It was almost like clockwork, Sang-hyuk’s hands moving on muscle memory alone as he pulled the cable out from Hong—X39’s chest, his eyes refusing to watch how the latter’s eyes flashed a bright blue as he woke. He could feel Won-shik’s eyes on him from the corner of the room, Won-shik having led him through the procedure enough times to try and let Sang-hyuk do it on his own. He wasn’t sure he was really ready, but as he watched Hong—X39 goddamnit—shift and listened to the way his limbs creaked and cracked, he shoved that terrified feeling to the farthest part of his mind.

He kept his expression neutral as he closed X39’s chest, ignoring the prickling of his skin when there was no shirt to cover him with. It was a reality he had yet to accept, leaving the cyborgs and exposed, supposedly so people wouldn’t feel sympathetic or sad. An image of Hong-bin in his father’s office, clothed and free and happy flashed in his mind, and again he shoved that away so fast he barely acknowledged it passed.

“Hello, X39,” he greeted, a necessity only to make sure the cyborg’s hearing was working.

“Hello,” X39 responded, a response that checked to make sure the cyborg’s vocal cords were fine. He refused to feel broken at how empty the response was, how there was nothing beyond answering a simple question. No recognition, no acknowledgment.

He steeled himself. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

He took a deep breath, curling his fingers into tight fists as he felt Won-shik’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head. He had to stay level. If he started crying, he knew they would force him out and he wouldn’t get to see Hong-bin for a couple days at least. He had to be strong. He didn’t want anyone else working with him if he could help it; he had seen how T52 was treated. He didn’t want anything like that happening to Hong-bin.

He gave a small smile despite the many times Won-shik had scolded him, unable to stay expressionless. “My name’s Sang-hyuk. Can…can you say that for me?”

“Sang-hyuk.”

“G-good. Do you know your name?”

“No.”

Joon-myeon would be furious once he saw the results; it’s been a month at least. Everyone had been convinced he would’ve been able to solve all their problems, and thought X39 would’ve followed along to his every word with the conviction of a marionette. But of course he wouldn’t. They had erased everything that had made X39 Hong-bin, and in turn stripped Sang-hyuk of any power he might’ve had. They had left Hong-bin empty, a shell, and there was nothing Sang-hyuk could do to change that.

 “Your name is X39.” Hong-bin’s eyes flashed, something Sang-hyuk had long convinced himself meant nothing. And as he listened to X39 repeat the words, he found himself smiling despite himself.

He knew he would forget it by the next session.  

--

Sang-hyuk let out a stuttering gasp as the freezing water splashed over his face, taking a second to clench his fingers, his chest heaving. Ice cold water was a terrible way to wake up, but it did the job, his brain jolting awake and his skin crawling with furious goosebumps. His body groaned in protest, his head pounding, but he did his best to ignore it; while he had gone to bed only a few hours ago, he knew he had no choice but to force himself awake.

He glanced at the clock and grimaced to see he had only a short half hour before the cameras would be up again, and that meant he had only thirty minutes to get T52 back in the bathroom. He shook the wet droplets from his hair before drying his face, feeling not the least bit surprised when he headed to the living room to see Hak-yeon and T52 huddled on the couch, both on either ends with only a short distance between their toes. Sang-hyuk wished he could sigh, but the sight only brought a bitter smile to his lips.

Hak-yeon refused to look at T52 as anything other than another human being, ignoring all the glaring reasons why he shouldn’t. He excused T52’s blotchy, bloodless skin as a simple skin defect, instead secretly rubbing his multiple skin creams over it despite the many times Sang-hyuk pleaded him not to. He ignored T52’s constant restarting, all the patience he had built for Sang-hyuk keeping him calm and collected as he merely re-greeted himself to the cyborg. Hak-yeon doted on T52, piling him under sweaters and cardigans to keep him warm and coddled, perching himself on the couch to lovingly run his fingers through the latter’s hair. Sang-hyuk knew he shouldn’t, knew deep down that he should keep Hak-yeon far away to keep him safe…but he couldn’t.

With T52, Hak-yeon was happy.

That was true even now, Sang-hyuk peeking around the corner to see Hak-yeon laughing at something T52 said, carefully cradling his steaming cup of tea to his chest as he reached over to slap at the latter playfully. T52 smiled back, matching his expression perfectly while having no idea why he was laughing, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the edges of the afghan Hak-yeon had covered him with. Hak-yeon asked him something, his eyes curled into bright crescents, and Sang-hyuk found the world slowing to a grinding halt, everything dulled except for the sight of pure happiness on Hak-yeon’s face.

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time Hak-yeon had smiled like that, for him or otherwise. There had been a time when Hak-yeon always smiled like that, but the memories at this point were so blurred Sang-hyuk could do nothing but wave the thought away. He couldn’t help but feel guilty that it had been him that made Hak-yeon like this, and he knew he would never be able to take that back.

He slapped on the biggest smile he could when T52 finally noticed him, greeting him automatically, and Hak-yeon whirled around with his teeth flashing. “Hyukkie!” he called happily, waving him over. “Sorry if we were too loud; did we wake you up?” Sang-hyuk could see the instinctual need to help push Hak-yeon to stand up, and he quickly rushed forward to sit him back down.

“No, I was already awake. How long have you been up?” Hak-yeon’s brow furrowed slightly at him, watching him until Sang-hyuk sat in the nearby armchair, his fingers around his mug tightening.

“About an hour. I just wanted to keep Hong-binnie some company. I know he gets lonely sitting in the bathroom all day.” Sang-hyuk winced at the name, fully aware of how wide T52’s smile grew, and he had to gnaw on his lip to keep his face neutral. Hak-yeon reached out and put a hand over T52’s knee, kneading gently in a way that had T52’s eyes fluttering closed. Fondness exuded from every cell of Hak-yeon’s body, and a sudden rush of jealousy that he was quick to suppress surged through Sang-hyuk. He couldn’t be mad at T52 for letting Hak-yeon treat him kindly, it was something he deserved as much as anyone else, but…

…Hak-yeon only did that to him. Seeing him so soft and gentle with anyone else…it hurt him.

Sang-hyuk cleared his throat, feeling the tight constraints on his chest loosening when he saw Hak-yeon pull his hand back. He made sure to keep his eyes locked firmly with T52’s, a silent warning as he asked calmly, “How are you today, T52?”

T52 noticed none of it, his mood cheery as he responded, “I am fine. Hak-yeon has been telling me many stories. I like it very much.”

Sang-hyuk’s returning smile was less forced, unable to be angry when the innocent naivety behind T52’s words was so clear. “That’s great! Though I hope none of them were about me.” He shot a playful look to Hak-yeon only to see the latter grinning shamelessly.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell embarrassing stories about my favorite baby?” He took a casual sip of his tea when Sang-hyuk pouted at him, and T52 looked between the two of them confusedly, unable to understand the double meaning behind their actions. Instead of voicing his question, like he had been wont to do back in the lab with Sang-hyuk, he reached forward and tugged on Hak-yeon’s sleeve, wordlessly frowning at him. Hak-yeon’s eyes widened in understanding, a conversation all their own that Sang-hyuk was frustratingly not a part of, and he placed his tea aside as he immediately cupped his hands around T52’s cheeks, comforting him softly.

“Ah, don’t be confused, Hong-bin. I was only teasing Sang-hyuk. He’s not upset, right, Hyukkie?” Sang-hyuk blinked when he suddenly felt both of them staring at him, and he quickly nodded. Hak-yeon smiled gratefully at him before turning his attention back to Hong-bin, patting the latter’s cheeks. “See? I’ll explain better next time.”

“I understand,” T52 said, his words muffled between Hak-yeon’s hands, though he made no move to pull away. “I will try to understand better next time.”

Hak-yeon ran a hand through T52’s hair, the locks soft and smooth from how much Hak-yeon spent cleaning it, and Sang-hyuk felt it was time to stop.

“Alright, I think it’s time for T52 to go back. We don’t want to chance anything.” He could see both Hak-yeon and T52’s expressions fall at the mention of the bathroom, both knowing what he meant, though neither said anything. Hak-yeon pulled his hands away, T52 noticeably following after him. Sang-hyuk hurriedly stood up, clearing his throat. “Follow me, T52.”

T52 immediately followed his command, standing to his full height, and they all watched as the afghan fell to the floor. Nobody made a move to pick it up, and Sang-hyuk felt a vindictive victory as he silently led T52 back to the bathroom. He hated that he felt anything other than pity when looking at the cyborg, and he tried to give him a friendly goodbye—only to see the cyborg reset the moment he stepped into bathroom.

It wasn’t until hours later that he realized T52 hadn’t restarted once when with Hak-yeon.

--

Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure when it started that his heart would automatically begin to race the moment he stepped into the lab, his eyes instinctively glancing around to see if anyone was watching him. It had been barely a week since T52 escaped, and the habits were already drilled in, his skin always crawling as if waiting for someone to accuse him. He knew he had to get rid of the cyborg as soon as possible, throw him out and erase any trace of his connection before T52 got too attached, and he told himself the reason he was waiting so long was because he wanted to make sure no one suspected him. He told himself that…but when he saw the way Hak-yeon would light up around T52, how he would spend countless hours with the latter settled in his lap and playing with his hair, he knew the real reason why.

So, he kept to himself, making himself as inconspicuous as possible to hopefully throw any suspicions away. It worked for the most part, nobody bothering him as he went through his days like normal, testing and talking with Hong-bin before eventually stumbling home. He avoided looking in places he shouldn’t, which was why the supposedly obvious announcement that T52 was put ‘under review’ and Chan-yeol had been ‘transferred’ was new to him.

“…Chan-sik?” The small intern’s head snapped up at the sound of Sang-hyuk’s hesitant question, scrambling up from where he had been huddled by Sang-hyuk’s office door. Sang-hyuk was surprised by how weathered and hollow the latter looked, his usually sparkling eyes outlined by heavy bags, small wrinkles creasing around his eyes from a lack of sleep. Chan-sik gave a heavy sniffle as he shivered under his lab coat, rubbing his nose as he gave Sang-hyuk a polite bow.

“I-I’m sorry for bothering you, Sang-hyuk, sir,” Chan-sik murmured, his voice hoarse. “B-but they assigned me under you…I was told to wait here.”

“What?” Sang-hyuk answered intelligently, waiting a few seconds for the smaller boy to deliver the punchline, eventually glancing around to see if someone was trying to pull a terrible joke. But when Chan-sik did nothing but stare at him sullenly, near trembling, he quickly coughed to hide his flushed cheeks. “A-ah, I wasn’t aware of that. Here, why don’t you come into my office? We can talk more there.”

Chan-sik gratefully said nothing as he let Sang-hyuk lead him inside, and Sang-hyuk inwardly floundered about what to do. He thought back to what Won-shik had done when Sang-hyuk first started working here, racing to grab a chair and awkwardly offer it to him. Chan-sik thanked him softly, his eyes trained on the floor as he hunched his shoulders in on himself, and Sang-hyuk had no idea what to do as he eventually sat at his desk.

Sang-hyuk had no idea what to do. He had never been in charge of anyone before, nobody trusting him to look after himself let alone another human being. Even Won-shik, who had finished mentoring him years ago, still occasionally came to check up on him, just to make sure he didn’t hurt or kill himself from just sheer lack of common sense. But here he was, Chan-sik suddenly appearing in front of him and the apparent order to mentor him suddenly upon him.

He was ed.

“Uh…” Sang-hyuk eventually started, his face flushing again at how stupid he sounded, “I wasn’t informed of anything, so, could you, um, repeat that for me?”

Chan-sik glanced up at him, his pale lips pursed into a thin line. “I-I was assigned under you. They told me to wait for your orders.”

Sang-hyuk immediately looked through the papers on his desk, the pile overflowing from how little Sang-hyuk actually went into his office, Chan-sik’s eyes trained on him as he did so. He tossed useless reports aside, some so old he was sure the paper was yellowing, and paused when a simple envelope fluttered to the floor, his name handwritten on the front. Sang-hyuk blinked, glancing at Chan-shik briefly before picking the small letter up, wondering who actually took the time to write him a letter. No one wrote anything here, save for the constant test reports, let alone an actual letter. He wanted to see who it was from, but knew that would have to wait when he could feel Chan-sik’s eyes burrowing into his head.

He eventually found the newest invoice directed to him, stating that Park Chan-yeol had been transferred to a different sector, and that his intern would thereafter be placed under Sang-hyuk. He blinked at the offending note, confusion clouding his mind, when Chan-sik coughed uncomfortably.

“T-they said he was transferred, but he…he wasn’t. Professor Park told me what was going to happen before he left. They…they k-killed him.” Chan-sik’s voice shook as he spoke, tears glossing over his eyes as he struggled to stay calm.

Sang-hyuk let out a soft sigh as he gently placed the invoice down, swallowing. He would miss Chan-yeol. “If that’s what he said, then it’s probably true. No one is safe if they mess up.”

“But he didn’t mess up!” Chan-sik suddenly shouted, his cheeks coloring once he realized he’d raised his voice. “P-Professor Park didn’t do anything wrong. They just suddenly took T52 out for ‘special testing’, and then all of a sudden told Professor Park he was being transferred. Professor Park hadn’t done anything and was confused too about what was happening. I…I don’t understand why they k-killed him.”

Sang-hyuk started at that. “T52 went out for special testing?”

Chan-sik hesitated, uncomfortable under Sang-hyuk’s sudden attention. “It was officially put under review. They didn’t tell us why or anything. They just said to wait for further instructions…Professor Park was so nervous the whole time.”

Sang-hyuk felt a cold sweat break out over his skin as harrowing understanding slowly dawned on him, stomach bile rushing up his throat and threatening to force itself all over himself. Under review…sudden testing…transferring—there was only one reason why all those things would appear at once, and Sang-hyuk hated the growing realization that seeped into his every pore at the reason why.

Never would they openly announce that one of their cyborgs had disappeared under their noses, and never would they make a scene to search for him. Of course they would keep everything under wraps, letting only the most important ears aware as they did everything to make sure no one would find out. A useless excuse for the cyborg’s sudden disappearance, a quick action to get rid of the man in charge to stop any questions, a friendly, seemingly understanding transfer of the man’s intern to another cyborg—it would keep any curious eyes away, and would keep the sponsors sated. It was smart, though the cleverness of the higher ups was the last thing on Sang-hyuk’s mind as the pulsing, repeating reason why continued to bash itself against the inside of his skull.

This all happened because T52 was with him. Because Sang-hyuk had been too much of a spineless bastard to return the cyborg. Because Sang-hyuk had been so concerned about Hak-yeon’s happiness and T52’s limited freedom to even think about what the repercussions for everyone else involved would be. Chan-yeol was dead because of him and him alone, and that information was enough to cause his whole body to shake and his mouth to fill with bile.

Chan-sik noticed his reaction and stiffened, worry filling his tired eyes. “Han Sang-hyuk, sir? A-are you alright? You’re really pale-”

“P-please leave,” Sang-hyuk managed, his voice trembling as much as the rest of him, and he gripped the edge of his desk to help control himself. “I-I’ll give you o-orders later. Just…I need to be alone.”

Chan-sik nodded understandingly before rushing out of the room, the slam of the door behind him all Sang-hyuk needed before he was vomiting his entire breakfast all over the nauseatingly spotless floor, his body collapsing to the floor. He couldn’t care less that his lab coat was covered in the remnants of his breakfast, his one-track mind focused entirely on crawling under his desk, curling into a pathetic ball as he let himself succumb to the crushing sobs that were desperate to escape. It had been a long time since Sang-hyuk had felt so weak that he let all the walls he forced himself to hold up crumble to the ground, and this time now felt infinitely worse.

How could he not have thought about what would happen to Chan-yeol when he first brought T52 home? How could he not have thought of what would happen when he decided to wait before bringing him back?

When just this morning he was obliviously enjoying the sight of Hak-yeon laughing and playing with T52, Chan-yeol was taking his last breath, the last remnants of unforgiving fate him away.

When he had been so caught up in being jealous of Hak-yeon’s affection for a cyborg, Chan-yeol had been killed.

When he had been selfish, Chan-yeol had paid the price.

It was a long time later that he slowly returned to himself, his body unbearably cold and exhausted as his long wails turned to soft whimpers. He trembled as he wiped his ruddy cheeks, his eyes burning, and he winced when the sharp corner of thick paper scratched his cheek. He blinked down to see the handwritten letter crushed between his fingers, and he let out a childish hiccup as he unfolded it enough to see his name. Had Chan-yeol sent this? He couldn’t see why when they never interacted much and nobody knew that it was all Sang-hyuk’s fault, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

He let out another hiccup as he tore the envelope open, struggling a bit to pull the small letter out. It was a simple letter, barely a page, written in messy handwriting with numerous words and even paragraphs scratched out. Whoever had written it had been pressed for time, and knowing what he did now, Sang-hyuk understood.

That was until he read the name of the sender, and his heart stopped for a second time that day.

Hyukkie…

I’m sorry. I know I should be strong like you, but I can’t. I tried telling myself to be strong for her, but every day I feel as if the world is closing around me. I can’t. I’m sorry for ever thinking you were weak; I can barely stand looking at myself when I remember what I’ve done, I can’t imagine what you must feel every day.

I thought long and hard about what you said…and you’re right. I guess I lasted this long because I convinced myself that the cyborgs weren’t human. But they’re human, just as much as Byullie was and still is. That’s why I wanted to do something. A couple days ago I heard a couple of the guys working down in the basement talking about T52, and heard they were going to terminate it him because of how well X39 was changing. I was originally going to pretend I didn’t hear, but then you invited me to drinks and told me about how they’re people too, and… I can’t just ignore it.

So, I’m writing this to you as a last goodbye. I wish I could’ve said it in person, but I don’t want to risk your or Hak-yeon’s safety because of my selfishness. I’m going to run away with my mom the moment this is done, and hopefully if everything turns out well, I’ll be living happily somewhere with my mom and you and Hak-yeon will finally get together and be the happy couple everyone knows you are. Hopefully you’re not dragged into this and by the time you read this, you’ll just be confused on what I’m talking about. I really liked you Hyuk. I wish we could’ve run away together, but I know how much you worry.

Goodbye, Sang-hyuk. Please destroy this the moment you finish reading it—I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.

Be happy, and be safe.

Sung-jae

The crumbled paper was dotted with heavy tears by the time he finally managed to finish, his one hand stuffed between his teeth to keep his scream-filled wails muffled. Sung-jae…he had noticed his friend missing the past few days, but he had only given the man a few confused thoughts before turning to more important things. He had just assumed his friend was sick, or hiding in the basement because of Byul. How…how long had Sung-jae been suffering, that he would write something like this to him? How long ago had he actually written this? If Sung-jae had really run away—

He burst out from under his desk, disregarding the searing pain from bumping his head against the corner, tripping over himself before rushing out of his office and straight towards the basement. He ignored the strange looks sent his way as he bypassed the elevator entirely, going straight for the stairs and going down two at a time.

There was no way to run away. He knew this, Sung-jae knew this, hell, even Hak-yeon knew this, yet Sung-jae did anyway. After helping T52 escape, Sung-jae tried to run away. Everything he did led to only one possibility, and with the unknown amount of time since Sung-jae had written the letter, there was only one place his friend could be.

There was no way he could escape.

Which was how Sang-hyuk ended up in the basement, looking like a madman with his coat hanging off his shoulders drenched in vomit and tears, looking into each tube to see the face inside. He for once couldn’t be bothered to take the time to see who they were or how young they were, only searching for one face and one only. He could hear his name being shouted and the sound of things clattering, more than likely the IVs he was pushing around, but he couldn’t stop. Nothing could stop him until he finally found what he was looking for, and he felt his knees buckle beneath him and his body collapse to the floor.

There, with his eyes closed and his body forced asleep, was Sung-jae. His bright, cheery friend who managed to brighten the dark basement a little every day. His friend that always tried to make him smile, who told jokes and laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. His friend who had all but been destroyed when he finally successfully had a subject survive the first test. Tears flooded his eyes as he dragged himself back up, forcing himself to stare into the small window to stare at his friend’s face. Sung-jae’s face.

From what he could see, there were no marks that signaled a struggle or pain. He looked to be only asleep, like he would snap his eyes open and scream playfully like the many times he used to prank Sang-hyuk when they were younger. Sang-hyuk had always hated it, embarrassed and ashamed when he would screech in fear; but now he wished for it, pleading silently for Sung-jae to just get it over with and scare him. He promised he would laugh. He wouldn’t be angry. He wouldn’t yell at him. He would laugh. He would laugh as much as he wanted if only he would just open his eyes.

“Han Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, whirling around to see a couple men he’d seen hanging around Sung-jae by his side, the one closest doing his best to keep his face expressionless. He trembled under the man’s touch but stayed firm, keeping their gazes locked.

“H-he…”

“He’s been there for almost a week now. There’s nothing you can do.” There was pain in his voice, a pain they all heard but refused to acknowledge, and Sang-hyuk only looked back down at Sung-jae’s face. He could the others shifting, no one sure what to say after Sang-hyuk’s desperate display, and he honestly had nothing he wanted to say to them. There was nothing he could say. Nothing that would come close to making anything better.

“They never told us what happened or why. He just…appeared one day. We’ll…we’ll take care of him.”

Sang-hyuk looked up to see the pain in the other man’s eyes, finally recognizing the man as Jung Il-hoon. He knew Sung-jae had been especially close to him, and seeing the way he was now, he could see why. Sang-hyuk did his best to nod back, swallowing heavily and waiting to make sure his voice wasn’t shaking too much.

“I-I…thank you. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It…it isn’t anyone’s.”

Lies.

All lies.

But sometimes the sweetest lies were better than the bitterest truth.

Hong-bin noticed something was wrong the moment Sang-hyuk stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his flurried hair, his lab coat gone and his shirt untucked and wrinkled. He didn’t say anything as Sang-hyuk moved over to his chair, his eyes following him the entire time, but Sang-hyuk honestly was too tired to care. His body felt as if it had been hit by a truck and all the pieces crushed by a mallet, and he was going through the motions by sheer will power alone. He fell into his seat and let out a long sigh, looking up to see Hong-bin staring at him, gaze sharp.

Sang-hyuk ran a weak hand through his hair, his lips curling up without a second thought. “Hey there, Binnie. Sorry to keep you waiting. Why don’t we start these tests and get them out of the way, hmm?”

Hong-bin’s frown deepened, not moving an inch despite Sang-hyuk holding his hands out expectantly. His hands on his knees tightened as he straightened his back further, his shoulders taut, and Sang-hyuk suddenly wanted to scream at him to stop acting like a ing machine. Why did everything have to turn out this way? Why did his father have to have been ing around with goddamn cyborgs, doing things he shouldn’t have and eventually getting himself offed like a fool? Why did Sang-hyuk have to be his son, taken by association alone? Why did he have to be assigned to finish the work his father had been too stupid to do, forced to work with people that he knew deep down he would never know if he would still see the next day? Why did his only friend have to be the one to foolishly try and run away after helping a top-secret experiment escape?

Hong-bin’s gaze never wavered despite the overwhelming emotions threatening to overtake Sang-hyuk, content with waiting. But Sang-hyuk didn’t want to wait. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

“Goddamnit, X39, just give me your ing hand!”

Hong-bin’s eyes narrowed even further, if that was even possible, before mechanically placing his hand in Sang-hyuk’s. Sang-hyuk regretted his words but did nothing to change it, blinking back tears as he roughly pulled and tugged at Hong-bin’s skin. His fingers were shaking by the time he was at Hong-bin’s shoulders, his breath uneven, and by the time he was at his waist, he could feel tears dripping from his chin. He let out shallow breaths, his fingers sharp and deep as they pulled at Hong-bin’s skin, yet all the while Hong-bin only stared.

Hong-bin only stared.

It was only when the first whine escaped his lips that Hong-bin moved, his arms strong as they wrapped around Sang-hyuk’s torso. He was surprisingly graceful as he easily pulled Sang-hyuk onto his lap, tucking Sang-hyuk’s head under his chin and cradling him like a child. Sang-hyuk was suddenly brought back to the time in his father’s office, held in Hong-bin’s lap not unlike now, feeling so safe and secure. While he felt nothing like that now, he still felt some sense of security underneath Hong-bin’s strong hold.

“Cry if it is what you must,” Hong-bin said quietly, his one hand moving up to run through Sang-hyuk’s hair. Sang-hyuk distantly wondered where Hong-bin had learned such a comforting motion, but couldn’t focus on that as he instead relished in the gentle reassurance it brought. Hong-bin continued to pat his hair, his voice soft and light. “I have been sad at the thought that your time here has changed you to be unable to feel as strongly as you had. While I cannot understand why you feel anger when you are sad, I am very happy to see that you are still able to cry.”

Sang-hyuk buried his face into Hong-bin’s chest, the soft cotton of his shirt smelling like disinfectant. Hong-bin had no scent. “I cried when you told me you remembered.”

“That is different. That is because of something I directly caused you to feel. I still cannot forgive myself for causing you such pain.” He waited a few seconds before looking down, pulling away enough Sang-hyuk looked up at him. “I am happy to see that the things they force you to do still can upset you. I would not be able to describe what I would feel if you became as immune to your work as your father had.”

Sang-hyuk found he had no response for that, instead dismally leaning back against Hong-bin’s chest, letting himself relish in the comfort he knew he had no right to feel. He couldn’t tell Hong-bin what really happened, and he wasn’t sure Hong-bin would even be able to fully understand. Hong-bin would probably never be able to, but that didn’t mean Sang-hyuk wouldn’t selfishly enjoy his presence to make it that much more bearable.

--

When Sang-hyuk finally stumbled into the apartment, he was tired and weary, beaten so thoroughly his body automatically collapsed backwards against the door. His mind was exhausted, unable to think much beyond sleep and wishing the world would end, but he did notice the overbearing silence that greeted him. The exhaustion disappeared instantly, his body jerking straight when he realized that all the lights were off, the apartment absolutely silent, and his heart began to thrash against his chest.

“H-Hak-yeonnie?” he whimpered, taking a faltering step forward, his fingers shaking as he flicked the light on. The image of Sung-jae’s face flashed in his mind, and he was shivering as he nearly ran into the living room. Nobody knew—the cameras were off. Nobody had any idea—they wouldn’t have touched Hak-yeon, right? He had been so careful—

He stopped short at the sight of Hak-yeon asleep on the couch, his voice lost. The breath he wanted to let out in relief was stuck in his throat, his eyes focused only on how Hak-yeon’s head was nestled carefully in T52’s arms, the afghan draped over his body. Any time before Sang-hyuk would have just fumed in silent jealousy, but all willpower he may have had was gone at this point, and a thick haze clouded his judgement as he lurched forward and grabbed Hak-yeon’s arm, yanking him up and away before either had a chance to react.

Hak-yeon let out a sleepy yell as he tumbled to the floor, his eyes bleary as he tried to figure out what was going on, and T52 was suddenly standing.

“Sang-hyuk,” T52 started, his voice startingly serious, but Hak-yeon stopped him, the latter quickly coming to his senses as he ripped his arm away and stood up.

“What the hell, Sang-hyuk? What are you doing?” It was rare that Hak-yeon yelled like this, actual anger in his voice, and Sang-hyuk felt like he’d been slapped across the face. Hak-yeon…he was supposed to be understanding, always listening and always calm. Hak-yeon was always patient no matter what mood Sang-hyuk was in, taking all Sang-hyuk’s abrasive shouts and unintelligible wails with nothing more than sweet words and reassuring hugs. After everything today, from learning about Chan-yeol’s death to seeing Sung-jae filled with laced drugs, he only wanted Hak-yeon to sing him to sleep, his arms wrapped around him and lulling him to sweet dreams.

He wanted nothing to do with the cyborg that started it all, nor did he want to hear the voice he craved to be angry and accusing with him.

“Stay away from him, Hak-yeon,” Sang-hyuk urged, his voice low and filled with warning as he sent a heavy glare at T52. Hak-yeon noticed his gaze, his frown deepening as he immediately stepped in between them, standing at his full height.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Sang-hyuk, but you need to be careful. Hong-bin is a guest, and this isn’t the type of behavior you should be having.” He knew Hak-yeon was trying to be placating, but his tone was all wrong, and Sang-hyuk wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.

“He’s not a guest,” he snapped back, trying to keep his voice level. He never wanted to yell at Hak-yeon. Hak-yeon was the least deserving out of everyone to be yelled at, but if this continued, with his mind in this state, he didn’t know how long he would last.

Hak-yeon’s eyes narrowed, his voice low and frighteningly cold. “Han Sang-hyuk, I want you to stop. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was is not Hong-bin’s fault. You brought him here and asked him to stay. He is a guest, and for as long he is staying here, he will stay that way.”

“How would you know?” he asked before he could stop himself. His words flew out without a second thought, his filter gone as everything he had bottled up for years was finally released. “You have no idea how many people risked their lives, gave their lives, for him, and yet he gets to stay here like a ing guest? You don’t know about what people had to do for him just to make a living, all to make sure he gets to open his pretty eyes every morning and say hello. How would you know that it’s not his fault? You don’t know anything.”

“And why do you think I don’t know anything?” Sang-hyuk flinched at the absolute loathing that seeped into Hak-yeon’s voice, finding himself shriveling under the other’s livid glare. Hak-yeon had been harried before, tired and frustrated, but never angry. “Yes, I have no idea what goes on at your work and have no idea what Hong-bin is to all of you. But…do you have any idea what it’s like to live here each and every day without the option of even stepping out the door? Do you have any idea what it’s like where I just stare out the window for hours, because there is nothing else to do and you’re never home? Do you know what it’s like to talk to the only person I can have contact with lie to me every day and smile as if nothing’s wrong? You have no ing idea, so don’t stand there and accuse me of something when you refuse to let me!”

“You’re standing there asking me if I have any idea what it’s like being locked up without the choice of going outside? That was my entire goddamn life! Why do you think I lie all the time? Would you like to hear about how people are turned into monsters because of sadistic rich people? Would you like hear about the people I help brainwash to keep you safe and happy here? You think it’s easy telling you how everything’s full of sunshine and rainbows?”

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything, but even just telling me you’re not alright is better than nothing!”

“No! I can’t!” Hak-yeon reeled back as if slapped, a flash of hurt sapping a bit of the emotion-riled anger he’d held, and Sang-hyuk regretted immediately. He felt the flurry of emotions that had pushed him vanish, leaving him even more exhausted than before, and his shoulders slumped as his body did its best to hold him up. “I…I only wanted you to be happy. I didn’t want to make you as miserable as I was. I…I just wanted to see you smile.”

Hak-yeon was crying as he stepped forward and pulled him into a gentle hug, and Sang-hyuk immediately hugged him back. It was then Sang-hyuk realized how much taller he’d grown, able to bend his head down and bury his face into the crook of Hak-yeon’s shoulder. Hak-yeon seemed to notice as well, a hiccup disguised as a laugh escaping his lips.

“Y-you liar. You promised you wouldn’t grow taller than me.”

“I’m sorry,” he responded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I lied.”

Hak-yeon sighed, his tears dotting Sang-hyuk’s shoulder. “Well…there’s not much we can do about it now, you big oaf. Y-you better not get any taller. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I promise.” They stayed that way for the longest time, both desperate and too terrified to break apart. It was only when a loud crash came from behind them that they spun around to see T52 sprawled out on the floor, his eyes glazed from a reset. Sang-hyuk hissed as he pulled away to help T52 up, huffing as he managed to drag him onto the couch. Hak-yeon was by his side, quickly covering T52 with the afghan and checking the other’s body, his fingers fixing T52’s hair. As they waited for T52 to come to, squatting on the floor and both so close and warm, Sang-hyuk whispered tentatively, “Yeonnie…can I sleep with you tonight?”

Hak-yeon smiled at him, kissing his cheek sweetly. “Of course you can, baby.”

Sang-hyuk knew Hak-yeon was awake when he heard him shift again for the hundredth time, the bed creaking along with him. He stared blankly at the ceiling as he waited for Hak-yeon to settle, both of them fully aware of the tense atmosphere between then, and neither knowing what to say. Sang-hyuk had already replayed their entire argument a thousand times in his head, and his entire body curled in on itself at the things he had accused Hak-yeon of. They had all been things he had thought at one time, yes, but he had never in a million years ever wanted to say them out loud.

He finally gathered enough courage to open his mouth when Hak-yeon suddenly turned to face him, the shine from the moon in his eyes rendering him speechless.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Hak-yeon whispered, his hand carefully reaching up to brush the curve of Sang-hyuk’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s…it’s okay. I yelled first. I didn’t mean it.”

Hak-yeon smiled, the curve of his lips highlighted by the stars, and Sang-hyuk found himself staring, enthralled. Hak-yeon had always shined, whether from the sky or from the inherent light that grew inside, and Sang-hyuk had always been drawn to that light. No matter what Sang-hyuk forced Hak-yeon to do, hidden away or otherwise, Hak-yeon still managed to shine brightly. Sang-hyuk never loved that more than he did now.

“No, I’m glad you finally were angry. Both of us. We’ve been pretending and hiding for so long; it wasn’t healthy. There are times when we should be mad at each other.” Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, his gaze falling, and Hak-yeon moved his hand under the covers to grab his hand. “Baby…you’ve been changing. I noticed it a while ago, but I didn’t want to make you upset. But after today…I…is everything okay? You know I’ll always be here. You can always tell me.”

Sang-hyuk could feel tears in his eyes, the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he knew he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell. No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much Hak-yeon pleaded, he couldn’t. So he changed the subject completely, shifting his hand to grab Hak-yeon’s instead. He smiled softly, his tears blurring Hak-yeon’s face. “You know, I…I had the smallest crush on you when we were little. N-not enough to go out or anything, but more than a friend. I used to think you were the strongest, bravest, coolest guy ever.” A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Thank you, Hak-yeon. For always being there for me.”

Hak-yeon didn’t answer right away, his hand so soft as he squeezed back gently. “I loved you too, Hyukkie. Maybe more than a friend…much more than a friend.” There was a teasing tone in his voice, but it was appreciated all the same, both of them smiling widely and enjoying each other’s presence. Sang-hyuk shifted closer, able to feel the soft puff of Hak-yeon’s breath against his skin, and he could feel all the tenseness in his body leak out little by little. Something between them had changed, whether it was from the argument or laying here in a world all their own, but it was as if the binds that had kept them separate had all but disappeared, the truths they had fought to hide bursting forward.

“I…I make cyborgs.” He could feel Hak-yeon stiffening, the bed creaking, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to the tentative, strange hum Hak-yeon gave in response. “M-my job…that’s what I do. I don’t have to do the tests to actually make them or anything, but I have to make sure they’re functioning.”

Hak-yeon stayed silent the whole while, listening to every word, and Sang-hyuk was entirely grateful. “T52…he’s a cyborg. He was the first one they made. I don’t know much about him before he was turned, but he was brought here years ago. Everything was experimental then, and they fully expected him to die when they shot him up with the serum. They never expected him to actually live.

“His body couldn’t keep up with the drugs they had to put in him to keep him alive, and he started falling apart. So, they started replacing parts of him, like giving him a new arm, a new leg, a new shoulder…eventually taking out his stomach and giving him an entirely new respiratory system. Now…I don’t think there’s anything human of him left except for his head. They still haven’t figured out how to touch that.” Hak-yeon was so quiet, and with his tears dried Sang-hyuk could see how intently he was listening. “His resets…I didn’t know him before, but I was told they wiped his memory because of how rebellious and angry he was, and a side-effect was it messed up his head. He can’t remember things very well anymore.”

“Does…does he know this?” Hak-yeon’s voice was level, a calm that was as cold as it was calculated, and Sang-hyuk shook his head.

“I don’t know. Because he resets so often, none of us know really anything about what he knows and what he doesn’t. We can only assume he doesn’t.” He took a deep breath, his body feeling lighter than it had in years as he poured his secrets out for the world to hear. “But I wasn’t assigned to work with T52. I barely saw him. I…I was assigned to work with another cyborg; you actually met him before.”

“I did?”

Sang-hyuk hummed. “He was the stranger my father brought home all those years ago. The one I snuck in to see. He was a cyborg too. Supposedly he grew attached to me during that time, so when they brought him back to the lab, I was the only one he wanted to see. That’s why they didn’t kill me back then, and why they were willing to bring you here. They made me wipe his memory and put me in charge of making sure he stayed functioning and obedient.”

“So, all these years—”

“—I’ve been working with him. I love him a lot, and I want to keep him safe, but there’s only so much I’m allowed to do. If I step outside my boundaries even a little, they’re quick to threaten—” he hesitated, his voice falling to a hush as he all but whispered, “—to kill you.”

“What?” Sang-hyuk jumped when Hak-yeon shot up, staring down at him in a mixture of horror and rage, and Sang-hyuk floundered to sit up with him. Hak-yeon growled as he turned the nearby lamp on, the room suddenly bathed in a soft glow as Hak-yeon’s eyes flashed from behind the dark shadows the light draped over him. “What do you mean, threaten you?”

Sang-hyuk was shocked to see such a reaction, more surprised to see Hak-yeon angry at the threatening than the actual threat on his life. “I-it’s not you personally. They threaten everybody like that. They did it to my father too; they threatened to kill my mother and I if my father messed up. It’s normal, so as bad as it is I never think too much about it. I only think about you when I work. I only want to keep you safe and happy.”

Hak-yeon didn’t seem the least bit reassured, his hands digging into his hair and tugging frustratingly as he let out a long, heavy groan. Sang-hyuk was confused, unsure what the other was so upset about, and flinched when Hak-yeon slapped his hand away.

“Hak-yeon…”

“I knew they did to keep you in line, but I didn’t expect it to be so ridiculous.”

Sang-hyuk blinked. “What?”

Hak-yeon finally looked at him, biting on his lip guiltily. “I…you don’t need to explain so much to me, Hyukkie. I…I already knew about what you did. About the cyborgs.”

Sang-hyuk blinked again, the only intelligible answer he could give being, “…what?”

He sighed. “I never wanted to tell you. When we first met and I would sneak over to your house…I knew what your father was doing. The only reason my parents never tried to stop me from sneaking over all the time was because they knew your father and what he did. My parents…I knew who they were and what they did. I still do.”

Sang-hyuk instinctively scooted away, shaking his head as he tried to wrap his head around this new information, unable to believe despite how hard Hak-yeon tried to convince him. “N-no…you couldn’t have known. You were always so nice. You told me not to study so hard. You told me to relax and play. You would read stories to me and play games with me. You were so nice—how-”

“Just because I knew doesn’t mean I agreed,” Hak-yeon said hurriedly, reaching out to take his hand. Sang-hyuk pulled back, and Hak-yeon’s face fell. “I knew what they did, but it’s not like I could do anything to get them to stop. I hated what they did, and I hated that it was more important than me. You know how much my parents actually cared about me.”

“But-”

“All this time I’ve been with you, how hard have they looked for me? You’ve seen them at work, haven’t you? Do they look like they even miss me?” Both knew the answer before Hak-yeon even asked the question, and the flash of pain that crossed Hak-yeon’s face was enough for Sang-hyuk to take Hak-yeon’s hand. “I hated my parents, but I also loved them. I knew what they did and what lengths they went through to get people to do their bidding. I knew that’s why you weren’t allowed to go outside…so I did my best to allow you even a sliver of happiness. I’m sorry if that wasn’t enough.”

Sang-hyuk shook his head wordlessly as he leaned forward to grab Hak-yeon into a fierce hug, crushing him so tightly he could feel Hak-yeon wince. But that didn’t matter, crushing him until he could feel Hak-yeon’s heartbeat against his own, able to feel his pulse pounding against the cheek he buried into his neck. Hak-yeon had always been there for him, raising and loving him in a way that his own parents hadn’t. While it may have initially started because of pity, Sang-hyuk would never be able to fault him for becoming the person in his life that he would willingly die for.

“It was more than enough, Hak-yeon. Just you being there for me was enough. If not for you, I don’t think I could’ve made it this far.”

He could hear Hak-yeon laugh softly as he struggled to hug him back, his hands so warm and strong. Hak-yeon had always been the strong one.

“I meant what I said, baby. I loved you, more than a friend. I still do.” He felt Hak-yeon’s hand move up to his hair, his head like a child. “Now, I think it’s time for you to go to sleep. You’re exhausted. I’ll make you a nice breakfast in the morning, how’s that?” Sang-hyuk just nodded wordlessly, fully enjoying it as Hak-yeon laid him down and covered him with a blanket, tucking him in just like he used to all those years ago. Only this time, Hak-yeon actually climbed under the blankets with him, giving a soft kiss to his lips.

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hak-yeon.”

.

..

…

When he woke up next, Hak-yeon was not by his side. He was not in his room, nor was he even in bed, a quick glance around revealing a large room that was as cold as it was empty. He attempted to sit up only for his numb body to scream in protest, collapsing back onto the floor in a tired heap. He tried to figure out where he was only for his head to pound, his thoughts jumbled and mush.

He had been drugged, he thought blearily.

The piercing sound of a door creaking open grabbed his attention, taking a great amount of effort to turn his head to see Joon-myeon stepping inside, his face blank as he stared down at him like a mere piece of dirt. He tried to open his mouth, to ask what was going on, but his body just couldn’t move, and he instead only stared pleadingly. Joon-myeon didn’t answer right away, just staring in that unnerving way of his, before finally shutting the door behind him, his footsteps reverberating against the floor and ringing in Sang-hyuk’s ear.

“You know, I never thought I’d see you here, Sang-hyuk. As annoying as you were, you were always good. Loyal. It actually upsets me to see you here.”

“J-Joon-myeon…”

“But there’s no exception for being good. A lot of ’s happened because of you and that traitor, Yook Sung-jae. And traitors have to be punished. It’s honestly all too bad.” Sang-hyuk wasn’t able to figure out a response fast enough before Joon-myeon was signaling something, and the door was pushed open again.

The numbness that clung to the edges of Sang-hyuk’s consciousness could do nothing to stop the loud moan that escaped his lips, the utter despair palpable as Joon-myeon’s thin-lipped stare turned dark.

Hello!

I'm honestly so thankful for all of you that are actually sticking around for me and my infrequent updates. I just want to stay thank you for continuing to read. You guys are honestly the best.

I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations, and you enjoyed the chapter!