Warning: needles, experimentation

He was startled awake by the sudden shift next to him, his eyes snapping open to see Hak-yeon beside him, his eyes wide in apology and frozen mid-stretch. At the sight of him awake, Hak-yeon carefully laid back down, his hand instinctively attempting to push Sang-hyuk’s hair from his eyes, only to hesitate and eventually pull away. Sang-hyuk wished he had reached out and taken his hand back, splaying his fingers into his hair and reassuring him everything was alright. He wished; but did nothing, keeping his hands fisted in the blankets and lowering his eyes in shame.

Minutes ticked by in silent passing, neither of them moving as they listened to the faint sounds of the city outside, the room bathed in a soft glow from the sunlight peeking through the thin curtains. Sang-hyuk followed the light to see how it gently brushed over Hak-yeon’s face, his eyes sparkling, and he bit his lip when he saw how young he looked. There was no worry permanently etched into his brow, no wrinkles at the edges of his eyes from how many times he faked his smile. At that moment, he couldn’t help but mourn how much of that he would slowly carve into Hak-yeon’s light, chipping away at everything that made him shine in order to keep him safe. Here, Hak-yeon was still beautiful, still bright, and his eyes couldn’t get enough of it.

He tentatively pulled his hand from the blanket, his fingers begging to Hak-yeon’s skin, for just a second to feel the Hak-yeon he had truly loved and remembered. Hak-yeon’s eyes followed his hand, curious and innocent, unmoving as he waited, trusting completely. A smile slowly spread over Sang-hyuk’s lips as his fingers tapped the tip of Hak-yeon’s nose, his palm moving to cup his cheek—

—only to be met with cold metal instead of soft skin. He tried to pull back only for Hak-yeon to suddenly grab his hand, his grip tight as he forced him still. Hak-yeon’s gaze was still soft, still sweet, but the shine was gone, the wrinkles and pain drawing across his skin as age pulled at him, turning him to the husk of a man that Sang-hyuk had made him into. Hak-yeon smiled, the same smile that had reassured Sang-hyuk for so many years, only now it made his body lurch in regret.

“It’s okay.” His voice was dazed, the sound slurred and slow, “Don’t worry, baby, everything will be okay.”

No, no it wouldn’t. Just seeing how much Hak-yeon had changed over the years, because of him; there was no way everything would be okay.  

Hak-yeon kissed his fingers. “I won’t blame you. It’s okay, baby.”

--

He and Hak-yeon had a routine they eventually managed to find, one where they were able to pretend everything was okay while awkwardly dancing around the issues they wordlessly promised to never mention. Hak-yeon would wake first to cook breakfast, and would go to wake Sang-hyuk when he was finished. They would then eat breakfast, asking each other mundane questions that usually resulted in silence:

“So, what are you going to do today?

Nothing. And you?

...nothing.”

Eventually, Sang-hyuk would get dressed and then hug Hak-yeon goodbye, the two of them wishing each other a good day despite both knowing neither would. They would wave and smile, acting too cheerful, but it made him feel a little better. Leaving Hak-yeon alone. Walking into a hell that greeted him with black teeth and wicked promises. Being forced to smile and play along with the blank husk of a cyborg he had created.

Yes, it was cruel, but it made Sang-hyuk feel a little better.

It was on one of those days, him and Hak-yeon attempting to find a comfortable conversation while eating their cold cereal, that there was a knock on the door. Hak-yeon immediately stiffened in his chair as he turned to Sang-hyuk with wide eyes, nervous, and Sang-hyuk did his best to smile reassuringly as he silently stood up to answer. It wasn’t that he was unaffected, or that he was used to the way these people worked; he knew Hak-yeon worried about him, and he knew what lengths Hak-yeon would go to keep him safe. He had to appear strong—for Hak-yeon.

He didn’t want Hak-yeon to worry.

Hak-yeon caught his hand, shaking his head when Sang-hyuk whirled around to ask what he was doing. He merely tugged Sang-hyuk behind him, acting as a barrier as he opened the door. Sang-hyuk hated the way his body easily melded against Hak-yeon’s back. He wanted to take that role, to be the one to lead the way and have Hak-yeon trust him completely…but he was weak. He always was.

They both blinked in surprise to see Won-shik standing at the door in a full suit, the latter wasting no time stepping inside. Won-shik smirked in amusement to see the two staring, neither knowing what to say, and casually leaned forward to gently pry Hak-yeon’s fingers away to close the door. Hak-yeon flinched away as if burned, his hands immediately wrapping around Sang-hyuk as he stiffly pulled him back. Won-shik chuckled lowly at that, his eyes running over Hak-yeon in a way that had Sang-hyuk shifting to stand in front.

Won-shik snorted. “You know, it’s too bad they decided not to let Hak-yeonnie here join us too. I would gladly have volunteered to mentor him.” His eyes lingered on Hak-yeon’s face a second too long, Sang-hyuk growling as he slapped Won-shik’s arm.

“You promised you wouldn’t touch him!”

“I promised no such thing.” The widening grin Won-shik gave had chills running down Sang-hyuk’s spine, and he stumbled back into Hak-yeon’s arms. “But don’t worry, he never would’ve been allowed in, regardless if he wanted to or not.” Sang-hyuk glowered uselessly at Won-shik, his insides burning, though it seemed to only amuse Won-shik that much more. “But as much as I like watching the two of you piss yourselves, I actually came for a reason. There’s a special event at the lab today, so we need to leave early to get you ready.”

Hak-yeon suddenly went still, his breath caught as his chest did little more than stutter. “Sang-hyuk won’t be in trouble, will he?” he asked, his voice wavering.

Won-shik paused, staring at Hak-yeon wordlessly before shaking his head. His voice was softer. “No, he’s not in any trouble. It’s just something that happens once in a while. If he’s lucky, he won’t even have to deal with any of it.”

Hak-yeon silently leaned down to place a soft kiss to the side of Sang-hyuk’s head, his hold tightening. Then, with his lips still pressed warmly to his face, his body flush against his own and his arms so tight, he asked, “You promise you’ll keep him safe…?”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes shot up to see Won-shik purse his lips, his face carefully blank as he answered, “Yes.” That was the only thing that eventually pushed Hak-yeon to let Sang-hyuk go, his face unable to make his cheery smile as he waved them goodbye. Sang-hyuk always wondered what had happened that day to make Hak-yeon so sad, to see for the first time Hak-yeon unable to perfectly hide away how he felt. He wished he did, only so he could erase them all away until only the sun shined from behind his friend’s eyes.

It wasn’t until they were walking through the elevator doors that Won-shik finally talked to him, grabbing his hand and leading him away. He never did stop from holding his hand, even when it was clear Sang-hyuk wasn’t going to pass out at any second. A part of Sang-hyuk knew it was because of what he did with Hong—X39 that day, but another, smaller, part of him liked to believe Won-shik actually wanted to look out for him. So, Sang-hyuk never fought him. “Like I said earlier, there’s going to be a special event today, so we need you to dress nice.”

Sang-hyuk frowned confusedly, glancing down at his simple t-shirt and jeans. “But I’m not-”

“I know you’re not, no need to worry that pretty little head of yours.” Sang-hyuk settled for a silent glare as he followed Won-shik into a small room, one that a quick look around told him was Won-shik’s office. He actually found himself staring as Won-shik left him to rummage through his filing cabinet, his fingers clasping at the hem of his shirt. The room was the first Sang-hyuk had seen that actually felt like someone lived there, or at least used it. The desk was littered with papers, unused folders and files pushed to the side and hidden under even more paper. There was a jacket strewn haphazardly over the chair, a still full cup of coffee misplaced on an end table, a pair of fuzzy slippers left by the desk; it made the room feel warm. It was so different from how empty the rest of this place was.  

“Aha!” Won-shik shouted triumphantly, clambering up to his knees to proudly wave a bundle of clothes at him. “Found it! Knew I had it somewhere.” He moved back over to Sang-hyuk’s side to place it in his hands, shaking them out to show a dark pair of slacks and a silk shirt. When Sang-hyuk only stared at it confusedly, he added, “You can wear these for now. Eventually you’re gonna have to go out and get your own, but these will do for today.”

“I-I have to wear these?”

“Yeah. The sponsors are coming today to check out X39, and we all have to be dressed in our finest to greet them. It’s all nonsense, really, but it helps boost their egos.”

“…sponsors?”

Won-shik let out a dramatic sigh. “They’re not really anyone you’re going to have to deal with, but they’re still a pain. They’re the people that pretty much determine what happens here and how.”

Sang-hyuk paused, biting his lip as he carefully ran his thumb over the soft fabric of the shirt. It was so smooth, cool, and he could feel how expensive it was from just the touch alone. He had never had anything so expensive before in his life. “So…are they like, the top? Above Joon-myeon?”

“Ah, no, not really. They don’t work here or anything. They’re just the ones who fund everything to make sure we can actually get done. You don’t think we can afford all this fancy technology all by ourselves, do you?” Sang-hyuk meekly shook his head, and Won-shik let out another exaggerated sigh as he ruffled Sang-hyuk’s hair. “Well, don’t think too much about it. You’re too new for Joon-myeon to show you off, and he’s not about to let them get a look at you so soon. More than likely you won’t even see them.”

Sang-hyuk’s grip around the clothes tightened. “…you said t-they’re going to see Hong-bin…right?”

The smile slipped from Won-shik’s face. “Yes. They were concerned about how it wasn’t cooperating, so Joon-myeon’s going to let them know everything’s been resolved.” He paused for a second, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shifted awkwardly. “X39’s going to be with them for the whole day, so we’re going to be working someplace else. You won’t have to see anything.”

He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or disappointed.

Won-shik took him down a flight of stairs after Sang-hyuk finished changing, telling him it was the best place to hide. “No one ever goes down there. They’ll never find us.” He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he decided to trust him, squeezing Won-shik’s hand as they stepped into a large room. The moment the door opened all eyes turned to them, everyone looking up from whatever they were working on to stare at them. Usually such attention terrified Sang-hyuk, but Sang-hyuk found his eyes focused elsewhere, his hand in Won-shik’s shaking.

The difference between this place and the lab where Sang-hyuk had been working was day and night. The lab was beautiful in its own way, always wonderfully clean and bright, in a way easily hiding the horrors that were done behind closed doors. Everyone there smiled, their faces washed and their clothes pressed, appearing so welcoming despite how underneath their masks was the destructive thirst for knowledge. Here…there was none of that. The white walls that Sang-hyuk had associated with the lab were nonexistent here, the walls lined with metal that had darkened from age. There were no windows, everything lit by the dull glow of the swinging lights above. The people here looked like they hadn’t seen the sun in years, their faces wrinkled and dull, their hair frazzled and greasy, their clothes covered in reddened blotches that Sang-hyuk refused to believe was blood. This place was exactly what Sang-hyuk had been expecting to see when he first arrived, and to see it for real made his knees weak.

This was the place where humanity really had died, and no amount of fakeness above could change that.

Won-shik could feel Sang-hyuk’s horror, his grip tightening in reassurance. His voice was barely a whisper. “You should be thankful X39 is so attached to you. Kids like you…they’re normally sent down here. They usually don’t last very long.” Sang-hyuk could only stare at Won-shik in devastation, his eyes watering, but he thankfully didn’t have a chance to respond when someone approached them.

“Won-shik! Fancy seeing you here!” Sang-hyuk watched the man come over to grab Won-shik in a hug, one the latter struggled against despite grinning widely. Sang-hyuk instinctively moved to hide behind Won-shik’s back as they talked to each other, his eyes glancing around to see a boy hovering behind the other man. The boy didn’t look much older than him, just as tall and lanky and looking every bit out of place as Sang-hyuk did. It was a strange feeling, to see someone as young as himself here. It didn’t look right.

It wasn’t right.

“So, is this the boy you were telling me about? Jae-myun’s son?” Sang-hyuk flinched at the sound of his father’s name, peeking up to see both Won-shik and the other man staring down at him. He pressed himself closer to Won-shik, and Won-shik snorted loudly as he patted Sang-hyuk’s shoulder mockingly.

“Yup. Look’s just like him, doesn’t he? But don’t let his looks fool you, he’s really just a big baby.” Won-shik ruffled his hair then, and while Sang-hyuk wanted to protest, the words only got caught in his throat.

The man snickered, though the smile he gave was warm. “Well, hello there, little Sang-hyuk. My name’s Kim Jong-dae. I didn’t get to work much with your father, but if you ever have any problems, you can always ask me. I’m pretty sure Won-shik won’t be much help.” He laughed when Won-shik made a high, chortling sound, slapping him on the arm playfully. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you’ve been a great mentor. I’m surprised they even picked you in the first place!”

“I’ve been a terrific mentor! Haven’t I, Hyuk?” Won-shik turned to Sang-hyuk with wide eyes, waiting, though when Sang-hyuk could only stare back with even wider eyes, Jong-dae slapped him again, cackling.

“See? You useless piece of .” He turned his attention to the boy that had been patiently waiting behind them, gesturing him forward and placing an arm around his shoulders. The boy beamed, an expression Sang-hyuk secretly marveled. “I, on the other hand, have been a super awesome mentor. Sung-jae here can vouch for me. Haven’t I, Jae?”

“Of course!” Sung-jae chirped, grinning.

Won-shik gawked at the two of them before he was grabbing Sang-hyuk’s shoulders, holding him close as if to show him off. “You only say that because you’ve been here longer. Hyukkie here has only been here for a couple weeks and look how amazing he looks! Dressed so nicely and his hair styled—like a true man! You can’t tell me I haven’t been treating him well.” Sang-hyuk ducked his head to hide the way his cheeks burned, his stomach twisting and his lips fighting from breaking out into a wonderful smile. His parents had never complimented him, never once actually looked at him and genuinely praised him. Hak-yeon had—Hak-yeon always had—but to suddenly hear it from a stranger, it…it felt incredible.

“That’s only because of the sponsors, you . We’ll see in a couple weeks if he’s still looking so clean.” Jong-dae turned to Sang-hyuk, his whole face laughing. “Just remember, Sang-hyuk. You can always come and work with me.” He waited for Won-shik to splutter uselessly before continuing, though his expression hardened considerably. “I’m guessing you two came here because of the sponsors.”

Won-shik turned just as serious, his grip on Sang-hyuk’s shoulders firm. “Yeah. It’s too soon for him to see them.”

Jong-dae nodded, and he glanced down at Sung-jae with pained eyes. “Well…you came on a bad day. We were scheduled to work with the volunteers today.” Sung-jae’s eyes widened in horror while Won-shik cursed under his breath, and the reactions alone had Sang-hyuk’s heart racing. What was that supposed to mean? What were volunteers? “It’s ty luck, but I’ll do my best to finish quickly. It’s good though…it’s something they’ll have to get used to eventually.”

Won-shik nodded, and when Jong-dae turned to lead them away, Won-shik suddenly leaned down to whisper into Sang-hyuk’s ear, “Remind me to make sure you dress like this every day. We can’t let him win.” It was so random and unexpected, Sang-hyuk couldn’t help the small giggle. Won-shik was confusing and terrifying on most days, but there were still times when he managed to help calm him down.

He was thankful Won-shik was his mentor.

They followed Jong-dae and Sung-jae into an office, the room a little brighter than the dark, depressing place they had been in before. There was a desk and bed, though it was different from how Hong-bin and T52’s rooms had looked. Jong-dae clicked his tongue, casually slapping Won-shik’s chest. “Hey, there’s not enough chairs. We should get a couple so Jae and Sang-hyuk can sit down.” Won-shik looked about to protest until Jong-dae gave him a pointed look, and the two of them silently stepped out of the room.

Sang-hyuk felt a spark of panic shoot through him, unsure what to do without Won-shik. He glanced at Sung-jae to see the other staring at him, smiling that weird smile, and he fought the urge to shudder.

Sung-jae spoke first. “Your name is Han Sang-hyuk, right? Doctor Kim mentioned you a couple times.”

“H-he did?”

“Yeah, though he said you were lucky and got to work with the cyborgs. Is that true? You’re so lucky!” There was nothing accusing in his tone, just curiosity, and it helped calm Sang-hyuk’s nerves somewhat.

“I wouldn’t say lucky…i-is it really that bad down here? Won-shik mentioned something about me being lucky too…”

Sung-jae shrugged his shoulders, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes dimming slightly. It was so subtle Sang-hyuk almost missed it. Almost. “It’s not that bad, down here I mean. Like we don’t have to worry about the sponsors or anything, so I don’t have to dress so fancy.” He pointed at Sang-hyuk’s silk shirt, grinning that ear-splitting smile. Sang-hyuk felt slightly embarrassed, curling in on himself, but Sung-jae was quick to catch himself. “Ah, I don’t mean that in a bad way. You look great! I don’t think I would look half as good wearing that.” His voice was so genuine, his expression so bright; Sang-hyuk only nodded embarrassedly.

“D-do you work with cyborgs too?”

“No. I only work with the volunteers and test subjects. Anything that passes the first stage is beyond what Doctor Kim and I do, so I never got to see one. Are they really cool looking? Like are they all metal with robot arms and red eyes?” Sang-hyuk couldn’t help smiling at Sung-jae’s ridiculous questions, imagining Hong-bin looking like that and finding that Sung-jae would probably be sorely disappointed. “I mean, Doctor Kim told me not to get my hopes up on them being super cool, but I can’t help it. What else am I supposed to do besides looking at stupid tubes and volunteers all day?”

There were those volunteers again, and Sang-hyuk glanced at the door briefly. His fingers clutched at the edge of his shirt, nearly ripping it out from where it was neatly tucked into his pants. “T-the volunteers…what are they?”

Sung-jae’s smile disappeared, his lips pursed. “Stupid people.”

Just then the door burst open with Jong-dae loudly singing that they were back. Both he and Won-shik were carrying a chair, him and Sung-jae both being pushed to sit down when they were done. Sung-jae was laughing again, kicking his legs as he chirped happily along to Jong-dae’s instructions, his demeanor so happy that Sang-hyuk could only stare at him in wonder. How could he be so happy, so excited, when working here? Sang-hyuk…he couldn’t smile even if he wanted to.

Won-shik moved over to Sang-hyuk’s side while Jong-dae worked with Sung-jae, patting him on the shoulder. “You and I aren’t going to be doing much, since we’re not the ones usually working this area. We’re just going to watch.”

Sang-hyuk stared at the other two a second longer before looking up at Won-shik, hesitation tugging at the back of his throat. “W-what are we watching…?”

“You’re going to watch people die.”

The dead seriousness in his voice stopped Sang-hyuk from asking anymore questions, in the end tucking his hands under his legs as he waited. It wasn’t long before the door opened, a nicely dressed woman opening the door to lead a young girl inside. Sang-hyuk jumped at the sight of her, and Won-shik quickly pressed down on his shoulder to hold him still. She was small, pretty, her hair long and dressed in a simple school uniform. She had a flower pin in her hair. She looked so normal, so different from what Sang-hyuk was expecting.

The girl looked over the four of them before Jong-dae stepped forward, smiling attentively. “Hello there! Is your name Kim Na-yoon?” The girl paused for a second before nodding, relaxing slightly when Jong-dae said all the right things to make her comfortable. Sang-hyuk watched as he led her to the elevated bed, helping her sit down. “It’s nice to meet you, miss Na-yoon. Is there anyone with you today?”

“No.” Her voice was airy, delicate, matching her features perfectly. Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he thought of the volunteers, but she definitely wasn’t it. “I came by myself.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“No.”

Jong-dae paused from looking through the folders on his desk, turning to stare at her in concern. “Are you sure this is okay then? I’m sure your parents would want to be here with you.” Sang-hyuk was surprised at the worry in his voice, though when he looked to Sung-jae, he was shocked to see the other staring down at the floor. There was not a trace of the bubbliness from before.

The girl waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t care what they think. This is a lot cooler than studying all day.” Sang-hyuk was confused by her words, not understanding, though he seemed to be the only one, everyone else’s expressions hardening. Jong-dae went back to flipping through his folders with his brow furrowed, and the girl took that moment to look around, her eyes catching Sang-hyuk’s. Her eyes were big, innocent, and she blinked at him.

“Why are there so many people here?” she asked, her gaze never leaving Sang-hyuk’s.

Jong-dae took out a piece of paper, attaching it to a clipboard before turning around. His smile was colder, though all the more inviting. It was a terrifying combination, and one Sang-hyuk saw the girl didn’t notice. “Sung-jae and Sang-hyuk here are new, so they’re just observing. Is that okay with you?” The girl hesitated, her eyes still on Sang-hyuk, before nodding slowly. Her cheeks were flushed, and Sang-hyuk wondered if she was nervous. He certainly was.

“Sung-jae, why don’t you start the preparations while I tell miss Na-yoon how the test is going to work.”

Sung-jae shot out of his seat with a big smile, moving over to the desk and pulling a large syringe out of the desk drawer. While he filled the syringe with a strange, blue liquid, Jong-dae started explaining, his voice smooth like silk. “Now, I just want to go over the procedure with you first, and if you’re okay with everything up to that point, just sign this waiver. Then we can get started; how does that sound?” Jong-dae sounded so kind, just enough to distract the girl and make her at ease.

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice so sweet. Sang-hyuk would always remember her voice.

“Perfect! So, we’re going to give you the shot first. It’ll knock you out for a little bit, but that’s normal. Once you’re awake, we’ll run the test and get back to you once we have the results. How does that sound?”

The girl paused, biting her lip before asking slowly, “How long will it take? I skipped school…I don’t want my parents noticing I’m gone for too long.”

Jong-dae let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “Such a naughty girl. School’s important, you know? But don’t worry, you’ll be up and at ‘em in no time. I doubt your parents will notice a thing.” The girl let out a relieved sigh at that, her shoulders slumping, and Jong-dae took that moment to put the clipboard in her hand. “So, if you can just sign here, we can get started!”

The girl grinned as she signed her name, just a quick flick of her wrist and it was done. Sang-hyuk watched as Sung-jae came over with the syringe, the liquid now clear, and pressed it into Jong-dae’s hand. The two of them shared a long look before Jong-dae held the needle up to the girl’s arm, taking a moment to look her in the eye.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Sang-hyuk could hear the hidden meaning behind his words. The girl heard no such thing, only agreeing excitedly, and then Jong-dae was emptying the contents into her arm.

It was as if time stopped, everyone’s eyes locked on the girl that sat completely still, her eyes watching in fascination at the small puncture wound on her arm. The only sound was the small clicking of the clock hanging on the wall, the syringe forgotten on the side table, the air suddenly so thick it was suffocating. Sang-hyuk struggled to stay still, Won-shik’s hand digging painfully into his shoulder, and he had to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from saying anything. He glanced at Sung-jae to see him staring at the girl with nothing in his eyes, and he realized that this was something he had seen too many times.

Nothing happened right away, the girl shifting every so often, until she moved her hand to hover over her arm, pulled down into a small grimace. She hissed as she looked to Jong-dae for help, a spark of worry in her eyes. “Doctor, sir, um, is it supposed to hurt? It kinda hurts.” She coughed uncomfortably as she started to absentmindedly scratch at the wound, and Jong-dae tsked softly as he grabbed her hand.

“None of that, sweetheart. Unfortunately, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“W-what?” she managed to ask before her coughs became louder, heavier, her face twisting in pain as she wrenched her hand away to scratch furiously at her arm. She started shaking her head, her hair flinging back and forth, as she screamed, tears rushing down her face. “It hurts! It hurts! Stop it, please! It hurts!” Her screams became sobs, falling back on the bed as she cried, her chest heaving as she fruitlessly kicked her legs. “Mom! Dad! Please, help me! It hurts! Help me, please!”

Her scratches became worse, chunks of skin catching under her fingernails, and Jong-dae shot up from his chair. “Won-shik,” he said, voice cold, and Won-shik was suddenly by his side, reaching out and holding the girl’s head still. Jong-dae moved swiftly to strap the girl’s arms and legs down, attaching one across her waist. The girl’s cries dissolved into garbled pleading, her face red and covered in tears, and Sang-hyuk found he couldn’t look away. She had been so pretty, so soft and sweet—was this a volunteer?

Stupid people.

Suddenly the girl’s screams stopped short, her body collapsing in a tired heap, and both Jong-dae and Won-shik were panting as they stepped back. Sang-hyuk stared at the girl’s body, watching how her chest shook with each breath, her limbs trembling, tears still trickling down her cheeks. Sang-hyuk wanted to throw up as the two of them unstrapped her body, Jong-dae going out and calling for someone to take the girl away. She…what were they going to do to her? She still had to go to school. Her parents were waiting for her. His eyes stared at the long, throbbing welts down her arm, the skin mangled—

He nearly screamed when a cup of water was suddenly pushed in front of him, and he looked up to see Sung-jae smiling bitterly down at him. His hands shook as he carefully took the glass, downing the cup in one shot. Sung-jae sat down next to him, his eyes never looking away from Sang-hyuk’s face. “You asked earlier what the volunteers were,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, there you go.”

“H-how…? Did she k-know?”

Sung-jae shook his head. “They have an idea, but they don’t know how bad the effects will be. They’re literally being cleared out and having their bodies changed, of course the process won’t be easy.” He stayed quiet as the girl was transferred to a cart, watching as she was wheeled out of the room. Jong-dae and Won-shik followed, leaving them alone. “A lot of the people are actually willing…they think they’ll become some cool robot with big arms and red eyes.” Sung-jae let out a small chuckle, though the sound was anything but happy. “A lot of them don’t make it. Even if they do, they die in the later tests…that’s why T52 and X39 are so special. They survived. Unlike that girl, unlike the thousands of others who volunteered and even the ones that didn’t—they survived. That’s why only the really special get to work with them.”

Sung-jae let out a soft sigh, staring blankly at the wall, his eyes flush with unshed tears that stained his cheeks and broke his voice. “You know, I was a little jealous when I heard that you got to work upstairs and not have to see this down here. But…I’m glad you’re not.”

Sang-hyuk looked up from his empty cup to stare at him, and Sung-jae smiled.

“You really wouldn’t last.”

And Sung-jae was right.

Sang-hyuk only managed to sit through two more volunteers before he was huddled over a toilet, Won-shik silently patting his back as he emptied everything in his stomach, horrified tears mixing with the bile that ran down his chin and stained his teeth.

No matter what, he would much rather stare at Hong-bin’s blank eyes and empty answers than stay down here another minute.

He really wouldn’t last.

--

Won-shik took him back upstairs not much later after that, deciding it best not to force him to watch anymore. While he tried to hide it behind harsh words and mean jokes, Sang-hyuk could see Won-shik was really worried about him, his grip strong around his shoulders and his other hand held firmly in Sang-hyuk’s. Sang-hyuk didn’t have the energy to respond to any of Won-shik’s jabs, his body weak as he leaned against Won-shik’s chest. He felt bad; he was sure the hair Won-shik had painstakingly styled through much trial and error was all messed up now. He would apologize later, if he remembered.

“Come on, kiddo,” Won-shik murmured as he helped him along, most people scurrying out of their way. “We’ll—.”

Sang-hyuk tiredly lifted his head to see a group of people turn the corner and enter the main lobby, Joon-myeon at the front as he gestured animatedly. Won-shik attempted to shuffle back, hiding Sang-hyuk behind him, but Sang-hyuk couldn’t help but try and get a peek.

There were ten of them, the sponsors. They matched their name perfectly, each standing so prim and proper as if they were above everyone else. It was strange seeing how hard Joon-myeon, a man that Sang-hyuk had come to fear greatly, worked to keep their attention, his face smiling while his eyes cried, talking about everything in an overly enthusiastic tone. But it was something these people were able to do.

“, here, can you stand up?” Won-shik hissed, twisting around to get Sang-hyuk to stand up straight. Sang-hyuk struggled, but he managed, and Won-shik gave him a small smile. Won-shik stole a glance at the sponsors before hurriedly his fingertips, raking his hand through Sang-hyuk’s hair to try and make him presentable. Sang-hyuk was too tired to react.

“Ah, Kim Won-shik!” Both of them stiffened at Joon-myeon’s call, Won-shik plastering on a fake smile as he turned around in greeting. All the sponsors were staring at the two of them, their scrutinizing glares picking them apart with each passing second, but that wasn’t what made Sang-hyuk’s blood run cold, or what made his heart want to burst from his chest. Won-shik’s returning greeting faded to mere background noise as Sang-hyuk focused on two people in particular, his breath faltering.

That man…he had seen that same nose on the person he loved, had traced that same nose countless times. That was Hak-yeon’s nose. The woman beside him, the woman who stood a distance from him—she had Hak-yeon’s eyes. The gentle slope of the eyelids that ended in soft lashes, ones that Sang-hyuk had stared at for hours on end while Hak-yeon laid next to him, going on about whatever ridiculous story came to mind. He could see the softness of his cheeks on her, the shape of his jaw, and he wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time.

They couldn’t…

He couldn’t…

Did he…?

No, he couldn’t. But they were there. They were real.

And so was he.

He had only met Hak-yeon’s parents once, and while he never would’ve been able to recount their appearance if asked, staring now, it was all he could see.

He was brought back by a hard pinch to his side, and he felt his body forced into a deep bow as Won-shik kept his hand firmly on his back. When he stood up, he was greeted by Joon-myeon’s dangerous gaze, punishment waiting if he messed this up. He forced a small smile in greeting, and it seemed to be enough as Joon-myeon stepped forward to give introductions.

“I’m sure you remember Han Jae-myun,” he said, and Sang-hyuk didn’t miss the way the sponsors’ faces hardened at his father’s name. He watched as Hak-yeon’s mother gave a quick, pursed look to her husband, the man refusing to meet her eye. “This is his son, Han Sang-hyuk.”

And suddenly everyone’s full attention was on him, running over him as if to find anything wrong, ready to find any fault to exploit. His body trembled despite himself, and Won-shik’s hand on his back stiffened. One woman tilted her head, her eyes sharp as she laughed lightly.

“He’s such a tiny thing. What could he possibly do?”

“He’s actually done a lot in the time he’s been here. He was the one who successfully cleared X39 of the viruses. He shows a lot of promise.” That had the woman nodding her head, the rest of them seeming to begrudgingly accept—all except Hak-yeon’s parents. Their eyes refused to move, their displeasure still obvious, and Sang-hyuk wondered if they knew. If they knew their son was with him. He wondered if they were even looking for him.

The sponsors seemed to lose interest in him after that, letting Joon-myeon lead them out, taking the suffocating tenseness with them. Won-shik groaned obnoxiously the moment they were gone, falling into a nearby chair as he dragged Sang-hyuk down with him. Sang-hyuk was thankful to sit down, leaning his head against the backrest, gasping for air. “God, I hate them,” Won-shik muttered, his eyes closed. “I always feel like they’re stripping me with their eyes. Rather keep myself clothed, if you know what I mean. Gotta keep my dignity, you know?”

Won-shik’s joke fell on deaf ears, Sang-hyuk turning to stare at him with the hardest glare he could muster. “Won-shik. Did you know?”

Won-shik didn’t answer for a while, his eyes closed and his expression clouded. Finally, “…yes.”

“Do they?”

“No.”

“How? Don’t they know he’s-”

“They don’t know anything, Sang-hyuk.” Won-shik opened his eyes to match his glare, his voice laced with resignment. “The sponsors don’t know a lot about what goes on here. And we plan to keep it that way. All they know is we’re experimenting, and we only show them the results. If they knew about what we did to get there, do you think they’d still be willing to fund us? And if they knew what they did to make sure we stayed working here, do you think they’d be happy?”

“But-”

“What are you going to do? Go up to them and tell them their son is with you? What do you think that’ll do? Besides pissing Joon-myeon off?”

Sang-hyuk knew he was right, though it did nothing to make him feel better. He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, feeling a deep, indescribable pain bubble in his chest. “They…they didn’t even look worried. He’s been gone for weeks now, and they didn’t look like they even noticed.” He felt tears in his eyes, frustrated tears that were more than from just how ty Hak-yeon’s parents were. This whole time…Hak-yeon never talked much about his parents, always avoiding the subject, but Sang-hyuk had never pressed him either. There was no way…Hak-yeon couldn’t have known…

“Hey.” Sang-hyuk jumped when he felt knuckles rap lightly on the side of his head, and he blinked confusedly to see Won-shik staring at him. “Don’t think too much into it. I mean, how much did you know before we brought you here?” When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, couldn’t, Won-shik continued. “Hak-yeon probably has no idea either. You two have something really special. Don’t it up because of his parents.”

Sang-hyuk knew that, and there wasn’t a single part of him that blamed Hak-yeon in any way. Hak-yeon was his world and more. There was no way he could blame him for something like this. The only one he could fault was fate for giving them such terrible positions in the first place.

--

Sang-hyuk was absolutely exhausted by the time he stumbled through the apartment door, rubbing at his eyes as the horrid smell of burnt cheese wafted through the room. He could hear a hurried rush of censored curses coming from the kitchen, followed by a loud crash, and Sang-hyuk scrambled to the sound, stopping short at the sight of Hak-yeon bending down to gingerly pick up a smoking pan of…something.

Sang-hyuk felt a flurry of emotions clench his heart, his whole body feeling like lead as he watched Hak-yeon flap his hand uselessly at the smoke, throwing the pan in the sink and turning the water on. As he stood there, he found himself unable to look away from Hak-yeon’s back, staring at the shoulders that he had envied for so many years. Hak-yeon had been where his parents hadn’t, raising and loving him in a way that left Sang-hyuk wishing to be just like him, to grow in a way that would have Hak-yeon basking in pride. Hak-yeon had been more than a friend, and as he watched Hak-yeon turn, revealing the same cheeks and soft eyes that he had seen just earlier, the same nose that had seemed so out of place, he could feel his lower lip tremble in suppressed grief.

Hak-yeon’s parents had been sponsoring the work his father had been doing. They had been aware of what had been done to Hong-bin, aware and willing as Hong-bin’s humanity was worked away until only the result was left. He refused to believe Hak-yeon knew anything about it, but he couldn’t help the small niggling feeling of despair. He couldn’t have known—he thought of the wonderful, beautiful image of Hak-yeon, warm and familiar as he poked and prodded Sang-hyuk to stop studying so much, to enjoy his life and laugh his worries away—there was no way he could have known.

Hak-yeon let out a heavy sigh when the smoke finally dissipated, turning and letting out a small yelp in surprise at Sang-hyuk hovering by the door. He broke into a wide smile, quickly untying his apron and rushing to give him a warm hug. Sang-hyuk fought to keep his growing emotions in check as he grabbed Hak-yeon fiercely, holding him as if it was his last time.

No matter what, Hak-yeon was Hak-yeon. It didn’t matter what he knew.

He would love him no matter what.

Hak-yeon grunted at Sang-hyuk’s hard grip, leaning back to try and get a look at his face, his voice soft. “Hyukkie?”

“I love you,” Sang-hyuk whispered, his voice muffled from his face being pressed into Hak-yeon’s shirt. He smelt mostly of smoke, but buried deep underneath was Hak-yeon’s scent, a scent of warm lavender and sweet honey.

Hak-yeon stiffened at his words, though he eventually brought a hand up to run through Sang-hyuk’s hair, sighing deeply. “I love you too, baby.” He paused for a short time, his words careful. “Did anything happen at work today?”

Flashes of Hak-yeon’s parents staring at him, dissecting him—he shook his head as he pulled back to give Hak-yeon a cheery smile. It felt so fake, like his face would crack and crumble if tried any harder. “Nothing much. Though Won-shik says I’m getting better. He even praised me today.”

Hak-yeon laughed as he pressed a kiss to Sang-hyuk’s forehead, his grin genuine and his eyes full of pride. Sang-hyuk wanted to hold onto that for the rest of his life. “Of course he should praise you! My Hyukkie is the smartest!” It was then he finally looked down to see his clothes, his mouth dropping open and his hands frozen as if he didn’t know what to do with them. He eventually covered his mouth, letting out an obnoxious squeal and bouncing like a child, looking so absolutely proud. Sang-hyuk reveled in it.

“Oh my god, look at you! Did Won-shik give you that? You look amazing, Sang-hyuk! So handsome! I wish I had a camera!”

Sang-hyuk felt himself laugh despite himself, feeling everything from work—the basement, the volunteers, the sponsors, Hak-yeon’s parents—disappear as he let Hak-yeon twirl him this way and that, wanting to see every angle. He let Hak-yeon’s bright voice and ecstatic excitement guide him, his eyes scrunching up happily as Hak-yeon squished his cheeks lovingly in his hands. At that moment, he felt nothing but love, a love that no one else could ever give him. Not his parents, not Won-shik, not even Hong-bin—no, this was a love that only Hak-yeon could give. It was a love that felt like home, a love that made him feel safe and protected, where everything in that moment was right in the world. Where nothing could touch him save for the soft brush of the man who gave it to him.

He loved Hak-yeon, and as Hak-yeon covered his face in kisses and filled his ears with exaggerated praises, he decided then that he would never tell Hak-yeon about anything he did. He would never let Hak-yeon anywhere near the dark hell that he entered every day, would never let him see the horrors that he had to. He would never tell Hak-yeon about his parents, or about how they didn’t seem to miss him.

He decided then that he would step up and protect the man he loved, and he would make sure that Hak-yeon would always smile like this, and would never feel anything but happiness.

He would make sure of it.