Five years in China was a long time, he realized. Too long. Seoul was ever-changing, he knew that from his time spent here, but five years was too much. Everything was changed. Even Mingyu, sweet, lovable, puppy-like Mingyu had grown out of his puppy years and was a man. Their lunch had been fun but short, and they were going to meet up for dinner again later so Soonyoung could marvel at the man his friend had become.

Yes, Seoul had changed, but this was something Soonyoung could never have imagined. The dark tower stood amidst the other skyscrapers like a pillar of death, blackened, a husk of what it used to be.

It can’t be. It can’t be! That’s impossible. No way… right?

It was embarrassing just how well his memory worked: how, automatically, he swerved through the streets of Seoul to get there. How he knew where to anticipate the lights, how he knew to take which alleyways. He still knew the route as if he had travelled it yesterday.

He slowed. The engine cut. He found his feet on the sidewalk, staring up at it. Black from the fourth floor up. Abandoned. Door broken out. Tape around it. A notice declaring it an unsafe site. Weeds growing between cracks in the pavement around it.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, no, no, no! Please, God no.

He didn’t even think of it. He simply got back onto the bike and hit the streets again. This route took a little more thought: he worked hard to recognize the unrecognizable turns and roundabouts to get there. It was a crazed frenzy that took him down several wrong turns before he could calm down enough to think rationally, and get himself there. The engine was barely cut before he flung himself at the door, hitting the P button before even checking the name beside it.

Xu Minghao.

Minghao. Minghao lives here now. Why does Minghao live here now? Doesn’t matter. I don’t know where else to look for him. Minghao will know. Minghao will know.

The door buzzed open without Minghao’s voice ever coming through the box: Soonyoung simply burst through the door, hitting the button for the elevator, already breathless.

Calm down, Soonyoung. Calm down. It’s okay. I’m sure it’s all okay. Minghao will be there to explain it. Minghao will explain everything. Nothing bad has happened. You just need to calm down.

The elevator ride up gave him enough time to smooth over his hair with help from the mirror there and smooth out his clothes: when he stepped out he looked slightly less like a madman, and slightly more like an anxious fool.

He was tumbling through the door as Minghao opened another with a gleeful grin. “Hello, Mr. Pizza man!”

There was a moment of silence as they stood there, staring at each other.

Unchanged. Minghao was utterly and completely unchanged. He still had that curly brown hair, still had that lovely face, still was the same.

The man simply stood in the door of his apartment, half-shocked and half-terrified, as if he was staring at a ghost. “…I don’t think you’re the pizza man,” he eventually whispered.

Soonyoung somehow found himself still panting a little. “I just – I only just got back,” he mumbled, working to make his voice louder. “I just saw the tower, I… I didn’t…”

“Minghao? Is it not the pizza guy?”

The figure that moved in the doorway had changed. He had definitely, impossibly changed. His tall stature was thinner than it had ever been: his hair had initial, tell-tale wisps of grey at the edges; but it was his face that was well and truly different. The left side of his face, from hairline down past the collar of his shirt, was mottled. The skin was scarred, an ugly network of pink and white lines driving over his face in a frenzied pattern, one that sealed his left eye shut. “Minghao-oh.”

Soonyoung couldn’t feel his face. He couldn’t feel what expression he had.

Seokmin’s face had been burned. Seokmin’s face had been horrifically, horribly, nightmarishly burned in fire.

A dull pain began to ache in Soonyoung’s stomach as the three of them stood in the doorway and stared at each other.

It took Soonyoung a moment to collect himself. “Uh… I-I’m sorry. I – I shouldn’t have come here. I just… I just got back, and I saw the office had burned down and I… I panicked, and I… I had no idea that…”

Seokmin looked away from Soonyoung so quickly – whipped his head away so quickly – that the dull ache suddenly became a single, searing stab.

“Soo-Soonyoung. No! No, no.” Minghao walked forward to embrace him in a warm hug. “Don’t be silly. Wow, it’s been way too long.”

Soonyoung hugged him back, surprised, but unable to take his eyes off Seokmin’s retreating form. “Y-yeah, it really has.”

Minghao turned back to glare at Seokmin before lowering his voice. “Don’t mind him. Don’t judge him too harshly. He’s…”

“No, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have come back here. I just – I just panicked.”

“Why?”

Soonyoung gulped. “You know why.”

“…right, right. Listen – ah.” The elevator sprang open and Minghao took the pizza box from the delivery boy with a bow. “This is for him, I was going out to do some groceries.”

“Uh, so, is this your house now?”

“No, we live together.” Minghao held up a hand, carefully balancing the pizza in the other. “As friends, of course. Loyal, good friends.”

Soonyoung nodded a moment, mulling it over. “I see.”

“Do you… do you want to stay with him? Until I come back.”

He froze. “I… if he… does he… maybe I…?”

“It’ll be fine.” Minghao handed Soonyoung the pizza and winked once. “Promise. Seokmin! I’m going out for groceries now.” He pushed Soonyoung into the apartment and shut the door with a bang.

It took the architect a moment to pull himself out of his sneakers and gently pad into the apartment. The interior had been considerably normalized, with no more crystal vases and chandelier: it looked like any other bachelor pad, rather than the glorified house of money it had been the last time he was here.

Seokmin looked up in surprise when he heard him, but then quickly returned to his previous stance: sitting on the edge of his seat, face buried in both hands.

Soonyoung very carefully placed the pizza box on the coffee table. “Do… do you want me to leave?” he asked softly.

Seokmin didn’t move for a moment. “That’s probably for the best,” he whispered, voice weak.

Soonyoung nodded a few times to himself, and turned away, the stabbing pain in his stomach erupting. He pulled a tums out of his coat pocket as if it was nothing on his way out of the apartment; demolished it in the elevator; got back on his bike and revved the engine. He was halfway down the street, waiting for a light when he heard it.

First it was just a warble, barely existing past the distant rumble of thunder; then it got louder until it was almost audible over the sound of his motorbike and lightning and through the padding of his helmet. He ripped the item off his head, turning back.

At the top of the building, out on the balcony, stood a screaming figure, soaking in the rain, never minding the storm.

“SOONYOUNG! SOONYOUNG, COME BACK SOONYOUNG! PLEASE COME BACK! DON’T GO! DON’T LEAVE ME AGAIN! SOONYOUNG COME BACK! SOONYOUNG! PLEASE!”

His decision was made instantly: against the lights, Soonyoung made an illegal U-turn and sped down a one-way street, hurrying to get back to the building: he zipped past an elderly tenant of another apartment building in the doorway and scampered into the elevator, jiggling his feet in anticipation. He leaned on the doorbell heavily, impatiently.

Seokmin opened it, hair dripping, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He stood there, panting for a few moments.

“You… came back?”

“Of course I came back.”

“Soo-…” Seokmin held his arms out for only a second before dropping them again, and the knife in Soonyoung’s gut twisted as he realized just how much he would have liked to fall into those open arms again. “Uh… come in.”

Soonyoung re-entered, taking his shoes off again. Seokmin only stood a few steps away, watching him: he walked backwards into the living room, and sat on the couch. “Sit, sit.”

Soonyoung sat.

“Uhm – can I get you something? Drink or?”

“N-no, that’s okay