Jihoon was known to be fearless. A taciturn male with commonly focused gaze. He had walked along dark valleys with his back straight. Not once dodging his fate as he fought off few irritating s, ‘coward’ was never the adjective he allowed himself to be called as.

Of course, he did come home with few blacks and blues on the canvas of his body, but no one needed to know that.

Even after all these while, despite being haunted by the agonizing pain suffered from both insults and judgmental eyes thrown at him, his life as an Indigent was somewhat livable. As long as Seokmin stayed loyal by his side, the only sibling who had molded him into a dauntless man he was.

Nothing would ever scare Lee Jihoon.

Or so he thought.

In a room of four white walls, surrounded with nothing but starkness, Jihoon found himself to be in a state of panic. The voices in his head were fighting off one another, trying to take the dominant wheel to his already complicated brain. A shudder even shot down his spine once he spotted few sharp metal objects nearby, glistening under the bright light. All ready to puncture his exposed and vulnerable skin.

Attack of said emotions felt foreign to Jihoon, yet he knew he needed to be composed.

He took a lungful of air in hope to shed off the building anxiety, though regret immediately taken over as the scent of iodized air intensified from the intake. Being there, in the room, reminded him too much of one rainy night, of them. Intimidated about what’s to come - a future encompassing a chunk of fear from his past.

And the boy wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the situation was.

Given how he was told several times by a family doctor Seungcheol had personally called over, clarifying tattoo removal to be a painless procedure should be telling enough that none of the scalpers he saw would go anywhere near him. Never in a laser removal.

Still, said information did little to stop the building sweat on the nape of his neck, neither the initial tremor that had travelled down to his toes. Yet when he caught a familiar set of eyes peering through the slightly ajar door as the doctor walked in, Jihoon instantly felt his muscles relaxed at the sight.

Unknowingly, with the image of Seungcheol waltzing into his head, Jihoon let the beep of the machine gradually took over the hushed voices in his brain. Eventually conceding to the anesthetic and into the world of darkness. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

Pitter.

Patter.

Pitter. Patter.

Pitter. Patter. Pitter

The rain was too loud, felt too harsh against his weakening state.

Still it didn't stop Jihoon from running forward as he cut through the merciless weather, tears masked by the current downpour and blackness of night. In the haze of mind, he could clearly see the faces of his parents from the very same m morning. Both smiling as they waved at the doorstep, the last Jihoon had seen them before he went off to school.

Possibly the last time ever in his life.

Fearful of what was to come, he pushed himself even harder. The already strained legs sprinted across the wet sidewalk as he ran into the scattered puddles. Simultaneously drenching his new white socks, the only decent pair his mother had painstakingly knitted the night before.

“Wear this,” she had coaxed early that morning. “Don’t go to school with holes in your socks.”

A smile then graced her face, in harmony of his father's words, “wearing good shoes and socks will bring you to amazing places, son.”

Who would have thought those would be their last words before they left the world?

Amazing places?

Really?

Then how the hell did he end up at the hospital, all numbed as he cradled a crying Seokmin in his arms? 

Jihoon did not need the doctor's “sorry”, let alone a solemn “we tried our best.” All he ever needed were his parents, both stripped relentlessly from his side, leaving him vulnerable and unguarded. As if god never cared about his struggles. Treating him as if he was a criminal who deserved to be punished.

Maybe he was.

Though one thing for sure Seokmin did not deserve such fate, his parents specifically. Not when they were the kindest person in the world, or at least in Jihoon’s world, only to be wiped off instantly from the cruel sphere by an irresponsible man. So called adult who was foolish enough to think it was okay to drink and drive.

Two innocent lives were taken that night and all Jihoon could remember was a distinct strips of barcode-like pattern on said man’s wrist. Along with what could be seen to be a skull tattoo perched on top. An who merely nodded at the Lee brothers, uttering the most insincere apology Jihoon had ever heard.

It could have been the difference of status, or the morose state they were in when compared to the neatly dressed male. But Jihoon could care less of the 'privilege' - that.

On such a rainy day, the Indigent made a promise.

A promise to protect Seokmin.

A promise to hate on any person with said barcode. An identity he had learned to be Opulent's, several years after his parents' passing. After the government fully implemented the barcode system onto the rest of the society.  

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jihoon didn’t know how many hours had he been asleep.

Though the moment he cranked his eyes open, he was greeted by a soft, warm hue of orange, cascaded from the setting sun outside and onto the white sheet covering his torso. He heard nothing but the crash of the waves. Until a familiar tone went off nearby and on reflex he reached for his phone, rupturing a hiss when a minor pain shot through his wrist.

Ah of course, the surgery.

Carefully raising his left hand, Jihoon inspected the thoroughly secured bandage, a tidal of emotion then came upon him. Like ton of bricks, reality smacked him across the face. Hard. For he was no longer an Indigent. No longer the old Lee Jihoon he was used to live as. It was bittersweet in a way, but he decided to deal with the nagging thought some other time, the silent phone already clasped in his other hand.

Two missed calls and a text message.

All from Seokmin.

From: Seokminie, 6.46 p.m.

Hope you’re having fun with Seungcheol hyung!

Don’t worry. I just check in to tell you not to worry about me.

Soonyoung hyung is taking good care of me… I think haha > <

With a laugh, Jihoon typed his reply as fast his one hand allowed him to.

To: Seokminnie, 6.53 p.m.

More of the reason why I should be worried.

Tell Soonyoung I’d cut his precious hair if anything were to happen to you.

Ding.

From: Seokminnie, 6.53 p.m.

You. Wouldn’t. Dare. DX

To: Seokminnie, 6.54 p.m.

Don’t make me, Kwon Soonyoung.

Now give my brother his phone back.

From: Seokminnie, 6.56 p.m.

Can’t wait for you to come home! Tell Seungcheol hyung I said hi!

Oh, Soonyoung hyung said he hates you.

To: Seokminnie, 6.56 p.m.

Tell him it’s mutual.

Take care, Seokmin-ah.

“Someone seems happy.”

Startled by the voice, Jihoon tucked his phone under his blanket, ironically having nothing to hide. His face heated up at the unexpected intrusion as Seungcheol walked in, holding a seemingly small tray.

He was just texting Seokmin, so why did he act as if he was a deer caught in the headlights?

“How long was I out?”

“Just few hours,” Seungcheol shrugged, casually sitting at an empty spot beside Jihoon, the tray now placed on the bedside table. Upon noticing a bowl of porridge, the younger could not help but scrunch his nose.

“I just had my barcode removed and replaced, Seungcheol,” Jihoon started off, his insides already rejecting the steaming bland concoction. “I trust my judgement that I am more than capable to eat normal food.”

Here's the thing.

It's not that Jihoon hated porridge. That really wasn’t the case, considering his status before as an Indigent, having little to no luxury to be picky with food. Yet it didn't mean he'd settle for a warm bowl of porridge after he was kept captive in an all-white room. Prior the following hours of being knocked out.

He'd greatly appreciate a dish with strong flavours, preferably with mild spices. One that would settle nicely in his stomach given his low tolerance towards spicy food. 

That in mind, porridge could be seen as the least consumable to him.

Famished or not. 

Seungcheol, on the other hand found it to be amusing. Regardless of the glare indicated towards him, he smirked, “Normal food huh? I thought you won't have any appetite, so I believe something easy to digest would be better.”

“Hell no, I’m always hungry. Porridge won’t suffice.”

“Is that so?” chuckling to himself, Seungcheol decided to probe further, the tray forgotten. “Then tell me, what should I serve to satisfy that small black hole called stomach of yours?”

The question itself seemed to do the trick seeing how Jihoon's eyes sparkled in delight.

“Ramyeon.”

And Seungcheol could only laugh. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

Parallel to the lack of experience in the dating department, Jihoon came to believe he was anything but a romanticist.

However, when both Seungcheol and him were out at the patio, slurping onto heavenly cooked ramyeon (made by none other than Choi Seungcheol) under the twinkling stars, it gave Jihoon a certain warmth. Warm enough to make his chest swelled and toes stretched outwards. Making the cold night less intimidating.

Way less intimidating than a pair of dark brown eyes on him. 

That Jihoon was unable to look at Seungcheol in the eyes as he stared at the scattered stars above. And surprisingly, a handful of lyrics began to emerge in his mind, the twinkling dots creating a harmony of its own.

Without he even realised, Jihoon hummed a tune, gaining more attention to himself.

Feeling the weight of the stare, Jihoon cleared his dry throat as the hum ceased to a complete silence. It was getting warmer by the second that he swore he was sweating under his pink sweater. So he focused on the cold drink at hand instead, the floating ice cubes could be distracting enough to escape Seungcheol's non-wavering eyes on him.

Obvious to Seungcheol that the younger chose to ignore him, he decided to have things his way this time. 

“Jihoon.”

Nothing.

“Jihoon-ah.”

“I’m listening.”

It was not enough. 

“Choi Jihoon,” and two words were all Seungcheol needed for Jihoon to finally face him, eyes blinking. Under the dim light from the moon and stars, he could still make out the flush on Jihoon’s face, lower lip tucked underneath the upper teeth. He looked so cute, so beautiful. Breathtaking enough for him to stare at Jihoon a little too long, too intense for the other to handle.

Judging from the heat felt along his cheeks, Jihoon was aware he might have been beet red by then.

Even if he was, Seungcheol didn’t seem to comment anything on it. He did however lean closer and closer that Jihoon could only stay mummed in his seat. The erratic beats of his own heart thumped loudly against his chest. With each decreasing gap between the two, it only drove him crazier.

This must be it...

Seungcheol was immensely close, yet still considerably far.

So Jihoon closed his eyes, waiting for something - just anything. Possibly a peck, or even a kiss. They were married anyway and to be honest, it was only natural for them to kiss. He expected an actual contact. Not the infamous trick Seungcheol had pulled when they were at the altar, a thumb in between two sets of lips.

It had to be real this time, it had to be.

If not, Seungcheol would be the biggest douche on earth.

Apparently, he was.

Because before he knew it, Jihoon felt a slight brush on his hair instead of supposedly full lips on his own thin ones. Long fingers flicking at what happened to be a leaf, stuck in between the wild strands blown by the midsummer breeze. The heat pooling in his body instantly evaporated, lips now bared to the cold air. 

“There, all gone.”

What the f-

Noticing the frozen state Jihoon was in, Seungcheol whispered in the latter’s ear, “Why? Were you expecting something else?”

“… no!” Jihoon did not wait long before he hurriedly escaped into the cabin, grumbling when he heard a chuckle went off from behind. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

Although the event unfolded outside was rather embarrassing, Jihoon needed all the help he could get with the bandage on his wrist. It somehow became undone while he was changing into his sleeping gears earlier. That he had to relent when Seungcheol, the attentive man he was, offered to tighten it.

They were once again in the same position as before.

Close enough for Jihoon to feel the hot breath lingering on his wrist as Seungcheol clasped the bandage in its place, unaffected by the minimal space between them. Jihoon wanted to run really, a cold shower seemed equally inviting in easing the nerves. But the doctor had advised otherwise, a strict warning of 24 hours with no contact to water. Taking that into consideration, he was left with no choice as he distanced himself from Seungcheol, wanting to avoid another embarrassing reoccurrence.

Jihoon had to blame the anesthesia.

Yeah, that could be it.

It must have not wear off completely, a reason why he’s so out of it.

But when Seungcheol took a pillow and a small blanket just like he did the previous night, it threw Jihoon off to notice his own hands reaching for the hem of Seungcheol’s burgundy sweater, nails dug into the soft material. It should have been self-explanatory as to why he did so, but he was unable to rake for the needed answer in his head.

What?

How?

Why?

And it seemed Seungcheol too was pondering the same thing, face contorted into a familiar expression Jihoon had came to memorise in his memory.

Wait, was that worry I see?

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”

“Ah, no,” replied Jihoon with a stutter, who then cleared his throat - and he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, “Sleep here.”

Seungcheol had to do a second take for he thought he had heard it wrong.

“What?”
 

“I said–  ” a pause “ – sleep here. I don’t want you to wake up with an ache all over your body, then blame me the next morning. If Seokmin were to find out, he'd accuse me of being a bad husband for not taking care of you.”

Yeah, that sounded like a legit reason.

“Are you sure?”

Or not.

“You better climb in before I myself sleep on the couch.”

Seungcheol of course wouldn't let go such opportunity as he climbed onto the other side of the bed, considerate enough to leave a space between them. Before the light went out, Jihoon had managed to catch a genuine smile on his husband's face when the latter quietly wished "sleep well". The intimacy shared between the two caused his own lips to mirror the curve.

At first, Jihoon thought he wouldn't be able to sleep. With how close their bodies were aligned to one another and all. 

Yet for once, he had the deepest sleep he ever had in years. It almost felt that he was 10 again when his parents were alive, kissing his forehead goodnight, Seokmin all tucked in the other bed. 

He wouldn't mind sharing a bed with Seungcheol.

If it were to chase the nightmares away.