Sang-hyuk was not ready when he found Won-shik waiting for him in his office, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, smiling without a care in the world.

His mind whirled desperately.

Won-shik didn’t go into Sang-hyuk’s office, never went anywhere near Sang-hyuk’s workplaces unless he was absolutely sure Sang-hyuk could handle it. He was Won-shik’s favorite, definitely, but he knew Sang-hyuk’s limits and never crossed them. The fact that he was here now meant that there was something extremely important that Sang-hyuk needed to attend to now. And the fact that Sang-hyuk knew exactly what that was terrified him.

“Hello, Hyukkie,” Won-shik said cheerfully, the brush of seriousness in his tone near palpable as he swung his feet off the desk. Sang-hyuk forced a small smile on his face as he finally turned to face him, his fingers on his bag nearly crushing it. Won-shik’s eyes narrowed in on his fingers, and Sang-hyuk had to use all his willpower to loosen them. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just have some stuff to tell you and I needed to make sure you didn’t sneak by me again.”

It took all of Sang-hyuk’s focus for his voice not to stutter. “Sorry; force of habit.”

Won-shik didn’t appear completely convinced, though he thankfully dropped the subject. “I wish I could say not to get worried, but I know you. Joon-myeon wants to see you the moment you get a chance—preferably before you go see X39.”

Sang-hyuk could immediately feel the cold sweat collect on his skin, his stomach clenching into a tight knot. He knew it would happen. It was only natural Joon-myeon and the other higher-ups would see the footage from his and Hong-bin’s last few sessions, and would see how much had changed. Hong-bin’s smiles; his laughs, his soft touches—they had seen it all, and Sang-hyuk knew they would take it away again.

Returning memories would only corrupt the system, the cyborgs only useful if they ran on the completely fabricated memories they purposefully fostered into them.

They were going to take his Hong-bin away again, and there was nothing he or Won-shik could do to stop it.

Sang-hyuk nodded when he saw Won-shik waiting, his face cracking around the corners of his smile. “I…okay. When—when is he free?”

Won-shik grimaced. “I’d give him an hour or so. There’s a big sponsor meeting coming up next week, so he’s been getting ready for it.” Won-shik’s lips pursed at the mention of the sponsors, both knowing exactly what that meant. The sponsors, the backers, the ones who knew exactly what their lab was doing and were completely willing to fund it. If it wasn’t for Sang-hyuk’s uncomfortable connection to them, he would abhor their very existence, unable to stomach anyone who condoned what they did daily.

But with Hak-yeon oblivious at home, he could do nothing but smile and nod at anything they did. And Won-shik knew it.

Sang-hyuk could barely keep his voice above a whisper, his fingers shaking. “So…they’re coming next week?”

“Yeah. They heard about the girl that survived Test 2, and want to check her out. I don’t know much about her, but she’s the first girl that survived, so they’re pretty interested.” He let out a long sigh as he pushed himself out of the chair. “Just make sure everything with X39 is up to date.” He waited until Sang-hyuk gave him a small nod, heading towards the door and pausing briefly. “You know, I heard you and Sung-jae went out for drinks last night.”

Sang-hyuk froze, turning to see Won-shik staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face that had Sang-hyuk’s insides turning. He forced his voice steady. “Yeah? We went to the new bar down the street.”

Won-shik nodded thoughtfully, stuffing a hand in his pocket. “Sounds nice. It’s always good to do something outside work, get your mind off things.” His other hand slipped away from the doorknob, letting out a soft hum as he leaned against the wall. “You should try and go out more, Hyuk. You’re a good kid, letting Hak-yeon go out and all, but you should do it for yourself too. Spending too much time here will kill you.”

“I…ah, okay.” Sang-hyuk mumbled, surprised, and slightly touched, at the warmth in the other’s voice. From the beginning, Won-shik had always treated Sang-hyuk differently from the other interns, always joking and touchy, and Sang-hyuk had felt uncomfortable with the attention. Won-shik was Won-shik, crude and tactless yet caring in his own way, and it wasn’t until now that he felt that care, that warmth, and Sang-hyuk was wonderfully grateful for it. “Thanks.”

Won-shik smiled, the first genuine smile Sang-hyuk had seen on him in a long time. “No problem. I care about you, you know? As much as I love watching you piss yourself, I do want you to be happy.” He looked down at his watch, hissing. “Alright, you better get ready, Joon-myeon will be done soon, and he’ll want to see you right away.”

“Okay, thanks…again,” he said, and this time he meant it.

Sang-hyuk paced back and forth in his office as he watched the minutes slowly tick away, dreading the moment he would get the call to see Joon-myeon. His fingers anxiously shook as he wrapped them around his stomach, his breath stuttering as he tried to keep calm. He wished Won-shik had told him more about what Joon-myeon had looked like, if only to have a better idea of what the hell he wanted from him. Based on what he knew of the higher-ups and Joon-myeon in particular, he knew they would be furious at him attempting to do things with Hong-bin without permission, especially when progress was being made—positive or otherwise.

He had no idea if they were going to punish him, if they were going to punish Hak-yeon—he could feel his heart stop at the thought, freezing. Their threats were always vague, hidden underneath false vagaries, and he was suddenly overcome with the biggest urge to run home to make sure Hak-yeon was okay.

How could he have sat down and actually talked with Hong-bin, without reporting, when he had Hak-yeon at home?

How could he have been so stupid?

No matter how much he missed Hong-bin, he should never have chanced anything when Hak-yeon’s safety, Hak-yeon’s life, rested entirely in his hands.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he finally received the call, Joon-myeon’s voice as cheery as always, giving nothing away. It made his skin crawl, and Sang-hyuk could feel cold shivers run up his body as he silently made his way down the many halls, his stomach tightening with overwhelming dread. He couldn’t help thinking about Sung-jae’s story last night, remembering the kind man who had helped the both of them when they first started. All he could imagine was that same man strapped to the table, pleading uselessly as Sung-jae was forced to kill him. It sounded so ridiculous and yet completely plausible, and Sang-hyuk was unable to dismiss that it would be something the higher-ups would do.

He had no idea what he would do if he walked in to see Hak-yeon strapped to a table, terrified and confused as everyone waited for Sang-hyuk to kill him. His hands trembled at the mere thought, knowing he would never be able to willingly take the life of the one man he loved with all his heart. He would rather kill himself than be forced to take Hak-yeon’s life.

He stopped outside Joon-myeon’s door, pausing to take a deep, steadying breath as he pushed all the horrifying thoughts as far back in his mind as possible. Joon-myeon was always looking for openings to attack, his smile and kind words nothing compared to what he could actually do.

His skin crawled when he heard Joon-myeon’s distracted greeting as he slowly opened the door, the soft knocks barely audible. Joon-myeon threw down whatever he was looking at as he quickly waved Sang-hyuk over, his eyes sharp as he watched Sang-hyuk slowly sit down across from him. Nothing in his face or posture gave anything away, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help expecting the worst as his fingers tightened around his pants, trying to hide his shaking. Joon-myeon laughed, noticing it right away.

“What are you so nervous for, Sang-hyuk? Didn’t Won-shik tell you why I called you here?” Sang-hyuk couldn’t trust himself to speak, only shaking his head. Joon-myeon nodded again, turning slightly to flip through a few folders on his desk, clicking his tongue as he pulled one out and opened it for Sang-hyuk to see. “Well, why don’t you take a look, hmm?”

Sang-hyuk felt his stomach drop.

Printed on numerous sheets were pictures of him and Hong-bin, the images grainy from the older security cameras. Hong-bin touching him, holding his hands, smiling, shifting, frowning—it was all there. Sang-hyuk’s eyes lingered on the picture of him and Hong-bin sitting on the bed together, knees tucked under their chins and toes brushing together. Looking at that picture, Hong-bin’s expressions and body language were clear as day, and Sang-hyuk finally recognized his Hong-bin, his eyes welling up at the idea.

Joon-myeon waited patiently for Sang-hyuk to take everything in before clearing his throat. “I don’t know what you were thinking, not reporting something as important as this. How long has X39 been showing behavioral changes?”

Sang-hyuk’s fingers began to grow numb, his heart hammering in his chest and flooding his ears. “I…it-it’s not been very clear, sir. There were small instances where he knew more than he should, but he reverted back so quickly I never thought much of it.”

Joon-myeon wasn’t convinced, clicking his tongue again. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Sang-hyuk. It would be in your best interest to tell the truth.” Sang-hyuk finally looked up to see Joon-myeon staring intently, his face expressionless yet holding so much ferocity Sang-hyuk could barely breathe. Hak-yeon…he had to protect Hak-yeon—but Hong-bin, he couldn’t— “Now, how long has X39 been acting differently?”

Sang-hyuk’s heart felt as if it was ripped in half, unable to reconcile the fact that he had to choose between defending Hong-bin or protecting Hak-yeon. His mouth felt as if it had a mind of its own, the words rolling uselessly off his tongue. “Not long. Only the past few sessions.”

“And what happened?”

“He began to ask questions beyond what he should be able to comprehend. He asked about me, and…” he trailed off, his lips trembling as he imagined Hak-yeon waiting for him at home, warm and kind as he believed whatever Sang-hyuk told him. He could feel Hak-yeon’s touch ghosting across his shoulders, able to hear the sweet sound of his voice whispering comforting words in his ear…and at the same time could feel Hong-bin’s hands caressing his own, comforting in his own, silent way. Forced to choose between the two of them; Sang-hyuk could not.

“And?” Joon-myeon pressed, snapping Sang-hyuk back to reality.

“…he started asking about why I was treating him like everyone else.” The half-truth; the only thing Sang-hyuk could bring himself to tell.

Joon-myeon stayed quiet for some time, his fingers running across the pictures. He eventually stopped over the two of them in bed. “Do you believe he is remembering the past?”

Sang-hyuk couldn’t even force a distracting laugh, swallowing heavily. “H-how could he? He was wiped completely, there’s nothing left to remember.” He stared at Hong-bin’s smile, his knees tucked under his chin in a perfect mirror of Sang-hyuk himself, and he felt a tear trickle down his cheek. “The most he did…was remember me. He doesn’t seem to remember anything about my father or Moon-hyuk. His questions revolve only around me.”

Joon-myeon’s stare was maddening, his eyes running over him in search of any brink in his armor, looking for the one detail that would reveal his lie. Sang-hyuk held himself the best he could, meeting his eye and praying his bravado would save him. It seemed to work; after an excruciating minute, Joon-myeon leaned back in his seat, his hands folded together in thought. Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped.

“That’s interesting. X39 has always been special—T52 never showed any kind of change, let alone to such a degree. But it’s also something to be careful of…are you sure he’s not remembering anything from the past?”

“I-I’m sure.”

Joon-myeon waited a long time before answering, sighing. “Then we’ll have to keep an eye on him.” When he saw Sang-hyuk begin to protest, he hurriedly cut him off. “Don’t worry, we won’t take him away from you. We’ll just have to increase the number of tests; I’ll see about putting a tracker on him when he’s charging.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Sang-hyuk knew there would be no changing his mind from that, instead just thankful all three of them would somehow come out unscathed. “That’s fine, sir.”

Joon-myeon finally smiled, laughing as he sat back up. “Good! Actually, I didn’t just call you in here to make you cry. We had noticed the change in X39 the moment it started happening—I only called you in here to see if what you told me matched the results.” Sang-hyuk felt the blood drain from his face, his hands falling lax in shock. Joon-myeon laughed again. “But don’t worry, you said exactly what we found, so you’re all good. Not to mention I have even more good news for you—seeing as you managed to actually make progress in this dying project, we decided to give the rest of the day for you to spend with your precious Hak-yeon!”

Sang-hyuk could barely register Joon-myeon’s exuberant grin, blinking in dumb shock. “W-what?”

“Didn’t Hak-yeon want to go out for dinner the other day or something? We’re giving you the whole day, so make sure to do something special.” Joon-myeon didn’t wait for him as he casually collected the pictures off the desk, filing them away with ease. He frowned when he saw Sang-hyuk hadn’t moved, scrunching his face mockingly. “This doesn’t come very often, so I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity.”

Sang-hyuk quickly shook his head, trying to understand. It was unheard of to receive even a night off, let alone a whole day; there was no way this was done out of sheer good will. They were planning something, either to him or Hong-bin; he knew it, yet despite being able to see through their plan, was unable to do anything but mumble out a pathetic ‘thank you’.

He really was pathetic.

Hak-yeon’s confused voice greeted Sang-hyuk when he opened the front door, though the greeting fell on deaf ears as he was still too numb from shock to hear. There had to be a reason Joon-myeon would suddenly send him home without even seeing Hong-bin, feeling his stomach turn at the thought that Joon-myeon had been aware of Hong-bin’s changes the entire time. Through sheer, brazen stupidity, he had jeopardized Hak-yeon’s life, as well as sentenced Hong-bin to a life as a mindless drone again. Both realizations pained him more than anything.

He was pulled out of his dark thoughts when he felt two warm hands cup his cheeks, blinking down to see Hak-yeon staring at him worriedly. Hak-yeon’s thumbs brushed Sang-hyuk’s eyelids, his touch gentle. “Sang-hyuk, what’s wrong?”

Sang-hyuk tried his best to smile, wanting everything to appear okay. He never wanted Hak-yeon to worry. “Nothing. I just got a day off and forgot, that’s all.” He ignored Hak-yeon’s confused grunt as he placed his hands over Hak-yeon’s, pulling them away and holding them together against his chest. “So, do you have anything you want to do today? We have the whole day; we can do anything you want.”

Hak-yeon wasn’t easily fooled, his hands turning to fists inside Sang-hyuk’s own. “What do you mean, ‘day off’? They’ve never done that before—what really happened? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Sang-hyuk laughed, shaking his head. “Of course not. I’m telling the truth; we have the whole day to ourselves.” Wanting to distract both Hak-yeon and himself, he guided Hak-yeon to his bedroom, lying down on the bed and tugging Hak-yeon on top of him. He let out a calming breath when he felt the familiar weight press down on his chest, smiling like an idiot when he saw Hak-yeon frowning down at him. Nothing mattered at that moment, intertwining their fingers and burrowing them in the blankets, rubbing their knuckles until the frown slowly melted from Hak-yeon’s face.

“Hyukkie…” Hak-yeon tried, his voice soft, and Sang-hyuk hurriedly cut him off.

“Can we please go out? It doesn’t matter where we go, I just…I just want to forget everything, even if for a little while. We can do that, right?”

The worry was back in Hak-yeon’s eyes as he shifted slightly, pulling one hand away to lovingly push Sang-hyuk’s hair from his face. “Baby…of course we can. We can go anywhere you want. But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. Please don’t keep everything to yourself.”

Sang-hyuk chuckled, grabbing Hak-yeon’s hand again and lightly knocking their foreheads together. “There’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine.”

He was surprised when he later found the both of them walking casually through the nearby park, the cool, dreary air keeping the area mostly to themselves. He glanced over to see Hak-yeon staring wordlessly ahead, his expression tight. Guilt tugged at the edges of Sang-hyuk’s heart, pained that he couldn’t make Hak-yeon happy even when given the opportunity.

Sang-hyuk silently reached over and took Hak-yeon’s hand, squeezing gently, and Hak-yeon blinked up at him in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Sang-hyuk asked softly.

Hak-yeon pursed his lips in thought, unable to look him in the eye as he turned his gaze to the ground, his steps slowing. Sang-hyuk slowed with him, keeping their pace steady and constant. “I just…you always hide everything from me. You always insist everything’s okay but…I know it’s not.” Sang-hyuk couldn’t bring himself to speak, his voice lost at the raw emotion leaking through Hak-yeon’s words.

Hak-yeon suddenly stopped walking, turning to face him and revealing his swollen eyes and flushed cheeks. Sang-hyuk reeled in shock. “I have to watch you stagger home every day, looking more beat down and tired each time, and there is nothing I can do. The only thing I can do is comfort you until you stop crying, or hug you until fall asleep. Seeing that every day—why can’t you tell me what’s going on? And then you come home reeking of alcohol-”

“I told you a coworker and I just went out for drinks,” Sang-hyuk tried to reason, his voice tiny and small, and Hak-yeon wrenched his hand away.

“Drinks I can understand, but to the point your coworker was so inebriated he couldn’t walk, where you had to call a taxi-”

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking, I promise,” Sang-hyuk pleaded, desperate to get Hak-yeon to stop. Never in all the years they lived here had Hak-yeon hinted at what he felt about their situation, and to suddenly hear it now felt like a knife through his heart. Hak-yeon had followed him here willingly, and his presence had become one Sang-hyuk always expected to be there. He had never complained, never asked, never questioned; it stunned Sang-hyuk to realize he had come to take that for granted.

“I know, but…why has it come to this? You’ve become so withdrawn and sad all the time, and are gone so often it’s like seeing a stranger come home. I promised I would always be here for you, but it’s as if you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not, I would never-”

“Sang-hyuk,” Hak-yeon snapped, his voice trembling as tears Sang-hyuk had never seen before began to silently run down his cheeks, “don’t lie to me. I…I…” his voice cracked, having to take breaths to hold himself together, “I never wanted to complain. I made the choice to come with you. I made the choice to be chained to that house, to never be able to have a job or friends or a life outside of what you could give me. You didn’t force me, so I never wanted to complain. But…with the way things are now, it’s hard to pretend to be oblivious, to let you lie to me and pretend I can’t tell.”

Sang-hyuk’s body went on autopilot the moment he heard Hak-yeon sniffle, lurching forward and wrapping him in the biggest hug he could give. His hands were tight, his arms shielding themselves from the world as he allowed Hak-yeon to cry out everything he had built up over the years. It was a horrifying experience, listening to Hak-yeon cry. In all the years they had known each other, Hak-yeon had never cried. He was always the strong one, the one who fought against everything head on and let Sang-hyuk trail behind. Never had he let himself be so vulnerable, and to see the strong pillar that had been his support his entire life crumble before him shook Sang-hyuk to his core.

Hak-yeon melted against his chest, and Sang-hyuk let out a broken sob as he crushed Hak-yeon even harder, wishing he could express everything through his gestures alone. He had never imagined his good intentions had caused Hak-yeon so much pain, and the guilt was all-consuming. He would never be able to take any of that back.

“I’m sorry, Hak-yeon,” he finally managed to whisper, sniffling when Hak-yeon stiffened. “I didn’t mean to avoid you or make you feel like you have to pretend. I thought…I just didn’t want to make you worry about me. It’s my fault; I’m sorry.”

Hak-yeon let out a bitter laugh, his hand moving up to rub his back soothingly. Even when he was hurting, he still comforted him. Sang-hyuk hated himself for loving it. “But that’s my job, you dummy. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

Sang-hyuk laughed with him, his hold loosening enough to bury his face in Hak-yeon’s hair. The scent was so calming, feeling as if he was returning home. “I know.”

When they left the park, it was as if a huge weight was lifted from their shoulders, bright smiles on their faces as they walked down the streets with their hands locked together. He wasn’t even sure where they went or what they did, letting Hak-yeon guide him to all his favorite places and eating all the food Hak-yeon shoved in his mouth. It was a strange feeling, the freedom of not having someone watching his every move, to be able to relax and feel genuinely happy. For those few hours, he focused his attention entirely on Hak-yeon, doing whatever he could to make sure the smile stayed on Hak-yeon’s face.

But happiness was always fleeting, and life returned to slap him back to reality later that night, when the two of them were cuddled on the couch watching a movie. His arm was wrapped protectively around Hak-yeon’s shoulder, still shaken from seeing him cry, when his phone rang, ripping their attention away to where his phone rang from the kitchen table. Sang-hyuk hissed at it, knowing exactly who was calling and refusing to move. Not when Hak-yeon was in his arms, when he was finally given time for just them, not when he was determined to prove that he could support Hak-yeon too.

Hak-yeon sent him a judging look when the phone finally stopped, but Sang-hyuk grinned childishly enough he only slapped his arm lightly, turning back to the movie. But when the phone rang again, Hak-yeon refused to let him ignore it, pushing him off the couch and demanding he answer. Sang-hyuk whined playfully at him as he begrudgingly went to the phone, trying to hide his overwhelming disappointment that the lab couldn’t even last a day without him, and were already forcing him to come back.

So naturally he was surprised when it wasn’t Won-shik or Joon-myeon on the other end, the distorted sound of a familiar voice waffling through. “Hello?” the voice asked uncertainly.

Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped, his mind racing to try and figure out who had his number. Nobody had it. “Who is this?”

He could a faint mumbling on the other end before, “Wait, is this Han Sang-hyuk? Hi! It’s me, Jae-hwan, do you remember?”

Sang-hyuk inhaled sharply. “W-what? How did you get this number?” He could see Hak-yeon get up out of the corner of his eye, silently moving over to place a hand on his arm, his brow furrowed in worry. Sang-hyuk took his hand to calm him, now able to hear the heavy beats of the loud club music in the background, Jae-hwan vaguely shouting something that had Sang-hyuk panicking. How did Jae-hwan get his number? He never gave it to him—the most he did was tell him his name, which he already regretted.

“What? Ah, I’m not a creep or anything! I’m just calling cause your friend here is passed out and your number is the only one on his phone. Would you be able to come and take him home? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to drink anymore.”

“My friend…?” he mumbled, his eyes widening when he heard Sung-jae’s slurred murmuring through the speaker. Had Sung-jae gone back to drink? He had been so drunk last night; how could he have gone back again without even a day to rest? He could only imagine what it must be like over there, where Jae-hwan’s only option was to call him. He grimaced, looking down at Hak-yeon to see him frowning concernedly.

“You should go,” Hak-yeon mouthed, nudging him gently.

Sang-hyuk quickly put Jae-hwan on hold, shaking his head sadly at Hak-yeon. The sound of the movie played mutedly in the background. “But…today is supposed to be our day…”

Hak-yeon smiled, ruffling his hair fondly. “I know, but your friend needs you. We can always watch a movie next time.” Not that there would be a next time, though Sang-hyuk would never say that. “And anyway, I’m sure your friend’s family is worried about him. I know I would be so thankful if someone helped you if you needed it.”

Sang-hyuk sighed, giving Hak-yeon a squeezing hug before running out the door.

It wasn’t long before he burst through the doors of the club, breathless as his eyes immediately locked on Jae-hwan waiting by a barely conscious Sung-jae, the latter sprawled out over the counter. He winced as he quickly pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring Jae-hwan’s cheery greeting to check if Sung-jae was okay. Sung-jae only mumbled incoherently at his attempts, swatting back uselessly, and Jae-hwan coughed awkwardly.

“He’s had quite a bit to drink. He usually doesn’t drink anything too heavy, but today he seemed really upset.”

Sang-hyuk frowned, looking at Jae-hwan confusedly. “Usually?”

Jae-hwan looked just as confused, his voice hesitant as he slowly muttered, “He’s been a regular for the past few months. You were actually the first person I saw him come with; he usually comes alone.”

Sang-hyuk looked down sadly to see Sung-jae with his face buried in his arms, groaning softly as his body shivered. “…I thought this place was new.”

“…no. We’ve been open for at least a year, if you want to call that new.”

Sang-hyuk silently placed a hand on Sung-jae’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Sung-jae…he was the only real friend he had at work, the only person he trusted with his deepest feelings; and he hadn’t known. He had been fooled just like the rest of the world, never knowing how much pain Sung-jae was really in when only met with bright smiles and easy jokes. How long had Sung-jae felt like this, to resort to running to local bars and clubs to drink his sorrows away? He fell sadly onto the barstool next to him, guilty, and Jae-hwan leaned in concernedly.

“Hey, you okay?” When Sang-hyuk responded with only a shake of the head, he bit his lip. “I’m sorry if this was a surprise; I only called because he needed someone to take him home. I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret or anything.”

“No, you’re fine.” Sang-hyuk ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long groan. Jae-hwan leveled him with a knowing glance, his gelled hair loosening under the heavy heat of the overhead lights, drooping into his eyes and giving his face a youthful look. Looking now, the man didn’t appear much older than Sang-hyuk himself, and he wondered what such a young person was doing as a bartender in a club. Jae-hwan seemed to have some concern over his customers, going so far as to call friends and family, and Sang-hyuk felt a small sense of understanding at such useless concern.

“I wouldn’t really ask since you’re here to take him home, but would you like a drink? You look like you need one.” When Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to decline, he added quickly, “Nothing heavy, just something to help take your mind off things.”

Sang-hyuk snorted, shaking his head. “There’s nothing you can do to take my mind off things. But thanks for asking.”

Jae-hwan didn’t say anything for a while, waving off a curious coworker to say carefully, “You know, Sung-jae talks about you.” Sang-hyuk looked up at him in surprise, and Jae-hwan laughed awkwardly. “He never said your name or anything, but he mentioned his best friend all the time. When he brought you in, that’s when I found out it was you.” Sung-jae took that moment to blearily lift his head, his hand patting the counter for his glass, and Jae-hwan swiftly took it away. Sung-jae didn’t even notice, laying his head back down. Sang-hyuk quietly put his hand back on Sung-jae’s shoulder, sighing. “I don’t know what you guys are doing, but Sung-jae would talk about how much his friend carried by himself. He never gave any details, don’t worry, it’s just that now that I’ve seen you, I can see it too.”

Sang-hyuk glowered, accidentally ripping Sung-jae off the barstool harder than he meant to. “I don’t need your pity.”

Jae-hwan winced. “Sympathy and pity are not the same thing.” He immediately moved to help when Sang-hyuk swung Sung-jae’s arm around his shoulder, though this time Sang-hyuk was prepared.

“Don’t.”

Jae-hwan actually looked pained as he stayed back, and Sang-hyuk hated that he felt bad. “I’m sorry if I came off as anything strange,” he tried, his fingers tapping the countertop. “I just wanted to get to know you after hearing so much about you from Sung-jae, that’s all. But if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me. Though I can be more than just a good listener.” His attempt at a joke fell flat when Sang-hyuk refused to acknowledge it, turning to leave and hesitating just enough to give a hurt Jae-hwan a simple,

“I’ll think about it.” 

Hello!

I know it's been a while, but I'm back! I've been hit with a surge of inspiration, and have been writing like crazy for the past few days. This chapter is a little shorter than normal, but I should hopefully be updating a lot more consistently. I want to thank all of you who have stuck through with my horribly inconsistent updates, and want to give you all a big hug!

Thank you for reading and the wonderful comments!~