“Back again?” Jae-hwan greeted, the pulsing sounds of the music nearly drowning out his voice, the base enunciating each word and drumming against Sang-hyuk’s eardrums. Sang-hyuk didn’t answer as he collapsed onto the closest stool, his head nearly falling into his arms as he struggled to stay lucid. He purposefully worked every second he was awake, suddenly having too much time and not knowing what to do with it, and if he wasn’t working, he was here. He had come to appreciate Jae-hwan’s bright smiles and strange jokes—they kept his mind from wandering. Wandering meant thinking, and thinking was not something he could afford to do. 

He could feel the music thrumming through his body as he pressed against the countertop, bodies pushing against him as people brushed past, voices high-pitched and loud as they danced, the heat creeping through his skin and forming hot sweat against his clothes and dripping down his face, and Sang-hyuk suddenly felt cramped. There were too many people, it was too loud and too crowded, and he suddenly regretted coming. He shot up in his seat to say goodbye, to run away, but when he saw Jae-hwan turn his head to ask what he wanted, he found the words stuck.

This was what he wanted, right?

For just a minute to escape his heaven and hell, to run away and enjoy a few moments of distraction. To escape the sharp eyes that watched him, scrutinized him, waited for him; to escape the childish innocence that will soon be expecting him.

“Give me something,” he nearly begged, his voice strained, and Jae-hwan’s gaze flickered briefly before he was moving, grabbing a glass and pouring something. He was never really sure what Jae-hwan gave him—he just drank enough of it until the world stopped making sense and his mind wasn’t allowed to think. “Anything,” he added as he blindly grabbed for the glass, his head pounding as he knocked the drink back—only to immediately spit it back out.

“What the ?” he snarled, slamming the glass down and sending water flying everywhere. At one time he would’ve been appalled at his behavior, embarrassed and ashamed at the irrational anger. But none of that mattered now. Jae-hwan was nonplussed at his reaction, merely grabbing a rag to wipe the counter clean.

“You shouldn’t be drinking so much,” he said simply, the admonishing tone triggering a rage Sang-hyuk didn’t know he had.

“Who are you, my mother?” he snapped, and his eyes widened as the knife lodged in his heart dug itself that much deeper. This wasn’t why he came here. He didn’t come here to think. He didn’t come to feel.

He ran away.

--

Every time he looked in the mirror he could feel nothing but overwhelming disgust, a flurried mix that grew more heated and confused the longer he stared. He hated the sallow skin, the slight rising of his chest that left fogged breaths against the glass. He hated the bony, shaking hands that gripped the edges of the sink, the fingers still strong despite how often he dreamt of breaking them. He hated how the shirts that had once hugged his frame now hung loosely, his collarbones sharp as they poked through the collars. He hated everything about him—

—but it was only when he saw his red-rimmed eyes, red from crying and ringed black from lack of sleep, that he felt guilt. He knew how much Hak-yeon had worked to keep him healthy and happy, and he felt so incredibly guilty at what he had become.

He avoided mirrors.

--

“Sang-hyukkie,” Hak-yeon drawled, rolling his head to stare at Sang-hyuk sitting dutifully at his desk, working through the math assignment his father had given him. Hak-yeon had come over the moment Sang-hyuk had messaged him that his father had gone away, and after a while of them playing around and doing absolutely nothing, Sang-hyuk had gone to do his homework. While Hak-yeon was never happy watching Sang-hyuk work, mostly because he was so lazy, he never forced him to stop. No, instead he just sprawled out on Sang-hyuk’s bed and whined until Sang-hyuk gave him the attention he wanted.

Sang-hyuk ignored him, though he couldn’t hide how his lips turned up at Hak-yeon’s complaining.

“I’m bored,” Hak-yeon tried again, rolling onto his stomach and swatting uselessly at Sang-hyuk’s leg, his fingertips brushing Sang-hyuk’s elbow. Sang-hyuk leveled him with an attempted glare, his lips trembling from how much he wanted to laugh at Hak-yeon’s ridiculously wide eyes and pleading pout. “Hyukkie, please play with me.”

“I have to do my homework,” he tried to argue. That only made Hak-yeon widen his eyes even more, scooching forward and tugging pitifully on his sleeve.

“But I’m bored, Hyukkie. Your homework will be there regardless. Come play with me; you don’t want to leave me all sad, do you?” He knew what Hak-yeon was trying to do, but he found himself unable to fight as he broke into a wide smile, throwing his pencil down as he launched himself onto the bed, bursting into happy giggles as Hak-yeon engulfed him in a large hug and smothered him with kisses.

--

Hong-bin noticed immediately.

In the past few weeks, Hong-bin had become extremely attuned to Sang-hyuk’s moods, something he hadn’t thought possible but accepted with little thought. He found himself hiding away here more often than not, unable to just go home like Won-shik had told him. When he wasn’t in his office or wasting away drunk off his , he was here, doing unnecessary tests just so he could have something to do.

“Sang-hyuk, has something happened?” Hong-bin did not push away the hand that played with his fingers, his eyes focused solely on how sharply Sang-hyuk inhaled, how quickly his eyes darted down. He waited patiently for Sang-hyuk’s answer, eventually twisting his hand around so he could instead hold Sang-hyuk’s, running his fingers up and down in a soothing fashion. He was truly showing how quickly he could learn, already knowing so many ways to calm him that not even Sang-hyuk had known.

“What do you mean?” He grinned so widely he was sure his face would crack, revealing all the layers he had built over the years. He could feel them breaking away little by little as the days passed, the strength he once had to keep them sapped away with every second he breathed. “You don’t like me coming to visit?”

Hong-bin’s expression didn’t change, his hand stopping. “I have never said such a thing. You are acting differently, and it is something I have learned is not good. Did something happen to your friend?”

Sang-hyuk did his best to suppress the urge to cry, blinking rapidly. He had no more tears; there was nothing left. “The little boy has been kept away by the king’s soldiers. They want to wait until the friend is empty, then they’ll bring him out. Until then, the little boy can only wait.”

Hong-bin’s eyes narrowed. “Then I will wait with you.”

Sang-hyuk ended the test.

--

“Hyukkie,” Hak-yeon said one night, the two of them huddled in the living room, the lights off and the room cold, only the lulling sound of traffic cutting through the silence between them. Sang-hyuk refused to answer him, curled in a ball at the foot of the sofa, unable to look him in the eye as he shivered. He could hear Hak-yeon sigh, and while he knew he was being difficult, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. “Hyuk, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“You can’t help,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse.

“You don’t know that,” Hak-yeon insisted, his voice firm yet layered with kindness. “I can help more than you know. You just have to let me.”

“I can’t.” He couldn’t taint Hak-yeon. Everything was his fault; he couldn’t force Hak-yeon into anything more because of him.

He could hear Hak-yeon sigh, the floor creaking as he shifted, and he tensed as he felt the softest of brushes against his cheek. He tried his best to keep his head down, secretly reveling in Hak-yeon’s touch,. He heard Hak-yeon whisper his name, pleading, and he finally lifted his head to look at him, reassure him that everything was fine, his eyes turning up to see Hak-yeon’s wonderful smile—

“Hello, Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk shifted uncomfortably under Joon-myeon’s stare, knowing exactly why the other had called him. It was only a matter of time before…before he was finished, and he would be forced to finally confront the demons he had been desperately trying to avoid. It had been estimated to be about a week before he was completed, mem—…memories wiped and superficial blemishes cleared away. When they would meet again, he would appear as if an angel, with hair feather soft and skin as smooth as a newborn child.

He would be a stranger entirely, unfit of the name Cha Hak-yeon.

Joon-myeon for once didn’t appear annoyed at Sang-hyuk’s silence, letting out a soft sigh as he a pile of papers on his desk. Sang-hyuk wanted to believe there was a sliver of remorse in the other’s expression, but he couldn’t trust himself to believe anything anymore, so he instead focused his gaze on his own hands. “How’ve you been doing?” he finally asked, and Sang-hyuk scoffed before he could stop himself.

“How do you think I’m doing?” he retorted dryly, meeting Joon-myeon’s eye and, for the first time, finding himself unafraid. It was a strange realization; Joon-myeon had always appeared terrifying and untouchable, just a single twitch of his brow sending rivets of such terror that Sang-hyuk had barely been able to breathe. But sitting here now, with his entire world torn to shreds and no way to pick up the pieces, he was unable to feel that same fear, Joon-myeon’s supposedly terrifying stare doing nothing more than making him laugh. “I’m assuming everything’s done, if that’s why I’m here.”

Joon-myeon frowned at the brashness in his tone, his hand stilling over the papers. “I would be careful if I were you, Sang-hyuk. There is only so much understanding we can give before boldness becomes defiance.” Sang-hyuk didn’t feel any of the threat laced into those words but stayed appropriately quiet, merely clenching his jaw when Joon-myeon pushed the papers towards him. “It—ah, he’s ready. Everything was finished last night.”

Sang-hyuk’s hands shook as he slowly reached out to take the papers, his breath short and his eyes glossing with tears he didn’t know he still had. He pressed his lips tightly, blinking rapidly as he carefully looked through the pages. Nowhere did it say Hak-yeon’s name, his identity fully erased as he was labelled with the simple model number ‘Y21’. Through the report he was able to see the entirety of his process, from the drugs pumped through his body to the tests checking his reflexes. He was barely aware of the paper crinkling under his grip, tears dotting the pages as he finally turned to Hak-yeon’s profile page, complete with a picture.

That was not Hak-yeon.

The technicians were thorough. What stared out from that picture looked nothing like Hak-yeon, the sharp features and empty expression now the same as Hong-bin and T52. It was as if someone had taken Hak-yeon’s features and tried to make a replica, getting the basic shape of his face and yet stretching out the skin just enough it wasn’t right. The full, round cheeks that Hak-yeon had always complained about were gone, the skin he had worked so hard to lighten now pale in comparison. But what stood out the most was his eyes. What had once shined no longer shone, his gaze empty and lifeless.

He had killed Hak-yeon, and they had buried him.

“None of us wanted this to happen,” Joon-myeon finally said, his voice soft. “While it’s not the best, at least he survived. You can still be with him.”

“Survived?” he hiccupped, looking up at Joon-myeon in disbelief. “Hak-yeon died. This…this is not him.” He slammed the papers down, shaking his head. “This isn’t him.”

Joon-myeon didn’t look convinced as he merely nodded. “If you can keep that up, you’ll be just fine.” He waited until Sang-hyuk looked him in the eye before continuing, his smile deceiving. “But there’s always a glimmer of hope—you’ve been promoted.”

Sang-hyuk blinked. “I what?”

“You’ve been promoted. With your current position, you can’t be in charge of Hak-yeon, nor make any decisions over the progress of his tests. Won-shik told me you wanted to take him—this is the only way. You’ll be given the title ‘Doctor’, and you’ll be able to schedule his tests to your liking, as well as having full access to the lab archive—with permission of course.” Joon-myeon’s smile dropped, his eyes taking an edge. “But just because you’ll have the ability to choose doesn’t mean you can hide. He will undergo the tests, and he will be experimented on. He is no different than X39 or T52, or even Y09. You can’t protect him.”

Sang-hyuk leaned forward, matching his gaze and sharpening his voice until it threatened to pierce. “Watch me.”

--

Sang-hyuk went to his office first before daring to go anywhere near Hak-yeon—he refused to look anything short of presentable before meeting him. Sleeping downstairs and wearing the same clothes every day; he couldn’t and wouldn’t show that as the first thing Hak-yeon would see. He opened the door only to stop short at the sight of Chan-sik huddled on a chair, the younger boy hurriedly scrambling to sit straight. Sang-hyuk awkwardly waved him down as he side-stepped inside, keeping his eyes down as he made his way over to his desk.

…he had forgotten about Chan-sik. Since Chan-yeol’s…transfer, Sang-hyuk had reluctantly grown used to the shadow that followed him nearly everywhere. He had never really known how much being a mentor had entailed, feeling self-conscious with how intently Chan-sik watched him, nodding along to Sang-hyuk’s every word. It terrified Sang-hyuk; he had no idea what he himself was doing half the time, and felt he was the last person who should be mentoring anybody. And with how little he spent in the present, his mind always a flurry of memories and pain, he was sure Chan-sik wasn’t learning anything.

Everyone had always joked that Won-shik had been a terrible mentor, but Sang-hyuk was sure he was absolute in comparison.

Luckily Chan-yeol had trained him well, so he knew what to do even when Sang-hyuk forgot to tell him. It wasn’t great, but it was a routine they eventually made, and while neither really knew what to say or how to get along, they got the job done.

“Are we going to see X39, sir?” Chan-sik asked quietly, chewing on his bottom lip when Sang-hyuk stood in front of his mirror, fixing his hair. The uneasiness in the room was near palpable, and Sang-hyuk was in no mood to address it. He grimaced at his appearance, eyes bloodshot and lips dried, but he knew there was nothing he could do with that. He turned to leave and Chan-sik hurried to follow him. “Sang-hyuk, sir-”

“You don’t need to come,” Sang-hyuk said quietly, pausing by the door to glance back at the timid look the other boy sent him. He hated the way Chan-sik looked at him. “I’m not going to see X39 right now.”

“T-then what should I-?”

“Just stay here. I…I’ll come get you when I need you.” Chan-sik looked hurt but nodded regardless, hanging his head as he silently stepped back. Sang-hyuk regretted his harsh words but did nothing to take them back, only biting the inside of his cheek before stepping out the door.

He sniffled as he sat in the piles of blankets wrapped around himself, his lower lip jutted out as his hands struggled to wipe away the tears that stuck to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what he did to make his daddy so mad, all he did was give him a good morning hug. But his daddy must not have been very happy, because he yelled at Sang-hyuk and told him to go to his room. He’d wanted to cry but stopped himself, knowing he was a big boy and big boys didn’t cry. But once he was alone he couldn’t help crying sadly into his pillow. Both his parents had started to be really weird recently, and it made him so sad.

He jumped at the sound of knocking on the front door, immediately scrambling out of bed and running to his door, pressing his ear against the cold wood. Nobody every came to their house anymore. He wondered if his daddy was bringing friends over, and he secretly hoped they would come say hi. Sang-hyuk always liked making friends. But he knew he still wasn’t allowed out of his room, so he just waited for someone to come get him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, listening to the sound of his daddy’s voice speaking with strangers, when something moving outside his window caught his attention. He immediately forgot all about his daddy as he ran to his window, curiously standing on his tiptoes to try and see.

He looked around until he spotted a boy not much older than himself kicking at some wild flowers. His fingers grasping at the windowsill tightened at the sight of the boy, thinking him the prettiest boy he had ever seen. He had light fluffy hair that bounced every time he moved, his skin warm and glowing underneath the sun. Sang-hyuk himself was super pale because he hid inside all the time, and he couldn’t help but be jealous at how pretty the boy was. The boy looked up to glance back, maybe looking for someone, and Sang-hyuk stared at the pretty boy’s face. He wanted to call out and say hi, maybe ask the pretty boy to come inside and play with him, until he remembered his daddy and his friends. So he decided to just stay and watch—until the boy turned back around and met his eye.

He held his breath as he turned the doorknob, nearly shaking as he slowly swung the door open. Everything looked just the same, the desk, the cabinet, the bed—but there was nothing sitting in wait for him. No, what greeted him was a body that looked nothing short of human lying on the bed, head cushioned by a pillow and blanket covering up to his chin. His footsteps stuttered as he walked towards the bedside, his lips trembling; the profile picture had nothing on the real thing.

Hak-yeon was still clear as day despite how much they had changed, his expression almost peaceful as he slept. Sang-hyuk’s hand shook from the urge to brush away the loose strands of hair from his face. He wanted to do so much—kiss him awake, hug him until he coughed, take him to that dinner he always promised, to finally finish a movie together—but he only sat down in the chair, letting the tears fall as he realized he would never be able to do that. Hak-yeon would never be able to go home, would never be able to watch a movie, or even eat dinner. He probably wouldn’t even know what any of those things were anymore.

No, Hak-yeon was dead, and this was just something that looked like him. No matter what happened, they were two different people. He repeated this in his head like a mantra until Hak-yeon’s eyes fluttered open, blinking with nothing but confusion in his eyes.

Sang-hyuk straightened in his chair, furiously wiping his face dry and schooling his expression into a picture of perfection. While Hak-yeon may be gone, this was still him, and he would be damned if he gave him anything less than the care and love he deserved.

He watched as Hak-yeon’s eyes carefully scanned the room, giving him as much time as he needed to come to terms with his situation. He watched Hak-yeon tentatively move his hands around, his movements clumsy, and his heart hurt when he realized why. Hak-yeon was still new, was still complete, and wouldn’t be able to feel. He bit his lip to keep himself quiet, his hands shaking. A kiss, a hug, a brush, a touch—he wouldn’t be able to feel any of that anymore.

Hak-yeon’s eyes eventually fell on Sang-hyuk, his face expressionless as his eyes stared, and Sang-hyuk struggled to greet him. Hak-yeon was waiting for him, needed him, and yet he couldn’t find the words to say.

The boy’s face broke out into a wide smile, waving at Sang-hyuk and motioning for him to come outside. Sang-hyuk really wanted to, but he knew he wasn’t allowed. He knew his daddy would be really mad if he did. The boy frowned when Sang-hyuk shook his head, giving a small pout before glancing back one more time, giggling as he ran up to Sang-hyuk’s window. Sang-hyuk was only scared for a second before he was hurriedly pulling his chair up to the window, standing on top so he could look out easier.

“Hi!” the boy greeted, his whole face shining as he waved. His teeth were so white and his eyes glowed in the sunlight, and Sang-hyuk gaped in childish wonder.

“You’re so pretty,” he said truthfully, and pouted embarrassedly when the boy laughed.

“You’re so cute! What’s your name? Mine’s Cha Hak-yeon.” Sang-hyuk blinked in surprise when Hak-yeon rested his arms against the windowsill, leaning forward so his face was only inches from his own. He instinctively pulled back, shy, a timid smile on his lips as he whispered his name. Hak-yeon’s smile widened at his answer. “Well, hello, Sang-hyukkie! What are you doing hiding in here by yourself?”

“I-I’m not allowed outside. My daddy says it’s not safe.” For a second Hak-yeon’s smile dropped and Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure why. He wondered if he said something bad, and he was suddenly scared that Hak-yeon would get angry and leave. He always seemed to make his daddy angry and leave. “But I’m a big boy, so I can do it. My mommy says I’m a big boy, so I can be in here all by myself.”

Hak-yeon laughed, and Sang-hyuk was proud of himself for making him smile.

Sang-hyuk flinched when he realized Hak-yeon had looked away, losing his chance to introduce himself. He opened his mouth, struggling for words, and finally stammered out, “Y-you, do you know where you are?”

Hak-yeon turned back to him, but didn’t answer. His face didn’t move, not even a twitch of his brow. Hak-yeon had always been expressive, and seeing him so blank felt like someone tearing his heart out and ripping it to pieces. He tried asking the normal questions saved for this occasion, trying desperately to see him as nothing more than a test subject, and found himself cracking when Hak-yeon did nothing but stare. He could feel tears falling despite how hard he tried to stop them, quickly ducking his head as he let out heavy breaths, rubbing at his eyes to try and stop shaking. He had to be strong. Hong-bin was right, Hak-yeon needed him. He had to be strong.

“Do you…do you know who you are?”

For a split second he expected Hak-yeon to snap, asking what he was doing before mercilessly teasing him. But of course he wouldn’t, Hak-yeon speaking for the first time in the same monotone that Hong-bin had used for so many years. “I do not.”

“Do you have any friends?” Hak-yeon asked, tilting his head to try and peek inside his room. Sang-hyuk felt his cheeks flush when he realized how messy his room probably was, standing at his full height to try and block Hak-yeon’s view. Hak-yeon chuckled at Sang-hyuk’s attempt, his lips pressed together to hide his smile as he reached out and took Sang-hyuk’s chubby hands in his own, squishing his palms. “No need to be so shy. My room’s super messy too. My nanny hates it, she always scolds me as she cleans it.”

“You have a nanny?”

Hak-yeon’s smile fell slightly, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, but she’s not very nice. She doesn’t like me too much, so I don’t like her either. But my parents pay her a lot of money, so she always does everything I ask her.” Hak-yeon didn’t look like he liked talking about his nanny, hurriedly changing the subject. “But really, do you have any friends, Hyukkie?”

Sang-hyuk shook his head. “No. I had to say bye to all my friends when we moved here. I don’t have any friends anymore.”

“Yes, you do!” Sang-hyuk frowned, confused since he was very sure he didn’t, when Hak-yeon patted his chubby hand excitedly. “I’m your friend! We’re friends, right?”

Sang-hyuk’s mouth dropped open, unable to see how he couldn’t have figured that out sooner. “Really? We’re friends?”

“Of course! We’re gonna be bestest friends forever!” Sang-hyuk was still in shock when Hak-yeon shoved his pinky in his face, grinning brightly. “Promise?”

Sang-hyuk scrambled to lock their pinkies, for the first time grinning just as bright as he nodded firmly. “Promise!”

He nearly collapsed as he staggered out of the room, Hak-yeon’s voice ringing in his ears and crushing his chest. He knew it had been a mistake when he asked if Hak-yeon remembered him, for just a second hoping beyond hope that Hak-yeon had somehow managed to stay. But harboring hope was only asking for pain, and there were no words to describe the pain he felt when Hak-yeon answered with three simple words—I do not. Hak-yeon was gone, was really gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

He took a deep, quivering breath before turning around—only to crash straight into a cart. He grunted at the sharp pain in his side, rubbing his throbbing hip mindlessly as he looked up to see a man standing frozen in front of him, eyes wide in horror. Sang-hyuk frowned, his hand slowly stilling as he saw what was on the cart and realized what the man was trying to do.

His eyes narrowed, hardening his voice as he demanded, “What are you doing?”

The man looked about ready to piss himself, bowing his head as he subconsciously stepped back, dragging the cart with him. “I’m sorry, Doctor Han. I didn’t mean to hit you, I-”

“I asked,” he gritted, “what are you doing?”

The man snapped his mouth shut, biting his bottom lip and his left eye twitching nervously. “I-I was told to feed Y21.”

“What?” he growled, ignoring how the man looked like he wanted to die as his hands tightened into fists. “No one told me that. What’s your name? Who sent you?”

“My n-name’s Kim Seok-jin. Doctor Kim Won-shik sent me.”

“Won-shik?” he asked in disbelief, all anger momentarily replaced with genuine surprise. When did Won-shik assign anyone to Hak-yeon? And why…why hadn’t he said anything?

He left the poor intern alone as he stormed through the lab, everyone hurrying out of his way as he slammed open Won-shik’s door, too angry to laugh at how the latter nearly fell out of his chair, shrieking at the sudden entrance. Won-shik scrambled to his feet all the while looking ready to snap at him, though he stayed silent when he saw the furious scowl Sang-hyuk sent him, rage emanating off him in waves. Sang-hyuk didn’t wait for pleasantries as he stalked forward, flinging the guest chair against the wall as he slammed his hands on the desk, meeting Won-shik’s purposefully impassive gaze with a glare.

“When did you assign an intern to Hak-yeon?”

“An intern is always assigned to take care of the cyborg’s necessities. It was only a matter of time.”

The calm words and even tone did nothing to ease Sang-hyuk’s nerves, his whole body shaking as he tried to control himself. He wasn’t sure what about the new intern upset him, knowing there was no real reason for him to be so angry. Hak-yeon…as much as it hurt him to accept it, was a test subject now, and was going to go through all the normal procedures to become a proper cyborg. There was nothing different about him despite how much Sang-hyuk insisted there was, and there was nothing wrong with an intern being assigned to care for him. But the idea of anyone else touching Hak-yeon, even seeing Hak-yeon, set a fire inside him that he had no way of stopping.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was a small whimper laced between the viciousness, and Won-shik caught onto it immediately.

“How could I? You know better than anyone how you’ve been hiding from everyone. You never gave me a chance.”

“But you assigned him to Hak-yeon…you gave him Hak-yeon…” He stopped himself before he could break down, refusing to be weak again. He had always obeyed, always listened, and it had brought him nothing but pain and regret. “You should have told me regardless! Hak-yeon is under me, everything that goes on with him should go through me first.”

Won-shik frowned at his pulling rank, matching his glare. “You may have the title, but you’re not ready for the responsibility. Even if I told you, what would you do? Say no? There needs to be someone to feed it, and I doubt you could do it.”

Sang-hyuk floundered. “You still have to tell me first-!”

Won-shik scoffed. “You’re not mentally ready to be in charge. You’re barely capable of functioning as a normal human being on your own, how are you really ready to be in charge of a cyborg? Y21 is new and malleable, it needs someone confident-” Won-shik jumped back when Sang-hyuk suddenly swung his arm out and shoved everything on his desk to the floor, the computer monitor shattering and sending glass everywhere. He looked back up to Sang-hyuk in shock, his eyes wide and for the first time with a hint of fear.

“His name,” Sang-hyuk heaved, his shoulders hunched over as he braced himself against the desk, the fire burning hotter and hotter as he felt himself losing, “is Hak-yeon. His name is ing Hak-yeon! Don’t you ever call him in an ‘it’ in front of me again!”

“Sang-hyuk…” Won-shik whispered, but Sang-hyuk could hear nothing, his mind clouded and the sound lost on him.

“Don’t…” Sang-hyuk stood up, tilting his head back as he stared down at Won-shik, suddenly so tired, “don’t ever do anything to Hak-yeon again without telling me. He’s mine and mine alone. If you ever do it again…I won’t stand for it.” He didn’t wait to hear Won-shik’s response, turning on his heel and promptly exiting the room, leaving Won-shik to stand in the mess that he had created.

--

He glanced nervously over to Hak-yeon, watching as his friend casually picked at the side dishes. He couldn’t help but be jealous at how calm he was, wishing he could be just as cool as he felt his stomach nearly clawing in on itself from nerves. On the other side of the table his mother stared at the two of them, her gaze piercing.

It had been years since Hak-yeon first started sneaking over to meet him, and while Sang-hyuk was still extremely cautious whenever his father was around, he had long since disregarded his mother. She rarely came out even to see him, let alone when there was anyone else around, and he had assumed she didn’t mind whenever Hak-yeon would visit. Which he discovered was the wrong assumption, his mother suddenly bursting into his room during one of Hak-yeon’s tickle attacks, Sang-hyuk’s shrieks of laughter stopping and his eyes widening in horror.

While she hadn’t said anything then, merely staring at them for a long minute before silently leaving, she had made dinner that night. She never said anything, but he knew she was expecting the both of them. Which was how the three of them were all sitting at the table, the atmosphere near stifling as Hak-yeon continued to eat despite Sang-hyuk and his mother not touching a single thing.

His mother’s eyes shot down to where Hak-yeon had tried to secretly take Sang-hyuk’s hand, her face eerily blank. “Who is he?” she asked, and Sang-hyuk felt goosebumps run across his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard his mother’s voice.

Sang-hyuk was gasping for air by the time the thumping base of the club music hit him, ignoring the bouncer who greeted him familiarly and heading straight for the bar. He could hear people shout and grumble at him as he shoved past, but he couldn’t be bothered until he felt the cold plaster of the bar under his fingertips, the familiar digging of the sharp edge pushing into his chest. He glanced around blearily for Jae-hwan, frowning when he didn’t see him. Jae-hwan was always here; Sang-hyuk had been convinced the man worked every day from how many times he saw him despite Sang-hyuk coming at the oddest times. To find him missing caused his fingers to thrum, swallowing heavily as he nervously glanced at the other bartenders.

How could he order? Sang-hyuk had no idea what any of the drink names actually were, and when asked was too afraid to even say a word. He knew Jae-hwan, and was comfortable enough to mumble a few words here and there—but he needed a drink. He needed something to help him forget everything, and this was the only place he knew.

“Well, hello there! Miss me?” a voice suddenly shouted in his ear, and he whirled around to see Jae-hwan grinning behind him, having leaned over to shout in his ear. Sang-hyuk’s mouth dropped in shock to see the other man on the same side of the bar as himself, looking him up and down to see he was actually dressed for a night out, his hair gelled up and clothes so tight he was sure Jae-hwan must’ve painted them on. He suddenly felt small next to him despite being taller, the distance the bar had always put between them now gone.

Jae-hwan seemed to recognize Sang-hyuk’s growing panic, his smile softening as he took a small step back, widening the distance and giving Sang-hyuk room to breathe. “I’m guessing you came here because you missed my handsome face, right?”

Sang-hyuk should be used to the stupid jokes Jae-hwan always tried to use but found his voice lost, still absolutely thrown and unsure what to do. Jae-hwan awkwardly scratched the back of his head, glancing around as if looking for something before flashing another smile. “Well, I’m technically off today, but I can go back and make you something really quick, if you want.”

Sang-hyuk nodded so desperately his head hurt, and he could see Jae-hwan thought the same by the small grimace that passed over his face as he headed back behind the bar. He could see some of the other bartenders send him a confused look, though all Jae-hwan had to do was send a few blinding grins and a couple jokes before they left him alone. Sang-hyuk watched him all the while, grasping onto the counter like a lifeline. He wished he felt guilty making Jae-hwan work on his day off, knowing the other man was too nice to say no, but felt nothing of the sort as he nearly lunged for the glass before Jae-hwan even put it down.

Sang-hyuk had always been selfish—only now he was coming to accept that.

He downed the entire glass in one go, feeling some rush down his chin and over his hands, the alcohol burning dangerously. But it was a feeling he craved, needed, and he slammed the glass down and stared at Jae-hwan impatiently, wordlessly demanding another. Jae-hwan’s smile was gone completely as he carefully pried the glass out of Sang-hyuk’s hand, his expression serious as he filled it again. Sang-hyuk couldn’t care less as he downed that glass too, the burn so hard yet so good that he could see stars in his eyes and his body clench in desire.

It was when he was about to drink his third glass that a hand shot out and stopped him, and he snapped his head around to find Won-shik clutching at his wrist, holding him still.

Hak-yeon put his chopsticks down to flash his mother a brilliant smile, a completely useless attempt since his mother did nothing but stare at him. “I’m Cha Hak-yeon! I’m Sang-hyukkie’s friend.” Sang-hyuk felt his face flush, embarrassed and a little worried at how his mother would react. She never went out of her way to scold him or forbid him from having friends, but she was always on his father’s side. If his father ever found out about Hak-yeon, he didn’t know what he would do.

Hak-yeon’s calm demeanor cracked slightly when his mother’s eyes narrowed, the small twitch the only indication she heard him. Sang-hyuk felt his heart race as he worriedly turned to Hak-yeon, suddenly terrified that Hak-yeon would get scared away and never come back. Hak-yeon saw him and gave him a reassuring smile, taking his hand and squeezing gently.

Sang-hyuk stumbled back when Won-shik strode past him, blinking confusedly when he found his glass already gone and cleaned. He narrowed his eyes when Won-shik easily fell onto the nearest stool, waving tiredly at Jae-hwan in a way that was much too friendly to be polite. He stayed back as Jae-hwan excitedly threw his rag down and leaned against the countertop, his eyes sparkling, asking how Won-shik was and whether he wanted to do anything. Everything was slowly becoming clear, understanding blooming from his chest, and he was unaware of his hand shooting out and grabbing Won-shik’s arm, yanking him right off the stool.

Jae-hwan shouted in surprise while Won-shik openly cursed, the latter’s dark eyes glaring until he saw Sang-hyuk, his lips pursing. “What do you want, Sang-hyuk?”

Sang-hyuk’s jaw clenched. “What are you doing here?”

Jae-hwan cursed before rushing out from behind the bar, shoving past the people crowded around and quickly pushing them apart. Sang-hyuk noted how he hovered by Won-shik’s side, the stupidly blinding smile of his gone as he frowned concernedly at Sang-hyuk. The sight triggered something inside of him, his breath suddenly so short and his vision tunneling until he could see nothing but the way Jae-hwan’s hand rested on Won-shik’s arm.

Jae-hwan tried explaining, rushing. “It’s not what it looks like-”

“All this time…” Sang-hyuk hissed, breath getting heavier every second, “…I thought I was safe. I thought this was the only place where you guys couldn’t watch me…”

“He is your friend?” his mother asked slowly, her eyes focused on their hands. Sang-hyuk took a second before nervously nodding his head, his cheeks still warm as he grasped onto Hak-yeon like a lifeline. She didn’t speak again, her silence making everything worse, until Hak-yeon cleared his throat, saving him.

Won-shik shook Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, his eyes so dark Sang-hyuk couldn’t even see his reflection in the light. Not that there would be anything worth seeing. “Sang-hyuk, look at me.” He waited until Sang-hyuk finally met his gaze, letting out a small sigh of relief when he did. “This is all a misunderstanding-”

“How can it be a misunderstanding?” he cried, his voice shooting up so high a couple people glanced at them curiously. “You…you’re the one that told me never to come back here! Are you saying you just happened to come here on your own? Are you trying to tell me you’re not following me?”

“Why would I need to follow you? I’ve known you’ve been coming here for months now-!”

“Then what are you doing here?” He was screaming now, the buzz working through his veins and making everything so easy. He hadn’t drunk enough for him to fully escape, but enough had made it through his system that his mind was wonderfully clouded and his body free. Words that he would’ve been too afraid to say easily fell from lips, the thoughts that had sounded too gobbled in his mind now threaded with eloquence as the alcohol turned them into gold. “Why are you suddenly acting like you care about me? For years everyone acted like they hated me, and I knew that! But all of a sudden you pretend you care about whether I’m sleeping enough, or if I spend time with—” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath as he shoved Won-shik back. “And now after everything, you all start pretending like we’re friends, trying to comfort me or some —I don’t want it!”

Jae-hwan had fallen into a confused silence while Won-shik silently took all the abuse Sang-hyuk flung at him, Sang-hyuk oblivious to the crowd that had formed around them. The music continued above but it was almost comical, no one listening anymore as they all stared and watched the scene Sang-hyuk unknowingly continued to make.

“A-and now, when I have nothing left and you’re all still bothering me, you come out and find me at the one place where I thought you couldn’t get me! There are no cameras here, no microphones or anything, but you still find me and act like I’m the one wrong! Why? Why can’t I ever have anything? Why are you able to have friends when I can’t? Why is everyone always taken from me?”

Won-shik’s mouth was turned into a hard line as Sang-hyuk’s spiel began to border on dangerous, stepping forward before anything else was said. “Don’t pretend to be guiltless. You know whose fault it is.”

“I know it’s my goddamn fault, but he shouldn’t have had to pay for that! It’s my fault! Mine!” Jae-hwan shrieked when Sang-hyuk suddenly grabbed a stool, frustration and grief fueling him as he hurled it to the floor, his strength so weak it did nothing but clatter uselessly. Sang-hyuk was unaware of the bouncers moving towards them, so caught up in his whirling emotions that Won-shik had to grab him, bowing apologetically to Jae-hwan before dragging him out of there.

“I promise I won’t do anything to hurt Sang-hyuk,” Hak-yeon proclaimed. “I only want to make Sang-hyuk happy. I promise I won’t ever make him cry, or feel lonely.” His mother only looked at Sang-hyuk, waiting for his reaction to the words to find the truth. When Sang-hyuk only continued to blush while staring at Hak-yeon with nothing but adoration, her hard stance finally softened, eventually nodding her head. Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened in surprise, having never expected her to agree to anything.

Hak-yeon also seemed to have been surprised, taking a few seconds to recover. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his smile genuine. “But I have to ask that you keep this a secret. I have a feeling no one else will be happy about this.”

She seemed to hesitate here, her face blank in thought before she answered, her voice low and short. “If Sang-hyuk is happy, then I must obey.”

They didn’t go far, only down a small alleyway, before Won-shik whirled around and punched Sang-hyuk square in the jaw. Sang-hyuk gasped as his brain sluggishly registered the pain, staggering back when Won-shik lurched forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, his grip incredibly hard. It was only when they were inches apart, Won-shik’s breath ghosting over Sang-hyuk’s face and the smell of alcohol burning their noses that Sang-hyuk finally registered the pain in Won-shik’s eyes, finally noticing how close to crying the other was.

Sang-hyuk had never seen Won-shik cry.

“Goddamnit Hyuk,” he said, his voice quivering, “get a hold of yourself! Getting drunk off your and hiding in the past…that’s not going to help you! You don’t know how absolutely ing terrifying it is to watch you…it’s like you’re never there anymore. I look at you and it’s like you don’t see me-” he cut himself off to take a deep breath, shaking Sang-hyuk again to keep him present, “but don’t ever say I don’t care about you. I care about you more than you realize, and I’m trying to look out for you, but you just won’t let me.”

“I d-don’t-” Sang-hyuk tried, shaking his head as his jumbled mind grew foggier by the second, Won-shik’s words unable to make sense no matter how hard he tried.

“Don’t you get it? You think I didn’t notice? You can’t keep running away whenever things get hard. You have to face it and do your ing best, that’s the only way to survive.” When Sang-hyuk murmured blearily, his fingers weakly tugging at Won-shik’s death grip, Won-shik shoved him against the wall, holding him still while making sure not to hurt him. “ing listen to me, Hyuk! You keep talking big about how you’re going to take care of Hak-yeon, but when are you going to realize you’re going to have to actually do to keep your worth? If you keep running away and hiding every time Hak-yeon even looks at you, do you really think they’re going to let you keep him?”

Sang-hyuk whimpered, his attempts to escape turning to pathetic begging, grasping at Won-shik’s jacket with fingers too stiff to actually hold anything. Hak-yeon…they couldn’t take him, but something in Won-shik’s voice terrified him. They really could take him away, and if he lost Hak-yeon, he would really have nothing left.

“Won-shikkie…” he managed, the sound strangled, and Won-shik let out a stifled cry of his own, dropping his head to gather his composure.

“Hak-yeon needs you, Hyuk. , X39 needs you. You’re not here for yourself anymore; they’re watching you. You can’t afford to run away, not now. You have to be strong, understand?” Sang-hyuk nodded pitifully, and sniffled when Won-shik let out a long sigh before pulling him into a warm hug. Sang-hyuk clung to him like a child, burrowing his face in his shoulder and inhaling the strong scent of smoke and cologne. He had never tried to get close enough to Won-shik to know if he smoked, or what kind of cologne he used, but he was grateful for the distraction nonetheless.

“I know it’s easier for you to hide, but you can’t. Not anymore.”

Sang-hyuk nodded, pressing himself even closer.

Following had been the only thing Sang-hyuk knew and understood, but for the sake of everyone around him, he was going to have to learn how to stand on his own two feet.