2

***

D.O.'s hands shook as he scrolled through video after video of the new Avengers movie. He'd accidentally read spoilers and his favorite character had sacrificed himself to save the universe. He dropped his head and sighed. Now that he knew... Nope nope, not ready yet.

He clicked out and closed his laptop. His heart throbbed in his chest as he made his way to the kitchen. The temptation to write a fanfic to change the fate of his beloved character swirled like a hurricane, flinging debree against the inside of his skull. But he couldn't do that. Self sacrifice, a story that ended the way it had always been meant to - Since the beginning of the superhero movies it'd been building for that one absolute.

No, he wouldn't disrespect the character by taking it away from him. D.O. didn't do funeral fics, the most dark being light angst with a happy ending. But... His hand paused on the handle of the closed refrigerator door. Maybe...

He sighed. Maybe this once he could do it, in memory of a fallen hero, his bias deserving respect only a true fan could give.

*

So, shocker, he couldn't do it.

What he did instead, wrote an AU that put his favorite character in an underground atmosphere. He kept the dorky, sharp personality, and gave him a platonic bromance - that might become more - to have adventures with. Adventure, being a temporary world until he could define exactly what type of things would happen in the world. He pictured an atmosphere that could take a dangerous turn, but he'd probably hint at it, give the readers that expectation. Their love for dark universes would make them crave more, but they'd also appreciate their bias not ending up being assaulted or murdered...

Again with the painful throb in his chest. His heart still bled for the death of his bias.

Never would he kill his character or make him suffer unless it happened naturally. Sometimes a story took on a life of it's own and a writer had no choice but to hang on for the ride. So entranced with his craft, any other such passionate writer would beat him over the head for not respecting the call of a story going where it must. But back to the new story. He had yet to create a character profile.

How would the bromance character fit in this alternate universe? How would they play off each other. It had always intrigued him how a personality from one world fit so well in another, even if they were placed in an entirely different atmosphere. He didn't believe in reincarnation or the multiverse, but the theory captivated him enough to explore. This project being such an iron magnetic pull that he couldn't have pulled his fingers from the keys, even if he'd wanted to.

Tick tick tick went the keys. His eyes were unseeing of the real world. Behind them swam a universe that had taken control. He followed, exhilarated, his chest rose and fell with adrenaline coursing through his veins. He became a conduit for every being and every ounce a new universe demanded: To be translated in to mere words on a screen. A medium not befitting of a such glorious act.

*

A few Exo members had gone to the mall. Jongin wanted to buy shoes with a good grip. His current ones were starting to worry him. Nothing worse than trying to execute a quick choreography move and twisting an ankle. Another thing had his nerves prickling. "Um... Hyung, why are you doing... that?"

D.O. stood like a statue, eyes covered with a black scarf. "I'm in mourning. Leave me be."

An eyebrow raised. "What are you mourning? Did someone... die?"

He shushed him. "We don't speak of such things. We absorb the tragedy, then we let it be for a while. Then... we accept the horrificness of it... and eventually cry."

Like his stance, he sounded like a robot, bland and lacking empathy. "Ok. Any thing I can do?" He looked around. People were walking by the store they were in, and some behind them. No one had noticed D.O.'s strange behavior.

"No, Jongin. I am perfectly fine having this moment of silence."

He shouldn't have responded, but his mouth sometimes ran away from him. "You're not being silent though. You're talking."

The scarf got yanked off, revealing crazed eyes and a gritted jaw. "It would be silent if you'd stop talking to me," D.O. said.

Jongin reflexively moved the top half of his body away. "Ok, I don't know what to say right now. You told me when you get like this, to just walk away. So, I'm going to do that...

D.O. watched his back as he walked away. He sniffed and put his scarf back on.

*

How Not to Write a Fanfic

by D.O.

1) Stare at blinking line and loath self as no words come...

2) Write ideas on paper, then growl, rip the page, wad it up and throw it over shoulder...

3) Shake laptop, screaming...

_______________________________________________________________________

D.O. had reach number three. He didn't close it for fear that he'd break it.

"Where are you going?" Baekhyun got ignored. At the sound of the door closing, he puffed his bottom lip. His eyes widened when it reopened. Leaving the door open D.O. stormed by.

His head turned right as he watched him go to his room. It turned left as he went by him again, carrying a notebook and pen. The door closed with the sound of finality. He blinked. "Oooooh kay."

*

The scent of ink coated coated D.O.'s nostrils, grape, subtle sweetness and chemical. The ink came out black and he'd drawn familiar oval eyes, wide nose, full lips, long neck: Jongin. Why had he drawn him? No, seriously, why? He'd been people watching, then the memory of his mall mourning time had rolled in, choking his concentration.

His hand had started moving on it's own. It sometimes surprised him how accurately he could draw things. His roommate always respected his quirks, never made him feel like a weirdo. And he stood up for him, to his face and behind his back.

He hadn't hid behind corners and listened to conversations between him and other members...

A sigh left him and he rolled his eyes. Fine. He'd talk to him, explain his situation.

*

Jongin had an arm out. He moved his four fingers over and back, jerked the arm back and straightened it. His body lowered with a leg behind him, toes curled, the other leg bent with the heel raised. The grip of his shoes held him secure as he let himself embody the dance. In a blink he'd his toes, the bent leg lifted.

As powerful as a twister, he spun, a blur to a spectator. Not that he had one. Dance set him free, from all thought, all feeling. And freestyle did more. No demands distracting him, causing the urgency to get it right, causing him to beat himself up for failing his own expectations.

He abruptly stopped and rolled his stomach.

Explosive power or liquid smooth, nothing planned, he danced. He danced until sweat had soaked through his clothes, until sleep threatened to take over. It wouldn't be the first time he'd napped in the dance room. This time he just wanted to be in his bed.

After he got back to the dorm he took a quick shower. The hot water had refreshed him enough to walk instead of dragging his feet. He hesitated at his room's closed door. Those who hadn't spent countless hours listening to D.O. writing wouldn't hear them. Tapping keys.

His attuned ears picked them up through the wood. Even used to D.O.'s personality, his sometimes brash way of being still startled him. His lungs felt tight at the thought of facing him. He blew out a breath, then it in through his nose. Every time he focused on breathing like that it made him yawn. He couldn't stop it this time either.

It reminded him how tired he'd been before the shower. To stop it from returning he fast walked to the kitchen. Dancing burned off calories, so he needed food, good food. Heavy food wouldn't sit painfully in his stomach after he'd danced.

His metabolism would devour it and send all his body needed to recover fast. A big bowl of canned soup, full of dumplings and thick chunks of meet did the job. Feeling healthy and happy he went to the living room. Minseok and Chen were on the couch watching a movie. Tao had sat on the carpet by their bent legs and he tapped away on his phone.

He took his own phone from his pocket and sat on the other couch. The game he'd been playing for a week now called to him. The current level had gotten harder and his determination demanded he beat it. He narrowed his eyes as the home page appeared. "Game on."

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