Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been a few years since Sieun had felt the buzzing hum of Seoul.

Walking by nameless figures, Sieun’s breath somehow managed to stand out amongst the sound of tapping phones and footsteps, his voice heavy with exhaustion and fatigue. Somehow managing to drag himself towards the front gates of the university.

He stepped inside slowly, mindful of the hundreds of others moving into the dorms. Sieun dragged his suitcase up the stairs and through the narrow hallway, uncertainty bubbling underneath his otherwise blank face.

Knocking on the door of Unit 095 he was welcomed by the smell of fresh paint and lemon cleaning spray. New, yet not unfamiliar.
He exhaled, steadying himself.

He had requested a single. The email last week had politely declined his request. “Housing shortage”, they’d claimed. “This is just a temporary solution.”

He wasn’t angered by it, just… apprehensive. The last time he had ever shared a space with someone was with Suho. A house empty, a father missing and a mother absent, Suho had been the only thing that made that place home.

As he moved toward the bedroom door on his left, the front door swung open behind him.

A thud. Then:

“Oh, you must be my roommate?”

Started by the familiar tone, he turned finally looking upon the lazy smile of his new roommate.

His voice was warm, yet somehow cold. His recognition of Sieun was clear. It had been long, but not long enough to forget the figure of his ex-best friend.

The tension was palpable as either refused to back down from their pseudo-staring contest. Sieun finally spoke up.

“Suho.”

Was all he said, finally breaking eye contact and looking at the floorboards beneath.

“You Knew?” Suho asked, still facing forward.

“No,” Sieun replied. “They didn’t tell me your name. Just that I was getting a roommate.”

Sieun looked up once again, attempting to observe Suho’s expression.

Four years. Suho hadn’t changed much – still built like a fighter, hoodie-half zipped over a T-shirt, hair messier than he’d ever admit to on purpose. But his eyes… they were different. Older. Quieter. Like the fight had gone somewhere deeper.

Still, Sieun kept his face unreadable again, not wanting to show Suho any sign of emotion, He’d had practice.

Suho rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“You didn’t ask.”

The silence that followed felt like the space between punches – waiting for someone to swing.

Suho’s jaw tightened for a second. “Right.”

The last time they’d spoken, Sieun had kissed him. Quietly. Suddenly. In a moment that felt so unlike him it still stung to remember. And Suho… hadn’t said a word. Not after. Not the next day. Not the next week. Sieun had left before he could be ignored any longer.

Now here they were. Same space. Same unspoken words.

He opened the door to the left bedroom. “I’ll take this one.”

“Fine,” Suho said.

Sieun stepped inside, dropped his laptop on the desk, and shut the door with a calmness that felt like defiance.

From the other side, he heard Suho exhale. A short-frustrated sound. Not angry – confused, maybe. Hurt, maybe. But Sieun didn’t let himself think about it.
He unpacked slowly, deliberately. Books on one side of the shelf. Notebooks in neat stacks, Charger plugged in precisely. If he controlled the environment, maybe he could ignore the chaos sitting just outside his door.

Part of him already knew:

There were things between them that couldn’t be boxed up or folded away.

Not this time.

The evening continued to pass with Sieun moving to a small kitchen table, eyes continually fixed on the pages of his textbook, as though he hadn’t read the same paragraph three times.
Behind him, Suho’s presence was palpable – moving quietly in the kitchenette, opening drawers, running the tap. He wasn’t loud. He never had been. But the air between them was dense with everything left unsaid.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming back?” Suho finally asked, his voice low but sharp with tension.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me, but not even Youngyi?”

Sieun didn’t look up. “Why would I?”

Suho let out a quiet scoff. “You disappeared. For four years. After that night, you – “

Sieun’s gaze snapped to him, cold and sharp. “Don’t.”

Suho’s jaw clenched, but he stepped closer anyway. Almost walking into fire like it didn’t burn. “You kissed me. And then you left. Without saying a word. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“You did exactly what you wanted,” Sieun replied, voice like ice. “You said nothing.”

“I was confused, Sieun” Suho said, fists balling slightly at his sides. “I didn’t want to mess things up between us, I didn’t want to lose my best friend.”

“You already had,” Sieun said quietly. “The moment you didn’t say anything… it told me everything.”

That hit harder than it should have. Suho’s shoulders tensed, then sank.

“You don’t get to be mad at me for being silent when you ran away.”

“I didn’t run.” Sieun stood now, his textbook forgotten. “I made a choice. Because staying after that felt pathetic.”

They stood there, inches apart, two storms refusing to pass. Suho’s eyes searched his face, as if trying to find something he’d missed all those years ago.

“You think I didn’t regret it?” he said finally. “You think I didn’t wonder what it meant? Every damn day?”

Sieun’s voice dropped, quiet and cracked. “Then why didn’t you ask?”

The silence that followed was the loudest part.

Suho looked down, then away. “I was scared I’d ruin it.”

Sieun blinked, something in him flickering, then hardening again. “Too late.”

He turned back towards his room, fingers gripping the door frame just a little too tightly.

“Sieun – “Suho’s voice stopped him. Softer now. “I don’t want to mess this up again.”

Sieun didn’t look back.

“Then don’t say anything unless you mean it this time.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Suho alone in the too-quiet apartment.

And for the first time in four years, Suho realized: He wasn’t the only who’d been haunted by silence.

Chapter Text

The night air was brisk, biting against Sieun's skin as he stepped outside the dorms. He hadn't slammed the door, hadn;t stormed out - but the silence with which he left said enough. It wasn't anger he needed to cool down. It was memory. Frustration. A past that kept clawing its way back to the present.

He walked aimlessly across campus. The buildings loomed quietly under the soft halo of streetlights. Laughter and music drifted from a dorm a block away. Somewhere else, someone was yelling about noodles or someone's missing charger.

Sieun kept moving, the noise of other people making it easier to stay in his own head.

"Hey - Sieun?"

He paused.

Across the street, two figures were perched on a concrete ledge outside a convenience store. One of them stood, waving casually.

Hyuntak.

Next to him, taller, leaner, with sharp eyes and a half-smile, sat Park Humin. He gave a lazy salute with a bottle of banana milk in his hand.

"You're out late," Hyuntak said, crossing the street towards him. "Didn't even text you were back. Thought you were in hiding with the way you disappeared."

"I wasn't," Sieun snapped back.

"You're lying, but okay." Hyuntak clapped him lightly on the back, then nodded towards Humin who nodded back.

"We're heading to grab food," Hyuntak said. "Come with. You look like you've eaten nothing but air and academic pressure all week."

"I'm -"

"Not going back to your dorm yet," Baku said, voice smooth, not unkind "You're walking like someone who needs a reset."

Sieun hesitated.

But Hyuntak was already nudging him forward, and Baku had turned with the easy confidence of someone who always knew what people needed before they did.

"...Fine," Sieun muttered.

The restaurant was a 24-hour place tucked behind a bus stop, the kind of place with flickering signs, sticky table, and the best kimchi fried rice in the city. They slide into a booth in the back, the hum of the fan above them almost drowning out the clatter of chopsticks and sizzling pans from the open kitchen.

Sieun sat opposite the two of them, staring down at his food longer than necessary.

"You always this quiet?" Baku asked, between mouthfuls of noodles.

"I'm not pissed off," Sieun said evenly.

"Yeah, that's what your face always looks like," Baku said.

"But right now it's more... haunted."

Hyuntak raised a brow. "Suho?"

Sieun didn't flinch, but that name in Hyuntak's mouth felt like a bruise being pressed.

Baku picked up on it immediately, his gaze sharpened.

"The guy in the coma? You two had history right?"

Sieun didn't answer. He pushed a piece of omelette to the side of his plate with his chopsticks.

Hyuntak leaned back. "You don't have to talk about it, man. Just saying, if you ever do, we're around."

Sieun nodded. Quiet gratitude, even if he couldn't show it yet.

The rest of the meal passed in easier silence. Baku carried the weight of the conversation, drifting between university gossip and oddly specific trivia. Hyuntak interrupted only to argue about ramen brands or poke fun at him for using flashcards for everything.

Sieun didn't say much, but the noise filled the space in his chest that Suho had left stretched tight earlier that evening.

Still, every often, his hand brushed his phone. No messages.

None expected.

And yet he still felt himself growing disappointed.

It was near 1am when he made it back to the dorm.

The hallway was silent. The kind of quiet that pressed in around you.

He unlocked the door to Unit 095 and stepped inside.

The kitchen light was on.

Suho was passed out at the table, head resting on his arm, body curled forward in sleep. His hoodie was bunched around his shoulders, the drawstrings uneven. He looked... tired. Like someone who'd been arguing with himself for hours.

In front of him, on the table, sat a small takeout box, still warm, neatly folded shut. A note lay beside it

Sieun didn't need to read it. Not at first. The scene said enough.

But he read it anyway.

You didn't eat ealirer.
Made too much.
Figured you still hate spicy food.
If you're still mad, I get it.
- Suho

Sieun stared at the paper for a long moment, then at the person sleeping beside it.

Four years ago, silence meant rejection.

Tonight, maybe it meant something else.

He picked up the box, sat at the counter, and opened it. Rice, egg, seaweed flakes. Nothing fancy. A little clumsy. But warm. Thoughtful.

Halfway through eating, he looked over.

Suho hadn't moved.

Sieun stood, cleaned his dish, and returned the note to its place.

He hovered a moment, draping his grey jacket over Suho's falling shoulders.

Then he turned, walked into his room, and shut the door behind him.

Not angry.

Just unsure.

But not running.

Not this time.

Chapter Text

The early light filtered gently through the thin dorm curtains, casting faint golden lines across the bed. Suho stirred first, eyelids fluttering, muscles stretching beneath a too-warm layer of fabric. It wasn’t his blanket—too soft, too familiar.

A hoodie.

He blinked slowly, staring at the edge of a navy blue sleeve draped over his shoulder. It smelled faintly of detergent and something warmer beneath it—like sun-warmed cotton and old library books. Suho’s heart thumped once, a dull, hesitant sound in his chest.

Sieun’s hoodie. He didn’t remember asking for it. Didn’t remember Sieun putting it there. But now it was here, tucked over him like a quiet gesture in the middle of the night.

The room was quiet save for the occasional rustle of sheets from the other bed.

Sieun was still asleep.

Hair a bit messy from sleep, curled slightly away from his face. Even in rest, his brow furrowed slightly, like he was still thinking through something. Suho sat up carefully, hoodie falling into his lap. He looked at it for a moment, fingers lightly brushing over the hem, then stood.

His phone read 7:48 AM. He remembered Sieun saying he had a lecture at 9:00.

With barely a second thought, Suho grabbed his hoodie—his own—and the wallet from his desk. He slid the door shut behind him quietly.

The coffee shop on the corner of campus had just opened. It was still quiet, the air fresh with the scent of roasted beans and baking bread. Suho stood in front of the counter longer than he needed to, eyes darting between options. It had been a long time since he’d bought coffee for someone else.

In the end, he left with two drinks: a plain iced Americano for himself, and a hot latte—vanilla, the way Sieun used to drink it—still warm in his hand as he walked back.

When Suho opened the door, Sieun was sitting up in bed, hair damp from a quick shower, hoodie gone—probably folded away somewhere already. Their eyes met, and something unspoken hung between them. Not awkward. Not exactly.

“I got coffee,” Suho said, holding out the cup.

Sieun looked at it. Then at him. “You left?”

“Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” But Sieun accepted the drink with a nod. He took a cautious sip. “Vanilla?”

Suho shifted on his feet. “You used to like it.”

Sieun didn’t say anything at first. Just took another sip. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—just... tentative. Like walking on new ice.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Suho said quietly, “I thought we were just going to talk.”

“You barely talked,” Sieun replied, not accusingly. “But you didn’t look like you’d slept in a while. I wasn’t going to kick you out.”

Suho let out a quiet huff of a laugh. “Thanks for the hoodie.”

Sieun tilted his head. “You were shivering.”

A pause. Then—

“I missed this,” Suho said suddenly. “Just… mornings like this. Quiet. Normal.”

Sieun looked down at the cup. “Me too.”

Another pause.

“I want to make things right,” Suho continued. “But I don’t want to rush you. I know things were... bad. For a while.”

“They were,” Sieun said simply, setting the cup down on his desk. “But they’re not anymore. We’ve both changed.”

“Yeah.” Suho hesitated. “So... maybe we take it slow. No pressure. Just—be around each other again?”

Sieun looked at him. Really looked this time. His expression unreadable, but not closed.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Just friends. For now.”

Suho nodded. “For now.”

Sieun gave him a small smile then. “But if you’re going to keep stealing my hoodie, I might start charging rent.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

Sieun didn’t answer that. Just sipped his coffee again and checked the time.

“I’ve got to head to lecture in ten,” he said. “Are you going to be okay?”

Suho gave him a thumbs up and flopped dramatically onto his own bed. “I’m gonna stay right here and recover from emotional vulnerability.”

Sieun rolled his eyes, grabbed his bag, and shot Suho a final look before leaving.

“Don’t spill anything on my hoodie.”

“I make no promises.”

That evening

The door slammed open with a groan and Suho stormed in, dropping his backpack like it was full of bricks.

“I failed.”

Sieun, seated at his desk with a textbook open in front of him, didn’t even look up. “Failed what?”

“My bio exam. First one of the semester. Already failing. I’m going to drop out and become a monk.”

“You wouldn’t last a week in a monastery.”

“Yeah, probably not.” Suho flopped face-first onto Sieun’s bed this time. “It’s so unfair. I studied. I tried. The professor has it out for me.”

Sieun glanced over. “Did you actually study?”

“I skimmed a YouTube summary at 1 AM. That counts.”

Sieun let out a quiet snort. “That’s not studying.”

“I have a photographic memory.”

“Your memory’s made of Swiss cheese.”

“I’m in mourning. Be kind.”

Sieun closed his book with a soft snap. “I’ll help you.”

Suho lifted his head, eyes wide. “Really?”

Sieun raised an eyebrow. “You want to fail the rest of your exams too?”

“No, but—won’t it be weird?”

“We’re friends,” Sieun said simply. “And friends help each other.”

There was a brief pause. Suho smiled, this time with something real behind it.

“Okay,” he said. “Tutor me, then. But be warned—I’m a terrible student.”

Sieun rolled his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

Suho grinned and pushed himself upright. “Thanks, Sieun. Really.”

Sieun didn’t reply right away. Just opened his book again, flipping to the relevant chapter.

“Let’s start with cell structure,” he said. “And this time, actually pay attention.”

Suho groaned and dropped onto the floor beside him, chin propped in his hand.

“Only because it’s you.”

“Flattery won’t improve your grade.”

“Worth a shot.”

And as they began reviewing organelles and mitosis, the hum of soft conversation filled the room—two voices growing familiar again, steady and warm beneath the quiet weight of evening.

Chapter Text

The hum of espresso machines filled the university café. It was the kind of background noise that made concentration possible—steady, low, and forgettable. Suho sat hunched over his notebook, a look of exaggerated suffering on his face. Across from him, Sieun had two textbooks open, his pen tapping idly against the edge of one.

“If you spend as much energy studying as you do complaining,” Sieun said dryly, “you’d be passing already.”

“I am studying,” Suho whined. “I just have to process information... emotionally.”

“That’s not a learning style. That’s an excuse.”

Suho grinned and sat up straighter, resting his chin in his palm. “You're a really intense tutor, you know.”

Sieun didn’t smile back, but there was a softness in his eyes as he shook his head. “You asked for this.”

“I asked for help, not academic boot camp.”

“Semantics.”

They both fell into a quiet rhythm again—Sieun reviewing terms, Suho scribbling half-legible notes, and their coffees slowly growing cold. The late afternoon sun bled through the wide café windows, casting golden slants across the table between them.

For a moment, it was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

The door swung open.

Suho didn’t notice at first, but Sieun’s eyes flicked up—then narrowed.

Two guys stepped in—tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly confident in that way that put people on edge. Sieun knew that type. He’d been around enough gangs, enough Unions, to spot that unmistakable energy. Their eyes swept the café like they were already in control of it.

Then one of them spotted Suho.

"Yo. There he is." Baekjin’s voice cut through the café.

Suho froze mid-note.

Sieun looked up, eyebrows drawing together. “Friends of yours?”

Suho hesitated. “Kind of.”

Seongje followed Baekjin with a lazy swagger, but his eyes were sharp—focused. “You’ve been dodging us all week, Suho.”

Suho set down his pen. “I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy for us?” Baekjin asked, voice light but with an undertone that made Sieun sit up straighter.

Seongje's gaze flicked over to Sieun, studying him. Then back to Suho.

“You free now?” he asked. It wasn’t a question.

Sieun was already watching closely. Suho wasn’t tense—but he wasn’t relaxed either. It was a practiced kind of calm, the kind you wore when you knew you had no choice but to go along with something.

“Yeah,” Suho said finally. “Give me a sec.”

He turned to Sieun, who was frowning now.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Suho said, too casual.

Sieun didn’t buy it. “Who are they?”

“Old acquaintances,” Suho said with a shrug, grabbing his phone and slipping it into his pocket. “It’s nothing. I’ll be back.”

Seongje smirked. “Don’t keep us waiting, Suho.”

Sieun’s eyes didn’t leave Suho’s face. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Suho said, voice low. “I’ve got it.”

He walked out between the two of them, Seongje throwing one last glance over his shoulder at Sieun before the door swung shut.

And just like that, the seat across from Sieun was empty.

Outside, Seongje lit a cigarette he didn’t smoke. Just held it between his fingers like a prop. Baekjin leaned against the wall, arms folded.

“You’ve been quiet,” Seongje said, voice low. “Everything good in your little domestic setup?”

Suho shoved his hands in his pockets. “What do you want?”

“Nothing new,” Seongje said. “We’ve got someone sniffing around the back end of our tutoring operation. Need you to check if it’s one of those ethics committee rats again.”

Suho’s jaw tightened. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“The deal changes when I say it does,” Seongje replied, tone cool. “Unless you want your old friend to find out the reason he’s been left alone all these years is because you kept paying his protection in blood and favors.”

Suho didn’t flinch—but he didn’t answer.

Baekjin cut in. “You’re lucky Seongje’s even been patient. Could’ve turned Sieun into a cautionary tale a long time ago.”

“I said I’d handle it,” Suho said, eyes burning now.

“You’d better,” Seongje replied, turning away. “We protected your precious little schoolboy. Your roommate. Your guilt project. You’re still on our leash, Suho.”

Then, quieter: “You walk when we say walk.”

Baekjin gave him a rough pat on the shoulder. "Be smart. Wouldn't want anyone else getting involved."

As the two of them walked off, Suho stood there a moment longer, his fingers curled into fists inside his coat pockets. He looked up at the darkening sky, drew a long breath through his nose, and turned back toward the café.

By the time Suho made it back to the café, the table was empty.

The books were gone. The coffee cups tossed. No sign of Sieun.

Suho checked his phone. No texts. No missed calls.

His stomach tightened.

He walked back to the dorm with the sun dipping behind the rooftops, casting long shadows that stretched too far.

When he opened the door, the room was dark.

Sieun’s bed was neatly made. His laptop gone. His backpack missing.

Suho stood there in the doorway, staring at the empty space across from him.

A silence louder than any threat settled over the room.

He set his phone down on the desk, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed, elbows on knees. The quiet crept under his skin. He glanced once more at Sieun's bed, then pulled out his phone again and typed a message:

Where did you go? Call me when you see this.

He stared at the message for a long moment before sending it.

Then he waited.

And waited.

Chapter Text

Suho didn’t sleep.

The dorm room was too still, too hollow without Sieun’s quiet presence across the way. He kept checking his phone, rereading the message he sent like it might change or suddenly deliver an answer he missed. But the screen stayed dark.

The guilt curdled in his stomach. The weight of what Seongje said, of what he still owed, settled heavy on his chest. The worst part wasn’t the debt. It was Sieun’s absence, the silence from the one person he’d come back for.

He thought of turning up at Sieun’s morning lecture, but he didn’t want to crowd him—not after disappearing like that.

Instead, he waited.

And finally, just past eight, the door clicked open.

Sieun stepped in, still in his jacket, hair wind-mussed from the morning air. His expression was unreadable, eyes tired, but not angry. Not yet.

Suho sat up, voice quiet. “Hey.”

Sieun closed the door behind him, dropped his bag, and leaned back against the wood. “I was at Apple Tree all night. Didn’t want to talk while I was still pissed.”

Suho stood slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“Who were they really?” Sieun asked. No preamble. “You looked terrified.”

Suho hesitated. Then he moved to sit on the edge of his bed, hands clasped. “They’re part of the Union. I used to run with them. After I left school.”

Sieun didn’t move. “And now?”

“They still ask for favors.” Suho’s voice was low, ashamed. “They keep me close because I asked them to leave you alone. Years ago.”

Sieun’s eyes flicked, surprised. “You did that for me?”

“I thought maybe I owed you something. For what I ruined.”

A long pause settled between them.

Sieun came forward slowly, sitting at the desk opposite Suho. “You disappeared, Suho. Four years. And now you’re tangled up with people who looked at me like I was a threat just for being near you.”

“I know,” Suho said. “But I didn’t have anyone else back then. I joined the Union because it was all that was left. I kept thinking about you—wondering if you were still mad, still disappointed in me. Every time I screwed up, I imagined what you’d say if you were there. It made it worse. But it also kept me... grounded.”

Sieun’s jaw tightened. “And you never thought to call?”

“I wanted to,” Suho said, voice cracking slightly. “A hundred times. But I thought… I thought you'd already moved on. I didn’t want to be the guy who showed up only when he needed something.”

Suho continued, his voice steadier now. “I didn’t just come back to study. I came back to fix things.”

“You can’t just fix four years,” Sieun said, voice soft. “You can’t erase what happened.”

“I know,” Suho said again. “But maybe I can repay some of it.”

He looked up, meeting Sieun’s eyes. There was something hesitant, raw, in his gaze. “We used to joke about running away, remember?”

Sieun’s brows furrowed.

Suho smiled faintly. “If you ever asked, I’d still do it. We’d leave the Union behind, the pressure, the city. Open a small café by the coast. I’d cook. You’d serve people and complain that I put too much ginger in everything. And in the evenings, we’d ride my moped down the coastal road. Wind in our faces. No one chasing us.”

Sieun let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “That’s… very specific.”

Suho’s smile faded into something softer. “I thought about it a lot.”

He looked down for a moment, fingers threading together tightly. “There was this one night in the Union. I was supposed to be keeping watch while the others handled something. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that time we skipped class senior year and went to the beach. You made me that awful seaweed kimbap.”

Sieun scoffed faintly. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was,” Suho said with a small, genuine grin. “But I ate all of it anyway. I’d have eaten anything you made.”

There was a long silence.

Finally, Sieun said, “It’s a nice fantasy.”

“But it’s just a fantasy,” he added, and the words landed like stones.

Suho nodded slowly, trying to swallow the ache. “Yeah. I know.”

“Still,” Sieun said quietly, “thanks for telling me. For not lying.”

Suho looked down at his hands. “Even if it’s just a fantasy… I’d still like to work toward something real. For us. Whatever that looks like.”

Sieun didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on Suho’s face, as if searching for something—truth, maybe, or regret.

Eventually, he said, “Let’s just take it one day at a time.”

Suho nodded. “One day at a time.”

Sieun didn’t leave.

And that, for now, was enough.

The next morning Sieun woke to soft light filtering through the blinds. The bed across from him was empty, but a folded piece of paper sat on the nightstand beside it. Still groggy, he reached over and picked it up.

*"Went to the gym before lecture. Don’t forget to eat something. - Suho"

P.S. If you finish the milk again, you're buying next time.*

Sieun snorted softly. His fingers lingered on the edge of the note, and for a brief second, he imagined Suho in a tight compression shirt, sweat dampening the tips of his hair, his jaw clenched in focus. The image burned a little too brightly in his mind, and Sieun shook his head quickly, swatting the thought away with a muttered, "Seriously?"

He got ready for his own morning lecture, rolling his eyes at himself in the mirror before leaving.

The lecture hall buzzed with the low hum of students settling in. Professor Hwan scrawled something across the board before turning with a sharp clap of his hands. "Alright, project time. You’ll be working in pairs. I’ll assign them. No complaints."

Sieun barely listened until he heard his name.

"Yeon Sieun and Seo Hajoon."

He looked up, spotting Hajoon a few rows ahead flashing him a small, easygoing grin.

After class, they agreed to meet at Sieun's dorm to knock out the bulk of the project. "Might as well get it out of the way early," Hajoon said, tossing his backpack over one shoulder. "Your place okay? Less crowded than the library."

Sieun nodded. "Sure."

By the time they got back to the dorm, Suho still hadn’t returned. Sieun let Juntae in and grabbed some water bottles.

"You live alone?" Hajoon asked, settling on the floor near the coffee table.

Sieun shook his head. "Roommate. He's probably still out."

They worked in a comfortable rhythm, both focused, though Hajoon's habit of inching closer every time he needed to see Sieun's screen was starting to get noticeable. Their knees bumped once, and Hajoon didn’t move. Sieun didn't say anything.

The door opened.

Suho stepped inside, his gym bag slung over one shoulder, a towel draped around his neck. He froze at the sight.

"Oh," Suho said, forcing casualness. "Didn't know we had company."

Sieun glanced up. "Hey. This is Hajoon. We're working on a class project."

"Cool," Suho said, not looking at Hajoon.

Hajoon leaned back on one hand and nodded politely. "You must be Suho. Sieun mentioned you."

That got Suho's attention. "Did he?"

"Yeah. Said you were... intense."

Suho raised an eyebrow. "Interesting choice of words."

Hajoon chuckled. "Not in a bad way."

Sieun, sensing the atmosphere shift, tried to steer them back to the work. "Let's finish this section before we lose the light."

As the afternoon wore on, Suho kept finding reasons to pass through the room—grabbing water, looking for his charger, asking if someone had moved his notebook. His eyes flicked constantly to where Hajoon sat comfortably close to Sieun, their knees brushing occasionally. Every time Hajoon smiled at Sieun, Suho felt something tighten in his chest.

It wasn’t jealousy. Of course not.

Eventually, as they were wrapping up, Sieun’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, stepping into the corner.

"Hey, Baku... Now? ...Yeah, he's here too. And Hajoon."

Pause.

Sieun sighed. "Fine. But I’m not singing."

He hung up. "Baku and Hyuntak want to go to karaoke. Asked if we wanted to come. Said it was team bonding or whatever."

Hajoon grinned. "I’m in."

Suho shrugged, voice flat. "Sure. Why not."

The walk there was long enough for Suho to build up an entire thesis on why Hajoon was annoying. He walked too close to Sieun. He talked too loud. He was too touchy. Too charming. Too...

Smug.

Suho didn’t say anything, just kept walking with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, glaring holes into the back of Hajoon's head.

When they arrived at the karaoke bar, Baku immediately looped an arm around Sieun and dragged him toward the order screen. "Help me pick snacks! You always choose the good ones."

Left behind, Hajoon stretched and flopped into the corner of the booth.

Suho sat stiffly.

Hajoon glanced at him. "Alright. What’s your deal?"

Suho didn’t look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You've been glaring at me like I stole your bike since we met. Did I do something to you, or do you just not like people near Sieun?"

Suho clenched his jaw. "You're pretty forward for someone who just met me."

Hajoon shrugged. "I don't like tension. Figured I'd clear the air."

Suho hesitated, then muttered, "I don't trust guys who get too comfortable too fast."

"Is that what this is?"

Suho finally met his eyes. "You're not subtle."

Hajoon laughed. "Neither are you."

They stared at each other for a beat.

Then Hajoon leaned forward slightly. "Look. I'm not trying to steal your spot. But if you're going to hover and sulk every time someone gives him attention, maybe figure out why."

Suho scowled. "I’m not sulking."

"Sure. And I'm not noticing how much you care."

Suho didn’t answer.

"Whatever your thing with him is," Hajoon continued, "just don’t screw it up by pretending it’s nothing."

Suho said nothing, jaw tight, fists in his lap. The music started playing from the next room.

Sieun returned moments later, unaware of the quiet standoff.

Suho forced a smile. "What did you order?"

Sieun eyed the tension in the room but didn’t comment. "Spicy chicken, fries, and tteokbokki. Baku insisted."

Hajoon grinned. "Perfect."

Suho didn’t look away from Sieun.

And if his smile was a little too tight, no one said anything.

Chapter Text

The lights of the karaoke room dimmed low, pulsing in time with the colorful display swirling across the screen. Baku was already jumping between tracks, mic in one hand, beer in the other. Hyuntak cheered him on from the small couch, egging him into choosing something chaotic.

Suho sat stiffly on the side, arms crossed, watching Sieun from under his lashes. The smaller boy was wedged between Hajoon and Hyuntak, pressed too close for Suho’s liking, though Sieun didn’t seem to mind. Their knees brushed, and Hajoon didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in further when Sieun laughed quietly at something Baku shouted.

Suho shifted in his seat.

When the mic was finally passed around, Suho stood abruptly. “Sieun. Sing with me.”

Sieun blinked, caught mid-sip of his drink. “What?”

Suho was already selecting a song from the screen. “Duet. You said you weren’t going to sing, but now you are. With me.”

There was something teasing in his voice, but also something more—something insistent.

Sieun raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Suho extended the second mic. “Seriously.”

After a moment of hesitation, Sieun sighed and stood. “Fine. But if I mess up, you’re taking the blame.”

As the intro started, a soft love ballad that immediately made Baku groan in exaggerated agony, Suho didn’t take his eyes off Sieun. Not once.

Their voices blended awkwardly at first, Sieun hesitant, Suho confident but holding back. Then, as the melody swelled and the chorus approached, something shifted. Suho’s voice deepened, softened in all the right places, carrying the emotional weight of the lyrics with raw sincerity.

Sieun faltered.

Not in his pitch, but in his gaze.

Suho was looking at him—really looking at him—with something burning behind his eyes. Something that made Sieun's chest tighten.

Their voices met in a line about yearning, about time lost, about second chances. Suho didn’t look at the screen once.

He didn’t need to.

Halfway through the second verse, his gaze dropped—not to the mic, not to the lyrics—but to Sieun’s lips. Chapped from the dry weather. Barely touched by lip balm. Still, to Suho, they looked soft. Kissable.

His breath hitched.

Sieun noticed. And misinterpreted.

Of course Suho would pull something like this now. Right when Hajoon was getting comfortable. Right when he was trying to move on. It wasn’t real. Just another attempt to push Hajoon out of orbit.

The song ended, applause following in a wave from the others—Baku loudly howling something about chemistry—but Sieun was already pulling away, handing off the mic, stepping back.

Before Suho could say anything, Juntae stood. “Hey, Sieun. Wanna grab some drinks? I think we’re running low.”

Sieun nodded quickly. “Yeah. Sure.”

Suho’s fingers tightened around his mic as he watched the two disappear out the door.

The hallway outside the karaoke room was dim and quiet. Vending machines hummed near the exit.

“You okay?” Hajoon asked, leaning against the wall, handing Sieun a canned soda.

Sieun nodded, popping it open. “Yeah. Just… tired. And that song was a weird choice.”

“Didn’t seem random,” Hajoon said.

Sieun shrugged. “Maybe it was just to mess with you.”

Hajoon looked at him. “Did it?”

Sieun didn’t answer.

Baku and Hyuntak were on a roll when the group finally left karaoke. “Club!” Baku shouted. “Next stop, we party until sunrise!”

“I have class in the morning,” Sieun muttered.

Hyuntak slung an arm over his shoulder. “Which is why tonight we remind you what being alive feels like.”

“Come on,” Hajoon added. “You can’t say no now. We already sang.”

Suho watched from the back, quiet. He didn’t like the way Hajoon’s fingers brushed against Sieun’s wrist when they passed him the mic earlier. He didn’t like how easily everyone got close to him. Like they all saw something they could take.

Still, Sieun agreed. Just to prove them wrong.

The club pulsed with light and sound, drowning them the second they entered. Baku and Hyuntak vanished to the dance floor within minutes, already grinding and laughing and dragging strangers into their chaotic energy.

The rest stayed at a booth near the back.

Hajoon downed a shot. “Bet I can drink more than you.”

Suho scoffed. “You wish.”

Sieun sighed. “You’re both idiots.”

“Join us then,” Hajoon said, sliding him a glass. “Level the field.”

Sieun hesitated—then, not wanting to seem like the odd one out, lifted it.

The shots kept coming. Vodka, soju, rum—someone ordered a round of something blue and dangerous. Sieun’s head swam. Hajoon’s laughter got louder. Suho kept his expression stony but his posture taut.

At one point, Sieun leaned his head back against the booth, eyes fluttering shut. His body felt warm. Too warm.

Then his forehead hit the table.

“Sieun?” Hajoon slurred, equally flushed. He tried to prop him up, but failed, sliding down with him.

Suho stood, his jaw tight. “You’re pathetic.”

“Chill,” Hajoon murmured. “He’s just tired.”

Suho ignored him, crouching down and gently lifting Sieun onto his back. The other boy murmured something, too soft to hear.

Suho hoisted him carefully, nodding toward Baku and Hyuntak when they waved from the dance floor. “Taking him home.”

They gave him a thumbs up.

The walk back was quiet. Suho could feel every shift of Sieun’s breath against his back, every little twitch of his fingers where they dangled.

About halfway there, Sieun whispered, “Suho?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss your braces.”

Suho blinked. “What?”

“They were cute,” Sieun mumbled. “But not as cute as your glasses.”

He squirmed suddenly, sliding off Suho’s back, stumbling a little. “Where are they?”

Suho blinked, holding him steady. “What?”

“Your glasses.” Sieun reached up, rubbing under his eyes clumsily. “You look good in them. I like them. They make your eyes all... big.”

Suho laughed under his breath. “You’re so drunk.”

“I’m being honest,” Sieun said, poking his chest. “Big. Doe. Eyes.”

Suho stared at him.

And then, slowly, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft. Hesitant at first. But when Sieun didn’t pull away, Suho deepened it, cupping his jaw gently. The world narrowed to breath and warmth and skin.

They stumbled toward the dorm.

Fumbling with the keys was a clumsy mess of laughter and kisses and murmured “wait—left side, no your other left.”

When they finally made it inside, Suho laid Sieun down on his bed, hovering over him.

“You sure?” he whispered, brushing hair from Sieun’s forehead. “Do you know what’s happening?”

Sieun nodded. “Want this. Want you.”

Suho kissed him again, trailing soft touches down his neck. “Have you ever…?”

Sieun shook his head. “No.”

Suho chuckled softly. “Guess I’ll have to tutor you, then.”

He nuzzled at Sieun’s stomach, tugging gently at the band of his underwear with his nose.

“Such a good boy,” he murmured, guiding him through every gasp, every shiver. “You’re doing so well.”

When Sieun cried out, fingers tangling in Suho’s hair, Suho didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch. Swallowed every bit of him like a promise.

Sieun gasped, “You’re dirty.”

Suho looked up, lips shiny. “I’d take anything from you.”

The world slowed after that. Just kisses and laughter and flushed cheeks pressed against each other in the dark.

They fell asleep curled together, breath syncing slowly, finally.

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight spilled through the blinds, casting soft golden slats over tangled sheets and slower-moving limbs. Suho stirred first, blinking blearily at the soft rise and fall of Sieun's breathing beside him. One arm was slung lazily over Suho's waist, and a faint snore—more like a sigh—escaped Sieun's lips.

Suho didn’t move.

Not right away. He lay there, watching the other boy sleep, heart full and heavy in equal measure. It wasn’t just the warmth in his chest. It was the realization that he didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. He didn’t want the confusion and tension and guessing games anymore.

His fingers lightly traced Sieun’s spine under the sheet, slow and careful, memorizing the fragile shape of this moment. The weight of their previous night was still warm in his memory, but more than that, the intimacy lingered—the quiet trust, the way Sieun had touched him like he wasn’t scared to anymore.

When Sieun finally stirred, blinking up at Suho with sleepy eyes, the first thing he said was, "Do we have class?"

Suho laughed softly. "Not for a few hours."

Sieun hummed and tucked closer, burying his face into Suho's neck. "Good."

His voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but soft in a way that made Suho’s chest tighten. They lay like that for a while, exchanging warmth, quiet heartbeats, and breath. Eventually, Suho propped himself up on one elbow.

"Let’s go on a date."

Sieun looked up. "What?"

"A real one. You and me. No distractions. Just something normal."

Sieun blinked. "Where?"

Suho smiled. "You once said you wanted to go to the beach. Let’s make that fantasy come true."

Sieun’s mouth curved slowly, a sleep-heavy grin spreading. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do."

They took the train, since Suho's moped had long since broken down and neither of them had the energy for a long walk. They boarded early enough that the seats were mostly empty. The landscape rolled past outside, all flickering trees and patches of city, fading slowly into the sprawl of countryside.

Sieun sat by the window at first, watching the scenery blur by. He rested his chin on his hand, quiet, but content. Suho watched him more than the view, unable to stop himself.

About halfway through the ride, Sieun yawned, long and silent, and leaned sideways without much thought. His head dropped onto Suho's shoulder. He didn’t say anything, didn’t apologize—just closed his eyes.

At first, Suho froze.

Then he relaxed.

He turned just enough to brush his cheek against Sieun's hair. The trust in that simple act made his heart ache. He didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe too deeply. He let the world pass by, quiet and slow, as Sieun's breaths evened out. His arm shifted slightly so that it wrapped around Sieun’s waist, pulling him a little closer.

For the first time in a long time, Suho felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

When the train came to a gentle stop, Suho nudged him. "Hey. Beach time."

Sieun blinked, dazed and adorably grumpy. "We’re here?"

"Yep." Suho offered his hand. "Come on, sleepyhead."

The beach was quiet, the breeze crisp, and the tide low. Off-season meant most people were still in the cities, leaving the sand open, the waves wide and free. Seagulls circled overhead. The sky stretched like silk.

Suho kicked off his shoes and socks immediately, the chill sand curling between his toes. He waded into the shallows, jeans rolled up haphazardly. Sieun followed after a beat, copying him.

Their fingers brushed once, then laced together without words.

As they walked along the shoreline, Suho bent suddenly and splashed a kick of water up at Sieun.

Sieun yelped, hopping back. "Are you serious?!"

Suho grinned. "You looked too peaceful."

Sieun narrowed his eyes and launched a splash right back. A full-on miniature war broke out—water flying, laughter echoing, their legs soaked and their hair clinging to their faces. Suho chased Sieun down the beach at one point, the two of them slipping in the sand, breathless and red-faced.

When they finally collapsed onto the beach, laughing and breathless, Suho rolled over and brushed wet hair from Sieun’s eyes. "Worth it."

"You’re insane," Sieun muttered, smiling. "But... I’m glad we came."

The fair was small and half-forgotten, but charming. Wooden booths lined the boardwalk, strung with old lights that flickered even in daylight. Suho dragged Sieun to every game stall.

At the ring toss, Suho won a stuffed seal after three determined tries. He handed it to Sieun with a flourish. "For you."

Sieun hugged it to his chest. "Do I name it?"

"Obviously."

"Then it’s... Minseok."

Suho raised a brow. "Minseok?"

"He looks like a Minseok. Don’t judge him."

They rode a ferris wheel that groaned on every rotation. Sieun screamed quietly when they reached the top. Suho reached over and took his hand, thumb rubbing circles into his palm.

"You’re safe."

"You better be right," Sieun muttered, but didn’t let go.

They shared a melting ice cream, trading bites. Suho kept deliberately licking more than his share.

"You’re like a seagull," Sieun accused.

Suho grinned. "A handsome seagull."

As the sky turned gold, they returned to the beach. They sat together in the sand, legs stretched out, jackets over their shoulders. The wind had calmed. The waves rolled soft and slow.

Suho squeezed Sieun’s hand.

"I wish we could stay here," Sieun whispered.

Suho turned to look at him. "Then let’s make it happen. Someday. You and me. Our own place."

Sieun’s throat bobbed. "You mean that?"

Suho nodded. "I do. I promise I won’t stay silent anymore. Not about what I want. Not about you."

Sieun’s voice was quiet. "Then I promise I won’t leave. Not unless you tell me to."

Their kiss was slow this time. No rush. No heat. Just warmth. Just the kind of kiss that said: I see you. I choose you. I’ll stay.

Unbeknownst to them, from a cliffside path above, a man in a dark puffer coat stood still, framed by the sunset.

He raised his phone, zoomed in on the couple sitting hand in hand. Clicked.

Choi Hyoman typed a message to a contact labeled "Seongje."

They’re getting comfortable.

He attached the photo.

Then added: I’ll keep watching. He won’t forget his debt.

He slipped his phone away and turned from the view, vanishing into the twilight.

Chapter Text

The return journey began with a glow of shared contentment. Suho and Sieun boarded the train hand in hand, the stuffed seal Minseok squished between them on the seat. The soft rumble of the train and the occasional flicker of sunlight through the windows made the moment feel safe, suspended in time. Sieun rested his head against Suho’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded in drowsy comfort.

But as the countryside blurred past the window again, Suho’s warmth began to fade, replaced by a low hum of anxiety he couldn’t explain.

He sat still, his arm around Sieun, but his eyes darted toward the aisle, scanning.

Something’s off.

It wasn’t just paranoia. Suho had learned long ago to trust his instincts. There was a tension crawling beneath his skin—an old familiarity, like the way danger used to taste on his tongue back in the worst days. The back of his neck prickled.

A figure sat three rows behind them. Hood up, sunglasses on, and an aura too still to blend in. Suho didn’t stare, didn’t want to risk catching their attention. But from the few glances he allowed, it was clear the man had boarded the train alone and hadn’t stopped glancing in their direction.

Suho gritted his teeth. Whoever it was, they hadn’t made a move. And as long as they didn’t, he’d keep Sieun out of it.

The train bumped gently, and Sieun stirred beside him. "You okay?"

Suho forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

Sieun leaned on his shoulder again, eyes closing. Suho turned slightly, shielding him from view, and watched the figure in the reflection of the train window. Still there. Still watching.

Suho clenched his jaw.

If you come near him, I’ll end you.

They reached the dorms just after sundown. The air was cooler, and their steps slower. But Sieun seemed lighter, cheeks still pink from laughing earlier.

Once inside, Sieun kicked off his shoes and stretched. "Okay," he said decisively, pointing to his bed. "You're sleeping there tonight."

Suho blinked. "Huh?"

"You slept in mine last night. It's only fair."

Suho smirked. "Are you saying we could’ve just had one bed in this dorm?"

Sieun flushed. "That’s not what I—shut up. Just get in."

Suho laughed, warm and tired, and obeyed.

They settled into Sieun’s bed, bodies pressing close in the tight space. Suho tucked his arm around Sieun and, on impulse, kissed his wrist—soft, reverent. Then his forehead.

"Goodnight, Sieun."

"Goodnight, Suho."

Sleep came easily at first. Their breathing synchronized. The night was still.

Until Sieun started mumbling.

At first, it was soft—his breath catching, a whimper barely above a whisper. But then Suho heard it.

His name.

"Suho... ah... Suho..."

Suho’s eyes snapped open.

Sieun lay on his side, facing away, but his body was flushed and restless, hips subtly shifting, breath coming quicker. The sheets rustled.

"Suho... more... mm..."

Suho’s pulse thundered.

Oh my god.

He tried to ignore it. He really did. He stared at the ceiling, every muscle tense, trying not to acknowledge the stirring in his own body.

But then Sieun whimpered again, voice thick and sultry in sleep, "Please, Suho..."

Suho groaned under his breath. "You tease."

He leaned in, breathing against Sieun’s ear before gently biting the lobe. His tongue followed, licking softly. Sieun twitched, a moan escaping his lips.

Suho’s hand snuck around, pressing lightly to Sieun’s chest.

"Sieun," he whispered, kissing down the curve of his neck.

Sieun stirred, eyes fluttering open in confusion, breath catching.

"S-Suho?"

Suho looked at him, flushed and barely composed. "Do you want me to stop?"

Sieun’s gaze flicked away, but he shook his head. He was blushing hard now.

"No. I... want it."

Suho’s restraint snapped. He leaned in, kissing harder, trailing bites down Sieun’s collarbone. His hands moved lower, gently tugging at the waistband of Sieun’s pants.

But before he could slip further, Sieun caught his wrist.

"Wait... it's not fair... that I'm the only one... feeling good."

Suho stilled, eyes widening slightly.

Sieun swallowed, then added, "Let me... do something for you too."

For a moment, Suho hesitated, stunned by the offer. Then he smiled—soft, touched, feral.

He guided Sieun’s hand, whispering praise the entire time.

"Just like that... you're doing so well... so good for me."

His voice broke as pleasure overwhelmed him. His hips jerked forward, breath catching in his throat as he climaxed, some of it landing across Sieun’s hand and cheek.

Sieun blinked, wide-eyed, flustered. His lips parted in surprise.

Without hesitation, Suho leaned in and licked it from his cheek, then kissed him deeply, groaning into the taste.

They clung to each other afterward, breathless and tired.

"We should sleep," Suho murmured, nuzzling Sieun’s hair.

Sieun nodded sleepily against him. "Yeah. Let’s just sleep."

They drifted off, tangled together, the tension from earlier temporarily forgotten.

Suho woke to the buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

He blinked blearily at the screen.

[Seongje - Incoming Call]

His heart stopped.

Chapter Text

The phone vibrated insistently on the bedside table, cutting through the fragile peace of morning. Suho blinked awake, his arm still wrapped loosely around Sieun’s waist. The early light crept in through the window, casting a soft halo around Sieun’s sleeping face. His mouth was slightly open, lips red and a little swollen from their shared kisses, his hand curled gently under his cheek.

But the screen flashing on Suho’s phone broke the dreamlike silence.

[Seongje - Incoming Call]

His chest tightened.

Careful not to wake Sieun, Suho slipped from the bed and grabbed the phone, stepping into the bathroom. He shut the door and answered in a whisper.

"What do you want?"

Seongje’s voice came through sharp and smug. "You think you can just disappear into some fantasy life, Suho? Cute. But we both know you still owe me."

Suho's jaw clenched. "I said I was out."

A chuckle. "You were out when I said you were out. And right now? You're not."

Suho's stomach turned. The hold Seongje still had on his life felt like a vice tightening with every word.

Then the message came through. A picture.

Suho stared in horror at the image: him and Sieun on the beach, holding hands, smiling with the ocean behind them.

"Nice shot, huh? You look happy," Seongje drawled. "If you want to keep it that way, you’ll do one final job for me. Then I’ll disappear. You have my word."

"Don’t touch him."

"I don’t plan to. But Hyoman’s a little twitchy. You know how he gets."

Suho squeezed the bridge of his nose. He was cornered. "What’s the job?"

"Meet me outside your dorm gates. Bring nothing. Come alone."

The line went dead.

Suho stood in silence for a long moment before stepping back into the room. Sieun stirred slightly in his sleep, murmuring something incomprehensible, his brow furrowed as if sensing Suho's tension even in dreams.

With a trembling hand, Suho scribbled a note:

“Sieun, I had to go out for a bit. Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything later. I promise.”

He set the note on the pillow beside Sieun and slipped out of the room.

The sun had barely risen. The streets were quiet, dew still clinging to the grass. But Suho’s breath hitched as he saw them lined up just beyond the dorm gates.

Seongje.
Baekjin.
Hyoman.

And—

His breath caught.

Beomseok.

Dread sank into Suho's bones like ice.

"What is this?" he growled, fists curling.

Hyoman stepped forward, cracking his neck like he was preparing for a fight. "Long time, Suho. Didn’t think you’d show."

Baekjin placed a firm hand on Hyoman’s shoulder, pushing him back. "Cool it."

Then Baekjin turned his cold eyes on Suho. "You agreed to a job. This is part of it."

Seongje smirked. "Get in the car."

Suho hesitated, glancing at the three of them before landing on Beomseok, who had yet to look him in the eye. His once timid friend now stood straighter, his body filled out with muscle, his expression unreadable.

"You’re not telling me where we’re going?"

"That would ruin the surprise," Baekjin said flatly.

Hyoman grinned. "We’ll make it fun."

As Suho stepped forward, Hyoman suddenly moved, striking the side of Suho’s head with the butt of something hard.

Darkness claimed him instantly.

When Suho came to, the air was thick with sweat and noise. His head throbbed as he blinked up at the harsh lights above.

The ring.

A bare, underground cage surrounded by shadowy figures. Voices shouted and echoed. Somewhere, metal clanged.

Deja vu slammed into him like a fist. This place—it was too familiar. It smelled of blood, fear, and desperation. His coma, the years lost, all of it—it had started in a place just like this.

And there, standing outside the ring, watching him, was Beomseok.

Suho pushed himself up slowly. "What the hell is this?"

Seongje leaned on the ropes with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "You wanted out. This is your exit ticket. One last fight."

Suho’s mouth was dry. "With who?"

Baekjin pointed.

Beomseok.

The younger man flinched at the gesture, eyes dropping to the floor.

Suho stared at him. His memories flooded in—Beomseok’s betrayal, the lies, the hurt. But now, Beomseok looked like a ghost in his own skin.

"This is revenge?" Suho asked, his voice shaking. "You think this fixes anything?"

"You’re welcome," Baekjin said. "He ruined your life. We’re giving you the chance to take it back."

But Suho wasn’t listening. He looked at Beomseok—really looked. There was no fire in him. No fight. Just guilt. Shame.

Suho’s fists trembled. Every nerve screamed for release, for justice, for vengeance.

But then he heard it in his head—Sieun’s voice.

“Promise me you won’t disappear again.”

The silence after Suho's coma. The fear in Sieun’s eyes when they reunited. The weight of a bond almost lost.

He exhaled slowly.

Then, instead of turning toward Beomseok, Suho turned—and punched Hyoman.

The crack of his fist meeting Hyoman’s jaw echoed like thunder. Blood spattered. Gasps rose from the crowd.

Hyoman staggered back, rage overtaking him instantly.

"YOU—!"

Suho squared his stance, eyes blazing. "I’m done playing your game."

The impact of Suho’s fist against Hyoman’s jaw echoed through the underground arena like a war drum. Hyoman staggered back, blood already trickling from his mouth, eyes wide with fury and disbelief.

“You bastard!” Hyoman roared, charging at Suho with a primal scream.

But Suho was ready.

He ducked low, sidestepped, and planted a brutal elbow into Hyoman’s ribs. Hyoman doubled over slightly, but tried to swing upward, only for Suho to slam a knee into his stomach. The crowd around the ring began to cheer—some in excitement, others in horror. Suho was a whirlwind of precision and rage, every movement honed from years of suppressed instinct.

Hyoman tried to regain footing, but Suho didn’t give him a chance. Another punch landed on Hyoman’s jaw, followed by a sweep of his legs. He collapsed onto the mat with a loud grunt.

Suho moved to finish him—but a sudden force intervened. A foot snapped in between them, forcing Suho back.

Seongje.

“Enough!” he barked, his voice filled with command.

Hyoman took the opportunity to scramble away, coughing and wheezing. But before he could get far, Beomseok moved. With silent fury, he delivered a clean, calculated punch into Hyoman’s already-bruised stomach.

Hyoman folded instantly, dropping like a stone.

Suho blinked in shock. He hadn’t expected anything from Beomseok, let alone violence against one of his own.

But he didn’t have time to process it.

Seongje was already advancing.

“You think you’re in control?” he sneered, removing his cracked glasses. “You’ve forgotten who gave you the strength to survive.”

Suho didn't respond. He simply raised his fists.

Seongje moved first—fast, brutal, trained. But Suho met him, blow for blow. The two clashed like titans, fists cracking, feet thudding into flesh and bone.

Then Suho’s leg shot up, a brutal side kick that connected directly with Seongje’s face. Glass shattered as the remaining lens of Seongje’s glasses broke apart, sending shards skittering across the ring floor.

Seongje reeled, blood gushing from a gash on his cheek. He stumbled.

And Suho didn’t hesitate.

He shoved Seongje backward, slamming him to the floor—right onto the broken shards of glass. Seongje howled in pain, writhing as the glass impaled his back and sides.

Suho stood over him, chest heaving, one hand cocked back to deliver the final blow—

But a shadow loomed over him.

Baekjin.

He stepped forward slowly, his expression unreadable. His very presence changed the air, heavy with tension.

Suho didn’t turn in time.

A fist flew at him—

—but it never landed.

A body had moved in between them.

Sieun.

He stood between Suho and Baekjin, chest heaving, eyes fierce and terrified at once. His hands trembled, but not from fear of Baekjin. It was the fear of loss. Of being too late.

“Don’t you touch him,” Sieun growled, voice low but steady.

Suho stared, stunned. “Sieun…?”

Baekjin narrowed his eyes. “Move.”

“No,” Sieun spat. “Not again. I won’t let him disappear again.”

And then they fought.

Baekjin swung again, but this time Suho and Sieun moved as one. Sieun ducked low, brass knuckles glinting as he struck Baekjin’s legs repeatedly. Suho attacked high, feet pelting into Baekjin’s face and shoulders.

Baekjin grunted, his movements sluggish now under the dual assault. He tried to shake them off, but Sieun clung to his leg, biting down on his rage and fear and beating with every ounce of strength he had.

Another kick. Another strike.

Until finally—

Baekjin crashed to the floor.

The ring fell silent.

Suho and Sieun stood, breathless, trembling.

For a moment, there was no sound but the panting of exhausted lungs.

Then Suho turned to him. “How… how did you find me?”

Sieun looked at him, eyes wide with emotion. “The last time you disappeared… you vanished from my sight in a place like this. But you came back then. So I knew—I wasn’t going to let you leave forever.”

Suho’s throat tightened. He reached for Sieun, pulling him into a rough embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

“You didn’t,” Sieun said, squeezing him tighter. “I came here because I love you. I’m not letting you fight alone anymore.”

But the moment was interrupted.

Beomseok.

He stood at the edge of the ring, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

“You two,” he said slowly. “You think this is over?”

They turned to him.

“What are you talking about?” Suho asked warily.

Beomseok’s next words made their blood run cold.

“Baekjin was just the surface. There’s more. And I know because I helped build it.”

Chapter Text

The heavy silence that had settled over the ring was broken by Beomseok’s calm, yet chilling voice. He leaned against the cage bars, his eyes cold and unreadable.

“I helped build the Union,” he said slowly, letting the words hang in the air.

Suho and Sieun exchanged glances, the weight of that statement sinking in. Beomseok, the quiet, seemingly useless underling—the one who had barely spoken until now—was not just some minor player. He was the architect of this sprawling criminal network.

Beomseok’s voice softened as he took a breath, his eyes fixed on some distant memory only he could see. “At first, the Union was my escape. From my father. From the suffocating control, from impossible expectations that crushed me like a stone. I was trapped in a cage made of bloodlines and tradition—a puppet with strings I could never cut. I wanted freedom. Power. Respect. Things I never thought I could have. So I built this. The Union.”

He gestured vaguely at the shadows beyond the ring walls, as if encompassing the entire underworld. “It started small, just a few desperate men like me looking for a way out. But it grew—fast, too fast. Soon, we controlled the streets, the back alleys, the deals no one else dared touch. And me? I became the kingpin—the one who pulls the strings in the dark.”

Suho’s grip on Sieun’s hand tightened involuntarily. This revelation was staggering—this man who had seemed so quiet and unassuming held more power than anyone they’d faced. More than the threats, the fights, even the scars. Beomseok’s empire was woven through every corner of their lives, invisible but suffocating.

Beomseok’s eyes flicked to Suho, sharp and unreadable. “Hyoman... he constantly talked down to me. Didn’t know who I was. Thought he was the boss because he barked orders and made threats. That was why I punched him—not because I’m some weakling, but because I won’t tolerate disrespect. He was a thorn in my side, an obstacle to my plans.”

His lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And then you—you went after my top men. Seongje and Baekjin. You aimed right at the pillars holding my empire together. You think anyone lets that slide? Of course I had to stop you. No one betrays the Union and walks away.”

The weight of his words settled heavily over Suho and Sieun. They were not just fighting street thugs or local criminals. They had been entangled in the schemes of a man whose reach extended into the highest echelons of power. Who knew every secret and weakness, and held every life in his hands like a marionette.

Beomseok’s voice dropped, slow and deliberate. “My plan... is to take down my father. To erase his name, his reputation, and build my own legacy—one no one will ever forget. The Union isn’t just power. It’s freedom. Freedom to rewrite the rules.”

Sieun’s eyes flickered with a mixture of disbelief and fear. Suho’s heart pounded in his chest, the full scale of their predicament crashing down on them like a tidal wave. They squeezed each other’s hands tighter—not out of fear of Beomseok himself, but because the reality they faced was suffocating.

Running away to the beach, to the places they once thought were safe, now felt hopeless. The Union’s shadow stretched too far. No place was far enough. No place would hide them.

Beomseok’s gaze sharpened, reading their faces like an open book. The flicker of hope draining, replaced by resignation.

A slow, victorious grin spread across his lips. “You look like lambs being led to slaughter. Resigned to your fate.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a cruel whisper. “I finally get to one-up you, Suho. The boy who spent years in a coma, the boy who thought he could outrun this life. You’re just a shadow now—a ghost chasing a past you can never reclaim.”

The words stung like knives, cutting through the fragile defenses they had built.

For a long moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then Sieun’s body tensed, muscles coiling with sudden resolve.

With a burst of energy fueled by years of pain and unspoken frustration, Sieun lunged forward, tackling Beomseok to the ground.

The ring echoed with the sharp thud of bodies colliding, the energy crackling between them like lightning.

Sieun’s fist crashed into Beomseok’s jaw—the punch he had never managed to land all those years ago. The release of years of pent-up anger, heartbreak, and determination poured out with the blow.

Beomseok grunted in surprise, eyes narrowing as he registered the defiance burning in Sieun’s gaze.

“You won’t control us,” Sieun growled, breath ragged but fierce.

Suho watched, his chest tight with gratitude and awe.

Beomseok wiped the trickle of blood from his lip, a dark smile tugging at his mouth. “Impressive,” he muttered with a mixture of respect and menace. “But this... this is just the beginning.”

Chapter Text

Sieun’s fist struck Beomseok with fierce determination, the years of anger and pain finally finding release. Blow after blow rained down on the crime lord’s face and chest, each hit fueled by a fierce need to protect Suho and reclaim control over their lives.

But Beomseok only smirked beneath the onslaught, a cruel, knowing smile that chilled the air.

“You think this will change anything?” he sneered between labored breaths, his voice surprisingly steady despite the beating. “You don’t understand the storm you’ve stepped into.”

Sieun hesitated, confusion and frustration flashing in his eyes. What did Beomseok know that they didn’t? Before he could ask, the heavy metal doors to the ring burst open with a violent crash.

Baku and Hyuntak stumbled in, panting and bruised, their clothes torn and smeared with dirt and blood. Their faces were pale, but their eyes burned with urgency.

“We’ve got a problem,” Baku gasped, grabbing Suho’s arm to steady himself. “Hundreds of men… surrounding the building. Not just students, professional fighters. Full teams of trained enforcers.”

Hyuntak nodded grimly. “We barely made it through. Tried to run, got caught and beaten up before we even got halfway. They’ve locked this place down tight.”

Suho’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. They were trapped. Fighting was no longer an option; the odds were insurmountable.

Sieun’s fist clenched, ready to land another strike on Beomseok.

“Wait,” Suho said sharply, grabbing Sieun’s arm to stop him. “Don’t cross that line.”

Sieun looked up, eyes burning with conflict. “But—”

“No,” Suho cut him off. “Beating him won’t change anything. It’ll just make things worse.”

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway outside the ring. Beomseok’s laughter drifted faintly in the distance, a sinister reminder of the power he wielded.

Baku and Hyuntak quickly pulled Suho and Sieun away from the ring. “We have to move—now,” Baku urged, his voice low and urgent.

They hurried through winding corridors toward the back exit, their footsteps echoing off cold concrete walls. But as they burst through the doors, the scene that awaited them was far worse than any had imagined.

A sea of dark figures blocked the way—men in black jackets, faces obscured by scarves and hoods, weapons casually slung but eyes sharp and ready. They stood shoulder to shoulder, a wall of hostile intent.

“Looks like we’re not going anywhere,” Hyuntak muttered grimly.

Before they could react, a few of the Union’s men stepped forward, blocking their escape. The air tensed, charged with impending violence.

“Time to run,” Baku hissed, adrenaline surging through his veins.

Hyuntak didn’t hesitate. He sprinted toward a parked moped, its engine still warm. Baku followed, pushing past the cluster of guards.

“Sieun, Suho—get on!” Hyuntak yelled.

Sieun flopped onto the back of the moped with Baku, who roared the engine to life. Suho swung his leg over another nearby moped, steadying himself before taking a glance back.

Noticing Sieun’s quiet smile, Suho smirked despite the tension. “Not the kind of moped ride I imagined with you.”

Sieun laughed softly, a mixture of hope and resignation flickering in his eyes. “Me neither.”

Suho nodded, his gaze locking onto Sieun’s. “We’ll find a way out of this. We have to.”

The engines roared as they sped forward, weaving through narrow alleyways, the sound of hundreds of footsteps pounding behind them.

From the corner of his eye, Suho saw the swarm of Union men leap onto bikes and mopeds, their engines igniting in unison as they gave chase.

The city blurred past them in a dizzying rush—neon lights flickering, distant shouts echoing—each heartbeat pounding louder with the desperate knowledge that nowhere was safe.

But for the first time in a long time, Suho felt a flicker of something he hadn’t dared hope for: a chance to fight back, not just for survival, but for freedom.

The city’s night air rushed past Suho’s face, carrying a mix of salt from the nearby sea and the metallic tang of adrenaline. The mopeds’ engines screamed, their tires scraping against the cracked asphalt as they zigzagged through narrow alleys, barely avoiding collisions with overturned trash bins and stray cats darting into shadows.

Behind them, the thunderous roar of pursuers grew louder, a pack of relentless hunters closing in fast.

Suho’s hands gripped the handles tightly, knuckles white with tension. Every nerve screamed, every muscle tensed for the next turn, the next jump, the next obstacle. His eyes flicked to Sieun on the back of the moped beside him—his face illuminated by neon lights, a strange mix of fierce determination and quiet fear etched in his features.

Sieun caught his glance and smiled faintly, squeezing Suho’s hand for a split second.

“We’ll get through this,” he said softly, voice almost drowned by the wind.

“We have to,” Suho replied, voice low but steady.

Their brief moment was shattered as a shadow lunged from a side street—one of the Union’s bikers cutting them off.

“Left!” Baku shouted, barely audible over the engine’s roar.

Suho yanked the handlebars hard left, narrowly missing the biker by inches, their wheels skimming along a rain-slick curb. Behind, Hyuntak cursed, pulling Sieun closer as they veered sharply.

The chase tore through the old district of the city, a maze of decaying buildings, flickering streetlights, and tangled power lines. Suho knew these streets well, the alleys where childhood memories mingled with scars—this was his home and his prison.

The pursuers multiplied. From every dark corner, figures emerged on motorbikes and in cars, blocking routes and forcing the group into tighter spaces. Tires screeched, engines snarled, and curses flew like bullets.

“Blockers ahead!” Hyuntak warned, voice taut.

Baku twisted the throttle, aiming for a narrow passage between two rusted-out delivery trucks. The bikes roared through, bumping over broken pavement, sending sprays of gravel flying.

But the Union wasn’t just chasing—they were coordinating.

Flashing headlights appeared ahead, a squad of black sedans forming a blockade across the street. The motorbikes ahead swerved, trying to scatter the ambush, but the sedans split and boxed them in like wolves.

Suho’s heart pounded against his ribs. “We need another way—now!”

Sieun’s eyes darted, scanning the buildings lining the street. “There—there’s a fire escape ladder on the second floor. We can lose them if we get up there.”

Baku glanced at Suho. “Risky, but might be the only shot.”

With a hard nod, Suho veered toward the nearest building. The motorbikes skidded to a stop, and in a flash, Suho jumped off his moped, pulling Sieun down with him.

“Go!” he shouted as Baku and Hyuntak followed.

They dashed to the fire escape, metal stairs creaking under their weight. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, but the real danger was the sound of engines revving below.

Sieun scrambled up the ladder, his fingers trembling, but determination shining through. Suho followed, heart hammering in his ears.

From the rooftop, they could see the chaos below—Union men flooding the streets, their numbers overwhelming.

“Even up here, they won’t stop,” Sieun said, voice tight.

Suho grabbed his hand. “We can’t outrun this forever.”

Sieun nodded, leaning into him. “Then we fight smart.”

A moment of quiet passed between them, broken only by the distant shouts and the pounding of boots on fire escapes around the block.

They needed a plan.

Baku pulled out his phone, tapping furiously through contacts. “I’ve got a guy—a fixer. Might help us get off the grid for a while.”

Hyuntak nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “We need to disappear—fast.”

Sieun turned to Suho, eyes searching. “What do you want to do?”

Suho swallowed the knot in his throat. “We can’t go back to the dorm. Not now.”

He squeezed Suho’s hand. “The beach?”

“No,” Suho whispered, voice heavy. “Not anymore.”

The beach had been their sanctuary once, a place away from the Union’s reach. But Beomseok’s words rang in Suho’s mind—the Union’s network stretched everywhere. No place was safe.

Sieun’s gaze hardened. “Then where?”

Suho closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with resolve. “We find allies. We hit their weak points. We take the fight to them.”

Baku laughed—a dark, humorless sound. “Easy to say when you’re not staring down hundreds of men with guns.”

Hyuntak’s face was grim. “But it’s true. They’re powerful—but not invincible.”

Sieun leaned against the rooftop railing, his breath steadying. “We won’t run anymore. Not from Beomseok. Not from the Union.”

Suho nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. This was more than survival—it was a reckoning.

As they planned, a sudden noise froze them in place—the sharp click of a gun being cocked somewhere below.

“They found us,” Baku hissed, pulling out his own weapon.

Sieun’s heart lurched.

“We have to move—now.”

The rooftop fire escape creaked again as footsteps approached.

Suho’s mind raced.

“We split,” he said sharply. “Baku and Hyuntak take one route. Sieun and I take another.”

“No,” Sieun protested. “We stay together.”

Suho shook his head. “If they catch us all at once, we’re done.”

Sieun bit his lip but nodded reluctantly.

They scrambled back down, the sounds of pursuit growing louder. The city became a labyrinth of narrow corridors and shadowed streets, each turn a gamble.

At one point, Suho’s foot caught on a broken pipe, sending him sprawling. Sieun caught him before he hit the ground, their faces inches apart.

“Don’t give up,” he whispered fiercely.

Suho smiled faintly, breathless. “Not with you.”

They burst onto a deserted street, the moonlight casting long shadows. The sound of engines echoed—closer now.

Sieun grabbed Suho’s arm. “This way.”

They darted into a side alley, slippery with rain and garbage. Ahead, a rusty gate blocked the way.

“Help me with this,” Suho urged.

Together they forced the gate open, slipping through into an abandoned warehouse.

Inside, the darkness was thick, suffocating. They moved cautiously, alert for any signs of pursuit.

But silence greeted them.

Sieun exhaled deeply. “We’re safe. For now.”

Suho slumped against a crate, exhaustion crashing over him.

“This isn’t over,” Sieun said quietly, sitting beside him.

“No,” Suho agreed. “But maybe... just maybe... we’ve started something.”

Outside, the Union’s men gathered at the street’s entrance, frustrated but undeterred.

Beomseok’s laughter echoed faintly through the city, a dark promise that the war was far from finished.

Chapter Text

The dawn barely touched the horizon when Suho and Sieun slipped quietly through the abandoned warehouse’s broken exit. Their breaths came shallow, hearts pounding—not just from exhaustion, but from the knowledge that this was it. The final confrontation. The battle to end the Union’s shadow over their lives once and for all.

Around them, the city was waking, oblivious to the war raging beneath its surface.

Baku and Hyuntak waited nearby, faces grim but resolute.

“Are you sure about this?” Baku asked, voice low. “No turning back.”

Suho met his gaze, steady as steel. “We don’t have a choice. Either we take them down today, or they bury us.”

Sieun tightened his grip on Suho’s arm. “We fight together.”

The plan was brutal in its simplicity: strike at the Union’s nerve center—their hidden stronghold nestled deep in an abandoned industrial complex on the city’s outskirts. Intelligence gathered from whispered rumors and hacked communications painted a chilling picture—Beomseok’s fortress was guarded by elite forces, trained killers armed with everything from automatic weapons to high-tech surveillance.

But Suho and Sieun weren’t just fighting for themselves. They were fighting for freedom, for the future.

As they approached the stronghold under the cloak of pre-dawn shadows, tension tightened every muscle.

“Remember,” Suho whispered, “disarm their comms first. We take out their eyes and ears.”

The group split—Baku and Hyuntak moving to sabotage the security systems while Suho and Sieun slipped through a side entrance, shadows blending with darkness.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and the metallic scent of rust.

Footsteps echoed—guards making their rounds.

Suho’s fist clenched, every nerve screaming to spring into action. But they moved silently, swiftly, disabling cameras and cutting wires.

Suddenly, the floor trembled.

From the depths of the complex came a mechanical roar—reinforcements arriving.

Beomseok was ready.

The battle erupted like a storm.

Shots fired, glass shattered.

Suho and Sieun fought side by side, a perfect blend of strength and precision.

Sieun’s brass knuckles connected with faces; Suho’s kicks and punches left a trail of broken bodies.

But the Union’s forces were relentless, a tidal wave of violence crashing against their fragile defenses.

Beomseok emerged from the shadows, calm and terrifying. His eyes locked onto Suho.

“You think you can destroy what I built?” His voice was a low growl. “You’re still just a boy playing with fire.”

Suho’s response was a roar as he charged, but Beomseok was faster, blocking the blow and countering with brutal strikes.

Sieun joined, landing a fierce kick that sent Beomseok staggering.

The three clashed, a whirlwind of fists, fury, and desperation.

Around them, the battle raged on.

Baku and Hyuntak held off waves of attackers, their loyalty unwavering.

The Union’s grip was strong, but cracks began to form.

Beomseok’s face twisted with rage and disbelief as Sieun landed a solid punch—the one he’d never been able to throw before.

“You—”

But before he could finish, Suho landed a crushing blow to Beomseok’s jaw.

The boss faltered, stumbling back.

Sieun and Suho moved in unison, each strike fueled by years of pain and hope.

At last, Beomseok collapsed, defeated but alive.

The Union’s forces, witnessing their leader’s fall, began to falter and scatter.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Suho and Sieun stood, battered and bruised, breathing hard.

“This is just the beginning,” Sieun said quietly, looking at Suho.

Suho nodded. “But it’s a start.”

Baku and Hyuntak joined them, tired but victorious.
The echo of gunfire and shouting faded slowly as the first blaring sirens pierced through the thick morning air. Police vehicles screeched to a halt outside the crumbling industrial complex, their blue and red lights flashing in a chaotic dance against the cracked concrete walls. Reinforcements poured in, officers swiftly securing the perimeter and storming inside to contain what remained of the Union’s forces.

Suho, Sieun, Baku, and Hyuntak lay on the cold ground, bruised, battered, and gasping for air. Their bodies ached with every movement, muscles trembling under the weight of exhaustion and pain. But none of that mattered as long as they were alive—alive and free.

“I’m here,” Suho whispered, voice rough but steady, shifting his weight to pull himself closer to Sieun’s side.

Sieun gave a weak smile, eyes fluttering but bright with relief. “You came back,” he murmured.

“Never leaving you,” Suho vowed, gripping Sieun’s hand tightly.

Paramedics rushed over, assessing injuries with practiced efficiency. Baku groaned softly, clutching his side where a jagged cut bled through his shirt. Hyuntak’s head lolled as he struggled to stay conscious, but his eyes focused fiercely on Suho and Sieun.

Suho barely registered the pain shooting through his ribs as a paramedic carefully lifted him onto a stretcher. His hand remained entwined with Sieun’s as they were both carefully loaded into the ambulance, the harsh fluorescent lights blurring the edges of the chaos around them.

Throughout the ride, Suho never let go. His eyes never left Sieun’s face—watching the faint rise and fall of his chest, catching every small breath, every flicker of discomfort.

At the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air. Nurses and doctors swirled around them like a well-rehearsed storm, tending to wounds and stabilizing broken bodies. Suho sat beside Sieun’s bed, fingers still intertwined, refusing to leave his side even as the medical team worked.

Sieun’s skin was pale, sweat clinging to his forehead, but when their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them—a quiet strength, a shared promise that no matter how dark the night, they would face the dawn together.

Hours blurred into each other. The sterile white walls witnessed Suho’s quiet vigil, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a constant anchor in the uncertainty. Nurses came and went, offering tired smiles, but Suho remained immovable, his presence a shield around Sieun.

At one point, Sieun stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. “Suho…”

“I’m right here,” Suho answered softly, brushing damp hair from Sieun’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Sieun whispered, voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For not letting me fall apart. For fighting with me. For... everything.”

Suho smiled, heart swelling. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re in this together.”

Outside the hospital room, the world carried on—police questioning witnesses, investigations unfolding, news crews buzzing with the story of the Union’s downfall. But inside this small room, time slowed to the beat of two hearts, healing and hope intertwined.

As the night deepened, Suho finally allowed himself to rest—still holding Sieun’s hand, the promise of tomorrow holding them both steady.
The sterile hum of the hospital machines filled the quiet room, but it was the steady rhythm of Suho’s heartbeat that anchored Sieun in the moments when the pain and fear threatened to overwhelm him. Days bled into nights, marked by IV drips and physical therapy sessions, but through it all, Suho never left his side.

His hand was always there—sometimes gripping tightly in reassurance, other times simply brushing away a stray lock of hair or tracing gentle circles on Sieun’s arm. The bruises on Sieun’s skin faded slowly, but the scars beneath were harder to heal.

“You’re getting stronger every day,” Suho murmured one afternoon as Sieun struggled to lift his leg during therapy. Sweat dotted his forehead, eyes flickering with frustration.

“I feel like I’m moving through molasses,” Sieun grumbled, teeth clenched against the burn.

Suho smiled softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from Sieun’s face. “Slowly, but surely. You don’t have to rush. I’m here.”

Sieun’s lips twitched in a weary smile, the smallest spark of hope igniting.

Outside the sterile hospital walls, the world was moving too—quietly, steadily, towards justice. Baku and Hyuntak, though battered themselves, worked with the authorities, giving testimonies that chipped away at the Union’s reign. Their efforts were the first glimmers of change.

Back in the room, the emotional scars were more stubborn. Nights were often punctuated by Sieun’s restless tossing, whispers of Suho’s name spilling through the dark. The shadows of nightmares lingered long after the dawn.

One night, as the moonlight filtered through the blinds, Sieun’s voice broke the silence.

“Suho... what if it never ends? What if they keep coming?”

Suho tightened his hold on Sieun’s hand, his voice low but unwavering. “Then we keep standing. Together. They can’t break what we have.”

Sieun looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears but burning with fierce determination.

“I’m scared,” he admitted softly. “But I’m not giving up.”

“And I’m not giving to lose you,” Suho whispered back.

Weeks passed. The hospital gave way to a rehabilitation center, then finally their familiar dorm room—changed now, but still home.

Simple victories marked their progress. Sieun’s first unaided steps around the room, the laughter they shared over burnt toast in the kitchen, the quiet evenings spent watching the sunset from the rooftop.

One evening, as the sky blazed in soft orange and pink hues, Sieun leaned against Suho, voice barely above a whisper.

“Many tomorrows,” he said.

Suho wrapped his arm tightly around him, pulling him close.

“Not just many,” he said with a small smile. “Endless.”

They were no longer just survivors of a brutal past. They were fighters—shaped by pain but not defined by it. Side by side, hand in hand, they faced the future with quiet strength.

And for the first time in a long time, the promise of tomorrow was no longer a question, but a certainty.