Hongbin leans back in his bed and slots a bookmark into the bone of his book. It’s the one Wonshik made for his birthday because “man, I swear, you’re the biggest nerd I know”, but it’s mainly because he had burnt a hole through his pocket buying a looping station some time back and had no money for a proper present. Either way, it’s nice to see that Wonshik’s interest in music never faded one bit since their college days, even though it’s peculiar to note how Wonshik was the one who became a tutor.

On the other hand, Hongbin hasn’t stuck to a single thing since college, save photography. He actually majored in Physics to appease his mother, but proceeded to escape from graduation to move out of the house – city, even. He climbed his way to the top from literally rock bottom with almost no help and that remains one of the things he’s most proud of. What he got from college was a first class honors certificate and he reckons he still has it somewhere at the back of his store room, but when he left Seoul, he left the pliant Hongbin there too. It doesn’t matter whether or not his mother wants him to go; he left for a reason and he highly doubts he’s ever going to be back there for good.

The music in the background is a soft ballad, one that always makes him sleepy, but for some reason tonight, his thoughts drift to Sanghyuk. He briefly wonders whether anyone is still holding on to his wrist, the way his mother still does – not in the sense that Hyuk thinks, but more of whether anyone is looking for him, boiling with rage and simmering beneath the skin at the fact that Sanghyuk got away. Even if no one is, it doesn’t change the fact that Sanghyuk still feels like he doesn’t have the right to be free and Hongbin hates that he can’t stop Sanghyuk from thinking that way.

His room lamp is the only light source in the room so the shadows cast onto the walls are outlines of furniture, dark against the yellow light. His house is still the same house, room still the same room, but everything seems different with Sanghyuk in the house. Wonshik was the first person to truly teach Hongbin how not being lonely feels, with music sharing sessions in the student dorms and late night supper as they stayed up to rush their essays. They would see each other through breakups, go for group meetings together, drink together, get scolded together.

For a strange reason, they never really became best friends or anything of that sort. Wonshik had his other friends from the same music background, and Hongbin – well, Hongbin never really had any other close friends, but he wasn’t entirely open on talking to Wonshik about his problems. Wonshik never really asked too much about his family, or his status, or about his nightmares (though he slept through every single one of them, big or small, and Hongbin is grateful for how comatose his roommate was when he slept). Nonetheless, they both enjoyed each other’s company, almost like having a next-door neighbor to see you about day-to-day things without either person feeling too attached to the other.

Then they both graduate and that’s really all they see of one another, unless Hongbin is in his neighborhood for some assignment and decides to ring him up for a coffee.

Hongbin kind of wishes that Sanghyuk could do that – leave whenever he wants to. It’s not that he wants Hyuk to leave. He actually kind of wants him to stay. Of course the apartment wouldn’t feel so devoid of feeling throughout all four seasons, plus he’s frankly quite tired of coming home to a silent home, but he wants Sanghyuk to be able to leave. Leave his old self behind like he did on his graduation day and discover something new in a fresh place. Of course, there are still so many things to do – police reports, and people to account to – but for now, Hongbin thinks that Sanghyuk just needs stability. Sanghyuk doesn’t have to leave now, doesn’t have to leave for a very long time, not unless he wants to, but Hongbin doesn’t really want to imagine that day coming. 

What he can imagine, though, is telling Hyuk about how long his day at work has been, or what he hates about a newly-watched movie, and asking Hyuk about his day. His roommate isn’t very verbal yet, but sometimes there are momentary flashes of who Sanghyuk could have been if he didn’t – These flashes come most often when Sanghyuk thinks nobody is watching, but they’ve definitely been coming out more often lately. Hongbin really wants to see how the younger boy is underneath those insulating layers. Not for a few short bursts of color, but for good. But Hongbin supposes that if Sanghyuk stays for long enough, they just might become really good friends.

If Sanghyuk stays for long enough.

His phone alarm starts ringing and he doesn’t even need think, just reaches over to grab his pill box. He carefully removes the sleeping pill and puts it back into the bottle because he doesn’t want to sleep through another one of Sanghyuk’s nightmares. The glass of water is gone in a second, washing the other pills down with it.

He walks out of his room to check if all the windows are locked and as always, Sanghyuk has left his door ajar.

***

“I want a cake.” Hongbin groans as he slumps across the couch, limbs splayed in every direction. “Like, I really want a cake.”

Sanghyuk looks up from his math textbook and there is the hint of a quizzical smile lining his cheeks. “So go buy a cake, hyung.”

“Ugh.” Hongbin says eloquently. “Uggghhhhh. I hate working so much.”

Hongbin recently brought his work home with him just so Sanghyuk doesn’t have to be dragged out to face the world every day. It works out just fine since he has no more photo shoot schedules and even though staying home for so long can’t be good for either of them, Hongbin appreciates the positive change in how Sanghyuk acts around him. He still flinches, still doesn’t like Hongbin paying attention to him or fussing over him, but at least he isn’t so reserved and scared all the time. For once, Sanghyuk seems almost… fine, if Hongbin would dare to say.

 “Hyuk-ah, I could actually go crazy with how much I want to eat cake right now.”

“We literally have a bakery downstairs, hyung.” Sanghyuk says, continuing his math problem, and Hongbin grins at the fact that this is the real Sanghyuk, the Sanghyuk he likes to see.

“But their cakes are so bad. And plus it’s so cold outside.” Hongbin stretches out the words like he’s whining and maybe whining is the word for it. “Why don’t bakeries deliver?”

Sanghyuk contemplates volunteering to buy the cake but he’s not going to lie to himself. Even just looking outside the window at the streets below makes him skittish. He doesn’t know if it’s because going outside means meeting people, or if he feels wrong himself, down to his very core. Like his hair is wrong, and the scars on his hands are wrong, and he feels so wrong because he functions wrong, feels wrong, does things wrong. He doesn’t belong to the crowd. He might never belong to the crowd.

“You know what, Hyuk-ah.” Hongbin sits up and looks at Sanghyuk. “Let’s make a cake.

Sanghyuk raises a dully skeptical eyebrow. “Do you have stuff to make a cake, hyung?”

The smile on Hongbin’s face, like a kid unwrapping presents, is so convincing that Sanghyuk can’t even feel doubtful about their combined cake-making abilities anymore. Hongbin stands up anyway and walks – almost skips – to the kitchen. What follows is a very dramatic commotion of opening cabinets and drawers.

“I do! Wow, I actually have non-microwavable food in my kitchen. Who knew, right?” Hongbin shouts out from the kitchen and his laughter afterwards warms the whole damned apartment. “Come on, close that book and let’s bake a cake! Don’t study the whole day away.”  

The math book is shut at once, open pages separated with a pen slotted in carefully. (It’s honestly still amazing how many things he’s allowed to own, how many things he’s allowed to touch in the apartment.)

By the time he reaches the kitchen, everything is already thrown out on the counter. Flour, eggs, bowls, a recipe for… mug cakes..? displayed on the screen of Hongbin’s tablet.

“Mug cakes!” Hongbin points at the recipe, bouncing up and down. “Like, actual cakes in a mug.”

Sanghyuk walks over with a crooked grin to read the recipe and all the way down at the end of the page shows a picture of the most colorful array of cakes in mugs.

Hongbin gleefully announces, “I’m going to make a peanut butter one!” and Sanghyuk decides on vanilla, only secretly because it has the least calories. He’s still not eating as much as he’s supposed to be and even though he eats three regular meals, he strictly doesn’t eat anything else.

They beat the eggs, and mix the flour, and Hongbin doesn’t tell him what to do but asks, instead, which makes Sanghyuk feel inexplicably good inside, like the darkness inside of him is slowly being illuminated. The bad things that scare him in the dark are still there, but now that there’s light, they don’t look all that scary anymore. His heart is beating fast in the cages of his ribs, not with a crazy pounding that he cannot control, but with a light trill through his bones.

The mug cake finally comes out a success on the second try and Hongbin looks like he’s going to die from the satisfaction.

“Try it!” Hongbin almost shoves the mug in Sanghyuk’s face and the smell is so strong that he almost pukes. “It’s so good.”

“It’s okay, you have it.” Sanghyuk says, forcing a closed-mouth smile.

“Please.” Hongbin doesn’t move the mug away and Sanghyuk’s heart starts to pound. “I’ll get a sore throat if I finish this all by myself.

“Not now hyung, please.” Sanghyuk forces the words out with a slightly desperately hysterical edge to his words and Hongbin finally understands.

 “You need to eat, Hyuk-ah.” The tone of his voice is the one that leaves no room for discussion. “You didn’t even eat much at lunch.”

Sanghyuk is terrified of what may come so he pushes himself to look at the mug again, to imagine himself eating it and he just can’t. Peanut butter – If it was any other food, Sanghyuk would’ve said yes, but not peanut butter. Maybe one day he can learn to eat it again, but not right now.

“I am, I will, just not – I – you know I’m eating, hyung, you know,” Sanghyuk blabbers frantically and it feels like his bones are rattling as well. “Not now. I swear I –”

“Ok.” Hongbin says, eyes wide in shock or revelation or maybe both. “I won’t make you eat it, Hyuk-ah. Calm down.”

Sanghyuk realizes how erratic his breathing is and tries to settle down. He counts the rise and fall of his chest, tries to not let himself spiral down into the place he always goes to when it hurts too much to stay present. He only speaks when his head doesn’t feel so loud anymore.

“Sir used to make me eat nothing but peanut butter just so I could gain weight.” His voice is not stuttering, but it’s tremulous like he’s just learning how to speak and it makes him feel so weak that he just wants to curl up somewhere to hide, even though he’s stunned at his own honesty. “It’s – I can’t take peanut butter anymore, hyung. It smells too strong and I just – I don’t want to be reminded of – of –”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I understand.” Hongbin puts the mug down. “I’ll take note of it, okay?”

They try to get back to cleaning up the counter, but he can’t focus at all. There’s too much sound between his ears and his vanilla mug cake lies untouched and the sink looks like Sir’s sink no it doesn’t stop it please stop. Sanghyuk knows that Hongbin isn’t angry, but he can’t stop himself from shaking only five minutes after the confession. It starts from the tip of his fingers, to his hands, then to his arms, and before he knows it, he’s kneeling on the kitchen floor, shaking like he just ran a marathon. Something, perhaps guilt too heavy, is forcing him to sink to the ground. He’s trying so damned hard to not press his head into the tiles, to just rock back and forth on his knees, because Hongbin said that he doesn’t like kneeling. And he doesn’t ever want to kneel again. Not anymore. He has already done enough of that in his life. There’s a sick twisting dread in his stomach anyway and he’s truly so tired of kneeling, but it’s like his body cannot forget even though his mind can.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry, Sir, hyung, I didn’t mean it –”

There’s the rustling of cloth as Hongbin moves to crouch near Sanghyuk.

Everything in the kitchen melts away because the position he’s in unleashes a violent flood of memories. Memories of this same very scene, ing up then trying to apologize later but it’s all too late, too late, you’ve pissed him off, why did you do that, god ing damn it, why would you make him angry, why couldn’t you just listen, now you’ve ed up and you’re gonna get hit.

“. Hyuk-ah,” A voice says in a far-off distance and he knows vaguely that it’s his nickname, just why does he have one, he’s not allowed to have one of those, it doesn’t make sense, doesn’t make any sense.

 “Hyuk-ah.” The voice says urgently again but Sanghyuk doesn’t even register the words anymore.

He’s in a mansion in Seoul, where he has just talked back, because he’s done everything correctly, why can’t his Sir see that and he could explode from the anger but the anger has gone cold because he knows what he has done and –

There’s white around the edges of his vision and he’s more than sure he has become an unresponsive lump on the floor. He’s more than sure his head is digging into the cool tiles. It’s just that he doesn’t know for sure because he can’t feel any part of his body, like his limbs are wrapped in steel and cotton at the same time.

But it doesn’t matter, because he lets himself go. Can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I ed up again, but please don’t, I’ll do it again. There’s a pounding pain in his head and suddenly.

Suddenly, everything fades to black.