Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sieun has only been in this new world for three days, and it's already clear how different things are. Thankfully, he’s retained some semblance of this world’s Yeon Sieun’s memories, and has spent the previous day at Suho’s side, hunched over as he cried as quietly as possible.

After the false alarm, and then everything that happened with the Union, he had, almost subconsciously, lost his hope of finding Suho again. And after Na Baekjin died, he’d fallen into a depressive and hallucinatory state, and no amount of cajoling from his parents or prescriptions helped him to sleep or let go of the guilt, or the sight of Baekjin’s battered and bloody body thrown on the asphalt.

Suddenly thrown into this alternate world, where Suho is alive and Sieun’s first day at Eunjang is yet to come, he couldn't help the onslaught of emotions when he sat outside the hospital room, Suho on the opposite side of the door hooked up to tubes and wires that kept him alive.

It’s been hard to adjust. 

He goes to Eunjang alone, flatly refusing his parents' escort. He’s done some amount of research since he arrived, scoured the internet for everything there was to know about the Union. The Shuttle Patch didn't exist in this world and with one major information source gone, he's resorted to finding chat rooms used by high schoolers and searching Instagram.

The Union, he's found, is much less of a big deal. Or rather, Na Baekjin was. There were photos of him with dark hair combed back, dressed neatly in his school uniform as he received an award. It was jarring to see him like that, without his light hair, without a piercing to speak of, and skin clear and unmarked.

It's not the Na Baekjin he knows, despite having the same face, and a small part of him falls in disappointment.  

His next plan of action is of course getting to know exactly how much has changed in regards to the people in his life. From his memories, he knows of Young-yi, who doesn't seem to resemble anyone he knows originally. Not to mention the gambling app, and drug ring case they had stumbled into. Since so many things were not as he remembers originally, it stands to reason Eunjang would not be the same either. 

The ruckus is a familiar blend of yelling and gossip, and he can't help the wry amusement he feels. Some things, it seems, will always remain the same. 

“Everyone,” their homeroom teacher says loudly and the students reluctantly turn forward, “we have a transfer student from today. Introduce yourself.” He says to Sieun and Sieun steps forward. 

“Hello.” He says flatly, “I’m Yeon Sieun.” He doesn't say anything else, instead taking his time to scan the classroom. There is an empty seat in the front row, presumably his. Two seats backwards sits Juntae, peering curiously at him through his glasses. And lining the back row, sneering at him, were Choi Hyomanband his gang of troublemakers, snickering with each other and giving him leering glares.

“Well,” the teacher blusters awkwardly when it's clear that's all Sieun has to say, “you all get along now!” 

Sieun ignores him and makes his way to his seat as the chatter resumes, but more subdued. As the teacher flees the room, he hears footsteps approach him and barely holds back on rolling his eyes, but couldn't hold back the thrill that runs through him at the thought of teaching Hyoman a lesson. He should establish his position from now, so they don't bother him in the future. It's reasonable.

Hyoman slams a hand on his table, glaring at him with his beedy little eyes. Under the table, Sieun’s fingers curl around his phone, the other hand grasping the spine of a textbook.

Hyoman reaches forward to pull his nametag up, “Yeon Sieun,” he reads, “that's a pretty name. What are you, a girl?” He laughs loudly, emboldened as the rest of the class follows suit. 

Sieun doesn't say a word, staring at him coldly. Hyoman blanches at the intensity of his gaze but tries to play it off with another grating laugh.

“Hey, what's wrong with your eyes, huh? They make me feel awful. I think I'm cold now,” he says, glancing around exaggeratedly. 

“Are you done?” Sieun asks, no inflection in his voice and the class falls silent. 

Hyoman’s face twists in rage and sweeps the books off of Sieun's table and Sieun darts forward and slams the base of his phone into Hyoman's eye, and brings the textbook in an arc to crack against his cheekbone. 

He collapses into a heap, howling in pain, clutching his eye and Sieun sits calmly, spinning his pen around his fingers. 

“You-!” Hyoman roars, just as the teacher enters the class, and blinks at him.

“What is going on?” He asks as Hyoman stumbles to his feet. 

“Hyoman-ssi was helping me pick up my books and tripped.” Sieun says pleasantly. 

The teacher blinks, startled. “Ah well, that's good, but you should get back to your seat now, we’ll start the class.”

As Hyoman makes his way to his seat he hisses, “You're dead meat, Yeon Sieun.”

Sieun doesn't bother to glance at him. After being on the wrong side of Na Baekjin's fists, Hyoman’s threats aren't even worth a second thought.

By the time lunch rolls around, Sieun has dismissed Hyoman entirely and just barely manages to duck under the baseball bat that comes swinging from behind him. 

The boy who had swung it stumbles forward from the force of his missed swing and Sieun sighs as he spots Hyoman come charging towards him, beady eyes alight with his thirst for revenge.

He stands slowly, and steps neatly to one side to let Hyoman go barreling over himself, just barely catching himself before he tumbles over himself. He spins around and gets slammed in the face with Sieun's backpack.

He falls backwards, and Sieun catches him by the collar, kicking at his kneecaps, and pulling his head down to meet his knee with a sickening crunch. 

Hyoman lies in a heap, blood slowly spreading from under him, moaning in pain. 

Sieun steps backwards, surveying the shell-shocked class. “Anyone else?” He asks.

Predictably, no one else seems to have a problem with him, and he sits back down, happy to lose himself in the meditative trance of solving problems. 

He’s not dumb enough to rule out Hyoman as a threat; he’s certain he’ll get ambushed in the underpass on his way to cram school, and decides he may as well prepare himself. He's not looking forward to testing this body’s durability just yet.

As the bell rings at the end of the day, the usual chatter starts up and Sieun begins to pack his bag, clipping his pen to his shirt pocket, and, after a moment of deliberation, swipes the chalk box from the teachers table, painstakingly filling the powder into a plastic bag that he ticks into his pocket.

Someone approaches him as the rest of the class filter out, and he tenses, then sees who it is and exhales.

“Hi, sorry, I don't mean to bother you,” Juntae says nervously, “but just so you know Hyoman and the others are planning to follow you when you leave and ambush you. So you should take one of the main roads when you go.”

Sieun stares at him and he blushes, shifting on his feet anxiously. 

“But, you could probably handle them yourself I guess,” he says weekly, in slow realisation, eyes fixed to the floor, “I'm probably bothering you, I'm sorry.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Sieun says and Juntae’s head snaps up, eyes wide.

“Oh, um! It's no problem! Really! Hyoman has always been a bully, but he's been acting out since Baku got suspended.”

Sieun barely suppresses his reaction, forcing a curious look on his face, “Baku?”

Juntae nods, “His name is Park Humin, and he's kind of the leader of Eunjang. Mostly because he's the best fighter of us all. He’s the only reason Eunjang isn't a part of the Union like all the other schools.” 

“The Union,” Sieun repeats and Juntae nods, naturally falling in step with him as they leave the class.

“It's a group made of all the schools in this district. Eunjang is the only one not in it, so they get bullied a lot if they’re seen outside in uniform. They basically function like a real gang, but have been laying low since a few days.” Juntae says, “Hyoman really wants to get into the Union, so he’s trying everything to get their attention.” He hesitates, then says, nervously, “if you don't mind me asking, where did you learn to fight?”

Sieun shrugs, “oh you know, here and there.” He looks at Juntae, “I'm curious, though. Why tell me all this? I'm just a transfer student.”

Juntae shrugs, “ I think you're cool. I've never seen someone who wasn't with Baku stand up to Hyoman like that. And he's been making trouble for a long time.” He grimaces, “I'll probably pay the price for it later though,” he admits.

“You won't,” Sieun says, so fiercely he almost doesn't recognize himself, “Hyoman won't bother you again.” 

Juntae looks at him with round, surprised eyes and Sieun looks away quickly. 

He's become so emotional, he thinks despairingly, but he couldn't help the surge of protectiveness; after all, the last time he'd seen Juntae, it was in the hospital as he recovered from the Union’s ambush. 

“You're a lot nicer than you look,” Juntae says quietly, smiling softly. “I’m Seo Juntae, by the way.” he says, extending his hand with a grin.

“Yeon Sieun,” Sieun says, and takes his hand. 

Juntae beams at him, before launching into a long winding ramble about the rest of the school, as they walk to the underpass. 

“What's that?” Sieun asks, nodding to the graffiti.

“Baku,” Juntae says, “he's always telling people not to fight. Especially if you're in the Eunjang uniform.”

“Huh.”

Surprisingly, they cross the area without any unpleasant encounters and Juntae gains a pensive look on his face. 

“Hyoman is definitely up to something if he didn't come charging in right now,” he murmurs and Sieun can't help but agree. “Sieun-ah, where are you going now? Will you be okay?” 

“Just cram school,” Sieun says, “I'll be fine. You should go home.” 

Juntae nods, “I will. You be careful. Wait, let me give you my number.” He punches in his number, calling himself to save it. “If you have any questions, you can ask me, okay?”

Sieun nods. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it,” Juntae says cheerfully, and walks away, a skip in his step. 

Sieun watches him leave, chest warm. Then he hikes up his backpack and continues walking.

Surprisingly, there's a lack of activity from Hyoman for the next day, and then the day after that. Everyone seems to leave Sieun alone, except, of course, for Juntae. Kim Pilypung and Jin Tae-oh aren't even students in Eunjang to stir up anything. It's somewhat odd; after all, by the end of it all, Tae-oh had become a good friend of theirs. 

He tries not to think too much about it though. By now, he’s already aware of the probability of ever returning to the world he knows anyways. 

Juntae is a good source of information too; once he starts talking he really doesn't stop, and knows so many things about their classmates it's almost scary. 

Today, his chosen topic is about how nobody bothers him at lunch anymore because he’s been hanging out with Sieun.

“It's really nice to be able to eat lunch peacefully for once,” he says cheerfully, “you're really brave, I wish I could have half as much guts.”

“It's not bravery,” Sieun says. “They just pissed me off.” 

Juntae makes a noise of admiration, “you're so cool, Yeon Sieun. If I weren't your friend, I'd be so scared of you.”

Sieun stops in his tracks and stares at Juntae, “So if anyone tries to hurt you, you'd just take it?” He asks, and Juntae shrugs helplessly.

“I can't really fight back though, can I?”

Sieun studies him for a while, “Do you know what Newton’s third law? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.” He pats Juntae’s shoulder, “Remember that.”

On his fourth day at Eunjang, there's great buzz. There are notes on almost every desk except for Sieun's, and it doesn't take long for Sieun to realise what’s happened and turn his gaze to Juntae, who is slumped forward, head cushioned on his arm as he feigns sleep, shoulders taut with tension. 

It doesn't take long before Hyoman storms inside, “Seo Juntae, you're fucking dead meat!”

Sieun watches with clinical detachment as Juntae sits up straight and swallows hard, and stuffs a hotteok into his mouth before turning to face Hyoman, fists raised in front of him. 

Hyoman laughs at him, and lunges, and his first cracks against Juntae's head and he goes sprawling backwards and Sieun surges to his feet. 

Suddenly they're not in the bustling school classroom but a dark alleyway, and it's Juntae on the floor, his glasses at his feet with bloodied teeth, and Sieun is going to make whoever hurt his friend pay, he is going to make them regret touching Juntae, he is going to make them beg for their miserable life, but he doesn't give half a fuck and —

“—eun! Yoon Sieun!” Juntae cries, “You'll kill him!”

Sieun's vision clears. 

He's in school. There's no Dongha Baek in a dark alley but Choi Hyoman against the lockers, face a bloody mess. His fists hurt. 

Juntae pulls his arm harder, face sallow and pale, “Sieun, please, he's not worth it. I'm not even hurt!”

Sieun slowly gets to his feet and Hyoman whimpers, trying to crawl away. 

“This is my classroom,” he says flatly, “make a ruckus again, and I'll gouge your eyes out.”

Someone whistles, “Holy shit.”

Sieun turns slowly to see Go Hyuntak staring at them, an impressed look on his face as he studies Hyoman’s crumpled form.

“Damn, you really did a number on him,” he says. 

Sieun. . . Sieun is tired. He ignores him, and pats Juntae's arm once, and goes back to his seat, desperate to return to some semblance of normalcy — the itch is still there though, the thrill of violence, of fighting, of winning.

Slowly, everyone else returns to their seats, slowly, everyone moves on. 

As they walk together, Juntae is quiet. 

“Hyoman is definitely planning revenge now,” he says and Sieun nods.

“I know.”

Juntae hesitates, “Have. . . Have you heard the rumors he's been spreading?”

“Rumors?” Sieun echoes.

Juntae squirms. “Your grades are really good, people wondered why you came to Eunjang instead of somewhere like Yeo-il. Hyoman is telling people you killed someone at your other school and Eunjang was the only one to take you after that.” He waves his hands hurriedly, “I know it's not true or anything, I'm just telling you so that you know what people are saying about you.”

“I don't care what people say about me,” Sieun says blandly. He closes his eyes heavily the video from the boxing ring playing across the backs of his eyelids, the way Suho slumped as they kicked him and hit him and didn't stop, the sickening crunch of bone echoing with the jeers and laughs. “And it is true. I did kill someone.”

“Oh— oh.” Juntae worries his lip between his teeth, then looks up determinedly. “I don't care about that,” he says fiercely, “you're my friend.” 

“You have terrible survival instincts,” Sieun observes dryly and Juntae beams at him. “Now, what exactly was up with all those phones?”

As predicted, Hyoman makes his move the next day, and Sieun is still fuming as he drags Juntae with him, careful to keep his face as blank as possible. 

“That crazy bitch,” he mutters, “he must be out of his mind.”

“Sieun-ah,* Juntae says softly, “I'm really fine. I think they just wanted to get your attention, but were afraid to make you angry. They didn't even hit me that hard.”

Sieun looks at him. “They put you in a locker.” He says, and Juntae shrugs.

“Not the first time.” He says and Sieun sighs heavily. 

“Keep your phone on you,” he says, “and text me as soon as that son of a bitch tries anything next time,” then, under his breath, “not that there will be a next time.”

That was when Hyuntak came running down and starts running his mouth. It makes Sieun's head hurt; he doesn't remember Gotak being so obtuse in his world.

It's when he mentions Suho that Sieun feels his last thread of patience snap, sliding his backpack off one shoulder, holding it off of one strap.

“Juntae, stay behind me,” he says dully, and hurls the back into the air.

Hyuntak twists on his heel and kicks it away, in a move so similar to what he's seen Jin Gayool do, it throws him off for a second. That second is enough for Hyuntak to cross the distance between them, his next kick snapping through the air where Sieun’s head was a half second ago. 

He's fucking fast, Sieun realises grimly, and dogs out the plastic filled with chalk powder he'd collected, and throwing a fistful at Hyuntak’s face, who stumbles backwards, cursing and rubbing his eyes. 

Sieun seizes the chance to dart forward, going for his knees, and Hyuntak screams.

Sieun freezes. He knows he didn't hit that hard for Hyuntak to crumple like a marrionette with its strings cut.

“What the hell,” he says, his voice distant to his ears, “are you okay?”

Hyuntak shudders on the floor, clutching his knee in a white-knuckled grip. 

Juntae makes a soft noise of realization, “I heard he had a bad injury a year ago,” he says, and Sieun goes cold.

“Well, well, well,” Hyoman’s sleazy voice drawls, “look at this group of losers. I didn't think te great Go Hyuntak could be downed so easily, but maybe you're just weaker than I thought. Should've expected it from Baku’s little minion.”

Gotak roars in incomprehensible rage, struggling to his feet.

“Hey.” Sieun says, staring through lmalitted eyes at the group of boys that followed Hyoman. “Shut the fuck up.”

Hyoman sneers, “You're outnumbered, nerd. Not even a prettyboy like you can get out of this. And I'm gonna enjoy teaching you all a lesson.”

Sieun nods. “I warned you.”

Sieun is ramming Hyoman’s head to the wall when Park Humin makes his entrance, watching the blood stain grow bigger with very hit. “I. Warned. You.” He says, “To. Fucking. Shut. Up.”

Some of the grunts he'd knocked down earlier stumble to their feet, charging at him with a loud cry, only to be caught from behind by Humin, a bemused look on his face and ridiculous bright red hair. 

“Now. What's going on here?” 

“It's Baku!” Someone yelps, and Sieun sighs as he gets to his feet. 

“Juntae-ah,” he says, “Let's go.”

“Hey!” Hyuntak yells as they turn away and they stop. He falters, “Uh. I'm sorry for spewing all that bullshit. You're not that bad of a guy, I guess."

Baku peers at them, “Who is that?” He whispers. Or rather, he thinks he whispers. 

“Transfer student,” Hyuntak grunts, “Ya, help me up.”

“Hey transfer student, you've got guts!” Baku calls after their retreating figures, “let's go eat together sometime.”

Sieun barely suppresses a sigh. Seriously, what is it with people beating the crap out of each other then asking to have a meal?

Next to him, Juntae is vibrating with energy, “Baku is so cool,” he gushes, and Sieun side-eyes him. 

“He didn't even do anything.” He says, and Juntae nods rapidly.

“But he was still so cool,” he says, then quickly, “ of course you were cooler, you basically fought them all by yourself and didn't even get hit once. Sieun-ah, won't you teach me to fight?”

“Focus on your grades instead,” he says and Juntae deflates.

“. . . What cram schools do you recommend?”

Chapter Text

Somehow, Sieun finds himself at a museum, dressed up in red robes doing volunteer work because Hyoman and his goons couldn't come to school after a little scuffle.

At least it wasn't a hospital.

Juntae has become fast friends with Hyuntak and the two chatter together happily in between posing for pictures while Baku flirts with every woman who come within a two metre radius of him, his raucous laughter reaching Sieun from across the building.

It's. . . Actually not that bad, and he finds himself biting back a smile when Baku trips over his clothes trying to get a girl’s number, and Gotak laughs so hard he has to cling to Juntae’s shoulder for support. 

“You really made me fall for you.” Baku says with a wink from the floor, unphased. 

“Right,” the poor girl says, looking somewhat distressed, “are you okay?”

“I am as long I'm looking at you,” Humin says shamelessly, and Hyuntak wheezes soundlessly, near tears. 

The girl soon gets dragged away by her friend, who gives Baku a bemused look as he poses on the floor. 

As they leave, he picks himself up and makes his way to them, dusting off his hands, “I think they were into me,” he says, and Juntae giggles.

“They weren't kidding when they talked about your unlimited confidence,” he muses and Baku throws up a peace sign. 

“I'll take it as a compliment,” he says cheerfully.

Hyuntak shudders with laughter, “You really shouldn't.” 

Sieun clears his throat, drawing the attention of the other three. “I'm going to go change,” he says.

“Let's take a group photo,” Hyuntak suggests, “then we can grab something to eat.” 

“Group photo!” Humin cheers.

“You're so damn loud,” Sieun grumbles, but let's himself get pulled in while Juntae earnestly asks a passerby to take their photo.

When he’s finally back in comfortable clothes, they line up at a counter to eat.

The ensuing playful arguments and laughter that follows reminds him of long humid afternoons spent in the pool room, hours spent in the arcade surrounded by friendly chatter, a train ride chasing a futile hope but accompanied by a steadfast companion. . 

But it also reminds him of other memories, not quite his own, and not quite that unfamiliar, stinging of nostalgia and fresh joy— of late night drives and shared lunches, and running without a care in the world in the comfort of knowing he's not alone.

Sieun ducks his head, a smile tugging at his lips. 

From the other end, Baku yelps loudly and a chopstick smeared with sauce lands on Sieun's cream hoodie. 

“Hey, Gotak, take that from him, I heard he stabs people if he's given anything pointed,” Baku says in a stage whisper. 

Juntae clicks his tongue, reaching over with a napkin, to dab at the stain, brows furrowed. Sieun catches his wrist, “I'll wash it in the bathroom,” he says and Juntae nods. Sieun tilts his head to the other two and leaves, absently pulling at the fabric. 

The stain isn't easy to remove, but it's turns pale enough that Sieun is confident it can be removed with a spin in the laundry when he finally turns the faucet off, sighing as he shakes his hands dry. He turns around and freezes.

Keum Seongje stands behind him, hands casually tucked in the pockets of his jacket, an unlisted cigarette sticking out from between his lips. His eyes glitter with mania and Sieun holds his gaze for one, two, three seconds and Seongje’s eyes narrow, lips angled into a dangerous smirk.

“Ooh,” he says, “what a cold gaze.”

“Can I help you?” Sieun asks, hand sliding in his pocket to grip the base of his phone. 

Seongje plucks the cigarette from his mouth, running his tongue over his teeth, “Hmm. Maybe. You were pretty chummy with Baku and his minion there.”

Sieun blinks at him slowly, “And?” 

The word has hardly left his lips when Seongje is throwing a punch, and he leans back just enough to reduce the impact, Seongje’s knuckles just bumping against his forehead. Sieun takes a quick jab for his extended elbow and Seongje catches his fist, spitting out his cig at Sieun’s face just as Sieun’s foot stomps into his. His grip loosens and Sieun jumps back a few steps, the bathroom wall cool against his back as he tries to make some distance.

Seongje bursts into delighted cackles, “Oh you’re different from them, aren't you? I'm going to enjoy beating you to a pulp.” He raises his phone, “Now smile!”

Sieun does not smile. 

Seongje taps at his phone, still with that wild smile. “What's your name, newbie?”

Sieun itches to hit him again, the familiar urge rising in him just at the sight of Seongje like a Pavlovian response. He takes a deep breath to quell the impulse, eyes sliding shut for a second. “Yeon Sieun.” He says.

A hot waft of air ghosts over his cheeks and his eyes snap open, and Seongje bares his teeth in a grotesque smile a half inch from his face. His breath smells like nicotine.

Sieun holds his gaze unflinchingly. He can see himself in the reflection of Seongje’s glasses, a cold look in his eyes. 

Seongje pulls away, “You're kind of my type,” he says with a roguish grin, walking backwards to the door. His smile widens, “See you soon then, Sieun-ah.”

Sieun exhales as he leaves, trying to loosen his tense shoulders. 

Keum Seongje seems to be the same old psychopath he’s always been, and Sieun would be lying if he said he didn't find it somewhat entertaining to interact with him. Someone like him, who turned his back on someone like Na Baekjin just because he felt like it, was someone to be admired, if not for their courage then for their sheer audacity.

He waits a few seconds before leaving the washroom, almost slamming into Humin.

“Sieun! Are you okay? That bastard didn't do anything, did he?”

Sieun blinks at him. “Who?” 

Humin deflates in relief, “Thank fuck,” he says, “Hey, stay away from those bastards from Ganghak and Yeo-il, ok? I know you can fight, but those guys are another level of evil.”

Sieun nods, “No promises, but I'll try.” He says, well aware that he's lying through his teeth. He can't bring himself to regret it though, when Humin smiles at him.

Later, he declines their invitation for dinner together, waving a half-hearted goodbye before taking the taxi to the hospital. He hasn't visited Suho in a while, and wants to tell him the most recent updates of his life in person. Suho would appreciate it. 

Before, the overwhelming guilt would keep him from entering the room where Suho slept, unable to do anything but sit on the bench and talk to his friend through his texts. Now, he’s just too relieved to have the freedom to walk into the hospital and see Suho, right in front of his eyes. After what seemed like a lifetime of missing him, having him physically in front of Sieun still seems like a dream.

Sieun sits next to his friend, fingers brushing the dark strands of hair off of his forehead. “Suho-ya,” he says, “I went to volunteer at a museum today. The teacher says we can't be let off for making the whole of Hyoman’s gang be so injured they're all absent, but it's hardly my fault they're more fragile than a glass pane, now is it?” His phone buzzes with a text from Baku and Sieun smiles softly, sending a quick response, “Look, I'm doing pretty good. I got friends who care enough to check on me. You don't have to worry for me at all.”

He talks until his throat goes dry, and then talks some more, the only response being the slow beeping of the heart monitor. 

“I know I'm not the Sieun that you know,” Sieun says wistfully, “But you're the only Suho I have. And I don't want to let go of you. This isn't my world, but I can't go back anymore. This is my second chance, Suho-ya. And I'm a selfish person. I wasted my first one, I'll hold onto this one with both hands.”

He sighs, falling quiet.

He's known for a while there's no going back to his first life. After all, even the dead can't come back to life. And he's certain the him of that world will have already been found, a soulless husk of a body and buried and mourned and then left alone. Maybe his friends visited him when they thought of him, maybe they tried to forget about him, maybe they lamented of how they could've helped even when it was a lost cause. Maybe someday, if Suho ever came back, he'd remember Sieun and visit him too.

Then he freezes. Outside the door, he hears movement, someone taking their time waiting on him, delayed, distracted steps, and the occasional impatient jump. 

Of course, it’s Keom Seongje. Sieun hopes he isn't smoking. It'd be bad for Suho.

He stands, shouldering his backpack, giving Suho’s limp hand one last squeeze, “I have to go now,” he says, “I'll be back. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, okay?”

Suho’s face remains unchanged, serenely peaceful behind his mask and Sieun feels tears jump to his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and steps back, “Suho-ya. I'll see you soon, okay?” He dabs at his eyes roughly, and turns away, stepping out of the room with a heavy exhale. 

Sure enough, it's Seongje waiting for him, fiddling with his phone. He grins when he sees Sieun. 

“Hey Loverboy, you took a while. I've been waiting for ages.”

“Don't come somewhere you're not wanted next time,” Sieun deadpans, and Seongje lips curl up.

He peers through the window of the door, “Is that the kid you got fucked up? It'd be a shame if someone decided to walk in and finish the job.”

Sieun stiffens. “What do you want.” He grits out. 

Seongje leans back against the wall. “Baekjin wants to see you,” he says. 

Sieun barely suppresses his flinch. It's hard to hear the name and not hear his yells as he called for one last fight from under the bridge, or the look on his face when Sieun had reached his side, wide-eyed and startled, unaware of what had happened and lifeless on the ground.

Seongje taps his foot on the linoleum, “Well? Or do I need to ask Ahn Suho over there for permission first?”

Sieun is stepping forward before he can think twice, yanking Seongje away from Suho’s room by his jacket sleeve, “Let's go. I think Na Baekjin would prefer his dog to return to him in one piece.”

Seongje’s eyes go flinty cold, “Ya, you fucking bastard—!”

Sieun drops to his knees as Seongje’s fist slams into the wall and barely gets to his feet to dart away from his ensuing kick, catching the next fist that comes for him with both hands. 

“This is a hospital.” He hisses, “there are cameras everywhere. Somehow I don't think the Union wants the wrong kind of attention right now.”

Seongje spits in his face.

Sieun jerks away, lip curling in disgust as a few drops of spittle land on his cheek. 

“Just you wait, you fucker,” Seongje says quietly, “I can't wait to fuck you up just like the rest of your pathetic friends.”

Sieun meets his gaze evenly, “I wonder how much of you is all bark and no bite.”

Seongje grits his teeth, but doesn't try to attack him again, ripping away from Sieun. “Follow me,” he snarls, “and shut your damn mouth, or I'll make you fucking regret it.”

Sieun follows him quietly, though he badly wanted to comment on Seongje's lack of a collar and leash. Somehow, he doesn't think it'd go over too well.

They go to a bowling alley, and Seongje leads him to the back rooms, knocking harshly on the steel. 

“Come in.” 

Na Baekjin looks exactly as he did on the Insta posts from his school, and Sieun feels nausea climb up his throat as he writes calmly on the paper in front of him, not looking up.

“Na Baekjin.” Sieun says, but it comes out wrong, choked in the middle and Baekjin glances up and his eyes, a sliver on surprise in them as they focus on Sieun are exactly the same as Baekjin in the hospital, Baekjin crumpled in front of him, Baekjin, unstoppable, unbeatable as he fought against all of Sieun's calculations and Baekjin with a wry smile and Baekjin watching them walk away—

—Baekjin flung in the air mid-sentence, eyes wide with the unspoken tortured pleas that only reach Sieun under every plaintive scream.

Sieun feels like he might throw up.

Baekjin raises an eyebrow. “You look like you've seen a ghost,” he says slowly, “Seongje tells me you're quite the unflappable person; am I that intimidating?”

Sieun takes a deep breath. A long deep inhale, slow exhale.

He looks up, nails cutting crescents into his palm, “ Not particularly.” He says. “You look similar to someone I knew.” 

Baekjin scoffs, “Is that so?” He slides away the paper he was working on and Sieun’s eyes catch onto it.

It's a calculus problem, one he'd had trouble with at first, and it seems Baekjin is having the same problem. 

Baekjin sees him staring and leans forward, “I've heard the White Mamba is quite the genius; any suggestions? I've been stuck on it for an embarrassing amount of time it seems.”

Sieun freezes. 

Slowly, he drags his eyes up to hold eye contact with the leader of the Union.

“It's a complex term,” he says, voice remarkably steady for the pounding in his chest, “I found its easiest to solve by integration by substitution. It’s lengthy, but ultimately the simplest solution.”

Baekjin hums, “Substitute one term with another while still maintaining the constant.” He muses. He smirks. “Sounds familiar.”

“You goddamn fucking bastard.” Sieun bursts out, and Seongje tenses behind him. Baekjin doesn't even flinch when Sieun surges forward and slams his hands on the table. “I told you to fucking dodge!” 

Baekjin laughs, chair scraping against the floor as he stands. “White Mamba. You're the same as ever.”

“Nobody fucking calls me that here,” Sieun snaps, and then, to his absolute horror, feels the backs of his eyes burn. 

“Seungje,” Baekjin says, “Guard the door. Don't let anyone interrupt us. We have a lot to talk about.”

Sieun waits for the door to slam shut before his knees give out under him, and he gasps for breath, knuckles white.

Baekjin rounds the table, peering down at him. His brows are furrowed with what almost looks like concern. “What's wrong with you?” He asks and all Sieun can see is his corpse, bloodied and bruised, feel the hoarseness of his own throat as he screams and screams to call the fucking ambulance, I can't get a fucking pulse, he's not breathing—

Sieun throws up.

A mix of bile and the little food that remained after his meal at the museum lands on Baekjin’s shoes. It smells horrible.

Sieun thinks he might throw up again.

The slap that snaps his head to the side is so loud it echoes in the small room. It's so shocking Sieun doesn't even realise what's happened, eyes fixed to the wall, wide with shock.

“Hey.” Baekjin snarls, “Get a goddamn hold of yourself.”

Sieun feels a hand twist on his hair, dragging his head to face forward, before another slap twists him back around. 

“Let go.” Sieun says quietly, and Baekjin tugs hard on his hair to force him to face him again.

Baekjin’s lip curls. “What happened to you?” He asks, “What happened to the ever untouchable White Mamba?”

Sieun jerks out of his grip, stumbling to stand on wobbly legs. “What happened,” he says quietly, “is this fucking psychopath who got himself killed in front of me. There's a dead man asking what’s wrong with me. Forgive me if I seem a bit shaken, but the last time I saw you, you were a goddamn fucking corpse.”

Baekjin gaze is searching, face unreadable as Sieun shudders, shoulders heaving with every breath. 

Finally he says, “I didn't know the White Mamba was so emotional.”

Sieun jerks away from. “Fuck off.” He snaps and Baekjin sighs.

“I would apologize, but there's not really anything for me to apologize for.” Baekjin says, stepping out of his soiled shoes and pushing them away. “Dying so suddenly as I did wasn't exactly planned.”

Sieun stares at him.

Baekjin's face is remarkably unguarded, much like it was the last time Sieun had seen him, naked honesty in his eyes. 

It's a relief to allow himself to relax, and he stumbles back, breathing into his palm, his other hand clutching his hand.

“Fuck.” He says quietly, and Baekjin makes a small sound.

“Don't tell me. . .” Something like a horrified realization plays across his face, “I assumed I got to this world because I died in my first life. If you're here too, that means. . .”

Sieun straightens, pulling himself together with every bit of control he has left. “Na Baekjin.” He says, “let's not think about the past anymore.”

It's both a request and an invitation.

Baekjin smiles. “Fine by me. Yeon Sieun.”

Sieun sighs. It feels like the weight of mountains has been lifted from his shoulders, and he finds himself cracking a small smile back.

Baekjin stares at him, mouth half open like he was about to start saying something but forgot midway.

Sieun frowns, “Baekjin?”

“Ah.” Baekjin jerks back to attention, looking away. “I had something else to talk to you about as well.” He says, stacking up the stray papers on his desk to perch on the edge, legs crossed. “Im sure you must have noticed how differently the Union seems to run. Well, how different things are in general.”

Sieun nods thoughtfully, “There are a lot of people missing as well. Gayool, Tae-oh, Juyang. . None of them even study in Eunjang. I don't see Kwan Seokhyeon anywhere either, so I'm assuming he’s out of the picture as well.”

“You make it sound like they're dead,” Baekjin says mildly, “they exist in this world too. Just not the same way. Seokhyeon goes to school in Singapore. Ji Hakho and his brother have never stepped foot out of Busan their whole lives. I checked on Jin Gayool too— he was scouted by an agency in middle school and currently is on tour with his band in Japan.” Baekjin waves his hand, “It's somewhat similar for everyone else who’s ‘missing’ here. Their lives just don't cross paths with ours anymore.”

Sieun makes a little hop to join Baekjin on the table, “You found them?” 

Baekjin shrugs, “I had a lot of free time. I also found out that the Na Baekjin of this world was in some deep shit before I showed up.”

“Are you talking about Cheongang somehow having their fingers in everything the Union does?” Sieun asks and Baekjin huffs a laugh.

“I’m not too surprised you’re already aware of it.” He says, “So I'm sure you understand that in my current situation, I'm ill-prepared to take them down like I did last time.” His mouth twists down in displeasure, “Seungje and the Mok-ha duo are the only truly capable ones who stand a chance against any of Cheongang. Loath as I am to say it, the Union is weak.” He pauses, then amends his statement, “well, weaker than it was under me.”

Sieun tilts his head, “So? You want my help to take them down? What's in it for me?

“I’ll do as you said last time,” Baekjin says, “When everything is finished, I'll dissolve the Union. We’ll do things your way this time.”

Sieun lets himself think about it for a few seconds, mind running a mile a minute, fingers drumming a steady beat on his knee. “Deal.” He says. 

Baekjin nods, “As of yet, I can't immediately stop all functions of the Union, but I'll tell them to not bother Eunjang anymore.” A complicated look passes over his face, “Or Park Humin.”

Sieun’s eyes narrow, “Why did you say it like that?”

Baekjin exhales softly, “It’s not just me in this body, as you might be aware. Im affected by the memories and experiences I've lived through in this life. And it seems Park Humin is a significant character in my life in a way he wasn't before.” He grimaces, “It puts me in an awkward position, if I'm being honest.”

Sieun raises an eyebrow, about to comment when his phone buzzes. He checks the caller ID and grimaces, sending Baekjin a look before swiping to answer. 

“Uh, Eomma.” He says.

“Yeon Sieun, are you aware of what time it is?” His mother seethes from the other end and he closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time in the hospital. I'll be home in ten minutes.” 

His mother doesn't bother with a response, only a curt, “see that you are,” before she hangs up.

Sieun slides off the edge of the table, “I should get going,” he says, “sorry about your shoes.” 

“At least give me your number before you leave,” Baekjin says, and Sieun rolls his eyes. 

“Just text me. You're not cute by pretending you don't already have my ID and home address, much less my phone number.”

Baekjin smirks, bringing his hand up to his ear miming a phone, “I'll text you.”

He's just finished showering, drying his hair with a towel when his phone vibrates again, a text from an unknown number on the screen.

‘hello white mamba.’

Baekjin.

Sieun leaves him on read, saving the contact as 'NB' and tossing the phone on the bed.

When he lies down, he feels light, for once not hearing the accusing whispers from the shadows, the sinister condemnations that have plagued him for countless nights on end finally put to rest.

Sleep comes easy, and Sieun doesn't wake up once through the night, a peaceful smile on his face.

Chapter Text

The school is quiet when Sieun arrives, the early morning chill drawing trails of goosebumps up his arms and exposed neck. Sieun takes his time to put away his bag and pull out his books and notebooks, content to soak in the peace. 

His phone vibrates.

‘ seongje keeps talking about you, might try to jump you today, just a fair warning’ 

Sieun sighs and picks up his phone.

‘ i can't say im surprised. thx I'll handle it’

Baekjin’s text bubble pops up as he types, then disappears and Sieun's screen lights up with a call.

“I’m at school,” Sieun says in greeting, “I can't talk for long. If Juntae finds out we’re on friendly terms before I can find a way to break it to him gently, I'll be sending him into an early grave.”

Baekjin clicks his tongue, “Just what is everyone's obsession with school? I can bribe your principal to excuse your absence and let you graduate if you want. These old men have enough skeletons in their closets to fill up whole graveyards.” 

“No thanks,” Sieun says, “And you're one to talk. From what I saw, you've been pretty diligent in attending school till now.”

Baekjin makes a disgusted sound, “Don't remind me, I would have never imagined that I'd be so rule-abiding in any world, no matter what the circumstances were.”

“You make it sound like being a good student is a crime.”

*It's not bad,” Baekjin says, “It's just really fucking boring. I don't even have Seokhyeon to accompany me.”

“By the way,” Sieun muses, “what were you saying about Humin yesterday? Because we might have made an alliance, but if you try anything with my friends, I’m out.”

“I'm not going to try anything, “ Baekjin says dryly, “And if the memories that I have are true, then it seems Baku used to be. . . My friend.”

Sieun frowns, “Is that some kind of joke? What kind of circumstances. . . Didn't you beat the shit out of him the first time you met?”

He can practically hear Baekjin's shrug, “Not in this world. Over here, Humin was the one to save me when I was being bullied as a kid. He was also the one to teach me to fight.”

“I might not have known this Humin for long,” Sieun says slowly, “But I doubt that he's someone who would abandon any of his friends so easily, much less cut off ties as clearly as he has with you.” His voice drops, “What did you do?”

“Go Hyuntak was on track to be a professional athlete before we crossed paths, is all I’m saying.”

Sieun closes his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Yeah,” he concludes, “There's no saving you, he's gonna hate you forever.”

“I know,” Baekjin groans, “what was I thinking? Why would I try to permanently injure his boyfriend if I did care for him, even a little?”

“I don't know,” Sieun says, “Maybe you were jealous or something?”

Baekjin pauses. “Hm.” He says thoughtfully. “There's a thought.”  

Sieun sighs with what feels like the weight of both worlds on his shoulders, “Ya,” he says tiredly, “why did you even call me? Your dog doesn't play with you anymore? Take him on a walk, he seemed really pent up last I saw him.”

“He went to school already. Everyone here takes school so seriously, it's both entertaining and annoying.”

Sieun leans forward on his elbows, squinting at the wall. “No I mean, why did you even call me? Am I your friend or something?”

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line. “Not yet,” Baekjin says finally, “but not everyone gets a second chance to do all the things they never could. I'm taking my chance with both hands.” 

“Your chance to, what, be my friend?” Sieun says incredulously.

He feels the rumble of students begin, gradually progressing from a faint suggestion to the thunderous rumble of chattering friends and shoes sliding over the floor. 

“Are you that opposed to the idea?” Baekjin asks bemusedly.

Sieun takes a moment to think about it, chewing on his lip. From the door, Juntae shuffles in, breaking into a wide smile when he sees Sieun, sliding into the seat next to him.

“I suppose it's not that terrible,” he says finally, greeting Juntae with a quick nod, “Do you have a plan yet? School is starting; I have to hang up soon.”

“I do, actually. I'll tell you later, then. After your school.”

“I have cram school,” Sieun says blankly, and Baekjin sighs.

“Ya, Yeon Sieun. You've already completed this school year anyways. No one is going to notice if you go or not.”

“I don't recall asking for permission,” Sieun says, “I'll see you after cram school.” He hangs up unceremoniously, placing the phone face-down on the table. “Juntae-ah. You're early.”

“I came up with Baku and Hyuntak-ie,” Untae says, “We were planning to wait for you, but then the security guard said he'd seen you go in already.”

Sieun blinks, “Oh.” He says, “Yeah. Sorry. I like coming to school early when no one's there.” 

“Ah,” Juntae says with a nod, and gives an 'okay' sign, “good to know. Baku asked if we could have lunch at the basketball clubroom.” He adds.

Sieun considers it, “Sure,” he says. “I had something to tell you all anyways.”

Humin and Hyuntak are already at the clubroom when Sieun reaches there with Juntae, passing a basketball between each other.

Baku straightens when they open the door, a wide smile crossing his face, “You're here!” He cheers, and promptly gets smacked in the face with the ball. He falls back with a dramatic cry, clutching his face.

“I met Na Baekjin yesterday,” Sieun says blandly and they all freeze.

“You. . . What?” Hyuntak breathes. 

“Na Baekjin. He sent Keum Seongje to follow me home and made me go meet him.” He eyes Humin, “You and Na Baekjin. . .”

“Did anything happen? Are you hurt?” Humin asks, hands curled into fists. 

“Not a lot. He wanted to know who I was, where I came from. Why I'm suddenly hanging out with you.”

“You're not hurt?" Humin checks and Sieun shakes his head. 

“Fine. Fine, that's good.” 

The air is thick with tension. Juntae shifts awkwardly, eyes rapidly darting between Sieun and Humin. 

“Let's hang out after school,” Hyuntak says loudly, resting a hand on Baku’s shoulder. “Shoot some hoops or something.”

“I have cram school,” Sieun says.

“I'll come!” Juntae says and exchanges a fist bump with Hyuntak. Baku doesn't answer, teeth clenched as he stares at the lockers, gaze vacant.

“Baku,” Sieun says, and Humin’s head snaps up.

“Ah!” Humin exclaims, slapping open palms against his knees. “Sorry! Got lost in thought there.”

He laughs with forced cheerfulness and Sieun feels guilt pool in his stomach. Deceiving them like this feels wrong, but he can't think of a way to explain everything without sounding like a psychopath. 

Na Baekjin better have a spectacular fucking plan when Sieun sees him.

Sieun gets jumped as soon as cram school is over, a group of four students dragging him into an alley and shoving him up the stairs to the rooftop.

“Guard the door,” Seongje snaps when he sees him, and the grunts murmur in assent.

Seongje stalks forward to loom over Sieun, blowing a cloud of smoke directly in his face.

Sieun grimaces.

“You know, newbie,” Seongje drawls, “no matter how much I think about it, I can't get your fucking deal. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Sieun blinks at him slowly, body tense like a stretched wire. 

Seongje grits his teeth, “You know it's rude to stare,” he says dangerously, “someone might just wanna fuck up your pretty little face.”

Sieun exhales slowly, watching as Seongje’s eyes flash, lips curling into a sneer a split second before his fist shoots out in a blurred arc. 

Sieun ducks, and Seongje’s fist crunches into the wall. He takes the split second of hesitation to kick at Seongje’s shins, the steel at the front of his boots cracking against bone. He'd taken Baekjin's warning seriously, and stopped by the shoe shop on his way to cram school, finding a nice pair of boots almost identical to the ones he'd used back in middle school, a whole lifetime ago.

Seongje howls, stepping backwards and Sieun shoulders his backpack to hurl it at him and Seongje twists away. The bag lands with a harmless thump on the concrete.

It's unexpected.

Sieun has fought Seongje enough times to be familiar with his style, and he knows that the Seongje he knows would not have moved there, would rather have taken the blow to return it ten-fold. But he didn't. He fights differently, Sieun realizes belatedly, with a sinking feeling in his gut; which means he has to find a new strategy altogether.

His brief second of realization costs him, and a foot connects with his chest with all the force of steam engine, and he goes flying backwards.

An uninterrupted blow like that would have knocked him unconscious in his first life. He feels himself begin to smile as he struggles to his feet. The differences in this world aren't all disadvantages, who knew he could one day have a body that doesn't collapse under one, well-placed hit?

So what if Keum Seongje fought a bit differently? That just means he has to take this slow, figure him out like he would anyone else, and then seize the moment and beath the living crap out of him.

He hasn't been able to fight properly since he came here; the fight with Hyoman was barely a challenge. Now, his blood sings with the desire to fight, to use every last dirty trick in his disposal, to win.

By the time Na Baekjin shows up, the fight is over. Baekjin’s hair is freshly bleached a pale platinum, and he has several glinting cuffs around his ears that glint in the dying light of the day as he surveys the scene.

Seongje is a crumpled heap on the floor in a pool of blood, glasses in several pieces around him. The other Union members are in similar states of injury, moaning softly in pain.

Baekjin glances at Sieun who is leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, one arm braces around his chest. He looks up when Baekjin couches in front of him, lips stained red.

“You should call the ambulance,” Sieun says, and nods on Seongje’s direction, “Fucker wouldn't stay down. Had to hit him a lot.”

Baekjin’s mouth thins into a line. *And you? You don't need a hospital?”

Sieun spits a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Probably,” he says mildly. “But I'm conscious and he's not, so I assume I'm better off.”

“You're covered in blood,” Baekjin points out, “and I know at least some of it is your own.”

“Hm,” Sieun says, “Damn, I hadn't noticed,”

“White Mamba, you're insane,” Baekjin says flatly, and pulls his phone out to dial the ambulance. “If you pass out, you won't like how I wake you up.” He warns.

They're waiting for the ambulance when the door bursts open and Baku runs in, Gotak and Juntae at his heels, eyes wild.

They skid to a stop, stunned into silence at the scene.

Including Seongje, there are five bodies spread across the rooftop, blood staining the concrete. Sieun was propped up against a walll, casually scrolling his phone while Na Baekjin squatted next to him, peering over his shoulder.

They both startle when the door slams open, glancing up with wide eyes. 

Juntae is the first to break the silence that falls, “Sieun-ah!” He cries, crossing the distance to drop to his knees next to Sieun, ignoring Baekjin. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sieun says tightly and hisses softly when Juntae curls a hand over his shoulder. “I took some hits.” He admits.

“An ambulance is coming,” Baekjin says, rising to his feet. He avoids looking at Baku, instead crouching next to Seongje. “And I’d like to avoid any further fights right now.”

“Baekjin-ah,” Baku says quietly. Dangerously. “What are you doing here?”

The distant wail of the ambulance grows louder and Baekjin straightens. “White Mamba,” he says and Sieun sighs, waving a hand.

“I know, I know. I'll talk to him. Tell Seongje I'll need a bit before a rematch though.” 

Baekjin rolls his eyes, and strides over to Seongje, hefting him upright. “Go now. Or the police are gonna get you too.”

It's surreal to see Baekjin on casual terms with Yeon Sieun who’s apparently just single-handedly fought, and won, against five people, one of whom is Keum fucking Seongje.

“Hey Juntae,” Sieun murmurs and Juntae crouches to hear him better. 

“What is it? What's wrong?”

“I’m gonna pass out.” Sieun says plainly.

He leans back against Juntae’s arm while Juntae’s voice rises in a panicked yell and faints deads away.

Somehow, Sieun manages to get away with half-assing all of his explanations after waking up in Baku’s home and getting interrogated on why he and Baekjin seemed like close friends when they should be anything but. 

Baekjin, the snake, doesn’t answer any of his calls or texts for the whole day. It’s during the last period of the next day that he deigns to send a message.

‘lets talk later. get humin to agree to help me this once and we’ll be done by this week’

Sieun shows the message to his friends when class is over. 

“You have his number?” Baku asks first, somewhat dumbfounded, and Sieun makes a noise of assent.

“We had a lot of time to talk,” He says.

“He’s definitely up to something,” Hyuntak says darkly, “I wouldn't trust the bastard as far as I could throw him.”

“What does he need help with?” Juntae asks curiously.

Sieun thinks about it for a while. Then he says, “Are you free, right now? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

On the way to the hospital, he tells them of the deal he’s made with Baekjin.

“As it turns out, Na Baekjin seems to have found a kindred soul in me.” He says, “He’s agreed to dissolve the Union in return for a favor. And Humin’s help is needed there.”

“Dissolve the Union?” Baku echoes, “ He agreed?”

Sieun meets his incredulous look with a steely gaze, “The Union was going down anyways,” He says, “I just let him decide whether he wanted it to go on his own terms or to to be dragged down with it.”

“Is threatening him like that even possible?” Hyuntak wonders softly, a look of newfound respect on his face, “Yah, Yeon Sieun, you’re really cool. I would never have believed it if we didn’t see Baekjin like that yesterday.”

“I would have believed you no matter what.” Juntae says solemnly and Hyuntak swats at him. 

“That’s not what I meant!” He hisses and Juntae sticks his tongue at him. 

“We’re here.” Sieun says and they stop play-fighting, looking up at the hospital. 

“Are we here to see a doctor?” Baku asks, “A nurse? Are you hurt?”

Sieun tilts his head, “Let’s go.”

The nurse at the station smiles when she sees them, “Ah, Sieun-ah. Back again?” She peers behind him, and her smile widens, “Are you here with friends?”

“Mn. How is he?”

The nurse’s smile takes on a sympathetic edge, “The same as always.” 

Sieun nods and gestures for them to follow him, making his way down one of the halls. He stops outside one of the doors and leans a hand against it. He takes a deep breath, then slowly pushes the door open. 

“I’m back.” He says softly. 

The other three boys file into the room after him curiously, and pausing at the sight of the boy on the bed, draped in white blankets and hooked up to several beeping monitors and IVs. 

“Suho-ya,” Sieun says in the eerie stillness that had set between them. “I brought my friends here. You would’ve liked to meet them. They treat me well, even though I’ve not been very honest with them.”

Sieun turns to them, gesturing them closer. 

“I told you about them before, but this is the first time they're seeing you.” He leans forward to brush away stray strands of hair off of Suho’s forehead. “You should look presentable for your first time meeting my friends, aish.”

Baku is the first to step forward, a broad smile on his face, “It’s nice to meet you, SIeun’s friend Suho!” He all but bellows and Gotak and Juntae wince in unison. “I’m Park Humin! I promise to take care of Sieun well!”

Gotak swallows his chiding response when Sieun doesn’t seem bothered, only vaguely amused, instead stepping into a shallow bow. “I’m Go Hyuntak.”

“Seo Juntae,” Juntae says, somewhat anxiously. “Nice to. . . meet you? I think?”

Sieun exhales slowly, reaching out to cover one of Suho’s slack hands with his own. “If he was awake, he would have introduced himself as well. But since he isn’t, I will. This is Ahn Suho. We used to be classmates in my old school. He’s my. . . My best friend.”

Sieun pauses, chewing on his lip, lost in thought as he stares unseeing at the wall. 

“Back then, there was someone else. I’m not entirely sure why it happened, only that it did. After I got hurt Suho went after the people who did it, and they were the ones to do this to him. After that. . . I tried to stay away from fighting for a while, but some people don’t learn until they’re forced to. Violence is the only language they understand.” 

He raises his head, voice sharpening. “Baekjin is a smart person. He’s agreed to dissolve the Union but there are a lot of people who won’t take it quite so easily. And those people aren’t just a few pissed off kids. They’re greedy, angry adults, who relied on a teenager to do their dirty work and will not be happy when he backs out. And as strong as he is, Baekjin can’t take them all alone. So he asked me for. . . Backup, I suppose.”

Sieun meets Baku’s gaze. 

“What do you say?” 

Baku returns his look with a seriousness that makes his stomach squeeze, “Backup?” He says, “I can do that. Give me a time and a place. I’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

When Sieun walks into Suho’s room, a nurse is already in, replacing the naso-gastric tube with practiced efficiency. She gives Sieun a half-smile when he greets her and sits down, eyes flickering to the plastic bag at his side. 

“Sieun-ssi,” She says warmly, “good to see you again. How were your exams?”

Sieun nods shallowly, “Alright. How has Suho been?”

“Same as usual, no major scares this whole week thankfully. I heard his grandmother got sick?”

“Mn,” Sieun says, “I saw her before I came here. She made me soup to eat,” He adds, lifting the bag, “said it might help Suho wake up if he smelt what he’s been missing out on.”

“It just might,” She says with a small sympathetic smile, stripping off her gloves. “Ah, I meant to tell you, if your friends decide to come over again, please tell them to keep the noise down. It doesn’t bother us, but the room next to you recently got a patient. They were transferred here from Gangseo-gu early this morning”

“I understand,” Sieun says and she nods, making her way out with the small cart she’d come with, patting Sieun on the shoulder lightly as she passes by. 

The silence after the door closes is comforting and familiar, and Sieun sags forward to brush off the stray hairs off of Suho’s forehead.

“You hear that? You have neighbours now, Suho-ya.” He murmurs.

Of course, there’s no answer. 

Sieun sighs quietly, lifting a hand to graze his knuckles over the side of Suho’s face. 

Before, he’d hardly seen Suho after he fell, having moved hospitals so suddenly and then disappearing from his reach for the endless span of months that followed. As a result, it’s his first time seeing Suho like this in either of his lifetimes, gaunt from the many months of being fed by a tube, wasting away into a skeletal form of himself. 

If he thinks about it too long, he feels the telltale pinprick of tears burn the back of his eyes, and he straightens before he can start crying again, busying himself with the soup Suho’s grandmother had made. 

“You should wake up soon, you know,” He says, voice wobbling dangerously, “I’m a senior now. Before you know it, I’ll have gone to college and won’t have time to come see you anymore.”

The soup is still warm with tender chunks of meat and vegetables in a spicy, flavorful broth. He eats until he can’t anymore, the saltiness of the soup and his tears lingering in his mouth. He packs everything away neatly, wiping his hands and face with a tissue, sniffing quietly. 

He pulls out his phone when he’s done. 

There’s an unread message at the top of his logs.

u free 2nite or nah

Sieun sighs. Of course, it’s Seongje, again, that maniac. Sieun had been putting off meeting up with him with his excuse of finals, and it seems with the end of exams, came the end of Seongje’s patience. He leaves it on read and goes to his chat history with Suho. 

“Suho-ya,” He says, eyes fixed on the little mic on his phone screen, blinking with the ongoing voice message “I finished my exams so I’m back. I’m sorry I didn’t visit you for a while, but you know how I get sometimes. I still came sometimes, though. I can’t shake the feeling that if I leave you alone too long, you might disappear. I can’t go through that again.”

He talks until his voice goes hoarse, and when he can’t talk, he types instead. He only lifts his head when his thumbs become sore, taking a deep shuddering breath as he watches the last light of the day stretch golden over Suho, the shadows darker and heavier than they were when he’d arrived.

“I need to go now, Suho-ya,” He rasps, “I’ll see you soon, okay? Don’t go anywhere without me, hm?”

He drags the edge of his sleeve over his face roughly, gathering up his things, casting one last glance at Suho’s placid face as he leaves. 

He’s taken barely two steps out of the room when he’s bowled over by someone running at full speed, his phone slipping from his hand as he crashes to the floor.

“Ah, shit fuck,” the other person says, rubbing his head, “Hey, I’m really sorry, I totally wasn’t looking where I was going, are you okay?”

Sieun stares at the man, sprawled on the floor on his butt same as him, eyes wide behind long strands of dark hair bleached at the ends. The longer Sieun stays quiet, the more panicked he looks.

“Hey, you didn’t hit your head or anything, right? Should I call a doctor or something, we’re in a hospital so that’s pretty convenient, I guess.”

“I fucking told you not to run,” Someone else says as they round the corner, a fruit basket in one hand, smiling wryly, “What are you, fucking 5 years old?” He extends a hand to Sieun, “Sorry about him. Hakho didn’t really mean to, he’s just excited to see his brother. He’s not usually like this. Well,” he adds after a moment of deliberation, “he is like this, but usually he doesn’t rope in strangers. Are you okay?”

Sieun gets to his feet slowly, ignoring the proffered hand, “I’m fine.” he says quietly. 

“Do you go to school around here?” Hakho asks curiously, “A friend of mine lives here too, I wonder if you guys would know each other. I’m Ji Hakho, by the way, and this is my friend Kwon Hyukjin.”

“I don’t know a lot of people.” Sieun says flatly, trying to shrink away from the full force of Hakho’s blinding grin. 

“I’m moving here too, actually, what school do you go to? I think it’d be nice to have a familiar face around, and it’s like fate kinda brought us together, you know?”

“You ran into me.” Sieun points out. “And what makes you think I go to school?” 

Hakho falters, “Um.”

“Your phone,” Hyukjin interrupts, holding out Sieun’s phone from where it had skidded across the floor. The display has an ugly crack over the screen that wasn’t there before and Sieun holds back a sigh. 

The screen lights up as he reaches forward. 

yo stop fucking ignoring me u or im gonn a find u and when i do ur fucking dead lol

Sieun can’t hold back his sigh this time, staring at his phone with pursed lips. 

Hakho hesitates, looking between him, and his phone, a pensive look on his face. 

In the silence that falls, Sieun’s phone lights up again with a call from Seongje, the blurred photo of him with his cigarette that he’d taken after stealing Sieun’s phone one night filling the screen. Sieun summarily ignores it, declining the call and slipping the phone into his pocket.

“Well,” Hyukjin says, “we’ll be leaving now. Sorry again, for knocking you over.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Hakho says quietly. Thoughtfully. 

Sieun nods stiffly and turns, walking away. He dares to glance back once, and sees the two disappear into the room just adjacent to Suho's.

Well, fuck.

True to his word, Seongje finds him later that night on the rooftop of his apartment complex, head pressed against his knees. 

“Yah, Yeon Sieun, you motherfucker.” Seongje calls, tossing the butt of his half-smoked cigarette at his back.

Sieun doesn’t move, barely lifting his head as Seongje crouches down next to him, flicking his lighter. 

“Hey. What the fuck is the matter with you? Did you fuck up on your exams or something?”

Sieun tilts his head slowly to stare at Seongje.

“Yah, don’t look at me with those fucking snake eyes of yours like that, it’s fucking weird. If you didn’t wanna fight, you could just say so, instead of fucking ignoring me the whole day.” Seongje grumbles, sitting down next to him. “Asshole.”

“I’ll text next time.” Sieun says and Seongje rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah okay, sure you will. But I want an explanation, or I’ll drop some cigs in your room or something and your mom will throw a fit.”

“My mom isn’t in the country.” Sieun says blandly and Seongje exhales.

“Then I’ll set your apartment on fire, how’s that?”

A shadow of a smile crosses Sieun’s face, “Sounds good to me.” He says. Sieun sighs, long and slow, his shoulder pressing briefly against Seongje.

Next to him, Seongje goes very still. 

“I ran into someone at the hospital today.” He says, “It threw me off. I wasn’t expecting to ever see them again, but I did.”

“Someone you knew?” Seongje asks, “A bastard? I’ll go beat them up if you can’t,” He offers and Sieun can’t help a small laugh. 

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be able to?”

Seongje shrugs, “Maybe you have some weird hang-ups, I don’t fucking know. Hey, I’m trying to be helpful here. You know, I love the sentimentality of tonight. Under the night skies, one friend helping out his depressed bastard of a friend who finds sending a little text to be beneath him. ”

“When have you ever been helpful?” Sieun mutters. 

It’s somewhat surreal that he’s sitting on the rooftop with Keum fucking Seongje, and not beating each other bloody; even a few months ago, he wouldn’t have believed it, and yet here they are. After dissolving the Union, Baekjin had supplied his executives with enough money to keep them set for a good amount of time, but Seongje hadn’t just ducked into the shadows with the money like the others. 

He’d shown up in front of Sieun’s cram school and let himself be dragged into an alley where they fought until neither of them could stand without support and eventually hauled themselves to a nearby convenience store to patch themselves up and eat ramen. It had become something of a weekly thing. Seongje talks about it like it’s something scandalous, their little rendezvous in the dead of night that no one knows but them, even though Juntae might suspect. 

Sieun calls it stress relief. 

Somehow, in the middle of all of it, Sieun found himself not really minding the company. Baekjin has been busy with things after dissolving the Union, something about unfinished business with an orphanage, and his friends at Eunjang wouldn’t understand the need to forget the world and lose himself in the thrill of a fight. 

The snap of a lighter snaps him out of his thoughts and he looks up, almost knocking his head into Seongje’s chin.

Seongje raises an eyebrow, the small flame reflecting off his glasses. 

“Don’t drift off when I’m right next to you, you bastard.” He snaps and Sieun reaches out to pluck the lighter from his hand. 

“You need to stop smoking,” He muses. 

Seongje pulls out a pack from his pocket, shaking out a new cigarette in response. 

“Gimme my lighter,” He mumbles with the roll between his teeth. 

Sieun considers it, snapping the lighter a few times, “Nah.”

Seongje scowls, “Yah!”

“I’m prolonging your lifespan,” Sieun says primly, ducking away from Seongje’s attempts at taking the lighter. He jumps to his feet a second before Seongje does, jumping away from him, the beginnings of a grin tugging at his lips. 

“Yeon Sieun, you fucking bastard,” Seongje seethes, crushing the cigarette in his face. 

Somehow they end up chasing each other around the rooftop, not unlike pre-schoolers in the playground. 

When Seongje gets too close, Sieun chucks the lighter over his head and darts to where he’d left the cigarette box on the floor and throws it off the edge of the roof with a flourish. 

“Yah!” Seongje yells, and tackles him to the ground.

Sieun can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, even as his back hits the floor for the second time that day. 

When he opens his eyes, Seongje is staring at him with a frozen expression, fist hovering in the air. 

“You-” Seongje falters, hand falling to his side. “You know, for all that you call me crazy, between the two of us, you’re so much more fucked in the head. I can never guess what you’re thinking.”

Sieun squirms out from under Seongje, “At least you know,” He says, dusting off his clothes, “It’s late. My dad is coming to visit tomorrow, by the way, so don’t call me.” He pauses as he bends to scoop up his forgotten phone. “Oh, and Seongje. . . Thanks.”

“Fuck off,” Seongje says, almost in reflex, and watches Sieun walk away, the heavy cloud that had weighed his shoulders down when Seongje had walked in, all but gone. Then slowly, without even realizing it, he smiles. 

Sieun runs into Hakho the next time he visits Suho, the other boy chatting with the nurses over the visitors’ log. 

“Excuse me,” He says, and Hakho turns. 

“Oh, it’s you again! Hey, I’m sorry about the other day,”

“It’s fine,” Sieun says quietly, trying to avoid the blinding grin aimed at him.

“Sieun-ah,” The nurse says, “How are you? It’s been some time since I saw you.”

“I’m well.” Sieun says, “How is he?”

“Same as usual, I’m afraid.”

Sieun nods, quickly scrawling his name in the log and turning away from Hakho’s piercing gaze. 

To his horror, Hakho follows him down the hall, peering at his face, “Have we met before?” He asks.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Sieun says flatly. 

Hakho nods, “Hm. That’s what I thought too. But then why do you look at me like that?” 

SIeun hesitates just outside of Suho’s door. “Look at you like what?” He asks carefully.

“Like you’ve seen a ghost,” Hakho says, deadly calm. “Like you are afraid of something.”

Sieun can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He’s never had to fight Hakho before, but he’s also never seen him fight in this world, and doesn’t know how things might pan out if they do. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, as flatly as he can, and slips into the room before Hakho can get another word out. 

When he’s on his way home, several hours later, head pressing against the bus window, he writes a text to Baekjin.

Ji Hakho is in Yeongdeong-po. thought you might want to know. 

After school starts, Sieun finds himself unable to visit the hospital as often as he’d like. Now as a senior, with regular classes and cram school, semi-regular hangouts with Baku, Gotak and Juntae, Seongje taking up his weekends and Baekjin showing up whenever he has a day off, not to even mention his parents who have suddenly decided they want to spend time with their only child, he hardly finds time to even check in with Suho’s grandmother let alone visit the hospital. 

Hakho, of course, is another issue. Sieun can’t help but be a little afraid of him. Hakho has always unnerved him, despite his unwavering friendliness and cheerfulness that made him probably the most approachable person of the Yeongdeungpo Union, Sieun can’t forget how easily he’d seen straight through him the first time they’d met, unstabilized him with only a few words. He’d be a fool to not know how dangerous the boy is, who lost to Baku by the skin of his teeth.

And the way he’d stared at Sieun in the hospital. . . It kept him on edge. 

The last time they’d met, Baekjin had told him why Hakho was here.

“He’s going to Daehyeon High School from this year,” Baekjin had said, squinting at the question paper he was working on. “His brother got transferred to Seoul for surgery, and the rehab programs are better here than in Busan.”

“So he’s staying.”

“Seems so.”

He tries not to think about it too much. After all, there is no Union anymore, no reason for Hakho and him to even interact beyond what they have in chance encounters. No real explanation for the unease that curdles his stomach whenever he thinks of Hakho.

“Sieun-ie?” Juntae asks, “Do you want to come shoot some hoops with us?”

Sieun shakes his head, “Not today.” He says, and Juntae nods, snaking an arm around his shoulder in a brief hug, before jogging forward to joining Gotak on the court. Sieun sits at the side, leaning his elbows on his knees, watching his friends play. 

A hand lands on his head, ruffling his hair softly, and he looks up to see Humin squinting at him, an amused look on his face. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” He asks, sitting next to Sieun. 

“Nothing much,” Sieun says and Baku grins, leaning backwards to watch the sky. 

“Ah. Nice weather today, right?” 

Sieun’s phone starting to vibrate stops him from responding. 

It’s an unknown number, but somehow vaguely familiar when Sieun swipes to answer. 

“Hello?”

Sieun doesn't know what happens after that, the world blurring around him as he runs with a speed he didn't know he possessed. When he finally comes to a stop, he hardly even registers that he’s not alone as he stares across the field to the lone figure in a wheelchair, dressed in the plain clothes of the hospital until a hand pushes him forward gently. 

“Go.” Humin says, and Sieun takes a deep shuddering breath. Behind him, both Hyuntak and Juntae stand, a light sheen of sweat on their faces and encouraging smiles. 

Sieun steps forward. 

Suho turns his head to look at him when he’s a few meters away, and Sieun finds himself rooted to the spot.

“Hey.” Suho says, voice so achingly familiar, “you been living well?”

Sieun can hardly speak, vision blurring with tears, “Eung.”

It’s surreal, to see Suho with his eyes open, after so long of his last memory of him with a bandage on his face as he waved goodbye as Sieun went to give the Olympiad. 

Whatever Suho says next is lost to him as the last bits of his self-control snaps and he pitches forward, all but falling to his knees in front of him, arms wrapping around his waist, “Suho-ya,” he sobs, pressing close to feel him, his heartbeat, his surprised exhale. “Suho.”

Suho returns his hug almost immediately, curling forward to hold him closer, one hand caressing the back of his neck. 

“Sieun-ah,” He murmurs. “I know. I missed you too.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sieun gasps, and Suho holds him tighter. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Suho says firmly. “I know, Sieun-ah. I missed you too.” He hesitates, then says, voice achingly soft, “Even if I’m not the same Suho you know,” He says steadily, “I know you missed me too.”

Sieun’s breath catches in his throat and he pulls away to look at Suho, “What?”

Suho just smiles at him, holding his face between his palms to squish his cheeks together. “Aigoo, Sieun-ah. Who told you to cry for hyung, hm?”

Sieun blinks up at him, lips pushed into a comical fish pout. 

Suho’s eyes flick past Sieun, “Who are those guys?” He asks.

“My friends.”

Suho’s lips pull up at the corners, “Friends, huh? That’s good to see.” 

“Suho-ya,” Sieun says haltingly, “earlier, what you said. . . What did you mean?”

Suho pats his cheeks once and tugs under his armpits to pull him to his feet, “Later. We’ll have all the time in the world to talk later. Now, introduce me to your friends. For real this time.”