"You're gonna laugh," Shao said.

Taeyong shrugged. "Probably."

"Way to go, nice guy," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Okay. I used to work in a circus."

He smiled. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, aren't you the jester?" she asked drily, then cleared her throat. Taeyong pushed his elbows against the back of the couch and leaned back, keeping his eyes on her. "I was a trapeze artist up until I was sixteen. I had a partner and stuff, it was all super professional and nothing like they show on TV. We had these caravans and all this equipment, and we did everything according to protocol. If something wasn't safe, it was fixed before the performer was allowed on."

"So what does that have to do with your scar?"

"I'm getting there." Her fingers played with the blindfold absentmindedly. She looked deep in thought, and Taeyong thought he noticed a slight apprehension in her tone whenever she spoke. "One day, despite the careful precautions, there was a fire."

"A fire?" He frowned, sitting up. "The scar doesn't look like a burn mark."

"Oh," Mark exclaimed, his head peeking out from the doorway of the kitchen. "I bet it was the lion or the tiger or something. Maybe, like, the fire melted their cages and they attacked her or—"

Shao stared at him in disbelief. "You were listening in the whole time?"

Mark looked back, embarrassed and at a loss for words. "Um—"

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head, but there was a tiny smile on her face. "And no, it isn't a burn mark, and it wasn't the tiger."

"So you guys did have a tiger, then. I'm an oracle."

"An oracle tells the future, Mark," Taeyong said monotonously, but there was no malice in his tone.

"We'd never had fires before, but the manager was sure we'd be able to curb it in time," Shao continued. "But this fire—there was something different about it. The flames were as tall as the walls of the tent, and they burned white-hot. No one close to the interior survived."

The boys had fallen silent. Shao's voice was quiet and somber, so different from her usual tone that Taeyong could scarcely believe he was talking to the same person. She stared at the fabric in her hands, face looking like it was made of stone. The orange light from the kitchen made her eyes dance. It reminded Taeyong uncannily of flames.

"When the fire first started, we were in the middle of the show, and I was up," she said. "I remember there being something off about the atmosphere before it even happened—the lights were too bright, and the cheering sounded tinny and hollow. And then, the place exploded." She let out a breath of air. "It was too late to get down—I was already in mid-air, and my partner was swinging towards me. His rope was on fire."

Her voice had dropped an octave. "He swung towards me, and held his arms out, but we were both panicking too much. I tried to grab him, but the fire was spreading fast, and he was flailing so much—" She stopped briefly, a muscle jumping in her jaw. "His hands didn't touch mine. They grasped at the air, at anything they could get their hands on, and the first thing his nails met was my face. They caught on my skin and dragged down, opening a gash too deep to be filled. I remember not feeling it at first. Couldn't believe it when I finally saw the damage that had been done."

Taeyong and Mark stayed quiet, unsure how to read the last statement. Shao continued turning the blindfold over in her hands, brooding and silent, definitely not in the mood to say anything else.

"On a less depressing note," Jaemin spoke up, startling the trio. He leaned against the doorway of the kitchen with a tray in his hands, ankles crossed, with a disturbingly unreadable expression—apart from his eyes, which were distinctly amused. "I made cookies."

"Nice." Shao grinned, immediately reaching for one when Jaemin offered them to the company. "I love cookies."

Taeyong glanced at her questioningly, confused about how she could switch moods so easily. Or maybe, he thought as she broke a cookie in two and stared at it for a few seconds before eating, she was just hiding her true emotions.

He felt guiltier than ever at having misjudged her. Taeyong knew better than most people what pain was like, having lived in an orphanage for most of his life. Losing a partner, especially if you had been with them forever, was devastating even without the horrific circumstance. If he ever lost Jaemin, he wouldn't know how to go on living.

"Are we playing a game?" Jaemin asked, taking a seat on the couch next to Mark, who shifted to accommodate him. After all, the couch wasn't very big. "Can I play, too?" he asked. "But someone will have to remind me to get up after a few minutes. I have another batch in the oven."

"It's a big kid game," Mark said.

"I'm seventeen."

"Big kids have to be over eighteen."

"Let him stay, it's not that big of a deal," Shao said through a mouthful of cookies. She had mostly acceptable table manners, except for the time she stole the last cookie from the tray without an ounce of consideration for the others. "I don't know if you have any dark secrets to reveal, though."

"Oh, come on." Jaemin frowned. "Scar backstories are sad and stuff, but you gotta admit that wasn't exactly a dark secret."

Shao laughed, a surprised, delighted laugh. "You're much better than Taeyong."

"I try." He turned to his brother with a wink. "Learn the tricks of the trade, hyung."

Taeyong rolled his eyes, but there was a good-natured smile on his face. "Okay, no more jokes," he said. "We'll tone it down a little for you—what about a simply get-to-know-each-other questionnaire?"

"'Questionnaire'," Jaemin mocked.

"Jaem," Taeyong said in a warning tone.

"Don't be such a killjoy, Taeyong, your brother is fun," Shao said, a smile playing on her lips. She seemed like she was genuinely enjoying herself now instead of pretending. He looked away, noting with distaste that there were crumbs littering the creases in her sweatshirt—well, maybe not her sweatshirt. Ants.

"I'll go first," Mark said, raising a hand though he didn't really need to. Taeyong smiled reflexively. "Jaemin, how do you bake so well?"

Jaemin pressed his lips together, an action that made his cheeks bulge outwards like rice cakes. "I was expecting something cooler, like how I come up with my mind-blowing witticisms, but okay," he said, and Taeyong knew he was only partly kidding. "I bake well because I've always baked well."

"Seriously, though."

Jaemin shrugged. "Back when Taeyong used to work at McDonald's—" Taeyong involuntarily shivered at the memory— "he used to come back home really tired, and he never wanted to have anything with salt in it. So I learned to bake."

Shao smiled, glancing at him sideways with a warm look. Taeyong smiled back briefly, feeling his heart swell in sudden fondness for his brother, but he couldn't help but remember the conversation they had had in the car. Had that really been just a few hours ago? Despite her smile, she seemed nostalgic, and Taeyong was overcome with curiosity. But he thought better of asking her private questions in front of other people.

"Taeyong doesn't help you?" she asked playfully. "Is working at McD's that draining? I mean, I've always known capitalism sucks ass, but it can't be that bad."

"Yeah." Mark nodded vigorously, looking enthusiastic to add to the conversation. Taeyong prided himself on being a good reader of people, and was well aware that Mark was in awe of his brother, despite being older than him. "Taeyong is more capable of helping, too, with his, like, shadow clone jutsu and stuff."

Jaemin frowned at Mark. "His what?"

Mark stared back, obviously taken aback, and Taeyong sat up in alarm, realizing that neither had any idea of Jaemin's ignorance of the Super project or his powers. "It's an inside joke," he said as nonchalantly as he could, knowing that Jaemin was cleverer at piecing together clues than he let on, "alluding to my almost-superhuman abilities in the kitchen. I know it's a tasteless joke, but forgive him. Mark is very new to this."

Jaemin glanced at him uncertainly, and Taeyong schooled his features into a mask of bored sarcasm. Unconsciously, he pulled at the long sleeves of his t-shirt, hoping none of the cuts from the broken glass from earlier were visible.

"Speaking of superhuman abilities," Jaemin said. "Did you guys see that one video of the fire at the bar? Capitol City has its own batch of incompetent superheroes, apparently, though I had thought those other guys from the car explosion were just delinquents. Crazy, right?"

"I know, right?" Shao arched her eyebrows. "The only thing these guys seem to be good at is blowing things up."

Taeyong swallowed, remembering that his blue hair had been on full display in the first video. "You know, there's still an explosion that can be prevented, right now," he said. "Jaemin, the oven."

Jaemin stood up with a jerk, eyes wide. "My cookies!" he cried, before rushing into the kitchen.

"Well." Mark laughed nervously. "That was close."

Taeyong shushed him.

||

the mv was fallin' flower was SO GOOD !! the prettiest mv i've ever seen. and also jeonghan's falsetto? *chef's kiss*