Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

prologue

Park Humin knew the meaning of nightmares. Of course he did. Ever since childhood he had one, every now and then. Be it a monster under his bed or a serious injury while playing basketball. His mother, who had turned her back on him, sometimes appeared to him as if bathed in red light. The hand that was supposed to watch over him grabbed him and dragged him out the door, locking him out of the only home he ever knew — and sometimes he woke up, not knowing wether his father had really done it or not.

So, yes. Park Humin had nightmares. Knew them so well.

But he’d never dreamed one like this. Not this real.

Oh, how he wished it were a dream.

As they were entering the mourning hall with the shrine the boy barely heard anything. Humin let himself be guided until he was standing face-to-face with the picture of someone he held close.

That can’t be it

That can’t be how it ends—how we end …

But some things don’t last forever.

Humin was staring at him until he broke down into a doleful cry, a wail, grieving the boy he could not safe.

It was a tragedy. It was horrible.

Thinking about what could have been.

Sieun once tried to find the words and tell him how it felt, losing his best friend to a vegetative state no one knew he would come back from. He told him about numbness and panic attacks, about this constant feeling of fear and torment living deep inside him, digging its hole so he would never get it out.

Humin understood.

There are things that cut deep into your soul. Things one can never recover from. Things that wound you so hard you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, that make you sit there quietly while a storm is raging inside of you, that you just cannot find the words for.

You go blank, you start crying, you keep replaying memories, there is guilt and anger and there is irritation. All of it. It’s everything and anything and all of it together at the same time.

Although Humin would have never thought about feeling exactly this, he now had to keep living with this type of agony.

A nightmare haunting him outside his sleep.

A nightmare in the shape of a golden frame right in-front of him, holding a picture not taken in a beautiful moment but one that was considered a portrait for the school yearbook.

Na Baekjin’s death was … nothing he could just describe easily.

That boy was his former best friend, a companion he thought he would never be angry at, he thought he would never fight, and most importantly never lose.

Staring back at him for the split of a second was too much and new tears were flowing down Humin’s face as he was weeping at a funeral that took place years too early.

Just recently — he couldn’t recall when exactly — they were at the edge of a cliff, and Na Baekjin was hanging from it. All Humin had to do was to choose to take his hand as he was staring down at this beaten boy on the ground. He could’ve help him up, talk it out, be acquaintances maybe even friends again.

But he chose to turn his back on that cliff, chose to quietly walk away and ignore Baekjin’s hopeful eyes and help-seeking hand. He chose to cut him off completely, just like his mother did with him.

It’s my fault.

“J-Jinnie-yah,” he started mumbling or screaming or sobbing while crunching down. He couldn’t tell anymore. A gnawing twist in his stomach, pressure — so much pressure — on his chest, his neck. It felt like he couldn’t breathe or talk or really do anything at all. “Ngh—”

They were so young. Still so, so young. So why …

WHY

I’m sorry

There were hands. On his shoulder, on his back. But as he looked up only three faces stared at him with worried eyes. Not four.

Oh god, no, no—

One was missing. And this time it was real.

I’m so—

“I’m-m so s-sorry—”

Thinking about what they once had but could never rebuilt again.

Chapter Text

Awake.

I’m awake.

I finally woke up.

What do you mean I’ve been in a coma — for almost two years? What do you mean I’m … I’m 17 now? Almost 18? No, I just—I just turned 16.

I dreamt. Was it a long dream? I can’t tell. I can’t remember much.

A coma? For over a year?

I am scared. I’m so afraid. It can’t be, I—

What have I missed? Am I alone? Who stayed with me? What happened? What happened to me? I need answers—answers. So much time has passed. God, no—

What is the world like … now? Is it still the same?

It doesn’t make any sense—

Please, says it’s a mistake. Says I haven’t lost that much time, because I still have to put everything right. Can’t I? Not anymore?

I heard you, I think. There was pure darkness sometimes. I couldn’t perceive much, but I always saw you, thought of you, heard your voice.

Sieun.

Sieun-ah. Please don’t go. Please hold me. I am here, for you, with you.

Please.

No more dreaming.

Please don’t let me dream anymore. This is real. It has to be. Please.

But can I do it? If everything they told me is true, can I walk upright again? Can I adapt? Am I ready for this, for this world everybody told me is different than the one I left behind just yesterday?

What if … what if …

What is this? Why?

Over a year, stolen.

Please let it be a dream. I wake up and it was just a bad dream.

But I am here now. Don’t let any more time pass without me.

I can feel everything again. The sun. The air. Your touch.

And I’ll make it. I’ll be able to walk again, to run, with you. With you, Sieun, I’ll soon be able to ride a scooter again — preferably tomorrow, but no. That isn’t possible yet, it’ll probably take a while.

But I want you to know that I am here.

So please stay with me, please wait for me. I’ll come back to you, maybe not completely — I’m scared — but I’m trying — so scared — to be the person I was just yesterday, to be the person you need. Because I need you, Sieun, so please. Listen to me. I’m here. Please be with me, then I’ll be less afraid and maybe I can take away your fears as well.

I am here.

I’m sorry I was gone.

But I am here now, I won’t leave again, I promise, Sieun-ah, I am here with you.

He was still looking at him, with those moistening eyes, staring as if he couldn’t believe the one in-front of him was actually there. Actually awake.

Then his lips turned upwards, slowly and trembling. There was the smile he learned to adore — though somehow it was different now, a gaze filled with relief and elation. But there was pain too, sorrow. Ahn Suho took a shaky breath to calm his wild beating heart.

“What are you doing?” The young boy tried to hide the quiver in his voice. “Don’t just stand there and come here you weirdo.”

Yeon Sieun was watching him with hopeful eyes, taking a quiet step forward as if testing if it was okay for him to come close, to cross the invisible line between them — a line nobody knew how to cut yet, a line clutching the future to the past.

It was so slow it made Suho fidgety. “Yah, Sieun-ah, I can’t really move right now, so you have to come closer, I don’t think—”

At the mention of his name — and with the voice that was carrying it — Sieun gasped. And at the mention of Suho’s helplessness he crossed the line without another thought to it. Just a few struts and he was standing next to him.

Next to —

“Suho-yah …”

He didn’t know what to say.

They kept staring at each other and neither knew what to say. It was … surreal.

Sieun saw him just yesterday, sleeping, like all these months before, not talking to him and ignoring his texts. And now he was awake. Like he hadn’t just been gone for over a year.

Suho really couldn’t grasp the meaning of this whole scene. He was so confused. Because why did Sieun gaze at him with teary eyes like he missed him for so long? They really saw each other just the day before. Why did his best friend had to live on all alone?

His birthday … I missed celebrating it with him for the first time

Has he been well … ?

“Sieun-ah,” he called him but still couldn’t find any words. His pupils swayed between Sieun’s like they could answer the questions deep-seated in his soul.

His friend didn’t move. He waited for him to continue, to tell him what to do next. Because Sieun did not know what to do next, his posture stiff, jaw tight, and eyes piercing, trying so hard to not break.

But he was also a weak boy.

“Sieun-ah,” Suho tried again, vocals thin.

So very weak for him.

“Are you older than me now?”

A plaintive sound escaped his mouth. Then Ahn Suho watched as his friend burst out in tears, head tilting downward, and fingers hiding half of his face. And he didn’t know what to do other than to survey, because never would he have thought to see Yeon Sieun actually cry.

Before he could say or do anything though there was a hand gripping Sieun’s shaking shoulder and patting him. It was that big guy Suho noticed from afar. Now he was leading the sobbing boy even closer to the one in a wheelchair.

Next there was a loud voice calling him softly.

“Yaah, you must be Suho-yah. Sieun-ssi told us a little bit about you.” Grinning he squeezed his friends shoulder.

“More like he couldn’t stop talking about you.” Another tall guy stepped beside him and scoffed, but his eyes were attentively trained at the crying boy. “And don’t just speak to him so familiar.”

“It’s what Sieun-ah always called him!”

Suho quietly watched them interact until suddenly there was the last pair of eyes looking directly at him. The first thing he noticed were the round glasses framing dark pupils. Something cold cut through his veins, a deja vu or a trigger. But as soon as the small guy started talking Suho knew he was different than that boy he once thought he knew.

“Sorry about their antics, they’re just excited to finally meet you.” He swayed nervously and smiled cutely. “My name’s Seo Juntae. This is Go Hyuntak and this is Park Humin.”

“Call me Gotak.”

“Baku.”

Suho nodded awkwardly but couldn’t get himself to smile, not when tears streamed down his best friends face. “Nice to meet you.” He then gave all his attention back to Sieun again, gaze drifting to the other’s right side and—

Oh …

A trembling hand reached out.

Oh, they were telling the truth

What—No—

No.

I saw it—just yesterday, I saw him hiding his—

Suho took Sieun’s right hand gently. The tears didn’t stop painting his cheeks, but Sieun was now quietly sobbing as he watched him. Suho’s confused look changed and his lips began to quiver as he realized that his friend was no longer wearing a cast.

Because—

“Ah,” Suho sighed out low, “I really was knocked out for a while, huh?”

Another lament. “Suho-yah—” They locked eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Finally. Finally I can tell him.

But the other didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening but no sound came out. He tugged at the hand he was holding and Sieun crumbled to his knees right next to him. The boy laid his head on his shoulder, his free hand wandering up and finding its way to Suho’s — actually Sieun’s — grey sweater sleeve. Suho didn’t notice his body shaking as he put his free arm around his best friend, face hiding in the other ones clothes.

That’s not our school uniform, he thought, anxiously. But … you still smell the same.

Suho … please. I don’t know—what’s happening next. I’m terrified. Can you tell me, if you still want me with you?

“Sieun-ah … you’re crying. I-I never saw—” With pinched eyes, he tried to steady his following words. “So this is real?”

He still couldn’t believe it. All this time that had passed …

You’re so important to me, Sieun thought. But what he finally answered was: “I’m so—I’m so sorry.”

A heartbeat.

Then …

“You total lunatic,” Suho whispered, voice moved by all these emotions that were flooding his body since the moment he woke up. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Chapter Text

“If you need anything just press this button here and someone will come and help you out, okay?”

The nurse helped Suho into the bed and then showed them the button he was talking about. As he was inspecting the young boy in the hospital bed his eyes flitted over the few faces of those present. He smiled before he took his leave as if glad Suho wasn’t alone.

Sieun turned back to his friend in bed, who was adjusting his sheets. Quietly, he watched him, his tears long sealed but a dull feeling of restlessness still there — grieve, without really knowing why. He was like in trance, not wanting to move from his side.

Suho looked up, noticing Sieun’s silence, the softness of his round cheeks. His fingers twitched.

“What?” he asked calmly.

“Do you need anything?”

He blinked. Sieun’s eyes were still puffy and tinted in a sweet shade of red. Slowly Suho smiled with a small huff. “Cute.” And he heard a gasp of surprise from one of Sieun’s friends, who were sitting at the foot of the bed. “No, don’t worry … I’ll tell you if I need anything.”

Promise?

But Sieun only swallowed and nodded. “Okay …” Lips parting, he looked like he wanted to say something — anything. He was too timid.

What could I possibly say to him?

“You’re still older than me.”

… What even—It’s like I cannot talk properly anymore

“What?” Suho asked with a weak voice, his eyes filled with hope.

Sieun’s own were reflecting rays of sunlight, glittering in the golden hour. “Sorry,” he said swallowing. “I just—You seemed so worried about it, I …” He stopped himself, gaze flitting between Suho’s. Breathe in. Hold. And breathe out. “I don’t know where to start.”

Suho blinked, again without saying anything, just taking his time to process it all. “Neither do I, so …” Then his lips tilted up in a crooked smile, trying so hard to show his friend he was still the same. He wanted to talk, to laugh, but he was so confused as of what to do.

Sieun’s gaze softened. Smiling without his lips. Suho was fascinated.

“Hey, Sieun-ah.” The boy turned around to his friend. Hyuntak worriedly leaned forward. “Should we go?”

A silent exchange with Suho was enough and he shook his head. “It’s okay. You can all hear it …”

His older friend watched him closely, looking younger than his actual age. “Maybe … let’s start with what happened at my birthday?”

Oh god … we never even got to talk about that …

“Mh,” Sieun agreed quietly. He felt a soft tap on his shoulder. Juntae pushed one of the chairs towards him, walking back to his own place as soon as his friend thanked him and sat down.

They all waited for one boy to tell them a story, the history of friendship and it breaking apart. The room was vibrating with all kinds of emotions and it made Suho’s head itchy, but he listened. He would always listen to what Sieun had to say. And he needed answers.

“Beomseok, he—” that name felt so foreign on his tongue. Sighing, Sieun tried again. “They kidnapped Yeongi. He tried to lure you. Because he wanted to hurt you.”

After every sentence he made sure to pause for a second or two, so Suho could keep up. The boy looked at him incredulous. Sieun took a moment, because he remembered that Suho hadn’t lived through these past two years.

God, no …

“He texted you. About her. That you should come to her safety and I knew it was a bait.” He swallowed. “So I texted him in your name, delated all the messages and went in your place.”

“You …” Suho scrutinized. “You didn’t even hesitate as you stepped out that door.”

“It was your birthday.”

“You almost didn’t look back.”

There was a pause. They stared at each other as the truth — the meaning of those words quietly settled into their souls.

What are you saying, Sieun asked with the dark of his eyes. Do you …

“I wanted to make it stop,” he told him in a low voice. “I told him to stop. I was sure he would, I …”

There was something changing on Suho’s face as he glanced to the side that made Sieun pause. He seemed to recall what happened — and the way he avoided Sieun told him that he knew something he himself didn’t.

“What? What is it?” He frowned as his friend narrowed his eyes. “Suho, tell me.”

A sigh. A glance, and he was once again fixated on his hands. “I found out. About it. The guys told me as I beat them up. You weren’t at school and they were cursing about you …” He blinked. Even in profile, Sieun recognized how painful it was for him. “Yeongi told me. After I asked her which hospital you were in she send me back to your place. I was there the day before and now you finally opened up the door, only for you to lie to me and hide that cast from me.”

He licked his lips, grasping the reason of why Sieun did what he did, but was still so hurt.

That’s when Sieun slowly realized. “Suho …”

“They hurt you so bad.” At last he looked up. “So I called him.”

Sieun’s eyes widened.

“I called Beomseok. Because he should apologize to you and Yeongi.”

“Suho-yah—”

“He refused. Said there was nothing he had to apologize for. Did you know that?” Suho asked, huffing without any amusement, turning away again. “Of course he was a coward and wanted me to fight against anybody but himself. A gym full of dudes and he couldn’t land one hit.” All Sieun could do was stare in horror, his whole body tingling. “Until he did.” Suho nodded, brows raised and lips puckered. “Well, I knew I would get hurt as I stepped down those stairs, but I didn’t care—”

“Yah, Ahn Suho!”

“He shouldn’t have done that!” His exclamation filled the room with cold and everybody stayed silent. Suho looked at him with pinched brows. “Turn his back on us without any explanation! And why—” he tried to hold in a sob, “—why did you leave me too?”

Sieun gaped at him in shock. How could his friend even think that? He was frustrated about how shallow Suho viewed himself, telling him he didn’t care if he would’ve been hurt, because his friends were his priority. But accusing him of leaving? When all Sieun’s ever done was to make sure Suho’s safe?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Juntae moving up from his seat, probably to help him out by telling Suho about the visits. Fortunately Hyuntak held him back by his arm. They had to fix this themselves.

Sieun looked deep into Suho’s brown eyes to make it clear.

“I did not leave you.”

Just yesterday this boy acted so tough and showed him how to game, afterwards stuffing his face full with a slice of pizza. Now he was like a new person, still his Suho but so, so vulnerable.

Sieun could’t get mad at him. Never at him.

And apparently Suho felt the same towards him, because after a brief moment he calmed down and spoke with a low voice, head titled down. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t. My halmeoni was so excited this morning, she couldn’t wait to call you.” He smiled at him almost shyly. “Told me you were here everyday.”

The younger took a shaky breath. “Then why did you say—”

“Because you were hurt because of me.”

Sieun frowned. “No.”

Suho stunned. Blinking once, and then some more he shook his head. “Yes, because he wanted to hurt me and not—”

“Suho-yah.” His tone of voice silenced the other. They didn’t break eye contact. “No. It was not your fault.”

Seeing him like this, rosy cheeks, patient and kind hearted, Suho understood why there were three people sitting here with them. Because Sieun’s soul always seemed to attract those who love and cherish their friends deeply. For the boy, his best friend, Yeon Sieun, was nothing but caring himself.

Can’t you see, Suho thought, how warm you really are?

He took a quiet breath and tilted his head down again, gaze drifting to their intertwined fingers. When did he …

Sieun seemed to notice as well. Careful he withdrew his hand, placing it back in his lap. Suho didn’t comment on it.

“I didn’t think he would go this far.”

His friend was conflicted, his eyes glittering with uneasiness and distress. “He … After—” He closed his mouth, thinking on how to phrase it. “I saw him. After what they did to you. He looked terrible. He hurt you, I know that. But I don’t think he wanted this to happen.”

“With this you mean the coma that almost stole two years of my lifetime?”

The ache in his heart couldn’t be described in words. “Yes.”

Suho closed his mouth. There were things he still could not make sense of. Rubbing his temples, he inhaled shakily. “I don’t know, man … I guess I just need time to think about it all.”

“Of course.”

Then he locked eyes with Sieun again.

“Tell me what happened after that. Why do you suddenly have such a fancy uniform, huh? All dressed up, without your grey sweater.” He asked him with a teasing smile, trying so hard to change the mood again. But Sieun knew.

As his gaze wandered up Suho’s body, he answered, “You’re wearing it.”

He was too stunned to speak.

Realizing what he just said, he swallowed and briefly looked to the side.

“I was transferred.”

“Why?”

“Because after what happened to you, I thrashed them.”

Suho’s head was pulsating. “What?”

Sieun took a breath and told him — told them. About how his brain short circuited and he started attacking the bullies that beat Suho into the state of unconsciousness. How he injured one boy so bad he couldn’t go pro anymore. How he smashed pen and fire extinguisher into their rotten body parts. He told them. And it felt liberating.

“Though I couldn’t beat him. Beomseok.” Finally he was looking up and into Suho’s face, searching in the depths of his eyes for balance. “I couldn’t do it. We were friends.” He started quivering and new tears began to well up. “But in the end I was the only one left. Beomseok, I heard he transferred to another country. And Yeongi, she—” He swallowed. “She left without goodbye, only a text saying she was the one at fault.”

Suho — oh, he was perturbed. Sieun wanted to write him a happy ending.

“And you. I lost you too.”

“I’m here now.”

Sieun smiled almost careful. “You are.”

The three boys at the foot of the bed were also hearing the story for the first time. And from the looks of them, they were still processing it all. Just like Suho, they were shaken by what had happened in those few days and by what Sieun had to go through alone.

Suho reciprocate his smile, though a few seconds later he furrowed and massaged his forehead. “God, all this fighting’s giving me a headache.”

Worriedly, Sieun leaned closer. “Then let’s stop for now. I’m still here tomorrow.”

“Should I call someone?” Humin asked, already standing up.

“No, it’s alright. I’m just a little tired.”

“Rest. We’ll leave you alone—”

“Please don’t,” the older said quickly. He took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened next.”

“Suho—”

“I need—I need to know, Sieun. Please.”

Closing his mouth again, he wondered if he could change Suho’s mind. But his friend was set in his ways.

These fights that happened in the past were more than just simply traumatizing. Like wounds, flesh teared open by people who only talked big in a group.

Sieun was alone before all of it happened. He was alone, but why should that have bothered him? The young boy didn’t know any different.

Then came Suho and Beomseok and suddenly there were friends to take care of. Sieun wasn’t convinced he was good at being a friend, but he tried. Because he could feel the loneliness making room for something more, something warm. He tried to hold it. But it broke apart, their friendship separated by the cruelty of trepidation and miscommunication.

Three boys who came together and were split again shortly after.

In the end Sieun was alone again — maybe even more than before.

Now he was telling Suho what happened after he transferred. How he met Juntae months later, and how they slowly got closer with Humin and Hyuntak. How they had to do volunteer work. Through his speech, his friends couldn’t resist adding something they also found relevant.

Juntae said, “And then he kicked the chair out of his hands and told him to not cross the line. How cool is that?”

Suho glanced at his friend, answering that it indeed was very cool. Sieun did not blush.

Hyuntak talked about their little basketball games and how Sieun had improved so fast. Suho huffed in disbelieve and told them about how he had to force their friend to even learn the basics of defense.

Humin said, “You should’ve heard the rumors. Everybody was telling how bad our ice-princess was when I reality he’s a softie.”

He is, is what he thought. Amused, Suho looked towards Sieun who sighed in annoyance, so done with the loud voice of his friend. The older one though saw the fondness behind it. “Ice-princess?”

“I don’t know why he started calling me that.”

Sieun told him how they got in trouble with the union, what kind of organization it was and what they had been through. He only gave a rough outline though; he promised to tell him more later, wanting to give him a brief summary of his time away. As Sieun finished with the whole story, ending with the big fight and how they freed Eunjang from the claws of the union, Suho was, to put it simply, horrified. Gone was the amusement because of a cute nickname. Back was the angst of what happened to kids like them.

Even after a few minutes nobody said anything, because Suho stared wide-eyed at his blanket, processing all the trouble and agony his best friend had to go through without him being there.

Juntae made a small noice, drawing the attention to himself. “Seeing Sieun-ah so happy now that you woke up really is a blessing. So thank you.” Suho blinked at him softly as he listened, slowly relaxing. “As I first met him he was always sleeping at his desk, but now he—”

“Wait,” he said, frowning. Turning towards Sieun, he could sense him stiffening. “What?”

These dark eyes carried so much. “I’ll tell you another time,” he quietly promised.

It was difficult for Suho to assimilate all these words and informations.

“Suho-yah, I’m fine. And I am here with you. No matter what, I’m there. You can call me whenever, even if it’s the middle of the night, alright?” he assured.

But Sieun was not prepared for the look on Suho’s face. As if asking ‘you’re leaving?’

The door slid open and five heads turned towards the woman stepping through. Suho’s grandmother blinked at the three unfamiliar persons until she let her gaze wander over her grandson and then to Sieun. She began to smile, and with wobbly legs she approached him. The boy was quick to stand.

“Sieun-ah, you’re here.” She padded his hands. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Thank you for the call,” he answered softly.

Blinking the wetness in her eyes away, she nodded and then turned to the boys that were standing next to them. “And who are you?” she asked with a warm voice.

Humin introduced them one by one and then said, “We’re Sieun’s and Suho’s friends.”

You know those words that emerge so unexpectedly that they catch you off guard? He could have burst into tears.  Because Humin was so kind.

The woman’s smile grew as she held her hands to her heart. “Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you all.” The boys beamed at her. “Thank you for visiting my grandson.”

Turning to the bed again, they saw Suho leaning against the mattress, which was raised higher so he could sit more comfortably. His eyes started falling shut but he tried to stay with them. Sieun focused on the woman stroking her grandson’s hair.

“You must be very tired, it was a wearisome day.”

“‘M good, halmeoni. I’ve slept for so long.”

Sieun had to close his eyes for a long second. Some days he could still hear that horrid beeping sound in his ears. “That’s not the same and you know it,” he spoke carefully. Suho looked frail, blinking at him like that. “Your body needs to recharge.”

His friend studied him for a moment before giving in.

“Then we’ll say goodnight,” Suho’s grandmother said. “Make sure you all get home safe.”

Suho gaped at her. “Halmeoni, you can’t sleep here.”

“Well, of course. I’m taking the couch.”

He frowned. “No, you have to watch your back.”

She waved him off. “I’m gonna be fine. You can’t be alone, uh. It’s your first night after—” A tight sob escaped her lips and she had to pause. Blinking against fresh tears, the woman took the hands of her grandson gently and stroked the skin with her thumb. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I agree.”

“Sieun-ah.”

He placed his hand on her forearm. “I’m gonna stay with him. I can’t just leave now. I just got him back.” Suho inhaled shakily as his friend spoke to his grandmother. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”

She cupped his cheeks, tapping once, twice, before tilting her head down and nodding. Then she gave her grandson a goodnight-kiss on his forehead, and examined him for a minute more. “If there is anything you need, you call me, okay?”

“I love you.”

A tear fell down her cheek. “I love you too.”

“Sieun-ah,” Humin called him. As Sieun stood next to him he observed how all of his friends eyes were moistened. This scene must’ve been emotionally moving for them, seeing their close friend so miserable. “I’ll bring you some clothes from your place.”

So Humin knew Sieun would skip school the next day to stay with Suho. Maybe it was that obvious. Maybe Juntae told them.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll go home quickly or I’ll go tomorrow. I don’t really mind sleeping in my uniform.”

“No, it’s really no problem.” Sieun closed his mouth. Humin was determined. He cleared his throat and then smiled at him wobbly. It seemed like he couldn’t think of anything to say. But then he said, “Your time is valuable. I want to do this for you.”

Sieun’s eyes softened and he watched his friends agree silently. “Okay.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

For taking care of me. For caring about Suho.

Humin was all smiles. “Do you need anything else? Aren’t you hungry?”

“No.”

The mere thought of food weighed heavily on his stomach. He was sure Suho felt the same way, as his body probably wouldn’t be able to eat its normal rate for a while.

Thinking about this stung like it would rip his heart out.

Suho’s grandmother padded to him, thanking him and wishing him a good-night. “I know he’ll be safe with you.”

Sieun would never find the right words to tell her how much this meant to him.

“Halmeoni, let us take you home,” Hyuntak said, already placing her hand on his arm. She grinned at him sweetly whilst Juntae opened the door for them.

“Suho-yah, I’ll come back tomorrow. Still lots of stories I need to tell you about our Sieun!”

The young boy’s lips quirked up. “Can’t wait.”

Humin waved them good-bye, promising Sieun to come back later to bring him comfortably clothes and toiletries.

As soon as they were alone, Sieun was sitting next to Suho, the mattress was lowered to lay there comfortably. His eyes were trained on him, but he was turned to the door — because of that one moment when danger stood on the other side and threatened to take what was dear to him. He’d certainly kill anybody who tried to step too close to Suho again.

“Your friends,” the older one said in low tunes, sleep already taking over him, “they seem nice.”

“They are.”

Suho smiled at him tired, eyes half closed. Sieun’s heart was racing, fearing the moment Suho wouldn’t wake up. For over a year now he saw him breathing calmly, never able to tell him what he was dreaming about.

“Sieun-ah …” He looked up, the color hickory captivated him. “Thank you for staying.”

It gnawed at him, all these months, whether Suho would actually want him in his life or not. He had blamed himself so much, imagining how his friend would push him away because it was all his fault. What he hadn’t considered, however, was that it must’ve been even more difficult for Suho to wake up alone and wonder if everyone had abandoned him. And seeing that Sieun was still there must’ve been inconceivable value to him.

Their fingers intertwined, squeezing lightly. The meaning of it was a secret to their hearts.

“You too,” Sieun mumbled, cheek resting on his arm. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

Suho watched him, fondness spreading through his whole body, as the evening sun kissed Sieun’s skin.

And then they were just existing in this moment, gazing each other, bathing in the warmth of their reunion. The next time would be emotionally wracking and put them both to the test. It was hurtful to think about it that’s why their smiles meant so much.

“I’m sorry as well, you know,” the older said, almost whispering. “For being gone for so long.”

“I’m grateful you’re here now. But I would’ve waited, no matter how much time passed. Wether you woke up or I died at 76, I would have been closer to you every day.”

Sieun …

Sieun, you don’t know what you mean to me

Suho silently watched him going to sleep.

When did I get so tired? Sieun thought, as his eyes drifted close, exhaustion taking over. But he couldn’t get himself to care about moving to the couch. He was here now. Next to Suho.

And Humin was right. Their time was valuable.

Half an hour later the door slid open again and Humin entered the scene. He stopped in his tracks, focusing on the bodies of the boys, looking so vulnerable in their sleep. Sieun’s hand was clasped in Suho’s, both their faces turned as if they spoke to each other just a few minutes ago.

Smiling he set Sieun’s belongings on the couch. With one final glance, he closed the door behind him and letting two souls find their way home.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Sieun. Yeon Sieun!”

He opened his eyes, but as if delirious, he couldn’t figure out where he was or what had happened. He blinked a few times, desperately fighting his tiredness. Then, finally, he slowly came to his senses.

He was in the hospital. He’d been sleeping, and now it was the next day.

He looked around.

“Suho,” he said, voice hoarse. As if he’d slept for days. “Where’s Suho?”

I’m mumbling

I must be really tired, I sound like a drunk

“Sieun.” Humin put his hands on his shoulders.

Why are you looking at me like that?

And where is Suho—

He was getting restless, and he was trying to push the other boy off of him. “I have to go to Suho.”

“Sieun.”

The sound of him pronouncing his name made him pause and he looked up into his friend’s eyes. He seemed so worried and full of compassion. Distressed. Like the day Sieun woke up in a hospital bed. After the accident.

That day was in the past.

And yesterday, finally, after so long, he had received the long-awaited call. Suho had woken up. They had talked for hours, and he had even met his friends. Or, as Humin put it, their friends. And after that, he had fallen asleep next to him. At the hospital bed. So where was he?

“Where is he?”

Humin sighed shakily, almost as if he braced himself for delivering a terrible message.

“What?” Sieun didn’t blink, too afraid to miss anything. But there was this feeling, taking over his body. It was dark and tingling beneath his skin, like an ice-cold shiver when you get a fever.

Horror.

His whole body went static.

“Sieun-ah,” Humin began once again. “You were in an accident.”

Sieun frowned. “What do you mean?”

And why am I in the bed?

No, that accident — that was months ago

Humin licked his lips. “They informed us you were on the phone when they told you that Suho was in critical condition.”

What

Sieun wanted to scream at him. Tell me tell me tell me! But he was so weak.

He was so tired.

“It was bad—and …”

No

Beeping sound.

Don’t tell me

I changed my mind. Don’t. Tell me.

Beeping sound. Beeping sound.

In fact, you must be lying. Because I saw him just yesterday. He’s awake. He’s fine.

“You’re friend … I’m sorry, Sieun, but he didn’t make it.”

No more beeping. Just a long tone, high pitched, and a straight line.

“You’re lying,” he whispered sharply. His eyes wide open, turned red, and he tried so hard to suppress a scream. “You’re lying.”

“Sieun, I wish I could tell you—”

“No.” He shook his head, voice breaking, and heart squeezing. “You’re messing with me. Where is he?”

The other boy almost choked on his own breath, tears glistening in his eyes. “Messing with you?”

“Yes. He was with us. Just yesterday we were talking about—”

“Sieun, he’s DEAD—”

With a startled gasp he woke up. Really woke up. Drenched in sweat, with his school uniform still on, he sat at the hospital bed where he fell asleep just yesterday. A hand outstretched toward the boy who sacrificed his life for him. A debt he would never be able to pay.

This dream …

Sieun sighed, feeling his heartbeat like a drum kicking and clenching his throat. He had had many nightmares before, but this … this was cruelty. It had made him lose all the hope, relief and happiness he had felt hearing Suho talk to him for the first time after so long. It was like ripping out the last strings that kept him together, treating them like they had no meaning. His damn brain had him believe Suho waking up was a good dream. A wish come true only in sleep and when you wake up you find the ugly truth.

God

After a few minutes he took another shaky breath; his heart finally calmed down. As if he had run a marathon. He hated running.

His eyes flitted over Suho’s body, counting the times his chest heaved and lowered. He’s awake. He’s awake. He’s awake.

And then Sieun reached out, his fingers trembled above his friend’s arm, then shoulder, and then—

And then Suho stirred. The hand paused right above his heart as the older slowly blinked his eyes open against the soft light flooding the room. When he turned his head to his right his face relaxed. Because he looked into Sieun’s eyes.

Oh …

Sieun’s heart flipped happily.

Suho smiled so cutely, all cheeks and crescent lids. Half moons. And then his gaze wandered down toward the hand, still hovering over his body. He blinked at him in question.

“Sometimes I have nightmares,” Sieun explained. Only he didn’t know how to tell him what it was about. “It’s all still so unreal. And I just wanted to feel your heartbeat.”

He began to withdraw his hand, but Suho stopped him. His fingers around Sieun’s wrist guided it back and placed his palm on his chest. There it was: the rhythmic throbbing, the warmth of his skin, the gentle touch of his thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand.

Sieun was captivated.

“You can reach for it any time,” Suho said.

There was a moment of silence, both of them drifting through their own mind, which was never resting.

Then Suho said, “Sieun, I’ll need time to process all of … this. Every few minutes I think that this can’t be true. Until I realize that it is.” He inhaled deeply. Sieun nodded and Suho knew he understood. The older one was glad to feel his warmth. “So Beomseok, he transferred? Where to?”

“Mh.” There was a light smacking as his lips parted. “I heard he’s studying abroad. But I don’t know anything else.”

Sieun could see it; how Suho was still so worried about their former friend. It was all hidden under a tough facade, but Sieun always had known how Suho really felt about Beomseok. And it hurt to think he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I don’t know what Beomseok wanted. I just know he was hurt and lashed out. Though he never meant to go this far.”

“Yeah, well,” Suho cleared his throat, “I don’t understand it either. However I realize that everyone deals with their emotions in their own way. It’s sad that he couldn’t trust us enough, and maybe he could have done some things differently, but … I didn’t either. I should have asked him what was going on.”

Sieun thought about how he still barely knew him. He didn’t even know why Suho was living with his grandmother or what happened to his parents. The time they had together before the coma was shorter than the time he had spent with his friends from Eunjang.

But his bond with Suho was different. He didn’t fully understand it himself, only that it ran deep. A red string connecting them. And if one of them pulled at it, he could never operate without the other. Like Newton’s law of reaction: no force could act without its opposing force. So if one of them mustered the strength to move, the other was bound to move with him — the opposing force that was needed to propel them forward.

And they were in all of this — everything that happened — together. Suho didn’t do anything wrong. And if he did he was not alone.

“Suho,” Sieun wanted to argue. But his friend halted him by changing the subject.

“I cant believe she’s gone — Yeongi, that ungrateful brat, huh.” He tried to laugh but it ended in a crooked smile.

Sieun observed him, blinking softly and trying to figure out how to talk to this boy — his friend. It was difficult. But Suho taught him so much, and now he wanted to do this for him. “She must have been really hurt.”

The older one inspected him with kind, but also intimidating eyes. Sieun braced himself for whatever truth was going to come.

“I can see it, you know. That you were hurt as well — maybe you still are.”

“I was — I am.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. And then his gaze wandered through the room, away from Sieun. It felt as if he was moving away from him. Sieun pulled at the red string.

“Not because of Beomseok’s or your decision alone, but because of our poor communication skills.”

Finally Suho huffed out a small laugh. Then he looked at him again.

There are so many things I need to tell you, Sieun thought. Instead he said, “I thought it was all my fault and I know you feel the same. But we get through this as one.”

Suho nodded again, pressing his lips into a thin line, the corners tilting up. “Okay, yeah.”

Sieun helped him sit up by raising the bedhead. He made sure his friend was comfortable while Suho quietly watched him.

You’re taking care of me.

Almost like the last time you visited me.

“The day I found out,” Suho began, “I thought I’d see you in a hospital. It scared me a lot.

“And to think what you had to go through alone afterwards …” He swallowed. “It must have been hard for you.”

The younger one was silent again. A pause, filled with just their breaths and memories of times they’ve spend together.

I called your name so many times

A nurse came in and greeted them. She brought Suho his breakfast and checked his vital signs. Before leaving, she made sure neither of them needed anything. Then it was quiet for a moment, and the younger one watched his friend poke around in the rice porridge with his free hand, but don’t eat anything.

Like he couldn’t stomach it.

“It hurts. To feel this type of pain,” Sieun said. “Some days it didn’t even feel real. It was just a sentence ‘he’s in a coma.’ Like — what does that mean? You were right there. But you wouldn’t look at me. Or talk to me.

“You wouldn’t wake up even though I tapped your shoulder like I used to.”

Trying to keep his feelings at bay Suho swallowed hard, not giving in to the sting behind his lids.

Then Sieun said, “You know, before everything fell apart, I often listened to my mothers voice while studying or falling asleep.”

“She kept you company while studying?” Suho asked with a small smile, thinking of a quiet boy bent over a desk and a woman next to him, maybe peeling him some apples while talking his ear off.

But Sieun’s next words made that smile disappear. “No, she wasn’t around much and I didn’t live with her until after I transferred.” He straightened up a little bit. “She’s a hagwon teacher, for online classes.”

“So … you’ve lived with your father then?”

We’ve never talked about this, Sieun realized and his stomach dropped.

“You could say that.”

Suho frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He was away on business trips a lot. One day he came home and would leave the same evening or the next.”

Now there were many more images of younger versions of Sieun, sitting at his desk, studying and studying and studying. But no mother to call for help, no warm hugs or a soft pad on his hair from his father. Suho’s chest tightened.

“You were all alone.”

Sieun blinked at him and Suho didn’t know what he was thinking of. Was it the first time that something like that happened? That he didn’t know what his best friend was thinking or going through? Suho felt sick. Why was it he didn’t know Sieun at all?

And why was he still willing to go so far?

There were many questions floating around his mind, all of them answered by those dark glistening eyes.

One question though remained unresolved. How could anybody think of his eyes as hideous?

They held so much life.

“After I transferred I sometimes fell asleep listening to your voice messages,” Sieun quietly told him. His index finger twitched against his gown. “It helped me remember your voice.”

Suho had to close his eyes. The feelings flooding him were so numerous he couldn’t possibly count them. One thing though …

“I never forgot about you, Suho.”

His gaze found Sieun’s and everything stilled.

This boy …

One thing he knew for certain: even if death had taken his hand, they would’ve found each other in every lifetime.

A soft rattling rang through the room and the next second they knew why. There he was, the guy that once had red hair, stumbling to them with a wide grin. Hands stuffed full with all kinds of snacks.

He’s skipping school again. Sieun would need to have a word with him about it.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” he sang loudly.

The two boys blinked at him in silence.

As soon as they registered what Humin had said though, they tore themselves apart. Suho helplessly patted the bedsheet with his hand and stared up intently, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. While Sieun buried his hand in his lap, embarrassed, trying to hide the rosy tint on his face.

He spluttered, “What are you even saying?”

“What’s up with you guys?” Humin asked, one eyebrow raised. Then he shrugged and walked to the bed. “I bought some snacks and drinks.” His smile faltered as he saw the porridge and seemed to remember. “Ah. I’m sorry, I don’t know if you can eat these yet.”

Suho, finally calmed down, looked at all the stuff the big guy placed on the table beside him. With a soft smile he replied, “It’s fine. Though I can’t consume any of it now, I appreciate the thought.”

As Humin nodded with relief, Suho’s smile grew. He really is nice.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something that seemed familiar. He reached for an energy drink in the color blue.

Blue.

This is …

“This is the drink I bought you after work. At the convenience store. You still drink this?”

Sieun held his gaze.

So many things untold, Suho thought. Still so much to learn.

“Yah, princess, you didn’t change, huh. Gross.” Humin pointed at the clothings on the table by the couch, his nose wrinkled.

Suho chuckled at his words. Sieun watched his best friend. Then he sighed and stood, walking around the bed to take his change of clothes and telling them he would be back quick. After the door of the bathroom closed, Humin turned to Suho and grinned.

“So.”

“So …”

The chair squeaked against the floor, as the older draped it to the bed. When he was sat, he blinked at him with curious doe eyes. “Want to gossip about Sieun?”

Suho huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Sure. I’ll start.”

And so they exchanged stories about Sieun and their time together. But also about themselves, their lives and their interests. Suho knew Sieun’s friends would be kind, though he was pleasantly surprised to hear this Baku speaking so fondly of his best friend and the others. He seemed like a great guy.

A few minutes passed by like this. Sieun listened to their voices, muffled by the wall between them. His heart swelled,  and it was a strange feeling. It felt good. It felt warm. The thought of his friend’s getting along with Suho almost made him smile. Because for Suho it must have been so scary. Waking up and getting told almost two years of your lifetime were stolen; it had to be terrifying. Especially since the one thing Sieun knew about the older for sure was that he as well had no friends before Beomseok, Yeongi and him.

So many question must plague his mind.

He needed to make sure his friend knew he was with him every step from now on. If Suho wanted it Sieun would’ve never went back to school.

When he stepped out of the bathroom again, feeling as good as knew, he heard his friends chuckling. So he stopped and watched them quietly. Suho’s eyes were trained on Humin — half moons observing the sun’s sparks.

He didn’t lose his smile …

There was so much warmth.

“First time I saw him, he looked at me with those intimidating eyes, ough.” He shook himself as if he was cold. “It still gives me goosebumps.”

Suho nodded with a grin. “That’s cute. When I first met him, he swung a chair at me.”

“Really?” Dumbfounded, he stared at him.

“No. When we first met, he fought against the baseball team and kicked over my pencil case.”

The older boy looked up at him, as he stood next to Humin, and smiled fondly. “True. Although he stared at me wordlessly, he still got me to pick up his pencil case for him.”

Sieun squinted his eyes at him in amusement, silently daring him to say something about their (kind of strange but nice) time together. Suho grinned.

“Sounds like you hit it off since the beginning,” Humin said.

The other boy tilted his head. “Well, actually—”

However he was interrupted by the door opening yet again. Though it was a person none of them would’ve expected there.

“Eomeoni?”

The woman entering the room frowned at her son, while all he could do was stare at her in bewilderment. “Sieun-ah, why aren’t you in school?”

“You know, I think she cares about him … but it appears like it came a little too late.”

Suho heard him, but couldn’t take his eyes of his best friend, who was talking to his mother a few meters away from them in the middle of the hospital hallway. Never had he seen Sieun like this. He looked tired but hopeful altogether. Like a boy that craved the tender touch of a mother, but knew for years it would never happen.

A few seconds passed until Humin’s words finally settled in. He glanced up at him from his wheelchair. “What do you mean?”

Humin held his gaze. “Well, he was in therapy and all, but she never stopped to ask him if he really wanted to study abroad.”

“Ab—what?” Startled, his lips parted. It felt like he could’ve choked on his own breath.

“Damn, he didn’t tell you?” Humin asked, shying away. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t want to say anything you might want discuss together.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. Sieun wanted to study abroad?

“He didn’t want to of course. He needed to stay.” Suho looked at him again. Like a young, young boy, confused and anxious. The older’s eyes softened. “There was someone he always had plans with.”

Suho tilted his head. “Whom?”

“You.” He padded the younger one’s shoulder, who was perplexed. “He thought about you every day, and he always had dates with you in the evenings. After a while we found out. And when he was more comfortable with us, he told us about you. You were his precious secret he didn’t want anyone to know about, because he feared they’d hurt you.

“He gave everything for you, even ended our companionship for a while when the union actually threatened you.” Humin inhaled deeply. “Now, Sieun might not tell us everything that’s going on in his smart head, but we all noticed some things. He not only refused to fight but also to live properly, because he thought that it wasn’t fair if you weren’t allowed to live at all.”

“But you helped him. You helped him live.”

You did.

I can see it. He’s so glad he has you guys.

And I am thankful for you.

“Well actually, he said it were the things you taught him, that he wanted to do for his friends.” The big guy smiled down at him, as if they’d known each other since forever. “It took him a while to accept us. But after—”

Humin stopped himself. I can’t tell him this. The fact that Sieun was in a coma is something he has to tell him on his own.

He shook his head, before saying, “I think one day he knew you would’ve told him it’s okay.”

“It is.” Suho’s face was stoic. “I’m glad you guys were there for him when I wasn’t. Thank you.”

While his friends were talking, Sieun was having a private conversation with his mother. She had come to the hospital after receiving a call from the school about her son’s absence without excuse. After she called him and then the hospital, the nurses, who knew Sieun, informed her where he was. And now she was standing in-front of him, accusing him of neglecting his studies and that he would get an entry from his teacher.

Sieun was the best student in his grade.

“You can still fix this.” — ‘You’, he thought. — “You just need to write an excuse and go to class now.”

Are you kidding me

He was so tired of this. His head was full of other things, and her words didn’t help him.

As he exhaled through his nose, lips barely moving, he could see it. Her posture, her looks. Perhaps she had been genuinely worried about him on the days when he himself lay in a deep slumber. But that did not undo the years when he didn’t have a mother.

She was a woman for whom her career was the most important thing in her life. Sieun had tried to move on from that for a long time, but his friends had showed him that it would probably be impossible to ever truly let go. He only knew that he wouldn’t let her mandate him anymore. Especially not now that he had Suho back.

She wasn’t a monster. She just wasn’t a good mother.

“Why are you here?” he asked her, voice tranquil.

“What?”

“Why not wait at home for me?” He inspected her, because she seemed surprised. “You came here, so it must be clear to you how much this—he means to me.”

“Your friend’s awake, that’s wonderful. But do you think he wants you to skip school?”

Why …

Don’t you care about me at all?

“You called it a ‘previous incident.’ You told me it made it ‘hard to focus’ and you know what, you were right. Because I was deeply traumatized. That’s why I went to therapy, remember?

“And now you’re here, trying to take me away from him. Straight from the hospital, so I couldn’t argue against you, right?”

She seemed caught out. Maybe it should have satisfied him, but it didn’t. Their relationship felt so worn out. Like someone had crumpled it up and was still trying to read it. But the pages were worn, and the words barely made sense anymore. Sieun didn’t know if they’d ever be able to flatten the pages again.

Suho sensed he was becoming restless. Sieun hadn’t raised his voice once, it was low as always, but the older boy noticed he was feeling unwell. So he asked Humin to push him over to the mother and her son.

“He’s not an ‘incident.’ He’s my friend. School isn’t important. But he is. And what had happened to him was a horrendous act of violence.” Sieun took a second to try to hide the sting behind his eyes. “It was not only ‘hard to focus.’ It was almost impossible to breathe. I was suffocating and you didn’t even bet an eye.”

The fact that his mother had paid him little to no attention, apart from a few photos of both of them with forced smiles, was normal to him. She didn’t know him, always thought he had no problems and was the best student. She didn’t feel it necessary to look at him. Until he started causing problems. From then on, she had a clear goal of maintaining her immaculate facade. And she almost succeeded in sending him away so he wouldn’t ruin her outward appearance.

He remembered how his parents had argued constantly. She never wanted a baby, and his father had never examined the responsibility of having a child. She left and he stayed. With the new school, he left and she stayed. Both had always regretted having a kid — their image over the life they created.

Sieun had been a burden since forever. Until he met two boys who let him know he mattered.

“Sieun-ah.”

One of them now said his name. Sieun turned  around and walked the last few steps toward his friend. Instinctively, the boy in the wheelchair grabbed his sleeve and scrutinized at him.

Are you okay?

No, Sieun answered silently. But you are.

For a moment, Suho was quiet, looking back and forth between mother and son. But then he bent his head down and introduced himself. “I’m Ahn Suho. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Though he didn’t came across as particularly enthusiastic. More like he was on guard.

But then he said something that stunned everyone.

“Thank you for taking care of Sieun.”

The younger one stared at him from his dark eyes. It sounded as if his friend declared that he would be the one to take care of him from now on. Sieun didn’t know whether to laugh or be embarrassed.

Neither of these things. Instead, he turned to his mother and announced in an unwavering voice, “I’ll stay.”

By that she knew he had made up his mind and would not accept any objection.

While Sieun said goodbye to his mother a few minutes later, Suho studied the two of them more closely. He noticed how his mother treated Sieun, always keeping a certain distance from him. And his friend remained calm, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t act rashly. He no longer held back his opinions from his mother — and presumably other adults as well. From Humin’s stories, he gathered that Sieun had given up on simply staying silent and letting everything happen to him. He had started to speak up and stand up for himself and others. Suho knew that he had always been an honest young man, but he hadn’t thought he had developed this much. And now he wondered what else he had missed and perhaps didn’t even know about his best friend.

After Sieun rejoined them, the two helped Suho to finally eat something back in his room. Sieun took some of the snacks Humin had brought and listened in silence as the others continued to chat. A good hour later, they were outside for a walk. Humin had taken it upon himself to move Suho so he could talk to Sieun in peace. It was a warm day. Suho noticed how much his skin had missed the sun. The trees were green, blooming. It smelled like nature welcomed him.

The ringtone from Humin’s pocket brought them back to the real world. “Ah, sorry, be right back,” he said, walking a few steps further to give them some peace and quiet.

Suho blinked up at his friend next to him, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Slowly, Sieun first tore his head and then his eyes away from Humin, and glanced down at him. “You are asking me?”

“Sieun-ah.”

He understood. “Mh, it’s fine. Nothing new,” he murmured.

The older boy narrowed his eyes, not quiet grasping how his friend could stay so calm. “Okay, but … I don’t know, but like, can we talk about this? I mean about things like that?” He blinked a few times and took a deep breath. His head started pounding again. “Because I know you, I obviously do, but … just for these past 24 hours I wanted to really get to know you …” His frown increased. “You kno—do you understand?”

Sieun looked into his eyes, unmoving. He could study you like this for eternity. His dark depths wouldn’t let you see what’s going on inside him.

Until his lips curled into an upside-down smile. He huffed out a soft laugh and said to him, “That sounds like a good idea.”

Because he, too, wanted to get to know Ahn Suho.

The older was relieved.

He was still smiling when Humin rejoined them. But something was off, and his smile faded. His friend just stared into the void, and his hands — no, his whole body — began to shake. It looked like he was about to collapse.

He’s so pale—

“Humin, what—”

Those doe eyes looked at him as if he’d seen the dead.

“I-it’s Na Baekjin,” he told them, his throat tightening. His eyes narrowed in disbelief. “He—Sieun, he’s—”

Chapter Text

The doorbell rang, announcing a new costumer. He stepped in without greeting the worker, who stocked up the shelves. It was a weird sight as the young boy wandered through the store, because he looked like he was sleepwalking. Kind of scary, but actually sad.

Humin walked through the aisles and stopped in-front of the cooling shelf. There he found the energy drink Sieun always chose, because a friend of him once bought it for him. Someone he shared a bond with nobody could explain.

They’re strong together …

He once had a friend in his life he shared a similar bond with. Someone who needed the support. His support.

But that was before Baekjin went rogue.

Could I have changed something about it? Because I was the reason he learned how to fight — that’s how he got himself in trouble.

I did this.

When he first beat that kid, I should’ve not only stopped him. I should’ve talked to him.

I ignored the warning signs.

How could it come to this?

All this … brutality and mind games. When did I lose him? Could I have saved him?

Why didn’t he talk to me?

Why didn’t I talk to him?

Maybe I just wasn’t strong enough. Maybe he wasn’t.

Was it all my fault?

Sometimes he imagined them sitting together and talking about everything. About what had hurt Baekjin so much back then, and what was bothering him until today. About what had happened to them. About how their friendship broke apart, something Humin had never understood to this day. He’d imagined such conversations ever since Baekjin had turned away from him. But with his passing, there was hardly a free minute left without him thinking about it.

“You know, when we were fighting over wether Eunjang would join the Union or not, I was hoping to get you out of there.”

“What do you mean?” Baekjin watched him warily.

Humin looked down at his fingers. The skin on his knuckles was torn and stained with blood. He felt disgusting. “I wanted it to stop. This whole … chase.” He narrowed his eyes. Then he exhaled audibly, a weak attempt to calm himself. “I guess I was hoping you’d realize I never stopped thinking about you. I wanted to …”

There was silence for a moment. Where were they even? It was as if they were both trapped in a void, forever bound to talk to each other, but with no hope of clarity. Because for clarity, Humin would have needed the person he was supposed to have this discussion with.

“I wanted you to be my friend again.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me?”

He frowned as he felt his chest clenching against his organs. He needed to breathe. “I wa-was afraid a conversation could tear us apart for good. I didn’t want us to end.”

With a shaky hand he reached for his chest and tried to calm his heart.

Na Baekjin observed him almost like he was bored.

“Humin.” And finally, at the mention of his name, he looked up. “You were the one who taught me how to fight.”

“But I just wanted you to know how to defend yourself. I didn’t want you to—”

“No, you did the right thing. I feel so powerful. I’ve finally found where I belong.”

“Na Baekjin, please come to your senses—”

His eyes were cold as he said, “You were never important to me. Just a weapon that gave me what I needed.”

The doorbell rang, announcing a new costumer. And Humin’s eyes found their way to the person who entered as if by themselves. But it was not Na Baekjin.

No

Because he’s dead

You killed hi—

Yes, he often thought about such conversations. But even when he wasn’t pursuing these nightmares, he sometimes found himself looking at the door, hoping that Baekjin would be waiting there for him.

What if he walked through the door of this store now, like the stranger from before? Maybe he would walk over to Humin with bold steps and stop in-front of him. He would greet him and ask if he’d missed him and if he accepted him as he was.

And Humin?

He’d probably faint or scream out loud. He’d no longer feel as lifeless as he had in the past few weeks. But yes. He’d accept him as he was. Because nothing had ever felt as torturous as the day he’d looked into that desolate face in a picture.

Humin thought of them. Of Baekjin’s eyes. In all the years he hadn’t known him … he certainly hadn’t been able to properly analyze his gaze. Hadn’t Baekjin simply been a lonely boy who needed someone?

Maybe Humin could’ve gotten him out of there.

Maybe Baekjin didn’t have to die.

The energy drink in his hand slowly thawed — and as if mourning with him, a few drops rolled down the side.

Humin thought of him. Always thought of Baekjin. Everything came crashing down on him: friendship and worry. Disappointment, anger and frustration. Fear and grief and guilt. But also regret, nostalgia and loyalty. He felt confused and helpless too.

It’s like this boy was everywhere he went. Except that it wasn’t real and in the end Humin was still all alone.

His friends worried about him, tried to take him to school or the basketball court. To Suho and his grandmother. Sieun was so happy they all got along. But Humin just couldn’t look them in the face anymore, failing to see the person he actually wanted to find in them.

Sometimes you only understand how much someone means to you when you lose them. And Humin realized how much he still felt for Baekjin. Until his death, he held onto a shred of hope that he would decide to be his friend again.

There was still so much good in him

Even though Hyuntak and so many other kids were hurt by him and Seongje and the Union, Humin refused to fully accept Baekjin’s dark side. The world he was drawn into was a hideous mask for power through brutality. There was nothing honorable about it, and Humin knew that, even if only a small part, his former friend had noticed it too.

What if he wanted me to get him out of there? But I failed him.

Perhaps Baekjin didn’t really need him as a thug for his shady dealings. Perhaps he really just wanted him around …

Humin screamed. Screamed at the top of his lungs until his throat burned and tears streamed down his cheeks like waterfalls. His eyes turned red, as if the blood on his hands had been washed out in them. All these thoughts — these feelings. This pain. It consumed him and swallowed him until he began to shout.

Or at least, that’s how it felt. As if a scream was bubbling beneath the surface, but he never let it go. So he imagined how he would free himself from all the guilt by giving in to this temptation.

But there was no sound actually leaving his throat. The convenience store was quiet.

As the voices in Humin’s head kept on fighting for peace, he put the can back in the cooling shelf and continued walking.

He wanted to forget. But how could he do that when even an energy drink he felt no connection to made him reminisce?

Next, he stopped in-front of the shelf consenting the familiar green bottles he usually found on the floor at home. Maybe there were even some left in his father’s hiding place. Although it was hard to call it that when they were actually there for everyone to see and freely accessible.

A disgusting liquid that could turn any good man into a monster. And maybe even make them forget.

I am sorry we couldn’t keep you safe — me and the world.

I wish you were by my side.

You’re not. And it hurts.

With the few bottles of soju hidden in his jacket, he turned around without anyone raising alarm. Humin tried not to think about it as he walked out with sluggish steps, leaving the store behind.

Chapter Text

Ahn Suho had to learn to fight early on in order to survive. This world didn’t gift everyone with the joy of eternal health and financial prosperity. Some people had to fight their way through it all with hard work, and despite the effort, their smile remained genuine.

Grandmother had never complained about raising him alone. He knew how much she loved and cared for him; she had been there for him every day since he was a young child. That’s why he had never complained and had started working immediately when her knees gave out and she couldn’t work as often on the market anymore. He had given up his beloved martial arts to take care of his family. He had been strong and able to move freely. He had been able to carry stacked crates of drinks and run several laps around the sports field.

But now he sat in a wheelchair, in a hospital, and lost in thought, staring out of the window.

Outside, the sun shone so brightly, and the green grass breathed life into the world. Below Suho’s window, however, a few bare branches could be seen. He didn’t know which tree or bush they belonged to. It seemed as if they were mocking him. As if they were saying, ‘You’re like us. You’re here, but you’re not blossoming either.’

Ahn Suho, sitting as he was at that moment, could’t fight anymore. The physical therapy session he’d had that morning confirmed this cruel nightmare. He’d managed to pull himself up on his own and, with the help of the therapist, hold onto the beam and walk along it. Three times he’d made it back and forth before he had to sit back down in his wheelchair, breathing heavily, sweating too much for something simple as taking one step after the other. He was praised. Suho felt like a failure.

It was strange to be hopeful one moment and then think it would stay that way forever the next. A tug-of-war of his willpower. Some days he felt better. Most days he did not.

His gaze wandered over to the foot of the bed. He waited a moment, trying to regain his senses. But less than a minute later, his wheelchair was at the end of the bed, and he locked it in place. Then, with careful movements, he sat all the way forward in the seat and stretched his hands toward the bed frame. He took a few deep breaths before pulling himself up with all his strength. His knees trembled as he tried to stand upright, but after a few seconds, he finally managed it. He was standing, aided by the strength of his arms.

I have to try. Again. I need to.

Then he took a few wobbly steps forward. But he didn’t get far; he reached the end of the frame too quickly. He could have gone back. But his mind was racing.

Without — try without your arms

Impatience grew within him, haunting him ever since he realized he couldn’t just get up and walk again.

No laps on the sports field. No nighttime rides on his scooter. No help he could offer if one of the two persons he had left was in danger.

Suho took one hand off the bed frame. It was laborious to find his balance, but he managed at last. Then he moved his right food forward. So far, so good; there was hardly any difference. But he didn’t want to rely solely on the strength of his arms. To be there for his grandmother, he had to be able to do more. To be be of use to his best friend, he had to be able to walk.

And he did. Suho proceeded by taking his left hand off the bed frame.

At the same time, Sieun appeared behind the door. He saw his friend standing there on unsteady legs, wearing white hospital scrubs and a gray hoodie. Sieun was late because he had picked up some of Suho’s clothes from his grandmother. And now he watched as the older boy tried to move on his own.

It all happened so quickly.

After Suho found his balance, he immediately put one foot forward. But it was as if all his strength failed him. He felt a sensation of weakness spread through his foot, up his calf and up to his hip.

And then he fell.

Sieun couldn’t react fast enough. But less than three seconds later, he was at his side, helping him up.

“Suho.”

It was just his name, yet it meant so much. I’m here. I have you. Why did you do that? Please, don’t do it again. I’ll help you. Are you hurt? You’re so important to me.

Sieun would probably never get this image out of his mind — of Suho lying there on the ground. Because he couldn’t stand up properly. All because of some insignificant math competition.

It was an awkward process to help the teenager up. Their limbs bumped into each other, and for a brief moment, no one knew which way was up or down. As if they were tangled together.

Sieun mustered all his strength. “Wait, you have to—”

“Let me, I can do this,” he said with narrowed eyes.

“I want to help you.”

His voice was so gentle, so kind. Suho knew he meant well. He knew his friend only cared for him.

But it was all too much, and he pushed Sieun away. “I don’t need your help!”

Leaning against the foot of his bed, he stood there, breathing fast and audibly. Suho didn’t look at him, could’t meet his eyes. He only saw Sieun’s feet out of the corner of his eye. It was shameful.

What did I do? It’s not his fault …

But he thinks exactly like that—

Through gritted teeth, he peered up. Sieun looked at him in surprise. He tried to hide it, but Suho realized how hurt he truly was.

“I’m sorry,” he said, almost a whisper. “I didn’t mean it.”

Sieun looked at him silently for a while. He thought about everything Suho must be going through. Over the past few weeks, he’d been so relieved and happy to have his friend back and to be able to talk to him. But of course, he’d also noticed what the lost time was doing to Suho. And it hurt to see him so frustrated, anxious, and completely traumatized. It was a massive amount of stress weighing on both boys — and on top of that, Humin hadn’t shown up at school or contacted either of them for a few days. Sieun was constantly worried about his friends. But he knew they were going through a lot themselves. So it wasn’t surprising that Suho lashed out. Even though it stung, it wasn’t his intention.

So Sieun answered in a calm tone, “I know.”

A few seconds passed. He could tell the older boy understood that he was serious. Suho’s eyes glittered like dewdrops in the sunlight, a warm syrup brown that always silenced him.

Sieun blinked once and took a short breath, his heart fluttering uncommonly.

Then his gaze flickered down to Suho’s legs, which began to tremble, and he became uneasy. “May I help you sit back down?”

Suho’s eyes were lowered when Sieun looked up again. A frown etched his face, and he opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Eventually, he nodded.

No further words were needed. Sieun helped him lean on him and then sit down. He picked up his backpack, containing Suho’s clothes, from the floor, which he had dropped in a hurry to help him up. Then he took a chair for himself and led it to the end of the bed so he could sit in-front of his friend. He placed his backpack next to him.

“I got you some more things. Halmeoni said you can’t stand the white clothes anymore.”

But Suho didn’t answer, still staring holes into the floor with a frown. The younger one couldn’t interpret his expression.

“Suho-yah,” Sieun spoke softly. Inside, however, a storm raged. He nervously pulled down the sleeves of his black hoodie. “The next few months will be difficult. It will take time. But I’m here to get through this time with you.”

They let the words echo between them. The clock was surely ticking, and there were certainly some people outside in the hallway. But Sieun couldn’t hear any of it; he was only paying attention to what his friend would say.

Suho’s lips moved. “You say you’ll be there for me,” he began in an uncharacteristically monotone voice. “But you’re free to go out, while I’m stuck here.”

Suho-yah

“You don’t know what it’s like not to have control over your own body. You don’t know what it’s like not to be free.”

Suho-yah, we are together

“The day will come when I fall again and you’re not there.”

Words could wound you in ways that could never be explained. Sieun stared at him, and his eyes and heart ached so much.

“You’re right.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “And I’m scared of it. I’m scared for you.”

Suho nodded, stricken. “Because I am weak.”

“No.” Sieun shook his head firmly. “No.” He blinked and took a short breath. “Because I know what it’s like to lose you.”

The moon’s eyes glistened in the evening sun. Suho gazed at him silently.

Since when have you become so quiet …

Sieun exhaled shakily and sat a little closer to his friend. Then he said, “Sorry. Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. But you know I’m truthful. You know I mean it when I say I’m there for you — with you, right?”

Suho blinked hard. Then he swallowed. “Yes.”

It was almost a whisper, so fragile, but Sieun heard it anyway. He watched as his friend ran his hand through his hair. And suddenly the world seemed to move in slow motion. Sieun saw how the jet-black hair lifted, revealing a scar on the left side of Suho’s head.

The scar.

Sieun fought the urge to let out all his emotions that had boiled up until then.

“And I will,” he said, his voice almost breaking, his words turning down any complain. “Like I told you before. We get through this as one. You’re not alone.” Those eyes. “Just promise to be careful, be patient and listen to what the doctors say, okay?”

Suho remained silent for a while. Despite his brutal words, he always felt how important Sieun was to him and that he could never lose him.

Finally he nodded.

The ringing of a phone broke the tense silence. A tingling sensation ran through them both as the younger one pulled his phone from his jacket.

“It’s Hyuntak,” he said in a low voice. The oldest of their group of friends had been absent for a few days and hadn’t even answered to any of their calls or texts. Sieun looked up. “Maybe it’s about Humin.”

Suho watched as his friend answered the call and responded briefly to the news. Humin had learned of his childhood friend’s sudden death just a few weeks earlier. And despite never having met him, Suho could tell how he resembled Beomseok in some ways. Sieun didn’t talk much about Na Baekjin. He didn’t talk much about Beomseok either.

But Suho knew. They both wanted to speak about their former comrade, but didn’t know how. They were angry at him, upset and saddened by his actions, and still wondered where he was. In their own way, they even missed him and hoped he was okay. Suho had really liked him. Now he didn’t understand a single thing. Just that he was harmed by a friend that he once had.

He hoped they could both get along without Beomseok. Even if there might be arguments.

Na Baekjin seemed to have made an impression on Sieun. And the way he spoke of him, with caution and a touch of nostalgia. As if he were holding on to something or someone who had once been important to him. Or still was.

Suho couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose Sieun. That’s why it had shockingly hit even him deeply to hear about Na Baekjin. A teenager who had died. A friend Humin would never get to see again.

He hoped to catch sight of relief on Sieun’s face, that Humin was simply sick in bed at home or that he had reappeared on the basketball court that Hyuntak and Juntae always proudly told him about. But Sieun’s expression showed restlessness and deep concern.

“Uh.” Sieun looked at Suho. “I’m on my way.” After he hung up, it took a moment for him to say, “I have to go. Are you okay on your own?”

The promise he’d just made felt almost like a lie. But they both knew the truth. Humin needed help, and Sieun had to help him. Suho would’ve done the same thing.

So he answered with a ‘yes’ and left it at that. He turned to the window, away from Sieun so he wouldn’t have to watch him leave.

Sieun regarded him from behind, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. At last, he stood up and, with one last glance over his shoulder, closed the door behind him.

They both knew nothing was truly resolved.

“Finally, you guys are here,” Humin’s father grumbled as he opened the door for them to come in. Once they took their shoes off, he pointed his finger at Sieun and snarled. “What are you doing here, huh?!”

Sieun stared at him silently. Do you really want to do this?

“Ahjussi, where’s Baku?” Hyuntak asked, hoping to to avoid a confrontation.

The man continued to grumble until he led them through the house to the door of Humin’s room. “’S pretty messed up. Even took a few of my stock. Couldn’t get him up, so I thought you all could do it. Such a fucking imbecile. ‘T was pretty intense when his friend kicked the bucket.”

“Right. Intense.”

Sieun and Juntae sensed Hyuntak’s tension. Na Baekjin may have been responsible for his knee injury, but Hyuntak was someone who could forgive. Plus, he knew how worried Humin had been about his former friend even before the fight. So he didn’t take kindly to the situation being handled this insensitively by an adult.

The father stepped aside and disappeared into the living room. The boys stayed behind.

Juntae’s pulse pounded distressed as he said, “Let’s not wait any longer. Baku needs us.”

Sieun glanced at him worriedly. The youngest of there group had his heart in the right place, only it was all the more vulnerable in moments like these. But it wouldn’t be easy for either of them to see their mutual friend suffer.

Hyuntak knocked on the door and announced them. But no sound emerged from the room. Then he opened the door and made way for the scene in-front of them.

Humin lay on the floor by the side of his bed. His legs were stretched out as far as space allowed, and in his right hand he held a green bottle. His eyes were trained unfocused on the ceiling, he was breathing calmly, and the corners of his mouth glistened with a liquid. Whether it was saliva or Soju, no one could tell; the only other thing they noticed in the room was the pungent smell of alcohol.

He looked pale. As if he hadn’t eaten in days. As if all the blood had drained from him.

The three friends were horrified.

Hyuntak was the first to react. He lunged forward, into the narrow space between Humin’s legs, between the bed and the dresser, and squatted down. His hands shook Humin’s shoulders, hoping his friend would look at him. Juntae dug his hands into his hair, eyes wide and shining. Sieun could do nothing but stare.

“Yah, Baku. Baku! Stop that shit and look at me!”

But he didn’t answer. Hyuntak inspected his face, his gaze traveling down Humin’s chest to his hand. He paused. Besides the bottle between his fingers, a few others lay scattered on the floor. Beer and Soju, too much for a young high school student who had never tasted alcohol in his life. Too much for someone whose father was an alcoholic. Hyuntak turned forward again.

“God, Baku.” He bit his lip, trying not to give in to the burning in his eyes. His hands rested on Humin’s shoulders. “Hey …”

He didn’t know what to say. His best friend was hurt, and he couldn’t take away his pain. He didn’t know what to do.

When Sieun saw the older one lying there, he thought back to the scene a few months ago. A lonely boy, surrounded by his followers. He lay in the dirt, beaten and abandoned. We should’ve talked to him.

Humin blinked up at the ceiling. He heard voices. Who’s there? But he could have been mistaken. It felt like his brain was moving, always spinning around in circles, only to jump back to the beginning halfway through. Like an endless loop. And his eyes couldn’t really focus on anything. But he heard those voices. And with that, he thought of the one person he was trying to forget.

Never in his life had he stolen. Never had he touched alcohol — except to put away his father’s bottles. But he wanted to get drunk so he could forget him. Unsuccessful.

Baekjin-ah …

It didn’t work, huh. I can still hear you.

I wanted to forget you for just a while.

… Sorry. ‘Guess I’m not the best at this shit called communication, haha—

Jinnie-yah

I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe

He didn’t realize he was speaking his thoughts out loud; sluggishly and with long pauses. But his friends made out every word, and it broke their hearts to see him like this. Humin had suffered so much in his life. He did not deserve this.

Baekjin-ah … I wanna dive into your warmth

Sieun took a hesitant step closer, his eyes red with grief. “Humin-ah …”

At the mention of his name — that name — the older boy turned his head toward him and, after a few seconds, found his face. You could see him trying to concentrate, trying to figure out who had called him — and the exact moment when he did. His hope gave way to sadness.

“Aah,” he murmured. His mouth felt so heavy. No. His lips. “You’re not him.”

His friends held their breath.

Humin smiled slightly. “Na Baekjin always called me that, too.”

They looked at each other and said nothing more. Deep black obscured the view of the sun that usually always seemed to shine in his eyes. Then Humin’s smile began to crumble. He no longer aimed to hold it up, and could no longer hold back the tears. The corners of his mouth twisted downward into a pain-distorted mask, and his brows furrowed violently as he began to cry. Loud sobs broke the silence in the room, and then Juntae’s quick steps toward him. He knelt down in the tiny space next to the eldest. But he didn’t know what to do. No one knew.

What could they’ve done?

Na Baekjin was gone.

“He-e’s dead, ah—” Humin held the bottle to his chest. The liquid inside shot out, instantly soaking the black shirt he was wearing and flowing down his neck. He turned onto his side toward the bed, fat tears streaming down his face and the alcohol spilling onto the floor. “I killed him.”

“No. No!” Hyuntak struggled to turn him back around, to stop him from hiding under the bed. Juntae pulled on the bottle, but he couldn’t free it from his grasp. “YAH, Park Humin! You’re not a murderer!”

“But I’m no hero either.”

Sieun couldn’t move. It was as if he were witnessing an internal struggle unfolding. Humin was showing them his most vulnerable side. And all Sieun could think about was …

Suho

Hyuntak finally managed to sit their friend up. Humin’s head slumped back, and Juntae was quick to help him straightening it. His face already red, the eldest hid it in Juntae’s shoulder. As he let out a wail, his whole body jerked. The youngest was close to tears himself after Hyuntak finally managed to put the bottle on the floor.

What if it had been Suho

“Let’s take him to the bathroom.”

“And then?” asked Juntae.

“Clean him up and — I don’t know — he might throw up.”

Hyuntak himself couldn’t tell what to do. They were teenagers. They’d been through terrible things, but this. This was new. This was too much.

He began to straighten up. “I’ll call my parents. He’s coming home with me. If he has a problem with that, he can complain later.”

What if I had lost Suho, just like Humin lost Na Baekjin

Sieun silently followed them into the bathroom and stood in the doorway while his friends squatted on the floor. He listened as Hyuntak asked his father to pick them all up. The man promised to park in-front of the house twenty minutes later. Humin wanted to curl up on the floor again, but the others prevented him. Instead, he stretched out his legs, bent them, and straightened them again, tearing at his hair. His shoulders shook violently as he sobbed. It hurt to listen to him fighting for his life.

They all hoped so much that he was fighting.

Humin patted his chest to ease the agony. His throat tightened. It was no use. “I can’t go on—I just—ngh, just for today—”

Squatting next to him, Hyuntak leaned forward. “What? Baku, what did you want?”

“Forget him.”

Sieun gasped in shock.

“Just for to-today.” He sniffed and swallowed hard. His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked tired. Humin blinked slowly, still swaying, a few tears still rolling down his cheek. “I couldn’t think about anything but hi-him. And that I’m scared.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, but it was so quiet they barely registered. Then, “I’m scared of losing the memories of him. The sound of his v-voice.” His face was contorted in anguish. “Or his scent, or his ha-habits—” He gasped. “Because what if I forget about him?”

He feared that day. He didn’t want to think about it but it consumed him whole.

The next words were only a whisper. “I just want five more minutes talking to him … just five, it’s—I—”

Sieun closed his eyes. Just thinking about what it would mean if it could have happened to him. The day Yeongi had called, and he stood in-front of that door and then Suho’s bed … that wasn’t just rage and sorrow he felt. No. That was different. That was … war. When it happened the world ended.

A few minutes passed in which their friend could’t calm down. But then the sobs slowly quieted and his swaying lessened. It seemed as if his limbs weighed many tons and he was too weak to hold them upright. Every now and then, a tear still rolled down his cheek, hot and lonely.

Juntae made use of the silence and started cleaning Humin up with a damp cloth.

Hyuntak stood and disappeared down the hall into Humin’s room. He wanted to take him home for a while. Away from his father and his familiar surroundings. For years, he had been taking his best friend in, whenever things got particularly bad. And right now it was just that time. He definitely didn’t want to leave him alone with this — not anymore. So he grabbed a few clothes and stuffed them, along with toiletries, into Humin’s backpack. The others watched him silently as he zipped it up.

He tried to hide it, but Sieun saw how much he was affected by all of it. For Humin meant a lot to him.

With stubbornness, Hyuntak turned to the oldest. “Don’t drink anymore. Don’t you dare.”

Humin blinked against the light, his eyelids heavy as wet sand. But he made a sound of approval. “Mh.”

“Never again.”

Sieun observed what was happening. Slowly, he knelt down on the ground next to his friend. Then he took his wrist in his right hand, drawing his attention. “Humin-ah.”

Recognizing him, he began to grin. “Hey, princess …”

“It’s not you fault. You didn’t kill him.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

“You must,” Sieun said firmly. He swallowed. “You cannot hold on to this guilt. Trust me on this. It will destroy you. And we cannot lose you.”

His lashed fell shut, but opened almost immediately as if startled awake. When he registered Sieun again in-front of him, he smiled gently at him. “Sieun-ah … I’m so glad I got to meet Suho.”

Suho

Sieun recoiled. It was as if Humin had thrust a false memory into his heart. He couldn’t help but think of the other possibility. That if something had happened to Suho …

Suho Suho Suho

He had to go to him.

But he couldn’t just leave. Humin’s eyes closed and he toppled over into Juntae’s arms. He looked so young.

The doorbell rang, and less than five minutes later, Humin was sitting with Juntae in Hyuntak’s father’s car. He was obviously worried about his son’s friend as he had put his arm around him and led him to the car. Now he stood next to Hyuntak and promised that Humin could stay as long as he wanted and needed.

“Thank you, Ahjussi,” Sieun thanked him sincerely.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get him back on track.” Hyuntak’s father patted his son encouragingly on the shoulder and gave a confident nod. Then he walked to the driver’s side and got in.

Hyuntak turned to Sieun. He didn’t let many of his emotions show, preferring to keep them locked behind a false facade. As if something didn’t matter to him or didn’t bother him. Sometimes he even broke out into a small fight. But at that very moment, he looked Sieun in the eyes and smiled at him sympathetically.

“Go,” he simply said. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of him. You can go and take care of Suho.”

That name constantly reverberated through his mind, no way to stop it. Always Suho Suho Suho.

Sieun wanted to ask him how he knew. But maybe he really was that easy to read. It didn’t matter. His friends understood. And it wasn’t like he had a choice. Right now, all he could think about was being with Suho.

“Sorry,” he breathed out. His eyes felt sore.

Hyuntak shook his head as he opened the back door of the car. “I’ll text you as soon as he’s better.”

Sieun hated running. But he couldn’t stop as he went off to the hospital.

The clock in the entrance hall showed that it was already eleven p.m. It was dark outside, visiting hours long past. But even the nurses knew they couldn’t stop him. Not when they’d seen him sneaking into Suho’s room more often at night over the past few weeks. Or when the two of them occasionally sneaked outside to get some fresh air.

Finally, he reached the room in question. But he hesitated.

Luckily, Suho had a room to himself, so Sieun wouldn’t wake anyone else up. After opening the door and closing it behind him, he simply stood there for a moment and looked at his friend. The way he slept there bore little trace of the horrific months before. Suho lay on his side, legs slightly bent under the covers and hands buried under his pillow, cheeks round and delicate. His hair was slightly longer now, softly brushing against his lashes as his eyes flickered behind his lids.

He looked cute.

Sieun’s stomach twitched strangely.

As he moved closer to the bed, he remembered one of the first nights after Suho woke up. Sieun had still been with him after spending the whole day together. And just as Suho, exhausted and tired, was about to fall asleep, he had reached for Sieun’s wrist. It was like his grip was made of iron, fingers digging into Sieun’s skin. The younger boy had stared at him frightened and worried.

“Suho?” he had asked.

“I don’t want to sleep.” He had never seen his best friend so scared as he’d asked in panic, “What if I don’t wake up?”

— again

— never

It was the day Suho truly grasped what had happened and how much time had passed. All of a sudden, this light dawned on him and he had been so silent. He could’ve barely kept his eyes open. Sieun had spent the entire evening tapping a soothing rhythm on Suho’s chest with his hand until his friend finally fell asleep. Only then had he dared to let his tears flow freely.

And now he understood what it all meant.

Flashbacks of the coma flickered through his mind. A breathing mask. A constant beeping. White sheets.

What if I don’t wake up?

Sieun looked at Suho’s shoulder. He tapped him there. Like before. And then some more, agitated, until the older boy finally woke up. Suho blinked hard against his tiredness, but when he saw who was standing before him, his eyes shot open. He realized how upset his friend was and immediately sat up.

“Sieun-ah, what’s wrong?”

It was a completely different picture, compared to the quiet, withdrawn boy from before. Now he stood there, staring at him in disbelief, his breathing much too fast and irregular. Sieun was clearly afraid.

“Are you okay?”

Suho blinked in surprise. Without commenting, he held Sieun’s hand and placed it against his heart. It beat at an unusually unsteady pace, but it showed that he was alive — that he was with him.

The younger one relaxed a little, but Suho remained worried.

“Sieun. What happened?”

“Humin got drunk. Baekjin’s death is still troubling him so much …” He swallowed, and his fingertips dug into Suho’s grey shirt. The thumb over the back of his hand felt grounding. “And what he’s going through — I was always terrified of that. That’s why I’m so cautious, and I’m sorry if I don’t seem supportive sometimes. I’m just so afraid of losing you — and this time for real. Because Suho … you could have been Baekjin. What if …” He could barely stop the tears from filling his eyes. “I could have lost you, for real.

“And I can’t.” He shook his head. “I can’t do this again.”

Seeing Humin on edge — it was as if he were receiving this call again that his friend was in the hospital and they didn’t know if he’d ever wake up. Yes, in that moment he realized how lucky he and his best friend were. And he didn’t want to push their luck any further.

Suho glanced at him with sad eyes. “That’s why you’re with me all the time.”

Sieun nodded. “I’m scared that one day it was all just a dream and you’re actually still in a coma. Like I got used to something good before and lost it, I could lose it again. I could lose you.”

With his free hand, he tugged at his hair. “Sieun, please understand. I’m going crazy in here. In this room. In this house. In my head, I could still run until a few weeks ago. And now I can barely stand on my own.”

“I understand. I do.”

But how can I convince you that I only want the best for you? That you’re perfect for me, no matter how far you can go?

His pupils sparkled with compassion and affection. “I told you about my family. I told you I’ve always been on my own. But after receiving that call … I’ve never felt as empty as the days I stood in-front of you without you waking up.” His gaze fell to that beauty mark under Suho’s left eye. “When you got hurt that day … I got hurt. And I was not the same ever since.”

It’s like the world suddenly came to a halt. Sieun had the gift of unraveling him. Suho felt powerless, and inferior. One look into his dark depths got him at his mercy. A starry night he could drown in, and that was so precious for his dreams.

He frowned, trying to figure it all out. His friend’s words meant so much to him and he knew he was in pain. They both were.

“I know what you mean. Because when you got hurt, I felt the same way. Still, I want to live, Sieun.”

The younger one knew that. God, he knew it, and he wanted it so badly. He wanted to see Suho walk and run again, wanted to get on the scooter behind him and ride through the city. For him.

Suho

I just want what’s best for you

“I know I’m impatient.” Suho’s eyes glimmered in the dim glow of his nightlight. “But you won’t lose me, Sieun-ah.”

His lips quivered. “You cannot promise that.”
“But I just did.” He tried a smile and finally saw Sieun’s eyes relax. “Mh?”

His smile widened and he began to grin as Sieun nudged him back slightly against his chest. His own hand held him, and so the younger boy was pulled slightly forward, into Suho’s space. They gazed into each others eyes.

“You know, I missed your eyes.” Sieun’s voice was so deep and warm, Suho felt an unfamiliar shiver running down his spine. “I missed your smile too, and your laugh.”

Very carefully, the older one pulled him onto the bed with him. They sat there, Sieun’s ear rested on his heart; he could hear and feel it beating. It was warm. His eyes began to smile.

“I missed you. So much.”

And Suho understood. Why Sieun treated him so cautiously and wanted to stand by his side. Because with the younger boy in his arms, his shoulders beginning to shake, and after everything that had happened to him, Suho would have done anything for him. He needed to see Yeon Sieun smile. He never wanted to disappoint him or fill him with fear.

There would be more hard days like this ahead of them, but he would try to fight for him.

Suho held him a little closer. “I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to walk along your side again. And I promise you, I’ll do it the right way.”

He held Sieun tightly in his arms as he began to cry — tears finally leaving his eyes, streaming like rain, each drop caressing his cheeks like water damping the earth to fill them flowers with life again.