Street lights bleached him onto the blackness of the starless night, a lone figure on the empty streets of the city suburbs. Where the artificial light hit him it smoothed out his fox-like features, only for the shadows to accentuate them on the other side like a crescent moon. With his black clothes, raven hair, sharp dark eyes and pale skin Himchan could've been a stencil painting on a canvas.

He was alone – he hoped. Many of the street lights here had long since died out or broken, leaving a huge black space between the lamp he stood beneath now and the one just a few warehouses away. Everything between was a strange haze as his mind tried to form images in the dark abyss his eyes were locked on. Anything could be down there. Anyone could be down there, and often they were.

He'd walked this stretch a hundred times on his way home, and he always made it home, but that didn't make it any easier. He just had to pass through the industrial estate and he'd be fine. If he could just pass through without someone calling out to him-

“Hey, pretty thing,” a gruff voice called out.

He dropped his head and tried to ignore the pounding in his chest, letting his feet carry him that very slight bit faster.

“Where d'you think you're going?” the voice asked. A hand reached out to grab Himchan's shoulder and turned him around.

He barely held back a screech as the huge man loomed over him. “ off!” he snarled, slapping the hand away and trying to back up, only to bump into the chest of another mortifyingly large man. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“That's no way to talk to someone who's payin' you a compliment,” the second man said, the greasy sneer on his face carved of black and white and imprinting itself onto Himchan's eyes.

“Leave me alone!” He tried, though his voice cracked as he tried to escape the hulking figures that were now cornering him against the closest warehouse wall. His pulse was beating in his ears now.

“Always so rude. Not very becoming of a pretty boy like you,” the first man said, crowding the smaller against the wall.

Himchan spat at him.

“You ing brat!” the man snarled and grabbed him by the jaw with grubby hands as the other man closed in, “time someone put you in your place!”

“We can start by putting that pretty mouth of yours to good use for once,” the other leered.

Panic was screaming in his veins now, making each grimy detail of the two men clear in his head and the horrid implications of their words filling his throat with bile. If he called out, no one would hear, and they'd probably treat him worse for it. If he didn't do anything... A chill ran down his spine. He couldn't take on two men by himself.

“Hey!” A deep voice broke through the ringing in his ears and the two men looked around.

Behind them stood a third man. He was nowhere near as large or bulky, but the sight of him alone was terrifying enough. The low light covered his face in shadow, but illuminated enough to show a pair of dark, murderous eyes and a vicious snarl on his lips. With the military-style haircut and huge metal-plated boots, the new arrival looked all the part of a local gangster with a taste for blood.

“Get away from him,” came that deep voice, like thunder, as he stormed towards them with the natural swagger of someone who could break a jaw with one well-placed punch.

“Who the hell are you?” asked the man who was still holding Himchan's face, though his previous confidence seemed to have withered.

“I said, get away,” the thunder-voiced man snarled.

The two men wasted no time. They jerked away from Himchan like he was poison barbs and dashed off into the night, sparing a few frightened glances back at the two. With nothing left to hold him up, Himchan's knees gave way beneath him and he collapsed to the floor, heart hammering its way out of his ribs. He was left alone with this murderous stranger and had no idea what to expect.

“Hey, are you okay?” the deep voice had suddenly changed, now soft and concerned as the man jogged over to him with an awkward swing of his arms.

“I-” Himchan blinked, unable to process this turn of events as the stranger stopped a few feet short of him and crouched down at eye level. In the darkness he couldn't make out the man's expression.

“Did they hurt you?” the stranger asked, voice laced with worry, “Do you need me to help you up?”

“No,” Himchan replied breathlessly, “maybe.”

Gentle, startlingly soft hands reached out and took hold of his arm and pulled him up. When they were both standing, the stranger led him back towards the light, watching with with a searching gaze.

“You're not hurt?” The concern again.

“No, just... Shaken.” Himchan turned a little to get a good look at his apparent saviour.

In better lighting, the man was far less frightening, though still slightly intimidating. His features were gentler than at first seemed and his mouth, no longer snarling hostility, was lined with soft looking plump lips. Though in a tight military cut, his hair was actually slightly fluffy and well-kept. The murderous gaze had completely vanished, and were now wide as he looked over him.

“Good thing I managed to scare them away, then,” he eventually chuckled, “I'm terrible at fights.” His lips parted in a grin that showed more gum than Himchan actually thought possible. The smile obliterated the gangster image he'd held mere moments before.

“Who... are you?” Himchan asked, slowly freeing himself from the man's hold.

“Ah, sorry, I should've said earlier,” the man let out a nervous laugh, “My name's Yongguk. I was just walking home when I saw you and those guys. I'm sorry if I scared you, I'm really not like that.”

“No, no, it's fine, you got rid of those bastards...” he held out a hand, “I'm Himchan. Thank you, so, so much for saving me just then. I- I don't really want to imagine what would've happened if you hadn't shown up.”

Yongguk took his hand in his own surprisingly soft grip and shook it, still smiling. “Himchan. I'll remember that. Hey, you don't need to thank me. I can't believe some guys would just do that.”

“Trust me when I say: I can,” Himchan replied bitterly.

Yongguk's brow furrowed, “Does this happen a lot?”

“Not quite like that,” Himchan's voice faltered a little, “But it's not the first time guys like that have tried something.”

Yongguk gazed at him, eyes searching his face as though he expected Himchan to shout 'Just kidding!' and laugh. When no such thing happened he reached out a hand and placed his palm on the other's shoulder. “Do you want me to walk you the rest of your way home?”

“I don't need a bodyguard,” he insisted, backing out of Yongguk's touch.

“At least let me walk you to the end of the block.”

Himchan debated this internally for a moment. His heart was still going, hands trembling where he'd shoved them into his pockets as soon as their grip had broken. Could he trust this man just because he'd got him out of a fix? What if he tried something? He looked around at the dark warehouses and the shapeless void between them and the streetlight at the end of the road – a willow-the-whisp luring him into possible disaster.

He looked back at the concerned eyes and swallowed. “Fine. Just to the end of the block.”

Relief graced Yongguk's face. “Thank God, I really would not have felt comfortable letting you walk alone.”

“Thank you, again,” Himchan smiled a little and turned away to start walking.

With a small skip, Yongguk stepped up to his side and walked along with him. They stepped into the darkness silently, two silhouettes merging and dissolving into the inky blackness. Only the sound of their footsteps gave any indication that they were there at all. Despite himself, Himchan walked just close enough to the other man for their arms to brush regularly, confirming he was still there.

“So,” he said after a moment of tense silence as his mind started to whisper terrible possibilities to him, “You were walking home, right? Where do you work?”

“Not too far away. Just in the studios back there.”

“Studios?” Himchan couldn't helps raising an eyebrow, though he knew Yongguk couldn't see.

“Yeah, I work with music...”

“Hang on, aren't those studios for idols? You work with idols?”

Yongguk laughed nervously, accidentally stumbling into Himchan's side in the darkness. “Uh, yeah. I teach kids how to rap.”

“You teach idols how to rap? Are you serious? I just got saved by a man who works with famous people?”

“Hey, they get famous through their own hard work, I just guide them. That doesn't make me anything special.”

“If it weren't for your guidance, they couldn't work hard and become famous,” Himchan countered.

“Ah, I guess when you put it like that...” He laughed nervously and the little light that they slowly approached illuminated his fiddling hands.

“It's important to take pride in your work. If you believe you're doing an important job then you'll do your job better.”

“You think?” Yongguk raised his brows and turned to look at him, his features lit gently by the steadily approaching light. “They sound like wise words. I'll take it into consideration. Who knows, maybe it'll help my students?” He laughed nervously again, the wide smile spreading across his features. “What about you? Where were you coming from?”

“Work, as expected. I teach as well, but not idols.”

“Really? What do you teach?”

“I teach classical instruments at the music college. It's not as flashy or exciting as idols, but traditional instruments are important. They're culturally very significant and foreigners like them.” he glanced over to Yongguk, expecting to see the other man looking disinterested or amused. Instead he was met with an expression of deep awe.

“You play traditional instruments? Wow... What do you play?”

“Oh, not much,” he replied lightly, feigning an air of casualness about his general life achievements, “you know, the usual. Janggu, daegeum, jing, kkwaenggwari...”

“Thats... Wow. That's really impressive. Do you play anything else?”

“Piano and guitar.”

“How did you find the time to learn so many instruments?” Yongguk was openly impressed.

Himchan laughed a little, unable to keep up his mild attitude. “I studied them at school, I was only really interested in traditional instruments. There's something nice about them...”

“That's really incredible.”

They'd reached the end of the block and stood beneath the last streetlight on the corner, now both bathed in a gentle orange tinted glow. The colour gave their features a softer shape, their hair unusual coloured tones. Despite the cool air, they looked warm to the touch.

“Thanks for walking with me. I can make my way home from here.”

“No problem. I turn left here, you?”

“Right.”

Yongguk nodded. “Maybe we'll meet again?”

“Maybe. I'll buy you a drink when that happens.”

They laughed together, shook hands once more, and left their separate ways.  

Soundtrack: Journey - Don't Stop Believin'