Chapter Text
“On this week's breaking news: Seoul’s very own S-class Han Yoohyun was hospitalized two days ago on the heels of a recent dungeon abnormality. A rare triple S-class boss found within a C-class dungeon. Authorities and the Hunter Association are scrambling to find answers…”
The scene switched to a vaguely-recognizable guild member as the topic shifted.
Fleeting bursts of color in an otherwise dark room painted over a pale man huddled in front of a small television, tracing the sharp lines that comprised his face. Harsh artificial light pooled into the hollows of his sockets and the dents of his cheeks; unforgiving. It seared into his unseeing retinas, as if staring wide-eyed into the sun. He had been burning for hours, here in this spot. Days, even.
The wiry carpet, unloved and neglected for years, scratched and itched at sallow skin until rashes rose red to the surface of his legs. Uneven nails, crusted blood still wedged underneath like a dirty secret, dug in without care to mindlessly rip and tear at the prickling sensation. The other hand desperately clutched an aged photograph of him and his brother.
Han Yoojin didn’t remember how he got home.
Flickers of blue and red, an ambulance, strangers he didn’t know getting in between him and his brother, yelling, screaming, the man clad in gold and crimson-
It didn’t matter.
Yoojin considered his options. He thought about what he had left, and came up pitifully short. Han Yoohyun was no more, and in consequence, so was Han Yoojin. For what was he without the other?
He began to daydream.
The door opened to the starlight and the bright crescent moon. They glinted and glittered, brazenly defying the light pollution that threatened to choke them out of their own sky. Han Yoojin stood there dazedly, staring up at them. A shiver wracked his emaciated frame; nothing but a thin T-shirt to protect him from the cold.
It’s chilly out tonight.
Shaking himself, unsteady footsteps limped over to the edge of the building.
It was so far down. His socked toes curled over the edge of the brick layout, trepidation shaking his frame with equal parts anxiety and relief. His heart thumped like a jackhammer beneath his chest, beating like a caged bird against his fragile ribcage. He could hear the blood pump in his ears, deafening out the ambient sounds of a bustling Seoul.
Despite all the people so densely shoved against one another, no one noticed the man falling apart at the edge of the rooftop. Or perhaps they chose not to; a common thread to Han Yoojin’s cursed life.
No, they would only see him once his corpse was already splattered against the ground.
But that was of no consequence to him. Yoojin would already be long gone before they mustered the desire to care for the dead. He tightened his hands, still clutching the worn photograph in his fist. From it, a long gone era peeked out from between trembling fingers.
Good riddance. He tilted forward-
There was a knock at the door.
Firmly, the visitor knocked once, then again when Yoojin offered no immediate response. The sound jarred him from his wandering thoughts, but eventually he heaved himself up and shuffled to the door.
It opened with a loud shriek upon the hinges, something a much more motivated Han Yoojin had been planning to repair. Now, he couldn't care less.
Neat and shiny shoes met tired eyes. Following long legs upwards to a familiar red coat, Yoojin locked eyes with the very same man who saved him from that fateful dungeon.
“You-!”
“Me.” The guy smiled, too sharp canines peering out from smiling lips.
Yoojin puffed up defensively, ready for anything to be thrown at him- from threats to empty bottles. “How did you know where-?!”
“Your brother is alive.”
Han Yoohyun looked foreign, so strangely dwarfed in those white sheets that framed his pale body. The S-class the country praised as invincible now resorted to this - a ghostly figure who only breathed with the loud swooshes of a cold machine. Tubes and lines sprouted from his flesh like the gnarled roots of a parasitic tree, taking and receiving in equal parts from his wounded brother. Hysterically, he wanted to pull and rip them out of his little brother. It was unnatural, this thin fragility of the strong man he’d raised.
With a movement that resembled a fall more than a sit, Yoojin collapsed into the uncomfortable plastic chair by Yoohyun’s bedside. Picking up one of the pale hands, feeling how limp and lifeless in his grip, he wanted to sob. He wanted to trash the room, because anger was so much easier to face than all-encompassing grief. He wanted to punch Yoohyun, then himself for even considering doing so.
This stupid, stupid man. Why was he even in that dungeon? To save Yoojin? How stupid . It didn’t take a genius to see which one of the two of them was more important. His fists clenched.
A deep, fucked up part of Han Yoojin whispered selfishly I wished he would’ve died. At least then, the solution was an easy one. If Yoohyun died, Yoojin would follow shortly. There wasn’t much here for him. Instead, his little brother clung onto life in this torturous world, forcing Yoojin to stay here in this hell with him. Instead of the sweet conclusion death could grant, he was compelled to stay here and collect more debt onto his already strained shoulders. He rubbed his eyes. Han Yoojin was tired. So selfishly tired.
Abruptly, he stood up and left the room.
The sliding door clicks shut behind him, sealing his little brother back in that lonesome room. He suppressed the urge to go back inside.
The golden man was still there; watching him closely with lips curled gently upward. Strangely, despite the wicked curve of his mouth Yoojin couldn’t sense happiness or amusement from the other.
In the sterile, harsh lighting of the hospital, Han Yoojin vaguely felt like he’d seen the taller before. Like on an ad or something; the guy was certainly attractive enough.
“So,” Yoojin cleared his dry throat, averting his eyes to the linoleum under their shoes then back at the man’s face. It was embarrassing that this stranger had seen the lowest, darkest part of him and yet Yoojin still didn’t know his name. He dutifully sidestepped the matter entirely, asking roughly, “Who are you?”
Said model(?) tilted his head, beast-like, and raised a thin eyebrow. There was a window behind him, showing off the glowing lights of late night Seoul. Yoojin found it to be a much safer thing to stare at than the other’s handsome face.
“Do you really not know?”
Yoojin scowled, “Look asshole, I’ve got more important things to worry about than every random model that pops up on my television.”
This got a snort of the man. Coyly, a large hand came up to cover his mouth.
“You think I could be a model?” The not-model said with a grin. It felt more sincere this time, like he was flirting or something. But of course he wasn’t.
Han Yoojin groaned, already tired of the guy’s antics. He dragged his hands down his face, feeling the pricking ache of exhaustion roll over his limbs and spine. A nurse hurrying by caught his eye.
“Excuse me! Do you have a cot I could place next to a patient…?”
The nurse stopped dead in her tracks and hesitated, cagey eyes flicking back and forth between Yoojin and the mysterious asshole standing to his right. “Visiting hours are over in ten minutes.” She said to Yoojin.
“I’m sure we could figure something out,” The blond interrupted before Yoojin could even begin to express disappointment. His grin was too wide, showing far too many teeth, and Yoojin wondered if the guy ever stopped smiling. “After all, it’s his brother he’s worried about. Wouldn’t you want to do the same if someone you cared about was in the hospital?”
Strangely, the nurse visibly paled and took a step back. Holding her clipboard tightly to her chest, she nodded, “Y-your right. I’ll go get something for you.” She practically spirited away, leaving Yoojin to glance at the suspicious man beside him. Who was this guy, exactly? And why was he helping a nobody like Yoojin?
“You just do what you want, don’t you?”
“Hey, it took a lot for me to show my face here, don’t you know.” He purred, planting his hands in his crimson coat and rocking playfully back on his heels.
“And why are you here? What do you want from me?” The golden question. Arguably the most important one. Everyone wanted something from Yooijin, and nothing is free in this world.
Feigning hurt, the man placed a large hand on his chest and sighed dramatically. “I’m truly hurt Yoojin-ah.” Yoojin startled at the familiar address, but didn’t question how he knew Yoojin’s name. Who doesn't nowadays? The useless brother. “Since when have you questioned my authority?”
“I’ve never spoken to you in my life.” And by now he was regretting every minute. “Why would I ever trust you? Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it, no need for anything else.”
Yoojin wouldn’t fool himself into morally righteous corners. His life (and his brothers) laid firmly in this man’s hands. He’d do everything - had done everything - to save his little brother. Yoojin could only pray it wasn’t something that would completely destroy what’s left of him.
“Listen, Han Yoojin.”
Suddenly, all traces of mirth or feigned amusement melted off into indifference. Like a sheep-skinned wolf, revealing the predator lurking inside. Golden eyes glinted dangerously as they locked onto Yoojin in a single-minded intensity only rivaled by animals hunting prey. The air cooled preternaturally around them, leaving him a shivering mess as he stared down the wolf. Something primal, something animal inside begged him to curl up at the taller’s feet and grovel for forgiveness. To hurry up and submit lest he had his limbs pulled off and used for sport. And just like that, Yoojin easily remembered just whom he was carelessly trading jabs with.
The man took a step forward, now firmly in Yoojin’s personal space, blocking the twinkling view of Seoul outside. He leaned down, blond hair softly brushing the inky black of Yoojin’s own bangs. The minute contact left goosebumps running down Yoojin’s neck, as if reminding him how vulnerable it was right now. How easily it could be bitten into and torn away. Unaware, or perhaps uncaring of Yoojin’s trepidation, tilting his head to Yoojin’s ear the S-rank whispered with a smirk, “Even so. I’m an honest individual.” It sounded like a curse to the shorter.
He couldn't stop shivering, couldn’t help the tremble that undermined his words as he replied, “Y-you went missing years ago, who knows what you are now.”
This got the other to lean back and close his eyes. Still way too close, but not as overbearing as he was a second ago. “Ah, never one to hold back your words.”
Yoojin scowled tremulously, locking his legs to keep his knees from hitting the floor. “Again, never sp-spoke to you before.” Then, to appease the prey-drive in his head, he changed his tone to something more pleading.
“Please. What do you want? My brother wants nothing to do with me - surely even you know that - so you won’t get anything from him. I don’t have enough to pay for all this right now, but - but I’ll pay it back. I swear. Just- just let me -”
“Really.” The S-ranker Sung Hyunjae interrupted. Finally stepping back, Hyunjae donned another smile, laced with suppressed irritation.
“Does something about me scream ‘in need of power and money?’ Even if I did, I think I could do better than hassling poor youth such as yourself.”
Despite the resurgence of his smile, the tone only drove Yoojin’s fear to new heights. He couldn’t prevent the flinch - just barely managed to hide it behind a shifting of his feet.
“ I… I don’t like owing people. I’ll pay you back, it won’t be all at once but I’ll do it.”
He’d learned that lesson early on.
“Well,” Hyunjae sighed, “if you insist on payment then… how about lunch?”
Yoojin paused. Was…Was this a come-on? While his brother laid comatose in the other room? He scowled. “Don’t screw with me.”
Nothing else useful was going to come out of this conversation, and with every second he stood here the ache in his chest grew. He gave one last longing look to the hospital room before turning on his heel. He needed to pick up stuff from home to stay the night. “I’ll send checks to the Jupiter guild.”
As he passed, a strong hand stopped him in his tracks, gripping his arm with enough force to bruise. Unwillingly, Han Yoojin flinched hard.
Hyunjae’s golden eyes flickered over to Yoojin, now standing parallel to his right. They narrowed, even as they maintained that perpetual upward curve, and the air grew heavier. Yoojin could feel his shoulders shrink and tighten like a turtle protecting its vulnerable neck.
The taller man appeared to notice his unease, loosening his iron hold slightly. Just as soon as it arrived, the tension in the space that always seemed to accompany S-classes lightened significantly. Golden eyes softened. Hyunjae gently (or as gentle as a monster like him could) guided him back in front to speak face-to-face.
Sung Hyunjae seemed to hold himself a little smaller, more human than seconds ago.
“I’ll just send them back.” He said softly. Then, just as Yoojin opened his mouth to protest, “Think about what I said. Lunch, right? I’ll be in touch.”
And he left, leaving Han Yoojin to glare at his stupid swishing coat as he walked away.