It had been two weeks since Youngjae met Daehyun. Instead of Junhong living with Youngjae now, Daehyun took his place. Youngjae found it...difficult at first to adjust to the stranger suddenly living with him, but he told himself to just endure it until Junhong returned—if he ever did. Youngjae felt his hope die bit by bit with each passing day, though.
 
Daehyun was awfully adept at staying out of the way, making it easier for Youngjae to ignore the other. Interaction was infinitesimal—save for the first week when Youngjae had to change the bandages on Daehyun's wound—but Youngjae was so wrapped up in his daily schedule to really care. At least Daehyun knew to be useful; he cooked better than both Youngjae and Junhong combined.
 
Without even realizing, the two had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Youngjae went on with his life as a cybernetics major and part-time barista; Daehyun occupied the couch at night and cooked for the both of them during the day (if Daehyun did anything else during the day, Youngjae had no knowledge of it).
 
There were times, however, when Youngjae would hear Daehyun talking in hushed tones late at night. He used his own sort of communication device—he had to—because Youngjae kept Junhong's transceiver watch hidden.
 
Every time, Youngjae never dared open his door in fear of interrupting something important, but, despite his better judgement, he listened in on the conversations.
 
"How long until I can leave?" Daehyun asked one night. He usually spoke using an Old World dialect, one that Youngjae just barely recognized.
 
Youngjae pressed his ear to the door, thankful for the thin walls for once.
 
The voice on the other end was always the same, using the same dialect as Daehyun. " if I know. Just lay low—"
 
"I have," Daehyun replied, his voice still low but now seething with annoyance. "I don't know what's happening out there, and it's driving me insane. I can't stay holed up like this much longer."
 
"I know, I'm sorry, but Bbang is still figuring stuff out himself." A pause. "Just...gather whatever information you can right now and report the next time I call."
 
Daehyun let out an aggravated sigh. "Yeah. Alright."
 
There was silence on the other side of the door for a while, and Youngjae wondered if Daehyun had gone back to sleep.
 
"I know."
 
Youngjae tensed, paralyzed in his spot by the door. How did Daehyun know? It took a couple moments for Youngjae to snap out of it, and he glanced around the room in panic, trying to figure out an excuse as well as what gave him away.
 
"I'm not angry," Daehyun continued, his voice much quieter.
 
Gulping, Youngjae eased the door open, peeking his head around it into the living room to look at Daehyun. He laid on the couch, his limbs sprawled out and his entire right side spilling over the edge. Light snores escaped his mouth, and it belatedly occurred to Youngjae that Daehyun had been talking in his sleep.
 
"You know I love only you."
 
Youngjae blinked, wondering what Daehyun was dreaming about. It sounded like a cheesy line from one of Jieun's Old World DVDs. Curious, Youngjae crept out of his bedroom to the couch, his footsteps almost inaudible on the hardwood floor. The closer Youngjae got to Daehyun, the more ridiculous the statements became.
 
"I'm so sorry I hurt you. You know how I truly feel."
 
Now, Youngjae stood right above Daehyun, eyes wide with incredulity. Now that Youngjae had realized what was happening, he walked to the kitchen, muttering how stupid he was to think that Daehyun actually heard him. Youngjae ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, pulling a water bottle out of the fridge and taking a sip. Before Youngjae could even cap the bottle, he felt something cold and sharp press against his neck.
 
"Jesus Christ, Daehyun, what the...?" Youngjae wanted to scream, but it came out more like a withering question. His head was still tipped back, giving Daehyun easier access to slit the throat if needed.
 
The stark coldness disappeared just as soon as it appeared, however, as Daehyun uttered out an inaudible, "Sorry. I thought you were somebody else."
 
"I noticed," Youngjae commented, rubbing his neck; the way the cold lingered on his skin made him uncomfortable, and he desperately tried to quell it. He capped the bottle and walked past Daehyun. "You don't have to be so...uptight. This is a pretty safe neighborhood."
 
Daehyun placed the knife on the counter, the metallic sound deafening in the silence of the night. His silhouette soon retreated back into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch.
 
Youngjae stood in the kitchen, stunned at Daehyun's harsh demeanor. A sour feeling settled in Youngjae's stomach, and he shuffled back into his room, water bottle in his sweaty hand.

//

The next morning, Youngjae walked into the kitchen, yawning and still trying to shake the last dregs of sleep from his mind. The curtains had been pulled open, a noticeable difference even with Youngjae's dazed mind, and the early dawn light spilled inside, dousing most of the apartment in a pale gray light. Daehyun had already woken up and was making food, if the way he was noisily moving about said anything. Youngjae booted up his laptop, brought it to the counter, and sat down.

"Morning," Daehyun muttered as he flipped an egg on the stove.

Glancing up over the laptop screen, Youngjae stared at Daehyun's back. His greeting was barely audible over the fan of the stove, but Youngjae still heard it. The two didn't usually talk to each other because of their conflicting schedules–Daehyun was usually awake during the evening while Youngjae came home and immediately went to sleep––but even if they did come across each other in the apartment, they barely spoke a word.

Youngjae blinked. He figured he might as well return the greeting. "Good morning."

"Sorry about last night," Daehyun said, his voice nonchalant. It seemed as though he didn't care, but when he turned around, his eyes said otherwise.

Youngjae glanced up for a moment, then back to his laptop; he found it difficult to look Daehyun in the eye for too long. "It's not a big deal. I mean, it's not like you tried to kill me in my own apartment in the dead of the night."

A look of guilt flashed across Daehyun's face for a split second, but Youngjae pretended not to notice.

"You don't have to constantly be on your guard," Youngjae said. He tried to sound casual, probably comforting even, but that didn't mask the underlying awkwardness between the two. "Like I said, this is a pretty safe neighborhood."

"You don't know that," Daehyun muttered as he turned around again. He placed the egg on a plate with toast, which he handed to Youngjae.

"The crime rate here is literally less than 5%," Youngjae said almost matter-of-factly. He took a bite of toast, the crunching sound making the silence even more uncomfortable. "Maybe in the outer districts, I'm sure your actions would be put to better use there."

Daehyun's eyebrows raised, and Youngjae briefly wondered if he said the wrong thing. Youngjae saw Daehyun clench his jaw, but before Youngjae could get in another word, Daehyun turned around and began whisking eggs in a bowl.

Youngjae felt that uneasiness in his gut again, but forced himself to stomach his food.