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Because deanoning a year later is the way to go!

xiubaek; We all have secrets (200 words)
Baekhyun has been told he doesn't keep secrets very well.
"You talk too much," Jongdae pointed out, like Baekhyun didn't know that already, "and if it isn't with your mouth you show it on your face. Did you just get mad at hyung over a computer game?" Well, it wasn't JUST a computer game and he wasn't THAT mad, only a little, because he knew Minseok stayed up all night practicing for comeback and learning LoL, reading up on actual FAQs ("I want to do it properly," Minseok said, and it shouldn't sound hot but it was, Baekhyun's weak), and they still lost a lot and Baekhyun showed his ID to everyone and Minseok kept on apologizing like it was his fault when it wasn’t. Baekhyun's mad at himself for wanting to show off. Baekhyun's mad that Minseok didn't believe him. And why? Why couldn't Minseok believe him? Like when Baekhyun says he's hot or handsome or really cool? Or when he asks him out to take a trip together someday with no managers, no Jongdae, and Jongdae's shaking his head and was that words coming out of his own mouth. Oh.
"So, so bad at keeping secrets," Jongdae said.


Kyungsoo-centric; Lucky One (149 words)
Their powers came back. Not all at once but in bits and pieces. It took a while before Chanyeol can get the bonfire going, or for Junmyeon to generate enough water for the members to drink. Jongin doesn’t attempt to teleport at all for fear of losing a body part.
“Must be nice knowing things again.” Sehun slumps beside Kyungsoo against the smooth rock-face, talking about the less mundane side of Kyungsoo’s abilities. If Kyungsoo lets his hands touch the ground he can feel it seep back into his fingers—the strength from the earth, the knowledge of this place, on what has been done to them, how lucky they are to have escaped—
They have never escaped. Kyungsoo grabs the sand. It’s slippery in his hands, less like sand and more like tidbits of simulation data.
“Not really,” he says and debates what he’s going to tell Junmyeon.


Xiumin/ Baekhyun; Image (Truck) (200 words)
“How does it feel being independent at the tender age of 30?” Baekhyun asks Minseok from the back of the rental truck, hands pillowing his head, watching Minseok’s slow progress up and down the stairs of the new flat. It’s as ridiculous as Baekhyun’s lack of upper body strength. Minseok has been independent since signing on as a trainee at 18, since going to China at 22.
“Is this a practice interview?” Minseok says as he bats away Baekhyun’s attempts of stealing his water bottle. 
“Imagine the articles coming out of this, hyung. Xiumin can’t stand EXO! Xiumin hates his roommates!”
Minseok climbs in, bumping Baekhyun for space on the truck bed. “I hate that you tagged along and tapped out after carrying one box.”
“Your stuffed toys are heavy.”
They’re quiet after that. Minseok can’t believe he hasn’t been clear about this. But Baekhyun can be dense at times.
“In the living room, there’s space for gym equipment,” Minseok says. Baekhyun makes a face like he’s imagined how heavy they would be.

“You can work out there even when I’m out.”

Baekhyun exhales. Nudges Minseok’s pinky. “I’m bringing my laptop.”

“I said work out.” He tugs Baekhyun’s finger back.


Suho; Image (Snowy City) (200 words)
The day after they’ve won, Joonmyun wakes up aching, blood caking up the side of his face. Kyungsoo is pulling out Chanyeol and Jongin from the rubble. Yixing sits with someone Joonmyun can no longer recognize, healing the deep gushing cut on their brow. There is little fanfare around the city. Even Baekhyun is quiet, clutching Jongdae’s torn sleeve. Joonmyun refuses to do a headcount.
There is, however, the small matter of cleaning up.
There are rubble and debris to sweep off the streets, people to patch up while medical services are unavailable. The hot humid summer is unkind to the piles of dead bodies, so Chanyeol sets fire to them in the city square, mask over his mouth. Sehun finds Minseok’s jacket. 
“Go get some sleep, hyung,” Sehun says an indeterminate number of days later. How can Joonmyun sleep when there’s so much left to do, to put in order, to apologize for— 
A cold wind blows at the back of Joonmyun’s neck. When he looks up at the clear blue sky, a perfect snowflake settles unmelted at his warm cheek. 
“Oh thank god,” Joonmyun says, watching the snow falling across their city, watching his people’s faces light up.


chanlay; Artificial Love (200 words)
The first time Chanyeol spoke of it he was fifteen, prickly, and feeling terribly betrayed.
“My sister just programmed you to like me, right?” He asked, watching how Yixing would react, the stiff way he settled the tea tray over Chanyeol’s study desk, the delayed response— He’s an older model, terrible to find parts for, his sister had scribbled in the margins of her dissertation. 
“I’ll come back with more sandwiches,” Yixing said. Chanyeol kicked the chair over just to see him flinch and he didn’t and Chanyeol felt himself yelling, “That was a direct question, you’re supposed to answer,” like a proper asshole.
The second time was when they came for his sister’s research.
“I order you,” Chanyeol began, trying to figure out the unlocking sequence of his restraints, “to untie me and let me back into the house. Let me speak to them.” They will burn the house down, all of his sister’s work. Old parts are hard to find.
Yixing gave him a well-practiced smile. “Overruled. Your evacuation is priority.” And he bent down to give him a kiss on the forehead, like Chanyeol was eight, ten, fifteen again. “Be good now.” And Chanyeol wanted to cry.

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