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Bae Sejin only understood the gravity of the situation when Moondae opened the fridge to grab a soda and came out with a can of beer instead. Bae Sejin’s first reaction was an incredulous Seriously? Right in front of me? You know I can see you? but then he met Moondae’s eyes, saw the consternation on his face, and realized Moondae hadn’t had any control over it. He’d seen the beer, some part of him had wanted it, and with his impulse control gone, he’d taken it.
Bae Sejin took the beer from Moondae’s unresisting hand, put it back, and gave him a soda. “Do you have any other, um, potentially problematic im–”
“Don’t say it,” Moondae warned him, and Bae Sejin jolted in realization.
Of course he couldn’t say “Do you have any problematic impulses or dangerous intrusive thoughts?” Putting that idea in someone’s mind was the surest way to make them start thinking about those things, and unlike people who could simply ignore a passing thought, Moondae was currently compromised. Bae Sejin grabbed Moondae’s shoulder and towed him back into the living room, where the other members were still discussing the situation.
“Until the status abnormality ends, Moondae can’t be alone,” Bae Sejin announced. It was for Moondae’s safety.
“That makes sense.” Chungwoo looked at Moondae cautiously, obviously wondering if he would argue, but Moondae just scowled down at his soda.
“I don’t like it, but I understand. Sorry for burdening everyone.”
“No problem! Buddy system time, sounds fun!” Lee Sejin exclaimed. But his joviality sounded a bit forced to Bae Sejin. He wondered if Lee Sejin was thinking the same thing he was.
Until Moondae grabbed the beer just now, Bae Sejin had no way of knowing whether Moondae still craved the slight blur of alcohol that he used to rely on to quiet his brain. Because Moondae didn’t share those things. He didn’t share very much of himself at all. This impulse control abnormality wasn’t just going to cause him to make mistakes – it was going to reveal things about Park Moondae’s innermost self to the team.
And maybe Lee Sejin worried that when it came to Park Moondae’s innermost feelings about them, it might not be things they enjoyed knowing.
“Let’s talk about the schedule, then. Moondae was supposed to go with Lee Sejin to the Let’s Eat show later today, but I think we should pull him off all schedules for the week.”
Moondae nodded, opening his soda. “At least that’s not a big loss. I always thought Raebin should’ve been one of the members chosen to go. The host’s whole thing is about being a strict old guy who insists on younger people being really polite, so…”
“Oh, he’ll love Raebin.”
“Yeah. We just have to tell the agency that I’m sick.” He cast a gloomy look down at the soda he didn’t really want, like it was the reason he was going to miss out on everything for a week. “We should tell them as soon as possible so they can make a statement about me missing activities.”
“Aw, Moondae-Moondae, our little moon puppy, don’t be sad,” Lee Sejin cooed, sliding next to Moondae to wrap his arms around him. “We’ll take such good care of our cute little–” He cut off as cold, sugary liquid splattered onto his head and dripped down his face. Park Moondae had upended the soda over him.
The members gaped in silence.
“...Sorry. It’s the status abnormality.”
Lee Sejin slowly wiped a hand over his face. “Be honest, did the abnormality force you, or did you just see an opportunity to get away with it?”
“It was the abnormality,” Moondae insisted.
When he first saw the status abnormality, he said aloud, “Fuck.” Maybe that was the first instance of his impulse control failing. Would he normally curse out loud when confronted by some status window bullshit? Maybe.
[ Difficulty adjustment: Impulse control has been decreased -99% for a period of seven days. ]
What did that mean? How bad was this? He stood perfectly still, exactly where he’d been when he casually opened the status window at the same moment that he’d opened his bedroom door to go get breakfast. He couldn’t quite figure out the appropriate reaction.
Should he turn right around and get back into bed? Since that thought had just occurred to him, was his body now going to do it without him having any control? No, he wasn’t moving, so that was good. Maybe decreased impulse control didn’t really affect him. Or maybe his body wasn’t moving because it wasn’t a thought he really wanted to act on. The real test would be thinking of something he actually wanted to do and seeing if his body then moved without his input, but he was scared to try to think of something…
“What are you doing?” Eugene’s voice broke in, loud and cheerful. “You look funny! Why did you zone out here?”
Moondae blinked, focusing his field of vision that was suddenly full of Cha Eugene’s face. “Wha–”
Eugene laughed, making a dimple appear in one cheek, still invading his personal space. “Hyung, there won’t be any breakfast left for you if–”
Moondae poked his finger into Eugene’s dimple.
For a second, even Eugene didn’t know what to say. The tip of Moondae’s finger remained embedded in his cheek.
Moondae suppressed a groan.
“Uh… why?” Eugene asked.
“Because I wanted to. Unfortunately.”
“Oh. Where are you going?”
“Back to bed.” There it was, his body acting on the urge to burrow back under his covers. He’d just been a little bit early with his prediction. Jesus, why would his subconscious want to do something if it was going to be embarrassed by it immediately after? He pulled the covers over his head. He and his subconscious were in full agreement about the necessity of that. “Don’t look at me. I’m going to stay here for a while.”
“Do you want me to bring you breakfast?”
“I want to die.”
After a moment, he heard Eugene saying from down the hall, “Moondae’s sick, I think!”
He was left alone for twenty blessed minutes, during which time he remembered a song which he liked but knew better than to listen to because the hook always got stuck in his head and drove him insane. Naturally, he immediately pulled it up on his phone and started playing it, and then started writing a response to a forum post that popped up on his screen due to the alerts he had set to monitor anti-fan activity. Lee Sejin came in while he was halfway through his scathing takedown of some idiot who still thought Ahyeon stuttered too much to be an idol.
“Mm?” he mumbled distractedly.
“Eugene said you’re sick.”
“I’m not.” Should he use caps to make his point? Yes, it felt necessary.
“Then don’t you want breakfast?”
“After I finish this.” He attached a screenshot of the idiot’s other terrible opinions expressed in a different post two months ago – thorough evidence of his stupidity was needed. Maybe he should go back further through his post history?
Lee Sejin leaned over him to see what he was doing on his phone. Then he looked down at Moondae for a long moment. Moondae paused typing to stare back up at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lee Sejin asked.
So many things, he was tempted to actually tell Sejin about it. “The biggest issue's probably the system that’s making me do all this idol shit or else I’ll die.” Then he thought about what he’d just said and added, “Fuck.” For good measure, he put a hand over his mouth.
“The system, like… industry pressure?”
“No,” he said behind his hand, “the actual supernatural bullshit system that sent me back in time and made me debut as an idol within a year.”
As Lee Sejin looked at him, he put his other hand over his mouth as well.
“Do you feel okay?”
“Aside from the fact that the system nuked my impulse control, I feel completely fine,” Moondae assured him from behind two hands clamped firmly over his mouth.
Lee Sejin turned around and called, “Chungwoo hyung, I think you should get in here.”
“No, wait–”
Chungwoo came to the door, concerned. Moondae pulled the covers over his head. It would not be the last time he did so that day.
“So are you incapable of lying right now?”
“Are you incapable of shutting up?”
“Park Moondae, deep down, you are a mean person.” Lee Sejin was towelling his hair dry after a quick wash to get the sticky soda off. Moondae was moping on the sofa over his phone being confiscated.
“It’s not even that deep down,” he told Sejin.
“That’s not true!” Ahyeon said immediately.
The others had dispersed to various activities that had been planned before he dropped the system-bombshell on them, leaving the same age line to monitor him. Ahyeon had been quiet from the system talk until now, but this apparently roused him.
“You’re a very nice person, Moondae! Even if you have thoughts or impulses that are bad, you’ve never acted on them before. It’s what we actually decide to do that matters, so you should know that no matter what happens this week or what you say, I’ve already decided – I won’t take it to heart! You’re my friend and I know how you normally act and what your values are so if you act against them this week, it’s not real. You’re a good person. I believe that.”
He started off strong, but by the end of his outpour, it was clear he was on the verge of tears. He must have been winding himself up with anxiety the whole time he’d been silent, scared either that Moondae had gone crazy or that this week he would find out that none of his friend’s kindness had ever been real, yet he’d decided to face it and bravely take this stance. “Um… what I mean is… not that I think you have any–”
“I love you so much,” Moondae said into Ahyeon’s shoulder, arms flung around him.
“Oh my God,” Lee Sejin said. Then he snapped as many photos as he could of Park Moondae wrapped around a bug-eyed Ahyeon, and sent them all to the group chat before Moondae could come to his senses, jump away from Ahyeon, and attempt to wrestle his phone away from him.
No, he was not incapable of lying. He proved it to himself by telling Sejin his hair looked stupid, which wasn’t something he actually thought, but had suddenly wondered if Sejin would care if he did (He didn’t – he gave Moondae a deadpan look and said that whatever Ahyeon may think, he knew Park Moondae’s true nature, and it was evil).
The thing was, it turned out that without any impulse control, he just wanted to tell them things. He told Ahyeon he was beautiful (twice). He told Chungwoo that even though he often still felt awkward around him, he respected him a lot (Chungwoo said thank you, sincerely, and kindly didn’t comment on Moondae walking away to hide under his covers again). He told Raebin that he was a little jealous of how talented he was at making music, and then informed him that he was too lazy for that when Raebin immediately offered to teach him. And then he squished Raebin’s dejected-looking face, which was very awkward for both of them.
By the end of the first day, he was tired of telling people things. “I’m done talking. I’m not talking any more.”
Eugene sighed but abandoned his game of showing Moondae images on his phone to see what unfiltered reactions they elicited. (The most interesting one had been, to a photo of VTIC’s Cheongryeo: “Ugh, that bastard.”)
“Ever?” Lee Sejin asked.
“Ever. I’m never opening my mouth again.”
“I guess you’re done singing.”
“No, I can’t be. I love singing. It’s embarrassing howmuchfjdshovejshing.” He managed to mute this confession by stuffing the corner of a pillow in his mouth. “Ugh. Stop talking to me.”
“You’re the one taking a vow of silence, not me.” Lee Sejin laughed, eyes all warm and crinkled up from how much fun he was having teasing Moondae, and his stupid hair looked all soft after being rumpled from Moondae whacking him with a pillow several times tonight, and all day he’d been distracting Moondae from his predicament by being irritating and silly in the most Lee Sejin ways.
Moondae felt something warm and irrepressible rising up in his chest, and having no idea what words it might come out as, stuffed the pillow back in his mouth just in case.
“Sometimes, you’re actually the easiest person to be around.”
“...thank you for telling me that,” Bae Sejin said, with an admirable effort to not be completely awkward.
Moondae sighed. “I don’t like that I did.”
“I know.” Bae Sejin pushed some fruit that he’d peeled toward him. Moondae did not need fruit peeled for him, but he figured it was better to busy his mouth with something other than talking.
As he ate, Bae Sejin peeled some more. “I’m sorry you’re stuck inside. It must be boring.”
Yeah, he felt restless about missing promotional activities, and a bit stir-crazy from being cooped up inside, not to mention the constant surveillance. He wished he could at least go for a walk, but… “With my luck, I’d run right into Cheongryeo or something. That would be a disaster.”
“Right…” Bae Sejin put more neatly sliced apple on the plate for him, hesitated for a weighted moment, and then went back to cutting the rest into apple bunnies. It was obvious why he almost said something just then. Moondae had brought up Cheongryeo, and there were things about Moondae and Cheongryeo that Bae Sejin had dearly wanted to know ever since the incident that put Moondae in the hospital. If he was ever going to get those answers, now was probably the time.
Moondae said, without meaning to say anything, “If you asked right now I’d probably just tell you everything.”
Bae Sejin huffed an exasperated, awkward, almost fond laugh. “Eat your fruit, please.”
So he wasn’t going to ask, because he didn’t want to make Moondae tell him anything he usually wouldn’t in his right mind. Bae Sejin had very strong morals, really.
“You’re a good person. I like you so much more than I used to.”
Bae Sejin looked pained. Moondae applied himself to his apple.
Bae Sejin might have said something to Chungwoo, because Moondae noticed the next day that a moratorium had been placed on asking him about the system. Because the system was a secret he had spilled without wanting to – well, without wanting to want to – the members tried not to prompt him to blurt out anything more on the subject.
He suspected it was a temporary pause, and that he would be bombarded with questions when he was no longer compromised. But it was nice of them to wait.
It didn’t exactly work, though.
“We’re cousins,” Moondae told Chungwoo that same day, and nearly choked on his own spit. He didn’t need to say that. This impulse thing was a total con, he’d never felt the urge to tell Chungwoo that. Had he? No way. The system had to be making shit up.
Chungwoo took a deep breath and held it, the measured pause of someone consciously trying to choose the best response (God, Moondae envied that impulse control right now). He definitely wanted to ask. Anyone would want to ask what the hell he meant by that. But he let out the breath and said, “I’m going to swap with Eugene.”
That was a relief. He didn’t have as many loaded thoughts about Eugene that might spill out when he saw his face. “I’m actually really touched that you guys are trying so hard not to find out things I’m not ready to share.”
Chungwoo chuckled and patted his head as he passed.
Moondae informed him, “That pisses me off, though.”
During the week he was compromised –
“Why do you describe it as being ‘compromised,’ like a fucking secret agent?” Lee Sejin asked, and Eugene gasped: “Oh my God, we can finally find out. Hyung, are you actually an NIS agent?”
Moondae rolled his eyes and turned over on the couch, returning to the book Bae Sejin had given him. He was still banned from his phone on account of how he kept trying to argue with idiots on the internet, and he was deathly bored. Bae Sejin, noticing, had offered him something to read, to which Moondae had said, “I don’t want to, but I feel bad saying no, so I’ll read a bit and skim the rest so I can tell you I enjoyed it.” (“I… appreciate that… I guess…”)
When he was ignored, Eugene demanded, “Why is that the question you have no impulse to answer? Hyung!”
Moondae hid a smile in his book. So it turned out maybe on some level he did find their ongoing bit about his secret identity funny. He felt no need to put an end to it once and for all.
Anyway, during the week he was compromised, there was only one event the full group was supposed to attend. Moondae was no longer expected to, since the official word was that he was sick, but the others were all expected to go. Bae Sejin was strongly opposed to that.
They were taking turns babysitting Moondae for good reason, he argued. It was dangerous to leave him unsupervised and vulnerable to his every passing thought. He wanted one person to stay behind with Moondae.
Moondae put his foot down. Literally. He stomped, which made it impossible to next argue that he wasn’t a child. Score one for Bae Sejin in the match of convincing Chungwoo.
Bae Sejin followed it up with, “What if he suddenly feels like, I don’t know, sticking his fingers in a socket?”
“My fingers wouldn’t fit,” Moondae said caustically.
“He can’t even have his phone while we’re gone, or he’ll out himself on forum boards while arguing with trolls, so he’ll have no way to call for help.”
He might do that, in fact. “I want my phone back, though.”
Ahyeon suggested, “Maybe a manager can stay with him while we’re gone?”
“Um… it would be a problem if Moondae tells a manager any of the system stuff, though, or acts too strange.” Chungwoo tactfully didn’t actually say ‘anyone other than us would assume Moondae has gone crazy, with the way he’s been acting.’
“I wouldn’t feel the urge to tell a manager about that stuff, because I don’t trust them the way I trust you guys. Can you all pretend you didn’t hear that?”
“Nope, we all heard you say you love and trust us implicitly.”
“I didn’t say lo–”
“But anyway,” Lee Sejin continued, “The fact that you don’t trust any of our managers is a good reason not to leave you alone with one of them in this state. And what if the manager says something stupid, so you dump a drink on their head? We can’t have you getting a bad reputation like that.”
“Are you volunteering to stay behind, then?” Moondae thought that was a clever play. Lee Sejin would hate to be the one to miss out on the brand event, so he would do his best to weasel out of having to play babysitter, thus becoming Moondae’s ally in this argument.
Or so he thought.
“I…” Lee Sejin looked around at the members, as if deciding who he could toss the babysitting job to, then at Moondae, then at the soda in Moondae’s hands. He’d handed it to Moondae earlier with a haughty lecture on what he was and was not supposed to do with it, which prompted Moondae to pretend he was about to pour it on his head again, only to end up laughing at Sejin’s reaction for several minutes.
Without impulse control, he laughed a lot more than usual. (“Is he drunk?” Raebin had asked, confused by this giggly Park Moondae. “No,” Bae Sejin told him, “Moondae was nothing like this when he drank.”)
“Yeah,” Lee Sejin said, resigned, but without bitterness. Moondae had no idea what to do with that soft expression on his face. “I’ll stay with you.”
Moondae couldn't say anything. As was inevitable, he lost the argument.
“Alright, let’s get comfy!” Lee Sejin had appropriated pillows from several members’ beds to turn his own into an overindulgent nest. Moondae had refused to donate any of his, because he knew crumbs were going to get everywhere. Lee Sejin had already made popcorn, and he set the giant bowl in Moondae’s lap as they settled in.
Lee Sejin chose the movie, after failing to elicit any interesting movie opinions from Moondae. (“Deep, deep down, don’t you actually yearn to watch the Melody Angel movie special?” “No. I didn’t know it existed and I don’t care.” “Damn. I thought it looked kinda good.”)
“This looks scary,” Moondae said, suspicious, as the movie Sejin finally went with began playing on his laptop.
“No, it’s funny. It’s a comedy about filming a horror movie.”
It was definitely a trick to get him to watch something scary. “I’m not watching this. I’ll leave.”
They both waited to see if he actually would. Moondae didn’t get up.
Moondae had to conclude, “Well, it’s comfortable here, so I don’t feel like leaving yet.”
Lee Sejin laughed at him. “Hide if you need to.”
He did, stuffing his face behind Sejin’s shoulder every time something jumped out at the characters.
They spent the night like that, eating snacks and watching dumb things together in Sejin’s bed, long past when they should have gone to sleep.
Sejin yawned. “Can’t believe they’re not back yet.”
Moondae yawned too, in sympathy. “That would be us… it’s better not to have to work at night.”
“Haha! That’s not how you usually feel.”
“Neither do you. I didn’t expect you to stay behind.”
“I don’t mind, since it’s with you.” Sejin lay back, pulling Moondae with him by the arm flung around his shoulder. “There probably isn’t much time left until you go back to normal, right?”
Moondae was displeased for some reason. Did Sejin just agree to stay because he wanted as much time as possible with extra-teasable Moondae? That was what he’d already thought, but also not. He kicked Sejin’s leg with his heel.
“Huh? What’s that for?”
Thankfully, Moondae couldn’t say because he had no idea.
“Tch. I know you like me more than you pretend to.” His eyes darted nervously to Moondae for a split second afterward, as if holding his breath for Moondae to deny it.
It would mean a lot more than it usually did, if Moondae said he truly disliked Sejin now. But he was incapable of saying it as soon as he saw that quickly-hidden expression. Instead, his body made the executive decision to scoot in closer and squeeze Sejin tight.
Sejin made a pleased sound, which Moondae could feel rumbling in his chest as he hugged him in return. “Wow, me too? I thought only Ahyeon got these.”
It felt nice to be wrapped up between pillows and blankets and Sejin’s arms. Just comfortable. It was warm and the night was quiet and because he had no control over himself he couldn’t be expected to end the hug at a socially appropriate time, so he could just stay in Sejin’s hold. Sejin knocked their foreheads together, and when Moondae opened eyes he didn’t remember closing, Sejin grinned at him. He probably had something stupid to say that would make Moondae feel inordinately fond.
Moondae tilted his face up and kissed him.
He would have kissed him for a long time if it wasn’t for Sejin’s dead lack of response.
It was a familiar pattern by now. In the wake of something he never would have done normally, his uncontrollable impulses fled back the other way: he wanted to get out of there. So he did. He scrambled out of Sejin’s bed and bolted for his own room. He locked the door. He climbed into his bed. He buried his head in the pillows and decided to never think about what just happened again. And trapped on the mental ferris wheel of his own thoughts – I kissed Lee Sejin. I wanted to kiss Lee Sejin and I did it. I kissed Lee Sejin… He finally fell asleep.
He woke an hour later to let Chungwoo in the room when he knocked.
“The event was a mess, it took ages to get out of there. Did you two have a nice time?” Chungwoo asked sleepily.
“I don’t know,” Moondae said, and crawled back under his covers.
“Did something happen last night, when you and Sejin hyung stayed back from the event?” Raebin asked him.
And Moondae said no, like a normal person who didn’t have to say or act on every thought that crossed his mind. It was exactly one week since the morning the status abnormality appeared, and it had disappeared from the status window without leaving a trace.
“Huh… I wonder why Sejin hyung is acting strange then.”
His stomach sank. He’d assumed Raebin picked up on his guilt and stress, but it was Sejin who prompted the question?
Actually, that made sense. After what they’d put up with for the last week, it would take a lot for the members to think Park Moondae was acting particularly weird. Of course it was Sejin who was noticeably off. And of course it was Moondae’s fault.
“I’ll talk to him. Ask him to meet me on the balcony.” This was because the other option would be going to Sejin in his room, and even with the status abnormality over, he still didn’t have the willpower to make himself go there.
But maybe Sejin wouldn’t come, in which case… it was right to give him space, wasn’t it? Sejin might not want to see him. In fact, he had nearly convinced himself that was the case by the time the door opened. Sejin shuffled out, and Moondae regretted his choice.
The balcony was a tiny rectangle, too small for a conversation with someone who didn’t want to be there. Sejin plastered his back against the far railing but he was still just an arm's length away, and all of his body language said he wanted to be farther.
“So… um. Hi.”
This was a bad idea.
“I thought we should talk,” Moondae said.
“Yes. Absolutely.”
No one talked.
Moondae tried, “Last night…”
Sejin blurted with a cornered look in his eyes, “Yeah.”
This wasn’t progress.
“I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable. If this is too soon, that’s fine. I just wanted to apologize and discuss–”
“Wait, I don’t like where you’re going with this.” Sejin grabbed both of Moondae’s hands in his, causing Moondae to grind to a halt. He hadn’t expected to be touched by Lee Sejin ever again. “You’re not the one who did anything wrong. I am.”
“Uh… no?”
“Yes.” Lee Sejin looked at him like he was being dumb on purpose, to be nice, and like that just made Sejin feel worse. “I was all up in your space during a time when you had no choice but to act on whatever thought crossed your mind. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I realized as soon as you kissed me that I basically forced you to–”
“No. That’s not what happened.” What kind of distorted version of events was this? “As much as I hate to admit it, no one made me–”
“See? Right there. You hate to admit it because you didn’t actually want to kiss me. I mean, maybe you wanted to but you didn’t want to act on it. It’s no different than if I took advantage while you were drunk.”
Took… advantage? That wording implied he’d gotten something out of Moondae kissing him. Moondae was silent for too long while thinking about that. Lee Sejin took it as agreement and let out a self-loathing sigh.
“You get it now. I’m… a really bad person, I think.”
“No, you’re a really annoying person, that I like a lot.” It was surprisingly easy to say something mushy like that, after a week of doing so and suffering nothing worse than mild embarrassment from it. “I don’t know if it’s okay that I kissed you. I thought it wasn’t because I sprang it on you and you didn’t want that, and you thought it wasn’t because I wasn’t in my right mind, so fine, let’s say it was a bad kiss, and it shouldn’t have happened.”
It was a bad kiss regardless, actually, because Sejin hadn’t done shit to kiss him back, and that was what he’d really wanted. That wasn’t the point. He was glad he didn’t have to share the fact he was thinking it. “But I don’t agree that it’s your fault, and I still want to do it again.”
Sejin reeled backwards. “You do?”
Moondae couldn’t help wincing, squinching his eyes shut as he nodded. This was more than mild embarrassment. This was offering his heart on a toothpick.
“Then why the hell are we arguing instead of doing that?” Sejin demanded.
“I don’t know. I think it’s your fault.”
“That’s the kind of thing you would think,” Sejin agreed, and swept him up so energetically that Moondae’s feet left the ground for a second. With his face nuzzled somewhere around Moondae’s ear, he said, “From now on, you should keep telling me exactly what you think and what you want. Don’t worry about it and just tell me. I like that a lot.”
Oh, he felt really weird. Off kilter and embarrassed and elated and confused. If he didn’t have the capability to filter his thoughts right now, he had absolutely no idea what would come out. But he supposed he knew what he would do.
He would kiss Lee Sejin. So he did.