Sang-hyuk surprisingly felt a lot less conflicted the next morning when he went into his father’s office the moment he saw the older man wasn’t home, a spark of excitement running through him when he clumsily yanked out Hong-bin’s charger. He did worry that Hong-bin would be angry for waking him, or that his father would suddenly be at the door and see him, but he pushed that all away when Hong-bin blinked up at him, a shaky smile lifting the edge of his lips. He turned off the machine and pushed it all to the side as Hong-bin cleaned himself up, his shirt down and his chest hidden away by the time Sang-hyuk looked up again.

“Hello, Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin greeted quietly, his body much smoother as he allowed Sang-hyuk to guide him to the floor. Sang-hyuk made sure to sit them down just a bit closer, the hem of Hong-bin’s pants brushing his toes.

“Hi, Hong-bin,” Sang-hyuk greeted back, giggling when Hong-bin struggled crossing his legs, his knees cracking as he did so. A lot of Hong-bin’s body creaked and cracked whenever he tried to move, and Sang-hyuk wondered silently if that was why he had to plug into the machine at night. It would make sense, but Sang-hyuk wondered what could’ve happened that would have caused it. “How are you?”

Hong-bin paused, eyes scrunching just slightly that it made Sang-hyuk pull back embarrassedly. Did he ask something wrong? He really didn’t know anything about Hong-bin; maybe he didn’t like him asking questions. He seemed to have been alright with all the smiling and playing they did yesterday, but maybe he wasn’t in a good mood now. Clearing his throat, he stuttered awkwardly, “S-sorry.”

Hong-bin tilted his head, blinking. “What are you sorry for?”

Sang-hyuk on his bottom lip, his mind whirling so much he didn’t notice Hong-bin copying him.  “I don’t know…I guess, because I made you angry or something.”

“I am not angry.”

“You aren’t?” Sang-hyuk looked up to see Hong-bin staring at him, surprised at the calm expression on his face. “I just thought, since you didn’t answer, you were upset.”

Hong-bin didn’t answer right away, staring at the floor as if in thought, before saying slowly, his voice unsure, “I did not know how to answer your question.”

“Question?” It took Sang-hyuk a moment to figure out what he was talking about, his face heating up in embarrassment. “Ah, that—I’m sorry if I confused you. It wasn’t meant to be a hard question. It’s a kind of greeting…hasn’t anyone asked you that before?”

“No.” Hong-bin mulled over the new information for a while before asking again, his eyes flashing, “What would be the correct response?”

Sang-hyuk thought it over, shrugging. “I don’t know, I guess it’s however you’re feeling. If you’re feeling super happy, you’d probably say you feel great. Or if you’re really sad, you’d say you don’t feel good. It depends on what you’re feeling, I guess.” Hong-bin nodded as if believing every word he said, and it made Sang-hyuk’s cheeks burn. Never before had he had met someone who knew less than him, who looked to him for guidance. There was so little he knew, so little he’d seen—but here Hong-bin was, looking at him for answers. It was an incredibly enthralling experience.

“What would be the standard response?” When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, frowning, Hong-bin’s voice softened. “If I do not know what I am feeling, how would I answer?”

“Well, you could probably say ‘I’m fine’. It doesn’t really say anything about how you really are, but nobody will think anything of it.” He saw Hong-bin nodding, mouthing the words silently as if testing their sound, and he snickered. “So, if someone asked you, ‘Hey Hong-bin, how are you?’, how would you answer?”

It took Hong-bin a second to answer, his answer rushed. “I am fine.”

“Perfect! And do you know what you’re supposed to say after?” Hong-bin froze, staring at him as if betrayed, and Sang-hyuk laughed good-naturedly. “You would ask how they are back! If someone asks how you are, it’s always polite to ask how they are back. You have to be polite. So, if you say you’re fine, what would you say after?”

“How are you?”

“Yes! Good job!” Sang-hyuk patted Hong-bin’s arm excitedly, grinning when Hong-bin blinked in open-wide surprise. “So next time someone greets you, you can say that. But you better greet them back!” Hong-bin’s eyes were wide as he tentatively nodded, not sure how to respond, and Sang-hyuk laughed. He found the easiest way to talk to Hong-bin was through jokes and playing, both catching him off-guard. He watched Hong-bin mutter quietly to himself, and he couldn’t help smiling.

Hong-bin really wasn’t that scary when allowed to think of something besides his body. Sang-hyuk wished Hong-bin could see that.

“Hey…Hong-bin.” Hong-bin immediately straightened, his shoulders pulled back and his hands on his knees in the most proper position Sang-hyuk had ever seen. He remembered how his father used to smack his hands with a ruler to get him to sit straight when he was younger, having given up years ago when Sang-hyuk seemed completely unable. He wondered if Hong-bin’s parents had done the same to him, and could only imagine what it must have been like where it seemed to be ingrained into Hong-bin’s entire being. “Before my father brought you here…did you ever have any friends?”

Hong-bin’s eyes narrowed, something Sang-hyuk learned to mean he was thinking. He probably didn’t even know he did it. “I had my master.”

Sang-hyuk shivered again at the mention of the word ‘master’. “Your…master, were you close with him?”

“No.”

“But didn’t you say he tried to help you learn emotions and stuff? Why would he do that if you weren’t close?”

“Everything he did was to further his research. My inability to learn and dependence on his programming was more data he could use.” Sang-hyuk swallowed as he let his eyes sweep over Hong-bin, for the first time seeing more than a stiff posture and emotionless face. If what Hong-bin was saying was true, Hong-bin…he might not have started out like this. He might have been like Sang-hyuk—lonely and bored, but still full of emotion and youthful innocence. The shadowed silhouette of what Sang-hyuk had imagined Hong-bin’s home to be slowly darkened with each picture Hong-bin painted, hidden in a dark basement with machines lining every wall and Hong-bin alone in the mist of it. He could only imagine what Hong-bin’s ‘master’ had done to turn Hong-bin into what he was now, and he shivered at the thought that his father had known this man.

“Then…did your master ever let you have friends or anything?”

“No.”

“…were you alone?”

“Yes.”

A little boy hidden alone in the darkness, another hidden away in the confines of a sunlit chamber. Both kept away from the world, one subjected to a life where his entire existence revolved around experimentation, the other to wither away until the day he died.

Sang-hyuk’s heart felt as if it was crushed into a million pieces as the full extent of what Hong-bin truly was, truly had been, finally came to light. While Sang-hyuk himself was never made to endure what Hong-bin had, and hopefully never would, it hurt to be able to fully understand his pain.

As Hong-bin merely blinked curiously, Sang-hyuk silently got to his feet, his lips a thin line as he fought to keep them from trembling. With tentative fingers, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Hong-bin’s broad shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug.

Hong-bin’s instinctive reaction was a jolted flinch, a small gasp escaping his lips, but Sang-hyuk held tight, burying his face into Hong-bin’s shoulder. He really had no idea how to hug properly, his parents always avoiding his touch unless to scold him. Hak-yeon was the only one that ever genuinely hugged him, and it was something Sang-hyuk craved for with every fiber of his being. There was something so comforting, so tender, that a hug could give, a wordless gesture to ensure that they understood and would always be there. There would never be enough words to describe how sorry Sang-hyuk was for what Hong-bin had been through, but with a hug, he hoped he could convey even a portion of that.

“What are you doing?” Hong-bin asked, his breath tickling Sang-hyuk’s ear.

Sang-hyuk felt awkward leaning over to hug him, going down on his knees to bring Hong-bin in closer. “I’m hugging you.”

“Why?”

“Hong-bin…when someone hugs you, it means they’re there for you. I want to let you know…I understand.” He could almost feel the confusion emanating off the other, and Sang-hyuk tightened his hold. Standing here and listening to Hong-bin not knowing what a hug was, it only made Sang-hyuk that much more thankful for how much Hak-yeon had given him.

Hong-bin’s voice was soft, confused. “How do I hug back?”

Sang-hyuk let out a small scoff, a bitter smile on his lips. “Just wrap your arms around me.” Hong-bin did as told, his grip a bit hard, and Sang-hyuk gave him an encouraging nod. “This is the best way to let someone know how you feel. If you see someone happy, you can hug them to congratulate them. If you see someone crying, you can hug them to make them feel better. Hugging can do a lot, so make sure you hug as much as you can.”

“I do not understand.” Hong-bin buried his face into Sang-hyuk shoulder, his lips brushing over his collarbone. “How can a simple physical gesture create such reactions?”

“Because we’re human.” Hong-bin’s fingers dug into his back, a fierce pain muted by the adrenaline rushing through his body. “I can’t describe it any better than that, I don’t know much myself. My friend, my Hak-yeon, he always hugs me to make me feel better. I’m nothing like him, but if you need it, I can be that person for you.”

Hong-bin didn’t respond, and yet Sang-hyuk refused to let go, Hong-bin’s hands just as strong. He wasn’t sure Hong-bin really, fully understood what they were doing, but it seemed to be enough.

It was a long time before either spoke again, the air growing warmer as the day sprawled out before them, the sun shining brightly through the window. Hong-bin was so warm despite how cold his skin was to the touch, and Sang-hyuk found it to be strangely familiar. “Hong-bin-”

“I understand.” Sang-hyuk flinched at the sudden voice, pulling back enough to see Hong-bin gazing straight into his eyes, his hands still resting at Sang-hyuk’s waist. He wanted to ask what he meant, but found the words stuck in his throat. Now so close, only inches from each other, he could clearly see how much more there was behind the emotionless front Hong-bin always held. The passion that Sang-hyuk had seen that day, it was there, a smoldering blaze that he wasn’t sure Hong-bin even knew was there.

Sang-hyuk wished he could help him, do more than just give little hugs and hold conversations.

But there was nothing.

“I understand,” Hong-bin repeated, his hands deft as he twisted Sang-hyuk around and pulled him into his lap, ignoring Sang-hyuk’s embarrassing yelp as he shifted him around until he was settled comfortably. Sang-hyuk’s cheeks were bright red as he felt Hong-bin’s firm chest against his back, his arms sturdy as they wrapped around him. He snuck a glance up to see Hong-bin staring down at him, and he hurriedly looked away.

“Hong-bin…”

“Your friend; you called him Hak-yeon?”

Sang-hyuk stiffened at the sound of Hak-yeon’s name, his heart racing for an entirely different reason. “Y-yeah, a long time ago.” No matter how nice Hong-bin was, he still worked with his father. He would never put Hak-yeon in danger. No matter how nice he was. “I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“What was he like?”

Sang-hyuk hesitated, his voice bittersweet. “He was…wonderful. Amazing. He always protected me and cared for me, like a big brother. When I was scared or lonely, I could always rely on him to make me feel better. He taught me things my parents wouldn’t, and made sure to tell me I was loved. I…I love him a lot. I can’t imagine a world without him.” There was so much more he wanted to say about Hak-yeon, his heart swelling, but found the words unable to come out. Nothing could fully describe how much Sang-hyuk loved Hak-yeon—he wished he could tell Hong-bin, make Hong-bin realize, but once again his brain failed him.

“Why do you not talk to him now?”

Sang-hyuk’s voice fell even more, barely above a whisper. “My father hates him. He doesn’t want anyone to come here, but Hak-yeon used to sneak over a lot to visit me. My father found out and…he hurt Hak-yeon. After that…I’m too scared to call him.”

“Scared…like you are scared of your father.”

Sang-hyuk nodded. “Yeah…. I want to see him so much but…I don’t want Hak-yeon to get hurt again.” Hong-bin hummed, a low hum that radiated through Sang-hyuk’s body, and he lowered his head in shame. He knew he should be able to stand up to his father, demand that Hak-yeon be able to visit whenever he wanted. He knew he should have been able to stand up to his father even back then, when his father hurt Hak-yeon and left Sang-hyuk with the horrifying possibility that Hak-yeon would never come back again.

“Your friend sounds good. Hak-yeon—you should cherish him.” A gentle smile grew on Sang-hyuk’s lips, leaning his head into the crook of Hong-bin’s elbow.

“I will. But you can’t tell my father. Hak-yeon—he doesn’t know about him. You won’t tell, right?”

“If that is what you want.” Sang-hyuk closed his eyes as he felt himself melt into Hong-bin’s arms, for the first time letting himself forget all his worries with someone other than Hak-yeon. There was something about Hong-bin that calmed him, a camaraderie that couldn’t be forged even after years together. His mind wearily shouted that he shouldn’t be so relaxed in his father’s office, but he easily ignored it, smiling freely as he fell asleep under the warm sun and the feel of Hong-bin’s chin brushing the roots of his hair.

He wasn’t asleep long though, a sharp pain shooting through his legs, and Hong-bin’s arms braced against him when he jerked in shock. His mind was still muddled from sleep as he hurriedly looked around the room, his heart hammering in his chest as he expected to see his father above him. But there was nothing of the sort, his mind clearing enough he could hear Hong-bin whispering in his ear. “I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you. I am sorry.”

“H-Hong-bin?” he asked, turning to see Hong-bin staring at him, his eyes narrowed as they ran over Sang-hyuk’s body. “What happened?”

“Your legs. I wanted to see if they were still injured. I did not mean to wake you.”

Sang-hyuk stared down at his legs, knowing the hidden bruises that covered his thighs and waist. They still burned just as badly as when Hong-bin first dug them into his skin, but he didn’t want to make Hong-bin feel bad. He tried to make his voice as light as possible, smiling to calm the other down. “It’s okay. They’re not that bad.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little, but it’s not that bad, promise.” He waited until Hong-bin finally quieted down, watching as Hong-bin’s hands hesitantly ran down his legs, his touch soft. Sang-hyuk could almost see the worry in the other’s eyes, Hong-bin’s other arm around Sang-hyuk’s waist hard. He bit his lip. “Hong-bin…the other day, did you really mean it? That you can’t touch?”

“I cannot.” Hong-bin’s fingers pushed down and Sang-hyuk hissed, his hand yanking back immediately.

“And you can’t taste?”

“I cannot.”

Sang-hyuk wriggled his way out of Hong-bin’s arms, turning to face him as he tried to understand. “You can’t touch, you can’t taste, you don’t understand emotions; what did your master do to you?” Hong-bin didn’t answer, a response Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure was because he didn’t want to answer, or because he couldn’t answer. “So, if you close your eyes,” he reached out and cupped his hand over Hong-bin’s eyes, “can you tell what I’m doing?”

He purposefully rubbed his hand up and down Hong-bin’s arms, poking his cheeks and pulling at his hair, trying to do every annoying thing he could think of. He tried tickling his neck, using his toes to brush the bottom of his feet, tapping his lips—and yet Hong-bin remained motionless the whole time. Confused, and a little disturbed, he slapped Hong-bin across the face, letting out a small gasp when Hong-bin’s face just moved along with his hand, not showing a bit of pain. He pulled his hand away, letting Hong-bin open his eyes as he asked hoarsely, “Did you feel any of that?”

“You hit me.”

Sang-hyuk twitched excitedly, grabbing Hong-bin’s arm. “You felt it, right? You felt it!”

“I heard you. It was not hard to figure out what you had done.”

Sang-hyuk’s shoulders slumped as he stared down at Hong-bin’s hand, the sliminess that had at one point disgusted him normal. If he really couldn’t feel, he couldn’t imagine what kind of isolated world Hong-bin lived in. His own loneliness seemed like nothing in comparison—unable to feel the heat of the sun, the sweet chill of snowing melting in his hands, the annoying throb of a stubbed toe, the gentle brush of another’s hand. Sang-hyuk tried to imagine what it would be like, all those times Hak-yeon was there to hug and kiss him and being completely unable to feel any of it.

It was so sad.

“Does it bother you?” Hong-bin asked, and Sang-hyuk looked up to see Hong-bin staring at him. Sang-hyuk swallowed, wondering if the reason he was always staring was because he wouldn’t have any idea what was going on around him if he didn’t.

“No, I just…I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

“Why would you imagine? You do not have this defect, it does not concern you.”

Sang-hyuk blinked in surprise at Hong-bin’s blunt tone, taking a second to recover. “I, ah, that’s true. But I still feel sorry.”

“Why?” Hong-bin looked genuinely confused, like he truly didn’t understand, and Sang-hyuk’s heart ached.

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess it just makes me sad thinking about it. Feeling is so important, and not being able to feel anything…I guess it just makes me sad.”

Hong-bin tilted his head, his eyes shining. “So, my defect makes you sad?”

“…yes.”

Hong-bin was silent as he slipped his hand out from Sang-hyuk’s, his movements suddenly as fluid as water as he leaned forward and placed both hands on Sang-hyuk’s cheeks. Sang-hyuk’s whole body stood frozen as he felt Hong-bin’s fingers clumsily hook around his ears, his thumbs poking his eyes before rhythmically brushing the tips of his eyelashes. His touch was so gentle, his skin freezing, soothing, and Sang-hyuk felt the familiar well of tears begin to form.

Hong-bin smiled, his thumb brushing away the tears as he leaned in closer, Sang-hyuk able to feel the light rush of Hong-bin’s breath against his lips. “You are a bright child,” he said, his voice full of warmth and understanding, so different to his behavior before, “so please, do not waste your tears over me. You should smile.” When Sang-hyuk’s brows furrowed in confusion, Hong-bin’s hands shifted as his thumbs lifted the edge of Sang-hyuk’s lips. “Like what you taught me. Smile.”

“Hong-bin-”

“I am used to this, and cannot remember a time before. There is no use in crying over things that do not deserve tears.”

--

Sang-hyuk bit back a horrified scream when he felt two large hands grab his shoulders, his eyes snapping open when he felt himself wrenched awake. His mind raced to catch up with his surroundings, muddled and gasping for air as he stared into the eyes of his father—his father. He started to panic at the realization that his father was in his bedroom right then, trying to understand what was going on—he remembered plugging Hong-bin back in, waiting until the sky was black before going to bed. It was still dark now, his father’s face highlighted by the dim light shining from the hallway.

His brain couldn’t think past his father leaning over him, hands gripping his shoulders, and he could only stutter out a tiny, “F-father?”

“Sang-hyuk,” his father hissed dangerously, one hand seizing Sang-hyuk’s chin and forcing him to look him in the eye. Sang-hyuk was ready to cry at how scared he was, having no idea what he did to have upset him so badly. He must have come home after Sang-hyuk went to bed—did he know Sang-hyuk had gone into his office? Did he know he talked to Hong-bin? Sang-hyuk felt his body tremble as he started to cry, terrified of what his father was going to do.

“Sang-hyuk, did you go into my office?”  When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, too scared to even think of a response, his father shook Sang-hyuk’s head. “Did you talk to it?”

Sang-hyuk let out a shaky sob when his father’s nails pierced his skin, all the terrible possibilities of what was happening running through his mind. Did Hong-bin tell him about he and Sang-hyuk talking? Did his father know that Sang-hyuk had seen Hong-bin’s chest? Was he going to punish him? He hated lying, and he didn’t want to lie to his father, but with every second his father leered over him, growling as he waited for his answer, he couldn’t say the truth.

Not when that truth would also hurt Hong-bin.

“N-no, I didn’t!”

His father shook Sang-hyuk’s head again, his hand on Sang-hyuk’s shoulder shoving him down into bed. “Don’t lie to me! Did you go in that room? Did it see you?”

“Y-you said n-not to go in there! I-I stayed in h-here! I promise!”

His father didn’t say anything for a long while, his breathing heavy as his eyes ran over Sang-hyuk as if trying to find the lie. Sang-hyuk did nothing to hide it, his heart hammering against his chest as he nearly collapsed into a useless pile of tears right there, but it seemed to work, his father slowly releasing his grasp and falling to the floor. Sang-hyuk scrambled away as fast as he could, his back against the wall as he stared at his father’s silent figure, too afraid to say anything. His father was always the scariest when he was angry, and Sang-hyuk hadn’t seen him this furious since the time he discovered Hak-yeon in his room.

Finally, spoken so softly he almost missed it, his father asked, “You’re not lying, are you, Sang-hyuk?”

Sang-hyuk shivered, clutching the blankets to his chest. “N-no.”

His father refused to look up, staring down at his hands. The light from the hallway made his father’s skin a sickly white, his hallowed eyes and sunken cheeks making him appear almost like a ghost. It was a fitting image, one that haunted Sang-hyuk’s nightmares for years. “Sang-hyuk…I know I haven’t treated you well. I want to do better for you, but this is the best I can do.” Sang-hyuk’s body instinctively trembled at his voice, ignoring that the owner of that voice was someone he should unconditionally love.

Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure he could.

“But to protect you, you have to do what I say. Do you understand that?” His father looked up then, his eyes glowing against the light. Sang-hyuk tried to melt into the wall as he nodded, fresh tears trickling down his cheeks. “If I tell you not to do something, you cannot do it. If I say not to go into my office, I mean it. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” he cried, flinching when his father stood up. He brought the blanket up to his lips as his father stared down at him, silent as if searching for something. He wished he knew what was happening, what his father knew or what he was trying to get out of him—when his father wordlessly turned around, heading straight out the door and shutting it behind him.

He broke down into tears the moment he heard his father’s office door close, burying his face into his pillow as the sound of his father’s screams echoed in his ears, the image of his father hovering over him burning into his eyelids.

He didn’t sleep that night.

Hello!

Sorry about the short chapter, especially after the long wait. I don't really have a good excuse, but I promise I'll try to update more consistently. I hope the story is still holding your interest, and is still exciting to read!

Thank you again for reading!