I hesitate a little and push the key into the hole.

Suho looked startled – but tried not to be. He was half-clothed, which meant that his bare torso was perfectly visible to the eyes, his button was undone, exposing a bit of the black underwear, which matched the colour of the jeans, so there wasn’t much exposure. Instead of covering his lower body first, he immediately pulled his upper clothes and turned around, panic flew through his eyes and disappeared in that instant. He flinched when the fabric touched his skin, but he could not tell anyone about the marks on his back and thighs.

“I’m sorry,” I turned my eyes away. He smiled sheepishly, but not shy at the slightest. The wounds were still fresh and opened, having just stopped bleeding an hour ago. There were still dark red blood on the dirty clothes he threw on the trashcan. No one would notice – he hoped. His eyes looked a little melancholic right under the lamp, and aware of his own imperfections in the mirror in front of him, he quickly stepped away into the shadow and stayed there with half of his face showing, looking less like his usual self and more like a brooding young man in distress.

“Why should you be? I gave you the key so you can enter this room whenever you want to. And besides, if it doesn’t bother you, it won’t bother me, too. I’m not that much of a prude.” It was soon settled in silence, but in that period of a short pause, I took note of the changes in Suho’s body. He lost a staggering amount of weight – and I saw a small, almost unnoticeable cut on his lower lip. The thickness and curves of the pink outer layer hid the wound well, had it not been the light. Pity. He tried so hard to avoid the spotlight, only to be scrutinised under unfavourable circumstances. I don’t know why my heart suddenly aches for him.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” I said, surprising myself. He looked over with his eyes wide, as if he didn’t quite understand who the person standing in front of him was. Then he laughed, and the wound probably reopened, or he had hit his jawline hard, because he flinched and hissed. I try to stand very still as I’m not entirely sure what to do. Should I grab him a towel or a tissue, or just freeze here like a stone and wait for him to feel out my intention. “What happened to you? Heard you were on a mission for the entire two weeks and a half – is that true?”

I don’t know if I look apathetic to him – maybe he thought I was but got used to it. I’m never very intimate in conversation, choosing to talk only when spoken to, and only when I feel the need to. Suho, on the other hand, is a natural born charmer. He talks like he was born to speak for the good of this world – like all the leaders of the old independent days fighters did – diplomatic; sympathetic, even. He realised that it might not be such a good idea to come back to his room first and not let anyone know a word about it, because the moment he was released from the punishment, he almost collapsed on the cold hard ground.

It wasn’t as if Suho wasn’t fed for the entire period of sixteen days. They made sure to watch him as he slowly, very slowly chew on the cold, frozen food that taste a little mouldy on the inside. Every time he did and flinched from the pain it caused him on the inside, Suho had to remind himself to hold on and persist in spite of the pain. There was an end to everything, and he just had to endure long enough for the old General to see – but his stubborn personality, despite his meek front, was always loved by those fond of the means of torture.

At first they did not want to leave marks on his beautiful fair skin, especially since this was the man the General favoured. But there were method that required no flesh wounds, like boiling. This was particularly suited for Suho’s ability to prevent resistance when it was done. They put the boy to a two-meters diameter pot and started the fire from underneath, closing the lid and pulling him up as soon as the water started cooking. It was enough to keep him alive, but not enough to kill him on the spot. Suho was very familiar with this method. He felt like a lobster in-the-making, and swore that he would never once touched anything in his life that was boilt alive. On the day before release, they canned him once – albeit very lightly done, and almost bloodied his entire shirt as they brought him back to his room.

Now Suho was used to lying all his life. He’d done it as easily as breathing air – like a second nature, but lying to someone he promised he would not was against his moral code, and Suho felt conflicted. “Yeah –“ He smiled and beckoned me over. “It was a mission in Rwanda. I didn’t even –“

“Liar,” I spat and sat on the edge of the table, eyes fixated on him with disappointment. I thought I could trust him, and here we are again, playing the guessing game between a cat and a mouse, speaking entirely different language from each other. Even without reading his complicated mind, I could tell that he’s lying, based on the slight pause in-between and the furrow between those brows. I am no expert in psychology, and he is a very good liar, but at least he has guilty conscience for that one miniscule second. And I caught him red-handed in that moment of weakness. “Where were you?”

“Rwanda,” He said for the second time with more conviction, but he wasn’t sure who he wanted to convince now. He felt terrible, like the food he chewed in the morning had not completely gone down and was now threatening to jump out in a second. Then he spoke very softly, trying to tread a fragile line here as he wanted very much to shift the topic away from this – anything but this, “For a week and a half, I was alone in a mission there, as the General ordered. Are you… Are you angry that I didn’t save you from the General’s wrath?”

“Suho,” I cut him off, feeling a bit more composed and calm after blowing off the steam earlier. I feel that with the way things are, it is entirely possible to keep a more cordial relationship with utter politeness and positivity. That’s how most friendship works anyway – and as a matter of fact, I feel better putting up icy air to keep myself out of reach than laying myself there in the open wilderness. “I am not angry. Of course, I’m not. I understand your position in the Union and your relationship with the General. Should I call Lay over to help you heal the wounds?”

There it was. Suho paled. He could feel the distance that he tried hard to crush suddenly widened after his lie. But what else could he say? The truth was an ugly matter, and if anyone were to hear about this, they would tell him what a stupid decision it was, and at the end of the day, they would point fingers at the one he was trying to save, not him. He had to hide the truth no matter what. “I’m sorry, Sera. I wish I’d been stronger.” But he knew he could never play the card of the Knight-in-Shining-Armour as well as Sehun did.

“Don’t be so polite,” I smiled it off quickly and got up from the table. Then I put the key of Suho’s room to his own hand, ignoring the shocked expression on his face, and said it like a breeze on a windy Sunday noon, “I’ll call Lay, and I don’t think I need your keys anymore. Many thanks for your kind thoughts, though. I really do appreciate it.”

He knew it! He almost cursed himself. I look at him one last time, and walk myself out of the room. He tried to chase after, but I shut the door right in front of his face. I shan’t be angry – I realised as hollowness returned to my mind. I shan’t be angry and fussing over such small matters. What have I been expecting? A life-and-death pact with Suho to ensure his loyalty? That’s just insane. He owes me nothing, but I can’t shake off the kindness he extended to me for that few times and felt very bad about myself. I want to trust him, but I’m too scared to, so I run away as soon as I find an excuse.

This was not his fault.

* * *

“Bear with me for a while.”

Lay took off Suho’s shirt carefully to inspect the wounds before he could heal them. He wanted to see for himself what this limping man with breathing difficulty suffered so he could ask what exactly happened. In the morning, Suho told him by the phone to come down for some reason he refused to speak about as the conversation could wait for later time. But then soon after, Sera, that girl, came to him with her usual icy face and lukewarm attitude, revealing nothing but that this stubborn old fuss needed emergency check-up immediately. Lay could not keep his calm and rushed to see him from the basement to the fifth level in approximately seven minutes (quite a feat, really, because the elevator and lift could take forever to load).

“Were you really on a mission as they said?” Lay had seen wounds all his life – the most gruesome kind – and not once flinched for it. He liked to be professional and maintained a distance with his patient, but when his friend was injured, he could not pretend that he was all that strong. There were only four huge stripes of bloods on his back, some of which – Lay guessed – ran down all the way to his butts, because the cane they used to whip him was nowhere near ordinary. “Suho, I need you to stand up once again and strip off of the pants. Probably even the underwear, too, if it is necessary.”

The man obediently did as was told, but not before feeling the rough material moving against his bare skin. Good Lord! Just who gave him all these jeans to wear when he was so terribly injured with all the burnt marks and bloodied wounds – even that silky smooth underwear he usually liked felt stifling because of the pain. As soon as he slipped them out, he quickly went back to bed, lying there like a starfish to be examined. “I trust that it won’t leave a scar, will it?” He wasn’t afraid of it ruining the beauty of his skin, he was more afraid of it being asked around and about and having to lie about it every single time. The look Sera gave him was enough to make him feel completely nauseous about the lie in Rwanda.

Lay chuckled and shook his head, “No, these wounds are still fresh. I wonder what happened to you that even the almighty Suho would be injured to such extent. These do not look like battle marks to me – more like you-know-what. You owe me an explanation for all of these, Suho. But first, tell me where it hurts most and I’ll go over it gently. Take it nice and slow because you also happen to injure your bones from the ribs to the lumbar vertebrae then all the way down to your Fibula.”

Suho, whose face was buried into his pillow, lifted his neck and mumbled, “My inner thighs. That’s where it hurts most.”

Lay looked at the hideous patches that stretched across his skin and sighed. He didn’t understand how Suho could injure himself – or allowed himself to be injured – so badly. In six years of kinship, he’d never seen this man in a worse situation, no matter how tough the battlefield was. His hands were warming, and he put them onto the gap between Suho’s thighs, not quite touching them. The man sighed in comfort and relief, feeling that bit of pain melting away. “It’s the General, isn’t it? Did he punish you for Sera?”

Suho chuckled and refused to answer him directly. Anyone would know from these wounds that the torture inflicted on him was something beyond human’s limit. His body could barely take it. Having had served the General for years, he’d never seen him quite as angry, or as heavy-handed. Perhaps something was happening behind the scene, and this irritated the old General. “How was she when she was brought back? Was it Sehun that did it, as everyone suspected? Did you manage to heal all her injuries?”

Lay was genuinely surprised that Suho would ask such questions. “Yes, she’s fine now. You should have seen it when Sehun saved her that day. The whole building was in a bloody chaos. Bloods and water dripping everywhere, and all guards on standby, all guns pointing at the two of them. Even Tao was a bit terrified. But Sehun was very calm, as he always was.” Lay paused to chuckle at the memory, “He took the bullets and flung them to the side – the usual stunt. I think that shocked everyone because nobody dares to rebel so openly in this organisation.”

“Nobody else dares, and yet he was the only one who moved. I think I really envy him for what he could do for her,” Suho said and stuffed himself back onto the pillow. Lay couldn’t have missed the hint of affection and sadness in the same sentence, and for a second after pulling back his hands, he felt unsure of what to say. Then as usual, Lay tried to cover that awkwardness with a smile. “You’ve done well enough to protect her, Suho. Don’t you think that I won’t know where these wounds come from? You should’ve done a better job trying to hide them from me. Your mouth might lie, but these wounds would not.”

“I don’t wish for anyone to know,” Suho groaned when he felt the muscles contracting against each other. It was hard trying to hold back laughter because even a small movement hurt. His inner thighs were healed. None of the patches, or meats were showing – restoring the original flawless skin on his body. “Sera only needs to know as much as she is allowed to, and knowing more would only bring harm to her. The same goes to the rest of you. Sometimes, Lay, ignorance in this kind of organisation could be a bliss, too.”

Lay’s smile faltered. Ignorance was certainly not a bliss. “Does she not know of the sacrifices you’ve done for her?”

Suho didn’t answer. It was a blatant denial. He didn’t feel like talking at the moment, even as the warmth of Lay’s hand spread across his back, soothing down his tense nerves and giving him a breath of freedom again. “She needs not know.” His reply was short, but not courteous. “She’s mad at me for that, but I can’t help it. I’d rather keep her safe than harm her with this. The General already put her on his blacklist, and Doctor Lee hates her quite a bit. The ex-Lieutenant and the new one loathes her, so unless she stays down and low, she will attract danger again and this time, no one can save her anymore.”

Lay wasn’t close with Sera, but he knew the girl’s personality and ability was a combination that attracted trouble like honey to bees. Albeit subtle, Sera was more polite and distant after she woke up, and it wasn't exactly a bad change. It was about time she learnt the ancient Chinese philosophy of bamboo – to bend down when it is needed to. “She might not show it, but she cares a lot for you. And the foundation of a lasting friendship is open and honest communication to each other. Try to explain to her in a way she can understand – aren’t you particularly good in persuasion? Why are you so clumsy with your words this time round?”

“I don’t know,” Suho suddenly felt stressed. He couldn’t shake off the image of that cold, unfeeling smile from her face when she stormed off the room. He surely liked her as a person, but he wasn’t exactly keen on chasing after people for apology, especially when the other party wasn’t interested in hearing it. Lay pat his back lightly and advised, “Don’t be one of those people who realises far too late that they’ve had the best thing in their hand, only to let it slip away unknowingly.”

“I heard you,” Suho made a sound of acknowledgement, too tired to even think after all the hassle he had to go through. As patient as he was, there were times when he felt downright exhausted, and everything seemed to piss him off. It would be better for him to rest and heal before he had a clearer view on the bigger picture. Right now, his mind was a mess and his heart was in chaos. He wasn’t emotional or overly sentimental about feelings and people, so all problem aside, he would rather wait and bid his time. He believed that patience was a virtue and one must always be in practice.

“Everything will be fine, Suho. You only need to rest,” Lay finished off the last of the injuries and put his hands on his shoulder, giving a little bit of energy to the wasted body of his friend’s, even at the cost of his own vitality. Suho laid still and spoke no more, dozing off and snoring lightly after two very long weeks. When he exited the room later in the afternoon, Lay could feel the non-stop trembling of his hands, and how his legs seemed a little wobbly when he walked. It was another tiring day for him in exchange for a short, but fulfilling life.

* * *

I grabbed the honey toasted bread from the morning buffet tray and headed over to the table where Luhan and Kris was seated. Tao had been waving from the other one, sitting with Kai, Chanyeol, D.O and Xiumin, but I shook my head politely and made my way over. Kris looked up with his eyebrows raised, not quite happy, but not exactly unwelcoming, either. Luhan, on the other hand, fluttered his eyes once from my head to toe and resumed eating soon after. 

“Your crowd is over there. They are waving at you in confusion,” Kris pointed at the table with his chin, apparently too lazy to put down even that empty can of milk onto the table for the sake of politeness. He wore sleeveless shirts and training pants, still sweating a little from the intense fight that broke out between him and Chanyeol in the morning. He had at least five plates of main dish – mostly proteins – then two bowls of salads and one glass of water – all for the sake of maintaining his perfectly muscular body. I gave him a tight-pressed smile and turned to everyone in that table – including Baekhyun who just joined in. This was the table for the quiet ones – the ones who hated the incessant chatters from others.

“I’m here to ask for help.”

Luhan stopped eating, his oceanic blue eyes instantly found me. Kris raised his eyebrow again, but spoke nothing at the moment. Baekhyun propped his chin and glanced over once, but I can’t really tell if he was just bored out of his wits. I observed their reactions closely to make sure that they were listening before I continued, feeling quite hopeful at the moment – it’s a strange feeling to get used to, really, “I want someone to train my physique. I want to fight with my bare hands.”

“Because you’ve lost all your ability so now you got to find yourself useful in other areas, huh?” Kris was, as usual, very quick with his bitter remarks. I reckon that he feels pleasure derived from others’ pain. Probably gets off from the thoughts of that, too. Luhan’s forehead was suddenly filled with creases as he listened – although he wasn’t too sure what he was unhappy about, “Stop with your comment, Kris. One day, someone will kill you for your mouth.” The corner of Baekhyun’s lips lifted up – but it was so subtle it was barely noticeable. “Say, Sera. Why do you want to learn fighting all of a sudden? Didn’t the Rebel teach you anything?”

“No,” I shook my head, remembering all the times I used to train and failed miserably. It was nothing worth doing at that time, but because everyone else was forced to, I wanted to fit in and got along in class with a few other people. But those who joined the Rebel knew no such thing as mercy or kinship – they only wanted to get out of the Death Camp as soon as possible. I wondered if my life would have been infinitely different if I didn’t meet the Leader in the same Camp. “They told me I had no affinity fighting bare-hands, and refused me outright. So I never mastered anything – no weapons, no fighting styles.”

“That’s just another word for ‘talentless’,” Baekhyun snorted. I am genuinely surprised (and not at all offended) that he bothered butting in. It was an effort on its own, coming from someone like him. Luhan shot them his infamous icy look and replied, “Don’t listen to these pricks. I understand your need to learn, and I do think it is good to do so. But are you sure you want to do this, Sera –“ I blinked at the sound of my name coming out of those juicy pink lips, “Because training to fight is no easy matter.”

I nodded without saying anything. I had come asking for this favour because I am determined that I would not back down without putting it my all. It’s about time I learn to defend and protect myself when no one else could. All this while, I feel so tired of playing the same damsel-in-distress act, and although I know I have terrible body coordination, I am willing to learn studiously all over again. Even if it means a few broken bones and ugly blue bruises.

“I can teach you,” He said with a smile, and I’m not quite sure if I heard it right. I stare at his mouth, trying to discern the words that just came out. Luhan had read into how obvious I was being, and his smile widened, “I will be your teacher, Sera.”

A/N: Can I just take this end note to openly express my gratitude to all my beautiful readers who subscribe, comment, and upvote? I'm seriously tearing when I see the kind comments you left after reading each chapter.