Chapter Text
"You haven't been sleeping again."
Seungsik says this while cleaning his kitchen, using a rag to scrub the dishes from Subin’s breakfast. Like the rest of the house, the dining area is small but well-kept, and all the belongings are mismatched, but still taken care of.
Seungwoo wishes that he would let him buy more things for them. But Seungsik has always been uncomfortable accepting too much, and it’s too much for Seungwoo to say that one of his few joys comes from caring for the two of them.
Seungsik looks over his shoulder as he’s met with silence. “Seungwoo.”
Seungwoo sighs and shrugs, stirring the cup of coffee in front of him with a spoon. Begrudgingly, he admits it’s the one product he actually enjoys from the Capitol. He's been stashing some at Seungsik's place because he usually ends up there several times a week.
"Why haven't you told me?"
Seungwoo looks past him out the window, blinking his tired eyes. Outside, children are playing, the sounds of their exaggerated shouts muffled through the thin walls of Seam housing. He remembers when Subin was that little, content to play with sticks and rocks, not yet fully aware of the poverty he was surrounded by.
"Didn't want you to worry."
"I always worry," Seungsik retorts, giving him a bit of a stink eye.
Seungwoo huffs a laugh, picking up his mug and taking another sip of his coffee. Seungsik comes over, pulling back a chair.
“Let me try,” he says, pulling the mug from Seungwoo’s hands. Seungwoo huffs, rolling his eyes. Seungsik takes a sip only to make the same expression he always does, eyebrows pinching together while his nose scrunches up in distaste.
Cute.
“You never like it,” Seungwoo says, “I don’t know why you insist on trying every time.”
“Tastes can change.”
“Not in a week.”
“It smells good! Why does it smell so good only to taste so…” Seungsik licks his lips, searching for the right word. He grimaces. “Awful.”
“You’re just mad that you don’t like it.”
“It’s bitter,” Seungsik pouts, slouching down onto the table as he pushes the mug back, staring at him with sad puppy eyes. Even Seungwoo can’t help but smile at his sulking.
“Here.” Seungwoo gets up, moving to his pantry. “Try this.”
He grabs the small jar of sugar that Seungsik keeps on the top shelf away from Subin’s reach (even though Seungwoo has caught his on the step stool, dipping a finger inside. He pinky promised not to tell Seungsik as long Subin promised to stop stealing sugar without asking.)
He adds a spoonful to his coffee, giving it a few stirs before handing it back to Seungsik. “Try now.”
Seungsik looks skeptical but retakes the cup, leading it to his lips for a small sip. His brown eyes brighten as he swallows.
“Oh, that’s better,” he says, putting the cup on the table. “Waste of sugar, though.”
Watching Seungsik smile, Seungwoo doesn’t see it that way.
Seungsik moves to push it back, but Seungwoo stops him, making a noise. He stands up to make a new cup. “I don’t like it sweet. You can finish that one for me.”
“Oh.” Seungsik looks a little surprised, looking down at the mug. “You didn’t have to…”
“I’ll just make another,” Seungwoo says, putting the kettle back on the stove to boil so he can pour the hot water over the fresh grounds. “I’m going to need a second cup anyway.”
Seungsik stays quiet, watching him move about the kitchen. Seungwoo already knows where everything is. He’s spent enough time here since he was a young teen that he knows Seungsik’s small house better than his mansion. He grew up in Seam housing himself. Being here will always feels more like home than the Victor’s Village ever could.
“It helps you stay awake, right?” Seungsik asks. “Drinking this.”
Seungwoo hums a yes, aware of the bags under his eyes and how jittery he’s been from the caffeine.
"If you’re having trouble sleeping…” Seungsik trails off, suddenly looking hesitant. "Maybe we could do what we did when you first got home. After you won."
Realzing what he means, Seungwoo stops. Flashes of bruised skin appear in his mind. He nearly drops the new mug in his hand. Never again, he had said. Never.
“Seungwoo?”
The kettle whistles, making him jump, but it pulls him out of the flashback.
"No," Seungwoo says, shaking his head. He turns and moves the kettle from the stove. “I’ll be fine.”
"Seungwoo." Seungsik stands up. "I trust you."
"You shouldn’t." Seungwoo looks back just to see the hurt flash across Seungsik’s face. His tone is too harsh in his panic, and he immediately feels guilty. He recalibrates, trying to think of a better excuse. "And… what about Subin?"
“We can work something out... Sejun could watch him, or maybe he can stay over too."
"Would he want to?"
"He’s getting old enough to stay here alone," Seungsik says, stubbornness beginning to show. It’s moments like these when he and Subin get that same glint in their eyes, and Seungwoo can really see how they’re brothers. “If he’s okay with it… then I could be too.”
“You’re sure?”
"You won't hurt me."
Seungwoo clenches his jaw, looking down at the floor. There’s one floorboard that’s sticking up more than the rest. Seungwoo should try to fix it.
Seungsik steps even closer, touching his arm and brushing down to his wrist. It draws his eyes back up, seeing the complete sincerity of Sik’s gaze.
"You won't."
Seungwoo wishes he had the same confidence Seungsik seems to have in him. The thought of letting him down sinks into his stomach, anxiety making his hands twitch. But then he thinks back to how easily he fell asleep when he came home with Seungsik pressed into his side just a few weeks ago. How no nightmares had plagued him. He could finally sleep.
Seungwoo jumps as Seungsik grabs his hand, warm hands sliding between his fingers.
Seungsik tilts his head, worrying, making his brown eyes extra dewy.
"Just one night?"
Seungwoo swallows, letting himself squeeze back onto Seungsik’s hand. Seungsik smiles, returning it, easing the twisting of the knot in his stomach.
“Okay,” Seungwoo agrees. “One night.”
~
"You think you can get away, Twelve?"
Seungwoo runs, sprinting as fast as he can through the thick underbrush in the field. Laughs and jeers echo around, sounds coming from all directions. The tall grass is too high to see above, but he can hear rustling all around, heightened by the blood that's pounding in his ears.
There's no good place to hide out in the field, but if he runs fast enough, maybe he can make the river and hide in the rocky hills, maybe he can-
He slams into a body, sending them both tumbling to the ground. He gasps, trying to get his bearings as he's shoved into the ground, a girl straddling his waist above him. He uses all the momentum they still have to roll over more, pushing her down underneath him.
He grabs her throat, not even seeing who it is below. All he knew was that he was being hunted, and if they got him-
He crushes her throat in with one sickening slam of his palm, only then realizing that the girl under him wasn't from the career pack but the girl from District 11.
"Seungwoo!"
A canon sounds, and when he blinks again, it's not the girl from 11 but Subin instead, throat sunken in and blood pouring from his mouth, covering Seungwoo's hands in warm, oozing, black liquid-
"Wake up!"
Hands shove at his shoulders, and Seungwoo screams, pushing back whoever is there to kill him, heart pounding and shoved up his throat. Sobbing, he wrestles them down in the darkness, scrambling for the knife he keeps with him.
"Seung-" A hand pushes roughly at his face, gasping underneath when Seungwoo's hands find his throat, squeezing. And that's when he feels a blanket tangled around his legs, no cold wind against his face, just...
Under him. Seungsik. Under his hands.
He lets go of Seungsik like he’s been burned, scrambling back in a panic. Seungsik gasps for breath, his cough hitting Seungwoo’s ears hard and ugly now that the air is reaching his lungs. Seungwoo can't believe what he's done.
"Sik-" Seungwoo tries to say, but it comes out as a sob, and that's when he realizes he's crying. He's crying, and he can't stop. "Sik... Oh- Oh my god."
“Seung…” Seungsik tries to talk, reaching out, but his voice croaks horridly, and his hand snaps to his throat, eyes teary from pain.
Seungwoo can’t look at him. Can’t face what he’s done. He stumbles out of bed, bursting into the hallway as he tries to run. He can't even comprehend it. How his hands were on Seungsik's neck, strangling the life out of him. Just like he did to the District 11 girl.
His knees hit the floor, slumping against the banister of the staircase. How easy would it have been for him to kill him? To feel the vertebrae snap under his hands? Seungwoo heaves, horrified that he knows exactly how it would feel to do it. Bones crunching like dried leaves under his hands.
Only to realize his mistake a moment later - Seungsik’s vacant eyes gazing past him, through him.
Once a killer, always a killer, Seungwoo thinks, shaking as he collapses against one of the vacant walls. He can’t let Seungsik near him again. He’s not safe to be around. Has proven that no matter how precious someone might be, he couldn’t trust himself not to hurt them.
Never again, he swears. It could never happen again.
~
But what if it did?
"Hey."
Seungsik waves his hand in front of his face.
“You sure you want me to do this?"
Seungwoo shakes himself from his trance, returning to pulling at the bedsheets to get inside.
"It was your idea, wasn't it?" he grumbles.
Seungsik hums as he helps him.
"Yes, it was my idea,” Seungsik sighs as he looks down, “but if you truly don't want me here… I'll go."
Please, don’t.
Seungwoo can’t ignore the strike of fear at the thought of sleeping without Seungsik there next to him. He would just stay awake rather than be trapped in endless nightmares, tearing him apart under his skin.
He’s entirely selfish. Seungwoo so clearly remembers bruises that marred Seungsik’s neck after the last time he stayed over like this two years ago. He hurt him. There’s no promise he can make that would guarantee that he wouldn’t again. And yet, Seungsik still trusts him. He can’t believe it still. He doesn’t feel worthy of such trust. Not at all.
Seungsik who offered his help without hesitance. He was too pure for Seungwoo’s marred and tortured soul. Seungwoo worries about tainting him. Of ruining that bright light inside his dearest friend.
But maybe things had changed. Two years ago, Seungsik wasn’t as tall, but now he’s closing in even more to Seungwoo’s height. His face was thin like all Seam kids but now seems more shaped, his jawline becoming more defined, his cheeks losing that hint of childhood that clung for so long.
Time had passed. Maybe it had healed the wounds that Seungwoo had torn open.
“I want you here,” Seungwoo says. And he can’t ignore how his heart aches at the hope that appears on Seungsik’s face. “Of course, I do.”
Seungsik smiles at him, almost looking shy. He’s borrowing the silky pajamas from the Capitol that Seungwoo refuses to wear. They're baggy on his thin frame, but the deep blue looks strangely beautiful against his skin. Like he was made for finery. And Seungwoo wants to shower him in it.
“Good,” Seungsik murmurs. He lets himself get under the covers now, quietly pleased by Seungwoo’s admission. The shirt continues to prove itself to be too big as it sags more to one side as he adjusts. It gives a pull view of Seungsik’s protruding collarbone and the curve of his neck to his shoulder.
Seungwoo wishes that he would let him feed him more. Help more with food. He’s certain that all his gifts go straight to Subin’s school lunches. Seungsik would give Subin the world before he gave himself an inch of it.
He was so much like his mother. Seungwoo wishes that she could be there for him still. Seungsik is forced to be both parents for his brother now.
“Come on, get comfy,” Seungsik urges, and Seungwoo joins him in his bed. The plush comforter and solid mattress still feel foreign to him after all these years. He’s come to avoid this bed and the memories it promises to haunt him with. Wealth rewarded from the blood of others.
It must be strange how quickly it feels like home when Seungsik moves close and presses against his shoulder. How at ease he feels just to hear his calm, slow breathing. The exhaustion he’s held off for days, weeks, hits him like a wall and he suddenly can’t feel the urge to resist closing his eyes, pressing into Seungsik’s warmth for comfort, for peace.
“Sleep,” Seungsik murmurs, his hand rubbing Seungwoo’s chest. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Seungwoo lets himself sleep and prays he doesn’t regret it.