Chapter Text
The night he’d spent in his own bed with Suho, after everything that had happened between them on the trip, had been the most beautiful of Sieun’s life. Or at least, the most beautiful he could remember, after so many years of sleepless, restless nights. He had woken up to the sound of the alarm clock on his nightstand, annoying for the first time ever, with Suho’s arm wrapped around his waist and Suho’s sleeping face so close to his that their noses almost touched.
Suho’s lips were slightly parted, his hair a mess; at some point during the night Sieun’s pajama top had slipped open on him, exposing the shoulder blades beneath his golden skin, skin now kissed by the sunlight already filtering in through a gap in the dark curtains. He kept sleeping despite the deafening alarm, and something about it sparked a tenderness in Sieun, a feeling he hadn’t really known before meeting him.
After turning the alarm off, he woke Suho by gently shaking him and calling his name.
When Sieun woke up, his brain switched on the exact second he opened his eyes, whereas Suho woke in a haze, blinking as if he didn’t recognize who he was or where he’d ended up. That, too, made Sieun fond.
He made breakfast while Suho washed up, then watched him head out to work, wearing one of Sieun’s T-shirts under his windbreaker. When the door closed behind him, Sieun thought it had all been so beautiful, so ordinary and therefore extraordinary, that it should never happen again.
He couldn’t let himself get used to sleeping in Suho’s arms, to having Suho’s scent on his pillow, to waking up just to make him breakfast, because losing that kind of everyday softness would hurt too much. Not that he didn’t trust Suho: he knew Suho would never abandon him on purpose; if Sieun asked, he’d probably come right back. But they weren’t the only two people in the world.
Sieun’s father often came home without warning, and Sieun doubted he’d react well to finding Suho in their house, in his son’s bed, with their arms around each other. And then there was Beomseok.
How would he take it if he found out they were seeing each other when he wasn’t there? Sieun couldn’t allow that. No matter how much he wanted it; no matter how necessary Suho had become to him.
So he didn’t invite Suho over again that Sunday. He simply thought about him all night, wishing morning would come quickly so he could see him again at school and, at the same time, dreading facing Beomseok and finding him still as cold as ice.
At school, Suho slept with his head on his desk through the entire first half of the morning. Every now and then, between classes, Sieun turned to look at him, feeling a pang of sympathy for the way his neck was bent. He’d definitely pay for that unnatural position when he went to work after school.
Even though Sieun often worried about him, he didn’t really know how to help except by inviting him to sleep over, which was out of the question, so he focused instead on “Operation: Manage Beomseok.”
Beomseok had arrived late that morning, with dark violet shadows under his eyes and skin so pale it looked powdered: he still seemed feverish. Sieun had wracked his brain trying to figure out how to approach him without making him feel judged, and finally decided the best strategy was not to look at him too much. Even if Suho seemed to think otherwise, Sieun knew that his eyes and his steady, unblinking way of staring unsettled people. It was a weapon he’d used often, to make others uncomfortable so they’d leave him alone.
So he let Beomseok sit beside him without analyzing him too closely, forcing himself not to watch his every move or expression during class. Only when the teacher dismissed them for break did Sieun turn to ask how he was feeling. Beomseok answered in monosyllables, putting Sieun at a loss.
Usually it was Sieun who answered like that, to cut conversations short when he disliked them, and because it wasn’t always easy for him to think of what to say, even with Beomseok. Still, he made an effort to exchange a few words about the math lesson, if only to give their interaction a semblance of normality, even though he felt like some kind of robot pretending to be human.
During the second break, Beomseok finally spoke. He leaned in with his head tucked between rounded shoulders, hunching forward on his chair, and under the chatter of classmates stretching and talking, he quietly asked, “Did Suho… say anything?”
A tremor ran through Sieun, something he couldn’t name. Of course, he thought. Beomseok didn’t care about his forced small talk or stupid opinions. He had probably spent the entire weekend torturing himself over what Suho might be thinking of him. And now the only thing that could ease him would be having Suho there in Sieun’s place.
“No,” Sieun answered honestly, because he and Suho hadn’t talked about Beomseok at all; Suho had been working, and when they were together they’d thought about everything but him. Guilt washed over him.
Beomseok looked relieved for a second, but then his face twisted in pained disappointment. In Sieun’s head echoed the words: “He barely even sees me.”
At lunchtime, while Beomseok went to wash his hands, Sieun went to wake Suho. He poked him in the arm and Suho jolted upright as if Sieun had hit him with a taser. Then, realizing who had disturbed him, he smiled, rubbing his stiff neck with one hand.
“What a sight first thing in the morning…” he said, winking. Sieun flushed and glanced around to make sure no one had heard, but luckily the classroom was already emptying as everyone headed to the cafeteria.
“It’s actually lunchtime, idiot.”
“Even better. Seeing you always makes me hungry.” Another wink.
“Suho, could you talk to Beomseok when he gets back? He’s worried about what happened on the trip,” he blurted out, abruptly changing the subject to avoid dying of embarrassment. “I’ll wait for you two in the cafeteria.”
Suho grabbed his wrist as if to stop him, even though Sieun hadn’t shown any intention of leaving yet. He gave him a puzzled look, like he didn’t remember what Sieun was referring to. “Worried about what? Did something else happen this weekend?”
“No, he’s just afraid he embarrassed himself in front of us.” Sieun was careful not to emphasize the fact that Beomseok cared very little about his own opinion. “I already talked to him, so if you can, please, just reassure him it’s not as big a deal as he thinks.”
Suho raised an eyebrow, as if the whole thing was hard to grasp, and it probably was. For someone like him, who wasn’t used to living tangled in his own paranoia the way Beomseok did, or even Sieun himself, imagining that a tiny mistake could become a catastrophe must have been difficult.
“Okay,” he said finally, shrugging. “But why don’t you stay too? We can all go to lunch together after.”
Sieun thought that Beomseok wouldn’t like talking to Suho under his watchful gaze. He would probably want Suho’s undivided attention in that moment, so he shook his head. “I’m going to grab a seat,” he said, slipping free of Suho’s hand.
At the cafeteria, while he waited, he merely pushed the food around on his plate, too worried to feel even the faint hunger he usually had at that hour. He finally relaxed when Suho walked in with an arm around Beomseok’s shoulders. Beomseok, whose expression had at last returned to its pre–field trip calm. If Sieun had possessed even a sliver less self-control, he would’ve run into Suho’s arms.
The two of them approached, chatting, their trays full of food, and without a word Sieun dumped the sausages he’d grabbed onto Suho’s plate.
“They were running out and you weren’t here yet,” he explained with a small shrug, under Suho’s incredulous stare.
“Oh, Oh Beom, help!” Suho clutched Beomseok’s hand and pressed it to his chest. “I think Sieun just gave me a heart attack.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” Sieun muttered automatically. Still, he noticed the way Beomseok flinched at Suho’s touch, and the nervous laugh that escaped him.
Suho, for his part, began to eat with his cheeks puffed out like a hamster.
Suho was in the habit of giving Sieun a ride to cram school on his scooter before heading to work, but that day he left ahead of both him and Beomseok, hurrying out to cover an unplanned shift at the restaurant. He exchanged a regretful glance with Sieun before leaving: Sieun hated knowing Suho wouldn’t get a moment’s rest until nightfall, and that he’d end up sleeping uncomfortably again.
Beomseok waved to him with a smile before climbing into the car his father sent every day to pick him up from school. Sieun studied that smile to see if there was anything hidden underneath it, but it just seemed distracted. He hoped Suho had managed to untangle his insecurities, Sieun certainly trusted him to.
Then he headed to the bus stop that would take him home, alone, something that hadn’t happened in a while. He walked with his eyes on his feet, lost in thought, torn between leftover worry about Beomseok and thoughts of Suho: how much he wanted to help him, and how much he wished Suho were there with him.
He crashed abruptly into someone standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and would have been knocked backward if the person hadn’t grabbed him by the arm. That someone was a massive boy in another school’s uniform, sweating profusely, grinning ear to ear: Baku.
“Sieun! What luck!” he exclaimed, still gripping his arm. “I ran like crazy to get here in time.”
“In time to ruin my day,” Sieun muttered, pulling out of his grasp.
“Where’s Beomseok? He’s not answering my DMs!” Baku peered at him suspiciously, as if Sieun might be hiding Beomseok in his backpack.
“You missed him. He went home.”
“Damn it! Well, if he was at school today at least he’s alive…”
“You were worried about him?”
“Of course I was, geez! I didn’t think it was anything serious, but he looked really down, and the fact he didn’t answer me… I sent him like thirty messages and he didn’t even open them!” He scrubbed a hand down his face like he was exhausted.
Sieun was taken aback by that display of concern. From someone like Baku, he wouldn’t have expected such attention toward someone like Beomseok. Maybe, he thought, he’d been underestimating Baku all along, probably because of his own habit of not giving anyone the slightest chance, a habit long ingrained in him.
“He’s fine,” he replied. “I’ll tell him to check your messages.”
“Sieun,” Baku said, touching his eyes as if wiping away tears, “you’re so sweet… don’t tell me I’m starting to melt the ice princess?”
Sieun instantly regretted lowering his guard and shoved past him, though, predictably, it didn’t budge Baku an inch. And of course, Baku followed, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Well, since Beomseok isn’t here, how about I treat you to dinner?”
“It’s four in the afternoon.”
“By the time we get to the place I want to take you, it’ll be dinner time.”
“Planning to have dinner in Busan?”
Baku burst out laughing. “You’re priceless.”
“Leave me alone. I’ve got cram school.”
“Aren’t you scared your head will explode if you cram too much in there? Come on, grab something to eat with me.”
Sieun rolled his eyes, thinking that he certainly would never have that problem. “If I go along with you, will you take your arm off me?”
“Absolutely, sir,” Baku said, stepping back to give him a military salute.
The place Baku wanted to take him was on the other side of the city: with traffic and bus transfers, it took them nearly two hours to get there. It was a fried chicken restaurant, and the only word Sieun would have used to describe it was greasy.
There was a thick oily smell in the air, and every surface in the place was a little sticky. Sieun was tempted to put a tissue on the chair before sitting, and only didn’t because he didn’t have one.
The restaurant was empty except for a scowling man behind the counter who greeted them with a series of irritated grunts.
“Back again?” he barked at Baku, who was already ordering without even asking Sieun what he wanted. Sieun didn’t mind: he wouldn’t have eaten anyway, and he already felt like he was wasting enough time.
“I brought a new friend. Can you make the usual?” Baku winked at Sieun over his shoulder; Sieun looked away, fixing his eyes on the farthest wall.
“You’re always making new friends and never studying or working, aren’t you ashamed?” the man snapped, forcing Sieun to look back. “And if you want something to eat, make it yourself!”
Baku gave Sieun an okay sign and ducked behind the counter to prepare whatever “the usual” was. The man popped open a beer, sat down, muttering, and turned up the radio.
When Baku returned to the table with two plates of fried chicken wings and assorted sauces, Sieun asked, “Is that your father?”
Baku smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. He’s a little stressed about the business, that’s why…” He didn’t finish the sentence, stuffing his mouth with a chicken wing dipped in ketchup that Sieun was apparently meant to share.
Sieun couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but something about Baku’s hesitation and the nervous way he touched his neck told him he was uncomfortable. He wondered why Baku had brought him here to see his father, what he wanted from him…
Despite his promise not to eat, both for hygienic reasons and because he wasn’t hungry, he forced himself to take a chicken wing and bite into it. It tasted like oil, but Baku’s relieved, encouraging smile told him it had been the right move.
Baku ended up eating the leftovers on Sieun’s plate as well. The way he devoured his food reminded Sieun of Suho, just without the tenderness he associated with Suho chewing with his cheeks full.
He watched Baku, trying to read some clue about what he wanted, but Baku didn’t give much away. He just kept talking about basketball and comics, a stream of chatter Sieun only half-followed.
When it was time to leave, Baku brought the plates back to the counter.
“You’re leaving them here?” his father asked, wearing a sour expression that made Sieun uneasy.
“I’m going to walk Sieun to the bus stop.”
“Sure, feed your friends for free and then I have to clean up your mess!” the man snapped, leaning over the counter to smack the back of his son’s head.
Sieun felt his stomach twist. He shoved a hand into his pocket, took out his wallet, pulled out the money his father gave him for groceries, and placed all of it on the counter between Baku and his father, both stunned.
“It wasn’t even good,” Sieun said, icy and steady. “And maybe you should learn to clean your own place before yelling at your son.”
He held the man’s gaze a few seconds longer than necessary, then grabbed Baku by the arm and dragged him outside. The man began shouting something after them, but Sieun shut the door behind him without looking back.
Baku followed in silence until Sieun had turned a corner and the restaurant was out of sight. There, on the street leading to his bus stop, he finally stopped and turned to face him. Baku still looked stunned.
“What do you want from me?” Sieun asked, blunt and direct.
Baku stared at him as if a third eye had suddenly opened on his forehead. “What?”
“Why do you keep bothering me? And why did you bring me to that place?”
Baku let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re unbelievable…” half amused, half impressed.
“If you’re not going to answer, I’m leaving,” Sieun said, starting to turn away, but Baku stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, withdrawing it immediately, which was very unlike him.
“Sorry. It’s just… I like you. A lot,” Baku said, casual but with a thin layer of embarrassment. “And I didn’t want you to walk away thinking I’m some kind of jerk.”
This time it was Sieun who froze, breath caught, body stiffening as if he were turning to ice. An alarm blared in his brain, making it impossible to think clearly, except for the sudden, desperate wish that Suho would appear from some random alley right now and pull him out of this.
“The way you saved Juntae was really cool, and when you defended Beomseok from me… I mean, I was kinda offended, but also like, wow, this guy’s cool, you know?” Baku kept explaining, gesturing animatedly, as if Sieun hadn’t just turned to stone in front of him.
“What are you even saying?” Sieun finally hissed, trying to find words definitive enough to convey how absolutely unacceptable this situation was.
“Hey, don’t make that face,” Baku said, finally noticing Sieun’s expression, one Sieun himself wasn’t fully aware of; he’d lost control of his muscles from the shock. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. I just want us to be friends.” He finished with a hopeful smile.
No one had ever asked to be Sieun’s friend. Suho and Beomseok simply became his friends; they never asked outright. Hearing it stated so plainly confused him. He’d been rude and unwelcoming to Baku so why did Baku want to get closer to him? He wondered whether the boy had some ulterior motive or was simply an idiot and maybe a little masochistic.
“Look, let’s do this: give me your phone,” Baku said, cutting off his spiraling thoughts and holding out his hand.
“Why should I?”
“I’ll put my number in it, and then you can think about it. If you want, you call me.”
Sieun really wanted to leave and get this mortifying situation behind him, so he could think clearly without the sense of imminent danger creeping up his spine. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Baku, who raised his fist in triumph as if he’d won a major battle.
Sieun rolled his eyes, embarrassed.
Baku handed the phone back; Sieun saw he had saved the contact as “Humin,” with a basketball emoji and a flaming heart. He snorted and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“If I don’t call you, this is the last time we see each other, right?” he asked. He didn’t mean to be harsh, which was why Baku’s reaction, furrowed brows and a slightly trembling lower lip, caught him off guard.
“Wow. You really think I’m the worst, huh?” he said, sounding almost wounded. Against his will, Sieun felt guilty. Annoying as he was, Baku had never actually done anything bad.
“I just want to know whether you’re going to pretend to look for Beomseok again as an excuse to show up in front of our school,” Sieun clarified, hoping to ease the tension.
But Baku’s eyes widened, and he let out an incredulous laugh. “Look, I really did go for Beomseok, princess. Not everything revolves around you.”
Sieun narrowed his eyes, irritated, biting back the urge to point out that he was the one dragged across the city just to be told Baku liked him. Of course he might think unflattering things about Baku.
“Fine,” he said, careful to reveal nothing in his voice, and started walking toward the bus stop. Baku shouted after him to watch out for cars, but Sieun was already far enough away to pretend he hadn’t heard.
The area Baku had taken him to looked decidedly run-down and rough. Sieun had already noticed the peeling walls, trash bags left in front of houses, and groups of kids, even younger than him, smoking and shouting in the alleys.
On the bus, an older woman had practically leapt away in fear when a tall, hooded boy dressed head-to-toe in black got too close. Sieun kept his backpack clutched on his knees the whole ride, avoiding his erabuds so he could stay alert.
When he reached his stop, he started walking home. He thought about what Baku had told him, wondering if his interest in Beomseok could actually be genuine… It would be a disaster if Beomseok realized Baku was only messaging him to get closer to Sieun. He didn’t even want to imagine that possibility.
As he walked with his eyes on his shoes, someone shouted. Sieun glanced over his shoulder: a man in a suit, coffee stain on his shirt and a cup in hand, was yelling at someone who had bumped into him. Sieun immediately recognized the target of the insults: the boy in black from the bus.
He ignored the man and kept walking in Sieun’s direction, though on the opposite sidewalk.
Maybe it was a coincidence, but a heavy feeling settled in Sieun’s stomach. He turned into a side street he knew would take him away from home. He’d taken only a few steps when he noticed the stranger turning onto the same street.
Hard to deny, then, that he was being followed.
Sieun kept the same steady pace as before, but continued ducking into one random side street after another, the hooded stranger always a few steps behind. After turning into yet another unfamiliar street, he spotted a small fruit shop still open and slipped inside, positioning himself out of sight from the road.
Pretending to check the lemons, hidden by the shelves, he watched the stranger enter the same street, stop, scan the area for him, then move on, this time at a faster pace.
Sieun waited about ten minutes to make sure he didn’t return, and only left when the shop owner snapped at him to buy something or get out.
If the stranger had wanted to rob him, he’d had every chance to catch up to him, but he hadn’t. The only explanation left was that he wanted to see where Sieun was going, and the thought chilled him to the bone.
He reached home with trembling hands, shutting the door behind him as if he were still being chased. His head was a spiral of unsettling thoughts he couldn’t untangle, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. He crawled onto the bed, tossing his backpack and school jacket to the floor and loosening his tie to breathe.
He grabbed his phone, instinctively opening his chat with Suho, though he didn’t have the courage to type anything.
He didn’t need to, because a message bubble appeared right then.
Suho had written: “I’m on break, can I call you?”
Sieun let out a breath of relief. “Yes,” he typed.
He answered on the first ring, pressing the phone to his ear as if it were Suho himself.
“Hey,” Suho said, sounding a little tired, but as if he were smiling.
“Hi,” Sieun replied, hoping he sounded normal.
“You just got home? Sorry I didn’t come pick you up after cram school, they’re basically holding me hostage here. There’s a birthday group and they’re drinking like Vikings. I don’t even want to imagine what the bathroom’s gonna look like tonight…”
Sieun’s lips curved into a small, unconscious smile just from hearing Suho’s cadence and his deep voice. And also because he felt relieved: Suho was somewhere far away, somewhere the man who followed him could never see him, never connect the two of them, never target Suho because of him. The thought was unbearable, far worse than anything that could happen to him personally.
“Suho, don’t overdo it. Don’t tire yourself out,” he said, imagining running a hand through his hair.
Suho let out a soft laugh. “Mhm. If I were there with you, you wouldn’t let me get tired, right? You’d take care of me?”
“Yes,” Sieun answered simply, even though Suho had only been teasing him.
Suho sighed. There was some rustling, footsteps, then he spoke again, very quietly, almost a whisper. “I really wish I were there. Every time we’re not together I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve made me completely obsessed with you, Sieun.”
Sieun held his breath. His heart started pounding again in his throat, this time for a completely different reason. His hand on the phone began to sweat.
“I think about you all the time too,” he whispered back, even though there was no one else at home who could hear him.
“Good. I don’t want you thinking about anyone else. I want you obsessed with me too. Is that too selfish?”
“If you are, then I am too.”
“Sieun, I’ve only got a few minutes left. I want to hear your voice: tell me something.”
Sieun hesitated, caught off guard. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me what you did in cram school.”
Sieun looked down at his crossed legs, switched the phone to his other hand, and confessed, “I didn’t go.”
“Why? Are you feeling sick?” Suho sounded immediately alarmed.
“No,” Sieun reassured him quickly, “It’s just… when you and Beomseok left, I ran into Baku. He took me to get something to eat.”
Suho sounded confused. “Baku? The guy from the trip? The one from Eunjang?”
Sieun made a small sound of confirmation.
“And what was he doing there? Eunjang is on the other side of Seoul.”
Sieun decided right then not to tell him about Baku’s… ambiguity, or what they’d talked about. It didn’t feel right to say it over the phone when Suho would have to go back to work any second. And he didn’t tell him about the man who had followed him either, because the idea that Suho might take some reckless initiative, put himself in danger because of it, terrified him to the point he felt he couldn’t breathe.
“He was looking for Beomseok, just wanted to know how he was doing,” he answered.
“Oh, that’s nice of him,” Suho said, approving. “Sounds like he’s a decent guy after all, right?”
“Mhm,” Sieun murmured, completely unconvincing. If Suho noticed, he didn’t have the chance to ask: someone called his name on the other end. Sieun heard it clearly through the line.
“Shit, I have to go back in,” Suho groaned.
“Text me when you’re done.”
“It’ll be late, you’ll probably be asleep.”
Sieun thought. No, I won’t. Not without you. Not without knowing you’re okay and heading to bed too. He knew it from experience.
“It doesn’t matter. Text me anyway.”
“Okay, baby. I’ll do whatever you want,” Suho murmured, his tone playful, the kind he usually paired with a wink.
Sieun pressed a cold hand to his warm cheek.
When the call ended, he let his head fall back onto the pillow. His mind was still restless, foggy, but Suho had lit a warm spark in his stomach that made everything else bearable.