It takes a lot of time and energy for Sanghyuk to recuperate from releasing his secrets, but its alright. Hongbin works from home because its not the peak season – not for him anyway – and they just take time to themselves, letting the house surround them like a living, breathing creature.

Sometimes things and energies have a way of taking care of people without them even knowing it.

Hongbin uses the edges of the house to teach Sanghyuk how to capture light using camera lenses, and Sanghyuk teaches Hongbin how to use the fire in the heart of the house to bake pastries. There are hard days – days when he has to go through testimonies, especially since on those days Sanghyuk usually has to see Jaehwan, but they pull through it.

Hongbin doesn’t dart in and out of the house anymore, because the press conference takes priority, and he has to make sure Sanghyuk is… functioning by the time it rolls around. Sanghyuk is a brilliant young man: he’s growing even taller than Hongbin, and he’s starting to have less and less trouble with homework. He’s learnt how to use chopsticks properly, and he cooks like a pro.

But it’s the small things in life he still cannot handle, which worries Hongbin the most; like remaining present in his own body when the television switches to news and he sees a face he remembers. Like learning how to pronounce new beginner-level words. Like not seeing someone else at the table looking disapprovingly at him when his hand shakes too much to keep using chopsticks. Like remembering he has already locked the front door five times. Like stopping his nervous food-hiding habit.

Maybe Hongbin is over-obsessing. Sanghyuk has proven to be capable of handling his own problems. And recently he’s been looking… content, almost. He no longer stays silent in his room, too tired or afraid to leave the comfort of his bed. He actively starts conversations and even suggests friends to invite over. He takes pride in a lot of his schoolwork, and lives to tell Hongbin new facts over dinner.

So Hongbin tries not to fuss too much over his roommate – tries to give him ample space to breathe. But he thinks about the reporters swarming them like bees and he cannot help but feel sick to his stomach.

He’s worried a lot of the time now. About the trial, about Sanghyuk, about his own mental health.

He’s worried almost all the time.                                                                                                  

***

When Hongbin sits at the press conference table, he looks like he was born to be there. He knows exactly where to look without staring at one for too long, and he knows how to sit to make himself look like he’s going about a regular day of chatting.

“I’ve been living with him for the past year, and I’ve seen exactly what was done to him. I’m sure all of you already know the names of those implicated in this case – but I can assure you, there were dozens more. Dozens more who watched without doing anything, dozens more who cannot be named because San – the victim was simply unconscious, or too young, when those crimes were committed.”

“We know how these things usually play out. We know we won’t exactly be given a fair trial. Some people are too important to ever be thrown in jail. I, of all people, will know how this will work. But in holding this press conference, we’re showing the public that we have nothing to hide. Here, I’m putting all my cards on the table to do something right by my friends, and I hope the public will demand something right by them as well, thank you.”

Camera flashes go off and Hongbin winces internally as he walks off the stage, trying not to listen to any of the questions thrown at him. Jaehwan gives him a high-five as they pass each other. Sanghyuk was supposed to go after Hongbin, but he had been too nervous to do it, so Jaehwan offered to switch up the order.

Jaehwan looks nice today, dressed in a suit borrowed from Minki. It fits just right, but mostly it’s because the person wearing it is Jaehwan. Jaehwan fills out everything he is put into – every situation, every conversation, every physical place. The top two buttons of his shirt are ed (Minki had complained, trying to force a tie onto him, but Jaehwan had resisted every attempt to make himself look more formal than he already does) and he wears the blue-grey suit like he’s doing it a favor. Jaehwan’s hair is as neat as it can be, curls escaping where he had refused gel, and he had begrudgingly taken off his rings.

Jaehwan walks up the stage like he owns it, even more than Hongbin had. He takes a seat at the center of the table and smiles a million-dollar smile at each camera. The journalists look a little out of their depth, and a little confused about it too. They can’t tell who this guy is, and why he’s so confident. Maybe he’s wealthy; except he looks rough around the edges and doesn’t sit like he takes himself too seriously. So if he doesn’t have money, and he presents himself like this… the only other explanation is that he at least has power.

“Hi. I’m Lee Jaehwan. I’m one of the two plaintiffs in this case.” He smiles brightly, and you can tell everyone is a little uncomfortable with the ease with which he does it. “I’ve, well, I’ve always been a street kid. When I was 10 I got into trouble with the wrong kind of crowd and found myself in this mess of ual deviance. In the next four years I was on a almost daily basis, beat up, and was the victim of ography. A lot of this is documented on the internet; those who know where to look may know me as a certain #K-45.”

There is a concerted flurry of pen on paper.

“Those four years of abuse have resulted in a lifetime of drug abuse, self-destructive behavior and, just, a whole lot of anger. In the courts over the next few weeks, I will be fighting not only for myself now, but for the child I was then. The child who was failed by society and the system.” Jaehwan scratches the back of his neck. “The next person who will be speaking – He’s a friend, and – well, he hasn’t had the same luck I’ve had. I’ve seen first hand the terrible aftermath of his abuse. But we’re going to try our best to find justice for ourselves. We only hope the law will be there for us. Thank you.”  

“I’ll totally be up for questions after this –” Jaehwan says as an almost-after note as he’s walking off the stage, addressing the journalists informally as Minki frantically signals a huge no, no, he’s wrong, no Q&A after this to the crowd.

***

Sanghyuk breathes and he can hear the rush in his ears. He knows Hongbin is somewhere out there, watching him make his statement, and his other friends are in their homes, watching from the comfort of a couch. He looks up and he sees all the cameras flashing, it’s giving him a headache. He’s not quite sure he can do this but – but he has to. He has to, then he can go home, please, please, and he can forget all these eyes on him.

(If you give them a face to put the story to, they’ll never forget it, Minki says, and he doesn’t know how else to say “exactly”. He doesn’t know in how many other ways to say “it’s my face”.)

“My name is Han Sanghyuk.” He says, and he briefly wonders if they can see his hands shaking, before he can’t hear anything anymore and the only thing playing in his head is a white noise.   

It’s a mercy his own body is lending him.

He can feel his mouth moving as he recites whatever is in front of him. In the back of his head, his mind is just begging him to stop, please, to take himself home. But he pushes through it by the skin of his teeth. He needs to finish what he has to say, even if it makes him feel ashamed down to his toes, even if it makes him feel like throwing up, even if it feels like public shaming. He promised so many people he would see it through – most importantly, he promised himself. And if that’s not important to him, he wouldn’t know what is anymore.

He races towards the end of his script, and lets his eyes fall off the end of the paper when there are simply no more words to read. He pauses, looks up, gets a few photos taken, and tries not to think about what any of them are thinking of him right now. He’s spared them the gory details: had just given them enough to complement Jaehwan’s speech and make a shock value; not the full impact, because they’re saving it for the courts.

He walks off the stage on shaky legs as soon as Minki gives him the signal (tries not to think about the fact that that’s exactly what he did with Byungjun. Just one signal to get his body moving – on his knees, crawling – no this is different, Sanghyuk, stop thinking about it that way).

No one comes to help him (they rehearsed this, Sanghyuk doesn’t want to look like someone who’s disabled. Even if the whole world knows it, the distance from the stage to the door is the one thing he can still have absolute control over) and he makes it at least through the door with his head held high.

***

He barely makes it out of the backroom before everything starts to fall apart. He pukes right there on the sidewalk, all bile and lumpy orange things drenching pavement weed. Taekwoon gathers him into a car before any reporter sees, hands him a bag, then drives him home, all the while rubbing his back.

***

Hongbin’s mother calls the night after the press conference. Because it’s the way she does things – she does them without urgency if she can, in order to keep up a façade of uncaringness. The same type of parenting method as well: she does everything without lifting a finger if she can help it, in order to keep up a distance between snotty little children and her well manicured life.

“And you didn’t think about how this would affect the company.” She says it as a statement.

“This is not about the company, or you.” Hongbin slides anger beneath his words. “This is about me helping my friends out, okay? This is bigger than me.”

“Of course it’s bigger than you. It’s something you cannot handle.”

“You don’t know what I can or cannot handle,” Hongbin is almost on the verge of shouting – maybe he is – if he were he doesn’t think he’d know. “As far as you’re concerned I’m not even your son anymore.”

“Listen,” Hongbin’s mother spits out. “If this is about you being gay, if you’re in love with that – that boy –”

“What in the world are you going on about?” Hongbin covers his forehead. “It’s not about that! We’re fighting for a good cause –”

“See, that’s always been you,” She says venomously. “Too selfish to consider the people around you. Always just wanting to do whatever you want.”

Hongbin almost, almost freaks out. His vision is starting to blur when he slips in a bold, “well, I think I got that from you”, before hanging up.

He slumps on the couch, rubbing his temples and trying to breathe in gasping stutters.

His days are just way too long these days.