Jun Angst - Tumblr Posts
violently sobbing rn-
till death do us part | wen junhui
angst, hurt/no comfort | 1158 words | warnings: major character death
an: @bluehoodiewoozi swore at me for writing this. hehe. would you believe i wrote all of this through text?
These days, the world outside was rather… quiet. The town lay in eerie silence, its once vibrant streets now hauntingly empty. Abandoned cars scattered haphazardly along the roads, their doors left ajar as if their panicked occupants had fled in a hurry. The once cheerful storefronts now stood as decaying shells, their windows shattered and doors hanging off their hinges. A thick layer of dust and debris covered everything, as if a shroud had settled over the town.
The few remaining streetlights flickered sporadically, casting long, ominous shadows that danced across the lifeless buildings. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, a putrid combination of rotting flesh and stagnant water. Occasionally, the only sounds that broke the silence were the distant moans and shuffling footsteps of the undead, hidden in the shadows and alleys.
You were tired. Junhui was tired. The air was heavy with a palpable sense of despair, and the once-familiar landmarks now stood as haunting monuments to the fall of civilization. You hadn’t had a second to relax ever since leaving your now-infested apartment complex. Your only dream right now was to lay on a comfy bed, after days spent sleeping on hard grounds.
What a shame that you’d only find yourself on one after barely escaping a surprise horde of zombies
Battered and bruised didn’t stop Junhui from carrying you into the nearest zombie-free house, shielding you against his chest as he tried to press on your fresh wounds.
He set you down in a bedroom furthest away from the entrance, on a dusty queen-sized bed He immediately rummaged through the house looking for things to stop you from bleeding out and withering in pain. Medicine, bandages, ointments– anything he saw, he brought them back to you.
You winced and grunted every time he tried to apply something other than pressure on you. At one point, the stinging from the ointments became too much, and you weakly swatted Junhui’s hand away from a gash on your side.
Junhui’s head tilted down, hair shaggy as he clumsily worked his way through his loot. Pouring this, dabbing that, he busied his hands, attempting to wrap gauze on your arm. It didn’t stop you from noticing how shaky his hands were, or how his body shook every few seconds as tears cascaded down his face.
“Jun,” you voiced, barely a whisper, but still enough for him to lock eyes with you for a moment before going back to the task at hand.
“Jun.”
“Junhui.”
“Wen Junhui!”
“What?!” Junhui finally snapped, staring at you with glassy eyes. Noticing the way you flinched, he softened his gaze, hand moving to push a stray hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, love. I’m just trying to help you.” His hand landed on your face, letting you weakly nuzzle in his warmth. “Is anything else in pain?”
“Jun…”
“Is the bandage not tight enough?”
“No, I-…Look at me, Junhui”
He touched your hands, fingers interlocking. Your fingertips were getting colder, he noticed. He moved to cover you with a nearby blanket, before the gravity of the situation hit him.
“No, no no no,” he grasped your hand tighter, not caring for his knees that had been kneeling for the better part of the past half hour. “You can’t– We promised to find Jeonghan at the base… We… We’re supposed to go together!”
Wen Junhui was full-on sobbing now, whole body slumped over yours. You mustered what was left of you to place a gentle hand on his head, caressing him softly.
“You’ll still have to go. Promise, okay?” You were smiling now, but your eyes were just as full of tears as his.
“I… I can’t do it without you!” The hand he had on your stomach started to feel damp again, as he realised more blood was seeping out of the wound. “Y/n…!”
"Just hold my hand, okay? Nothing will happen to you.” Junhui’s grip on your hand was hurting you, but nothing could compare to the pain you felt from the mere thought of having to leave this man behind.
“I won’t let anything hurt you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he kissed the top of your knuckles, bringing your hand that was on his head to his cheek.
“Okay,” speaking now had gotten to a point where it hurt, but comforting the crying man by your side mattered more.
You fought off the urge to close your eyes, trying to delay the inevitable.
“Promise me… that you’ll find everyone else…” You barely managed to cough out the words. “You have to live, promise.”
Junhui could feel your very life force seeping out of you.
“I promise… I love you, y/n. I love you so much.” He saw you struggling to hold on, for him. The very thought of you putting his selfish wants first, even on your deathbed, hurt his already throbbing heart.
“Let’s meet again soon, yeah?” He had to strain his ears to hear you now. He mustered up a gentle smile, looking at you with all the adoration he held for you. With his free hand, Junhui attempted to wipe away his tears as much as possible. At least, he thought, he’d like it if the last thing you saw was him smiling, not crying.
Tears, like glistening droplets of sorrow, slowly traced a delicate path down the contours of your cheeks. Nevertheless, you tried your hardest, returning his efforts with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen grace your face.
It was barely moments after that your hand slumped in his, lifeless. Junhui spent the night kneeling on the floor by the bed, trying to grasp whatever warmth was still on you before it all seeped out.
Morning came. He had to leave now if he wanted to reach the base camp before dark. He finally pried his hand out of your cold and clammy ones, moving them to rest over your stomach. He touched you once more, as if his fingertips were memorising every contour of your face and committing them to memory. Finally, before he covered your face with the blanket, he unhooked the necklace you had always worn around your neck. It was a little bit selfish, he thought, but he wanted at least something to remind him of you.
Fastening it around his own neck, he spent the next hour gathering his and your supplies, checking his routes and weapons in silence.
By noon, he walked out of the house, clutching the necklace by his heart.
Jeonghan and the others would be heartbroken when they find out why he arrived alone, the light in his eyes shining no more. They would take care of Junhui, watching after him as he fiddled with the necklace, making sure he slept and ate his meals. But he wasn’t at the camp yet. Until then, there was no time to grieve.
He had to survive. For you.
the first thing jun heard when he walked through the door was a light sniffing. then a soft blow. yours. instantly, he kicked off his shoes and ran towards the living room. that’s where he found you, huddled at the end of the sofa, your bottom lip still shaking. jun couldn’t help himself but think about how cute your habit of always sitting on the floor was. your arms tightly held around your knees, your puffy eyes looked up, meeting jun’s concerned ones.
"bad day?" jun guessed.
you hated your summer job as secretary from the bottom of your heart and jun knew it. you always complained about your insufferable coworkers and arrogant clients. but you were still a student who needed money and the work your dad offered you paid well so you stayed, bearing in silence all the things you mentioned to him. you nodded weakly.
"you want to talk about it?"
you shook your head negatively. jun kneeled before you and opened his arms. you immediately melt into his embrace as your tears started to run down his neck.
jun hated seeing you cry. most of your friends called you heartless and kindly joked by saying you felt no emotion but jun knew how wrong they were. you just perceived yourself like everyone’s emotional support and buried your feelings deep down so you could smile for them. "who’s gonna dry their tears if i’m crying?" were the words you had told him when jun was conforming you in the intimacy of your shared apartment after all your friends cried during your degree ceremony. jun had thought about how strong you were but also how harsh you were toward yourself, not allowing you to cry.
those self-restriction weren’t only put in place for sadness but for every other piece of the emotion spectrum: anger, fear, hurt, etc. you only gave you permission to explode when you were surrounded by the comfort of your home and jun’s company. so, each time, jun took your place as an emotional pilar and bit back the tears which threatened to fall.
gently rocking you, jun massaged your temples, whispering soft words. as your sobs decreased, he told you:
"it’s okay to cry. remember to never feel ashamed of your feelings which are a hundred percent valid. never feel like you’re over exaggerating cause, to me, you’re the bravest girl i ever met. but sometimes, you need to let me be your valiant knight in a shiny armour, okay?"
his last words caused you to giggle softly as you nodded, a begin of a smile on your lips. placing a tender kiss on them, he suggested:
"do you want me to run you a hot bathtub?"
you agreed eagerly almost immediately.
when you were finally laying in the bathtub, you murmured:
"work was just horrible. one of my coworkers asked me print him so many useless files. i didn’t even cleared a quarter when i filled the folder and he said after an hour and a half that some files were worthless. if you had seen how many papers went to waste, i was so angry he didn’t listen to me when i suggested him that it’d be better to keep up with the numerical system only.
"then, they all left for lunch time, leaving me alone while they went all together at a restaurant, not even bothering to ask me if i was interested or not. i mean, i don’t care if they didn’t want me to join them but it made me feel like some pariah.
"finally, one of the coworkers started to complain about my dad so badly. he was literally screaming right in front of me and not so far away from my dad’s office and i felt so angry but i couldn’t say anything. i’m literally working here because of nepotism. i have no competence nor diploma for this post, i’m not legitimate at all. but i was boiling and nobody stood up to tell him that he should stop. i’m so angry with him and with myself. i mean, i perfectly know nobody must love my dad but he went way too far, saying it right into my face, and i should have said something at least. but i was just petrified."
your story broke jun’s heart as he was smoothly massaging your scalp. starting to rinse your hair, he hummed:
"like i said, your feelings are totally valid but you need to remember your dad is a grown man who can handle criticism and hate from his employees. this coworker of yours did this intentionally to see if you’ll tell him and because he knew it would reach you. but, even if it’s hard, you shouldn’t let them go under your skin. it was just pure gratuitous hate and calling him out wouldn’t have change anything. you’re not responsible for his behaviour and for not reacting.
"besides, you’re far from a nepo baby and you’re actually way too qualified for this job. i mean look at you! you’re my amazing genius of a girlfriend who’ll start her master degree soon! you don’t need their approval or anything. and remember that if you want to retort anything, i’ll support you in any case."
looking up at him, jun could see tears stinging your eyes again.
"no don’t cry, he panicked, it wasn’t my intention at all!"
a melodious laugh escaped your lips and, after kissing him deeply, you whispered:
"thank you so much junnie. thank you for being here and for always listening to my stupid concerns."
"if it bothers you, then it’s not stupid. don’t thank me for something like this."
pressing your hand affectionately, jun was proud of you for expression your emotions and took even more pride in knowing that he was your greatest confident before whom you allowed yourself to let your emotions appear.
after watching a ytb video abt jun being the original emotional support kpop boy (that was the title) i can't get this image of my head. i really need a jun in my life
@/som1ig 2023 | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise
till death do us part | wen junhui
angst, hurt/no comfort | 1158 words | warnings: major character death
an: @bluehoodiewoozi swore at me for writing this. hehe. would you believe i wrote all of this through text?
These days, the world outside was rather… quiet. The town lay in eerie silence, its once vibrant streets now hauntingly empty. Abandoned cars scattered haphazardly along the roads, their doors left ajar as if their panicked occupants had fled in a hurry. The once cheerful storefronts now stood as decaying shells, their windows shattered and doors hanging off their hinges. A thick layer of dust and debris covered everything, as if a shroud had settled over the town.
The few remaining streetlights flickered sporadically, casting long, ominous shadows that danced across the lifeless buildings. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, a putrid combination of rotting flesh and stagnant water. Occasionally, the only sounds that broke the silence were the distant moans and shuffling footsteps of the undead, hidden in the shadows and alleys.
You were tired. Junhui was tired. The air was heavy with a palpable sense of despair, and the once-familiar landmarks now stood as haunting monuments to the fall of civilization. You hadn’t had a second to relax ever since leaving your now-infested apartment complex. Your only dream right now was to lay on a comfy bed, after days spent sleeping on hard grounds.
What a shame that you’d only find yourself on one after barely escaping a surprise horde of zombies
Battered and bruised didn’t stop Junhui from carrying you into the nearest zombie-free house, shielding you against his chest as he tried to press on your fresh wounds.
He set you down in a bedroom furthest away from the entrance, on a dusty queen-sized bed He immediately rummaged through the house looking for things to stop you from bleeding out and withering in pain. Medicine, bandages, ointments– anything he saw, he brought them back to you.
You winced and grunted every time he tried to apply something other than pressure on you. At one point, the stinging from the ointments became too much, and you weakly swatted Junhui’s hand away from a gash on your side.
Junhui’s head tilted down, hair shaggy as he clumsily worked his way through his loot. Pouring this, dabbing that, he busied his hands, attempting to wrap gauze on your arm. It didn’t stop you from noticing how shaky his hands were, or how his body shook every few seconds as tears cascaded down his face.
“Jun,” you voiced, barely a whisper, but still enough for him to lock eyes with you for a moment before going back to the task at hand.
“Jun.”
“Junhui.”
“Wen Junhui!”
“What?!” Junhui finally snapped, staring at you with glassy eyes. Noticing the way you flinched, he softened his gaze, hand moving to push a stray hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, love. I’m just trying to help you.” His hand landed on your face, letting you weakly nuzzle in his warmth. “Is anything else in pain?”
“Jun…”
“Is the bandage not tight enough?”
“No, I-…Look at me, Junhui”
He touched your hands, fingers interlocking. Your fingertips were getting colder, he noticed. He moved to cover you with a nearby blanket, before the gravity of the situation hit him.
“No, no no no,” he grasped your hand tighter, not caring for his knees that had been kneeling for the better part of the past half hour. “You can’t– We promised to find Jeonghan at the base… We… We’re supposed to go together!”
Wen Junhui was full-on sobbing now, whole body slumped over yours. You mustered what was left of you to place a gentle hand on his head, caressing him softly.
“You’ll still have to go. Promise, okay?” You were smiling now, but your eyes were just as full of tears as his.
“I… I can’t do it without you!” The hand he had on your stomach started to feel damp again, as he realised more blood was seeping out of the wound. “Y/n…!”
"Just hold my hand, okay? Nothing will happen to you.” Junhui’s grip on your hand was hurting you, but nothing could compare to the pain you felt from the mere thought of having to leave this man behind.
“I won’t let anything hurt you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he kissed the top of your knuckles, bringing your hand that was on his head to his cheek.
“Okay,” speaking now had gotten to a point where it hurt, but comforting the crying man by your side mattered more.
You fought off the urge to close your eyes, trying to delay the inevitable.
“Promise me… that you’ll find everyone else…” You barely managed to cough out the words. “You have to live, promise.”
Junhui could feel your very life force seeping out of you.
“I promise… I love you, y/n. I love you so much.” He saw you struggling to hold on, for him. The very thought of you putting his selfish wants first, even on your deathbed, hurt his already throbbing heart.
“Let’s meet again soon, yeah?” He had to strain his ears to hear you now. He mustered up a gentle smile, looking at you with all the adoration he held for you. With his free hand, Junhui attempted to wipe away his tears as much as possible. At least, he thought, he’d like it if the last thing you saw was him smiling, not crying.
Tears, like glistening droplets of sorrow, slowly traced a delicate path down the contours of your cheeks. Nevertheless, you tried your hardest, returning his efforts with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen grace your face.
It was barely moments after that your hand slumped in his, lifeless. Junhui spent the night kneeling on the floor by the bed, trying to grasp whatever warmth was still on you before it all seeped out.
Morning came. He had to leave now if he wanted to reach the base camp before dark. He finally pried his hand out of your cold and clammy ones, moving them to rest over your stomach. He touched you once more, as if his fingertips were memorising every contour of your face and committing them to memory. Finally, before he covered your face with the blanket, he unhooked the necklace you had always worn around your neck. It was a little bit selfish, he thought, but he wanted at least something to remind him of you.
Fastening it around his own neck, he spent the next hour gathering his and your supplies, checking his routes and weapons in silence.
By noon, he walked out of the house, clutching the necklace by his heart.
Jeonghan and the others would be heartbroken when they find out why he arrived alone, the light in his eyes shining no more. They would take care of Junhui, watching after him as he fiddled with the necklace, making sure he slept and ate his meals. But he wasn’t at the camp yet. Until then, there was no time to grieve.
He had to survive. For you.
✶ seventeen when you take your promise ring off during a fight
ft. performance unit
-> vocal unit | hip hop unit
junhui: he only notices it when you start to walk away. there's a lull in the kitchen, the type of weighted silence that lies thick and suffocating in the air, waiting for someone to make the first move. junhui takes the knife and slices. ("we can talk about it tomorrow," he says.) it gives you both time to be angry about it, sleep it off, then apologize. except, he sees the glint of metal rolling around in your fingers, and your still-empty ring finger when you turn around to leave. junhui has always given you time, given you the space to cool off and talk about it next morning, but he feels if he lets you and the ring go to sleep like that—("your ring," junhui calls quietly, his voice almost fragile with the way he speaks it. he hopes it's just a reminder, not a plea.) the band freezes in your fingers before you silently slip it back on.
soonyoung: he goes quiet. arguments with soonyoung are agitated, barely contained words exchanged like the beginning spark of a lit match; it's never loud, always tense, but soonyoung sees the fidgeting slide of your ring on and off your finger and his match snuffs out. his words trail off into nothing but a wisp of smoke, argument dying with it as he silently walks over to you, a careful yet gentle hand on yours. ("stop." it's the ash that falls from the top of burned incense, the soaking of a matchstick in water.) if you held your breath, you'd notice the slight tremble in his hands before your fingers left your ring and entwined with his instead.
minghao: the second you touch the band on your finger, he stops. ("let's talk about it later," he amends, eyes flickering to your hand before looking up at you as a sort of silent mutual understanding, only to find a hard stubborness in your eyes.) to him, the small gesture is a sign that you need time to cool down, to talk about it civily when the fight isn't so fresh in both your minds; to you, the postponing is something he just says. when is later? when will you talk it over again? when will his words mean something more than just pacifying platitudes? ("no," you declare, firmly planted, metal burning. "we need to talk about this now." you need him to understand this, to understand that it's worth it.) and to him, nothing was worth more than you. so he sits down, and you talk it through, and you apologize.
chan: you see the panic fly through his eyes. the ring has always been a comforting presence to you, grounding you when you need it most. but in the midst of a fight, the metal feels too tight around your finger. you needed to feel the skin beneath it again. chan stops mid-speech the moment he sees you pull it off your finger, alarm in his voice when you move to put it on the table. chan says your name like a fraying thread, as if wide eyes and closing distance were the only things he could do to keep it together, to keep you with him. (he looks between you and the ring, panic barely kept within its confines as chan tries not to spiral. "what...what are you..." is all he can manage to get out, words buzzing as they leave his tongue. you pause, startled, following his shaky gaze to the ring between your fingertips, and you breathe out a single noise. "oh.") you're not, you assure him, metal band warm in your palm. you would never. chan doesn't stop looking at you with trembling eyes until he can slide it on your finger himself.
for the fake title game: wrecked
Title: Wrecked
Pairing: Junhui & Reader
Genres: angst, dystopia-ish au, android au, hanahaki-ish au
Words: 2.4k (00:10)
Notes: hoverport is my future-y word for flying car
Warnings: blood, implied major character death
-
In pretty much every sense of the word, the android you find off the corner of fifth and March is a wreck.
It's nothing you haven't seen before -- androids have always been like punching bags (or stress balls) to the more well-off that can afford to replace them. So it's really no surprise to find one nearly torn to shreds in the heart of the Ruby district, or, as you like to call it, rich bitch central.
The thing has been utterly decimated, and you almost pass it by on your routine nightly search for spare parts, but your eyes catch on its chest, where something bright pink shines through the damage. It looks beyond a lost cause, but... damn, is that a 301 New Gen processor? And, hold on... that's the new artificial skin grafting formula. Holy shit. This hunk of metal is the newest model of android available to the public -- if you can call the top 1% the public. (You don't.)
Quickly, you fumble for your phone in your pocket and scroll through your contacts.
"Jihoon? Sorry for waking you. Yeah. I need you to bring your truck."
-
It takes you over two months to fix the android to semi-working condition. Most of the time is sucked into finding the right parts -- or, at least, parts that might work as replacements for the insanely expensive parts you'd actually need. Luckily, most of the essential pieces were still intact, if not a little scratched up.
One of the arms was unsalvageable, so you scrapped it completely and replaced it with one you already had in the shop. It's not an ordinary android arm, though. You'd found it in another one of your searches some years ago and stripped it down to practice your patching and soldering on. It still works just fine -- you hope -- but the shiny grey surface looks harsh against the android's fancy grafted skin.
It's almost disorienting how real the new skin formula feels when you touch it. Imperfect.
You try not to linger on that.
Pressing your hands on both of the android's temples, you power it on. A quiet whirring fills your ears in the silence of the shop, and you drop your arms.
The android's eyes don't flutter when they open. You're met with two brown eyes, one slightly lighter since you had to replace that, too. It's less disorienting than you expected it to be. More warm.
Because as soon as the android's sensors process you in front of him, it smiles.
For a few seconds, you're completely entranced by its smile. Android smiles aren't supposed to look that... real. Right? You know tech designers have tried -- for years -- but you don't think one has ever looked as nice as this.
Not important.
You shake your head and clear your throat. "Commence startup," you say as clearly as possible.
"Commencing." Its voice isn't like you expected, either, though you don't really know what it is you were expecting. You watch silently as it stands impossibly straighter and closes its eyes for a few moments. "Startup complete." It opens its eyes and holds out its hand, palm up. "Please enter identification."
From your back pocket, you pull out your ID card and press it into the android's palm, waiting for the usual beep of recognition. The sound is softer than what you normally hear from retail androids.
"Understood," it says, dropping its arm to its side. "I am Android Model Number 6.81-4. I am happy to help." After that, it just stands still, its lips lifted in that warm smile.
This sounds slightly more like the androids you're used to. You're just thrown off by that weirdly realistic face.
"Do you have a name?" you ask, unable to remember the model number it just told you.
It blinks. "Unable to recall."
"Then commence data recovery, please."
"Commencing."
While you wait for the android to retrieve its memories -- which you hope goes smoothly, considering the not-so-hopeful condition of one of its memory chips -- you move around your shop and clean up a little. Jihoon will have your head if he comes to the morning shift and finds it in such a mess. Occasionally, you'll twist your head to peek at the android from across the room. Even though its expression is neutral while it processes its own data, you can't seem to erase that smile from your mind. The power of money, huh.
"Data recovery complete."
You pop up from where you were crouched down and rifling through some drawers. The android smiles at you from across the worktable. Just as you open your mouth to ask the same question you posed before, it does the same.
"My name is Junhui."
-
"Damn," Jihoon says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coveralls. "He's beautiful."
"I know, right?" You watch Jihoon ogle Junhui, a huge, proud smile on your face. "I still can't believe I found him."
Junhui simply stands still under Jihoon's gaze. His signature smile has yet to go anywhere -- you're beginning to think it's his default expression.
"I don't know if you'll be able to sell him in this condition, though."
You frown. Before Jihoon said that, you weren't even considering selling Junhui -- you'd worked months on him, you couldn't just give him away. Still, it's a scratch at your pride to say that nobody would want to buy your hard work.
"Are you kidding? He works perfectly," you defend, even though you're not totally sure of that. You haven't gone through everything to check yet.
Jihoon shrugs. "Yeah, but with that arm and the grafting damage, what can he do better than a cheaper labour android?"
"Junhui."
The android looks at you, and his smile widens almost imperceptively. "Yes?"
"What features does your model have that previous models don't?"
He answers without hesitation. "Android Model Number 6.81-4 is, at the current time, the closest android model to a human being. I am able to comprehend emotional stimulants and react accordingly. My facial expressions are programmed to mimic that of a human's, and are more accurate than any pre-dating model. For example, when I am asked to process new data, I may furrow my brow and/or slightly open my mouth."
This is the first time you're hearing any of this, but you turn to Jihoon with a victorious smirk. "See?"
Jihoon isn't bothered by you. Instead, he looks intrigued as he eyes down Junhui. "Can you process human emotions?"
A blink. "Yes."
"Elaborate," Jihoon pushes.
"As I am able to comprehend emotional stimulants, I can come to a logical conclusion as to how a human would react to a certain stimulant. For example, 'death' is a stimulant for sadness."
Jihoon crosses his arms. "And you know what sadness is?"
"Yes." Both you and Jihoon are a little surprised by the way Junhui's lips turn down into a frown. It's almost like he's offended by Jihoon insinuating he doesn't know something -- must be one of the mimicked facial expressions he mentioned. You hold your breath at what he might say next. "Sadness is defined as the condition or quality of being sad."
The breath seeps out, and you can't tell if you're relieved or disappointed. It's a terrifying thought -- having machines so advanced as to understand human feelings. Yeah. You're relieved.
"Do you know what being sad is?" Jihoon continues to prod, and you're a bit concerned at how into this he is.
"Feeling or showing sorrow; unhappy."
"And happiness? What does that feel like?"
Junhui's frown deepens, and his brow furrows, just like he spoke about earlier. "I... know the stimulants which results in happiness."
"Then--"
"Jihoon." You put a stop to Jihoon's interrogation with a hand wrapped around his arm. "Stop. You're going to fry the processor I took weeks to figure out."
-
When you're alone with him, Jihoon whispers, "I'm sorry.
"I just don't like it. They keep making androids closer and closer to humans... it's not natural. It freaks me out."
You brush him off with a casual smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just go back to fixing your precious hoverports, why don'tcha?
-
After Jihoon heads home for the night, sore and grumpy after lying under hoverports all day, you decide to take Junhui back home with you. Before you turned him on, it was way too inconvenient, but now he can just walk alongside you.
It's mostly quiet on the walk back. You feel a lot safer under the blanket of night with Junhui next to you -- normally, the streets at night are more daunting.
"Were you going to sell me?"
Androids don't ask questions. You don't really process before you answer him.
"Nope."
Too busy stuck in your head, trying to understand why or even how Junhui asked you something so unlike any android you've ever interacted with, you don't notice the way Junhui's lips curl up or the word that slips quietly from him.
"Good."
-
You expect life with a brand new, better-than-the-rest android at home would be easy. Nope.
Every day, you learn something new about Junhui, and every time you do, he seems to act that much more human. It's scary at first, but you grow to get used to it -- his metal arm is a good reminder of what he is, even if his face doesn't show it.
-
It's a night like any other night that you cry.
Life sucks, and for one reason or another, you slam your apartment door behind you with tears streaming down your face.
Junhui approaches you at first with his usual smile, but it drops when he sees your condition. You'd feel cared for if you didn't know that's just in his programming.
What you're almost sure is not in his program is hugs.
But he's hugging you anyways.
"Junhui," you mumble, frozen in shock. "What are you doing?"
"Tears are a result of sadness."
"Okay but... what are you doing," you repeat.
His arms don't loosen at all around you. "My data says that humans respond well to this type of touch during moments of duress."
Well, he's not wrong. You don't mind this hug at all, but a thought tickles the back of your mind.
It's all in the data. None of this is real.
-
Of course, your heart doesn't care what your mind thinks.
You walk into the shop after a particularly stressful trade deal to find Jihoon standing next to the hoverport he's been working on.
"Where's Jun?"
Jihoon turns your way and smirks, pointing down at the floor beneath the hoverport. You walk closer and look around the worktable to see Junhui slide out from beneath the hoverport, grease smudged on the coveralls you got him when he started helping you around the shop. He smiles at you, big and bright, and oh fuck.
Not noticing your inner distress, Jihoon holds out a hand to help Junhui stand up -- not that he needs it.
"For an android, he's not too bad."
Not too bad indeed.
-
It starts as a tickle in your throat.
You think you know exactly what it is, but you brush it off as dehydration anyways, and when Junhui questions about it, you just ask him to pass your water bottle.
Jihoon doesn't say anything when you ask him to watch over Junhui the next day, thankful for the extra helping hands while you're out.
The first petals are grey.
Funny, you think. Unnatural flowers for your unnatural love.
Fuck.
-
You can't keep Junhui away for long. He comes home all on his own after three days of staying at the shop, and you don't even have the strength to greet him at the door.
Jihoon stopped accepting your flimsy excuses tonight, and he would've come back with Junhui if it weren't for his respect for your privacy -- one thing that Junhui doesn't have.
He finds you on the floor next to your bed, blood smeared over your chin and clothes.
"You're ill," he states simply as he sits you up. His expression turns into that of concern, and if it didn't hurt so bad, you might just laugh. Damn advanced programming -- making you think he actually cares.
"No shit."
The two words are all it takes for another coughing fit to rack through you, more painful than the last, as is the pattern you've suffered through in the past three days. Grey petals spew from your mouth, partially stained with red. Junhui's eyes dart to them, and you watch in tired amusement as he processes the information.
"Hanahaki disease," he identifies.
You want to say bingo, but you don't.
"My data says that the Hanahaki disease was eradicated over one hundred and fifty years ago."
"Yeah, well. My data--" You hold up stray petals in front of his face. "-- says otherwise. Runs in the family."
Junhui’s brow furrows. “Understood.” A few seconds pass, filled with only the low hum of Junhui’s engine and your shallow breaths. Your eyes are screwed shut from the pain. “I do not know how to help you.”
You didn’t think he would.
“Jun... you know what it’s like to want, right?”
He blinks. “No. Wanting is a human trait. I have no desires or needs.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” You see him frown and open his mouth, probably to tell you that he can’t be wrong, but you cut him off. “It might be a little different, but you have your own wants, Jun. Your programming makes you want to help me. That’s why you came home today even when I told you not to. You decided to come here on your own because you wanted to. Get it?”
You can almost see the metaphorical cogs spinning behind his eyes. “Understood.”
“What you don’t know is how to be selfish,” you tell him. “Humans want what we can’t have, and that’s what makes us weak.”
Junhui’s eyes glance over at the bloodstained petals once more.
“Hanahaki disease is caused by unrequited love. You are suffering because you want something you cannot have. Understood.”
You can tell he’s still searching his databases for ways to help you, but it’s no use -- too late for anything now.
“Are you in love with someone?” he asks.
You smile. “Yes. Madly.”
“Then stop.”
You laugh.
You laugh and you cry and you cry some more because you’re in love with a fucking robot and have flowers growing in your lungs.
“I want you to live.” It’s the first time he’s used that word. Want.
You look up at him. At his two brown eyes, one lighter than the other. At his fake skin and fake frown and fake heart. You want to bring your hand up to his cheek, but you don’t have the strength.
“Then I guess we both want things we can’t have.”