I'm glad we did this. Seven could randomly knock on my door at any given time of the day just for the sake of going out for pancakes. Why not me? I'm just glad he said yes. Besides, I just finished a job. Pancakes are customary. And once Seven had his jacket, the two of us headed down the block to the cute little diner with the best pancakes in town. It was just the right time of night, too. Where PM is going to turn into AM very soon.

"So, MC," Seven listened intently, "It's been a few days since I saw you last. What job did you finish?"

"Zen's apartment," I told him, "It's one of my favorite projects to date."

"More than my office?"

"Not a chance," I shook my head, "Your office was too much fun. But I also did your office with Saeran, too, so that added to it."

"He's been mostly helping me for the last couple days," Seven admitted, "He's nice to have around."

"You took my assistant from me," I stuck my tongue out at him with the utmost maturity, "Jerk."

"He was my assistant first," he argued, "I got dibs on Saeran."

"You share blood with Saeran," I pointed out, "That's not fair. You can't use that against me."

"I share more than just blood with the guy," Seven teased, "I share blood, a birthday, and a face with him."

"Not entirely," I took a heavy sip from my lemonade, "There are differences between you and Saeran. Although they are subtle, that doesn't mean they're not there."

"I always thought we looked alike," he shrugged, "I'm sure if you tell Saeran that, he'd be over the moon."

"But you're both adorable," I smiled, "And that's all that matters."

"I knew that…" Thank God, you're still in there, Seven. You're still…Well…You're still you. It's nice to see that in you again. For a minute, I thought I'd never see it again. That's what happens when you DON'T ANSWER YOUR TEXTS. But like Saeran said, he's also a skittish creature that frightens easily, "You didn't happen to take pictures of Zen's place, did you?"

"Please," I rolled my eyes, taking my phone out, "Of course I did. I have all intentions on making this a blog post. Mostly because my last commission told me I couldn't do that."

"Not with my office," Seven shot me down, "I'm sorry, MC. But you know how I am by now."

"Yes," I giggled, "Ever the international man of mystery. You must remain an enigma."

"See?" he gave me a little nudge under the table, "You do get it! Now, are you going to keep me in suspense or are you going to show me Zen's apartment?"

"I have to get to the pictures first," I scrolled through my camera roll, looking for the pictures from Zen's apartment. Then, I found a block of grayscale. There they are. I slid my phone across the table, "Here."

"Wow, MC," Seven idly scrolled through my pictures, "It kind of looks like what you did with my office, but with a slightly different color pallete. YOUNG LADY, WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN HIS BEDROOM?!"

"Seven!" I snapped, "We're in public!"

"And you were in Zen's bedroom," he lowered his voice, but not by much, "What were you doing in there? As your father, I can't say I approve."

"You're not my dad, Seven."

"I can't believe you," Seven threw his head back, "I'm not mad, but I'm so disappointed. A boy you're not even seeing and you're already in his bedroom. Honestly, MC. I thought I raised you better."

"You didn't raise me, Seven," I reminded him, "And I was working…"

"In his bedroom?!"

"Not that kind of working," I let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, "You're exhausting."

"And you have quite a talent," Seven continued scrolling through my pictures, "Seriously, MC, do you have a card I can give people?"

"You give me whiplash," I held my face in my hands, letting Seven's potent brand of manic craziness roll off my back, "But I don't have a card. I could give you my URL, though. There's a link on my blog for people who want to commission me."

"Different question," he asked, "And totally without a doubt unrelated, but how do you feel about space?"

I should know better than to let my guard down with Seven. God only knows what's going to come out of that boy's mouth. But it's part of his charm, "I don't know. Depends on what the context is."

"Space," Seven reiterated, "Planets, stars, satellites, potential for alien life?"

"That kind of space," I nodded, "I think it's a vast beauty that one day could consume us all, ending life as we know it. Why?"

"Because…" he hid a little smile, "One day, I'd love to take you up to the space station. Not quite yet, but one day. I think I'd be ok with that."

"I loved space when I was a kid," I thought back, kicking my feet up in the booth, "It was always so pretty to me. If I wasn't doing design, I would've easily gone to school for astrophysics. But when I found out there was too much math and science, I went back and thought of what else I loved about space. I spent hours and hours looking at pictures of the Earth and pictures from the Mars Rover and all of the planets and the nebulas and supernovas and fell head over heels in love with the visuals. Ultimately, I think that's what led me down the design rabbit hole. I wanted to add to the beauty that already existed in the universe."

"Really?" Seven sat back and just listened while I rattled on. He did say he liked the sound of my voice, "I mean, I can't argue with you. Space is an incredible thing. But really? The math and science behind space is what tripped you up?"

"I don't have the brain for it," I clarified, "I can handle basic math and basic science, but to full on dive headfirst into it, I couldn't do it. Maybe one day, I'll think about going to college and studying it, but for now, I like what I got. My blog keeps me comfortable. Getting commissions is always fun. I can't complain about where I'm at. Everything's pretty ok."

"I like what you got, too," he laced his fingers between mine, "You know what I'd be doing if I wasn't where I was now?"

"That's hard to say for you," I giggled a bit, "But what?"

"I'd be a professional dancer," Seven confessed, "But where you don't have the brain for math and science, I don't have the feet or the coordination to be a dancer. Or the stamina."

"Not with that attitude, you don't," I jabbed, "I bet if you tried at it, you'd manage."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "And how many injuries would I be the cause of in the process?"

"None," I assured. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into my head, "You know, Seven, there is one thing I've never told you about myself."

"Is this when you tell me you've killed a man?" Seven gasped, "MC! Again, as your father, I'm disappointed. Not mad, but definitely disappointed."

"I never…!"

"And for the sole purpose of taking his shoes," he shook his head, "I knew your mother shouldn't have smoked while she was pregnant. I always told her those were going to only lead to trouble. Did she listen to me? Of course not. But she did manage to take my shoes from me. Does that make me dead? MC, tell me I'm still alive."

"You are alive, you moron," I groaned into the tabletop, "I didn't kill anyone, Seven. And I sure as hell didn't take anyone's shoes. And you're still not my dad!"

"What was the thing you wanted to tell me?" Seven asked, "What is the thing about you that isn't a Google search away?"

"I was forced into dance lessons when I was younger," I told him, "And most of it has stuck. That's where I got my love for pastels."

"You were a dancer?" his eyes damn near popped out of his head, "Really? You don't strike me as the type."

"Neither do you."

"Fair point."

"Come on," I got up from the table, pulling Seven along with me, "I know somewhere we can go."

"If it's the movie theater downtown," Seven stipulated, "I'm already out."

"We're not going to the movie theater downtown," I promised, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, full service."

"Just like Susan…" he shuddered, "Where are we going?"

"Not to the porn theater," I swore, "Do you trust me?"

"I don't trust anyone, MC," Seven bit his lip, "Saeran lives with me and I don't even completely trust him."

"Trust me," I stuck out my pinky, "We're not going to the porn theater downtown. And we're not going anywhere dangerous or anywhere that would make either one of us uncomfortable."

"And you're not taking me somewhere you can have your way with me?" Seven hoped.

"What the hell?" I squeaked, "No! Consent before anything else. I'm not having my way with you anywhere. Not right now. Not tonight."

"So, not totally off the table," he nodded, "Got it."

"You're awful."

"Yes, I am!"

"Come on," I dragged him outside and the two of us left with our bellies full of pancakes. I'm not complaining. There were few things in life I loved more than getting pancakes with Seven. I can see why he does it. There's something weirdly satisfying about it. Who would've thought pancakes would be the universal sign of a job well done?

Seven and I walked back to our building, of all places. What made me love this building in the first place was a party I had gone to back when I was still working for the thinktank. My boss at the time wanted to take me as his date. Since I didn't have anything going on that night and saw it as a networking opportunity, if nothing else, I went. And it happened to be on the roof of this building. I remember it like it was yesterday. Sure, there were people who got drunk and stupid, but the views of the city were breathtaking. The twinkling lights meshed with the stars in the sky. If there hadn't been any loud, bassy music playing, it would've been so peaceful. Let's go see what that's really like.

"The roof?" Seven looked at me weird with a slight hesitation, "MC, you're drunk on maple syrup. I don't think we should be up here."

"It's ok," I stuck my hand out to him standing in the doorway, "Just trust me."

"How do I know you're not going to push me off the edge?" he argued.

I had no intentions of pushing Seven off the roof. He was too much of a permanent fixture in my life for me to get rid of him. But how in the hell was I going to get him to come out and play? Looks like I'll have to work him just right, "Look at your feet."

"Ok?" Seven looked down at his feet, "What about them? Are you trying to get me to have a self-induced foot fetish? Because I don't think it works that way."

"No," I rolled my eyes, "Are your shoes still on your feet?"

"Yeah."

"How am I going to kill you then?" I pointed out, "If I can't take your shoes, I can't kill you."

Seven knew exactly what I was trying to say to him. He can trust me. I'm not pushing him off the roof any time soon. And he took my hand with a smile on his face, "Alright. You make a fair point. If you haven't brought me up here to kill me and you already said you weren't having your way with me up here, why are we on the roof?"

"Because," I insisted, pulling him a little closer, "Tonight, you get to live the dream."

"I get to swim in a pool of chocolate pudding?!" Seven lit up, "Oh, MC, you shouldn't have…But I don't know how you'd know about my chocolate pudding dreams."

"No, Seven," I shook my head, "Tonight, we dance."

"Excuse me?" he froze, "No, no, no. We're not…"

"Why not?" I wondered, "I see no better time, nor a better place."

"MC," Seven sighed out, "This is ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous." Seven took a minute to gather his thoughts. Even though I could see it all over his face that he was done with me already, I batted my eyelashes, "Please?"

"Fine," he caved, taking my hand, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"It's alright," I pulled him closer, "You're lucky I'm good at what I do. And that I have the patience of a saint."

"I still can't believe we're doing this," Seven admitted, slowly moving with me, "Isn't there supposed to be music while two people are dancing?"

"If you'd shut up long enough to listen," I pointed out, "There's already music."

After a few seconds of quiet, he accidentally stepped on my foot, "Sorry!"

"It's ok," I settled him, playing through the pain, "Just move with me."

"I still don't hear anything, MC…"

"Listen," I explained, keeping my voice down, "It's all around us. The cars on the street are the back beat. The traffic takes the rhythm. The car horns are the melody. The conversation, the harmony. And it all intertwines below us. The city plays us a symphony, but people are usually too wrapped up in their own heads to just…Listen."

Seven subtly took the lead as the two of us continued moving around the rooftop. The two of us got more and more on beat and more in sync. He finally got comfortable for the first time all night. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as the two of us got closer. And it only added to the rhythm of the streets below. However, the closer we moved in together, the faster it went. But then, he raised my chin a little, cupping my cheek in the palm of his hand. If I didn't know any better…I'd think…Was he about to do what I think he was about to do?

Ring, ring!

DAMMIT!

"I'm sorry," Seven took his phone out of his pocket, "It's Saeran. I have to go."

"Go ahead," I allowed, seething internally, "I understand."

"Thank you," he smiled a little, "But do you think we could do this again sometime?"

"Absolutely." After that, I couldn't say no to him, "Go. Go take care of your brother."

"I'll see you later, MC," Seven walked back inside and I wouldn't be too far behind him. Saeran was right. If I'm not careful, I might crack him. But he needs to be broken. Rather, he needs a cycle broken. He needs to know it's ok to open himself up to people. Crack him, but don't break him. That wasn't exactly the plan when I pounded on his door that night. When I was thinking about cracking him, it was a much more physical thing. Now…Now, I wanted to crack his brother in a much more physical way. Dammit, Saeran. You have the shittiest timing.

When I got back into my apartment, I threw myself onto my couch, way too wide awake for this time of night. But I knew one thing that needed to be done. I needed to tear Saeran a new ass for blocking me tonight. However, much like his brother, Saeran was also a very special boy. I'm sure he needed something from Seven. Or he was just concerned about when his brother would be coming home. So, tear Saeran a new ass, but gently tear him a new ass.

MC:

You blocked me, you jerk.

Saeran:

Sorry. :P

I should've known. Oh, well. Seven agreed to another night, so I can count that as a win. But I was still too jacked to go to bed. I guess I could do my storyboarding. When I wake up tomorrow morning, I had a blog post to do. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to work without any interruptions and be able to get enough done to the point where I get more pancakes! A girl can hope, right? But what would that girl be more excited about; the pancakes or the boy sitting across from her?