Exit Wounds

by Vitexy

Summary:

San has been stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth until two new neighbors move in across the hallway.

Notes:

Listen. Don't read this. I have no idea what I'm doing.
This is not intended to be triggering or a romantic portrayal of abuse and violence at all, so if you can't handle it please be mature and do not read.

Have any of you ever read or watched Ajin? Because that's basically where this came from. This was originally partially written whenever the fuck that came out but I never finished it and then I fell into whatever the hell hole you guys call ATEEZ (like literally as of last week) and I changed some things and finally finished. So yeah.

Oh boy. This will be one hell of a ride

San discovers the truth about himself by accident really. 

It probably shouldn’t even be all that surprising given his life decisions so far have been a series of mistakes and accidents. He probably should have listened to his mother back in high school when she often voiced her complaints and disapprovals about him dating a man much older than him. He should have heeded his then best friend’s, Wooyoung, warnings about his boyfriend’s paranoid behavior. 

“Why do you have to call him everytime we go somewhere else,” he used to complain whenever they got in his car so they could press on to the next destination. The mall to the movies, the house to a fast food joint. Everywhere they went San would update his boyfriend on who he was with and where he was going next. “Don’t you think it’s weird?” 

“He just wants to know because he cares. Why is it a big deal?” San would reply, mostly ignoring Wooyoung’s questions in favor of dialing his boyfriend’s number. 

“He’s more likely to know exactly what you’re up to than your parents at this point,” Wooyoung grumbled once. It was true, and, in hindsight, San admits that it isn’t normal behavior.

Wooyoung often expressed a distaste for the way his boyfriend would talk to him. The first time Wooyoung had ever heard them interact, San had used his car’s bluetooth to inform his boyfriend that they were going out with some friends to a party. His boyfriend had expressed disapproval, demanding to know how long they would be there, how many people were going to be there, and he didn’t want San going if other guys were going to be there. 

“That’s fucked up,” Wooyoung commented, wrinkling his nose in distaste after San had hung up. 

“What is?” 

“The way he just talked to you,” his friend explained. “I mean it was nice of you to tell him where you were going. And then he responds like that? He can’t tell you not to do something just because other people will be around. That’s ridiculous.” 

“He’s just protective.” 

“Yeah, he’s a stupidly possessive dick who doesn’t trust you not to fuck anything that moves without him around,” Wooyoung grumbles, but San hears him just fine. 

“Wooyoung!” San cries out. “Literally fuck off. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“He doesn’t trust you.” 

“He trusts me just fine. What do you even know? You’ve never met him,” San snapped. That had been the end of that conversation, and San had been careful to never let Wooyoung listen to another conversation again. But he had a point. Wooyoung never had met him, nor would he ever. Whenever he asked, San would brush off the request, insisting that his boyfriend was too busy to meet or that Wooyoung would just feel awkward as a third wheel. He failed to register the knowing, disappointed look Wooyoung always sent him for those excuses. 

The back and forth between them about San’s boyfriend finally boiled over when Wooyoung kept pressing San to break up with him. “He’s not good for you,” his friend insisted. “I hate the way he talks to you. He treats you like a child. He doesn’t trust you at all!” 

Honestly, San can’t really remember his response to Wooyoung. Something about telling Wooyoung to butt out of his business, that he was just jealous because Wooyoung wasn’t dating—no, more importantly, Wooyoung had once admitted to having a crush on him, but San had turned him down. He vaguely remembers accusing his friend of trying to sabotage his relationship just so he could have a chance again. Mostly he remembers when the shocked expression on Wooyoung’s face morphed into one of pain and then anger. He remembers that was the last day Wooyoung ever spoke to him, ever looked at him again. 

“Fine,” his friend had snapped as he gathered up his stuff from the floor of San’s room. They were supposed to have a sleepover that night. “Don’t come crying to me when you realize the guy’s a fucking asshole. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you wound up dead .” Wooyoung hadn’t meant it, San knows. He’d just been trying to drive his point home, that his boyfriend was a controlling asshole, and San needed to dump his ass before something worse happened. Wooyoung never actually believed his boyfriend would kill him. He hated the way the guy talked to his friend, he hated the lack of trust, and, San thinks, he deeply suspected that he was at least verbally abusive, but he probably never thought that it would lead to anything fatal. 

San regrets not listening to those around him. Regrets not heeding the words of people who actually loved him. In retrospect he supposes all the signs of an abusive relationship had been there, and now he’s trapped. 

He wakes up with a gasp, body jerking upward before his falling back to the ground again. Instinctively his hands reach up for his throat, still feeling the ghost of his boyfriend’s grip around it, pressing down, pressing him into the ground, making it harder to breath until his lungs burned and his eyes watered. Faintly he can hear the sound of crying through the ringing in his ears, but he doesn’t even register it too focused on what just happened because—fuck—suffocation has to be one of the most painful ways to die. 

Just as he’s beginning to get his bearings, he hears his name being called over and over again. “San, San, San. Oh my God, you’re alive.” He feels a hand press against his cheek, and he instinctively winces even though there’s no pain. Just moments before he could have sworn he had a bruise from a particularly vicious punch he received. “I’m so sorry,” he continues to weep, stroking San’s cheek in a loving manner though the younger feels his skin crawl at the touch. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just so angry, and I—I swear it won’t ever happen again. I promise.” 

When he looks up at his boyfriend, chest heaving from both pain and fear, he’s greeted with a look of absolute amazement. “It’s gone,” the elder says, fingers brushing over San’s once battered form. “It’s all gone.” His eyes scan San’s form, looking for any evidence of the events that had just transpired but finding none. Then he meets the younger’s eyes and asks, “What are you?” 

San tenses at the question, fingers squeezing around his throat protectively. 

He finds out the truth about himself by accident really. He cannot die. He’s not entirely human. 

There’s a moving truck outside the apartment complex. 

San notices it on the way back to his apartment after his classes for the day. Hands hooked into the straps of his backpack, he slows down briefly as he passes the truck by on his way into the building. He doesn’t give it another thought once he’s inside though, riding the elevator up to the seventh floor where he and his boyfriend live. He heads for his apartment door. Briefly, he notes that the door to the apartment across from his is open, and a few boxes are stacked outside, and he can hear the faint sound of a couple voices inside the apartment. 

Pursing his lips, he rushes for the door and fumbles to unlock it, punching in his code before stumbling inside and slamming the door shut. He doesn’t really want to run into his new neighbors. The last thing he wants to do is engage in useless conversation with strangers. 

Carelessly tossing his backpack on the floor as he makes his way over to the couch, he reminds himself to pick it up before his boyfriend comes home later this evening. Then he eagerly opens his laptop on the coffee table where he left it this morning. He pulls up a new tab after logging on and immediately goes to Facebook. He’s not really on social media that much anymore, but he knows someone who is. 

Searching for Jung Wooyoung, San bites his lips as he stares at the profile picture of his once best friend. This is the third day in a row now that he’s done this. It all started a few days ago when San had been buying lunch at one of the university’s cafeterias. He’d been sitting quietly by himself eating his lunch when he heard a familiar, loud voice talking at the top of his lungs. 

He’d seen Wooyoung there, a few tables away from where he sat, his friend—old friend—chatting eagerly at a full table. San felt his mouth go dry, and his stomach twisted in jealousy. But it had been a reminder. A wake up call. Like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over him. Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung. His Wooyoung who he could tell anything and everything. 

Well, almost anything. 

Now though San feels his insides churn as he stares at Wooyoung’s profile picture. His hair is a pretty blond color. He likes it. He should ask about it, but as his mouse hovers over the Friend Request button the same thoughts of self-loathing and doubt poisons his mind and keep him from actually clicking. What if Wooyoung rejects his request? Worst, what if he never responds, leaving San in that annoying limbo of not knowing if he’s not worth it or if Wooyoung just hasn’t gotten around to it yet. It has been four years since they’ve talked now. Wooyoung never bothered him again after that day, and San regrets that he hadn’t reached out to him sooner. 

Biting into the sleeve of his sweater, he clicks on Wooyoung’s name to snoop around his profile. He wonders what the other’s been up to all this time. He never even realized that they attend the same university. He scrolls through all the photos and status updates that Wooyoung has posted, laughing a little at some of the more ridiculous photos his friend has taken. 

He’s majoring in performance arts. San tries not to grin. It seems very Wooyoung. 

Then he sees that Wooyoung updated his relationship status three months ago. Jung Wooyoung is in a relationship with Song Mingi . San’s smile drops at that, stomach twisting into knots. A surge of jealousy pulses through him which he quickly squashes. No, no this is amazing. He’s happy. He’s so happy for his friend. Of course he is. He's sure this Mingi person has to be amazing too. 

San doesn’t even think before he hits the link for Mingi’s facebook page. He scrolls through everything as quickly as he can, both pleased and annoyed that he’s impressed with the guy. He’s not much of a hotshot or anything, but he seems sweet. He has a lot of pictures of himself in various stupid poses, but every picture he has with Wooyoung shows Wooyoung with a beaming smile. And there are a lot of those.  

Annoyed with himself, San slams his laptop shut and huffs as he crosses his arms and sinks back into the couch. He realizes belatedly that he still hasn’t actually sent a friend request to Wooyoung yet, but he tells himself tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow he will actually, for sure do it. Maybe they can reconnect. Maybe they can—San wants to laugh at himself. Now he’s just being too optimistic. 

“Fuck! Shit!” He hears both curses coming in succession outside of his door. 

Perking, he tilts his head and listens to his new neighbors. 

“Language,” a new voice reprimands. 

“Yeah, whatever. Are you my mother now too?” 

“If you’d grow up maybe I wouldn’t have to act like it so often.” 

“I’m older than you, Jongho, show your brother some respect.” 

“Yeah, yeah, once you prove you’ve grown up and can start paying the bills.” 

“I am paying the bills though?” 

San raises a brow, bemused by the conversation taking place outside of his door. So, two brothers then, is it? That seems a little weird, but hey, San isn’t one to judge people’s living situations considering his own is pretty fucked up in its own rights. The voices fade not long after the sound of the elevator ding, and San presumes that the moving truck must be theirs. 

A part of San nags him for sitting on the couch instead of offering to help his new neighbors move in, but the normal and sane part of him says he should keep out of their business. Just because they now live across from each other doesn’t mean they have to be close. 

His stomach growls, a reminder that he has yet to eat lunch. Sliding off of the couch, he heads into the kitchen and peeks into the fridge in search of something to eat. Nothing inside looks particularly appetizing, so he checks the pantry next. There’s a couple of canned items and some instant ramen cup bowls, neither of which call to him and his empty stomach. 

He pats his stomach when it grumbles again, rationalizing with himself that it wouldn’t hurt to go get something quick to eat. Closing the door to the pantry, he walks back to his backpack and rummages through the small front pocket for his wallet which he stuffs into the pocket of his jeans. Then he slips on his shoes and opens the door to his apartment. He only takes one step out of the apartment before nearly running into one of his new neighbors carrying a couple of boxes. 

Releasing the tiniest of shrieks, he throws himself back against the wall of the hallway, squishing himself up against the surface in an attempt not to be in the way. The person pauses and glances in his direction, one brow raised at his rather dramatic reaction. 

“Oh, sorry,” he drawls in a deep voice. San briefly meets his gaze before quickly looking down at his shoes. He digs his toes into the carpeted floor. “Didn’t see you there.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry,” San returns, bowing his head a little. 

“No worries.” The guy shrugs his shoulders and continues on his way. San appreciates the fact that his neighbor appears to be about as social as he is. Licking his lips, San bows his head lower and shuffles over to the elevator just as the guy hisses before a crash echoes through the hall. 

Startled, San turns back to see that the second box the guy had stacked on top of the one he was holding had fallen to the ground, numerous sheets of papers splayed across the floor. His neighbor glares at the mess, one box still in his arms while he appears to contemplate whether or not he really wants to clean up the mess. 

San hesitates before sighing and slinking over to his neighbor. “I got it,” he volunteers meekly while bending down to gather up the sheets of paper. It looks like just generic paperwork, and San briefly wonders if he should maybe be trying to gather these up in an organized manner in case his neighbor needs to go through them again. He doesn’t start yelling at him though so San hesitantly tilts the fallen box upright and neatly piles his stack of papers in. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry. Hold on one sec.” The guy moves to set his own box down in the entrance to his apartment before scrambling to help San clean up. “Sorry about this. You don’t have to.” 

“Uh, it’s okay,” San awkwardly reassures him, placing some more fallen sheets of paper into the box. 

The elevator dings, and they both pause to look over only to watch as another, smaller boy steps into the hallway with two boxes stacked on top of each other. He’s shorter, but stockier and doesn’t seem at all to be struggling with the boxes the way the other guy had. The brother, San assumes. They look strikingly similar, and San remembers that one of them said something about respecting his older brother. The brother comes to a halt when he notices them kneeling in the hallway, and he rolls his eyes with a small smirk on his face. 

“I told you to take them one at a time, you weakling,” he tells his brother smugly. 

The guy next to San rolls his eyes back. “Oh, the wise words of Jongho. I will never forget them. Guess I’ll have to remember to go lift some more at the gym.” 

“Ass.” 

“Go put your boxes away.” 

San finishes placing the rest of the papers away and pushes the box in the direction of the apartment door, accidentally drawing attention to himself. The smaller brother, Jongho, looks at him. “You our neighbor then?” 

“Uh.” San pushes himself up to stand. “Yeah. I’m San. I live there with my boyfriend.” He points at his own door. 

“Aw, taken then?” Jongho teases. San involuntarily winces a bit at the questioning, shying away from the smaller boy. 

“You have a boyfriend,” his brother stresses, picking up the abandoned box, resting it against his hip. 

“I’m joking .” Jongho sticks his tongue out at his brother. 

Again, the guy rolls his eyes before turning to San. “Ignore him. He’s a little troll.” San awkwardly laughs a bit at that and attempts to brush it off. It’s no big deal really. “I’m Yunho, by the way.” 

San tilts his head in a polite gesture. “Nice to meet you guys.” They both nod and say nothing more before parting ways—San to go off in search for lunch while the brothers finish transferring the rest of their boxes from the moving truck to the apartment. They don’t chat with each other. San doesn’t ask why they’ve moved in or why they’re choosing to live with each other. He doesn’t really care either. 

 

His boyfriend doesn’t come home until late at night. San’s already in bed sleeping when he feels the warm body slip in beside him, an arm wrapping around his waist. The stench of alcohol and cold fingers pressed against his stomach are what wakes him up though, and he tenses up at the smell and feel. His boyfriend is rarely nice when drunk. However, the older man doesn’t do anything but snuggle into San’s neck, pulling the younger boy closer. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he slurs, breath hot on the back of San’s neck. 

San hesitates to answer, unsure of his boyfriend’s current mood. “....Yeah.” 

“Sorry. I know you have classes in the morning. Go to sleep.” He tightens his hold around San’s waist, other hand sneaking up underneath the younger’s shirt. He lies his palm flat against San’s stomach, humming at the warmth. The younger’s stomach flutters in fear, and he holds his breath until he’s sure his boyfriend has fallen asleep. Only when he hears the sound of even breaths does he finally allow himself to drift back off into sleep. 

He wakes up long before his boyfriend and quietly slips out of bed to wash his face and dress himself. When he’s ready, he grabs his backpack and leaves the apartment without eating breakfast. He usually picks up something at the local coffee shop that’s on his way to school, not wanting to risk waking his boyfriend up by making breakfast at home. The less they see of each other, the better. 

He picks up a cheap bagel and scarfs it down before he even makes it to campus. It’s already nine by the time he gets there, though his first class isn’t until noon. That’s fine though. He’s found a place to take refuge within the Visual Arts center. 

He walks up the stairs to the fourth floor and ducks down one of the hallways on his way to one of the studios he knows is always empty at this time. Keeping his head down and pulling his backpack tight against his back, he makes a beeline for his usual sanctuary. He can hear the voices of some other early bird students in the hallway, but hardly takes notice as one particular conversation grows increasingly loud in his ears until he bumps into someone by accident. 

Grunting, he takes a step back and looks up to meet large, surprised eyes. San recognizes him. Hyunjin. They’ve had a couple classes together. 

“Oh. Yo, cute neighbor. Nice to see you again.” 

San’s attention snaps to the smaller guy standing next to his classmate, blinking in surprise when he recognizes Jongho waving at him. Hyunjin’s face scrunches into a confused expression. “Cute neighbor?” he asks. 

“Uh, hi.” San greets awkwardly. 

“What? You don’t think so?” Jongho asks, nudging his friend with a bit of a sly smirk. 

San’s face heats up a bit at the compliment, but he quickly shakes it off. More importantly, they know each other? San never knew. In fact, he supposes he didn’t even know Jongho went to this school up until right this second. He never did ask yesterday. 

“What? No, that’s not what I meant, I just—” he stops himself by covering his mouth and shaking his head. Jongho grins at him, patting him a couple times on the arm in a weirdly understanding gesture. San watches the exchange in a bit of wonder. It’s like they don’t even have to talk in order to communicate with each other. It’s bizarre. 

“So, what are you doing here—San, right?” Jongho asks, turning his attention back to San. The brunette shies away, not really wanting the attention. 

“I—I, uh,” San stutters, inching around the two of them. “I have something I gotta do. See you, bye!” And then he darts off, ducking around a corner of the hallway before pausing to catch his breath. That whole interaction had been unnerving. They must think he’s left though because he can hear they’ve stopped to talk about him. 

“Choi San’s your neighbor?” he hears Hyunjin ask. 

“Yeah. You know him?” 

There’s a short pause where San can only imagine Hyunjin shrugging. “Not really,” he answers. “I know of him, but no one really knows him as far as I know. We had a couple classes together, but other than that….He’s pretty antisocial. Doesn’t talk to anyone.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah. He just….paints all day. I don’t know.” 

“Paints?” Jongho asks curiously. 

“Yeah, he’s a studio arts major but his focus is painting.” San can finally hear their conversation start to fade as they continue on their way. He sighs in relief, ready to continue on his own way before he hears something that makes him pause, pulse racing through his veins. “Hey, you remember Wooyoung? Changbin’s friend?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t talked much with him, but Yunho knows him.” 

“Oh, yeah. Anyways, apparently he used to be friends with San back in high school or whatever, says the guy’s a total ass. I’ve always been a bit afraid to talk to him because of it, plus his face. I mean, he just always looks mad. It’s hard to approach someone like that.” 

“Really? Why do you say that? Did something happen?” 

San can’t hear the rest of their conversation after that, but he really doesn’t need to. He has his hand pressed tightly against his face, covering his nose and mouth in an attempt to muffle his whimpers as tears form in the back of his eyes. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall though one escapes anyways. So this is how Wooyoung feels about him then? San supposes that he really shouldn’t be surprised by the revelation. No, it’s more like he really doesn’t have a right to be surprised. The last few months of their friendship really went downhill with most of their interactions devolving into fights and screaming matches, but, no matter who was at fault for picking the fight, Wooyoung was always the first to extend an apology and patch things up between them. Always Wooyoung. Never San. At least until Wooyoung decided he no longer wanted to apologize anymore. 

Sniffling behind his hand, San pushes himself off the wall and forces himself to shuffle down the hall into his usual studio room. He sees all of his belongings he has collected in his studio since the beginning of the semester. His brushes and paints litter the floor in disarray, and a few canvases are lined up against the wall for future use. Right now though he doesn’t really feel like working on anything, instead sliding down the closed door to squat on the floor. He buries his head into his knees and, despite himself, starts crying. 

He feels the last of whatever hope he had fizzle out of him. His elation that he’s attending the same university as his childhood friend drains from him. The thought that he might be able to fix what was broken between them dies. Wooyoung doesn’t care about him anymore. He lost him a long time ago, and he was naive for thinking just time itself would make it better. 

San remains listless for the next few days following the conversation he overheard between Hyunjin and his new neighbor. Jongho greets him when he returns home that first day as they realize they get off at about the same time on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. San can do hardly more than offer a small wave in return before taking refuge in his apartment. 

Thankfully his boyfriend doesn’t really add to his grief, apparently in a good mood this week. He comes home on that first day with a grin on his face and a bit of a hop in his steps. He greets San by swooping down to kiss him which the younger does not reciprocate though his boyfriend seems unperturbed. San doesn’t ask why the elder is in a good mood. Similarly,  his boyfriend doesn’t ask why he’s in such a bad mood—doesn’t even seem to notice the younger’s foul mood. Perhaps San shouldn’t have been too surprised that his boyfriend is in the mood tonight. He strips San naked even as the younger protests that he really isn’t in the mood tonight, but his words fall on deaf ears. 

There’s really only one incident on the second day. Feeling particularly down, San feels little motivation to do anything, including cleaning the kitchen like he promises his boyfriend. When the elder gets home and notices the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, he, naturally, yells at San for it. 

San makes the mistake of yelling back, resulting in a resounding smack when his boyfriend hits him across the face. The action is enough to jolt San’s memory, and he shrinks away from his boyfriend in fear. Of course, immediately afterwards the elder apologizes, cupping his face and apologizing profusely that “it’ll never happen again. I’m so sorry.” 

Lies. All of them. But San remembers now just what his boyfriend can be like. 

When he leaves the apartment the next day he runs into Yunho at the elevator. His neighbor is dressed nicely, a sleek leather messenger bag hanging off one shoulder. San briefly wonders what he does. He looks like he’s working rather than attending school. The taller man stares at him for a moment more than is comfortable or polite before looking away with a slight furrow to his brows. San subconsciously rubs his cheeks, wondering if there’s a noticeable mark or something. He’s pretty sure there’s not. He even checked in the mirror to make sure. And his boyfriend would never have let him out if there was. He would have—San turns his gaze to the ground. No, he doesn’t want to think about it. He’s not going to go there. 

“Morning,” Yunho greets him a bit belatedly. 

San peeks up at him before staring back down at the floor. “Morning,” he mumbles back. They don’t say anything more to each other before they part ways outside of the building. It’s only after they’ve parted ways that San remembers that Yunho apparently knows Wooyoung. Jongho mentioned something about it, and he should have asked. Even just to see how Wooyoung’s doing, but he totally forgot. Shit. Fuck. Fuck everything. He cups his face with his hands in shame and trudges the rest of the way to school. 

Hongjoong looks up when the door to the office slams open, and Yunho strides in, looking more sleep deprived and lethargic than usual. Usually he comes in all chipper and cheery, but maybe the job is finally getting to him. He drops his bag onto the chair in front of his desk before he works on unbuttoning his coat. He hangs that over the back of the chair. With his right foot he hooks the toe of his shoe under the handle of his bottom drawer to pull it open as he rummages through his bag for his current paperwork. Setting it aside, he dumps his bag into the drawer and closes it before finally plopping down in his seat. Then he acknowledges Hongjoong.  

“Hey,” he greets the elder. Technically Hongjoong is senior to him in this department, but they’re both basically acting as paralegals for their boss, so Hongjoong has never tried to pull rank on him. 

The elder takes a sip of his coffee and lifts a notepad up towards Yunho. “Morning,” he greets. Yunho reaches out to take the notepad from the elder, skimming over the list of tasks for the week. 

“How’s the new apartment?” Hongjoong asks, partly to be polite and partly because he’s trying to use small talk as an excuse not to be working right now. Nothing is really coming to mind at the moment. Normally Yunho’s good at this small talk thing. They’ve definitely wasted a good hour just talking about random shit instead of working before, but Yunho had been oddly reticent to talk about his move other than to inform everyone that he would be taking some personal time off to get it done. 

The taller man shrugs his shoulders. “Fine,” he answers. 

Hongjoong raises a brow. “Just fine?” 

“Yeah?” Yunho looks over at him with one brow raised as if asking him what the hell he wants. 

“So...you’re all moved in and settled then?” Hongjoong asks, continuing to not want to actually work yet. 

Another shrug. “We still have some boxes to unload, but other than that…” Yunho doesn’t actually finish that train of thought as his computer finishes starting up. He cracks his knuckles once before setting the work. Hongjoong pouts, both jealous at his friend’s work ethic and annoyed that Yunho won’t indulge his attempts to avoid work. 

“How’s living with your brother?” 

Yunho doesn’t even blink or bat an eyelash at the question. “S’okay,” he murmurs, staring intently at his e-mail. Hongjoong doesn’t know if that means it’s actually okay or not. The elder glances over to his computer screen, one brow raised at the absolutely banal e-mail he has open. Just something about facilities turning off the water during ungodly hours of the morning for maintenance a week from now. “It’s a little weird. I haven’t lived with him since I moved out in college, but….it’s good. He needed to get out of the house, away from Mom and Dad…” he trails off, pupils dilating a bit, and Hongjoong can tell he’s actually lost his focus. 

“Right,” the elder agrees with his lips pressed into a thin line. Yunho’s relationship with his parents had always been fine. They weren’t attached at the hip or anything, but they got along well. Yunho calls every once in a while to check in on them, but he’s always been the independent sort. He left the house the second he could but only because he wanted independence and the freedom to do what he wants whenever he wants. His parents had only been okay with it because he got the grades they wanted and studied law like they wanted.

Jongho, on the other hand, always had a bit of a rocky relationship with their parents from what Hongjoong can tell, and Yunho blames it on himself. He still remembers when Jongho was fourteen and yelling at him that their parents always, always favored him. He doesn’t really think like that anymore, but Yunho still thinks maybe, in some way, it played a role. Yunho—growing up showered in praise—tended to go along with whatever their parents wanted. He studied hard, attended a good school, and was now trying to establish himself as a lawyer. Jongho—always put on display for comparison—had a history of lashing out and generally trying to rebel against his parents. Apparently they fought almost daily not long after Yunho moved out. They sent Jongho to extra cram schools, preparing him for a career in medicine and doing whatever they could to increase his prospects of going to a good school with a good pre-med program. 

Jongho declared himself a music major when he entered university. Yunho knows he likes it and he’s happy for him, though, like his parents he supposes he worries about what Jongho will do with something like that after graduation. Unlike his parents, he never voices those concerns. He tries to be supportive instead because he’s sick of those awkward family dinners which unfailingly devolve into verbal matches where they threaten to stop paying tuition if Jongho doesn’t major in business or science, and Jongho goads them into doing it. 

Things only got worse over the summer before his first semester when their parents and Yunho accidentally stumble on the discovery that Jongho is gay. And he has a boyfriend. That he’d been dating since high school. Yunho found out when his parents found out because they caught the two making out in Jongho’s bedroom once. The fighting only got nastier from there until Yunho knew it couldn’t continue. His brother had always been more emotionally resilient, had to be considering all the times he would say no to their parents. But this continued disappointment that he wasn’t chasing after some girl had him reduced to near tears.  

“You can’t start a family with another boy ,” his mother chided him once. 

So Yunho extended an offer to his brother to move in together. Jongho was getting ready to start attending university anyways, and it gives Yunho the excuse he needs to find a nicer apartment to move into. Their parents disapprove, worried about what sort of trouble Jongho might get up to outside of their hawk-like gazes but ultimately concede when they realize that they can’t really stop Jongho anyways. And they trust Yunho. 

“How’s his boyfriend doing?” 

Yunho shakes his head. “No idea. I’ve not even met him yet.” 

“Seriously?” 

Yunho nods his head, expression a bit solemn. “I think Jongho’s still a little afraid to. I mean, after Mom and Dad’s reaction, you know?” 

Hongjoong scratches his head, genuinely confused by that excuse. “Why would he be afraid of your judgement? I mean, you don’t seem the type….and you’re supportive, right?” Hongjoong taps his fingers against the mug in his hands. As much as Yunho talks, he realizes that he actually doesn’t say much about himself or his family. Up until about a few weeks ago when Yunho announced he’d be taking some time to move to a new place, Hongjoong knew he had a brother but not much else beyond that. Still, Yunho looks affronted by the question. 

“Of course I’m supportive,” he sputters. “I just….I don’t know. Look, I’m not going to push him, okay? I figure I’ll meet him eventually. I just get the feeling that he’s scared to because of what happened.” He wrinkles his nose at the memory. And, truth be told, Jongho won’t even talk about his boyfriend. Yunho doesn’t even know his name. So yeah, for now he just tries not to mention it. 

“Hmm,” Hongjoong hums thoughtfully with a nod of his head. A beat of silence passes between them, and maybe they should actually work now, but then the older man looks over at his colleague and grins. “So, when’s the housewarming party?” 

Yunho groans, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “You’ve been talking to Seonghwa again, haven’t you?” 

“Of course. He feeds me three square meals a day. We talk, so?” 

Yunho rests his head in the palm of his hand and forces himself to stare at his work ahead of him. “We are not having a housewarming party,” he announces for what must be the nth time already. To various individuals. Mostly Seonghwa. “It’s not exciting or anything. We just moved to a different apartment.” 

“Aw, come on. Can’t we see the new place? Plus, free laundry detergent, am I right? Seonghwa’s already bought some in anticipation.” 

“We’re not having a housewarming party!” Yunho insists. 

“You were always down for parties in college,” Hongjoong laments. 

“First, a housewarming party and a house party are not even close to being the same. Second, I just don’t think now is a good time.” The last thing he really wants to do is throw all his horribly obnoxious friends at Jongho while he’s still trying to get himself settled. 

Hongjoong picks up his phone which was lying face down next to his computer, swiping his thumb across the screen to unlock it. “Alright, if you insist. I’ll just let Seonghwa know that there’s definitely not going to be a housewarming party.” 

Yunho sighs and leans his head against the back of his desk chair. For three straight hours his phone keeps vibrating in his back pocket—a litany of texts inquiring about Yunho’s decision not to have a housewarming party courtesy of Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s big fat fucking mouth. 

When Yunho returns home later that night, tired and stressed out from a long day of work, he finds Jongho sitting on the couch watching TV with a bowl of half eaten cereal balanced on his stomach and his feet on the coffee table. He sighs at the sight. It isn’t the way he’s used to seeing his brother. 

“So,” he begins, kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his blazer, “we’re having a housewarming party on Saturday.” 

“Yeah?” Jongho eats another spoonful of cereal, splitting his attention between his brother and the TV. “Seonghwa finally broke you then?” 

Yunho sighs again. He hates how well his little brother knows him. Then he plasters his best host smile on his face. “Yeah, I guess. So anyways, the more important question is: are you, you know, going to invite the boyfriend?” 

Jongho pauses, seeming to think about the offer for a moment before he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe not.” 

Yunho’s smile falters. “Why?” 

Jongho smiles ruefully at his brother. “I just don’t think it would be a good idea.” 

Indignantly Yunho puffs out his chest and scowls at his brother. “Oh, are you making judgments about me now? That better not be a thinly veiled accusation that I’m a homophobic asshole brother. I’ll have you know I had plenty of time to experiment when I—” 

“Oh, my god! Stop, stop, I don’t want to hear about it,” Jongho laughs, waving off his brother’s ramblings. “I’m not saying that at all! I’m sure you’d like him, hyung. I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, walking over to ruffle his brother’s hair before he sits down next to him. “It’s your call,” he tells the younger. “But, you know, I would like to meet him at some point.” 

“And you will,” Jongho promises him. “Trust me, of anyone I could introduce him to, I always wanted one of them to be you.” 

“And you know I’m supportive right?” Yunho asks. “Like, even if you found the ugliest man on earth to love I’d still support you.” 

“I know you are,” Jongho laughs at him. “And if anything, you should probably be scared because if you think I’m mean, I’d hate for my boyfriend to reduce you to tears.” 

Yunho rolls his eyes at him. “Figures you’d date someone like that,” he grumbles under his breath before heading into the kitchen. Jongho’s laughter follows him the whole way.  

San tenses up in his desk chair when he hears the sound of the front door opening. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed informs him that it is way too early for his boyfriend to normally come home. It’s only six on a Thursday night. Usually he works until nine or ten before going out to drink with some work buddies. San bites his lip, wondering what he’s doing home so early. 

Lazy steps make their way down the hallway towards him before the bedroom door slowly creaks open. His boyfriend looks mildly irritated, but his droopy eyes and sluggish gait indicate more sleepiness than anger. San slowly feels himself relaxing upon making that observation. 

“Hey,” he greets meekly. 

The elder grins back at him. At least he still seems to be in a good mood. “Hey,” his boyfriend returns, shuffling further into the room. “Do I get a welcome home kiss….?” He opens his arms in a welcoming gesture and puckers his lips a bit. 

Internally, San cringes, protesting the notion of getting out of his chair to go anywhere near his boyfriend, but his common sense tells him to appease the man. He’s in a decent mood. Best not to aggravate him right now. So he drags himself out of the chair and reluctantly trudges over to the other. “Welcome home,” he murmurs before giving the elder a peck on the lips. 

Apparently a peck is not enough to satisfy his boyfriend though because he wraps his arms around San, pulling the younger flushed against his body and pressing his lips eagerly to San’s. 

Fingers curling into a tight fist, San refuses to reciprocate the touches as he clenches his eyes shut and prays for the kiss to end quickly. Unfortunately, his boyfriend appears to have other ideas which San catches on to when he feels hands travel down his sides before they finally settle on his ass. San releases a squeak when his boyfriend squeezes his ass, swatting the other’s hands away before hastily pulling back from the kiss. 

“N-no,” he protests weakly, carefully trying to pull away without sparking the elder’s anger. “I’m doing homework,” he says by way of an excuse. 

“Finish it later,” his boyfriend purrs, reaching out to pull San close again. The younger cringes and turns his head to the side while the elder holds him close, pushing the younger’s body tight against his. Still, San keeps his hands curled into fists with his arms pressed tightly to his sides. He can feel the elder’s erection pressed to his hip, and his heart rate picks up in fear and dread. 

He tries a different tactic.” Please, I’m not in the mood today,” he pleads. 

“Well, I am,” the elder purrs, nosing along the side of San’s neck. 

Cringing, San tries again to diplomatically untangle himself from the elder. “I’m really not in the mood,” he repeats, pushing the other away. “I have a lot of homework to do.” 

“It’s been awhile though,” the elder whines, not sounding quite angry yet though San can hear the irritation creeping into his voice. “Come on, San. Stop being a bitch about it. You can do your homework afterwards too, can’t you?” 

San turns his head away and rolls his eyes so that the elder can’t see, making a face at the stupid logic. That’s not really the point, and his boyfriend just doesn’t seem to understand that. When the elder leans towards him again, San sets his hands against his chest, holding him at arm's length with a bit of difficulty. “No,” he says a bit more firmly, “no. I don’t—I said no.” 

It’s apparently the wrong move though because just like that his boyfriend’s mood flips. The next thing he knows he’s lurching towards the bed, turning around so fast his head spins, before his boyfriend shoves him down. He can hear his boyfriend yelling something at him, but his brain still feels like it’s spinning and he can’t concentrate hard enough to discern what the other is saying—yelling. 

Fingers tug open the button of his jeans, roughly pulling them down San’s hips and thighs. Alarmed, San attempts to sit up while reaching down to try and fight off. Another slap to the face has San’s ears ringing while his vision momentarily blacks out. He feels something warm trickle down his philtrum and he reaches up to gently touch. His fingers come away bloody, and he realizes that his nose is bleeding. Falling back on the bed, he really isn’t aware of anything until he feels his boyfriend penetrating him. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes due to the pain, and he futilely begs his boyfriend to stop. Please, it hurts. Stop! 

But, of course, the elder doesn’t listen. 

When it’s over, San feels dirty and violated. There’s dried blood around his nose and mouth and his ass throbs unpleasantly. His boyfriend coos at him, though his words do nothing to soothe the younger as he’s lifted up and carried off to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” his boyfriend says lovingly, in horrific contrast to his earlier actions. 

He carefully lowers San down into the bathtub full of lukewarm water. When did this happen? San can’t remember hearing the sound of the faucet. His boyfriend diligently cleans off what evidence he can before carefully observing San’s face. The younger turns his head away in an attempt to avoid the elder’s gaze, but he catches San’s chin in an iron grip and turns his head this way and that. 

“It’s bruising,” he observes in a low murmur. 

San’s heart skips a beat at the words, alarm bells blaring through his brain. “I—I can cover it up with makeup,” he tries to reason, weakly pulling out of the elder’s grip. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just cover it up—” The iron grip on his jaw returns, effectively cutting off San’s protest. Biting his lip, San forces himself to meet his boyfriend’s gaze, pleading with his eyes. Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this. It’s unnecessary. 

“Better to be safe than sorry,” his boyfriend notes ruefully. 

San registers screaming before he’s forced beneath the water. 

Scratch that.

Drowning hurts a lot more. 

San wakes up with a start, still inside the bathtub. His hair is wet and matted down to his forehead, and he’s still naked. The water is freezing by now, and San shivers before struggling to pull himself out of the bathtub. With wrinkled, shaky fingers, he grips the edge of the tub and weakly crawls out and onto the even colder tiled floor of the bathroom. With little finesse, he reaches up and yanks one of the neatly folded towels from the rack next to the bathtub and immediately wraps himself up in the towel, still shivering from the cold. 

Vaguely he hears his boyfriend talking to someone somewhere else in the apartment, but San hardly hears a word he’s saying as he tries to come back to himself. His ears are still ringing from the earlier rough treatment, and he swears he can still feel the burn of water filling his lungs. Drowning, drowning! San squeezes his eyes shut and curls up into a tight ball on the floor of the bathroom, wishing he could just disappear as his breaths become ragged. 

“...yes, sir. He’s actually in the bath right now, but I’m sure he’ll be out soon. San!” 

San starts when he realizes his boyfriend is calling for him. 

“San! Are you almost done in the bath? You need to come down here.” 

Sluggishly, San pushes himself off the floor and forces himself to stand up despite all the muscles in his body screaming for him to lay down and sleep forever. “One second,” he calls back, clearing his throat when he hears how hoarse his voice sounds. “I just—” he throws open the door to the bathroom and dashes for the bedroom, “I just need to get dressed!” He drops the towel on the floor and hastily throws on the first articles of clothes he can find—a plain white tee and a pair of old gym shorts. 

When he rushes out to meet his boyfriend, hoping he hadn’t been out long enough to aggravate the elder, he comes up short as he realizes that two uniformed officers are standing at their front door, Jongho waiting nearby in the hallway with his arms crossed and tapping his foot impatiently. San feels his heart drop down to his stomach. 

“San,” his boyfriend coos his name with an alarming amount of affection, shuffling closer to the younger and reaching out to wrap his arms over San’s shoulder. San shyly ducks away, mumbling an excuse about still being wet. He doesn’t miss the way Jongho narrows his eyes at them. 

“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?” the female officer asks, her expression friendly and open. 

San opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t know why they’re here. 

Apparently picking up on his confusion, the female officer elaborates, “we got a call from your neighbor here,” she motions to Jongho with a small wave of her hand, “about a domestic disturbance.” She looks between San and his boyfriend. Her gaze is curious but not necessarily suspicious. 

San’s chest constricts as panic begins to settle over him. Shit. Domestic disturbance? What? He can feel his boyfriend’s heated gaze on his back. “I...don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says slowly fingers twisting into the hem of his shirt. “I was just taking a bath. Um…”

The officer frowns, gaze traveling over to her partner who returns the expression but with an added grunt of annoyance. She turns back to San, eyes a bit more scrutinizing as she takes in his appearance. “Your neighbor says he heard screaming,” she informs him, eyes traveling over San’s shoulder to stare at his boyfriend. 

San can only imagine the charming smile the elder must have plastered on his face. He works hard to keep his expression neutral while he internally panics. Shit. Shit . He vaguely remembers crying out when his boyfriend had first tried to shove his head underwater. “O-oh, we—I just—” San twists his fingers even tighter into his shirt, practically pulling the sleeve off of one shoulder. He feels more panicked now because he hadn’t thought this would happen, and what can he say? It doesn’t help that his boyfriend has his gazed fixed on the back of his head like he’s silently daring San to fuck up. “I guess I was just a little...loud while we were, um...in bed,” he finally forces out. He silently prays that they interpret his stuttering and obvious nervousness on shyness about his sex life rather than the fact that he’s lying through his teeth. 

“Oh,” the woman looks a bit taken aback. “I see.” 

The man snorts at San’s answer, looking faintly grossed out about San’s apparently rough and kinky sex life. Really not what he needs to hear about on a Thursday night. 

The elevator dings when it stops on their floor, and Yunho slips out with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He pauses when he notices the officers in front of his neighbor’s door and his brother loitering nearby. “What the hell is going on?” he asks to no one in particular as he approaches his brother. 

San feels his cheeks flame in embarrassment when he sees his neighbor eyeing the officers curiously before his gaze briefly travels over San and his boyfriend and ultimately settling on his little brother. He furrows his brows in confusion. The male officer turns to address his question. 

“You know him?” he asks, nodding to Jongho. 

“Yeah, he’s my brother.” Yunho places his hand on top of Jongho’s head and pulls him close instinctively. 

“Well, your brother is a bit too concerned about your neighbors’ sex life,” the officer snorts with a shake of his head. “Come on, let’s go, Choa.” 

Yunho frowns at the statement, shooting his little brother a questioning look, but Jongho is too busy glaring at the male officer to pay any attention to his brother. He can feel the younger’s need to just blow up though Yunho can tell it’s taking all his self-control to just stand there and glare. 

“Don’t be such a jerk, Junhoe,” the female officer reprimands her partner. She quickly turns and bows to San and his boyfriend. “I’m sorry about that. Have a good evening.” Then she turns to Jongho and smiles meekly. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s better to be safe than sorry, okay?” 

Jongho grumbles something unintelligible as the officers leave. Rolling his eyes, Yunho nudges his brother in the direction of their apartment. “Go inside,” he orders his brother gently. 

“Hyung, you didn’t hear—”

“Jongho,” Yunho cuts him off firmly, his gaze meaningful. “Go inside. We’ll talk about it later.” 

The younger clenches his hands into fists, and Yunho knows he’s just about ready to blow a fuse because he releases one angry grunt before he stomps into their apartment. Yunho breathes a sigh of relief before turning to his neighbors. “I apologize for my brother. It won’t happen again,” he says to both of them. 

San says nothing, head hanging in shame, so his boyfriend moves forward, a charming smile sliding into place as he places his hand on the door, ready to close it. “I should hope so,” he says, hesitating when Yunho makes a face. He hastily adds a “we’ll try to keep our voices down too in the future,” in order to appease Yunho, but San can’t tell if it works. His neighbor’s expression is bizarrely blank and neutral as he nods his head and wishes them a good night before his boyfriend closes the door. San winces at the sound, feeling tears gathering in his eyes. He can feel his boyfriend’s anger rolling off him in waves and this isn’t going to be a pleasant night. 

“Bedroom. Now,” the elder growls at him. 

San swallows thickly and nods his head complacently, scrambling to follow the order. 

Yunho heaves a deep breath as he steps into his own apartment, slipping his shoes off and throwing his messenger bag down by the couch. Jongho is nowhere to be seen at first, but Yunho hears his door opening before he comes storming down the hall into the living room. 

“You didn’t hear what I heard!” Jongho immediately rails on him. 

Yunho sighs tiredly, dropping himself down on the couch and throwing an arm across his eyes. “And what did you hear, exactly?” The younger quiets down at the question prompting Yunho to peek at him from beneath his arm. “Jongho?” 

“He was screaming,” Jongho finally mumbles quietly. “Like….like….it sounded like someone was being murdered, okay?” It’s a hyperbole, but the way Jongho said it so solemnly sends a shiver down Yunho’s spine. 

“But he just looked like he came out of a shower,” Yunho points out weakly. He doesn’t know what else to say to his brother. 

“I know. Look, I don’t get it either, but I know what I heard, and I know it was coming from their apartment. I just called the cops because I was scared, okay? I thought….I don’t know what I thought.” 

“Okay, okay.” Yunho sits up on the couch, shooting his brother a wryly smile. “I believe you. You know that, right? I trust you.” 

The younger crosses his arms, gaze dropping to the floor. Yunho can tell he has something to say, but Jongho remains quiet for a moment. Finally, he lifts his gaze up and says, “I ran into him once. At school. I was hanging out with Hyunjin. I saw him at the Visual Arts Complex.” 

Yunho tilts his head to the side to signal that he’s listening. 

“Hyunjin doesn’t personally know him or anything, but he said...Wooyoung does. Or did.” 

“Wooyoung?” Yunho furrows his brows. “Like, short, loud, clingy blond? That Wooyoung?” 

Jongho nods his head. 

“Dating-Song-Mingi Wooyoung?” 

Another nod. 

“Oh.” Yunho isn't too sure what he’s supposed to do with that information anyways. 

“Apparently they were friends back in middle school and high school, but they had a falling out because of his,” he makes a motion towards their neighbors apartment, “boyfriend. I guess Wooyoung hated him, and...look I don’t know if this is true or anything because I heard it from Hyunjin, but I guess Wooyoung used to think that the guy was abusive, so it just seemed plausible....I don’t know.” Jongho trails off after that. 

“I trust you,” Yunho interrupts his brother. “I think you did the right thing, regardless. Whatever the truth is, I think you were right to call the police, okay? Don’t worry too much about it.” 

Jongho hangs his head, clearly defeated despite his brother’s reassurances. “Okay,” he murmurs before shuffling off to his room. 

Sighing, Yunho collapses back onto the couch and rubs his face furiously with the pads of his fingers. For a long moment he lies there just like that, thinking over his brother’s words. When he’s finally able to drag himself off the couch, he digs his phone out of the side pocket of his backpack and shoots out a quick text. 

Hey Wooyoungie. It’s been awhile. Lunch tomorrow?

Then he reluctantly shuffles after his brother. Today has been a ridiculously long day. 

San’s shoulders tense when he hears the sound of his neighbor’s door opening and closing the next morning and he curses the elevator for taking so long. Could it have been any slower? He really doesn’t want to see his neighbors today after the events that transpired yesterday, or ever again really. He thinks he could definitely live without that humiliation, thanks, but Fate hates him because someone comes to stand right next to him, waiting for the elevator, and San shyly peeks over to see that it’s Yunho. 

Great. Even more embarrassing. 

“Hey,” San all but jumps out of his skin at the greeting, turning wide, startled eyes to Yunho. He raises a brow at the expression on his face prompting San to try and dial down his shock. Squinting, Yunho peers at him closely, and San shrinks away under the gaze, turning his head to the side to give the elder a nice view of the back of his head. “Are you okay?”

Instinctively, San reaches up to gently prod at his face self-consciously. Honestly he received one too many slaps yesterday while his boyfriend raged at him for being so loud, but they hadn’t been nearly as bruising. They couldn’t be, but still he worries that maybe there are some signs beginning to show. 

“Uh, yes. Yes, I’m fine,” he answers, poking one more time at his cheek. No pain. San is confident that there is no physical evidence, yet his neighbor continues to scrutinize him. 

“Yeah?” he sounds unconvinced, but doesn’t press San on it, instead shrugging it off. They don’t say anything after that, silently riding the elevator down together where they promptly split ways outside of the apartment complex. San tries not to think too hard about Yunho’s question. Why did he ask if he was okay? Did he not look okay? He gives himself a nervous once over, but nothing seems particularly out of place. He pulls out his phone and furtively sneaks a glance at his face in the camera, but, again, nothing. Frowning, he can’t stop thinking about that question. 

Is he okay? 

“Oh, my god! It’s been forever, Yunho!” 

Yunho smiles at the way Wooyoung grabs onto his arm, jumping up and down when they see each other outside the restaurant. They don’t go anywhere fancy, just a nearby noodle place that Wooyoung can easily get to between his classes. 

“It hasn’t been that long, Wooyoung,” Yunho reminds them because while he might have graduated and started working already, it’s not like they never see each other. In fact, Yunho remembers meeting him for coffee a few weeks ago. He pulls out the chair for the table they’re led to. Wooyoung slides into the booth. 

“Yes it has! Maybe for you because now you have to do, like, adult things, but three weeks in university student time is forever .” 

“Alright, Drama Queen.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes at Yunho’s remarks, choosing instead to peruse the menu in front of him. “What sounds good?” he asks himself, eyes scanning the little menu. Yunho hums as he looks over it as well. Wooyoung settles on a choice by the time the waitress drops by with two glasses of water, so she takes the menus from them and assures them that their food will be out soon. 

“So,” the blond begins, folding his arms, “Normally we just meet for coffee. What brought this on?” 

Yunho and Wooyoung talk, but Yunho isn’t sure he would say they’re close. Wooyoung is more of a friend of a friend of a friend, as in Seonghwa had once been his RA, and Hongjoong knows Seonghwa, and Yunho knows Hongjoong so they’ve inevitably met. Yunho likes Wooyoung. Maybe they should talk more.  

“Well, a couple things,” Yunho says in between taking sips of his water. “So, uh, there’s a housewarming party this Saturday. Significant others are invited so I expect your little banshee to tag along.” 

“Of course!” Wooyoung responds brightly, not even denying Yunho’s nickname for his boyfriend. “But you didn’t have to invite me out to lunch for that. Not that I mind or anything. Free food! I mean, you’re treating, right? Since I’m a poor college student and all.” He smiles at Yunho who makes a joke about forgetting his wallet.  

Then, Yunho coughs into his fist while repeating I’m not a gossip, I’m not a gossip like a mantra in his head. “Yeah, that’s the thing,” I’m not a gossip , “so, uh, you used to know someone named San?” 

Wooyoung’s smile slowly disappears at the mention of the name, his expression becoming first thoughtful and then sad. “Uh, yeah. Once. A while ago though. Why do you ask?”

“I think he’s my neighbor.” 

Suddenly Wooyoung sits at the edge of his seat, hands wrapped around the edge of the table, and Yunho can’t discern exactly what kind of expression is on his face. “Are you sure it’s my San?” Yunho arches a brow at the use of the phrase ‘my San,’ but Wooyoung continues. “Is he okay? Is he still living with that ass—boyfriend? Is he….happy?” 

Yunho pauses to think about that question. Happy? He’s seen San a grand total of four times, and at no point does the word “happy” cross his mind when he thinks of how he would describe his neighbor. Yet, it’s not like four brief meetings is enough to gauge happiness. Maybe he is happy. “I don’t know,” he answers with a shrug. “He’s living with a boyfriend though. Don’t know if it’s the same guy or anything.” 

“Oh.” Wooyoung presses his lips into a thin line. His disappointment is palpable. “So...why are you asking about him?” 

Sighing, Yunho rubs his forehead with the pads of his fingers as he contemplates how to phrase this question. “Look, I’m not a gossip or anything,” Yunho feels a very strong need to defend himself, “it’s just….last night Jongho called the fucking cops on our neighbors.” 

Wooyoung blinks. “Wait, like, he actually called the police?” Yunho nods his head. “They showed up at their door?” Another nod. Wooyoung stares at the taller man. “Why?” 

“I don’t know.” Yunho shakes his head. “I wasn’t there, but Jongho insists that he heard screaming. He swore up and down that it sounded like something….at least violent was going on, but I got there just as they were leaving and the guy looked okay.” 

Wooyoung looks more tense now. “Okay?” he repeats, sounding unconvinced. 

“Well, physically,” Yunho clarifies. “I guess—I guess mentally he seemed pretty checked out. Look, I really don’t know what’s going on. Jongho mentioned that you apparently knew them, and that you have your own preconceived notions about them.” 

“I don’t have any preconceived notions about them,” Wooyoung scoffs, finally settling back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. “San’s boyfriend is a fucking asshole. That’s a fact.”

“Right.” Yunho agrees even though he has no idea what he’s agreeing to. He hasn’t really met his neighbor’s boyfriend officially or anything though Yunho can say he did not appreciate how the guy basically blamed the whole situation last night on Jongho. Regardless of who was right, Yunho trusts that his brother called for valid reasons. 

Wooyoung sighs, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on top of the table, absently tapping his fingers on top of the wooden surface. “San’s an independent guy. And he’s smart and he knows what he’s doing, but the asshole just got to him when he was so young, you know?” Yunho really doesn’t know. He’s already twenty-five and he’s still never dated seriously in his life. “San was just a kid at the time. Sophomore in high school, and he was dating a college student. I already thought that was weird. The age difference was too much in my opinion, but San really liked him. Said he was mature or whatever.” 

“So you didn’t like him because he’s too old?” 

Wooyoung shakes his head. “It wasn’t just that. The guy was so controlling. He had to know San’s every goddamn move. Whenever we hung out, he would call the guy to tell him where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. That’s not normal! And I kept telling him that, but San wouldn’t listen to me, so we fought and….well, it’s been a long time since we talked now.” 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho apologizes in lieu of anything else to say. He offers his friend a weak smile because he has nothing else to give him. 

Shaking his head, Wooyoung brings his hands together and twists his fingers together. “You don’t have to apologize or anything. It’s not like you did anything.” Wooyoung attempts to smile, but the upward pull of his lips only lasts for a fraction of a second before his frown is back. “I’m kind of the one who yelled at him and never talked to him again.” 

Absently Yunho rubs off the condensation on his glass of water. “Don’t blame yourself for something like that. You did what you could, and sometimes if that’s not enough it’s better to just remove yourself from that kind of situation. It sounds to me like you were just worried.” 

Wooyoung sighs upon hearing those words because he’s right. He’s always right. Yunho never actively tries to insert himself into his friend’s lives, but he’s obnoxiously observant. “Yeah, I was worried. I still am, I guess. I can’t believe he’s still with the guy. I guess I just think that maybe...eventually he might have listened to me.” He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head again. 

“Maybe you should try reaching out to him again,” Yunho suggests gently. Almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Wooyoung presses his lips into a thin line as his brows furrow. Yunho already knows what he’s thinking without Wooyoung even having to voice his thoughts. “Something tells me he’s not the type to try and talk to you first. He seems very….shy.” Honestly, Yunho thinks shy might be an understatement. San seems so adverse to conversing sometimes that Yunho honestly supposes that perhaps scared may be a better description.

Perhaps Wooyoung would have responded to the elder’s suggestion if their food hadn’t arrived at that exact moment. 

Saturday rolls around faster than Yunho would have liked. He’s been preparing himself for this inevitable party the whole week. He keeps dropping by the grocery store every day, always remembering something he forgot to pick up. It might not be a college party, but Yunho would be damned if he didn’t feed his guests and have at least some alcohol around.  

Seonghwa is, unsurprisingly, the first one to show up, Hongjoong in toe because that’s how they are, and Yunho swears they may as well have been born conjoined at the hip. Seonghwa allows no room for complaint though because he’s brought his entire tupperware cabinet worth of food, and Yunho suddenly doesn’t know why he bothered with the small platters he bought. 

The next person who arrives is utterly unfamiliar to Yunho, and he’s sure of that because, staring at this stranger, Yunho can’t remember the last time he had a friend this pretty . Yeah, no, definitely not one of his friends then. The guy stares at him for a long second before he asks if Jongho lives here, and it registers that he told Jongho to at least invite someone over. “Uh, Jongho,” he calls for his brother while allowing the new face into the apartment.  “think one of your friends is here.” 

Jongho comes out of his room in a rush, hair a bit messy from just pulling on a hoodie, and he rushes to the guy’s side. Yunho stares. Jongho ushers him in, and the stranger looks around curiously, hands coming up to wrap around his brother’s waist. Yunho doesn’t know if he should be proud or ashamed when his eyes immediately narrow in on the action. 

“Um, okay, so I should introduce you guys,” Jongho says. His hands reach up to curl around the other guy’s. Yunho half expects his brother to tug them off, but he tugs him closer instead. Realization hits Yunho like a truck. “So, hyung, this is my, uh, boyfriend. Yeosang. Yeosang, this is my older brother, Yunho.” 

The guy, Yeosang’s, eyes trail back over to Yunho and he dips his head in acknowledgement before shuffling around so he’s practically standing behind Jongho. 

“Yeosang, it’s fine. Yunho is cool. I promise.” He tugs on the other man’s hand to try and dislodge him, but Yeosang clings tightly. 

Yunho realizes that he should probably say something at this point. “It’s so nice to meet you,” he says, holding a hand out for the other to take. Yeosang peeks around Jongho to stare at his hand suspiciously for a moment. Then he looks up to Yunho’s grinning face. With a little sigh, he pulls himself away from Jongho, standing up straight and reaching out to shake Yunho’s hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he answers in a voice deceptively deep for his face. 

Now that he’s not hiding behind his brother anymore, Yunho takes a step back to observe him because—damn—he has to admit the guy is very attractive. He motions to the kitchen where the food is, insisting he get something to eat and drink. Yeosang exchanges a look with Jongho who nods his head before he disappears into the kitchen. 

Yunho nudges his brother and grins when Yeosang is gone, and Jongho shoves him in retaliation. “What?” he tries to snap though he can’t help but return to grin. 

“Literally how?” he asks

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Jongho says without any malice. “Remember when Jisung went through that phase where he thought he could be a skater? I met him at the skatepark. We hit it off.” 

Yunho hides his laugh behind his hand. “That’s adorable. What about Jisung?”

“He hit the ground. Repeatedly,” Jongho answers without missing a beat. They both grin at each other. 

Then Yunho leans in close to his brother and stage whispers, “Seriously though? I have no idea where Mom and Dad came off telling you to date a pretty girl when your boyfriend looks like that .” 

“No hitting on my boyfriend,” Jongho warns him, raising his fist in a mock threat. Yunho flinches away from him, still laughing. 

San swears something must be going on next door. He keeps hearing voices in the hallway before disappearing into the next door apartment. He furrows his brows as another set a voices murmur to each other in the hallway while San fruitlessly attempts to work on his Art History essay. Staring at the one paragraph on his word document, San decides that he’s not getting anything done for now, and he might as well venture off for some food before coming back to it. 

Maybe the noise in the apartment next door will be gone by the time he comes back. Totally worth it. Shutting his laptop, he slips into a hoodie and briefly contemplates if he should maybe change out of his sweatpants before deciding he really doesn’t care how he looks. 

Shoving his keys, phone, and wallet into his pocket, he heads for the front door where his shoes are. He slips into a pair of well worn Vans before stepping out of the door and locking it behind him. His neighbor’s door is closed, but he can still faintly hear conversation filtering through the walls. Shrugging it off, San heads for the elevator, hitting the down button just as the elevator doors open. 

San almost steps in before realizing that two others are trying to get out, and he freezes when his eyes land on a very familiar face. 

Wooyoung stares back at him, equally as spooked. The tall guy next to them looks between them before nudging Wooyoung’s side. San doesn’t know him, but he does recognize him from his Facebook pictures. Song Mingi. Wooyoung’s—

“San.” 

The brunette flinches away at Wooyoung’s voice. He hasn’t heard it in awhile, and it’s almost nauseatingly nostalgic. “Oh, my God. It is you.” San can’t tell if he’s shocked or disappointed. The smaller man makes a move forward, arms open loosely as if going in for a hug, but he seems to catch himself when San retreats back a couple steps. Desperately, San looks for an easy way around Wooyoung and into the elevator, but he can’t find one because the blond is standing right in the middle of the doorway with Mingi just behind him. There’s no easy place to squeeze through. 

“Um, I feel like I’m missing something,” Mingi remarks with a small frown, squinting at San. 

The brunette shrinks further back under the scrutinizing glance. He can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, feeling like a trapped animal. Please, just move, he silently begs them. Please, please, please. 

“San,” Wooyoung addresses him again, ignoring his boyfriend for the time being. He takes another step forward, providing San a chance. 

He darts around the blond, squeezing himself into the elevator while Mingi leaps out into the hallway, surprised by San’s sudden lunge. Wooyoung turns around as San presses the button to close the door, but he can’t say anything before a new voice interrupts. 

“Hey.” 

San finds himself almost instinctively looking up at the greeting, having heard it quite a few times already. He sees Yunho leaning against the open door of his apartment as the door slides shut. Wooyoung also turns to look at his neighbor but quickly whirls around when he remembers San. 

“Wait, Sannie—that’s going—” the doors close. “Up,” he finishes lamely. 

“Sannie?” Mingi raises a brow at him. 

Wooyoung swats him on the arm. “He’s an old friend,” he defends. 

“Are you coming in or what?” Yunho asks from the door. 

“Yunho—” Wooyoung begins to whine but stops when Yunho leaves his spot by the door to approach them. 

“Go inside,” he tells them, sauntering into the hallway. “Help Seonghwa. He’s holed himself up in the kitchen. I’ll get your friend.” He pats his friend on the head and shoos him and Mingi to his apartment before he turns and presses the down button again even though it’s still lit up. Mingi disappears into the apartment, but Wooyoung pauses at the door, his expression anxious. 

“Please bring him in. I really want to talk to him,” Wooyoung pleads. 

“I’ll try. Now go help Seonghwa for fuck’s sake. How many times do I have to ask?” With a squeal, the blond scampers off to do as Yunho asks. His front door just barely shuts before the elevator dings, and the door slides open. Yunho raises a brow when he sees San still standing in there, hands covering his face with absolute mortification. “They’re gone,” he tells the brunette, finger pressing the down button to keep the door open. 

Nervously, San lowers his hands enough to glance around the hallway before dropping his hands completely. His face is flushed, but other than that he appears to be recovering. “I—” he stops, unsure of what to say. 

“I’m having a housewarming party if you want something to drink or eat,” Yunho offers. 

San immediately shakes his head. “Um, no, thank you. I mean it’s not like I’m your friend or anything. Plus, I don’t...I don’t have a housewarming gift anyways.” He feels a little bad. They are neighbors after all. San probably could have baked them something at the very least. 

“But you’re Wooyoung’s,” Yunho points out, testing to see how San will respond to that observation. 

His gaze drops to the ground and he bites his bottom lip, and Yunho swears that he might start crying at any moment. “Uh, we’re not—we’re not really friends either,” he tells his neighbor hesitantly. He remembers the conversation he overheard between Hyunjin and Jongho not too long ago and winces. Wooyoung hates him. He must. “We’re just sorta old acquaintances.” 

“Acquaintances,” Yunho repeats thoughtfully. He wouldn’t describe their relationship like that at all after listening to Wooyoung talk about him the other day. “Well, look, I’m not going to pry into your personal history with Wooyoung or anything, but I do know that he would like to talk to you again. It’s your choice.” 

San lifts his head at that revelation. Talk? Wooyoung? With him? Yunho releases his hold on the button and steps backward, watching the younger’s inner turmoil. Isn’t this the opportunity he’s been waiting for? He’s wasted his time debating whether or not Wooyoung might reciprocate any attempt to talk to him again when Wooyoung apparently wants to talk to him. With barely a second thought San squeezes through the elevator door just as it’s sliding shut and follows Yunho back to his apartment. 

 

He deeply regrets coming to his neighbor’s apartment. 

There are way more people than he expects, none of whom he actually knows, and he doesn’t know what to say whenever someone asks who he is. “Uh, um, neighbor,” he practically whispers to one guy. He even points lamely in the direction of his own apartment. 

“Oh.” Then the guy shoves a drink in San’s hand and wanders off to talk to someone else. 

Dejectedly he looks down at the cup in his hand, eyeing the foam and yellowish color of the liquid apprehensively. He doesn’t drink. His boyfriend doesn’t like him to. As he looks around for a place to abandon said drink, Wooyoung suddenly approaches him, knocking into his shoulder and causing San to jump. Some of the liquid sloshes up against the side of the cup, spilling out onto his arm as a result. 

“Oh, sorry!” Wooyoung apologizes, reaching out to wipe away the mess, but San pulls away from him with a small shake of his head. 

“No, uh, it’s fine.” 

Wooyoung doesn’t take a step closer. 

“So….how have you been?” he asks the brunette, wishing that this weren’t so awkward. 

Miserable . “Okay,” San responds with a shrug. 

“Yeah? Anything new going on with you?” 

Yeah, I recently found out that I can’t die, and my boyfriend likes to take advantage of that to hide any evidence that he’s an abusive fuck . He wants to tell Wooyoung the truth. For the past month he’s told himself over and over again that he could, that he should because Wooyoung was his best friend and the only person in the world he can trust—if only Wooyoung would talk to him again. And here he is, standing before San asking him for his story, yet San’s words get caught in his throat. 

“No,” he lies, cursing himself internally because if he can’t trust Wooyoung who the hell can he trust? “Nothing new really.” He reminds himself of Hyunjin’s words. Wooyoung thinks he’s an ass. 

“I see. Are you still dating that guy?” 

San feels his face burn with shame as he nods his head once. Part of him expects Wooyoung to scowl and fire off a rant about his stupid life choices and why he needs to dump his boyfriend right this second, but instead Wooyoung nods his head in acceptance. He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to burst in frustration the way he used to. 

“Wow. It’s been a long time then, huh? Like...five years? Guess he must make you happy.” Wooyoung smiles at him, but San can’t return it. He stares down at the beer in his hand. Happy? No, he’s not happy. Not really. 

“So, who was that guy in the elevator with you?” San asks to change the subject. He knows the answer, of course, but he figures it’s polite to ask. 

“Oh.” Wooyoung scans the living room, eyes easily falling on Mingi who is currently talking animatedly to Jongho’s boyfriend. “That’s Mingi. He’s—we’re dating actually.” 

San pretends to be surprised. “Oh! That’s great! How long has it been now?” 

“Just a few months,” he answers with a fond expression on his face. 

“I’m so happy for you.” And he is. 

Wooyoung opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Mingi grabs his attention when he starts screeching something incomprehensible. Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung turns back to San and excuses himself to go calm his boyfriend. “Let’s talk again soon,” he suggests before leaving San alone in his corner of the room. 

Awkwardly, San observes the different guests loitering in the living room and kitchen for a brief moment before decidedly concluding that he really doesn’t belong here. He longingly eyes the front door but worries about catching any unwanted attention if he attempts to escape, so he instead flees further into the apartment, eventually taking refuge in the bathroom he easily finds. 

Admittedly this is one of the stranger predicaments San thinks he’s ever ended up in. It’s not often he finds himself hiding out in a stranger’s bathroom holding an untouched cup of beer while sitting nervously on the lid of the toilet. And all he wanted was some food too. 

“So, do you just like hanging around in bathrooms or…?” 

San lifts his head up at the question, eyes landing on Yunho. His neighbor leans against the door frame holding a paper plate in one hand which he hands to San. There’s an assortment of food on the plate, including what looks like a small piece of cake. San’s stomach rumbles. 

“Thanks,” he says politely, picking at the food with his plastic fork before taking a small bite. 

His neighbor snorts, once again drawing his attention. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you kinda paint a pretty sad picture right now.” San frowns, certain that that’s probably true about every second of his life. “I’ve never seen someone eating their food while hiding out in a bathroom before.” 

“Oh.” San supposes it is funny. For him it feels more weird than funny though. “I just….”

“I get it. People can be tiring. I never thought I’d say that, but then I started working.” His neighbor shakes his head like he’s disappointed in himself. “Anyway, the room just across the hall over there,” he jerks his head in the direction of the door across the hall from the bathroom, “it’s probably more comfortable. Feel free to hide out there if you want instead.” Then his neighbor disappears, likely to rejoin his friends. 

For a long, drawn out moment, San eyes the door Yunho motioned to while slowly and contemplatively chewing on a mouthful of food. After debating whether or not to listen, he finally stands up and creeps over to the other door, pushing it open gently and peeking inside. 

It’s a bedroom. The blanket on the bed is pristinely made though the desk on the other side of the room cluttered with different pens, papers, and books with a small perimeter around a laptop being about the only clean surface visible. San concludes that this must be Yunho’s room, and he should probably not go in because that would be weird. On the other hand, his neighbor clearly expressed his permission, and San supposes it can’t be any more awkward than eating on top of a toilet seat, so he hesitantly steps inside. Standing in the middle of the room, San isn’t sure where to sit so he can eat. On the bed seems a bit rude, and he’s afraid of dropping food bits on any of the papers scattered around the desk. He’s even more afraid to touch anything on the desk. 

Ultimately he opts to sit on the floor, enjoying his meal while simultaneously trying to forget that there’s a party going on outside of the bedroom. One that he wasn’t really invited to. 

San’s plate has practically been licked clean, but he still refuses to leave the sanctuary of the room. For a while, he sits on the floor, knees curled up to his chest as he alternately stares at random items in the room and his phone. His phone is at 10% battery when his curiosity and boredom finally overtake him. Pushing himself to his feet, he wanders over to the desk, eyeing the collection of items on it. Honestly, it’s a rather impressive collection, San thinks a bit sarcastically. 

Gingerly he lowers himself into the chair and curiously picks up a pair of black headphones lying on top of the computer. When he notices that they’re Beat headphones he immediately places them back down. He does not want to risk breaking those and then having to pay his neighbor back. 

Looking over the different papers, San notes that they’re a mixture of notes, illegible gibberish, and what appears to be doodlings. There’s also a few sheets of printed paper. San looks over one curiously, but the language is so dense that he promptly gives up, wondering exactly what his neighbor does for a living. There’s also a small pile of books. They’re thick and leather bound and kind of look like the type of books that would be on display, but San notices how well worn these are and the bits of sticky notes that peek out of the pages. Swiveling the chair around, San looks towards the closet where a keyboard he spied earlier is propped up against the wall beside it. It feels out of place in the room. 

The door abruptly slams open at that moment, and San practically falls out of the chair in his panic not to be caught snooping around. When he snaps his gaze over to the door, however, he finds not Yunho, but Jongho grinning down at him. “Scared you, didn’t I?” he asks proudly. 

San frowns while slowly pulling himself to his feet. Why is that an accomplishment anyways? 

“Everyone is starting to leave,” Jongho informs him. “Hyung said you were probably in here, and Wooyoung was asking about your number. You should probably go see him before he leaves.” The younger brother leaves to finish sending the rest of his friends off while San shuffles out after him, closing the bedroom door behind him. 

He finds Wooyoung standing in the middle of the living room, clearly waiting for someone. Clearly waiting for him given that he makes a beeline for the brunette as soon as their eyes meet. “Hey, let’s exchange numbers. I lost yours a while ago.” It’s a lie. They both know it. Wooyoung probably just deleted it in a fit of rage, assuming that they would never talk again anyways. 

“Is your number still the same?” San croaks, turning his phone on. 

“Yeah. I haven’t changed it.” 

“I’ll send you a text then,” he suggests, already pulling up a chat with Wooyoung. He kept the blond’s number in a sad and rather desperate attempt to keep hold of the memory of his best friend, but it had been so long that his text screen came up blank. His phone can’t even remember the last time he texted Wooyoung. He fires off a quick Hi, it’s San turning his screen off again. 

Wooyoung’s eyes light up when he sees the message, and he quickly saves the number back into his contacts. “Let’s hang out more often,” he says. “I’ll text you. We can get lunch sometime or something.” 

San nods his head for once cracking a small, but genuine, smile. “Okay.” 

Mingi appears at that moment, hooking arms with Wooyoung and waving at San. “Nice to meet you, Sannie.” San blinks because are they already that familiar with each other? “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around more often. Come on, Wooyoung. I still have to feed the cat.” 

Wooyoung confirms that they’ll definitely do something together sometime soon before he and Mingi turn to leave with San hot on their heels, but he’s stopped by a tap on his shoulder. When he turns around, Yunho shoves a plastic plate with a lump covered in aluminum foil in his face. San leans away, eyeing the plate warily. 

“Everyone is taking home some extras,” his neighbor explains. “Not even Jongho and I can finish all this by ourselves, so here’s your share.” 

“O-oh.” San holds his hands out, palms up, and takes the plate from Yunho. “Um, thank you.” 

His neighbor shrugs. “It’s some of the cake. You look like you have a sweet tooth, and I figure it’s also sorta an apology to your boyfriend about what happened the other night.” 

San nods his head even as he thinks his boyfriend doesn’t deserve anything of that nature. “Right. Thank you again.” He makes to leave again, but Yunho clears his throat, apparently not done talking. Reluctantly, San turns to give the taller man his full attention. 

“Hey, just know that if you ever need a break from your place you’re welcome to hide out over here.” 

San tenses at the invitation. Yunho sounds neighborly enough, but he’s nervous about the way he puts it—if he ever needs a break. “What do you mean?” 

Yunho shrugs his shoulders. “Like I said before, I get people. Sometimes you just need a break from them, you know?” Biting his lip, San stares at his neighbor, unsure if he actually believes him. Part of him worries about potential subtext in Yunho’s words, but he can’t determine what that may be, so he drops it. 

“Oh. Well, thanks for the offer.” 

Nodding his head, Yunho sees him out the door even though San just lives across the hall. 

On Monday, San can’t tell if he’s excited, nervous, or confused when he receives a text from Wooyoung late in the morning. 

Hey I’m free from 2-3. Want to get lunch?

They go to a sandwich place just across the street from the university. San’s never been there before, but Wooyoung tells him that Yunho and Hongjoong first introduced him to the place, and Mingi loves it. When they’ve sat down with their food and drinks, the atmosphere turns awkward again. San opts to nervously pick at his sandwich, eating it in little bits while Wooyoung watches him. 

“Um, so how did you and Mingi meet?” San finally asks after swallowing a bite solely composed of bread. 

Wooyoung brightens up at the question. “Oh, we were roommates our first year here.” 

San nearly chokes on his next bite of sandwich. “Seriously?” he asks. It’s not an answer he’s expecting though he supposes the situation isn’t too surprising. He half expects a rowdy story of a drunk Halloween party at a frat house, or some cute story about how they met in a class, but roommates seems to be as viable an option as any. 

“Yeah.” Wooyoung bobs his head while recalling the memory. “We lived in the dorms together. Seonghwa was our RA which is how we met Yunho and Hongjoong. We actually started out just really good friends, but somewhere along the way we just started dating, I guess.” 

“You guess?” 

Wooyoung smiles shyly. “It’s complicated. Neither of us asked each other out really, we just noticed that we always hung out, and I suppose I may have let my feelings slip one night after one too many drinks, but we sorta just came to the mutual agreement that we were dating. I don’t know. It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

“No, no.” San pulls off another bite size piece of his sandwich and stuffs it in his mouth. “It seems very much like something you would do.” Giggling, Wooyoung cups his chin in the palm of his hands, smiling dreamily at the memory. Clearing his throat, San changes the direction of their conversation. “So, what does Yunho do anyways?” 

Wooyoung perks up at the question. “Yunho? He works at a law firm. He just graduated last year, but he’s already got a position which is amazing. He complains about it a lot because he’s not really doing much lawyer-y things right now, but everyone’s gotta start somewhere. Why?” 

Shrugging his shoulder, San momentarily pauses in the shredding of his sandwich to instead sip on his soda. “Just curious.” 

Wooyoung frowns, eyeing his friend thoughtfully for a moment before he laments, “It’s too bad you couldn’t have met Yunho first. He would have been good for you.” He sips on his iced tea through a straw while shaking his head at the injustice of it all. 

Meanwhile San turns his head away, hunching down on himself and crossing his arms over his chest. “What the hell?” he mumbles. “I don’t even like him. I have a boyfriend.” 

“I know. I’m not saying your boyfriend’s bad or anything,” Wooyoung sniffs though he doesn’t sound defensive about it, “I just think someone like Yunho would have been good for you. Actually maybe it’s the other way around. Can you believe it? He’s graduated from college but has still never dated anyone. I worry about him sometimes.” San honestly can’t tell if Wooyoung’s being serious or not. He sounds too dramatic to be serious, but his default is dramatic so it’s hard to tell.

Tentatively setting his drink back down on the table, San silently thinks that dating isn’t the most important thing in life sometimes, and maybe his neighbor is just really focused on his career right now, but he also realizes that Wooyoung is mostly joking, so he doesn’t voice those thoughts. Instead he clears his throat for Wooyoung’s attention. When the blond looks at him he asks, “So….are you okay with my boyfriend now?” 

A long pause follows while Wooyoung shifts around in his seat and proceeds to look everywhere but at San. “Well,” he starts off slowly, looking more like he’s addressing his sandwich than San, “it’s been like five years now, right? He must be doing something right. Although I guess I’ll probably never be friends with him as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

San’s stomach twists into knots at that statement, and he feels like he might vomit up his lunch though he manages to clamp down on that feeling. Oh if only he knew. He gets it. Wooyoung is doing his best to be diplomatic about the situation. He tried voicing his opinions before, but that ended in a fight and four years of the cold shoulder between them. In reality, San suspects Wooyoung still disapproves, still thinks poorly of his boyfriend, still hates his guts, but has chosen to accept San’s relationship in order to appease him. 

But San doesn’t want that right now. He wants Wooyoung to scold him and encourage him to dump his boyfriend the way he had in the past. He wants Wooyoung to give him the excuse and the courage he needs to leave the bastard, but that’s not fair. He knows it’s not fair to expect his friend to take on that responsibility for a second time, but still, he craves it. He needs the help. The little nudge in the right direction, but it’s too late for that now apparently. 

San’s forced him into a position where he can give no direction for fear of losing their friendship for a second time. 

Weeks pass by rather uneventfully for the most part. San splits his free time between hanging out in his empty refuge and hanging out with Wooyoung and sometimes Mingi when they’re both free. His boyfriend has been fairly subdued for the most part too. There have been a couple minor fights, but nothing that’s gotten particularly out of hand. Mostly, the elder appears to be coming home too tired to do anything but sleep. San silently thanks his bosses for apparently putting on a heavier workload. 

He also hasn’t seen much of his neighbors lately. Sometimes he catches glimpses of Jongho in the Visual Arts Complex when he hangs out with Hyunjin. Admittedly, San leaves his apartment even earlier than usual now because he’s realized that his usual morning routine rather conveniently coincides with Yunho’s, so he leaves earlier now in order to avoid any confrontation with his neighbor. 

Everything comes to a head one night in the middle of the week, however, when his boyfriend storms out of their room at just a hair past seven with San’s phone in his hand. The younger just finished showering and was shuffling back towards the room when he abruptly halts at the sight of his boyfriend. “Um, is something wrong?” he asks. It’s a stupid question because there’s obviously something wrong. Honestly there’s always something wrong. 

Wordlessly, the elder shoves San’s phone in his face, but the younger isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean. The screen is off. Tentatively, he reaches out to take it, but his boyfriend rips it away as soon as he touches the device. “You’re friends with Wooyoung again?” 

San feels like he can’t breath. “I—he’s my best friend,” he answers meekly. “We go to the same university now, so—” 

“I thought I told you that he wasn’t good for you though, baby,” the elder says, tone suddenly softer as he cups San’s cheek. “He tries too hard to force you to do what he wants. He’s not a good friend. Haven’t we discussed this before?” 

Biting the inside of his cheek, San remains silent. He remembers how his boyfriend reacted when they stopped talking to each other. He assured San that it was for the best. That he didn’t need Wooyoung because he wasn’t a good friend. He remembers believing it at the time before slowly coming to regret that decision until he felt like he was drowning in his own despair of guilt. 

“I missed him,” San whispers, half-hoping the elder doesn’t hear him. 

“Oh, baby. You don’t need him though. You have other friends. Better friends.” 

San snaps. “No, I don’t.” He slaps the elder’s hand away and backs away, aware that he’s earning the other’s ire, but too upset to care. He missed Wooyoung. He wants that friendship back. “All my friends are your friends.” 

“But they’re better,” his boyfriend insists, anger seeping into his tone. 

“But they’re not my friends. I want my own friends. What’s wrong with that?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m just telling you that Wooyoung isn’t the kind of friend you want.” 

San grits his teeth, bracing himself for a fight he knows won’t end well for him. At best this will end with a screaming match. At worst….he gulps at the prospect but refuses to back down. He let his best friend go once. He isn’t about to let it happen again, at least not on his own terms. 

Not long after the fight begins, San wonders if his neighbors can hear them. If they might call the police again or leave them alone to handle it. Their fight comes to a climax when San rears back from a particularly sharp and painful slap while his boyfriend rants about how unappreciated he is. Storming past San he grumbles something about needing some drinks before the front door promptly slams shut. 

Cupping his throbbing cheek, San stands in the middle of the hallway while he waits for the reactionary tears to subside. When his eyes feel dry enough, he briefly contemplates calling Wooyoung to pitifully ask if he can come over but promptly dismisses the idea because his boyfriend still has his phone, and part of him blames Wooyoung for this. It’s a part of him he hates, but a part of him nonetheless. 

Shoulders slumped, he admits defeat and begins trudging for the bedroom, simply praying that his boyfriend will be too drunk to resume their fight when he comes home before one more idea comes to him. Biting his lip, he mulls over how embarrassing it would be to show up at his neighbor’s door at this time of night, but he really, desperately doesn’t want to stay at home tonight. He’s terrified to think what might happen when his boyfriend finally does come back. He might even still be sober. That’s happened on more than one occasion. 

Carefully picking up the metaphorical pieces of his pride, he briefly looks himself over in the mirror to ensure his face doesn’t look that bad before he leaves to try his luck with his neighbors. 

Ringing the doorbell once, San shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and hopes he doesn’t look too ratty in his hoodie and old pair of jeans. When the door swings open, and he looks up, he’s immediately speechless because there’s a stranger standing there, looking at him in confusion with a ladle clenched tightly in his hand. 

“Ah, um,” San begins eloquently. Who is this guy? “Uh, is Yunho or Jongho home?” he inquires. 

The stranger shakes his head once. “Yunho’s not home yet, and Jongho is in the bath. Who are you?” 

San turns his body in a way that he believes signals that he lives next door but adds in a curt, “Neighbor,” to be sure. Shit. Looks like he’ll have to go home. However, the next second the stranger is pulling him inside. 

“Oh, come in. I didn’t know.” He switches the hand that holds the ladle before offering a handshake to San. “I’m Yeosang.” 

“Nice to meet you.” San weakly takes his hand. Yeosang, but he still doesn’t know who that is. 

“I’m making dinner right now,” Yeosang explains even though San never asked, leading the other into the kitchen where a pot on the stove is boiling, and San can hear something sizzling in the pan. “I’m not the best, but neither brother really knows how to cook. They’d be eating frozen dinners and take-out every night if someone didn’t come to cook for them.” 

“You’re friends then?” San asks. 

“I’m Jongho’s boyfriend actually.” He pauses to look over at San after he said that, but the brunette only hums quietly at the statement.  

San stares, spaced out, at the refrigerator, but is spared from another question when Jongho pads down the hallway.  “Who the hell are you talking to?” he asks, appearing moments later while still toweling his hair. He pauses when he spots San standing in the middle of the kitchen. “Oh. I see you’ve met the cute neighbor.” 

“Cute neighbor?” Yeosang sounds absolutely scandalized. He glares at San who shrinks away. He slams the ladle he’s been holding down on the counter and crosses his arms. “See if I make you anything to eat again.” Jongho laughs at his tantrum, sliding his arms around Yeosang’s slighter frame and pulling him into a hug. 

San stares at the two of them and can’t stop himself from murmuring a soft, “So sweet.” He promptly squashes the surge of jealousy that roars through him.

Apparently neither of them hear it. Yeosang rolls his eyes, shoving the younger away after a quick peck on the cheek. Then Jongho turns his attention to San. “So, what brings you here?” 

He opens his mouth to answer even though he doesn’t know what to say. 

“He’s looking for Yunho,” Yeosang supplies helpfully. 

Jongho raises a brow but doesn’t ask why. Instead he informs San that his brother’s schedule is erratic because sometimes he gets held at the office late, but he’ll probably be home soon. “Do you want to eat in the meantime?” 

“Uh, no, thank you. I’m not really hungry,” San politely declines just as his stomach acts up, growling from the lack of food. He hasn’t eaten since lunch today. Blushing, he wraps his arms around his abdomen and again insists that he’s not that hungry. 

“Right,” Jongho replies skeptically before herding him toward the kitchen table. 

San sits hunched over as Yeosang dutifully serves them all dinner, making an extra plate for Yunho next to San’s seat. Awkwardly, he waits until Jongho and his boyfriend have started eating before he even begins to pick at his own food, feeling bad for interrupting them just as they were beginning to eat. The other two engage in casual conversation while San blankly listens, taking small bites of his food and spending several minutes chewing on it before finally swallowing. 

About halfway through the meal the door opens, and Yunho trudges inside, looking exhausted. He pauses when he notices San who awkwardly lifts a hand in greeting before joining them after setting his messenger bag down. He stares at San for a good minute, not saying a single word, before he turns to his own meal and begins eating. 

The conversation carries on while San sits quietly, barely picking at his own food. Yunho finishes right as Yeosang and Jongho do, and he gives them both a look that has them dumping their dishes in the sink and retreating to the younger brother’s room. When they’re gone, Yunho stands up from his seat and moves to place his plate in the sink as well. 

Realizing that everyone else around him is done, San is pulled from his blank thoughts with a jolt, staring down at his half finished plate of food. Would it be too rude not to finish it? Guiltily, San continues to take little bites. 

At the sink, Yunho turns around to face him. Placing his hands behind him to rest against the counter, he leans back and waits until San peers up at him. “Haven’t seen you in awhile,” he notes. 

San swallows thickly, unable to tell if Yunho’s tone is neutral or accusing. Staring down at his plate of food, he fidgets and shies away from what he interprets to be a scrutinizing gaze coming from Yunho. “Sorry,” he apologizes with his head bowed low. “Sorry. Am I intruding? I can—I should go home.” He scoots his chair back so he can stand up, but a loud sigh from Yunho keeps him rooted in his seat. 

“I didn’t tell you you have to go,” he points out. “I’m just surprised because I haven’t seen you for awhile. I guess I was just wondering what you’re doing here.” 

“Oh. Right.” San reminds himself that he has been trying to avoid his neighbor for the last few weeks, but Yunho had been the one to invite him over if he ever felt like it. He understands, San remembers his words. “I, uh.” Still, even while thinking over his request San realizes it sounds stupid. He lives right next door, yet he wants to stay here for the night. Is that a weird thing to request? “Can...can I stay here?” he asks hesitantly, fingers twisting into the hem of the hoodie. “Just for tonight,” he adds quickly like he hopes that makes his request seem more reasonable. 

If Yunho thinks his request is odd—because he lives right next door—he doesn’t show it. He shrugs his shoulders. “So long as you don’t mind potentially awkward sounds coming from my brother’s room,” he jokes. 

Grinning, San shakes his head. “No, I don’t mind at all.” 

 

Yunho sets him up on the couch, retrieving an extra blanket and pillow from his closet and handing them over to San. The brunette takes them gratefully, curling up comfortably on the couch with the blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders. It’s not really late enough that anyone actually wants to go to bed yet, so Yunho sticks around, turning on the TV to the news station for the sake of background noise. They don’t talk much, but San doesn’t find the silence between them all that uncomfortable. 

Nevertheless, San feels inclined to break the silence. “Um, thank you again. For letting me stay the night.” 

Briefly Yunho tears his eyes away from the screen to look at his neighbor before shrugging and looking back to the TV. “Yeah, sure,” he responds. 

Pulling his knees up to his chest, San plants his socked feet on the edge of the couch and wraps his arms around his legs. His eyes are fixed on the TV, but he’s not really paying attention to what’s playing. “So, what’s it like living with your brother?” he asks, mostly for the sake of conversation. Where the need to continue conversation comes from San isn’t sure. 

Yunho shrugs again, shifting in his seat on the armrest so that one leg is crossed over the other. “This is the first time we’ve lived together outside of our house, I guess. It’s fine. We get along so.” 

San nods his head thoughtfully. “That’s….good,” he comments rather lamely. 

“Do you have any siblings?” 

He nods his head. “I’ve got an older sister, but….we don’t talk much honestly.” Yunho hums in acknowledgement. San bites his lip. He doesn’t know why he says that, probably makes it sound like he has a bad relationship with her, but he doesn’t. They get along fine, it’s just they don’t talk much. His boyfriend made sure of that, and now she just doesn’t really expect to hear from San unless something happens. 

They continue to make some more small talk while the television plays background noise until San starts yawning incessantly. At that point, Yunho pats the pillow he brought down for the brunette and advises him to get some sleep. 

“Goodnight, Yunho,” San yawns as he curls himself up on the couch. Yunho lifts a hand in acknowledgement before disappearing into his own room. 

Three hours later, San finds himself awake, tossing and turning in an effort to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but unable to. He could hear his boyfriend as he stumbled home about an hour ago, slamming the door shut behind him, and either furious or unaware that he’s currently absent in their apartment. San worries that he might be angry; that he might come kicking the door down any minute to drag San back. The more time that passes the more San’s fear dissipates. Right as he’s ready to go to sleep, however, the fear strikes him again, and the cycle repeats. 

He flips onto one side, then the other, before rolling onto his stomach, arms tucked beneath his pillow with his eyes squeezed shut, but sleep refuses to come to him. It’s at this moment that he hears one of the doors in the apartment open, and he lifts his head up, watching as the light from one of the bedrooms floods the hall before Yunho shuffles out in a pair of black gym shorts and a grey t-shirt. 

He yawns and rubs his eyes as he shuffles over to San, and the brunette sinks down, feeling bad that he might have woken the other up. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks before attempting to stifle a yawn behind his hand. 

San slowly lifts his head up to peer over the arm of the couch at Yunho. “Sorry,” he whispers, “did I wake you up?” 

“No, my throat hurts. Needed a glass of water.” He scratches at his ribs while moving over to sit on the arm of the couch. “Heard you tossing and turning though. Can’t sleep?” 

“Ah, uh, yeah, I guess so.” San lays his head back down on the pillow. 

Another yawn escapes him and he rubs the corner of his eye. “Do you want to switch with me? I can sleep out here if you want.” 

San brings the blanket up around his chin and snuggles into the couch. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you,” he declines, slipping his eyes shut in the hopes that he can force himself to fall asleep. “I’m okay out here.” 

“Nah, it’s okay. You’ll probably sleep better in a bed, and you look like you could use it in all honesty.” San eyes open at that, and he opens his mouth to, again, decline his neighbor’s offer but instead he can only squeal as Yunho seizes him by the arm and pulls him from the couch, the blanket falling to the floor in the process. “It’s fine,” he announces as he falls into his spot on the couch. “Go ahead. My room is yours for tonight.” He reaches down to grab the blanket from the floor and pulls it over himself. 

Standing in the middle of the room, San doesn’t know what to do as Yunho already seems to be ready to fall asleep. He fidgets in his spot for a moment, still not entirely sold on the idea that he sleeps in Yunho’s bed for the night, but with few options left San finds himself first heading into the kitchen to retrieve a cup of water. It takes a minute of opening different cabinets to find a cup, but he eventually finds one and fills it with water. He brings it back over to Yunho who by now appears to be fast asleep, so he sets the glass of water on the coffee table in front of the couch and quietly creeps over to his room. 

The bed is unmade from when Yunho must have rolled out of bed in search of water. Grimacing to himself, he hesitates for a moment before sighing and crawling ever so slowly into the full size bed. He crawls his way across what must clearly be the side Yunho prefers to sleep on to the other and tentatively snuggles beneath the blanket on the other side. 

Closing his eyes, San sighs in relief. While the bed is certainly more comfortable than the couch, San finds that the feeling of safety within the bedroom helps him sleep much more easily than when he was out in the living room. The fear that previously gripped him no longer crowds the front of his mind. Instead he worries about what his neighbor must think of him after tonight, but it’s not enough to keep him up any longer. 

 

To say that the events from last night were awkward would be an understatement. Jongho shakes him awake before moving on to waking up his brother on the couch. He’s invited to stay over for breakfast, but he declines. He manages to sneak into his apartment for a new change of clothes and his backpack before escaping again without waking up his boyfriend. 

Despite how awkward that night had been, San finds himself at his neighbor's front door the next day and then the next and the next and the next. It’s partly a matter of convenience and partly the fact that he finds the brothers easy to get along with. San still hangs out with Wooyoung at school but can’t bring himself to intrude on his best friend’s personal space. 

They’ve gotten to the point where Jongho and San have learned to wait until the other’s classes are done for the day before they go back to Jongho’s apartment after. Yunho always comes home later. Sometimes late enough that San evidently misses him. On the days that he comes home early enough, San finds himself bothering the elder brother most often. He only realizes it one day when he asks Yunho about Jongho and Yeosang out of curiosity. 

One consequence of coming over so often is that San has grown closer to Yeosang as well. The other often comes over to hang out with Jongho which Yunho seems mostly okay with because Yeosang cooks, and San’s seen what the brothers resort to when he isn’t around. 

When San asks about them, he flinches away when he realizes Yunho has turned his desk chair around to pin him with a blank stare. “Um, sorry. I—um—sorry.” San feels the urge to crawl to the door. Maybe he should head home for today. He just wanted to know how long they had been together. They don’t really talk about themselves that much, so the topic never came up, but perhaps San was wrong to ask Yunho about it. He isn’t sure. Was that a rude thing to ask? 

“I don’t know,” Yunho eventually answers, turning back in his chair. He had been penning something into a notebook before San interrupted his train of thoughts. He stares down at his notebook with a slight frown on his face. 

“You didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to,” San murmurs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.

“No,” Yunho sighs, dropping his pen down and closing his notebook. He turns his chair around to look at San again, staring down at the brunette who sits cross legged on the floor. “It’s not that. I really don’t know.” 

San doesn’t know what to say in response, so he doesn’t say anything. 

With a sigh, Yunho rests his elbow on one of the arm rests and leans his head into his palm. “I didn’t even know he had a boyfriend because he never told me. I don’t think he would have, at least not for awhile. He still doesn’t share all that much about it with me. I only just found out how they met, but Jongho hasn’t told me how long this whole…” he snaps his fingers, trying to come up with a term for it, “thing has been going on between them.” Apparently that’s the best he can come up with. “I only found out because….well, because my parents caught them once. Making out.” 

“Awkward,” San comments light heartedly. 

Yunho shakes his head. “That doesn’t even begin to describe it. My parents were furious. Their relationship became really strained. They still can’t really accept the fact that Jongho is gay, so I let him move in with me. He needed to get away from them.” 

San cringes at Yunho’s explanation, curling in on himself as if physically pained by the words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’m sorry for asking.” 

“You apologize a lot, you know that?” 

“I’m sor—” San pauses and peers up at Yunho sheepishly who shakes his head and snorts. “I should go home,” he says instead while standing up. 

“Ah, is the Mister due home soon?” Yunho teases him, sliding out of his seat to show San out. 

The brunette  scowls at the question. “We’re not married,” he corrects his neighbor while he shuffles out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the door. “And I’m a mister too, I’ll have you know.” 

Grinning, Yunho ruffles his hair while he slips his feet into his shoes. “Alright. If you say so,” he teases. 

San hesitates at the door, fingering the straps of his backpack anxiously. He’s really not all that eager to go back home, but he feels guilty after asking his neighbor such personal questions. And he feels like an intruder despite the fact that Yunho doesn’t seem the least bit irritated with him. Nevertheless, he excuses himself from the apartment in order to give Yunho some space. 

“I’ll see you later,” Yunho says as San opens the door.

“Yeah,” San agrees with a shy grin. “Probably tomorrow.” 

Yunho returns the smile with a small one of his own. “Tomorrow then.” 

San picks at his lunch not quite feeling hungry. Wooyoung and Mingi sit on the other side of the table from him. He can feel Wooyoung’s stare on him, and he can hear Mingi practically inhaling his food. He knows it’s coming. He can feel it coming. He waits until, finally, Wooyoung asks, “Not hungry?” 

“Not really,” San answers, rehearsed. “Want some?” He pushes his plate towards his friend, offering up his food, but Wooyoung shakes his head. 

“Is something bothering you or are you just not hungry?” 

San furrows his brows at the question. Truthfully nothing is really bothering him, but there has been a question he’s been pondering over lately. “What kind of person does Yunho like? To date, I mean.” 

Mingi momentarily pauses in his dining, and he and Wooyoung share a look at the question. Shifting in his seat uncomfortable, San wonders how that question must have come off to the two of them. Eventually, Mingi shrugs his shoulders and answers, “Who knows? I mean, he’s super nice so I guess someone who’s also nice? I don’t think he’s ever dated though.” 

Frowning, Wooyoung turns to his boyfriend. “No, there was that one girl when he was a third year in university,” he reminds his boyfriend. San frowns, unsure of why he feels a sting of disappointment.

Mingi makes a noise of agreement. “Oh, yeah! You’re right. I forgot about that. It didn’t last all that long anyways did it?”

“Like three months,” Wooyoung estimates. “Why do you ask?” 

San flounders at the question. “I—I just….I don’t know. He seems...nice,” San mutters lamely. “I just wonder why he doesn’t date or whatever.” 

“I think we all wonder about that,” Wooyoung sighs with a roll of his eyes. 

Meanwhile Mingi squints at San, plastic fork poised and leveled at the younger. When San lifts his head up and notices the staring he raises a brow and asks, “Can I help you?” 

The question draws Wooyoung back into the conversation. He looks first at San who spoke, then at Mingi to see what his boyfriend has to say. Mingi presses his lips into a thin line, eyes narrowing even further. He appears to be contemplating something rather deeply before he finally opens his mouth. “Do you have a crush on Yunho?” 

Wooyoung chokes on his food, smacking his boyfriend on the arm while he proceeds to fall into a coughing fit. San, on the other hand, displays no outer reaction to Mingi’s question, staring blankly at the redhead. Internally, however, he’s in utter turmoil. Fortunately, San doesn’t have to come up with an answer to that because Wooyoung jumps in for him. 

“Mingi! He has a boyfriend. I thought I told you this already.” 

His boyfriend sniffs in response. “I didn’t ask if they fucked. I asked if he had a crush. It’s not like a little crush ever hurt anyone.” San guesses that Wooyoung promptly kicks the other in the shin if the sudden grimace and doubling over are any indication. Luckily, San’s answer, or lack thereof, seems forgotten in the flood of pain because Mingi doesn’t press him for a response. 

San misses Yunho that night.

It isn’t until two nights later that he catches the lawyer. Yunho had been home with a slight cold when Jongho and San returned from classes. 

“No offense, but you don’t sound very sick,” San remarks while mindlessly playing middle C on Yunho’s electric keyboard. 

Yunho promptly rolls over and flicks him on the back of the head. San releases a yelp of pain, dramatically falling to the ground and groaning in pain. Yunho laughs at his antics. “You shouldn’t talk to the sick that way,” Yunho reprimands jokingly. 

With a pout San petulantly plays an ugly chord with his knuckles though Yunho appears unbothered by the ear shattering noise. Huffing with annoyance, he removes his fist from the keyboard, silencing the offensive noise. 

A heavy sigh sounds from the bed as Yunho rolls onto his back. San tilts his head back. “I’m not even that sick,” he mumbles into the pillow. “It’s a small cold, but my colleague is a germaphobe so he kicked me out of our office.” A sigh follows the explanation. “I’m going to be so behind when I get back.”  

“You couldn’t work here?” San asks, eyeing his desk curiously. He doesn’t know much about what Yunho’s job entails, but he thinks at least some of it can be done at home. The electric keyboard lies half across San’s lap and he taps on one of the keys absentmindedly. 

“Forgot to bring home the right paperwork,” Yunho grunts. “Hey, can you stop with the keyboard? I think I’m getting a headache.”

San jumps a little at the question, pushing the keyboard off his lap as if it burns him. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” 

“Don’t worry,” Yunho slurs. “I normally don’t care. My head just is, ugh. Plus that’s technically Jongho’s. Brat just likes to leave his shit in my room sometimes.” 

Still, the brunette takes care to make sure the keyboard is turned off. Then he pulls his knees up to his chest, hugging them close, and leans back against the side of Yunho’s bed. “Can I ask you something?” he attempts to segway. 

Yunho flips onto his front. “Sure. What is it?” 

“Are you dating anyone?” 

A long, pregnant pause follows before, “Are you asking me out?” 

“I have a boyfriend,” San responds bitterly, his answer practically automatic at this point. 

“Oh. Right. Well, the answer is no. No, I’m not.” 

“How come?” 

The bedsprings creak when Yunho shrugs his shoulders as best he can while lying down. “Dunno. Haven’t met anyone I’d want to date.” 

“No one?”

“Guess not. Why do you ask?” 

San presses his lips down into a frown and shrugs. “Just curious, I guess.” Yunho grunts at his answer, so the brunette quickly changes the topic. “Hypothetically speaking, if I didn’t want to go home tonight would you be cool with that?” 

After a short pause Yunho answers, “Hypothetically speaking, I would ask you why you don’t want to go home tonight.” 

“Oh.” San curls himself into a tighter ball at the other’s answer, eyes squeezing shut as he mentally prepares himself to go home. 

But then, like Yunho can sense his discomfort, he adds, “But that’s only hypothetically speaking, of course.” San perks at this response, a small smile slowly working its way across his face. He jumps up from his spot on the floor and eagerly throws himself on the unoccupied side of Yunho’s bed. The taller man releases an incomprehensible noise of regret when the springs creak under the combined weight of the two because he’s sick and the jostling just hurts his head more. He rolls onto his side, baring his back to San. 

“Thanks, Yunho!”

“Get off my bed, you brat,” he whines in response. “I never said you could sleep here .” 

Despite some half-hearted complaints and a couple of weak kicks to San’s hip, Yunho fails to remove the brunette from his bed, even though he’s entirely capable of it, and they end up falling asleep like that, Yunho on one side with the heel of his socked foot pressed into the small of San’s back while San sleeps curled up on his side, forming a tight ball. 

Yunho wakes up that way, flat on his back but with his right foot pressed against a warm body. When he lifts his head up to look down, he sees his neighbor still sleeping on his side, unbothered by Yunho’s foot in his back. His shirt has ridden up a bit from the strange sleeping position, revealing the lower half of his back. Yunho sighs as he removes his foot and pulls himself up into a sitting position. 

Yawning, he rubs a hand over his face, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Although the morning light is just beginning to shine through his bedroom window, it’s still dim outside, and Yunho surmises that it must still be early in the morning. Maybe six. Shit, he’s too tired for this. Dropping his hands back into his lap, he looks over at his still sleeping neighbor. Shaking his head once, he considers flopping down to futilely hunt down a few more minutes of sleep, but then San shifts onto his back, throwing one arm out and smacking it in Yunho’s face. 

The lawyer curses and turns his head away, swatting San’s hand off of him. Huffing, he stares down at his neighbor before his eyes travel down the length of San’s arm. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt that he hadn’t bothered to take off or change before he had fallen asleep, but the sleeves have ridden up his arm and Yunho finds himself staring at his wrist. 

There’s a small, yellowing imprint around his wrist like a fading bruise that Yunho frowns at. It’s like he wore a bracelet too tight, or perhaps someone had gripped him by the wrist hard enough to bruise. “Hypothetically speaking, I think I know why you don’t want to go home,” Yunho says to himself. He rubs at his eyes again. “Fuck,” he curses. What the hell is he supposed to do with this guy?

Rolling out of bed, Yunho rolls his shoulders twice and tilts his head from side to side to stretch out his neck before making his way to the kitchen. It’s too early to be awake on a Saturday morning, but he knows he won’t go back to sleep right now even if he tries. There’s too much to be done. He’ll probably head into work for today since he was quarantined in his apartment yesterday. 

He’s just finishing up a simple bowl of cereal for breakfast when he hears footsteps padding down the hall before San shyly pokes his head into the kitchen. When he spots Yunho he smiles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick you out of your bed,” he apologizes. 

Yunho waves off his apology before draining the last of the sugary milk from his bowl. “Don’t worry about it. I need to get going soon anyways.” 

San furrows his brows and bunches of his sleeves into a little fists at the statement. “Where?” he asks. 

“Office. Didn’t get jack shit done yesterday, but Hongjoong won’t be in today, so he can’t kick me out again.” 

“You’re going to work?” the brunette asks, watching as Yunho dumps his dishes into the sink and paces around the house to get ready. He picks up his wallet, keys, the jacket he’d thrown across the couch yesterday while San watches him apprehensively. “But....it’s the weekend,” he protests. 

“Ah. It must be nice to be a student. I remember when weekends meant you didn’t have to do anything.” Yunho laments jokingly. San actually looks terrified by the prospect, and Yunho can’t help but laugh at his expression. As he starts pulling on his shoes to leave, San bounds after him. 

“Ah! I just remembered something I have to do too.” 

Yunho raises a brow at his statement but only hums in acknowledgement when San wanders out of the apartment hot on his heels. They ride the elevator down to the first floor together where Yunho starts to grow suspicious when San follows him down the street rather than breaking off toward his usual route to school. 

“Not heading to the university?” he asks. 

“Uh, no. I have to go this way too,” San lies. 

The brunette trails after Yunho like a lost puppy, eyes scanning over unfamiliar shops as they continue to go in a direction increasingly unfamiliar to him. At a crosswalk, Yunho again stops to ask San where he’s going. 

“The bank. It’s this way,” he lies smoothly enough. 

“Uh, the banks are closed on Saturdays.” 

“Oh. Right. I—I forgot about that.” 

Sighing, Yunho shoves his hands into his jean pockets and stares at San, waiting until he tentatively meets his gaze before he says, “You know, you’re welcome to stay at my place even if I’m not there. Jongho doesn’t mind.” 

“But….it’s weird when you’re not there,” San mumbles. “And Jongho was still sleeping.” 

“And let me guess, you don’t want to go home yet?” Yunho adds. The way San hangs his head is answer enough. “Alright, fine. You can come to my office—” His voice raises in volume when San’s eyes light up at the prospect because he’s not done speaking. “—On two conditions,” he hastily finishes, holding up two fingers. San eyes his fingers but patiently waits for Yunho’s conditions. “You keep quiet,” he says, eyes narrowing, “and let me work. Fair enough?” 

San eagerly nods his head in compliance. Those are easy conditions. 

 

As soon as they enter the office, San immediately violates one of the conditions by exclaiming, “Whoa! This place looks so fancy.” He looks around the office curiously. Then he immediately breaks the other when he starts bombarding Yunho with questions once he’s sat down at his desk. “Who’s desk is this? What exactly do you do? Have you ever defended a murderer before? Have you ever sent someone to prison?” 

“I’m not that much of a hot shot yet. The most I’ve done is sit on the bench with a senior attorney,” Yunho tells him. “Can I work now?” 

“Oh!” San then seems to realize that he’s broken both of them already. He quickly scoots away from Yunho in Hongjoong’s office chair which he had sat himself down in, awkwardly crossing one arm over his stomach and gripping the sleeve of his other arm. “S—sorry. I, um—” 

Moving closer to him, Yunho places his hands on the brunette's shoulders and squeezes gently. “Don’t worry, I just really actually want to get something done.” San nods his head in understanding, allowing Yunho to turn back to his computer without another word. He looks around silently as Yunho works, eventually settling on doodling a couple cute little pictures into the corner of the small whiteboard that hangs in the office and watering the plants by the door. Neither of those really count as touching anything, San rationalizes. 

Yunho doesn’t realize how long he’s been working until he stomach begins growling, and when he checks the time he sees that it’s already one in the afternoon. Shit. Turning around to ask San if he’s hungry, he pauses then softens a little when he sees the brunette curled up and napping away in Hongjoong’s chair. Lifting his hips up, he digs into his back pocket for his phone. Take-out it is then. 

San wakes up to the smell of delicious, greasy Chinese food and Yunho shaking him awake. “Come on, let’s eat lunch,” the lawyer says when San sits up with a groan. He takes a moment, yawning and rubbing his eyes before he finally looks at the food Yunho is pulling out of the bag and laying on the floor between the two desks. 

“You didn’t have to,” he murmurs, sliding off the couch with his mouth watering at the prospect of food. “Or, I can, I can pay you for half. How much was it?” He reaches into his front pocket to pull out his wallet only for Yunho to wave him off. 

“No. It’s my treat.” 

“But—” 

“Just eat it with me, yeah?” He hands San a pair of wooden chopsticks which the brunette hesitantly accepts. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles, splitting the chopsticks in half and rubbing them against each other to make sure no little pieces of wood would contaminate his food. They start eating together then, at first in silence. Yunho sometimes places some food onto one of the lids San’s using as a makeshift plate, but otherwise they eat lunch in relative silence.

At least until Yunho decides to speak up. “So, tell me about your boyfriend.” 

San freezes at the request, a piece of sweet and sour pork halfway to his mouth, and stares at Yunho. “Huh?” he asks intelligently. 

“Your boyfriend,” Yunho repeats with a quirk of his brow. 

“Oh. Uh, why?” 

Yunho frowns at him. “I don’t know. You asked me about my love life the other day. Just seems fair? Besides, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Shouldn’t I know these things?” 

San stuffs his food in his mouth to avoid having to talk about it while he comes up with a reason not to talk about his boyfriend. He supposes it’s true. Usually one would eagerly divulge information about their partner to their friends, right? He remembers when he used to do that with Wooyoung, before everything went to shit. He doesn’t really want to gush about his boyfriend right now though. Mostly because there isn’t much to gush about. Slowly chewing on his piece of spicy chicken, San contemplates how best to avoid answering Yunho. 

“Or you don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it.” San looks up at that to see Yunho staring at him, and his stomach twists into knots. As usual, Yunho looks like he’s staring right through him, like he knows everything already but just doesn’t say anything. San bites the inside of his cheek angrily. If he knows something, shouldn’t he say something? 

San sets his chopsticks down when he’s had enough. “I should probably go home,” he murmurs. 

Yunho stares, his own chopsticks in his mouth, while San stands up and bows his head slightly. He thanks the lawyer for the meal before shuffling out of the office. Yunho doesn’t say anything to stop him, only nods his head in acknowledgement that San is leaving when the brunette turns just before exiting the room. San mentally wills Yunho to say something—anything—about their previous conversation, but he doesn’t. “I’ll see you later then?” he says from around his chopsticks. 

San hesitates, disappointed, before nodding his head. “Yeah. Later.” As he leaves he kicks himself mentally. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chants to himself. He’s so stupid. Why would Yunho know anything? How could he expect him to know anything? He’s so stupid. So stupid. 

His boyfriend is, unfortunately, home when he returns and looking more than a little upset by San’s sudden appearance. “Where have you been?” he immediately asks upon the younger’s return. 

San freezes up. Oh shit. He thought the elder was working today. “Um, I had a project that I’ve been working on,” he lies quickly. “I pulled an all-nighter at one of the studios. I’m sorry. I just procrastinated on it a bit, so I was stuck there for awhile and—” 

“Oh.” His boyfriend sighs in relief. “I texted you, but you didn’t answer. I guess you were just busy with your project, huh? You always get a little lost in your head when you’re working.” 

“Um, yeah.” San agrees, a bit shocked by how easily the elder believes him. Usually this turns into a full on interrogation. “I’m sorry. I meant to respond,” lies , “I just forgot and—” 

“It’s okay, baby,” the elder assures him, walking over and pulling San into a hug. “But you really should stop procrastinating like that. It’s not healthy to stay up all night. You need your sleep.” 

San remains tense in the embrace, even grimacing a bit when he feels a kiss pressed into his forehead. “At least it’s the weekend,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah, but even so,” his boyfriend continues to chide him. “And I missed you last night.” Oh great. San doesn’t like it. The affection and what it likely implies. 

“Sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.” 

“Good.” He finally releases San from his embrace, and, instead, runs his fingers through his hair affectionately. “Have you eaten? I’ll make you something.” 

San opens his mouth to deny that he needs food. He’s already eaten, but then promptly shuts himself up. Better to pretend he’s hungry. Telling him he’d already eaten might lead to a whole load of other questions, and the less he asks the better. “Okay. Thanks,” he says meekly, following the elder into the kitchen. 

“I don’t even like him,” San blurts out. Yunho startles in his desk chair before turning around to look at the brunette. He’s sitting on the floor of his neighbor’s room, a stuffed teddy bear squeezed in his arms. Yunho told him it was a gag gift from Seonghwa one year, to keep him from being lonely, but San’s taken a liking to it. It’s been almost a week since they’ve last seen each other because he’s been avoiding his neighbor out of fear of this. This conversation. 

“What?” Yunho asks, blinking once. “Who are we even talking about?” 

“My boyfriend,” San explains, peeking up at his neighbor who furrows his brows at the statement. “You asked about him last weekend, remember?” 

The elder sits back in his chair, fingers laced together and hands resting on his stomach. He seems to contemplate San’s words for a moment before he shakes his head because no, no he still doesn’t get it. “Wait, so you’re telling me that you don’t actually like your boyfriend because I asked about him a week ago?” 

“I—yes?” 

“And….that’s what you wanted to tell me about him?” 

“Well…” San struggles to answer his question. “I—I used to like him. But I don’t. Anymore, that is.” 

Yunho stares at him, evidently at a loss of what to say. “So,” he begins awkwardly, scratching behind his ear. “Why are you still with him then?” 

“I—I don’t know.”

“Afraid?” The elder guesses, expression sympathetic, but San’s stomach churns at the suggestion. You don’t even know the half of it , he thinks. “I get it. First boyfriend, right? Can’t be easy to break it off.” Yunho picks at invisible strings on his shirt. “You don’t have to stay with him if you don’t want to anymore, you know. It’ll suck at first, but he’ll get over it and so will you.” 

But I can’t , San wants to say. He doesn’t. “You sure have a lot of relationship advice for someone who’s never really had one,” he snarks instead. 

“Hey there, I’m just trying to be helpful,” Yunho sniffs. “And anyways, I’ve seen plenty of relationships from the sidelines. Trust me when I say it used to be Wooyoung in your position, over at my apartment and crying his eyes out about the latest ex-boyfriend.” 

“I’m not that bad,” San protests weakly. 

“No, you’re not,” Yunho agrees. “So, how long have you been feeling this way?” 

San digs his fingers into the soft tufts of the teddy bear, glaring at the top of it’s head like it will hold all the answers. “A long time,” he admits quietly. He isn’t sure exactly when it started. He remembers the first incident still. He’d been scared out of his mind when he woke up from that, always flinching and trying his best to stay out of his boyfriend’s way. But the elder had been so nice to him after that incident. He bought San small little gifts, showered him with affection, San stupidly believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again. 

But then it did. And it kept happening, and the excuses he used to make for him slowly just turned to hatred. But he couldn’t leave. 

“So why not break up with him?” Yunho suggests. “There are other people out there besides him. If you’re not happy now, you should find someone who will make you happy.” 

San feels a lump forming in his throat. For a lot of reasons. I’m scared. I was too young. I was too stupid. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what he’ll do. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know how to. I don’t know anything . Except there is one thing that he knows. I know that —”I like you.” 

Yunho actually chokes. “What? San, I—”

“I know!” San interrupts, squeezing his knees to his chest. “I know you don’t like me. I’m probably not your type either. I don’t know why I said that, honestly. I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Yunho tells him softly, not moving from his seat. “If it’s sincere and truthful, then I’m grateful for you telling me. There’s nothing to apologize for.” 

“But I made things awkward,” San argues, toes digging into the carpet. He stares resolutely at his knees while berating himself for speaking his mind like that. “Because you don’t like me right? Not—not in that way, I mean. I know we’re friends so—so obviously you must like me a little,” he rambles. 

“San, listen, I—” 

“No!” the brunette cuts in again with a miserable shake of his head. “I’m sorry, please. I don’t….I don’t want to hear it. If that’s okay.” 

Yunho parts his lips to speak but can do little more than sigh quietly. “Yes, that’s okay.” San’s shoulders begin to relax too soon because the elder isn’t finished. “But everything else is not okay. If you don’t like your boyfriend—hell, if you like someone else entirely—you shouldn’t be doing this to either him or yourself. It’s not fair to either of you.”

San digs his fingers into his arms, teeth digging hard and viciously into his bottom lip. “I can’t.” 

“You can’t?” Yunho repeats, brow raised with clear skepticism. 

“I can’t,” San confirms. 

Yunho sits up a little in his seat, evidently enticed by San’s response. “Is there any particular reason why you can’t?” He seems tense, practically sitting on the edge of his seat. 

“Do you have a secret you can’t tell anyone?” San asks him. 

Yunho presses his lips into a thin line. No, he doesn’t. Not anything he can think of off the top of his head at least. “Doesn’t everyone have one of those?” he plays along anyways. 

San smiles wryly at the elder. Then he repeats, “I can’t.” And that’s the end of that conversation. 

“You look like shit.” 

Yunho side-eyes his younger brother as he dumps an extra tablespoon of instant coffee into his cup of hot water. “I feel like shit,” he grumbles, stirring his extra strong coffee with his spoon. 

“Your dark circles look even worse than usual,” Jongho snickers before shrieking when Yunho pinches his neck none-too-gently. “Jerk!” he bites out after escaping. “What crawled up your ass and died?” 

Without answering, Yunho takes another sip of his coffee, cringing a little when he burns his tongue, but he doesn’t really care because he needs the caffeine. He stares listlessly at his cup of black coffee. It takes a few more minutes of silence before Jongho throws his hands up in defeat, evidently giving up. 

“Alright, you’re freaking me out now. What’s wrong?” 

He takes another sip of his coffee. “Nothing’s wrong,” he denies, quickly downing the rest of his coffee and dumping the mug in the sink. “I’m just thinking, and your snide comments are unhelpful.” 

“Hmph. I’m just trying to brighten your morning.” 

“By insulting me?” 

“Well, we can’t all be perfect.” 

Yunho rolls his eyes and moves to leave the kitchen.

“What’s bothering you?” Yunho pauses at the question, turning back to look at his younger brother. “You know, you can talk to me if you need to.” 

Biting his lip, Yunho ponders his brother’s words for a moment. “Hey, you hang out with San at school, don’t you?” 

“Uh, sometimes?” Jongho rarely sees San on campus in all honesty. He’s a music major. They have classes in entirely separate buildings and, as far as Jongho can tell, San practically lives in the Visual Arts Complex. He usually only sees him in passing or when he’s hanging out with Hyunjin because his friend spends a lot of time there as well, usually borrowing their recording equipment. 

“Keep, keep an eye on him, yeah?” 

“Is he in trouble?” Jongho raises a brow. “What? Did you find some weed on him or something?” He has this little cheshire grin on his face, but Yunho isn’t in the mood for his teasing. He runs his hands through his dark hair and shakes his head at Jongho’s antics. 

“I’m being serious, okay? Just let me know if something is up.” He’d been thinking about that night when Jongho called the police. All morning he’d been going back through his memory of that night, trying to place anything in his neighbor’s behavior and appearance that seemed off. Honestly everything seemed a little bit weird. San’s hair had been dripping with water and his shirt had clung to him as he shivered in his doorway. He seemed like he wasn’t all there, but Yunho can’t remember anything to indicate some sort of physical altercation. Maybe it had just been verbal, but Jongho claimed he heard screaming , not an argument. He shakes his head. “I gotta go to work.” 

“Alright. I’ll keep you posted.” Jongho mock salutes his brother when he leaves. 

It takes four hours of being absolutely unproductive for Yunho to throw in the towel. Turning his chair to face Hongjoong he waits impatiently for his collegue to give him his full attention, and when the elder finally raises an inquisitive brow at him, Yunho immediately lays out his demands. “Can you call Seonghwa?” 

Hongjoong sputters. “What?” 

“You heard me. Please don’t make me repeat it.” 

Hongjoong’s expression is concerning to say the least. “Well, yeah, but now?” 

“Yes, now,” Yunho sighs and pretends to check the time on his watch. “Look, it’s almost even lunch time. We can claim this is just our official lunch break.” 

“Did you just—” Hongjoong shakes his head. Alright they’re just going to go ahead and pretend like they hadn’t already taken their lunch break today already. “Okay, but before I call I think I should just double check that this is what you want because as much as I know you absolutely adore us,” Yunho snorts, “we both agreed on a very strict No Seonghwa During Working Hours rule. Because, you know, taking work home sucks.”  

“I’ll live if I have to finish some stuff up at home.”  

“Regardless, I’m just reminding you of your own rule.” 

“He’ll reorganize our office. Everything will be neat.” 

Hongjoong fists his hands in his hair. “I’ll never be able to find anything I need!” he laments.

“Hongjoong, please!” 

The elder throws up his hands in surrender before reaching out for his phone sitting next to his keyboard. “Alright, alright. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you” 

Seonghwa shows up promptly twenty minutes later, practically glowing at being allowed into the office. “I brought food!” he announces, holding out a bag of take-out from a nearby restaurant. He passes the food off to Hongjoong who eagerly takes it before perching himself on the edge of Hongjoong’s desk. Technically he shouldn’t be in here, but it’s rare for anyone to drop their office so they figure it’ll be fine. “So, why the sudden booty call?” 

“I need advice,” Yunho says at the same time Hongjoong denies that “this isn’t a fucking booty call. What?” 

“You could have asked me,” Hongjoong mutters, fishing out the napkins and plastic silverware. 

“Sorry. I need good advice,” Yunho corrects. Hongjoong’s affronted expression is enough to draw a small giggle from Seonghwa. 

“Alright. What do you need, Yunho?” 

Yunho finishes unwrapping his food before he pauses. Then he swallows thickly. “How do you tell someone that they need to leave an abusive relationship?” 

Hongjoong’s mouth hangs open, a bite of food half-way to his mouth. Seonghwa wears a similar expression. The previously light atmosphere suddenly feels grim. “Um, what?” 

“Sorry about that,” Hyunjin apologizes as he jogs up to Jongho. 

Jongho waves off his friend’s apology. “Hm, no need to apologize for that.” Hyunjin had disappeared for a few minutes to use the restroom while Jongho entertained himself by examining the different student pieces on display on the fourth floor of the Visual Arts building. One piece in particular has caught his attention because all the pieces have a little placard next to or nearby with the student’s name and the name of the piece. This silver placard has the name Choi San etched into it. 

Jongho doesn’t know much about art, has a hard time appreciating it on a fundamental level. There are certain forms of art he can appreciate—cinema, music—but this is difficult. Still, even with his utter lack of understanding and appreciation for art, Jongho finds this painting a bit unsettling. It’s untitled, according to San, and exceptionally unsettling. Jongho makes a mental note to tell San he should call it Creepy or something along those lines. 

The canvas is swamped with an overwhelming amount of blue and black in more shades than Jongho even thought was possible. Water. It’s clearly supposed to be a body of water. The angle appears such that it gives the illusion of floating beneath the surface of water, looking up. And beneath that body of water is a person—body, Jongho thinks because certainly at this rate that guy is going to drown, floating beneath the surface of the water, arms and legs limp as if the current would carry him if the painting could be viewed in motion.. 

“Ah, you found one of San’s paintings?” Hyunjin remarks when he’s close enough to see what Jongho is peering at. “This was his centerpiece for the art show we had last year. It’s….” 

“Suffocating?” Jongho supplies. He has to make sure he’s actually breathing a few times. 

“Uh, breath-taking,” Hyunjin suggests alternatively. 

“Literally.” Jongho takes a step away from the painting and turns his head. He finds it oddly difficult to keep looking. “Are all his things like this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Depressing.” He manages one more glance. “Creepy.” 

“It’s not creepy,” Hyunjin admonishes. “That’s just being rude now.” 

“Where is he now? He shouldn’t be in class.” 

Hyunjin blinks. “How would I know? Although, if he’s not in class, there is this one studio room he’s practically taken over as his own. I don’t think anyone else ever tries to use it. It’s too full of all his stuff.” 

Jongho perks. “Ooh, show me.” 

With a shrug of his shoulders, Hyunjin leads the way. In all fairness the studio rooms are free for anyone to use, but it’s not particularly uncommon for some people to try and claim one for their own. San’s just been particularly successful by more or less leaving all his supplies in his studio room of choice. More than once Hyunjin’s seen the older boy hole himself up in his studio for a whole night—maybe even days sometimes. 

“This one,” Hyunjin points as they approach a closed door. He reaches out to knock first, but Jongho darts past him, throwing open the door with his arms wide and an annoying grin on his face. They catch San off-guard if his near perfect imitation of a deer caught in headlights look is any indication—paint brush half raised and dripping a steady stream of black paint, eyes wide and focused on them, body frozen perfectly still. 

Jongho smirks at his prey. “Cute neighbor,” he cooes. 

San shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Jongho. What are you doing here?” 

“I am so sorry,” Hyunjin apologizes, his words tumbling from his mouth. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m sorry about that. We’ll just—” 

“We came to hang out,” Jongho cuts his friend off, sauntering over to San and casually throwing an arm around his shoulders. He ignores Hyunjin’s noise of distress and hiss of his name. “Whatcha working on?” 

“Just a project.” San, not unkindly, shakes Jongho’s arm from his shoulders. “For class,” he adds, hoping that his neighbor can take a hint. 

Jongho can, of course, but his brother seemed off this morning, clearly concerned about San, so he decides that he needs to stick it out. “Yeah?” He squints at the canvas in front of San. Whatever he’s working on is clearly unfinished, but he’s painted in what appear to be tree trunks. Black tree trunks. No leaves. Yeah. Depressing and creepy, Jongho reminds himself. He gives the studio a quick once over. The floor is covered with some paint dirtied clothes and plastic to prevent the tile from getting dirty, different bottles and brands of paint litter the floor around San, and his paint brushes are in utter disarray. Jongho thinks he kind of fits the cliche stereotype of the poor art student. Some blank canvases in a range of sizes line one corner of the studio. Hyunjin hadn’t been kidding about San’s claim to this studio room. 

An awkward silence hangs between the three of them before Hyunjin clears his throat. “I, uh, I’m just gonna—I have something to—” He nods his head once. “Right.” And he takes his leave with Jongho calling out a farewell to him. He shuts the door behind them. 

“Uh, look, I’m actually a little busy right now….” San begins, hoping that this time his hint is a little more clear. 

“You’re not very confrontational, are you?” Jongho observes. 

“What?” San sputters a bit. “I just—I don’t want to be rude.” 

“Asking me to leave because you’re busy isn’t rude.” 

“Okay. Then, um, please leave?” 

Grinning, Jongho pets San consolingly on the head. “Don’t feel like it,” he sings. Sighing, San hunches his shoulders in defeat. He runs his brush against his canvas, making the blurry outline of another tree trunk before he sets it down. “Yunho was worried about you this morning,” Jongho comments. 

San tenses, tilting his head just enough to look at Jongho from the corner of his eye. “About me? What for?” 

“Don’t know.” Jongho shakes his head and shrugs, at a loss. “You tell me?” 

San stiffly places his paintbrush on the plastic sheet covering the floor, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I—I don’t know,” he answers, unsure if he’s lying or not. Maybe it’s because of what San blurted out the other day. San isn’t really sure. He hasn’t talked to Yunho since then, so he doesn’t know what else he could possibly be worried about. 

“Hm,” Jongho hums thoughtfully. “So, you’re okay?” 

San furrows his brows at the question. “Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Dunno.” Jongho shrugs his shoulders and glances at the painting San had been working on before he interrupted. “Life happens. Sometimes life is shit. I understand that.”

“Do you?” San asks, perhaps more bitterly than he intends because he immediately turns his head away when Jongho turns to stare at him, gaze sharp and a little ruthless. 

“My parents are a little homophobic, and maybe a little is an understatement here. I happen to be gay, and I got caught kissing my boyfriend in my room by them.” San opens his mouth to interject, to protest that he hadn’t meant it like that, but Jongho barrels on regardless. “They were unbearable. I swear they thought if they just grounded me for the rest of my life I’d suddenly want to date a girl. They even called Yeosang’s parents and complained to them about it. It was so embarrassing. But you want to know why I’m living with my brother now?” San clenches his fists and shakes his head. “Because my dad hit me. He actually fucking hit me once because I wouldn’t just sit back and take his shit, and I didn’t know who to turn to. I called Yunho, told him what happened, he picked me up within the hour and I haven’t talked to them since.” 

“Why not Yeosang?” San asks meekly. 

“I didn’t want to talk to him or tell him what happened. Truthfully, at the time I thought I would break up with him. I couldn’t deal with shit anymore. I didn’t think it would be fair to him, and part of me blamed him for the whole incident. But Yunho’s always been there for me. He doesn’t judge. He’s never judged me for anything, but he cares. He let me stay with him and dealt with our parents for me, so yeah. Sue me for not knowing your particular life story, but I know life can be shit, okay?” Then more softly he adds, “Though, sometimes it does help to confide in someone.”  

You’re lucky , San wants to tell him. Lucky that he has a support system—a brother who he could depend on and a boyfriend who clearly loves him, and other friends, like Hyunjin, who keep him company and reprimand him for his bad behavior. He wants to tell Jongho that he’s just fortunate, unlike him, but he can’t manage to get any words out before he sniffles once and a tear falls from his eyes. 

The noise alarms Jongho who perks and paws at San’s face, trying to turn his head towards him. “Wait, are you crying?” 

A couple more tears slip from his eyes as San weakly attempts to fight off his neighbor. Jongho again asks if he’s crying, and the dam breaks. “No!” He sobs out the denial, pushing Jongho away from him and covering his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt. “I’m not crying. I’m—” 

Furrowing his brows, Jongho sits up on his knees and crawls closer to San. He reaches out a hand to comfort the brunette. “You don’t have to cry. It’s okay—” 

San viciously pushes him to the ground and stands up. “No, it’s not!” His chest heaves up and down from heavy breathing, his eyes are red and blotchy, and his cheeks are stained with tear streaks. Jongho stares at him slack-jawed. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me! So don’t tell me it’s going to be okay! Just leave me alone!” Then he bolts out of the studio, shouldering the door open with such speed that he nearly trips, before he takes off down the hallway, leaving his painting and Jongho behind. 

When Yunho comes home that night after a solemn conversation with Seonghwa, who actually didn’t really know how to answer his question, he finds Jongho sitting at the kitchen table staring blankly at the mail scattered on top of it. “Did you eat?” he asks, shrugging his messenger off on the couch. Jongho makes a noise that sounds like denial. Yunho raises a brow at his behavior. “Now you’re the one who looks like shit. What’s wrong?” 

“San yelled at me today.” Jongho says, eyes still focused on the table. 

Yunho blinks at the answer. San? Yelling? That doesn’t sound like the brunette at all. “He yelled at you? What the hell did you do?” 

“I don’t know.” Jongho finally turns to look at his brother. “I asked him if anything was bothering him, and….and we talked a little and then he just started crying and yelling at me. I don’t know. I’m still weirded out by it too.” 

“ Crying? Fuck, Jongho, what did you say to him?” 

“I don’t know .” 

Sighing, Yunho runs his fingers through his hair before shaking out the mess. “Why don’t you order take out? I’ll see if he’s okay.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Jongho mumbles, clearly upset that his brother seemed to be blaming him for the incident earlier. 

Frowning, Yunho pats his brother on the head as he scoots out of his chair and walks past his brother to grab his phone in his bag. “Why don’t you invite Yeosang over? You look like you could use some cuddles.” 

“Ew. Please don’t ever say that again ever.” 

“Oh ho, I’m sorry, but don’t deny it, Jongho. I’ve caught you guys all cuddled up and cozy in the mornings more times than you’d probably like to think,” Yunho teases, one hand over his mouth to hide his cheshire grin. 

“Ugh! Stop peeping on us!” 

“You should get your own place together if you hate it.” Jongho’s tempted to throw something at his brother while the elder cackles and makes his way to his room. Once in the safety of his room, Yunho pulls out his phone and opens up a text message for San. They exchanged numbers a while ago, but they don’t text much. Usually there’s no need to seeing as San practically lives here at times, but occasionally San likes to bug him when he’s working late nights. He fires off a quick text to the younger. 

Sniffing, San glances down from the TV to the coffee table when his phone vibrates. He sees a text from Yunho. 

Jongho is sorry.

Wiping his nose with the blanket he’s wrapped himself up in, San snakes one hand out of his cocoon and leans forward to grab his phone just as another text comes in. 

Are you okay?

San’s hand hovers over the phone for a second before he grabs it and brings it into his cocoon. He unlocks his phone before promptly shutting it off again. No need for his boyfriend to see that notification if he suddenly feels like snooping. A few more minutes pass by. San’s eyes burn, and he feels tired as he mindlessly watches some cooking competition show. 

Eventually another text comes in. 

Are you home?

San stares at his phone, contemplating whether or not to answer. Wiping the crust from his eyes, San unlocks his phone and decides to answer. 

Yeah. I’m home .

Come outside?

Breathing in deeply, San releases a long, drawn-out sigh before he carefully begins to extract himself from his homemade cocoon. He’s still in his clothes from earlier that day, but he doesn’t bother washing his face or combing his hair before he slips into his shoes and slowly eases the front door open. When he peeks outside, Yunho is already standing there with a jacket on and a scarf wrapped around his neck. 

“Come on,” he coaxes San out of his apartment. “Let’s go on a walk.” He ducks back in to grab a coat.

They only go to a nearby park, empty at this hour, and Yunho leads him over to a nearby bench. Once they’ve both taken a seat on the bench, Yunho leans back and tilts his head up to stare at the sky, already dark at this hour. The stars aren’t visible. They never are in the city. It’s honestly a bit disappointing. 

“Jongho told me that he upset you today,” Yunho says, eyes sliding over to San. His neighbor curls in on himself at the statement, hunching over like he’s trying to protect something. “What did he say?” 

“Nothing.” 

“It wasn’t nothing, San. You’ve been crying. Tell me.” 

“It was,” San insists, resolutely staring down at his lap. “It was nothing. He just—he was telling me about what your dad did to him once….that’s why he’s living with you now. That’s all. I don’t know why I got upset. I just….I don’t know.” 

Yunho nods once in acknowledgement, tilting his head back down. San still resolutely refuses to look at him, so the elder tentatively holds his hand out, placing it on the bench next to San’s lap, definitely in his line of sight. “You know, Dad keeps apologizing for it to this day. He didn’t….well, his anger got the best of him that day. He never wanted to hurt Jongho, but Jongho won’t hear it. I guess I can’t say that I blame him. He needed to do what was best for him, and leaving that house was the best thing for him to do.” 

San eyes Yunho’s hand warily, digging his own into the material of his coat. “San.” He looks up at Yunho before his gaze drops to his hand again. Tentatively, he allows his own to drop into Yunho’s, chest tightening when his neighbor squeezes his hand in return. He thinks that maybe he deserves to indulge himself. “San….your boyfriend,” the brunette tenses at the change in topic, relaxing his hand and attempting to pull away, but Yunho holds onto him tightly. “Does he….does he ever—” he sighs, frustrated about how to say this. 

“You don’t have to approach it delicately,” San cuts in stiffly, knees pressed together tight and spine ramrod straight. “My boyfriend’s an asshole. I know.”

“He’s manipulative,” Yunho observes. 

San snorts. “He convinced me that Wooyoung hadn’t been a good friend back in high school. After we fought. Then, after a while, he just outright hated it when I hung out with any of my friends. Then he used to complain that I would talk to my family too often. He didn’t want me to because he felt neglected. He just wanted me to hang out with him and his friends. I don’t—Wooyoung’s the only one I’m still in touch with now, and even then—” San cuts himself off, already feeling the tears pricking at the back of his eyes again. 

“And he….hits you.” 

He does worse than that, San thinks, but nods his head. “When he’s really angry. It didn’t start that way. It was a new thing after high school. When I was stupid and agreed to move in with him.” 

“San, you can’t stay in that kind of relationship, especially if you’re aware. It’s not healthy. He’s not good for you, and you know it.” 

“You don’t understand—” 

“I do,” Yunho insists. “I know it can be hard, but if you need a place to stay while you figure things out, you know you can stay with me and Jongho. Or even better, Wooyoung. He and Mingi practically have a spare room because they always sleep together in Mingi’s room. You have a support system.” 

“It’s not that.” San shakes his head. “I can’t leave him. I just can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I can’t tell you.” 

Yunho looks extremely dissatisfied with the answer. “So, you’re well aware that he’s not someone you should be wasting your time on, but you won’t— can’t —leave?” 

San hunches in on himself again, weakly trying to pull his hand from Yunho’s grip. “Basically,” he mutters into his knees. It sounds stupid when the elder says it like that, but San reminds himself that it’s true . He can’t. If his boyfriend told everyone about him, he doesn’t know what he would do. What—

“Even though you like me?” 

Sucking in a sharp breath, San stares at Yunho uncomfortably. “Come on, that’s not fair. You don’t even like me. How could you use that against me?” He tries to make his tone joking, even managing a small, if not insincere, smile. 

“Did I ever say that?” Evidently, his teasing has no effect. 

San’s heart rate picks up at the question, the implication behind the question. Is Yunho implying….No, no. He couldn’t be. San can’t believe it, so he defends himself. “But….but Wooyoung told me you had a girlfriend once. I thought….” 

Yunho shrugs. “I did,” he acknowledges. “I liked her at the time, but our relationship just didn’t work out. But if what you’re trying to imply is that I’m straight, I’m actually pretty open about that kind of thing.”

San’s breath hitches at his word, but he doesn’t stop arguing. “But you said that you weren’t interested in anyone. You said that!” 

“At that time I wasn’t really,” Yunho admits, keeping a steady hold of San’s gaze. Eventually the brunette turns his head away, too embarrassed and mortified hold Yunho’s stare for another second. “Things change when someone confesses to you.” 

San swears his heart is trying to escape his ribcage. “Yunho,” he whines, long and drawn out, “that’s not fair!” 

“Not fair?” Yunho scoffs, tugging the brunette closer by the grip on his hand. “You’re the one who suddenly blurted out his feelings for me, wouldn’t even give me the dignity of responding, and, now, you’re telling me that you can’t even break up with your boyfriend for unspecified reasons? I’m not the one being unfair , Choi San.” 

He stills at those words, breath momentarily caught in his throat. What? “I—” What?  

“What are you hiding from me?” Yunho asks, pretending as if San hadn’t even spoken. “What can’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? Or Jongho? Hell, even Wooyoung? At some point, you need to put yourself first, San. Before something terrible happens.” 

San looks down at his knees, bottom lip caught in his teeth. “I—I want to go home,” he says softly, practically a whisper. He expects Yunho to resist, to keep him here stubbornly until he caves and spills all his secrets, but the elder doesn’t, and San is ashamed to say he’s surprised when Yunho nods his head and untangles his fingers from San’s. 

“Okay.” Yunho stands up from the bench and motions for the brunette to follow him. “Let’s go home.” 

The entire walk home is in total silence. They don’t say a word to each other, and San’s fingers twitch by his side, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from asking if Yunho might just maybe want to hold hands again. He kind of misses the warmth and that giddy, first-love feel of holding your crush’s hands. He manages to keep a tight lid on the urge. Yunho, to his disappointment, doesn’t offer again, and he never once tries to start up even a bit of small talk. 

San sulks the entire way back home. 

It’s not until they’re in the elevator that Yunho finally speaks. “If you ever need anything feel free to come to me. Or Jongho. You can stay over and just talk. Whatever you need.” 

Feeling whatever is left of his resolve quickly crumbling at Yunho’s offer, San slumps into his side, satisfying his urge to be close to the elder. He has to tilt his head up a little just to rest against his shoulder, and while the position isn’t really that comfortable, San endures it anyways because Yunho feels so warm against his cheek. “Thanks,” he mumbles, trying to press even closer to him. 

Yunho allows the artist to remain slumped against his side without complaint, even snaking one hand up to pat San’s head a couple times. The elevator slows to a stop, and San manages to pull himself away from Yunho just as the doors slide open which is probably fortunate because he freezes after taking only one step out of the elevator because his boyfriend is standing in front of their door, staring at the two of them oddly. 

San tenses up at the sight. He hadn’t expected to catch his boyfriend on his way home. Panicking, he prays that Yunho has the sense not to say anything to him, to not even acknowledge him, because he really doesn’t want to explain his relationship with his neighbor. What would he say? What lie would he come up with? 

But Yunho walks past him without a word, nodding once in acknowledgement of his boyfriend. He pauses in front of his door, and San worries that he might turn around and look at him—at them—but he inputs is door code and opens his door without another word or backwards glance. San can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed. 

“You’re close with the neighbors?” His boyfriend narrows his eyes in suspicion as he pushes open the door for San. 

As the younger ducks into the apartment he wants to say something along the lines of “what’s it to you? I’m allowed to have friends.” But instead he only manages a shake of the head and a quiet, “No. We just happened to run into each other.” 

His boyfriend sighs as he follows him inside. “So you had another late night today?” 

“Yeah,” San lies easily, making a beeline for the bedroom as he shrugs out of his coat. “Midterm projects are coming up and I’ve—I’ve been having a hard time with mine. No inspiration, you know?” He probably doesn’t know because San’s pretty sure he’s really not all that invested in San’s school work. It’s mostly for the sake of polite conversation. 

“Oh. Shall we get your creative juices flowing then?” His boyfriend purrs, following him into the bedroom. San shudders at his tone of voice, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin—and not the pleasurable kind. A moment later he feels a hand creep underneath his sweater. Gulping, San squeezes his eyes shut and sighs, resigning himself to this. He’s too tired and scared to try to argue, so he allows himself to be pulled over to the bed, shirt being pulled off a moment later.

He shudders at the cold touch that starts on his stomach, slowly moving up over his chest. Eyes firmly shut, San tries to remember the feel of Yunho’s warm hand in his and how much better that had felt. He misses them. The warm fingers. 

Are you awake?

San bites his lip, hugging his sweater close to his chest while staring at his phone screen. The steady rise and fall of his boyfriend’s breath beside him are the only sound other than the annoying tick of the clock in the room. San can’t stand it. 

 

San. It’s like 1 in the morning. 

Why are you still awake?

 

Anxiously, San types a quick response back. 

Can I sleep at yours?

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response. 

Come over . 

Quietly, San slips out from beneath the blanket and quietly tiptoes his way out of the room. By the time he makes it outside of his apartment, gently shutting and locking the door behind him, Yunho opens his door, standing at the door frame in his pajamas. He looks concerned as San quickly shuffles his way over. 

“What did he do?” The elder asks, stepping aside to allow San into the apartment. 

San waits until Yunho closes and locks his door before he asks, “Can I borrow your shower?” 

His neighbor tenses and when he looks over to San his expression is unreadable. The brunette thinks he can spy a little bit of disappointment though, betrayal too, and maybe even a little disgust. Maybe he’s reading too into it. 

“Do you need a fresh change of clothes?” 

“That—that would be nice.” 

With a nod, Yunho disappears into his room while San heads to the bathroom. He waits inside until the other returns with some clothes folded on top of a clean towel which he hands to San. “Take your time,” he tells the him, closing the door for him. 

“Thank you.” San isn’t sure if Yunho hears him or not, but he’s sure the man knows anyways. 

Once San is done showering and has patted himself dry with the towel and changed into the pair of pajama pants and old gym t-shirts Yunho left for him, he ventures out of the bathroom and shivers at the sudden cool air that greets him. The apartment is quiet now, all the lights are off save for the one in the bathroom, and San tentatively flips the switch before stumbling his way down the hall to Yunho’s bedroom. He navigates there easily enough while his eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden darkness. 

When he quietly pushes the door open, he sees Yunho curled up on one side of the bed asleep. Sucking in a breath, San takes a moment to admire his crush, even if he can’t really see Yunho that well in the dark, before silently creeping over to the bed. He dumps his old clothes and the used towel on the floor next to the bed, making a mental note to clean that up when he gets up tomorrow, before he crawls in next to Yunho. 

It’s then that the elder turns over, and, with his eyes now adjusting to the dark, San can see that he’s awake and staring at him. His body jolts in surprise. “You scared me,” he whispers. 

“ I scared you ?” Yunho sounds incredulous and tired at the same time. San immediately feels bad for having bothered him at such an ungodly hour of the night. Yunho studies him, lying on his side with his arms crossed apprehensively and a frown pulling down on his lips. San curls up into a ball, fingers twisting into the hem of Yunho’s shirt. He can see the question on the tip of the elder’s tongue, and he waits with anticipation for Yunho to speak. “What does he do when you say no?” 

Figures. 

“Sometimes he backs off,” San answers, staring down at his hands all tangled up in the shirt. “Most of the time he doesn’t care. He...well, he’s bigger than me. Stronger. There’s….not much I can do.” In the dark, San can’t see what expression Yunho makes, but the stony silence that follows his admission makes him think that the elder is likely upset. “Are you...mad?” 

“Yeah, I’m mad,” Yunho responds quietly, so quietly that San could almost believe that he isn’t actually angry. 

San bites down hard on his lip. “At me?” he asks tentatively. 

“Don’t be stupid, San,” Yunho answers harshly, probably more so than he intends because he sighs immediately afterwards. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Breathing in deeply, San remembers what Jongho told him earlier that day. He said he trusted his older brother who never judged him or questioned him, and who helped him regardless. Maybe he could—if he just—he opens his mouth to speak, to spill his guts in front of Yunho, but by the time he breathes back out, the words are lost and he remains quiet. 

“Can I do anything for you?” The question cuts through San’s thoughts, and he looks up at Yunho, finally able to see the outline of his face in the darkness. 

“Can you—” he hesitates then corrects himself, “will you hold my hand?”  

A long, drawn-out silence passes over them. So long that San wonders if maybe he’s crossed some kind of line with his request, and he immediately regrets ever asking. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut at times like this? 

But then the blankets shift as Yunho repositions himself so he can bring one hand up and blindly search for San’s. His fingers grasps the sleeve of San’s shirt before the younger twists his arms around to take hold of Yunho’s hand. Even now the elder’s hand is warm, and a shiver travels down San’s spine at the sensation of Yunho’s warm hand in his cold one. He curls his fingers tight over Yunho’s hand, holding it between them underneath the blanket. 

Somewhere over Yunho’s desk, San hears his clock ticking obnoxiously loud in the quiet room, but he focuses on the feel of Yunho’s hand in his. Eventually the elder’s eyes slide shut and his breathing evens out, but San remains wide awake and staring at his neighbor. The act makes him feel both creepy and comforted at the same time. He waits a little longer until he thinks Yunho is well and truly asleep before he says aloud a thought that has been occupying him for a while now. 

“I wish I had met you first.” 

He remembers Wooyoung voices a similar sentiment. It’s too bad you couldn’t have met Yunho first , he said. He would have been good for you . And there’s Mingi who innocently asked him once if he had a crush on Yunho. 

“It’s not about who you meet first,” Yunho grumbles out. San tenses, face heating up as the horror and humiliation of being heard settles over him. 

“I thought you were asleep,” he squeaks out. 

“Evidently.” Yunho doesn’t open his eyes while he talks though he does sigh and snuggle harder into his pillow. “But you really are naive, you know that? You met me. The order I come in doesn’t make a difference.” 

“But if I had known you sooner—” 

“San,” Yunho cuts him off, following it with a long pause while San holds his breath. “Get some sleep.” 

“Yunho.” San’s a bit horrified by the high pitch of his voice, but it’s enough for Yunho to finally open his eyes and look at him. “Yunho….what you said earlier, in the park….” He licks his lips as he trails off, eyes fixed on the blanket hanging between them. “Do you—do you like me? I mean, the way I like you.” 

“Choi San,” Yunho whispers his name intensely. Bringing their linked hands in close, he brushes San’s knuckles against his lips, and the younger shudders at the sensation, wondering, in the back of his mind, exactly what it would feel like to kiss Yunho. “I do like you,” he whispers against the back of San’s hand. 

The younger perks and nearly sits up, only stopping himself because he’s comfortable right now and he doesn’t want to untangle his hand from Yunho’s. “Really?” He’s sure he must look like a lost puppy because he certainly feels like one. 

“Yes. Now please, for the love of God, go to bed.” 

San isn’t sure he’s ever been happier waking up in the morning than he had that morning. When he wakes, Yunho is gone but his side of the bed is still just a little bit warm. Moreover, the smell of coffee permeating from the kitchen is no doubt an indicator that he is simply up early. Rolling onto his back, San stretches his arms high above his head, back arching and a yawn escaping his mouth. He contemplates staying in bed, but the scent of coffee and the prospect of seeing Yunho is enough of an incentive to roll out of bed slowly. 

When he walks into the kitchen, Yunho is there, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand while he goes through his mail sitting on the counter with the other. He briefly looks up when San shuffles inside before sweeping his mail off to the side. “Morning,” he mumbles in his gruff morning voice. 

“Good morning,” San returns. When he’s within arm’s reach, Yunho hands his mug over, and San stares down into the half-empty mug of coffee. 

“You can have the rest,” Yunho offers while stifling a yawn. “There’s cream in the fridge if you want it.” 

San retrieves the cream from the fridge, pouring a little bit into his coffee. “Yunho,” he starts after putting the cream back and searching for sugar. 

“Hmm?” Yunho blinks blearily at San when the brunette fails to continue with his train of thought. “You look happy this morning,” he observes. 

Biting his lip, San lowers his head as he proceeds to pour an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee. Of course he’s happy. San likes him, and Yunho likes him too. That’s something to be happy about, but he wonders if it would be too rude or forward to ask Yunho about a kiss. He also reminds himself that things are a bit complicated because he does still have a boyfriend who lives right next door. “I’ve been having a problem. Can you give me some advice?” 

“I won’t guarantee that it’s good advice, but shoot.” 

With a fresh wave of self-doubt washing over him, San isn’t really sure what to say, so he blurts out the first thing that crosses his mind. “Wooyoung.” Well, in all fairness, Wooyoung has been occupying his thoughts a bit recently. 

Yunho raises a brow. “Wooyoung?” he repeats. “You’ll have to elaborate a little bit more than that.” 

“Well, it’s just, we started talking again, you know? And I don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long or something, but I find talking with him and hanging out with him is a little awkward, which—it sucks because he’s my best friend. He was my best friend, but I don’t know what to do so I can spend more time with him.” 

His neighbor hums and nods his head in understanding. “I see. Well, you could always try going to one of his classes together” 

San blinks over the rim of the coffee mug before pulling a face. “Go to his classes?” He furrows his brows at the notion. It seems like a weird way to bond. 

“Yeah, he does, like, yoga or some shit at the school’s gym,” Yunho elaborates with a shrug of his shoulders. “But Wooyoung’s been complaining lately about not having anyone to go with him because Mingi can’t be bothered, and I don’t do that type of thing, so I guess if you like working out and hanging out you could ask him about it.” 

“You don’t like yoga?” 

Yunho grins at him in a way that causes San’s breath to hitch. “Nope.” 

It’s evidently not a yoga class. It’s a dance class. San has no idea how Yunho confused the two.

“Thank God you’re willing to come with me!” Wooyoung practically bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits anxiously for San to finish changing into his gym clothes in the locker room. “I mean, everyone in the class is cool. You’ll like them, but it’s nice to have someone to dick around with.” He wraps his arm around San and starts to yank him away as soon as he’s closed and locked his locker. 

They’re at the university gym, which is small, but up-to-date in terms of equipment. Wooyoung seems right at home as he bounds outside, grabbing San by the wrist and dragging him down the hallway towards the studio rooms. He’d told his boyfriend he would be out for a while, in the studio to work on a project. A half-truth. San intends to work for a bit after this, but first he wants to try. He wants to spend some time with Wooyoung. 

“It’s here,” Wooyoung tells him as he opens the door to one of the studios. He ushers San inside and the brunette hugs his arms to his sides as he looks around. There’s a few people loitering around, stretching while watching themselves in the mirror. Wooyoung drags him over to a few individuals, introducing them and boasting that San was new but he’d do great. 

San stares at his friend for a moment, still a bit stunned by his behavior. It’s like they had never fought or were out of contact for all these years. Wooyoung still talks to him, still treats him the way he always has. Maybe he’s been overthinking it then. Sure, they’ve had a bit of a bump in their metaphorical road of friendship, but they were friends for a long time before that and, San hopes, they will continue to be friends for a long time afterwards. So why should San feel awkward about the state of their friendship now? 

He shouldn’t. That’s the answer. He shouldn’t. 

“Hi,” he greets the group of girls Wooyoung introduced him to with a genuine smile. “I’m a little out of practice….” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you the ropes,” Wooyoung assures him alongside agreement from the girls. 

Wooyoung goes to this class twice a week, but also goes to the gym regularly for short workouts. He likes to go during the weekdays in particular because most of the other students are too busy cramming for tests or trying to finish up their homework due in an hour. San likes to tag along because he gets to spend time with his best friend first and foremost, but the time frame is also convenient for him too. It gives him an excuse to hang back after school to avoid his own apartment. Sometimes Jongho joins them, though his interests seem to be in weight-lifting. They kill enough time for Yunho to come back from work most days though. 

It’s really a win-win situation for everyone. 

San waves goodbye to Wooyoung when they exit the gym after a short work out session. His friend pulls him into a brief hug, messing up his hair before he lets him go, mumbling something about a date with Mingi. San grins. Wooyoung and Mingi are cute. Especially on the rare occasion that Wooyoung convinces Mingi to join them at the gym. He usually proceeds to spend his time trying to seduce his boyfriend while using the various gym equipment. San can’t forget the time he’d tried stretching in front of Wooyoung, going into it with a lick of his lips and half hooded eyes before promptly whining about how much it hurt. San likes them. 

“You heading home?” Wooyoung asks while they’re still heading in the same direction. San likes to walk him to the bus stop before he heads home as well. 

“Yeah.” Actually, he plans to go to Yunho’s place, but honestly at this point it’s practically his home anyways. Jongho had texted him earlier that day that he wouldn’t be there. Apparently it’s date night, and he was headed for Yeosang’s after school today. It’s not much of a problem though. San’s long memorized their passcode, and Yunho and Jongho are both cool with him being over. 

The bus pulls up at the stop just as Wooyoung and San are crossing the street, and they run, San managing to flag down the bus so Wooyoung can get on before it leaves. “Get home safely!” Wooyoung calls quickly as he hops on, patting himself down for his bus pass. 

San waves at him as he moves his way down the bus. He waves back through the window as he slides one of his earbuds in. The bus pulls away from the curb, and San pulls at the strap of his backpack, pulls up his hood, and turns to make his way back to his apartment building. 

It’s a short fifteen minute walk back home in the cool autumn air. Winter has set in, and San hunches down, shoulder shaking a bit whenever a cool breeze blows by. He rushes into the building and manages to catch the elevator just as it’s closing in on a girl holding a couple bags of groceries. She shoots him an annoyed look when he slips between the closing doors, causing them to open again. He pointedly ignores the look and hits the button for the seventh floor. 

He gets off before the girl, who is riding up to the ninth floor, and beelines for his neighbor’s door. His boyfriend shouldn’t be home yet and won’t be coming home soon, but San’s already let him know to expect him late—if at all—because he’s planning to be in the studio for a late night session. That’s what he tells him at least. At his neighbor’s door, San bends his knees just enough that he can peer down at the keypad lock that all the apartments have. With his index finger, he pokes in their code and then straightens up when he hears the door unlock. 

When he opens the door he’s immediately hit with the smell of food. Quickly kicking off his shoes, he eagerly bounds into the kitchen where Yunho is hunched over the stove, poking at a pan with a wooden spoon. “You’re home early!” San notes with more excitement than he really intends because he flushes and looks away. 

Yunho hums in response. “Yeah, I finished up early today.” 

“What are you making?” 

San peers down at the pan. An assortment of julienned vegetables and sausages are simmering in the pan. “I’m attempting stir-fry,” Yunho admits, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “Too bad Yeosang hasn’t come by lately. I miss eating legit food.” 

“You’re not that bad of a cook though.” San admonishes, pinching Yunho lightly on his arm. He’s really not that bad. Yunho had started cooking recently after one of San’s dance classes with Wooyoung. He’d come over with Jongho, and Yunho suggested take out for dinner. San had whined at the notion, suddenly health conscious because he was working out, and Wooyoung was constantly advising what not to eat in the cafeteria. At the time Jongho and Yunho stared blankly at him, the two brothers apparently used to eating whatever they felt like before Jongho inevitably caved and invited Yeosang over. 

Now, Yunho puts effort into cooking at least some days of the week—namely the days he gets home at a reasonable time—for them. He wields a knife awkwardly and hasn’t quite mastered the art of making perfectly minced onions, but San doesn’t mind the uneven cuts of vegetables, or the utter lack of care in presentation. It may never look pretty, but Yunho is good at following a recipe. 

“How are things with Wooyoung?” 

It’s been a few weeks since Yunho had thrown out the suggestion, and Wooyoung and San now have a schedule with each other just like they used to. San grins at the question. A few months ago, he never would think he’d be able to feel the joy of having a best friend again. “Great! We have fun in the class together, and it feels like we’re talking outside of it more too.” 

He lowers the heat of the stove and smiles. “Good. I’m glad you’re spending more time with him.” 

“All thanks to you!” San latches himself to Yunho’s arm, beaming up at the taller man. 

Gently, Yunho untangles his arm from San’s grip, pats him once on the head, and tells him to go set up the table because dinner's almost ready. The brunette obediently follows his instructions, shoulders a little hunched. 

He likes Yunho, and Yunho likes him, but there are some invisible lines that the elder has drawn that San can’t cross yet. He found that out not too long ago when he finally worked up his courage one night and attempted to steal a kiss from the man of his dreams. They’d been hanging around in Yunho’s room, as they are apt to do. San had been playing idly with his favorite keyboard while Yunho watched him try to pick out random melodies with mild interest. When San stopped playing chords and Yunho looked up at him, he leaned forward with the full intention of trying to steal a kiss, but Yunho turned his head away at the last moment, and his lips landed against the elder’s cheek. 

San burned with humiliation and embarrassment. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Yunho started while trying to coax San into lifting his head from where he buried it in his knees, “I like you, San. I do, but…” 

“You don’t want me to kiss you?” he whimpered out. 

“It’s not that.” Yunho carded his fingers through San’s hair, thinking to himself that his brown locks are maybe getting a little too long. He refuses to pick up his head. “San,” he said his name sharply. 

“What?” San lifted his head up with the intention to glare at the elder though he thinks now that it probably looked more like a pout. “What? I thought—you said you liked me. The way I like you!” 

“San, you have a boyfriend,” Yunho reminded him gently. He wasn’t reproachful or resentful in his tone, merely factual. 

“I don’t even like him!” 

“Then why are you still with him?” 

It was the first time Yunho had brought up the issue since the incident at the park, and just as San had then, he clammed up again now. He pressed his lips into a thin, hard line, glowering at Yunho who scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands. 

“I get it,” he grumbled, “you still don’t want to tell me. I won’t make you, but I don’t….I like you, San, and I know how you feel about your boyfriend, but that doesn’t change the fact that—” He cut himself off abruptly. 

“What?” 

“Just...you know.” Yunho left it at that, and the topic hadn’t been brought up again. 

What is he supposed to do? Gritting his teeth, San can’t help himself as he places a couple of plates on the kitchen table a bit more aggressively than it needs to be done. The loud clattering of the plates against the wooden table jar Yunho from his thoughts, and he glances over at him while San continues to aggressively set the table. He can’t just leave. He tried. San remembers that moment clearly. When he found out what a freak he was—how he found out—he attempted to break it off, intending to go back home and try to get a hold of himself and what had happened, but his boyfriend had quickly gone on the defensive, threatening to tell anyone and everyone about him. The threat combined with the insinuation that everyone would think he was a monster and that, no one could love or understand him, had been enough to break him. He stayed, hoping to appease the elder and keep him silent. 

Yunho calls for him, but San, so consumed by his thoughts, can’t hear. He practically chucks the silverware down next to the plates, jaw clenched tight as he repeats it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair like a mantra. 

“San!” Yunho grabs his forearm with one hand and gives him a small shake. 

The brunette snaps out of it, instinctively yanking his arm out of the others grip. “What?” he snaps before realizing who he’s talking to. Coughing awkwardly, he turns his head away and tries again with a meeker “Yes?” 

“Why are you so angry?” Yunho gives him a once over, quirking one eyebrow. 

“I’m not angry,” San denies quickly, fixing the silverware so that they don’t look so haphazardly thrown next to the plates. “I have to pee.” Then he turns and flounces off to the bathroom. 

It’s not fair , he keeps telling himself as he mindfully closes the door with an inaudible click. “What am I supposed to do?” He glances at his reflection before quickly looking away. It’s not fair—the teasing of something intimate between him and Yunho that he can’t—no—that he’s not allowed to have. 

San hadn’t noticed the changes that his frequent gym going has caused to his body.  He knows he’s becoming fitter, healthier since starting his gym hangouts with Wooyoung, but he doesn’t think he’s really changed in anyway. Wooyoung had made some sly comments in the locker room before, but San had always brushed them off, taking them as nothing more than some teasing from the elder. San doesn’t really take notice of it himself. 

His boyfriend brings it up first. 

“Have you been working out?” he asks one day, frowning while watching San pull off his shirt. The younger is in the middle of changing into his pajamas, briefly pausing at the question. 

“Um, sometimes?” he answers, unsure if the elder finds it upsetting. “Why? Is something wrong?” 

“No, it’s just you look different.” 

“Different? Like in a bad wayt?” 

“No, just different. You don’t quite look so….small anymore. You were cuter small.” 

San mentally scowls at that description while pulling on an old t-shirt he likes to use as pajamas. Yeah, he bets the elder likes him small and weak—too weak to fight back. 

“When the hell do you even find time to go to the gym?” 

San tenses at that question, knowing that he must be careful in answering. What comes out is an incoherent mess. “Just….between classes. Sometimes. There’s a gym on campus, so it’s easy. Just like between classes. Yeah.” He internally curses at himself. Shit, that is not how he wanted to answer that question. 

His boyfriend frowns again. “You should work on your pieces between classes. Don’t you have a show coming up soon?” San doesn’t, in fact, have a show coming up soon. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately.” Because he’s been spending much of his free time with Yunho instead. “If you worked between classes maybe you could come home earlier.” Though it sounds like a suggestion, San senses a little bit of a threat behind the elder’s tone. 

“Yeah, okay.” San swallows the lump in his throat, hating himself just a little bit more when he promises to come home a little bit earlier for the rest of this week. 

Yunho brings it up next. 

They’re standing in line at a coffee shop nearby. It’s not really a date or anything, though San convinces himself that it kind of is. Maybe they’re not official yet because he still has some things to work through and an asshole to ditch, but whenever they go out like this it certainly feels like a date. The brunette is focusing on the menu, trying to decide if he’d like a latte or an americano. Iced or hot? When out of the blue Yunho just comments, “You look really good.” 

San turns around to look at him, blinking at the unexpected compliment. Apparently Yunho hadn’t even thought about it because he flushes and averts his gaze like he can’t believe he actually said that out loud. Looking down at himself, San notes his red t-shirt tucked into a pair of light washed skinny jeans and a pair of white sneakers. It’s not like he dressed up or anything, so he’s not entirely sure where the sudden compliment came from. 

“Thanks,” he says with a sweet little smile. “It’s not anything special though.” 

“Oh, it’s not the clothes,” Yunho clarifies before inhaling sharply. San’s smile widens because, apparently, he just can’t stop his mouth today. 

“Then what?” he prods, fishing for more compliments. 

“Just….” Yunho awkwardly clears his throat, but San keeps his gaze fixed on him. He’s not letting the elder go that easily. “You’ve always been kinda slim, but your physique just is….nice now. More filled out.” 

“Are you talking about me or my ass?” he asks, noticing Yunho’s downward gaze. 

Yunho blushes when he’s caught, pointedly turning his gaze upwards to the menu. “So….what do you want?” he asks, desperate for a change of subject. 

Huffing out a little laugh, San reaches behind him to grab Yunho’s arms, pulling them around his waist and holding him there. The taller man doesn’t protest, pulling the brunette closer. It’s anything but platonic and one of the reasons San is sure this is something like a date. 

 

For the next week, San is conscious about coming home just early enough that his boyfriend sees him and greets him, but still late enough that the elder doesn’t usually do much to bother him. It takes a great effort but seems to pay off when San notices that the elder appears more relaxed nowadays. Of course, that often means less time with Yunho, but he’s gotten into the habit of sneaking out of his bed in the middle of the night and crawling into his neighbor’s. 

And, ever since the incident with Wooyoung’s texts, San has taken to protecting his privacy as best he can. He brings his phone into the shower on the pretext of wanting to sing. He plays his music and belts out lyrics to the newest pop songs that his boyfriend can’t stand but puts up with anyways because it’s what San likes. He asks where the sudden urge to sing comes from, but San shrugs it off because “I’ve always been a singer. Don’t you know that?” 

At night, he likes to silence his phone before tucking it beneath his pillow just to be safe. Yunho has the most erratic sleeping schedule San has ever seen, and he’s been known to respond to some of San’s text at ungodly hours of the morning. So he silences his phone because while San himself could probably sleep through the apocalypse if he wanted, his boyfriend is a light sleeper, and the sound of a text coming in could probably wake him up. 

It’s one such night when San forgets to silence his phone that his whole world begins to unravel. 

He wakes up at 6 in the morning and quietly slips out of bed. He takes a quick shower and makes an easy, unsatisfying breakfast before he readies to head off to school. It’s almost 6:45 now, and Yunho is probably going to leave soon too. Trying to hold in his smile, San finishes packing a spare set of clothes into his backpack because today is one of his and Wooyoung’s workout days. 

He’s caught off guard when his bedroom door squeaks open, and his boyfriend appears a second later. San blinks up at him, shying away at the elder’s body language. He’s leaning against the wall of the living room, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. 

“Leaving early?” 

“So...I can come home sooner,” San says. “I’m already awake, so I figured I could go to the studio and work a little.” His voice gets smaller and smaller with each would that comes out of his mouth. The expression on the elder’s face remains stony, and San knows he’s not going to like this conversation. 

“Who’s Yunho?” 

San’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach and the urge to vomit nearly consumes him. “Huh?” he says dumbly. No, not Yunho. Not his precious secret. 

“Yunho,” his boyfriend nearly spits the name out. “Who the fuck is he? He texted you at like 2 in the fucking morning.” 

Fuck. Fuck. San hadn’t yet checked his phone today. What did Yunho send him? Is the elder mad about the text or just not knowing who Yunho is? “He’s…” the younger has to think quickly and hope for the best, “he’s a classmate of mine. We’re working on a project together so we exchanged numbers.” 

The elder’s eyes narrow. San swallows thickly, worried that he’s not buying the story. “A classmate?” Definitely suspicious. 

“Yes, he’s a classmate.” 

“...so, he’s just a classmate?” 

“Yeah.” San hastily zips up his backpack before the elder can catch a glimpse of his spare clothes. The paranoia in the elder’s tone grates on his nerves. This is why he’s not allowed to have his own friends. His boyfriend drives a wedge between them over and over again. He’d done it with Wooyoung and his other high school friends, but San would be damned before he tried to do it to Yunho too. “We’re just classmates. We don’t talk that much. I just have to get this dumb group project done.” 

“Okay.” The elder doesn’t quite sound satisfied with the answer but seems to recede on his previous aggression. “Well, have a good day at school.” 

“I will.” Then San hastily swings his backpack over his shoulders before practically scrambling out the door. Once in the clear, San digs his phone out from his pocket to check his messages. There’s only one from Yunho that simply reads:

Sounds good . 

San breathes a sigh of relief. At least the message isn’t anything particularly incriminating which means that his story about Yunho just being a classmate is probably a little bit more believable. Last night, San had been texting the elder about how he’d run into Mingi that day and how they had gotten lunch and then he spent some time with Wooyoung. He’d just been telling him about how happy he was with his renewed friendship. Then they made plans to hang out sometime this week. Thank god there was no context to that text. Nerves still a little frayed, San walks over to the elevator on weak, wobbly legs, pressing the down button multiple times as if it will help the elevator arrive any sooner. 

Still shaking from his early morning confrontation, he barely hears the sound of a door opening and closing and very nearly shrieks when Yunho prods his arm. “Shit. Oh my God,” Yunho curses, flinching away at San’s dramatic reaction. “Are you okay?” 

San presses his finger over his lip in a silent gesture for Yunho to hush before shooting nervous glances towards his door. He presses the down button a few more times for good measure but the damn elevator isn’t coming. “He’s awake,” he whispers, pressing the button more frantically now. He doesn’t need to specify who “he” is because Yunho’s expression becomes unreadable. He knows. 

“What happened? Did he—did he hurt you?” 

San shakes his head just as the elevator doors open to his relieved sigh. There’s a few other people in the elevator, but there’s enough space for the two of them to fit in. It stops at the next floor before continuing smoothly down the rest of the way. When everyone piles out on the first floor, Yunho hangs back as does San. 

“I forgot to silence my phone last night. He saw your text. He just...was angry this morning, kept demanding to know who you were.” 

“What did you tell him?” 

“That you were a classmate who I was working on a project with.” Yunho rolls his eyes at the answer, looking a little peeved. “I couldn’t tell him the truth!” San defends himself when he notices the elder’s annoyance. “God, he would try to break down your door, I swear.” He covers his face with his hands, embarrassed by the knowledge. 

“I worry about what he’d do to you,” Yunho mutters. 

San nearly trips over his feet at that. “What? I’m—I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not. Not as long as you’re still living with that guy. It keeps me up at night when you choose to stay there.” 

“Yunho, you don’t have to worry about me. I promise. I’m—I’m fine, okay? I know how to deal with him.” 

Yunho whirls around at the entrance of their apartment building, effectively halting San in his tracks. “Then tell me the truth. Just one thing, Choi San.” The brunette swallows. It’s never a good thing when Yunho uses his full name, like a mother calling for her child to scold him. “That night my brother called the cops, what really happened?” 

San’s stomach twists up in knots. He remembers that night obviously. He can barely remember what he’d said that night though. He remembers the cop asking what had happened and if he was okay. He remembered telling them something, anything to make them go away and maybe buy himself a few points with his boyfriend. He also remembers the rough beating he took when they were gone, more or less being treated as a punching bag until the elder’s anger finally, finally dissipated. 

“Jongho swore up and down that he heard screaming. That he heard you screaming.”

“Jongho’s exaggerating—”

“San, he called the fucking police.” 

The younger falls silent, eyes dropping to the floor. 

“Did he hit you?” No answer. “Did he rape you?” 

San bristles a little at the word. “Yunho, I’m not some victim —” 

“Yes, you are,” Yunho cuts in. “If you don’t want to use that word fine, but don’t stand there and lie to me about what he does. I’m not an idiot!” 

“Why do you care so much?!” San snaps back, immediately recognizing what a stupid question that is but unable to take it back. 

Yunho reels back at the question. “Why do I care? ” he repeats like the question doesn’t even make sense. San opens his mouth to apologize and maybe ask Yunho to forget about the question because it’s stupid and, okay, maybe he’s being a bit defensive, but Yunho answers anyways. “Nevermind the fact that I love you, isn’t it just basic human decency? No one deserves to be treated like this San, especially not you.” 

San stares, unsure of what to say to Yunho’s words, not even realizing the change in the elder’s diction. Love, not like. He’s heaving, his chest obviously rising and falling with each breath even beneath his thick coat. When San remains silent, Yunho gathers himself to continue,  “You’re a sweet kid who values his friends and wears his heart on his sleeve. You wanted so badly to mend your relationship with Wooyoung, right? And you blurted out your feelings for me before apologizing. San, please, for your own sake, please leave. You can stay with me or Wooyoung or just anyone in the meantime, just—” 

“I have to go to school,” San interrupts, eyes glazed over. He brushes past Yunho, head down, even when the elder calls out for him. He ignores the calls while he flees. 

Because Yunho’s words were supposed to be a compliment, San knew. They were supposed to be nice, comforting words, but they weren’t. Not to San. Because the only question running through his mind is, What if I’m not human?

 

San avoids Yunho for the next few days, too nervous and still a little too upset to face him. He texts, but San ignores those too. 

Hey. Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something that offended you. 

 

I made dinner. Are you coming over? 

It’s your favorite. 

 

San? 

 

Please talk to me.

Or tell me what I did. 

 

San?

His texts are always sparse, and he’s bothered San at least once a day since the younger started avoiding him. It means nights alone with his boyfriend, but he can’t bring himself to crawl his way over to his neighbor’s place instead. He just can’t. Maybe he should have to stall the number of concerned texts he receives. Maybe he should have taken Yunho’s advice. Hadn’t that been all he wanted for the longest time? For someone to tell him what he’s always known: that he should leave.

But the reality is that he can’t just leave, so he avoids Yunho for the time being instead. The downside, of course, is that avoiding Yunho means spending more time at home, with his boyfriend, giving the elder plenty of time to observe his behavior and grow increasingly concerned.  

“You’ve been getting a lot of texts,” the elder grumbles, craning his neck to eye San’s phone across the table to see who it is. The younger drags the device into his lap before he can get a good look, however. “Who is it?” 

San glances down. It’s Wooyoung asking if he wants to see a movie with him this weekend. 

Another message comes in, this time from Jongho, and San winces when his boyfriend visibly twitches. “No one. Just my partner. He’s pissed because I haven’t been able to make much time to work with him is all.” He silences his phone after that, making a mental note to reply to Wooyoung later and opting to ignore Jongho’s text. 

“Well, can you ask him to tone it down while we’re eating?” 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, San nods his head obediently. “Okay.” 

Spending more time at home also gives his increasingly suspicious boyfriend time to watch and learn. San never once thinks about it when he hastily taps in his passcode. Never once thinks about how visible he is, how easy it would be to simply watch and imitate. He taps in his passcode at the dinner table to text Wooyoung back and again when he’s curled up on the couch, just to scroll through Yunho’s texts with the elder hovering ever present in his periphery. 

In hindsight, it was a mistake. 

By Wednesday evening, San considers simpering up to his neighbor in an attempt to appease him. Yunho hasn’t texted him for a few days, evidently taking the hint that his texts are unwelcome. But, selfishly, San misses them even if he stubbornly refuses to reply. He’s scrolling through his messages from Yunho, staring at the last one. 

At least let me know you’re okay?

His thumbs hover over the keyboard on the screen of his phone. He hesitates. How is he supposed to respond? It’s been a few days now since the texts have stopped. This one had come Sunday night. Now it’s Wednesday night. Is it too late to respond? 

I’m okay .

San stares at his own lame response with an intensity that is most definitely unwarranted. While he’s berating himself for his message, three dots appear on the bottom left corner of his screen, indicating that Yunho is texting back. San perks at the turn of events, a smile stretching across his face as he waits eagerly for the his response. Just as quickly as they appear they disappear. San thinks that Yunho must be rethinking his message, but the dots don’t return and no new messages appear. 

Sighing, he turns the screen off before dropping it on the couch. His throat is dry and he abandons his phone on the couch in search of a glass of water. He downs it in record time. Yunho had been typing something, right? He’s probably home right now, right? And ignoring San evidently. The younger clenches his jaw in irritation. Yunho wanted to know he was okay. San had let him know, so what is with this silence? 

Placing the glass in the sink, San squares his shoulders before turning around and marching out of his apartment. He forgets about his phone still lying abandoned on the couch as he all but storms up to his neighbor’s door. He raises his fist, fully intending to pound on the door, but when his knuckle actually meets the metal of the door, only a polite knock sounds. 

San taps his toes impatiently, partly annoyed by his own lack of resolve and partly peeved that Yunho isn’t responding to him as promptly as he wants. He knocks again, a little louder this time, but still not exactly the pounding that he originally intended. 

The door opens after that, Yunho blocking the doorway. San instinctively shies away from the elder who doesn’t seem too happy to see him though he doesn’t appear particularly mad or upset either. In fact, San is having a hard time discerning what exactly Yunho’s facial expression is currently expressing. “San? What is it?” 

“I—” San hesitates. What is he supposed to say? What was he even planning to say again? “I’m fine!” he ends up blurting out like an idiot. 

Finally, Yunho’s expression changes. He furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side in a motion that San has no other word to describe as other than cute. “Excuse me?” he asks. 

“You texted me,” San explains vaguely. “You texted me asking if I was okay, and I responded to let you know that I was okay, but you weren’t….answering, so I….” San finds himself trailing off slowly as his own logic begins to catch up with him. “So I thought I would come over and let you know,” he finishes off in barely louder than a whisper. 

Yunho raises a brow upon hearing the younger’s reasoning. “I sent that a few days ago,” he reminds the brunette. 

“I know. I…” San doesn’t know how to defend himself. He’s been busy? He hasn’t looked at his phone for the past few days? Maybe he should just apologize. “I’m sorry. For ignoring you. I—” 

“If you don’t want to listen to me, fine, I guess it’s really none of my business anyways,” Yunho interrupts, sounding exasperated. “I’ve told you my opinion, and you’ve made it perfectly clear that you’re not interested in hearing them. Glad to know you’re okay though.” Then he moves to close the door, and with a noise of distress, San wedges his foot between the door and the frame, wincing at the pain of his foot being jammed. 

“Yunho, wait, please.” 

Yunho snaps. “What? Is it funny playing with me like this? You told me you like me, San, but I’m not good enough compared to that abusive fuck you’re living with? You weren’t coming over. You weren’t talking to me. I was worried sick about you, and now you just want to show up to tell me you’re okay?” 

Taken aback by the outburst, San shies away from the elder, probably would have taken a step back if not for having one foot currently stuck between the doorframe and the door. It feels wrong to be yelled at by Yunho. His older, mature neighbor who has only ever been patient and respectful of San and his many secrets. But his annoyed rant doesn’t just surprise him, it scares him. 

San can remember, with painful clarity, the fights he had with Wooyoung leading up to their fall out. He remembers his friend’s tone and his words: they sound remarkably similar to Yunho’s. Distinctly, he can remember Wooyoung’s frustration at being ignored and the betrayal he endured when San would rather listen to his boyfriend than his best friend. He remembers Wooyoung sounding exactly like this before he turned his back on San. 

Something must show on his expression because Yunho suddenly sighs, and it’s like his temper leaves his system through that one breath. “Sorry,” he apologizes, opening his door so that it’s no longer squishing San’s foot. “I’m sorry.” He scrubs at his face with one sweater paw from the hoodie he’s wearing. It’s cute, San thinks through the rush of fear still surging through his body. “Have you eaten yet?” 

San snaps out of his daydream. “I—” No, but maybe it would be best to give Yunho some space for now. Of course, at that very moment, his stomach growls softly, but it’s quiet enough between them that Yunho most definitely hears. “I’ll go get something to eat,” he offers as a way to escape, but Yunho reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around San’s wrist. 

“Come inside,” he invites, tugging the younger into his apartment. “Yeosang came over the other day. We still have leftovers.” San frowns, realizing that he hasn’t seen Jongho’s boyfriend for a while, and he kind of misses him.

Although he doesn’t resist the pull, San feels awkward standing in the middle of the elder’s apartment after their previous confrontation. He plays nervously with the hem of his shirt, hunching down into himself, eyes nervously following him as he moves into the kitchen, anticipating another sudden outburst that fails to come. 

“San,” he calls from the kitchen, inviting him further inside. Licking his lips, San misses the usual affectionate tone in Yunho’s voice. He misses when he calls him “Sannie” with a soft smile on his face before reminding himself that at least Yunho is even allowing him back into the apartment, so he accepts “San” with a resigned sigh. 

Shyly, he shuffles into the kitchen where Yunho turns on the stove to reheat the leftovers from dinner. His stomach aches from hunger pangs. When was the last time he’d had Yeosang’s cooking again? He couldn’t remember. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Yunho asks while moving towards the fridge. He pulls out a beer for himself before peering over the door to look at San. The younger picks at his shirt awkwardly, hesitating before ultimately shaking his head. 

“I’m okay.” 

Despite his declination of a drink, Yunho ducks back behind the fridge door, grabs something, and gently chucks it over to San who catches it more out of instinct than anything else. Peering down at the item in his hand, San pouts when he sees a carton of soy milk. “What?” he deadpans. 

“Jongho went on a binge the last time we went grocery shopping,” Yunho replies as he closes the door. “Help a guy out, yeah?” 

“And he got soy milk?” 

“What’s wrong with soy milk?” San flushes at the expression on Yunho’s face. He toys with the carton of milk before finally peeling off the straw stuck to the back. He mutters a quiet nothing before stabbing the straw through the top. He takes a small sip, doing his best to avoid Yunho’s intense gaze. “I am sorry.” Yunho begins by apologizing. Then adds, “for yelling at you like that. It wasn’t fair to take out my frustration on you like that.” 

“I...It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything.” San takes another sip of his soy milk. If anything, he probably deserved that. 

Another moment of awkward silence hangs over them. “So,” the elder eventually starts while they wait for the food to warm, “are you going to tell me what I did yet?” 

San almost chokes on a sip of drink. Nervously drumming his fingers against the carton, he resists the urge to start pacing around the room. “You….you didn’t do anything. It was me.” 

“San…” Yunho narrows his eyes, tone warning. 

“No! Really. It was all me,” San insists, squeezing the carton of milk and gasping when some of the liquid spills out onto his hand. Yunho grabs a napkin from the table and moves closer, but San recoils away, quickly licking up the mess. 

“Right.” Yunho sounds unconvinced, dropping the napkin back onto the table. “Clearly I’ve done nothing to make you uncomfortable.” 

Great, way to go San, he cheers himself on. “No, no. Really, it’s not your fault. I’m just….still trying to sort out some shit, but I—” he sighs, realizing that he’s starting to ramble. He swallows thickly and builds his resolve. Today is the day, he tells himself. Yunho is his friend, his crush, and he wants him to be so much more. More than anything though, he’s trustworthy, and San resolves that if Jongho could do it then so can he. “I want to tell you. Everything.” 

Yunho straightens up at the comment, looking attentive before he catches himself and relaxes his posture. “Alright, but first, let’s get you something to eat.”  

San sighs in relief, glad to have even a few more moments to hold this conversation off. He shuffles over to the table and tentatively slides into a seat while Yunho rifles through his cabinets, pulling out a plate and bowl and glass. The food tastes and smells as good as he remembers, mouth watering while he resists the urge to scarf it down, forcing himself to eat at a calmer pace. It also gives him the added benefit of putting off their conversation for a few more minutes. 

Quietly, Yunho sips at his beer while watching San eat, occasionally nagging him to eat more vegetables. “Is...is your brother home?” He pauses, lip of the bottle against his bottom lip. San eats another spoonful of rice while staring down the hallway where he knows the bedrooms are. 

“Yeah. He and Yeosang holed up in his room. Why?” He takes a small sip. “Do you want me to kick them out for a little bit? For privacy?” 

San frantically shakes his head and swallows his food. “No, no. It’s—I don’t need that. I was just wondering.” He paws at his pants in search of his phone, throwing himself into a mild panic when he realizes that he can’t find it. His front pockets are flat and when he reaches back to pat his back pockets he can’t feel it there either. 

“What?” Yunho sets his drink down on the table. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

Realizing he must have left his phone in his own apartment, San calms himself down. “Nothing. I just left my phone at my place.” 

“Do you want to get it?” 

San draws nervous patterns on the table top. Is it really that important? He doesn’t really need it to tell Yunho anything, but he kind of doesn’t want to go back home tonight either. If, that is, Yunho will still have him after San tells him the truth. “Yeah, I’ll be really quick. I’ll just run over and grab it really quick.” 

“Okay.” Yunho nods and motions for San to go ahead. 

“I’ll be right back.” San slips out of his seat and slinks over to the door. Mentally, he tries to remember where he left his phone in his apartment. He thinks about the last time he picked up his phone. He was in the living room, looking at his texts from Yunho as usual, then he went to the kitchen and then he came here. Okay, so it must be in the living room or the kitchen. Nodding to himself, he opens Yunho’s door, crosses the hallway, and opens the door to his own apartment. 

He stops in the living room first, glancing over it briefly but seeing no sign of his phone. Furrowing his brows, he wanders into the kitchen next, again doing a sweep of the area but, again, no phone. “Huh?” He bites his bottom lip, wondering where he left the thing. 

Backtracking to the living room, he does a more thorough scan this time, moving some mail on the coffee table and the throw pillows on the couch, but still unable to come up with anything. He digs his hands between the cushions of the couch. Maybe it fell in there.

“Babe, is that you?” 

San freezes. 

Fuck. When did his boyfriend get home? How did San not notice his shoes in the doorway? And crap, why does he sound irritated? 

“Um, yeah. It’s me.” He pulls his hands out of the couch, rubbing them together nervously. “Hey, have you, um, have you seen my phone?” 

His boyfriend comes down the hallway then, pausing in the living room with San’s phone in hand. The younger freezes, eyes fixed on the phone before slowly traveling up to his boyfriend’s face. He gulps at the dark expression on the other’s face. He makes a shy, awkward gesture for his phone. “That’s….my phone,” he whispers, barely audible. 

“Yes,” his boyfriend smiles grimly, turning the phone over in his hand. “You’re still talking to Wooyoung—” 

“He’s my friend .” 

“He’s a bad one,” the elder snaps. “Don’t interrupt me again.” Biting the inside of his cheek, he holds in a response and drops his head down. “You work out with Wooyoung now?” 

San’s stomach twists into knots. How did he see all those? Did he know the passcode? “It’s just for a short time,” he defends meekly. 

“And who the fuck is Jongho?” 

San’s mouth goes dry. He can practically feel the anger radiating out of the other, and he knows he’s in trouble now. No, fuck. Fuck. He just wanted to spend some time with Yunho again. “He…” he tries to think up some kind of excuse but doesn’t know what to say if his boyfriend has already read through his texts. He doesn’t need to come up with any sort of excuse though because his boyfriend presses on. 

“And who was your partner in class again, did you say? Yunho, yeah?” San closes his eyes and turns his head away. “Do you even have a partner? Do you even have a project? Because as far as I can tell ‘Yunho’ isn’t even a classmate. ‘ Yunho ’ isn’t even a goddamned student is he?” He volume increases with each sentence until he’s straight up yelling at San who flinches away and lifts his hands up to cover his ears. 

“I—I can explain. I—” he’s cut off with a yelp when the elder lunges forward and strikes him across the face. Cupping his face, San tries to suppress his tears as he lifts his head to glare at the elder, but he knows his eyes are wet. 

“Shut up!” His boyfriend demands, jabbing a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare lie to me. Who’s Yunho?” San’s lips tremble, unable to form an answer. “San, don’t make me anymore pissed off than I already am,” he warns, then he seems to calm himself. “Just tell me the truth, baby. I’m not mad. I promise. I just want to know the truth.” He reaches out to cup San’s face, but the younger backs away, cowering like a cornered animal. “Baby,” the elder cooes. 

How can he do this? How can he change at the drop of the hat like that? Why had San ignored it for so long? No, not ignored, he defends himself. He put up with it, too scared about the consequences to think clearly. No need to be scared anymore, he tells himself confidently as he slowly straightens himself up and sets his jaw into a hardline. “The truth?” he says, slowly removing his hand from his burning cheek. “You want to know the truth?” It’s now or never. “I love him,” he declares, voice wavering just the slightest bit. 

Clearly the elder hadn’t been expecting that answer because he stares blankly at San, uncomprehending. “What?” he eventually manages to choke out. 

San wills his nerves to calm down as he repeats his words. “Yunho….I love him. That’s who he is, okay? He’s the person I love.” 

The elder’s expression darkens, and San’s breath hitches. No, he was wrong. There’s definitely still something to be afraid of. “Love, huh?” he snorts, taking a step towards San. The younger steps back. “Are you cheating on me?” 

“N—no.” They’re not even dating.

“Oh, but you love something else, is that it? You breaking up with me?” 

“I—” 

“Are you breaking up with me?” He sounds quiet, but San knows better. The elder has a silent kind of fury, much scarier than his explosive temper. 

Still, San stubbornly braces himself for that anger and responds, “Yes. Yeah, I’m fucking breaking up with you.” 

“Oh?” It sounds like a challenge, and his heart skips a beat when he looks into the elder’s eyes because he’s not just angry, no, he’s murderous . San knows he needs to make his escape now. Now . 

Turning on his heels, San makes a break for the front door, nearly tripping over the shoes littered in front of the door and tripping into it. He just has to make it across the hallway, he rationalizes. His hands scramble for the knob, pushing it down and yanking it before he feels hands grab him by the shoulder and pull him back. This is it, he thinks as he claws uselessly at the door. It falls shut on him. Jongho heard him once before, so San reasons he can hear him again. He opens his mouth and screams. It’s terrified and loud, and he’s sure someone must hear it as he’s pulled backwards before being roughly thrown to the floor. 

He gasps when he hits the ground, head cracking against it, and his vision momentarily blurs as he tries to get a bearing of his surroundings. He screams again, not anything other than a cry of pain of fear, and then the elder is on top of him, covering his mouth to muffle his cries. “You ungrateful bastard. After everything I’ve done for you,” he hisses at San. 

The younger reaches up and tears the hand off his mouth with more strength than the elder clearly expected. “What have you done for me?” he snarls back. “You drove away my friends, you’ve hurt me, you’ve—”

“I did that all for your own good! I’m trying to protect you! You’re different, San. You’re...special.” 

“Liar!” he accuses, squeezing his eyes shut because his head is still killing him. “You’re lying!” He bucks his hips, trying to throw the other off, but the elder smacks him hard across the face. 

The temporary gentleness disappears at San’s accusation. “You ungrateful bitch,” he hisses, fingers wrapping around San’s throat and pressing him hard into the wooden floor. “I did everything for you, and this is how you repay me? I’ll tell everyone about you, you hear? Everyone ! You think this other guy will still love you knowing what kind of freak you are? You think anyone is capable of loving you the way I can? The way I have? I’ll tell everyone!” 

Struggling for air, San wraps both hands around the elder’s wrist and, with all of his strength, manages to lift the pressure around his throat just enough to gasp for air. The elder growls at the action, struggling against San’s hold and cursing at the younger’s strength. He screams again, not calling for anyone in particular, just praying that someone hears him because it hurts. Everything fucking hurts. 

His arms shake, muscles straining from the effort to keep the elder’s hands off of him. He kicks out with his legs, trying to wiggle his way out from beneath the other, but he has him pinned down to the floor, and his strength gives out. “Shut up!” the elder hisses, fingers wrapping around the younger’s throat again. “Shut up, shut up! I’ll have to teach you a lesson after this.” 

Black spots dot San’s vision, hands weakly prying at the elder’s arm. He parts his lips, trying to breath in but unable to. The door handle rattles, but San doesn’t hear it. His vision is starting to get fuzzy, and he can hardly hear anything apart from his heart beat. Something starts to pound against the door. His lungs fucking burn. Aggravated, the elder presses down harder, face twisted in rage while San’s struggles begin to weaken. He feels like his throat is being crushed. Maybe it is. He can feel it. He’s felt it before, when he knows not enough oxygen is making its way to his brain when his trachea is basically being crushed. But he doesn’t want to die. Again. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to. 

“Open the door!” Someone cries hysterically. 

“I don’t know the passcode!” 

“Just kick it down or something!” 

Yeosang glares at his boyfriend. “Are you stupid? You’re going to kick it down?” 

“What? How else are we supposed to get in?” Jongho shoots back. 

“Would you both shut up!” Yunho steps away from the door to point at it. He looks at his brother. “Just hurry up and break it down!” 

Jongho takes a step back, bracing himself while Yeosang tugs at his own hair helplessly. “You both are idiots! There’s no way that’s going to work.” Lifting his leg up, Jongho kicks at the door. Nothing. He tries again. “I’m calling the police,” he announces, stepping away from his boyfriend and his brother to pull out his phone. 

“We don’t have time,” Yunho snaps at him. 

“Well, how are you helping?!” 

Jongho slams his foot against the door one more time, and they all hear something break with a crack. Yeosang stares slack-jawed at the fact that Jongho just broke the lock while Yunho quickly scrambles, shouldering the door open. The scene before him makes his blood run cold. 

San is lying prone on the ground with the same guy Yunho remembers from that night with the cops straddling him, hands wrapped around his throat. Through his labored breathing, Yunho sees red. “Get off of him,” he yells, lunging for the man and tackling him to the ground. Without thought, he raises a fist and slams it into the other’s face. 

“Hyung!” Jongho cries out in alarm, diving after him. He grabs a hold of his brother’s arm when he tries to punch him again.  

Yeosang follows after them, though his eyes are immediately drawn to San, and he rushes over to the brunette. Kneeling beside him, Yeosang immediately notices that he isn’t breathing. Sucking in a sharp breath, he tentatively presses two fingers against San’s neck, feeling for a pulse. When he can’t find one, he checks against his wrists just to make sure. His heart drops. 

“You guys,” he croaks weakly for the brothers, gripping San’s cold hand in his own, eyes staring with abject horror at the bruising around San’s neck. Yunho doesn’t hear him, too busy screaming at the man beneath him while Jongho holds his arms back. Yeosang’s breathing becomes labored, hands shaking as he tries to press down on the brunette’s chest a couple of times. He doesn’t know anything about CPR. “Yunho!” he screams, eyes blurring with tears as he backs away from the body. 

Yunho stops his yelling to turn his head towards his brother’s boyfriend. Yeosang curls up against the wall, eyes darting to San’s body before looking up to the brothers. “He’s not breathing,” he says barely above a whisper. “He’s….he’s not—” It hits him then. Holy shit, San is dead. He’s actually dead. 

Expression blank, Yunho abandons the man on the ground. Jongho moves towards his boyfriend before quickly taking over Yunho’s place when he struggles to get up, pinning him to the ground and glaring in warning. Yunho’s feet feel heavy as he walks over to his neighbor, kneeling down beside him. Hands shaking, Yunho wraps his fingers around San’s wrist, almost flinching away at the touch of his skin. San felt cold to the touch. He keeps his fingers where they are, pressing against the inside of his wrist, and he feels his own heart stop when he doesn’t feel anything. 

“No,” he denies, taking his hand away. “No, he’s not—wake up, San.” He shakes his neighbor as if it will have any effect. 

“Yunho,” Yeosang calls out, horrified. “Yunho, stop. He’s not sleeping!” 

“Well, he’s not dead either,” Yunho denies. 

“Call the police!” Jongho yells at them. “Call someone! Oh, my God. Please, maybe—maybe they can revive him or—” 

“You’re all wasting your time,” the man on the floor says, wheezing when Jongho presses his knee down against his chest just a little bit harder. “Just wait. Watch. You’ll see what a monster he is.” 

Clenching his jaw, Yunho crawls over to the man and might have punched him in the face if Jongho hadn’t held out his hand to stop him. “How could you do this to him?” he spits at the man. “The only monster here is you.” 

He rolls his head against the floor to glare back at Yunho. “So, you’re Yunho then?” His face twists in disgust. “Just wait. You’ll see. And when you do, you’ll run screaming from this apartment, and I want you to remember that I am the only one who can love him.” 

“ Love? ” Yunho points behind him to where San’s body is. “You call that love? You controlling, abusive fucking asshole! You motherfucking—” 

“Oh, my God.” Yeosang’s startled comment interrupts Yunho mid-rant. 

The man grins at him, and Yunho really wants to smash his face in. “Watch,” he challenges Yunho in a whisper. “It’s starting.” 

Turning around, he sees Yeosang cowering against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms hugging them in close, wide eyes fixed on San. Then he forces himself to look at his neighbor, tensing as he notices color returning to the younger and the bruise around his neck fading. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yunho doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t even know what to think. Is this really happening or is he currently in the middle of a nightmarish dream? 

When all signs of any previous abuse or state of, well, death, recede, San suddenly starts, gasping in a lungful of air as his eyes fly open. Yeosang screams, scrambling away from San and towards the front door, tripping over the shoes there. Yunho flinches away, mind absolutely and totally blank. What is this? What is he seeing? What in fuck’s name is going on? To his credit, Jongho seems just as speechless, staring repeatedly between San and Yeosang. 

“See?” the man says with a slight laugh. “I told you. He doesn’t need the police or any ambulance. He can’t die. He’s a fucking monster. He’s my fucking monster. Do you understand yet? You’re nothing! I’ve known everything. I know everything about him. I’m the only one who gets to love him.” 

Lips curling back, Yunho counts to three in his head, deciding that, yes, he has no idea what the hell is going on but on the count of three he will sock that asshole in the face. Apparently having enough of his grating voice, Jongho beats him to it, punching him hard enough that he falls limp, quiet, unconscious. “Thanks,” Yunho sighs, eyes sliding shut. 

“He was asking for it,” Jongho pants out, picking himself up. 

“Yunho?” The soft call of his name pulls him from his empty headspace, and Yunho forces his eyes open, staring at San who stares back at him with confusion and panic. “Yunho.” His eyes briefly dart down to his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—lying unconscious on the floor, and he pieces together what must have happened. “Oh, God!” his hands reach for his neck instinctively, eyes welling with tears. “Oh, God. You saw.” His watery gaze turns to Jongho and then Yeosang. “You all saw,” he croaks. 

Brows furrowing because while Yunho is still confused as hell, he’s relieved, so, so relieved that San is crying because at least it means he’s alive. “Oh, San.” Hurrying over, Yunho lifts his hands up to cup the younger’s face only for San to recoil, head turned down and away in shame. “Sannie?” The younger wraps his arms around himself, shrinking against the floor and refusing to meet Yunho’s gaze. 

Pausing, Yunho hesitates, hovering over San, before he finally places a gentle hand on the brunette’s shoulder, heart twisting when San flinches at the touch. “Jongho, can you go get some of his clothes to bring over?” he calls to his brother over his shoulder. He wraps a hand around San’s elbow and gently pulls him up. Jongho nods, running off to find San’s belongings. “Come on,” he coaxes San. 

Reluctantly, the younger allows Yunho to lift him off the ground and guide him to the door. Yeosang shies away from San when they pass which causes San to flinch away as well, pressing himself into Yunho’s side before he realizes that he’s too close to Yunho’s side and jerks back from the elder. Yunho squeezes his shoulder reassuringly and ushers him out the door. 

Yeosang picks himself up on wobbly legs and follows after them, keeping what he deems a healthy distance between him and San. When they make it back into Yunho’s apartment, San collapses, the weight of his body nearly pulling Yunho down with him. Grunting, Yunho turns his head to look at Yeosang and jerks his chin in the direction of the kitchen. “Would you mind making a cup of tea?” he asks, feeling bad about it.

Yeosang hovers by the door, eyes fixated on the shoes as he hesitates. Yunho is practically begging him with his eyes, and San, well, San is shaking, little sobs escaping him and Yeosang shudders before nodding his head. Scooting around the two of them, he gives them a wide berth as he hurries into the kitchen. 

“San, come on,” Yunho coaxes, hand wrapped around the younger’s elbow. San trembles in his grip, body limp and unwilling to move. Yunho can’t tell if he’s in shock or absolutely panicking at the moment. “Baby, please.” 

His plea seems to have an effect though not the one Yunho hoped for. San jerks away from him, pulling his arm from Yunho’s grasp and stumbling back a few steps. He nearly trips over the shoes littering the doorway but manages to catch himself on the wall. Fingers curling into fists, Yunho lowers his head but keeps his gaze fixed on the brunette. 

“Don’t,” San eventually rasps out, “don’t call me that.” Furrowing his brows, Yunho initially wonders what San is referring to before it clicks. Baby . Yunho never called him that before. It slipped out by accident. 

“Oh. Sorry—” 

Right at that moment, Jongho bursts into the apartment with an armful of San’s clothes. Yunho’s heart jumps to his throat when San shrinks away from the other. Jongho pauses as well, eyes guilty as he hugs the clothes to his chest. His eyes slowly shift to Yunho who presses his lips into a thin line and jerks his head. “I’ll just….I’ll leave these in your room,” he announces quietly, evidently understanding Yunho’s body language. 

Jongho scurries down the hallway to Yunho’s bedroom while the elder closes the door to the apartment, taking care to make sure he closes all the locks. Jongho pads back down the hallway, pausing in front of the living room to stare at the two of them. His gaze lingers for a moment on San who refuses to meet anyone’s gaze. When he looks to his brother, the elder pointedly looks towards the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, and Jongho scrambles into the kitchen without further prompting. 

“San.” 

The younger flinches away at his name, fingers twisting into his shirt as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. Licking his lips, Yunho tries to lighten the mood by reminding San that he needs to take his shoes off. Taking in a deep breath, San seems to gather his wits enough to respond to Yunho. “I should….I should go home. My boyfriend—he’ll be mad if I’m not there—” He walks up to Yunho while he babbles, intending to side step the elder and make a break for the door, but Yunho puts his foot down hard enough and loud enough to send San skittering back a couple of steps. 

“You’re not stepping foot into that apartment again,” he hisses at the brunette. “Am I clear?” 

San shrinks away at the harsh tone. “But,” he protests, “you saw. You saw what happened. You saw what—what I am. If I don’t go back—” 

“It is precisely because of what I saw that you’re not going back,” Yunho cuts in, standing firmly in San’s path. He softens his expression and tone considerably when he notices the wariness in San’s gaze though he refuses to back down in his stance. “Now, please. Will you please just lie down for a little bit? We can talk later, but just for now…” 

Reluctantly, San allows Yunho to guide him towards the elder’s familiar room. Inside, Yunho coaxes San onto the bed where he promptly wraps him up in his comforter before taking a seat at the edge of the mattress. 

“Yeosang is making a cup of tea for you. We can talk afterwards.” 

San merely hunches down further into his blanket cocoon. Apathetically, he flops down onto his side and gives no indication that he’s heard or acknowledged Yunho’s statement. The elder sighs, hand smoothing over the blanket a couple of times before he stands up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He pats San’s blanket cocoon once before pulling away and heading back out the door. 

Backtracking towards the kitchen, he spots his younger brother hovering by the stove next to Yeosang who’s staring blankly into a pot of boiling water. He can see Jongho’s lips moving, but he’s speaking too quietly for Yunho to hear from the entrance of the kitchen. He clears his throat as a polite warning that he’s there before stepping into the kitchen. Jongho pulls away from his boyfriend to look over to Yunho; Yeosang refuses to look anywhere but at the water he’s currently watching over. Yunho approaches the both of them cautiously. 

“Hey,” Yunho places a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezes gently, “you okay?” 

Jongho sighs, shoulders slumping as he looks at Yeosang. “I’m okay,” he whispers. “But—”

Swallowing, Yunho removes his hand from his brother’s shoulder and opens his mouth to address Yeosang, but he suddenly whirls around, nearly smacking Yunho who manages to step back just in time. “What the hell was that?” he demands, near hysterics. “What the fuck happened? I swear he….he—” Yeosang looks sick as he braces himself against the handle of the oven behind him. “I’ve never seen a dead body before. And he was dead , but then—” Yeosang starts to near hyperventilate, fingers digging into the handle. 

“Yeosang—” Jongho reaches out to help steady the smaller man, but Yeosang smacks his hand away with a glare. The younger flinches back, cradling his hand to his chest, pouting pitifully at his boyfriend. 

Yunho clenches his jaw at the interaction, reaching out to hold Yeosang’s hand in his. “Hey, I get it. You’re freaked out, we all are. But just calm down, please?” Yeosang still heaves in a couple of deep breaths before he sighs, slumping against Jongho’s side. Yunho pulls back, running his hand through his hair as he thinks of what to say now. 

“Why don’t you and Jongho go to your place? Stay the night?” 

“No!” Yeosang snaps his head up to stare at Yunho before Jongho can even say anything. He looks horrified. “Are you crazy? What if that guy comes here and harrasses us? It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out San is here. I’m not leaving you guys alone with that.” He threads his arm through Jongho’s, squeezing it tightly.

Yunho blinks, surprised by Yeosang’s ferocity, before he softens with a smile. “I know it was scary, but if you need time by yourself it’s okay. Maybe it would be better for everyone.”

“No.” Jongho agrees with a shake of his head adamantly refusing his brother’s advice. “ No .” He squeezes his boyfriend back. Yunho watches the two of them with a fond expression. Part of him still thinks they should probably go, but he’s also proud that they refuse to. That they refuse to because they’re worried about San.

Breathing in deeply, Yeosang reaches out to turn down the heat on the stove and continues his argument. “Look, I don’t know what just happened, and I’m scared . I’m scared of San, but I’m also scared for him, so I’m not just going to leave! I’ll give you guys space, alright? But I don’t feel comfortable leaving you guys here.” 

“Okay,” Yunho concedes easily, looking to his brother who nods his head in agreement. “You don’t have to leave. It was just a suggestion.” 

Sighing, Jongho turns his head to Yeosang and nods towards one of the cabinets. The elder reaches up to grab a mug which he sets down on the counter beside the stove. “They both knew,” he points out quietly, ripping open a single packet of chamomile tea he had left beside him on the counter. Placing it gingerly into the mug, he pours in the hot water until the cup is full halfway. Neither Yunho nor Jongho respond or acknowledge his statement. Yeosang places the pot back on the stove, staring stonily down into the tea for San. “They didn’t just both know. They were….comfortable in their knowledge about it.” He pushes the mug gently over in Yunho’s direction until he reaches out to grab it. “So, how often has something like this occurred?” Jongho flinches at the question, turning his head away like he’s trying not to think about the scene they had stumbled across. Yunho grinds his teeth down, fingers tightening on the handle of the mug while his brother sniffles and lifts an arm to wipe his nose with his sleeve. His stomach churns with the knowledge that his brother is crying. 

“Shit,” Yeosang curses, immediately moving forward to wrap his arms around Jongho. Yunho is briefly torn between staying to comfort his brother or return to his room, but Jongho mumbles a quiet dismissal into his boyfriend’s shirt, and he trusts that Yeosang will be able to handle it. 

Creeping down the hallway, Yunho quietly nudges open the door to his room with the cup of tea in hand. It’s quiet in his room, the only indication that someone else is inside being the lump of blankets on one side of his bed. With a nervous knot in his stomach, Yunho makes his way over to San and places himself on the edge of the bed right above his head. The younger has drawn the blanket up around himself, covering his face along with his body. 

“Hey,” he tries to coax the younger gently, “I brought you some tea.” 

San doesn’t move or make a sound or, seemingly, even breathe. A sudden and semi-irrational fear strikes Yunho at that moment, and he reaches down to hastily pull the covers from San’s face. As soon as the covers are pulled down from his face a shuddery breath leaves his lips, but he doesn’t look up at Yunho. He keeps his head still, eyes fixed on the wall across the room from him. 

“San?” Yunho leans over to get a good look at the brunette’s face, placing his free hand on the bed to give himself some stability. His eyes are wet and red rimmed, and he still refuses to acknowledge the elder as he stubbornly continues to glower at the wall. “Would you like some tea?” No response. Pursing his lips, Yunho leans down and carefully places the cup of tea on the floor, careful to make sure it stays upright on the carpet before picking himself back up. Reaching out he pulls at the blanket, only managing to pull a little before he’s met with resistance. Frowning, he tugs harder, slipping the blankets free from San’s grasp and pulling them down to reveal the younger’s face. 

Immediately, San curls tighter into himself, pressing his face into the sheets as if not being able to see Yunho would somehow render him invisible. “San,” the elder pleads, placing a hand on his shoulder. He attempts to gently coax San into turning over, but he resists, pulling away from Yunho's grip. 

“No! Don’t look at me,” San protests, voice watery and muffled in the mattress. “Why are you being so calm about this!” 

Pulling his hands away, Yunho settles them on his lap, teeth digging into his lip. “I’m….I’m really not calm right now, San. I’m confused as hell, my heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I heard you screaming. I’m still angry. I’d go over there and kill that bastard myself if I could. I’m anything but calm. But I need you to….I need you to tell me what happened.” 

Sniffling, San turns his head so he’s no longer buried in the sheets though he still refuses to face Yunho. “I wanted to tell you,” he confesses. “I wanted to tell you that this was why I was so scared to leave because he was the only person who knew, and he said he would tell everyone if I ever left him. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to see that. Oh my God.” The sobs start up again, and Yunho leans over him cooing at him to try and calm him down. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I promise,” he tells the brunette, but the sobs don’t abate. San just keeps repeating that he didn’t want him to see. Yunho slides fully onto the bed, hooking one arm underneath San’s torso and the other linking their arms together. It takes a bit of coaxing and maneuvering, San doesn’t so much fight him as he stubbornly tries to resist, but then he has the brunette laying against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around him. Yunho doesn’t say anything for a long while. He just lets San continue to cry into his chest, babbling things that he doesn’t understand. He just holds him. For a long time. Until finally the tears fade to a quiet sniffle. 

Only then does Yunho try to speak. “How did you plan to tell me?” he asks. “Tell me now. I can’t unsee what I saw, but I can still listen to you.” 

San presses his head into Yunho’s shoulder, releasing a shuddering breath and curling up. “There’s….a secret I’ve been keeping from you. From everyone,” San begins. Yunho removes one of his hands from the brunette’s waist, trailing up his back, reaching up to card his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know—I suppose I was always like this, but I didn’t know until after high school. It wasn’t the first time we had fought before. We fought a lot about little things when we first moved in together. Dishes and laundry and shit. I don’t even remember what we were fighting about that time. I just remember he grabbed me by the throat and kept telling me to shut up. That he didn’t want to hear me talk anymore.” 

Yunho grits his teeth but holds his tongue. He doesn’t want to interrupt San for fear that he’ll clam up, stop talking. So he holds his comments and questions in, just continuing to pet San’s head in a show of support. The brunette breathes heavily a few times before he continues. 

“I didn’t really know what was going on at first. He wasn’t actually strangling me. It’s….it’s a lot harder to do then people realize, but I yelled at him and tried to push him away, so he just held me harder. And harder. Until I actually couldn’t breath. I don’t even really know what happened that first time. I thought that I had just passed out, but when I woke up he was crying over me and saying sorry and that he would never do something like that again. I think we both thought I just passed out that time.” Yunho wants to bash his head into the wall because there’s more than one time. 

“The second time—that’s when I knew there was something wrong with me.” San curls his fingers into Yunho’s sweater, grounding himself as he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t really like to remember this even if the memories are still fuzzy. “He was really mad at me. He had this cycle. He’d be super nice, super sweet for a time, and then I’d do something that pissed him off and he’d go off on me. Sometimes just verbally but other times….” he swallows thickly. “He was mad because he thought I had flirted with one of his friends when we were just talking . The guy’s girlfriend was trying to build her portfolio. I was just looking for pointers, but no, he was convinced I was trying to get into his friend’s pants.” 

San laughs mirthlessly at the memory. How stupid the whole thing was. How right Wooyoung had been about the lack of trust. “He yelled at me, and I yelled back about how stupid he was acting. That I was sick of his shit. I—at the time I wasn’t quite at the point where I was ready to break up. I thought, you know, couples fight sometimes, this was just one of those times, so I wanted to go home for a bit so we could both cool off. He beat me pretty badly that night. Really badly. That’s when I knew that I must have….died at some point.” 

Yunho digs his fingers into his waist, letting up when San winces and curls away from him. “Sorry,” he whispers, flattening his fingers to rub soothing circles into his skin. 

“It’s okay,” the brunette replies quietly. He clears his throat as he tries to remember what he was saying. “I knew that because when I woke up I was wrapped up in a blanket in the back of his car. He never really admitted it because he was so panicked, but I just got the feeling that he was trying to dump a body.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Yunho knocks his head against San, unable to bear this anymore. 

“I knew at that point that I couldn’t stay. I hated him anyways. I could always make excuses for being smacked around, but dying….it fucking hurts. When I tried to leave though he laughed and asked me where I would even go. He said he’d tell my parents about what I could do and convinced me that if they knew they wouldn’t…” he sniffles again, eyes tearing up. “That they wouldn’t love me anymore. I was so scared he was right, and that was his go to threat ever since. I didn’t have anyone I could go to, and if I thought I did he’d say he would tell them the truth. That’s why I said I couldn’t leave.” 

Yunho has a million questions running through his mind at this point. “Are you going to tell anyone?” San bites his lips and looks away. Yunho immediately understands. “Okay,” he agrees. “I know. Yeosang knows, and Jongho knows. If you want to tell anyone else that’s up to you, but it’s not necessary because it will never happen again.” San eagerly nods his head in agreement, but there’s still one question that keeps dragging itself to the forefront of his mind. “How many times?” Yunho croaks out. A part of him hopes San will dodge the question as he tends to do, but the brunette shudders in his arms. 

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. 

“Fuck.” 

“It used to be what I would consider accidents,” San explains. Yunho wants to snort because who on earth “accidentally” kills someone, let alone does it repeatedly? “But then we figured out that I’d essentially start over….fresh, so to speak, when I woke up again. Any injuries before were just gone, so then it became a tool for him.” 

Yunho inhales sharply. That’s why, he thinks. That’s why San rarely showed signs of abuse. And then another, more sickening thought comes to mind. “Oh, my God,” he breathes out, wanting to cry at his own thought process. 

“What?” San pulls back a little to look down on him. 

“That night Jongho called the cops.” His eyes are glassy with unshed tears as he stares at San who turns his head away. “Was that one of the times?” The brunette nods his head slowly. “You were wet,” Yunho remembers. 

“Have you ever accidentally inhaled water when you were in the pool or the ocean? You know that feeling? Like your lungs are on fire?” San asks, fingers flexing against Yunho’s abdomen as he takes in a sharp breath. 

Yunho sits up, pulling San into a tight hug and tucking him against his chest. He holds him there as if, if he tries hard enough, he can keep him protected from the whole world. “No,” he breathes out. “You’re never going back there. You’re insane if you think I’ll ever let you go back there. I don’t care if you’re different. It doesn’t mean you should ever feel that kind of pain.” 

San clings to him just as tightly because he’s not doing what San always thought someone would do. He’s not rejecting him, and a warm feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. It feels a lot like hope. “What now?” 

Yunho releases a breath. There’s a lot they probably need to do, but first things first. “We should probably tell the police,” he suggests. 

San vehemently shakes his head at the notion. “No,” he disagrees. “I don’t want to. I wouldn’t know what to tell them anyways.” 

“The truth?” The brunette pulls back enough to glare at Yunho, so he amends himself. “Minus the whole dying and coming back thing, I mean.” 

“I couldn’t tell them anything they’d believe anyways,” San explains. He sits up in Yunho’s lap, fingers reaching up to gently prod at his throat. “There’s no evidence anymore.” 

“There doesn’t have to be physical evidence. We have three witnesses—” 

“I don’t want to call them,” San whispers. “I just want to move on and forget about him.” 

Yunho sighs, fingers playing along the hem of the brunette’s jeans. “Okay,” he relents. “But people like that aren’t likely to just leave you alone. He’ll probably keep harassing you as long as he feels like it gives him an ounce of power.” 

“He’s a coward,” San grits out, “and I’m not going to bend to him anymore. He’ll leave me alone if he realizes his threats don’t hold any weight anymore.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Yunho assures him. He doesn’t sleep much that night, cradling San against his chest as he mulls over what to do next. 

The next step, Yunho decides, is to keep San as far away from his ex as possible. He has the younger block the man’s number, and then block him on any social media that he uses. Then, he figures he should probably get him out of the apartment complex. As much as it pains him, Yunho tells him that he probably shouldn’t spend so much time at his apartment anymore. It’s too close, just right across the hallway. San protests and it takes many promises of coffee dates and other activities to convince him to drop it. The next move is getting him moved out all together. Wooyoung happily but with much confusion agrees to loan his spare room to San, so he drops him off at the blond’s apartment the next afternoon. 

Wooyoung holds his friend at arm's length when San comes with almost nothing on him. Yunho tells him that he’ll be by later with his things, and the blond can only nod his head as he looks between the two of them in confusion. When Yunho leaves, San’s shoulders slump, and he leans into his best friend. 

“You were right,” he whispers into Wooyoung’s shoulder. 

“What are you talking about?” his friend asks, wrapping his arms around him in a hug and pulling him towards the couch. 

“About that absolute pile of dog shit I used to call a boyfriend,” San laughs out. Wooyoung seems taken aback by his statement, jaw slack as he finally pulls away from his friend to look him in the eyes. “I broke up with him,” he says proudly. 

“Oh.” Wooyoung struggles to process this news. “I...don’t want to say that I’m happy, but—”

“You should be,” San tells him. “And I am because you were right. He was a controlling asshole who never trusted me. I should have listened to you.” He peeks up at his friend with a wry smile. “You can tell me ‘I told you so.’ I won’t get mad.” 

Wooyoung scoffs, hugging his friend close like he’s some sort of teddy bear. “I’d never,” he says. 

“Lies.” 

“Well, you’re not wrong.” He rearranges the two of them on the couch until they’re basically tangled up together. He has his arms around San’s waist while the brunette wraps his own around Wooyoung’s neck. They’re legs are completely tangled up together which Wooyoung is sure to regret when one of his feet falls asleep but for now he’s content. “I would say that, but not to you. Not now. You seem too emotionally drained to handle it.” 

Humming, San rests his head against his friend’s but says nothing in response. Wooyoung lets the silence hang for a time to allow his best friend a small moment of peace and reprieve before the bombardment of questions begins. “So, what brought this on?” 

“A lot of things,” San admits. He wants to tell Wooyoung the truth. Or as much of it as he thinks is necessary at least. “I had been thinking about it for a long time to be completely honest. He became so much worse after high school, but I—didn’t really have anywhere to go if I left. So I just felt….stuck.” 

“But you don’t anymore?” Wooyoung asks. 

San nods his head because, “I have you again now,” he notes, pinching his friend’s cheek affectionately. “And I have Yunho now too. He’s been...good to me.” 

“You bitch,” Wooyoung gasps, no bite to his words. He practically throws them around so he can straddle his friend on the couch. “You and Yunho are fucking?” 

“Oh, my God—no!” San covers his face with his hands. And then in a tiny voice adds, “Not yet, at least.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes light up. “You’re dating ?!” he screeches, playfully smacking San’s arms and chest because he can’t contain his excitement. 

San squeals, trying to block the hits. Eventually they let up and when he looks up he finds Wooyoung staring back at him expectantly. Licking his lips, San turns his head away. “Ah. Kind of? It’s not, like, official yet or anything, but we both...like each other so.” 

Wooyoung’s expression softens at the confession. “He’ll be so good to you,” he assures his friend. 

“I know. He already has been.” San looks around his friend’s apartment. He’s been here a couple of times before, but it feels weird that he’s going to be staying here for a while. “Thanks for letting me stay. I’m sorry for suddenly intruding on you like this.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. You’re always welcome here, and anyways,” he wiggles his eyebrows at the brunette, “I suspect you’ll soon be moving in with your new man.” 

San laughs and pushes the blond away from him. “Maybe. Yunho doesn’t seem too into the idea right now.” Wooyoung sputters because why? “He thinks I should live independently from him. At least for a while.”  

The blond rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I hate how much of a gentleman he is. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t fuck me my freshmen year.” 

“You tried to—what?” 

Wooyoung holds his hands up defensively. “You ask that like you haven’t seen him and as if you aren’t currently trying to get into his pants.” 

San looks around pointedly. “Where’s Mingi?” 

“Still sleeping,” Wooyoung beams. “And if you tell him about anything we just talked about I will go through and switch all the labels of your paints, and you’ll never be able to find your fine tip brushes again!” 

Jongho and Yeosang stop by not long after Mingi finally wakes up with some suitcases that San has never seen before. The redhead tiredly helps them bring in the suitcases, rolling them off to the spare bedroom when Wooyoung scolds him for just sitting on their couch when they have guests over. “We’ll need those back,” Jongho tells San as he points in the direction Mingi went. “They’re our suitcases but no rush.” 

“Thanks.” San crosses his arms as Wooyoung herds the two of them into his living room. 

It’s silent for a second. The three of them exchange looks before San turns to Wooyoung. He doesn’t even have to say anything before the blond excuses himself with the excuse that he’ll get them all something to drink. Even after all these years he can still read his best friend’s body language, and San couldn’t be more grateful. 

“We just brought your clothes and your backpack,” Yeosang explains. “We weren’t sure if there was anything else—” 

San shakes his head. “No. That’s really it. Everything else I need is probably in my studio.” He fidgets nervously as he looks at the two of them. “Did he—was he there?” 

Jongho shakes his head. “No. He was gone when we went in.” 

“Probably a good thing for him,” Yeosang grumbles, placing his hands on his hips. “Jongho wouldn’t shut up about wanting to cave his face in.” Jongho rolls his eyes, trying to defend himself because would anyone actually feel bad? San winces though. It’s not that he would feel bad, just that he knows what that feels like. 

“He did come back when we were getting ready to come over though,” Jongho tells him, tone serious. San stiffens up, and he actually feels himself going cold with panic. “He was pounding on our door, demanding to see you. He threatened to call the cops on us, and that he would have Yunho thrown in jail for assaulting him.” 

San hisses, pressing his fist against his mouth. “What did you do? Did something happen? I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be,” Jongho says with a shake of his head. “Yunho went out to yell at him, and when he came back the guy was mum.” 

The brunette raises his eyebrows at that. “What the hell did he say?” 

Jongho shrugs because he didn’t really hear, but Yeosang answers for him. “He said he could go ahead and call the cops, that he could take this to court if he wanted but that he would get the charge thrown out and he would counter for assault and abuse.” He looks at San, managing to hold the other’s gaze for a few seconds before turning away. “He threatened the entire legal power of his company.” 

“Can he even do that?” 

Yeosang shrugs his shoulders. “I have no clue, but he did it.” 

San shivers when another cool breeze blows by. It’s getting warmer out now, but the nights are still cool which he apparently forgot about because he completely forgot a jacket. Now he’s shivering outside the restaurant he and Yunho agreed to meet at after work. He’s early which gives him time to do something he hasn’t in a while. 

“Hello?” 

His heart rate picks up a little at the sound of his mother’s voice on the other hand of the phone. “Mom,” he calls out to her, a little more whiny than he intended. 

“San! It’s been so long since you last called. How have you been?” 

“I know. I’m sorry I haven’t called recently. I promise I won’t do that anymore. I’ll call you every weekend from now on, okay?” 

She laughs at him. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that.” There’s a pause where neither of them really know what to say, but she breaks that silence. “Did something happen?” 

San is convinced that mother’s must have some kind of sixth sense for this type of thing. “Yeah, actually,” he clears his throat. It’s been a few months actually, but everything has been so chaotic he hasn’t really had a chance to just sit down and talk to his family. He hasn’t heard from his ex at all. The man seemed to have basically dropped off the face of the planet after that night. 

Jongho told him that only a few weeks after that final confrontation between him and Yunho he moved out. If he’s tried contacting San since then, he doesn’t know because he blocked him everywhere. He’s still living with Wooyoung and Mingi which is both amazing and weird because, well, he lives with Mingi. Yunho and Jongho are still currently in the same apartment. Yunho already has plans to move again once the lease is up. San felt awful about it, but Yunho assured him that it wasn’t his fault, and it would be for the best. San will still occasionally come over, but it’s rare. It’s not that anything is wrong, it’s just too close, and Yunho seems to know this. They usually plan to do things outside of the apartment like tonight. They’re going to get dinner. 

“I, uh, broke up with my boyfriend,” he tells her. 

“Oh!” She sounds surprised. San can’t say he blames her. He remembers the calls he used to make to her or his sister, crying his eyes out and begging to be picked up from his boyfriend’s place. But he still stayed for five, almost six, years. 

“I...met someone new.” 

“San…” She sounds worried now. 

“I know! I know, but I promise that he’s different mom. I promise.” 

“Does that mean we get to meet him this time?” she asks. 

San hums, thinking that Yunho wouldn’t mind that at all. “Yes,” he answers. “Actually this time. For real. Plan the date and we’ll come for sure!” 

“Okay. Why don’t you talk to your sister? Tell me when’s a good time for everyone and we’ll go from there.” 

“Okay. I’ll do that.” 

“Good.” He hears her sigh a little. “Sannie, I hate to cut this short, but I have guests over…” 

“Oh, it’s okay, mom. I just....it’s been awhile since I heard your voice. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too.” 

San can’t help but grin. “Okay, get back to your guests. We can talk again soon.” 

“Oh, alright. But San,” the brunette brings the phone back to his ears when he hears his mother calling him, “you are happy, right?” 

San looks up, spotting Yunho’s tall figure coming down the street. “Very,” he answers, exchanging another goodbye before he hangs up. Yunho’s weaving through a small crowd of people, looking between his phone and the different shops and restaurants lining the street. He looks good, as he always does, in his work clothes. 

Like an excited puppy, San bounds down the street, wrapping his arms around the lawyer with a squeal of his name. Yunho gasps in surprise, gripping San’s arm to balance himself. “Jesus. You scared me.” He runs his hands up and down San’s arms, frowning at the goosebumps. “Where’s your jacket? You’re freezing.” He wraps the smaller boy in his arms, trying to warm him up. 

“I forgot it,” San says into his coat. Then he pulls back to look up at Yunho. “If you’d gotten here sooner I wouldn’t have been standing outside freezing my ass off.” 

He rolls his eyes at the brunette, awkwardly herding him towards the restaurant with his arms still wrapped around him. “You could have waited inside, silly.” 

“Yeah, but I couldn’t see you coming from inside.” 

“Shut up. You’re so cute.” Yunho stops them just outside the door to the restaurant. Cupping his hand beneath San’s chin he tilts the brunette’s head back so he can lean down for a kiss. San melts against him, temporarily forgetting about how cold he feels as he eagerly pushes himself up  into the kiss. When Yunho pulls away, reaching out to open the door, San shamelessly whines and wiggles around in Yunho’s arms, turning himself around. He pushes himself up, searching for another kiss. Yunho indulges him with a little laugh before he finally manages to push San into the restaurant. 

“How was your day?” Yunho asks once they’re seated at a table. 

San curls up in his chair, leaning against the wall their table is pressed up against. “Great,” he says earnestly. He smiles when Yunho looks up at him. “It’s even better now though.”

Notes:

If you made it this far....idk there's something wrong with you too I guess.

I just wanted to write them being all cute and shit but I also wanted to end this :(

But hey, if any of you RT a lot of ATEEZ stuff or know any twts that do leave the handle below? I'm trying to find some people to follow for that lol