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San adds the combined price of the stuff he brought together in his mind yet again before paying the cashier. He then puts everything into his bag, neat and orderly, distractedly getting back his change from the woman.

"Thank you for shopping at THANXX supermarket," the woman chirps, a wide, obviously practised smile stretched across her features. It looks uncomfortable. "Hope to see you again!"

Her urge to please and her pushy sort of kindness reminds San of his and Jung Wooyoung's 'conversation' earlier today. The bus fare had increased, which was embarrassing enough, and San couldn't afford paying more then necessary when he still had stuff to do and buy. Not to mention he'd just completed a task earlier, moving some shit around with his mind so some pompous hero could stop it and 'save the day'.

And then came Jung Wooyoung waltzing in, looking quite different and offering to pay. He was so nonchalant about it too, nonplussed about showing off his wealth. It had pissed San off, causing him to storm off into his seat. He hated people who tried to look all kind and altruistic in public, as if they weren't just in need of some attention, so why would San need to say thanks?

He wasn't surprised when Jung Wooyoung got mad, but he quickly learned that the man was very fucking different from his superhero persona. For one, he was insanely awkward in real life. And wore glasses.

San inhales deeply just as he exits the supermarket, wanting to stop ruminating on Wooyoung's airy, melodic voice and how unexpectedly red he got whenever San so much as watched him.

It's admittedly a bit easier to just exist today, as he doesn't really need a mask this time around. He doesn't want to hide his face around Jongho and put the other children on edge, and it helped that Mingi got a Gain yesterday, the taller man soon purchasing some concealer for him. And San appreciates it dearly, far too tired of covering up all the time.

Promise shelter looks just like it always has -- a settlement of three connected buildings with beige walls desperately in need of a paint job, cropped bonsai trees that part into the playground where most kids gather to have fun with what little they've got, or just read. Then there are those 'motivational' quotes scattered across the pillars at the front in a small, printed font, as well as the rules each shelter kid and teenager must follow.

San pulls out his cap and drops it into his bag, as the workers around here don't quite like it when visitors shield themselves in any way. Say it's for the protection of the kids, but San had been a kid here once, eager to just hide, and plenty of the authority figures around at that time liked having him under their control and vulnerable.

San bites his lip so hard it hurts, but it's a necessary evil to erase the memories threatening to unravel like those Christmas presents he never got to open.

The guy behind the visitation stand, Kihyun, pays little mind to San when he shows up, far too used to his presence by now. He flits over his ID with blank eyes, rings up the administration, registers his hours, and then San is finally free to go find Jongho.

As always, Jongho's alone in his shared room, a deep blue space with two twin beds, ons small desk and a wardrobe. Some magazine's pressed against his head and his legs are crossed, the limbs slightly shaking with noticeable impatience.

"Jongho," San speaks up, voice softer than he'd like. He can't help it, however. He'd built up a fondness for silence ever since he'd realized long ago few actually listened when he did talk.

"San hyung?!" The magazine's flung aside as quick as lightning when Jongho gets up. He's out of his small bed in no time, his long legs closing in the space between him and San in no time. His arms are tightly wrung around San's frame, as if San hadn't visited him yesterday too.

San is grateful for his embrace, however, happy to know Jongho misses him just as much as he misses the younger. "Hey, Jongho. I brought stuff."

San is terribly bad at talking, but Jongho's always understood him.

"Snacks, right?" Jongho begins, a twinkle of mischief in his eye when he regards San. The younger's always been more of a rule-breaker than San is, and it's more apparent than ever as the boy's currently going through puberty. Now fourteen years of age, his voice has cracked, making way for a lower timbre, and now he's almost hovering over San when he used to peer up at his chest before.

"M'gonna find a new spot to hide them. Luckily my roomie's getting adopted in two days, so I should be done with them before someone new arrives," Jongho adds, already shuffling through the things San bought.

San's hands clench, but he relaxes them as soon as Jongho meets his gaze.

"You good, hyung?"

No, I'm not. "I'm sorry."

Jongho halts his search, expression hesitant. "For what?"

"For not being able to adopt you all this time." It's why San's relentlessly saving up, why he's enduring this job he has until he can finally be independent and and stable enough to bring Jongho home.

There's a pause on Jongho's side, before he huffs out a shaky exhale. "You know I don't blame you, right? So there's absolutely no need to apologize, hyung. No matter what, you'll always be the most awesome older brother I've ever had."

San sighs, the lump in his throat unforgiving. It hurts, all of this does, and Jongho's understanding of their situation deepens the knife of guilt into San's heart. Because the younger should've never had to understand, should've never had to spend years in this stupid shelter, unable to leave because of San's failure of a life.

"Hey, stop that," Jongho says out loud, clasping San's shoulder. He looks into the older's eyes when he realizes how he's purposefully avoiding his stares. "I'm seriously not mad at you."

"I promised," San whispers, voice pathetically small.

"You did," Jongho confirms, soon gifting San his signature gummy smile. "But it's okay. I'm fine here, and I know you're trying your best."

But it's not enough, San wants to say, but he doesn't want to cloud this visit with his pessimism and hopelessness. He just wants to spend today with Jongho as if they're in a normal home, officially considered brothers.

"You brought lunch?" Jongho gasps after a hot minute, eyes big and bright like saucers and mouth agape.

When San nods, Jongho squeals, sprinting to hug San again. "Fuckin' awesome! Because I don't know if it's just me, but the lunches around here have been looking a bit like prison food lately."

At this, San chuckles, despite himself. "Don't let them hear that."

"I really don't care what those people hear," Jongho laughs, pulling on his lilac sweater. It was originally San's. "Let's go to the cafeteria."

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A few other kids are mulling about by the time San and Jongho enter the cafeteria, and at this point San is seen enough around here to know he poses no threats. He sits at Jongho's favourite table by the windows, two little girls playing on the swings outside. Remembering his past, San looks away.

He watches as Jongho gobbles down his lunch (a serving of pasta, veggies, and beef) like he hasn't eaten a proper meal in forever -- and San guesses he probably hasn't -- soon quickly reaching for some napkins for him.

"Slow down, Jongho," San says, dabbing the younger's lips with it. Jongho's always brought out his more protective side, and it works because Jongho also likes being babied (even when he hates admitting it).

"M'sorry." Jongho's already shoving come lettuce into his mouth. "It's just so good. The best lunch I've had in a while, even."

"You're kidding." But San's face is warm from Jongho's compliments. "I did some shopping yesterday."

"You need to bring more," Jongho pleads enthusiastically. But then he sinks into his chair. "I mean -- Whenever you can. I know you're busy with work."

San's chest tightens. Jongho doesn't know what he really does for work, as the Headquarters demanded utmost secrecy from him and the others. It's often quite physically and emotionally demanding, but it pays the bills. And when San had struggled in the past to find a job especially with the type of background he has, this thing he does is what keeps him afloat.

"I'll bring more lunches," is what San decides to reply with.

Jongho grins broadly, doing a little clap of glee. It makes San smile, for once. That is, until Jongho's gaze lands on his right side.

"...Does it still hurt?"

San passes Jongho a soda can. "No."

His reply leaves more to be desired, but Jongho gets it. He truly does, and San knows it's alright that he's a bit elusive.

"That's good," Jongho states, taking a sip of his drink. A pause. "You look good, hyung."

San subconciously touches the right side of his face, and has to remind himself the skin there is no longer tender or blistered. It's healed up now, but the scar will remain for life. "Really?"

"Duh, of course," Jongho replies as if he can't believe San is second-guessing himself. "You look great."

"Mingi got me some concealer."

"I should ask him to get me some hair-dye too."

San gapes. "What?"

"I wanna dye my hair red," Jongho says, his round eyes bright. "Like The Golden Clover. It looks so cool on him."

San clears his throat. He doesn't fault the younger for admiring their city's most popular superhero, but now Jung Wooyoung is on his mind again and he won't leave. "Oh."

"Don't you worry, hyung. You're still a million times cooler than he is." Jongho leans in, lowering his voice so others won't hear. "Yeah, he can fly, but can he move things with his mind? Nope."

San chuckles. "Thanks, I guess."

"Hyung, you're way cooler than you realize," Jongho says. "I wish I could do what you do. You'd make a great hero."

"It's tougher than you think," San replies, picking at his nails. "It's also unstable." San's all too used to the way things would explode if he focused too hard on them. He doesn't want to go through that again. "Heroes can't be unstable."

Jongho nods, finishing up his meal. "Yeah, well, it'd still be amazing to have zias." He perks up. "Have you eaten?"

San thinks back to this morning when he grabbed just a banana from the fridge before embarking on his task. "Ate a banana."

Jongho looks worried, which San really doesn't like. "You need to eat more, hyung."

"I know."

"We could've shared -- "

"No way. It's for you and you alone," San scolds, hating how harsh he sounds. But he needs Jongho to stop worrying so much about him.

Jongho slowly nods, looking away. "Okay."

"I didn't mean to sound so rough."

"It's alright, San. I know you want me to be happy and healthy, and I want the same for you too." Jongho turns, watching out the window. A bunch of kids are moving to towards the back. "You seeing that too, hyung?"

San nods. The back of the shelter holds a large clearing where instruments are played and songs are sang. Most kids can't play, though, so it's the adults that use them most of the time, which is nearly never. Now that San has tuned in, he hears a faint melody.

"No way. This never happens," Jongho gasps, packing up the bento boxes without a moment to spare.

San raises his eyebrows. "Jongho -- "

"I gotta see who it is," the younger remarks. "And you're coming with me."

Before long, San's getting pulled into the backyard in no time. The greenery spread over is lush and meticulously trimmed, colourful blankets and chairs strewn across the yard. There isn't a single cloud in the sky, the sun casting a soft glow over the field and the guy in the middle of it all currently tugging the strings of the guitar in his arms, fingers rhythmic and experienced. He strums a tune, eyes narrowed in concentration at first, but then he looks up, casting generous smiles at the kids looking at him.

San's breath hitches, heart in his throat. What the hell is Jung Wooyoung doing here? For a second, he wonders if the younger is stalking him, but then Wooyoung starts playing something bright and warm and sweet, a sentimental look on his face.

San feels his chest twisting at the nostalgia that immediately engulfs him. He knows this song, heard it all the time when he was still stuck here in this shelter. It's Promise, the shelter's theme song of sorts that had always been played back when a few of the workers still gave a shit.

San hasn't heard it in a long time, figuring it had been forgotten just like everything tends to be when enough time has passed. But here Wooyoung is, playing this song like he knows it.

San watches on, speechless like most of the other kids and adults currently listening in. Even Jongho is totally concentrated on Wooyoung's playing, and it's then San realizes the man can't help but draw attention wherever he goes.

Even now, the sunlight warms Wooyoung's skin, making him more golden. His dark hair is soft and luscious, charming dimples lining his cheeks with each easygoing smile he delivers. Even when he's not The Golden Clover, he still shines.

The song abruptly cuts off, awkward and stiff, gaining everyone's attention. Wooyoung's staring straight at San now, eyes comically wide.

Shit. San takes a step back.

"San hyung?" Jongho questions, and while he isn't necessarily a loud talker, he's exceedingly good at being heard.

"Bathroom." San rushes off into the halls, head spinning and his thoughts in disarray. Why is he so affected by Jung Wooyoung's presence? The hero is pushy and irritating and an attention-seeker, and San's better off just ignoring him and pretending he doesn't exist. Running off like a scared animal isn't who he is at all.

"San!"

San's blood runs cold, and he halts his footsteps.

Wooyoung is soon in front of him, raking fingers through his now slightly messy hair. "San."

San wants to disappear right this second, wants to stop feeling so naked under Wooyoung's gaze.

Wooyoung's dark grey eyes are more than excited. "Um, hi."

"What do you want?"

"Can we talk? Um -- " Wooyoung clears his throat, the tips of his ears a bright pink. "I mean -- we are talking right now. And we met -- Again. For the second time. But um, do you wanna...hang out?"

San doesn't know what to say. Jung Wooyoung keeps doing unexpected things, keeps showing up when San wants nothing more than to block him out of his life.

Wooyoung fixes his glasses, actually nervous, but his eyes are hopeful.

"No." San wants to walk off, but his legs are stuck.

Wooyoung hooks his thumbs into his jean pockets. "You owe me one, though."

San scoffs, preparing to leave. "I'm busy."

"San -- "

San's heartbeat lurches. Stop saying my name like that. "What?"

"When are you not busy?"

San frowns. "I'm always busy."

"San hyung!" Jongho shows up out of nowhere as he tackles San into a half-hug, an ecstatic grin nearly splitting his face in half. "Guess what? We can go get some ice cream if we want!"

For a moment, San forgets Wooyoung's around. "Ice cream?"

"Yes! There's this shop right by that bookstore you always pass and -- " Jongho pauses, taking in Wooyoung's presence. "Hi! You played the guitar really good earlier."

"Aw, thanks," Wooyoung grins, and if San didn't know better, he would've thought he looked almost shy. "I'm glad you liked it. You uh, said you were going for ice cream?"

"That is if hyung agrees," Jongho says, beaming at San. San internally crumbles under all the attention.

"Well... San's a friend of mine, so it's all on me," Wooyoung answers, grinning broadly.

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

San wants to refute this claim so badly, but Jongho looks too happy right now to attempt crushing his spirit. So he keeps his mouth shut, and allows himself to be dragged into what is turning out to be a rather catastrophic afternoon.

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a/n: thoughts? hope it isn't moving too quickly :')

also hope you guys have a great week, u deserve it 💖✨️