Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gentle snowflakes floated through the air outside the fogged-up window of the cafe, the inside warm enough to shield from the cold as the comforting smell of coffee filled the air. The gentle hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of ceramic filled the room. It was the second or maybe third time that winter it snowed, reminding Wooyoung of the incoming holiday season and of the reason the cafe was so busy. Festive holiday drinks covered the menu, and joyful people conversed and enjoyed time with loved ones during the festive season while they sipped hot cocoa.

Wooyoung was finding it difficult to feel festive as usual. It could have something to do with the mountain of homework he always had to do before his university would give him a break for the holidays. One more semester and he would never have to feel this way again. By the time the snow melted in spring, he would have his culinary degree.

"Why are we here again?" Wooyoung finally inquired, raising an eyebrow as delicate fingers swirled his iced coffee with a straw.

His friend's wrist snapped upward as he glanced at his watch again. "Just wait," he told him, eyes returning to the cafe counter for the thousandth time that afternoon.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. Yeosang had always been a bit odd, so in reality, this spontaneous trip to a new cafe on the other side of town shouldn't have confused him. But it was strange, even for him.

"You know, when you said you thought of something fun we could do after class, I guess I just assumed it would be more, I don't know, fun."

Yeosang ignored him, gaze bouncing between his watch and the counter where two female baristas were diligently making drinks. "Should be here any second," he declared hopefully.

"What are you-?"

"There," Yeosang spoke with urgency but kept his voice quiet, nodding his head toward the back room.

Wooyoung's head snapped to the right to catch the person he was talking about, seeing a short, handsome man rushing out of the back as if he were late for work. Wooyoung smirked. He was cute, bowing politely and apologizing to his coworkers even though he was probably less than a minute late, hurriedly tying on his apron and adjusting the decorated reindeer headband over top of fluffy brown hair.

"He's always right on time," Yeosang chuckled subtly. "Never early, never late,"

Wooyoung's eyes scanned the man up and down. "Is this your new hopeless crush you were telling me about?"

"It's not hopeless!" Yeosang whined, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

Wooyoung wasn't so sure. It was no secret that Yeosang had bad luck with love the entire time Wooyoung had known him, and that was a long time. It began in his early teen years when he dated girls just to satisfy his parents, ending badly when he decided to come out as gay and faced relentless bullying in school. Not to mention that his parents had basically disowned him, forcing him out of the house with nothing more than a small bag of clothes and barely a word of goodbye. Wooyoung's mom had practically raised them both from that point on.

"So what do you think?" Yeosang asked with hopeful eyes. "Cute right?"

Wooyoung shrugged with a slight nod, leaning his cheek on his hand as he stirred his drink. "Yeah, I guess he's pretty cute,"

Yeosang smirked and crossed his arms as he leaned his back against the chair. "Trick question. I called dibs, so you're actually not allowed to think he's cute,"

Wooyoung scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Do you even know his name?"

"Minor details," Yeosang waved it off as if it were unimportant. "That's what nametags are for,"

Wooyoung finally understood, and his uncertainty could be read on his face. "So this is why you haven't ordered a drink yet. You were waiting for him?"

Yeosang blushed slightly, his fingers nervously fidgeting under his arms. "What better excuse to talk to him?" he shrugged.

"Be careful, he might not be interested if he knows you like green tea," Wooyoung teased Yeosang as he scooted backward in his chair preparing to stand.

"Ha ha ha," Yeosang rolled his eyes in amusement as he stood, pushing his chair in. He took a deep breath, but Wooyoung could tell his heart was beating out of his chest. "Wish me luck,"

Wooyoung pumped his fist in encouragement with a forced grin as he watched him walk away, unsure how it would go. Somehow he knew Yeosang was going to do more than order a drink and most likely embarrass himself once again. It always seemed to turn out that way. Wooyoung used to try talking him out of it before he realized it was a waste of time since his best friend never listened to him anyway.

Wooyoung always seemed to have better luck with love, if you could even call it that. It was easy for him to go to a bar or a club on the weekend and find a new hookup each time without even looking. He didn't know if it was luck or if he just gave off some kind of sexy aura that let the nearest gay men know he wouldn't mind being fucked senseless once he finished his third cocktail. It wasn't so easy for Yeosang.

He rarely went out clubbing with Wooyoung but when he did, he seemed to put up barriers, leaving him completely closed off. It was always like there was an invisible wall between him and the crowd of people he could be talking to. It wasn't his fault; he wasn't a whore like Wooyoung. Yeosang was still a virgin in their final year of university and even if he said it didn't bother him, Wooyoung knew it did. For that reason, it was a subject they often avoided.

Wooyoung told himself that the school work was what was keeping his holiday spirit at bay, but in reality, it was something else. It was deeper than that. He watched Yeosang as he stood in line at the counter, shooting Wooyoung a few nervous glances as if he were having second thoughts, but was excited at the same time. Wooyoung smiled encouragingly, but when Yeosang looked away, he let out a sigh. His friend was so innocent, and yet, he'd been dealt such a terrible hand in life. It wasn't fair.

Wooyoung's mom had been the only person to act like a mother to him in his life, treating both of them as her sons from the day Yeosang had been kicked out of his own home. She had taken him in immediately. No questions. She had vowed to always stay by their sides and protect them from the judgemental eyes of the world, promising a very teary-eyed Yeosang that he wasn't broken for feeling the way he did. She was there for him.

That was until the accident.

Wooyoung's mother had always supported him, but it was no secret she had problems. Even people who knew her before Wooyoung was born had noticed it. Her addiction had started a long time ago. Because of that, Wooyoung had only ever known her that way.

His mother had always gone all out to make their holidays as festive as possible, often decorating the outside of the house before Wooyoung got home from school just to surprise him. He had rolled his eyes at her then, telling her it wasn't important, that she would have to take it all down in a month, so why bother? He wasn't the nicest kid in elementary school, and of course he regretted it now. He wished he could go back and give her his brightest smile and a pat on the back when she turned on the shining, colorful lights on strings lining the entire roof and porch railing.

She would spend all day decorating outside, often too high to realize her fingers were turning blue. Maybe he wasn't able to compliment her designs because he was too busy rushing her inside and placing her next to the fireplace, hurriedly putting on a kettle of tea while he asked her what the hell she was thinking.

Once Yeosang had moved in, the festive mood seemed to come easier to Wooyoung. Yeosang also wasn't blind to the countless pill bottles scattered on countertops and in bathroom cabinets, but he was so thrilled to be surrounded by a loving family for the holidays that he kept his mouth shut. He had known about his mother's addiction for a long time; Wooyoung confided in him about almost everything.

It wasn't like Wooyoung hadn't tried talking to her about it. There were many nights he would bring up his concern for her, for the way her hands wouldn't stop shaking, for the constant exhausted look in her eyes, but she always brushed it off. It became frustrating, and as stubborn as Wooyoung was, he still never let it go. It was the reason many nights ended with the two of them screaming words they didn't mean at each other with a ferocity that should never be used between a mother and son. Those nights always ended in tears, Wooyoung holding her close and clutching her so tight while he told her how afraid he was to lose her, but nothing ever seemed to change after that.

He always wished he could have done more. Especially after he received the call that her car had been found at the bottom of the Han River.

His worst fear had come true and even now he remembered the numbing feeling that had taken over his body as he held the phone with a trembling grip, the tears that streamed down his face while his expression remained scarily unchanged. He wasn't surprised. That was just it; of course she would do something like that. The signs had been there for years so he had no excuses for failing to see it coming. He should have done more to help her.

The accident happened almost three years ago. After everything, he and Yeosang were doing better emotionally, but Wooyoung realized that the mental image of his mother still had not faded from his idea of the holiday season. It was when she was happiest, and despite all the attitude he used to give her, he loved seeing that smile on her face. There were times when her hardy laughing and cheerful attitude weren't driven by pills, and that was the version of her he tried to remember the most.

Wooyoung snapped out of his thoughts and noticed Yeosang was at the register now. He was too far away to hear what was being said, but his friend was making conversation with the cute barista. Wooyoung couldn't help but smile. Yeosang was leaning against the counter in an attempt to look cool, but actually just ended up looking extremely unnatural, as the surface was a bit too low to lean on, making his stance a bit awkward. Wooyoung couldn't read the barista's expression, but he was nodding along as if wondering if the man in front of him was okay.

Wooyoung chuckled into his straw as he wondered if his friend would ever lose his virginity. His eyes drifted to the menu board while he wondered what Yeosang had ordered, but the TV screen mounted on the wall behind the counter caught his eye. Maybe because there was a red 'breaking news' banner across the bottom of the screen, so he found himself absentmindedly reading the tag next to it.

His previous smile induced by Yeosang's awkwardness faded a bit as he sipped his iced coffee. Normally he ignored the news, only finding it depressing and biased, but this story was about their side of town which interested him immediately. According to the news, a young man had been reported missing in their area and the reporters were asking viewers to call the police station if they had any details on where he might be. That was a little scary. The man was just a couple of years younger than he and Yeosang, a sophomore in college. Poor guy. He hoped he was okay.

Wooyoung's jaw dropped slightly when they showed his picture, recognizing the face of a man who went to their university. Park Hunter was his name, and Wooyoung remembered seeing him in one of his own classes. He couldn't have mistaken his face. He was Thai, so he looked slightly different in an intriguing way, and he remembered hearing him talk with a slight accent in Korean. That was just around two or three weeks ago. It wasn't like Wooyoung knew him well, but he didn't seem like the type of person to get himself into trouble; what the hell happened to him in a town like this?

The news station went on to explain that this was not the first disappearance this year, but the third. What made Wooyoung's stomach turn was that all of them were university students at their school. What were the odds? He definitely needed to warn Yeosang once he was done embarrassing himself. It wasn't like it was a coincidence, and they might need to be more careful when going out.

Wooyoung's eyes returned to Yeosang who was still trying to make conversation, the barista actively attempting to slip away while trying not to be rude, but it seemed like he needed to get back to work. Once Yeosang seemed to take the hint after an excruciatingly long time, he loudly reminded the barista of his name, waving an awkward goodbye as he frantically returned to making drinks.

Wooyoung's palm laid over his face from second-hand embarrassment. He wished Yeosang had even just a sliver of social skills. He was really handsome, but when it came to talking to new people, he was an absolute trainwreck.

Wooyoung felt his phone buzz once with a text notification and he looked up, seeing Yeosang smiling at him while he still leaned against the counter. His own phone was in his hand. Wooyoung picked up his phone and saw that the text was from Yeosang and it was just one message. It made him roll his eyes, but he smiled at the same time.

"His name is Hongjoong. I think he likes me!"

Chapter Text

Wooyoung never really wanted a traditional life. When he was younger he had vowed to get a job doing something he loved so he wouldn't dread a single day of work. So why he found himself wiping tables at a local restaurant he had no idea.

He groaned as his once-white towel swept through the spilled beer on the table he had just cleared. At least it was the last one. Once this table was clean, all he had to do was take out the trash and he would be allowed to clock out.

Wooyoung hated this job, but he needed the money, so there really wasn't any getting around it while he worked on getting his degree. One more semester. That's what he kept telling himself. One more and he would be able to get a good job, something he loved and that involved cooking which was a passion he had known about since he was young.

He was looking forward to the next day; it would be Saturday and he had the day off for a change. He thought after the long week of homework and endless classes that he deserved a night out, maybe one at his favorite club, the place he had found most of his hookups. Wooyoung was content calling himself a whore. It was how he relaxed, and most of the men he screwed he barely remembered anyway. It was just his special way of blowing off steam, and the thought of meeting another hottie and going back to his place this weekend was the only thing getting him through the last of his busy workday.

Tying up the last of the trash bags, Wooyoung breathed a long sigh and his body relaxed. All he had left to do was take the bags to the dumpster and his relaxing weekend could begin.

Trudging through the restaurant toward the back door with two full trash bags, the weekend was finally in sight. That was until the sound of voices caught his attention. He stopped, looking in the direction he heard them from. His shoulders drooped. Of fucking course there were still people there he hadn't noticed. They were tucked away in the corner in order to fool Wooyoung into thinking he was about to be free. Of course not.

A long sigh left his mouth as he prepared to confront them. It was hard for him to be polite to people who deliberately stayed past closing and took away from his already limited free time, so he didn't expect much from his 'customer service' tonight. When Wooyoung peered around the corner of the wall, he saw two men sitting there, both sipping drinks with no other food on the table. Wooyoung felt his blood begin to boil. They didn't seem even a little bit concerned that the restaurant was now closed and they were going to make the employees stay later than they had to.

Wooyoung took another deep breath as he rounded the corner and began to approach them. Immediately though, he could feel an intimidating presence wash over him. Maybe it was the way they looked. Not even a hint of a smile reached their lips as they talked, and when they shifted their gaze to Wooyoung, he almost stopped in his tracks.

One of the men looked young, maybe close to his age with short black hair and curtain bangs framing his forehead. He had a pint of beer in front of him, was a bit short but looked very strong, and might have had a nice body under the shirt he had buttoned up to his throat. His eyes looked innocent but a clear defensiveness was visible in them as if an important conversation had been interrupted.

The other man was who scared him the most. The first thing he noticed was his sharp features, the way his menacing eyes pierced right through to his soul like icicles, his expression already challenging as Wooyoung got closer. The man's hair was long, almost to his shoulders as midnight black locks were slicked back and tucked behind his ears, leaving just a few loose strands to frame his face. His glass of red wine was only half empty and Wooyoung had a feeling he wasn't going to be leaving until every last drop was gone.

Both men were smartly dressed, pristine black suits making them appear more like stacks of cash than people. Wooyoung would've thought they were attractive if they weren't preventing him from going home.

Wooyoung was too pissed to be completely phased by their intimidating presence. "We closed fifteen minutes ago," he reminded them, an annoyed edge to his voice as he crossed his arms.

It was a tone he regretted when he saw the long-haired man's icy gaze lock onto him, his blank expression still staring daggers into him. His dark eyes were cold, chilling enough to send a sudden shiver down Wooyoung's spine, an unsettling feeling taking over him.

The man's lips tightened into a mocking smile when he noticed Wooyoung's sudden visible fear. It was like he enjoyed it.

The younger man was quick to apologize and draw Wooyoung's attention away. "Sorry about that! We must have lost track of time! We'll be out of your hair soon, can you just give us a few more minutes?"

Despite the man's kind plea, Wooyoung's rage bubbled back to the surface. How dare he ask for his free time to be further limited? But he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He'd been reprimanded more than once for being rude to customers–albeit ones who deserved it–and these assholes weren't worth it.

"Look: some of us have actual lives to get back to at the end of the day," Wooyoung told them, searching for any sense of humanity. "You really want to be the assholes to keep me here longer than I have to be?"

While focused on the younger man who still appeared apologetic, Wooyoung heard a mocking scoff from the other side of the table. When he turned his attention he saw the longer-haired man taking a deliberately small sip of his wine. Only then did he notice his sleek black nails, long enough that they may have been acrylics, sharpened to points on the tips of the fingers that held his glass.

His eyes met Wooyoung's with a condescending leer as he set his glass down. "Your pitiful life doesn't matter to us," he almost laughed. "Your job is to bring us more drinks until we say we're finished. Learn your place and leave us alone,"

A fast breath left Wooyoung's mouth, completely taken aback by the comment. His fists balled at his sides. Was he serious right now? Did he really think Wooyoung was going to take that amount of disrespect?

"I'm not your fucking servant," The words left Wooyoung's mouth before he could stop them. It came out more like a quiet grumble so he wasn't sure if they heard him at first, until...

There was a loud clang. The man's wine glass had been tipped– or rather pushed– over, red wine spilling out all over the table.

The younger man jumped, picking up the napkin in his lap and trying to stop the liquid from dripping onto the carpet. "Aish, hyung! What the hell are you doing?!"

The older man's cold expression didn't change as he rested his chin in his hand and stared at Wooyoung mockingly.

"I seem to have spilled my wine," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Clean it up. And while you're at it, bring me another,"

That was it. That was the last straw for Wooyoung. Despite his burning rage, he kept his breathing as steady as he could, clenching his teeth so hard his whole jaw hurt.

"You have five minutes to leave before I throw you out myself," He warned them.

"That almost sounded like a threat!" The bastard burst out, condescending laughter echoing through the empty restaurant. "Careful, I could have your job in a heartbeat if I tell your manager how we've been treated tonight,"

"My manager will throw you both out on the street and permanently ban you from this place," Wooyoung warned them. "Do not test me,"

The younger man nervously tapped the table to get his friend's attention. "Seonghwa-hyung, we need to go. Let's just go,"

The older shot him a glare as if he didn't appreciate his name being spoken out in the open.

Wooyoung held up his hand near the men, palm facing them as he spread his fingers. "Five minutes. If you're not gone, I'm calling the police,"

The asshole apparently known as Seonghwa looked at him with more seriousness, the chill of his gaze unrelenting. His jaw was tense with rage, his eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. There was something else lingering in his irises that Wooyoung couldn't quite figure out, but it scared him. He didn't think it was a good idea to be near him for much longer. He seemed dangerous.

And just as Wooyoung was turning away to go speak with his manager, he proved it. Seonghwa roughly grabbed his wrist, pulling him down toward the table until Wooyoung's face was just inches from his icy gaze. He managed a quick yelp in surprise before his eyes looked up to meet his, wide and terrified, his previous demeanor out the window in an instant in fear that he might be assaulted.

Those eyes. As intimidating as they were, they were also mesmerizing. His lids were dusted with a light glitter, smoky eyeliner defining his waterlines. And Seonghwa just stared. He continued to hold Wooyoung's wrist with a death grip, his eyes cold and focused as if they were peering deep into his soul. Wooyoung was frozen in place, forced to look back into his deadly gaze.

"You'll give us as much time as we need," he told Wooyoung calmly, his gaze still unrelenting, not even blinking. "Forget my name and forget you ever met us. When you return home, all you'll remember is that you had to stay at work late to wash dishes. Now clean this table and bring me more wine now. Behave yourself like the good little slave you are,"

He said the last part with a grin so devilish Wooyoung broke away in terror. Or perhaps he'd been released on purpose. This man's grip hadn't been something anyone could easily break free from; his strength was almost inhuman, his skin as icy cold as his eyes. Wooyoung's head felt dizzy all of a sudden as he stumbled away from the table. His eyes bounced between the two men, unsure whether he was more confused or terrified. Was he trying to... hypnotize him? That look in his eye, it felt like death itself had stared him down and he had barely managed to break free.

Wooyoung must have been delusional. That was it. It was driven by terror for what this man could do to him. There was no way his eyes had glowed, no way they had begun to change color, fading into a deep shade of red. He was just seeing things.

Wooyoung held his wrist close to his body, still feeling the echo of his grasp. The man's eyes looked normal again now, other than the continued cold stare. Wooyoung took another step back, his eyes nervously surveying the two men.

"I... I don't know what you're trying to do, but you need to leave. Right now," His voice was shaking more than before, but he hoped they didn't notice. He hated showing weakness, especially to rude, and perhaps dangerous, customers who thought the world revolved around them. Perhaps he lost any edge he still had left when he turned and swiftly walked toward the back room to tell his manager what happened.

And once he disappeared through the kitchen doors, he missed the exchange between the men that still remained at the table.

The younger gave Seonghwa an incredulous look. "Hyung, we're trying to keep a low profile here! You really want to let your temper mess that up?"

Seonghwa was unfazed, his steady eyes not leaving the door the waiter had just walked through. "It didn't work," he stated curtly, addressing something else entirely.

"Wha- are you sure?" The younger asked in concern.

"I am," Seonghwa confirmed, his long nails tapping the table in thought. "He resisted it somehow,"

The younger man looked at his hyung, shifting his gaze to the nails creating a steady rhythm on the table's surface, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Seonghwa stated, his tone unchanging. His power was one of the strongest of their kind, so how such a weak-willed human waiter could resist it was beyond him. "Jongho-yah,"

"Mm?" The younger looked up at the sound of his name.

Seonghwa's icy gaze remained trained on the door the waiter had retreated through. "Keep an eye on him, and tell the others too," he ordered with a skeptical glare. "Find out how that punk can resist my powers,"

Chapter Text

Wooyoung wasn't normally a paranoid person. It took a lot for him to get worked up about anything after the trauma he had already experienced in his life.

But that man's eyes.

He couldn't get the image out of his head on his walk home from work. The deep red color, the practiced calm in his voice as he had tried to convince him to believe a lie. He still remembered his name even though he had been told to forget it.

Seonghwa.

Wooyoung shivered, gripping the fabric of his jacket on his arms. He didn't know if it was because of the cold bite of the outside wind or the image of that bastard's piercing, icy gaze still tainting his memory. He remembered vividly the feeling of his hand, his skin cold as the winter air, gripping his wrist with a terrifying ferocity. Wooyoung shivered again as he tried to shake it off and keep walking. It didn't help that his apartment was a cheap townhome on the outskirts of the city and every gravelly step he took toward it echoed across the empty street like a constant reminder that he was alone.

Suddenly, in his spiral of thoughts, Wooyoung remembered the news story he had seen at the cafe the day before. That's right: there was someone–or something– in their area victimizing young men around his age, causing them to go missing without anyone being found. And there he was, out in the open. Good, another thought to make his heart race. How had he forgotten about that until now?

On a normal day, he would have someone to distract him, knowing Yeosang would be waiting for him when he got to their shared home, but tonight he wouldn't be. Yeosang worked at a convenience store so he would be home late, most likely after one in the morning. Looking at his watch, Wooyoung realized it was only ten thirty.

Whatever, he wasn't a little kid. He didn't need someone to babysit him. He could just make dinner and watch some TV, it would be enough of a distraction. He was sure he would eventually be able to stop thinking about those deep red, demonic eyes that had stared directly into his soul, not to mention the constant wondering if those men somehow had anything to do with the disappearances. No, don't be ridiculous. They were just pretentious bastards.

However, maybe that was the reason he didn't feel alone on that dark street. He was about a block away from his house when another bad feeling washed over him. No matter how many times he shot nervous glances over his shoulders, seeing nothing, the feeling never seemed to disappear.

A pit formed in his stomach when he heard a twig snap somewhere among the trees lining the road. He cursed, allowing himself a fast glance before his pace quickened. He hadn't seen anything, but knew something was there. Whatever, it was probably just a squirrel, possibly a rabbit. No reason for him to get so worked up. Almost home.

His complex was in sight now as he passed by the familiar park benches, the corner where the road turned into a trail and veered off to the right; he would be home in just a few minutes. He would be relieved if the path wasn't so shrouded with darkness and even more trees than before. He wiped his nose with his coat sleeve, the exposure to cold air causing his sinuses to sting. He was overreacting. The people who had disappeared probably lived closer to his university campus, not the outskirts of town. He desperately wished his spiraling thoughts would just shut up when the back of his mind reminded him that it would be much easier to abduct someone here than toward the city.

He took another deep breath. He could see his front door now, the flickering light illuminating the chipping blue paint of the entrance. He fished his key out of his jacket pocket, not realizing his hands were shaking until he dropped his key on the concrete just a few feet from his door. He cursed, bending over to pick them up but then letting out a gasp, his hand covering his mouth in surprise.

The shock turned to disgust when he realized there was a carcass of a small animal in the center of his doorstep. He quickly backed up, covering his nose as a disgusted noise left his mouth. Whatever fate this animal had met, it hadn't been a peaceful end. It had been ripped open, bones and organs exposed to the open air, its blood staining the concrete of the entryway and so mangled Wooyoung couldn't even tell what animal it once was.

He didn't care to analyze it any further. He could feel himself becoming nauseous at the smell. He quickly reached down to grab his keys and squeamishly stepped around the carcass to unlock his door. He hoped one of the neighborhood dogs would take care of it so he didn't have to deal with it in the morning. He was about to vomit if he looked at it any longer.

Wooyoung rushed inside his home, closing and hurriedly locking the door behind him. Only then did he realize how heavily he was breathing. He needed to relax. It was the weekend now. Tomorrow was Saturday, he didn't have to go to work or school for one whole day. He took a deep, calming breath, his forehead leaning against the door. He really hoped Yeosang would get home soon so he could think about something other than those deep red eyes, and now the mangled carcass on their doorstep.

Now that he was inside his warm home, he felt a desperate need to shower. He had worked since the early afternoon and despite the cold weather outside, he felt like he had melted that day with the amount of sweat saturating his skin.

Being home alone had its perks. As soon as he entered his bedroom, Wooyoung tore off his sweaty work clothes as quickly as if they were burning his skin. They stank like sweat and alcohol. Ridding himself of that uniform T-shirt and slacks was the first step toward his freedom for the weekend and suddenly he felt like he could breathe. All he wanted to do was lie down on his bed and pass out, but the need to shower was even more great.

Wooyoung flicked on his lamp, illuminating the room– as well as the dust in the air– with a comforting, soft yellow glow. He threw his dirty clothes haphazardly onto the floor by the foot of his bed where a pile of laundry had been growing for days and retrieved a pair of clean underwear from the stack of clean laundry on his chair. Wooyoung also made sure his curtains were completely closed, not wanting to flash the entire neighborhood of crackheads and lowlifes. They didn't get that for free.

Dust flew from his curtains as he flung them closed, a cough or two slipping from his mouth. It made him realize just how badly he needed to clean his room, the task he had been putting off since the beginning of the semester. But he never found the time. Looking around his room, he sighed, noticing the clutter that had piled up during the busy school year, pictures on his dresser covered in dust and hidden by more dirty clothes and miscellaneous school assignments on lined notebook paper.

Wooyoung's hardwood floor creaked as he made his way over to the dresser as if it wasn't used to anyone walking on it. He hadn't been anywhere in his room besides his bed and designated clean laundry chair in months. Wooyoung could faintly see the outlines of picture frames underneath articles of clothing on top of the old wood dresser and became curious what lay underneath. With a sudden spark of motivation, Wooyoung began removing the dirty clothes and throwing them into the dirty pile on the floor piece by piece until he uncovered a dusty gold colored frame.

When he reached for it, pulling it into view, he swallowed. His body stiffened with emotion. His thumb absentmindedly wiped some of the dust away as he held the picture in his hand and felt the familiar sting of sorrow reach his nose. It was a picture of Wooyoung and his mother.

Wooyoung let out a shaky sigh as he wiped the dust from their faces and tried to keep his tears inside. It always seemed to hit him so suddenly. Sometimes he forgot she was gone. It seemed like she was just a few minutes away at his childhood home ready to call and ask him about his day. For three years now, her absence had been a part of his reality, but it seemed even the recovery of her body from the river or the funeral hadn't quite convinced him yet. It still didn't seem real.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, snapping back into reality. He quickly tidied up the dresser a bit more, finding more similar pictures, one even recent enough that Yeosang was in it, looking as though his mother had two sons. He tried hard to keep it together; he missed their little family. Wooyoung didn't have a duster but he did his best to remove most of the grime with the dirty clothes before throwing them to the pile on the floor.

The space looked much better once he was finished tidying up, after throwing away the trash and placing the pictures neatly on the newly wiped surface. He ended by placing a small ceramic vase next to the picture of his mom, the one he had made in his high school clay class that looked like a third grader had made it. But he remembered how proud his mother had looked when she saw it.

With that, Wooyoung picked up his clean underwear off the bed and finally slipped into the bathroom with a clang of the towel rack against the door as it was shut. With his back against the door, he took a deep breath. It would get better. That's what he kept telling himself. He still had Yeosang, and he was the only family he needed in his life. He was enough.

Wooyoung stepped into the shower, the comforting feeling of warm water on his back washing over him as he washed out his greasy hair. He sighed in relief once he was finally soaked and just stood there a little too long appreciating the feeling. The hot water dripped gracefully down his naked body as he stood completely still. Wooyoung breathed in the shower steam and every long breath that left his nose seemed to hold the stress of the day, being expelled from his body second after second.

Standing there, Wooyoung started to think again; he longed for the day it would get better. It had been this way for three years, if it hadn't gotten better yet, would it ever? His heart still ached for his mother like he was a little boy. In the shower he couldn't even tell if the water dripping down his cheeks were from the shower or if they were tears, but he felt like he wanted to break down.

Forget it. He told himself, shaking his head. Stop thinking about it. Enjoy your time off for a change.

He didn't know why he had to do this to himself. It was like having time to think was a dangerous thing for him. Maybe his workaholic-distracted brain was healthier after all. He rinsed off his worries like the shampoo from his hair, reveling in the relaxing feeling of the soap gliding down his body on its way to the drain. The scent of the shampoo was so calming. He breathed another sigh of relief.

Wooyoung was using two hands to finish washing and rinsing his face; his skin had to be flawless if he was going to pick up anyone from the club the next day. It was as he was rinsing that he heard a noise. He looked up with curiosity, blinking the water from his eyes. It came from his room, just outside the bathroom door. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to make him freeze.

Listening further, he heard a few footsteps and he breathed a sigh of relief. Yeosang was home. If the store wasn't busy, sometimes his manager would let him go home early, and Wooyoung was so thankful it was one of those days. He didn't think he could bear being alone with his thoughts until the end of his friend's shift tonight.

As Wooyoung finished up in the shower, he started to wonder what Yeosang needed in his bedroom. Sometimes they would borrow each others' clothes, so he was probably on a mission to recover a missing T-shirt or something, but he couldn't remember borrowing one from him recently. Normally he would call to him if the water was turned off to let him know he was home, but once the shower stopped running, Wooyoung heard nothing. He wondered if he had already found what he was looking for.

That's what he thought before he was drying his hair with a towel and heard another creak of his floorboards. Wooyoung smirked, rolling his eyes. Yeosang was still searching. He couldn't wait five minutes to ask Wooyoung where something was?

Wooyoung decided he would be the one to call out first. He lifted his head toward the door. "Did you find what you were looking for, Sangie?" he asked, drying the rest of his body with the towel.

He waited a few moments, but there was still no answer. What a dork, probably trying to scare him. The sounds of movement had stopped, but Wooyoung couldn't help but guess he was hiding somewhere waiting to jump out at him.

"Yeosang-ah, I'm almost dressed and when I get out there, you're so busted,"

Wooyoung pulled on his underwear with another confused glance at the door when he heard a few more creaky footsteps. Wooyoung purposely made noise with his own footsteps as he approached the bathroom door, trying to tease Yeosang while he retrieved his bathrobe from the hanger. He laughed to himself, hearing Yeosang's quicker footsteps scattered on his bedroom floor while he pulled his bathrobe over his shoulders.

Just as Wooyoung was going to tie the robe, a louder noise startled him and he jumped. He looked up at the sound that he could only guess was a glass shattering, followed by more hurried footsteps and a couple more sounds of movement he couldn't quite make out. What on Earth was Yeosang doing out there? Did he break something of his?

Tying the robe around his waist, Wooyoung hurriedly reached for the door, rushing back into his bedroom to see what was going on.

It was cold. That was the first thing he noticed before searching the room with his eyes and not seeing any sign of Yeosang. Was he hiding? Did he leave the room? Searching more, Wooyoung gasped when he noticed the broken pieces of ceramic on the floor near his dresser.

The ceramic vase had fallen and shattered on the hard floor. He hurried over and squatted down, picking up some of the bigger pieces and shifting them around in his hands. Was Yeosang really this clumsy?

Wooyoung felt a cold draft of air once again and shivered, standing up and hugging himself for warmth. That's when he froze, noticing something that made his stomach twist.

His window was open.

It was only cracked open about three inches, but that was enough. Wooyoung replayed it in his mind a hundred times as he stared at the curtains blowing lightly in the breeze. He had closed it. He had closed the curtains when he had taken off his clothes, and there hadn't been a breeze. He was sure of it.

Surely Yeosang had forgotten his key and had to enter through the window. That was the only explanation that didn't send a chill down his spine.

Wooyoung found his phone on the bed and with a shaky hand, he unlocked it and found his contacts, immediately calling Yeosang. It rang once, then twice, three times until Wooyoung was sure he wasn't going to pick up. The fourth ring was then cut short.

"Wooyoung-ah? What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Wooyoung gulped, the shivers in his spine returning. "Sangie, where are you right now?"

There was a pause and Wooyoung could hear the confusion in the silence. Meanwhile, Wooyoung just prayed for a completely logical answer that would explain everything and take his worries away.

"I'm at work, you know that," Yeosang answered in a hushed voice, puzzled. "I really shouldn't be talking on the phone. Are you okay?"

Wooyoung was frozen in place. He didn't know how to answer that. He wondered if he should call the police, tell them someone could have broken in. No that would be overkill, he was probably just reading too much into it. He had probably just left the window cracked by accident, that was the only logical explanation. Why would someone break into a townhome as shitty as his? It wasn't like they had good things to steal. Yeah, it was ridiculous. There was no sense in worrying to death about it when it was just his overactive mind making up the worst-case scenario.

"Wooyoung-ah?"

Wooyoung shook his head and returned to reality at the sound of his friend's voice. "I'm fine, Yeosang-ah. I just forgot you worked late. I hope you can come home quickly!"

Without waiting for an answer, Wooyoung hung up, breathing a deep sigh. Why did he have to do this to himself? He had never been paranoid before, so why start now? He was sure the window was already cracked when he had closed the curtains, the wind had probably just gotten stronger while he was showering, causing them to open again. It must have been strong enough to cause the vase to fall off the dresser as well.

Wooyoung closed the window with a grunt, releasing another deep breath as the cold bite of wind disappeared. Great, now he had a mess to clean up before he crashed from exhaustion.

Chapter Text

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES DETAILED SEXUAL ASSAULT WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ALCOHOL. IF THIS MAY TRIGGER YOU IN ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ!!

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The club was an ironically calming place for Wooyoung. It was an escape from his busy life and a great way to take a break from the familiar faces he saw every day. No one he knew from school ever went to the places he did, most of them being hangout spots for queer people, and Yeosang was the only other gay person he knew. It was why he always encouraged him to come along.

This weekend was another failed attempt. Yeosang's excuse was always something to do with too much homework or exhaustion from working late, but Wooyoung knew the truth. Yeosang was just scared; scared of meeting someone who liked him for his appearance only to make a fool out of himself when he attempted to flirt. At least he was self-aware. He was probably going to spend the weekend making heart eyes at Hongjoong in the cafe anyway.

Wooyoung had decided not to tell him about the incident with the window; it was much easier for Yeosang to become worried than it was for him and there was no sense in stressing him out when he was already a bit on edge due to the recent disappearances. Although Wooyoung wanted to believe it was simply his overactive imagination that had heard those noises the night before, it didn't make all his worries disappear. And it certainly didn't stop him from checking every window and door in their place before he left for the night making sure they were locked tight.

The cold chill of the outside wind was cut off and replaced by a flood of warmth and blaring music as he slipped into the door of his favorite club. The door fell shut and he removed his hood, breathing in the familiar scent of sweat and alcohol. It was still early, so the place wasn't very busy, but it would give him time to have a few drinks and lower his standards for the night's inevitable hookup. The more drunk he was, the better. His weekly stress relief had a careful routine.

The club wasn't very big, and to be honest it was more of a bar with a subpar dance floor in the center. There were only around ten other people there at that time, some sitting at tables or booths, chatting while a couple of them sat alone at the bar, but no one was on the dance floor yet. Wooyoung made his way to the counter, trying to ignore the eyes that were already on him, greeting the familiar bartender who knew his name and drink order by heart. It only took a smile and a quick nod for the older man to begin mixing it for him.

Wooyoung was fully aware that he was good-looking. He was especially aware when he slipped his coat off to reveal his dark, graphite-colored crop top, teasing mesh covering his stomach leading down to tight waisted charcoal jeans that flared out at the bottom. The excitement coming from the men around him was palpable, causing a smirk to stretch across Wooyoung's lips as he draped his coat over the chair's back. Eyes were on him from every direction. He had probably become well-known to the regular bar patrons. They always seemed to know what he was there for.

The bartender finished making his drink just in time for Wooyoung to sit down and thank him, paying with his credit card before storing it back in his wallet. He already knew he was going to have a few more and he was sure the bartender knew it too. But Wooyoung was sure they would all be paid for by anyone other than him.

Wooyoung stayed at the bar making casual conversation with the bartender for a while, daintily stirring his drink around his glass, only getting interrupted a couple of times when men around gained the courage to come up to him. He would approach it the same way every time; it was a free drink. That didn't change no matter how ugly or creepy the person who offered it was. Accepting it didn't come with any promises, but he usually tried to hold a semi-friendly conversation with all of his admirers before shifting his attention elsewhere. Their words were just noise to him as his thoughts kept spiraling.

He was almost assaulted at work yesterday. That man's eyes had glowed red.

He shook his head, further ignoring his worries, but not without a pit growing in his stomach. Drinking to forget wasn't working for him like he thought it would. After his third free drink, Wooyoung was feeling the effects. His vision lagged but he felt so numb for once that he hardly minded. He barely even noticed when people talked to him, always assuming, or rather hoping, they were talking to someone else.

He didn't even pay attention to what they were saying. Even when they made it obvious, their warm breath reeking of alcohol washing over his neck as they whispered things to him, promises of what could happen if he followed them, Wooyoung just giggled. He had never minded the attention before, and he was too tipsy to resist the occasional unwanted hand on his thigh or the lips that came a little too close to his ears.

No one here gave a damn about him. They only wanted him for one thing.

It had been a while since he had gotten this drunk. There were times when Wooyoung vaguely heard the bartender tell off a couple of the men who took it too far, trying to discreetly slip their hands into his back pockets or too far up his thighs. Wooyoung just laughed it off as usual. He was used to being objectified; he trained himself to laugh so he didn't cry.

What would his mother think of him now?

He hadn't even noticed that he was already on the verge of tears. Once most of the men took the hint and began looking elsewhere, it hit Wooyoung harder than it ever had before. He didn't know why he kept doing this. Would his mom be proud of him? That his only outlet for stress was lending his body to strangers who bought him alcohol?

He normally would have made his choice by now. On a normal Saturday he would already be in a stranger's car on his way to an unknown house after giving head in the parking lot. But there he still sat, one palm hiding his face from the crowd, his fist clenched on the bar's surface, head clouded as his vision blurred with unshed tears.

Someone might have broken into the house last night.

The truth was, he really was stressed about the window being open last night. He was almost positive he hadn't opened it. It was the middle of winter; what idiot would keep the window cracked? Had someone really broken in? Why hadn't they stolen anything?

Wooyoung shivered. He wondered if he should just go home. Maybe Yeosang would want to watch a movie or something, anything to get his mind to stop spiraling even for a few moments. He was just worried he wouldn't be able to hold it together in front of his best friend and the evening would turn into more of a therapy session than a movie night. He didn't want to do that to him.

Wooyoung's mind was in shambles and only then did he realize how bad of an idea it was to come here. It could usually take his stress away, being appreciated by strangers while sipping free alcohol, but not today. It wasn't healthy.

He made his decision; he would go to the bathroom and then go home to Yeosang, get his pajamas on and watch a movie. He was bound to feel less stressed that way. Yeosang was the only family he had left and spending time with him was a type of comfort he needed but often was too busy to remember.

Wooyoung thanked the bartender as he attempted to stand, doing his best to assure the man he was okay when he asked. He wasn't good at proving it, especially when he almost tripped over the barstool while turning around.

His droopy eyes barely guided him toward the bathroom, wobbly steps carrying him toward the lit sign, half-heartedly apologizing every time he bumped into someone. He lost count of how many feet he accidentally stepped on. The blaring music, the clinking glasses, the people talking loudly, singing while dancing carelessly, it was all so familiar but unforgiving to his pounding head. But he finally found relief when he slipped into the bathroom door and it fell shut.

Wooyoung stood for a moment, leaning against the wall and breathing a deep sigh before stumbling to the urinal. His forehead leaned against the cold cinderblock wall. He just needed peace and quiet for a few minutes. Even just one moment. But his mind still wouldn't shut up.

He took a few seconds to pull out his cell phone to text Yeosang, not realizing how blurry his vision truly was until he found himself squinting just to find his friend's name in his contacts. The brightness of the screen only intensified the headache he hadn't realized he had.

Hey, Yeo. Change of plans. Can you come pick me up? I drank a little too much.

Wooyoung put away his phone and unzipped his pants with a sigh as he stared at the wall. The noise and music of the club still sounded, but it was suppressed now, a muffled reminder of the place he had brought himself once again. He was sure this would be the last time for a while. He hoped Yeosang would see the message and get there soon.

Wooyoung was just finishing going to the bathroom when he heard the club's music get louder for a moment. He glanced behind him to see the door opening as two men entered. Wooyoung looked away quickly and cursed to himself. Even in his drunk state, he recognized them as two of the men who had bought him a drink earlier in the night. They had seemed offended when he rejected their offer for a threesome.

He almost thought they didn't remember. That, or they just didn't notice him there as they went about their business, leaving Wooyoung frozen in place as they used the urinals next to him. He held his breath as if that would make him invisible. It did no such thing.

In one terrifying moment, Wooyoung caught the eye of the man to his right, but looking away also didn't make him disappear like he hoped it would.

"Hey, isn't this that twink who ignored me at the bar?" The man sneered, vile-smelling breath expelling from cigarette-stained lips. He must have been in his forties, shallow wrinkles of age spreading across his skin like a spiderweb.

Wooyoung's head dropped near his chest as if to hide, but it wasn't before the other man, a bit younger and fairly slim, looked him over as well. Wooyoung's long black bangs did little to disguise him. He really wished he could see straight, terrified he wouldn't be able to defend himself.

"You're right," said the slim man in a condescending tone, peering around Wooyoung's long hair before it was flipped in front of his eye again. "Aww look, he's had too much to drink,"

Wooyoung turned to face them as they closed in on him, trapping him in the small space between the urinal dividers. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he watched his route of escape quickly disappear. "I just wasn't interested,"

The older man scoffed. "Oh is that all?" he chuckled, flashing his cigarette-stained teeth. "I seem to remember you telling me to fuck off as soon as you received the drink I bought,"

"And I meant it," Wooyoung spat, his head lunging forward as a warning, but he was running out of room to back away. "Get the fuck out of my way, I'm going home,"

"Still haven't learned any manners, huh?" The younger man mocked him as the older extended an arm over Wooyoung's shoulder, leaning against the wall and trapping him with nowhere to go.

"I think you owe me," His breath was revolting, hot against Wooyoung's face as he flinched. The disgusting bastard's hand floated to Wooyoung's cheek.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Wooyoung snapped, his voice shaking with terror as a burst of adrenaline caused him to throw a strong blow to the man's chest in an attempt to push him backward. But he barely moved an inch.

These people were unforgiving. He barely got the words out before hands were on him, pulling down his pants that he hadn't had a chance to zip up yet. He screamed. He tried to fight back. He did everything he could, but he was so weak and the older man much too strong. Wooyoung tried to push him away, all of his adrenaline rushing through him at the realization of what was happening, but it only resulted in a dry, calloused hand shoving him against the wall, caging his throat in its grip after his head hit the hard cinder block. After that, he could only exist there, fatigued fingers clawing at the hand around his neck as he felt them pull his underwear down trembling legs.

A tear escaped Wooyoung's eyes as he struggled, losing hope with each passing second. His vision was becoming even blurrier as his oxygen supply was all but cut off, and a part of him wondered how long he should keep fighting. He still cried out for help but it came out strained and much too quiet for anyone outside to hear. Was this just his fate? The night he finally realized he might not belong in a place like this, he was about to be raped in the bathroom?

Wooyoung was forcefully turned around, his pants and underwear at his ankles as his cheek was forced against the cold wall. He gasped for air now that the hand had left his throat, almost tripping when his feet were forcibly kicked apart, all hope leaving him as his upper body was shoved against the cold urinal.

This was it. This was the reason so many friends had warned him about places like this. Wooyoung yelped and cried out as his arms were restrained behind him by strong hands, sharp fingernails digging into his skin. He had always told everyone this stuff didn't happen here, that it was a safe space for him, but perhaps he only felt that way while in sight of the friendly bartender. Not here in the lonely restroom. Here, he had no say. No one could hear him.

Wooyoung gasped as a finger slid along his taint. The chuckles of the men were like venom to his ears, a harsh reminder of how little humanity people possessed, no remorse for claiming a victim as long as he was too weak to fight back. Wooyoung wasn't a person to them. Just a warm body, an object to be touched. To be penetrated.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Wooyoung screamed, his voice cracking with urgency.

He had barely finished pleading when he felt those vile hands shove him into the cold, hard wall again, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

"Shut it,"

Wooyoung gasped for air, cringing as those hands kept on roaming his skin. The man was taking his time. He was reveling in Wooyoung's suffering as if it was some sort of revenge plot for not returning his affections. The hands travelled over his hips, across his stomach, down baby-soft thighs, leaving Wooyoung feeling sicker the longer it went on. He had almost stopped struggling at that point. He could barely move; it was two against one and he wasn't strong enough to fight.

One last time, Wooyoung tried kicking behind him, swinging his leg up and aiming for something sensitive to catch them off guard, but they caught on quick, leaving Wooyoung to scream in pain when his foot was forced down and stepped on with a heavy shoe.

Wooyoung sobbed into the wall, both in agony and hopelessness, his forehead pressed against the cold cinder block. He had finally given up. His body went limp and he stopped fighting, losing all hope he had of escaping the situation. He just had to endure it. There was no way out. His body was no longer his own.

The deeper voice of the older man sounded, chuckling under his breath as if he too sensed Wooyoung's quiet surrender.

"Yeah, just hold still like a good little boy," One of them mocked, but Wooyoung barely heard him over the sound of his own crying, over the pounding heartbeat in his ears.

His head was jerked backward when a few fingers hooked into his mouth, entering remorselessly while Wooyoung choked in surprise. His head lurched back, trying desperately to escape the invasion of his body, but the fingers followed him everywhere he went, shoving themselves deeper until Wooyoung almost gagged.

"Suck," Ordered the gruff voice in his ear.

Wooyoung was left with no choice, his mouth closing around the dry fingers that tasted of cigarette ash as a tear fell from the corner of his eye. They moved around inside, collecting moisture for reasons Wooyoung didn't want to even think about but would soon be forced to face the reality.

The fingers left his mouth with a pop, allowing Wooyoung to breathe only for a moment before the same wet fingers found their way to his cleft. He flinched with a sharp inhale. It was a cold, harsh reminder of what they had been preparing him for.

The fingers pushed inside, a cry of pain and sorrow leaving Wooyoung's trembling lips while tears slipped from his eyes onto the porcelain urinal like his last shreds of hope. His voice shook like a leaf as he cried. Every moment was agony as he stood helpless with his forehead pressed against the cold wall, his eyes squeezed shut as if the lack of sight might somehow halt this harsh reality.

Wooyoung thought his entire life was over when he heard the sound of a zipper. He stared blankly into the wall as if it would have some answer to why this was happening to him, why he deserved this. But he found no answers. All that filled his head were the sounds of the man grunting as he roughly touched himself, preparing to rip away any shred of innocence Wooyoung had left inside him.

Wooyoung struggled again, roughly jerking his body in one last effort to rip himself away from the vile hands that restrained him. His crying was louder now, desperate, loud gasps leaving his lips in the form of sobs, his primal instinct to get away squashed by the sheer strength of the monster of a man behind him.

After his final struggle, there was a sudden pressure on the back of his head, and he was roughly shoved forward until his temple was slammed against the cold, hard wall, a sharp ringing loudly filling his head.

He was dizzier now, and he found his head hanging loosely from his neck, his eyes fluttering as he tried to keep them open, fighting to stay awake, fighting for his life. But there wasn't much of a fight left in him. He felt what he could only guess was blood dripping from his temple, dripping onto his cheek as the monster behind him prepared to ruin him. They were mocking him, shooting venomous words into his ringing ears, but he was too out of it to even recognize what they were saying.

All he could think about was what they were planning to do with him once they were finished. They wouldn't want him on the streets. He would sell them out for what they did. There was only one option, and the thought plagued his head like an incurable disease, a fire spreading through his veins in the form of a terrifying realization. There was only one way they could be sure he wouldn't report their crimes; Wooyoung was sure they were planning to kill him.

He was so out of it, so lost in the thought of what could be, that it took him more than a few seconds to realize it when the weight was lifted from him. It happened so fast it didn't even feel real. Suddenly, every vile touch was removed from him, faraway voices grunting and shouting just loud enough to reach Wooyoung's clouded head. He could hardly think. It sounded like someone was fighting, but he couldn't understand what they could be fighting for. Had he been spared somehow? Just like that without a word?

With his newly freed arms, Wooyoung leaned into the wall, steadying his shaky breathing, grounding himself while he hid his face. He didn't know if it was from shame or something else. Maybe relief. It was a miracle he'd been spared before the worst, but it was hard to be relieved after everything that had still happened.

"Are you okay?" A voice from behind him asked.

Wooyoung flinched instinctively, covering his face more thoroughly. He just wanted to hide from the world, from everyone. He didn't even know if those disgusting monsters were still there or why they had left, his ears still ringing from the hit he had taken to his head. Still though, even after the same voice assured him he wasn't one of them, he couldn't believe him. He must be there for the same reasons.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

The stranger's voice was laced with sympathy. It was almost as if he knew the kind of suffering he had endured. Of course he did. To Wooyoung's shame, it had happened right in front of anyone who decided to enter the bathroom.

His movements shaky, cautious, Wooyoung turned his head slowly. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice coming out much weaker than he had intended.

The question hung in the air for a few moments. Wooyoung still hid against the wall, between his arms as if they would shield him from any further assault. He heard the man take another step toward him and he flinched again.

This time he stopped in his tracks. "I just wanted to help. Are you okay?" he asked again.

The man's voice wasn't threatening. Wooyoung found the courage to turn his head, curiosity taking over his intense need to hide. And when he saw him, he wasn't scared.

The man wasn't intimidating, save for his sleek leather jacket and muscles barely hidden underneath. He had a kind face, and without even knowing him, he looked like the kind of man someone could trust. He breathed heavily as if adrenaline coursed through his veins. That's when Wooyoung noticed his bloodstained knuckles.

The other men, the two who had assaulted him, were lying unmoving on the bathroom floor. Wooyoung gasped as he turned around, a hand flying to his mouth. One of them was on his stomach, arms at his sides, face to the floor. The older man, however, was on his back where Wooyoung was able to see the extent of the damage. There was a deep gash across his forehead as well as a split lip, crimson liquid splattered like paint across his face, slow drops leaving his wounds. They looked dead. Of course, that wasn't what upset Wooyoung; they certainly deserved it. But he didn't want this to lead him to becoming a murder suspect.

"They're not dead," The stranger spoke as if he could read Wooyoung's every thought.

Wooyoung's scared eyes raised back up to question the man. He stood, his expression unchanged as if he had seen this a thousand times. How could he know that? Did he feel for a pulse already?

"How... what did you...–?"

The man stopped him with a gentle raise of his hand. "Wooyoung, get yourself dressed. I took care of it, don't worry about anything else,"

"How do you know my name?" Wooyoung asked, his voice more assertive than before. He was desperate to make sense of the situation and its sudden resolution.

The man's lip curled upward on one side. "You're kind of a legend here. Everyone knows you,"

That wasn't a good enough answer. "But I've never seen you in here before," Wooyoung grilled him further while cautiously pulling up his pants and underwear. "I would have remembered,"

The kind stranger smirked, maybe even in an embarrassed way. "You think so, huh? Do I have a memorable face?"

Wooyoung nodded, a sudden small grin appearing out of nowhere. It was as if the man's presence erased the last few terrible minutes of his life.

The stranger looked like he was about to blush. He surely wasn't expecting him to flirt after being so horrifically mistreated.

"I know your name because I wanted to. I saw you tonight and I asked around, everyone said you were somewhat of a celebrity here,"

Wooyoung scoffed, the noise full of discontent. He crossed his arms in a guarded manner. "I'll bet they did. They only ever want one thing from me though..."

A silence fell between them briefly. The stranger gave him a sad smile, and there was a sympathy in his eyes that was beginning to thaw Wooyoung's icy exterior. It was as if he wanted to know his life story, how he ended up here in a place like this. And for some reason, Wooyoung felt inclined to tell him.

"My name is San," the stranger told him, breaking the silence with a friendly tone.

Wooyoung raised his gaze to him again, failing to remember when it had left him. A tight smile fell upon his lips before his expression faltered again, surveying the still forms on the bathroom floor. Someone had fought for him. Someone actually saw him as worthy of being saved. And it felt really fucking good.

Wooyoung nodded decisively, his arms still crossed in front of his chest. "Nice to meet you, San. I'd introduce myself too, but it seems like you already know everything about me,"

San snickered, a charming grin adorning his face. "I only know what people told me. I'd love to know more,"

"Sorry, but what exactly are your intentions?" Wooyoung interrogated with a suspicious raise of his eyebrows. He could never be too careful. San seemed nice enough, but it was going to be difficult to put trust in anyone after the events of the night. He must want the same things everyone else wanted from him.

San's expression remained unchanged. His fiery gaze made him appear completely hypnotized by Wooyoung, controlled by the mere sight of him. Maybe he was.

"I just want to make sure you're okay," San confessed with a gentle tone, a glimmer of concern in his eye.

Wooyoung's heart skipped a beat. His voice was warm; he actually cared enough to ask and seemed to want a genuine answer. Other than Yeosang, no one ever seemed to treat him like he was valuable for something other than his physical attributes.

"I think so..." Wooyoung muttered, staring at the floor so as to not display his vulnerable feelings that were bubbling too close to the surface. "Thank you by the way... you saved my life,"

"It was nothing," San dismissed, but there was the unmistakable look of pride in his tight grin. "I'll take care of these creeps. Don't worry, I'll make it look like an accident. Why don't you wait for me outside? Then I'll finally get to buy you a drink,"

Wooyoung sighed internally. There were the true intentions. "Mm, no, thanks, I had way too much tonight," Wooyoung began to move toward the bathroom's exit. "Sorry, but I'm actually going to go home,"

"Then maybe just a dance?" San stepped into his path, partially blocking the door and halting Wooyoung in his tracks. "Please, I know if you leave, I won't see you again,"

Wooyoung wasn't sure what to think in that moment. In one way, San had made him feel safe; he had saved him when no one else could. But his flirting was less than subtle, and it was a bad time to make him feel like he couldn't escape or make his own decisions.

Now that Wooyoung was no more than a foot from San, he was looking up at him with an expression that spelled out his slight annoyance linked to his fear.

"Look. I don't know what you've heard about me, but I don't sleep with just anybody. And I hope it goes without saying, I'm not going home with anyone tonight,"

Wooyoung let his stare linger, setting his words in stone. He wasn't about to be taken advantage of again. As kind as San was, Wooyoung wasn't stupid; he knew his true goal must be less than innocent.

Wooyoung slipped past him through the bathroom door, the sound of blaring music filling his ears again as he squinted in the disco lights. He wondered if Yeosang was on his way to pick him up yet. He couldn't wait to be at home.

"Wooyoung, wait,"

Wooyoung grunted in surprise as his wrist was grabbed, his head snapping around in outrage at the culprit. San had a firm hold on him, his desperate eyes begging him to reconsider.

"That's not what I want," San promised. His pretty eyes were woeful at the thought of him leaving. "Just one dance, please. I just want to keep you safe,"

Wooyoung was at a loss for words, incredulously shifting his eyes between San and the door to the outside. "San... I don't-"

"I saved you," San stated. The grip he had on his wrist held strong, as did his gaze. "The least you can do is let me keep you company for a little while longer,"

Wooyoung shook his head in disbelief with a heavy sigh. But he couldn't deny it: this man was beyond handsome. It wasn't an understatement to say he was gorgeous. It didn't sound like the worst thing in the world to spend a little more time with him before heading home.

Pulling out his phone, he checked his messages, noticing Yeosang hadn't even read his text yet. Wooyoung sighed, slipping it back into his pocket and returning eyes to San. The man who had previously been a stranger looked a bit more hopeful now.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. "Ten minutes," he stated curtly as if he were making a deal with a stubborn child over his bedtime. "Ten minutes and then my friend is coming to pick me up,"

"Perfect," San smirked, happy to have his way. "That's all the time I need,"

Chapter Text

WARNING: This part includes nonconsensual groping/kissing while under the influence of alcohol. If this bothers you, please do not read! Thank you!

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The cold chill of the water flowing down Wooyoung's throat was a refreshing reminder that he was still alive, the fresh liquid starting to wash away the bitter taste of alcohol that still lingered on his tongue. He prayed it would wash away the regret, the simple decisions he had made that led to the traumatic events of the night. He felt safe sitting at the bar. It sounded absurd after the ordeal he had gone through, but it was reality. The bartender always stood up for him, told people off for getting too close when Wooyoung was visibly disinterested. It was nice to have someone on his side whom he could trust.

And now there was someone else. Wooyoung didn't trust him quite yet, swayed a bit by his less-than-normal personality, but he didn't mind the thought of getting to know him a little better. After all, it was because of him that the bloody wound on his temple had been wiped and cleaned with San's handkerchief, which must be stained now. Wooyoung had offered to get a wet paper towel from the bathroom, but San had been adamant about him staying away from there. He feared it would be too traumatic for Wooyoung and that the scratchy paper might irritate his skin. Maybe he really would be on his side.

Wooyoung eyed him now, the glass of water San had ordered for him at his lips. He was strange, that was for sure. Even now, as he sipped his whiskey on the bar seat next to him, San's eyes always returned to him as if checking if he were looking or not. Wooyoung had spent the last several minutes trying to decide if it was creepy or not, but he didn't consider himself the best judge of character.

Wooyoung shot a cautious glance at the mysterious man next to him, happening to catch him at a time he wasn't looking. The beginning of a smug grin teased at his lips before his gaze fell to the bar again. San was really handsome; so much so that Wooyoung felt he couldn't let the opportunity pass to learn more about him.

San started the conversation first. After a long sip of whiskey, San set down his glass, the ice cubes emitting a soft jingle as they clashed. His sharp yet cunning gaze drifted to Wooyoung once again. "So, what's your drink of choice?" he teased, glancing at the glass in his hand. "Something tells me it isn't always water,"

Wooyoung exhaled in amusement, finishing his sip. "Hilarious," he stated, rolling his eyes playfully. "I had three Long Island iced teas earlier. It's the only drink that tastes good but still gets me drunk. You?"

"Beer usually," San admitted, thought in his expression. "Bottle or draft, it doesn't really matter. But sometimes I drink whiskey on special occasions,"

Wooyoung glanced in confusion at San's glass, half-full of ice and amber liquid. He could have sworn he heard his order correctly. "What's the occasion today?" he asked cautiously.

San leaned back in his seat. His arm claimed the top of Wooyoung's chair as a smug look took over his face. "Meeting you, jagi,"

Wooyoung didn't think he could roll his eyes any louder. "Waaaaa, smooth... real smooth..."

"How was that?" San teased, reclaiming his whiskey glass and tightening his grip on Wooyoung's chair. "Did I do good? Did it work?"

Wooyoung breathed an exaggerated sigh that could have been mistaken for a soft laugh. "I'm no one's jagi," He told him, his voice just firm enough to let him know he meant every word. San may have been funny and stunningly beautiful, but Wooyoung was still planning on sticking to the promise he had made to himself: the only man he would be leaving this place with was Yeosang.

"That's too bad," San sighed deeply, an unrelenting amorous stare faltering only for a moment before holding strong. "I'm a really good kisser,"

Wooyoung stared at him, his eyelids low and unamused while the unmistakable twitch of a smile played at his lips. "Don't you have anything better to do?" he quizzed, his voice exhausted as if he were a manager dealing with a dissatisfied customer. "It's Saturday night, there are plenty of guys who would go home with you tonight, and I already told you I'm not going to be one of them,"

San's expression didn't change save for a quick twitch of his lip. He didn't appear entirely convinced. "I've been told I can be persuasive,"

Before Wooyoung even had time to blush, San moved his arm to the gap between Wooyoung's back and the chair, gently clutching his waist in a way that sent a blazing fire throughout his entire body. He was blushing so much that he was sure it could be seen even through his makeup. San's hand was cold on his waist, their skin making contact through Wooyoung's partially mesh top.

Wooyoung didn't know why he allowed it. He wasn't sure what caused him to stay there and not pull away and curse at him for not respecting his space after such a traumatic night. But he didn't. He just kept staring, his expression more questioning than disapproving. Like he wanted to ask what was on his mind, even if he already had a good idea. There was a sort of telepathy between them that Wooyoung couldn't quite understand. He stayed put, and there was really only one explanation for it: despite everything, the touch set his heart on fire.

Abruptly, Wooyoung shook himself back into reality by pulling his phone out of his pocket for reasons even he was unsure of. And before he knew it, he was checking his messages, noticing with a bit of excitement that he had a new text from Yeosang, stating that he was still at work and that it would be a while before he could pick him up. He wasn't sure what about that excited him. Maybe it was because he was starting to feel better and could use another drink. Maybe it was because he could talk to San for longer. Maybe even join him for a dance. With a shiver, he noticed San's hand again, perhaps because it had started moving slightly and created a light friction between them that sent electricity through his veins.

Wooyoung put his phone away and flipped his hair to look at San with a regained composure. At least he couldn't hear the way his heart thumped loudly in his chest as San's thumb drew little circles on his back.

"You know, I think I will need that drink," he admitted, shoving his true feelings of excitement deep below the surface.

San grinned as if he had once again gotten his way. "Great idea," he nodded before turning to the bartender, who was already nearby. "One more Long Island iced tea for the prettiest man in the bar, please,"

The bartender looked at Wooyoung with skepticism before making any movements as if to ask him whose decision it had been for him to keep drinking. The man had surely seen his drunken state earlier that night. As often as he looked out for him, he was probably weary of San's intentions too. "Are you sure?" the older man asked, a few sideways glances at the mysterious man next to him. "You've had a lot tonight. You weren't looking too good for a while,"

Wooyoung gave him a reassuring nod. "I'm alright now," he promised. "Just trying to have a good time,"

After giving San an extended glare, the man reluctantly agreed and began making a drink that he could probably make with his eyes closed at this point.

San watched the man as he walked away to retrieve more of the drink's ingredients. "I don't think your friend likes me very much," San chuckled nervously.

"Give him time," Wooyoung told him. "It's your first time here, right? He'll warm up to you,"

San looked intrigued suddenly, a victorious grin appearing across his lips. "Sounds like you want to see me again,"

Wooyoung scoffed, rolling his eyes at San's persistence. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't loving it. "Don't get ahead of yourself," he warned him, humor in his voice. "We'll see how tonight goes,"

"Then can I at least get your number?" San asked.

Wooyoung smiled to himself for a moment. He turned to the bartender who was bringing him his drink and thanked him with a nod, beginning to stir his cocktail with the straw. His friend behind the bar gave San another weary glance, as if warning Wooyoung of his distrust for the stranger.

With a confident nod, Wooyoung assured the man he would be careful. He wasn't about to be taken advantage of again.

Wooyoung turned to San with a contented look once the man walked away. "If I like you by the end of the night, I'll give you my number,"

"Ah, I see. You don't like me yet, jagi?" He should have looked insulted, but instead he appeared amused.

Wooyoung sipped his cocktail, cringing from the familiar bitter flavor. "After a couple more of these, I might start to,"

San let out a scoff that was more adoring than annoyed, remaining visibly intrigued at the challenge. With a promise that San would change Wooyoung's mind by the end of the night, Wooyoung allowed himself to relax again. The alcohol's effects came on fast. Flirtatious conversation bounced back and forth between them for a while, each teasing glance and quick laugh raising Wooyoung's temperature as if the flame in his heart lit a spark in a new vein every time.

San got closer to him every minute. He asked a lot of questions as if they were on their first date, a giggly, tipsy Wooyoung reminding him that that wasn't the case. And yet he still answered every one, his words slurred and sometimes unclear. Maybe it was due to the hypnosis caused by San's hand that remained on his waist, moving intimately against his hot skin.

By the time his second drink was halfway gone, Wooyoung was back to his tipsy, overly flirtatious self, giggling a little too much at San's jokes and lightly slapping different parts of his body when he got shy. San's hand never left his body. In fact, it explored his skin further. Wooyoung was able to drink freely around people he trusted, and even if his inhibitions were out the window, he could feel himself hitting it off with San.

Wooyoung found himself staring at the hand that had wandered to his thigh, eyes drooping as he noticed the extent of the alcohol's effects. "I thnk I hafta go t'the bthroom..."

Through blurry eyes, he thought he saw San grin as if he were admiring a cute puppy. "I'll be here when you come out,"

If he were being honest, Wooyoung thought he would offer to go with him. The last time he had entered it hadn't exactly been peaceful. But he was too drunk to care, and all he knew was that he was about to piss himself if he didn't get to the bathroom soon.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened when he entered, aside from hearing faraway voices of strange characters echoing from the stalls while he did his business. No one approached him at all this time. He was able to peacefully use the bathroom without even once wondering why the bastards who had hurt him were no longer on the ground, not even a little curious where they went, just glad they were gone. That was the effect of the alcohol, a pain medication in many ways, even mentally; he was completely carefree.

San was in the same spot at the bar as promised when he exited, that same smug smile on his lips that hadn't left since they had started talking. San's hands reached out to steady him as he made his wobbly approach back to him.

"You look happy," San chuckled warmly.

Wooyoung hadn't even noticed the stupid drunken grin that was spread across his heated face. "I feel r'lly good," he slurred, accepting San's help with standing.

"Clearly," San teased.

Wooyoung raised his once droopy eyes in a sudden burst of drunken energy. "I love this song. Still wanna dance?" he asked excitedly, gripping San's elbows for balance.

San's eyes lit up at the unexpected offer. "Jagi, I thought you'd never ask,"

Wooyoung giggled and hit him on the chest. "Don't call me that!" The laughter drowned out any seriousness the demand could have had behind it.

So San just chuckled too. "You're right," he admitted. "You're more like my feisty little kitten,"

"That's it! You blew it," Wooyoung protested, trying to pull out of San's grip, but the strong man held on tight. "Let go, m'leaving!"

"Mm, no you're not. You promised me a dance,"

Wooyoung let out an exaggerated noise somewhere between a whine and a groan. But his drunken grin only faltered momentarily before he was giggling again, being pulled into San's arms.

"But don't forget you still have half a drink left!" San reminded him, picking up the glass.

Wooyoung's eyes lit up at the realization. He took it from him without missing a beat, disregarding the straw and putting the glass to his lips while his head tilted back, chugging the remainder of the drink in just a few seconds. He was too drunk to even mind the ice clashing against his teeth or the drips that left the side of the glass and dribbled down his cheeks, though San's faraway voice warned him not to make a mess with a lighthearted chuckle.

Somewhere along the way, Wooyoung had made his way to the dance floor. While he had no idea how he got there, his hazy mind only cared about one thing: San.

They danced together now, San holding both of his hands while Wooyoung swung playfully to the beat of the music. He hadn't felt this carefree in a long time. Normally when he came to the club, he only sought men who wanted nothing more than his body, someone who would let him forget his troubles by taking him home and satisfying their filthy cravings. Tonight was much different.

San talked to him. He danced with him, smiled at him. His pretty teeth showed with grin after toothy grin while they laughed and moved together, even if he could tell Wooyoung had almost no control over his body anymore. Wooyoung found words falling from his lips that he hadn't planned, flirtatious comments and pretty giggles all mingling with the beat of the music. Their bodies were getting closer, heated and sweaty while Wooyoung lost himself in the feeling of San's hands on his body. Despite Wooyoung's heated skin, San's fingers were cold against him, sending shivers down his spine as his tiny waist was gripped and pulled even closer.

He didn't even know when they had stopped talking. But it was silent between them now. There was nothing but the music, hands on bodies, Wooyoung's addicting presence. San's nose brushed against his neck now, his breath covering Wooyoung's skin as he inhaled his scent deeply. He couldn't help himself now. Alcohol stained lips pressed against Wooyoung's neck, parting slightly when the younger's hum invited him into it.

Wooyoung's skin tasted like nothing he'd ever imagined. The salty flavor of sweat and arousal was enough to make him lose himself. It wasn't long before San's wet tongue was slipping out of passionate kisses, loving him like his own, pretty noises leaving Wooyoung's mouth while San's hands brushed down over his hips. He grinned against his neck at the gasp he released when San gripped him possessively.

Wooyoung was barely holding himself up now, his head lazily hanging from his neck, eyes closed, while San's eyes scanned him like a hungry lion. He didn't have much time before he wouldn't be able to walk by himself. It had to be soon, and he couldn't wait much longer anyway.

A gentle thumb brushed against Wooyoung's cheek, causing the younger to flinch as if he had been awoken from a deep sleep.

"You don't look so good," San remarked, brushing a strand of Wooyoung's bangs behind his ear. He looked beautiful like that, so sleepy and helpless in his arms.

Wooyoung's lips curved into a tight grin but he didn't open his eyes. Or maybe he simply couldn't. "A'hm f'ne," he mumbled.

San pulled back just enough to see him more clearly. "What was that?" He chuckled, holding up his entire body as if he weighed next to nothing.

Wooyoung repeated himself in the same manner as before except with a bit of an edge, as if he were scolding him for not understanding the first time. But San just found it amusing. He obsessed over the way his petite body fell against his, trusting him completely after only a few hours of knowing him. His long black hair that just reached his shoulders, the bangs that perfectly framed his flushed pink face, the eyelids that fluttered even while hiding the gorgeous orbs beneath them. He was just perfect.

San's head tilted with unrestrained desire. "You're out of it, Wooyoung. Let me take you home,"

Even in his inebriated state, Wooyoung shook his head with fervor. He was a stubborn one, San had gathered that from the start.

"Naise tryyy..." Wooyoung slurred, almost falling from San's arms before he was caught again. "Don't th'nk I dunno what'chur tryn' do..."

San couldn't help but grin, obsessed with the small man's feisty attitude. "I'm just trying to keep you safe. It's dangerous through all those trees, you don't know what could be out there in the dark,"

Wooyoung groggily pulled his head away from San's chest. His eyes scrunched in confusion without even opening. "How th'fck d'you know wer I liv?" he muttered, his words barely coherent now.

"Because you told me," San told him, his voice tinted with amusement. "You already don't remember? Wow, you're even more drunk than I thought,"

Wooyoung's face remained twisted in confusion. San fixed his hands back onto his delicate waist, pulling him against his body and adoring how fragile he looked, as if he could collapse at any moment and San could catch him. He could hold him. He could do anything he wanted with him.

The thought excited San to an animalistic extent, his hands shamelessly wandering across Wooyoung's body as they swayed to the music. The outfit Wooyoung had picked out for that night made him look like a dream, a figment of San's imagination that was too beautiful to be real, yet was right in front of him. He couldn't help but imagine how good it would feel to rip those clothes off. San's lips curved into a smirk when even a hungry grasp of his ass elicited no response from him and he knew he had almost won.

It took a while, but Wooyoung must have noticed something wasn't quite right, his beautiful sleepy eyes opening momentarily, glazed and unfocused, before falling closed again. His lip stuck out in a pout, gripping the fabric of San's jacket sleeves when he almost fell again. "m' tired..." he quietly whined, his voice frail.

"I know, baby," San tilted his head in an obsessive adoration. The sight of his moist, plump lips was too much for him to handle. San's face inched forward slowly, making sure Wooyoung was going to allow this without making a scene, and thankfully, he remained still.

San's lips claimed Wooyoung's, slowly at first as if savoring a flavor he had craved for ages. His tongue flicked out, tasting Wooyoung's fruity– perhaps strawberry flavored– lips while a delayed sound of surprise came from the younger. He didn't move away though, didn't even protest. Wooyoung could hardly stand by himself, so he remained in San's arms, lips lazily parting with the force of San's tongue pushing inside.

San's pace became hungry, more desperate, the flavor of Wooyoung's lips driving him crazy to the point where he didn't know if he'd be able to stop. His flavor was addicting, setting San's soul on fire as if it was all he ever needed. He needed to leave with him. He needed to get him alone.

Wet lips broke away from Wooyoung's, traveling to his neck and allowing the younger to freely gasp, his weak hands searching San's body for something to grab onto. His fingers found San's shirt fabric just in time for a breathy moan to leave his mouth at the feeling of San's lips sucking on his skin, a wet tongue slipping out to admire the contours of his collar bone.

San had Wooyoung trembling by the time his tongue dragged up his neck and his lips stopped next to his ear. "Don't worry, my kitten," he whispered, the hot breath spreading across Wooyoung's cheek, making him flinch even in his groggy state. "I'll take really good care of you. Just trust me,"

Wooyoung must have lost the ability to speak, but he didn't pull away even when San left another slow, sensual, wet kiss on his soft neck. Maybe it was just that he couldn't.

"I can't resist you much longer..." San whispered to him, his thumb dragging across the wet spot he had created on his neck. "Let's get you home, baby..."

Wooyoung's head hung lazily from his neck while San's arm wrapped around his waist, making sure he was steady before leading him step by wobbly step toward the exit. It was in that moment, when San realized Wooyoung was following his lead, that he knew he had won.

Once they reached the outside, Wooyoung immediately shivered, gripping San's arm tighter and hugging him for warmth, but San had parked close since he'd arrived there early, so Wooyoung wouldn't be cold for long. San would take care of him just as he promised.

He was just about to pull out his keys when a pair of bright headlights caused him to pause, shielding his eyes from the light. It was late, so there were very few cars in the parking lot. It was just out of place. San watched the car get closer, fixing his grip on Wooyoung once the lights were past them and retrieving his keys from his pocket.

San's car clicked when he unlocked it, but when he opened the door, he noticed the car that had passed by them had not parked. It was stopped only a few feet away from them, brake lights emitting a bright red glow across the dark parking lot. Once San gently placed Wooyoung into his passenger seat he stood up, squinting in confusion from behind his open car door.

A man got out of the still-running car, walking in San's direction through the clouds of exhaust forming in the cold winter air. He was young, around Wooyoung's age, and he wore a concerned expression that he couldn't place. He looked familiar. However, as he drew closer, it didn't take long for San to figure out who he was.

"Wooyoung?" The man called, still approaching San's car.

San's expression grew friendly while squinting in the red glow of his tail lights. "Are you a friend of his?"

The young man stopped just a few feet from San's car, his worried gaze flicking between his best friend and the stranger standing between them. "Is he okay? What happened to him? Where's his coat?"

"You're Yeosang," San spoke, the words sounding more like a realization than a question.

Yeosang froze in confusion. The statement seemed to make him rethink, almost as if he were wondering if he had ever seen San before tonight. "How did you know that?" he asked with a cautious curiosity.

San gave him a reassuring grin, his arm resting along the top of his open car door. "I was with Wooyoung most of the night. He said his friend was coming to pick him up but I was going to save you the trouble and do it myself. He told me where you guys live. It's on my way home,"

"But what's wrong with him?" Yeosang cut in with a worried tone. He knew his best friend like a brother, it took one look to know something wasn't right. He couldn't understand why he wasn't at least drunk blabbering about the night he had and complaining about having to go to work tomorrow. It wasn't right.

San's expression grew more serious. "I'm not too sure. There was an incident with some guys in the bathroom and... well they did some awful things. He drank a lot after that, and I'm concerned that one of those men... I think they spiked his drink,"

Yeosang's eyes grew in shock. "He was roofied?!"

"I don't know for sure," San sighed, his eyes drifting sympathetically to the man sleeping in his car. "But it looks like it. That's why I wanted to get him out of there as soon as possible,"

"Oh my god..." Yeosang whispered in disbelief, a hand to his forehead before turning to address the stranger. "Thank you... for protecting him,"

San smiled, sensing his genuine gratitude. "It's no problem. Just glad I found him when I did,"

Yeosang nodded in agreement, the worry never able to leave his eyes. He didn't know what this meant for his friend, his brother since they were young. An incident in the bathroom? Yeosang wasn't sure how much he would even remember from the night but he didn't need to add more trauma to the mix. He had been through enough.

Yeosang took another step toward the kind stranger, bowing politely. "Thank you so much for your help. I'll take him home and make sure he rests well. Can you help me get him into my car?"

There was somewhat of a reluctance to San's shallow grin. Nonetheless, he did nod, agreeing before inviting Yeosang closer to retrieve his friend.

Wooyoung was worse than he thought. He wasn't even a little bit conscious. The only clue that Yeosang had that he was even alive was the slow, shallow breathing barely making his chest rise and fall as they lifted him from the car. It worried him all over again. Who even knew what kind of drug his drink had been spiked with? He wondered at what point he should take him to the hospital, but San assured him he would be fine. Yeosang wasn't sure how much he actually knew, but he wanted him to be right, so he chose to believe him.

Even after getting Wooyoung into his car and thanking the man again, Yeosang had a bad feeling as he pulled out of the parking lot. Wooyoung hadn't made a single noise since he had picked him up; he was completely out cold. He shuddered, thinking about what those men were planning to do with him in this state if they had had their way. It was sickening.

Yeosang was endlessly thankful for the kind stranger finding him when he did, but he still worried about what this meant for his friend. Surely, he wouldn't have intentions to go back to that club, however, Yeosang had misjudged him before. If Wooyoung's memory was fuzzy enough, his stubborn friend would definitely return, and the thought terrified Yeosang. And once Wooyoung made up his mind, there was absolutely no changing it. But one thing was for sure: he was going to feel like death when the morning came.

It wasn't easy getting him upstairs by himself once they returned home, but it was a relief to hear him grunt in annoyance anytime Yeosang almost lost his balance or accidentally let him fall against the wall. He actually laughed a bit while pulling Wooyoung's arm more securely over his shoulder. It reminded him of when they were young. Yeosang had always been clumsy and Wooyoung never let him forget it, always complaining anytime he would accidentally step on his foot or bump into him.

"Aish, why can't you ever watch where you're going?" He would say, always a tint of humor behind his words. Now that the roles were reversed, Yeosang couldn't help but tease him a little.

"Jeez, Youngie, you can't even stand up by yourself," he grunted, steering him into his room. "Are you a baby or what? Should I teach you how to walk?"

"Fuck you," Wooyoung mumbled. The words were barely audible, but Yeosang heard them and laughed, dodging a weak attempt at a body-slam that would have sent him into the doorframe.

Yeosang led him to his bed, helping him to lay down carefully so as to not disturb his alcohol-abused stomach or spinning head. Wooyoung released a long groan, the discomfort showing clearly on his flushed face. Yeosang couldn't imagine what he must be going through.

Kneeling before the bed, Yeosang began to take off Wooyoung's shoes, his favorite black leather boots that he swore went with every outfit he owned. When the first one came off, he set it aside, trying to ignore the dried alcohol and god knows what else on the bottom of that shoe.

"How are you feeling?" The words left Yeosang's mouth before he could stop them.

The foot with the boot still on lazily swung toward him. "I'm g'nna kick you f'you ask stupid qu'stions..."

Yeosang smirked and scoffed playfully, beginning to unzip the other boot he would have used as a weapon. "Sorry. Do you need anything?"

Yeosang pulled the other shoe off while he waited for an answer. All he received in response were a couple of weak groans that could have been words before the sounds faded into nothing more than a light breathing. He must have fallen back under. Yeosang sighed, knowing that his friend would only feel better with time, and there wasn't much he could do for him. But he could at least make him more comfortable.

Yeosang pulled Wooyoung's phone out of the pocket of his skinny jeans, finding it almost dead after his long night. He connected it to the charger and placed it on Wooyoung's bedside table.

Yeosang knew there could be nothing comfy about the outfit he was wearing, so he began to help him change his clothes. He was worried he would wake him up when he slid off his tight jeans, but Wooyoung was completely knocked out again, and this time Yeosang was glad. He needed the rest and he was in a safe place now.

Changing his shirt was even harder, and he did receive a few half-hearted grumbles from Wooyoung's lips as he pulled the collar over his head and messed up his hair. It wasn't exactly easy to direct his arms to his T-shirt sleeves when he was barely able to move them.

Yeosang ended by gently wiping his face with wet wipes, knowing Wooyoung would blame him if his face broke out from leaving the makeup on all night. He could hear his voice now.

"What kind of caretaker are you? How could you forget that? Do you even care about my skin at all? No, actually you know what? You're fired."

Yeosang chuckled at the thought. He had always secretly adored his friend's attitude, even if it pissed him off at times. He wouldn't have him any other way. He wouldn't trade him for the world.

Yeosang frowned when he came across a small bruise and a cut on Wooyoung's temple. He couldn't help but wonder how it was inflicted, but he figured the answer would cause him to burn with rage. The small amount of blood on the surface was dried so he gently wiped it clean, flinching when his friend did as if he could feel his pain.

Pulling the covers back, Yeosang positioned Wooyoung into his bed, laying him on his side in case he happened to vomit. It was still freezing outside so Yeosang pulled as many cushy blankets as he could find in Wooyoung's room over his exhausted body, tucking him in thoroughly. Not a single draft of cold air was disturbing his recovery sleep tonight, he made sure of it.

Once he was all tucked in, Yeosang found himself staring, observing the way his slow breaths made his chest rise and fall, the way the pillow smushed his cheek just enough to make his friend smile at his cuteness. His bangs had fallen into his face, and his nose twitched when a strand must have tickled it. Yeosang acted immediately.

His finger carefully reached for the strand, gently brushing it away from Wooyoung's face and behind his ear. The movement was slow, intentional but unexpectedly distracting, as now Yeosang's eyes couldn't leave him if he tried. Wooyoung's skin was hot against his fingertips, a reminder of the amount of alcohol he had consumed to heat his body to this degree. He didn't know why his friend was so stupid sometimes. And yet Yeosang's love for him never changed. He was still smiling at his cute flushed cheeks when he carefully sat down next to him on the bed.

Yeosang stayed there for a while, longer than he had intended, just watching him, gently playing with strands of his hair. Afraid if he looked away that he might stop breathing, even if he knew it was unlikely. But soon he decided Wooyoung might sleep better with the lights off, so he whispered to him a soft goodnight. He leaned over. He laid a gentle kiss to his forehead, one so feather-light that Yeosang could be sure he wouldn't disrupt his sleep. Wooyoung's hair still smelled faintly of roses. A small detail that was everything to Yeosang. He had used the same shampoo since they were teenagers, so the scent belonged to him, smelled like home since Yeosang's home had pretty much always been wherever Wooyoung was.

Yeosang smiled fondly at his best friend once more before standing up from the bed. He hoped Wooyoung could sleep this off. Yeosang prayed this meant he would take a break from clubbing for a while, but he also knew better. Wooyoung was stubborn. Yeosang loved that about him until it threatened his safety, but he couldn't make decisions for him. He just had to trust him.

Yeosang checked the room a bit before he left, making sure the heater was at a comfortable temperature and that the window was closed so there wouldn't be any drafts. He wondered what kind of psychopath his friend was for even leaving it unlocked in the middle of winter, but he locked it without a word. Before long, Yeosang gave Wooyoung one last sympathetic glance before heading to his bedroom door, flicking the light off, and softly closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Wooyoung jolted awake to a sound so harsh that his head went crashing into his headboard. His face fell back into his pillow with a groan, his hand flying to the bump surely forming on his head. His cell phone was ringing.

He lifted his head with a sharp inhale, the whole of it throbbing while he squinted in the daylight and searched for wherever that horrible loud noise was coming from. Wooyoung reached for his phone he found on his side table, feeling around until he had a lazy grip on it and pulled it toward him, not even looking at the screen before answering it.

"...hello...?" he practically groaned into the phone.

"Wooyoung-ssi!" The voice on the other end spoke frantically. "Where the hell are you? You're an hour late! It's getting busier and we're barely scraping by as it is!"

Shit! It was his manager. He must have slept through his alarm. Did it even go off?!

Wooyoung groaned involuntarily, rubbing his face so hard that it hurt, but it wasn't anything compared to his headache. "Bujang-nim... I'm so sorry, I overslept," Wooyoung mumbled, telling the truth.

"Yeah, no shit! How soon can you get here?!"

Wooyoung moaned, rolling onto his back while holding his throbbing head. "Bujang-nim..." he repeated, the sound of sleep thick in his voice while he tried to orient himself. "I don't think I can come in today. Seriously, I feel awful, like I might puke,"

There was a frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone, but it wasn't one of surprise. This wasn't the first time Wooyoung had called in on a Sunday after a night of clubbing.

"When I schedule you to work, I expect you to work. I'll call a replacement today, but this is the last time, understand? Next time, there won't be a job waiting for you,"

"Yeah, I understand," Wooyoung grunted, unsure if he actually comprehended anything his manager said. He apologized one last time before the line was cut short and his arm fell to the bed with his phone in hand.

A long sigh left Wooyoung's mouth as he lay there. He felt like shit. Questions raced through his mind as he wondered how he ended up back in his bed, wearing comfy clothes, his makeup removed, his phone charged. He suspected it was Yeosang who had cared for him, since this wouldn't be the first time he'd helped him in that way. But it scared Wooyoung that he was struggling to remember much of anything from the night before. That part wasn't normal.

Wooyoung sat up with a pained grunt, his head still throbbing from the hit he had taken from the headboard, his world spinning in front of his eyes. He should have stayed horizontal. In a panic, Wooyoung frantically pulled his small trash can from the floor to his mouth before retching, bile filling his throat as he vomited mostly liquid into the can. God, he hated that feeling. And yet he drank every weekend, risking that horrible sensation every time; it had been a while since his hangover was this bad.

He spit a few times before setting the trash can back down and relaxing on his bed, feeling a little better, although his vision was still spinning a bit. He wanted answers, almost as badly as he wanted to recover from that feeling. It was different from normal, like he had been hit by a bus, maybe three of them in a row and then beaten over the head with a baseball bat. Wooyoung couldn't fathom what he could have done to make himself feel like this.

He suddenly remembered one thing, though.

San.

That was his name, he was sure of it. It was memorable, only one Hangul letter, unlike most other Koreans' names. Memories of the man came in flashes, of the dancing, the drunken flirtation, the closeness, the touching. The intimacy. Wooyoung found himself blushing even now, and it wasn't all attributed to the heat in his body caused by his unrelenting hangover. The memories actually made him smile, even in the midst of it. Shit, why hadn't he given him his number? Wait, had he? Maybe San had helped him get home and maybe Yeosang had some idea who he was or where to find him. He would be at work until late that afternoon, but Wooyoung couldn't wait to ask him, and he hoped more memories of their steamy night together would return as the day went on.

Groaning, Wooyoung was reminded of his migraine as his head turned toward his phone again. That's when he noticed the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, along with an iced coffee, some granola bars, and a little note next to them.

Wooyoung smiled through the pain when he picked up the note.

"Feel better, Wooyoungie <3

Rest up and eat breakfast.

Let's meet up later if you're up for it!

-Love, Yeo,"

* * * * * * * *

It seemed as though Yeosang didn't at all expect Wooyoung to take him up on his offer to meet up. But the light in his eyes and the change in his posture didn't lie as he watched Wooyoung make his way through the door of the busy cafe.

Wooyoung had spent most of the day recovering, drinking coffee and water mixed with a painkiller or two to take the edge off. His headache was better, and deep down he knew he would feel worse if he was cooped up at home all day, so he made the decision to spend time with his best friend. He tried to convince himself the appeal of it was about more than getting his questions answered.

"You really came!" Yeosang cheered as Wooyoung reached the chair opposite him and began slipping his coat off.

Wooyoung nodded, suddenly reconsidering if he was really in the mood for Yeosang's cheerfulness. His head still felt a bit fuzzy. Wooyoung draped his coat over the chair and turned toward the counter.

"I'm gonna go order..."

"Sit down!" Yeosang ordered, waving him down. "Just tell me what you want, I'll get it for you,"

Wooyoung didn't think it was possible to suppress the eye-roll that happened automatically. His friend was unbelievable. "It's just so you can talk to Hongjoong, isn't it?"

Yeosang blushed but a smirk eventually grew on his lips. "Well, it could have something to do with it..."

"Unbelievable..." Wooyoung shook his head with a scoff as he sat down. "Americano. Double shot, iced. If you want him to think you have good taste, say it's for you,"

Yeosang pouted as he stood, walking past a smirking Wooyoung whom he hit lightly on the shoulder on his way to the counter.

Wooyoung couldn't help feeling out of place in the middle of that cafe. It was busy; cafes always were on Sundays, the day most people had a break from work to relax with friends, sipping drinks while joyful Christmas music hummed softly in the background of their chatter. People talked and laughed around him, the festive holiday spirit palpable in the warm atmosphere. Wooyoung wished he could share their joy. Memories of the night before had returned to him in more distinct flashes as the day had gone on. The incident in the bathroom... the assault... the humiliation... but also his savior. He had to meet him again.

There was not a single empty table in the cafe and it was honestly a wonder Yeosang had claimed the one he had. He was sure he had waited for an opening while distracting the cute barista from his work again. Poor Hongjoong, who looked like he wanted to hide whenever Yeosang approached the register. But he was getting smart about it, immediately snatching the receipt out of the printer after taking the payment before Yeosang had time to start another twenty-minute, one-sided conversation. Wooyoung felt bad for giggling when he noticed the barista's subtle eye roll when Yeosang loudly thanked him after he had already walked away.

"So," Yeosang began once he sat back down. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Wooyoung told him honestly, his temple resting on his hand. "Better than this morning, but... damn I can't shake this headache,"

Yeosang looked sympathetic, and Wooyoung knew he would do anything to alleviate his pain if he could. "How much do you remember?" he asked cautiously.

Wooyoung shrugged. "Not everything, but most of it came back to me in pieces,"

Yeosang's lips pursed nervously like he was afraid to press on. "Do you remember...-"

"The bathroom," Wooyoung finished for him, nodding while his eyes remained down. "Yeah I remember. Did San tell you?"

Yeosang's lip tightened in concerned curiosity. "You remember him too?"

"Oh yeah," It was a miracle that Wooyoung's mouth could even twitch momentarily into a small grin in the midst of such a heavy subject. "He saved me. The memories after that are a little fuzzy but... god I could never forget him,"

"Sounds like something happened between you two..." Yeosang commented, taking a long sip of his green tea.

Wooyoung thought hard for a moment, but he shook his head. "No, nothing like that. We danced, he was a little touchy, that was it. I don't even think we kissed,"

Yeosang licked the tea from his lip. "But you wanted to," he accused teasingly.

Wooyoung sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. "Not yet, I'd rather it be in a different setting. I wouldn't have let him kiss me last night after all that happened, no way,"

Yeosang looked a bit surprised. "Wow, I'm impressed,"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wooyoung crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow.

Yeosang blushed like he knew he was in trouble. "It's just that... you're not exactly known for denying kisses from hot guys at the bar..."

Wooyoung's fist snapped upward in a punching motion, making Yeosang flinch, but just then, they heard Hongjoong call out the number on the receipt for Wooyoung's drink. Wooyoung smirked, putting his fist down. "I bet you wish he would have asked for your name on the order so you could hear him call it out,"

"Shut up!" Yeosang begged incredulously, half lunging at him from across the table as Wooyoung stood up to claim his drink, softly cackling.

Wooyoung made his way to the counter, knowing Hongjoong was probably relieved to see him instead. The barista had set the drink on the counter and busied himself with something else as if he were expecting to dodge another conversation, but he smiled when he caught Wooyoung's eye and relaxed a little.

"Thank you," Wooyoung told him politely with a charming smile.

Hongjoong grinned, bowing slightly. "Enjoy your drink," He started to turn until Wooyoung grabbed his attention again.

"Sorry about my friend, by the way," he chuckled, a subtle glance at Yeosang. "He gets flustered when baristas are sexier than they're supposed to be,"

Hongjoong almost choked on nothing more than his own spit. Wooyoung grinned when he realized he was laughing, red instantly covering his cheeks.

When he regained his composure, the barista cleared his throat, straightening his posture a bit. "He must be really flustered to have a friend like you then," He looked him up and down.

"Probably not, I'm not a barista," Wooyoung teased.

"No, but you're sexy,"

Wooyoung's lips pressed together, suppressing the shy laugh that wanted to leave his mouth, his head turning so Hongjoong wouldn't see. He was good. But something inside Wooyoung told him it might be fucked up to flirt with his best friend's crush, so he took a breath.

Wooyoung bowed a shy thank you to the barista, that same dumb grin on his lips. "My name is Wooyoung. My friend's Yeosang. I'm sure we'll see you again," he told him, eyes drifting from the counter to the barista's friendly face, then to his cute decorated headband. "I like your cunty antlers,"

Wooyoung caught sight of a quick smirk but didn't wait for a response before snatching his drink off the counter and turning back toward the table. Some part of him wanted to stay and keep flirting. But the look of his friend's curious face as he returned to the table made him feel guilty all over again.

Yeosang's big eyes asked the question before his mouth did. "What did he say?" he practically begged to know.

But Wooyoung just shrugged it off, sliding back into his chair with ease. "Just casual stuff, nothing interesting,"

Yeosang couldn't help a small pout. "That was a lot of giggling for nothing interesting,"

"Don't read too much into it," Wooyoung comforted, a reassuring smile on his lips as he placed the straw in his coffee. "What were we talking about again?"

Yeosang scrutinized him as he took his first sips. He was probably already convincing himself that Wooyoung's irresistible charm was working its magic on the barista as well. It wasn't his intention...

"We were talking about what happened at the club..." Yeosang reminded him, trying to refocus. His concerned eyes returned in a flash. "When I met San, you were completely passed out, and... I can't help but think..."

Yeosang paused, biting his lip with worry. Whatever he had to say, he was afraid of what Wooyoung's reaction would be.

Wooyoung placed his drink on the table and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "What? That I was drugged?" he asked bluntly. Based on his symptoms, he had already wondered about it himself.

Yeosang's expression didn't change but he didn't speak for several moments. "Yeah..." he spoke finally.

"And I suppose that means I'm not allowed to go to my favorite bar anymore?"

"That's not up to me," Yeosang raised his hands slightly in surrender. His voice was full of so much concern that Wooyoung felt bad for snapping.

Wooyoung lowered his defense, letting out a long sigh. He knew Yeosang cared about him more than anyone in the world and only wanted to protect him. His tone softened. "I have to go back,"

"Wooyoung..."

"I have to see him again," Wooyoung's eyes locked onto Yeosang's with a seriousness that seemed to scare him. "We had a connection, something like I've never felt before. Something that's worth the risk,"

By the way Yeosang's eyebrows moved, Wooyoung could tell he didn't understand. He never really could. Even after knowing him for such a long time, he could never quite decipher the way Wooyoung's brain worked, how he invited men into his life so easily. Yeosang didn't have to say anything for Wooyoung to know what he thought. His best friend thought he was a whore; he thought that feelings of love and passion came easily to him. But what he didn't realize was that he hadn't felt love during those weekly hookups, and not even one measly drop of passion. It was all just sex, his outlet for stress after a long week. It was only about the sex... all up until last night.

Wooyoung sighed, absentmindedly stirring his coffee. "I don't expect you to understand," he mumbled, hoping his friend would drop the subject. "I just need you to trust me,"

"I do trust you," Yeosang promised him, reaching halfway across the table as if he were expecting to hold his hand. But Wooyoung's arms remained near him, his gaze skeptical.

He didn't know whether or not to believe him. Wooyoung relaxed his posture but his eyes were still narrowed. "I know there's a 'but' coming. Go ahead, you trust me, but..."

"But I want you to be safe," Yeosang finished with confidence, the terror of the thought of losing his best friend audible in his voice.

It wasn't about trust. Wooyoung understood that now; it was plainly obvious in Yeosang's shiny eyes, slightly wet as if he were tearing up. Wooyoung felt a pang of guilt, knowing full well how crushed Yeosang would be if anything terrible ever happened to him. But he hated being treated this way, as if he were a child who needed supervision twenty-four seven. He was an adult, just a few months younger than Yeosang, and he was perfectly capable of making smart decisions for himself.

Wooyoung finally met Yeosang halfway and held his hand on the table's surface, his soft, warm skin grounding him, reminding him who he was talking to. His best friend. His brother. The only person on Earth he would trust with his life.

"Thank you for worrying about me," Wooyoung told him, his thumb rubbing circles into his hand while their eyes met in an attempt to understand each other. "What happened last night was a mistake. I had too much to drink and my judgment wasn't where it needed to be, but I've learned my lesson. I will be careful next time. I promise,"

Yeosang still wore a face of slight frustration mixed with concern, his sigh through tight lips making a strand of his bangs fly away from his face. He knew he couldn't control him, even if he might want to.

Wooyoung grinned teasingly, hoping to lighten the mood. "You know, you could always come with me. It's been months since the last time,"

Yeosang scoffed, his eyes rolling slightly. "If I did, I would just be guarding your drink the whole night. Not much fun for either of us,"

"I'll never leave a drink out of my sight again," Wooyoung promised, tugging gently on his arm now, just enough to be annoying. "Please, Sangie? Please? Please?"

"Maybe," Yeosang sighed reluctantly. Wooyoung knew that if he went back, that would be the only way Yeosang would stop himself from worrying to death.

Wooyoung took the maybe as a win and quietly celebrated to himself, causing another playful eye roll to come from Yeosang as he picked up his tea again. Yeosang would always be his biggest protector, and despite the feelings of suffocation, Wooyoung loved him for that. He never wanted to see him get hurt. He had driven him home after drinking so many times that Wooyoung didn't know where he would be without him. He might have ended up missing like that boy who went to their university and so far hadn't been found yet.

A new conversation was brought on by the news story that was playing on the big screen mounted near the menu board. The anchor was speaking about high quantities of dead animals being found in forest edges and on hiking trails, sparking something in Wooyoung. He suddenly realized he had never told Yeosang about the carcass he had found on their doorstep, but when he mentioned it, Yeosang appeared more confused than usual. He claimed he had never seen it there, even confirming that this happened recently and not weeks ago. Wooyoung's head had been so fuzzy when he had left that afternoon that he didn't think to check, but he started to question if it had really been there or if he had dreamed it, or even imagined it. But he wasn't even drunk that night.

Yeosang was taking a long sip of his tea when Wooyoung watched his friend's eyes slowly widen. It was like he had made eye contact with God himself. He was locked onto something behind Wooyoung, the moment accompanied by the jingle of bells on the cafe door and a gust of cold air from the outside. Yeosang's eyes seemed to follow someone as they must have been making their way to the register.

Wooyoung couldn't hold back his curiosity for long. "Sangie?" he blurted out. "You okay there?"

Yeosang shook his head as if he were snapping himself out of a trance. But his eyes automatically floated back to whoever was at the counter again. "Wait until you see the man who just walked in here,"

"Is he cute?"

"Gorgeous," Yeosang was practically drooling.

Wooyoung chuckled into his hand. "Wow, you moved on from Hongjoong fast,"

Yeosang may not have even heard him, in a state of sudden distress. "Wait. He's talking to him. Why is he talking to him?"

"Probably because he works here," Wooyoung teased, tempted to look but afraid to make it obvious. "Calm down, Sang-ah, how handsome can this man be?"

Yeosang's hands moved to his head as if he were having a crisis. "Young-ah, Hongjoong is laughing. You don't laugh with a customer unless you like them,"

Wooyoung sighed. He knew this was bound to happen eventually since Hongjoong showed no interest in his friend, but there was no way to tell him that without breaking Yeosang's fragile heart. "I'm sure they're just talking," was all he could say before sipping his coffee.

Yeosang crossed his arms, glaring toward the counter. "There's nowhere to sit anyway, so at least he can't stay long,"

"Don't you want him to stay? I thought this man was your new crush,"

"That was before he started flirting with my old crush," Yeosang pouted but Wooyoung could tell it was really bothering him. He didn't know what else to say.

Wooyoung's curiosity finally got the better of him and he subtly turned his head to look at the man he was talking about. He could only see him from the back, but even from behind he appeared to be extremely attractive. His hair was long and clean, neatly slicked behind his ears and wore a long, dark, wool coat. He was surprisingly tall and that's when Wooyoung's analysis reached the man's feet, noticing he was sporting some pretty tall high-heeled shoes. The confidence a man would have to have to wear those in Korea was already sexy enough alone.

Yeosang was right though; he was definitely speaking to Hongjoong beyond just ordering a drink. And Hongjoong was blushing, perhaps brighter than when Wooyoung had flirted with him, a giant toothy smile plastered across the cute barista's face as he laughed with the stranger. Maybe he wasn't a stranger to Hongjoong. The way they talked, it appeared as if they had known each other for decades.

When a different barista placed the man's order on the counter in a take-out cup, she looked annoyed as if Hongjoong had been too distracted to make it himself. The stranger bowed his thanks to her.

"Good, now he can leave," Wooyoung told Yeosang in encouragement, trying his best to find a bright side for his frustrated friend.

But the man remained at the counter, wrapped up in conversation with a smiling, pink-cheeked barista. Wooyoung could tell Hongjoong was admiring his height the way he looked him up and down and seemed to enjoy staring upward at him as he offered the stranger a straw.

Yeosang scoffed in disbelief as he watched the man place the straw in his drink and sip. "He got take-out and he's drinking it here. Doesn't he know he can't do that?!"

Wooyoung didn't have any more answers for him. The fact that Hongjoong was still entertaining him while he broke the rules didn't bode well for Yeosang. The barista was clearly entranced by this man. And when the stranger turned his head slightly, Wooyoung slammed his glass onto the table with a loud clunk.

"Yah gaesaekki-yah!" Wooyoung cursed louder than he meant to, rising slightly from his seat.

His outburst caused some people at surrounding tables to look up, pausing their conversations to give him dirty or confused looks. Luckily, the register was far enough away that the men standing there couldn't hear him. But Wooyoung couldn't help it. He knew that face.

"Wooyoung-ah, what are you doing?" Yeosang asked in a panic, clearly embarrassed by his sudden outburst.

Wooyoung tried to relax, taking a breath while his fist clenched on the table. He glared toward the man he had met before, only once but his name was stuck in his brain like a parasite.

"Do you know him or something?"

"His name is Seonghwa," Wooyoung sneered, his gaze trained on the bastard who had treated him no better than the gum on the bottom of his shoe.

Yeosang's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You really know him?"

"I served him at work the other day," He told Yeosang, unable to hide the irritation in his voice. "He stayed past closing and purposely spilled wine when I asked him to leave,"

Yeosang stared at Wooyoung in disbelief. "Really? So I'm allowed to hate him,"

"Definitely," Wooyoung nodded, shooting another glare in the direction of the bastard as he smiled and laughed as if he had never done anything wrong. "Maybe Hongjoong should know what kind of person he is before taking things too far,"

Just as the words finished leaving his mouth, he watched Seonghwa take out a notepad and a pen from his coat pocket and pass them across the counter to Hongjoong who excitedly wrote something on the page the pad was flipped to. He must have given him some form of contact information. Maybe things had already been taken too far.

Seonghwa left the cafe after that, disappearing out the door with a flourish of his long coat in the cold wind, the barista in a daze as he watched him go. But there was a lingering despair in Yeosang's eyes as he stared at the table in thought. It must have been awful. Yeosang had watched the man he'd had a crush on for weeks meet someone Wooyoung knew to be a complete asshole and gave out his number in less than ten minutes. Wooyoung felt horrible for his friend, but he felt helpless in the situation.

Wooyoung attempted a friendly smile that probably came across as pity. "Hey, chin up, Yeosang-ah. They are not the only attractive gay boys in this town, I promise you,"

Yeosang sighed deeply as he traced the handle of his teacup with his finger. "Maybe..." he mumbled.

"This is why you need to come clubbing with me," Wooyoung told him cautiously, unsure if it was an appropriate time to bring it up. "Plenty of guys there would want your number,"

Yeosang forced an amused smile momentarily but his eyes didn't leave the table. "Maybe..." he repeated. It must have been the only word his distracted mind could form.

Wooyoung sighed, trying to think of something, anything that would pull his friend out of the hole he found himself in. He must be a terrible friend. Yeosang had scraped his drunk ass off the street countless times and Wooyoung couldn't even think of a single way to lift him up in his time of need. Yeosang needed a boyfriend, someone he could count on, someone he could trust as much as he trusted Wooyoung. It would fix so many things for his best friend.

"Hey, Wooyoung," Yeosang spoke suddenly, looking toward the door with confused eyes. "Did you tell San that we like to come here?"

Wooyoung thought for a moment but then shrugged. "I don't remember, why?"

"Because he's right outside,"

Chapter Text

At first when Wooyoung saw San's friendly face smiling at him from outside the glass door of the cafe he was relieved. He had wondered if he would ever see him again but there he was, waving at him as if they'd been friends or lovers for years. He had to admit that the way the leather jacket and dark jeans fit his muscular body made him look like impeccable boyfriend material.

But then the curiosity sank in. How did he find him?

San came inside and met Wooyoung next to the doorway, shivering from the cold but still gifting him with his most handsome smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you again too," San teased with a tight lip, sensing his slight uncertainty.

Wooyoung sighed in amusement, tilting his head. "You know what I mean. How did you find me?"

San's dimpled smile twitched with a quick exhale through his nose. "You really don't remember anything from last night, do you? You told me we should meet up for coffee,"

"Did I-... I told you about this place?"

San's lips snapped into a grin of approval. "Now you're getting it,"

"Wow, I really went crazy didn't I?" Wooyoung muttered to himself, a palm to his forehead in disbelief. "What else did I say?"

San snickered, staring at him adoringly. "Well, you told me you'd start skipping work to come on dates with me,"

"Funny," Wooyoung raised his eyebrows in annoyance but was unable to hide the smirk that curved his lip.

San seemed to notice right away and stepped a little closer to him. "I came because you forgot this at the club," Only then did Wooyoung notice what San was holding. "It's a pretty nice coat so I figured you'd be missing it,"

Wooyoung breathed a soft gasp as he took hold of the coat. How could he have forgotten it? Wooyoung clutched the coat close to his body, reminding himself of the memories associated with the velvety black fabric.

Wooyoung raised his gaze to San with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you. My mom bought me this coat so it's pretty special to me,"

He intentionally didn't mention that it was the last present she had bought him before she died.

San's smile was one of pride, one that sensed Wooyoung's appreciation and reveled in it. "I'm glad I could find it for you,"

He wasn't sure if San was waiting for him to say something else the way he stood there just admiring him. The tension between them was palpable, exciting even, Wooyoung desperately searching for words to say but terrified of making a fool of himself. San's size was almost intimidating but he couldn't really come across as scary with the sparkle in his eyes as he smiled at him like an idiot in love.

Suddenly San's eyes shifted. "How's your head?" he asked, his attention moving to the bruise on his temple caused by the hard bathroom wall.

San reached a gentle hand out to Wooyoung, his fingers gracefully gliding over his cheek on the way to survey the small wound. Wooyoung looked to the floor shyly, unsuccessfully trying to stifle the blush that came with San's touch. The steady fingers electrified something deep inside him. "It's fine. It's not pussing anymore, so I can't really complain,"

Why would I say that?!

San chuckled, his head tilting with affection and thankfully not put off by the gross comment. His thumb ran over the rough scab."I'm glad. It bled a lot last night so I was worried,"

"Aww, you worried about me?" Wooyoung teased. "You barely know me, San-ssi,"

San exhaled sharply. "Is it a crime to worry about someone I care for?" He asked softly, his fingers painting a featherlight path down his neck as his eyes followed it.

Wooyoung gulped, trying hard to keep his cool, but he knew that pink blush must be glowing bright on his cheeks. There was no makeup to hide it either. But that gentle touch, those soft, cold fingers tracing the veins of his neck in a way that sent another electric shiver throughout his whole body.

He was sure San noticed how flustered he was becoming by the way his smirk grew, his gaze bouncing between Wooyoung's face and the place by his collarbone his fingers still glided across. "I'm just glad you remember my name. I came to find you because I never got your number,"

Wooyoung scoffed. "Bold of you to assume I liked you enough," He retorted with crossed arms. He was just playing with him at this point. "Convince me you've earned it,"

San groaned softly, his tantalized frustration growing but it seemed like he was excited all the same. He was starting to pick up on what Wooyoung wanted from him.

San stepped forward and grabbed Wooyoung's waist, his hands so strong that the younger's jolt of surprise didn't move them at all. Wooyoung's breath hitched. San's fierce eyes were just inches from him now and Wooyoung felt a shiver roll down his spine as he was captivated by their power.

"Do you remember how I held you like this? How we danced?" he spoke intimately, his head tilted with the smirk of a man who was never told no. "Come on, this must feel familiar. I touched you in other places too. You wanted me to,"

Wooyoung was supposed to push him off. It's what any normal person would have done. How dare he not respect his boundaries after knowing what he had been through? It was immoral. So why he just stood there, hands automatically resting against the man's chest, he couldn't comprehend. His brain must not have been communicating with the rest of his body. He was frozen.

"I'm going to take you out on a proper date," San told him, no part of it sounding like a question or offer. It was a statement.

Wooyoung was at a loss. He always had some kind of smart remark ready as an answer for everything, but he couldn't think anymore. And San was right. His touch did feel familiar. It was electric, even now. He remembered that more than anything else, how much he craved it. How he had encouraged him to touch him more. How they had moved together...

All Wooyoung could do was nod. "O...okay," he choked out finally, knowing his face was bright red. "I'm free tomorrow after six..."

"Perfect," San approved instantly, finally sure that he had won him over. "I'll pick you up at seven and buy you dinner,"

"Perfect," Wooyoung nodded in agreement. He hoped San couldn't see how much his heart was swelling at the thought of taking things further with him, or his plans to play hard-to-get might be completely ruined. He may have already lost that edge when he agreed to go out with him without any question.

San still looked expectant of something like a toddler who was promised candy. "So... your number...?"

Wooyoung snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in and put a bit of space between them again. "Give me your arm,"

San extended his forearm as Wooyoung pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket. He gripped San's wrist as he clicked the pen and began writing obnoxiously large numbers on his skin.

San chuckled as he watched him. "I have a notepad in my pocket,"

"I didn't ask," Wooyoung retorted, completing his masterpiece with a heart on the end. He gave San a smug grin. "Now you'll have to think about me nonstop until this washes off,"

San blinked in laughter. "Who's to say I don't already?"

"Just for insurance," Wooyoung teased with a tantalizing pout.

San's teeth showed in a flirtatious chuckle. He took Wooyoung's hands and laced their fingers together before sharing an electric gaze with him. "I can't wait to know you better, Wooyoung,"

Wooyoung giggled happily. "And you, mysterious bar guy,"

"Oh come on, I'm more than that," San backed up to give him an offended scoff. "I saved you and bought you a drink. That has to count for something,"

"I guess..." Wooyoung feigned disinterest as his eyes wandered elsewhere for a moment.

San sighed, amusement in his pretty eyes. "You're mean, you know that?"

"I know," Wooyoung smiled at him smugly as if it were a trait he was proud of.

San rolled his eyes playfully. "I'll see you tomorrow, Wooyoung-ssi. Can I kiss you before I go?"

Wooyoung backed away when San's face came toward him slightly, putting his hand up. "Nope," He stated, his expression unchanging, but rolling his eyes when San appeared disappointed again. "What? I have to leave you something to look forward to,"

San scoffed, shaking his head. "Goodbye, Wooyoung-ssi,"

Wooyoung caught a glimpse of San's amused smirk before he turned to leave. He watched him go, the cold winter air making Wooyoung cringe when he walked through the decorated glass doors. But the fire in his heart made it feel like almost nothing. San and Wooyoung. Wooyoung and San. They sounded nice together.

Wooyoung was so lost in his daydream that he almost forgot who he was there with. Yeosang must be waiting for him. He was about to catch up with him before he once again caught the eye of the cute barista who was wiping the countertop nearby.

He didn't know who looked away first but they both seemed to get shy quickly and smile downward. It was like they had both been caught staring.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow with a teasing grin as he approached. "So you'll give your number to any beefy stranger who stumbles in here but you didn't think to give it to me?"

Wooyoung was taken aback by the sudden forward comment. He couldn't stifle his chuckle. He kept having to remind himself that Yeosang might disembowel him if he so much as looked at this man, let alone flirted with him.

Wooyoung glanced at the cafe door before smirking in Hongjoong's direction. "I couldn't help but notice that you gave out yours too. And it wasn't to me,"

Hongjoong's cheeks flushed pink, resuming the wiping of the countertop. It took him a few moments before he nodded. "Touche," he admitted. "But he asked me for it,"

Wooyoung nodded, trying to bite his tongue. But he knew the barista should be warned. "Have you met him before?" he asked curiously, trying not to cross any boundaries.

Hongjoong seemed confused, like he was unsure why he wanted to know. But his expression softened after a moment. "Seonghwa? Only once, on a walk near my apartment complex. He lives there too so that must be how he figured out where I work. I-"

"I'm asking if you know what kind of person he is," Wooyoung interrupted in a gentle tone, cringing when he realized he had accidentally cut him off.

Hongjoong blinked a few times– maybe insulted for being interrupted, maybe pondering the question. But then finally, he grinned. "He may be a little strange but he's been really nice so far," Hongjoong blushed again thinking about him. "He told me he'd bring me roses next time he comes,"

"Hongjoong, he's not a good person," Wooyoung blurted out, hoping to grab his attention with the blatant truth. "I've met him before too, he was so rude to me in the restaurant I work at. I really wouldn't trust him if I were you,"

Hongjoong's face, which had looked so infatuated before, faltered suddenly. His expression was suddenly void of emotion. "I can trust him," he said plainly.

Wooyoung scrunched his eyebrows at him. Did the barista not hear him? "I don't think you can..."

"I can trust him," Hongjoong repeated.

There was a faraway look in his eye, something Wooyoung couldn't quite understand, like he didn't actually believe his own words. Was he just trying to convince himself that Seonghwa was a good person because he was good-looking and attracted to him?

Wooyoung stared at him for a few extra moments. "Did he tell you that?"

Hongjoong's eyes searched the floor. "I... I don't know. All I know is I can trust him..."

"Hey, your life is your life," Wooyoung told him, surrendering with raised palms and a shrug. "Just trying to save you some heartache. If you don't believe me, that's fine, but watch for those red flags, you know?"

Hongjoong nodded, his smug grin finally making a comeback. "Of course, I always do,"

"Good," Wooyoung gave him a slight bow and an approving smile. "See you around, Hongjoong,"

The barista nodded his goodbye and resumed his work, and Wooyoung knew he was going to be in trouble with Yeosang. It was confirmed when he turned toward the table and saw his best friend pouting behind the ceramic cup to his lips, shaking his head. Wooyoung should have seen it coming.

"I was doing you a favor," Wooyoung told him as he made his way back to his chair.

Yeosang put his glass down and folded his hands with a squint in his direction. "Sure you were,"

"I thought he should know that the piece of shit he was talking to is not worth his time and treats waiters like slaves,"

Yeosang perked up slightly, his big eyes suddenly interested. "You told him?"

Wooyoung smirked, leaning on the table smugly. "Am I your best friend or not?"

"Thank you," Yeosang uttered alongside a reluctant curving of his lip.

Wooyoung accepted the gratitude, but he truly hoped he had convinced Hongjoong that there were a few reasons he shouldn't trust Seonghwa, though he seemed pretty certain he already did. Wooyoung didn't think Hongjoong was the type to be so naive, so it came off as strange to him.

"Soon he'll see that you're not anything like that bastard and come running to you," Wooyoung assured him, hoping to god he was right.

Yeosang's fingertips traced absent-minded lines on the table's wooden surface. "So what did San say?" He seemed hesitant to ask, like it was more of a question he was expected to ask rather than wanted to.

"We have a date tomorrow night," Wooyoung blurted out, unable to contain his excitement.

Yeosang smiled but he didn't look happy. He swirled his remaining tea around in the cup while staring at it. "Good. He makes you really happy, I can tell,"

"Don't give me that look," Wooyoung told him, reaching across the table. "When you pick up your own hottie at the club you can come on double dates with us,"

That got a genuine smile out of Yeosang, who chuckled lightly. "Yeah sure, I'll hold you to that,"

Chapter Text

"YEOSANG-AH, where's my PHONE?!"

"For the last time, I don't KNOW! Where did you leave it?!

"If I knew, I wouldn't ASK!"

It was already seven o'clock, and San would be there to pick him up for their date any moment. Wooyoung's hair was barely dried from the shower that made him smell like roses, but would soon be sweaty again if he continued the frantic search. Oh well, San probably wouldn't see it much anyway; it was already pitch black outside, one of the many things Wooyoung hated about the winter. He had only been home from work for less than an hour, where in the world could his phone go?!

While peeking his head under his bed, Wooyoung perked up when he heard the sound of a vibration. His hands searched his bed sheets until they hit something hard and he gasped.

"GOT IT!" Wooyoung called down the hall to Yeosang as he freed his phone from underneath the covers and frantically answered the call while still haphazardly leaning across the bed. "Hello?" he spoke into the phone.

"Hey, jagi, I'm right outside. You didn't forget about me, right?"

"N-no! I didn't f-... I- I'll be right out!" So much for sounding cool. San was sure to be impressed by his frazzled stutter.

He hung up in a panic, taking his phone and rushing out of the room.

"Yeosang-ah!" Wooyoung called again. "I need a fit check before I go!"

Yeosang met him in front of the door, looking him up and down, straightening the fabric of his black button-up top and lowering to do the same thing to his dark jeans.

Yeosang stood up and gave him a nod of approval. "You look good,"

"Smell my breath," Wooyoung demanded, giving little warning before breathing a puff of hot breath into Yeosang's cringing face. "Is it bad?!"

"It's fine!" Yeosang insisted, grabbing Wooyoung's phone off the table he had left it on and thrusting it toward him. "Put this in your pocket, dammit! And text me if he does anything weird,"

Wooyoung looked down at his own outfit and messed with the fabric of his shirt. "Is this too many buttons undone?"

"You look fine, now go! You're late!" Yeosang snatched Wooyoung's black coat off the rack and shoved it into his arms.

Once Wooyoung slipped on his coat, he resisted Yeosang shoving him toward the door for a moment just to unbutton one more button on his shirt, laughing when his friend called him unbelievable. He finally stepped outside and looked around, spotting an unfamiliar black car in the parking lot, its headlights cutting through the harsh darkness and causing him to squint.

The luxury BMW looked so out of place in the vicinity of their cheap townhome, the shine on the rims alone bright enough to blind a person. Wooyoung's breath caught in his throat when he saw San's side profile through the car's open window, one hand on the steering wheel, posed like a model. He had left the interior lights on as if to assure Wooyoung he wasn't some creepy stranger.

San looked stunning, his sleek black hair neatly combed and slicked back, leaving only a strand or two to fall gracefully in front of his forehead. San smiled when he laid eyes on Wooyoung walking up.

"I was starting to think you got cold feet," San teased, pretty reflections of light dancing on his face.

Wooyoung chuckled nervously, hugging himself for warmth. "Just lost my phone, sorry I'm late,"

"No big deal," San shrugged, showing off his muscles bound by his classic leather jacket. "Are you getting in? You look cold,"

Wooyoung shivered, nodding as he made his way around the car and entered the passenger door. As soon as the door fell shut, Wooyoung gawked even more at the inside of the car. The seat was so comfortable, and the whole car smelled like fresh leather and light cologne. It smelled like San.

He heard San laugh softly at him. "Like what you see, jagi?"

"I love it," Wooyoung continued to marvel at every inch of the interior. "You have a beautiful car,"

"And a beautiful date. I've got it all," San declared with a grin, rolling up his window and putting the car into gear while Wooyoung giggled happily.

The interior lights went off and they began their drive shrouded in a surprisingly comfortable darkness, the only light coming from the dials and small screen on the dashboard. Wooyoung watched his every move: his muscular hand on the gear shift, his flawless side profile after he finished checking his blind spots, his mouth moving as he told him about the restaurant he was taking him to, but Wooyoung barely heard him. San could have taken him anywhere and Wooyoung would have no idea until they got there. He was just happy to be on a date, something he hadn't done in such a long time, with such a kind, attractive man.

"Does that sound good?" San asked him and it suddenly broke through Wooyoung's trance.

Wooyoung shook it off and nodded, having almost no idea what he was agreeing to. "Sounds delicious,"

San smiled in delight at the road in front of him. Maybe he knew he wasn't really listening. Wooyoung sighed to himself. He was normally good at this; he could always play it cool and all the boys would fall for him, but San made him more nervous than anyone ever had. Maybe it was because he actually cared about San's opinion of him.

Wooyoung's eyes fell onto a glinting piece of silver jewelry hanging from the rear-view mirror, seeing an opportunity to make conversation. "That's really pretty, where did you get it?"

San followed Wooyoung's gaze to the necklace and suddenly looked proud. "Thanks, I like it too. Funny story, I actually found it on the street one day and thought it was too pretty to throw away,"

"No way," Wooyoung chuckled. "You found a dirty, used necklace on the street and decided to display it in this nice ass car?"

"Hey, hey, if I hadn't told you, would you think it was a dirty, used necklace?"

"I- I mean-"

"That's what I thought," San spat playfully, his eyes returning to the road, looking pleased with himself.

Wooyoung giggled to himself too, delighted to feel the tension fizzle away with a bit of humor. He reached for the necklace and let it drape over his fingers, loving the way it caught the light as the silver grazed his skin. "It really is beautiful though. I just noticed it cuz it looks familiar somehow,"

"Oh yeah?" San gave him a bit of a surprised glance. "The style must be trending then. I didn't think kids your age had any fashion sense,"

Wooyoung scoffed, his head snapping in his direction. "Hey, I'm twenty-two! Don't group me in with the new generation, that's an insult!"

San shrugged, a breathy sigh leaving his mouth. "Sorry, jagi, you're one of them whether you like it or not..."

"Wait, how old are you?" Wooyoung asked suddenly, realizing he had never asked. He appeared older, much more mature, as if he were in his late twenties to thirties.

San smirked to himself. "Older than you,"

"Give me a number," Wooyoung demanded, locking his gaze on him and trying to scare it out of him, but failing to stifle his grin.

Just then, San turned the wheel and they pulled into the driveway of a fancy-looking restaurant, capturing Wooyoung's attention immediately. That was one way to dodge a question, but he was sure to bring it up again later.

Wooyoung was amazed when he exited the car and looked at the beautiful restaurant covered in Christmas lights and stunning decorations. The sight of it alone made him glad that San was planning to pay.

San offered Wooyoung his arm and he took it as they walked to the entrance, the familiar hum of Christmas music humming magically from a few speakers near the door framed with hundreds of twinkling lights.

The restaurant wasn't too busy, being that it was a Monday night, but there were still a few groups of people happily conversing in the warm spirit of the holidays. San did all the talking at the host stand. Wooyoung felt spoiled and stupidly proud to be clutching the arm of such a stunning man. He hoped everyone in the restaurant saw them together and were wondering where he found such a gorgeous gentleman.

The waitress led them to a table by the window with a view of the city. Living in his townhome so close to the woods, Wooyoung often forgot how close he lived to Seoul. The night lights of the cityscape were breathtaking.

Wooyoung watched San as they both slipped off their jackets, gawking at his outfit, a white button-up shirt tucked into tailored black pants cinched at his waist with a subtly designed belt. The shirt was simple, but it was what he could see underneath that amazed him. Until now Wooyoung had only ever seen the outlines of his biceps through his thick leather jacket, and now he could see them with more definition. What he wouldn't give to see even more.

They made small talk for a while, commenting on the beautiful view and looking at the extensive menu full of festive seasonal options. San claimed to be a regular there, but Wooyoung made fun of him whenever he questioned any of the menu items, failing to remember them being there before. Some of the options were clearly just seasonal. San seemed annoyed but Wooyoung just thought he was cute.

"No, I'm just saying, what the hell is a Jingle Bell Fizz?!" San asked with an outraged gesture toward the menu.

"Well, big smart boy, if you look above it, it says it's a cocktail,"

San scoffed with a quick roll of his eyes. "I know that, but what's in it? Does it just taste like carbonated metal?!"

Wooyoung almost spat during his sudden short laugh. He loved how witty San was. "Now you have to get one and report back," Wooyoung declared, returning his attention to the menu with a smirk. "I'm going to have the Holiday Long Island,"

"Are you serious?" San squinted at the menu as he turned it toward him. Wooyoung thought he was judging his drink choice until San rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. "All they did was change the name? It's still just a Long Island!"

"But San-ah! They might add a candy cane or some useless decoration!"

San finally broke, quietly laughing with a palm to his forehead. "This is why I don't really like the holidays..."

"Really?" Wooyoung lit up at the sound of his words. "Me either! I thought I was the only one,"

San shook his head while he closed his menu and set it at the edge of the table. "I think I used to like them but I guess the holiday spirit has sort of lost its spark for me,"

"Same here," Wooyoung confessed, intrigued by their similarities. "Family issues?"

San let out a sigh. "Always is, isn't it?" He admitted with a curve of his lip that looked more annoyed than happy. Then his eyes fell to Wooyoung's open menu. "Do you know what you want?"

Wooyoung nodded almost absentmindedly, immensely curious about what he could have gone through that caused him to dodge the question so fast. He wondered if it was in any way similar to his story.

San must have made eye contact with a waitress and he politely called her over, placing his drink order. Wooyoung giggled at him when he asked for the infamous Jingle Bell Fizz, but he wasn't expecting anything less.

Wooyoung ordered his Long Island alongside a delicious-looking bowl of gochujang jjigae, thanking the waitress and handing off the menus. It wasn't until she had walked away that Wooyoung realized something.

"Wait, you didn't get anything to eat?" Wooyoung asked him, wondering if he had just missed it while laughing about the drink.

San shook his head, relaxing into his chair. "No, I'm not that hungry tonight. Just wanted a drink and some good company,"

Wooyoung gave him a pout. "You could have told me, we could have done something different..."

"I offered to buy you dinner, jagi," San gave him a charming smile. "But I'm still intrigued to know what you mean by 'something different,'"

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow but couldn't stifle a smirk. "Don't get ahead of yourself, pretty boy," It was embarrassing how badly Wooyoung already wanted to go home with him.

Their drinks came soon after and Wooyoung burst out laughing, clapping in amusement when he saw them. They had been right about the useless decorations. Still, Wooyoung couldn't help but snap a few pictures of the drinks, San's pretty and red with what looked like rosemary and a mini Santa-themed umbrella. Just as predicted, his Holiday Long Island came with a pretty candy cane sticking out of it and a reindeer-themed umbrella. They took a few moments to confirm that their drinks tasted as good as they looked, and were pleasantly surprised. They both hit the spot.

It was silent between them for a few minutes while they sipped, but the atmosphere was not awkward. It was warm, comfortable even, an appreciation of the atmosphere and the presence of each other that was new and exciting. It was something Wooyoung hadn't felt in the vicinity of a man in a long time, if ever.

Wooyoung eyed San after a while, watching the reflections of outside lights dance on his perfect skin.

"So what's the deal with your family?" Wooyoung asked bluntly, slowly stirring his drink with a straw. He wouldn't have been able to hide his curiosity for much longer.

San didn't answer right away. He seemed like he was wondering where to begin.

"Well, to start I don't have much family left," San told him honestly, meeting his eyes with a regretful nod. "Just three brothers... and to be honest I don't talk to one of them anymore so it's more like two,"

Wooyoung studied him, wondering how much he was allowed to ask. But his endless curiosity got the better of him. "So... your parents...?

"Dead," San nodded, tucking in his lip as his eyes wandered off to the side.

Wooyoung winced apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine," San assured him with a small curve of his lip. "Happened a long time ago, so I'm not crying about it or anything,"

Wooyoung nodded, but he still regretted bringing it up. He was still mourning his mother who had died three years ago, so he knew it wasn't a kind of pain that just went away.

Wooyoung cleared his throat. "So anyway, next question... uh-"

"What about your family?" San asked before he could move on.

He should have seen that coming. Wooyoung's life was more like a drama TV show than real life, so he wasn't sure how much he could reveal on a first date without scaring him off.

Wooyoung met his eyes again with a sad smile. "Remind me on our next date and I'll tell you,"

San's head tilted in thoughtful curiosity. "Intriguing. What do I have to do for you to tell me tonight?"

"Right now?" Wooyoung looked at him in disbelief, hiding a smirk at the fact that San cared enough about his life to ask. "You want to know that bad? Fine, first tell me three interesting things about yourself. Like, three hidden talents you have,"

San scoffed, his pretty teeth showing as his arms folded on the table. "Three hidden talents?" he repeated as if he were considering the best answer. After a bit of thought, that now familiar dumb smile made its way back to San's lips. "Well, first, I have been told on many occasions that I'm an excellent kisser. I can prove it to you if you like,"

"Let's pretend I believe you. That's one, you have two more,"

"Wow, harsh," San chuckled before he went back to thinking. "Uh, I'm really good at horseback riding,"

That one visibly surprised Wooyoung. "Really? A city boy like you?"

San nodded. "Yeah, weird right? I didn't always live in Seoul, I'm actually from the countryside. My family moved here for work a while back, but after they passed away, I had already decided to stay,"

Wooyoung looked him up and down as if he were seeing him for the first time again. "Wow, I didn't take you for a country boy, San-ssi," he commented, his tone full of admiration.

San's expression grew proud. "Don't judge a book by its cover, jagi,"

"Okay now I'm really excited for the third one," Wooyoung was literally on the edge of his seat, hands resting under his chin while he eagerly awaited his next words.

San laughed to himself quietly. "This one might surprise you," he prefaced, lowering his voice as if it were a secret to everyone else. He placed his hand next to his mouth and whispered. "I can talk to dogs..."

That did it. Wooyoung's cheeks inflated before bursting out laughing at the unexpected statement. He couldn't be serious. Did he really expect Wooyoung to believe that?

"Wow, you really are funny," Wooyoung chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

San grinned proudly. "I know you don't believe me, but it's true," he assured him. "I can just bark once while thinking about what I want them to do, and boom, they do it. Really,"

"Oh so you speak their language too?" Wooyoung feigned amazement, nodding along as if he were playing along with the nonsense talk of a child.

San's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Just you wait, I'll prove it one day,"

"Sure, sure..." Wooyoung giggled. "So you like animals then. Have you ever had any pets?" He asked before sipping on his drink.

San nodded, his handsome face glowing with recollection. "Yeah, I have. Quite a few over the years. I could talk to all of them, I'm just not so sure how much they liked me,"

"I thought you could understand them," Wooyoung teased, crossing his arms as if he had won the debate. "Wouldn't you know if they did or not?"

"Well, yeah, but they all just told me I was crazy,"

Wooyoung shrugged in amusement. "I wonder why!"

"No idea," San smirked, picking up his drink and taking another long sip while staring at Wooyoung adoringly.

Wooyoung chuckled, blushing as he felt himself falling for San even more. A handsome, funny, animal lover; what could make him more perfect?

"So, do you have any pets at home now?" Wooyoung asked him.

San sighed, stirring his drink with his straw, staring down at it in regret. "I had one until recently. My little puppy. He died suddenly a couple of weeks ago,"

Wooyoung gasped lightly, feeling sorry for asking. "Oh no! He was just a puppy?"

"No, no," San shook his head, appreciating Wooyoung's sympathy. "He was an adult, I just called him my little puppy. I guess it was just his time to go,"

Wooyoung nodded in understanding, his lip tightening with sympathy. "That's too bad. Are you looking into getting another one?"

San's face lit up again. "Yes, actually," he grinned excitedly. "But this time I'm looking for a little kitty. I can't wait to dress it up like my little baby,"

Wooyoung blinked at him in disbelief. His brain was having a hard time accepting that the big, tough, bulky man in front of him was searching around for a pet kitten. One he could dress up. Maybe he was right about not judging a book by its cover after all. Maybe he was softer than he looked on the outside.

San was staring at him expectantly, as if he had earned something. "So? Your family?"

Wooyoung huffed in amusement, having completely forgotten the point of San telling him these things. "Right," he took a breath, bracing himself before speaking. "I have no brothers, no sisters, my mom died three years ago, and I never met my dad. Satisfied?"

Wooyoung's gaze was tinted with defensiveness while he waited for it. The 'Oh I'm so sorry. That's awful. Are you okay? What happened?' It was all anyone could say as if they could make it better with a few words of disingenuous sympathy. It was the main reason he didn't like talking about it.

But San didn't say that.

"Sounds like you have room in your life for more special people," San said after a few moments. There was an understanding on his kind face, like he somehow knew exactly what he didn't want to hear. He was incredible.

Wooyoung felt himself smile. He couldn't believe he did, or that he even could at the mention of his worst trauma. He was starting to understand why the mere thought of inviting San into his life made some of that pain a little more bearable. The thought of letting himself fall into his arms after a long day sounded like a fairytale. What was happening to him? Was he really falling for San this hard?

Chapter Text

The waitress brought Wooyoung's steaming bowl of gochujang jjigae, setting it down in front of his hungry eyes. He couldn't wait to dig in and keep talking to San until the end of time, or at least until the restaurant closed.

San watched him closely as he blew on his spoon, taking a hungry first bite. "How is it?" he asked immediately.

Wooyoung nodded fervently, giving a confident thumbs up with a mouth full of food. He covered his mouth with one hand. "Delicious," he confirmed, still chewing.

San beamed, his handsome face completely lighting up. "I'm so glad you like it, jagi,"

Wooyoung swallowed the bite and wiped his mouth with the soft cloth napkin. "So you said you hated the holidays for family reasons," He began, reviving the previous conversation out of curiosity. "What's the drama?"

Wooyoung continued to eat while San took a long breath full of thought.

"It just doesn't feel special anymore. My brothers and I aren't the most festive people, and it's not like we have parents to buy gifts for or anything. We just don't really celebrate it,"

"I understand that," Wooyoung nodded while stirring his stew. "Yeosang is the only family I have left, and we're not even related. We sometimes try to celebrate; we'll buy gifts for each other, maybe have a nice dinner, but it's nothing that special, at least not since Mom died. It's just... not the same, you know?"

"Mm hmm," San hummed into his straw before setting his drink down. "Yeosang seems like a good friend though. I'm glad he's there for you, even if he's the only one. And now you have me too,"

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at San's smug grin. "You're not subtle, you know. You're just embarrassing yourself,"

San chuckled. "So what's your favorite holiday?"

"Honestly? Halloween," Wooyoung confessed, cringing in preparation for his opinion to be judged. People often thought it was strange for him to name that as his favorite.

But San's eyes opened wider in amazement. "Really? Me too!"

"That's a first," Wooyoung chuckled as if trying to distract from the blush on his cheeks.

"But I'm serious!" San assured him. "What do you like about Halloween?"

Wooyoung smirked to himself, his arms crossed on the table as he stared downward. "It's kind of fucked up... but Yeosang and I like scaring the trick-or-treaters that come to our door," Wooyoung looked up and noticed San didn't appear judgemental. He retained his kind smile as Wooyoung continued to speak, so his confidence didn't waver. "There are even kids who come by because they know we're going to scare them and they try scaring us back. It's really a lot of fun,"

"Sounds like it," San told him genuinely. "What I like best is seeing everyone's interpretations of the supernatural world. It's interesting to me that so many people have different ideas about what those creatures look like,"

Wooyoung studied him with a perplexed grin. "You act as if monsters are real,"

"Oh, Wooyoung-ssi," San rested his chin on his hand, his striking eyes studying him with intrigue. "Do you not believe in the supernatural?"

Wooyoung was frozen momentarily. That came out of nowhere. Was he joking? Was it just a weird interest of his? "Uh, no, to be honest, I've never met Edward or Jacob in real life before," he teased.

San scoffed, and he almost seemed disappointed. "Very funny," he nodded.

Wooyoung felt guilty all of a sudden. He hoped he hadn't insulted him. "But you have me interested now," he told San genuinely. "Tell me what you know,"

San's eyes gained some hope, almost as if it wasn't often that he found someone open-minded enough to consider his ideas. He leaned in and spoke softly. "Come on, Wooyoung-ssi, you don't honestly believe the disappearances in town lately have been coincidences,"

Wooyoung's bottom lip stuck out in surprise. He was trying his best not to crack a smile, but it was a ridiculous thought. What, did he think people were being eaten by werewolves? Taken over by zombies? He must be joking.

"You might be right," Wooyoung shrugged, humoring him. "Actually, I went to college with one of the guys who went missing. They haven't found a single one of their bodies yet, so anything could have happened,"

San nodded, appreciating Wooyoung's willingness to listen. "And that's what I find so interesting about the costumes people wear. People think monsters look like they do in cheesy movies, but what if they just look like me and you? We would never know they're around. Your neighbor could be a vampire and you'd never know,"

Wooyoung swallowed, fighting a war with himself to keep a straight face. "I... I never thought about it like that..."

San sighed. "Go ahead, tell me I'm crazy,"

"No no, it's interesting!"

San's lips curved into a sad smile that looked as if he had gotten used to people reacting this way. "It's okay, I know it sounds crazy. I guess I've just always had an interest in the world beyond ours,"

"I think that's fun!" Wooyoung told him. As absurd as it sounded, he liked that San was different. He didn't want to shut him down that quickly without hearing him out. San was clearly passionate about this conspiracy that Wooyoung had never heard of. "You're certainly not a boring person, San-ssi,"

San smirked proudly. "Please, call me jagi,"

"I don't think so,"

San chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "So, do you go to any Halloween parties?"

"Oh yeah," Wooyoung told him like it should have been obvious. "You know me, always looking for an excuse to get drunk and sleep around,"

San grinned devilishly. "I need to know what you dressed up as this year,"

Wooyoung blushed again, giggling. "This year? A... a slutty black cat..."

"Wooyoung-ah!" San burst out in desperation, dramatically falling back against his seat. "Save the teasing for when I take you home!"

Wooyoung laughed, rubbing his face in embarrassment. He knew he was going to bring it up sooner or later, and allowing San to take him home didn't sound half bad right then. He was intriguing, mysterious, hot as hell, and made him laugh when he least expected it. But a voice in the back of Wooyoung's head reminded him of the promise he had made to himself. He liked San, more than anyone he had met in a long time, and he had promised himself he would take things slower with him. He couldn't treat him like one of his weekend flings. Not when it finally felt real.

Wooyoung smiled into his half-full bowl of stew. "You know, San, I really like you," he told him.

San's eyes grew hopeful, looking very pleased with himself all of a sudden. He appeared expectant, eagerly awaiting Wooyoung's next words as if he knew where he was headed.

Wooyoung looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes, but his lip remained curved in appreciation. "I like you so much that I want to be careful how fast we take things,"

San's face visibly dropped, the hope draining from his eyes. Just as Wooyoung thought, as charming and funny as San was, he was just like every other man on Earth; he only really wanted one thing.

San pouted slightly. "I thought things were going great. I'm having a wonderful time here with you,"

"I am too," Wooyoung assured him, worried he would get the wrong idea. "But you need to understand my past, San-ah. For years the closest things I've had to a relationship were hookups with men I don't even remember. You're more than that. I don't want to treat... whatever this is... as disposable..."

San's expression softened. "Neither do I," he assured him. "I don't know what this is yet either, but I want to take it seriously. And if you want this to turn into something deeper, you could start by showing me you're committed,"

Wooyoung sighed, resting his hand on his chin while he looked over at the man in front of him. He had been worried about this. He didn't want his deliberate caution to come across as disinterest, but it was for his own comfort. Maybe they could come up with a compromise of some kind.

"Can I ask you something?" Wooyoung spoke suddenly. "And you answer honestly?"

"Of course, Wooyoung-ssi,"

"What would you want to do if I went home with you tonight? Because I have a few guesses," Wooyoung shifted in his seat, crossing his arms on the surface of the table while meeting his eyes.

San remained frozen for a few moments, his facial expression not faltering a bit. Maybe he hadn't expected Wooyoung to think that far ahead. "Well... we could watch a movie, eat a bit of dessert, relax on-"

"San-ah," Wooyoung cut him off. "I'm not stupid. A booty call is a booty call, no matter how you phrase it,"

"Well when you put it like that..."

"San-ah," Wooyoung repeated a bit more sternly. "I'm telling you right now, I don't think it's a good idea. I'm trying to change my ways and as much as I like you, I have to start somewhere,"

San's disappointed sigh through tight lips made a few strands of his hair fly up. He definitely wasn't expecting Wooyoung to say no to him. "What's the difference if we wait or not? It's just sex... not that big a deal,"

"That's exactly the point. It should be a big deal,"

San still appeared confused, but his expression softened with a long exhale. "Would you come over if I promised not to try anything?"

Wooyoung felt himself smirk. "You're so desperate, aren't you?"

"Is that such a bad thing?" San chuckled, picking up his drink and slurping the last drop.

"Not if it makes you give me everything I want," Wooyoung teased, eyeing the man with a glint of admiration.

San let a puff of air out of his nose and when his eyes met Wooyoung's again, the younger's heart skipped a beat. He realized he must be the strongest person in the world to refuse an offer of sex from a man like San. He went over and over it again in his mind and no matter how many times he considered it, there were no scenarios where sleeping with this man after the first date was a good idea. And yet he imagined it. He imagined it so vividly that his mouth watered. He craved the idea of tongues on skin, hot breath and needy moans, bodies moving together like the waves of an ocean...

But not today. Wooyoung had self-control. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, regaining his composure but not without the sting of blush that remained on his cheeks. "I'll pick the movie," he told San finally. "Cuddling is fine, nothing too intense. And dessert is essential,"

San nodded eagerly. "Okay," he agreed immediately. "I can do that,"

"Don't mess it up," Wooyoung warned with a teasing grin.

San looked pleased with himself now that he had what he wanted. Wooyoung hoped he had made the right decision. He couldn't lie, he really wanted to go with him, he was just worried about trusting his impulsive mind to make decisions based on his history. He barely knew San, but he knew him much better than most of the other men he had gone home with in the last few months. Wooyoung already trusted him. Maybe it was too soon to know for sure, but he was confident San liked him too much to risk losing him. He would behave himself; Wooyoung trusted San not to pressure him.

A light buzzing sounded a couple of times from San's side of the table and the man reached into his pocket to check his phone. His face changed a bit when he read something. It was strange. It only took one second to change everything, as if he were struck with the reality of something disheartening in the middle of their nice evening.

Wooyoung watched as San slipped his phone back into his pocket and tried to refocus on him with a halfhearted smile.

"Is everything okay?" Wooyoung asked, cautious enough not to expect an answer if it was intrusive.

San nodded, his arms resting on the table as his grin grew warmer, but Wooyoung could still see through him. "Yeah, don't worry about it, jagi. Just my boss nagging me as usual,"

Wooyoung grew curious. He clearly hadn't asked San enough questions that evening. He was just about to ask him what he did for work when San pushed back in his chair and stood up. But his smile was strange.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom," San declared suddenly. His expression was unreadable.

Wooyoung just stared at him, trying to figure out why San was acting a little strange all of a sudden. He hoped everything was okay with his work. "Okay," Wooyoung nodded, swallowing his endless curiosity. His questions would have to wait. It wasn't his business unless San decided to share.

Wooyoung watched San as he strolled toward the hallway beneath the lit restroom sign. There was a sense of purpose in his walk before he disappeared behind the wall near the bathroom, leaving the younger puzzled. Wooyoung had done it again; he had agreed to go home with someone he knew next to nothing about.

He could change that. Wooyoung didn't know what got into him, but before he knew it, he was cautiously standing up from his own chair, his eyes searching the restaurant as if worried another patron might pass their judgment on him for being nosey. But if he was really going home with San, he deserved to know what was causing his strange behavior.

Wooyoung followed him, stopping just before the hallway and carefully peeking around the corner. He confirmed his suspicions right away. San was standing in the hallway, typing something in his phone and clearly not using the restroom like he said he would. It must have been a conversation over text he didn't want to have in front of him.

Just before Wooyoung was about to return to the table, he heard San's voice.

"Hello?"

When he peeked around the corner again, San was holding the phone to his ear, his back leaned against the wall as his foot rocked nervously on the floor. Wooyoung continued to listen.

"I'm with him right now," San spoke into the phone, his free arm tense against his body. "I think he's warming up to me so you better not ruin anything,"

A puff of air left Wooyoung's nose and he smirked. A friend of his must have wanted to know how the date was going.

"No, he's back at the table,"

Good, maybe San's friend would also remind him it was rude to take a phone call in the middle of a first date. He couldn't imagine what was so important that San had to interrupt their time with a fake bathroom break.

As he continued to watch San, he heard him exhale a sigh so deep that his shoulders rose and fell with it. Wooyoung's curiosity only grew.

"I'm not new at this, hyung. I know what I'm doing,"

Was San receiving dating advice from his friend now? As self-confident as San was, Wooyoung knew how much that must annoy him.

"Don't worry about it," San spoke sternly into the phone now. "It'll get done. You know I can't wait any longer either,"

It'll get done?

San paused for another few moments, his annoyance showing vividly in his body language. He groaned lightly in frustration. "I know that!" he spat. "You can never have any confidence in me, can you?"

In that moment, Wooyoung wished more than anything that he could hear the other end of the conversation. San sounded genuinely irritated with the other person. He had called them 'hyung,' and Wooyoung started to wonder if he was talking to his actual brother. But why was he speaking so disrespectfully? It seemed they didn't have the greatest relationship.

"Last time was different," San assured the person. "I got it, hyung. I won't mess it up,"

Still peeking around the corner, Wooyoung watched San hang up the phone, and he ducked back behind the wall in a panic. Calmly but swiftly, he made his way back toward the table and sat down as if nothing had changed.

When San emerged from the hallway, Wooyoung was playing it cool, his gaze directed out the window at the lovely view of the city. So when San sat back down in front of him, he had no idea Wooyoung had been anywhere else but that spot. But now when Wooyoung turned to smile at him, he had so many questions about things he shouldn't know about.

For the rest of their time there, Wooyoung played with the idea in his head of telling him what he had heard. He was nosey and it had sounded serious. But eventually, the need to know slowly faded away, mostly in fear of ruining their conversation that was so effortless and comfortable. Wooyoung was laughing, sometimes more than he ever did with Yeosang. Whatever it was they had, it was good. And Wooyoung would be damned if he were to bring up any subject that might erase that gorgeous handsome smile from San's face.

Chapter Text

It all happened so fast. One moment, San and Wooyoung were driving through Seoul in the direction of the older's home, making good conversation, blushing, laughing, commenting on the pretty Christmas lights, and the next... well... the strange sound coming from the engine turned out not to be nothing after all.

Once it became loud enough that they could ignore it no longer, San pulled the car over, muttering barely audible curses under his breath as they came to a stop next to a string of brightly lit buildings. He must not have heard Wooyoung's offer to help before San exited the car, his movements sharp and agitated as he slammed the door shut. Wooyoung stayed inside, hugging himself for warmth while he watched San approach and open the hood, smoke billowing out from the opening. San cursed so loudly that Wooyoung flinched even while inside the car. He hadn't realized it before, but San's anger made him feel a bit on edge.

He could see San's form pacing back and forth in front of the headlights, once in a while becoming visible from behind the car's hood, among the smoke pouring from it. Some of the people walking by shot a glance in his direction as if appalled by his intermittent cursing, and it didn't help that there was an outdoor ice rink nearby with previously cheerful children who could hear him. Wooyoung could hear San speaking frantically, noticing he was on the phone with someone, speaking to them like he was in a life-or-death situation. As nice as his car was, Wooyoung almost understood. But his anger was immature, almost childlike, and completely unnecessary.

This wasn't right. It was then that Wooyoung made his decision. This had to be a sign from the universe that he never should have agreed to go home with San at all. What was he doing there?

Wooyoung reached for the handle and cautiously opened the car door, slipping outside while keeping an eye on San. He was still pacing, but he was off the phone now. He was typing something frantically on the screen that lit up his face in the dark, maybe texting. Wooyoung approached him and San looked up suddenly. His dark eyes scared him. Wooyoung felt genuine fear when San marched toward him with unmistakable frustration.

"What are you doing?" San practically growled. "Get back in the car,"

Wooyoung stood his ground. "You need to calm down, San-ah. I'm sure a mechanic will be here soon and your car will be fine,"

"It's not about the car!" San finally stopped, only to groan and whip his foot against the front tire in a fit of rage.

Wooyoung could only stand there, stunned. This was not the same man that he had just eaten dinner with. This man was angry, illogical, and lacking the sweet friendliness of the person he had met earlier. The difference was too stark.

Wooyoung cautiously eyed the people walking nearby within earshot who had heard San's outburst. He allowed a moment of silence while San gathered his thoughts, staring at the frozen ground. It seemed like he might combust if one wrong thing was said to him. But Wooyoung spoke his peace anyway.

"I'm going to take this as a sign," Wooyoung told him honestly, causing San's attention to leave the ground. There had been a time he thought San's usually friendly eyes couldn't reach the level of anger they were at now. San knew what he meant by that.

Despite his visible frustration, San's voice was pleading. "Wooyoung-ah, just give me a few minutes. We can still go back to my place and have a good time, please don't go yet,"

"I already texted Yeosang," Wooyoung stated, crossing his arms and hoping he would detect the slight annoyance in his voice. He was starting to hate it when San kept trying to tell him what to do.

San covered his face with a sharp curse that seemed to slip from his lips automatically. "Goddamn it Wooyoung!" He scolded with a growl, fists balling as he stepped toward him. "We were supposed to go together! You said you'd come with me!"

"I already told you, San-ah!" Wooyoung retorted, matching his volume. "I told you I didn't think it was a good idea, and you pressured me! I shouldn't have agreed to it!"

"Wooyoung please," San lowered his voice but it was clear he was still just trying to get what he wanted. "The mechanic is on his way, it should only be a few minutes and we could take a taxi back together. Fuck it, we could take a taxi now and I'll pick up my car tomorrow,"

"You still don't get it," Wooyoung couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. He couldn't tell if San was this dense or just hopelessly desperate, willing to leave his expensive car on the street all night just in order to take Wooyoung home. He realized how naive he had been when he believed San wouldn't pressure him into doing more than he wanted that night. There was no way he was this desperate to get him home just to 'watch a movie.'

San stepped toward Wooyoung, making the younger flinch, but he stood his ground. He wouldn't be intimidated by him. There was nothing he could do to him in front of so many bystanders.

San's eyes begged him to reconsider. His hands were gentle when they rested on Wooyoung's shoulders, but the younger still tensed up. "I know this hasn't been the best look for me tonight," San began, his voice cracking with desperation. "But let me make it right. Please. Please Wooyoung-ssi, I... I can't wait any longer..."

Wooyoung could only stare at him in complete disbelief. He was unbelievable. "Wha... what the hell is wrong with you...?" was all he could mutter while looking him up and down.

"Come home with me," San caught his eyes and locked on, his gaze focused and unrelenting, the grip on Wooyoung's shoulders tightening. "Get back in my car and wait for me,"

San's eyes were just as mesmerizing as before. But this time there was something strange in them. They seemed to shine, almost glow, and although Wooyoung could have sworn San's eyes were brown or even black, they appeared to have an amber tint to them now. Actually, the color seemed to be changing, a crimson swirl swimming around within his dark irises. Wooyoung couldn't look away.

Then he blinked. He shook his head and blinked a few more times, looking anywhere else besides his hypnotizing gaze. If San had thought that looking directly into his eyes while asking the same things would work better, he was sadly mistaken. But he shivered when he realized it reminded him of someone else he had met before...

Wooyoung finally snapped out of it enough to back away from him and glance at his apple watch, confirming he had received the text he was expecting.

"Yeosang is here," he told him, hugging himself in a guarded manner. He glanced behind him to confirm that the new set of headlights shining there were from his best friend's car.

San let out a long, shaky sigh, reaching out a cautious hand to him. "Wooyoung-ah... please..."

"Goodbye, San-ssi,"

That was the only farewell he gave San before turning his back to him, shivering from the cold as he made his way toward his friend's car. San tried to call out to him, as much as he could without drawing too much attention, but Wooyoung wasn't having it. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to go home with his best friend.

Yeosang greeted him with a smile as Wooyoung climbed into the passenger seat, but it faded when he saw how burnt out his friend looked while letting out the deepest exhale he had ever heard.

"Looks like you had a good time..." Yeosang commented sarcastically with a tint of humor. "What in the world happened?"

Wooyoung sighed, sinking even further into the car seat. He felt like he could finally relax. Before he could answer Yeosang, he heard a yelling that stood out from the other voices in the area and noticed San was on his cell phone again. Wooyoung watched in disbelief as he continued to kick the tires of his luxury car while giving the person on the other end of the phone an earful. Maybe Wooyoung dodged a bullet after all.

Yeosang looked more shocked, as he was seeing it for the first time. "What is he doing?"

"He's coping," Wooyoung told him, closing his eyes in relaxation.

Yeoang kept watching him for a few more moments. "With what?"

"Losing me," Wooyoung smirked, his head falling to the side to meet the eyes of his best friend.

"Damn," Yeosang chuckled. "I want to hear all about it,"

Wooyoung nodded, closing his eyes again. "First, please take me home,"

* * * * * * * *

The tall man's silhouette entered the dark house through the front door as he had done what seemed like a million times before. He was welcome here, unlike so many other places, and it was finally starting to feel like a real home. Like he could live normally for once in his life.

The man felt around the wall for the light switch and flicked it on, illuminating the connected kitchen and living room. He smiled to himself when he heard the familiar groaning from the living room couch. Mingi must have fallen asleep after a long day.

The standing man slipped off his shoes while he listened to the sound of his husband's movement. "Rise and shine, its-" he glanced at his watch. "Eight in the evening. Time to wake up and eat dinner,"

The groaning continued for a few more moments but became more exaggerated. "Yunho-yah..." Mingi whined. "You're late... I'm so hungry..."

Yunho chuckled. One thing about his tall, muscular husband was that he was a big needy baby. "Are you incapable of cooking?" he asked, taking the suspicious container out of his work bag and placing it on the kitchen counter.

There was a quiet laugh. "You know I am," Mingi yawned, his head lifting from the couch to greet Yunho with a sleepy grin.

Yunho looked through their cabinets in order to play it cool when he put the container away. "I don't know if we have anything to cook anyway. Should we order chicken?"

A dorky laugh came from the couch and it made Yunho smile.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Mingi confessed, closing his eyes on the couch again.

Yunho turned off the kitchen light and made his way toward the couch. "Great minds think alike," he told his husband as he sat down next to his feet.

Mingi's smile never left his face as he hugged the couch pillow and settled back in while Yunho ordered the chicken on his phone. He didn't even have to ask him what he wanted; they always got the exact same thing and he knew his husband's preferences by heart, and Mingi knew his too. He was loved and accepted in his house. That was why Mingi could never know.

"Did you find anything today?" Yunho asked him after he put his phone down.

Mingi let out a deep sigh. He repositioned himself so he could sit up, but stretched his feet across the couch until they rested on Yunho's lap. "Not much. These bastards are smart, and the only other people who know they exist have already been taken. Everyone I ask either thinks I'm crazy or a conspiracy theorist,"

Yunho gently began rubbing Mingi's sore feet. "There have to be more people like you. People who have seen what you've seen and lived to tell about it. If this city has any chance to fight against them, it'll be you at the front of the battlefield, I know it,"

A smirk formed on Mingi's lips as he lay there with his eyes closed. "I don't know. I hope you're right,"

It had been so many years since it had happened that Mingi could finally smile again, but Yunho knew the pain was still there. It could never truly be erased. Yunho and Mingi had just started going out when Mingi had called him, choking on his own tears, so distraught that he couldn't understand a single word he was saying. He later learned that Mingi had borne witness to the brutal death of his older brother only moments before the call, and Yunho was left speechless. He truly couldn't find any words to say. There was nothing his boyfriend could hear that would make it better; it was just a horrible tragedy that they couldn't have controlled, but when Mingi slowly started to recover, he told Yunho something that he never could have expected.

Mingi was positive that his brother had been killed by vampires.

Yunho knew it would be horribly inappropriate to dismiss his suspicions when he was so sorrowfully mourning, but the thought left him terrified. What did he see? How could he be sure?

Yunho trusted his husband more than anyone, so he had decided not to question him at the time; not to mention he hated the idea of starting an argument when Mingi already had so much to deal with. Yunho would just play along until he recovered from his grief and once again believed in common sense.

It worked at first. That was until Mingi decided that the best way to handle his grief was to start looking for the ones who destroyed his family. To start looking for the vampires.

Yunho remembered how loudly his heart had beat in his ears when Mingi told him his plans. How he wanted to hunt down every last vampire in their town and seek justice for his brother. How he wanted to kill them all since they weren't human anyway.

Mingi would let it go eventually. At least that's what Yunho told himself just before they got married two years ago. Still, Mingi was changing jobs every month, sometimes every week, all in an attempt to find some sort of evidence that vampires were real and to punish them for what they had done. As of today, he had found next to nothing, but somehow he stayed determined, driven by nothing more than a taste for revenge. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism. Yunho wasn't sure if he would ever find anything, but he would stay by his side no matter what.

"What about that new cafe that opened a few weeks ago?" Yunho suggested suddenly.

Mingi opened his eyes slightly, his brow furrowing. "Yuyu, thousands of cafes have opened in Seoul in the past few weeks. Which one?"

"It's near Goyang-si," Yunho clarified with a passive slap to one of the feet sitting on his lap. "I was there yesterday and there was something off about it. The baristas, the customers, everyone was just... strange. Might be a good place to start over if you're out of leads,"

Mingi's eyes remained open, which meant he was considering it. He stared at the ceiling as he let out a long breath. It was so funny every time Yunho saw him like this. Mingi was such a tall, strong man, which was why Yunho thought it was plausible for him to kill his brother's attackers without question. But here he was, curled up on the couch getting a foot massage, his eyes slowly closing again soon in relaxation. He was a softie at heart and Yunho knew it.

Mingi let out a long yawn. "Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow," he told him, rolling into a more comfortable position with his arms crossed over his body. "Goodnight..."

"Hey, we have chicken on the way!" Yunho reminded him, shaking his husband's legs. "Don't make me eat it all alone!"

Mingi smiled, already halfway to dreamland. "Wake me up when it gets here,"

Yunho couldn't help the smile that reached his face while he stared at his husband lying there so peacefully. Mingi must feel safe there with him. It was what Yunho wanted most for him. For Mingi to be this comfortable around him, feeling secure enough to close his eyes there beside him like this, trusting him completely, wholeheartedly.

It was so comforting to have someone who trusted him to the extent that Mingi did, but there were times Yunho didn't think he deserved it. There were things that Mingi could never know about him and his past; things that may ruin everything they built together, and there wasn't anything in the world that was worth that risk. It would break Mingi if he found out. So Yunho held it back, hoping and begging the universe that he could continue his normal, peaceful life with the person he loved the most, in a house full of love that was theirs and only theirs. They were safe there. Together.

Chapter Text

While Wooyoung was telling Yeosang about his date with San, even he couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. About how he was the picture-perfect boyfriend at dinner but somehow threw a tantrum like a child when his car broke down.

Yeosang sat relaxed on Wooyoung's bed while the bed's owner stood just inside the bathroom, taking off makeup and getting ready for his nightly skincare.

"Sorry, he said what?" Yeosang asked, still in disbelief.

Wooyoung giggled at the thought as he rubbed the wet cloth in circles over his cheek. "I'm serious. He thinks he can talk to animals,"

Yeosang's quiet laugh could be heard from the next room. "Wooyoung-ah, I don't know what to tell you, you dodged a bullet,"

"And then," Wooyoung continued enthusiastically, poking his head out of the bathroom. "You saw what he was like when his car broke down, but when I said I was going to go home, he stood there and basically ordered me to get back in his car and go home with him. Not an exaggeration,"

"How desperate can you get?" Yeosang scoffed, his deep voice laced with humor.

Wooyoung matched his soft laughter as he returned to the mirror, opening a bottle of moisturiser. He let out a sigh as he began rubbing a small amount into his skin. "Yeah... so I don't know if I'm going to see him again..."

Yeosang sighed with him. "I'm sorry, Wooyoung-ah. I know how much you liked him,"

Wooyoung shrugged although Yeosang couldn't see. "It is what it is. Better to find out early I guess. I'm glad I didn't make it all the way home with him at least,"

"Definitely," Yeosang agreed without missing a beat.

Wooyoung thanked the universe every day for giving him a friend like Yeosang. Without him, he might not have had a fast way home last night, but Yeosang was always right next to his phone and Wooyoung could always rely on him to answer his messages without hesitation.

Wooyoung finished up his skincare routine leaving his face feeling fresh and soft and he breathed a sigh of relief. He reentered his bedroom and grinned as he approached his bed. Without warning, he hopped on and wrapped his arms around Yeosang, trapping him with his legs as well when he tried to break free.

"Ahh!" Yeosang yelped, struggling in Wooyoung's grip that was reminiscent of a hug but turned into more of a wrestling move. "What are you doing?!"

Wooyoung could hear Yeosang's smile in his voice when he protested. He couldn't pretend not to like this. Wooyoung smirked and gave his friend a prolonged kiss on the cheek, a disgusted grunt coming from Yeosang's mouth.

Wooyoung pulled back in order to look his friend in the eye with a bright smile. "Thank you by the way, Sangie,"

"What for?" Yeosang grunted, giving up his struggle but possibly unable to breathe well.

Wooyoung loosened his grip and Yeosang breathed a sigh of relief.

"For coming to get me. Thanks for being the only person I can trust in this world,"

Yeosang smiled at his friend. He shyly returned the hug at an awkward angle, patting Wooyoung's back affectionately. "You know I'll always be here,"

Wooyoung kissed his cheek again, more aggressively this time, earning another disgusted groan from his best friend before he finally set him free. Wooyoung laughed at him as he settled back onto the bed while wiping off his cheek, his face still contorted in disgust. Yeosang couldn't pretend not to like his affection forever.

Yeosang rolled onto his side after a moment to face Wooyoung, and there was a shy smile on his face that came out of nowhere. "I know how you can thank me,"

Wooyoung stared at him skeptically, his eyes searching his friend for some clue about what he was about to say. "How...?" he asked cautiously.

"Tomorrow morning..." he began, his eyes pleading. "Will you come back to the cafe with me? Just for an hour or so?"

"Yeosang-ah, I swear, if you're just trying to stalk Hongjoong again..."

"It's not just that!" Yeosang assured him but his lie only held its ground for mere moments before he sighed with his head hanging. "It's mostly that... but that asshole was in there talking to him again yesterday and I'm worried..."

Wooyoung let out a long exhale. He wasn't surprised that Seonghwa had paid him another visit, but he held out the smallest amount of hope that Hongjoong remembered what he had told him about the bastard.

"Was Hongjoong flirting back?" Wooyoung asked him.

Yeosang shrugged halfheartedly. "I couldn't really tell, but the conversation lasted a long time. I'm worried it'll become more serious soon and if Seonghwa's as bad as you say, I don't want that for him,"

Wooyoung let his head relax to the side to look at his friend. "And what would you do to stop it?" He knew Yeosang more than anyone in the world and he was sure he would never actually confront Seonghwa about anything.

Yeosang shrugged again with one shoulder. "I'm not sure..." he told Wooyoung honestly while looking at him. "I guess I just want to make sure he's safe. I don't want Seonghwa pressuring him into anything,"

"And you want me there in case someone needs to confront him," Wooyoung accused with a teasing roll of his eyes.

Yeosang blushed, lightly hitting him on the arm with a smirk of his own. "No... I want you there because I don't want him to think I'm just some loser who goes to cafes alone to stalk cute baristas,"

"Sang-ah, I hate to break it to you..." Wooyoung chuckled. "That's exactly what you are,"

Wooyoung defended himself against the inevitable attack when Yeosang playfully hit and cursed at him. He knew going with him was the least he could do after he saved his ass twice in the last week, so it wasn't really a question for Wooyoung. He himself was concerned about Hongjoong being seduced by nothing more than Seonghwa's good looks and being completely blind to his rudeness. It could easily turn into an abusive relationship, so it was better that Hongjoong be warned before anything got too serious.

Wooyoung let out an exaggerated yell as Yeosang nearly shoved him off his own bed. "Ahh! Sangie, stop! I'll go with you, jeez!"

* * * * * * * *

San had expected it at least: the heeled shoe coming off the minute he returned home and the sharp blow to his temple he received with it that left his eye raw and swollen. He hadn't even made it past the foyer before being beaten. Though his skin healed quickly, the pain was real, and he was already ashamed.

"How did I know you'd still fuck it up," Seonghwa sneered, shaking his head like a disappointed parent, his shoes clacking on the marble floor. "I should have taken care of it myself,"

"Don't you dare touch him," San growled, his eyes full of rage as they followed him.

Seonghwa got so close to San's face that their noses almost touched, his cold eyes fierce as always. "If you start telling me what to do, we're going to have a much bigger problem,"

"You think I wanted to fail?!" San spat, standing his ground. "What was I supposed to do?! There were people everywhere and I can't control him, just like you said!"

A sharp laugh erupted from Seonghwa, the movement causing his glittering eyeshadow to shine like diamonds over San's blatant confusion.

"So you tried it too?" Seonghwa sneered, his expression dropping into rage. He suddenly snatched a fistful of San's shirt fabric and held him up by it like he weighed nothing. "You thought that your power might work when mine didn't?"

San grunted, instinctively grabbing at Seonghwa's hands in an attempt to set himself free, but it didn't last long before the quick slap that sent him to the floor. San cursed quietly toward the ivory tiles below.

Seonghwa spat on the ground next to him. "Know your place, San-ssi. My power is ten times stronger than yours even on my worst day. Don't forget that,"

San groaned as he touched the new blemish on his face, feeling Seonghwa's condescending gaze wash over him. He was used to it by now; Seonghwa had a problem with most things that he said or did and was never truly satisfied. But he was family, and he hadn't always been this way.

Seonghwa turned his back on him as he walked away. "That pest could be the unraveling of everything we built here. If it's not done by tomorrow, I'm taking matters into my own hands. Get your shit together,"

San caught his breath for a few moments, staring at the floor in thought. After the scene he had made that night, he wasn't sure if Wooyoung would ever want to see his face again. But he would be damned if he was going to let Seonghwa touch what was his. He needed to figure something out, and fast.

Footsteps echoed through the hallway and San looked up to a light gasp.

"San-hyung!" His youngest brother Jongho rushed over to him with worry etched on his face. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

San shooed his hand away when he squatted to his level and tried to check him over. "I'm fine. It's already healed,"

"Oh yeah," Jongho chuckled softly, innocence in his gentle eyes. "I'm still not used to that,"

San rolled his eyes, not in any mood to entertain his younger brother who was still too caring for his own good. He should learn to mind his own damn business. San often saw him as nothing more than a little pest: someone who was always trying to strike up a conversation even if it wasn't business-related. Seonghwa had taken him in because of his background in business studies and he also had a passion for cooking, although he wasn't very good at it. It wasn't often that he was in the kitchen now anyway.

San stood up and the younger followed, clearly sensing his hyung's tense mood. He spoke in a cautious tone.

"Didn't you say Wooyoung was coming over tonight?"

"Change of plans," San grumbled, his tone hostile in hopes of deterring the conversation.

Jongho took a few steps after him as he tried to walk away. "Oh really? That's too bad. I actually made some cake earlier just in case you wanted to be a little romantic before... you know..."

San made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl before turning his head. "Throw it in the trash," he mumbled.

San heard Jongho scoff from behind him, and the younger stopped following him. "Oh I see. You're in one of your moods." Jongho realized, crossing his arms. "Well, talk to me once you've cooled down, then. There's something we need to discuss,"

"Can't wait," San grumbled sarcastically as he disappeared into the hallway, entering his room and closing the door behind him. His head landed on the hardwood door with a thump as he let out a groan. He wasn't sure how the night could get any worse.

He stormed over to the large cooler stored in the corner of his room, throwing open the lid and peering inside. He felt as though the inside of the empty box mocked him with a personality of its own. Clearly, he was destined to starve to death. It didn't matter that it was empty. Whatever could have been left over would have been incomparable to that of drinking from the vein anyway.

With his last hope, he pulled that glorious piece of fabric out of his jacket pocket. The one with that beautiful red stain, the dark crimson essence dried in breathtaking patterns across the white fabric. The fabric stained with Wooyoung's blood.

San pressed the cloth against his nose, inhaling deeply, desperately, the scent driving him close to mad. He groaned, his frustration only growing as he threw the cloth onto his bed, falling to his knees as his palms were pressed to his eyes.

It was going to be one of those nights. One where he was so hungry he wasn't going to be able to get any work done. His hunger had been that way for weeks, and there was little he could do to satiate it. Not until he had Wooyoung.

* * * * * * * *

The next morning, there they sat at the same table they always had. It always seemed to be open for them no matter how many people crowded the festive place. Though the cafe was much less busy in the morning, giving Wooyoung and Yeosang the chance to converse without straining to listen or making up some kind of personal sign language.

Wooyoung leaned in toward Yeosang. "You don't think San is going to come looking for me, do you?" he spoke quietly. "He knows where we live..."

He was looking for reassurance, but Yeosang just shrugged. "Maybe. The way you left it, it's possible. He must regret what he lost with you,"

"Great," Wooyoung sighed, not wanting to be right.

"You need to forget about him," Yeosang told him. "I think it's best for you,"

Wooyoung groaned quietly. "But our dinner conversation was so-"

"Wooyoung," Yeosang said sternly, raising a finger at him. "He threw a tantrum in front of ice-skating children. Stop thinking about him,"

Wooyoung sighed again, nodding in acknowledgement. He knew Yeosang was right. But the idea of San wasn't something that could easily just go away. He needed to set higher standards for himself if he was to put an end to his whore phase. It had to start somewhere.

Yeosang straightened up in his seat with his eyes focused forward. "Hongjoong's here," he declared.

Wooyoung knew what that meant. He rolled his eyes with an amused grin. "I'll have my usual. Don't embarrass yourself,"

Yeosang nodded excitedly, already standing up to order their drinks, disappearing in seconds. Wooyoung hoped Hongjoong would be friendly to Yeosang even if he wasn't interested. His friend was at least deserving of that much. Unfortunately, the sassy barista didn't exactly seem like a people pleaser.

Truthfully, Wooyoung felt like a terrible person in hoping his friend wouldn't start dating someone until he found someone first. But that's what was going through his mind. Wooyoung was so disappointed that things hadn't worked out better with San that he was hoping his best friend could feel the disappointment alongside him. What in the world was wrong with him?

Wooyoung kept going back to it. San had been so polite at dinner; he held a good, interesting conversation, asked about Wooyoung's life, showed a passion for getting to know him... and then his car broke down. It didn't make any sense. How could he be so mature and emotionally intelligent in one place but switch to the mindset of a toddler in the next?

He was sure he would receive a slap from Yeosang if he knew he was still thinking of him at that moment. But San was memorable. He was stuck in his brain like a catchy nineties song. He couldn't think of anything else.

Yeosang returned to the table much faster than Wooyoung had expected. His expression was strange; there was confusion there mixed with a hint of dismay.

"What happened?" Wooyoung asked, wasting no time as his friend sat back down.

Yeosang was still staring in the direction of the counter. "Nothing. That's the problem,"

Now Wooyoung was just as confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he didn't even try to run away when I got to the counter," Yeosang leaned on his hand, puzzled. "He took my order, I paid, and that was it. He looks so tired today, too,"

Wooyoung finally turned in his seat to see the barista for himself and he almost laughed in surprise. Yeosang was right about him being tired; Hongjoong leaned against the counter using two straightened arms as supports, but his head hung from his neck like he was barely alive. His eyes were fluttering like it took every drop of strength for him to stay even a little bit awake, his mouth hanging slightly open as if he couldn't remember how to control it.

Wooyoung turned back to Yeosang for a moment. "Is he a student too? Maybe he's been up late studying,"

"I don't know, but he looked like a zombie the way he was moving,"

Wooyoung watched him for a few more moments. Something else seemed off about him, and he decided it was more than just fatigue. "He looks pale too, I wonder if he's sick,"

Yeosang didn't look quite convinced, the hand he leaned on pressing against his lips as he kept staring. "Maybe..."

"Hey," Wooyoung said, catching his friend's eye. "If I'm not allowed to think about boys then you aren't either. Let's just relax,"

Yeosang's eyes finally shifted away from the front of the cafe and back to Wooyoung. He let out a long sigh. "You're right. Sorry, I shouldn't care so much about him when he won't even look in my direction,"

"Right, he's not worth it!" Wooyoung enthused. He knew his friend was worthy of someone who would value his genuine yet awkward personality, someone who thought it was cute like Wooyoung did.

"No, he's really not," Yeosang nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face Wooyoung had seen in a while. Hopefully he was really starting to believe it. "There are more important things in life than men. You know, I actually did some calculating yesterday and you know what I found out? We graduate from college in one hundred and forty-one days,"

Wooyoung's eyes widened. "That's it?!"

"Mm hm," Yeosang grinned excitedly, his friendly face promising a hopeful future for both of them. "Less than five months from now and we'll have our degrees,"

Wooyoung marveled at the thought. He had been working on his culinary degree for the last four years and it would finally pay off soon. He would quit his waiter job and cook professionally at a fancy restaurant, somewhere he was appreciated. No more waiting tables for grumpy families and entitled assholes, only pure enjoyment of his career. That was something he had never had before but had craved even before starting his stupid job at the restaurant, but he needed to make money some way and it was the closest he could get to cooking. Wooyoung would be rewarded for all his hard work soon.

Yeosang had left for a moment to grab their drinks from the counter but was already back, passing Wooyoung his americano off the tray.

"Wow, I still can't believe it's that soon," Wooyoung spoke in amazement. "What do you want to do after graduation?"

Yeosang was a music performance major with a specialty in violin, so he had high hopes for him. He was a fantastic player.

Yeosang gave him a shy grin. "Ideally or realistically?"

"What is your biggest dream, Sangie?" Wooyoung prodded him, tapping his arm enthusiastically. "No friend of mine is going to dream small,"

Yeosang blushed as his eyes fell to the table, his thumb fidgeting in the handle of his teacup. "My biggest dream?" He thought a little more about it. "It's stupid... but I want to be a famous violin soloist. I want to sell out theaters in Seoul, Los Angeles, Paris..."

"You want to be the male version of Lindsey Stirling!"

Yeosang covered his mouth with laughter. "Yeah, I guess so. But the biggest audiences I'll ever probably have are captive high school students at boring assemblies..."

"Only if you doubt yourself, Sangie," Wooyoung scolded. He truly believed he could reach his goal someday with the talent he possessed. "We can do anything we want after graduation. The sky's the limit,"

Yeosang shrugged, taking the first sip of his tea. "I'll try my best. What do you want to do after graduation?"

Wooyoung grinned, the thought of being freed from his university so breathtaking. "It might be a little ambitious, but I really want to open my own restaurant," he told him honestly.

"That's perfect for you!" Yeosang responded, igniting a warmth inside Wooyoung's soul.

Wooyoung knew his best friend would support him no matter what. "Thanks, I think so too. Hey if it's successful, maybe you can play some live music on Friday nights,"

"That's how I'll get discovered!" Yeosang's eyes widened like he had just come up with the solution to world peace. It seemed they had a pretty solid plan after all. All they had to do now was graduate and find a way to make their ambitions a reality. Seemed simple enough.

Wooyoung raised his glass in Yeosang's direction. "Here's to following our dreams,"

"And not letting men get in our way," Yeosang added, raising his tea cup with a grin.

Their glasses clinked, echoing through the cafe.

"Cheers to that," Wooyoung agreed.

Chapter Text

Wooyoung thought he was so smart for leaving his coat in the car. It was always way too warm in the cafe with the heaters blasting, so he didn't think he would need it, and it was just another thing to carry. But he had never been there in the morning and he was sorely mistaken; it was freezing.

Wooyoung shivered all the way out to the parking lot, clutching the keys Yeosang had lent him to his car as he finally made it. He threw open the door, silently cursing through chattering teeth as he reached inside and snatched his coat off the passenger seat. Never again would he underestimate the brutality of Korean winters.

Wooyoung shut the door and was quickly hustling back toward the cafe when he heard someone call out. It was familiar sounding enough to make him stop in his tracks. When it sounded again, he realized it was saying his name.

"Wooyoung-ah!" The voice called again.

Wooyoung looked around, confused, until his stomach dropped at the sight his eyes fell upon. The black BMW with shining silver rims, window down revealing the face he had been told never to think about again, and yet, there it was. There he was.

Wooyoung wrapped himself in his coat and hugged himself for warmth as the bitter wind blew. "S..San?" He shivered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Get in here, Wooyoung-ah, you'll freeze to death," San told him, patting the passenger seat. "My car is all warmed up,"

Oh hell no. With the way he had ordered him to get back in his car the night before, Wooyoung had justified reservations about getting in with him again.

"Yeosang's waiting for me," he told him sternly, turning his back.

He swiftly trudged back toward the cafe through the bitter winter wind, the blowing drowning out just enough the sound of San still calling out to him, so he didn't stop. He made it inside the door. He was safe. The warmth of the inside of the cafe began to thaw his frozen fingers as he fixed his hair that had been windswept.

One step inside and his wrist was grabbed. Wooyoung gasped in surprise, the door falling closed once more as the culprit stepped too close to him, suddenly trapping him against the wall.

Fear. That's all Wooyoung felt in that moment. He was trapped, no place to go, nowhere to look except up into San's eyes that bore down into him like daggers. Those dark eyes that had once set his heart on fire but now pumped uncertainty through his veins.

San must have seen his fear. His expression softened. "I told you to wait," he told him, his voice annoyed but gentle.

Wooyoung ripped his wrist out of San's grip, crossing his arms in a guarded position. But his serious eyes were a warning to San. "Get away from me," he ordered sternly.

After a moment, San sighed, as if realizing he had messed up again. This was the man Wooyoung couldn't stop thinking about. He couldn't even respect his clear personal boundaries.

Surprisingly though, San did take a step back. Maybe he still thought he could fix things, but Wooyoung would like to see him try.

"I'm... sorry about last night..." San told him, slipping his hands into his pockets as if that were the only way to keep himself this far away from him.

Wooyoung was perplexed at the apology. He really thought San was going to continue making excuses and claim that none of it was his fault, that Wooyoung had lied when he said he would come over before changing his mind. Wooyoung watched him expectantly as if asking him to go on.

And he did. "It wasn't okay for me to pressure you," San sighed apologetically. "I didn't mean to blow up like that. I'm sorry for that too. I was just really looking forward to the night we had planned, so I was frustrated, but there's no excuse. And I know it's weird for me to show up here unannounced, but I just... needed you to know,"

Wooyoung's arms remained crossed, but there was something else in his eyes as he scanned him. Maybe skepticism, even confusion. But he felt differently than before.

"What was wrong with your car?" He asked out of pure curiosity.

San sighed. "Some asshole put sugar in my gas tank. I didn't even know sugar could do that kind of damage. I'm gonna have to lay off desserts for a while just out of spite,"

Wooyoung barely suppressed a giggle. A dangerous feeling was creeping back into him and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. He knew Yeosang would slap him silly right now if he knew.

San gave him the closest thing he could to a smile, still cautious and understanding of the serious situation. He knew how much he had scared him. "You don't even have to say anything. I really just came here to tell you that. And to give you something. If you'll accept it,"

Wooyoung looked up instinctively, his expression turning into a mixture of curiosity and confusion. He brought him a gift?

San reached into his pocket again. "You said you liked it so I gave it another wash, even polished it so it's nice and shiny again,"

Wooyoung watched as he pulled out the pretty silver necklace that had been hanging on the mirror in San's car. He almost laughed. San clearly had money; he drove an expensive car and wore luxury clothes, but the street necklace was how he expected to win back Wooyoung's affections?

San matched Wooyoung's amused grin even if the younger tried to hide it. "I know what you're thinking," San claimed with a chuckle. "Yes, I am gifting you the necklace I found for free, but in my defence, they don't make this style anywhere around Seoul. I wanted to give you the one you liked,"

"Thanks, San-ah, I've been wanting a new dirty street necklace," Wooyoung chuckled warmly. He allowed San to place the silver necklace into his palm. Oddly enough, he was touched by the gesture and the necklace really was beautiful, glittering underneath the cafe spotlights as he draped it over his fingers.

San grinned, but his expression was still cautious as if he was afraid of celebrating too soon. "I'll buy you lots of new necklaces too," he promised, his eyes shining with hope. "Other jewelry too: rings, bracelets, body chains, you name it. Just give me one more chance,"

Wooyoung looked up from admiring the necklace, scanning the desperation of the man in front of him. He was respecting his space now, sincerely apologizing for his behavior before giving him a thoughtful gift. Wooyoung may have been looking for any excuse to trust him again, but he hated to admit he was starting to give in. He believed he meant it. But one gift and an apology didn't account for everything.

"You cussed out your car in front of families with children," Wooyoung reminded him.

San covered his eyes with his palm. "Aish, don't remind me, I'm embarrassed enough..."

Wooyoung couldn't help but laugh. The whole situation just seemed ridiculous now, and he knew San had just been frustrated. He knew there were times when he also let words slip from his mouth in public, so he couldn't berate him too much.

Wooyoung gave him a tight smile as he looked back down at the necklace in his hand. "Thanks for this, San-ah. Really, I do appreciate it. Give me a little while and I'll let you know, but right now, I need you to give me some space to think. Is that something you can do?"

San hesitated, his expression unreadable for a few moments. But then his lip curved into a half smile. But he didn't look happy. "Take your time," San told him, but Wooyoung felt like the words were strained. It was going to be hard for him.

Wooyoung gave him a grateful smile anyway. "I'll put on this necklace and think about you until we meet again," he promised, trying to give him a little hope at least. "I just need to sort out how I'm really feeling,"

San nodded, remaining virtually expressionless. "Can I put it on for you before I go?"

Wooyoung shrugged, agreeing with a friendly smile as an invitation. He returned the silver chain to San and turned around, lifting his hair up as San gracefully draped the necklace around his neck. The cold metal fell against his chest as San's fingers messed with the clasp. He was so close, Wooyoung could hear his breath in his ear. There was a moment–only a moment–where Wooyoung reconsidered. He wondered how bad it could be for him to give in and go on another date with him immediately. Wooyoung longed for their undeniable chemistry, their effortless conversation, and he craved what that compatibility could lead to. What places it would take them. How it would feel to take him all in.

Wooyoung cleared his throat, turning toward him when he felt San's hands leave him. He glanced down at the necklace and back at San with a face of satisfaction.

"It's pretty," Wooyoung approved, running his thumb over the intricate designs on the silver chain.

San nodded, admiring the necklace as if looking at Wooyoung's face would only make him more reluctant to leave. "It suits you. I knew it would,"

Wooyoung thanked him, leaning into a small bow. That's when he turned to notice Yeosang was watching them, and when their eyes met, his friend shook his head in disappointment. His glare accused him of treason, watching first-hand as Wooyoung talked to the man he vowed not to even think about. Wooyoung prepared himself for an earful.

"You should go," Wooyoung advised San with a nod in Yeosang's direction. "I have some explaining to do,"

San grinned in understanding. "He's protective of you. That's a good thing. But he doesn't need to worry,"

"If we get together again, you can prove that to him," Wooyoung told him with hope in his voice.

"Challenge accepted," San chuckled, looking Wooyoung over in adoration. His travelling eyes eventually stopped when they met Wooyoung's dark irises. "Contact me when you're ready to try again, okay? I promise I'll make it up to you,"

Wooyoung felt himself falling for him all over again. But he couldn't tell him that now. He had to be sure that it wasn't just his infatuation clouding his mind. "Goodbye for now, San-ah,"

San sighed, the clear dismissal coming on strong. His hands went into his jacket pockets, preparing to reenter the cold. "See you around, jagi," He told him, flashing one last friendly grin before reluctantly heading toward the door.

Wooyoung watched him leave even as he made his way back to the table. He knew he was hopeless. He knew that if Yeosang hadn't been watching that there would have been a high chance he would have followed San into his car after his heartfelt apology. That's why Wooyoung was much better off having Yeosang around. He helped him to make decisions with his head rather than with his cock.

Wooyoung blinked guiltily at Yeosang when he returned to the table. "Heyyy, what's up, Sangie?"

"Sit down," Yeosang ordered in the tone of a disappointed parent and Wooyoung quickly obeyed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Wooyoung shrugged. "Nothing. I'm feeling pretty good right now, thanks for asking!"

But Yeosang wasn't laughing. He wasn't glaring either though; there was definitely concern, maybe uncertainty, and a hint of frustration in the eyes that studied him.

"Wooyoung. You know he's not a good person. Good people don't kick cars and curse in front of ice-skating children. We talked about this,"

Wooyoung sighed, not wanting to have this conversation, but knew it was inevitable.

"He apologized..." Wooyoung mumbled, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

Yeosang held the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "Wooyoung-ah, you're an adult. It's none of my business what you do, but I beg you, please be smart about this. An apology can't change everything!"

Wooyoung nodded almost automatically as if he wanted to agree, but the part of him that had fallen for San was pulling him away from common sense. "Right, so I need you to make it your business and tell me never to call him again,"

Yeosang leaned forward slightly in seriousness. "Look at me. You never need to call that man again,"

"Fine, I'll just text him," Wooyoung shrugged.

Yeoang's arms dropped to the table in defeat. "Unbelievable,"

Wooyoung smirked, always seeming to enjoy teasing his best friend. Meanwhile, he lost himself in thought as he was absentmindedly stirring his americano. Yeosang was on his side. He wasn't trying to be a downer, he was just trying to keep him safe, happy, away from a relationship that was bound to turn sour. Wooyoung knew that. He really did. Yet the image of San's gorgeous eye smile and his cute dimples remained in his brain, etched there like a tattoo. Wooyoung was used to relationships that only lasted a night or two, making it hard for him to consider anything long-term. But he could feel himself falling for San and whatever they were bound to become, he didn't want it to end anytime soon. He wanted to lose himself in San, dive in with no escape and indulge in every part of him. Maybe Yeosang was right to be worried.

"No way..." Yeosang's dark tone suddenly caught his attention.

His friend was glaring toward the register and it only took a moment to guess what he could be looking at. Still, Wooyoung turned to confirm. And just as he expected, there he was.

Same long, black hair, same expensive wool coat that almost reached the floor but couldn't quite hide his heeled shoes. Same face Wooyoung wanted to punch for disrespecting him and continuing to take advantage of Hongjoong.

Wooyoung's chin met the crook of his elbow as he watched him over the back of his chair. Seonghwa had assumed his position; he was leaned against the glass dessert case, eyeing up Hongjoong like he was a meal to be devoured rather than a warm-hearted barista. Surprisingly, though Hongjoong had looked so sleepy before, his eyes were open now as if he was forcing them to be while making conversation. He was smiling at times, even laughing slightly. Wooyoung shook his head, in disbelief at the lengths the barista would go to impress someone he had been told was an asshole. Did he have no intuition? No alarm bells going off in his head when Seonghwa looked down on him with that condescending stare?

Hongjoong was too good for him. He needed to know that and believe it before it was too late.

Wooyoung turned back to Yeosang and prepared to stand. "I'm going to say something,"

"No, Wooyoung-ah," Yeosang almost begged, grabbing his wrist as he stood. "Please, don't, that's not a good idea,"

"Why? He doesn't scare me,"

That was a lie, and Wooyoung knew it outright.

"Well he scares me," Yeosang confessed, his eyes glistening with fear. "I'm worried about him too, but I don't want you getting hurt,"

Wooyoung pulled out of Yeosang's grip, glaring at the tall figure, the sight of which sent rage throughout his entire body. "I have to do something," he muttered.

"No, you don't... it'll just make it worse. No, Young-ah, stop!" Yeosang called after his friend as he marched toward the cafe register. He would not stop. As afraid as he truly was, he knew something needed to be done.

The sound of Yeosang's urgent voice alerted the two at the register before Wooyoung even made it there. And when Seonghwa turned to face him, eyes as cold as ice, gaze immediately challenging, Wooyoung's heart skipped a beat.

Seonghwa eyed him up and down, that same condescending smirk appearing on his lips when he recognized him.

But Wooyoung didn't let his apprehension show. He planted himself right in front of the bastard, eyes glaring, jaw tight with rage that much outweighed his fear.

"Stay away from him," he ordered, one finger pointed into his chest. "No way a bastard like you deserves anyone nearly as good as Hongjoong,"

Seonghwa could only scoff, probably in disbelief at the audacity. His piercing eyes, those lids always defined with glitter and eyeliner, still stared into him. "Do you actually think this concerns you?"

Wooyoung started to regret his decision even more only when Seonghwa took one step forward, causing Wooyoung to flinch and a louder chuckle to slip from the bastard's mouth.

"So, not only are you a useless waiter, but you also don't know how to mind your own business?" Seonghwa crossed his arms and stood tall, his presence dominating as he glared.

"Wooyoung-ssi," Hongjoong caught his attention in a quiet voice. He was smiling, but something about it didn't look real, his face so pale it could have been translucent. "It's okay, he's not bothering me. I can trust him,"

"Bullshit," Wooyoung spat, the word involuntary but full of meaning. "Look at you! If he really cared about you, he would be taking care of you at home while you're sick!"

Hongjoong barely reacted, just stood there, arms still trembling slightly as he leaned on the counter. But his eyes were open, an unfocused, faraway look in them as they searched the counter's surface. "I'm just tired. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately,"

The words were robotic, practiced, as if he already had that excuse ready for when people asked. It wasn't right. It wasn't real.

"He can barely stand up straight!" He turned back to Seonghwa in outrage. "He should be at home resting! You think you're such a stand-up guy coming in here and making him blush every day, but you don't even care about his health! I bet he doesn't even know how big of an asshole you really are,"

Seonghwa's patronizing smirk twitched with a quiet scoff. "And I suppose you think telling him your opinion would somehow change his mind?"

"It should," Wooyoung spat, his arms crossed. "If I tell him the story of the fucking cunt I met at work last week,"

Seonghwa's smirk disappeared. His eyes were challenging, glaring as if he saw Wooyoung as nothing more than a stain on his clothes. "You should learn when to bite your tongue. Something tells me your days are numbered,"

Wooyoung sized him up with his eyes. "Are you threatening me?"

"Simply a premonition," Seonghwa answered, a devilish smirk reappearing across his glossy lips. His eyes glinted with something, maybe excitement, maybe arrogance, but whatever it was, Wooyoung didn't like it.

"You don't scare me," Wooyoung sneered.

Seonghwa laughed, the noise echoing through the almost empty cafe. "I'll be honest, Wooyoung. I really thought you were smarter than that," he commented in a tone so infuriating that Wooyoung could feel himself heating up with rage.

Seonghwa's icy scowl returned in an instant. "Don't get in my way again or I swear you'll regret it,"

Nothing gave him the right to treat him like that. Wooyoung was fuming, his jaw clenched so hard that his teeth hurt, fists balled and seconds away from starting a fight right there in public.

"Hey, hey, Wooyoung-ah," Yeosang's voice and his hand on his shoulder grounded him suddenly and he was able to shift his attention for a moment. "I think we should go, okay? Let's go. Come on, I'll buy you a coffee somewhere else,"

Wooyoung refocused on Seonghwa, glaring as he stood his ground. "I'm not done with him," he growled.

"Wooyoung-ah, you're done," Yeosang urged him away, tugging at his shoulder so he would turn away.

In part, Wooyoung allowed himself to be distanced, but not without holding his glare at the bastard who didn't deserve to be left alone with Hongjoong. His gaze travelled back to the barista before he was pulled away.

"Did he tell you that he almost assaulted a waiter on Friday?"

"You better watch your back," Seonghwa interjected, a threatening eyebrow raising.

Yeosang kept trying to diffuse the situation. "Sorry about him! He can be so passionate sometimes. Excuse us!"

Yeosang pulled Wooyoung toward their table with more force before he could dig himself a deeper hole. That asshole was going to pay for those threats. Wooyoung's blood boiled at the mere sight of him still standing there next to Hongjoong when the barista clearly wasn't convinced he was a bad person. How could he not see it? Did he even hear the threats he spewed so carelessly at Wooyoung?

"Yeosang-ah, I'm not leaving until he does," Wooyoung declared with his most serious eyes once they were out of earshot.

Yeosang placed Wooyoung into his chair like a misbehaving toddler. "Sit down," he scolded. "Why do you insist on getting yourself into trouble? You know telling him off will only make him more interested in getting to him,"

But Wooyoung barely heard him. He turned in his chair to watch what was going on. Seonghwa was already speaking intensely to Hongjoong again and the barista was listening without even blinking. How obsessed with him could he get? As desperate as Hongjoong seemed to get that bastard's attention while ignoring every single red flag, it was erasing any appealing qualities the barista ever had in Wooyoung's eyes. He couldn't believe he was still listening to him. He was so naive.

Wooyoung feared Yeosang was right about aggravating the bastard. There was no way he was backing off now, even if it were purely from spite, but there was much more to it than that. Seonghwa couldn't keep his eyes off Hongjoong. There was an obsession there that seemed to go both ways, but Seonghwa's was dangerous, dominating. He would stop at nothing until he got what he wanted and at the moment, it seemed like he had it.

Seonghwa didn't stay much longer. He spoke to Hongjoong for another few moments before telling him goodbye, leaning forward and whispering something into his ear. The motion was slow, sensual, as if he was making a promise for the next time they would meet, and Wooyoung had a good feeling his intentions were anything but innocent.

Wooyoung noticed Yeosang's fist clench on the table as he watched the two of them. There was a pain in his expression as if he had been denying how deeply it was affecting until it couldn't be hidden anymore. His eyes were glossy, glazed over with the threat of tears as he once again watched his hopeless crush in the process of falling for someone else. His hopeless crush. Wooyoung feared he had been right when he had called him that. And still he knew Hongjoong would never look that entranced in response to anything Yeosang did.

Seonghwa left the cafe after that, leaving Yeosang to stare at the surface of the table looking completely lost. Wooyoung watched his friend with sympathy in his eyes. He could tell this was the first time it was hitting him this hard. As much as he claimed he didn't care about Hongjoong liking him anymore, and that men weren't worth it while in pursuit of his dreams, deep down they both knew the truth. This was just another reminder for Yeosang that the relationship he had always searched for was still out of reach.

Stupidly, Wooyoung thought fast about how to get Yeosang's mind off of it as his fingers grasped the silver jewelry around his neck. "Did you see my new necklace?"

How could he be so stupid? Of course the last thing he wanted to talk about was the gift Wooyoung had received from the handsome man of his dreams. Maybe he was trying to distract himself from Seonghwa as well so he wouldn't end up locked in prison for murder charges.

Yeosang barely looked up, but he gave him a half-hearted smile out of courtesy. There wasn't a hint of happiness in it. "Yeah... I saw it,"

"I just wondered if you knew anything about the design," Wooyoung shifted the subject slightly in a panic, rubbing his thumb over the silver. "I heard this style is really hard to find in Korea so it interested me. You're taking that anthropology class right now, so I was just curious if you've seen it,"

Yeosang looked at the necklace for a bit longer this time, squinting slightly as he studied it. Maybe he was trying to go along with the distraction. "It looks Asian to me. I'm sorry, Wooyoung, it's hard for me to think right now..."

Wooyoung's thumb ran over something on the silver that felt different from the rest of the design and he paused. He lifted the chain to look at the spot now next to his thumb and cocked his head in curiosity. There was something engraved on the surface of the silver.

"Oh, there's something here," Wooyoung spoke up, taking a closer look.

The script was in a foreign language, one that he couldn't read, even phonetically. It wasn't Japanese but didn't look like Chinese either. Could it be Vietnamese?

His curiosity taking over his need to be a good friend, he leaned closer to Yeosang, showing him the writing. "Do you know what language this is?"

Yeosang sighed, swiping his bangs out of his face as he reluctantly took a closer look. "I guess it looks a little like Thai..." he shrugged honestly.

Wooyoung looked again and hummed in realization. He was right. Wooyoung wasn't familiar with the language but it looked similar to the writing he had seen before. He wondered if it was a person's name, someone who lost their special necklace and was now searching every corner of the world for it. Surely San had seen the engraved name before.

"Wooyoung-ah, he's leaving," Yeosang spoke up, his voice frantic. Wooyoung looked up at his friend first before shifting his attention to the cafe counter. Hongjoong's apron had been taken off and a bag was slung over his shoulder as he appeared to be punching out on the register screen. A slip popped out from the printer and the barista crumpled it up for the trash before heading toward the back door.

Yeosang's distressed gaze fell back onto Wooyoung. "His shift doesn't end until three, why's he leaving?"

"He's obviously sick, Yeosang-ah, he's probably just leaving early to rest," Wooyoung told him, unsure if he cared as much anymore when Hongjoong ignored every warning he'd been given.

"No, it's because of him, I know it. He's going to meet him," Yeosang declared.

Wooyoung sighed. "Well then why don't you go stop him?"

Yeosang wasted no time in getting up, rushing toward the counter. "Hongjoong-ah! Hongjoong-ah wait!"

But based on the lack of response he received when he approached, Wooyoung could guess he had already left. That didn't stop his friend though. Yeosang rushed through the main door and out to the parking lot, nearly slipping on ice just outside before disappearing from view.

Whatever. If Hongjoong wanted to throw his life away by dating some arrogant asshole, he was free to do so. Wooyoung was done trying to convince him. But clearly Yeosang wasn't giving up so easy.

Chapter Text

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SCENES WITH VIOLENCE AND BLOOD. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

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Wooyoung's head just wasn't in it at work that night. Waiting tables wasn't too hard of a job, but he still found ways to screw it up. Too many thoughts spiraled through his brain, round and round again, until he was dizzy even while standing still. And even through this wild hurricane of reflection, his mind always ended up in the exact same place.

San.

Honestly, he had been able to think of little to nothing else since he met him, that intriguing yet mysterious man that clung to his brain like plastic wrap on a hot day. It was suffocating. Yet exciting. San wasn't a simple man, there were a multitude of things to consider when deciding if he should see him again. But every time he convinced himself San was a bad person, he felt the cold metal necklace fall against his skin as he moved, and he was back to square one; he wanted to see him again, more than anything.

The necklace was such a thoughtful gift, and maybe it was a stretch, but Wooyoung thought it proved San could be considerate of his feelings. Was that all he was looking for in a partner? No, of course not. San was also funny, protective, loved animals, cared for his family... there were several indicators that he could be a good boyfriend. But Yeosang's voice kept repeating itself in his head...

"Sir. Sir!" A customer's voice brought him back to the real world for a moment. "I ordered my drink ten minutes ago! Can you get on that?"

Wooyoung tried to shake himself out of it and refocus, picking himself up from the countertop he had leaned on. He blinked a few times. "Of course. Right away sir! I'm so sorry,"

* * * * * * * *

Wooyoung walked the same path home as he always did. Saw the same brightly lit buildings give way into dimly lit homes as he reached the outskirts of town, his warm breath blowing clouds of visible fog in the bitter cold air. He couldn't wait to get a real job and be able to afford another car. He and Yeosang only had one between them and since his friend worked much farther away, closer to the city, he used it to commute. Wooyoung got his steps in.

He was lucky to still have his job at this point. His manager had given him another earful that night after noticing his frequent breaks while doing nothing but staring into space. He had been told to stay an hour later just to clean as punishment for slacking off during his shift. Wooyoung had grumbled, but he should have tried harder. He didn't want to allow San to affect his life in this way after promising Yeosang that he wouldn't let men stop him from chasing his dreams. He wouldn't let San have that kind of power over him.

Wooyoung shivered, hugging himself for warmth in his thick black coat. The wind was getting colder as the holidays approached, and yet it was supposed to be the happiest time of the year. Yeah, sure, maybe if it were twenty degrees warmer. Maybe if he could go home to his mother's stone fireplace and eat warm homemade stew while the smell of fresh-baked cookies wafted through the air. It wasn't fair that she had been taken away from him. He missed her. He missed her so much.

Wooyoung turned onto the stone path that led through the trees toward their apartment. They really needed to light that place. As soon as he stepped into the forest, the city's streetlights were out of sight, the cover of nature shielding most of the light from reaching the path. The city probably didn't think it was worth lighting the way since only college students and drug addicts lived in those townhouses anyway. Who cared about them? They'd figure it out, they had flashlights, right?

Wrong. Wooyoung had his phone, but it was so outdated that the flashlight was dim and practically useless. Still, he used it and he was always helped along by the flickering Victorian-style lamp post from the previous century. He lost count of how many times he almost tripped on the uneven stones on the path but still cursed every time like it was the first.

The thought of San still stained his mind like wine on white carpet. He wasn't a good person. Yeosang was a little awkward, sure, but he was rarely wrong when it came to intuition. Wooyoung should trust him. San was trying to buy him back by promising all these luxury things, but it wasn't going to work like that. Maybe it was something he needed to see to believe. He hadn't even paid for the one he was wearing around his neck, how much could he really trust him to buy him more?

Wooyoung found himself shaking, and it wasn't just from the cold. The whole thing was really starting to take a toll on him. He needed to make a decision and stick with it. He clutched a fistful of the silver necklace in his hand and trudged forward through the icy breeze.

He could almost see it now. There was a distant light through the trees that looked familiar but somehow so much farther away than it normally was. It felt like miles in the cold, and he could hardly wait to get warm. He didn't have a fireplace, but he had a blanket, some hot tea, and his best friend who would talk all his uncertainties away. It was all he needed right then.

"You're late,"

Wooyoung cursed, nearly jumping out of his skin when the calm voice sounded off the side of the path. It came from the rickety, wooden bench that he hadn't acknowledged since they moved in. It took him a moment for him to process what he was seeing. The familiar face, the eyes scanning him up and down... the image that had plagued his mind for days.

San.

Wooyoung immediately got the worst gut feeling. "Aish, you scared the shit out of me!" he scolded, feeling uneasy. "What the hell are you doing out here?!"

San didn't move, one arm remaining stretched over the backrest of the bench in a relaxed pose. His eyes may have had laser vision the way he stared into him, completely focused. "I got tired of waiting,"

Wooyoung didn't feel safe at all. The feeling took him over like a tidal wave. What was he talking about? How long did he wait out there in the cold? Did he really think this would help Wooyoung view him more favorably?

"San," Wooyoung crossed his arms with a shiver. "I asked you to give me some space to think. Do you really think this counts?!"

"I don't care, Wooyoung," San shook his head, his tone full of hopelessness. "I told you, I'm tired of waiting. And then you make me wait even more. I won't do it anymore. I'm done,"

San stood up. His presence became more real, more vivid as he took not one, but two, then three steps forward. The silhouette of his broad arms and shoulders sauntered toward him in the dim glow of the lamp post.

Wooyoung took one step back. They both froze. What could he possibly mean by that?

"San, this is stalking! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I tried to play it safe," San went on, his voice cracking with desperation. "I thought it was working, but it wasn't fast enough. You didn't trust me, and I couldn't keep playing the part,"

Another step forward. Another step back.

Playing the part? So he did have other intentions, ones he could easily carry out in the middle of nowhere under the dark cover of trees. Wooyoung was in danger. He wondered how fast he would have to run to make it to his house before San could catch him. San was fit, so he could probably run fast. Maybe he could discreetly call Yeosang while hiding his phone behind his back.

"I never asked you to wait for me," Wooyoung told him, stalling for time, feeling suffocated by his limited escape routes. "You could have just moved on, you know. And if you're so done with me, why are you even here now? After this, I'm done too. I don't have any desire to entertain a stalker,"

Wooyoung opened his phone with a fingerprint behind his back, his thumb shaking as he tried to remember exactly where Yeosang's speed dial button was through muscle memory.

San scoffed. "I expected as much. I knew you were going to make this difficult,"

Wooyoung's heartbeat in his ears, booming like drums that warned him of the imminent danger that consumed him. He was confused, terrified, devastated that San really was the awful person he had hoped he wasn't. His thumb tapped at his screen, hoping to call anyone on his contact list, desperate for someone to know where he was, and what horrors he may endure in the next few moments.

But San was growing more impatient by the moment. "I'll give you one last chance to make this easy on yourself. So... will you come with me or not?"

"What happens if I say no?" Wooyoung blurted out, desperate as a cornered animal.

San took another step forward, his next words sending adrenaline coursing through Wooyoung's veins.

"Would you like to find out?"

Wooyoung bolted. He sprinted in the direction of his home, reaching speeds that he thought must be inhuman. He wouldn't be a victim again. No way. Wooyoung was finally able to look at his phone properly and wasted no time in calling Yeosang, begging the universe he would answer and could unlock the front door for him. Shit. That's right: Yeosang worked late tonight, he wasn't even home. Dammit, why hadn't he tried calling the police?!

For a moment or two, he thought he had escaped San, thought he had caught him off guard with his sudden take off. That was until Wooyoung collided with him. San had appeared seemingly out of thin air directly in his path and was now gripping Wooyoung by the front of his jacket, leaving the younger to yell out in terror.

The outcry was short-lived as his forehead was instantly slammed into a nearby tree. There was a sharp pain. He thought he heard the crack of his skull before the ringing in his ears became so loud he couldn't hear anything else. Wooyoung's eyes drooped, his lids fluttering as he felt his body becoming weak from the blow. His head pounded, waves of aching pain making him so dizzy he could hardly see straight.

Wooyoung felt himself slipping, his limbs becoming heavy until he was thrown against the snow-dusted ground. His forehead throbbed where it had collided with the hardwood of the tree and now where it lay against the cold, frozen ground, his hand instinctively flying to the wound at the source of the agony. Blood. There was a wetness on his fingers, too much of it, dripping from the gash like his last shreds of hope down his nose and cheeks into the white snow below.

Go. Get out of here.

Mustering every bit of strength still inside him, Wooyoung took off, squinting through blurry vision as he grunted and crawled in the direction of his house. He knew it was hopeless; that was the saddest part. Still he tried. Maybe if he yelled loud enough, one of his neighbors would hear him, but his voice was already strained and the hope was leaving him just as fast as the strength was leaving the limbs of his body.

That's when his ankle was grabbed. Wooyoung screamed, kicking and flailing as he clawed at the ground, leaving trails where his fingers dug into the dirt and snow while he was dragged backward. This was it. He was out of strength.

Wooyoung cried out again when San crawled upon him, his desperate cries now mingling with tears and begging for an end while he was turned over onto his back with a struggle. Only his muffled crying could be heard once San's palm shoved itself against his mouth to silence him. His neck jerked around, pulling at San's muscular arms, begging to escape that vile cold touch he possessed as he pinned him down.

"Shh, shh..." San whispered, his breath drifting over Wooyoung's aggravated face. "Hey, you had your choice. This could have happened on my comfy couch at home, but you just had to make it difficult,"

Wooyoung struggled under his weight again, his muffled cries more desperate than before.

San sighed, his expression growing annoyed. "Jagi, if you keep screaming like that, I might have to kill you. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened in disbelief. He finally jerked his mouth away from San's hand, his breathing heavy and strained. "What the fuck do you want from me?!"

It was a stupid question. He knew what he wanted from him. It was all anyone ever wanted from him. And now yet another person was prepared to take it from him without his consent.

San didn't respond, only stared intensely, looking him over like a lion admiring his prey. His head lowered and Wooyoung pulled back, not realizing what he was doing until one of San's hands reached for Wooyoung's forehead and brushed away his thick black bangs. His fingers grazed over the fresh wound. Wooyoung winced, grunting in pain as he fully explored the gash, pressing his fingers into it, his movements slow and intentional as if he were evaluating the damage. Wooyoung yelped, his terror mixed with pain and confusion.

San carefully brought his fingers back toward him, steadily touching them together and watching the thick red blood create strings and drip between them. It terrified Wooyoung to see just how much the wound was bleeding to produce that much blood. San's hand was still so close to his face that the strong scent of iron wafted to his nose and made him sick to his stomach.

"Do you see that, Wooyoung-ah?" San spoke in a dreamy tone, completely focused on the substance on his fingers. "See how it drips, how the crimson catches the light? What do you think it tastes like, hm?"

"You're a fucking psycho!" Wooyoung screamed.

That earned a smirk from San as his attention finally left the blood for a moment. His eyes emitted their own light, and they were no longer brown like Wooyoung remembered. They glowed a dark, haunting shade of crimson that matched Wooyoung's essence spread over his fingers. There was something about them... something that wasn't natural. Something that wasn't human that Wooyoung couldn't understand.

San blinked at him with a polite eye-smile. "Don't be jealous, kitten. I know, I can hardly wait myself. So it's only polite for me to let you have the first taste, right?"

A confused Wooyoung suddenly grunted in disgust when two of San's blood-covered fingers found their way to his bottom lip, forcefully entering his mouth. His head jerked away, but the fingers followed him everywhere, the vile taste of iron spreading over his tongue and making him retch. He gagged and coughed for what felt like forever until San eventually retracted his fingers, leaving Wooyoung to dry heave, gasping for air as he hacked up whatever he could still taste.

San grinned adoringly at him. "How is it, hm? Is it as delicious as I imagined?"

"Go... to Hell!" Wooyoung snapped between coughs, screaming like his life depended on it. "You're fucking SICK!"

San's fingers floated back to Wooyoung's injured forehead, earning another tormented yelp as they again explored the wound and collected more of the thick crimson liquid. San's face hadn't changed, Wooyoung's desperate words of disapproval doing nothing to sway him one way or the other.

San's fingers returned to the small space between the two of them, his dimly glowing eyes scanning Wooyoung with the hunger of a starving lion. His tone was relaxed, his voice low.

"Jagi... I'll ask you one more time. Do you believe in the supernatural?"

Wooyoung's heart nearly stopped. He stared up at him in anguish, feeling more of his blood dripping steadily from his aggravated wound, down between his eyes and falling from his cheeks. It was hard to believe that his life had made sense twenty minutes ago. He was lost on what to make of it now. What the fuck was he talking about? Was San really suggesting that he was... not human?

Wooyoung jerked under his weight again, grunting in his hopeless struggle. "What the fuck are you?!" he spat, his voice holding more fear than conviction.

San had brought his blood-dripping fingers to a space just inches from his nose, focusing on the sight of them as if they held the key to the universe. Wooyoung watched him as his eyes closed, breathing an audible inhale full of the scent, a breathy, pleasurable hum following when he breathed out.

To Wooyoung's horror, San's face began to change. When his eyes fluttered open, they appeared so bloodshot that no part of his scleras remained white. They were dark, evil, the crimson patterns swimming in his irises glowing with what he could only describe as hunger. Veins stretched downward from his eyes like spiderwebs, pulsing with need as if the scent of his blood had awakened something within him.

And then he saw them. Two shining, sharp teeth that had grown longer than the others in a matter of seconds. There was only one way to describe them; they were fangs.

San had opened his mouth, painting Wooyoung's blood across his tongue steadily, purposefully, savoring every moment as his eyes fell closed with a look of fulfillment. It was as if his impatience was finally being satiated.

Wooyoung trembled underneath his weight. He didn't want to believe his eyes, he wanted to believe San was pulling a stupid prank with a Halloween costume. But he couldn't deny what was right in front of him. San's strength was inhuman, his gaze void of sympathy, his fangs much too sharp to question their authenticity. San wasn't just a stalker; he was a monster: a vampire.

San's pleasured moan made Wooyoung flinch and he refocused on the monster licking the last of the fresh blood from his fingers. "It's even better than I imagined..." he sighed in a dreamy tone, his glowing gaze returning to Wooyoung like he was grateful. There was something else in his eyes, a glimmer of excitement, maybe even arousal, but it was clear to Wooyoung that he didn't have any desire to go easy on him. It wasn't Wooyoung he seemed to want with that fiery passion; it was his blood.

Wooyoung was so desperate that he started to beg as San began to unzip his thick black jacket, pulling the collar away and exposing his neck while the younger's hands weakly attempted to push away his strong hold. It was no use.

"San-ah, please..." Wooyoung whined helplessly in his struggle, grabbing his wrists and trying to pull his hands away from his neck where San's fingers were tracing his veins. "Please, I don't want to die!"

San's face drifted closer to Wooyoung's, making him instinctively flinch back. His eyes were still haunting, the dark crimson glow letting a deep unease settle within him. But despite that monstrous, devilish stare of hunger, the eye-smile Wooyoung knew so well returned to his face. "Death isn't always the end, jagi-ya..." he grinned.

There had been a time Wooyoung had thought that smile was the most beautiful thing in the world. But here, now, it spelled out his doom. Wooyoung struggled again, feeling his last hopes shred into nothingness. He fought like Hell, but nothing had changed, leaving him to do little except cry out in a deranged panic while San nosed his way close to his neck.

So much was explained now: why his skin was always so cold, why he hadn't eaten food at the restaurant, why his stories of family were so vague... He wished he had guessed it, but who in their right mind would have seen this coming?

San's nose pressed up against the sensitive skin of his neck, breathing in deeply the scent that must have been coursing through his veins. "It'll hurt at first," San breathed wistfully into his ear like he couldn't possibly wait any longer. "But just trust me. I promise you'll get used to it,"

Wooyoung still called out for someone, anyone, his volume increasing tenfold when he felt two sharp stabs sink into the skin of his neck. The pain was instant, sharp and burning, his nerves igniting like fuel in a fire while he screamed out. It felt as though he were about to be eaten alive. The fangs punctured deep into his flesh where San's mouth had latched onto like a leech, his soft lips closed around the fresh wound and pulsing whenever he swallowed another mouthful.

San's body seemed to convulse with every taste, as if that fresh, warm blood was all he would ever need. He groaned as if the euphoria was too much to handle. It must have been. He never stopped even for a moment. A soft, pleasured moaning was vibrating audibly in San's throat as he gulped down what felt like gallons of thick, crimson blood with no sympathy for his victim.

It wasn't long before Wooyoung began to feel faint. He was beginning to feel emptier, sick at the feeling of copious amounts of blood leaving him with every second through torn flesh. His body had weakened and he'd stopped fighting almost completely. He was beginning to see stars. And yet San still kept sucking from his vein like a straw, tongue flicking out against hot skin when any stray drops dared to attempt an escape.

San was consuming so much, so fast, and there wasn't a hint of a fight left in the younger anymore. He had gradually lost the ability to scream but it took him so long to even realize he'd stopped. San had won. He'd taken down his prey.

Wooyoung's head was spinning, his breathing strained, the lack of blood catching up with him fast. This was his fate; San was going to take his life for sustenance like he was a lion preying on a weak gazelle in the savanna. He panicked, wondering how much blood a person could lose before passing out or dying because he knew he must be close to one of those.

Somewhere, out of desperation, Wooyoung found his voice again although it was small. "S...san-ah... it hur... it hurts... stop... please... please..."

He hadn't expected anything, but San's bite did loosen suddenly, the vampire lifting his head slightly to survey his victim. Wooyoung felt even sicker when he saw his face. His lips were painted in blood, a devilish grin spread across them as the crimson essence dripped from their corners. His darkened, red eyes were straight out of a horror film.

San grinned down at him, licking his lips. "You're exactly what I've craved for Wooyoung-ah... I'm just getting started,"

A hopeless feeling of depression washed over Wooyoung when San's fangs returned to his neck almost instantly. He barely felt it that time when they sunk back into his torn and abused flesh; he was already so numbed by existential thoughts. While he tried to act strong for his own dignity, he felt tears well up in his eyes. There was no way he was leaving this forest alive.

Yeosang was going to think he had abandoned him. There weren't enough people in his life who would even care if he went missing anyway. He would just end up as another missing person story on the news if anyone else even noticed. People would look at the TV and say 'oh that's too bad' or 'there goes another one' and continue to go about their day, never thinking twice about him and his terrible university ID photo they'd show on his missing person poster. That was to be his fate.

What had he even accomplished in his life? He hadn't even finished college, only worked as a useless waiter wiping the tables of entitled rich assholes with a dream of being a professional cook. But what good was a dream without a degree? If his life were to end here and now, what had he ever done to make the world a better place for anyone? Nothing. And he would die like that; a failure with nothing to show for his life.

Wooyoung let out a long exhale, his head feeling even lighter as plenty more blood was siphoned from his body within moments. He wanted to hold on. He wanted Yeosang to know what had happened and that it hadn't been his choice. His best friend couldn't think Wooyoung had just left him.

His vision faded as he stared up at the tree cover above. Those branches would be the last thing he would see. In that state, he wondered if he had ever looked upward before in the years they had lived there. It was nice. With all the city surrounding them, it was comforting to at least die among nature, under the trees. It made him think of his mother and her grave that was placed at the foot of an old Mongolian Oak tree he visited often. He smiled when he pictured her cheerful face, a tear rolling down his blood-stained cheek. Maybe he could even see her soon.

* * * * * * * *

Done. After one last grunt, Yeosang dropped the last of the heavy boxes onto the floor of the store room. His boss better be giving him a raise for ordering a whole truck of merchandise to be delivered during the shift he was working alone.

Yeosang was still recovering, breath after breath. Working at the convenience store wasn't at all as easy as it sounded, and he was reminded every day. There must have been twenty, no, thirty boxes all packed heavily with stock. The delivery man had helped some, but really? It had to be delivered on a night when he was the only one working?

Yeosang thanked the delivery man with a deep bow and a handshake, knowing he would have been a puddle of sweat on the floor without his help. Thanks to him, he was only halfway there. And once he was gone, Yeosang retreated to the break room and flopped into the uncomfortable plastic chair that still felt like heaven just to sit down in it.

Without moving much, he reached for his phone on the table next to him, lazily bringing it toward his face. It was late. He hadn't been able to look at his phone for hours. At least his shift would be over soon, but not soon enough.

There was a missed call from Wooyoung that he noticed just then. Yeossng sighed. What was with him lately? He knew Yeosang wasn't allowed to talk on the phone when he was at work and this was the second time this week he had tried. Wooyoung was probably just overthinking again. He probably just needed Yeosang to talk him out of texting San again, but he was positive one phone call wouldn't do much to convince his stubborn friend.

Still, Yeosang deserved a break. He was the only one there, so who would know if he was on the phone for a minute or two?

Yeosang held the phone to his ear and it rang while he tried to catch his breath completely before his friend would answer.

He fully expected Wooyoung to answer right away. He was done with work by now so he was most likely lounging on the couch or in his bed, his phone never out of reach. But the phone rang and rang before finally, he was sent to voicemail.

Yeosang looked at his phone screen for a moment in confusion. Weird. Yeosang put his phone down and stood up at the sound of a customer walking into the store. Oh well. Wooyoung must have been busy. He would just talk to him later.

Chapter Text

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SCENES WITH KIDNAPPING, NUDITY, AND NON-CONSENSUAL TOUCHING/BITING. IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE DO NOT READ! THANK YOU!

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An entire day came and went and it quickly turned into the next evening. Same busy cafe. Same table. Same green tea. Everything was exactly the same as always, but one person was missing from his chair.

Yeosang had barely taken two sips from his tea, which was probably cold by now, while he held his phone with a shaky hand, leaned on his elbow, staring at the screen. He stared as if he thought his phone might be intimidated by his glare and would materialize a text from Wooyoung saying he was okay out of thin air. But life was cruel sometimes. He was left watching the screen until his eyes became dry.

Eventually, Yeosang placed his phone on the table in frustration, both hands rubbing at his eyes with a stressed groan. Ruining his eyesight wouldn't solve anything. But if he knew what would, he would have sold his kidney for the answer.

Wooyoung wasn't the type of person to just disappear. Yeosang had known him since they were young and if there were ever nights he didn't plan on coming home, he would text him. That or he would call his cell phone until Yeosang answered because Wooyoung knew how worried he could get. One missed call on his cell phone didn't add up. Not to mention he was rarely away from home for this long. Could it be the fault of one of those creeps who had drugged him at the bar? Had he met the same fate as that man he went to school, the person no one had heard from in weeks? The thought terrified him, and put him on the verge of tears. No. No way Wooyoung was just gone. He couldn't be.

Yeosang couldn't stop thinking about those recent news stories. Young men going missing randomly in their area, having no reason to run away. They had just vanished. And that's what had happened with his best friend, the one he trusted with his life, the only one who made this world worth living in.

It wasn't just Wooyoung either. Yeosang hadn't seen Hongjoong since he had watched him leave his shift early the day before with that eerie, blank expression on his face. It was that man, he knew it. Seonghwa must have had something to do with Hongjoong's disappearance, he was sure. He must have told him something, maybe even threatened him, but there was a reason Hongjoong had left yesterday and wasn't on time for his normal shift today. He was never late. It was Wednesday, and all the other Wednesdays he always rushed in the door at exactly five o'clock, but when Yeosang glanced at his watch again, he saw it was already after six. Still no sign of him.

Yeosang's eyes fell onto the man who appeared to be a manager rushing around, doing many different jobs behind the counter. He could only guess he was short-staffed because of Hongjoong's no-show. It probably meant he hadn't called in to work either, just left his boss stranded doing the job meant for two by himself. It didn't seem like Hongjoong at all. He may not know him well, but he had always seemed to like his coworkers, smiling and laughing with them while making drinks, he didn't seem like the kind of person to just leave them hanging.

Before he knew it, Yeosang found himself approaching the counter. He didn't have a clear plan in mind. But it was a start, and he was sick of not having any leads to what had happened to his best friend. Maybe Seonghwa had something to do with Wooyoung's disappearance as well. Yeosang was going to go crazy unless he talked to someone.

"Excuse me?" Yeosang called to the manager when he seemed to have a moment between jobs.

The short, handsome man turned his direction as if he were programmed for it, but he couldn't hide how frazzled he was, even if he tried to cover it with a smile. He took a deep breath when he returned to the cash register. "Yes, sir. What can I get for you?" he asked.

Yeosang eyed his nametag, where 'Chris' was neatly printed with a blue marker. It was odd for someone to have an English name this far outside of Seoul. Maybe he was a foreigner.

"I actually was just hoping I could ask you a question," Yeosang told him honestly.

"Sure! What can I help you with?" The manager told him with a nervous glance at the order board full of drinks he still had to make.

"Doesn't Hongjoong usually work this shift with you?" Yeosang asked curiously.

Chris nodded, his frazzled grin faltering for a moment. "Yeah, he didn't show up. He usually calls in though, so I don't know. He's normally so punctual! You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

Yeosang let out a deep sigh. "I was hoping you would know," He pouted, losing hope again.

Chris shook his head, appearing stressed and a little frustrated under the surface. "I wish I did. We're a little bit busy at the moment and I could really use his help. He's usually so good at his job! You know, when he actually comes into work,"

"Does he skip work often?" Suddenly, a different, deeper voice cut in as a question to the manager.

Yeosang and Chris looked up to the tall man who was now also standing near the counter, casually leaning his arm on the dessert case. Yeosang blinked at the man, wondering what business he had asking about him.

Chris shook his head though. "No, never without calling in sick," he answered, suddenly rushing over to the dinging toaster behind him and pulling it open to save the bagel inside. "And if he takes a vacation day here and there he asks for it weeks in advance,"

"Then it's strange, don't you think?" The stranger asked while the manager prepared the bagel on the back counter.

"I think he might be in danger," Yeosang told the man in desperation, grabbing his attention away. "He's been acting weird and the last few times I've been here, he was talking to a shady man who wouldn't leave him alone,"

The tall man locked in, intrigued. He adjusted his arm against the dessert case with a squint. "Do you know this strange man's name?"

"My friend knew him from the place he works. I think he said his name was Seonghwa,"

Chris froze halfway through slicing the bagel as if the sound of the name struck something within him. He had his back to them, but still Yeosang could tell the word caused his face to shift into surprise, maybe confusion.

Still Yeosang went on. "My friend is missing too. He didn't come home last night, but he never stays anywhere overnight without telling me first. We're roommates, so he knows how anxious I get... I think something must have happened to him..."

Yeosang hadn't even realized that the stress of the situation was making him choke up. It couldn't be a coincidence that both Hongjoong and Wooyoung had gone missing at the same time after speaking to that man. He couldn't get the image of him out of his head. His elegant black coat that appeared more like an old-fashioned cloak straight out of a historical drama. That wavy black hair that practically covered his eyes and cascaded down to the base of his neck. His condescending scoff when anyone said anything he deemed to be beneath him. Seonghwa had even threatened Wooyoung. He had to be the reason his friend had not come home, there was no other answer.

Chris looked up in a panic when he heard the sound of the cafe door opening and two more people were entering. "That's too bad about your friend! Sorry, I would love to keep talking, but I have five orders waiting and people are still coming in," he told them with a nervous chuckle. "I really should get back to work!"

As they watched the busy manager begin to rush around again, the tall stranger turned to Yeosang, his gaze intrigued. "Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?"

Yeosang nodded, desperate for any answers even a stranger could offer. They wandered back toward Yeosang's table and his forgotten tea while a burning question made its way to the surface. "How do you know Hongjoong?" he asked him.

"Mind if I sit?" The stranger asked as Yeosang took a seat and nodded in approval.

Now that he sat across from him, Yeosang was able to view the stranger more clearly. His eyes were intense, concentrated as if he were searching for answers. That made him quite similar to Yeosang already. The man's lips pursed in thought while he thought how to answer his question.

"I don't actually know him. I was looking at the desserts when I overheard you saying that he was missing," The man said honestly. "My name is Mingi by the way,"

Yeosang tilted his head with a confused hum. "Why do you care so much about a person you don't even know?"

"I'm a journalist," Mingi told him, pulling out a pen and a notepad. He flipped to the first blank page and raised his eyes back to Yeosang. "Also people are going missing all over this city, so I'm curious more than anything,"

Yeosang sighed deeply. "My best friend in the world is one of them..." he told him regretfully, his arms resting on the table while he stared into its surface like it would give him answers.

Mingi's eyes glimmered with interest. "Two friends of yours went missing?" he asked with a hint of confusion.

Yeosang nodded although he wished more than anything it wasn't true. He could hardly believe it himself. "I haven't heard from my best friend Wooyoung since yesterday, and yeah he can be a little... adventurous... but he would never do this to me on purpose. He always keeps me updated about where he is if he doesn't come home some nights. I've just... got a really bad feeling about it..."

Mingi was scribbling something in his notepad, nodding along with Yeosang's explanation. "And the strange man you said was in here talking with Hongjoong. Did he make contact with your friend too?"

"Yes," Yeosang declared with a firm voice, remembering the awful, condescending way he had spoken to Wooyoung. "He even threatened him, told him to watch what he said because he'd be dead soon. There's no doubt in my mind that Seonghwa's involved somehow,"

Mingi nodded along as he finished writing and set his pen down. "Your instinct is usually right, you should trust it. Have you reported what you know to the police yet?"

Yeosang shook his head reluctantly. He hadn't been sure when would be too soon to report it without hearing back from Wooyoung. Maybe he was giving it another day before he declared the emergency, but the sooner he reported it, the sooner it would get solved. If it would ever get solved.

Mingi looked like he understood though. His face held sympathy as if he was affected in the same way. "Definitely go to the police about this, but don't tell anyone else you did. There's more to this town than you think, and you need to be careful,"

Yeosang stared at him. "What do you mean by that?" His brow furrowed in confusion.

Mingi sighed, relaxing in his chair. In Wooyoung's chair. "Sorry, but for the safety of me and my family, I have to keep being vague. You just be careful who you say that name around, cuz I'm sure there are others who know exactly who he is... or what he is..."

"What?" The confusion on Yeosang's face grew.

Mingi shook his head like he had said too much. "Just be careful. Make sure the police take care of it and don't try to handle it by yourself. No one should go looking for him unarmed,"

Yeosang watched him, perplexed, as Mingi picked up his pen again and made another quick note. Still Yeosang didn't think he was going to get him to explain everything today like he wanted him to.

Mingi refocused his attention on Yeosang. "You said the last time you heard from your friend Wooyoung was yesterday, right?"

Yeosang nodded cautiously. "Yesterday before he left for work. I haven't seen or heard anything from him since then,"

"And Hongjoong?"

Yeosang let out a sigh. "He was working here yesterday and that's when Seong-... when that man came in to talk to him. He whispered something to him just before he left. Hongjoong clocked out of work earlier than normal and I'm positive that he had something to do with it,"

Mingi nodded. "You think he met up with him? What does he normally do after work?"

Yeosang looked down in embarrassment. "I don't know... we're not actually friends, I just come here so often that I happen to remember his schedule, that's all,"

"Ohh, so he's your crush?"

Yeosang covered his eyes in shame. "Would knowing that help your story?"

Mingi shrugged. "Might add some emotion,"

"Sure, I guess I kinda liked him," Yeosang admitted, his hand dropping back onto the table. "Hey, what did you mean about there being people who know who or what Seong-... the shady man is?"

Mingi finished up the note he was writing and gave him an apologetic smile. "I pray you never find out. But I can't say it, for my safety as well as yours. After you report this to the police, you should forget everything about this and just go back to life as usual,"

"But how can I do that if I don't know what happened to Wooyoung?"

"Hey, just because they haven't found any of the missing people yet doesn't mean they never will. Have hope. Your friend might make his way back to you,"

'Might' wasn't good enough for Yeosang. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to live in that world if the only person who understood and cared for him had met an early end. There wasn't anyone else. They only had each other.

After that, Mingi flipped back to the page he had begun on. "Oh, can you tell me your friend's family name so I can get the word out?"

"Jung. Jung Wooyoung," Yeosang told him, his voice breaking. Just the sound of his name leaving his lips struck his heart like an arrow.

Mingi made a note. "Got it. Do you happen to know Hongjoong's?"

Yeosang shook his head, his mind elsewhere. "Please help me find Wooyoung,"

"I'll keep my eyes and ears open," Mingi assured him with genuine sympathy in his eyes. It was the most he could do, but still it wasn't enough. It would never be, not until he was reunited with Wooyoung and saw him in the flesh with his own two eyes.

Mingi wrote one last thing before tearing off the corner of a page and handing it to Wooyoung. "Here's my phone number in case you learn anything else about your friend. Send me a text, something vague, just so I have your number, but if you contact me apart from that, make sure you delete our conversations immediately,"

Yeosang nodded, but he wasn't sure if he heard him. He only seemed to snap out of it when Mingi stood up from his chair and Yeosang instinctively stood just after him.

"Thank you for this, you've been a big help," Mingi told him. "I never got your name though,"

"Yeosang," he told Mingi with a bow. "Thanks for trying to help. Please let me know if you find anything,"

Mingi nodded. "Of course. Take care of yourself, Yeosang-ssi,"

* * * * * * * *

Head pounding. Body aching. Energy all but depleted. Those were the first of many things Wooyoung noticed when he started to come to. He groaned quietly, groggily, completely disoriented, his heart beating loudly in his chest. How was he still alive? He couldn't even remember when he had fallen under let alone how he had ended up here. When his fatigued eyes blinked half open, he could barely see through darkened vision.

Wooyoung didn't recognize the room when his vision cleared. He looked around, his movements slow and weary, confused by the unfamiliar grey paint, modern style wood bookshelves and oak trim lining the walls. Thick curtains hung over windows where natural light seeped in through cracks near their edges. Wooyoung was laying on a comfortable bed underneath a stylish light fixture that wouldn't need to be turned on if those curtains were open. He stared up at it in confusion. What was he doing here?

Using all of what little strength he had, Wooyoung lifted his head from the cushioned surface of the bed to get a better look at his surroundings. He propped himself up slightly, and that's when he heard a faint jingling sound that made him freeze. At the same time, Wooyoung noticed a sudden cold sensation against his left ankle.

It was metal. There was a metal shackle clamped around his bare ankle. Every ounce of fatigue suddenly left Wooyoung's body in a surge of an adrenaline-filled scream as he sat up, knees bending. He was naked. There was not a single square inch of fabric anywhere on his body to conceal his dignity. And that's when everything flooded back to him like a tsunami.

The vampire. The attack. Wooyoung's hand flew to the burning pain on his neck that he suddenly noticed now that he was more aware. There was a thick bandage taped against his torn skin. Why would he bother? Wooyoung had accepted his fate, so how and why had he ended up here alive?

Wooyoung started to panic, eyes darting around the room, unsure exactly what he was looking for. Maybe a way out. Something to use for an escape. The shackle on his ankle was attached to a long chain, so there might be a chance he could reach a weapon of some kind if he could find one. Failing to see anything that would help him, Wooyoung desperately messed with the metal around his ankle. Maybe he could slip it off. But he found out quickly it was much too tight. The monster had thought of everything.

Wooyoung cursed with one last hopeless tug that was turning his ankle red and swollen. It was pointless. He would only injure himself more, and he was already too weak to fight.

Wooyoung sat on the edge of the bed, catching his breath, feeling the fatigue begin to set back in. He could only guess it was from the lack of blood, and he hadn't had anything to eat since dinner the day before. He couldn't even be sure how much time had passed since the attack. What if it had been days? There was no way to know. Wooyoung couldn't stand the idea of how anxious Yeosang must be after not hearing from him for that long.

A noise outside the bedroom door made Wooyoung jump. Then a familiar voice. His heart beat loudly in his ears; he knew it was him, and he didn't even have time to finish hurriedly backing up onto the bed before the door creaked open. And there he was.

The monster he had once known as San peeked his head in with a sickening grin.

Wooyoung backed up into the pillows that lay by the headboard and trembled, a wave of hopelessness washing over him as he watched him step inside. He was completely trapped.

The vampire closed the door behind him, leaving just the two of them in the room that felt much too small now. Wooyoung didn't think there would ever be a place far enough away from that monster where he would feel safe. And now the distance was diminishing further.

"I thought you'd never wake up," San admitted stepping up to the foot of the bed. He must have heard him scream earlier. That smile on his face was enough to make Wooyoung nauseous.

Wooyoung was lost for words. He was hugging his knees close to his body, hating the way San was looking him up and down like a delicious meal even as he shook with terror. Wooyoung had a million things he wanted to spew at him, but in that vulnerable position, what could he say that wouldn't spell out more trouble for him?

San's eyes traveled across every inch of visible skin, the darkness of desire in his slow blink. "You don't have to hide from me, jagi. You're all mine now,"

"Get the fuck away from me,"

Wooyoung's shaky words were involuntary. An instinct as he watched San lean forward, the threat of coming closer.

The vampire just blinked. "You can lose the attitude," he told him sternly. "There's no need for words like that,"

"You attacked me!" Wooyoung spat with the terror of a cornered animal. "You expect me to be polite?! You're a monster!"

An amused puff of air left San's nose and that awful smirk creeped back onto his lips. "Monster isn't an insult to me, Young-ah. I've lived long enough, I've heard it all. I assume you guessed what I am by now, yeah?"

Wooyoung was beginning to have a headache from glaring so fiercely. He knew. He didn't want to acknowledge the reality. "You're a vampire," He sneered, every ounce of hate in his body fueling his words.

San grinned proudly regardless. "Very good, kitten! Keep that up and there might be a treat waiting for you later,"

Wooyoung hugged his knees closer to him, feeling a shiver of discomfort wrack his body. He was back to being lost for words. He could only stare in disbelief, understanding nothing and everything at the same time. Wooyoung couldn't comprehend that monsters like vampires even existed in their world, let alone that he was the prisoner of one. On the other hand, he understood that his life was over. That with San's inhuman strength and Wooyoung being constantly weakened by blood loss, he stood no chance at escape.

San made his way to the side of the bed, further closing the gap and causing Wooyoung's heart rate to increase. He sat down on the edge of the bed, the feeling of the sinking mattress making Wooyoung nauseous.

"If you know what I am, I assume you know what we need to do to survive..."

Wooyoung shook his head desperately, cautiously backing away, keeping his knees bent to shield his body. His wide eyes were pleading, knowing what was coming. "No... please don't... please, I-"

Wooyoung cried out in terror as his own leg was yanked away from his body by its ankle restraint, his back falling against the sheets, his ankle further abused by the metal shackle. San had dragged him in closer with a firm hold on the chain, Wooyoung's legs involuntarily approaching the ruthless vampire.

"No, stop! STOP!" Wooyoung pleaded, his voice cracking with urgency as his body writhed, trying to keep some distance between them. But San was already gripping his shackled leg firmly under the knee, controlling every one of his movements, eyes void of emotion staring down at him. San put him into position with no trouble at all.

Wooyoung had never felt so helpless, lying there on his back, stripped of clothing, seen as nothing more than a source of sustenance for a starving monster. Every instinct in him burned with the need to get away, to escape his touch. He kicked, he struggled with whatever strength was left in him. But he was trapped. San's grip, even with a single hand, was much too strong.

Wooyoung was close to crying when San tugged him just a bit closer and threw him off balance again. He didn't feel like a person. He felt like prey. And the predator who held him like a piece of food was about to take his time savoring his meal.

San dragged his nose along the skin of his bare inner thigh, even the slight tickle making Wooyoung flinch, but the firm grip wouldn't allow him to move much. He yelped when he felt San's wet lips press against his flesh, expecting the sting of the fangs, but it didn't happen yet. He still begged. He didn't know why, as if there was any way to stop it. He knew it was coming, and his voice was becoming less and less hopeful. But it felt worse to just sit there and endure it.

Slow, wet kisses were pressed into the skin of his thigh, the victim crying out as if he could already feel the fangs while his flesh was licked and gently pinched between soft lips. Wooyoung had no chance to escape it; the more he struggled, the firmer San's grip became, pressing down on his other leg and keeping them spread in the most uncomfortable way.

"You taste so salty..." San commented, lips still brushing against his skin. "Is that sweat? Are you nervous, baby?"

Wooyoung jerked his body aggressively in another provoked struggle, grunting in exasperation when he still couldn't move an inch. "Get away from me!" He cried. The amount of hate rushing through his veins was enough to make his blood boil, and maybe that was the real reason he was sweating.

San grinned as if he thought he was cute. "Just relax..." he told him in a voice much too gentle for the situation. "It's better for both of us if you don't struggle,"

But Wooyoung didn't listen, and the moment San's wet lips returned to his flesh, he fought even harder than before. He would have to be dead before he would just lie there and pretend his body belonged to someone else other than him.

The flesh under San's lips was becoming raw and there was bound to be a bruise forming on the surface of his fair skin. At some point, Wooyoung couldn't be sure if he was planning to bite down, thinking he might just be trying to live out his sick fantasy of loving on him like he had clearly wanted from the beginning. He should have seen the signs and walked away before.

Then slowly, Wooyoung began to feel a pinch that burned the skin on his bruised inner thigh. He gasped as it only got worse, realizing that San's sharp fangs had once again sunk into his flesh, his lips enclosing the punctures and taking in the first drops of fresh crimson.

San was right; struggling only made it hurt worse, but his instincts wouldn't let him take it without a fight. So he desperately screamed out, Wooyoung's body writhing in any direction it could, still caught under the weight of San's grip. He could feel the blood leaving him faster now, the vampire gulping down thicker mouthfuls more frequently by the moment. If it was anything like the last time, he wouldn't have long before he became faint and couldn't fight at all. So he fought against him like hell while he still could.

Wooyoung started kicking him with his free leg, tried to push his head away with desperate hands, but San's mouth was still firmly latched onto his skin. San's satisfied moans vibrated against Wooyoung's flesh as he continued to indulge in him, and they sure weren't the sounds of someone who wanted to quit anytime soon.

Wooyoung felt his eyes begin to water from the constant pain that was inescapable. His desperation grew, sweat beads forming on his forehead, tense muscles fighting more urgently without much hope. His hands tugged at anything they could reach, begging to be released, eventually taking fistfuls of San's hair and hoping the monster still felt pain as he yanked hard.

It didn't change much of anything until he felt San smile against his blood covered skin. Everything paused. The vampire slid his fangs out of his victim's thigh and licked his lips with a teasing grin in his direction. Wooyoung breathed heavily in relief, his chest rising and falling with fatigued gasps as he had bought himself a moment free of the sting of fangs plunged into his flesh. But he couldn't ignore the sickening feeling of blood dripping from the wound down the curve of his leg.

"Don't stop on my account," San told him, a hand painting a featherlight path along the other side of his thigh with a sickening grin. "Go on, keep pulling my hair. I like a power bottom,"

Wooyoung could only attack with a vicious leer at the man between his legs, still breathing heavy. "Go. To. Hell,"

San was about to respond after a quick chuckle when there was suddenly a knock on the door that made him look up. They both seemed to freeze, Wooyoung having no clue who or what was on the other side of that door. Apparently vampires were real, so what else could be awaiting him?

"San-ah," boomed the voice from outside, loud and assertive. "Business meeting. Now. It's important so don't keep us waiting,"

San rolled his eyes, groaning as his forehead made contact with the bed sheets. Wooyoung's head fell backwards against the sheets as he could finally relax in hopes that whatever meeting San was being called to would keep him away for a while. He wasn't by any means out of the woods. But he needed time to process, to come to terms with this new reality, time without piercing fangs digging into his fragile skin.

Wooyoung breathed a sigh of relief when San stood up from the bed and his hold on his restraint was released. Maybe it wasn't relief, but a sense of knowing that for a few minutes at least, he wouldn't have to be treated like a juice box.

San wandered around the room for a minute, his movement sounding like he was gathering things, but Wooyoung couldn't care in the slightest as long as he wasn't touching him. Once he caught his breath, Wooyoung's head lifted a bit to survey the damage to his thigh. His skin was black and blue, and over it were two obvious puncture holes full of dripping blood that cascaded down his thigh. That's when he looked up and caught San's eye for a moment.

"Don't miss me too much while I'm gone, jagi-yah," San told him, his arm clutching a thick binder that must have been for the meeting.

Wooyoung continued to glare, wincing when the new pain in his thigh flared up again. "Fuck off," he spat.

"Oh! I almost forgot," San spoke suddenly, reaching into his pocket. Wooyoung tensed up in fear, not knowing what could be awaiting him.

But San pulled out a familiar piece of silver jewelry from his pocket. "You were wearing this yesterday, so I kept it safe. You bled on it a little, so I gave it another wash and I'd say it's back to normal... but it just looks so pretty on you! Even prettier than it did on its last owner,"

That had Wooyoung perplexed all over again. Didn't San tell him he found it on the street? Had he actually known whose it was all along?

"It... it's last owner...?" Wooyoung asked cautiously, unsure if he actually wanted him to clarify.

San grinned in that awful amused way again. "Yeah, the dirty street necklace. That's what I told you, right? That I found it in the street? I lied, sorry, jagi-yah. I couldn't tell you about Hunter yet since you might have guessed I had something to do with his disappearance,"

Wooyoung's eyes grew larger than ever. Hunter, the friendly young student from his university that had gone missing earlier that year... it was his necklace. It all made sense in the most outraging way. Why the name engraved in it was in Thai, why San had lied about its origins. He must have known Wooyoung was familiar with him.

"Too bad about Hunter, though," San sighed like he was genuinely disappointed. "I actually really liked him, but I guess I got carried away one day and... well he just stopped breathing. It's a shame, really,"

"You killed him," Wooyoung spat, hatred painting his voice.

San shrugged, not a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "Maybe, but if I hadn't lost him, it might not have brought us together! And I'll be honest, Wooyoung-ah, you're my favorite so far. I'm glad I found you!"

Wooyoung gritted his teeth with a provoked lunge in his direction, mortified that he was making light of the death of an innocent, young student. He'd pay for that. He took a life, and it couldn't be for free.

There was a more aggressive knock on the door soon after, and within seconds, it was forced open by someone from outside.

"I said it's important," the voice that was strangely familiar barked in a demanding tone. "I'm on a tight schedule today and if I am late for anything, I am going to strangle you,"

San groaned in annoyance as he opened his door the rest of the way. "Calm down, hyung, I was already on my way out the door,"

When he saw him over San's shoulder, Wooyoung thought he was going to throw up. There was a reason he thought he had heard that voice before, and it was because he had. First at his restaurant, then at the cafe. It all made perfect sense; that bastard Seonghwa must have been a vampire as well.

Wooyoung must have been frozen in terror, rage boiling like lava under his skin. Seonghwa peered inside as San moved past him and out the door. His hand adorned with a black lace glove laid gracefully over the doorknob as that infuriating smirk made its way back to the glittery lips that matched his eyeshadow.

"Enjoying your stay?" Seonghwa mocked, seeming to survey the damage that had already been done to his body as if in satisfaction.

Wooyoung sat up with an infuriated, threatening stare. "Shibal gae saekki-yah!!" He cursed with the force of his entire body. "I'll fucking kill you!"

Seonghwa flipped his long, black hair backward in a bout of laughter, the sound condescending enough to spark a million insecurities in seconds. "You are the cutest thing! Now that you're here, we'll have to spend more time together, Wooyoung-ah. Your blood must taste like a dream!"

Wooyoung noticed he was taking his time scanning his delicate, damaged body, realizing in horror that his eyes were changing color when his gaze landed on the fresh, still bleeding wound on his thigh. That now familiar crimson color was swirling in his irises that Wooyoung could see even over the distance between them that never seemed to be far enough. Wooyoung panicked, covering the bleeding wound with his hands, hiding it from the vampire's view.

Seonghwa snickered at him, bobbing his head. "Tough guy act gone like the wind, huh?" he mocked with that wicked grin. "Bet you wish you would have gotten me more wine that day. You might not be in this mess,"

Chapter Text

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES KIDNAPPING, NUDITY, NON-CONSENSUAL INTIMATE TOUCHING, AND BLOOD/GORE. IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE DO NOT READ. THANK YOU!
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Yeosang didn’t know what mystical force carried him anywhere after he saw it. Didn't know how he could continue after his greatest fear was confirmed. He shouldn’t have waited. He should have listened to that journalist and gone to the police immediately, but the fear of not being taken seriously was always in the back of his brain, controlling his every move. So he had decided to wait. But two days later, still with no response from Wooyoung, the anxiety eating him alive more and more as time passed, Yeosang had tripped on the path on his way home.

He had fallen into the hardened, icy snow, somewhere off the path where no one ever walked, cursing and groaning in discomfort. But when he lifted his head, he didn’t think nausea had ever flooded over him so quickly in his life.

That familiar device, black as the night. His best friend’s favorite color even if Yeosang had convinced him to add a few shimmering stickers to his phone’s case so it wasn’t so boring. And as he lay there in the snow, those stickers were visible, soaked and peeling off with the wetness of the snow around it.

Yeosang’s hand had flown to his mouth in a heavy panic, suddenly unable to control his breathing. He had grown dizzy. He hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but his best friend’s phone hadn’t been the only thing lying in the white snow.

Even now, he couldn’t escape the sight. He sat shivering in a hard plastic chair at the police station as he clutched his friend’s phone as if it was the last piece of him. He wanted to believe the red stains in the pure white snow were something else. Maybe he’d been holding a drink and tripped, maybe his phone had fallen out of his pocket. Then Yeosang’s fingers gripped his own hair by the roots in distress, knowing how idiotic that sounded. Wooyoung was attacked.

Yeosang barely heard himself when he was called in to talk to the detective. He watched the man examine Wooyoung’s phone, asking questions about where his friend may have gone to, places he went often. Yeosang answered them honestly, but it still felt like he was in a dream. What was the point in knowing all this about Wooyoung if he was dead? The crimson stains in the snow hadn’t been small, and the more he thought about it, the dizzier he got.

Wooyoung might be dead. That was a real possibility.

Yeosang still told the detectives everything he possibly could, that tiny flicker of light inside of him hoping that having all the information would lead them to something. Anything. He mentioned Hongjoong, that he went missing around the same time, and he gave them the name of that bastard who must be behind everything.

Something changed on the detective’s face when Yeosang mentioned Seonghwa. Apparently it was a well known name in Goyang-si. The detective made a note to check, but he was pretty sure he held a spot on the city council and was on friendly terms with the mayor. Yeosang’s fist tightened in frustration. If that was the case, he would never be suspected of any crimes. Maybe he had planned it all that way.

It was all just too much. Yeosang tried to act like everything was normal when he still went to work every day, but it was more for survival than anything. He was suffering. But he couldn’t stop working or they couldn’t pay their rent on time. Yeosang felt like a zombie for days while he waited for a response from the police station as they conducted their investigation.

By the third day, Yeosang was convinced they had forgotten, that they hadn’t taken him seriously just like everyone else in his life except Wooyoung. Convinced this was his new reality. Yeosang had called the restaurant and confirmed Wooyoung wasn’t showing up to work either, so Yeosang’s income was the only source of money keeping a roof over his head, providing a home for Wooyoung to come home to if he ever would. But he was losing more and more hope each day. Barely alive, he just kept working.

Yeosang used his car to go everywhere now, terrified of even making another quick run on foot to the nearby convenience store. He couldn’t walk through that forest the same anymore. He knew Wooyoung’s blood was still there, even if it had seeped into the dirt below. And whoever had attacked him must have known where he would be, where few people ever walked. Yeosang wouldn’t give them another victim.

Yeosang was just pulling into his townhome’s parking spot one evening when the frustration finally got to him. He exited his car with a loud slam of the door, leaning his back against it, his face in his palms. It was too much. He couldn’t do it anymore. In a fit of desperation, he whipped out his cell phone and once he confirmed it wasn’t too late, he dialed the police station.

It was hard to hide the frustration in his voice when he asked about the investigation’s progress, especially when the person on the phone knew nothing about it. He thought they must just be new, that they weren’t there the day he had come in. But when he told them the name of the detective he had spoken with and got him on the phone, his aggravation only grew.

“Jung Wooyoung? Are you sure the name is right? I’m looking now, and we have no active investigations on any missing person reports with that name on file. Are you sure you called the right office?”

“I spoke with you personally!” Yeosang almost screamed, his frustration and anger putting him on the verge of tears. “How do you not remember?! You wrote everything down! You were supposed to investigate Park Seonghwa because he’s involved in all this, I know it!”

“Seonghwa? That guy on the council? No, sir, I don’t think so. You can trust him. He’s done so many good things for the community. He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Yeosang felt his entire body tense up with rage. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Were they stupid? How could he be so sure? Last time he had talked to the detective, he had assured Yeosang that he would question Seonghwa despite his doubts that he was involved. Now he was just positive he could trust him? It didn’t make sense! And now the last few days had been wasted when someone could have been searching for Wooyoung. It wasn’t fair.

Yeosang didn’t have the words to say to the detective, he just stood there, mouth ajar, trying to form a sentence but failing every moment. If Wooyoung was alive before, he might not be anymore, and it would be all their fault.

Yeosang’s phone slipped from his hand, falling to the asphalt parking lot below him with a thud. He had nothing left. Wooyoung was gone. All hope for finding him had disappeared.

“Hello? Sir, are you still there? Hello?”

The voice came from the receiver of the phone on the ground but he barely heard it. Everything good in his life had vanished with Wooyoung and there was no hope of getting him back. His life was over.

That’s why he barely reacted when his head was slammed into the window of his car. There was a loud crack, then nothing else other than the ringing in his ears blocking out any other sound. He felt it though, the throbbing pain shooting through the back of his skull as his back slid down his car door. He landed on the asphalt with a thud, his vision going completely black.

* * * * * * * *

It seemed like just a moment, but also an eternity, by the time Yeosang’s eyes flew open. There was something strange. He was somewhere new. Yeosang was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, wood beams creating triangular patterns of timber above his head, the walls around it making a solid concrete structure. It wasn’t a small room. But it wasn’t huge either. It reminded him of a storage area, but figuring that out confused him even more.

Yeosang’s face grimaced, lightly gasping as he noticed the pain in the back of his head, spreading to the nerves in his neck. It didn’t help that he was lying on a cold, hard concrete floor. Yeosang winced as he lifted his head slightly in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain, his hand assessing the damage and finding a large, pussing wound underneath his hair. His face contorted in disgust as he groaned in discomfort. The last thing he remembered was talking on the phone with the detective, but it all felt like a bad dream now.

Getting a better look around the room, Yeosang became even more perplexed. There were only a few lights on the ceiling, leaving much of the room’s edge bathed in shadow. The room was almost empty. Near him, there was what looked like an old, rusty dog cage, and beyond that there was a large, comfortable looking, vintage style bed, neatly made with deep red sheets that looked extremely out of place in the concrete room. It was all just… odd.

Then Yeosang gaped loud.

His eyes had dropped to the floor in front of him, making him instinctively back away in terror. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing at first. He didn’t want to believe it. There was a person there, lying on the ground limp as a doll, leaving Yeosang unsure whether he was alive or dead. It wasn’t just anyone, either. He would have recognized that fluffy red hair anywhere.

It was Hongjoong.

Yeosang’s hand flew to his mouth in shock, his breathing getting funny while he tried not to completely lose it. He grew lightheaded. The sight was horrifying. Hongjoong was naked, sprawled out on the floor as if he’d fallen there, but that wasn’t even the worst of it: it was what was all over his skin.

Sores of all kinds covered his nude body, some fresh with new, red blood seeping down from deep wounds following dried paths of crimson. Some marks were old, leaving spots of black and blue bruises spread over damaged skin. Yeosang slowly leaned forward and approached him cautiously on hands and knees, taking a closer look. He became dizzy, a sound of shock and sorrow slipping from his lips behind a trembling hand. No. No way there were teeth marks imprinted in his flesh.

What freak had done this to him?! He was barely breathing!

Yeosang hurried closer to him, ignoring the throbbing pain in his own skull that made him grimace with every move. Quickly, he pressed two fingers into the skin under Hongjoong’s jawline to check for a pulse. He was at least relieved to find one although it was weak. Hongjoong looked even paler than when he had last seen him at the cafe leaving Yeosang feeling completely lost as to what was happening to him. Someone was doing this to him. Someone sick and twisted in the head.

“Hongjoong-ssi,” Yeosang spoke urgently, shaking his arm. “Hongjoong-ssi, can you hear me? Hey, wake up. Wake up! We need to get out of here!”

After what seemed like forever with no response other than a few weak groans, Yeosang had to think fast, taking another quick look around the room. There was a door. An exit. Or at least that’s what Yeosang prayed for because he couldn’t think of another way out of this.

Yeosang rushed over to it, stumbling when he realized he was also a bit weak from whatever fall had caused the wound on his head. He kneeled in front of the door, catching his breath for a moment before trying the knob. It wouldn’t even turn. Yeosang stared at it in disbelief, eyes wide with hopelessness for what felt like forever until he was desperately pulling at the knob, trying it in both directions with force he didn’t even know he had, but still it remained stagnant. No way he was locked in there. No way this was happening.

It wasn’t long before he was banging on the door with closed fists hoping someone was on the other side. They would see he wasn’t meant to be in here. They would apologize for the mistake and let him out, maybe even get Hongjoong to the hospital.

What a ridiculous thought.

“Help! Somebody please! Someone’s hurt in here!” he shouted desperately. “Help! He needs a doctor, he’s barely breathing!”

His pounding on the door continued until the skin on the side of his fists were bruised. He shouted until his voice was strained. But there was no answer. Not even a sound.

In a stroke of desperation, Yeosang remembered the small hair-pin he kept in his shirt pocket just in case his long locks got in his way. He quickly pulled it out, praising the universe it was still there, hurriedly sticking it into the keyhole and picking at the lock.

Yeosang poked and prodded at the keyhole, having not even the first idea how to successfully open it. But he was out of options. He was injured, confused, terrified… he could feel his anxiety rising each second he failed and cursed at the lock. Then a new voice sounded.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,”

Yeosang nearly jumped out of his skin, a startled shout escaping him as he dropped to the floor at the sound of the deep tone. He caught himself on his wrist and barely noticed the pain and the cold chill of the floor on his palms as he backed himself up against the wall. Yeosang was shaking. But nothing in the room had changed. There didn’t appear to be anyone else in the space other than him and Hongjoong. But he was sure he’d heard a voice as it had sent shivers through every inch of his spine.

“H…hello…?” Yeosang called out in a shaky voice, his back against the cold, concrete slab wall. His eyes darted around the room, expecting to find someone, but he still couldn’t see anything. The edges of the room were still shrouded in darkness. That’s when he noticed something that made his heart all but stop beating.

There was a chuckle that came from the darkness, drawing his attention to a pair of glassy, menacing eyes glowing with a rosy tint that cut through the shadows. They narrowed in amusement, but they held something else too. Hostility. Unfiltered malice.

“It’s just an advisement. If you’d like to keep all your limbs, that is,”

Yeosang’s body grew tense with terror, his breathing quickening as his fists balled against the cold floor. What the hell was he saying?! With a threat like that, he feared he would soon end up like the man on the floor on front of him.

“Who are you?!” Yeosang couldn’t get his voice to stop shaking no matter how tough he wanted to sound.

The man took a few steps out of the shadows, and Yeosang’s terror stirred within him when he recognized that face. That gorgeous yet wicked expression that spelled out danger for anyone near him. Yeosang had never seen him this angry until that moment, and the intimidation he felt reached the deepest parts of his soul.

“I figured you’d know my name since you’ve been blabbing it all over town,” he sneered.

It was him. That bastard, Seonghwa. The man Yeosang had insisted the detectives investigate because he’d been the last person seen with Hongjoong before he had gone missing. The man the police had told him was an outstanding citizen because of all he did for the community. The man who was keeping an innocent barista captive and wounded in a concrete prison and could be planning the same fate for Yeosang.

Seonghwa never stopped moving toward him, Yeosang bending his knees and hugging them close to him in terror. Every second he watched him, his heart pounded faster until he thought it might explode. And each moment he prayed he would wake up from this nightmare.

Once he stood directly in front of the shivering mess of a man on the floor, Seonghwa squatted down, eyes meeting Yeosang’s with a glare that could burn right through his skull.

“The police showed up at my house yesterday…” he growled, his glare darkening. “All because someone couldn’t mind their own business,”

Yeosang’s eyes widened with desperation, shaking his head as if he were going to deny saying anything. But he was sure his lie wouldn’t be convincing enough to fool him. How else could Seonghwa find out he had suspected him? And why hadn’t the police arrested him?!

Yeosang could only stutter with an open mouth. “I…I-I…”

Seonghwa scoffed at Yeosang’s unbridled panic. “Such a big mouth before, but nothing to say now. What should we do about that, hm?”

Yeosang trembled behind his knees, unable to hold eye-contact even though he thought he might be in trouble for dodging it. He felt completely trapped. No matter what he said, it was unlikely to diffuse the situation.

In one swift movement, Seonghwa grabbed a hold of Yeosang’s jaw and jerked it upward so he was facing him again. Yeosang could only whine in distress, his eyes squeezing shut as his quick breaths stuttered in terror at the feeling of the lace glove on his skin.

“Look at me while I’m talking to you,” Seonghwa demanded with a snarl.

Yeosang raised his eyes up to him reluctantly, his teeth gritted in his struggle, loose strands of his bangs falling messily over his face. He still trembled, but he didn’t dare try to fight in his weak state.

Seonghwa’s expression softened in satisfaction, as if he were pleased by the sight of Yeosang’s clear distress. Like the hopelessness fueled him.

Seonghwa’s eyes had a certain power to them. A power that made Yeosang unable to look away as if he were under some kind of spell, one that came with the red shade they seemed to glow as his trembling soul was stared into.

Seonghwa focused his gaze with a glare that could cut glass. But when he spoke, his voice was calm, inquisitive. “Did you sell me out to the police?”

“Yes, it was me,”

The words fell from Yeosang’s mouth immediately against his will. It was like they had been sucked out of him, his lips moving all on their own. His eyes still couldn’t leave Seonghwa’s captivating, red irises. He was trapped. He couldn’t even blink.

A corner of Seonghwa’s mouth lifted as he studied his face, sensing his confusion. “Very good. That was just a test, now, more importantly, who else did you tell? Does anyone else know about me?”

“I told a journalist I thought you were suspicious,”

Seonghwa’s head tilted, taking in the information, but he remained hyper-focused. “And this journalist’s name?”

“Mingi. He didn’t give me a family name,”

“I see,” Seonghwa nodded, finally looking elsewhere and breaking whatever hold he had on Yeosang.

Yeosang could finally blink, his breathing becoming quicker again while still caught in his firm grip. He noticed his head had become dizzy, a slight ache throbbing within his temples.

Seonghwa returned his gaze with a grin that seemed to come out of nowhere. He released his grip on his jaw, only allowing Yeosang a moment to breathe before giving him a few harsh pats on his cheek that almost seemed like praises, but made Yeosang wince with every one.

“For your sake, and Hongjoong’s, I hope you remember more about him soon,” Seonghwa spoke, holding that smile with a sinister undertone.

Yeosang felt his stomach knot as anxiety took him over once again. Now he was bringing Hongjoong into this? Did he not hear him? How was he supposed to know anything else about Mingi when he hadn’t told him?!

“I- I… he-... he didn’t tell me any-”

Yeosang grunted when his mouth was covered with a cold palm, Seonghwa bringing his other index finger to his own lips with a warning gaze. “Shh… don’t get yourself into more trouble. It’s better if you don’t speak. You’ll regret it, okay?”

Yeosang tried to pull away from the hand, jerking his head in all directions in protest of his declining dignity. But the bastard’s strength was inhuman.

“I had no intention of imprisoning you, you know,” Seonghwa told him matter-of-factly. “I only wanted Hongjoong. And then that nice detective strolled up to my door with a couple of police officers wanting to conduct a search of my house. And do you know why?!”

Seonghwa laughed suddenly, his hand thrusting against Yeosang’s throat, his expression falling to a glare as he tightened his grip. Yeosang gasped for air and tried to steady his breathing.

“Because they said some whiny little twink wouldn’t shut up saying I abducted his best friend and the barista from his wet dreams!”

Yeosang grunted and whined, instinctively grabbing at Seonghwa’s wrist in a panic when he felt himself starting to choke. But he didn’t expect the harsh slap to his cheek he received moments later that sent him back toward the floor.

Yeosang coughed and sputtered on the concrete, the wind completely knocked from his lungs by the impact. He was transported back in time; it felt like the hand of his father had reached him from his grave.

“Never put your hands on me,” Seonghwa spat, standing over him.

His body still trembling, his cheek stinging, Yeosang cautiously shifted his gaze beyond Seonghwa, getting chills again when he once again laid eyes on the injured man on the cold, hard floor. Somehow, he found his voice again, although he should have expected what would come next. “What… did you do to him?”

Seonghwa reacted quickly, violently, the toe of his heeled shoe nearly impaling Yeosang’s stomach in its weakest spot. Yeosang crumpled to the floor with a cry of pain, his insides instantly turning to jelly. There he was again: back at his parents’ house.

“I told you not to speak. I didn’t expect to have to teach you a lesson this early on,”

Yeosang could only heave strained breaths, arms wrapped around his midsection as if that could heal the pain in some miracle way. He raised vengeful eyes still full of fear toward the monster standing over him as sharp breaths travelled in and out through clenched teeth.

Seonghwa seemed completely unbothered. He began to move away from Yeosang, only to step in the direction of the unconscious barista. “Do you even know what I am? What my brothers are? Do you have any idea who you’ve interfered with?”

Yeosang suddenly remembered that thing Mingi said. He had been secretive about it and hadn’t wanted to say more, but he mentioned that Seonghwa was more dangerous than he could ever comprehend. That there may be other people who knew not who he was, but what. That no one should go after him unarmed. What could possibly make a person that deadly?

Yeosang was terrified to ask, but he had to know. In a broken voice, riddled with pain, he spoke again. “Where… is… Wooyoung?” The risk driven by a desperation for the answer.

Seonghwa paused, appearing genuinely surprised. He had broken his rules again.

Yeosang braced himself, expecting another punishing blow, but it didn’t come. Every second waiting for it felt like agony knowing that he’d be screaming in pain again at any given moment. But still nothing happened.

After a minute, he opened his eyes to see Seonghwa standing a bit further away, but the wicked smile on his lips was anything but reassuring.

“Funny you ask,” Seonghwa answered. “I heard he’s in big trouble right now. If I were you, I wouldn’t expect to see him again,”

Yeosang felt his heart crack and then shatter into a million pieces. So he was there somewhere. He had already been a part of this horror-show for many days, leaving Yeosang sick at the thought of what he had probably endured in that time. But Wooyoung’s stubborn, fiery attitude had already gotten him into more trouble than he could imagine. He needed to find him before the worst.

“Where is he?!” Yeosang cried in desperation, still crumpled on the floor.

Seonghwa shook his head in disappointment, still approaching Hongjoong’s limp form. He sighed like he was dealing with a disobedient pet. “You really don’t know how to follow rules, do you, mutt?” he asked Yeosang.

Yeosang watched him carefully, feeling a rush of fear when he saw him squat down next to the barista. No. Not again. After everything he had already done to him.

“Maybe if I punish someone else in your place, you’ll start listening,”

Yeosang perked up immediately despite the pain in his body, his elbows falling against the floor as supports. “No. No, STOP! Don’t touch him!” but his face contorted with a burning pain in his stomach.

“Very bold today, aren’t we?” Seonghwa chuckled before turning his attention to Hongjoong and brushing his fingers through his pretty red hair. “Keep talking, I’ll make things much worse for him,”

“Stop!” Yeosang cried out, unable to bite his tongue at the thought of what he might do to him. Hongjoong already looked so weak. “Please! Take me instead, he’s barely breathing!”

Seonghwa’s darkened eyes returned to Yeosang with an evil, mocking glint in them. “Just as I thought; you’re in love with this man, aren’t you?”

Yeosang paused for a moment, the only sound he could hear being the loud heartbeat in his ears. It made his head fuzzy and the world around him didn’t seem real. What was he doing? Was he really that infatuated? Hongjoong had never stopped to give him the time of day and here Yeosang was offering to take his pain for him. For someone who would surely never do the same.

Yeosang barely noticed when Seonghwa pulled Hongjoong by his armpits into a reclined sitting position, the barista’s back leaning against their kidnapper’s thighs. He could only notice how weak he looked, the only hints that he was alive being the slow rising and falling of his chest and his pretty eyelashes that fluttered anytime Seonghwa’s hands would wander across his skin. The barista’s signature cherry-red hair fell in loose strands over his eyes and cheeks, but he was so out of it that it didn’t seem to phase him.

Suddenly, a small, quiet groan emerged from Hongjoong’s throat making Yeosang perk up in concern. It was the biggest sign of life he had given him that day.

“Hongjoong-ssi?” Yeosang uttered, his voice shaking like a leaf. “Hongjoong, wake up!”

The barista squirmed a little under the lace gloves of the monster, but he couldn’t seem to open his eyes. It was like his energy was so far depleted he didn’t even have the strength to move his eyelids.

“Pathetic,” Seonghwa scoffed. “Already willing to sacrifice yourself for his sake… But allow me to take a wild guess: this love isn’t requited, is it?”

A knife seemed to strike Yeosang’s heart in that moment. He was right. But why did it matter to him now? Yeosang shouldn’t have cared about anything else except getting them out of there unharmed, and yet Seonghwa’s words caused as much pain as the foot to his stomach had. Yeosang was an annoyance in Hongjoong’s eyes. He probably didn’t even want his help.

When he didn’t respond, Seonghwa must have assumed the answer Yeosang never wanted to give. Yeosang could picture his condescending smirk even as he stared blankly at the floor.

“Poor thing…” Seonghwa sniffed in feigned sympathy, letting out a long, slow exhale as his hands drifted over Hongjoong’s fair skin. “You’ve never been able to touch him like this, have you?”

Yeosang was sickened as he watched Seonghwa’s hands explore the weakened man’s chest, down to his stomach slightly defined with abs he gave no permission to be traced in that way. Seonghwa’s touch was intentionally intimate. He was teasing Yeosang. Showing off things he wished he could have done with the red-haried man before all this.

“You dreamed about this didn’t you?” he mocked as if reading his mind. “About touching him here… making him gasp… hearing him moan…”

Yeosang had tried so hard to keep his eyes away from his modesty out of respect. But he couldn’t ignore it when Seonghwa’s graceful touch drifted downward, dragging his fingers over it with a touch so featherlight it made Hongjoong gasp.

“Don’t touch him!” Yeosang cried out impetuously, crawling forward on his elbows.

Seonghwa just smirked. He was sick. Hongjoong clearly didn’t want any of this, and for him to touch him there while the barista was all but unconscious was disgusting.

“You’re the only one making this worse for him,” Seonghwa warned with a piercing glance in his direction, his long fingers circling the sides of Hongjoong’s hips. “What should I do to him next time you speak? I can make it hurt if you like,”

Yeosang froze mid-crawl, his desperate eyes staring in regret when he realized his words were only causing Hongjoong more suffering. He watched Seonghwa carefully take off his lace gloves with the elegance of royalty and put them aside, his bare hands returning to scarred skin like magnets. Yeosang felt so helpless. The sight of that horrible monster touching him however he pleased without a word of permission filled Yeosang with so much disgust and rage that he could have cried. But there was not a single thing he could do.

Seonghwa grinned in satisfaction as if he could sense the beginnings of Yeosang’s compliance. “Now you’re getting it! Took you long enough…”

Hongjoong released a sudden moaning sound when he was touched again, this time by Seonghwa’s hand taking a full hold of his cock with an intimate elegance. He wasn’t even hard. But Seonghwa was sure to try and make him that way.

“How many nights did you dream about making him cum?”

Yeosang was left to watch in horror. Everything inside was screaming at him to put an end to the scene in front of him, but it just wasn’t possible. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t prevent that fair-skinned hand from moving with intention, stimulating every inch of the innocent barista’s cock that was growing by the second. Hongjoong whined and writhed in his lap, but he had no strength to move away. This was Yeosang’s punishment.

“There we go…” Seonghwa praised as he watched Hongjoong’s growing erection with satisfaction while continuing to pump.

Hongjoong’s movements had become a bit more pronounced, his body jerking around at times in response to the sudden intense stimulation he couldn’t escape. How could Yeosang keep quiet through that? Crying out for help seemed completely useless and begging for him to stop was even less likely to work. How was he supposed to bite his tongue when an innocent man was being horrifically assaulted right in front of him?

Yeosang held his breath in disgust while he watched Seonghwa’s slow hand circle around a trembling hip, reaching under and lifting Hongjoong’s leg to expose more of him.

How far was he going to take it?! Yeosang had stopped speaking just as he had asked, but he showed no signs of stopping. He felt powerless. That was the bastard’s intention. Yeosang’s desperate stare was his only weapon and Seonghwa nearly laughed in his face whenever he caught a glance.

Seonghwa’s fingers walked their way down the underside of Hongjoong’s lifted thigh, taking their time as he seemed to take pleasure in the barista’s uncomfortable flinching. He was squirming more aggressively now, moaning in protest as Seonghwa held onto him firmly, countering his movements.

“Shh… shh…” The bastard whispered to the helpless victim in his lap. “You know how this goes… let’s show our new friend what you can do, hm?”

Seonghwa’s walking fingers finally reached the surface of his exposed anus making Hongjoong wince, grunting in discomfort. Yeosang could hardly watch, but it was all he could do. He was taking it even further as expected.

Seonghwa didn’t even wait before he pressed inside, Hongjoong gasping before a moan escaped him, but the sound was anything but one of pleasure. It was a plea, a cry for help; help that Yeosang wasn’t able to give him.

Two of Seonghwa’s fingers circled around inside near the surface, stretching his rim, lifting his cocky gaze to Yeosang. “I think this just might finish the job. What do you think?”

Yeosang couldn’t help it anymore. He watched Seonghwa’s hand still giving heavy pumps to Hongjoong’s length, the other one pressing fingers further into his asshole while the victim writhed in protest. It was impossible for Yeosang to stay silent any longer.

“Stop it…” he barely croaked, his stomach still throbbing from the blow it had taken. “Please stop…”

“Trick question!” Seonghwa mocked with a wicked grin. His hand movements only grew in speed. Hongjoong cried out in pain as he was penetrated deeper and stretched beyond his limits, Yeosang wincing as if his pain also belonged to him. He had caused this after all. He couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut and now Hongjoong was suffering because of it.

Hongjoong’s body was thrashing now, involuntary movements caused by the knuckle-deep fingers pressing against his insides, a new desperate whine escaping his lips every time. Yeosang was about to be sick if he listened to it any longer.

Seonghwa stared down at his victim in a mocking admiration, an amused hum sounding in his throat. “He’s so predictable. As soon as I hook into that G-spot, it’ll be all over for him. I can play his little body like an instrument. Want to see?”

“Just STOP IT!” Yeosang shouted over the disturbing noises leaving Hongjoong’s mouth as he was continuously toyed with. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

Seonghwa was left unfazed. “Watch closely…” he grinned.

Yeosang used his elbows to keep inching toward them. He didn’t know why he kept trying. He couldn’t fight and nothing he said or did would erase what was happening, but he couldn’t just give up either.

Just as Yeosang reached an area no more than five feet away from them, Seonghwa did it. He did it exactly like he said he would. He hooked his fingers in deeper accompanied by a loud moan from Hongjoong who tensed up instantly, trembling in his touch, legs shaking like leaves as Seonghwa kept jerking him off. The combination of breaths and movements were all too familiar, and Yeosang confirmed what had happened when the hand movements slowed and he spotted the thick, white substance leaking from the tip of his tense cock. Yeosang felt like he was about to puke.

Seonghwa hummed in satisfaction as he stared down at him, looking his body over in adoration while he wiped off his hands with a red handkerchief from his pocket. Hongjoong’s breath was heavy, but he was still too weak to move, sprawled out in his lap, limbs trembling in the aftermath of the unwanted orgasm. Seonghwa’s fingers ran through his hair as if to praise him.

“Very good… very good…”

Hongjoong flinched at the words as if the sound of the kidnapper’s voice sent venom straight through his veins. He must have endured so much abuse in his time there. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t ask for this.

Yeosang should have seen it coming, but now that Seonghwa was satisfied with Hongjoong, his attention shifted back to him. And when those glowing eyes returned to him, that intimidating stare, that grin that enjoyed the look of pure fear on his face, Yeosang had never felt more terror. It coursed through his veins like a wildfire.

And Yeosang would have been stupid to assume all the times he spoke out would go unpunished.

Seonghwa put Hongjoong down, not gently, just threw him aside onto the floor like he was nothing more than a toy to be played with. Yeosang backed up, watching in horror as Seonghwa stood over him, caught in his shadow, forgetting how tall those heeled shoes made him until he sat trembling at his feet.

“And now to deal with you…” Seonghwa sneered.

Yeosang shook his head frantically, backing up further even if he knew it was inevitable. “No… please…” he begged with a hopeless sorrow in his broken voice. “I’m sorry, I-”

Yeosang yelped as his chest was stepped on, his back slammed against the hard floor, knocking the wind from his lungs. He coughed, gasping for air as Seonghwa’s sharp heel dug into his chest.

Seonghwa’s expression was completely composed. He seemed to consider something before he spoke. “Let’s see, how many times did you speak out of turn? Nine? Ten?”

Yeosang should have known it would come back to bite him. He stared up at him, not daring to speak again, begging with wettened eyes for some tiny shred of mercy out of him. He was foolish to hope for it.

Seonghwa seemed to be waiting for him to break the rules again, but he appeared pleased by his compliance, the edge of his glossy lip curving upward. “Hm… I lost count but let’s just go with ten,”

It was then Yeosang knew his life was over. He could never put into words the hopelessness he felt while staring upward from his spot against the floor. His breathing stuttered. The sight of the glaring eyes that somehow glowed crimson, although he could have sworn they were brown before. Yeosang had sold him out. He had broken his rules multiple times. After witnessing his clear lack of empathy, Yeosang knew he would be lucky if he weren’t dead by the end of the day.

Yeosang gasped for air when Seonghwa’s foot lifted from his chest, breathing relieved breaths for only a few moments before the front of his shirt fabric was grabbed and he was roughly pulled upward. He could only grunt in terror, praying the involuntary sound wouldn’t bring him more punishment. It was like he weighed nothing.

Seonghwa threw him down onto the top of the rusty cage in the middle of the room that was making more sense to Yeosang by the second. He landed with a metallic clang as the bars of the structure clashed against one another at the impact. He cried in pain when he caught himself on his wrists, bending one in a way that convinced him he had sprained it. He wanted to scream out. He needed to call for help as if he still believed there was someone on the other side of that door who could help him. Wooyoung out was there somewhere. Maybe by some miracle he would be able to hear his cries.

He didn’t even have time to think about it before a piece of red cloth jerked his head backward, the fabric so tight against his mouth that it forced its way inside like a gag. Yeosang still fought as if that wasn’t the end, as if he’d have something waiting for him when he got out of that place. He still cried out, although muffled now, screaming in barely discernible protests as the handkerchief was tied tightly around his head, unable to hear anything Seonghwa might be demanding of him. He was still holding him down with the strength of a thousand men.

Seonghwa sighed, long and loud, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “Ten times on the first day… that’s a high price…”

Fear coursed through Yeosang’s veins as he shook his head in horror. He didn’t even want to think about what the monster was planning to do to him. He tried to beg. Everything came out muffled and incomprehensible, but he couldn’t help but try. Still, he was cut off when he was once again thrown against the floor onto his back with a grunt.

Yeosang’s subdued cries only grew louder when Seonghwa squatted in front of him, getting much too close for comfort, his left wrist immediately grabbed and held firmly in an unrelenting grip. He was being restrained. Seonghwa was going to assault him too, just as he had done to Hongjoong. And Yeosang was almost completely out of strength to fight.

“Don’t struggle,” Seonghwa ordered in a stern voice, his gaze piercing. “You earned this all on your own,”

Yeosang perked up with widened eyes when he heard a metallic shing. He didn’t want to be right, but it sure sounded like some type of blade. He confirmed that his life was over when he laid eyes on the old-fashioned dagger Seonghwa had just pulled out from his belt.

Yeosang’s pleading eyes and frantic protests weren’t working. Seonghwa took hold of his hand and turned it over as if he were examining it.

“Hm… you know, I’m feeling a little generous today,” he spoke as if Yeosang should be grateful. “Since it’s your first day, I’ll only take one as a warning. But make no mistake. Next time it’ll be the whole hand,”

Yeosang made a loud noise that sounded like a desperate question. There was no way he had just heard him right. He would only take one? One of his fingers?! Despite Seonghwa’s order, Yeosang struggled desperately, his survival instincts kicking in like a shock from a live wire. No way he was staying there. No way this was even real life.

Seonghwa took a firm hold of his wrist, and Yeosang started begging, pleading in a way that sent every ounce of self-respect he ever had flying out the door. Tears filled his eyes while he begged for mercy, watching in horror as Seonghwa turned the blade of the dagger around near his hand. It was as if he were still deciding where the best point of entry would be.

Yeosang cried out so loud his throat hurt when the blade gently laid against the soft tissue at the base of his pinky finger. His words were still incoherent, but it didn’t feel like he’d stop even if he understood him.

Seonghwa’s lip curved upward as if the moment was so enjoyable for him he couldn’t prevent the movement that revealed his true emotion. He was sick in the head. He was excited.

“How many slices do you think it’ll take before I reach the bone?”

Yeosang screamed out so loud he was starting to feel lightheaded. This couldn’t be happening. One moment he was looking for his friend, an innocent, concerned person who only cared about another person’s safety, not having done anything criminally wrong in his life. And now he was here. Did he deserve this? Is this truly how the universe had planned his end?

Suddenly a harsh sting wracked Yeosang’s hand at the first strong pass of the blade, leaving Yeosang to scream out in agony. He felt blood trickle down his palm. He still struggled. He couldn’t give up. Every slice back and forth was agonizingly slow, burning from the base of his finger where the knife ripped open his skin and spreading like wildfire to the rest of his hand and other fingers. Tears poured from his eyes, soaking the fabric that invaded his mouth and muffled his screams. Seonghwa had already reached the bone and Yeosang feared it was too late to save the piece of him being stolen.

Seonghwa paused halfway, surveying the wound in interest as if he were dissecting an animal in science class. “Ah, there’s the bone!” he declared, pulling away the skin without a drop of sympathy in his voice, nor in his eyes. “Oh dear, I lost count again. What is with me today?”

Yeosang’s breathing was frantic, close to hyperventilating, especially when he saw the amount of blood dripping from his hand which made him almost pass out. Though he had already sawed through half the bone, Yeosang feared he was far from done. He was going to drag it out. The pain was so severe he was almost numb, like his body was trying to put him one a different plane of existence just to escape it. He didn’t even know if he was still screaming or not.

The dagger kept tearing his skin, cutting through his flesh like it was a tough piece of meat at a banquet. His bone disconnected. Yeosang felt it when it happened. His pinky fell limp from the rest of his hand, only holding on by a small piece of skin on the other side. His finger was hanging there. Dangling like an ornament from a Christmas tree. It was then Yeosang realized just how lightheaded he was when his vision darkened and he was overwhelmed with a sense of nausea.

His severed pinky was lifted slightly from where it hung, the dagger making the last quick cut to completely separate it from Yeosang’s hand. Seonghwa held it like a trophy in front of his face, turning it in every direction, looking it over with pride and interest.

Without the strong grip on his wrist, Yeosang fell sideways onto the floor with a thud. His eyes felt glazed, stray tears still dripping from them though he was barely conscious.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Seonghwa told him, a twinkle in his eye and a crooked smile on his lips. He took out a white cloth from his pocket and placed the finger into it, wrapping it up and tucking it away. “Now, you can have this back when you learn to behave yourself. I will not have my pets speaking out of turn, especially with such disrespect,”

Yeosang’s eyelids fluttered, trying hard to keep them open but failing. He was back to lying on the cold hard floor. The only way he knew he was still alive was by the feeling of his heart going a million miles a minute, his strained breathing letting out an involuntary sound of misery with every exhale.

The moment Yeosang dared to look, he could barely see through darkened eyesight. He thought he must be having a bad dream. Seonghwa was holding the dagger up to his mouth, drawing the flat part gently over his tongue, tasting the blood on it and considering the flavor as if it were a fine wine. Yeosang felt his heart ache with hopelessness. He was in the presence of a complete psychopath.

“Hm,” Seonghwa hummed in thought. “An interesting flavor you have. Satisfactory, but I’ve had much better in the years I’ve been alive. Count yourself lucky that your blood doesn’t taste like Hongjoong’s, or you’d be drained dry by morning,”

Yeosang could feel himself trembling with adrenaline, the pain in his hand coming in waves as heavy amounts of blood fell into a pool forming beneath it. He couldn’t think. He could barely breathe. He couldn’t respond even if he wanted to risk another punishment. More tears formed and trickled across the bridge of his nose before falling to the floor. Yeosang was sure he was in Hell.

“Are you really still crying?” Seonghwa mocked, squatting next to his broken body. His condescending voice cut into his ears like razor blades.

Yeosang yelped when Seonghwa grabbed his wrist where blood was soaking the sleeve of his once light colored shirt. He shook him as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll.

“This was nothing,” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You have clearly never known suffering in this world. But I’m more than happy to introduce it to you,”

Yeosang still cried, louder now that Seonghwa was dragging him by the wrist toward the place he somehow knew he’d end up in. He no longer cared how much drool or how many tears were soaking the cloth invading his mouth. He couldn’t even tell them apart from one another. Yeosang couldn’t fight anymore. He had given up his chance to help Hongjoong escape when he had made a scene and broken the rules, and now he was so weak he couldn’t even attempt to find Wooyoung. His friend was probably already gone.

Yeosang whimpered when his hair was roughly grabbed by its roots, his weak body being dragged and shoved in through the small door of the rusty cage. He caught himself on his wrists that were starting to ache from the amount of times that day he’d been tossed around like someone’s property. But more than anything, the stump, the place where his finger used to be still burned like fire, the pain paralyzing his entire hand and other fingers. It still bled, the crimson liquid leaking from it like a melting ice cream.

As soon as Yeosang fell to the floor of the cage, Seonghwa reached inside, setting down an empty coffee mug before slamming the door shut with a loud clang of metal. The evil bastard stood up, looming over him with a smug expression.

“When you fill up this cup, I’ll tell you where your friend is. I might even let you see him. That is, if he’s still alive by the time you finish,”

Yeosang didn’t believe him for a second. But still, he knew by now that if he didn’t do what he asked, there may be more pain waiting for both him and Hongjoong. So he sat up reluctantly, praying by some miracle he would really keep his word and let Yeosang see Wooyoung, even if it was only one last time. Drop by drop, his blood dripped into the cup from the hole where his finger used to be. He couldn’t look at it without wanting to throw up. It was amazing he hadn’t already.

Yeosang was close to blacking out when he heard Seonghwa’s satisfied hum.

“Good mutt,” The bastard sneered mockingly.

Shortly after, Seonghwa’s footsteps began to fade away, finally leaving Yeosang to rest as his blood continued to leave his body little by little. It was strange he still felt relief. At least that monster wouldn’t get the satisfaction of watching him slowly slip away from reality with the hope that he might get to see his best friend one more time before it all faded away.