[tw: mention of self-harm and past abuse/physical violence, this is the first very triggering chapter so if you're particularly sensible to the topic please don't read it, it will get worse as the story goes—it concerns Wooyoung and Yeosang past]

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He pushed open the door to their small apartment, the hinges creaking in the stillness of the early morning. The first light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, casting a faint glow over the cluttered living room. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat and the lingering smell of alcohol. His body felt heavy, each step dragging him closer to the inevitable confrontation he wasn't prepared for.

The door clicked shut behind him, and his tired eyes immediately found Yeosang, who was sitting on the edge of the couch, wide awake. The tension in the room was suffocating, and Wooyoung could see the worry etched deeply into Yeosang's features. He noticed the way Yeosang's leg was angled awkwardly, a sign of the pain that came with his limp, the result of an injury that never quite healed.

"Where the hell have you been?" Yeosang's voice sliced through the silence, raw with a mixture of anger and fear that he couldn't hide.

Wooyoung flinched at the harshness, instinctively wrapping his arms around himself, as if that could shield him from the weight of the moment. He opened his mouth to answer, but Yeosang was already up, crossing the room with a slight limp, his steps uneven but quick.

"Let me see," Yeosang demanded, reaching for Wooyoung's arm. His fingers curled around Wooyoung's wrist, pulling the sleeve up before Wooyoung could pull away. The action was automatic, born from too many nights like this, where the first thing Yeosang did was check for new cuts, for fresh blood.

Wooyoung's breath hitched, his body stiffening at the touch, but he didn't resist. He hated it—every brush of skin against his brought back memories he tried so hard to bury. But Yeosang was different. Yeosang was his best friend, the one person he could trust, but no matter what—no matter how much Wooyoung tried to push himself to accept it—whenever Yeosang's hands indulged on him with such unannounced brutality the touch still made Wooyoung want to recoil. Yeosang's sharp gaze scanned Wooyoung's arms, hesitating on the old scars, a mix of relief and lingering fear in his eyes when he found no new marks.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice softer now, the anger slowly fading into something more vulnerable "Why was your phone off? You said you were just going for a walk"

"I was," Wooyoung muttered, his voice barely audible, they left the pub together, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang and him but if the boys had been happy to call it a night Wooyoung didn't feel like he could go back, the music was still playing inside of his mind, "But I couldn't come back. I didn't want to... I couldn't..." he trailed off, unable to put the jumble of emotions into words.

The night before Yeosang had been the only one to notice the tears stain his cheeks before he quickly wiped them away, but he didn't ask. Wooyoung knew he had given up many years before. He had tried to open up to Yeosang, so many times, but there was something inside of him that refused to come out, words that couldn't be spoken aloud because they still felt too real, too close and unfading. Wooyoung gave Yeosang the little that he could, no details, just the right amount for his friend to realize that more pain hid under the surface.

Yeosang had tried to dig more: he shared with Wooyoung his own story, he tried to confront him with empathy and then with pleads. "We're friends, you can trust me" but even if guilt ate Wooyoung from inside he couldn't push himself to share more. The questions wouldn't been answered so they stopped coming. No words were spoken when episodes like that happened, Yeosang had whitnessed as the tears wetted his cheeks in silence, but Wooyung could still feel his worried eyes on him.

He loved Yeosang for that too, for his moments of silence and for how he seemed to accept those of Wooyoung. Yeosang was the only good thing that had happened to him in many years. He was the first person who had showed him love, who accepted him for what he was, broken pieces and all, after so long. Wooyoung had arrived at The Nest without a single coin in his pockets, without a place where to live and Yeosang had immediately offered a shelter: "I have a spare room and I could use some help with the rent. I'm a much better flatmate than Xiaolong" he had timidly smiled to Wooyoung, in a way that made the boy feel reassured, and just like that a week later Wooyoung was moving in.

In few years they shared much more than what normal people could. He remembered them all—all the nights they had spent together trying to help each other to not fall apart.

It was well past midnight and the door creaked as it closed behind him. The darkness of the room matched the shadows clinging to his face, his usual confident demeanor shattered, replaced by a haunted, vacant expression. His body was a canvas of fresh bruises, the evidence of another client who had taken his cruelty too far. Every step he took was laced with pain, a sharp reminder of the risks he faced whenever he didn't listen to what Xiaolong had worriedly repeated to him thousands and thousands of times. But he couldn't stop: he needed the extra money and that was his only way to make them.

He didn't need to raise his gaze to know that Yeosang was awake, sitting in the dim light of a single lamp and waiting for him. He always did when Wooyoung used their free night to meet clients outside of The Nest.

Wooyoung didn't say a word as he shuffled into the room, his eyes avoiding Yeosang's. He could feel the judgment, the disappointment, but he was too exhausted, too defeated to care. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by Wooyoung's labored breathing as he stood there, unsure of what to do next. Without a word, Yeosang rose from the couch, his limp more pronounced as he moved toward Wooyoung. His expression was a mix of pain and sadness, but he didn't say anything, didn't scold him for his recklessness. Instead, he gently guided Wooyoung to the bathroom, his touch light and careful, and Wooyoung didn't flinch this time; he was too tired, too hurt to resist. Yeosang worked in silence, his hands trembling slightly as he cleaned the cuts and bruises marring Wooyoung's skin. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand. Each wince from Wooyoung felt like a dagger to his heart, but he kept going, determined to care for his friend, no matter how much it hurt him to see Wooyoung like this.

When he was done, Yeosang didn't say anything, didn't berate Wooyoung for his dangerous choices. He simply led him to the bed, pulling back the covers and urging him to lie down. Wooyoung hesitated, but when he saw the silent plea in Yeosang's eyes, he finally relented, sinking into the mattress with a heavy sigh. Yeosang climbed in beside him, careful to keep a respectful distance. The bed was narrow, but the closeness didn't feel suffocating—it felt comforting. Wooyoung, for once, didn't push him away, didn't protest when Yeosang reached out and gently grasped his hand under the covers.

"Please, Woo," Yeosang whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room "Stop doing this before you end up broken just like me"

Wooyoung closed his eyes, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but Yeosang's words, his quiet plea, were like a balm to his wounded soul. He didn't answer, but the tight grip he returned to Yeosang's hand said more than words ever could.

Yeosang had always been there. A silent angel taking care of Woooyung even when he didn't deserve it. And if one asked Wooyoung he could name many nights when he thought he didn't deserve it. Many and many moments in which he showed the weak and disappointing thing that he truly was. And yet Yeosang had been there...

He remembered his eyes, as they groggily blinked in the darkness of the night, as he tried to make sense of the figure standing by his bed. Wooyoung was there, his face pale and eyes wide with fear and shame, clutching a towel tightly against his arm.

"I... I think I need to go to the hospital," Wooyoung stammered, his voice shaky. He looked frightened, almost childlike in his vulnerability.

Yeosang rubbed his eyes, still trying to wake up fully, "What? What happened?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep. The sight of the towel, stained with something dark, sent a wave of confusion through him.

"I cut myself," Wooyoung mumbled, his eyes darting away. "Accidentally"

Yeosang's heart lurched with concern, but in his half-asleep state, he didn't fully grasp the gravity of the situation. "Okay, okay... let's get you to the hospital" he quickly got out of bed, grabbing his coat and car keys, still not entirely aware of what was happening.

The drive to the hospital was tense, but it wasn't until they were halfway there that Yeosang started to notice how serious the situation was. Wooyoung was hunched over in the passenger seat, his breathing shallow and rapid. The towel wrapped around his arm was soaked through with blood, and Yeosang's concern grew into a gnawing fear.

"Wooyoung... how bad is it?" Yeosang asked, his voice tight with worry as he glanced over at his friend.

Wooyoung didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed out the window, avoiding Yeosang's eyes. "I didn't mean for it to go this deep," he finally whispered, his voice filled with regret, "I-I'm sorry"

Yeosang's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he sped up, his mind racing. He still didn't fully understand what had happened, but he knew now that it was serious—more serious than Wooyoung had let on.

When they arrived at the hospital, the staff immediately took Wooyoung in, leaving Yeosang pacing anxiously in the waiting room. He felt a knot of dread tightening in his stomach, the fear that something was terribly wrong gnawing at him. After what felt like an eternity, a doctor finally emerged, calling Yeosang over. The doctor's face was a mask of professional concern, his eyes scanning a clipboard before looking up at Yeosang. "Your friend is going to be okay, but the cut was deep. We've stitched it up, but there's something I need to ask you"

Yeosang nodded, still trying to process everything, "Of course, anything," he said, eager to understand what was going on.

The doctor hesitated, his gaze searching Yeosang's face, "Are you aware that your friend has a history of self-harm?"

Yeosang's heart skipped a beat, "What?" he stammered, shock washing over him "No, I... I didn't know"

The doctor's expression softened slightly, sensing Yeosang's genuine surprise ,"He didn't mention it?"

Yeosang shook his head, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him "No, he... he said it was an accident"

The doctor nodded, his expression somber, "It's not uncommon for people who self-harm to downplay the severity of their injuries. But based on the depth and location of the cut, we had to consider the possibility of it being intentional. I'm asking because we need to make sure your friend is safe when he goes home. Has he seemed depressed to you? Has he ever talked about hurting himself before?"

Yeosang's mind was reeling. The questions hit him like a barrage of blows, each one deepening the pit of fear and confusion inside him, "I... I don't know," he whispered, his voice breaking, "I don't know!"

When he was finally allowed to see Wooyoung, he found him sitting on the hospital bed, his arm wrapped in fresh bandages, his face pale and drawn.

"Wooyoung," Yeosang said softly, sitting down next to him. His voice was thick with emotion, his heart aching with a mix of fear, confusion, and sorrow, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Wooyoung looked down, unable to meet Yeosang's eyes, "I didn't want you to worry," he whispered, "I wasn't trying to... I wasn't trying to kill myself. I just... I didn't mean for it to go this far"

"Then why, Wooyoung?" Yeosang pressed, desperation creeping into his voice, "Why do this to yourself? Please, talk to me"

Wooyoung's hands trembled as he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket "I... I don't know," he said, his voice barely audible "It just... it helps. It's the only thing that makes the pain go away, even for just a little while. But I wasn't trying to die, Yeosang. I'm not that desperate" he chuckled then, like all the situation had been a joke to him.

It was the dry laugh that had Yeosang breaking down, a mix of anger and worry and defeat washed over him in form of tears that he quickly tried to brush away "You don't have to do this alone, Wooyoung. I'm here for you. Please, don't hurt yourself like this again. Promise me" the fear of losing Wooyoung stronger than anything else.

Wooyoung finally looked up, his eyes filled with guilt and sorrow, "I wasn't trying to kill myself" that's all he said and from his answer Yeosang knew his worries wouldn't stop by the end of that long night.

Yeosang's grip on his arm loosened, and he stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His leg gave a slight twitch, but he ignored it, "You disappeared, Woo. I was scared something happened to you"

Wooyoung lowered his head, avoiding Yeosang's eyes, "I met someone," he admitted, his voice thick with shame, "At a club. I drank too much, lost track of time. He helped me... took me to a love hotel so I could rest"

Yeosang's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion and worry blending together. "Was he a client?"

"No," Wooyoung shook his head quickly, the memories of the night slowly coming back in disjointed pieces, "No, I don't think so. I didn't sleep with him... I don't even remember everything clearly, but when I woke up, we were fully dressed. He was just trying to help"

Yeosang's expression softened, though the worry in his eyes remained. He took a hesitant step closer, reaching out to touch Wooyoung's shoulder, but paused when he saw the way Wooyoung tensed. Instead, he let his hand fall to his side, his voice filled with quiet concern "You scared me, Woo. I thought I lost you"

Wooyoung swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak, "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. He wanted to explain, to tell Yeosang about the boy—the one from the pub where they'd spent their last night off, the one who played that hauntingly beautiful song that had brought him to tears. But the words got stuck, and all he could manage was, "I didn't mean to worry you. I would never leave you, Sangie"

It didn't matter how unbearable it felt, he knew that as long as they had each other the pain would hit less sharply. So that was a promise he would never break, he would be there for Yeosang until the end of times.

Wooyoung knew all too well about pain, both physical and emotional and he knew Yeosang was just like him. He could see it from his face, in how he tried to hide it when his leg acted up. He knew there were days when the pain became unbearable: Yeosang went suddenly silent, his body turning rigid and if one didn't know him it was impossible to understand what was happening. But Wooyoung had learnt to understand, he could read it all, from how the corner of his lip started trembling, from the sweat the covered his forehead, from how he closed his eyes faking tiredness while his knuckles turned white for the strenght of the grip. On those days Wooyoung was there without a second thought. He would sit beside Yeosang without saying a word, gently massaging the injured leg, his touch careful and soothing. He knew how much the injury tormented Yeosang, how it was a constant reminder of the accident that had changed his life. And so, Wooyoung did what he could to ease that pain, offering silent support in the only way he knew how.

The accident —that's how everyone referred to what had happened and Wooyoung hated it—had made Yeosang a cripple, forcing him behind a bar counter instead of on the legs of the clients of The Nest. Xiaolong didn't want to hear reasons, Hongjoong had told him, he kept Yeosang under his wing even if he couldn't work anymore, he had paid for the hospital bills making sure the best doctors would treat the boy's wounds keeping it professional and most of all secret. For that Wooyoung was grateful and when he heard it from Hongjoong's lips he knew he could trust the man.

The accident left marks on Yeosang's body, condemning him to a future of pain. Wooyoung believed Yeosang to be the strongest person he'd ever met because he knew what his friend had to go through, he heard the story from Yeosang's lips and it was incredible that the boy seemed to have perfectly recovered from the trauma. Differently from Wooyoung he could talk about it, differently from Wooyoung he didn't have a problem when people touched him, differently from Wooyoung he didn't need to find ways to numb the pain. At first Wooyoung thought that the pain concealed only Yeosang's leg, but then he had moved in with him and he realized how deeply the wounds of his past had scarred.

When Yeosang woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, screaming and shaking from another nightmare, it was Wooyoung who was there to pull him back to reality. He would sit with Yeosang until the tremors subsided, talking softly, or simply sitting in silence, his presence a grounding force. The pain was always there and even if Yeosang hid it well there wasn't a way to completely recover from it. Just like Wooyoung, Yeosang too had memories he couldn't forget.

Their bond was forged in the fire of shared pain and mutual care. They held each other up when the world seemed too heavy to bear alone. And in that, they found a friendship stronger than anything they had ever known, a connection that went beyond words and promises—a bond made of quiet actions and unwavering loyalty and none of them would leave the other. Of that Wooyoung was sure.

Yeosang's anger had dissolved completely now, leaving only a deep sadness that hung heavy in the air between them. He wanted to hold Wooyoung, to comfort him, but he knew better. Instead, he took a step back, giving Wooyoung the space he needed.

"You need to take care of yourself, Woo," Yeosang said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken fears, "I can't keep losing you like this"

Wooyoung nodded, his exhaustion evident in every line of his body, "I'll try," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, "I'll try, Sangie"

The room was steeped in early morning silence, the weight of Wooyoung's whispered words lingering between them. Yeosang could sense the exhaustion in every line of Wooyoung's posture, but something in his friend's demeanor urged him to press further. The image of Wooyoung's unexpected tears from the previous night haunted him deeply. He couldn't let it go, not without understanding.

"Woo," Yeosang began gently, his voice soft but laced with concern, "about last night... when you heard that song. I've never seen you like that before"

Wooyoung's face tensed, his jaw clenching as if to shut out whatever emotions were threatening to break through. He turned his head away, his shoulders stiffening. "It was just the song," he mumbled, his voice strained, "It caught me off guard, that's all"

Yeosang studied him, noting the way Wooyoung's fingers dug into his arm clenching at the fabric of the loose sleeve, a subtle but telling sign of the turmoil beneath the surface, "You don't cry, Wooyoung," Yeosang said gently, his eyes searching for any hint of what was really going on, "Not like that. You never cry. Was it about something specific? Did it remind you of someone?"

Wooyoung's breath hitched at the question, and for a long moment, he didn't respond. The tension in the room grew thicker, as if Wooyoung was battling something deep within himself. Finally, in a voice so quiet it was almost lost in the silence, he muttered, "Kyungmin"

The name slipped out like a secret he hadn't meant to share, and immediately, Wooyoung's face hardened, his eyes darkening as if he regretted saying anything at all. Yeosang's heart ached at the vulnerability in that single word. He had heard the name once before, in a rare, unguarded moment, but he had never pressed Wooyoung for details. Now, he wished he had.

"Kyungmin," Yeosang repeated softly, trying to piece together the fragments of Wooyoung's past that he knew so little about, "Your brother?"

Wooyoung didn't answer, his silence more telling than any words could have been. He stared at the floor, his expression unreadable, but Yeosang could see the pain flickering in his eyes. It was clear that whatever memories had surfaced were too much for Wooyoung to face right now. Yeosang hesitated, feeling the weight of Wooyoung's turmoil. He knew he didn't want to push too hard, but he gently pressed on, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort.

"Did something happen to him?" Yeosang asked quietly, his tone as soft as he could manage.

Wooyoung's shoulders tensed further, and he seemed to struggle with his words "He... I-I want to..." He began, but then his voice faltered, the words failing him. "I just... I can't. I'm so s-sorry"

His voice broke and his body started to tremble slightly, and Yeosang could see the strain of holding back the emotions, the vulnerability he was fighting to contain. It was clear now that Wooyoung was on the edge, his struggle evident in the trembling of his frame and the tightness of his grip on his shirt. Yeosang wanted to say more, to offer comfort, but he knew that pushing would only drive Wooyoung further into himself. Instead, he kept his distance, offering his presence without imposing.

"It's okay," Yeosang murmured softly, his voice steady and reassuring, "You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready"

Wooyoung's shoulders sagged slightly, a mix of relief and exhaustion washing over him. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, grateful that Yeosang wasn't pressing him further. The memories were too raw, too tangled with the guilt and sorrow he had buried for years, "I'm so sorry, Sangie"

Yeosang shook his head smiling reassuringly, "Don't be" he stayed nearby, his presence a silent assurance. He knew that even without touching, his support was felt. "Get some rest," he said softly, "I'll be here when you wake up"

Wooyoung glanced up at him, his expression softened by the rare warmth in Yeosang's voice. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something more, but the words never came. Instead, he nodded again, his movements slow and tired. Without another word, Wooyoung shuffled towards the bathroom. It took a while but then the sound of running water filled the space, and Yeosang stood in the living room, listening to the soothing noise. Wooyoung's shower was brief, a practical ritual to wash away the weight of the night and the rawness of his emotions. When he emerged, he looked slightly more composed, though still visibly drained. He made his way to the bedroom, his steps heavy with the weight of the night—of the past. He crawled under the covers, turning his back to Yeosang still looking at him from the living room as he settled in, his body curling into itself.

Yeosang stood there for a moment longer, watching his friend with a mix of sadness and resolve. He couldn't take away Wooyoung's pain, couldn't force him to open up before he was ready, but he could be there. He could be the steady presence Wooyoung needed, the one who would catch him if he ever chose to fall. As the morning light bathed the room in a soft, golden hue, Yeosang quietly closed the door and left Wooyoung to rest, the promise he had made still fresh in his mind. He would be there when Wooyoung woke up, and he would keep being there, for as long as it took.

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A/N— Are you still here with me? How is it going?