if you don't understand Daewon's role in this story, please read this blog post first: http://www.asianfanfics.com/blog/view/1168106

The apartment feels empty without Sanghyuk, a throwback to when Hongbin was just a clueless boy fresh out of college, with no idea how to take the public bus, let alone know how to wash laundry.  

Now, even though he doesn’t feel as horridly helpless as he did then, his cooking skills are still terrible (even more so when compared to the weeks of being fattened up well by Sanghyuk). He tries to make eggs, but just can’t seem to get them hard-boiled just right. He cracks them open and in all three the yolk is still runny, spilling messily all over his counter.

Hongbin attempts to follow instructions to the tee, but they fail him more often than not. He ends up just ordering in, or begging Taekwoon to make him food.

There’s a new company deal he’s trying to get Hakyeon to sign off on, so he’s busy raking in numbers to prove that he can take on the job. On top of this, he has a new role on Sanghyuk’s case.

He has to keep Jaehwan in the loop, because he’s the only hope they’re going to win the case, or even get the case to the high courts at all.

They’ve been texting, though the other man frequently drops off the radar for few days at a time, only replying Hongbin’s five-day-old messages with lame, snarky, made-up excuses like, “My phone was off and I didn’t realize it was switched off because that’s how popular I am”.

Jaehwan still refuses to meet up, though Hongbin can swear he’s seen him at least once loitering outside the company building with a black eye and a swollen cheek. Hongbin always feels like he’s walking a tightrope when it comes to Jaehwan: he has to say all the right things, or else he gets shut out completely like having a door slam in your face. And they can’t afford to let Jaehwan bolt; if they’re playing a game of chess, then he’s their king. He’s their endgame.

But regardless of how drained Hongbin feels from work and from the perpetual hide-and-seek game that is Jaehwan, every night at 10, he looks forward to his call with Sanghyuk. He sets a daily reminder phone alarm for 9.58pm, just in case, but he really doesn’t need it. By 9.55 he’s already restlessly pacing the house, waiting for the phone to ring.

Some days feel like letting Sanghyuk stay with Daewon was a wrong move to make. On these days, Sanghyuk completely zones out halfway through the conversation, and when they do get a conversation going, Hongbin can sense the boy forgetting the beginning of the story the moment they start on the next half. Other times, Sanghyuk trips over his words and forgets basic vocabulary. When Hongbin asks him what he had for dinner, he doesn’t have the answer .

But on other days, the decision feels like the best thing he has ever let Sanghyuk do. Those days are days like this, where Hongbin has hardly heard Sanghyuk sound more alive.

Sanghyuk rattles off his day while tracing the soft papery-skin scars on his forearm with his free hand without feeling like it’s someone else touching him without his permission. His stomach is full out of volition, and he’s only dissociated once this afternoon. He doesn’t sound scared about the night to come, though he knows it’s going to be swirling with nightmares.  Because at least, right now, he’s doing good. He doesn’t need to be prompted to speak, or to feel like he doesn’t have a right to make sounds of assent when the other person on the line is talking. Hongbin imagines what Sanghyuk would look like during calls like these; and he thinks he would see a healthy boy leaning sturdily against a wall, chirping away to a friend. And there would be nothing else to it – just, happiness, and trust, and jubilation.

If there is a tiny twang of jealousy whenever Sanghyuk talks fondly of Daewon, Hongbin stows it away. Sanghyuk is doing so good, he can’t possibly complain.

***

“Hey, Sanghyuk,” Daewon says suddenly, looking up from his work. “Are you busy right now?”

Sanghyuk looks up from where he’s half-heartedly finishing a level on his PSP. “No, hyung.”

In the first few days, Sanghyuk’s mind drops straight down into subspace whenever Daewon calls his name without any warning and from where he can’t see.

But every single time he gets stuck waist-deep in a memory like he’s immobilized in quicksand, Daewon grabs the Heal worry stone, presses it into his hand, and asks him to feel his surroundings. Daewon always, always asks before he touches. If Sanghyuk says no (he only says it once, to test the waters; to push the boundaries), Daewon backs off immediately. If Sanghyuk says yes, Daewon his head and feeds him little nuggets of praise until he’s ready to come back up. 

He doesn’t do that anymore – doesn’t drop like a rock into the ocean floor with a small push. He knows this handler won’t hurt him. This handler only wants the best for him, which is a hard concept to grasp, but Sanghyuk thinks he’s starting to get it.

“My shoulders really hurt and I’m not that flexible.” Daewon groans in obvious discomfort. “Would you mind giving me a massage?

Sanghyuk blinks. “I… don’t know how to, hyung.”                  

“Honestly, anything right now would be better than me cramping up my back trying to reach the sore spots.” Daewon says.

Sanghyuk stands up unsurely and places his PSP on the coffee table. “Okay.”

He stands awkwardly behind Daewon where he lets his hand be guided to broad shoulders.

“Just press in,” Daewon murmurs. “I’m really not expecting it to be professional.” 

Sanghyuk tries his best, and takes his time. His heart is thrumming so hard, he’s a little surprised Daewon hasn’t noticed. He precariously avoids bare skin, so Daewon won’t feel his damp palms; though most of the reason is that he’s not sure if he can handle touching someone so intimately – skin on skin – just yet.

But when he realizes he’s not going to hurt Daewon, he starts to press harder. His fingers find a bundle of stiffness and he experimentally pushes down on it. Daewon lets out a groan, and Sanghyuk immediately lifts his hands away.

“Sorry.” He swallows reflexively.                 

Daewon frowns, “No, no, no. That was good. Press harder?”

His mind’s static fades quickly. He gives it another try, this time finding each knot and gently working on it until it finally gives. Daewon tries to stifle his noises, but the irrepressible, relieved sighs makes Sanghyuk feel exhilaratingly in control.

When they’re done, Sanghyuk’s hands are aching – almost on fire, like how it feels when he uses his bad hand too long. But still, there is a small smile on his face when Daewon thanks him sincerely and ruffles his hair, like a real hyung.

***                                                                                                                                    

Sanghyuk wakes up in a cold sweat.                                          

It’s the kind of nightmare that physically hurts. He can feel the vines of memory claw their way out through his chest, crushing ribcages and tearing throat muscles. Those are the kind of nightmares he hates, because it leaves him wrestling with not only his brain, but also his body and mind, for the next few hours.

He falls asleep on the couch again (after pacing restlessly for hours) and he wakes up to the sun shining just right through a huge window, but the rest of the day doesn’t go too well.

The ache in his chest doesn’t want to go away no matter how many times he lies down on the floor trying to do stupid breathing exercises. As the afternoon goes by, he starts to get more and more irritated by his own failures and perceived lack of self-control. The lines on his ankles made by crafty fingernails evolve from tiny scratches to deep gouges without him even realizing, and yet, still, his skin feels like its housing a million insects.

When Daewon nags at him to clean up the living room for the last time before he leaves the house for groceries, Sanghyuk is sure there’s only a tiny part of him left that’s actually rational.

“Please tidy up your work before I get home, please,” Daewon unlocks the door. “Am I making myself clear?”

Sanghyuk nods, but he snaps his fingers impatiently where Daewon cannot possibly see. The moment the door closes, he goes back to his PSP.

He very clearly knows that time is passing. His eye was always on the time. 5pm becomes 5.30pm. Then 5.30pm becomes 6.15pm. His textbooks and notes are still sprawled out across the floor where he likes to work.

Not once does it cross his mind to take back his decision to be messy, nor not once does it even cross his mind to be scared.

Even when the door key turns in the lock and Sanghyuk hides out of view as habit, he doesn’t want to immediately kneel. His mind is calm; a total surprise, but he figures it must be because there are so many things happening in his head that he’s just chosen to shut them all down. Like flicking a switch. Like blowing out a flame.

Daewon takes one step into the house – his house, and frowns at the papers still littering the floor. “Why didn’t you tidy your things?”

“Sorry,” Sanghyuk stands up. “I forgot to do it.”

“I’m not buying it,” Daewon says simply, setting the bags down on the dining table. “So I’m giving you one last chance to tell me why you didn’t clean up your things.”

For the very first time, Daewon is met by silence that resolutely doesn’t seem to want to be broken.

“It’s a very simple question, Han Sanghyuk.”

There is no response. The fire in Sanghyuk’s head starts to revive its own grey ashes. He clenches his teeth so hard he thinks he’s seeing stars.

“Well. Then,” Daewon folds his arms. “Seeing as you’re clearly not going to make a move to clear your things, you can tell me what punishment you deserve for not doing something I explicitly asked you to do two hours ago.”

Sanghyuk thinks it’s a rhetorical question, that Daewon is going to decide anyway so he keeps his head down. It’s kind of unfair, that Daewon is even posing the question and look like he’s expecting an answer, but really, who is he to complain. It was his fault for performing that stupid act of rebellion.

But quietly, there is a searing heat simmering at the back of his head.

He’s already been punished enough – by the miserable nightmare, and the fact that Daewon pushes him so hard every day. There’s no escaping from where he came from, or what kind of person he is. His very existence is a punishment; a cruel joke. Where is the reward?

Daewon repeats the question. Sanghyuk shifts uncomfortably, half-angrily, and lets out a tiny grumble. But Daewon just repeats it and this time tops it up with a, “I’m waiting. You have to take responsibility for your mistakes so lets just get it over and done with.”

Sanghyuk explodes, no longer like the imploding he’s used to.

His anger spills all over the walls and drenches him in a blinding red.

“Oh, so I’m supposed to come up with my own punishments now?” His eyes flash with intensity as he looks straight at Daewon. “How about you think of them yourself? You’re the Dom, just make me do whatever you want me to do!”

Daewon holds his ground and doesn’t even flinch. He’s used to subs giving attitude, his own sub isn’t that big of a goody-two-shoes. But Sanghyuk disobeying orders to this extent, even just shouting, is such a surprise that he doesn’t know what else to do except stare as Sanghyuk begins to quiver.

All the thoughts hit him like a sledgehammer. They come sliding in from every direction in his mind and they don’t seem to go anywhere at all. At some point, everything jumbles together and slips down between his skin. Humiliation, fear, embarrassment, fear, fear, fear – they all crowd for space.

The quivering becomes tremors and the tremors become shaking and when Sanghyuk blinks, he finds himself flattening towards the floor, hand gripping the cup so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. Everything is happening in slow motion. His chest is heaving, and he fuzzily remembers that he has no energy to waste on panicking. Not right now. That’s a dangerous place for someone like him to be in.

Sanghyuk feels something nudging at his hand. “Let go of the cup, please.”

He does, immediately, desperate to avoid pain (though it’s far too late why the did he do that), and his hand, still empty, doesn’t move a muscle. But his brain starts to defrost and so does his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean it.”         

“Please, what?”                              

“Don’t hit – don’t hit me. Please, I –”           

There is a sigh from somewhere above him. “Please get up.”            

Sanghyuk stands on shaky legs. He’s so sure he’s going to be punished now, beaten up and left alone in the heel of his disobedience. As his feet graze across the floor, he suddenly remembers that his Sir is Daewon.

And Daewon could do it. Daewon has absolutely nothing to gain from him, could just kill him now and not feel bad about it. Daewon is so much bigger, so much stronger, and Daewon –

Daewon wraps his arms around Sanghyuk. “C’mere.”                                

Sanghyuk stiffens in his arms, muscles threatening to cramp from the sudden tightness.

“You’re human, Sanghyuk-ah.” Daewon says softly. “You don’t deserve to be beaten.”

Sanghyuk nods (more like ducks his head), but only because he is scared out of his mind. He’s willing to do anything right now to lessen his death sentence. He’s waiting to be shown how to tilt his head, waiting to be shoved into dark corners, waiting to be told what to do to keep his spot in this world. Even if it means to have no spot at all.

But Daewon keeps speaking. Something about this script is not adding up.

“I know it’s hard to re-learn all these things I’m teaching you. Even harder because I’m a Dom. But I’m a human being too, and the last thing I want to do is hurt someone else.” Daewon holds Sanghyuk’s face and tips it towards him. “What’s been done to you was not your fault. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re stronger than them.”

“I know, I –” Sanghyuk starts, trying to explain, trying to beg.

Daewon shushes him. “I know, calm down first.”                           

He had been so certain his childish little rebellion wouldn’t beget pain. He had been so certain he was safe here. He waits for the tight hug to be replaced by a punishing hand. But it doesn’t happen. Slowly, his heart starts to slow – like it knows danger when it’s passed even before his brain does. Sanghyuk doesn’t wrap his arms around Daewon, but if he tries to assure himself that he’s not being left alone – not yet – by pressing in a little closer, no one has to know.

Eons pass in a matter of minutes. Lifetimes pass in a matter of seconds.

“Okay, tell you what your punishment is.”                                   

He feels the arms around him release. For a moment he cannot decide whether or not he is grateful: at least now he’ll be shown what to do. He can be pliant, he can be good, no matter what he just did.

“You have to order dinner today.” Daewon says. “I feel like eating pizza, so no ‘buts’ unless you know how to make bomb pizzas. Does that sound fair?”

Sanghyuk stares at his feet and nods.

“Okay then, that’s your punishment.” Daewon reaches forward to gently bump Sanghyuk’s hand.

The package of heaviness in his body sinks slowly, where it lies itself down on the floor, as if it’s trying to say everything is okay now. 

“Also, give your lawyer a call tonight. He says he needs to speak to you.” Daewon pats Sanghyuk on the head and goes to pluck a take-out menu off the fridge with an unusual spring in his step.

He watches as Sanghyuk shuffles back to the couch and curls up on himself, hands pressing against his stomach like he’s trying to remind his own body that he exists, like he’s still trying to process the thought of not being hurt.

***                                                                      

They lean against the counter, perusing the menu for Pizza Hut.

“I want a topping king,” Daewon says, and waits as Sanghyuk jots it down on a post-it. “What do you want?”

Sanghyuk frowns, face tight, and for a moment Daewon thinks he’s not going to reply, but then he just says, “I think I might want a bacon potato.”

Impressed, Daewon hands the phone over. “1588-5588.”

Sanghyuk eventually does place the order (after writing everything he needs to say down). But strangely, it doesn’t feel like very much. He’s not scared as the nice lady asks to take his order and address – But after he hangs up, and after the storm of nervousness seemingly passes, there is a seed in his gut that gets watered by that very rain.

He ends up pacing the entire apartment, picking at his arm lightly. He tries not to keep his eyes fixed on the floor, because he knows Daewon hates it when he does that, so he shifts his gaze once in a while, as if he’s thinking about something mundane.

He keeps thinking about the life of the woman that picked up the phone. He can’t stop thinking about how she must think of him; if she looked down on how he stuttered. Or maybe she lives close to where he used to. Maybe she knows him. Maybe she thinks he doesn’t deserve his new life. 

 As much as Sanghyuk tries his hardest to exist, he doesn’t want it to be obvious, he doesn’t want anybody to know he does.

He hides in his room until the pizza comes, and flinches at the doorbell.

***

Daewon watches on affectionately as Sanghyuk listens to Hongbin over the phone, grinning like he doesn’t quite know how to laugh, but he’s almost there.

It’s something Daewon cannot deny, but Sanghyuk looks the happiest at 10pm every night.

He glances down at his watch. It’s 10:09, which means Sanghyuk has one more minute. Daewon hates doing it, but it’s necessary.

“Sanghyuk-ah, one minute left, yeah?” Daewon calls out and Sanghyuk’s head jerks up.

He holds up a finger and mouths, “one more minute, please?”

Daewon pretends to frown, but he nods, and his heart sizzles with joy.

It is then that he finally decides. It has been three weeks and two days since Daewon started working with Sanghyuk. And Sanghyuk is ready to go home.

Over this time, the boy has grown so much – and though counter-intuitive, he has not grown in the way of maturing. He has grown in the way of finding his innocence, while getting his hands dirty with digging through things no 17 year old should have to know. Even if he still doesn’t dare to, he now knows how to let himself feel. He knows, at some level, that he is already good, that he doesn’t have to be good for anyone, and therefore he deserves good things. Sanghyuk is no longer running out of time; he’s making time.

There are still days where he wakes up screaming, not knowing what he is, and until now he still has to use post-its to remember to do the most basic things. But to acknowledge something he wants, and then to ask for it without breaking apart?

It’s an improvement that means mountains to Sanghyuk – that can move mountains for Sanghyuk, even if any other normal person would laugh at it.

When the phone call ends, Sanghyuk thanks Daewon for the extra minute without even realising the plates of the earth beneath his feet had shuddered softly under new found strength. When Daewon tells him of his decision, the edges of Sanghyuk’s mouth quiver with emotion. His hand unknowingly moves forward to make contact with Daewon’s, almost as if he wants to physically share the happiness. He retracts his hand before it can even make contact because he knows his body is not ready, but Daewon knows its more than enough. A week ago, he knows Sanghyuk would’ve blocked out the excitement to save himself heartbreak: would’ve spent hours trying to convince himself that no good news could come without a bad one. He wouldn’t have believed Daewon: just as how he thought Daewon was lying when he told him that he never leaves Byungjun alone in a scene because of how dangerous it is; something about blood circulation and the feeling of abandonment.

Now, Sanghyuk just smiles. And he thanks Daewon without obsessing over the words he wants to use. And he picks up his phone to text Hongbin. And he even takes a photo of Daewon sticking out his tongue to accompany the message.

That night, as Sanghyuk sleeps after packing all his belongings into the duffel bag he showed up at the door with, Daewon doesn’t hear him tossing or whimpering.

But out of the nagging hand of curiosity, Daewon sends off an email on his laptop.

He attaches a picture of Sanghyuk – a selfie, of the both of them, and types out:

            Favour. Help me find anything and everything.