Daewon stuns. He didn’t think it was so bad. He doesn’t know jack about Sanghyuk, doesn’t know anything about what Sanghyuk had been through. But he hasn’t seen someone so bad, so messed up, as to lose himself completely even under normal circumstances like these.

Daewon takes out his phone and doesn’t speak for a while, waiting patiently for Hongbin to pick up the phone. He notices how Sanghyuk seems to be getting tenser and tenser, over-tightened and so physically close to the floor that it’s impossible for anyone to be smaller. But despite how much the situation looks like surrender, Daewon can see the tension in Sanghyuk’s shoulders and the small shaking of his every muscle. He’s battling with himself – battling against everything his body is telling him to do. 

It’s biology, it’s conditioning. At some point, in some subs, you can’t even tell the difference anymore. But Daewon didn’t even realize someone could be conditioned to this point. He wants to kill everyone that did that to the boy breaking apart in front of him.

Sanghyuk tries to keep himself afloat and discerning reality from past but the hardwood floors pressing into his knees bring him closer and closer to the edge. It’s hard and smooth. Hardwood isn’t that much different from marble. Is this hardwood or marble…? Where is he? He forgets in the blink of an eye that Daewon is standing in front of him and not Heungdeok Sir. The coldness is starting to seep into his body. Where is it coming from? It’s the middle of July. No. Don’t think. Just do. Just listen. Don’t have to think.

Hongbin picks up, and Daewon doesn’t even bother greeting.

“Okay. Sanghyuk, Hongbin’s on the phone and I need you to talk to him. Right now.” Daewon says and Sanghyuk blurts out a ‘Yes, Sir.’ without even meaning to.

Daewon brings the phone up to his ear and Hongbin’s voice comes down on him like a breath of relief even though the phone feels like a chill of winter.

***

“Hyuk-ah?” Hongbin says, but he doesn’t really expect a response.

It’s almost a miracle when he hears a small “yes?” from the other side of the line. Sanghyuk’s breathing is shallow, like he’s trying to keep himself afloat.

“This is Hongbin hyung, Hyuk-ah. Do you know where you are?”

There is silence for a long time before he hears, “Apart – Apartment.”

“Whose apartment?”

“Yours.” This time, the voice is more sure.

Hongbin keeps his voice even. “That’s good, that’s very good Hyuk-ah. You’re in the house, and you don’t have to kneel for anyone. Right, that’s what I told you when we first got to know each other?”

Sanghyuk flinches.

The next line comes in a painful whisper. “But Daewon-ssi – Daewon-ssi – he –“

“I know, Hyuk-ah. But it’s okay.” Hongbin says. “He’s a friend of mine, and he won’t want you to kneel for him. You don’t have to kneel for him. Will you get up for me? Trust me, Hyuk-ah.”

Sanghyuk is not ready to stand yet. He still feels like a million leaden weights, but he finds it in himself to stammer out a, “Y – Yes.” 

“Okay. I need you to pass the phone back to Daewon yeah? Are you okay?”

“I am.” Sanghyuk whispers, and in a sudden wave of dread, “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“You don’t have to be, I promise. I’m not angry.” Hongbin comforts. “You’re doing so good. Pass the phone back to Daewon?”

Sanghyuk nods, and even though his every cell is craving to talk to Hongbin for just a while more – just a few more minutes please, he slowly nudges the phone back to Daewon. He feels the phone leaving his hand like he was never holding it all; like there is a layer of air separating him from the world. The real world. And yet, his body is releasing waves of hot energy that have no where to go. His hands start to regain feeling in delicate tingles.

He tries to straighten up, but he’s shaking so much that he has no choice but to slump on his side in a fetal position, right arm awkwardly bent beneath the crook of his body, frozen in the motion of trying to push himself upright. Daewon is still talking on the phone, but it sounds more like a cacophony than anything else. Then Daewon stops, and he can hear the phone being placed on a surface. Sanghyuk tries harder to get up, his mind: Run. Now. – but his body: Don’t. Move. He doesn’t want to be hit, doesn’t want to get into trouble. He just wants to be taken care of, please. So he tries harder, but all he can manage is supporting his upper body with quaking arms.

Daewon squats in front of him and looks him in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

He’s been bad, why is Daewon asking him so nicely?

There is a knot in Sanghyuk’s stomach when he says, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

There is an even bigger knot in Sanghyuk’s throat when Daewon places a hand on his head. Not to attack, but to comfort. His hand is bigger than Hongbin’s; warmer, too. He doesn’t want the warmth to end. Sanghyuk closes his eyes and can’t decide if he wants to cry.

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s no problem” Daewon says, voice a deep hum. “Do you want to lie down?”

Sanghyuk swallows and nods.

He can’t decide if he wants to nuzzle into the touch or not.

But then the steady warmth on his head disappears and he flinches. He opens his eyes to a worried face, and Sanghyuk really doesn’t even know his own body. It’s like everything is on autopilot, but the inclination to want human contact seems dangerously attractive. And it’s never dangerously attractive – it’s always, just, dangerous. Sanghyuk tenses and the anxiety builds. Unknowingly, his eyes start to plead with Daewon: please, help me, I don’t know what’s happening.

Daewon immediately goes to Sanghyuk’s head again, and it feels like, for a moment, he stops the boy from drowning. From submerging completely underwater. “Can you stand up? You’re shaking.”

And he is. Sanghyuk is shaking so hard that he can’t bring himself to his feet. And so Daewon just settles down next to the boy, straightens out his legs with a small groan, and gestures towards his lap.

“Let’s just lie down here then. It’s easier.” Daewon says softly. “We’ll get up when we feel like it.”

Without thinking, he goes. He rests his head on a complete stranger’s thigh and his panic, so seemingly huge (huger than his existence), starts to subside. His mind switches off – crumples, like a boy to his knees under the weight of an entire world.

***

By the time Sanghyuk stops shaking, it’s almost dusk. Night settles over the suburb like a woolen blanket.

Daewon makes them both sandwiches – cuts them into smaller pieces when Sanghyuk has trouble getting them down. He tries to tell Sanghyuk that it’s not his fault, that he doesn’t deserve what people have done to him, and tries to stop the incessant apologies. But Sanghyuk just looks confused, lost, like he doesn’t even understand what Daewon is trying to say.

So Daewon pushes his grieving heart out of the way and tries his best to take care of Sanghyuk.

When he leaves the apartment, Sanghyuk is better, but not all the way. He can still see the shadows of a nightmare in the back of the boy’s mind. But maybe those have always been there. And there’s nothing else he can do but pray that the nightmares stay as shadows for the rest of the night.