When he really thinks about, something he tries not to do if he can help it, he can remember everything about that day—from the warm summer breeze that fluttered through the small crack in his window, the humid air pressing down on him and making his skin break out in a cold sweat, to the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen as his mother cooked—he could still feel the rough edges of his desk underneath his fingers, catching on the tips of his nails and hooking softly. He could still picture the stacks of textbooks lining the wall, the covers shut tight and the papers moist with humidity, his throat catching when he let out a slow breath that rolled against the tip of his tongue.

It had been a complete accident that he saw. He hadn’t wanted to do the piles of homework his father had assigned him, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window longingly—to see his father’s car pulling up outside. Curious, he climbed onto his bed and peeked out the window, watching as his father opened the passenger door to let another man step out. Before he could see anything else, there was a sharp knock on his door, startling him as his mother peeked her head in hurriedly.

“Sang-hyuk,” she hissed, her eyes having immediately gone to his desk and narrowing when she saw him on the bed, “your father is home.” There was no warmth in her voice, nothing to betray the seriousness on her face as she stepped in fully. “Hurry and come out to greet him.”

“He has someone with him,” he whispered back before he could stop himself, slight satisfaction running through him at the look of surprise on her face.

“He does?”

The front door creaked as it swung open, both Sang-hyuk and his mother rushing out to greet his father before he had a chance to see they were late. He didn’t, his father busy handling a box as he tried to slide his shoes off. Sang-hyuk’s mother took the time to quickly fix Sang-hyuk’s hair, her eyes glazed as she ran her fingers over Sang-hyuk’s tongue to slick back his bangs. They both shot away from each other when his father looked up, Sang-hyuk bowing his head as he stuttered out a quiet greeting.

His father ignored him as he headed straight to his office, the sound of the box slamming to the ground muted by the thick, hot air. Sang-hyuk started to turn to see what his father was doing when his mother quickly tapped his arm, clicking her tongue right when his father came back out.

“Go back to your room, Sang-hyuk,” he said brusquely as he passed by, giving neither of them another glance. Sang-hyuk wanted to say something, he and his mother sharing a look before she waved him away, returning back to the safety of the kitchen before his father had a chance to say anything else. Sang-hyuk wasn’t about to wait there alone, running back to his room and immediately climbing onto his bed, wanting to see what his father was doing.

He was mostly unloading the car, the tiny car stuffed to the brim with heavy boxes that his father struggled to carry. But that wasn’t what caught Sang-hyuk’s attention, his eyes fixed on the man still standing by the front of the car, completely still with his pale hands folded neatly in front of him. It wasn’t that there was anything special about him, or anything out of the ordinary; it was just that his father never brought anyone home, never allowed anyone to come anywhere near them.

No one could come.

No one could leave.

That was the rule.

So it was only curiosity that kept him at the edge of his windowsill, waiting to see what would happen, when the man suddenly looked up, catching his eye instantly. Sang-hyuk immediately ducked down, his heart hammering as his fingers grabbed bunches of his blanket and shoved them to his lips. Had the man seen him? His father shouldn’t be too upset if he found out, he had gone to his room like instructed, but Sang-hyuk couldn’t imagine he’d be very pleased if he found out he’d been watching.

He waited ten breaths before daring to peek out again, flinching but holding his ground when he saw the man still watching him. His father moved around the man all the while, not realizing they were staring at each other. Sang-hyuk grew bold under the man’s silent gaze, lifting his clammy hand to wave, his fingers wiggling uncertainly. The man mirrored him, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers, his face and body expressionless as he did so.

By dinner, Sang-hyuk was completely wound up, chewing on his bottom lip as he stepped into the dining room, the heart that had been beating furiously slowing when he saw the man wasn’t there. His father wasn’t either, and his mother was open as she shook her head, sighing.

“Your father said he will be late,” she mumbled, sending a quick glare to the closed office door. “So it will be just us for now.”

“Will that man be eating too?” he asked as he sat down across from her, feeling a little better when she sat down too. He really liked dinner time, at least when his father wasn’t there, feeling that bit less lonely when his mother was there with him.

“I have no idea. I am just going to assume for now that he is not, and if he is then your father can deal with it.”

“Will he be okay with that?” They both paused at the question, neither saying anything even though they knew the answer. They both sat up, though, when the sound of a door opening echoed in the silent house, his father’s silhouette emerging from the dark hallway like a ghost, gliding around with a type of grace that Sang-hyuk secretly envied.

His mother’s eyes followed him too, her lips thin as she asked calmly, an affect she had perfected after years of trying to appear like a happy family for Sang-hyuk’s sake. Sang-hyuk had seen through the display years ago, though he never had the heart to tell her. “Hello, dear. Did you finish up for the night?”

“No.” They both instinctively jumped when his father dropped his plate onto the table, letting out a tired sigh as he sat down. Sang-hyuk and his mother shared a look before she asked again, her voice lilting in false cheerfulness.

“Is your friend going to be eating with us?”

“No,” his father snapped, looking up to glare at them, the light above only darkening the heavy bags under his eyes. “He’s never going to be doing anything with us. Don’t worry about him.”

“Then do you want me to leave something out for him later-?”

“No!” His mother let out a small yelp when his father slammed his hand down, the whole table shaking. Sang-hyuk swallowed nervously as his hand on his spoon tightened, subconsciously scooting away. “Don’t do anything for him. He’s just going to be here for a few days to help me with work, that’s it. I don’t want either of you talking to him, do you understand me?” When neither answered he asked again, louder, rougher, “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” they both responded immediately, going straight back to their food, eating quietly, avoiding eye contact. Sang-hyuk did peek up at his mother at one point, seeing her pause every so often to close her eyes, taking deep breaths as if trying not to cry. He hated seeing her like this, wishing he could do something for her, but knew that he would never be able to. He was too afraid, too small and scared to even think of standing up for her.

But when his father was gone and his mother ordered him to his room, speaking harshly and without even a hint of affection, he remembered why he would never try.

Sang-hyuk avoided leaving his room until absolutely necessary the next morning, listening to the muted sounds of his parents talking in the kitchen. He knew better than going in when they were alone, having had things thrown at him and the like when he tried. But he eventually grew hungry, his stomach growling and his secret stash of emergency snacks empty; so with clammy hands, he slowly opened the door.

He could see a small part of his mother’s back from around the corner of the hallway, a few tentative steps forward showing his father sitting at the table. He was so hungry, chewing on his bottom lip only doing so much as he fought with himself on what to do, in the end just standing there and listening. He normally didn’t listen to them when they talked to each other secretly, their conversations usually only about him; he slid to the floor, knees drawn under his chin when he heard his name muttered a few times.

He didn’t like the way they trapped him here, and hated when they would whisper about him as if he’d never come out and listen. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew what they were doing to him wasn’t right. But the one time he’d asked was also the last, and he would never do that again.

When he heard his father raise his voice and start pounding on the table, he knew what was going to be coming next, and immediately jumped to his feet before he could hear his mother scream. He flew into the first door he saw when he heard the first slap, not even registering the heavy atmosphere of the room as he slammed the door shut and pressed his palms to his ears.

Don’t think. Don’t listen.

Don’t think. Don’t listen.

Sang-hyuk recited the words his mother had instructed him to repeat in his head over and over until the sound of their fighting was gone, the sweat beading over his forehead dampening his knees. It wasn’t that he was scared of his parents fighting—they did that all the time. It wasn’t that he was afraid they would eventually come for him—they would never lay a hand on him. And it wasn’t that he was afraid of seeing his mother getting hit—he just closed his eyes until everything passed. He wasn’t sure what pushed him to hide away until everything was over, only knowing that the stress would never go away until he did.

He waited ten breaths before daring to pull his hands away, his back drenched with sweat and his breathing crushingly heavy. Letting out a long sigh, he glanced up to nearly another heart attack, finding the man from yesterday watching him. The man sat in a chair at his father’s desk, never having gotten up despite his back facing the door, only turning his head slightly so he could stare at Sang-hyuk as he cried. It wasn’t the staring that startled Sang-hyuk, or the fact he had been watching him that whole time, but the man’s piercing gaze that sent his heart in a frenzy.

He should be used to hard gazes—his father almost always glared at him—but this man’s was different. It was similar to his mother’s in a way, empty with nothing behind them except pure apathy. Yet there was something there that hinted at something more, that behind the emptiness was actually a whole world of passion b under a carefully concealed veil of indifference. The man never moved; he never blinked, never breathed, never gave any indication he even registered Sang-hyuk’s existence, yet it was that possible passion that caught Sang-hyuk’s eye and distracted him from hearing his father’s approaching footsteps, the door slamming into his back startling him back to reality.

“The —Sang-hyuk?” Sang-hyuk scrambled away as he looked up at his father, forgetting all about the strange man and his eyes when his father flung the door open, flinching when it crashed against the wall. “What the hell are you doing in here, Sang-hyuk?”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize I came in here.” He rushed to his feet, subconsciously backing away until there was a safe enough distance between them. “Y-you and Mom were talking and I didn’t want to interrupt you but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do when-”

“That’s enough!” his father snapped, cutting him off before he could devolve anymore into his useless rambling. “You know better than coming in here.”

“I-I know, I’m sorry.” He bowed his head apologetically, praying he would let him by just this once. He inwardly noted to make sure never to go near the room again, to not even look in its direction if only he would let him by this once. He waited for his father to say something, eventually peeking up through the ends of his bangs to see his father wasn’t even looking at him, instead glaring at the man, his brows narrowed and his lower jaw jutted out in that way he did when he was considering exploding.

“F-father?” he whimpered, cringing when his father closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before exhaling loudly.

“Get out, Sang-hyuk. Don’t let me see you in here again.”

“Yes, father,” he said immediately, rushing out of the room as fast as he could, not stopping until he was safe in his room and buried underneath the comforts of his blankets. He pressed his face into his pillow, inhaling the wonderfully soothing scent of Hak-yeon, a small, bold part of him wishing it could be his friend himself that he was holding.

When it gets to be too much, just hug this pillow and think of me. Give all your worries to this pillow, and then the next time you see me, you can tell me all about it.

It was only after a time had passed did he realize he was still hungry, sighing sadly as he only pressed his face further into the pillow. Looks like he wouldn’t be eating today.

It wasn’t until at least a couple days later that Sang-hyuk grew confident enough to come out when his father was still home, and the announcement that his father would be leaving for a couple days neither surprised nor hurt him. His father was extremely secretive about his work, never telling him or his mother what he did or where he did it at. Even when at home, he only worked in his office, refusing to let either of them come in. The most they’d ever gotten out of him was that he worked for the government, an answer that was almost as good as not answering at all.

But what Sang-hyuk did know was that his job required his father to leave randomly, the times never given in advance or the same. Sometimes he would be gone for a couple days, sometimes over a month. The only time Sang-hyuk was ever truly sure his father was home was when he saw him in the kitchen, or when he came to yell about how Sang-hyuk’s studies were slipping. Sang-hyuk used to be sad about the whole thing when he was younger, but now was so used to it that it was normal to walk in and see his father at the table after having been gone forever.

His mother placed Sang-hyuk’s breakfast in front of him after he greeted his father, that same empty optimism covering her face. “When will you be leaving?”

“Right after breakfast.”

“Will your friend be going with you?”

“No.”

“He has not been eating, do you want-”

“Don’t do anything for him,” his father demanded, never looking up from his plate. “He’ll stay in the office while I’m gone, so don’t either of you go in there, understand?” Sang-hyuk wasn’t about to repeat what happened the other day, still remembering the sound of his father’s heavy voice, the way his eyes glowered; he would never go back in there. He agreed immediately.

His father didn’t stay much longer after that, leaving the second he finished eating. Sang-hyuk would never admit how the atmosphere of the room lifted the second the door shut behind him, both he and his mother letting out a sigh of relief. She turned to him, the smile she had kept up vanishing instantly.

“Finish up and then go back to your room. Make sure to stay away from his office.”

“I will,” he answered lightly, grinning. He could see the faintest hint of a smile on her lips before she turned away, and his mood brightened even further. He didn’t wait for her to finish before running back to his room, sliding to his knees as he dug out a box from under his bed, ripping off the cover and yanking out the towels to reveal a small flip phone. Checking over his shoulder reflexively, he grabbed the phone and jumped into bed, wrapping the blankets around himself until he was hidden in a cocoon of infallible security. A tiny giggle escaped his lips as he dialed the one number he knew, his heart racing when it didn’t even ring once.

“Hyukkie!” the warm voice on the other end cried happily, and just the sound of it had goosebumps running down Sang-hyuk’s arms. He loved that voice.

“Hak-yeon,” he replied softly, just the sound of the name on his tongue making him shiver.

“It’s been a while,” Hak-yeon continued, used to the long pauses when Sang-hyuk would have no idea what to say. He usually was so excited when he had the rare chance to call Hak-yeon that he really didn’t think of what he should say once he did. He once called and ended up never saying a word, just listening to the sound of Hak-yeon talking. He could never get tired of his voice. “I thought you forgot all about poor me here; I’ve been so lonely.”

“Sorry,” he said lamely, wishing he had a way he could tell Hak-yeon all about how much he missed him, how he held onto that pillow even when he wasn’t sad. But he never had as smooth a tongue as Hak-yeon, was awkward and uncomfortable and never able to say anything outside of a few short words at once. “My father’s been home.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I know you could never forget me.” There was a short pause as Hak-yeon shifted, the soft crinkling sound telling Sang-hyuk how Hak-yeon was in bed as well. His blankets were new, still crinkled when they moved, and Sang-hyuk wished he could be there too. “Do you know how long he’s going to be this time?”

“No. But probably for a while. He seemed busy.”

“Oh really?” He could hear Hak-yeon roll over, letting out a slight huff into the speaker as he did so, “Then if I happened to be nearby, I could come visit and see my precious baby Hyukkie?”

“I’m not a baby,” he muttered, though they both knew the real answer.

“I’ll be over soon, my sweet, sweet, little baby,” Hak-yeon sang, letting out a happy laugh and hanging up before Sang-hyuk had a chance to whine again.

It took Sang-hyuk a second to realize the other hung up on him, though he didn’t move right away once he did. He instead let his fingers clinch at the edges of his blanket, pulling it up and pressing it to the embarrassed smile that grew on his lips, having to cover his face with his hands as he giggled to himself, kicking excitedly. It was so rare that Hak-yeon could come over, so rare they could ever see each other—he froze, whipping the blankets away as he realized that he had to change.

Sang-hyuk flew out of bed, checking the window to make sure his father was really gone before getting ready, wanting to at least look presentable when Hak-yeon came over. His appearance was one of the last things he thought about when he never left the house. He threw on the first thing he found and slicked his bangs back like his mother always tried to do to him, grumbling frustratingly when a few stubborn strands fell into his eyes no matter how many times he his fingers.

He didn’t wait for Hak-yeon to sneak outside, creeping by all the closed doors and running past the empty kitchen to burst through the front door, not bothering to put on shoes as he felt the soft tickling of grass blades against the bottoms of his feet. It wasn’t often that Sang-hyuk was able to come out like this, to feel the soft breeze flutter against his cheeks, the sun shining warmly from the top of his head to the ends of his toes. Letting out a small laugh, he fell to the ground, spreading out his fingers and letting the grass brush his skin, sighing contently. Without the constricting walls around him, the humidity wasn’t as bad, only resting in small droplets at the tips of his hair that trickled down his forehead, catching at his lips and running over his tongue.

He loved being outside.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, time always seeming to move by at its own pace no matter how he was feeling, when a strong breeze pushed him to open his eyes, blinking in surprise to see Hak-yeon sitting by his side, watching him affectionately. Hak-yeon’s smile widened when he saw Sang-hyuk awake, reaching out and pushing his messy bangs from his eyes.

“Hey there, little Hyukkie.”

Sang-hyuk blinked languidly, a happy smile making its way on his face as he secretly reveled in the feel of Hak-yeon’s hand in his hair. “How long you been here?”

“Not long. I saw you sleeping out here and didn’t have the heart to wake you up. Are you comfy?” Sang-hyuk nodded and laughed when Hak-yeon snorted. “Only you could roll around in the dirt and be comfy. I’m guessing your dad’s gone if you’re out here napping.”

“Yeah, he left about an hour ago.”

Hak-yeon hummed softly as he ran his eyes over Sang-hyuk’s body, his fingers lingering over Sang-hyuk’s arm. Sang-hyuk hesitated, wondering what was wrong, but the sad look was gone before he could even think, Hak-yeon laughing as he slapped Sang-hyuk’s side playfully. “Okay, while I would love to nap with you, I’m not about to roll around in the dirt. Come on, get up. Let’s go back inside.”

Sang-hyuk felt the grass between his fingers one last time before sitting up, a part of him he would never voice hesitant about going back inside so fast. He loved the outside. But he loved Hak-yeon more, so he only grinned excitedly as he let Hak-yeon help him up.

Hak-yeon was laughing as he slapped up and down Sang-hyuk’s sides fondly, at one point even squishing his cheeks. “Look at you, little Hyukkie,” he cooed, ignoring the way Sang-hyuk glared at him as he held his face, “you’ve gotten so big! You’re almost as tall as me!” He stretched onto his tiptoes as if measuring, his grin widening when Sang-hyuk was a little shorter. He smacked Sang-hyuk’s shoulder before pulling him into a warm hug, the feel of the sun overhead warming Sang-hyuk’s cheeks even more. “You’re not allowed to get any taller, you hear me? I’m older, I have to be taller.”

“Okay, Hak-yeon,” he said appeasingly, leaning over to bury his face in Hak-yeon’s neck, able to feel the following laugh rumble through Hak-yeon’s chest. No matter how many times he glared, argued, or shoved, he absolutely loved how touchy Hak-yeon was.

Hak-yeon was the one that eventually pulled away, taking him by the hand and leading him inside. He had always been the stronger of the two, the one to put himself in harm’s way first to make sure it was safe. He was the one to stand up to Sang-hyuk’s father to defend him. He was the one who forced himself into an uncomfortable dinner, ignoring his mother’s empty stare, just to make sure Sang-hyuk was okay. He was the one who, without fail, would sneak over to Sang-hyuk’s room just to give him company. He was, he was, he was—Hak-yeon was everything, and Sang-hyuk followed along silently, holding his hand and watching his back.

Sang-hyuk could never be strong enough to do any of those things, but he would always be there to follow as Hak-yeon did them for him.

“It’s always so hot in here,” Hak-yeon whined as they made their way back to Sang-hyuk’s room, collapsing onto the bed in a ball of ripe indignation. “One of these days I’m going to end up dying of heat, and it’s going to be all your fault. Look, I’m already sweating!” Hak-yeon shot up and wrapped his arms around Sang-hyuk’s waist, yanking him to the bed and wrapping his limbs around him tightly. Sang-hyuk couldn’t help laughing as Hak-yeon rubbed his face into his cheek, rolling around playfully. “It’s going to be all your fault, Han Sang-hyuk, do you hear me?”

“T-that’s what y-you get for being full of hot air,” Sang-hyuk managed to squeak out, snorting embarrassedly when Hak-yeon bit lightly into his side in retort.

“How ungrateful,” Hak-yeon grumbled back, his lips still pressed against Sang-hyuk’s side. “Don’t even care if I die.”

“Of course not.” Sang-hyuk shoved Hak-yeon’s face away. “Even if I died, I could never get rid of you.”

“Nope!” Hak-yeon piped up cheerfully, climbing over so he could lay comfortably on Sang-hyuk’s back. He knew how much Sang-hyuk loved it. “No matter where I go, I’m going to drag you with me.”

Sang-hyuk paused. “…promise?”

Hak-yeon smiled, his hand reaching out to interlace their fingers together. “I promise.”

It was some time later before either of them moved, the two of them openly enjoying the feeling of each other pressed warmly together. Hak-yeon never pulled their hands apart, their fingers locked and soft, and Sang-hyuk never wanted to let go. There were times like now, with the sound of Hak-yeon’s breathing blowing against his ear, that he wished he was born into Hak-yeon’s family, where times like these weren’t rare but every day. That would make him the happiest.

He tried to ignore how hot it was underneath Hak-yeon, tried to focus on the feeling of their hands together or the sound of Hak-yeon’s soft snores, but when he felt he was going to explode from heat he finally wriggled his way out. He bit back a chuckle when Hak-yeon let out a long whine, rolling over. “What are you doing?” Hak-yeon mumbled, swatting uselessly at Sang-hyuk’s back.

“You’re hot. I had to move.”

Hak-yeon didn’t deign that with a response as he sat up with him, rubbing his eyes before letting his hands find their way into Sang-hyuk’s hair. Sang-hyuk loved it. “How’ve you been? Your dad’s not too mean to you, right?”

Sang-hyuk shook his head. “No. He’s the same.”

“But how have you been? You haven’t messaged or called me in over three months-”

“He’s been home for a long time.” Hak-yeon pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. Sang-hyuk felt bad. “I wanted to call you.”

That brought the smile right back, Hak-yeon’s fingers moving down to pinch lovingly at his cheeks. “I wanted to call you too, little Hyukkie. I missed my baby so much.”

“I’m not a baby,” he muttered, though made no move to push him away. Hak-yeon opened his mouth, was probably about to rattle off more cheery annoyances, when a muted thud echoed throughout the hallway.

There were so many times Sang-hyuk wished they hadn’t heard that noise. There were times when he imagined what it would’ve been like if Hak-yeon had just cooed a little longer, squeezed his face a little harder—everything would’ve been fine. They would never have known.

…but as much as he would like to fool himself, he knew they would’ve found out eventually. No matter what they did, they would’ve been drawn in and tainted, the pure simplicity behind that wonderful, summer morning ruined by everything that followed after.

They both froze at the sound, Hak-yeon immediately straightening as his hands fell protectively to Sang-hyuk’s shoulders. Sang-hyuk’s eyes were wide as he turned his head to look, trying to think of what the sound could be. His mother never made any noise when they were alone, so there was only one other thing it could be. Hak-yeon gathered him in his arms, his grip tight.

“Is someone else home?” he asked, voice serious.

“It might be my father’s friend,” Sang-hyuk whispered quietly, remembering the blank stare and wiggling fingers. “He’s in the office.”

“Your dad brought someone else home?”

Sang-hyuk nodded, eyes trailing down. “He left for a few hours and brought someone else home. He took the man into his office.” He paused. “He never came out.”

“So, is he still in there?” Sang-hyuk nodded. “And he never came out?” Hak-yeon’s hands slowly trailed away as he crawled off the bed, it taking Sang-hyuk a few seconds to realize what he was intending to do. Sang-hyuk jumped down after him, grabbing his hand and yanking him back as hard as he could, shaking his head intensely. Hak-yeon nearly growled. “Sang-hyuk-”

“You can’t go in. We’re not allowed.” He yanked again when Hak-yeon tried to move, dropping to the floor like a child in order to hold him still. This was not a time for Hak-yeon to be brave and go into this without thinking. This was a complete stranger that they had never seen before and knew nothing about. There had to be a reason why they couldn’t go in, and he didn’t want Hak-yeon to try and do something that wasn’t safe just for him.

Not this time.

“This isn’t right, Sang-hyuk. If there’s someone—a stranger—in your house, you have the right to know who it is. Just because your father said you can’t doesn’t mean you don’t have the right.”

Sang-hyuk still refused to move. “You can’t. You can’t.”

Hak-yeon sighed, taking Sang-hyuk’s hands and holding them softly. “Alright. I’ll stop. But can I at least check to see if he’s okay?”

Sang-hyuk almost couldn’t comprehend. “But we can’t-”

“You heard it too, something fell. He could need help. Can I at least go in to see if he’s okay? If he is, then I’ll leave and we can forget all about it.” Hak-yeon rubbed his thumbs over the back of Sang-hyuk’s hands, softening his expression until only a sweet, gentle smile was on his lips. It was so distracting, Sang-hyuk could barely think let alone stop him. His hands loosened enough Hak-yeon was able to pull away, making sure to give the top of Sang-hyuk’s head a quick kiss before going straight to the office.

Sang-hyuk wasn’t far behind him when Hak-yeon opened the door, his curiosity getting the best of him as peeked in. The man was sitting in the exact same spot as last time, his back to the door, though this time he didn’t make any attempt to turn to look at them. He did a quick sweep of the room to see that nothing seemed amiss, nothing on the floor and the room impossibly neat. There was nothing that could have made the noise itself. Not unless the man fell over or anything.

“Hello,” Hak-yeon called out casually. His hand grabbed Sang-hyuk’s shoulder when the man didn’t move. “I heard you moved in here. It’s nice to meet you.”

The man still didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge them, and Hak-yeon took a step back. Sang-hyuk didn’t move. “We heard something fall and wondered if you needed help. Are you okay?” They waited a few seconds and Hak-yeon was ready to leave, moving to shut the door.

“Wait,” Sang-hyuk hissed, tentative fingers tugging on Hak-yeon’s arm.

“Sang-hyuk-”

“He didn’t answer yet.”

“He didn’t answer because he wants to be left alone. Maybe we can ask another time.” It made sense and Sang-hyuk agreed, watching with that niggling curiosity as the door was shut and the man hidden again. Despite the way Hak-yeon dragged him away and promised he wouldn’t go back, he couldn’t help but wonder if the man had made that noise they heard earlier. He was curious, still had that innocent curiosity. He wanted to ask him, to make sure he was alright…

…and he wished he didn’t.

Hello!

The timeline's going to be a bit wacky in the beginning; there’s going to be a lot of jumping around that might be confusing at first. It will all make sense in the end, I promise, but if there’s any confusion or you have any questions, I’ll try to answer them the best I can!

Thanks for reading!~