[title song: remember - katie]
[5k; i'm going for shorter chapters this time around lol]

1.

It's a quiet Tuesday afternoon, when Shin Sunhee's entire world is turned upside down.

She's spent all day making phone calls for her office, a draining task because she works with evictions and she hates having to be the person to tell these people that they're going to lose their homes, that she can't do anything about it, she's just the messenger. Sometimes they shout, sometimes they sound so heartbroken, sometimes they beg, sometimes they sound resigned. She hates it, hates how awful it feels and she wonders when it'll start, when will she become as jaded as her coworkers, when will she be able to ignore the guilt clawing at the pit of her stomach?

According to the girl sitting across from her cubicle, she should give it a year or two.

Sunhee thinks that's way too ing long.

Sunhee has a routine, a way to de-stress from the terrible ordeal that is her nine-to-five job. She commutes home, sometimes buys herself dinner, and she takes a bath before sitting back and watching television. Sometimes, if her roommate isn't working a night shift at the hospital for the fifth night in a row, Sunhee and Seulgi do face masks, share wine, and complain about their week. If it's Friday, they go out dancing with their friends or try blind dates. Her routine, her entire world, has an order, a strict procedure for utmost twenty-something fun. Sunhee really doesn't do well when her routine is ruined.

(Some—Seulgi, specifically—would say, it's because her routine is the only thing she really has control over in her life. She'd say, off with your psychoanalytic bull.

Seulgi had just tipped her wine glass at Sunhee because Seulgi always, always, needs to have the last word, and muttered, "Well, I am a psych major.")

So it's a quiet Tuesday night and Shin Sunhee is minding her business, lounging in the living room, her feet up and cocooned in a fluffy blanket even though it's Spring. She flips through different channels, eventually settling on some mindless variety show featuring a cute boy group and sips on wine—it's a well-known fact among her friends that Sunhee loves her wine.

It's a quiet Tuesday night, until it's not.

The drama cuts to a close up of one of the idol's reactions and while he guffaws dramatically, clapping like a seal at a joke she doesn’t remember, the front door slams open.

Sunhee yelps, nearly spilling wine all over herself. She sets the glass down on the table, turning to face the door. A succinct, "What the ?" leaves her lips, faltering at the end because Seulgi is standing there and she looks terrified, trembling in her ugly nursing shoes and loose scrubs, her eyes wide, though is pressed into a thin look of determination.

Before Sunhee can even open to ask what's wrong, Seulgi moves forward, doesn't even step out of her shoes at the threshold, her eyes flying through the room, an urgency to her steps that worries Sunhee.

Sunhee blinks when Seulgi walks up to the small dining table in the corner, near the entrance to the kitchen, and sweeps the fruit basket and mail off. She leaves the door open. Apples tumble across the floor, the dull thuds resounding throughout the room. The envelopes flutter to the floor. The sounds are jarring, pulling Sunhee out of her thoughts, out of her confusion and worry.

Sunhee finds her voice, finds her words, manages to shout, "What the hell is going on, Seul?"

And then people stumble in through their front door, all seemingly men with dark masks covering the bottom half of their faces and hoods pulled over their heads. A tall man carries a man who is just as tall as him through the door, the man in his arms limp, hurt, and bleeding. Sunhee sees blood on Seulgi's hands then, still wet. The tall man gently places the just as tall man on the cleared table, earning a small groan, a whimper.

Sunhee freezes, when three more men come in, the last one slamming the door shut behind him with a sort of finality that rings and rings, fully snapping her out of her frozen state.

"Seulgi. Seulgi."

Then Seulgi snaps out of her daze, too, her eyes landing on Sunhee. She looks terrified. One of the men, they look at Sunhee, too, and she can see his eyes, she can see the way they narrow into slits.

Sunhee feels the fear curling at the pit of her stomach, even as she watches that man, with the narrowed eyes, step forward, in her direction.

Their city is a dangerous place, she knows this, and they don't necessarily live in a safe neighborhood, either. She looks at these masked men, standing so lithely, so regally, like they're predators, though desperate, clearly, because one of their own is currently bleeding out on their dining room table. Her gaze flicks to her phone, where it's charging against the wall, next to the other sofa.

One of the men, the other one, not Narrow Eyes, speaks sharply, "Touch that phone and I'll break your fingers."

Seulgi’s gaze whips to the side, to face the one who spoke, suddenly seeming to come back from whatever hectic panic she had succumbed to, her fingers trembling as she snaps out, tone heated. "Do not threaten my roommate."

Sunhee thinks #1 is going to break Seulgi's neck for speaking to them like that. He doesn't, though his fists are clenched. Not when Narrow Eyes speaks, clearly desperate because she can hear it dripping from every note, every syllable. "We won’t. Just hurry up and fix him."

Seulgi glances at the man on the table, pales significantly, and murmurs, tone much less heated, almost lost, "I told you, I'm just a nurse. I don't know how to take a bullet out."

The last man— #2, Sunhee decides to name him—bites out, "I'm sure you have an idea."

"I do, but—"

"Then you can do it."

Sunhee doesn't think he sounds encouraging at all.

Seulgi takes deep, deep breaths before she goes into full emergency room nurse mode. Sunhee has never seen her like this, dropping open at the transformation. Seulgi turns to Sunhee and says, breathless, "Sunhee, go get me the first aid kit."

"You're helping them?" Sunhee whispers.

At the same time, #1 says, enunciating each syllable, "She is not going anywhere. She's going to call the police."

Seulgi ignores him, looks at her imploringly, as if asking her to ignore him, ignore every instinct in her body screaming for her to run far, far away from these men, to not help them. Seulgi says, tiredly, sighing. "Please, Sunhee. I need your help."

The man on the table whimpers and Sunhee grits her teeth at the fear and anxiety rolling off Seulgi in waves, but she nods because they're best ing friends and Sunhee isn't letting Seulgi deal with this alone. It's not like she can leave if she wanted to, anyway. ", . Fine."

She stomps past #1, ignores his hey, ignores his presence at her back, the hairs at the back of her neck standing on end at the sound of him following her.

She runs on autopilot, ignoring the goosebumps running up her arms, focusing solely on the anger igniting in her because of her relaxing Tuesday night being ruined.

She throws open the bathroom door with a dull thud and rustles through the medicine cabinet, the sounds of pills rattling the only sound in the room. She has to get on her tiptoes to reach the top, but she finally finds it, her grip on the first aid kit so tight her palms hurt.

She swivels, facing the door for a moment, and grits out, "Move." The first aid kit is in her hands. He's blocking the door, her way out, and when he doesn't move, she shoves past him, earning an irritated grunt from him and a throbbing shoulder because she's not strong by any means and he's built like a wall. She only managed to shove him aside because of the element of surprise.

She steps into the living room to Seulgi standing over a now shirtless, bleeding man, kitchen scissors in her hand along with a bottle of rubbing alcohol they usually store under the sink. His bloody shirt is on the floor, staining the carpet Seulgi’s mother bought them as a house-warming gift. Sunhee can see his face, pale and milky but very handsome, despite how it's contorted in pain. Sunhee can see his face and when she looks up, Narrow Eyes is staring at her with even narrower eyes.

(She wonders if she was ever supposed to see his—the bleeding man-boy’s—face, in the midst of all this. She wonders, vaguely, if they’ve—she and Seulgi have—just dug themselves into a pit they’ll never be able to escape.)

She thinks he looks too young, especially now, with Tall Man pinning down both his arms while he bleeds out on their dining room table.

#1 and #2 hold down his legs. Sunhee figures it has something to do with the tweezers in Seulgi's other hand and the queasy look in her eyes.

Then Seulgi tells her, very carefully, to pull out the disinfecting wipes, the needle, and the thread.

Sunhee completely shuts down, runs on total autopilot, as she watches Seulgi brandish the tweezers in her gloved hands and take a deep, deep breath.

~.~.~.~.~

Narrow Eyes watches as Seulgi collapses right after she tapes on the final piece of gauze. Neither of them makes a move to catch Seulgi as she sinks to her . Seulgi still sighs from the floor, wiping at the sweat gathered at her brows with the back of her hand as she rubs her bloodied hands against her scrubs, over and over, while she murmurs, steadily, of how it was just a shallow wound thankfully, reminding them to redress the wound every day and he'll be fine as her hands shake in her lap. Her scrubs and her gloves are stained with blood, thick and dark, too obvious against the backdrop of baby blue.

Sunhee moves to grab her shoulders, pull her back up, but Seulgi doesn't budge from the floor. Sunhee doesn’t have the strength to lift her.

Sunhee blinks at them, the way all of them just stare, some of them hovering over their man, uncaring of the way Seulgi had just dropped.

Sunhee scowls, her blood boiling, she can't help it when she snaps out, "Leave."

There’s silence as the boys stare at her, all their faces hidden, their dark eyes filled with slight irritation. Sunhee wonders if anyone’s ever spoken to them that way and lived to tell the tale. She hopes she’s the first.

Seulgi blinks up at them from under Sunhee’s embrace when they remain rooted to their spots, unmoving, watchful, and she whispers, voice hoarse, unsteady, "You guys promised me you'd leave us alone after I helped him. We forget you, you forget us."

It's quiet, very very quiet, and Sunhee's stomach churns. She thinks these men look like they have a history of breaking promises.

The shortest of the men tilts his head, just a bit, before he finally speaks, "You're right. A promise is a promise."

There is emptiness there, in the hollowness of his tone. She doesn't trust it. Not one bit.

(She wonders how many promises live on in the emptiness of his honey voice, how many sweet, sickly, empty promises.)

Yet, Seulgi nods, relief settling over her features as she slumps in Sunhee's arms.

The Tall One scoops the handsome man-boy off the table and they step out the door, tracking blood as they go.

The resounding thud is deafening. She hopes it rings of finality.

Slowly, Sunhee leans back and gently reaches for Seulgi, peeling off Seulgi's bloody gloves for her. Seulgi doesn’t move, she just lets Sunhee do what she needs to do.

Sunhee takes a deep breath as she goes to the kitchen and pulls out the bleach from under the sink, eyeing the dining table in disgust before she sets to work, her blood rushing against her eardrums. Seulgi just remains slumped, until Sunhee helps her up, helps her peel off the disgusting scrubs and step into the show, helps her return back to the Kang Seulgi Sunhee loves so dearly.

~.~.~.~.~

They don't keep their promise.

Seulgi and Sunhee don't talk about that night. Seulgi wordlessly throws her baby blue scrubs away after she’s bleached them down, her brand new scrubs crisp and fresh.

Sunhee doesn't ask the hows or whys of those men and their bleeding friend, doesn’t ask what else Seulgi discussed with them before leading them to their home.

Sunhee just allows her space, allows them both time to forget, as Seulgi promised they would.

So, at three weeks, it feels almost like a fever dream.

At five weeks, Sunhee can pretend it never happened—she doesn’t tense whenever there’s a knock at their door any longer.

(Still, they don't eat at the dining table anymore.)

One Friday night, when they’ve finally fallen back into their routines and it’s a club night, Seulgi chatting up a cute boy with a lovely smile at the edge of the bar while Sunhee bops her head to the banging bass of whatever top forty hit the club is playing, fiddling with her snapchat filters idly. Joohyun leans into Sunhee’s shoulder, joining in the snapchat, her warm limbs wrapping around Sunhee and her cheek pressed to Sunhee’s cheek.

They're drunk and they're having the time of their lives and Sunhee laughs when Seungwan takes two shots in a row and shimmies like a worm towards their booth, pretending to throw at lasso at Joohyun, Sunhee, and Seulgi.

They're drunk when the taxi pulls up at the street corner into their neighborhood, Sunhee’s phone still buzzing from texts from Joohyun and Seungwan most likely informing them that they’ve managed to get home, and Seulgi's blabbering about the cute guy at the bar, how soft his lips are while Sunhee squeals, encouragingly, because she's drunk and lives vicariously through her friends. Her stomach twists, but she isn’t sure why. She doesn’t dwell on it—maybe she’s just not feeling well because of all the shots. They stumble into the alleyway that leads to their home. It's a little, two-bedroom guest house—though it's barely a house, it's one floor and as tiny as an apartment—they rent out from the old couple that owns the much bigger house at the front of the street.

They're giggling, too loudly, voices bouncing off the alley walls.

Seulgi says, reaching out to cup Sunhee’s cheeks between her palms, her cheeks red and her eyes forming crescent moons, "Your face is a mess. You look like a Bratz doll, but like if a Bratz doll spent four hours in a sauna with all her makeup on."

“You rude .” Sunhee attempts to kick at Seulgi but only manages to stumble. Seulgi promptly lets go of Sunhee’s face, cackling in laughter as she runs forward, skipping. Somehow, she has impeccable balance, despite her heels. She disappears around the corner and Sunhee stumbles after her, only to smack right into Seulgi's , making her nearly fall face flat onto the concrete. Seulgi’s hand shoots out to catch herself against the brick wall of the alleyway.

Sunhee blinks, her vision swimming, before she focuses her attention on the dark figure leaning beside the entrance to their home, propped up on one leg, looking like he’s stepped out of a magazine, despite his face being covered and his dark clothes.

She can see his eyes, glinting in the moonlight, shining brightly, terrifyingly so, the rest of his face doused in long, black shadows. He turns to appraise them, slowly, carefully.

He steps out of the shadows long after they see him, long after the two of them come to a sudden halt and stare and stare, doing nothing except staring. Seulgi’s back stiffens, her shoulders tense. There is a thick tension in the air, heightening in the silence, and Sunhee’s stomach churns at the feel, the discomfort prickling under her skin.

She can’t remember which man this is, but she knows it was one of them. One of the men from months ago. She is hyperaware that the presence of this man means he isn’t keeping their promise. She knows is that he’s dangerous. She knows that it’s bad if he hasn’t forgotten them like he’s supposed to.

He says, tone surprisingly formal, “Miss Kang.”

Sunhee blinks, a rapid movement that makes her vision swim more and more. She looks over at Seulgi, side-eyeing her, and watches as Seulgi pales, swaying in her spot due to the alcohol, her arms wrapping around her torso. Sunhee watches as the man’s gaze focuses on Seulgi, flickering over her for a moment before he levels Seulgi with an unreadable look.

She expects Seulgi to whisper, who. She expects Seulgi to pretend like she doesn’t know him because that’s what he’s supposed to be doing.

Instead, Seulgi whispers, “I swore I wouldn’t help you again.”

She sounds tired, unsteady, faltering. The man’s eyes curl into what Sunhee thinks may be a smile, though she can’t tell because of the mask.

Then, the man raises a brow, the bottom half of his face covered by a black mask, his voice low, soft, strange. “Third time’s the charm, Miss Kang, don’t you think?”

Sunhee’s thoughts swim, confused as she glances between the two of them, “Th—third?”

Seulgi’s cheeks puff out, her already red cheeks reddening, the blush spreading down her neck, down her , her long dark hair covering her eyes. Her voice is hoarse, her words slurring, her fingers dragging through her hair in that nervous habit of hers, “I c—can’t. I’m drunk. And I told you I don’t want to get involved anymore. The second time was already pushing it. I don’t want to get—get—”

Seulgi abruptly cuts herself off, when the man takes three long strides towards them. Sunhee gasps, grasping for Seulgi’s shoulders, pulling her back. The man—he’s right there, hovers dangerously close, looming over them, inches from where they stand. Sunhee can see the tension in his shoulders. She can see his eyes, a beautiful brown, she thinks, though they’re muddied with desperation.

(She vaguely wonders why all she ever sees is desperation when she sees these people. Why don’t they just stop putting themselves into the kind of situations that warrant desperation in the first place?)

“Seulgi.” He says, the formal suffix he attaches to her name a biting plea that is only punctuated by his next word. “Please.”

Sunhee sees the way Seulgi’s shoulders droop. Sunhee knows Seulgi can’t say no to desperate, beautiful eyes.

But Sunhee can.

“No.” Sunhee answers for her, angling herself between them. “No.”

His eyes snap up and only then does she realize just how much taller he is than her. His eyes glint, darken, but he doesn’t snap at her, doesn’t punch her right in the ing face like she expects him to. Instead he seems to take a deep breath before he says, voice careful, gaze sliding back to meet Seulgi’s over Sunhee’s shoulder before they flicker to meet Sunhee’s, unrelenting, “It’s a knife wound. He’s bleeding out.”

Sunhee’s voice is less firm when she thinks of that young boy from before, imagines another one. She repeats, “No.”

He continues, unfaltering, “He’s only twenty years old.” His voice cracks at twenty.

Sunhee closes her eyes because she knows Seulgi. She can hear her heart cracking at twenty as well.

Seulgi leans back a little, her tensing under her slinky dress as she leans into Sunhee. She slurs, “I wish I could say yes, but I’m drunk.”

Sunhee finds she is taking a step away, no longer the wall between them, as she blinks incredulously, tiredly, between Sunhee and the man.

His voice is low, soft, a careful timber to it that makes Seulgi close her eyes, clearly resigned. “It doesn’t matter. We can sober you up quickly. You’re pretty much halfway there, anyway.”

She groans, rubs her eyes, and Sunhee notes how close they’re standing, how he hovers too close, how Seulgi won’t necessarily meet his eyes. Sunhee stares.

Seulgi murmurs, “Only if Sunhee can come with me. I don’t—don’t want—not alone. Please.”

The man leans back, observes Sunhee thoroughly, making Sunhee feel so small, right then.

She notices, though, the tiny, almost imperceptible glance back at Seulgi, the way his eyes linger. Sunhee frowns.

The man just nods.

(Sunhee wonders why the hell no one is asking her what she thinks they should do.)

Still, Sunhee, reluctantly, sticks to Seulgi’s side and swallows down her annoyance, the two of them following after the man.

~.~.~.~.~

Sunhee stares from the top of the stairs at what looks to be a tiny run-down apartment nestled beneath a pawn shop. Seulgi is at her side, pausing beside her. The man is up ahead, digging through the pockets of his dark leather jacket, a jittery sort of anxiety radiating off him in waves.

The short walk to the building—and into the part of town Sunhee tends to avoid, especially late at night—had quickly sobered Sunhee up. She glances at Seulgi, at her flushed cheeks, the nervous glint to her eyes, and the frown, Sunhee thinks the walk has also managed to slightly sober up Seulgi as well.

At least, Sunhee hopes so. Sunhee opens , to say something to Seulgi, to ask the logistics of how and why, but everything gets stuck at the back of , in the overwhelming feeling of know that they have stepped into the bad part of town with someone they shouldn’t have, that Seulgi has involved herself with this man and his blood, his work that hurts kids who have just turned into adults, kids on the brink of adulthood. There are a lot of questions, of worries and apprehension, coursing through Sunhee at that moment, somehow solidified by the steps leading down, down, down, and the fact that the building itself looks so rundown, but the security system on the door is brand-new, state of the art technology that can be found in Gangnam.

The man turns his head then, ending any chance Sunhee could have of speaking with Seulgi in privacy, moonlight lighting up his dark eyes as he peers up at them, his gaze flickering from Sunhee to Seulgi, lingering there for just a moment, before he asks, “Are you worried?”

Seulgi seems to jolt out of her own thoughts, her voice coming out in sharp staccatos, nervous, Sunhee realizes. “No. Just more drunk than I thought.”

There’s a soft chuckle, low and musical, drifting up from the bottom-most stair, just as the man unlocks the door. “Don’t worry. I promised I’d sober you up, right?”

Sunhee’s frown deepens at his tone, at the way Seulgi averts her gaze, fiddling with her dress, before she starts to ascend, the way the man’s eyes glint, playful, amused.

Still, Sunhee follows, watching as the man throws open the door, beckoning for Seulgi to enter first.

For the first time that night since Seulgi had first turned Sunhee into an ultimatum of sorts, the man actually looks at Sunhee, his gaze drifting away from Seulgi as she steps into the apartment.

He raises a brow at her, a twinkle of insolence filling his eyes. She can’t see the rest of his face, because of the face mask, but she can see his eyes and they’re awfully expressive. It takes Sunhee a moment too long to realize that she’s paused at the second-to-last step, eyeing the man with immense skepticism, while he holds the door open for her, fingers tapping out an erratic beat against the door as his brows furrow and his eyes grow more irritated.

“I don’t have all night.”

Sunhee grimaces, but she steps into the apartment anyway, the man shutting the door behind the two of them as he steps around her. The apartment is small—an open space mostly with just couches and tables, the doorway to the kitchen straight ahead and a narrow hallway to her left that most likely leads to a bedroom or something. Sunhee can see Seulgi in the kitchen, sees the man step around her and hurry in Seulgi’s direction, scurrying around the kitchen as he speaks quietly to Seulgi, can see Seulgi fiddling with her dress and answering his questions, voice just as low, just as indecipherable.

Sunhee looks to the left, taking in the small, unfurnished apartment. There’s a coat rack next to the door—as if it was put there as a poor attempt to add a bit of hominess to the space. There’s a giant framed poster of a famous girl group hanging on the wall next to the kitchen entrance as well—perhaps for the same exact reason the coatrack was put by the door. To the left, there are couches and a large table level with Sunhee’s waist.

Sunhee doesn’t necessarily register the people in the room until one of them meets her gaze. He’s not wearing a mask. He’s handsome, she notices, with eyes that look as if they are usually laughing. He’s sitting beside another person who seems to be sleeping, curled up under a heavy blanket and his head resting on the handsome man’s lap while the handsome man cards pretty fingers through his hair, gentle and soothing.

The handsome man’s eyes narrow as he holds her gaze. There is a darkness lurking there, in his eyes, the kind of darkness that sends a shiver right down her spine. She feels small under this man’s gaze, as if he’s more dangerous than she could ever imagine. She blinks, before she tears her eyes off the man first, hurrying into the kitchen.

“—in the bedroom.” The man’s voice is low as he leans his hip against the counter, watching Seulgi slowly chew on untoasted bread. Her fingers shake a little and Sunhee just wants to step between Seulgi and this man and tell him to deal with his issues on his own.

But, Sunhee doesn’t because this is not her decision to make. She can’t control other people, especially not Seulgi.

Seulgi nods, a brisk movement, and Sunhee is amazed with the way Seulgi seems to pull herself together, shoulders pushed back, chin held high. She pushes half her bread into Sunhee’s hand, says, “Eat this and then come help me.”

Sunhee blinks.

Seulgi marches out the kitchen and towards, presumably, the bedroom where that twenty-year-old who was stabbed currently is.

(Sunhee wonders how she knows where to go. Sunhee wonders, but she already knows the answer.)

Sunhee locks eyes with the man. He’s pulled his mask off and he is handsome, as well, his lips full and his skin tan. He’s more than handsome, really, he’s striking, and Sunhee thinks he looks exactly like the type of person who would break promises without a second thought.

Sunhee can’t help it when she speaks for the first time that night, “You all promised.”

She sounds less accusing then she hoped she would. She’s disappointed.

The man just stares at her, a long, drawn out thing that makes her uncomfortable. Then, the man sighs and Sunhee wonders if she imagines the regret there, “I know.”

Then he swivels on his heels and he leaves the kitchen. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t promise he won’t do it again, like any decent person would. Sunhee scowls after him, accidentally smushing the bread in her fists in the process.

Sunhee grumbles, tossing the rest of the bread in the trash before she stomps after Seulgi and him, ignoring the eyes of the man on the couch drilling holes into her back.

a/n: it's begun! I'm excited to write this, since it's got a spicy pov and I'm trying to make fic writing fun for me again (hopefully this helps)!

Anyways, please leave your thoughts below! I will try to update this more regularly lol

Also! I do plan on making Astro members (and maybe NCT) an important part of this fic, but I'm not sure if I should tag it since I know that's annoying when they're not the mains and you find it in the tags when you're looking for stuff. Please let me know if that's a good idea tho. Thanks!

love u and thank u for all the support <3333333