That night, Sanghyuk does not sleep.

He crouches in the corner of his – the room, pressing his knees to his forehead and trying to breathe; trying to breathe and think at the same time. Forcing himself to poke and prod at the places he has never dared to venture before, forcing himself to feel, to truly shape what he wants in his hands, then accept it as the truth.

By the time the sun creeps up the building to the window, Sanghyuk has an answer. His blood is pushing through his veins, like they have something to prove for being there. The feeling is foreign but he’s ready.

He makes porridge, and puts more slices of abalone in Hongbin’s, because he truly is genuinely sorry for yesterday. He hopes Hongbin doesn’t get too angry, doesn’t make him leave the house. He ignores the bloody nail-shaped trenches in his thigh as he pulls up his sweatpants, wincing where the fabric pulls, and as he slowly washes flesh from beneath his nails, he rehearses his lines.

He’s ready.

Or well, mostly.

***

The air is frigid and awkward when they meet, almost bumping into each other in the doorway of the kitchen, Hongbin going in and Sanghyuk going out. It’s like they’ve forgotten how to live together in the same house.

“Good morning, hyung. I want to do it.” Sanghyuk says and Hongbin doesn’t realize immediately what topic he’s referring to.

“Do w– Oh.” Hongbin says as Sanghyuk nods, just once, resolute and firm.

“But I need you to understand that the things –” Sanghyuk swallows and says quickly, like his brain is working faster than his mouth. “The things they did to me, I need to make sure they get s – some sort of retribution. I need to see that, hyung. I don’t t – think I could live any other way. I don’t think I can breathe knowing that they – I can’t stay broken while they – they –”

“You’re not broken, Hyuk-ah.” Hongbin whispers. “You’re anything but.”

“No, I – I – I’ve always been broken, hyung. I can’t deny that, and you can’t deny that.” Sanghyuk manages to regain control. ”They did something to me, hyung. And t – they made me w – want it. Do you – Do you know what I mean?”

Hongbin feels like he can’t breathe. “I know.”

“If I see them I don’t know what I’ll do.” Sanghyuk’s eyes are glassed over. “I’m scared that I’ll snap if I fight this battle.”

Hongbin makes a slow, tentative move to reach outwards, and Sanghyuk makes a small noise of agreement, somewhere between a sigh and a choking sound of distress laced with a hint of something between discomfort and relief. Hongbin starts running his hands from the tip of Sanghyuk’s shoulders to the boy’s forearms, an equal pressure that grounds.

“You’re doing alright, Hyuk-ah. You’re doing great.” Hongbin murmurs. “Just stay with me.”

Sanghyuk releases a tremulous sigh. Sometimes he just can’t stop shaking. It’s the stress, it’s the trauma. But when he’s being taken care of like this, a safe force and reassurance of skin against skin, he doesn’t have to calm himself down alone.

“I might snap, hyung. And then I won’t be able to heal anymore.”

“I’ll be here anyway.” Hongbin says, as he pulls the boy into his arms. He wants to wrap him up with soft fleece blankets and never let him go. “We’re going to make sure that they pay. But only If you want to, that is.”

“I want to.” Sanghyuk says, voice muffled in the fabric of Hongbin’s jacket. “I want to, hyung. So much. I’m just scared I can’t do it.”

“I’m right here.” Hongbin pauses for a while, then feeling a wave of an almost-hilarious sense of déjà vu, says, “And I mean… Hakyeon hyung did get us, like, the best lawyer in Seoul, so…”

***

Wonshik visits the house for a tuition session, bringing in tow all sorts of snacks to coax Sanghyuk into conversing. The last lesson was pretty much Wonshik's version of a personal nightmare – a one-sided conversation in math is not how he would ever imagine teaching to be.

But when he arrives, Sanghyuk is all smiles, and so… different from usual that Wonshik almost thinks he knocked on the wrong door. It’s odd that Sanghyuk even opened the door for him today.  

Wonshik's hair is blue this month and Sanghyuk startles a bit at the change, but then grins at how good it looks.

“Wow, I see someone’s in a good mood today.” Wonshik kicks off his shoes. “So smiley and everything.”

Sanghyuk makes a soft contemplative sound. “I’m okay today. Hi, hyung.”

“Hello,” Wonshik gives him a full smile. “Where’s Hongbin?”

“Hi! I'm back here!” A shout travels from the kitchen, coupled with the smell of pesto sauce. “Wanna stay for lunch?”

“Yeah, sure, why not.”

And for once, they use the dining table, having their economics class over spaghetti and soup. All throughout, Wonshik makes friendly banter and lets Sanghyuk in on some of Hongbin’s college secrets, things Sanghyuk feel a little invasive knowing, like he’s not privy to all these personal details. But after a while, he gets into the motions, and his good mood leftover from a nightmare-less sleep gets him into laughing at jokes fairly easily. Hongbin entertains them until he’s finished with lunch, then he retreats to his room to go over readings.

Halfway through the lesson, Wonshik gets up to make pancakes because he’s hungry, and Sanghyuk gets to mix the batter while Wonshik quizzes him on economics definitions. He gets most of them correct – he has been studying more than he has been sleeping – and Wonshik flips each pancake perfectly. Hongbin gets distracted a couple of times, tempted by the smell. They add strawberries and blueberries and bananas and by the time the class finishes, the three of them are so full they can’t even move.

Sanghyuk almost forgets how it feels like to live with someone who won’t let him laugh, almost forgets how it feels like to live in constant pain. It’s hard to, when he’s surrounded by so much joy and lightness.

***

Hongbin picks up the phone after it rings for the first time in days.

It’s detective Park Kyosang and he orders them to make a trip down to the police station with as much ferocity as he can muster, which they do, after Sanghyuk pulls on too many layers for the weather, understandably terrified of the prospect of dissociating. Hakyeon gets Lee Minki the lawyer to make a trip down, and by some miracle that none of them can understand, he’s there just five minutes after Hongbin and Sanghyuk.  

He’s dressed in an impeccably fitting suit, tailor-made with the finest of materials. There’s a briefcase in his hand and if it isn’t for the air of professionalism about him, Sanghyuk would’ve thought he was way too young to be one of the best in the country.

Brief introductions are made, and the lawyer doesn’t question when Sanghyuk settles for a meek “hi” instead of a handshake – just drops his hand to his side like he was expecting it all along. He’s steady, grounded, and the reserved smile he has on disappears the moment the detective emerges from his office, replaced instead with a stoic face.

“I almost sent a team to break down your door and drag you guys here,” The detective says, with a bitter bite in his voice. “It’s crazy. I almost went crazy.”

Hongbin and Sanghyuk just look at each other, a playfulness carefully concealed under feigned apology.

“Is this your lawyer?”

“I’m Lee Minki, Mr. Han Sanghyuk’s lawyer for the case.” He steps forward and shakes the detective’s hand. Sanghyuk feels a uncomfortable pinch at the title. “Apologies, could I have a minute with my clients? We haven’t really had time to discuss.”

The detective raises an eyebrow. “I’ll give you guys some time to talk.”

***

They use an interrogation room and it smells so strongly of industrial cleaning agent that there’s a sense of dread even before they start.

Minki gives them no time for a breather. “Tell me the entire story, start to end.”

Sanghyuk starts to intertwine his fingers, a steely cold under his skin that he cannot name. He doesn’t know how to start, and he’s definitely having second thoughts about even starting. The only thing keeping him here is being able to go home after all of this is over. He repeats it over and over, trying to hold onto the way a beanbag feels under his spine.

“He’s not –” Hongbin interjects. “You should ask him questions instead, he’ll respond better.”

“Let me figure that out for myself,” Minki leans in closer. “Who are you, Han Sanghyuk?”

Sanghyuk jerks a little, and pulls his hands off the table. His right hand is starting to shake, and he’s always a little self-conscious about the damaged nerves.

“I don’t know, Sir.” Sanghyuk’s voice is far away, hesitant. “I’m not… anyone.”

“Why are you not anyone?” Minki asks more like it’s a statement than a question, like he’s completely detached from sympathy. Sanghyuk doesn’t know if it’s for the better or for the worse.

From that moment on, everything in Sanghyuk’s head is just white noise, like waves rushing constantly towards the shore. A fog descends upon him, like he’s looking through tainted glass and speaking into a box. Nothing hurts when he’s down here. It’s easier to listen, it’s easier to obey. Nothing hurts.

***

By the time they emerge from the room, Hongbin has a newfound respect for Minki. The lawyer manages to keep Sanghyuk present for the most of the interview, only having to occasionally call for a glass of ice – to press into stiff hands when the person they belong to goes too far down and into his own head.

Sanghyuk, needless to say, does not walk out of the room unscathed. In fact he’s in more pieces than he has ever been in a long time. With Hongbin, he can keep his walls up strong enough to differentiate all the phases of his hurt. But having to rake his mind for every bit of detail that happened ever since he was removed from the orphanage – He’s forced to think of himself not as separated into before the incident and after the incident, but rather as the same person present throughout the past fifteen years, whether or not his headspace has changed.

It hurts to think that way.

It sends an acutely painful prickling throughout his body, to think that he cannot remove himself from his past. Before, he moved from household to household. Before, he had to change his rules with each owner, has to get calibrated to a new life the moment he moves. But all those lives do belong to him, and it feels like he only understands now that he hasn’t had the opportunity to mourn losing those. It’s a funeral for bodies that don’t even exist.

Funerals for a ghost.   

Maybe this can explain the unstoppable tears.

Somehow, Minki gets everything out of him without being condescending, or callous, or coddling. But his mind is still tired, almost like it has been scraped raw and everything is too loud or too intense. There’s really nothing glamorous about showing off scars. Hongbin guides him by his shoulders down the endless corridors, and tries to make sure he doesn’t trip over his own feet.

Minki gets pulled aside by the detective halfway out and they have a hushed disagreement, before the lawyer does give in and asks them to wait in a dingy lounge.

They’re left in the room – Hongbin gently Sanghyuk’s hair as the younger shakes in his arms, eyes screwed shut – when they hear footsteps coming down the corridor. Not those of high-end oxford shoes, nor of worn out track shoes; more like boots, heavy and weighed down, laces pulled tight.

Sanghyuk hears the thick drawl before he even sees the person. “, dude. No wonder.”

“You’re a pretty one, aren’t you?”