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It’s not so hard to make one Yoosung Kim blush.
In fact, Seven idly muses as he watches said male play LOLOL on one of his many computers, it’s almost like a game. Make Yoosung Kim blush. Simple. A coy grin appears on his face, but he carefully hides it away underneath an innocent façade.
“Hey, Yoosung?” He calls out, sparing a glance at his own computer to make sure everything is running smoothly.
The other male barely notices; he gives a hum of acknowledgment, not even taking his eyes off the screen and his hands off the keyboard.
Seven’s lip twitches in amusement. Ah, to be young and carefree again, unrestricted by the confines of a job—and the ever-present threat of being deleted from the world if he did anything wrong. Yoosung has it relatively easy, but what can he do? He just had the misfortune of being born in these circumstances, forced to work for an intelligence agency under the guise of helping his brother, whom most likely hated him at this point—
Before Seven can allow these dark thoughts to consume him, like they sometimes did in his worse moments, he calls for Yoosung’s attention again. “Yoosungie!”
“Yeah, Seven!” The university student replies, eyes darting back and forth as he defeats virtual monsters with his teammates.
Tilting his head back, Seven thinks before an absolutely ingenious idea comes to him. “Your eyes are really pretty!”
A beat. Then two. Then… “W-wait, huh?!” Yoosung gets distracted long enough for his character to die, but even that is not enough to pull him away from what Seven had just said. “What…did you say, Seven?”
Seven leans forward in his chair, enunciating his words exaggeratedly, “Your eyes are really pretty.”
Oh, this is so good, Seven thinks as Yoosung turns a deep pink and pouts—pouts, not glares, because Yoosung Kim is not really built for glaring—at him. “S-stop teasing me!”
“It’s not teasing if it’s true~!”
A sense of satisfaction runs through Seven’s veins when Yoosung only blushes harder.
“—and I think I did really well on that test!” Yoosung chatters into his ear as he types a few lines of code with one hand and holds his phone with the other.
“Ah, that’s good, my young pupil!”
“I’m not that much younger than you, Seven!”
The hacker lets himself laugh at this old joke, only because it never gets old and Yoosung always reacts the same way. In the same vein, he remembers a really cheesy line that he saw on a TV show a few years ago. It’d only been a split second, but it comes to mind now, when he’s actually feeling happy inside from laughing at a stupid joke that’s been used too many times over.
“Mmm, yo, Yoosung.”
There’s the sound of trees rustling on the other side of the line, which means there won’t be any distractions when Seven deploys his attack. “Yah?”
“I thought happiness started with an H.”
Yoosung makes a confused noise. “It does, are you ok, Seven—“
“Why does mine start with U?”
Spluttering. “U-um, I…that’s…Seven!” Yoosung whines, and Seven can just imagine the flustered expression on the other’s face, all red and lovely and—wait, what?—“That’s not fair!”
He can’t help it. He bursts out laughing. “What do you mean, my cutie?”
“You saying things like that and not even letting me…” The rest trails off into a mumble. Seven’s heart speeds up in anticipation. Strange. He finds himself wondering what Yoosung had been meaning to say. His voice pipes up again. “Never mind! I have to go eat lunch now, so I’ll talk to you later ok bye!” He hangs up before Seven can get another line in, which leaves him oddly…disappointed.
Oh well, he thinks. At least I got Yoosung to blush so cutely.
“Seven?”
“Hm?” He looks up from his computer to see Yoosung staring worriedly at him.
Yoosung fusses his lower lip—which causes Seven to pay way too much attention to that, it’s all red and oh, he could—and says, “Eating all those chips isn’t good for your health.”
Seven glances at the Honey Buddha chip bag next to his keyboard and then back at Yoosung, grinning widely. "Oh? And you’re one to tell me so, hm?”
No, no, don’t look upset, I was only—“Yeah. I was just…concerned.”
“Well.” Seven stretches and his back cracks pleasantly. “I’ve already talked to a doctor about it.”
Perking up, Yoosung’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really? What did he say?”
He lazily shuts one eye and smiles crookedly. “He said I’m lacking in Vitamin U.” Genius.
Unfortunately, it only causes Yoosung to spring up from his seat and start hurrying over to Seven’s kitchen. Seven watches with mild exasperation—laced with a fondness that he does not want to examine at this time—as the younger male digs through his cabinets and searches in his fridge for something that won’t be there.
“Yoosung, what are you doing?”
“Trying to find a food with Vitamin U in it!”
Sighing, Seven only turns back to his work. Yoosung will figure it out eventually.
After the fiasco from last time, Seven decides to try a more direct way of winning Yoosung’s heart.
Wait, not his heart. Making Yoosung blush. Not winning his heart. He chooses not to think about all the possibilities that that line of thinking had opened up in his mind, instead collapsing next to Yoosung on his couch for dinner that Yoosung himself had made.
“Jajangmyeon,” Yoosung says proudly, removing the lid from Seven’s plate to reveal the sauce-covered noodles.
Immediately, the divine aroma hits Seven’s nose, and he bites back a groan at how good it smells. He picks up his chopsticks and looks over to see Yoosung doing the same thing. The other’s eyes are twinkling at the food in front of him, and Seven can’t help but use this opportunity to…
“Yoosung.”
“Huh?” Yoosung asks, chopsticks held above his noodles, eyes intent.
Reaching his free hand outwards, Seven slowly uses a finger—it’s shaking, why is it shaking—to dust something imaginary away from the corner of Yoosung’s eyes. For some reason, his hand stops right on top of Yoosung’s brow, brushing the side of his bangs. “I thought you had something in your eye,” Seven recites from memory. There’s no way he could have remembered it in this moment if he’d forgotten. “Oh wait, it’s just a sparkle.”
Neither of them seem to be moving a centimeter. Yoosung’s face has appeared to pass red into white territory. His pupils are quivering, his breaths shallow. “S-seven?” Yoosung’s voice is soft, uncertain.
Seven doesn’t even know how to react in this moment. His heart is like drumbeats in his ears. Yoosung’s in front of him, pale and shy and looking for all the world like…like what?
An angel.
The thought kickstarts him back to life, and he lets out a nervous laugh as he removes his hand. Yoosung doesn’t say anything, but Seven thinks he sees a bit of…hurt written across those delicate features. Delicate. He’s become a poet now, hasn’t he?
Turning back to his noodles, he doesn’t find them as appetizing as before—not as much as stop it, I don’t think that stop—but manages a, “jal meokgesseumnida,” and tries to eat as calmly as possible. Still, he can find his hands shaking a little.
“Jal meokgesseumnida,” Yoosung replies back quietly a minute later, and then they eat in deafening silence.
It’s impossible to avoid Yoosung. He sneaks through your barriers like a virus, infecting every part of your body and stealing everything from you. Your thoughts, your words, your heart…
Seven finds this to be unbearably true when Yoosung shows up at his door a few days later looking determined enough to kill somebody. Well, no, he wouldn’t be able to, what with his personality. But the similarity is the same.
“Oi, how did you get through the passwords?” Seven wonders when Yoosung appears in his living room, hands clenched at his sides.
Yoosung seems to deflate a little at hearing his voice, already looking slightly sheepish and embarrassed at just barging into someone’s house like this. “I just learned enough Arabic to get through the passwords on your house. Anyways,” he sputters, gaining his supposed confidence back, “I came here to get something back from you!”
Raising an eyebrow, Seven hmm’s in thought as he tries to recall what Yoosung might have left at his house. “What is it? Did you leave your mouse here again?” He smirks, remembering how panicked Yoosung had been when he couldn’t find his mouse to play LOLOL.
“N-no!” Yoosung complains, flushing. “And that was only once, Seven!”
“Haha, ok.” Seven laughs, already feeling more at ease by teasing Yoosung. “So what did you leave here, if it wasn’t your mouse?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, then blushes. Seven tilts his head in question. Before Seven can ask what was the matter, Yoosung blurts out, “My heart!”
Hm? Oh. Oh. While Yoosung has his eyes squeezed shut, Seven takes this chance to slide in front of him, smiling in equal parts mocking and affection. Oh, this stupid, naïve boy. He got it the other way around. Seven blows air into Yoosung’s face and watches as his eyes open in alarm and his cheeks turn a delightful shade of red. The other seems to be captivated by…something that he sees in Seven’s own eyes.
“Hey, Yoosung.”
“Y-yeah?”
Seven moves closer, leans in. His gaze drops to Yoosung’s pink mouth, then back up to those stunning violets. “I’m going to give you a kiss. If you don’t like it…then return it.”
And then he kisses him, and realizes that Yoosung returns it whole-heartedly.
Later finds Seven working on his computer—like always, but on the couch this time—and Yoosung curled up next to his side, scrolling on his phone.
“Oh!” Yoosung suddenly says, pausing on something he must have seen.
“What is it, Yoosungie?”
He turns to Seven with a completely adoring look on his face and states, “You’ve stolen the ASCII to my heart.”
Yoosung is shocked when he sees Defender Seven Oh Seven, God Hacker, blush harder than anyone else had before.