow,” Taerae mutters, rolling his eyes to the periwinkle sky. He waves with a limp hand and starts off for home, dragging his feet along the cobblestones, not once looking back at the gathered group of boys who watch him long after he’s disappeared around the corner.

★★★

The eight boys— ZB1, as they like to call themselves— soon become a regular fixture in Taerae’s café. They’re the first ones in the door and after a week or two he puts them to work, making them unstack chairs and wheedling Hanbin into breathing new life into the bouquets on the tables for him.

The large table in the back corner is unofficially claimed as theirs and though the knitting group complains about it under their breath, one smile from Gunwook is enough to have them caving. Yujin and his enormous, shiny eyes don’t hurt either.

The eight of them greet him each morning with bright smiles, always asking about how he’s slept the night before and what he had for dinner. Taerae, never a morning person, usually just grumbles something unintelligible and then stumbles inside, going about his morning tasks like a robot.

Slowly, though, he finds himself looking forward to the overlap of voices that greet him, looking forward to whatever silly new story Yujin has for him or horrible jokes Jiwoong wants to tell him.

They’re eager to help in any way they can, Matthew loading new jugs of water into the dispenser for Taerae while Gunwook teleports trash outside and Hanbin carefully looks over all the plants, keeping them healthy and shiny green.

Ricky and Gyuvin and Yujin are his expert taste testers, all three of them lined up on the other side of the counter to watch him attentively while he works.

Taerae likes to call them the kittens in his head, finding the way they watch him with such focus while he makes drinks and bakes absolutely adorable. They’re cute enough that he sometimes slips them cut up strawberries or little spoonfuls of batter.

He does break down after the fourth day and give the boys an extensive lecture on normal fashion, complete with a powerpoint and several clips from TV shows. He tells them where they can shop and recommends oversized hoodies, though they seem less than enthusiastic about his preferred color combinations.

Ricky is even cheeky enough to call him a terror to the fashion world; something the barista scoffs at and then pretends not to remember the next day when the ice wielding boy shows up looking like a model in slim black jeans and a pale button down.

They’re all exponentially pretty when dressed in regular clothes and Taerae can’t help the way his heart flutters whenever he looks over at the table and sees the eight of them there, sipping whatever drinks he’s decided to make for them that day and hanging out together. 

They look so normal that he can almost forget they aren’t his friends, aren’t a fixture in his life.

As much as he’s begrudgingly beginning to like the members of the ZB1 team, the grandmothers and grandfathers of his little town like them even more. Ms. Suliman is their first and biggest fan; she’s teaching them all to knit and is particularly endeared by Gunwook, who had apparently called her a rose upon their first meeting.

The café’s other regulars and miscellaneous customers warm up to the team of superheroes almost instantly, drawn in by their good looks and exquisite manners.

Hanbin is so genuinely kind and pretty when he smiles that the old women love him, more than happy to allow him to pull out their chairs for them or hang up their coats. Zhang Hao and Jiwoong are particular favorites of the teenage crowd, many tables full of giggling girls and some boys overstaying their welcome just so they can stare at the secret agents, who seem to be blissfully unaware of their appeal.

Yujin and Gyuvin and Gunwook make friends with all the dogs brought to the café and, by association, their owners.

The lie that they’re Taerae’s former high school friends spreads and so the village welcomes the boys with open arms, customers soon lingering at the large round table to make small talk and ask the eight of them about their ‘play.’ It’s a lie they enthusiastically lean into, Matthew more than happy to flex his muscles as Jiwoong waxes poetic about what drew them to acting.

Taerae watches them constantly as he brews coffee and makes toast and wipes down tables.

He watches the way they greet everyone and play with children who accidentally bump into them and gradually begin to smile more and more. He watches the way that Hanbin and Zhang Hao constantly lean into one another, always touching. He watches Gyuvin tease Ricky and he watches Gunwook knit several inches of a scarf and he watches Yujin bounce around in his seat, bored.

The next morning Taerae arrives at the café with a bag of old comic books and several board games, heart swelling like a balloon when Yujin screeches in excitement. The younger boy tells him he’s seen comics and games on TV but never tried them before; the revelation pops Taerae’s heart and sinks it down to his toes, sadness welling up in him.

The eight of them seem so regular in their jeans and cotton t-shirts, drinking cups of tea and eating cake pops in summer sunlight. Sometimes it’s easy for him to forget what they really are, especially when he’s scolding Gyuvin for breaking yet another plate or making increasingly complicated drinks for a sugar-crazed Yujin.

They show up every day, rain or shine, helping Taerae to open the café in the mornings and then sitting through the long hours of daylight.

Yujin reads or plays games with the other babies or sometimes just sits on the floor and pets whatever dogs are there— once, with Taerae’s help, he was even brave enough to ask to walk the dogs and now he’s become the unofficial dog walker for several very happy older men and women.

Gyuvin and Ricky come as a pair, the two of them hilarious in their constant teasing and friendly bickering. Taerae’s noticed they both have a horrible sweet-tooth and so he keeps them very well supplied with strawberry lattes and snacks, Ricky constantly eating while Gyuvin somehow manages to nap in between breaking things.

Gunwook sticks close to Hanbin in the same way that Yujin is always next to Zhang Hao, the younger boy so clearly looking up to their leader. Hanbin and Zhang Hao often seem content to just sit and watch the other people in the café, though they’re both more than happy to have longer conversations with any customers.

The two of them watch Taerae the most, their dark eyes following him as he moves around the shop and rings up customers.

Matthew and Jiwoong are another pair within the group and they seem content just to be in one another’s company, murmuring to each other and sharing whatever Taerae brings them. There’s a softness in their gazes and the way they speak to each other that has the barista sometimes feeling like he’s intruding on private moments between them, but it’s also very sweet.

The eight boys are the last ones to leave the café each evening and eventually, they stay behind even after closing, helping Taerae to clean and tidy things for the coming morning. They cheerfully mop the floor and learn how to run the dishwasher and they’re more than happy to accept any leftover baked goods.

Taerae thinks they’ve spent several hundred dollars by now, but the card Hanbin uses to pay is black and very shiny and is never, ever declined. The barista decides it’s simply the dues he’s been owed by the government for far too long and so he’s more than happy to bring them round after round of drinks and snacks, adding a ridiculous amount of syrups and flavor shots to Yujin’s drinks when the teenager asks politely.

They fall into a new kind of rhythm, Taerae shifting to make room in his life for the eight of them.

He expects their faces each morning when he arrives at the café and it’s a team effort to prepare for the day, all of them working together now as they listen to music without needing his direction. Hanbin doesn’t ask to grow white roses for the table vases and Jiwoong knows how to use the coffee machine now, presenting Taerae with a perfect latte each morning while the barista bakes with the help of the babies.

Taerae knows their favorite drinks by now and he’s started to sell strawberry shortcake simply because Ricky likes it so much, making a new batch each morning without the boy ever having to ask.

He stops at their table in between serving other customers and, on particularly busy days, he asks Hanbin to help him serve drinks. He brings a new set of comic books for Yujin and he compliments Gunwook’s scarf when Ms. Suliman helps him finish it, feeling genuinely proud.

And at the end of each day Taerae finds himself looking forward to closing up the café with them, somehow not tired of their voices even after spending an entire day in very close proximity.

He listens to them chatter about the conversations they’ve had with other customers and he praises Matthew’s strength when the boy hefts up the bags of trash and he claps when Zhang Hao levitates the chairs and tables so Gyuvin can sweep.

Taerae herds them out the door each evening, enjoying the overlap of their chattering voices as he locks up and tucks the keys into his pocket. And, though it’s a new development, he allows them to walk him home, cheering the younger boys on as they race each other and laughing when Gyuvin tries to chase stray seagulls.

It’s a new rhythm that he falls into with the other boys and it isn’t a bad one, not at all.

He likes seeing their faces each morning, likes knowing that they’re waiting for him and that they’ll see him home every evening. It’s day after day that he spends with the eight of them and yet Taerae never grows tired of them; instead, he finds that he likes them more and more.

The only downside of their constant presence in his life is the never-ending way that they try to convince him to join their team and save the world.

Hanbin is the most persistent, bringing the topic up so often that Taerae starts to shove cookies in his mouth whenever he opens it, but Zhang Hao and Jiwoong and Gunwook are almost as bad. Matthew tends to spring the topic upon him and Yujin barely ever mentions it, whispering a shaky, “hyung, help us save the world? Please?”

Ricky and Gyuvin try a different tactic, wheedling Taerae to show them more of his ability all while describing in vivid detail how fun it is to use their own abilities. They conjure ice and fire and do incredible things with them, delighting him even as he continues to deny them.

As often as the members of ZB1 ask him to join their team and use his ability to help prevent the apocalypse, Taerae’s refusals are just as frequent. For each request he says no, softening the word with a smile or an extra macaroon, but he won’t give in.

His constant and steady refusals seem to frustrate Hanbin the most, the leader sometimes visibly upset when Taerae shakes his head or changes the subject or makes a joke out of the world ending, trying to shrug off the boys’ requests.

But all in all they manage to get along quite well, the eight of them fitting almost seamlessly into Taerae’s life despite his initial rejection of their presence and existence. His community accepts them with open arms and they seem content to hollow out a little space for themselves in his life, keeping him company through all the hours of the long day and seeing him home each evening.

It’s almost, Taerae finds himself thinking one night as he waves goodbye to them from his doorway, like having friends.

★★★

A loud shattering noise breaks Taerae’s concentration and he reluctantly looks up from his cinnamon rolls, shoulders drooping when he spots the source of the sound.

“Gyuvin-ah,” he groans, setting down the bag of frosting and coming around the counter, hurrying over to the round table where the boys sit. He doesn’t even have to ask before the broom and dustpan are floating towards him, Zhang Hao waving a lazy finger in the air.

Thankfully the café is empty this rainy Wednesday morning, not a soul in sight yet.

There’s glass spread all across the floor beside the table, large and small shards that used to be a cup. At least this time it was empty, no cocoa or tea soaking into the wooden floorboards. Taerae props his hands on his hips, surveying the damage with a practiced eye.

“Again? Really?”

Gyuvin hunches down in his chair, pink cheeks barely visible as he ducks his head. Ricky is openly giggling beside him, the rest of the members ignoring this event because it’s become an almost daily occurrence.

“Sorry, Taerae-ssi,” Gyuvin mumbles, twisting his fingers atop the table. “I didn’t mean to, really— my hands just slipped!”

“Ah, it’s fine!” Taerae reassures, instantly feeling guilty. He picks up the broom and starts sweeping, careful to collect every piece of glimmering glass. “It’s only a cup— I have lots more just like it. It’s okay, Gyuvinnie.”

Yujin, not even bothered by the mess spread across the floor, sucks obnoxiously on his straw and leans across the table to stare up at Taerae with enormous eyes. “Hyung,” he says, drawing out the last syllable in a pout. “ Hyung .”

Taerae feels a little bit like he maybe needs a day off, but he just keeps sweeping, making a humming noise under his breath to show that he’s listening. He can sense that Zhang Hao is laughing silently without even looking but he’s trying to stay calm.

“I finished my drink,” Yujin announces, draping himself over the top of the table and laying his head down on his folded arm, brandishing his empty glass at the barista like it’s his problem to fix. “It was really yummy but I’m still thirsty.”

Taerae pauses his sweeping, leaning heavily on the broom as he squints his eyes at Yujin, his heart no longer stirred by the enormous puppy dog eyes the teenager is giving him.

“Let me guess,” he says tiredly, not even trying to disguise the sarcasm in his voice, “you saw a new drink on TV and you want me to make it for you.”

Yujin perks up, nodding so vigorously that his hair flops in his eyes. “Yes please,” he says, waving his empty cup and chewed paper straw around. “But this one—,”

“This one is special because it looks really good,” Taerae finishes, parroting off the sentence that the younger boy uses to  coax him into making increasingly complicated and sugary concoctions. “I know.”

Yujin smiles, his cheeks bunching up and eyes crinkling, teeth peeking out from between pink lips. 

“Thanks, hyung,” he chirps, projecting so much innocent happiness that Taerae still can’t tell if he’s actually an angel or just very good at manipulation.

Taerae heaves a sigh and bends down to efficiently sweep the pile of glass shards and debris into the dustpan, groaning a little at the way his knees and back crack. He’s too young for this; his body shouldn’t be deteriorating already.

“What’s in the drink, Yujin-ah?” He asks as he stands back up, shooting Gunwook a grateful smile when the contents of the dustpan vanish.

“Wellll,” Yujin says slowly, batting his eyelashes at Taerae. “It’s called the unicorn frappuccino and—.”

“No,” Taerae replies instantly, cutting the younger boy off. “No. Nope. Sorry, angel, but I’m not surviving today if you’re high on sugar. You can have cocoa instead.”

Yujin pushes his lips out in a pout, actual tears sparkling in his enormous brown eyes. “Hyung,” he says in a tremulous little voice, sniffling. “Hyung. I thought you wanted me to have normal experiences? Because I was raised in a government lab? And we never really got to eat sugar?”

Taerae softens, biting down on his bottom lip as he wavers in place for a moment.

It’s true that he does want all of them to experience regular life but he feels especially strongly about it for Yujin— the boy is only sixteen after all and doesn’t even remember his family; all he’s known is the government facility they were shipped off to for endless rounds of training and testing. The way they talk about it so casually is horrifying and Taerae’s determined to push them into normal young adult experiences, even if that means letting them get sugar high.

“Hyung-ah,” Yujin says a third time, tiny and weak. His eyes are very wet and shiny, the tip of his nose red. “It looked really good.”

“Oh, alright!” Taerae cries, throwing his hands up and giving in. “I’ll make your liquid sugar for you! But don’t come complaining to me when you have a tummy ache.”

Zhang Hao floats the broom and dustpan away before they can hit the floor, leaned back in his chair and watching them with an amused look on his lovely face. “Taerae-ssi,” he says smoothly, sipping his own iced mint tea. “You’re the first one to give us medicine when we don’t feel well.”

“You,” Taerae says angrily, wagging an irate finger at Zhang Hao and Hanbin both, “be quiet. Aren’t you supposed to be stopping me from corrupting him? Shouldn’t you be curbing his sugar addiction?”

“You’ve created a monster,” Hanbin says easily, shrugging. “He’s your problem now.”

“Hyung, don’t call Yujinnie a monster,” Gyuvin complains, frowning and draping himself over the youngest boy who doesn’t seem at all phased. “He’s perfect.”

“Thank you, hyung,” Yujin says sincerely, looking up at Taerae with pure adoration in a way that makes the barista’s chest feel all warm and fuzzy. “You’re the best!”

“I know,” Taerae huffs, but he reaches out and takes the teenager’s empty glass, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Now tell me what’s in this horrible drink.”

Yujin bounces in his seat, ignoring the way Jiwoong is trying to settle him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Okay, so, ” he says excitedly, starting to tick off his fingers, “you have to start with vanilla ice cream and milk and blend them for a while. And then add Kool-Aid powder? And mango syrup? And something called blue syrup…”

Taerae turns burning eyes on Zhang Hao and Hanbin even as he writes down an increasingly difficult and specific list of ingredients, incredibly close to freezing time just so he can dump icy cold water over the two of them. The irate feeling in his chest isn’t helped by the fact that they’re both clearly laughing at him, simply watching as Yujin uses his adorable-ness to coax Taerae into making ever more specific and ridiculous drinks. 

“Do something,” Taerae hisses when he returns almost twenty minutes later, sweaty and with mango syrup dripping down one wrist.

He smiles at Yujin and watches the teenager sip his monstrosity of a drink happily, but then sends Hanbin and Zhang Hao a cutting look. “Aren’t you bored of sitting here every day? Don’t you want to go explore?”

“Taerae-ssi,” Hanbin says seriously, just the very corner of his mouth twitching, “this is the only place we can see you. We still need to convince you to work with us, so…until you join our team, we’ll be here.”

“Every day,” Zhang Hao chimes in, blinking lazily. “All day long. Just us and you, Taerae-ssi. You’ve been such a good host to us that now we really can’t leave until you say you’ll come with us.”

Taerae blinks at them, a little stunned even as he wants to cheer them on for their machinations. It seems like they’re finally learning after two weeks in his presence.

“Blackmail,” he mutters under his breath, whipping their empty mugs into his arms and sticking his nose up in the air. “Extortion. Harassment. No more drinks for any of you.”

And he marches off to the counter imperiously, pretending very hard that he can’t hear them giggling behind his back. He doesn’t approach their table for the rest of the day, instead diving into conversations with other customers or meticulously organizing the shelves of ingredients when the café is slow.

Rain putters down on the roof and taps a gentle rhythm against the windows, the stormy gray-blue of the ocean just visible over the glossed roofs of the village. The scent of brewing coffee and fresh cookies is heavy on the air, soft jazz playing in the background until Taerae feels sleepy-warm and cozy all over.

He waves goodbye to the last customers as the sky darkens, stretching for a moment and sighing before he gets to work closing up for the night. He’s just bending over to deal with the trash, ignoring the pile of dishes, when a warm hand cups his elbow.

Taerae startles badly, almost hitting his head on the edge of the counter, standing up with pink cheeks and the beginnings of a headache.

“Hyung,” Yujin says, a little shy but mostly eager. “We can do everything tonight. We know how tired you are.”

Taerae softens, brushing his knuckles over the baby-softness of the boy’s cheek for a second. “Ah, Yujinnie, you’re too cute,” he praises, “but it’s my job to clean up. You’re all customers.”

Strong arms wrap around his chest and then he’s being carried across the café and set down carefully in the squishiest armchair, Matthew beaming at him in apology.

“Stay here, Taerae-ssi,” he says, flexing his biceps in the way that makes Taerae’s mouth go dry and his brain feel all scrambled. “We want to help.”

And maybe there is something nice about curling up in the faded velvet of the chair and watching the eight of them as they clean up, all of them familiar now with the closing routine after two weeks spent with him. 

Taerae’s eyelids droop, the sound of rain drumming on the roof lulling him into almost-sleep. It’s a lovely thing to have people who are familiar enough with his life and his needs to take over when he’s flagging, to recognize when he needs a helping hand.

The barista feels cozy and calm as he half-drifts, listening to the fuzzy murmur of familiar voices and the scrape of a broom across the wooden floorboards. Someone’s singing, their voice high and sweet, and the clink of dishes being loaded and unloaded makes him think of his earliest childhood memories.

A very loud crash and the sound of something shattering has Taerae jolting upright, the barista moving on instinct before his eyes are even really fully open. He pushes through the knot of boys and stares for a second down at the tray full of mugs that’s been dropped, shards of clay large and small spread in an enormous starburst across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Gyuvin says in a terribly tiny voice, peeking up at Taerae with suspiciously shiny eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I can lift up all the pieces,” Zhang Hao comforts him, laying a reassuring hand on Gyuvin’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Gyuvin-ah. Accidents happen.”

“Can’t you just sing time backwards, hyung?” Yujin asks suddenly, leaning into Jiwoong’s side like he was scared by the very loud noise. “And then they won’t be broken?”

Taerae, hands on his hips, feels his face go blank. “No,” he replies shortly, reaching out to take the broom and dustpan from Ricky. “I don’t use my ability like that. Not ever.”

There’s a ripple of movement that goes through the gathered boys, a strange spike of awkwardness as they step back to allow Taerae to sweep up the broken mugs. He can hear them murmuring to one another, can feel them watching him, but his back is aching and his temples hurt and he’s very, very tired.

He breathes in measured beats, pouring the shards of pottery and tiny white bits of dust into a bag and carrying it outside, waving off their tentative offers of help. He needs a moment alone, tipping his face up to the gray sky and enjoying the cool kiss of raindrops on his skin as he works to calm himself down.

Back inside the café, Taerae gives the knot of boys a smile and reaches a hand out for Gyuvin, waiting until the boy reluctantly looks up at him, their fingers slippery with sweat where they’re joined.

“Zhang Hao-ssi is right,” Taerae says firmly, squeezing the younger boys’ fingers. “Accidents happen and I’m not angry at you, Gyuvin-ah. Just maybe sweep the floor instead next time?”

Gyuvin manages a very trembly smile, nodding like a bobblehead. Ricky’s hand on his arm helps to steady him, the two of them always comforting each other despite all the merciless teasing they like to engage in.

Taerae keeps the smile on his face as he herds the boys out of the café, locking up without fear of being drenched as Ricky manipulates the rain to keep it away from all nine of them. Yujin keeps jumping up and trying to catch raindrops, giggling loudly when Zhang Hao helps to levitate him.

They’re already waiting for him, ready to walk him home as has become their daily routine, Matthew’s head leaned against Jiwoong’s shoulder, Gunwook asking Hanbin what they’ll buy for dinner. As far as Taerae can tell, the eight of them have taken up residence in their town’s solitary and tiny hotel and are surviving entirely on convenience store food or whatever he brings them during the day.

And suddenly, as he pockets the café keys and looks down the hazy road to where the eight of them are gathered and waiting just for him, Taerae’s heart gives a thumping beat.

“Hanbin-ssi,” he calls out as he approaches, needlessly shielding his face from the rain. “Zhang Hao-ssi. Do you really want me to join your team?”

The way they all whip around to stare at him would be funny at any other time, but in this strange fold of time where rain falls around them but doesn’t touch Taerae, he can’t find it in himself to laugh. His heart is beating and beating in his chest, throbbing almost painfully, the instructions his grandmother drilled into him nagging at the back of his mind.

But Taerae ignores the rules he’s lived his entire life by, studying the faces of the boys who have invaded his life and completely turned it over, slotting themselves into every inch of space he’s allowed them so far. And maybe it’s a terrible idea, a horrible one— likely he’ll regret this decision, but something in Taerae simply won’t allow him to let them go like this.

“Hanbin-ssi,” he says, heart beating and beating against his ribcage, fingertips tingling and a flush high on his cheeks. “Hao-ssi. Will you eat dinner with me?”

★★★

The eight of them crowd into Taerae’s apartment, surprisingly quiet once they’re bunched up in his tiny entryway. They look like scolded schoolchildren, gazing around his home with wide eyes, hands held close to their bodies as if they’re afraid of breaking something.

Taerae can’t help it when he laughs, shaking stray drops of water off his hair. “You can take your shoes off,” he tells them, smiling. “And come in! I want to show you everything.”

There isn’t much to show, actually, but he still gives them a tour full of overdone gestures and silly little jokes, waxing poetic about IKEA and all their nice but very hard to assemble furniture. They are appropriately impressed, oohing at his squishy blue couch, Ricky peering at the random art prints and anime prints on the walls, Yujin’s curious fingers picking up every knick knack and trinket he can find.

Taerae shuts them out of his bedroom as he hurriedly makes his bed and shoves the hamper of dirty laundry into the closet, blushing a little as they file in and blink around at his leaf patterned sheets and the sliding glass door of the balcony that overlooks the beach and the ocean beyond. 

Jiwoong picks up the books on his nightstand one by one, lips moving as he silently reads the titles, and Gunwook makes a happy sound as he points out Taerae’s stuffed duck, Bubbles.

“Cute, hyung!” He says, bouncing a little on his enormous feet. “I’ve always wanted a stuffed animal!”

“Oh,” Taerae mumbles, heart wrenching painfully. Neither of them even notice that Gunwook’s dropped the formal honorific to his name. “Oh, you can— you can hold him.”

Watching Gunwook, who vacillates between looking like a duck or a baby polar bear, pick up and cuddle the worn out stuffed animal is…very cute.

“Taerae-ssi, you have plants out here!” Hanbin calls excitedly, crouched over the tomato sprouts on the balcony. His fingers are dancing over the green vine and fuzzy little leaves, eyes wide with delight when he looks up at the barista. “You’re doing very well with them,” he says earnestly, “they’re happy.”

“Hmm,” Taerae replies a bit faintly, blinking quickly as the tomato leaves double and then triple in size, vine curling upward. “That’s nice. I’m— glad they like me.”

“Hyung,” Yujin calls from the main room of the apartment, voice echoing in the small space. “You don’t have any food!”

Taerae makes a face and pads out into the combination living room and kitchen, circling the couch to cross over into the small tiled area that makes up his kitchen. Yujin is standing in front of the fridge, staring at the mostly empty shelves with Ricky and Gyuvin on either side of him, all three of them turning to look at Taerae with sad faces.

“We’re hungry,” Yujin says needlessly, latching onto Taerae and draping himself over the barista’s shoulder. The youngest member of ZB1 seems to have decided that Taerae is one of them now and acts accordingly, touching him as often as he does the actual boys on the team. “Can you make us ice cream sundaes? I saw them in an American movie.”

“Not for dinner, angel,” Taerae tells him, laughing a little. Behind him the rest of the boys file out of his bedroom, Hanbin softly closing the door to it. They bunch up along the wall for a moment, looking awkward again, socks scuffing over the floorboards.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Taerae instructs over his shoulder, unable to hide his smile as he looks at the nervous superheroes. “I have Netflix if you want to watch something, or there’s some video games in the cabinet.”

Zhang Hao whispers something to Gunwook and Matthew and tugs them over to the couch, Jiwoong settling down on the floor and leaning back against Matthew’s legs, the TV remote already floating over to them.

“Taerae-ssi, can we help with anything?” Hanbin asks, rolling up his sleeves as he approaches. “I know you invited us over for dinner but please don’t feel burdened to feed all of us.”

“He can’t feed us,” Yujin tattles, digging his pointy chin into Taerae’s shoulder. “He has no food.”

Taerae hisses and digs his fingertips into the teenager’s sides, tickling him mercilessly until he’s shrieking and trying to escape, red in the face from laughter. “Stop!” Yujin cries, scrabbling uselessly at the barista. “Stop, hyung, I’m sorry!”

Before Taerae can accept his apology there’s a puff of smoke and then his arms are empty, a very fluffy gray rabbit hopping away across the tiles towards the couch and the rest of the members, Ricky and Gyuvin having joined them.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to get out of a scolding,” Taerae says breathlessly, a little miffed but mostly amused. “Does he do that often?”

“All the time,” Hanbin sighs, rolling his eyes but face pure fondness as they both look over at the gathered boys crushed together in a tangle of limbs. “He never gets punished because he always just turns into an animal instead. Once, he was so annoyed with us he stayed a snake for three whole days.”

Taerae shudders, unable to picture the sweet teenager as a reptile. “Why a snake?”

Hanbin presses his lips together, laughter trapped in his voice. “They’re deaf. He couldn’t hear us being annoying— or freaking out looking for him.”

Taerae’s heart throbs as he laughs, pink cresting on his cheeks like a tidal wave when Hanbin leans into him, whisker dimples little indents on his cheeks.

★★★

Taerae orders pizza for dinner and doesn’t even complain when Gyuvin asks for pineapple on his, Yujin steadfastly refusing any vegetables while Ricky sidles up next to him and whispers that he can’t tolerate anything spicy.

It doesn’t matter in the end because they all end up on the floor together, trading slices and getting grease on their fingers, knees knocking together, but it’s maybe the best meal Taerae can ever remember having.

He puts on a movie for them in the background, something silly about toys who come to life, but the minute Yujin finishes stuffing himself he slumps down on the floor, head pillowed on Jiwoong’s thigh, and stares at the TV with glassy eyes.

Rain continues to fall steadily outside, lashing the windows alongside heavy gusts of wind, but inside his apartment everything is warm and cozy, lit with the golden glow of lamps.

That light reflects off Hanbin’s teeth as he laughs at a joke and shimmers in Gunwook’s large eyes, Matthew getting up to refill everyone’s mismatched cups and Ricky polishing off someone else’s pizza because he’s still hungry.

They talk about everything save for the extraordinary things they can do, sharing any gossip from the café customers that they’ve picked up and listening to Gunwook when he excitedly tells them about his next knitting project Ms. Suliman is helping him plan. Taerae explains cowboys when Gyuvin tentatively points them out in the movie and tells all of them more about his grandmother when they spot a picture of her on the windowsill, keeping his stories light and happy.

He smiles at Zhang Hao in thanks when the older boy uses his telekinesis to clean up all of their trash and wraps a blanket around Ricky when the boy falls asleep on the couch, perfect face just as pretty even in sleep.

The hands on his little clock tick closer and closer to midnight and yet the nine of them linger, reluctant to part.

Yujin and Ricky and Gunwook are all asleep, piled up on the couch like puppies, blankets tucked carefully over their shoulders as they curl into one another. The youngest boy is a rabbit once more, cradled close against Gunwook’s chest, and the sight is so adorable that Taerae can’t help sneaking a photo.

Jiwoong and Matthew seem to be close to dozing off as well, leaning on one another and murmuring sleepily; Taerae thinks Matthew might be telling the older boy about a dream he’d had the night before.

Zhang Hao and Hanbin are puttering around in his tiny kitchen, washing the cups and glasses they’d used and making sure all the trash is sorted correctly. Taerae can hear them murmuring to one another, the low sound of their laughter and their socks on the floor more comforting to him than any animated movie.

Gyuvin is curled up next to him on the carpet, one of the couch cushions under his head, eyes glittering in the low light as if he really is a cat. They’re simply sitting together, all of them existing side by side in their own way, but Taerae can’t help it when he reaches out and curls his fingers over the younger boy’s knee, just holding on because he can.

Taerae smiles at him when Gyuvin’s eyes flick up to meet his, soft and just a little tired. “Did you get enough to eat, Gyuvin-ah?”

Gyuvin hums low in his throat, blinking slowly. “Thank you, hyung,” he murmurs, just for the two of them. “This was really nice. I’m really happy we got to see your house.”

Taerae gets a little choked up at that, working through the tightness in his throat to talk. “You’re always welcome here,” he whispers, meaning every word. “I liked having you all here too.”

Gyuvin stares at him for a moment, something in his dark eyes that Taerae can’t decipher. It feels a bit like his soul is being scoured, completely transparent, and so he drops his eyes to his knees and the little frogs printed on his blue pajama pants.

“Hyung,” Gyuvin whispers, curling a tiny bit closer so that his knees press against Taerae’s ankles. “Don’t you want to save the world?”

Rain falls on the roof. Hanbin and Hao laugh in the background, dishes clinking softly as they’re put away. Ricky makes a tiny snoring sound and Jiwoong yawns, sleepy.

“I don’t know anymore, Gyuvin-ah,” Taerae admits very quietly, staring down at the lines on his palms like they can tell him what to do. “I have to think about it.”

★★★

After that first night the nine of them shift into a new rhythm, walking back to Taerae’s apartment two or three times a week.

He stocks his fridge and buys strawberry milk specifically for Ricky and Yujin, pleased when they exclaim over all the snacks practically bursting out of his small kitchen.

They work together to cook dinner, Jiwoong and Hanbin and Matthew the most reliable when he needs help while the babies prefer to take advantage of his Netflix. Taerae makes the mistake of teaching them how to use his video game controllers one evening and then they’re addicted, eyes reflecting flashing lights and little gold coins so that Zhang Hao has to forcibly levitate the controllers up to the ceiling to get them to stop.

Taerae has always liked his apartment and the space he’s created for himself but he finds himself liking it all the more when the small home is stuffed with boys and echoing with their laughter.

He likes the feeling of calling them for dinner, likes to cook meals he thinks they’ll enjoy and then be rewarded by their round cheeks and bright eyes as they wolf the food down.

They watch movies every night, Disney movies and children’s movies and romcoms that always leave Taerae teary-eyed by the end. Ricky asks him questions about the art on his walls and so Taerae digs out more of his old comic books, more than happy to share with the curious younger boy. He likes to see Yujin and Ricky bent over the pages, squabbling over when to flip them because they read at different rates.

One afternoon at the café he finds Ricky doodling on a napkin, outlining familiar characters with quick strokes of a pen. It isn’t much effort at all for Taerae to drop a sketchbook and a box of art pens in Ricky’s lap the next morning and it’s all worth it ten times over when he sees the boy’s bright, gummy smile.

Soon the sketchbook is decorated with a plethora of colorful, glittery stickers and Ricky can often be found in a corner of the café, hunched over the pages as he draws and draws.

Gyuvin and Gunwook like to go for walks on the beach and often drag the rest of them to the ocean’s edge on their way back to the apartment, running into the surf and laughing wildly. They make it their mission to catch a seagull and, using Gunwook’s ability, actually succeed— Taerae’s never seen a bird look so disgruntled before.

Yujin likes to join in by changing into a dog and chasing after the fat white birds, tongue lolling out and gangly limbs not quite under control because even as an animal he’s still growing. Hanbin scolds him every time, gently reminding him that he needs to be more careful, but Taerae thinks it’s fine— any fellow beachgoers they happen across are more than happy to pet Yujin’s fluffy head.

He introduces the eight of them to more board games and then belatedly realizes he’s created monsters when they almost end up setting the pack of Uno cards on fire, Jiwoong threatening them all with nightmares if they put down any +4 cards before his turn. Monopoly and Catan only result in several days of icy glares at the café as they all give each other the silent treatment, and after that Taerae decides to only allow collaborative games.

Hanbin checks on his tomato plant whenever they visit and the little seedling flourishes under his attention, climbing so tall and high that they have to build a whole new trellis for it. Its leaves are large and soft, drooping elegantly, and already cheerful yellow flowers have blossomed all over the plant.

Hanbin keeps assuring Taerae that he’ll have the best tomatoes in the whole village and not so subtly pressuring him to enter them into the autumn festival at the end of August.

And at the end of each night as the older boys haul the sleeping younger members out of his door and into the dusky evening, Hanbin turns back and asks Taerae to join their team. He asks him to help save the world, pleads with his eyes and words for him to use his ability for the good of everyone on Earth.

And each time, Taerae says no.

There isn’t more to their conversation than that but it becomes a little ritual, a dance they both perform no matter how much laughter they’d shared or how easy it is to forget the teams’ true purpose in staying in this sleepy little seaside town.

Each night the question is a shock to Taerae’s system, a bucket of ice cold water that helps to wake him from his dreams and remind him that none of this is truly real. These boys aren’t his old friends from high school, aren’t people he will always be able to rely on.

And so he treasures the time he has with them and allows his beating heart to go weak and soft for them, grown over in a garden of roses, but Taerae doesn’t allow himself to forget that all of this is temporary.

Just as all things do, this too will end, and though it might be the hardest thing he’s ever done, Taerae won’t halt time when the eight boys eventually leave his side.

One evening as Jiwoong and Matthew chop basil and tomatoes in the kitchen for a summer salad, Taerae finds Zhang Hao tucked away in a corner, the barista’s guitar cradled on his lap.

“It’s to make music with,” Taerae says, settling down on the ground in front of the older boy so that their knees are just barely brushing. He runs his fingers gently over the strings, enjoying the ripple of sound. “This one is called a guitar but there are lots of other instruments.”

Zhang Hao copies his movements, fingers a little clumsy on the strings. He smiles when they make a sound, a glimmer of wonder caught in his eyes when he glances up at the barista. “You know how to make music with this?”

“Sure,” Taerae says easily, holding his hands out for the guitar. “Let me show you.”

He strums the strings, just a simple combination of chords repeating over and over, enjoying the rough texture against his fingertips. He’d learned how to play in high school during his rebellious era, back when his thoughts had been nothing but music and he’d dreamed of singing onstage as an idol someday.

Taerae hums a children’s lullaby as his fingers work over the strings, careful to keep his lips pressed together. Time doesn’t stop, exactly, but everything— slows.

Each blink of Zhang Hao’s lashes takes several seconds, sound filtering oddly as though they’re underwater. Gunwook walks over to them as if he’s wading through sand, almost comically slow, and Hanbin turning his head towards them happens in increments.

Taerae allows the last note to fade away, feeling the echo of the vibrations under his fingertips, a pressure building in his chest that he simply isn’t allowed to answer. He stops humming, watching the world spin back into normal speed with a yawning pit of sadness.

He would give anything to exchange his ability for another or to simply be gifted with nothing at all.

“That was really pretty,” Zhang Hao tells him, blinking and pressing a hand against his temple. “I just…”

“It’ll go away soon,” Taerae reassures him, guilt spiking in his belly at the way all the boys have paused in their actions, rubbing at their heads or holding their stomachs. “I’m sorry, I…I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Taerae-ssi, that’s not what we’re saying,” Hanbin chimes in, angled eyes serious as he peeks at them over the top of the couch. “Your music was lovely. Thank you for showing us. We just didn’t expect everything to feel— like that.”

“I kindof liked it,” Gyuvin adds, sprawling out on the floor and sorting through his growing collection of seashells. “I felt funny but I could still move and stuff.”

“It was like being underwater,” Yujin agrees, pouting at Jiwoong when he tries to sneak a piece of cantaloupe and the older boy smacks his hand away. “Everything was really slow? And heavy?”

Gyuvin nods, picking up half a sand dollar and squinting at the jagged edge. “I bet we looked really silly,” he muses, darting a glance at Taerae. “Did we, hyung? Were we like those slow-mo movies?”

Taerae can tell the younger boy is very proud of himself for remembering the film term and so he nods, allowing himself to smile because it had been a little bit funny; it always is, whenever time slows down like that.

“A little silly,” he agrees, giggling when Gunwook makes a huffing sound. “Sorry, sorry! You were all very brave and important looking! Even in slow motion!”

“Hyung, we’re superheroes ,” Yujin complains, now lying on the kitchen tiles and trying as hard as possible to be a nuisance for Matthew and Jiwoong as they cook. “You can’t call us silly!”

“ We’re superheroes,” Matthew says, turning around to poke the teenager with his toe. “You’re a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Yujin shoots back, frowning.

“Yes you are,” Matthew tells him, laughing. “Our baby. The babiest baby ever.”

“Hyung!” Yujin whines, flopping around on the tiles like a dying fish. “Really?”

“Baby,” Matthew says decisively, turning back to his cooking.

Taerae’s giggling at them and their antics when warm fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling his attention back to Zhang Hao.

“Taerae-ssi,” the older boy says tentatively, dark eyes brighter than usual. “Will you teach me how to make music like that?”

Taerae’s heart thumps in his chest, heavy and painful. “Sure,” he agrees, smiling so widely that he can feel the craters of his dimples. “And you can call me Taerae, Hao-hyung.”

★★★

Their mornings and days spent together at the café translate to dinners and evenings together so seamlessly that Taerae almost can’t remember a time before the eight members of ZB1 occupied every waking hour of his life.

And they aren’t just in his daylight hours, either— Taerae dreams about them now, almost constantly.

He mixes new drinks with Hanbin and plays guitar with Zhang Hao and dives into the ocean with Gunwook in his dreams, laughter threading together each shifting image. They’re constantly on his mind, reaching out for his hands and calling his name and flying across the sky with him as he sleeps.

Despite the affection that glows in his chest each time he looks at them, Taerae is just as human as the rest of them. He can’t help it when he almost cries after the second tray of dishes that Gyuvin drops and shatters into pieces, and Yujin’s drink requests have become truly outlandish and definitely don’t even taste good anymore.

One afternoon, he simply can’t take it any longer. Hanbin and Gunwook have been particularly persistent today, asking him every hour to join their team and save the world, listing off dozens of reasons why they need his help specifically and why the Earth is such a wonderful thing that it needs preserving.

It’s early July and the air is hot and sticky, thick with humidity and the clouds of an impending storm.

Taerae’s shirt keeps sticking to his back and he can’t concentrate on anything, too sweaty to bake cookies. Bags of cupcake frosting keep melting in his hands and he’s annoyed at how cool and unruffled Ricky looks, the boy certainly using his ice ability to keep himself sweat free.

Yujin’s just asked for a marshmallow frappuccino, not even a hint of embarrassment on his face as he’d expectantly rattled the drink off to Taerae and then demanded extra whipped cream on top.

Taerae feels like this is honestly his breaking point and as he watches yet another glass teeter between Gyuvin’s hands and then, inevitably, crash to the floor— he gives up.

The barista doesn’t even flinch at the sound of breaking glass, leaving the shining shards to be dealt with by Zhang Hao and Hanbin who must be more than accustomed to cleaning up messes after spending their lives with the other boys.

Taerae unties his apron and gives a perfunctory glance to the dishes and counters, deeming everything fine for now. The café is empty save for ZB1, everyone staying home where it’s cool or at the beach already, and Taerae has no interest in staying here and turning into a sticky puddle of sweat.

“Get your stuff,” he calls, clapping loudly for their attention. Zhang Hao levitates all the glass shards and dust off the floor and Gunwook vanishes them, Gyuvin looking very downtrodden indeed. “It’s way too hot to be here. We’re getting ice cream.”

The younger boys perk up instantly, abandoning their comic books and Gunwook’s knitting as they rush towards the door like a pack of eager puppies, invisible tails practically wagging.

Taerae bodily shoves Jiwoong and Zhang Hao and Hanbin outside, grunting a little at the weight of them but thankfully Matthew doesn’t need any physical encouragement to get moving. The barista flips the café sign to closed and locks the door behind them though it really isn’t necessary— nothing ever happens in their sleepy little town. 

Taerae herds them along, shouting directions ahead to where Gunwook and Gyuvin lead the pack, trading miserable glances with Zhang Hao as he and the other boy both pant and sweat in the strong sunlight.

They traipse across the small town until cobblestones turn to sand under their feet, the babies pausing to take their shoes off completely and then running off, sand kicked up by their heels. The ocean is a blue line to their right, waves cresting and crashing down into frothy seafoam in an endless pattern as old as the world.

Gulls balance on air currents overhead and bright umbrellas and towels dot the sand, families or groups of friends out to cool down in the water or simply enjoy the salty breezes.

Taerae’s soft brown hair is whipped into his eyes but he’s so happy to be cooled off by the wind and the salty ocean spray that he doesn’t even care, bending over to slip off his sneakers and socks.

He digs his bare toes into the scorching hot sand, wriggling them for a moment, and then takes off after the other boys because they’re somehow remarkably fast at walking even in the sand.

They meander down to the water’s edge, their progress much easier on the packed wet sand and able to withstand the temperatures with their bare feet much more easily. Jiwoong rolls the hems of his jeans up to his knees and Gyuvin keeps stopping to pick up shells and bits of sea glass, showing them to whoever happens to be beside him.

Ricky has slipped a pair of very large black sunglasses over his eyes and looks like a model as he saunters down the beach, his true age betrayed only when Zhang Hao tries to splash him with water and he runs away laughing.

Taerae enjoys the feeling of the ocean waves cresting over his toes, staring down at the wet sand and rolling surf as he searches for jellyfish. He thinks the ZB1 members would go wild if they saw one of the strange creatures, especially Yujin.

Around them little children laugh and run into the water, colorful inflatable rings and pool noodles speckling the water further out. The sun beats down on Taerae’s shoulders but the water wetting his ankles and the breeze ghosting over his cheeks and forehead keeps him cool enough, salt on his lips reminding him of other happy memories spent by the ocean.

They leave the surf behind when the little seasonal ice cream shop comes into view, candy pink sides and a cheerful green and white striped awning. There’s a line of customers already and Taerae waves hello to some of them as he and the other boys get in line, familiar faces smiling back at the pack of them.

Gunwook stands on his tiptoes, trying to read the menu, squinting a little at the handwritten flavors and sizes on the large chalkboard. “Hyung, what’s cotton candy?” He asks, turning to look at Taerae in confusion.

Taerae, an excited Yujin wrapped up in his arms and leaning back against his chest, stutters for a moment. “Uh,” he says, not quite able to describe the flavor or also comprehend that the superheroes have likely never had the sugary treat before. “Uh, it’s just kindof, really sweet? And like…pink?”

Gunwook wrinkles his eyebrows and gives Taerae a look that very clearly says the younger boy thinks his brain isn’t exactly functioning correctly, but he nods and turns back around.

“Wait, what about bubble gum?” Gyuvin asks, leaning in and resting his chin on Taerae’s shoulder. “What’s that taste like?”

Taerae locks his knees, trying to stay upright under the combined weight of two boys, scouring his brain for an accurate description. “Blue,” he says at last, giving up. “It’s really sweet and it tastes like the color blue.”

“ Cool ,” Gyuvin whispers, eyes shining when he peers up at Taerae. “I want that one, hyung.”

“I want to order for myself!” Yujin interjects, wriggling in Taerae’s arms and accidentally elbowing him. The barista lets out a little oof of air but doesn’t let go of the teenager as they all shuffle closer to the window and the two girls working the stand. “Hyung, can I? I can do it, right?”

Yujin glances back and forth between Taerae and Hanbin, so clearly excited at the prospect of ordering for himself that they both smile at him.

“Sure, Yujin-ah,” Hanbin agrees easily, his arm draped over Zhang Hao’s shoulder as the other boy mouths the ice cream flavors to himself. “That’s fine with me.”

“You’ll do great,” Taerae encourages, letting go of Yujin and digging his fingertips into the teenager’s sides until he’s giggling and happy enough to forget any possible nerves. “You’ve done it at the café so you can do it here too.”

Yujin bounces up to the counter, rattling off an absolutely horrendous combination of flavors to the girl working the counter and then asking for both chocolate and rainbow sprinkles.

“Can I get you anything else?” She asks when he’s finally finished, lips pressed together like she’s trying not to smile.

Yujin thinks for a moment, actually considering her question. “Make my hyungs stop teasing me,” he says with a bright smile. “And I’d like it if the world didn’t end, but I don’t know if you can do that.”

The girl stares at him, pen hovering over the order pad. Yujin beams at her and waves, circling around behind their group to latch onto Zhang Hao and burrow into the older boy’s side.

“Haha,” Taerae says, wiping a trickle of sweat out of his eyes. “So funny! Sorry, he’s just been reading a lot of science fiction lately. Can we order all together?”

And so in the end they all get what they want, Gyuvin more than happy with his bubblegum ice cream and seriously informing Taerae that it does taste very blue while Gunwook seems to enjoy his more sensible chocolate brownie batter cone.

Taerae orders strawberry ice cream for Ricky, coffee for Zhang Hao and mint chocolate chip for Hanbin and a taro milkshake with two straws for Matthew and Jiwoong. They all want to try each other’s and he lets them taste his own coconut ice cream with a wide smile, happier than he can express to give them this new experience.

They settle down on a dune of sand surrounded by long blades of grass and fragrant beach roses, the small pink flowers giving off a lovely scent. Gyuvin leans into Taerae as they eat their ice cream in contented silence, the blue sky above them slipping into hazy periwinkle. 

They watch the sun slip and slide down the sky, sinking below the golden line of the ocean like an egg yolk, the last rays of sunlight glittering on the water’s surface.

When the evening is cool enough for them to walk across the sand without their feet being scorched, Taerae joins hands with Yujin and leads them back to where the waves still curl over and crash into froth, enjoying the empty stretch of beach.

They splash into the water like puppies, running in and out of the waves like they’re racing mother nature herself. Gunwook uses his ability to face down the ocean until the last second and then vanishes himself away right before his ankles and knees are drenched, laughing wildly each time.

Yujin changes himself into a seagull and waddles in and out of the water, eventually bobbing on the waves and watching them all with a bright yellow eye. Jiwoong chases after him, trying his hardest to drench the teenager once he’s back in his human form, both of them yelling loud enough to be heard over the crashing of the waves.

Gyuvin pulls Ricky off to look for shells and interestingly shaped bits of driftwood, their hands linked as they meander down the beach together and occasionally dart away from one another, laughing.

Taerae settles himself on the sand in between Zhang Hao and Hanbin with a contented sigh, digging his toes under the warm top layer of sand down below where it’s cool and damp. The salty breeze blows his hair back from his forehead, threading little fingers through it and kissing his cheeks like his mother does in his earliest memories.

The three of them simply sit and look out at the ocean and the darkening sky for a while, watching the other boys play in the surf and listening to their shouts of glee. Yujin is completely soaked through and Jiwoong isn’t faring much better, the teenager tackling the older boy into the surf and submerging them under the rolling waves.

“This was a good day,” Zhang Hao announces quietly, his arm lightly pressed against Taerae’s spine because he and Hanbin are holding hands behind the barista’s back, the feeling somehow still comforting because he somehow feels included in their affection. “Thank you, Taerae-ah.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, hyung,” Taerae says firmly without looking away from the ocean and the golden shine gilding the crest of each wave, sparkling trails leading to the horizon and the last vestiges of sunlight. “Today was just as good for me too. I wanted to spend this day with all of you— I wanted to come to the beach with you.”

“Still,” Zhang Hao replies after a moment, knocking their knees ever so lightly together. “Thank you.”

Taerae laughs a little, glancing over at Zhang Hao and the older boy’s lovely face, his dark eyes and full mouth and the strange shape of his ears that he now finds so dear.

“Sure, hyung,” he says easily, picking up a handful of sand and letting it trickle through his fingers. “You’re welcome.”

They turn as one at a particularly loud shout, but all relax back onto the sand once they realize it’s just Gyuvin and Ricky, the two boys having been dragged into the water by a soaking wet Yujin and Jiwoong. Gunwook is still teleporting around them, taunting them as all four boys try their hardest to soak him with water, Matthew using his super strength to try and push him into the waves.

Taerae’s lips curve up, warmth in his chest as his heart beats a throbbing pulse in time with the laughter and overlapping voices, each burst of chatter from the water like an arrow lancing through his most vital organ.

He can feel Hanbin watching him, looking at the way Taerae is looking at the rest of the boys as they play in the water while stars flicker into life in the dusky sky above them.

“Taerae-ssi,” Hanbin murmurs very softly, a note of sadness so profound in his voice that it sends another arrow through the barista’s heart. “Don’t you want to save the world? Can’t you see how beautiful it is? How worthy of saving?”

Taerae feels his throat closing up, a dangerous prickling in his eyes as he stands up and brushes the sand off the back of his jeans. He digs his toes into the sand for a moment, wavering, before he turns and looks down at Hanbin and Zhang Hao, both of their lovely faces and tired eyes tipped up to him.

“Of course I can see how beautiful it is,” he tells them, choking the words out. “I find things worth keeping every day.”

And then he turns and walks down the slope of the sand towards the ocean’s edge, blinking furiously until the only salt on his face comes from the water’s spray. He spreads his lips in a grin, feeling his dimples pop, halting just as seafoam laps at his toes.

“C’mon,” he calls, raising his voice against the soft evening breeze and the rolling waves, holding his hands out towards the boys still playing in the surf. “Time to go home!”

Just like a pack of obedient puppies, they turn and splash through the water towards him, listening when called.

Taerae feels a swell of pride and affection in his chest, the smile on his face turning genuine as he watches them approach with bright grins and wet hair falling in their faces, clothes stuck to their bodies.

His smile turns to a yelp of fear when the boys barrel right into him, many pairs of strong arms wrapping around his chest and shoulders as they lift him up and carry him into the water, laughing all the while. They drop him unceremoniously and allow the waves to close over his head, many pairs of hands helping him up when he surfaces, spluttering and shivering.

Zhang Hao and Hanbin watch from the dry curve of the beach, shoulders pressed together and Hanbin’s head cushioned on the older boy’s shoulder. Above them a crescent moon slowly rises, casting silvery light over the figures darting in and out of the waves below. 

★★★

As July passes in bright blue skies and sunny, hot weather, Taerae decides that as long as the superheroes are in his life, he might as well make use of their abilities.

He’d promised his grandmother a long time ago never to use his own ability save for times of crises, but the rest of them had made no such vows. They all seem to enjoy using their abilities, playing with them in such creative ways that Taerae often finds himself watching with an open mouth and longing eyes.

It starts simply enough; one rare afternoon off the eight of them are flopped all over the floors of his apartment, wheedling with Ricky to send sheets of ice to hover over their faces and cool them down. The tall boy is gleefully extracting higher and higher promises from them in exchange for his ice, writing down everything they say in his sketchbook.

Taerae had planned to make cold naengmyeon noodles but as he stares at the glaringly white, empty shelves of his fridge he realizes he’s been so busy between the café and spending time with the boys that he’s once again out of food.

Matthew, his designated sous-chef for today, leans over his shoulder and stares at the empty fridge like they can magically conjure food. “Oh, there’s really nothing,” the other boy comments, sounding surprised. “Maybe we should order?”

“No,” Taerae almost snaps, licking salt off his upper lip. “I want this specific meal. And besides, ordering will take too long. At least the store has air conditioning.”

“Ooh, then I’ll come with you,” Matthew says, perking up. The muscular boy is already darting around the room to collect reusable grocery bags and Hanbin’s shiny black card before Taerae can protest, dragging the barista out of the apartment with a muffled shout of farewell.

Walking to the biggest grocery store in town feels like wading through soup and Taerae is practically dripping sweat by the time they enter the air conditioned heaven, the first gust of icy air on his red cheeks reviving him and giving him the push of energy he needs to keep going.

Matthew seems remarkably fine with the heat, keeping pace with Taerae as the barista hurries deeper into the aisles of the store, pulling his damp shirt away from his body to allow the cold air to brush over his skin.

“We need beef brisket,” Taerae says, scrolling through the list of groceries on his phone, groaning a little when he realizes Yujin and Ricky have made it a collaborative note and are adding requests as he speaks. “Eggs, cucumber, pear…and at least three boxes of ice cream, I guess.”

“I can find the regular stuff if you get their treats,” Matthew offers, setting down a small wheeling basket. “It’ll be faster if we split up.”

Taerae doesn’t want their visit to the grocery store to be over quickly. He wants to have Gunwook vanish his bed to the frozen food aisle and curl up in the icy cold air until he’s shivering and his lips are blue. But he nods because he’s a good host and he knows the rest of the boys are all hungry, no matter how hot they are.

“Don’t forget the noodles!” He calls after Matthew’s retreating back, the boy’s ashy hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “And mushrooms!”

Taerae enjoys the waves of air conditioning as he moves up and down the snack aisles, fighting a silent battle with Ricky and Yujin on his phone as he erases their increasingly outlandish requests. He can’t help snorting at the their addition of ‘caviar ’ to the list, proud of their increasing awareness of different foods.

The babies of the group practically have sponges for brains, soaking up every bit of cultural knowledge they can glean. Their addiction to TV, as well as Taerae granting them access to his phone and laptop, have rapidly increased their understanding of the normal world.

He gathers their requested drinks— milkis and Oreo smoothie packets— and then hauls four boxes of fruit popsicles out of the freezers, wishing Ricky had come with them to keep their groceries cool on the walk home. Taerae dithers by the sweet treats for a moment, wondering where Matthew is, then sets off to look for the other boy.

Taerae eventually finds Matthew in the chips aisle, staring in consternation at the racks of colorful bags without a single thing in his cart.

“Matthew-ssi?”

The superhero turns to him, eyes a little glazed. “Oh, hi Taerae,” he murmurs, blinking. “Sorry, I got a little…lost.”

Taerae hums, depositing his own groceries in the cart and then turning to stare at the wall of chips with an almost entranced Matthew. “Do you want to get something?” He asks carefully, trying to act like this is very normal. “I can show you some of my favorites.”

“No, that’s okay,” Matthew says after a moment, though he isn’t able to tear his eyes away from all the bags. “There’s just— a lot of options. I’ve never seen so many different types of food.”

Taerae’s stomach makes an awful swooping sensation and the corners of his mouth drop, any amusement from how Matthew is acting disappearing. Most of the time the ZB1 boys are good enough at adapting that Taerae can forget they really did grow up in a lab with very limited access to the outside world or the things that he takes for granted and views as normal.

Sometimes, though, they’ll make offhand comments that will have his stomach lined in lead and his heart swelling with pity as he remembers how truly strange their lives are. How stunted their experiences and knowledge are, how much they’ve been molded and brainwashed for their one particular role.

“There are a lot of options,” he acknowledges, shuffling closer to Matthew until their arms are almost touching. “It can get kindof overwhelming sometimes even for me. But it’s also fun to try new flavors— here, these pickle ones are good.”

Matthew wrinkles his nose at the neon green and black bag but hesitantly accepts it, peering at the little cartoon pickles. “Really? These taste good?”

Taerae nods, bouncing on his toes. “They’re the best! But you should choose some for us to try too.”

In the end they walk up and down almost every aisle, Taerae pointing out his favorite drinks and snacks and foods to Matthew while the other boy looks at everything with saucer eyes. The barista has to go back to the store entrance to grab two more carts but it’s all worth it each time Matthew finds something he wants to try or that he thinks the other boys will like, food piling up as they go through the store.

Taerae encourages Matthew to choose whatever catches his eye, cheering on his choices and being so overly enthusiastic and silly that the superhero is giggling, both of them a little giddy like children set free in a candy shop.

They do eventually get the ingredients for their dinner and Matthew can’t stop smiling as they line up to check out, glancing back at their piles of food with excitement. Taerae had encouraged him to try anything that looks interesting and it’s truly a strange mishmash of food they have, but the barista can’t stop the bubbling, glowing feeling in his chest.

The cashier’s eyes go very wide as they pile their haul onto the conveyor belt but Taerae just flashes his dimples at her, feeling very pleased about the damage they’re about to do to the government’s budget. He thinks it’s only right that the team of superheroes get to use the shiny black card on whatever they want after years of training and training for something he doesn’t even believe is true.

Matthew watches their total bill go up and up and up, fiddling with Hanbin’s black card as Taerae struggles to fit their groceries into bag after bag. At long last it’s time to pay and the cashier, with raised eyebrows, watches Matthew swipe the card like she thinks it’s going to be declined.

Taerae slings bag after bag over each arm, waving a cheerful goodbye to the girl and already dreading the walk home. He finally feels cooled down, no more sweat on his body, and he very much doesn’t want to leave his icy little paradise.

“Was that a lot?” Matthew whispers to him as they exit the store, Taerae practically bowed down under the weight of all the bags he’s trying to balance. “It normally isn’t that high at the other store we go to.”

“It’s okay,” Taerae huffs, red in the face and feeling like he’s dangerously close to falling over as they exit the store into a fiery morass of thick, sweltering air. “It wasn’t that much. Three hundred thousand is fine.”

Matthew seems to finally notice the barista’s struggles, brow pinching as he looks at Taerae and the way the boy is hunched under all the bags and bags of food. “Taerae-ssi, I can take those,” he offers, already pulling some of the bags into his own arms. “You kindof look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Taerae wheezes, waving a hand even as he hunches over and breathes heavily, sweat already beading on his temples. “Nothing to worry about here!”

Matthew snorts and takes the rest of the grocery bags from him, sliding them over his arms and shoulders until his limbs should be bowed under all the weight— but they aren’t. His muscles are more than enough to carry everything and Taerae is able to recover his breath as he trails after Matthew, marveling at the way the other boy seems to be absolutely unaffected.

“Taerae-ssi,” Matthew calls back over his shoulder, pausing and waiting for the barista to catch up. “Now that you’ve seen how strong I am, don’t you want to help me save the world? Wouldn’t I be a good team member to have?” 

The blonde boy flexes his arms, biceps swelling impressively as he lifts the bags and bags of food up and down like they’re weights. 

“Ugh,” Taerae says very eloquently, rolling his eyes and quickening his pace to try and escape a giggling Matthew. “No thank you!” 

The babies meet them at the door to his apartment and Taerae laughs at the way their eyes go wide, hands already reaching out greedily for the absolutely treasure trove of food he and Matthew have bought.

They end up just having ice cream and popsicles for dinner, Yujin finally satisfying his desire for an ice cream sundae and then promptly passing out on the floor, sticky caramel sauce smeared across one cheek and a spoon clenched in his hand. Gyuvin is tearing through the dozens of bags of chips and popcorn, announcing his favorite flavors to no one in particular, and Ricky eats at least two cartons of strawberries before finally slowing down on the third.

Matthew, curled up on the floor next to Taerae and surrounded by candy wrappers, lets out a contented little sigh.

“Taerae-ssi,” he murmurs, tucking one cheek against his shoulder as he looks up at the barista, “can I always go to the store with you? I promise to carry everything back.”

Taerae looks up from his phone where he’d been searching stores that sell snacks in bulk, a little distracted.

“Hmm? Yeah, of course. You were a great grocery buddy,” he tells the other boy, daring to brush his fingers through Matthew’s inky hair for just a second. His fingers are trembling when he pulls them away but the superhero smiles at him, slow and sweet.

“Thanks, Tae-ah,” Matthew replies very quietly, shifting closer until his shoulder is pressed against the barista’s knee. “I liked grocery shopping with you, too. It was more fun than training to save the world.” And then the boy closes his eyes, very obviously settling down for a nap as evening falls outside the windows of the apartment.

Taerae’s heart thumps in his chest, painfully hard. There’s a swirling sensation in his stomach, something like a whirlpool, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the way Matthew had finally dropped honorifics between them or if it’s just his body’s reaction to the superhero’s pretty smile.

After that day, though, Matthew always accompanies Taerae to the grocery store. It becomes a little slice of time reserved just for the two of them, the chilly grocery store the place where they can trade stories and joke around and argue over the best chip flavors.

And no matter where they go, they simply call each other by their names— even when Matthew carries all the grocery bags home and playfully complains about Taerae never offering to help.

★★★

Taerae squints down at his phone, blinking several times and trying to get the little lines of black text to refocus. He’s researching lawyers who have successfully won their cases against the government but his eyes are refusing to cooperate no matter how often he rubs them.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” It’s Gunwook, the younger boy peering at him in concern from the apartment doorway.

His hair is wet and shaggy where it falls in his eyes, broad chest and shoulders bared because most of the members had gone to the beach to swim. They’d left after eating breakfast together, departing in a flurry of towels and beach chairs, toting the sandwiches Taerae had made for them and ignoring his shouted reminders to put on sunscreen.

Only Jiwoong and Ricky had stayed behind, both boys announcing they didn’t like being out in the sun and deciding they wanted to rest instead. Taerae had been more than happy for their company, falling into peaceful quiet with them as Ricky went off to nap in his bed and Jiwoong read a book on the other end of the couch, their ankles pressed together.

The oldest member of ZB1 looks up from his book now, gaze skating over Gunwook to check for injuries in the way Taerae’s noticed all of the older boys doing to the babies before he turns to look at the barista as well.

“Something’s wrong?” Jiwoong asks, curling long fingers around Taerae’s wrist and pressing the pad of his thumb against the barista’s pulse, frowning a little. “Your heart’s beating very fast. Are you having trouble breathing? Do you feel sick?”

“ No, ” Taerae practically hisses, trying very hard to control the blush on his cheeks but failing miserably when all of Jiwoong’s attention is trained on him. “I’m fine. My eyes just kindof hurt.”

Gunwook makes an unhappy noise and comes over to the couch, sinking down on the floor and peering up at Taerae. The barista is going very pink indeed with two ZB1 members giving him their full attention, heart fluttering all the more as they look at him with their lovely eyes and even lovelier faces.

“Should you go to the hospital?” Gunwook asks, biting down on his fingers and looking worried. “I saw that in a show Ricky-hyung was watching. It’s a big building and there’s people there who can help you.”

Taerae can’t help it when he smiles, heart warming. “I don’t think I really need to go to the hospital, Gunwookie,” he reassures the worried boy, patting his knee. “Maybe just the eye doctor.”

Jiwoong nods, rubbing the pads of his fingers lightly over Taerae’s pulse like he thinks that will help the racing barista’s heart. “Can we go now?”

Taerae blushes even pinker, flustered under so much attention and care. He hasn’t been treated like this since leaving his grandmother’s home and, as embarrassing as it is, it also feels nice. He likes knowing he’s cared for, likes that they’re so concerned for his wellbeing.

“Uh,” he mumbles, ducking his eyes to his phone. “I can. Um, I can call them and ask for an appointment.”

Gunwook lets out a great sigh of relief, leaning his head on the couch beside the barista’s thigh in a move very reminiscent of a puppy. “Yes, please do that hyung,” he agrees, round face still creased with worry. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Taerae has nothing to say to that, tongue tangled in his mouth, and so he stares down at his phone and the fuzzy numbers as he calls his optometrist. Amazingly there’s an empty appointment slot the next morning and he receives twin smiles from Gunwook and Jiwoong when he books it, his weak heart beating faster than ever.

The next morning it’s all eight of them who show up on his doorstep to accompany him to his appointment, eyes bright and expectant when Taerae opens the door with a groan. His eyes are no better or worse, just a bit fuzzy and unfocused when he tries to read.

“I’m really okay,” he tells them as he pads back into his apartment, hair tousled from sleep. “You really don’t have to worry. I’ll even be at the café in the afternoon.”

“Oh, Taerae-ssi, no,” Zhang Hao says sympathetically, pushing him down onto the couch and lightly massaging his shoulders. “You won’t.”

“We’re going with you to your appointment!” Yujin announces, flopping down next to Taerae and curling into his side. “And then we’re spending the day together eating ice cream and watching movies! Ricky-hyung says that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re sick.”

Ricky, chronically online and addicted to binging TV shows and movies, seems to have become their resident expert on ‘normal’ life. The tall boy is already in the kitchen, directing Hanbin and Jiwoong in what Taerae thinks might be an effort to make tomato soup.

The barista groans as he gets up, ignoring Yujin’s clingy hands and the way Zhang Hao is glaring at him. “I have to go now,” he announces, avoiding their gazes as all eight of them look at him. “Bye! Please stay here!”

The door slams shut when he tries to open it, his sneakers floating up to the ceiling and his phone zipping out of his back pocket to hover just out of his reach.

Taerae makes a huffing sound and turns to glare at Zhang Hao, covering up the bleeding mess of his heart with exasperation.

He’s never had anyone care about him like this before and coming from eight people, it’s a bit overwhelming. He has no idea how to admit to them how much they matter to him and so he’s going to just keep acting normal, going to try and hide the squishy pink softness of his insides as long as possible.

“You can’t all go with me,” he tells them, anticipating Hanbin’s words as the leader opens his mouth. “That would be too weird.”

There’s a flurry of overlapping voices as they all instantly yell that they want to be the one to accompany him, Matthew holding Gyuvin back with his superstrength while Ricky freezes Yujin in place to stop the youngest boy from racing for the door.

In the end Gunwook gets there first, using his ability to pop up beside Taerae and wrap his arms around him in victory. 

“I’ll go with you!” He announces, waving cheerily at the rest of his still fighting team and then transporting them through the door and onto the small front porch.

“Gunwook,” Taerae hisses, poking the younger boy’s side. “What did Hanbin-hyung say about being careful with your ability? Anyone could have seen you do that!”

“Oops,” Gunwook says, not looking very sorry at all. He reaches down and wraps his much larger hand around Taerae’s, their palms sliding when he tugs the barista down the stairs and towards the street. “Let’s go, hyung. You’re going to be late.”

They walk through the town like that, Gunwook swinging their joined hands and telling Taerae about the sweater he’s trying to knit using a new stitch. Taerae tells him in return about how he’d enjoyed pottery in school and describes the time he’d accidentally splattered clay all over the pottery room walls in vivid detail.

There’s something about the sound of Gunwook’s bright laugh that makes Taerae want to keep talking and talking, spooling out his insides until the younger boy is always smiling, always looking back at him with shining eyes.

Gunwook goes quiet when they settle down in the waiting room of the optometrist’s office but he continues to look around with very bright eyes, clearly interested. There isn’t much that Taerae would find engaging but he just picks up a magazine and idly flips through it, thinking about stopping at the little family restaurant to order fried chicken for dinner.

“Kim Taerae?”

Taerae jolts up, setting the magazine down haphazardly and smiling at the young woman in pale blue scrubs. “Yes, that’s me,” he says, hurrying towards him. “Sorry!”

The man gives him a bemused smile, not opening the door to the hallway and examination rooms beyond like he expects. “Uh,” he says, clearly trying to remain professional, “I’m sorry, but we don’t allow anyone besides the patient to come through.”

Taerae crinkles up his face, incredibly confused, but then he feels a solid warmth at his back and realizes Gunwook has followed him.

“Gunwook-ah,” he murmurs in an undertone, swiveling around and giving the boy a very reassuring smile. “Would you be okay waiting here? I won’t be very long and then we can go pick out something special for dinner.”

Gunwook frowns, round cheeks puffing out. “Are you sure, hyung?” He whispers, leaning in conspiratorially and throwing an uncertain look at the nurse. “Will you really be okay? Is it safe? Ricky-hyung said doctors cut people open sometimes!”

Taerae presses his lips together, reaching up to pat Gunwook’s fingers where the younger boy is clutching at his shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” he reassures again, “and don’t listen to Ricky-hyung. They aren’t that kind of doctor.”

Gunwook deflates a little, lips curling up in a sweet smile. “Okay,” he agrees, ever the giant baby of ZB1. “I’ll wait here for you, hyung.”

Taerae gives the boy a little wave, feeling impossibly fond, and then allows himself to be led into an examination room by the very confused nurse. Everything goes normally until they ask him to read a board full of increasingly small letters and he absolutely can’t do it no matter how much he squints and blinks.

They flip through a series of lenses and make him choose between them, which kindof makes his head hurt, and then they end by pouring awful yellow drops into his eyes and dilating his pupils. Taerae blinks so much that he almost starts crying and the nurse has to hand him several issues, making a sympathetic sound.

By the end of the appointment he’s deposited back in the waiting room with a prescription for glasses and a warning not to drive himself back to his apartment. Taerae had informed the nurse that wasn’t a problem and then promptly been instructed to have his nice young friend help him walk home.

He peers around the waiting room through his ridiculous plastic sunglasses, vision still a little too funny and his eyes feeling strange and dry. He hates the dilation drops with a passion— it’s why he’s avoided visiting the optometrist for so long.

An enormous, fuzzy shape approaches him and it’s only by the colors of his shirt that Taerae recognizes Gunwook. He reaches out for the younger boy, groping around until he feels warm muscle under his fingertips, Gunwook reaching up to hold his wrists.

“Gunwookie,” Taerae pouts, tugging on the cotton of the boy’s t-shirt. “Get me out of here. This place is horrible— my eyes hurt more .”

Gunwook sucks in a breath and immediately wraps an arm around Taerae’s waist, guiding him to the door and the safety of the world beyond where horrible nurses and flashing lights can’t reach him. “I knew it, hyung,” he hisses, sounding very affronted. “Doctors are horrible.”

“They really are,” Taerae agrees, nodding sadly as he narrowly avoids bumping into a tree. “Never go to the doctor, Gunwookie. Just stay home and be sick instead. Dying is preferable to this.”

“They made you wear those ugly glasses,” Gunwook says, steering him down the sidewalk. “That was super mean of them. Maybe we should ask Jiwoong-hyung to give them nightmares?”

Taerae perks up, almost falling over his feet before Gunwook catches him and hauls him upright. “Gunwook, you’re our baby genius,” he crows, flailing around in excitement, “that’s the best idea!”

“Hyung can make really scary dreams,” Gunwook tells him with a shudder, something like awe or fear in his voice. “I was curious once so he did it on me and I couldn’t fall asleep without the light on for weeks after.”

“Perfect,” Taerae agrees, satisfied. He tries to clap his hands together but misses, slapping his own arms instead. The action sets him off kilter and he almost falls again, wobbling on his feet as Gunwook sets him straight and holds him up.

“Um, hyung,” the younger boy says tentatively, peering around the empty street. “Maybe I could just— teleport us home? You’re not doing super great at walking.”

“I am absolutely fine,” Taerae announces, letting go of Gunwook and trying to spin in a circle to demonstrate his robust wellbeing. He gets dizzy and disoriented instantly and folds over at the waist, knees twisted and legs shaking, grateful for the younger boy as Gunwook bodily hauls him back up.

“Well,” the barista concedes, panting a little. “Alright. Just make sure no one sees.” He isn’t sure he’d be able to take a disappointed scolding from Hanbin in this state— he might be weak enough to give in and agree to save the world.

Gunwook wraps his arms tightly around Taerae and then the world is folding around them, the younger boy working to teleport them through the town in starts and stops. He can’t take them all the way to the apartment in one jump but it’s still much faster than walking would have been and Taerae’s very grateful because his eyes are really starting to burn.

At last they arrive back on his small porch, Taerae teetering for a second on wobbly legs as Gunwook pushes the door open for him and then hauls him over the threshold, calling out a greeting to everyone else.

Seven bodies crowd around him in an instant, hands ghosting over his shoulders and tapping at the plastic lenses covering his eyes. Their voices overlap as they ask him if he’s alright, ask what the doctor said, ask him if any part of him was sliced open or removed.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Taerae reassures them, flailing his hands around and patting their faces clumsily, heart thumping in his chest. “Gunwookie took great care of me. Just help me sit down?”

The younger boy teleports them both over to the couch, another pair of hands draping a soft blanket over his shoulders and propping a pillow behind his head despite the hot temperature. Someone else pushes a mug of tea into his hands and Taerae feels the warm, furry weight of an animal curling up on his lap— Yujin.

“Hyung, was it horrible?” Gyuvin asks from somewhere nearby, sounding worried. “You’re really okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“Ah, Gyuvinnie,” Taerae sighs dramatically, sipping his perfectly made tea and huddling down a bit deeper into the soft blanket, well aware of his captive audience. “Be glad you’re a superhero and not a regular person who has to go to doctor’s appointments… every year.”

He’s met with an appropriately satisfying round of horrified gasps, Ricky muttering something about cruel and unusual punishment.

“Taerae-hyung,” Gunwook pipes up, laying his head on the barista’s knee from where he sits on the floor. “Does that mean you’re going to join our team? If you’re a superhero with us you won’t have to go anymore!”

Taerae chokes on his tea, working hard to swallow and then regain his air.

“Haha,” he says loudly, pretending not to have heard the younger boy’s earnest question. “Did I ever tell you all about the time my appendix burst? No? Well, it was the middle of the night and my grandmother had to rush me to the hospital through a snowstorm…”

A week later, when his new glasses arrive and he nervously slides them onto his face for the rest of the boys to see, Taerae is absolutely showered in compliments. 

★★★

“Okay,” Taerae announces loudly as he slams through the door of the café, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and a thick white envelope clutched in one hand. “Who wants to go yell at some bad people with me?”

The eight of them all pause in what they’re doing, looking up at him with concerned expressions. Hanbin stands up first, quickly followed by Jiwoong and Gunwook, the three of them crowding around Taerae in a flurry of worried hands and concerned expressions.

“What happened?” Hanbin asks, voice chilly and whip sharp. His hands are skating over Taerae’s shoulders and chest as he checks for wounds, angled eyes studying every inch of him. “Are you hurt? Is someone chasing you?”

Ricky and Gyuvins’ hands are wreathed in ice and fire, Zhang Hao has a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and Yujin has managed to transform himself into a tiger, enormous white fangs bared as he paces around all of them in a protective circle.

“What,” Taerae says, momentarily distracted by Hanbin’s proximity and the warm feeling of the boy’s hands on his shoulders. “Oh, no, hyung— I’m fine. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jiwoong, angled towards Taerae like he’s ready to jump in front of him and take any stray bullets, tips his head to the side. “I think you need to tell us what you did mean, Taerae-ah,” he says smoothly, “because in our world bad people mean danger and death.”

“Uh,” Taerae stalls, feeling very silly indeed. He swallows and raises the white envelope, pasting a weak grin on his lips. “My phone company? They overcharged me?”

Ricky and Gyuvin deflate at the same time, ice and fire extinguishing as they slump back down into their seats. “Hyung, you’re so dramatic,” Gyuvin complains, reaching out for a cookie. “You’re almost as bad as Jiwoong-hyung.”

Yujin stops his circling and comes up beside Taerae, pressing his furry side into the barista’s thigh. Taerae tries not to think too hard about it when he reaches down to pet the tiger, fingers sinking deep into the animal’s soft fur.

“You’re not hurt,” Hanbin confirms, still holding onto Taerae. “You’re fine?”

Taerae nods, swallowing dryly. “Sorry,” he mutters, hunching his shoulders. “I maybe…exaggerated a little. I’m okay.”

Gunwook lets out a huge sigh of relief and tips his head down against Taerae’s shoulder, resting his weight on the shorter barista for a moment. “Silly hyung,” he murmurs, “I’m glad you’re okay. That was scary.”

“Ah, Gunwookie,” Taerae says softly, sliding his fingers into the younger boy’s silky hair and massaging softly. “Hyung’s sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Go sit down and I’ll bring you a cupcake, mmm?”

The younger boy leaves him with a final smile, fingers trailing over the hard triangle of Yujin’s head.

Taerae looks up at Hanbin and Jiwooong, quelling a little under the alert gazes they still have trained on him. He’s sure he’s about to be scolded.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Hanbin says suddenly, cutting the barista off as he opens his mouth. His hands tighten on Taerae’s shoulders, squeezing once before reluctantly dropping back to his sides. “Even if it seems silly, I always want you to tell us if you feel like you’re in danger. We’ll do whatever we can to help.”

Taerae’s heart pulses painfully, a wave of warmth cresting high on his cheekbones and spreading down his neck because of the way Hanbin is looking at him. “I know, hyung,” he murmurs, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “I know that.”

Hanbin nods once, precise and clean, but he brushes his knuckles over the barista’s cheek as he turns away to go back to the table, the plants on the wall twisting and writhing like a pit of snakes. Taerae feels absolutely horrible as he watches the leader settle back down into his seat beside Zhang Hao, a gulf of guilt opening in his stomach.

“It’s only because we care,” Jiwoong says, drawing Taerae’s attention back to him. The older boy is watching him with a strange expression on his face, hands folded behind his back. “That’s all it is, Taerae-ah. Hanbin isn’t angry. He was just— scared.”

The gulf of guilt plunges deeper, a horrible sucking sensation that has Taerae feeling like the worst person in the world. It must show on his face, must be obvious in the way his mouth turns down.

Jiwoong smiles suddenly, his whole face transforming. “You’re fine, Tae-ah,” he soothes, pinching the barista’s cheek for just a moment. “Being dramatic is fun! We wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

Taerae has to take a long while preparing Gunwook’s cupcake, trying to very surreptitiously sniffle when his back is turned or when the floor creaks particularly loudly. There’s still a little bit of a lump in his throat when he brings the treat over and he feels the tiniest bit wobbly, but the boys are back to acting how they usually do and they seem to have forgiven his slip up.

“Hyung, can we have cupcakes too?” Ricky asks very politely, looking up from his sketchbook and the drawing of the ocean he’s working on with some new colored pencils. “You make them really well.”

Taerae’s always soft for compliments and so he skips away, taking special care to make little faces with sprinkles on the rest of the cupcakes for the boys. They fall upon them like hungry vultures and his heart flips over in satisfaction, hands propped on his hips like a proud parent.

Zhang Hao’s fingers curl around his wrist, the older boy tugging gently to capture his attention. He smiles when Taerae looks at him, warm and soft— so unlike the first version of him that the barista had met weeks ago.

“Tae-ah, what happened with your phone? Do you need help dealing with the company?”

Taerae, who had completely forgotten about his exorbitantly high monthly statement amid all the commotion, feels himself getting annoyed all over again.

“Yes, thank you hyung,” he huffs, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “I do need to deal with them. Ugh, they’re so annoying— maybe I should just switch providers.” 

Zhang Hao hums, studying his face. “And you can talk to them on your little box? To get them to fix whatever’s upsetting you?”

“Yeah,” Taerae says distractedly, stomach swirling as he searches the number to call for invoice inquiries. “I just…I really hate talking to people so normally I wouldn’t call but it was really high, hyung, and I can’t figure out why…”

He trails off as he taps on the little string of blue numbers, stomach clenching as the phone starts to ring.

“Well,” Zhang Hao says reasonably, “can you go and talk to them in person? Instead of calling.”

Taerae hears the line click as someone picks up on the other end and immediately slams his finger down on the red end call button, looking up at the older boy with wide eyes.

“Hao-hyung, you’re a genius,” he breathes, the nasty feeling in his stomach instantly disappearing along with the call. “Will you come with me to talk to them? I want backup.”

Zhang Hao raises one perfect eyebrow, studying Taerae’s excited expression. “You want backup,” he repeats, “to go and talk to your phone company. Because they’re bad guys?”

“Very bad,” Taerae agrees seriously, reaching out to tug at the older boy’s wrists. “Hyung, please? Please come with me? There’s a small chance they might try to kill me.”

“A phone company is going to kill you,” Zhang Hao says dryly even as he allows himself to be pulled up out of his chair and towards the café’s door. “Really.”

“Well, I’m a very annoying customer,” Taerae tells him amicably, waving goodbye to the rest of the superheroes and hoping Hanbin will be able to manage anyone who comes in. “And the chances of death are never zero, hyung— so really it’s better to bring you along.”

The tiny branch of his phone company sits at the end of the town’s one small shopping street, colorful baskets full of summer flowers lining the windows of the stores they pass. There are several people out and about who wave to them and Taerae beams at everyone, reminded for a moment how much he likes living here.

“Okay,” Taerae declares, propping his hands on his hips in a heroic stance and taking several deep breaths outside the offensively orange building. “I’m ready. If it goes really badly, leave me and save yourself.”

He can feel Zhang Hao roll his eyes behind him, the older boy reaching around him to open the door and nudge him inside.

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he agrees a little too easily and Taerae would respond, but the worker is already greeting him.

“Hello,” the barista says, smiling very widely and wiping his sweaty hands on the sides of his jeans, wishing for his apron. “I just got my invoice for July and it was really high— could you maybe help me figure out why?”

What follows is an intense thirty minute session of Taerae and the worker— who is older and apparently not very good with technology— deep diving into his account, both of them bent over his phone as they tap at the different pages of his customer profile.

The first hurdle is Taerae remembering his password, which he types in wrong so many times that he has to reset the whole thing. Then he has to figure out how to get to his invoice page— normally he just receives his bills in the mail— but only the total amount shows up, no breakdown of how he’d wracked up so much money anywhere on the page.

He looks at the worker helplessly, offering his phone with puppy eyes, and the older man takes it with a visible grimace.

They end up opening his account on two separate computers, Taerae coming around the desk to help the older man so that by the time they finally figure out how to show the breakdown of his monthly charges, they’re both sweaty and somewhat close to tears.

Taerae ignores Zhang Hao laughing at them in the background and squints at the listed numbers along with the older man, both of them confused.

“Ah, here it is Mr. Kim-ssi,” he says at last, clearly relieved. “You were charged for…hmm, around twenty? Yes, twenty I think— international phone calls.”

Zhang Hao sounds like he’s choking, his ears very red when they both turn to look at him. “Sir,” the worker says, concerned, “are you alright? Would you like a cup of water?”

“No, that’s okay,” Zhang Hao manages to get out, cheeks puffing out adorably for a moment as he swallows laughter down. “I’m just— horrified. Twenty international phone calls! How did that happen, Taerae-ah?”

“That must be wrong,” Taerae declares, feeling very righteous and sensing several months of free service coming his way. “That wasn’t me, it must be a mistake in the system. I never call anybody if I can help it.”

The worker dabs at his forehead with an actual, real life handkerchief and readjusts his round glasses on his nose, looking stressed. “Let me see,” he says, hunching over the computer and typing away slowly, “it does seem very strange.”

Taerae makes a face at Zhang Hao, trying to communicate with his eyes that the older boy doesn’t have to whip every electronic up into the air and use them to attack the nice old worker quite yet. That smugness turns to disbelief when the man turns to him apologetically and shows him a list of all the calls made from his phone last month— sure enough, on July 29, twenty outgoing calls to various numbers show up on his record in quick succession.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the worker says and he really does sound apologetic, eyes crinkled up in concern. “But I don’t think your invoice was a mistake.”

“Yes,” Taerae murmurs faintly, staring at the lines and lines of outgoing calls. “Yes, I can see that. Thank you.”

Behind them Zhang Hao knocks into a rack of phone cases, creating a ruckus of noise and scattered squares of plastic. The worker rushes over to help him stand up, not noticing the way Zhang Hao is floating the cases back onto the rack. Taerae, a low throbbing beginning at his temples, sighs and opens his banking app.

Taerae marches into the café with his hands on his hips and a thunderous expression clouding his features fifteen minutes later, back ramrod straight. Zhang Hao trails after him, giggling as he’s been the entire walk back from the phone store, but the barista is steadfastly ignoring him.

Taerae slaps the list of his phone calls from the month of July down on the scrubbed wooden surface of the large table ZB1 is gathered around, momentarily thankful for the nice old man who’d printed the record out for him. The superheroes’ chatter quiets down, all of them looking up from their books and board games and snacks to study Taerae’s dark expression.

“Who,” he says ominously, glowering around at all of them, “tried to call American phone numbers twenty times ?”

Hanbin and Jiwoong and Matthew just look confused but the babies start to shift uncomfortably in their seats, Yujin’s large eyes darting over to Gyuvin immediately and so Taerae focuses in on them. He braces his palms on the table and leans towards them, making himself intimidating just as he’s seen in movie interrogation scenes.

“Yujinnie,” he almost coos, deadly sweet and soft. “Do you know anything about this? You can tell hyung.”

Matthew is whispering to Zhang Hao, the older boy looking as pleased as a cat after a saucer of cream, his fingers entwined easily with Hanbin’s atop the table.

Yujin is practically vibrating in his chair, eyes darting every which way and bunny teeth biting down on his lower lip. Gyuvin and Gunwook and Ricky are all avoiding Taerae’s gaze too, looking at their laps or studying the plants along the walls.

Taerae hums under his breath, staring the teenager down as Yujin’s shoulders curl in and he hunches deeper and deeper into himself, practically curling up in a little ball in his chair.

“I’m sorry!” Yujin cries at last, exhaling loudly like he was about to explode. “I’m sorry, hyung! It was Gyuvin-hyung and Ricky-hyung’s idea.” And the teenager points a finger at the two older boys, giving them a pleading look when they both glare at him.

“Aha!” Taerae cries, straightening and starting to pace in short little lines, very much wishing he had a mustache to stroke or a pipe he could wave around to look important. “So, our true culprits emerge. Gyuvin, Ricky, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

The two boys are pink, mouths turned down and puppy dog eyes prepared when Taerae looks at them. They’re so adorably contrite that he almost gives in but then the barista hardens his heart, remembering the rather expensive payment he’d just made to his phone company.

Hanbin finally chimes in, taking up his role as leader in a way that’s long overdue in Taerae’s opinion, though his tone is much less threatening than the barista would like. “Gyuvin-ah, Ricky,” he says placidly, “did you really use Taerae-ssi’s phone without his permission? That wasn’t very respectful of you.”

“Sorry,” Gyuvin mumbles, peeking up at Taerae through his eyelashes and then instantly dropping his eyes back to his knees when he sees the barista’s cocked hip and frown. “We just— sorry.”

“Why?” Taerae practically cries, throwing his hands up and wondering if it’s possible to call the government and demand that they come and retrieve their errant superheroes. “Just— why twenty times? Who were you possibly trying to call?”

“It was Ricky-hyung’s fault,” Gyuvin tattles, placing blame on someone else yet again. They all turn to look at the tall boy who just blinks back, though the very tips of his ears are rosy pink.

“There’s a Justin Bieber concert,” he admits at last as Taerae’s glower deepens, “and we wanted tickets. So we were trying to call him to ask for them.”

Taerae lets out a wordless shriek as the room collapses into loud chaos, Matthew and Zhang Hao holding onto each other through the force of their giggles. Jiwoong is trying to ask anyone who will listen who Justin Bieber is and Gyuvin, seemingly emboldened by Ricky’s honesty, is going on a long rant about the American singer’s music and how talented he is.

“You just tried to call Justin Bieber,” Taerae says shrilly, clutching at his hair and blinking quickly, “to ask for tickets. To his concert . In America. ”

“Yeah,” Gyuvin agrees, nodding eagerly. “But we had to keep trying different numbers because the people who answered hung up or started laughing, which was actually really rude.”

“We didn’t know it would cost money, hyung,” Yujin says plaintively, making his eyes extra big and shiny somehow. “We just wanted to talk to Justin-sunbaenim.”

“I think he’d like us,” Ricky says thoughtfully, swirling the straw in his strawberry smoothie. “He looks lonely. I think we could be good friends for him.”

Taerae wants to ask a million questions, starting with how would you be friends with him when he doesn’t speak Korean and ending with what the fuck, but he very barely manages to restrain himself.

“Ricky-yah,” he says in what he thinks is a very calm voice but really is something closer to a whistling teakettle, “how were you going to get to America for the concert?”

“Oh,” the tall boy says, frowning a little. “We hadn’t really thought about that.”

“I think Gunwookie could probably teleport us there,” Gyuvin chimes in, glancing at Ricky and then the other babies. “Right? California can’t be that far away.”

Taerae makes a low moaning sound, reminiscent of a dying animal, and sinks down to the floor. He spreads out on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes, muttering to himself about geography lessons and babies who are too curious for their own good and the very hefty pension he deserves from the government.

“Taerae-ssi,” someone murmurs in his ear, warm and amused. The barista squeezes his eyes shut more tightly in response, wishing for noise canceling headphones to block out the chatter overhead and the sound of one of Justin Bieber’s hit songs that’s now being played. “Taerae-ahhhhhh,” the voice croons, “please get up. We’re hungry.”

“Starve,” Taerae croaks and he very seriously means it. “Just let me lie here on the floor and wallow in my anguish and please, whatever you do, don’t ask me to save the world after this. It really isn’t worth it.” 

Zhang Hao hums thoughtfully, fingers ruffling ever so lightly over the barista’s brown hair. “Okay,” he says conversationally after several minutes. “But you should know they’re trying to call the singer again to ask when he’s coming to Korea for a concert.”

Taerae shrieks and scrambles to his feet, on a warpath as he chases the younger members of ZB1 around and around the café in a desperate attempt to retrieve his phone from them. 

★★★

Towards the end of August Taerae discovers the boys don’t know what an elephant looks like and throws an absolute fit, pulling up images of different animals on his phone and shoving them in the superheroes’ faces with increasing disbelief.

After Yujin stares at a particularly cute photo of a chihuahua and then asks him very seriously if it’s just a fat rat, Taerae throws up his hands and declares that the following day will be reserved for an educational field trip.

He refuses to say anything more on the matter to the curious boys and instead goes about the rest of his day in a huff, muttering to himself and insulting the government under his breath.

He meets the boys on the steps of his apartment bright and early the next morning, laughing at their wary faces and the way they won’t stop pestering him with questions. He feels a bit like a schoolteacher as he leads them through the sleepy town, wishing for a little flag on a stick he could wave around or perhaps a whistle.

They finally stop outside a small café, the walls painted a lovely shade of peach and little paw print stickers decorating the large glass windows. A round sign hanging above the door is emblazoned with an acorn and a bell jingles cheerfully as Taerae pushes the door open, entering first to show the boys it’s safe.

Inside the café is all pale golden wood and soft fabric pillows, low tables tucked along the walls. There are no decorations save for several potted plants and instead a series of ladders and lattices and plastic tubes cover the walls, a wild maze that only makes sense once the chipmunks and squirrels and sugar gliders clambering over them make themselves known. 

“Hyung, what are those?” Yujin plasters himself to Taerae’s back and peeks over his shoulder, maybe a little scared. The rest of them are staying behind him as well, looking around curiously but very much not moving further into the café. 

“Animals!” Taerae says happily, leading them forward to a table large enough for all of them.

He settles Yujin on a cushion and then sheds his jacket and bag, grinning as a squirrel scampers past them on the wall. “I’m going to get snacks and drinks– do any of you want something specific?” 

Ricky raises a hand, leaning away from the walls and into Zhang Hao’s side. “Can I have green milk tea?” 

“Anything for you kitten,” Taerae responds easily, blowing the boy a kiss. “Anyone else?” 

The rest of the superheroes seem too preoccupied with the furry rodents to respond and so Taerae takes himself off to the counter, greeting the nice older woman working there who he always sees at the weekly farmer’s market. She takes their order with a smile and even gives him a little paper cup of seeds and grain they can feed to the animals. 

Back at the table Taerae settles down between Matthew and Gunwook, giggling at how all of the boys are sitting very still and flinching whenever a small animal scurries past. 

“They’re harmless,” he reassures the table, studying the tiny gray sugar gliders and reddish brown squirrels. “Those fat ones with the stripes on them are called chipmunks– aren’t they cute? They carry all their food in their cheeks!” 

“They’re so small,” Gunwook murmurs, staring at the rodents. “They kindof look like big mice.” 

Taerae scoffs, deeply offended. “Chipmunks are much nicer than mice,” he argues. “And anyways, how do you know what mice look like but not other animals?” 

“Oh,” Matthew says easily, playing with the coasters on the table. “We saw them in the labs with us when we had to do tests. There were a lot of mice.” 

Taerae’s stomach swoops out of his body and he freezes while everyone else just keeps going on, the boys slowly starting to talk with each other and pointing out particularly cute points on the little animals as they run around the café.

They gradually warm up to the rodent inhabitants, no longer leaning away from the walls in fright whenever something small and furry zips by. 

The owner brings them their tray of drinks and the matcha crepe cake slices Taerae had ordered, smiling at Yujin when he asks her politely what all of the rodents are named. 

“Hyung, I bet I could turn into one,” Yujin says to Hanbin in an undertone as she leaves, tentatively reaching his hand out towards the wall and the sugar glider that’s paused there.

The tiny animal blinks its enormous, shiny eyes at him and Taerae really can see the resemblance between them. 

Yujin squeals when the animal reaches out a miniature pink paw and then slowly climbs onto his hand, peering up at him and flaring its little nostrils as it smells him. It swings its fluffy gray tail for balance as it slowly climbs up his arm, the teenager giggling all the while.

“It tickles!” He announces happily, holding himself very still as the animal pauses on his shoulder. “Taerae-hyung, can you take a picture?” 

Taerae, still frozen, allows Gyuvin to pick up his phone and swipe open the camera app.

The babies have gotten very adept at using technology and treat his phone and laptop more like communal property, which is fine for now– or at least, until they figure out how to make in-app purchases. 

Though he had reconsidered that decision upon swiping his phone open the other week to find that someone had downloaded Twitter and managed to find their way to the stan account side of the app, tweets drooling over idols flooding his screen. Taerae has his suspicions and they largely center on Ricky or Gyuvin, especially once he’d tapped on his own profile and realized it was a Justin Bieber fan account. 

His thoughts are looping over the word lab again and again, scenes from sci-fi movies he’d secretly watched growing up flashing across his brain in a muddle of white coats and crazed scientists and vials full of blood.

Taerae knows, realistically, that the ZB1 boys have grown up in a government facility– which sounds more like a prison or scientific center– their entire lives. It’s clear they don’t know or don’t remember their families and are unfamiliar with the outside world; their only contact with ‘regular’ life seems to have come from missions to practice their abilities and teamwork. 

He doesn’t quite know if it’s better to ask them to elaborate on their lives before they came to his little town, or if it would be easier for them to simply leave the past in the past.

So far he’s listened when they’ve shared details but hasn’t pried, has tried really hard to control his expressions and not make shocked noises at some of the things they so casually say. 

But his heart hurts whenever Gunwook exclaims over how much he loves the feeling of the sun on his face and the barista always gives in when the tall boy asks to go see the ocean, unable to deny him when it’s so clear the teenager loves being outside.

His chest overflows with pity and sympathy when Ricky tries a new food or Matthew takes a little too long still to choose between all the grocery store options because those are reminders of how sheltered, how stunted their lives have been. 

That’s why Taerae’s heart squeezes so painfully whenever Hanbin tries so earnestly to convince him to join their team and work under the government’s directive to save the world. He can see how much the older boy believes the mission they’ve been given, how wholeheartedly Hanbin has thrown himself and the rest of the team into this task.

They’ve made the weight of saving the world their entire reason for existing and it isn’t their fault, not at all, but Taerae wants so much more for them. 

He wants to watch Zhang Hao play his first recital and he wants to send Gunwook off to travel around the world and he wants to bring Gyuvin to an amusement park because he just knows the boy would love it. He wants to visit a zoo with Yujin and show him the hundreds of animals that exist and assure him that it’s okay to shapeshift into something small and fuzzy just for fun; he doesn’t always have to be a lion or a tiger or something dangerous that can attack in a fight. 

Taerae wants to ask Hanbin to start working at the café because the older boy is a genius at latte art and all the old grandmothers love him. He wants to help Ricky and Jiwoong and Matthew discover their passions and even if they never find anything they particularly love, he still wants to be there for them, wants to let them know that it’s okay to rest and simply have time to grow up. 

Taerae wants mornings and evenings and everything in between with these eight boys.

He wants to show them how to celebrate their birthdays and watch them open Christmas presents and he wants to teach Yujin to drive, even if the thought is a bit terrifying.

He wants movie nights and group dinners and he wants, more than anything, to simply keep them in his life as the friends he’s been missing all this time without even being aware of their absence. 

“Hyung-ah,” Gyuvin says inquisitively, tapping Taerae lightly on the shoulder. “What’s this one called?” 

The superheroes have figured out what the cup of seeds and grain is for and are currently covered in little animals, several sugar gliders climbing around on them while two chipmunks eat out of Zhang Hao’s open palm. The older boy is giggling but obviously trying to stay very still, his eyes incredibly bright; Hanbin’s watching with so much open affection on his face that Taerae has to look away. 

Incredibly, there’s a red squirrel perched on Jiwoong’s shoulder with another cradled in his hands, the superhero cooing at them softly while Matthew runs a tentative finger over their fluffy backs. Taerae is almost sure he catches Ricky sneaking a little piece of cake to one of the sugar gliders, but he decides it isn’t his problem. 

“This one is called a squirrel,” Taerae tells Gyuvin, scrunching his nose up at the animal’s tiny head and bright, beady eyes. “Do you like it?” 

Gyuvin nods emphatically, whispering the new word to himself. He ducks his head down until his nose is almost brushing the small animal’s tufted ears, grinning at it. 

“I really like it here, hyung,” he tells Taerae, both of them ignoring the way a sugar glider has curled up in Ricky’s hair and is trying to make a nest out of blonde locks. “They’re all so cute. I wish we could come back.” 

Taerae frowns a little, knocking his shoulder ever so lightly against Gyuvin’s. “What do you mean, Gyuvin-ah? We can come back whenever you want.” 

“No,” Gyuvin says after a moment, eyes still focused on the squirrel and the way it’s sniffing his knuckles. “We can’t. Hyung says we don’t have that much time left here.” 

★★★

“Hyung,” Ricky says from where he sits on the floor, leaning back against the couch. Taerae’s sprawled out on the worn fabric, a bowl of cereal balanced on his chest and still wearing pajamas.

Only the two of them are awake, everyone else taking the chance to sleep in on this late summer Sunday morning after the sleepover Yujin had wheedled out of them the night before.

Taerae hums, rubbing at his eyes and hoping that Jiwoong will wake up soon and decide to make a real breakfast. He’d bought a few cookbooks for the older boy after he’d showed an interest in cooking shows and Jiwoong’s been steadily trying out the recipes in them pretty successfully.

“How do the people on TV get colored hair? Are they born like that?”

Taerae lifts his eyes to the screen where two girls are talking, one with bright blue hair and the other with streaks of red mixed into her dark brown locks.

“It’s called dye,” he tells Ricky, reaching out to ruffle his hand over the younger boy’s inky black hair.

All the members of ZB1 have the same hair color and hair style, short in the back and sides but slightly longer on top. It’s started to grow out, though, and they look a lot more like normal teenagers and young adults now. 

“There’s lots of different colors you can choose from, or you can even mix colors. It’s just up to the person.”

Ricky’s silent for a moment, eyes trained on the TV and the two girls. “But why do people do it?” He asks, bemused. “Does it mean something? Doesn’t it hurt to get their hair like that?”

Taerae huffs a laugh, struggling to sit up and then leaning back against the couch, folding his legs under himself. M

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” he assures, thinking back to his own rebellious phase when he’d dyed his hair bright salmon pink. “And it doesn’t really mean anything. People just do it for fun, I guess.”

“For fun?”

Taerae hums, mulling over his words for a second. “Because they want to. It’s a way for people to express themselves and it’s kindof cool, I think, to try out a new look.”

Ricky’s silent for much longer this time, obviously considering Taerae’s words. It’s long enough that the barista almost starts to doze off, eyelids heavy as he lazes in the morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows.

Fingers gently pat at his knee, rousing him enough that he opens his eyes. “Taerae-hyung,” Ricky says, twisted around and looking up at him with serious eyes. “I want to dye my hair. Will you help me?”

“Oh,” Taerae says, a little shocked. “Now?”

That’s how he finds himself standing over Ricky in his small bathroom thirty minutes later, crinkly plastic gloves covering his hands and the contents of two boxes of dye set out on the sink counter. The younger boy is sitting on the closed toilet, a towel draped around his shoulders and an excited sparkle in his eyes.

“Okay,” Taerae confirms one final time, wriggling his fingers. “Are you sure about this? You definitely want to dye it?”

They’re both still wearing their pajamas and Taerae hasn’t had a single cup of coffee yet, nor has he ever dyed someone else’s hair, but Ricky nods and drums his heels against the underside of the toilet, lips twitching.

“I’m sure,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut like he still thinks the dye will hurt. “Please do it.”

“Here goes nothing,” Taerae mumbles under his breath, opening a tube of the dye and squeezing a generous amount out into his gloved hands. He slaps it onto Ricky’s head and giggles when the boy makes a strangled noise, starting to massage the goo in and use it to coat every dark strand of hair.

He coats the younger boy’s black hair in two rounds of dye and then wraps the included plastic bonnet securely around his head, setting a timer on his phone. The boy looks silly enough that Taerae can’t help taking a sneaky photo. 

“All done!” He announces happily, patting Ricky’s towel-covered shoulders and flexing his fingers. “Now we just have to wait.”

They spend the two hours they’d decided on watching TV out on the couch, Ricky nibbling on his fingernails and asking Taerae every few minutes how much longer they have to wait. The younger boy is practically vibrating where he sits, scrolling through pictures of people with dyed blonde hair on Taerae’s phone.

When their time is finally up the barista leads Ricky back into the bathroom, hissing at the cold tiles against his bare feet. He sits Ricky down on the toilet lid again and slips on a fresh pair of gloves, prepared to take the bonnet off.

Ricky freezes, looking up at him with enormous eyes even as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “Hyung,” he mumbles, “what if it looks terrible?”

Taerae pokes his cheek, scrunching his nose up at the younger boy. “What, you don’t trust me?”

Ricky swallows, knee jiggling so much that it knocks into the barista.

“Ricky-yah, it’s going to look great,” Taerae relents, flashing the nervous boy a bright smile. “And if you really hate it we can always dye it back to black.”

Ricky nods to himself, nervous and determined. “Okay. Okay, you can take it off.”

Taerae carefully unwraps the cap, blinking a little at the bright white shade of blonde that looks so unfamiliar on the younger boy. He has Ricky bend over the sink, pouring cup after cup of lukewarm water over the boy’s scalp as he gently massages his hair with his gloved hands.

Once his hair seems clean he pours purple toner into his palms and lathers it over Ricky’s whole head, really working it into his roots and the tips of his hair. Repeating the rinsing process goes much faster and then Taerae’s instructing Ricky to stand up straight, water dripping down his ears and neck to wet the towel around his shoulders.

The barista giggles when he realizes Ricky’s eyes are firmly shut, the younger boy probably too nervous to look at his reflection.

“Sit down, silly. I need to blow dry it.”

Ricky turns to putty in his hands once Taerae has the stream of hot air trained on his head, face going slack as he allows himself to be pulled and pushed whichever way necessary. He’s just like a kitten, soft and agreeably sweet, blinking lazily up at the barista. 

Taerae stares down at the younger boy for several long seconds when his hair falls dry and fluffy around his face, somehow not damaged at all by the multiple rounds of bleach and dye. 

“Ricky-yah, you’re so pretty,” he says seriously, carding his fingers gently through the platinum strands, admiring the way the boy’s hair shines under the bathroom lights. “I think this is really your color.” 

Ricky twists around to peer at his reflection in the mirror, nibbling on his bottom lip and not saying anything for an agonizing minute or two. His dark eyes dart over every strand of his newly platinum, glossy hair, face warming in increments. 

“I really like it,” he says slowly, voice a little raspy. He reaches up to touch it with hesitant fingertips, blinking like he can’t quite believe his reflection. “Thanks, hyung. You did a good job.” 

Taerae preens, pulling a silly face in the mirror just to make Ricky laugh. “I know,” he says, tugging the freshly blonde boy up by his arm and dragging him out into the kitchen. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions.” 

Ricky settles down at the tiny kitchen table as Taerae works to put together a bowl of yogurt and granola– Hanbin’s been reminding all of them recently to eat less junk food– and when he sits down he passes a carton of strawberry milk over to the other boy with a wink. 

They eat together in companionable silence that’s eventually broken by Gyuvin’s ear piercing scream as he emerges from the bedroom and catches sight of Ricky’s newly blonde hair. 

“ Ricky, ” Gyuvin gasps, racing forward and catching the boy’s face up in his hands, tilting it this way and that as he stares at him with saucer eyes. “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend? Are you a clone? An alien? Oh no – are you just wearing Ricky’s face?” 

Taerae’s laughing too hard to do anything but slap the table like a seal, actual tears springing up in his eyes as Gyuvin tugs at Ricky’s cheeks and forehead in an attempt to find where the mask ends. 

“Gyuvin-ah, it’s me ,” Ricky says in exasperation, slapping the other boy’s hands away. He conjures snowflakes and lets them drift down from the ceiling, tiny flecks of white catching in their hair and eyelashes before melting on the kitchen tiles. “Stop being an idiot. I just dyed my hair.” 

“But you look so different,” Gyuvin practically wails, draping himself over Ricky’s back and sticking his nose in the boy’s hair, inhaling deeply. “I’m not sure we can be friends anymore. We don’t match.” 

Ricky has such a long suffering look on his face that Taerae gives up and sets his face down on his arms, shoulders shaking with silent laughter and the beginnings of a cramp in his side. The rest of the boys are roused by the commotion and slowly drag themselves out into the kitchen, most of them yawning and Gunwook with a blanket still draped over his shoulders like a cape. 

Each gasp and exclamation sends Taerae into another fit of laughter, his stomach genuinely in pain at this point. He listens to them marvel over Ricky’s hair as the boy proudly explains how Taerae had changed it for him, reassuring them that it hadn’t hurt at all. 

“Hyungs,” Yujin says excitedly, bouncing around the table where they’re gathered, “I want blue hair! Wouldn’t that look pretty?” 

“I don’t think so, Yujin-ah,” Hanbin replies, knife hitting wood as he cuts up fruit for their breakfast. “Blue’s too obvious. Ricky-yah will have to dye his hair back to black before we leave this town– we can’t have anything that will draw attention to us when we’re out on missions.” 

Instantly the room sobers, the lively mood and loud chatter deflating as if a balloon has been popped. Taerae frowns and raises his head from his arms, taking in the solemn expressions on the boys as he looks around and the way Ricky is fiddling with his fingers. 

“But,” Yujin murmurs tremulously, lower lip quivering. “But I don’t want to leave. I like it here.” 

No one has anything to say to that, the kitchen descending into an even icier silence. None of them will meet Taerae’s eyes and Hanbin’s shoulders have gone stiff as he continues to cook, the back of his neck flushed pink. 

“Never mind that,” Taerae says at last, shooting an icy glare at Hanbin’s turned back. “I think Ricky-yah’s new hair looks great. Yujinnie, did I ever tell you about the time I dyed my hair pink?” 

★★★

Taerae continues his guitar lessons with Zhang Hao as August bleeds into September, impressed with the older boy’s memory and remarkable affinity for music. He picks up the notes and chords and finger movements incredibly quickly and can often be found in the corner of whatever room they’re in, bent over the instrument and quietly strumming different string combinations.

Hanbin proudly presents them with tomatoes from the plant on his balcony, practically waxing poetic about the effort the plant had put into growing them. The tomatoes are very nice, fat and shiny and a brilliant shade of crimson.

They eat them in a summer salad drenched in balsamic vinegar and maybe it’s the company or maybe it’s just that he’s hungry, but Taerae could swear it’s the best food he’s ever tasted. He thanks Hanbin for his hard work that night as they wash the dishes side by side, elbows bumping together.

Ricky fills up all the pages of his first sketchbook and disappears into an art store with Jiwoong for hours, reemerging with a bag full of new supplies and a smile on his face. His silvery white hair shines in the sunlight as he crosses the street to Taerae and the rest of them where they sit eating ice cream, and it feels perfectly natural for the barista to pull him close for a hug.

“Show me what you got,” Taerae instructs and then he’s given a lengthy lecture on the different types of paper and pens and pencils, Ricky’s eyes sparkling as he waves around chunky pastel markers that he’s apparently been wanting to try out for ages.

Most of the words go completely over the barista’s head but he’s more than happy to listen, taking in Ricky’s smile and bright eyes with a wildly beating heart.

The younger boy presses close to his side as they walk back to the apartment together, bag of art supplies dangling from one hand as he passes something to the barista with the other.

Taerae glances down curiously, unfolding the small square of paper and darting his eyes over the information typed there. It’s a name and an address, a few short bullet points and a date written at the bottom for sometime next week.

He glances over at Ricky, curious and very proud, his heart doing that horrible thing where it swells up like a balloon. “You want to do this?”

Ricky nods, refusing to meet his eyes, the very tips of his ears pale pink. “It’s a beginner art class,” he says lowly, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk. “The store owner told me about it. She saw everything I was buying and thought I might like to join. It’s— it looks nice. Don’t you think?”

“I think it looks perfect,” Taerae agrees, trying not to shriek and dance around in a circle. “Do you have everything you need for it, or will they give you supplies?”

He startles a little when Ricky freezes in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to the blonde boy with furrowed eyebrows. A moment later, though, the younger boy is throwing himself at Taerae, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing their bodies close together.

The rest of ZB1 walks on ahead of them, unaware, but Ricky tucks his face into Taerae’s neck and whispers, quiet and soft, “thank you, hyung.” 

A lump rises in his throat, big enough that he isn’t sure he could talk even if he was able to find the right words, so Taerae just pats Ricky’s back and blinks until his eyes are dry as a desert. 

They don’t mention anything about the art class again, though Taerae quietly types the number of the woman running the course into his phone that evening and calls her to sign Ricky up. He pays for the class with his own banking app and murmurs to the blonde boy in an undertone that everything’s set for him to participate. 

The next week, on the day of the first class, Ricky can’t sit still in the café. He’s constantly changing seats, ignoring Gyuvin when the other boy tries to play with him and leaving his plate of cookies untouched. 

The barista watches the hands of the clock tick closer and closer to noon, excitement and a bit of his own nerves twisted up in his belly. He wants so badly for this to go well for Ricky, wants him to have the best time and be just like everyone else there.

Finally, at 11:45, he comes over to stand at the blonde boy’s side and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go, I think,” he says softly, handing Ricky a paper bag with two croissants just in case he needs a snack. “Do you want me to walk you there?” 

The blonde boy lets out a shuddering little breath, slinging a tote bag with his art supplies over his shoulder and taking the bag of snacks from Taerae. He’s paler than usual and his eyes look very sharp, fingers trembling ever so slightly as he runs them through his hair. 

“No, that’s okay hyung,” Ricky tells him, squaring his shoulders like he’s heading off for some superhero mission. “I know where to go.” 

“Break a leg kitten,” Taerae replies, giving the blonde boy a beaming smile and pinching his cheek just to make him frown. “Learn everything you can!” 

Ricky gives a decisive little nod, looking like he’s possibly marching to his death, and then strides out of the café and down the street into town.

September sunlight gleams on his blonde head but Taerae can’t help watching until his tall figure has completely disappeared, feeling a bit like a proud yet weepy parent sending their child off to school for the first time. 

He wipes an imaginary tear away from his eye as he turns back to the tables of the café, straightening his apron because he still has several hours of baking to do. Seven faces stare at him, the ZB1 boys silent as they watch him. 

“What,” Taerae says self-consciously, widening his eyes at them. “Do I have something on my face?” 

“Where is Ricky-yah going?” Hanbin asks, voice cool and professional. “Will he be back soon?” 

“Oh, you scared me,” Taerae sighs, rolling his eyes and starting towards the counter and his bowl of lemon cake batter. “He’s going to an art class– I think he’ll be done in about two hours.” 

Jiwoong and Hanbin both follow him to the counter, leaning over the nicked and scratched wooden surface as he picks up his spatula and two long metal trays lined with baking paper. Taerae has been expecting something to happen once the truth came out and he’s prepared himself for it so he just keeps breathing, focusing on scraping the batter into the trays. 

“Taerae-ssi,” Hanbin begins, his voice the measured cadence of the leader of a team of superheroes, professional and cool. “Ricky-yah can’t take an art class. It’s too much involvement when we’re only going to leave in the end.” 

Jiwoong hums in agreement, looking back and forth between the barista and his leader. Taerae grits his teeth and finishes separating the batter between both trays, giving them a few quick taps on the counter to burst any air bubbles. 

“We’ve already gotten too comfortable here,” Hanbin sighs, pushing a hand through his silky black hair. “I shouldn’t have let you dye his hair and Hao-hyung shouldn’t be learning guitar and Yujinnie is definitely addicted to TV. It’s too much. We came here to convince you to join our team and help save the world, but we’ve lost sight of that.” 

Taerae’s nostrils flare and he sets down the trays of batter, carefully brushing his hands off on his apron before looking up at Jiwoong and Hanbin, both of whom seem– sad, maybe. A little regretful, worried. 

“None of those are bad things, Hanbin-ssi,” he says very firmly, making direct eye contact with the leader. “Ricky dyeing his hair or Hao-hyung learning to play music– that isn’t going to stop all of you from saving the world if you still want to. You’re allowed to have lives. You’re allowed to do things that make you happy.”

Hanbin’s sharp eyes narrow, his fingers curling against the counter. “What do you mean, if we still want to?” 

Taerae shrugs, sliding the trays into the oven and shutting the door with perhaps more force than necessary. His anger isn’t directed at the superheroes, though– it’s for the rich and powerful men in government who brainwashed a group of teenagers into thinking it’s their responsibility to save the world and sacrifice themselves for all of humanity. 

“I mean that there are other options,” he says, folding his arms over his chest and gazing calmly back at a reddening Hanbin and a silent, worried looking Jiwoong. “You don’t have to save the world. You don’t have to listen to whichever creepy old men sent you here. You can choose a new life for yourselves.” 

“No,” Hanbin denies instantly, jaw clenching. “We can’t, actually, Taerae-ssi. Choosing a new life would mean dooming the rest of the world– every person out there– to death. I won’t do that.” 

“The world is worth saving, Taerae-ah,” Jiwoong adds quietly, drumming his fingertips against the counter. “We want to help if we can.” 

Taerae grinds his teeth together, trying to stay calm. “But why is that your responsibility?” He asks, cocking his head as he looks at them. “Why do you have to be the ones to save the world? Why not someone else?” 

Hanbin, red all over and visibly upset, rips a hand through his tousled hair. “Because we’re the only ones who can, ” he almost snaps, leaning over the counter to stare the barista down. “It’s either us or no one at all– that’s why we need you. That’s why we’ve stayed in this town so long– for you .” 

“My answer is still no,” Taerae says quickly, tangling his fingers in the cotton of his apron and anxiously twisting the fabric, mouth pinched. He sees frustration and anger flash across Hanbin’s face, catches the way Jiwoong’s shoulders drop, downcast. 

“Hanbin-ssi,” he says a little more quietly, looking at the older boys and only hoping they can read the honesty in his face, in his voice. “Ricky dyeing his hair and taking an art class, Yujinnie watching his dramas– none of that is going to save or condemn the world.” 

Hanbin’s jaw tightens, his fingers curling into fists against the wooden counter before he slowly uncurls them and drops them to his sides, hiding his hands from view.

“Maybe not,” he murmurs, eyes remote and cold as he looks back at Taerae. “But your refusal to help us lays a death sentence on every single life on Earth. Think about that, Taerae-ssi.” 

The older boys turn and walk away from the counter, Jiwoong giving him a small smile that does nothing to lessen the sting of Hanbin’s words. Taerae spends the rest of the day behind the safety of the counter, trapped in his thoughts and cycling guilt that swirls around and around the promises his grandmother had drilled into him. 

Ricky returns from his art class flushed pink and glowing with happiness, several pages of his new and much larger sketchbook filled with charcoal drawings. He allows the other members to look over his drawings and tells them about every detail of the lesson in starts and stops, glancing surreptitiously at a very quiet Hanbin before answering Gyuvin’s million questions. 

There’s no more discussion on the topic and Hanbin never seems exactly enthusiastic about Ricky’s classes, but the blonde boy continues to march off to them every Wednesday and return with bright eyes and colorful fingertips, words falling from his lips faster than ever before. 

Taerae takes special pride in looking over the blonde boy’s growing collection of drawings and sketches and watercolors, praising Ricky’s skill and eye for color with genuine awe. He tacks the ocean painting Ricky gives him onto the refrigerator in a place of honor and accompanies the younger boy when he needs to buy more art supplies, listening to him ramble about his classmates and their teacher. 

All the while his heart beats and beats, so much warmth in his chest that Tearae doesn’t know what to do with it.

★★★

Taerae pads into the kitchen on quiet feet, slipping between shadows and strangely shaped blobs of light. He thinks it’s around two or three in the morning but he can’t quite be sure– all he knows is that he can’t fall asleep no matter what he does. 

The wooden floors are chilly against his bare feet, the last vestiges of summer’s warmth having finally given way under October’s arrival. He shivers a little when his bare arm brushes against the cold metal of the sink, filling a glass with water as he stares out the window with glazed eyes. 

It had been a good day, a great day even– Taerae had finally found the time to take Zhang Hao to the one music store in town.

It’s run by a very ancient man who firmly refuses to accept any sort of musical technology after records and will loudly pronounce this belief to anyone who enters his shop, but the instruments for sale are lovely. The barista had wanted to finally buy Zhang Hao his own guitar; partially because he wanted them to be able to play together and partially because he was sick of the older boy stealing his own instrument all the time. 

All of the superheroes are making progress, really, each of them excelling in the interests they’ve been slowly developing as the weeks pass. Ricky’s moved on to oil painting in his art class and there’s a noticeable improvement in his sketches, new depth to the way he draws.

Hanbin has been steadily learning how to make drinks from Taerae and he’s almost as good as the actual barista now, occasionally experimenting with flavors and syrups to make new drinks that they’re all more than happy to try. And the babies are still helping Taerae with his morning baking; Yujin can frost a cupcake perfectly and Gyuvin’s figured out how to use his fire ability to make créme brulée. 

And, though he isn’t sure if it’s actually a good thing or not, Taerae has introduced the superheroes to the joys of enormous soft pretzels fresh from the oven and now they’re all addicted. He thinks the nine of them might be single-handedly fueling the stock of frozen pretzels that their grocery store sells, but he really can’t resist when the babies look at him with enormous eyes and ask for their new favorite snack.

Zhang Hao lit up as they entered the music store earlier that afternoon, staring around at the shelves groaning under the weight of records with wide eyes.

Wooden instruments hung on the walls of the store and an old American singer crooned from the record player in the corner, her voice smooth as syrup. A fluffy, very fat white cat wound around their legs as they meandered through the cramped aisles and tiny dust motes floated in the air, illuminated by autumn sunlight. 

Taerae loves the store dearly and he’d been more than excited to share it with Zhang Hao, to show the older boy all the joys of music. They’d eventually wandered over to the wall of instruments and Taerae had started to take different guitars down, letting the older boy hold them and get a feel for each one. 

None of the guitars had been the perfect match, though, Zhang Hao’s fingers not quite at home on the polished wood. Taerae had turned away to survey the options left and when he’d turned back to the older boy with a nice pine guitar in his hands, Zhang Hao had found his perfect match. 

It’s a violin, crafted lovingly from shining maple and varnished to a bright gleam. The handle curls elegantly and tiny daisies are etched around the strings, the bow fitting so perfectly in Zhang Hao’s hand that they’d both known it was his the moment he picked it up. 

If Taerae had needed any confirmation that this instrument was meant for the older boy, he’d received it when Zhang Hao tentatively set the bow against the strings and played a few lovely, haunting notes. They’d taken the instrument up to the counter immediately, Zhang Hao hardly able to take his eyes off the violin as the old shop owner had wrapped it up in a large box for them. 

Taerae doesn’t like thinking about how much the lovely instrument had cost but he doesn’t regret buying it, not at all– not when Zhang Hao’s face had been shining with happiness as they exited the shop, his arms cradling the box to his chest like it was the most precious thing in all the world. 

He’s had a happy glow flickering steadily in his chest for the rest of the day, smiling to himself each time he glanced over at the corner of his living room and found Zhang Hao curled over the violin and getting to know it, running the bow over the strings in greeting. 

The other boys had been excited too, immediately gathering around their hyung and requesting songs because they haven’t really grasped the difference between different types of instruments yet. It was still been cute, though. 

Cute enough that Taerae had gotten sucked down a rabbit hole of adoption videos on his phone as he’d settled into bed for the night, unable to tear his eyes away from his glowing phone screen. He’d watched video after video of ‘gotcha’ days and then found channels that specialize in adoption of older children, heart swelling in his chest. 

The barista had even pulled out a notebook and started taking notes, jotting down information about the adoption process and which hoops needed to be jumped through before he caught himself. 

Taerae sets down his empty glass with a slight sound, rubbing at his tired eyes and wishing his brain would just shut off for once.

The adoption videos still have him feeling emotional and he’s dejected, too, because in this case he wouldn’t just be going up against the Korean foster system– he’d be fighting the entire government for the right to keep Yujin and Gunwook and Gyuvin. 

And no matter how much energy and time and money he’s willing to pour into that fight, he really doesn’t think he can win. ZB1 are a team of highly trained and incredibly valuable superheroes and Taerae just isn’t optimistic enough to think the government will simply– let them go. 

“Tae-ah?” 

The barista jumps almost three feet in the air, pressing a hand against his widely racing heart as he whips around. He blinks in the dim light of the kitchen and living room for a moment, searching for who had spoken, before he spots Jiwoong’s dark head peeking over the edge of the couch. 

“Hyung, you scared me,” he admonishes in a low voice, moving to join the older boy on the couch.

Jiwoong is curled up against the armrest, a pillow in his arms and a blanket draped over his knees. He pulls his legs in, making room for the barista, but Taerae still presses against him because he needs the comfort of another person's warmth right now. “What’re you doing up?” 

Jiwoong makes a low noise in his throat, giving him a tired smile. “I couldn’t sleep,” he answers quietly, “too much on my mind. You?” 

“Yeah,” Taerae confesses, leaning his cheek against the worn softness of the couch, studying Jiwoong’s lovely face painted in shadows. “Me too. My head’s too full.” 

They sit in silence for a while, indigo shadows drifting over them as the moon emerges and dips behind clouds outside the windows of the apartment. If Taerae concentrates he can hear the snoring of the other boys, some of them splayed out on sleeping bags in the living room while the rest of them are cuddled up in his room, tucked together like a pile of puppies. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” 

Taerae shakes his head, positive that his thoughts are too tangled and jumbled for anyone else to parse through the mess of them. He also doesn’t like the idea of vomiting up his innermost thoughts and feelings, even under the hazy cover of night.

“I’m okay, hyung,” he murmurs, reaching out to squeeze Jiwoong’s knee. “But I’m a good listener if you need to talk.” 

The older boy hums, lazy and slow. A shaft of light from a passing car illuminates the planes of his face for a second, painting his sculpted features golden yellow. He’s so good looking that sometimes Taerae doesn’t quite know how to look him in the eyes. 

“I think about the future,” he admits after a while, “all the time. I can’t stop. I can’t shut the thoughts off.” 

Taerae hums, waiting for more. Sometimes silence and the space to talk are the best things to give to someone. 

“I’m worried about everything,” Jiwoong tells him, voice ever so slightly cracking. “The end of the world, but also what happens if we save it. I don’t know what comes after that– I don’t know how else to live.” 

“And,” he continues, so softly the barista almost can’t hear, “I’m not sure we’ll all survive and I can’t– I can’t go on without any of you.” 

Taerae’s heart throbs in his chest, squeezing because of the anguish clear in the older boy’s voice and because of the way he’s been so easily included in that care.

“Hyung,” he whispers, reaching out blindly for Jiwoong’s hand and slipping their dry palms together once he finds it. “Hyung. What if the world isn’t ending?” 

The sigh Jiwoong lets out is too world weary and tired for his twenty five years, some ancient and nameless emotion in his voice when he replies. “Of course the world is ending, Tae-ah. It always is.” 

Taerae doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand and his heart hurts for Jiwoong and he’s very, very tired. He snuggles a bit deeper into the couch, unsuccessfully trying to stifle his yawn in his shoulder, eyelids growing heavy. 

A warm palm comes up to cup the side of his neck, guiding his head down to rest on the older boy’s shoulder. Taerae nestles in close, breathing in the scent of coconut and almond butter, already soothed. 

“Sleep, Taerae,” Jiwoong murmurs, shifting the fuzzy blanket covering his legs so it lays over the younger boy as well, enveloping him in cozy warmth. Their hands are still clasped together, Jiwoong’s thumb sweeping comforting little strokes over the back of Taerae’s hand. “Have sweet dreams for me.” 

And Taerae, unable to resist the pull of sleep and lulled into the dreamscape of his mind by Jiwoong’s soothing presence, drifts off. He does have very sweet dreams that night, the eight members of ZB1 featuring prominently in his sleeping thoughts as they run through green fields and lie together in patches of white flowers. 

They sing with nine voices and time, for once, doesn’t freeze– it just spools on and on like an unwinding coil of golden thread, each new memory more beautiful than the last. 

★★★

As the gray skies and frigid gales of November wind roll into their tiny town, Taerae decides it’s time to take Hanbin to the local plant nursery. The tomato plant out on his balcony is long dead, shriveled and brown, and he’s noticed the older boy seems a little downtrodden about the lack of greenery and growing things as winter approaches. 

He bundles the older boy up in two sweaters and one of Gunwook’s completed beanies early one weekend morning, looping a scarf around Hanbin’s neck and tugging him out the door before anyone else can ask to come along. Salty wind gusts over their faces and turns the apples of their cheeks red after only a few minutes, both boys bowing their heads and tucking their hands into their pockets as they walk along. 

“Taerae-ssi, where are we going?” Hanbin asks curiously– by now all the boys are used to being dragged along on spontaneous trips that the barista deems ‘necessary’ for their education in normal life. “And is it inside?” 

Taerae laughs, skipping a few steps down the street and then turning back to wait for Hanbin, smiling. “It’s kindof inside,” he says brightly, tucking his elbows in closer to his body as wind whistles around them. “But if we walk fast we’ll warm up! C’mon!” 

“Ugh,” Hanbin grumbles under his breath, trudging uphill after the excited barista. “You’re worse than our trainer and he’s an ex-military general.” 

Taerae pushes the door of the plant nursery open a handful of minutes later, inhaling warm air and the scent of green, growing things. Hanbin ducks in after him, looking around with wide eyes and a growing smile. 

The plant nursery– or rather, glass paneled greenhouse– is absolutely brimming with plants and flowers and small trees of all shapes and sizes. Vibrant green covers every wall and creeps up trellises and support poles, colorful flowers giving off lovely fragrances that mix with the smell of damp earth and condensation.

The air is foggy and thick and soon they’re shedding their scarves and hats as they walk deeper into the enclosure, leaves brushing against their cheeks and shoulders. 

“Taerae-ssi, this is amazing,” Hanbin breathes, eyes full of wonder as he trails his fingers over the plants they pass. “Why did you hide it from me for so long?” 

Taerae scoffs, ducking under an enormous spiky green fond and holding it up so it doesn’t hit the taller boy in the face as he passes. “I wasn’t exactly trying to,” he argues, inhaling warm air deep into his lungs and fondly remembering the scent of summer. “I just– forgot.” 

Hanbin hums, thankfully dropping the topic as he gets distracted by a flowering vine positively bowed under the weight of enormous magenta blossoms. The older boy darts from one plant to the next like an excited child, trailing his fingers over shiny leaves and soft flowers and pointy spikes alike, leaning into each plant as if he’s greeting them. 

Taerae follows after him, more than content to soak in the warm air and scent of damp, loamy earth. He finds himself smiling at each of Hanbin’s little excited noises when the superhero finds a new plant, even taking a few pictures of the boy’s lovely face tipped up towards palm trees and drooping lilies. 

It’s fun to watch the plants and vines and flowers all respond to Hanbin, Taerae never quite able to get over the way they sway towards him and seem to shine under his touch. The barista watches several plants burst forth with new blossoms just for Hanbin, trees lowering bunches of bananas for the older boy’s praise. 

A trail of daisies spring up between the cracks of the stone path they walk along, tiny yellow faces and white petals unerringly leading Taerae back to the superhero no matter how far he strays. 

“I’m never leaving,” Hanbin murmurs as he pets the velvety leaves of a lamb’s ear plant, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. “I want to live here.” 

Taerae, propped up on a nearby bench and on the verge of falling asleep, hums. “Okay,” he agrees sleepily, letting his eyes close. “That’s fine. Maybe I’ll live here too.” 

Hanbin snorts and turns around to look at him, studying the barista’s peaceful face and the way his brown hair is adorably fluffy from the wintry breezes. A creeping vine of ivy snakes over the back of the bench, curling across Taerae’s chest to poke gently at his cheek. 

“Hey, that tickles,” Taerae mumbles, scrunching up his nose and jerking his head around a little. The vine pokes him again, growing bolder, then rears back when Taerae opens his eyes and bats at the air in front of his face. 

“Hyung!” The barista complains, looking up at Hanbin with big eyes. “Make it stop!” 

Hanbin goes very still and the vine of ivy slithers away, the plants around them freezing in the same way as the superhero. He’s just standing there in the midst of all the greenery, staring at Taerae and not even blinking; he looks like a Greek statue. 

“Hanbin-ssi?” Taerae says, worried. He gets up from the bench, eyebrows pinched in concern, approaching the taller boy and reaching out towards him with tentative hands. “Are you okay?” 

Hanbin blinks finally, sharp eyes closing for just a moment too long like he’s trying to compose himself. A tiny green sprout pushes out of the ground next to his foot, spiraling upwards and quickly growing in size. Neither of the boys notice it. 

“I’m fine, Taerae-ssi,” he says softly, flashing the barista a nervous smile. “You– you called me hyung.” 

Taerae blinks, running back over his words.

“Oh,” he says very eloquently, shifting a little on his toes. Beside Hanbin’s leg the new plant is sprouting emerald leaves and tiny, light green spikes along its length. “Huh. I guess I did.” 

Hanbin looks at him. Taerae looks back, absolutely refusing to be the one to figure this out. He’s younger and also usually does the brunt of the emotional lifting so this one is all up to the superhero to figure out. 

“Can I call you–,” Hanbin starts, pressing his fingertips against his thighs. Taerae gives him an encouraging look, heart beating almost painfully fast in his chest. “Um,” the superhero tries again, clearly hesitant. “Can I call you Taerae-ah?” 

The leaves on the plant have doubled in size, now thick and shiny. The tiny spikes are clearly thorns, tipped in little flashes of red, and round green buds are popping up all along over the plant. As the buds swell at an accelerated rate little hints of color peek through, flower petals folded up and tucked away for only a few seconds. 

Taerae smiles at Hanbin and he doesn’t even try to disguise the affection he can feel shining out of his eyes or the way his dimples are popping out, eyes crinkled up in happiness.

“Sure, hyung,” he says easily, relishing the feel of the word on his tongue. “You can call me whatever you want.” 

Hanbin smiles back at him, eyes shining and whisker dimples adorably creasing the tops of his cheeks. His ears are red like they always get whenever he feels a strong emotion and it’s maybe a little silly, both of them standing there grinning at each other like idiots, but Taerae couldn’t be happier. 

The buds scattered across the newly grown plant are bursting into bloom, enormous white petals unfurling to reveal beautiful evening roses. A lovely scent fills the air, light and sweet, but the two boys seem not to even notice as they link arms and traipse off into the greenhouse together in search of plants to buy. 

Taerae and Hanbin struggle a bit hauling all their new plant babies home to the apartment but it’s all worth it because the superhero is so excited that he can’t stop talking, fingers constantly running over the succulents and frothy green ferns and the round disks of the money plant Taerae had picked out. He’s telling the barista all about how to care for the new additions because they’ll live at the apartment permanently, going into the fine details of watering schedules and light exposure while the barista nods and tries not to let his teeth chatter. 

Taerae is more than happy to push through his front door and be enveloped by the warmth of their apartment, ignoring the rest of the superheroes who are cuddled up on the floor watching a movie in favor of setting the pots in his arms down on the counter.

Hanbin does the same with his own haul and then instantly rolls up his sleeves, not even bothering to take off his hat or scarf before he’s walking around the apartment to find the best place for each plant to live. The older boy is murmuring softly to the plants, conversing with them like he understands them. 

Taerae leans against the counter, letting the heat of the apartment unfreeze his numb fingers and toes, glancing over at the fridge and the calendar pinned there. The date of Ricky’s art show is written in glitter pen and surrounded by little cat stickers, the days Matthew spends working out at the gym crossed off in red marker and the rotation for their cooking schedule denoted by scribbled initials.

Someone– probably Yujin– has also added the weekly release dates and times for the episodes of the new drama they’re all watching together to the calendar. 

He smiles to himself at the cute, messy handwriting and then turns back to the potted plants, carefully picking out three succulents he thinks Hanbin said need lots of sunlight and lining them up on the windowsill above the sink. They brighten up the kitchen considerably and Taerae has to admit to himself that, just possibly, Hanbin was right about this whole plant thing. 

“Tae-ah,” Hanbin calls, sticking his head out of the barista’s bedroom door and summoning everyone’s attention. “Are you okay having plants in here?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Taerae says with a wave of his hand, staring down at the remaining plants with his hands on his hips as he thinks. “Just as long as they don’t completely take over.” 

The leader makes a happy noise and his head disappears again, several ominous thumping sounds emanating from the bedroom that Taerae absolutely doesn’t want to deal with right now. 

He ambles around the living room, finding places for the remaining plants, feeling happier with each burst of greenery and deciding that he’ll try really hard to keep them all alive this time. Taerae doesn't realize the rest of ZB1 have paused their movie and are all staring at him, following his movements with catlike eyes as he walks through the room. 

“Hyung,” Yujin pipes up at last, loud enough that the barista stops and gives them all a warm smile. He can’t quite figure out why they’re staring at him so he just waits, tilting his head a little. “Hanbin-hyung called you Tae-ah.” 

Taerae makes a noise of agreement, still not understanding why Ricky and Gyuvin are looking at him like he’s grown a second head or why Zhang Hao seems to be so incredibly happy.

“ Hyung ,” Yujin repeats a little more forcefully, raising his eyebrows. “What the fuck.” 

Instantly voices overlap as they tall turn to scold the maknae of the group, Jiwoong clapping his hand over the teenager’s mouth while Gyuvin laughs wildly and high fives the younger boy. 

“ Language, Yujin-ah,” Zhang Hao hisses, but all Taerae can do is hide his giggles behind a hand. 

Hanbin chooses that moment to pad out of the barista’s bedroom, halting at his side and surveying the tangle of arguing, laughing boys with a fond expression. “I think I found the right place for all of them,” he informs Taerae, cracking his long fingers. “But I might need to switch them depending on the sunlight.” 

“Sure, hyung,” Taerae agrees easily, sidling just an inch closer so that their shoulders brush together. He still can’t get over the feel of the word in his mouth, wants to use it in every sentence and watch Hanbin’s face soften every time he calls him hyung . “That’s fine. I trust your expertise.” 

“See!” Yujin cries from somewhere under the pile of limbs, feet flailing before his red face pops up over the back of the couch. He’s definitely breathing hard and someone’s trying to pull him back down but he flings an accusatory finger at the two boys, eyes enormous. “Taerae-hyung called hyung, hyung!” 

“Yujinnie, that doesn’t even make sense,” Matthew argues, trying to haul the younger boy off the back of the couch and down into their blanket pile. “Please use your words.” 

“They know what I mean,” the teenager huffs, an almost maniacal gleam in his eye as he looks at where Hanbin and Taerae stand, elbows pressed together. “Hyungs, this is great! You’re finally getting along!” 

Taerae glances over at Hanbin, both of them trying and failing to hold back smiles at how cute the youngest boy is being.

“We’ve always been friends, Yujin-ah,” Hanbin says, lips twitching when the teenager makes a screeching noise and bats at whoever’s tugging at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t–,” the teenager pants, face very red and hair flopping all over in an absolute mess. “Don’t gaslight me, hyung! I remember you fighting!” 

Taerae sees the leader mouth the new word, forehead scrunching up, and suddenly has a terrible and extremely vivid vision of Hanbin looking up gaslight only to stumble upon Urban Dictionary.

“Okay!” He says quickly, clapping his hands. “What movie are we watching?” 

Yujin loses his fight at that moment and decides to transform himself into a fluffy yellow retriever puppy, long tail wapping everyone else in the face as he clambers around on the couch and barks his displeasure. 

“Taerae-ah,” Hanbin wheedles, a half-playful gleam in his eyes. “If you join Zerobaseone, I’ll let you call me just Hanbin.” \

Taerae rolls his eyes, climbing up onto the couch and worming in between Matthew and Gunwook until he’s surrounded by warmth and muscles. They open up for him easily, lifting the fuzzy blanket covering their legs so he can really be part of the cuddle pile. 

“In your dreams, hyung,” the barista retorts, laying his head on Matthew’s shoulder and letting out a contented little sigh, reaching over to pet Yujin’s fluffy ears. He misses the strained turn to Hanbin’s features, the way the older boy can’t stop plucking at the skin of his inner wrist.“But now that you’re the last one up, can you bring us some popcorn?” 

★★★

One blustery winter day, Taerae looks around at the boys piled in his living room and realizes that they’re probably all bored of watching movies and just staying inside all the time. So he pulls them up one by one and tells them they’re going on another field trip, gratified when they perk up and agreeably march out the door after him. 

They weave through the streets of the town, passing early Christmas decorations and gardens blanketed in a light layer of snow. Only Ricky seems invigorated by the cold, his pale skin and icy hair blending in perfectly with the wintry landscape. 

The rest of them, save Gyuvin, are shivering by the time they reach the glass doors of the arcade. Taerae pulls them wide and ushers the superheroes in, allowing the scent of buttery popcorn and pizza to wash over him. He breathes in deeply, memories of childhood and birthday parties flooding his mind, already feeling excited. 

Then he looks at where the eight boys are huddled together, staring around at the dark room and flashing lights and neon carpet with wide eyes, and realizes perhaps this is just a bit overwhelming for them. 

“This is called an arcade,” Taerae announces as he leads the pack of them deeper into the belly of the room, passing noisy games and screaming children and flashing signs. “There’s a bunch of different games and if you’re good at them, you get tickets. If you have enough tickets, you can trade them in for prizes! It’s so fun!”

When he glances back at them, a wide smile dimpling his cheeks, they all look skeptical. Yujin is tucked under Jiwoong’s arm, practically burying himself in the older boy’s side, and Ricky and Zhang Hao are holding hands as they peer around themselves. 

“It’s very loud,” Hanbin says hesitantly, staring at a small child that runs past them as if she’s an alien. “And there’s lots of– tiny humans.” 

“Well, yeah,” Taerae says reasonably, trying not to pass out at how adorable it is to hear Hanbin call children tiny humans. “Arcades are really popular with kids, but they’re actually open for everyone. You’ll like it, I promise!” 

Like the fearless leader that he is, he goes up to the ticket counter and purchases enough strips of small orange paper slips for all of them, managing to only wince a little at how expensive it actually is. 

The eight boys trail after him like ducklings as he walks further into the arcade, neon lights turning Ricky’s hair almost blue and making any bit of white on their clothes fluorescent. 

“Okay,” Taerae announces, stopping beside a simple racing game he thinks will be a good place to start. “See these little orange things?” He brandishes his tickets, handing out the rolls of paper to the confused superheroes. “You put them into the games you want to play; some games take different amounts of tickets. If you win the game, you get a blue prize ticket.” 

They blink at him, clearly confused. 

“If you take the blue tickets over there,” Taerae continues, pointing to the prize counter that’s positively overflowing with stuffed animals of all sizes and tubes of bubble mix and etch-a-sketch tablets, “you can exchange them for prizes. Cool, right?” 

Jiwoong frowns, tilting his head to the side. “Couldn’t we just buy those things?” He asks, gesturing at the prizes. “Instead of having to play games for them?” 

“ No, ” Taerae says loudly, wagging his finger in the older boy’s face. “Silly hyung! That wouldn’t be fun. Let me show you!” 

He feeds two orange tickets into the racing game, clicking through the opening options as the team of boys gathers round him to peer curiously at the bright screen. The game starts off easily enough and Taerae narrates for them as he guides the little pixelated car down clear highways, swerving every so often to avoid bombs and accelerating to collect golden coins. 

He can feel them leaning in closer to him as the game goes on, can feel them getting invested as his car speeds up and more and more bombs and obstacles appear ahead. Taerae’s fingers flicker over the controls as he expertly switches lanes and speeds up, eyes trained on the bright screen without blinking. 

“Hyung, watch out, ” someone hisses and he swerves around a bomb just in time, hissing out air through his teeth as a section of the road ahead suddenly falls away. He accelerates, trying to get enough speed to clear the gap, and someone cheers next to his ear when he’s successful. 

Taerae makes it through the last few seconds of the game by the skin of his teeth, narrowly jumping over a roadblock and feeling so tense that his shoulders rise up to his ears. When his car passes the finish line and the screen explodes into rainbow confetti, Yujin throws himself on the barista’s back in celebration. 

The rest of them are cheering for him too and when Taerae turns around, triumphantly brandishing his blue prize ticket, he can see that their eyes are lit up with the sparkle of interest. 

“Hyung,” Gyuvin exclaims, bouncing on his toes. “Hyung, I want to try! Can I? Will you help me?” 

Taerae grins at him, chest very very warm. “You know, Gyuvinnie, it can also be a two person game,” he says. “Do you want to race against someone else?” 

It might be a bit of a devious thing for him to reawaken ZB1’s competitive spirit but the instant Ricky and Gyuvin sit down to race each other across the screen, spitting insults and trading laughter the entire time, Taerae knows he’s finally broken through their sensible sides. The other superheroes are practically vibrating to try their turn at the game, all of them salivating over the blue prize ticket Gyuvin’s waving around like it’s a golden trophy. 

Taerae stands back and watches them for a while, so much pride overflowing in his chest that he really feels like a parent watching their child take its first steps. He cheers obnoxiously for each of the boys as they win and collect their blue prize tickets, hugging Yujin close to his side when the teenager races up to him with sparkling eyes and an enormous grin. 

“Yujinnie,” he asks after a while, glancing around at the arcade packed full of games and flashing lights. “Do you want hyung to show you another game?” 

“Is it better than this one?” Yujin asks, sounding skeptical. 

“Oh,” Taerae assures him, already grinning as he tugs the teenager towards the game he plays the most often. “ Way better.” 

Amazingly, somehow, the teenager almost beats him at JustDance. It’s a fierce battle towards the end, Taerae busting out all his best moves and shimmying his hips like his life depends on it while Yujin flails around lazily and yet manages to get perfect score after perfect score. 

“How,” Taerae pants, spinning in a circle and giving jazz hands with all his energy while Yujin barely raises his arms, “are you doing this? Is this another ability you’ve been hiding from me?” 

Yujin giggles, waving the controller in a circle while the barista pinwheels his arms and then executes a perfect body roll, sweat trickling down his back.

“Sorry not sorry, hyung,” the teenager says happily, multicolored lights flashing across his face. “Maybe your real superpower is just being really bad at dancing.” 

Taerae takes that personally and throws all his effort into the remaining thirty seconds of the dance, mouthing along to the lyrics as he braces his hands on his knees and shakes his ass, grinning when he finally receives a flurry of golden stars. Their characters continue to dance on screen for a few seconds more and it’s only Yujin laughing at Taerae that allows the barista to finally take the lead, his face scrunched up in determination. 

He folds over as the song finally ends, panting and questioning every high score he’s ever achieved in this game. 

“Good job, hyung!” Yujin chirps, sounding as bright and energized as ever. “You were right– that was fun! Want to play again? I think we can do a different song!” 

“Please,” Taerae practically moans, falling to his knees and turning big eyes to the teenager, not even noticing the two prize tickets the boy is trying to hand him. “Teach me your ways.” 

“Um,” Yujin says, hiding a giggle behind one of his sweater paws. “I just…followed the people on the screen?” 

“Ooh, Yujin-ah,” Zhang Hao says from behind them, the older boy accompanied by Hanbin. “You have two prize tickets?” 

“Oh, they’re Taerae-hyung’s,” Yujin explains, patting the barista’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort because the older boy is now rocking back and forth and muttering to himself. “He showed me this dancing game– it’s really fun!” 

“Hmm,” Zhang Hao says, propping his hands on his hips and surveying the dance pad and flashing screen. “Do you think we should try it?” 

And that’s how Taerae finds himself sitting on the squiggly carpet of the arcade, mouth dropping open wider and wider as he watches Zhang Hao and Hanbin absolutely obliterate any high scores he’s managed to rack up over the years.

They dance perfectly, somehow able to anticipate the next moves on the screen before their characters even execute them. The two boys are so in sync and so incredibly smooth with their movements that they look like trained dancers, the little improvisations they add to the choreography somehow making it better.

Golden stars rain across the screen as they both receive perfect score after perfect score, the two of them laughing and gazing only at each other with pink cheeks as their feet flash across the colorful squares. 

As the song comes to an end and they circle around each other one final time, hands on one another’s shoulders and eyes locked, Taerae can’t help but cheer for them. He claps until his palms are stinging, only noticing that the rest of ZB1 has joined them when he hears other voices chiming in to praise the hyungs. 

Zhang Hao and Hanbin are flushed when they break apart, eyes glittering and unable to stop smiling. The tips of Hanbin’s ears are very red as he bends to collect their prize tickets, Zhang Hao accepting Yujin as the teenager jumps into his arms but not quite able to move away from his dance partner. 

“I give up,” Taerae says to no one in particular, leaning back on the carpet and watching the happy scene. Already Hanbin is choosing a new song, Matthew having challenged him to a dance.

As dejected as the barista is pretending to be, his eyes are full of nothing but hearts as he lets the superhero’s excited chatter wrap around him like a cozy blanket. He claps for the second time when Hanbin wins again and helps Yujin count his remaining orange tickets, the boy already curious to try more of the games. 

Slowly they spread out across the arcade, Zhang Hao and Hanbin lingering at the JustDance game while Yujin tugs Taerae over to a foosball table, asking him why all the little people are impaled on metal rods. They play together for a while, the teenager picking the game up remarkably quickly while the barista mostly just spins his poles wildly and hopes one of them will hit the plastic ball. 

He leaves Yujin at the racing game again and wanders off in search of the others, passing Jiwoong bent over a very complicated looking puzzle and choosing not to interrupt the older boy’s concentration.

Gyuvin and Ricky are occupied with a basketball game, both boys playfully insulting one another as they take turns shooting at the hoop and trying to score. Taerae distinctly notices that many of Gyuvin’s balls have an icy sheen to them and that Ricky seems to have very good aim before he walks away, mouth twitching. 

A loud bell rings to his right and Taerae pauses to allow a pack of children to scamper past before glancing over, searching for a familiar face. Matthew is standing beside a very tall pole emblazoned with enormous black numbers, a metal disk at waist height and a shining golden bell at the very top. He’s holding a silly looking foam hammer and collecting a handful of blue tickets from the game, a flashing sign beside the pole declaring that a new record has just been set. 

It’s the kind of strength game Taerae is familiar with seeing at fairs and the school carnivals of his childhood; something that is almost impossible to win and is very often rigged. The barista snorts softly as he walks away, proud of Matthew and the incredible strength that hides under his sweet exterior. 

He can’t find Gunwook for a long while and almost starts to grow worried before he finally spots the tall boy racing around a digital soccer pitch with several eight year olds, all of them with big smiles on their faces.

Taerae hangs back in the dim shadows of the arcade to watch for a while, heart throbbing so painfully that he has to press his fingers against his chest. 

Gunwook’s face is lit up by more than just neon lights as he plays around with the children, something innocent and sweet about his round cheeks and crinkled eyes. His dark hair keeps falling in his face and he’s definitely letting the little boys score more goals than they realistically should be able to, but he’s smiling and high fiving the children and he looks exactly like a regular teenager. 

As the game comes to an end and the goal box spits out several blue prize tickets, Gunwook congratulating the pack of children on their win, Taerae walks away with a soft smile. He’s sure it’s just the myriad of flashing neon lights that are making his eyes itch and burn; he rubs at them furiously, sniffling just once. 

On his way back towards Yujin and the chaos the teenager is likely managing to wreck, Taerae passes a claw machine. He registers the box of colorful toys out of the corner of his eye, the metal claw shining where it hangs limply, and stops before consciously deciding to do so. 

A memory tickles the back corner of his brain and then Taerae is walking over to the game, feeding three orange tickets into the little slot as his other hand curls around the round plastic of the control lever. 

The claw shudders to life, long silver pincers opening and swaying as he pushes and tugs on the lever to try and get it into a good position.

There’s a veritable mountain of toys piled up inside the glass box; pink unicorns with glittery wings and slightly creepy dolls and boxes containing slime kits. There are plastic bags holding colorful slinkies and rubber bouncy balls and even a few white iPhone boxes at the very edges. 

Taerae ignores all of those things completely, eyes zeroing in on the prize that had caught his attention.

It’s a medium sized polar bear, fluffy white fur incredibly soft looking and an adorable blue bow tied around its neck. The stuffed animals’ shiny black eyes remind him of Yujin and the barista can practically feel how soft and cuddly the toy will be in his arms. 

He bites down on the tip of his tongue as he finally presses the button for the claw to descend, watching with wide eyes as the shiny silver pincers open and then grasp at a generic brown teddy bear instead. The claw rises slowly, swaying side to side, and before he can even guide it to open again, his time is up. 

The claw freezes, teddy bear falling back to the mountain of toys, and an annoying patronizing message flashes across the little screen. Better Luck Next Time, the machine proclaims in obnoxious orange and pink bubble letters. 

“Rude,” Taerae mutters as he tears off three more tickets and feeds them into the machine, scrunching his nose up at the message. “I’ll show you. ” 

He steadfastly ignores the fact that he’s arguing with a machine as the claw jolts and starts to move again, jerking across the glass box as he gets a feel for how the control works. Taerae breathes in and punches the descend button when the silver talons are positioned perfectly above the polar bear’s white head, holding his breath as he watches it slowly lower. 

The silver talons close around the bear and he has to hold back a shout of excitement, instead breathing out smoothly as he pulls up on the lever and watches the claw rise. His prize is clutched safely in the silvery talons and now all he has to do is guide it over to the drop box– easy peasy. 

Taerae almost pulls his hair out when the stuffed animal falls out of the machine’s claws, groaning as he watches it tumble down into the corner of the glass box. He’s more than ready to call over a manager and complain that the claw is too weak to actually retrieve any prize, but then he straightens his shoulders and takes in a deep breath, fortifying himself. 

All around him lights flash and children squeal, the sounds of fake machine gun fire and revving engines blending together to create a white-noise background. Taerae breathes in, raising his chin, and breathes out as he feeds another round of tickets into the machine. 

“I can do this,” he assures himself, cracking his fingers before he grabs hold of the lever again. “It’s just a game, Taerae. You’re going to win. Fighting!” 

After another three tries, the barista is no closer to achieving his prize and his roll of orange tickets is growing dangerously short.

He’s gotten good enough that he can manage to pick up the polar bear each time but the problem is maneuvering it over to the drop box– the horrible silver claw seems to be made out of the weakest metal ever because it always drops the stuffed animal before making it halfway across the glass box. 

It’s also on such a long spring that it waves around wildly and practically forces the stuffed animal to fall back down to the mountain of prizes. Taerea, gritting his teeth so hard that his dentist is definitely going to yell at him, is seriously contemplating singing time to a standstill just so he can break into this stupid machine and take the toy. 

“You can do hard things, Taerae-ah,” he mutters after his sixth unsuccessful attempt, giving the frozen silver claw an evil look. “You pay taxes. You eat spinach. You can do this too.” 

With a renewed burst of energy, determined to stay here all day and all night if that’s what it takes to finally win the stuffed animal, Taerae feeds his last three tickets into the machine and draws back on the lever. His fingers are light on the plastic; he tries to appear indifferent, convinced that if it seems like he doesn’t care about winning the machine might finally give him what he wants. 

The claw descends, gripping the now familiar stuffed animal as it has many times before. Taerae glances down at his nails, pretending to whistle, very carefully not staring at the claw as it slowly rises. 

Silver talons sway dangerously as the claw fully retracts to the ceiling of the glass box, the polar bear slipping just a little where it hangs. Taerae rolls up onto his toes, momentarily forgetting himself in his nerves, and then ever so gently presses the lever forward. 

He’s incredibly cautious as he guides the claw across the top of the box and towards where the drop-box slot shines like a beacon, breath barely rasping in and out of his chest as he pushes down on the lever in starts and stops. Each movement makes the claw sway and therefore causes the stuffed animal, which he curses for being too soft and fluffy, to drop a bit further. 

When there’s only a few inches of space left between the claw and the drop box, Taerae actually has to take a second and gulp in air, his heart rabbiting so quickly in his chest that he thinks maybe this game isn’t good for his health.

Blinking a bead of sweat out of his eyes, he studies the silver claw and then takes a calculated risk, jerking the lever forward with all his strength. 

The claw swings wildly, almost flailing, and already he can tell the polar bear is slipping once again out of the silvery talons– but this time the movement works to his advantage. Just as the stuffed animal truly starts to fall the claw flails forward, landing the animal perfectly in the drop-box. 

Taerae lets out a shriek of excitement and bounces up onto his toes, flailing his arms in the air and making incoherent noises of triumph. He’s so happy that he doesn’t even notice the congratulatory banner scrolling across the screen or the five little blue prize tickets that shoot out of the machine. 

The polar bear is soft and cuddly in his arms, exactly as he’d imagined. Taerae squishes it against his chest and buries his nose in the stuffed animal’s fluffy head, inhaling the scent of pizza and triumph. He can’t wait to give this prize that he’d worked so so hard for to Gunwook. He can only hope that the younger boy will like it. 

Satisfied and feeling incredibly proud of himself, Taerae shoots the terrible claw machine one last icy look and then stalks off through the arcade, stomach rumbling. He’s ready to find his superheroes and go home– the neon lights and loud music are starting to hurt his head. 

He eventually finds them gathered around a karaoke machine in a back corner of the building, Gyuvin trying to belt out the lyrics to a popular girl group song while the rest of them clap along. It’s very clear they don’t know the tune of the song but they still manage to sound good , their voices blending together prettily. 

“Tae-hyung!” Yujin calls happily when he notices the barista, making grabby hands at him while somehow managing not to let go of his stack of blue prize tickets. “You found us!” 

Taerae’s brain tells him to say something sappy and very sweet like I’ll always find you or we’re supposed to be together forever or, worst of all, I love you . Thankfully, though, his better sensibilities win out and he just smiles at Yujin as he joins the group of boys. 

Gyuvin’s song finishes and the boy sweeps a dramatic bow as they all clap for him, laughing and pushing overlong hair out of his eyes. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, waving the plastic microphone around. “Who’s next?” 

Matthew and Jiwoong step up for a duet, their voices complementing each other in a way that shouldn’t be possible with untrained singers. Taerae sways along to the syrupy rhythm of the song, feeling it in his chest like a second heartbeat. Yujin leans into his side, head warm and heavy against the barista’s shoulder– not an unwelcome weight at all. 

They clap again when the two boys finish, Jiwoong bursting with enough excitement that he pinches Matthew’s cheeks and makes him go red all over, the younger boy trying to duck away. 

“I want to try!” Gunwook says, grabbing Hanbin away from Zhang Hao where the two of them are leaning against the wall. “Sing with me hyung?” 

None of them are ever able to resist the boy’s round eyes and adorable face when he asks for something and so Gunwook and Hanbin dive into a very upbeat song, both of them making up dance moves as they go. They’re laughing and Gunwook’s flailing his arms a little too energetically but Taerae wants so badly to freeze this moment in time that he almost opens his mouth and sings along. 

He wishes he could bottle this up– the flashing lights that gild Zhang Hao’s face pink and the feel of Yujin against him and the sound of Ricky’s low laugh– and store it on a shelf for a future gray day. He wants so desperately to keep all of these boys that it’s like a physical wound in his chest, the slow drip of red affection from his veins something he’s been experiencing for months now. 

But Taerae had promised his grandmother never to use his powers unless it was the only way to save his life. So even though allowing this moment of happiness to pass by feels akin to stepping in front of a bullet, he keeps his mouth closed.

He takes photos and a shaky video and he claps for each round of singers, and he smiles at his boys through all of the pain. 

“Hyung,” Yujin murmurs at last, nuzzling a bit deeper into Taerae’s shoulder. Gyuvin and Gunwook and Ricky are off at the prize counter trading in their tickets and Jiwoong and Matthew have gone off in search of the bathroom, only Zhang Hao and Hanbin still singing along with the machine. “Can we go home, please? I’m sleepy.” 

“Sure, Yujin-ah,” Taerae whispers back, tipping his head to the side and resting his cheek against the teenager's silky hair for a moment. “Let’s go home.” 

They all wake up considerably once they’re back out in the frigid air, the day having somehow slipped into evening during the hours they’d spent inside the arcade. Bright stars prick the velvety black sky above them like scattered diamonds as they walk through the streets of the quiet town, breaths clouding in the air in frosty puffs. 

Ricky and Gyuvin are boasting about the actual smartphone they’d had enough prize tickets to trade for, speaking over one another as they try to decide which games they want to download and play first. Taerae has to tell them that they’re banned from Twitter but he isn’t sure they’ll listen; already he’s thinking about how to sneak the phone away from them so he can install parental controls. 

Matthew and Jiwoong walk side by side, arms linked; they’d both opted to give their prize tickets to Yujin and the teenager had been more than ecstatic when he’d used them to choose an enormous LEGO set. Taerae can already see himself stepping on the colorful blocks in the middle of the night and being mortally wounded, but also he can’t help but grin back at the hyper teenager. 

Gunwook is carrying a slime making kit and Zhang Hao’s prize– a plastic princess tiara sparkling with fake gems– glitters atop his head as they pass under streetlights. The older boy is holding hands with Hanbin, linked arms swinging back and forth as the group walks home to the apartment. 

The stuffed polar bear is soft and warm under Taerae’s coat and he really can’t wait to give it to Gunwook but he wants to wait until not everyone will be watching; he knows Yujin will instantly demand his own stuffed animal and the barista honestly isn’t sure he can withstand the mental battle of going up against the claw machine again. 

Climbing up the steps of his apartment and entering the familiar warmth of his home makes Taerae very happy; he lets out a little sigh and starts to shed his layers of clothing, stomach grumbling. 

“We’ll order!” Ricky calls from the kitchen table, already bent over the paper menu of the fried chicken restaurant Taerae keeps stuck to the fridge. Gyuvin and Matthew are on either side of him, all three boys very studiously concentrated on dinner. 

Hanbin is hanging up all the coats and scarves that have been left carelessly on the entryway floor, Zhang Hao helping him by lining up the mess of shoes in the rack Taerae had finally purchased a few weeks ago. 

“Yujin-ah, will you show me your prize?” Jiwoong asks, settling down on the floor beside the teenager who is already tearing at the box of LEGO’s. The younger boy hums in agreement, upending the large cardboard box and spilling a rainbow of small plastic blocks across the floor. 

“Taerae-hyung,” a voice calls and Taerae startles a little, turning to see Gunwook sidling up next to him. The taller boy is frowning, angled brows knit together. “You didn’t get a prize,” Gunwook says, very obviously upset. 

“Oh,” Taerae says and then he laughs a little, heart squeezing at just how thoughtful and lovely Gunwook is. “I did, actually. Do you want to see it?” 

Gunwook nods, perking up instantly. 

The stuffed polar bear is even more adorable in the warm light of the apartment, round black nose and fluffy white fur reminding the barista suspiciously of the boy before him. Taerae holds it out to Gunwook, pleased when the boy’s eyes widen and his fingers twitch, reaching out for the toy instinctively. 

“This is a polar bear,” Taerae says, pushing the stuffed animal gently into Gunwook’s large hands. “They live where it’s really cold which means they’re very strong– but I think it’s really cute too, right?” 

Gunwook just nods, turning the stuffed animal over and over in his hands for a few seconds. Hesitantly, almost like he thinks it’s going to break, he clutches the toy to his chest and squeezes it, placing a very fast kiss against the fluffy white head. 

“It’s for you,” Taerae says, trying extremely hard not to make a wheezing sound at how cute the younger boy is.

In the kitchen he can hear Ricky on the phone, placing their dinner order, and Zhang Hao and Hanbin are cuddled up on the couch picking out a movie for them to watch. Everything is warm and cozy inside the apartment, the people he cares about most in the world all within his sight. “Do you like it?” 

Gunwook just nods again, silent as he stares down at the toy in his arms. It’s more than enough for Taerae and his heart pounds, his whole body warm from the happiness of giving this gift. 

“Thank you, hyung,” Gunwook says quietly just as he’s turning away, a strange wobble to his voice. “I– I always wanted one. It’s perfect. ” 

“Ah, Gunwookie,” Taerae says, trying very hard not to cry. He ruffles a hand over the taller boy’s silky hair, having to stand on his tiptoes just a bit. “You’re too good for us. You deserve everything you want, mm?” 

Gunwook nods like an obedient puppy, still staring down at the stuffed bear. Very quietly, almost as if he’s confessing a secret, he says, “hyung, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with you.” 

Taerae blinks furiously, holding back tears. There’s a burst of laughter from behind them but he ignores it in favor of comforting Gunwook, petting the boy’s head and wishing once again to freeze time. 

“You can,” he tells the younger boy, trying not to expose the entire bleeding mess of his heart in his voice. “You can stay as long as you like– you and your polar bear and everyone else.” 

They eat their fried chicken and fries sitting on the floor because Yujin refuses to leave the LEGO village that he’s building and the rest of them can’t quite find a good enough reason to deny him. 

Taerae passes around paper napkins and tries not to think about how much the absolute feast Ricky and Matthew and Gyuvin had ordered probably cost. Hanbin gets up to get them all cups of water and Ricky argues with the leader for a moment until he’s given strawberry milk instead. 

Jiwoong is helping Yujin snap plastic blocks together between bites of chicken and Gunwook is still holding his polar bear– christened Snowflake– on his lap, careful not to get any food on its white fur but also refusing to let it go. 

Taerea nestles down a bit deeper between Gyuvin and Zhang Hao, his belly full of warm food and the happy taste of company lingering on his tongue. Tiny white snowflakes fall outside the kitchen window and a Christmas movie plays in the background, festive decorations and cheerful songs reminding the barista that perhaps they should start to get ready for the holiday soon too. 

The evening passes in a blur of laughter and too much food and silly jokes, Jiwoong and Yujin steadily building up their rainbow village as the rest of them watch and occasionally add their input. The two architects largely ignore them until Ricky says there should be a palace and then it’s a group effort, Zhang Hao and Hanbin getting up to cut up fruit for dessert as they all work. 

Snow continues to fall outside the windows and it’s a little bit chilly sitting on the floor, but Taerae is so content with everything about the day that each new moment is another precious frame he wants to freeze and live in forever. 

Eventually, though, Gyuvin starts stifling yawns in Hanbin’s shoulder and Yujin’s eyes droop, the teenager’s fingers slowing down on the plastic blocks. 

Taerae and Hanbin and Jiwoong start to shuffle everyone off to bed, cycling them through the small bathroom and ensuring that all nine of the toothbrushes lined up there are used. Zhang Hao goes around locking the door and turning off lights, checking the apartment is reasonably clean enough for the night. 

Taerae drags extra blankets out of his closet because it’s going to be particularly cold and delivers them to the younger boys with warm wishes of sweet dreams, placing a very light kiss on Yujin’s forehead when he sees the teenager is already sleeping. He gets a goodnight hug from Gunwook and Snowflake both, the polar bear cuddled up against the boy’s chest under a pile of blankets. 

The barista checks on Zhang Hao and Hanbin and Jiwoong last, ensuring they’re all warm enough, and then he slowly brushes his teeth and crawls into his own bed, comforted by the sound of heavy breathing and light snores.

Faint shadows from falling snowflakes drift over the walls of his room and Taerae watches them as he waits for sleep, body heavy with exhaustion despite the way his heart is thrumming. 

No matter how long he waits, though, he can’t seem to fall asleep. He closes his eyes and slows his breathing and tries to count sheep; none of it works. 

His mind is racing, thoughts looping in a circle of guilt and sadness and worry despite the many happinesses of the day they’ve just lived.

Taerae wants to go back and do it all over again, wants to experience each precious shining moment as if it was happening for the first time. He wants to ask the superheroes to stay, wants to sit them down and invite them to move into his tiny apartment and never leave his side.

He wants, more than anything, to look at Hanbin’s bright eyes and tell the older boy that he’ll help them save the world. 

Groaning quietly, he slides out from underneath his warm nest of covers and slips out of his room, padding on silent feet into the kitchen. The tiles are icy against his bare skin and Taerae shivers as he rips open a tea bag, trying to be as silent as possible so as to not wake anyone. 

As he waits for the water to boil he leans his hip against the edge of the counter, eyes tracking the gentle fall of snow outside the window. They’re so tiny, each one unique, and yet all together they make a field of white. 

Taerae pours hot water into his favorite mug once it starts to bubble, inhaling the fragrant scent of mint as he puts the pot in the drying rack. He stirs in too many spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk, satisfied once the liquid is as pale as paper. 

“Taerae-ah,” someone says very softly and the barista spins around, fingers trembling. He presses his back against the counter, squinting for only a moment before he recognizes Zhang Hao and Hanbin’s lovely faces through the shadows. 

“Hyungs,” he breathes, going limp with relief. He presses a hand against his chest, worried about his poor heart. “You scared me.” 

“Why are you awake?” Zhang Hao asks, tilting his head to the side. His full lips and angled eyes are somehow even prettier in the dim light, hair messy and soft over his forehead. At his side Hanbin looks just as huggable, both of them wrapped in blankets as if they’re capes. 

Taerae shrugs a little, wrapping his hands around his mug and enjoying the heat of the tea as it sinks into his bones. “I just couldn’t sleep,” he replies softly, everything about this moment in time soft as pulled taffy. “It happens sometimes.” 

Zhang Hao hums under his breath, slipping forward on silent feet to lean against the counter beside the barista. His face is better lit like this, the planes of his cheekbones and the slight shadows cast by his lashes visible in lovely detail. 

“We couldn’t sleep either,” he murmurs, extending a hand for Hanbin and then drawing the leader into their little circle when he takes it. “Today was– too good? There was too much happiness.” 

Taerae sips his tea, burning his tongue just a little, but it’s worth it for the sweet taste of mint. “Yeah,” he says very quietly, heart heavy. “I know what you mean. Sometimes, when I was a little kid, after really happy days I would just lie in bed and cry.” 

“Too many emotions,” Hanbin murmurs, leaning his cheek against Zhang Hao’s at the same time that he slides his arm around the other boy’s waist. Their eyes are understanding as they look at Taerae and he doesn’t feel quite so bad baring his heart when it’s to them. 

They’re all quiet for a few minutes, just the very faint sounds of Taerae drinking his tea and Zhang Hao breathing. They’re all touching each other, tiny points of contact between the barista’s forearm and Zhang Hao’s elbow, Hanbin’s toes pressed against Taerae’s ankle. 

“Tae-ah,” Hanbin whispers very softly as the barista sets down his empty mug, feeling almost soothed. He hums and turns to look fully at the leader, mind finally less tangled.

“Tae-ah,” Hanbin repeats, looking like he’s on the verge of tears. “Can’t you please help us save the world?” 

Taerae reels back as if he’s been struck, arms crossing over his chest and heart instantly pounding into overdrive. His stomach twists and there’s a hot flush climbing up his chest to spread across his neck and cheeks, a flicker of anger springing to life in his stomach for the first time since he’s met the superheroes. 

Hanbin is gazing at him with so much liquid sadness in his eyes that it’s almost unbearable, lips pulled down and his entire countenance one of dejection and hopelessness. Beside him Zhang Hao doesn’t seem angry or sad, more simply– resigned. 

“Hyung,” Taerae breathes and he knows his eyes are wide, knows that he sounds betrayed and heartbroken. “Hyung. How can you ask me that?” 

Hanbin’s face twists, his lower lip wobbling ever so slightly. “How can I not ask you that,” he whispers fiercely, blinking quickly. “Taerae-ah, you said today was a good day– right?” 

Begrudgingly the barista nods, overheated and uncomfortable and wishing desperately that he could escape back to his bed. 

“Today was a good day,” Hanbin repeats, staring intently at Taerae with eyes that seem able to scour his soul. “A good day, because we were together and we had fun and we ate a delicious dinner. A good day– on Earth. A good day we all got to live together– that we got to spend together.” 

Taerae inhales raggedly, curling his fingers into the fabric of his sweatpants. He holds the air in his lungs until it hurts, too much pressure on his chest, and then exhales. 

“I love them,” Hanbin declares in a choked voice, tears glittering in his eyes and on his lashes, threatening to fall. He throws a hand at the dark apartment, clearly meaning the seven members of his team. “And I love you, Kim Taerae. You’re my family– all of you.” 

Taerae makes a tiny whimpering noise and slides slowly down the side of the counter, knees giving out as he crumples to the floor. Zhang Hao reaches for him, as if to help him up, but Hanbin is already speaking again. 

“I don’t ever want to lose any of you,” Hanbin declares fiercely, ignoring the tears falling down his pink cheeks. Zhang Hao leans into his side, concerned but clearly giving the leader time to spill all the words bottled up in his chest.

“I don’t care what I have to do– I’ll stop a million meteors and fight a hundred wars if saving the world means saving all of you. So can’t you see, Tae-ah, why I keep asking you to help us?” 

Taerae buries his face in the palms of his hands and finally allows the warm tears pooled in his eyes to fall down his cheeks and trickle over the curve of his chin, not even trying to hold back the unattractive little whimpering noise he keeps making. The side of the counter is a hard line against his back, cold tiles under his feet and chilly air wafting around his shoulders. 

None of it matters. Taerae doesn’t care about any of it, doesn’t care about anything– not when Hanbin has called him his family, not when the leader has declared that he loves him and wants to keep him in the exact same way that Taerae longs to keep all of them. 

“Tae-ah,” Zhang Hao calls very softly, the light press of fingers against his knee drawing the barista out of his churning thoughts. “Maybe– we’ve always simply asked you to help us. But maybe we should have been asking why you don’t want to?” 

Taerae lifts his tearstained face out of his palms, blinking wet lashes at the two older boys. Zhang Hao and Hangin are both kneeling on the floor before him and he knows the hard tiles must be hurting their knees but they don’t seem to notice or care. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he replies in a croaky murmur, dashing the backs of his hands roughly over his cheeks as he tries to wipe away the continuous stream of tears. “It’s because– I can’t. I promised I wouldn’t.” 

Hanbin, no longer crying but face still damp and shining, frowns. Zhang Hao just looks concerned, biting down on his bottom lip as he studies Taerae’s face and the way the boy is twisting his fingers together. 

“Tae-ah,” he says very softly, squeezing the barista’s knee. “Would you be okay explaining what you mean? Who did you make that promise to?” 

Taerae blows out a light breath, sniffling. “My grandmother,” he mumbles at last, blinking quickly to stop his vision going fuzzy with tears again. “After– after my parents died.” 

Zhang Hao and Hanbin don’t say anything, though the leader reaches out for him, the corners of his mouth trembling as he waits for Taerae to decide whether or not to take his hand. Taerae laces their fingers together, holding on tight, ragged breathing steadied by the older boys’ presence and the affection in their eyes as they look at him. 

“My parents,” he begins, sniffling again and sinking an inch or two closer to the floor, spine cold and numb from being pressed against the counter. “They were superheroes– like you. My mom could fly and my dad…he could turn himself invisible.” 

It’s so difficult to talk about them even after all these years. Taerae finds his throat keeps closing up as he tries to force the words out, all the pain and hurt and longing for his parents that he’s bottled up and suppressed for most of his life flowing over now that he’s finally acknowledged it. 

He misses them so much. He has so much love for them still and nowhere to send it, no way to gift them all the affection he feels for them and so it simply sits in his chest and stews and boils until, eventually, it turns into tears. 

“They worked for the government,” he continues, squeezing Hanbin’s fingers extra tight. “Even before I was born they were going out on missions, saving people and stopping robberies and stuff. They were good, too. They really cared about people– about helping them.” 

Taerae pauses to sniffle again, ignoring the nasty feeling of tears and snot dripping down the back of his throat. His vision is fuzzy, too much saltwater in his eyes, and he can’t seem to stop trembling even though Zhang Hao and Hanbin are seeping warmth into his chilled skin. 

“When I was eight,” he says, choking a little on the words that taste like ash and sickly sweet lilies, “they went out for a mission. It was a really important one– they thought the world was going to end and so they got the order to go and save it. They never…” and here Taerae’s voice cuts off, strangled like there are hands wrapped around his throat. 

Zhang Hao’s face is so creased with sympathy and sorrow that he’s barely recognizable, Hanbin turning his head to wipe the tears running over his cheek against his shoulder. 

“The world’s always ending,” Taerae tells them once he can breathe without letting out little broken sobs, tears hot as they drip over his lips and down the line of his jaw. “There’s always going to be an emergency or some big bad thing that needs to be stopped. That’s why my grandmother made me promise not to help– not ever, no matter who asked me to.” 

“Tae-ah,” Hanbin breathes, lifting their clasped hands to his lips and pressing a salty, wet kiss against the barista’s knuckles. “Tae-ah, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you lost them.” 

Taerae shudders because it’s true, it really is– he did lose them. They were taken from him, were removed from his life and his future and he’s been unable to find them ever since. His parents are lost to him. 

“I don’t want to save the world,” he confesses, almost sobbing as he clutches at Hanbin and leans into Zhang Hao where the older boy is now pressed against his side, his arm around Taerae’s shoulders. “I don’t want to die like them. I just– I just want to live.” 

“Me too, Tae-ah,” Zhang Hao murmurs when it becomes clear Hanbin isn’t going to say anything, the leader’s face twisted up in obvious pain.

He leans his forehead against Taerae’s temple, reaching his other hand out for Hanbin so that the three of them are connected in a strange little triangle-circle-line. “I want us all to live and I want us to be together. I don’t care about anything else.” 

“Hyung,” Hanbin breathes, staring at Zhang Hao like he doesn’t recognize him. “Hyung.” 

Zhang Hao’s arm tightens around Taerae’s shoulders, something fierce in the lovely boy’s voice when he speaks.

“No, Hanbin-ah,” he murmurs, strong and determined. “Listen to me. We’re practically children still– Yujinnie is a child. I don’t want to save the world. I don’t think we should have to. I want to play music and stay right here with Taerae and I want to watch all of you grow up. I want time, Hanbinnie. Don’t you?” 

“We’ll die,” Hanbin argues so softly that the words almost sound like a caress, his eyes wide and terrified as he glances between Zhang Hao and Taerae. “Don’t you understand? We don’t have a choice– if we don’t save the world we’ll die, all of us, not to mention everything else on Earth.”

“Maybe,” Zhang Hao replies, steel in his angled eyes. “Maybe not.” 

“Are you willing to risk it?” Hanbin whispers, horrified. He draws back a little, trying to tug his hands away from both of them. “Are you really willing to chance everyone’s lives on a maybe ?” 

Zhang Hao lets out an exasperated sigh, tightening his fingers around Hanbin’s and forcibly tugging the leader’s hand up to rest against his cheek.

“Hanbin-ah,” he says, frustrated and so full of love that Taerae’s heart throbs. “We could just as well die trying to save the world as we could if we do nothing. If that’s the choice we have to make then I want to stay here with our family and hope for the best. I choose to live until we run out of time– whenever that is.” 

Hanbin stares at Zhang Hao, pink lips slightly open and eyes glossy even in the dim shadows. It’s clear he’s at a loss for words, thoughts so clearly tangled and churning that Taerae can almost see the snarls inside his skull. 

“Me too,” Taerae murmurs, weak and croaky. He sniffles and tries to clear his throat, leaning more heavily into Zhang Hao’s side for support because the older boy had managed to say everything he’s been thinking for so many weeks.

“Hyung, I just– are we even sure the world is ending? My parents thought it was and then they died for nothing. My whole life, people have been turning up at my house to ask me to help save the world. Every time I said no and every time– it was fine .” 

“Taerae-ah,” Hanbin says so gently that it almost feels like a true blow to the face, his eyes swimming with pity and sympathy and regret. “How can we know your parents’ actions didn’t stop the end of the world? We can’t look at all those instances and say the world wasn’t actually going to end– all we know is that you weren’t part of saving it.” 

Taerae trembles in Zhang Hao’s arms, fingers going limp and loose around the leader’s hand. He has nothing to say to that, no logic or reasoning he can use to argue when it’s clear they so fundamentally disagree on this point. 

“Hanbin,” Zhang Hao says quietly, something like a warning in his voice. “We won’t know that until we make a decision. And if we’re voting– I want to be done. I want to learn how to live and I want to grow up and I don’t ever, ever want to go back there.”

Silence falls over the shadowed kitchen for a while, nothing but the sound of Taerae’s occasional sniffles and Jiwoong’s light breathing from somewhere across the living room. 

“Fine,” Hanbin mumbles at last, his voice breaking just a tiny bit on that one word. He squeezes Taerae’s hand once and then pulls away, their fingers sliding together like reluctant magnets parting. “We’ll vote– in the morning.” 

Taerae doesn’t sleep that night. He allows Zhang Hao to walk him back to his room and tuck him into bed, accepting the hug the older boy gives him and murmuring to him in an undertone that he really is okay. 

But he doesn’t sleep. He lies on his back and watches true black shift into dark slate to charcoal to dove gray to the pale, milky light of a winter morning. He listens as the boys scattered around his bedroom rouse from their dreams, sighing and yawning and making little mewling sounds that remind him of kittens. 

Taerae’s the last person to leave his room and he doesn’t say anything as he sits down on the couch, joining the other boys already waiting there.

Most of them look curious and sleepy, Ricky barely able to keep his eyes open and Yujin with a horrible case of bedhead. Jiwoong’s nursing a cup of coffee, Matthew curled up between his legs, and Hanbin is sitting apart from the rest of them with his back pressed against the wall. 

There are lavender shadows cured like crescent moons beneath the leader’s eyes and he won’t look at any of them, long fingers worrying at a stray thread hanging from the fraying hem of his pajama pants. 

Zhang Hao stands in the center of the living room, breaching the gulf between everyone gathered on the couch and Hanbin where he sits hunched against the far wall. It’s clear that the older boy has called this meeting but hasn’t informed any of them what it’s truly about– they’re all far too relaxed. 

“Everyone,” Zhang Hao calls in a low voice and though he isn’t particularly loud, they all go quiet and turn their eyes obediently to look at him. His lovely face is calm, though there’s a hint of stress in the lines around his mouth and eyes. “Hanbin-ah and I have something very important to discuss with all of you– as a team.” 

Yujin darts a wide eyed look at Hanbin as Gunwook sinks a bit lower into the couch cushions, stuffed bear clutched against his chest, but no one says anything. 

“We want to talk about whether or not we’re going to complete our mission to save the world,” Zhang Hao announces simply, voice steady. “It’s something that involves all of us so please, take your time before you answer. Once we feel we’ve said everything we need to, we’ll vote about what to do next.” 

They all look around at each other, silent and some of the younger boys a little confused. Taerae tucks himself further into the corner of the couch, staring down at his fingers and the fight lines crossing his knuckles. 

“Maybe the babies should share their thoughts first,” Jiwoong says into the quiet room, lovely face inscrutable when they all look at him. His hands are cupped over Matthew’s shoulders, the two of them curved together in a way that makes Taerae think their votes will match. “I don’t want us to influence them.” 

Everyone’s eyes widen when Yujin raises his hand into the air, the teenager’s fingers trembling ever so slightly. “I’ll go first,” he announces, voice thin and reedy. But he doesn’t duck his head and he looks them in the eye as he starts to talk, a new line of iron confidence to his shoulders. 

“I don’t want to save the world anymore,” Yujin says, pulling the cuffs of his sweatshirt over his fingers so he has sweater-paws. “I don’t want the world to end and I don’t wanna die, but mostly I just want to stay here. With Tae-hyung.” 

The teenager gives a firm little nod and turns to look at Taerae, the rest of the superheroes following suit. Only Hanbin keeps his head bowed, face hidden by the fall of his hair. 

“Of course you can stay,” Taerae croaks after a moment, heart thundering in his chest like a galloping horse. The organ is aching, his ribcage and sternum painful because of how hard every inch of his heart is straining to escape his chest and fly to Yujin. “Of course, Yujinnie– this is your home too, if you want it.” 

He watches the teenager visibly relax, eyes turning brighter as he gives the barista a very sweet smile. Yujin nods again, cheeks sprinkled with pink, and leans into Gyuvin’s side like that was the only reassurance he needed in order to have his whole future settled. 

Gyuvin peers down at the younger boy leaning against his chest and then turns his head to look at Ricky, silence falling over the apartment once more as the two boys have a silent conversation with just their eyes. Weak winter sunlight illuminates the wooden floorboards and the plants on the windowsill, shining on Ricky’s hair and making the blonde locks gleam. 

“We want to stay too,” Gyuvin announces at last, though he’s nibbling on his bottom lip and gripping Ricky’s hand with white fingers. “We like it here.” 

Ricky blinks his angled eyes and darts a look at an impassive Zhang Hao and a still motionless Hanbin, both boys clearly waiting for their leader to say something. When he doesn’t, Gyuvin sticks his thumb in his mouth and starts to chew on his nail, nervous. 

“Tae-hyung,” Ricky says softly, shifting so his knee is pressed against Yujin’s thigh; the teenager is looking at both of the boys with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. “Can we stay too? Is there room for us?” 

Taerae has to blink quickly to stop the tears prickling his eyes from falling, only sniffling a little as he reaches out for Ricky and Gyuvin. He curls his cold fingers around their hands, so much love and joy swirling around in his chest that he almost can’t breathe. 

“Of course there’s enough space,” he tells the three of them, making sure to look at Gyuvin and Ricky until they both see the happiness in his face, how much he means the words. “There’s enough space for all of you.” 

Yujin makes a happy little noise and cuddles deeper against Gyuvin, the three boys seeming to deflate now that Taerae’s assured them he wants them, that there’s space for them in his life. 

Gunwook is the last younger superhero left and he shifts uncomfortably when they all turn to look at him, arms wrapped around his knees and shoulders hunched. His dark eyes keep darting over to Hanbin like he’s waiting for the leader to tell him what to do; the boy is clearly conflicted. 

“I want to do what everyone else wants to do,” Gunwook says after a few seconds, resting his chin on the head of his stuffed polar bear and pressing his lips together. “I just want us all to be together.” 

“Tae-hyung too, right?” Yujin pipes up, giving Gunwook an expectant look that blooms into relief when the older boy nods in agreement. 

As one they shift their eyes to where Matthew and Jiwoong sit, the apartment somehow feeling a bit more relaxed now that four of the team members have declared their intention to stay in this sleepy little town. Taerae’s heart refuses to calm, his pulse pounding so loudly in his ears that he almost can’t hear; he’s so incandescently happy and terrified that his fingers shake even when he tucks them under his thighs. 

Matthew tips his head back against Jiwoong’s shoulder, looking up at the older boy for a moment.

“I don’t want to speak for hyung,” he says slowly, settling his palms over Jiwoong’s arms where they’re wrapped around his waist, “but I’m staying. I don’t want to go back to the center and I don’t want to leave any of you behind.” 

Jiwoong hums, resting his chin lightly against the top of Matthew’s fluffy head. They both look calm, neither of them trembling in the way Taerae is. 

“I’d like to stay too,” the older boy announces quietly, though he’s looking at Hanbin’s bowed head and white fingers. “I like our life here and I think it would be nice to not always worry about the future.” 

Taerae’s heart is close to bursting out of his chest, skin flashing hot and cold in turns. The incredibly fast racing of his pulse is making his entire body quiver, all of his limbs shaking and his fingers numb from the strength of emotion. 

“Please stay,” he whispers, feeling the first tear spill over his cheek but not even caring because he’s crying from happiness.

He sniffles and swipes at his face, ignoring the concerned looks they’re all giving him because all he can see are Matthew and Jiwoong– his friends, his family, two of his favorite people on Earth. “Please,” he repeats, eyes burning, “please stay. I want you here always.” 

Jiwoong gives him a soft smile, reminiscent of hazy dreams and a warm hand on his. “We’ll stay, then,” he agrees easily and Matthew grins in his arms, winking at the gently crying barista. 

Zhang Hao isn’t looking at them when they turn to him, lovely face angled towards Hanbin instead. Their leader is still frozen on the floor, head bent so close to his propped up knees that all they can see is the fall of his silky black hair. 

“Hanbin-ah,” Zhang Hao says very softly, arms wrapped around his ribs like he’s holding himself together. “Hanbinnie, please.” 

Hanbin’s face is dripping with tears again and very red when he finally looks up at them, eyelashes wet and clumped together in a way that only makes him prettier. His fingers are bone white where they’re curled around his knees, swollen lips wobbling. 

“What about everyone else in the world,” he says, voice trembling. The leader only has eyes for Zhang Hao, something thick and tense passing between the two boys as they stare at each other. Taerae feels almost as if he’s intruding, a little embarrassed like he isn’t supposed to be seeing this. “Millions and millions of people, hyung-ah– and we’re just going to let them die?” 

Zhang Hao makes a sharp noise, jerking his chin a little. “We don’t know they’ll die,” he argues, “we don’t know anyone will die. Are you really so sure it’s the end?” 

Hanbin blinks, nostrils flaring a bit as he inhales shakily. Taerea can’t see Zhang Hao’s face but he can only imagine the sharp look in the boy’s eyes, the way his brows are likely furrowed in determination. 

“Are you so sure it won’t?” Hanbin murmurs, and yes, isn’t this the crux of the matter? Their debate about the fate of the world, the disagreement over whether or not it truly is the end of time and life as they know it. 

Zhang Hao is silent for a heavy moment, sunlight picking up the traces of red in his dark hair. “I don’t care,” he whispers in an undertone that they all hear, something heavy in his words. “I don’t care, Hanbin-ah. As long as the nine of us are together and alive and happy– I don’t care.” 

Hanbin makes a strangled noise, closing his eyes for a moment as if he can’t physically bear to look at them anymore.

“But,” he says, strangled and weak as more tears leak out from his eyes and curve down his cheeks in shimmering paths, “but how long will we get to be together?” 

Taerae bites down on his knuckles, butterflies and snakes writhing in his belly in equal measure. He can feel Gyuvin and Yujin and Ricky waiting beside him with bated breath, Gunwook and Matthew and Jiwoong all frozen as they watch their leader and Zhang Hao. 

“I don’t care,” Zhang Hao repeats, finally jolting into motion. He crosses the room in three quick steps and sinks down beside Hanbin, leaning into the leader like he can tuck him into his chest and wipe away all his tears. “Hanbin, I don’t care. I’ll take as much or as little time together with all of you as I can have, so long as we’re living the life we choose.” 

“No one else matters to me,” the older boy declares in a whisper, ducking down and pressing his lips against the leader’s forehead in a lingering kiss, their hands clasped together. “I only care about the eight of you.” 

Yujin is the first to rise from the couch and join Hanbin and Zhang Hao where they kneel together on the floor, the teenager tucking himself into their leader’s side and burying his own wet face in Hanbin’s shoulder. The two older boys accept him easily, welcoming him into the circle of their arms even as Hanbin continues to struggle with his words and emotions. 

Gunwook practically races across the room, Snowflake in one arm and his other hand reaching out for the boys huddled together against the wall. Ricky and Gyuvin follow, Matthew tugging Jiwoong up until they’re all clustered together in a group hug, limbs and bodies squished together. 

Only Taerae remains on the couch, watching with damp eyes and a red nose, his heart aching but still he’s unable to make himself move because despite all their lovely words, he isn’t sure he’s allowed to join them.

His heart hammers in his chest, fingertips tucked against his teeth as he watches these eight boys who he loves hold onto one another and comfort each other. Taerae loves them. They’re his family, his friends, the missing pieces of his life and his soul he hadn’t known he was surviving without until they slotted themselves into every part of his life. 

It might have been chance and a fair bit of luck that brought them all together– perhaps even a cosmic alignment or a shift in the stars– but Taerae adores them with every inch of his body and he’s determined to keep them, will curl his fingers in deep and hold onto them as long as they allow him to. 

“Tae-ah,” Zhang Hao calls softly, raising his head from the cuddle pile of boys and blinking at Taerae, almost seeming confused. “What are you doing over there? This is a team hug.” 

“Oh,” Taerae breathes, heart lurching. His bare feet slip on the wooden boards as he skitters across the room, hands trembling so violently he can’t even feel them as he sinks to his knees beside Gyuvin and Zhang Hao. 

Arms reach out for him and immediately he’s drawn into the pile of bodies, heat and warmth enveloping him as they hold him close. Someone sticks their nose in his neck and there’s a hand on his back, rubbing soothingly, but all Taerae cares about is that they’re here with him and they’re staying. 

I get to keep you, he thinks, dizzy with joy and relief. I get to keep you and love you and grow up with you. I get to live with you always– my family.

★★★

They’re chattering loudly as they squeeze through the door of the restaurant, all nine of them trying to fit inside at once and escape the frigid December day. 

Yujin and Gyuvin playfully hit one another, both trying to fit through the doorway at the exact same time while Matthew pushes them from behind and reminds them that he’s very cold and very hungry and also very, very strong. 

Like ducklings getting back into order they eventually manage to line themselves up and enter the restaurant one after another, the smell of too-salty fries blowing over them in a welcoming gust of hot air. Taerae inhales, tipping his head back like a bloodhound and feeling very happy at the prospect of eating soon because his stomach is empty and rumbling. 

There are plastic strands of glittery tinsel strung along the edges of the ceiling, decorated with stiff looking red bows, and ornaments of varying sizes hang from the ceiling. Taerae glances up and has to choke down laughter at the tiny versions of themselves reflected back in the shiny silver circles, distorted miniatures in their suits. 

Yujin prances towards the self-service screens, confident about his ordering abilities after almost six months in the regular world. The teenager just started his holiday vacation from high school two days ago and has been practically bouncing off the walls ever since; he’s so excited for Christmas that it’s all he can talk about. 

They’d put up their Christmas tree on the very first day of December; Taerae had tried to tell the rest of the boys that normally people waited a bit longer but they’d outvoted him eight to one and then gleefully marched him to the pine tree farm. Decorating the new, much larger apartment they’ve recently moved into had been a day long affair and by the end of it Taerae had simply slumped down in the middle of their living room and watched Ricky and Gyuvin string ornaments and shiny golden stars on the walls with reckless abandon, exhausted but heart full of warmth. 

The nine stockings trimmed in obnoxious fake fur and embroidered with their names were hung above the fireplace as a final touch, Taerae getting just the tiniest bit teary before Yujin had pulled him towards the kitchen demanding white peppermint hot chocolate. 

“Hyung, how many hash browns?” Yujin asks, already tapping on the screen and adding nine to their order. 

“Ricky-yah, how many can you eat?” Zhang Hao interjects, leaning around the teenager to stare at the screen. The rest of them are gathered around too– Taerae’s taught them that group orders don’t actually require the presence of everyone, but the superheroes are still working on their group dependency. It’s something he finds very cute and isn’t always interested in forcing them to work on. 

“Four,” Ricky says, blinking his angled eyes and making a cool face at Gyuvin when the other boy scoffs at him. “I want fries too– Yujinnie, get the big size.” 

“Mmm-hmm,” the teenager hums, tongue peeking out between his teeth as his fingers fly across the screen. He adds enough burgers and McNuggets and glazed doughnuts to feed a small army and then starts on the drinks, all of the members leaning over his shoulder to give their specific orders. 

“I can make better coffee,” Taerae grumbles, scrunching up his nose at Hanbin and Jiwoong when they both ask for lattes. “Don’t disrespect my skills by ordering it from here.” 

“Sorry, Tae-ah,” Hanbin says sweetly, pinching his cheek as he passes the shiny black card that amazingly still works over to Yujin. “You’ll always be first in my heart.” 

Taerae pretends to wipe his cheek off, scoffing, but he can’t hide the fact that he’s turned a faint shade of rosy pink. 

“Ah, Yujinnie, wait– I want apple fritters!” Gyuvin exclaims suddenly, leaning over the teenager and tapping frantically at the screen. “They look good!” 

“Ooh, hyung, look– the McFlurries are available,” Gunwook points out, sending Taerae a pleading look. “Can we get some?” 

“December and they finally fix the machines,” Taerae grumbles but he helps Yujin pick out the best flavors, scrolling through the options until he can add strawberry syrup for Ricky. 

As the teenager finally pays and then excitedly yanks their mile long receipt out of the machine, bouncing on his toes, Taerae ushers the knot of boys forward. The waiting area is quiet, only two other people there– but it’s only a few days before Christmas and barely twelve in the afternoon. 

They get stares from the older men waiting with them, both adults turning to openly look over the nine boys dressed in sleek black suits and polished shoes, hair gelled back and earrings flashing silver in the fluorescent lights. 

It had been Ricky’s idea to dress up for this celebratory meal. Jiwoong had quickly seconded him, both of the boys now very familiar and valued customers at all the clothing stores and boutiques in town. They take any opportunity they can to look fancy and Taerae, much as he loves his sweatpants and oversized sweaters, can’t complain when he gets to enjoy how pretty the boys look in elegantly tailored clothing. 

Jiwoong has been preparing for his role in the community holiday play for the last month and so they often find him strutting around the apartment, script in one hand as he gestures with the other and runs over his lines. It’s an event they’re all looking forward to and the date of the play has been penciled into their enormous calendar for weeks now, surrounded by little glittery squiggles and stars. 

Taerae isn’t exactly sure why the ghost of Christmas past has to be dashingly handsome and dressed in a dapper tuxedo, but he won’t question the choices of the women who run the community play. He’s more than happy to help Jiwoong with his lines and encourage him, heart already glowing with pride at the thought of watching the older boy make his acting debut. 

Zhang Hao leans into Hanbin as they wait for their order number to be called, the boy yawning a little against their leader’s shoulder. Taerae knows he’s been up late practicing his violin again– he heard him the night before, the sweet notes sending him off into lovely dreams. 

The superhero has decided he wants to be a musical teacher and so has been practicing voraciously for his college entrance exams day after day, spending hours teaching himself how to play his treasured instrument. He’s so talented and works so hard that he’s already better than Taerae but the barista can’t be anything other than happy for him– he knows Zhang Hao will make an amazing teacher. 

Their shared love of music has led to several cozy evenings with all nine of them sprawled out in their living room, requesting songs and singing along as Taerae and Zhang Hao play together. The barista still can’t sing with them, not even when Matthew asks for his favorite girl group songs, but simply creating music for the people he loves most in the world is enough for him. 

The old aching gulf in his chest that used to gape wide and endless whenever he played his guitar or watched idols sing has begun to scab over, healed and bridged by the eight voices he hears even in his sleep. Simply watching them sing, listening to them make music together– Taerae’s heart doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. 

There is still music in his life, even if he doesn’t take center stage. There are still melodies in his heart and threading through his dreams, his palms decorated with calluses and lyrics jotted down on the corners of napkins. 

Ricky helps Yujin gather their trays and trays of food when their order number is called, both of them thanking the workers. The babies have gotten so much better at social interactions– as have all the members of ZB1– and they’ve even tentatively started to make friends. 

Yujin seems to be enjoying high school, though he complains about his homework every night and pouts whenever they ask him if he has any upcoming tests. Taerae isn’t too worried, though– he mostly just wants the teenager to have the experience of being around his peers and going to school every day. 

Zhang Hao is perhaps a little more forceful than the rest of them when it comes to the maknae’s education; he sits with Yujin at the scrubbed wooden table after dinner and guides him through science and math problems and metaphors, infinitely more patient than the rest of them. The older boy is determined that all of the babies will follow in his footsteps and go to college too.

Two of Ricky’s paintings from his art show in the fall hang above their kitchen table, painstakingly framed and hammered into place.

The first painting is an oceanscape, muted grays and blues and hazy purples outlining the curve of the shore and rolling waves tipped in gold. Nine tiny silhouettes are just visible against the indigo sky and Taerae can taste coconut ice cream and salt whenever he looks at the painting; he’d hidden in the bathroom to cry at the younger boy’s art show after seeing it for the first time. 

The second painting is more abstract, an explosion of reds and deep burgundy against a grayish-white background. Ricky refuses to tell them what it’s supposed to be but to Taerae, the dabs of paint remind him of roses in bloom. 

Already he’s excited to see what the blonde boy will present at his second art show, curious about the sketchbook he spends hours curled over in the evening while completely oblivious to the rest of the world. 

“Careful, baby,” Matthew warns as Yujin carries one of the very full trays over to the table Gunwook and Jiwoong have claimed. The teenager glances back at him and the tray wobbles dangerously– hissing between his teeth, the stronger boy reaches out to take it from Yujin.

“Thanks, hyung!” Yujin tells him, twirling in a circle and giving Matthew the sweetest smile. “I knew you’d catch it!” 

“Spoiled,” Hanbin murmurs, face entirely fond. He’s carrying their drinks and it’s so similar to how he looks working alongside Taerae at the cafe, taking orders and serving customers, that the boy’s heart flutters. 

Taerae loves working with Hanbin. It’s so nice to have his company every day at the cafe, so fun to talk with him while he bakes and the older boy unstacks chairs and sets out vases of gorgeous flowers. 

He knows the town grandmothers love it too– business has been better than ever since the superhero started as a barista and there’s no curmudgeon too grumpy to be softened by Hanbin’s bright smile and sparkling eyes. It also doesn’t hurt that the older boy can do incredible things with milk foam and coffee– he’s a natural and it’s a joy for Taerae to watch him flourish in his new role. 

There’s also something so lovely about closing up the cafe each evening with Hanbin and then walking home together, their chosen family greeting them with smiles and overlapping words as they enter the warmth of their apartment. Taerae’s heart thumps and thumps when they sit down to eat together, nine plates at their large table as Jiwoong or Matthew serve whatever they’ve decided upon for dinner. 

Jiwoong and Matthew take turns cooking for everyone because they’ve discovered that Zhang Hao is a disaster in the kitchen and the babies will only make desserts. Hanbin likes to make them enormous breakfasts on the weekends complete with fluffy pancakes and bowls of cut up fruit, and Taerae is always more than happy to brew tea for anyone, but it’s Jiwoong and Matthew who do the grocery shopping and plan meals and make the chore chart. 

Taerae still likes to go with Matthew when he can, both of them enjoying the cool air of the grocery store and the bright shine of the aisles in cozy peace. It’s still their time together, still their little ritual, though recently Matthew has been trying to convince Taerae to accompany him to the gym he likes so much. 

The barista has yet to say yes but he’s running out of excuses and already he can see treadmills and weights in his future– though, if Matthew’s there with him, perhaps it won’t be so bad. 

“Taerae-hyung, sit next to me!” Gyuvin says when they set the food down on the table, squishing himself into the corner of the booth and reaching out for the barista. Hot and cold hands drag him forward until he’s sitting between Ricky and Gyuvin, Zhang Hao taking the outside and already opening up the packets of food. 

“Gyuvinnie, how’d your last test go?” Taerae asks teasingly, laughing when the boy groans and slaps his hands over his ears. 

“I can’t hear you,” the boy announces loudly, making a desperate face at a smiling Jiwoong. “It’s vacation which means you’re not allowed to ask me about school. Hyung, don’t you have anything new to tell us? Did Mrs. Jung have any gossip about her son?” 

“It isn’t nice to gossip,” Hanbin admonishes them all, the tips of his ears turning red when Zhang Hao looks up from his fries and pouts at him.

“It isn’t gossip, Bin-ah,” the older boy says, managing to look very innocent. “We’re just sharing information. It’s like…like–.” 

“Like journalists!” Yujin pipes up, stuffing half a doughnut into his mouth and getting glaze everywhere. Gunwook reaches over to brush it off his face for him, the remaining doughnut vanishing and reappearing in front of the other boy. 

“Exactly, baby, thank you,” Zhang Hao agrees, pointing a fry at Hanbin. “We’re journalists.” 

Yujin makes a wounded sound and leans across the table, trying to steal the doughnut back from Gunwook. Beside Taerae, Ricky is surreptitiously refreezing the ice in his soda with little twitches of his fingers. 

“Just once,” Taerae says to no one in particular, not even flinching when the food on the table starts to vanish and reappear as Yujin and Gunwook play a game of cat and mouse with the things they want to eat. “Just once, I’d like a regular family meal. No fighting, no thrown food, no biting.” 

“Hyung, it was one time,” Gyuvin whines, turning enormous, liquid eyes to the barista. “I said I was sorry!” 

“Hotteok is very important,” Ricky says seriously, opening his burger and taking out all the pickles so he can give them to Jiwoong. 

“Mm,” Matthew hums as he bites into his spicy chicken burger, closing his eyes for a second. He manages to miss the chunk of doughnut that flies past his face, Zhang Hao levitating the food away from the squabbling babies. “This is so good. I can’t believe we survived for so long without McDonald’s.” 

“Or TV,” Gyuvin adds, “or bathtubs or pizza or Twitter.” 

“No Twitter,” Taerae and Hanbin say at the same time, smiling at each other when they realize what they’ve done. 

“Kim Gyuvin,” Taerae admonishes, trying to sound as strict as possible and failing spectacularly. “Kim Ricky. If I found out you’ve installed that hell bird app again…” 

He raises his arm in a pretend punch, lowering his eyebrows and screwing up his face until he hopefully looks terrifying. Ricky points at him and starts to laugh, Jiwoong and Matthew glancing up from the McFlurry they’re sharing to take in his expression. 

“Very scary, Taerae-ah,” Jiwoong praises, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m sure we could find an extra role for you if you want to further your acting skills.” 

“Kim Gyuvin, Kim Ricky,” Yujin parrots in a high pitched voice, ducking down against the booth and shielding his face from the deluge of fries that are flung at him, giggling wildly from behind his fingers. 

Taerae’s heart warms, thumping wildly at the sound of their names attached to his. When he’d gone to enroll the three babies in high school he’d needed a last name for their forms and, without really thinking about it, he’d just used his own. 

He’d entirely forgotten about it until a very confused Yujin had arrived home after his first day of ninth grade and asked where his last name came from. It had been a little bit of a silly conversation but in the end all eight of them had decided to adopt Taerae’s name; he knows they don’t understand how much it means to him but he still flushes happily each time they use their new last name. 

Those three little letters are just another thing to tie them together, a thread stitching them into a family tree and solidifying the bond they already feel. Hearing their group referred to as ‘the Kims’ around town makes Taerae so deliriously happy that he’d gotten into contact with a lawyer a month ago and is working diligently on adoption papers for the youngest boys of ZB1. 

He’d hoped to have the papers ready in time for Christmas but he figures Valentine’s Day or Easter will be just as good– honestly, he could present them with the documents any day and create a whole new family holiday just for them. It isn’t a half bad idea. 

In the same way that he’d given his last name out among the eight superheroes, Taerae’s also given them the freedom to choose their own birthdays. Jiwoong and Matthew had been practical about it, flipping to random months of the calendar and then choosing whichever day they liked best, but Yujin and Zhang Hao had agonized over the perfect date for weeks. 

“Hyung, can we have McDonald’s again on Christmas?” The teenager asks, food fight seemingly forgotten because he’s very nicely sharing an apple fritter with Gunwook. They all turn to look at Taerae with expectant eyes, Hanbin peeling open a little packet of ketchup for Zhang Hao and handing it to him. “Will it be open?”

“It’s always open,” Taerae reminds them, grinning when he hears Gyuvin make a delighted noise. “We can have it again if you want, but also I think Jiwoong-hyung has a really nice dinner planned for us.” 

“Hanbin-ah’s helping me,” Jiwoong says, leaning back against the red pleather of the booth and draping an arm around Matthew’s shoulders. “But we wanted to try and do something like the movies.” 

“As long as there’s strawberry shortcake,” Ricky says, leaning into Zhang Hao’s side. “You’re making shortcake, right?” 

“Very traditional, Ricky-yah,” Taerae tells the blonde boy, trying to hold back giggles at the panicked looks on Hanbin and Jiwoong’s faces and the way they’re now whispering frantically to each other about where to find strawberries in December. “Good choice.” 

“Never mind that,” Zhang Hao says, setting down his food and clapping for their attention. He looks especially pretty today, hair pushed back off his forehead and new color in his face. “I think we need a toast– to all of us, to Taerae-ah, and to the end of the world!” 

A worker passing by them with a broom and dustpan in her hands gives them a very strange look, eyes widening, but they ignore her. 

“To us!” They chorus, raising their plastic cups and cheering very loudly, Gyuvin almost spilling soda everywhere before Ricky freezes it solid for him. “Zerobaseone!”

“To Taerae-ah,” Hanbin announces once they’re finished drinking, raising his cup again. His eyes sparkle at the barista over the jumble of arms, the long lashes and cute noise Taerae had first noticed dearer than ever. “Our best mission!” 

“To Tae-hyung!” Yujin exclaims enthusiastically, wrapping hot little fingers around Taerae’s wrist and beaming at him across the table. “We love you!” 

Those words never fail to make the barista’s heart lurch up into his throat and this moment is no exception– as the rest of them toast to him, raising their cups high, he blinks happy tears out of his eyes. 

“I love you too,” he says and it isn’t exactly loud and the words aren’t even new to them, but he knows they hear him.

Gyuvin presses a bit closer to his side and Ricky tips his head against his shoulder for a moment, blonde hair soft on his skin. Hanbin’s eyes sparkle brighter than diamonds and Matthew and Jiwoong are holding hands, soft smiles on their mouths. A light flashes and they all turn to see Zhang Hao with Taerae’s phone clutched in his hands, crouched on the booth seat as he takes another picture. 

“We have one toast left,” Hanbin reminds them, drawing eight pairs of eyes back to his bright face and red ears. “To the end of the world!” 

Taerae laughs as he raises his plastic cup, ridiculously happy to be sitting in this tiny little McDonald’s in a suit because he’s surrounded by his family and that’s all that matters, in the end. 

“To the end of the world!” They chorus, clinking their cups together and then drinking deeply, finishing their soda. 

Taerae has no idea if the world is really going to end today, or if it will continue on. He doesn’t particularly care. He’s with his family, his friends, the boys who fit so well into his life that he can barely remember the hazy time without them. 

The nine boys squished into the little booth in their small corner of the world continue to laugh and talk over one another and share food as the gray December day slips into a velvety black night, snow falling gently outside and frosting everything in white. They have eyes only for each other, hands tangled together and heartbeats pulsing as one even as they walk home through the darkness to the warm, golden glow of their waiting home. 

They tuck themselves into bed with smiles on their mouths and dream sweet dreams of presents wrapped in bows and breezy summer days, never once doubting the future because they’ll face it together. 

And when they wake in the morning to an Earth blanketed in snowy white they find, curiously and mysteriously, that the world did not end. Rather, it kept right on spinning.

Life, as it so often does, found a way to go on.