TW: mentions/descriptions of physical abuse.

urgency springing from his quivering fist, san hammers his knuckles against the spruce of seonghwa's door.

walking to seonghwa's place has never been a more dreadful journey. perhaps the perturbed looks san received from strangers alike or the insufferable ache in san's legs are to blame. or perhaps the haunting words relaying in his head.

good for nothing, aren't you?

i don't want to see you here after today.

goodbye, san.

san doesn't know what he's done to deserve any of this. for as long as he can remember, he's tried with all his might to impossibly cram himself into the mould his parents desired from him — just to become the idealised son they'd always wanted. look the way they wanted, act the way they wanted, feel the way they wanted. san did all he could. he committed to their dietary restrictions; he attempted to indulge the girls in school; he refrained from asking too many questions about the things his parents did, even when he didn't think they were reasonable.

eventually, it was up to no avail. san couldn't do it. he couldn't pretend anymore, be a person he wasn't. live with the sole purpose to satisfy people like them.

regardless, how could it have been san's fault? he can't control his genetically fast metabolism or the discomfort which overcomes him at the early discussion of marriage. he can't help the fact that their venom stung.

san jitters at the downward tug of the door handle before him. the first thing he notices is the irritation gloomed over seonghwa's eyes — rightfully so. it's close to striking ten p.m, his shop is closed, and there's a vigorous knocking at his door. yet, the coldness in seonghwa's gaze instantly amends towards confusion, before melting into worry.

worry rumples seonghwa's features like wet tissue, pulling his brows together and slumping his lips into a frown. san can't look at him any longer.

a distinct effort of avoidance, his gaze falls to the doorstep just below him.

conveniently so, seonghwa decides then to crouch down to san's height. intent, he observes the turmoil puncturing san's features. the tears and the snot and the splotches of sensitive pinks.

"sanshine," seonghwa says, dejection clinging unrelentingly to his voice. his mouth twists mindfully, eyes blinking slowly as he ponders. his palms are delicate when they ultimately decide upon cupping san's damp cheeks. "what did they do to you, sannie? what do you need me to do, hm?"

immediately, with seonghwa's soft tone and tender gaze, san breaks into a sob. a long, shattering sob. he topples into seonghwa's front, his chest shaking, so severely he feels like he's experiencing a multitude of continuous electric shocks.

the sorriness in seonghwa's tone is distinguishable before he even begins to speak. "i understand, sannie. it's okay. let's go inside, yeah?" seonghwa offers, gently pulling san off him. he stands up straight, and strokes a caring hand through the younger's tangled hair. "i'll get you something to eat, and—"

the halt of seonghwa's words is so abrupt, unexpected, that san instinctually looks up at him. out of panic, maybe. san finds that seonghwa's gaze has drifted to his side. where the bin bag is clenched weakly in his fist, its bottom sagging to the ground.

something in seonghwa's expression shifts. withers. like he's about to cry, too.

"san..." seonghwa mutters, dour and reluctant. so monotone, it almost scares san. and san thinks it would have — if seonghwa wasn't the last person on planet earth who'd hurt him. seonghwa's next breath comes shaky. "why... why do you have that?"

san sniffles at the snot leaking from his nose. somehow, almost miraculously, he manages to keep himself intact when he responds for the first time since he got here. "guess they finally got sick of me," he says, nonchalant, like it's nothing. he thinks his father might be rubbing off on him.

the thought makes san feel sick.

the sight of seonghwa crumbling at the confirmation of his fears doesn't help. he grabs san by the arms, almost desperately, and draws him into his chest. tucked beneath seonghwa's chin, san holds the older boy crying into him with as much consolation as he can provide. albeit seonghwa's tears are silent, they're eminently loud in sadness and frustration. the long, harrowing shudder of his shoulders gashes through the flesh of san's heart.

"hwa... it's okay," san whispers, indisputably faux assurance. it's not okay, nothing about this is okay. but what else can he say? "don't cry. please."

seonghwa doesn't listen. he only hugs san tighter, closer to himself, as if he'll disperse right before his very eyes. "i'm— i'm sorry, sanshine," he stammers croakily. "i'm so, so sorry."

"it's okay," san repeats pointlessly. "i'm okay."

"no," seonghwa almost exclaims, disagreement strong and assertive. he jumps back and looks san directly in the eye, head shaking unfalteringly, "no, san. that's not true. you don't deserve this," he states confidently, despite an incapable whisper. tears glaze over his dark eyes. "this isn't fucking fair."

the fraught spasming in seonghwa's eyes fills san with fright, a lethally cold shiver racking through him. he hasn't seen seonghwa anything close to so... so distressed like this in ages. years. since he dropped out of school, started to meddle with the wrong people. since he lost everything: his money; his home; his people. himself included. san recalls the feeling of fear as vivid as yesterday, his fourteen-year-old brain trapped in a perpetual state of worry. he never once imagined himself to loop into a similar position.

"i— i know, hwa." san whimpers. that same fear, just intensified infinitely, arises once more. "but i have you," he tries, voice breaking. an aching plead. "don't i?"

the exhale seonghwa breathes out is long and heavy, but it leads to a smile. barely visible, but right in front of san nonetheless. "of course, you have me," seonghwa promises. "you'll always have me, sannie."

san believes him.

———

the walls of seonghwa's home are warm, the tranquillity of the browns and beiges surrounding san faintly alleviating the thoughts in his head.

he doesn't know how long he's been sitting here. legs tucked beneath his chin, perched upon the mattress of seonghwa's bed, staring out into the night sky. however, san reckons it's been a while since the void of pitch darkness gradually diminishes into a navy blue, subtle hues of pinks eventually peeking through.

san should sleep. he knows he should. there's no chance he'll survive the exhaustive school day awaiting him like this.

despite his self-awareness, san can't bring himself to lay his head down. it's not that he doesn't want to. he needs the rest — he needs to get away, escape from everything for some time. but for a reason unbeknown to him, the mere idea of sleep in itself whirls a monsoon of anxiety within the pit of his stomach. the lack of consciousness, the vulnerability, the danger. it scares san.

he feels so stupid. it's only him and seonghwa here, nobody is going to hurt him. that's impossible.

yet, somehow, the flashes of images prowling within san's head induce him otherwise. the outline of his father's figure looms within the shadows by seonghwa's closet. the sound of his father's besieging voice hisses into his ear alongside the song of chirping birds outside.

the agony of his father's hits impale his body, smouldering every patch of his skin.

frantic, san hurtles up from his leisured position. he stumbles over his own feet, chest heaving as he tries to flee from the harsh strikes and find a way out. nails jab at his skin, twist deep into his flesh, reaping a piercing scream from the cavern of san's hoarse throat.

he cries and he cries and he cries; he begs for it to go away. san is crouched against a wall now, fists banging repeatedly against the floor out of frustration, helplessly and incoherently mumbling for it to just leave him alone. he hasn't done anything wrong, he hasn't done anything to deserve this. he's done his best all this time. why can't it just leave him alone?

san wails, flinching sharply at the fingers grasping his shoulders. "go a—away! leave me— leave me alone! just l—leave me alone." head falling onto his knees wearily, san squeezes his eyes and sobs. "please. plea— please stop it, pleas—"

"sanshine."

san gasps, desperately jumping up.

"sannie, it's me," seonghwa calls softly. gentle fingertips run along san's arms. "it's only me. you're okay. i promise you're okay."

"s—seonghwa?"

"yeah, it's me. it's seonghwa." beyond his dazed state, san makes out the sound of shuffling against the fluffy carpet. initially doubtful, he takes the hands opening up his palms, allowing them to guide him closer to warmth. the next thing san feels is a pair of arms enveloping his frame, before he discerns seonghwa's voice again, "seonghwa's here, sannie. nobody else, yeah?"

nodding lightly, san nestles into seonghwa's shoulder. he slowly blinks, sniffs, and sinks in what just happened. what he saw, what he heard. who he felt.

san can't pinpoint it exactly, but he doesn't feel like his usual self. he feels... like he's floating, almost, all clouded and vague. the unfamiliarity causing him to panic, san presses himself further into seonghwa's messy embrace, clutching onto his shirt.

"i've got you, sanshine," seonghwa assures at san's stiffening posture, soft. "would you like some more sleep?"

san shakes his head no. it's not like he got any, to begin with.

"okay. how do you feel about going downstairs? it's nearly six, we can do breakfast together again. hm?"

"dunno," san mumbles, raspy from his crying. "feel... weird."

"weird? weird how, sannie?"

sinking into seonghwa's arms, san's shoulders pull upwards into an honest shrug. seonghwa only hums in response, understandingly, silent as he consoles san with the caress of his fingers and the solace of his presence. dry patches of tears stick uncomfortably to san's cheeks, yet he deflects the unpleasant feeling with the scribbles he draws onto seonghwa's sleeves. for a long time, he only thinks about the indecipherable shapes he mindlessly creates.

san's heart jumps when seonghwa pats his shoulder thrice consecutively. the look on his face makes san think it's something important.

"huh?"

"your phone." nodding to his dresser, seonghwa elaborates toward the confused dilation of san's eyes, "it's buzzing."

something curls in san's tummy. "wooyoung," he utters in the next beat of his heart. he blinks at his own voice, surprised; he can't recall when exactly he thought to say that. seonghwa raises a brow quizzically, and san feels his face turn warm. suffocatingly warm.

"wooyoung?"

"i— i mean—" san looks away from the knowing gaze staring into him and gulps hesitantly. he shortly musters a small nod. "'s just— 's probably him."

a smile tugs at seonghwa's mouth. "you should talk to him."

san doesn't need long to consider.

his legs are slightly stiff when he picks himself up from the floor, slowly moving towards where he placed his phone last night. frankly, san is nervous. he shouldn't be, but it's an especially difficult feeling to disregard at the pile of texts wooyoung has left for him. san only summons the confidence to open them at the sound of seonghwa's footsteps retreating down the stairs.

woo 🌙
san!! i know we only spoke a bit ago but pls make sure to eat something tonight won't u?
something delicious if u can!
it's still ur special day in case you've forgotten already :)
9 hours ago

woo 🌙
goodnight birthday boy <3
rest well
6 hours ago

woo 🌙
morning sanii
i hope i get to see u today
13 mins ago

me
wooyoungie
miss you

san doesn't expect the immediate buzz of his phone. it distracts him from the tears falling from his face.

woo 🌙
oh sani
i miss u too
we can spend lunch together today if u want?

me
want to see u now

woo 🌙
u know what
i think i can make that happen for u

me
u can?

woo 🌙
of course
i can come over if that's okay
i'm almost ready anyway

me
not at home though
at seonghwa's

woo 🌙
this early?

me
not really
got here last night

woo 🌙
oh
did something happen bub?
sani?

me
kind of
idk

woo 🌙
i'll definitely be over then
give me around 20 minutes yeah?

me
really?
thank you wooyoung

woo 🌙
don't say that
i'll be there soon sani <3

san is crying as he slips his phone into his pocket and drags his legs over to where his belongings are scattered. he's crying as he digs around for the hoodie wooyoung gifted him the past evening and tucks his arms into the consoling material. he's crying as he inches down the stairwell and finds seonghwa in the kitchen, concentrated before the sizzling stove.

san wipes his face with the back of his hand, only for more tears to take their place. finding the act pointless, he tugs at seonghwa's sleeve, rather reluctantly enduring the disquieted frown that hauls his lips downward — expression no different from the last few hours.

"wooyoungie's comin' over," san mumbles, fingers twitching by his side. "i know i should've asked you first, but—"

"san." seonghwa shakes his head almost instantly. "he's your friend. he's welcome here anytime." smiling as if to bear validity to his words, seonghwa then ushers san away softly. "go, sit. i'm nearly done."

san is far too hungry to protest. it feels like forever since he's last tasted any of seonghwa's food. he's an insanely good cook, too; as children, san and he would bake together often, and although they're technically two different fields, seonghwa's treats are some of the tastiest food san's had in his life. san misses it. he misses the days when he could, more or less, live as he wanted: go to the movies, spend hours at the playground, and have sleepovers at seonghwa's place for the weekend.

san wonders if a decade down the line he'll feel the same nostalgic yearning for the life he had at home.

when a strong hammering meets seonghwa's front door, san's eyes widen. he doesn't move, he can't. the sound fuses with the crackling of food from the kitchen and the ticking of the clock on the wall. despite the distraction, san hears it, loud and clear, a mountainous feeling toppling over him at the rapid glimpse of seonghwa rushing past to get the door.

san blinks. once, then twice, and, "wooyoung," he whispers for no apparent reason. 

the dread bubbling up within him is momentarily ceased by the unbearable longing invading his lungs; san needs wooyoung now more than he ever has.

the intensity prompts san out of his chair, hurrying after seonghwa as if it's his life's sole purpose.

san sees wooyoung before wooyoung sees him. his eyes are a pleasant sight, twinkling in friendliness as seonghwa lets him in, wandering the surroundings.

it's then wooyoung's eyes detect san's small figure underneath the doorframe. they light up, not as bright as san is used to seeing, but blight by relief. something subdues that feeling, though.

wooyoung's steps are cautious yet urgent all the same as they squeeze past seonghwa to get to san, whose legs are simultaneously glued to the ground and trembling alongside his bleary eyes. almost startlingly quick, wooyoung stretches his arms out.

"come here," he orders in a placid murmur, sealed with so much sincerity and want and genuine care that san doesn't hold himself back in the slightest from wooyoung's invite, diving right into his arms with a sharp quiver of his back.

wooyoung is warm, tender and everything san needs.

"i'm here, sannie," wooyoung soothes into san's hair. "i have you. you're safe."

faster than either of them expected, san pulls back. he needs to see wooyoung — his eyes, especially. they're round in alarm, prancing around and between san's features distraughtly. 

"what happened?" wooyoung asks, barely audible. like he's petrified himself.

yet, san's lips are clamped pathetically shut. he can't do it. sure, this isn't an easy question to answer, but that's not it completely. god, wooyoung doesn't deserve this. he doesn't need this. dubiously, san's palms reach for the collar of wooyoung's blazer. he pulls him in, till their fronts are touching, subconsciously breathes him in, wooyoung's smell. shampoo, a gentle and flowery kind.

"it's them, isn't it? your parents?"

san feels his features strain, attempting to coil up and cry miserably. again. but no — he can stop it. of course, he can. he's not that weak, is he?

so he hums in response, a frail but enduring sound. "they—"

something catches in san's throat, something rough and heavy. it grips onto his tongue as if he's being strangled, and it scares him, makes his body go rigid.

but, convincing san that maybe wooyoung can see right through him, the boy leans further into the oxygen san is breathing and rests their foreheads against one another's. wooyoung's eyes flutter shut, his serene state emitting onto san, though only the slightest bit. the intimate gesture assures him that he can trust wooyoung; there's nothing wrong in that anymore.

thus, san exhales for a long moment. "they," he tries again. this time, he finds it somewhere deep within him to continue, a hurriedly blunt confession, "they kicked me out."

silence rings in san's ears. he holds onto wooyoung, tight.

"sannie," wooyoung whispers, dismayed.

san hates it.

but it's not a thought he's allowed to persist on for long, because wooyoung leans up on his tiptoes and presses his lips somewhere near the middle of san's forehead.

the feeling is wet and warm, almost identical to the last time, strangely releasing the paralysed boulder upon san's shoulders. he think it's finally, exhaustively, disappeared, when the mild sensation of wooyoung's lips returns in a matter of just a few seconds. san's breath shortens, but not in the way he's used to.

"i'm going to be honest with you, bub: i don't know what to say," wooyoung admits softly, an apologetic spectre invading his gaze. "this is... a lot, honestly. but i hope you know that i'm here, my sannie. if you ever need anything, i want you to come to me, okay?"

"but—"

"no," wooyoung interrupts without any care. which san thinks is kinda funny, because, in reality, it might be the complete opposite. fingers smooth the challenging crease in san's features, gliding languidly over his skin.

"i'm here, and there's not a single thing you're going to do about it."

———

a/n: