Sang-hyuk didn’t want to see Hong-bin.

There were too many things that had changed—and Sang-hyuk didn’t like change.

So many things from that day continuously filled his mind, keeping him to the point that not even Hak-yeon’s soothing fingers could calm him down. He purposefully drowned out the words spoken from Hong-bin’s lips, erasing his face until the only thing he could see in his memories were the blankets and how close their knees had been. He didn’t want to think of the way he had broken down, Hong-bin ripping layer after layer with an ease only he possessed, revealing secrets that destroyed the core of what Sang-hyuk had built to keep himself sane.

Sang-hyuk had truly believed he had erased whatever it was that he and Hong-bin had had, leaving a shell that he alone was left with the duty of filling. He believed he had done so without permission, regardless if he had been aware of the choice beforehand or not. That revelation had torn Sang-hyuk apart, leaving him such a mess that Hak-yeon had been terrified to leave him alone for months. It had taken him so long to emerge whole, scarred and battered but whole nonetheless, and it took him even longer before he was able to stand in front of Hong-bin without crying.

It had been a truly dark time that was stitched together with clumsy fingers and dark thoughts, becoming a constant weight on his shoulders that followed him everywhere.

To suddenly learn that it had never happened…

That Hong-bin had faked everything…

That Hong-bin remembered everything…

That he had bore that weight for nothing…

Luckily, Won-shik had kept his word and did what he could to help—Hong-bin was suddenly put up for skin tests that had originally been scheduled for next week, running all day. Nobody questioned and nobody mentioned; it seemed so normal that only Sang-hyuk noticed. He could never express how relieved it made him, the dread that had been building quickly melting away. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide forever, but to have even an extra second away was more than enough for him.

Sang-hyuk really didn’t want to see Hong-bin.

--

“…Won-shik?” Sang-hyuk asked uncertainly as he poked his head into Won-shik’s office, unsure what to expect when he received the message to see Won-shik the moment he finished his duties for the day. He wasn’t surprised when all he found was Won-shik passed out in his chair, his head lolled to the side as his mouth hung open, snoring loud enough it could wake the dead. This had happened on more than one occasion, Sang-hyuk having learned not to be annoyed or worried as he walked over and rapped on the desk, holding back a smirk when Won-shik nearly screamed as he jolted awake.

“The ?” Won-shik rasped, looking around wildly before locking an obnoxiously heated glare on Sang-hyuk, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he straightened in his seat. “What the actual , Hyuk? You couldn’t give me five more minutes?”

Sang-hyuk fell into the opposite chair, leaning back languidly to hide the anxiety that continued to turn his stomach. Regardless of how Won-shik acted or said, there was only one reason Won-shik would be looking for him. He hadn’t seen Won-shik since the latter ripped him out of Hong-bin’s room mid-session, and while part of that might have been deliberate, he couldn’t help worrying for the underlying reason why. Won-shik had promised to talk to Joon-myeon for him, though there were so many possibilities of what they were going to do that Sang-hyuk couldn’t afford to relax.

“You’re the one who called me first,” he said with a smile, his mind going over every word to make sure it was okay.

Won-shik grumbled for a few more seconds as he fixed his hair and did his best to look presentable, groaning as he tiredly ran his hands down his face. He looked exhausted, and Sang-hyuk wondered if Won-shik ever went home. He always seemed to be at the lab, lurking in some corner and behind every shoulder; he wouldn’t be surprised if he had just moved to the downstairs bunkers for convenience.

“Hell…” he muttered, voice heavy with sleep, “who told you to finish so early? Felt like I just managed to fall asleep…”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Like I said. Early.” Won-shik rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes before he was alert once more, a sharpness in his gaze Sang-hyuk could only wish to achieve. He leaned back in his seat, rolling his head back and letting out a long sigh only for his eyes to flit down and meet Sang-hyuk’s, his tone careful. “I talked to Joon-myeon this morning.”

Sang-hyuk flinched, the reaction not going unnoticed, and he tried to cover it by shifting in his seat. “O-Okay. How…how did it go?”

“Well, you’re safe for another day, let’s say that.” Sang-hyuk’s fingers clenched the arm rests of his chair, his breath catching in his throat, and Won-shik matched his gaze. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled that you didn’t tell him about it, and he’s getting pretty annoyed that you’re consistently hiding things from him. He’s going to take the video to talk with the other higher ups about it, so I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

Sang-hyuk’s voice was broken, the words garbled as they fought to escape the lips that refused to let him breathe. “Do you think they’re going to shut him down? Or go after me or-”

“Hyuk, calm down.” Won-shik’s firm words helped ground Sang-hyuk somewhat, his chest releasing just enough he could finally breathe. “He’s annoyed, but not angry. He’s very impressed with how much X39 has changed in the past month—we all are. I have no idea what you’re doing differently or if you’re doing anything at all, but whatever it is, it’s working. You got both X39 and T52 actually responding, not to mention T52 actually able to remember enough between restarts to continue touching you. They’re not about to off you or Hak-yeon when you’re actually getting so much done. But, that being said…”

Won-shik leaned forward, casually pushing the coffee-stained papers and folders with his elbows so he could dramatically stare into Sang-hyuk’s eyes. It had the intended effect, Sang-hyuk freezing. “You can’t keep hiding things. I’ve warned you over and over again not to get attached—if you’re trying to hide things to protect them, you have to stop. There will always be someone new; all they’ll have to do is a couple wipes, put someone new in front of them, and they’ll eventually be doing the same thing you’re doing. As great as you are now, you have no real leverage to keep them from killing the both of you if you piss them off enough. Be careful, Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed nervously as the weight of Won-shik’s words slowly sunk in, realizing the severity of the situation. As much as he liked to think of himself as somewhat important when Hong-bin and T52 would smile and greet him, he really was nothing more than a drone to these people. They didn’t care about the cyborgs mental state or stability. To them, the borgs could easily be reprogrammed to open up to anyone, and the humans were all easily replaceable. There was nothing keeping him here, nothing to convince the higher ups he was important enough to stay—and he had to remember that.

Won-shik waited until Sang-hyuk muttered out a soft promise, sighing softly. “Now get out of here. Go home and cuddle your Hak-yeon or whatever you two do at home.”

Sang-hyuk hesitated, glancing at the heavy bags under Won-shik’s eyes and the grease that seemed permanently caked into his hair. “…what about you?”

Won-shik blinked in surprise, genuinely taken aback. “What about me?”

“Aren’t you going home?”

Won-shik looked uncomfortable with the idea, fidgeting in his seat. “Oh, uh, I was going to go home later. No point hurrying, it’s not like I got anyone waiting for me.”

On any other occasion, Sang-hyuk would’ve bolted out of the room when Won-shik stared at him as if he sprouted another head, but at that moment, he couldn’t help but push. Won-shik had always prided himself with not having any family, thus not giving the higher ups any leverage over him. It was a smart idea, but it also left him without a reason to live, him never going home or eating unless ordered or if his body forced him. Sang-hyuk honestly had no idea how he did it; he would be nothing if he didn’t have Hak-yeon. Won-shik was much stronger than he was, yes, but even he had to go home and escape at some time.

“You’re the one that said spending too much time here will kill you. You should go home.” 

Won-shik opened his mouth in exasperation before snapping it shut, his lips pursing for the longest time before finally letting his shoulders slump in defeat. “I did say that, didn’t I?” He shook his head fondly with a smile, making it seem a great effort to stand up and grab his coat, his eyes playfully narrowed. “You know, I always knew you’d be a pain in the . You’re not proving me wrong.”

“Then my efforts aren’t in vain,” Sang-hyuk immediately retorted, one of the few times he didn’t let his mind overthink to try and snap back. Won-shik snorted loudly as he walked around the desk to slap him upside the head.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot.”

“Unfortunately.” Won-shik pretended to shiver when they stepped out of his office, the only people still lingering the ones who never went home. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I went home and took a proper shower.” Sang-hyuk would never let him know how often he would’ve forgotten to shower if Hak-yeon didn’t threaten to strip him , instead slapping on a disgusted face that had Won-shik roaring. “Don’t pretend you’ve never forgotten.”

“Not to the point I can’t remember the last time I was even in the bathroom.” He could hear Won-shik laughing, another retort already ready, but his attention was gone the moment he saw Sung-jae of all people passing them by, his eyes all over as if afraid someone would see him.

He frowned.

Since that day with Byul, Sung-jae hadn’t been the same. It was a subtle change. He laughed less, often staring into space with a dazed expression and his thoughts so deep he couldn’t hear a thing. He began to leave later and later, tending to hang about on the second floor after hours and hovering around the testing rooms. He stopped trying to make friends with the interns assigned downstairs, speaking only when necessary and avoiding them whenever possible. Sang-hyuk only noticed because he knew the reason why, and he hated that nobody else could see.

But today appeared far worse, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help but be worried. While never having spoken to him directly, he had noticed Sung-jae being incredibly distracted and fidgety, constantly looking at the cameras and biting his nails. That seemed to be true even now, Sung-jae drawn in on himself and afraid, and that worried Sang-hyuk more than anything.

“Sung-jae!”

Won-shik stopped mid-laugh when Sung-jae’s head whipped around, eyes wide as if caught. Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure what could be bothering his friend to the point that that was his reaction at his voice, and he wondered concernedly if Sung-jae had been planning on running off to drink again. It hurt that Sung-jae hadn’t thought to ask him, even after Sang-hyuk pleaded him to. He never wanted to see Sung-jae so far gone that Jae-hwan had to call him, to see him so bad he had to be helped home.

He tried to make the best of the situation, knowing scolding would only make Sung-jae shut down that much faster. “You going out to drink? Can I come?”

Sung-jae’s eyes widened even further, looking between him and Won-shik, and Sang-hyuk winced. He forgot Won-shik was with him. “I-I-” Sung-jae shivered before swallowing, his hesitation visible. “Yeah. You and Won-shik can come…if you want.” He could tell Sung-jae had no intention of inviting Won-shik, though both knew better than to not at least invite a superior. Even Sang-hyuk didn’t have the guts to deny Won-shik an invitation, so he turned with a smile and asked as casually as he could,

“We’re going out for drinks…do you want to come?”

Won-shik’s face had hardened throughout their short conversation, an apathy reserved for most people, though Sang-hyuk was surprised his face didn’t split in half from how widely he grinned at those words.

“Hell yeah, I would.”

--

The bright smile Jae-hwan flashed them faltered when he saw Won-shik trailing behind them, though he quickly hid it behind a friendly wave. Sang-hyuk was the only one who returned the gesture, both Won-shik and Sung-jae immediately grabbing a seat and keeping their heads low. Sang-hyuk wasn’t oblivious to how the two grabbed seats far apart from each other, Sung-jae fidgeting and Won-shik looking bored out of his mind, and Sang-hyuk knew his place as he sat in the middle.

Jae-hwan noticed the heavy mood and carefully approached Sang-hyuk, his eyes flitting over the other two as he asked as casually as he could, “It’s been a while; how’ve you been?” Sang-hyuk was slightly confused at the other’s hesitant tone, only having ever seen Jae-hwan brazenly flirting or annoyingly friendly—only to wince when he remembered the harsh way he had crushed him the last time he’d been here. He didn’t know Jae-hwan well enough to know whether he was really hurt or not, though he did feel bad that he was so careful now.

“Sorry, been busy.”

Jae-hwan’s lips lifted slightly at that, his eyes darting back to Won-shik before continuing. “Is this a friend of yours?” Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened when he saw Jae-hwan turn his sunny smile to Won-shik, knowing how terrible the latter was when it came to talking to normal people, only to see Won-shik’s bored expression immediately change to embarrassing interest. Sang-hyuk inwardly cringed, readying for the worst.

Won-shik cupped his chin in his palm as his lips curled into a wide smirk, his eyes languidly running over Jae-hwan’s face. “You have a nice face. It’d be a shame if anyone touched it.” Nobody spoke as the loud base of the overhead music blared loudly, Jae-hwan’s eyes wide in surprise and Sang-hyuk ready to curl in a ball and die. Won-shik was completely pleased with himself, his eyes staring at Jae-hwan unwaveringly, and Jae-hwan coughed behind a growing smile as he ran a hand through his gelled hair.

“Well, I have to say I’ve never heard that one before. Thank you.”

“Your skin is nice too. Looks like you take care of it. I doubt there’s anything that could replace that.” Jae-hwan burst out laughing, and Sang-hyuk hissed embarrassedly as he slapped Won-shik’s shoulder, burying his face in his hands.

It wasn’t surprising hearing the ridiculous things coming out of Won-shik’s mouth, though being used to it didn’t mean it didn’t embarrass the hell out of him. Coming from a line of work where the only real human interaction they got was with coworkers, it wasn’t unusual for most people to be socially awkward. Sang-hyuk definitely was, Sung-jae was, and Won-shik, without a doubt, was too. But Sang-hyuk at least had Hak-yeon at home to talk to—Won-shik had no one, and it was at times like these when it showed.

“Why, thank you,” Jae-hwan finally managed, his face glowing against the heavy lights, his eyes sparkling, “I’m happy to know my hard work is appreciated.”  His face still bright with amusement, he turned back to Sang-hyuk, his voice laced with laughter. “You guys want the usual?” He gestured over the group of them, and Sang-hyuk turned to see Sung-jae, the latter having been so quiet he nearly forgot about him. He knew the other was still uncomfortable about Won-shik being there, so he quickly gave a quick nod to Jae-hwan before silently placing a supportive hand on Sung-jae’s arm. Sung-jae’s eyes flashed up to meet his, his bottom lip caught between his teeth before he looked away again.

Won-shik drew Sang-hyuk’s attention back when he scoffed loudly, turning in his seat to look around the bar, his eyes stopping over the hundreds of people pressed together. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a place like this. So noisy.” He turned back to Sang-hyuk, giving him a playful once-over. “You two come here often?”

Sang-hyuk glanced briefly at Sung-jae before putting up a shaky smile, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. Just once in a while.” His hand on Sung-jae’s arm tightened, hoping to distract Won-shik enough that Sung-jae could relax. “It’s close by.”

Won-shik looked entirely unconvinced, shaking his head amusedly. “Don’t have to lie, Hyukkie. Plenty of us end up getting faced on some occasion or another, there’s nothing wrong about it. No need to be embarrassed.” He snorted when Sang-hyuk frowned, snickering at his narrowed eyes. “What’s so wrong with drinking? Your precious Hak-yeonnie not like it or something?”

Sang-hyuk’s jaw tightened at the familiar way he spoke Hak-yeon’s name. “It doesn’t matter what Hak-yeon thinks; Hak-yeon wouldn’t care. Don’t bring him into this.”

While the smile never left his face, Won-shik knew when to stop, nodding his head thoughtfully as his eyes glanced over to Jae-hwan still preparing their drinks. “You know,” Won-shik started, knocking his head back with his chin against his knuckles, his voice slow as if debating over each word, “you two have something special.” Sang-hyuk frowned at that, and Won-shik chuckled softly. “The kind of work we do is pretty ed up, when you think about it. Most people don’t end up happy. Most can’t be. You have no idea how many people are envious of what you and Hak-yeon have.”

Sang-hyuk felt his mouth go dry at the sudden genuine words coming from Won-shik, jumping slightly when he felt Sung-jae’s arm tighten beneath his fingers. He honestly had no idea what he was supposed to say, blinking dumbly when Won-shik continued, his chin propped up and his eyes sharp. “A lot of people would’ve ed over someone as sweet as Hak-yeon. It’s hard to have a happy family when doing the things we do.”

Sang-hyuk understood all too well, remembering the sounds of things crashing as his parents’ voices echoed in his ears, his body still reactive to the mere memory of his father’s harsh words.

“So, don’t get too upset. No one wants to touch Hak-yeon—we all enjoy seeing how happy the two of you make each other.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t have a chance to respond, not that he would know what to say, when Jae-hwan finally came back with their drinks, grinning obliviously as he placed Won-shik’s down last. Both Won-shik and Sang-hyuk cleared their throats as they turned away from each other, neither brave enough to speak with an outsider’s ears so close. Jae-hwan laughed when he saw their expressions, his hands on his hips and his cheeks pulled up in an easy smile. “Well, don’t you two make the perfect couple. Do I have something on my face or something?”

Won-shik was the first to recover, leaning forward and slowly running his finger over the rim of the glass, his smile cavalier. “Nothing but perfection.”

Jae-hwan laughed, seemingly more comfortable with Won-shik’s obnoxiously shameless praises, his eyes shining as he placed his arms over the counter and leaned forward. Sang-hyuk had never taken the time to look at Jae-hwan beforehand, only ever having seen him when worrying over Sung-jae, and was surprised to see how soft a face he had. Wide eyes, tall nose, carefree smile; his entire attitude and appearance was surprisingly innocent for someone working at a bar, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help but wonder what kind of effect such a soft personality would have had with Hak-yeon. From what he had seen so far of the man, he was sure they would have made great friends.

“Why thank you! You know, I like you—you’re much better than those two. They’re always so serious.”

Won-shik chuckled, his posture purposefully casual as he took a sip of whatever drank Jae-hwan gave them, never looking away. His tone suddenly dropped, his gaze icy, though it seemed to be lost on the recipient. “Really? Do they come here often then?”

Jae-hwan tilted his head, not recognizing the tone that used to send shivers down Sang-hyuk’s spine. “Sang-hyuk doesn’t, no.” He sent Sang-hyuk a quick smile, his face bright and his teeth flashing. “Not that he drinks anything when he is here. Just comes to say hi.” He seemed to think whatever he said was funny, his head dropping as he laughed, and Won-shik’s brow furrowed, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

“You seem to know them pretty well, for someone who works in a busy club. Don’t you have other things to do, besides hanging around these two?”

Jae-hwan’s smile disappeared, finally noticing the change in tone and immediately pulling away, his fingers hanging loosely off the edge of the counter as he bit his lip. His voice was small. “I don’t mean to bother them…we have more than one tender, since it gets busy around this time.” Sang-hyuk could see Jae-hwan tremble the same way he used to under Won-shik’s strong gaze. “I only watch them because they tend to not go home…I just want to make sure they get home safe.”

Sang-hyuk could feel Sung-jae jerk next to him, and he turned to see Sung-jae with his head bent low, guilt all over his face. Concerned, he nudged him gently on the shoulder, waiting until he looked at him before wordlessly asking if he was okay. It took a long while before Sung-jae nodded, his attempt at a smile not reaching his eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Won-shik continued, his voice muffled as Sang-hyuk continued to try and get Sung-jae’s attention. “The work we do is hard. It’s not uncommon for our employees to become alcoholic.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Jae-hwan responded, the first time Sang-hyuk ever heard him serious.

“That’s rich, coming from a bartender,” Won-shik snapped right back, laughing mirthlessly. Sang-hyuk glanced over to see Jae-hwan visibly upset, his face flushed under the lights, though he couldn’t focus on that when Sung-jae reached over and tugged on his hand.

“Sung-jae-”

“Please don’t be so worried about me,” Sung-jae finally said, his eyes so sad, and Sang-hyuk could feel nothing but worry. “I’m just tired. I’m tired every day.”

“Are you getting enough rest? If you’re having any problems-”

“Even if I am, what can I do?” Sung-jae’s voice dropped, looking over to Won-shik briefly before continuing in a soft whisper, “They’re already tearing her apart and changing her. No matter what I do, I’m not allowed near her. I can only read the reports of what they did and pray that she’ll come out okay. I…I can’t, Hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed, thinking over each word before speaking. “It wouldn’t matter…even if you were able to help her, you wouldn’t have any say over what they did. She’s not yours, and she’s not mine. She belongs to them. You can’t help.”

Sung-jae didn’t answer right away, downing his entire glass in one go, hissing satisfactorily that did little more than allow him to avoid. “I heard…they’re already thinking about replacing parts of her. They want to give her that new skin or whatever it is. It’s barely been a month; how can they think of already cutting her open?”

“Well…it makes sense. All the previous tests have been really successful. They probably want to get her feeling as soon as possible. Leaving her as is wouldn’t be practical.”

Sung-jae stared at him for the longest time, his expression clear at how much he didn’t like his answer. “I don’t know how you do it. Yours…its nowhere near human anymore. They’ve done so much and changed so much I don’t know how you can sit there and look at it without feeling like staring at the wall. I think about her becoming like that…and…” He didn’t wait for Sang-hyuk before reaching over and grabbing Sang-hyuk’s glass, downing it and blinking away the stars the flooded his eyes. “I’m terrified. The others were already mindless machines by the time we started; I’m scared of actually watching one turn.”

Sang-hyuk felt his jaw lock, his skin prickling at the feel of Hong-bin’s fingers ghosting over his skin, his chest clenching at the breathless smile T52 gave him when he discovered touch for the first time. Bright smiles, apathetic masks, unknowing terror; while they could no longer describe or understand the things they felt, they were still able to feel just as much as any person in this bar. They were no longer human, yes, but they were far from the mindless robots that everyone convinced themselves to believe. It was a fact Sang-hyuk hadn’t believed in a long time, and one that shook him to the core that he accepted again.

Sang-hyuk waited until their glasses were filled again, Jae-hwan still caught up with Won-shik, taking a deep breath. “Sung-jae…I can’t speak for everyone and I’m definitely not going to try and change your mind. But from what I do know, I can tell you that there’s more than what you are refusing to see. Regardless of what’s been done to them, they’re not mindless. They’re not defective nor even close to a wall.” He quietly scooted his chair closer to Sung-jae, waiting until he was sure Won-shik wasn’t paying attention.

He leaned in close, the tips of his hair tickling Sung-jae’s chin, his breath coasting across the other’s neck. “I want you to think about this, without closing me out or ignoring me. When you talk about her, you refer to her as a person, giving her a name and acting as if she is still human. They already changed her, pumped her body with chemicals and wiped her clean. But when you speak of the others, you act like they’re objects, not worthy of the time or effort put into them. Your girl will eventually be just like them—what do you think is wrong with that?”  

Sung-jae was frozen as he spoke, his eyes wide when he finally pulled away. Sang-hyuk felt slightly guilty when he saw how shaken the other was, clearing his throat and trying to fix the situation. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I just…don’t put too much thought into it. She’ll be fine. It’s our job to make sure she’s okay. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”

Sung-jae still didn’t speak, his eyes filled with something Sang-hyuk couldn’t even begin to describe. In the end he merely turned back to the counter and buried his face in his arms. Sang-hyuk pursed his lips as he could only imagine what was going through his friend’s mind, reaching over and patting his back gently. “Everything’ll be okay, Jae. I promise. Just…rest for now. We’ll figure it out.”

When Sung-jae made no move to respond, Sang-hyuk looked back over to see Won-shik and Jae-hwan still talking, both looking much more comfortable as Won-shik laughed casually and Jae-hwan’s whole face scrunched together from his smile. It was a strange sight to see, Won-shik with his hand cupped in his chin and listening so intently to whatever Jae-hwan was saying, his expression and posture so open and inviting. Sang-hyuk had never seen Won-shik like that, the latter always so guarded and distrusting, though he had an idea the alcohol had a part in that.

“You have such a pretty face. How the hell are you twenty-nine? I look older than you!”

Jae-hwan burst out laughing, so bright and happier than Sang-hyuk had ever seen him. Not that he had ever done anything to make Jae-hwan laugh. “I really am! Do you know how much work goes into this face? You better appreciate it!” He squeezed and wiggled his nose for good measure, and Won-shik lost it.

“Oh, I appreciate it alright. How someone as beautiful as you ended up as a ing bartender I’ll never know. And at twenty-nine, what a waste!”

Jae-hwan’s smile softened a bit as he filled up Won-shik’s glass again, sighing. “Not by choice, unfortunately. Tuition is a . But a pretty face helps with tips.” He glanced at Sang-hyuk with a secret smile, snickering. “Trust me, I’m gonna use this face for all it’s worth.”

“Yes! You’re so ing beautiful, it hurts.” Sang-hyuk hurriedly tugged on Won-shik’s arm and ripped the glass out of his hand, his face flushed down to his neck as Jae-hwan laughed. Won-shik whined and pushed at him, and Sang-hyuk could smell the alcohol all over him and wondered how much Jae-hwan gave him. “What are you doing, Hyukkie?”

“I think you drank enough. You should probably be getting home.”

“Why? There’s no one there waiting, I can stay as long as I want!”

Sang-hyuk sighed, purposefully avoiding Jae-hwan’s watchful eye. “Come on, you know you’ll hate yourself and me in the morning. We can always come back if you really like it here.” Won-shik hesitated, a hint of clarity shining in his eyes, when the loud screeching of metal against tile jolted behind them. Sang-hyuk whirled around to see Sung-jae standing up with a determined look in his eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sang-hyuk blinked in surprise, not noticing Won-shik grabbing his glass back. “Sung-jae?”

“I have to go,” Sung-jae said suddenly, turning to leave and only stopping when Sang-hyuk managed to move fast enough to grab his arm.

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

Sung-jae shook his head, shaking his hand away. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sang-hyuk could barely comprehend what he said before Sung-jae was gone, pushing through annoyed people and disappearing into the crowd. Sang-hyuk had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched him go, Sung-jae’s recent behavior too strange to assume he was just going home. He had a feeling his friend was going to do something dangerous, or stupid, and he had learned long ago to trust his gut. He couldn’t leave him alone.

He jumped to his feet as well, looking at the inebriated Won-shik with a grimace, turning to give Jae-hwan a hard stare. “Take care of him. Make sure he gets home.” He waited only to make sure Jae-hwan promised before running off.

Sung-jae was nowhere on the streets by the time Sang-hyuk stumbled out of the club, people shoving past him as he stood helplessly rooted to the spot. Where would he have gone? He honestly didn’t know much about Sung-jae outside of work, knowing nothing of his hobbies or interests or who he even liked to see. The only thing he did know was work, and while he wished it wasn’t true, he had a strong feeling the lab was likely where Sung-jae had run back to. His whole downward spiral had been because of Byul and her experiments—with alcohol and guilt running through him, what was he really capable of?

Few people were surprised to see him when he reentered the lab, only a couple giving him a second glance as he bypassed the lobby without logging in. There were only a few places Sung-jae had access to, though that didn’t mean anything. With how fixated he had been on the cyborgs, he wouldn’t be surprised if he did find him somewhere on the second floor.

He noted curiously a few technicians sprinting down the hallways, frowning at their concerned expressions as they passed him. He could only guess one of the cameras were down again, though he didn’t think something so trivial would make them so anxious. He saw them run into the records room, the sound of the lock clicking behind them, and he quickly forgot about it.

He didn’t spend too much time looking, not wanting anyone to actually get curious about why he was here. He avoided the testing rooms, knowing better than to go near any of the cyborgs. He had some level of clearance to be in the lab after hours, though he knew there would be questions and definite follow up if he went into a cyborg’s room without permission. He just hoped Sung-jae didn’t try and test that.

He pulled out his phone and checked to see if Sung-jae possibly sent him a message, frowning when there was nothing. He sent a quick message as he hurried to the rarely used stairs, fighting off the shivers that ran down his spine at the sight of the tubes lining the basement, the few scientists and interns working all looking up in surprise. He refused to meet any of their eye as he quickly scanned the room, hissing when he didn’t see Sung-jae anywhere. One of the other scientists, one Sung-jae had mentioned a couple times before—Il-hoon—came up to ask if he needed anything, and Sang-hyuk began to wonder if he was worrying for nothing. Sung-jae really could have just gone home, overworked and exhausted from the constant strain he had been putting himself under. Sang-hyuk could really be creating this whole mess on his own, and was wasting time for nothing.

He sighed for the umpteenth time as he gave a reassuring wave to the man, deciding it best to just go home. It was already so late—he was sure Hak-yeon was worried sick if he wasn’t already in bed. He still couldn’t shake the dread in the pit of his stomach, though he could also feel the familiar fear slowly creeping through his body. He hated being in the lab, only feeling a sense of relief when he was out and far away. Despite feeling like he should check on his friend, the desperation to escape and go home was much stronger, and he decided to just leave. He was sure Sung-jae wasn’t stupid enough to come back and do anything reckless, Sung-jae was smart.

He was just worrying for nothing.

That had to be it.

He didn’t waste any time getting out of there, feeling a great sense of relief when he stepped out of the building and was greeted with the crisp, early morning air. He could only imagine it was past one in the morning, the only people out being ones too drunk to realize the time, some hobbling past him with no sense of direction. He kept his head low as he made his way home, wanting to sleep as soon as possible, his eyes fixed on his feet as he walked. He could hear loud laughter, the sound of clanking glass and rough coughing mixed in between, and while he normally wouldn’t have paid any attention, at that moment he glanced up to see a startling sight. Two drunkards stood together as they laughed and drank from paper bags, their laughter seemingly targeting the man huddled at their feet. Feet bare, body save for a jacket hung over his shoulders, crouched into a ball against the wall—the man looked terrified as he kept his head buried in his knees.

Saddened, but not enough to stop and help, Sang-hyuk did his best to walk past them without attracting their attention—he screamed when something grabbed his shoulders, whipping his head around to see the same man suddenly on his feet, leering over him and holding him so tight and the street light shining over him—only for his mind to stop short when he noticed how familiar the man’s face was.

“T-T52?” he stuttered out, recognizing the wide, fearful eyes anywhere.

“Sang-hyuk,” T52 gushed, his eyes wide and terrified as his fingers dug even deeper into Sang-hyuk’s skin, “where am I? I was suddenly here and I do not know what to do. Is this another test? There were no instructions; I only recognized you.” His words were crisp and smooth despite what they meant, and Sang-hyuk could see the two drunkards watching them, their lips pulled down in heavy snarls. Sang-hyuk’s body moved instinctively as he quickly herded T52 away, not stopping until he found a narrow alleyway. He made sure to keep T52’s head down, waiting until he was sure no one was following them before speaking.

“Okay, T52, I need you to listen to me, okay?” He had no idea how long it would be until T52 restarted, not to mention how many times he already had since being out here, and knew time was of the essence. T52 nodded quickly, his fingers finding their way to grabbing any part of Sang-hyuk that he could, his hands trembling against the edges of Sang-hyuk’s jacket. “Do you know how you got out here?”

“No.”

“Do you know who you were with before you ended up here?”

“No.”

Sang-hyuk hissed, his heart hammering dangerously in his chest. “Okay. Your jacket—do you know who gave it to you?”

“No.”

“Do you have anything else with you?” T52 thought for a second before suddenly raising his right hand, revealing a small, folded piece of paper stuck to his palm. Sang-hyuk looked at it in surprise, carefully taking it.

              Please help me. I can’t remember very well, and by the time you read this, I probably have
              already forgotten how I got here. But please, help me run away. Don’t tell anyone where
              you found me—just please take me as far away as possible.

             P.S. There will be about an hour before they realize I’m gone and the cameras are operating,
             so please be quick. Thank you.

The blood drained from Sang-hyuk’s face as everything suddenly made sense, remembering the technicians running around, their frantic concern now logical. But making sense didn’t mean he understood, and standing here with T52 in front of him, the latter holding onto him for dear life, made him realize the one thing that he couldn’t help but understand.

T52 was missing.

T52 had somehow escaped.

And that escaped experiment was currently with him.

It didn’t matter how he found him or that he had basically just stumbled across him. All that mattered in the end was that Sang-hyuk was with an escaped cyborg; even if he went right back and turned him in, there was a high probability that he would be killed. The higher ups would never chance letting an easily replaceable employee continue working with the knowledge that it was possible for a cyborg to escape. If anything, they would kill him and use him as an example for everyone else. At that point, it wouldn’t matter how much headway he’d been making with Hong-bin or the cyborgs in general. The moment he stepped back into that lab, he would be signing his death warrant, along with Hak-yeon’s…

…and he would never do that.

Sang-hyuk looked up to see T52 in the middle of restarting, and he waited until he was lucid before speaking. “Alright, T52, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’m going to take you somewhere, and I want you to follow me. Don’t worry about where we’re going, I’ll explain later. I promise you’ll be safe, okay?”

“I understand,” T52 said without hesitation, and Sang-hyuk could almost hear the trust in his voice.

Never had Sang-hyuk been so thankful to have his apartment so close to the lab than then, his hand held firmly around T52’s as he shoved him into the elevator. T52 blinked innocently at him, not a hint of suspicion on his face as he held Sang-hyuk’s hand, the hood of his jacket draping over his face. Never in his wildest dreams would Sang-hyuk think he would ever be in such a situation, bringing a cyborg home and willingly letting that cyborg near Hak-yeon. But here he was, with T52 trusting him completely as he let him take him wherever he wanted to go.

He had no idea how long he had until the cameras were working again, and wasted no time running down the hall and whipping open the door with a quick turn of the keys. The place was dark, Hak-yeon no doubt asleep, though Sang-hyuk had no time to think about that. He immediately drew T52 to the bathroom, knowing it was the only safe place without a camera inside. He could hear T52 trying to ask questions, chairs scratching against the floor and loud thumping against the wall as they stumbled through the apartment, but he didn’t stop until the bathroom door was open and T52 was shoved inside.

Sang-hyuk was heaving by the time he the lights, T52 standing in wait without a hint of exhaustion, waiting patiently for him to give instructions. He frantically grabbed one of Hak-yeon’s morning letters he left around the house and pulled a pen off a nearby corner table, scribbling as fast as he could speak.

“Okay, T52, I need you to stay in here for now. I’m going to figure out what to do, and I’ll come right back. In case you restart, I’m going to leave this here so you can remember. Okay?” T52 frowned but responded accordingly, his eyes sharp as he watched Sang-hyuk stick the note to the door.

He barely shut the door when he heard his name shouted behind him, and he spun around to see all the lights on and Hak-yeon waiting for him, his whole face flustered. His chest was heaving as if he was the one to have just run a marathon, and he looked ready to burst into tears. “W-what?” Hak-yeon finally managed, his eyes running over Sang-hyuk’s face searchingly. “What happened? What’s wrong? I woke up to hearing you banging your way through the place—are you okay?”

“H-Hak-yeon…” Sang-hyuk whimpered, the weight of everything that had happened—from Won-shik’s warning, the whole mess at the bar, ing finding T52 and realizing everything was going to —fell on him, and he collapsed to the floor. Hak-yeon was by his side in an instant, his warm hands around his cheeks as he called his name repeatedly, his voice so full of worry. Sang-hyuk felt tears rush down his cheeks at the sound, wishing his whole world could be of Hak-yeon’s voice alone, the soothing effect of Hak-yeon’s voice covering his body in a blanket of relief that he knew he couldn’t afford to feel. “H-Hak-yeonnie…”

“Oh my god, Sang-hyuk, baby, what’s wrong? Baby, talk to me, please. What’s wrong?” Hak-yeon was so worried, his body so warm; Sang-hyuk didn’t deserve to feel such unconditional love. All he had ever given Hak-yeon in return was pain and suffering—even now, with T52 in the bathroom and his life now hanging by a thread, he had basically promised Hak-yeon an early grave.

“Yeonnie…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What? Why? Hyukkie, please, talk to me. I don’t understand. What’s happening? Is someone coming after you?”

“I can’t…I don’t know if they’ll hear…I’m just so sorry…”

“Sang-hyuk, you’re not making sense-”

“The bathroom…what I’ve done…” He finally took a deep enough breath to control his sobs, lifting his trembling hands to take Hak-yeon’s in his own. Hak-yeon quieted down as he waited for Sang-hyuk to collect his thoughts, his face still desperate and afraid, and Sang-hyuk hated himself. He hated that he brought him nothing but pain. “I…I’m sorry.” His legs shook as he clambered to his feet, and Hak-yeon was thankfully silent as he led him to the bathroom, taking a slow breath before opening the door.

Hak-yeon’s hand twitched when T52 stood right where Sang-hyuk left him, the jacket now on the floor and leaving him completely . He could already hear questions on Hak-yeon’s lips and he immediately shut the bathroom door. He wasn’t sure how much could be heard from the living room speakers, and he hoped they were still down.

He hoped.

“Who is this, Han Sang-hyuk?” Hak-yeon asked, his voice flat as he stared firmly at T52. Sang-hyuk flinched, unable to look at him as he kept his eyes on the floor.

“This…he’s from my workplace. He…was one of the people my father worked on.” That caught Hak-yeon’s attention, disbelief on his face, and Sang-hyuk shook his head. “I know it sounds weird, but it’s the truth. He…he somehow got out, but I can’t take him back. If he goes back…I’m not sure he’ll be okay.” He couldn’t tell him how they would all be killed if he did. Hak-yeon had no idea the extent to what his job entailed, and he would never know. “So, I brought him here for now. I’m not supposed to, so I have to figure out a way to take him back without being found out. But I’ll figure everything out, I promise.”

‘I promise’…it was something he had been saying a lot today, and he didn’t think he could keep a single one of them.

Hak-yeon’s face was hard as he shook his head, his hands grasping at his hair as if to try and wake himself from a bad dream. “W-what? W-what the hell? What do you mean, ‘not supposed to’? Are you going to get in trouble for this? What is he supposed to be that you could get in trouble? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry. I know it sounds like bull and it probably looks like it too, but I promise he’s harmless. I just,” he pulled out the crumpled note from his pocket, handing it over and letting Hak-yeon read it on his own, “I don’t want anything to happen to him. He’s a little naïve, so I have to help him or he won’t know what to do.”

Hak-yeon’s face was decidedly blank as he read the note, and T52 took the moment of silence to tug on Sang-hyuk’s arm. “Sang-hyuk, has my appearance here caused you to have trouble? I did not mean to cause such a problem. I am sure if you call Moon-hyuk, he will be able to take me back.”

“No, I promise you did nothing wrong,” Sang-hyuk reassured, patting his arm and watching the way the other’s body subconsciously reacted to the touch. His skin was still new, still sensitive, and looking at his feet, he wondered belatedly how T52 must have felt running with his skin bare against the cold, dirty sidewalk. “We’re just talking. You’re fine.”

“Sang-hyuk,” Hak-yeon said quietly, the note crushed in his hand, “how long do you plan on keeping him here?”

“I don’t know. I have to figure out the situation at work first to see when it would be safe to take him. He’s very special, so they’re going to be looking for him.” He placed a gentle hand on T52’s elbow, biting his lip as he finally managed to look Hak-yeon in the eye. “I’m sorry for asking this of you. I would never have brought him here if I had anywhere else to take him. He’s really sweet and gentle, and he won’t be a bother, I promise. At most he’ll just need someone to talk to at times. He can get lonely.” He saw Hak-yeon frown, and turned to see T52’s face fall slack as he reset, and he winced.

“I’ll try to see if they can get the cameras turned off at night, but for now he has to stay in the bathroom. If he steps out of the bathroom at any time right now, they’ll know and they’ll take him away. So please keep him in here. Can…can you do that, Yeonnie?”

“I…” Hak-yeon ran a hand through his hair, thankfully not catching onto the fact that their apartment was bugged. There were so many things Sang-hyuk realized he had kept hidden from his friend, and he dreaded the day he would ever have to tell. “Okay. I still have a lot of questions, but if he really needs help, of course I’ll help. But you have to promise me that you’ll be okay. You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?”

Sang-hyuk slapped on the fakest smile he had ever given, even laughing as he felt T52 come to beside him.

“I promise.”

Hello!

I'm sorry this chapter took so long. Writing this chapter felt like pulling teeth, and there were a few times I actually thought about dropping the story altogether. But I want to finish this story too badly to quit, and I want to finish for the few readers I do have. I appreciate every one of you and how you take the time to comment and let me know what you think, and I want to give you a story worth reading. So I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and hopefully the next one will be just as good!

Thank you for reading!