𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋! | ateez

red shift

NOVEMBER 5TH, 2120 A.D
—AURORA SPACECRAFT.
[118 DAYS TO MARS.]

"psst. san. san-ah."

san turns lazily towards the direction of sound, eyebrow raised, coffee cup jauntily tilted at a dangerous angle. the anti-grativy holds up most of the cup's weight, so he doesn't need to hold it, really, and the little hole in the cup lid is begging to wreak havoc and spill some of the hot beverage.

(san likes to drink coffee to look like an adult, but really, he's just drinking hot milky-sugar with a hint of coffee. shh, don't tell anyone, though.)

his eyes meet the top half of wooyoung's head: cat-like eyes full of mirth peeking out from behind the laboratory doorway. he's full of excitement; san knows this wooyoung all too well. it's the same wooyoung that made makeshift (harmless) bombs and set them off in abandoned hallways during his first week at KQSA. the wooyoung who swaps his teammates' sugar with salt, and deliberately adds a couple more pinches of pepper to the meals of those who can't handle spice well.

(san shudders at the hellish omelette his comrade had so lovingly made during their training days. of course, he retaliated by making his monthly batch of chocolate-chip cookies for the team and swapping chocolate for raisins in wooyoung's cookies. what can he say, he's cold-blooded.)

san goes to open his mouth to respond. it's comical, the way his friend is acting like a really bad spy in a cheesy crime movie, but he's stopped by wide eyes and frantic arm-waving motions.

"shh! don't talk! stay quiet. come here," wooyoung whispers loudly (ironically, wooyoung himself is probably the last person in the solar system to understand the word 'quiet'), looking around the hallway and behind san to check for any other intruding members.

"everyone will know we're in here, anyway. the thermal tracker in the control room, hello?" he mutters as he gets dragged into the room. "idiot."

wooyoung locks the laboratory doors and dramatically breathes a loud sigh. san's eyebrow only raises higher. "so, what's up?"

his team mate is so choked up with excitement, he has to pause before speaking.

"i made something."

"great. you're an engineer, congrats!" wooyoung smacks him, hard.

"drink your coffee and stop being so grumpy." (does it really count as coffee if you can barely taste the coffee bean?) "no, seriously, you're really gonna love this."

san takes a curious sip of warm milky-sugar and puts it in the cupholder attached to the wall. wooyoung's enthusiasm is contagious, electrifying, and the boxy grin and sparkling-white teeth makes him feel more awake than his caffeine fix ever did.

"close your eyes," he demands, and san obeys. all he can hear is wooyoung's uniform rustling as he turns to grab something. "okay, now... open!"

there is a little metal disk with arms in wooyoung's hands, no bigger than a china plate.

"it's a little robot! he's programmed to fetch this and that and hold stuff! isn't he great?" a matching grin finds its way into san's own face. wooyoung's right: he does love it; the little metal disk is adorable. he taps the top of the robot, and it instantly springs to life, the multicoloured lights on it's side beam brightly and a cacophony of whirring fills their ears. it even wiggles it's little crabby claws experimentally, as if flexing unused muscles.