Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

First Year, Autumn.

It all started in the first year of high school.

Sieun had been transferred— in the middle of the first semester— after his parents’ divorce and he chose to stick by his absent father’s side instead of his overbearing mother.

As a consolation, he agreed to attend a high school of his mother’s choice. All she really cared about, at the end of the day, was what he achieved and how that would serve as material to boost her own ego when with her coworkers.

The school ended up being Seowol Private High School— the same school his mother had gone to.

Sieun hadn’t complained. It had been the deal and, either way, there had never been space for him to express himself since he was born into this family.

Instead, he put on the dark red blazer, the black pants and necktie to match, and made his way to school.

Teenagers were the same everywhere. Both in public and private school.

They all wanted to be high above, looking down at everyone else, like a God.

Just from standing in the middle of the hallway, Sieun could feel the thirst for blood surrounding him. Running deep inside every single person.

They all looked the same. They all wore the same uniform; girls with skirts, boys with pants. They all had the same backpack; that too was black with the school logo on it. They all looked like exact copies of each other.

It only made the greed, the hunger for power, intensify.

No one wanted to be a look alike.

For Sieun, though, it all was just painfully boring.

He lived his life the way others wanted and stayed quiet in his corner, not bothering to make friends because no one seemed interesting enough to kill the itch underneath his skin. To make him want to do something that stopped his need to cease to exist.

God, he just wanted to get it all over with so he could finally die.

He went to class. 

He introduced himself with short words and a blank face.

He stared through every single one of his classmates like they were nothing but empty shells. Because that's what they were.

He sat back down and pretended he didn’t feel eyes digging at the back of his head.

To give attention would mean to make them relevant. It would give them the power they so much craved. Sieun didn’t feel like feeding other people’s egos outside of his house where he never stood a chance.

His first day ended like this:

Someone— most likely the person who kept staring at Sieun from afar— locked him in the bathroom. Which made him late for his last class.

When he arrived, sweating from running from one side of the school to the other, the teacher didn’t spare him a look and told him to kneel outside with his arms up. As a punishment.

“Just because you’re a new student doesn’t mean you can get away with being late. This is a prestigious school. We take things seriously here. I hope you learn your lesson.” was the teacher’s justification. Not one question of where he was, or what happened. Only an immediate punishment for not taking things seriously.

Someone disguised a snort with a cough from the corner of the classroom.

Sieun merely walked outside and got on his knees, with his arms above his head.

There was still half an hour before class was over, before the day ended.

Sieun was already exhausted just thinking about having to put up with this place for another two years.

After twenty minutes, Sieun’s arms felt like they were going to detach from his body at any second. He bit his lip as an attempt to endure the pain taking over. Sieun was never the most athletic kid. He could barely run for ten minutes without struggling to breathe. When he was a kid, he spent most of his time inside hospitals from being overly weak and fainting all the time. Not like he would ever use his poor health as an excuse— because it wouldn’t be an excuse. It would be a target on his back. A gap hole to spin him around to their will. He’d seen it all before. His parents were always front row to his suffering.

A noise across the hall made Sieun look up from his aching knees.

To his right, two classrooms down, was a boy in the same position as Sieun.

Except for the fact that he was humming, loudly.

Sieun stared at him, suddenly feeling the tiniest hint of intrigue.

The boy stood out. Not just because it was only the two of them in the hallway but because he was wearing black shorts along with the school blazer instead of pants. He also had his necktie firmly wrapped around his forearm instead of neatly tied around his neck.

He looked, to put it simply, insane.

There was a big close mouthed smile on his face and he kept swinging from left to right as he hummed a song Sieun would never recognize.

His arms were up and swung along with him and his knees were red like he had dropped down heavily on the floor without a care for injuries.

The next thing Sieun noticed was that the boy had huge thighs. As in, as large as both of Sieun’s legs pressed together. His legs were long even though he was kneeling down and he was wearing mud dirty sneakers.

No wonder he was punished. This guy was asking for it.

Suddenly, the humming came to a halt.

Sieun looked up from the boy’s sneakers only to meet with dark brown eyes staring straight at him.

The boy was— interesting to look at, Sieun concluded.

He had short black hair dripping wet, plump lips, round cheeks. His eyes were looking at Sieun with curiosity. He even tilted his head to the side. Like a puppy.

The itch underneath Sieun’s skin seemed to intensify, all of a sudden.

“Hey,” the boy called out, the corner of his lips raising slowly into a kind smile, “If you lean back against the wall, you can rest your arms against your head.”

Sieun’s nose twitched in distaste and, shocking himself, he replied, “That’s cheating.”

The boy laughed, too loud for the empty hallway, too loud for Sieun— whose breath hitched, stopped, for a moment.

“Fair,” the boy said in between gasps for air, “But at least now you know, if you want to take a break, you can just lean back.”

He smiled, big and bright and his head tilted again.

Sieun wanted to reach out and cover the boy’s face with his bare hands to see if it burned as much as it shined.

Instead, he stared with unwavering eyes and no response until the boy’s smile slowly faded into something smaller— but kind, always kind.

Five minutes before class was supposed to end, the teacher called him back inside so he could take notes of what the homework for the next lesson would be.

When the bell broke through the speakers, everyone was already out the door chatting loudly among themselves. Sieun stayed behind, moving almost as if in slow motion.

Out in the hallway, he glanced back towards where the boy had been before.

The hall was empty.

All that was left was dried out specks of mud where he once stood.

Sieun turned around and walked downstairs.

★

The second time Sieun saw him, he learned his name.

It was a week after the first day of school— for Sieun, that is. And the person who kept pestering him still hadn’t quit.

Sieun couldn’t say who it was even if he tried. They all looked like clones of each other. He could barely tell the teachers apart from the way they all taught the same and spoke of punishment like they were making a new law.

This time, someone spilled a drink on him. The person had apologized albeit short and dismissive. Sieun didn’t care whether the person felt bad or not— he was more bothered by the fact he smelled like banana milk.

While he washed himself in the bathroom sink, his blazer— that had already been scrubbed clean as much as possible and was hanging on the door handle— disappeared.

And— Sieun wasn’t stupid. He knew from the moment someone spilled milk on him that something like this would happen. Sieun knew how bullying worked, he had been a victim once too many times.

He walked back to the classroom in quick steps, feeling the imminent exhaustion taking over his body as his brain tried to think of a solution to fix this. A solution that didn’t involve either throwing someone or himself out of the window.

Most of his classmates were inside the classroom. His blazer was there too, in a pile, on top of his desk.

He approached it the same way he would approach a bomb about to explode. With caution but ready to die.

Grabbing the blazer by the collar, he held it up in front of himself and sighed.

There were holes cut out all over it.

Snickering filled the room like a threat behind Sieun’s back. He didn’t react to it.

Instead, he put the blazer on, sat at this desk and started working on homework for tomorrow.

Unavoidably, he ended up on his knees with his arms up outside on the hall once more.

The teacher had taken one look at him and yelled at him for making a joke out of their school. Threatened to call his parents. Threatened to get him suspended.

Sieun’s reaction had been the same as before. Unmovable.

There was no point in defending himself— there never was.

Sieun sat on his knees with his holed up blazer.

The other boy was already outside in the same position.

“Oh, hey! It’s you!” he all but yelled, earning a shouted Quiet! back from the teacher inside his classroom.

Sieun blinked slowly as he stared at the boy. He hadn’t expected to see him again under the same circumstances but, strangely enough, he also wasn’t upset over it.

The boy was dressed the same way as last time except this time the tie was wrapped around his forehead like a headband. His plump lips were still pulled into a kind smile, same as last time, but his cheeks were colored a dusty pink.

“So, are you going to use the easy way out this time?” the boy asked. Head tilting. Puppy, Sieun almost said out loud. He swallowed the words.

“I’m not cheating.” Sieun mumbled.

The boy smirked, jumped on his knees three times to move his body closer to Sieun.

“Hey, so, what’s your name?”

Sieun glanced down at the boy’s reddening knees as he dragged them across the floor, ignored the urge to reach out and pressed his face against them and glanced back up.

“Why?” he asked instead of replying.

The boy didn’t hesitate to retort back, “Why not?”

Sieun huffed, slightly annoyed, but also— something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on to understand.

“I’m Ahn Suho.” the boy— Suho— said and reached his hand out. As if he was expecting Sieun to shake it all the way from two classrooms over.

Sieun caught his lip between his teeth and bit down hard. Suho was still waiting for him with one hand hanging loosely while the other was above his head.

It felt like giving in— like giving up. Sieun wasn’t even sure what he was giving up on but his body was reacting in ways he hadn’t experienced before.

Nevertheless, he didn’t feel scared just— hesitant.

Sieun had been alive for seventeen years. Throughout the last seven years of his life, he’d never felt an emotion that wasn’t indifference. Boredom. He’d never not felt the urge to end it all.

To have someone— a boy, with mud covered sneakers, necktie wrapped in all the wrong places and a kind smile. To have this boy be the one to, somehow, crack a sliver of Sieun’s perfectly created shield—

He wasn’t scared. He was hesitant. He was fucking terrified.

Still, like a puppet on a string, one of his hands moved down in the pretence of a handshake.

“Yeon Sieun.” he whispered.

Suho smiled and it was like staring straight at the sun.

Sieun felt himself shaking at the thought that he wouldn’t mind going blind if it meant he could stare at the other’s smile for a little bit longer.

★

The third time—

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Sieun was shoved against the wall, his head hitting it hard and making his vision go blurry around the edges.

It had been a week. A week of getting tripped on hallways, his books getting pushed into toilets, his lunch getting thrown on the floor.

It was always the same thing. It was always the same people.

Today was too quiet. Sieun had arrived early, as usual, sat at his desk, and started working on his homework for the following days. When the classroom had started filling in, no one paid attention to him.

And— that was the problem.

Usually, ever since Sieun joined the school, his classmates would stare at him. Whisper, point fingers, snicker behind hands.

The fact no one had done it left Sieun feeling more on edge than relieved.

He knew how people like them worked. They didn’t stop until they had him broken in the palm of their hand. They didn’t stop until Sieun was nothing but another clone.

Sieun kept an eye out, his defense high up, throughout the whole day.

Nothing happened.

The last bell rang, everyone left in their regular groups and Sieun was the last one behind. He packed his stuff, got up and left too.

He let his guard down.

So when he was pulled into a storage room— he wasn’t expecting it.

There were three boys. Carbon copies of each other from head to toe.

They stood in a semi-circle while Sieun was on his knees with the back of his head bleeding, dripping through his uniform.

“Hey, freak,” one of them called out, “Are you crying?”

Sieun didn’t move. He kept his gaze fixated on the dirty floor. Counted stains quietly to himself.

“I’m talking to you,” his hair was being gripped, pulled. He was forced to look up at someone his brain wouldn’t recognize. He looked like a blurred out dark figure smiling down at him with glistening red eyes.

Sieun merely looked at him.

His hair got pulled harder. He could feel the wound in the back of his head bleeding more profoundly with each tug.

“What are you looking at, huh?” the figure asked, slapped him across the face, “Don’t look at me with those disgusting eyes of yours.”

Another slap. Then another one.

Sieun fell once again, his head knocking on the floor. It hurt, everything was hurting. There were black spots all over his vision but he wouldn’t let himself pass out. He needed to stay awake so he could get up and leave. So he could go home where no one was waiting for him but where he could allow himself to let it all out.

Where he could allow himself to bleed out and die.

There was a noise. A door opening.

And then, a voice.

“What’s going on?”

Sieun, despite how hard he tried to block it out of his brain, would recognize that voice in the loudest room.

His eyes moved from the dirty sneakers, up Suho’s body, until they reached his face.

Suho was looking back at him already.

“Yah,” he started, “Are you out of your mind?” his gaze flickered to the other three boys as he took a step inside the storage room and let the door click shut behind him.

“Do you think it’s fair? Three against one? A small kid, at that.”

The figures moved around the room, one of them kicking Sieun in the stomach while at it. Sieun coughed, slightly curling his body. Stopped moving once more to observe Suho instead.

What would he do? Sieun didn’t know Suho. They interacted a total of two times in the hallway when being punished but— out of that, Sieun never saw him. It was almost like he wasn’t even in the same school as the other boy.

Would Suho join his classmates and beat up Sieun? He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. It made something inside him twist and bend. It tasted a bit like crushed hope. Disappointment.

Sieun had thought Suho was— interesting. Kind.

But Sieun also knew when an easy target was in front of you, you took the chance without question. It was another stepping stone to power. To control.

Sieun closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see it happen.

“You really don’t know when to stop,” Suho said, “I guess I’ll show you how.”

The impact never came. Sieun wasn’t kicked, slapped, or dragged.

Instead, he heard groans all around him, cries of pain.

He opened his eyes and—

Suho was beating up the other three. Not Sieun.

He moved around almost like he was dancing; his fists collided with jaws, one knee against a stomach, one kick to the ribs.

It left Sieun gasping for air.

Never had he seen someone move so beautifully, so gracefully, in what was supposed to be an act of hideous and disheveled human cowardice.

Suho made violence look like love.

When he was done, his knuckles were bruised and bloody and he knelt in front of Sieun whose eyes were wide in wonder.

“Are you alright?” Suho asked, his voice gentle and his hands hovering over Sieun’s aching body as if afraid to hurt him further.

Sieun didn’t answer— couldn’t bring himself to answer. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Instead, he attempted to nod only to wince at the pain that shot through his skull.

“Don’t move, let me help you.” Suho reached out, his hand pressing against Sieun’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

Suho nodded quietly towards his hand before touching Sieun. The latter cracked out a tiny yes and Suho finally, finally, touched him.

Sieun could feel the heat radiating from Suho’s body from where they were pressed together. His whole body was vibrating from head to toe. The pain in his head became numb over the overwhelming urge, hunger, that manifested loudly deep inside him.

He wanted to press his whole body against Suho’s until they became one.

It was an unknown feeling— an unknown emotion.

Suho seemed to awaken numerous things in Sieun.

“Let’s take you to the infirmary.” Suho said as he helped Sieun get up and wrapped his arm around Sieun’s waist.

They moved together— in union— slowly and quiet. Suho kept looking down at Sieun’s feet to assure he was able to walk properly while Sieun kept staring at the side of Suho’s face.

Suho wasn’t hurt. Not even one scratch on him after all the fighting. He went one against three and got out more than victorious.

He saved Sieun.

Nobody had ever put themselves on the line for Sieun. His parents didn’t see him as anything more than a machine built to please their every request. The teachers at every school Sieun had been to never blinked twice at his bruised body. God, he never had a friend. Ever.

To have someone, Suho, step up and get his hands dirty for him— it made Sieun want more.

Once at the infirmary, Sieun lied and said he fell down the stairs and hit his head. The nurse didn’t question him and patched him up. Suho kept looking at him as if he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t quite get.

Sieun did his best to hide how affected he was, his body was, from being watched so intensely yet so warmly for the first time in his life.

★

It was two days later when Sieun saw Suho again.

As if the universe had planned it out, they met once more in the same way as the first time.

Sieun, after getting punished over something he had no control over— his notebook ripped to shreds and abandoned all over his desk. Suho, with his black shorts, necktie thrown loosely over his shoulder, sneakers—

“Why are you barefoot?” Sieun asked before he could stop himself.

They were both in the usual spots. Usual positions. Two classrooms apart, knees pressed on the floor, arms above their heads.

Except Suho’s mud dirty sneakers were nowhere in sight.

Suho smiled at him sheepishly, head tilting, his body rotating slightly to face Sieun’s direction.

“Someone took them,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

Sieun blinked at him, and looked down at his sock covered feet.

Suho’s socks were beyond dirty like he had walked all the way from outside. From the street.

Something settled right at the bottom of his stomach. The neverending itch under his skin started to burn. Unconsciously, Sieun rubbed his wrist, trying to make it stop somehow.

“Was it-” Sieun paused, “Was it the people who hurt me?” Was it because of me?

Suho let out a breath and shook his head before giving Sieun a half smile, the one Sieun recognized right away. Filled deep with kindness.

“Don’t worry about it, Sieun-ssi.” the boy said.

Sieun’s nails started digging against his skin.

“Some fights just aren’t worth it.”

It burned and it stung and it hurt.

Sieun wanted to drag himself on his knees until he was millimeters away from Suho. He wanted to look at him from up close and he wanted to touch him.

Some fights aren’t worth it. Sieun agreed. He lived by it, had it repeating inside his mind like a mantra so he wouldn’t step out of line.

But— Suho hadn’t thought the fight wasn’t worth it when it came to Sieun.

He could’ve left. He could’ve closed the storage room door and left his classmates to break Sieun to their liking. But he didn’t. He closed himself in their space and he bruised them like there was meaning behind it.

And he held onto Sieun’s waist, looked into Sieun’s eyes.

He saw Sieun.

Sieun had been invisible all his life— he liked being invisible. With Suho, he wanted to be a constant in his peripheral vision. He wanted Suho to remember his eyes and see them whenever they were apart and he wanted Suho to have his name glued to the tip of his tongue.

Sieun was hungry for attention. He was craving it more than ever.

So, the next day, he picked a fight that was worth more than words could express.

He didn’t need much to make blood spill all over the floor. All over himself.

Sieun had a growing rage, a beast clawing at the walls of his body, since he could understand that he wasn’t a person, but a product, to everyone surrounding him.

A click of a pen, a swift motion, a ripped blazer, a cry of agony.

There was blood dripping from the object in his right hand.

The three figures layed out in front of him like prey that had accepted their end had come.

A shoulder being clutch, a broken nose and a bruised stomach.

“Know your place. I’m asking you.” Sieun mumbled through a blood filled mouth.

No one responded as no one could.

He walked out and left three bodies to be found in the storage room.

This time, when he saw Suho, the latter was looking for him around school.

Suho found him as Sieun was leaving the bathroom after attempting to wash away the blood that had stained his shirt.

They looked at each other in silence for what felt like hours. Both unmoving, both expressionless.

And then—

“My sneakers appeared. They were in my classroom.” said Suho, his finger coming up to rub at the side of his nose.

Sieun blinked, considered what to say before settling.

“That’s good. I’m glad you got them back.”

Suho’s eyes flickered down to the cut in the corner of Sieun’s bottom lip. Vibrant red and still bleeding.

“What did you do?”

The hallway was quiet. It was just the two of them standing outside the bathroom. Everyone else was either at the cafeteria eating or hiding in corners where the teachers wouldn’t catch them smoking stolen cigarettes from their parents.

Sieun drowned in it, let it settle around them like a blanket.

He didn’t feel remorse. He didn’t feel guilt or shame.

He felt ecstasy and he felt like he was living for the first time in seven years.

His eyes widened as his gaze didn’t quaver from Suho’s. He shrugged with one shoulder like it was nothing. Like it was normal. Like Sieun would do it all again.

“I fought for something worth it.”

The words hung between them as if connecting and entwining their existence to each other.

Suho breathed out a laugh and looked away first.

“You’re a lunatic, you know?”

It didn’t sting and it didn’t hurt. It made Sieun preen and almost fall to his knees so he could rub his face against the other’s thighs. It made his skin itch and crawl and bleed.

Suho smiled.

Sieun was burning.

He felt alive.

Ahn Suho stayed engraved in Sieun’s brain like Newton’s 5th law.

Immovable despite everything around him changing, moving at a fast pace.

Ahn Suho was an unmoving force centered deep inside Sieun’s chest, underneath his ribs. The itch that had been present for years only seemed to get worse, but it no longer bothered Sieun.

The urge to dip his head deep inside his bathroom sink— when he fills it up to the brim as a threat to no one around him— started to fade. Not completely, but slowly.

Ahn Suho gave a new meaning to Yeon Sieun’s life.

And now— he wasn’t going to let go of it.

Chapter Text

Second Year, Spring.

After what happened during the first year, it was like something clicked.

Suho reached out and Sieun went along as if being pulled by the current— accepting his fate.

They didn’t get to spend much time together last year as Sieun joined late but it didn’t seem to mean much. Once second year started, on the first day of school, Suho was already waiting for him by the school gate with his backpack slung carelessly over his shoulder.

He smiled too big and sunny for someone who, as Sieun learned the year before, didn’t enjoy waking up early at all. It made Sieun want to smile back if not for the people surrounding them with glaring eyes.

That was also something that changed.

Sieun was barely invisible before as he was his classmates’ favorite toy— but now it was like there was a giant sign hanging over his head for everyone to see.

The thing is; Suho was popular.

Which wasn’t convenient for Sieun who wanted to pass through the shadows during his time in high school. But there were also perks to Suho’s popularity.

Now, the bullying remained in the form of whispers and the occasional shoulder knocking too harshly against his.

As if the sign hanging above him said ‘Ahn Suho’s friend. Don’t mess with.’ and that made Sieun breathless. Flustered. 

On the edge of something more.

★

Inside the school’s main building, there was a staircase no one used.

They were almost hidden from everyone’s sight. Right in a corner, near an old classroom that was no longer utilized and instead became filled with dust over rundown desks.

The staircase led straight to the rooftop.

Most students frequented the rooftop in the secondary building, the one with the cafeteria and club rooms.

This rooftop in specific wasn't of interest to anyone.

That is— anyone except for Suho.

Sieun followed along behind the other boy as they went up the stairs that would lead them outside.

Suho pushed the heavy metal door with both hands and held it open for Sieun to pass through first.

“Welcome to my secret lair.”

Sieun looked around the rooftop. There wasn’t much to see besides an old green couch that seemed to have been rained on too much, a crate serving as a table and an abandoned pink bunny pillow on top of it.

Suho let the door slam shut behind them and threw himself on the couch. Sieun moved along with him and perched himself on the armrest, looking down at Suho.

“How did you get the keys to this place?” Sieun asked.

“Well, it’s kind of funny,” he started, grinning upside down at Sieun’s curious expression, “A girl from the astronomy club had the keys to every rooftop. I wanted a place to nap without being disturbed. I asked if I could have the key to this one since they never use it.” Suho paused, closed his eyes and stretched his arms above his head followed by a yawn, “She asked me for a selfie with her in return. A good deal, I would say.”

Sieun supposed it was a pretty good deal, too. Although something about someone else having a selfie with Suho when he didn’t even have the other boy’s phone number made him bitter and slightly annoyed.

It must’ve been painted all over his face by the way Suho peeked at him with one eye open and gave him a teasing close-mouthed smile.

“Are you upset because you wanted girls to ask you for selfies too?”

Sieun knew he was doing it on purpose— a joke between two friends. But it still made the bitterness worsen against his tongue. Why would he care about girls when he had Suho right in front of him?

“Why would I want that?” he decided to ask, hoping his inner thoughts weren’t crystal clear in his tone of voice.

Suho managed to smile harder, his eyes squinting with the force of it.

“Yeon Sieun, your eyes are like an open book.”

Sieun didn’t know what he meant by that. He also didn’t want to ask. There was still something holding him back in this new found friendship. It was normal, he thought. He never had someone speak to him outside of asking about grades or to humiliate him. He never had a friend. 

They were friends, right? Sieun would like to believe so. Suho hadn’t said it out loud, hadn’t made a huge deal out of it. It wasn’t supposed to be a huge deal for most people. 

But for Sieun, it was everything.

Instead of voicing his lingering thoughts, he chose to keep his mouth shut and continue observing Suho as he drifted in and out of sleep.

Suho slept holding onto the pink bunny pillow— he held onto it with a tight grip as if he was afraid of it being taken away from it. As if it had happened before and this was his natural reaction now.

He also slept with his mouth hanging open. Just a fraction but still enough for tiny snores to slip out and fill the quietness around them.

Sieun held back the urge to reach out and touch him.

It was just— Suho looked so peaceful when he slept. As if the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders and nothing could hurt him anymore. He looked almost like an angel from Sieun’s point of view.

Slowly, he reached out with his pointer finger. He just wanted to touch him. Just a little bit. Just once so the burning under his skin would settle.

His finger grazed Suho’s cheek softly before sinking in, deeper and deeper.

Suho’s nose twitched in his sleep.

Sieun’s finger got caged between Suho’s hand.

“What are you doing to me while I’m sleeping, Sieun-ssi?”

Suho was awake and staring at him now.

Smiling. Always smiling.

“There was a bug,” Sieun mumbled, retracting his finger out of the other’s grip and shoving his hands under his legs as a form of self restraint.

“I sure hope you killed it. I hate bugs.”

Something shifted in Suho’s voice— in his eyes. It was fast. Sieun could’ve missed it if his body and mind weren’t so hyper aware of everything related to Suho.

Disgust. Hatred. Too much for it to be about actual insects and not another matter.

Sieun wanted to pry at it, get Suho to convey those emotions again so he could analyse and consume them whole. Make them part of him as a way to entwine himself deeper, tighter, to Suho’s existence.

He didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

They were friends. Sieun wasn’t alone anymore. He wasn’t bored anymore.

He wouldn’t risk it.

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Suho said, breaking Sieun out of his thoughts, “I practiced until late last night. I’m beat.”

That spiked Sieun’s interest once more. He shifted around, turning his body so he could face Suho better and leaned over the couch to meet his eyes.

“Practice for what?” he asked, his brain itching to acquire more information about Suho. Something else to make his own.

Suho smiled at his eagerness, moving around to sit up and pulling Sieun’s arm so he would sit on the cushion, next to him.

“Sieun-ssi, I’m on the track team. Didn’t you know?” he pouted, tilting his head to the right.

Sieun bit down on his bottom lip and shook his head slowly. Processing the new piece Suho had shared of himself. That explained his dirty sneakers and his shorts.

“Is that why you kept getting punished last year?”

Suho laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, I spent most of my free time running since I—” he stopped. There was a frown endorsing Suho’s face in conflict with the smile that was tugging at his lips. He didn’t seem to know how he should deliver what he was trying to say.

Sieun waited patiently. That seemed to leave Suho even more lost in thought. It made Sieun think maybe no one ever gave Suho time and patience. He dug his nails against his thighs, hard, hard, harder.

“Since I never had someone to hang out with.”

Sieun let go.

“What about your classmates?”

Suho laughed albeit there was no emotion behind it, “That’s different. They want to hang around me because they think I’m popular and that will bring attention to them.”

Sieun knew he was right. This school was an endless pit of selfish and self absorbed people who thought themselves to be superior based on how much money their parents threw around. His parents were the same. Sieun hoped Suho’s parents weren’t but he wouldn’t be holding his breath for that either.

Every adult Sieun ran into ended up being the worst person he’d ever met.

Still, he asked, “How do you know I’m not after the same thing?”

It was silly. They both knew that. But Sieun still felt the need, the urge, to ask. Maybe he was seeking approval in a way. Maybe he just wanted to hear Suho say it.

“You don’t like attention,” Suho said, his voice soft and filled with warmth. It ran through Sieun’s body all the way to his core.

Suho continued, “You like to be in your corner and you don’t like to be bothered. I can tell. Like I told you, your eyes are an open book.” He smiled kindly at Sieun.

And Sieun— God, Sieun wanted to smile back. But not now. Not yet.

It was too soon.

★

Suho was waiting outside his classroom when the bell rang— it was time for lunch.

He smiled at Sieun, held up two choco pies in front of his face and nodded towards the stairs.

Suho walked, Sieun followed.

It became routine; every day during lunch, Suho would either wait for Sieun outside his classroom or, during the days he got stuck doing chores for his teacher, he would meet Sieun later at the rooftop. Their rooftop.

Not only by name but also by the stuff both of them ended up adding to make the space feel more like theirs.

Now, right behind the couch, there was a huge sun hat Suho had brought once the days started being too sunny and it was harder to nap. There were more pillows Sieun had brought from home, sneaking them past his father, so he could sit more comfortably on the floor while doing his homework. And there was a stack of comic books hiding under the crate.

Sieun wasn’t a fan of comic books. Only because he was never allowed to read anything that wasn’t educational ever since he learned how to put words together. He didn’t know anything about children’s books, novels, mangas. He didn’t know anything.

But Suho loved comic books. He was always reading one and laughing to himself. One time, he tried to get Sieun to read along with him. It hadn’t worked out how he planned considering he was half way through the book series and Sieun felt overwhelmed with the endless images staring back at him.

It did make him curious, though. So, he ended up buying some with the leftover money he had and added them to Suho’s collection.

He hadn’t known which ones to get and the young woman at the store recommended what was supposed to be a popular series.

Sieun hadn’t thought twice, he just hoped Suho would like it.

Once at the rooftop, Suho skipped to the couch, kicked his shoes off and sat cross legged in the center of it.

He pulled his backpack onto his lap and opened it to take out the rest of their snacks.

Sieun walked slower, kept his shoes on, sat on the pillow on the floor with his knees up to his chest and his body turned to face Suho.

“Sieun-ssi, they didn’t have any regular milk. So you have two choices,” Suho held up two different cartons of milk, “Strawberry milk or banana milk?”

Sieun’s gaze flickered between the two before settling on the strawberry milk. He pointed at it and Suho smiled.

“Good choice. I wanted the banana milk.” he said, poking his tongue out at Sieun before handing him the carton.

They ate together like they’ve been doing over the last two weeks. Suho pushed snacks in Sieun’s direction but didn’t say anything even if Sieun never touched them. Sieun sipped quietly at his strawberry milk and listened to Suho talk on and on about practice and some TV show he’s been watching lately.

It was comfortable. It made Sieun let his walls down, just a fraction, just enough so he could relax and enjoy the moment. Enjoy Suho’s company fully.

Suho talked a lot with his hands. He waved them around from left to right, up and down, circling words. He didn’t seem to realize how much he moved his hands. Crumbs would fly around from his half eaten choco pie— his second one— and his banana milk would occasionally get squeezed to the point Sieun feared he would get splashed with it.

His voice was loud, energetic and captivating whenever he spoke of things he loved.

And Suho seemed to really love running. He spoke of the track club like someone who spoke of his first love. His eyes should shine and he would smile— not the big smile he would show Sieun or the kind one. It was a tiny smile. Almost secretive. As if he was sharing a part of himself that he never had a chance to with anyone else. Precious. And theirs.

“We don’t have practice today,” Suho said with a groan, his head hanging from the back of the couch, “Coach is sick.”

Sieun hummed, sucking what was left off his milk and putting the carton down next to him, on the floor. He then grabbed Suho’s empty carton, now abandoned on the couch, and put it next to his.

Turning his attention back to the other boy, he asked, “What are you doing today, then?”

Suho remained staring up at the sky, the hand holding what was left of his snack coming up to his mouth before he answered.

“It’s my dad’s birthday. There’s a whole dinner happening so I’ll just go earlier to help out.”

Sieun nodded along to his words, “That’s—” he paused.

What was the word for it? Sieun never celebrated his parents’ birthdays. He was never allowed to. He had to stay home so he could keep up with his studies while his parents went out for dinner. Earlier memories were filled with house parties where Sieun would stay in his room, door locked by his mother so he wouldn’t even consider sneaking outside. Desk filled with never ending schoolbooks grades ahead of his, a calculator marked with fingerprints, notebooks stained with ink and illegible words from falling asleep while writing.

Suho was still facing the clouds above them. He was chewing slowly, almost like he was giving Sieun space, time, to think.

Suho was kind. He was so nice. Maybe that was the word.

“That’s nice.” Sieun settled.

A beat passed.

Suho swallowed.

“I guess,” he said, “It should be nice, right?”

His head lolled to the side, finally meeting Sieun’s eyes.

“What about you?”

Sieun blinked, confused at the sudden question, “What about me?”

“Is it nice with your parents?”

“Nice job, Sieun-ah!” his father praised him, patting his head twice with a huge smile breaking across his face.

Sieun— 5 year old Sieun— smiled back just as big, soaking in his father’s words and the happiness they brought him.

He had just returned from preschool. Today had been arts and crafts day and they spent the whole evening painting with their fingers.

Sieun had painted his house, his mother, his father and himself. The large paper was filled with colorful shades of reds, yellows and greens. His teacher had praised him and told him his work was the best from the whole class! She even gave him two star stickers while everyone else only got one.

Sieun had been so happy, he carried the painting in his hands all day so it wouldn’t be ruined. He wanted to show it off to his parents. If his teacher loved it, he was sure they would love it too, right?

His father got to his knees in front of him, pinched his cheek gently.

“Go show it to Eomma. I’m sure she will love it, too.” he said, giving him a little push towards the bedroom where his mother currently was.

Sieun skipped to the bedroom, his hair bouncing along with his movement and smile still present on his face.

He walked inside, not bothering to knock, and stopped in front of his mother. She was sitting by the bed, typing away on her phone with a neutral expression. When he came to a halt, she looked up slowly.

“Eomma! Look what I did in school!” he squealed, holding up his painting, “The teacher said I was the best! She even gave me two stars.”

Sieun expected his mother to smile— bring him into her arms, hug him close and tell him he was the best boy. Maybe tell him, since he did so good, he could have extra dessert after dinner.

Instead, his mother grabbed his painting and stared at it in silence. Sieun kept staring at her, unmoving and patiently waiting for a word of praise— a word of love.

She ripped his work in two and let it fall to her feet.

“Do you think this is worth showing to me?” his mother asked, “Why would you waste your time— my time— showing me this?”

Sieun remained silent.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Focus on your schoolbooks. Why do you keep acting this way?”

Behind him, he heard his father walk in the room.

“Yah, he’s just a kid. Don’t talk to him like that.” his father said, his voice quiet as if he was afraid.

His mother laughed and stood up, making Sieun take a step back.

“What’s the point of all this if he isn’t going to accomplish anything? Did we have this child so he could embarrass us?”

His father didn’t say a word. Sieun sank in his hesitation. Allowed it to twist and bend something inside him.

“Did you forget our agreement? You wanted a child, so I gave you one. Under the condition that he isn’t a burden to my life.”

Sieun stared down at his torn up painting. The work he spent the whole evening perfecting so he could show off to his parents. It was torn right in the middle where Sieun had drawn himself. It felt symbolic, in a sick way. His parents kept arguing. Or, rather, his mother kept dissecting the nature of his existence while his father looked more like a child being scolded.

Sieun didn't get it. His father said he did a nice job. He had praised him beforehand. Why wasn’t he saying anything now? Did he change his mind? Did he lie? In preschool, they told him it wasn’t good to lie. That only bad people lied. Was his father a bad person?

“Yeon Sieun, get this mess out of my room,” his mother called out, waving a hand in the direction of the abandoned paper.

Sieun bent down slowly, almost robotically, and picked it up with his small hands. He held it close to his chest like a missing part of him that had just been shredded. Like he was trying to put it back into place.

His father had left the room already. Somewhere down the hall, Sieun could hear the front door open and then click shut.

His mother was back to typing on her phone like nothing had happened.

Sieun turned to walk out of the room.

“Know your place in this house. You were born to be useful. Don’t make me regret it.”

He closed the door.

Suho was looking at him with this— this undecipherable expression. Sieun had never seen him make that face before. He wanted to stare at it for a little longer so he could engrave it behind his eyelids to study when he was alone. But his mind kept spinning in circles— ripped paper, star stickers, his mother’s words, his father’s silence.

There was nothing nice about his parents. When he was younger and still held onto hope for a happy family, he ate up his father’s praise and affection like a starved man. Even if his mother ignored him most of the time, he could manage as long as his father remained a constant support.

It didn’t last. Like everything in Sieun’s life, it broke and it burned. His father stopped talking to him altogether and focused solemnly on his job. His mother continued hovering over him like a reminder— like a threat.

When Sieun started getting perfect scores in school, he didn’t get praised. He got more books thrown his way. It was never enough. He was never enough.

Before he could sink further down into the black hole his memories were forming, Suho sighed loudly, snapping the moment in half.

“Sieun-ssi,” he said, his hand reaching out to press a newly opened choco pie against Sieun’s lips, “You should eat some more. C’mon, open up.”

Without thinking about it, Sieun’s lips parted and he bit down on the snack. Suho hummed happily as Sieun chewed as if he was the one savoring it. When Sieun swallowed, Suho smiled.

“Nice job, Sieun.” he said, “Eat a little more, it’s almost time for class.”

Sieun ate the whole choco pie in a daze. Suho kept feeding him as if he was feeding a bird he found on the sidewalk. Small bites, a lot of praise.

When the bell rang, they threw away the empty packages and Suho wrapped his arm around Sieun’s shoulder.

He didn’t let go until they had to part ways in the hallway.

Suho waved goodbye, said ‘see you later’, smiled smiled smiled,

All Sieun could think about was how, maybe, the word nice wasn’t tinted with lies.

Maybe it was the start of a promise. 

★

“Have you ever heard of the Uba-zakura?”

Sieun looked up from his textbook displayed on the crate between himself and Suho’s figure on the couch.

He glanced back down at this textbook before looking back up again, deciding he had studied enough for the day.

Leaning his forearms against the crate, Sieun answered, filled with curiosity at what Suho was about to share with him, “No, what’s that?”

Suho turned his head to look at Sieun and smiled.

“It’s a myth. It’s about a cherry blossom tree that only blooms on a particular day.” Suho paused, his eyes glinting with something akin to teasing as Sieun inched forwards, over the crate, attempting to listen better to Suho’s words. Hooked on every syllable.

“There was a wet nurse who gave up her soul, her life, to save a child she used to care for. So, the myth is that the tree only blossoms on her death’s anniversary. Like an homage from the Gods to her sacrifice.”

Sieun frowned, sat back down on his pillow.

“Why would she do that for a child that wasn’t even hers?” he asked.

Suho nodded, hummed, glanced back up at the sky.

“True. There’s people who don’t even care about their own children,” he chuckled weakly, “And then there are people who end up giving up their life for those same kids.”

Suho spared Sieun a side glance, chuckled once more, this time lighter and soft, at Sieun’s thoughtful yet lost expression.

“I have another myth. Do you wanna hear it?”

Sieun nodded, crawled around the crate to sit next to the couch with his elbows resting near Suho’s stomach.

Suho turned his body fully to face him and propped his head against his palm, looking down at Sieun’s expectant features.

“Listen closely, you might like this one.” he said, waving a finger in front of Sieun’s face.

Sieun nodded, eyes growing wide and gaze locking on the other boy.

“The myth is about an elderly samurai. He outlived all his loved ones, children, friends, all that. As he grew older, the lonelier he became. His only company was a cherry blossom tree that grew in his garden.” Suho stopped, took a breath, “He grew up playing under that tree. It was like a friend. His last friend. But, eventually, the tree died too. The samurai was completely alone. There was no one else, nothing else, around him. No reason to live.”

Sieun swallowed dryly, looked down at his hands fidgeting with the couch cushion.

“Eventually, he committed suicide beneath the tree. It’s said his soul rests inside the cherry blossom and it only blossoms on the day he ended his life.”

Suho poked Sieun’s arm three times.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

Sieun glanced up at him, wrinkled his nose and slowly shook his head.

“Not really…” he mumbled, “It’s too—”

“Real?” Suho asked, cutting him off. His lips were pulled into a smile but his eyes were devoid of emotion. It made Sieun want to look away, hide his face with the pillows scattered on the couch. Yet, his eyes remained unmoving.

“Yeah, that.” he replied, careful and quiet.

It bothered him in ways Sieun couldn’t quite comprehend. The way Suho told the story. The way Suho said he might like it. The way Suho called it real and gave him an empty smile.

A myth. That’s what it was supposed to be. That’s what Suho had called it. So why did it feel like a warning? Why did it feel like a cry for help?

Sieun wanted to reach out and hold Suho in the palm of his hand. He wanted to trap him and keep him close, open his own chest to put Suho safely inside. His fingers, his hands, shook and itched to touch him in ways that translated to protecting something you possessed. Suho wasn’t his but he was his friend. It seemed rational, normal even, to feel this urge. To feel the need to have Suho safe, and sound, and happy instead of telling stories with underlying messages of wanting to end his own life.

But— Sieun couldn’t voice it. He couldn’t touch. He couldn’t break that barrier quite yet. He wasn’t allowed to.

Instead, he hid his shaking hands in the space between his thighs and glanced around the rooftop in silence. His brain digging and searching for something to say that wasn’t borderline insane and unnecessary.

“How do you know all that?” Sieun settled on asking.

Suho rolled around on the couch, facing upwards again with his arms behind his head.

“I really like trees. Plants and flowers too.” he laughed, “I know what you’re thinking, ‘Wow, there’s more to him than running and comic books!’ I’ll have you know, I am a passionate plant enthusiast.”

Sieun tilted his head, blinked once, “I wasn’t thinking any of that.”

Suho’s head turned to face him slowly, his eyes slightly wide.

“I think you’re very interesting and smart. Just— in a different way from what I know. From what I’m used to.”

Suho let out a breath and gave Sieun a half smile, his hand coming out from under his head to lightly flick Sieun’s forehead.

“Yeon Sieun, don’t compliment me too much. It’ll make my head grow bigger.”

The spot Suho’s finger had touched tingled and burned. Sieun bit down hard against his lip and shifted in his place.

“Are cherry blossoms your favorites?” he asked as a way of distracting himself, his fingers unconsciously pinching the palm of his hand. Breathe in, breathe out.

Suho nodded, “Yeah, I’ve always liked them. I used to go to Gyeongnam with my parents every year, so we could visit the cherry blossom festival.”

“Do you still visit the festival?”

“No.” Suho replied, short and guarded, “I haven’t been since I was eight years old.”

 Did something happen? Sieun held down the urge, the need, to ask until he figured out what Suho hid inside his heart. He didn’t seem willing to open up about it. At least, not at that moment. It was fine. Sieun could wait until he was ready. He could wait his whole life for Suho.

“What else do you know about cherry blossoms?” Sieun asked.

“I know cherry blossoms symbolize both birth and death, beauty and violence. And—”

Suho looked around slowly before settling his gaze on Sieun.

“Well,” he continued, a smile creeping back onto his face, “I know that if you catch a cherry blossom petal as it's falling, and then make a wish, it comes true.”

Sieun scoffed automatically and Suho laughed loudly, the sound carefree and vibrant against Sieun’s eardrums.

“I knew you would hate this one,” Suho said between giggles, “But it’s a cultural thing. People try to catch them and make wishes. For example, they wish to pass their exams or for their crush to like them back.”

“Why wish to pass your exams when you can just study for them.” Sieun stated, rolling his eyes with a pout breaking across his face.

Suho only giggled more and flicked his forehead once again.

“What about wishing for your crush to like you back? Is that also silly in your books?”

To that, Sieun paused. 

He didn’t really know what having a crush was like, so he didn’t feel like it was fair for him to judge someone over that. While he knew for exams it came from a place of applying yourself and doing your best, with crushes it depended on something completely different. 

If Sieun liked someone, which he never had, and he couldn’t quite picture himself ever liking anyone, he would, maybe, ask for his feelings to be returned. To be wanted and needed the same way he felt about someone else.

Sieun glanced at Suho’s peaceful expression as he hummed a song to himself, eyes dancing from cloud to cloud.

If Sieun was to catch a cherry blossom petal, he would wish for Suho to remain by his side.

To have feelings for someone and to want them to like you back was, in a way, similar to having a friend. 

Sieun liked Suho and wanted Suho to be his friend.

For as long as possible. Forever.

“I suppose that’s fine.” Sieun said, “I never— I never liked anyone. Like that. But I suppose that’s fine.”

Suho sat up on the couch, crossed his legs and stared ahead.

“I also never liked anyone,” he whispered, his eyes unfocused, distant.

Sieun looked at Suho in quiet contemplation. In his head, Suho had already liked people, even if it wasn’t something he enjoyed to imagine. He was almost sure Suho had dated someone. Normally, the popular people at Sieun’s old school would be all over girls and always bragging about it. Not that he expected Suho to be the same as them because Suho was someone kind and— different. But he did expect him to have, at least, liked one person.

It made Sieun preen and blush at the thought of having something in common with his friend.

It made Sieun’s brain come up with endless scenarios where they would always stick by each other, no girlfriends or anything disturbing them. Just the two of them. Sieun hoped Suho would never like anyone, ever. Just so their friendship wouldn’t be affected.

Just so they could be friends forever.

“Hey, do you want to go see the cherry blossoms together?”

Suho was looking right at Sieun, his expression unreadable and his hands clenched on his lap.

Sieun almost reached out and pried his hands open. Almost grabbed them in between his and pressed them against his face. Almost whined and cried and begged for Suho to never leave his side, to smile in his direction, to want him back.

Instead—

“Yeah, let’s go together.”

Suho smiled, small and reserved. Just for them. He then stretched his arms high above his head, his blazer sleeves pulling backwards against his shoulders and making a sliver of his arm exposed to the sunlight.

Suho’s arm looked— wrong.

Without thinking about it, Sieun reached out and grabbed Suho’s arm, pulling his sleeve back.

“Suho, what is this?”

His arm was covered in bruises, blue and purple. The bruises were in parallel lines, spread from his wrist all the way to his elbow. It was like the person who caused them used a stick, or a rod, or a rul—

Suho pulled away, covering his arm once again and got up from the couch. He started walking towards the door without glancing back.

“Sieun-ssi, it’s time for class. We should leave.”

Suho left, the door slamming shut behind him.

The bell rung.

Sieun didn’t move from his spot on the floor.

★

They don’t talk about it.

Not because Sieun didn’t want to— he did. He wanted to beg Suho to tell him who dared to mark and break his skin. 

But after Sieun found out, Suho recoiled into himself like a scared puppy. He still talked to Sieun, they still had lunch together and spent time on the rooftop. That didn’t change. What had changed was Suho. The way he spoke, more carefully and thought out. The way he avoided moving as much so his uniform wouldn’t uncover more of his secrets.

Sieun couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Suho’s arm in shades it shouldn’t be in.

Today, they were hanging out once again.

They already had lunch, their usual snacks, and now they were both laying down on the floor. Suho using his pink bunny pillow to support his head and Sieun using a random green pillow that was abandoned on the couch.

Nowadays, it was always quiet between them.

It had been four days and Sieun couldn’t handle it anymore. He missed Suho, his Suho. 

The Suho who would smile at him, flick his forehead, tell him stories he’s never heard about. The Suho who would ramble on and on about the track club. The Suho who would force Sieun to read comic books and eat choco pies even though, in reality, Sieun didn’t really like choco pies that much.

Sieun wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in a situation like this. He didn’t want to lose his friend. His first friend. His only friend.

But he couldn’t help the urge clawing against his insides, tearing at him to figure out why Suho was hurt.

Right now, Suho was sleeping next to him.

They weren’t touching but if Sieun scooted just a little bit to the right, their shoulders would brush. He would do it if it wasn’t for the fear that Suho would leave like last time.

Suho wasn’t wearing his blazer as he had complained it was getting too hot to have it on. He only had his long sleeved dress shirt on with a red vest on top.

It was sunny and the fabric of the dress shirt hugged Suho’s arms tightly. It was a thin material, making his bruises visible underneath it.

Sieun turned over to lay down on his side, his eyes never leaving Suho’s arm.

The bruises didn’t look like they had faded at all since four days ago. It almost looked like there were new ones now, way over his elbow.

Unconsciously, Sieun reached out to trace his finger against the other boy’s arm.

He traced each bruise softly, scared of making it worse.

It angered him to a new extreme, seeing someone he cared about— the only person he cared about— suffering in silence and not being able to take his pain away.

What could Sieun do? How could Sieun get Suho to stay safe and protected from those who wanted to break him apart? Suho had protected Sieun when no one did. It was only right to do it back.

He needed to keep Suho safe.

Had it been his classmates? They were jealous of Suho, that was obvious. So maybe they were bullying him and Suho got hurt while fighting back. What about his parents? Suho rarely mentioned them and whenever he did, he seemed to want to change the conversation topic. Maybe they were hurting him? Or was it Suho hurting himself? After that story he told Sieun, it left him feeling on edge whenever Suho seemed a smidge different from his usual self. Would Suho hurt himself like this?

Flashbacks of someone, a man, calling Suho to his office before he can escape to the roof with Sieun pass through his mind but before he can catch it, it slips away and Suho wakes up.

Sieun’s fingers are still pressing against Suho’s arm when he turns his head to meet his eye.

Neither dared to speak or move.

Sieun’s finger twitched and ran down to grab onto Suho’s sleeve. He tugged once, twice.

Suho sighed, rolled over and closer to Sieun’s body. His hand moved to pry Sieun’s fingers away from his sleeve but instead of pushing him away, he held onto him. Their fingers pressed together in a gentle, vulnerable touch. Something Sieun had never experienced before.

Another first he experienced with Suho.

“Sieun,” Suho called out quietly, his eyes downwards, gaze fixated on their hands, “Sieun.”

“We’re friends, right?”

Suho’s voice was weak, barely audible. He still refused to look at Sieun but the latter could tell there was something new behind them. Something fragile and afraid. Suho was opening up to him. Just a friction. Just so he could take a small peek inside. This was Sieun’s opportunity to crawl in.

“Of course we are friends.” Sieun answered without hesitation, his fingers squeezing Suho’s.

Suho finally looked up.

His eyes were glassy and wide, filled with everything he was too scared to say out loud. It was fine, Sieun saw it all, consumed it, engraved it deep within.

“Sieun. Sieun-ah. I really hate bugs.”

“That’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

The next day, when Sieun got to the rooftop, Suho was nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t unusual for Sieun to get there first. Most of the time, Suho would get stuck in conversations he didn’t want to be in and end up running late— always offering Sieun a half smile and a strawberry milk carton as an apology.

The difference today was that they had met beforehand, near the bathroom. Suho had been leaving, cleaning his wet hands against his pants. Sieun had been walking in and almost ran straight into the other boy.

Suho had told Sieun he would wait for him outside so they could go up together. The snacks had already been bought, safely stored in Suho’s backpack, it was only missing the two of them and a beaten down couch under the sun.

Sieun nodded, mumbled a yes, and went to finish up his business.

When he came out, Suho hadn’t been there.

It was fine, Sieun told himself, he could’ve been really hungry and left first. It wasn’t something impossible to happen. Sometimes Suho would already be half way done with his snacks before Sieun even got to him. He always said it was because he’s an athlete so he was always hungry. Sieun didn’t argue as he did not know much about it, either way. He merely agreed. It made him happy seeing Suho eating. Even when he got too excited and bit more than he could handle only to end up choking.

It would be fine, Sieun was there either way. 

He wouldn’t let anything happen to Suho.

Except when he got to the rooftop, there was still no sign of the other boy.

Suho’s backpack wasn’t by the couch, his shoes weren’t messily thrown into a corner and there was no comic book abandoned anywhere.

It was completely empty.

Something in the back of Sieun’s mind was screaming at him— that this wasn’t normal. Something wasn’t right. Something had happened to Suho.

Images of purple bruises on Suho’s arm flashed behind his eyes.

He turned around and ran.

Suho didn’t seem used to having people taking care of him. Caring about him. He only ever told Sieun half truths followed by bright smiles. When you tried to push, he would shut down. It was almost as if he was scared Sieun would stop hanging around him if he knew his weaknesses. If he knew the truth.

And— Sieun couldn’t be the one to judge him for that. Mostly because he wasn’t being totally honest either. But Sieun knew the type of person he was raised to be wasn’t meant to be loved and cared about. He was made to be used and discarded. His parents’ project.

Suho came into this world to be loved. To be a friend. To be Sieun’s friend.

Sieun wasn’t going to let his only friend get hurt.

He racked his brain for places Suho might have mentioned before. 

He wouldn’t be in the track field, their practice was after classes were over. The cafeteria was out of question too, Suho hated the food there. The other only place Sieun could think about was Suho’s classroom or—

Sieun didn’t kick the door open no matter how much he wanted to. He knew he was powerless in this type of situation just like Suho was.

Instead, he brought out his phone and pressed record.

He observed what was happening through his phone screen with a carefully crafted blank look. His hands gripped the phone tighter at every sound— a ruler breaking skin, a whimper trapped in the back of a throat, a snarky comment followed by a spat out ‘pathetic’.

In the middle of it all, Suho didn’t look angry, ashamed, or betrayed. He looked fine. He looked like he was the one who asked to be physically punished.

At some point, Sieun swore he saw a smile tugging at Suho’s lips before it vanished in a blink of an eye.

The thought of Suho smiling while getting beaten made bile threaten to rise to his mouth.

Sieun. Sieun-ah. I really hate bugs.

As soon as it started, it was also over.

Sieun put his phone away in his pocket and stared at Suho as the latter walked out of the teacher’s lounge.

Suho smiled once their eyes met, like he knew Sieun would be there waiting for him.

“Hey, let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

He threw his arm around Sieun’s shoulder and walked them back to the roof.

Just like nothing happened.

★

When the last bell rang, Sieun made his way to the homeroom teacher’s office.

He walked past Suho’s classroom, sparing a quick glance in the boy’s way. He was packing up his stuff and didn’t seem to notice Sieun walking by. Good. It was for the best that he didn’t see him at that moment.

Once outside the office, Sieun knocked once before walking inside without waiting for a reply.

The teacher, a man in his 50’s, sat behind a desk while typing away at an old computer. When Sieun stepped inside the room, he looked up with a frown already plastered on his face. He was wearing glasses, almost tipping over and falling off his nose and there were dark circles under his eyes. Like his life was too hard. Like he had to take it out on teenagers to make himself feel better about it.

“Who are you?” he asked, “School is over, get out. I don’t have time for nonsense.”

Sieun walked up to the desk and took his phone out. He scrolled until he found the video he was looking for, turned up the volume until it was maxed out and pressed play.

He shoved the phone against the man’s face and watched the color drain from it.

“What is this? Turn it off. Are you insane?!”

Sieun took a step back and pocketed his phone once again. He looked around the room until his gaze fell on the ruler resting on a shelf.

He grabbed it, snapped it in half and let it drop on the floor.

Finally, he faced the man who hadn’t moved from his chair.

“Teacher, how long have you been working at this school?”

The man stood, reached to grab Sieun who stepped back and kept going.

“How much would your life be affected if it got out you were abusing students? Wouldn’t it be horrible for your wife? What about your daughter who is studying at SNU? You wouldn’t want to ruin everyone’s efforts only because you couldn’t be a decent human being, right?”

The man froze, his eyes flew across the room in panic.

“How do you know all of that?” he asked between gritted teeth.

Sieun shrugged, almost bored, “The internet is a funny place. It’s amazing how much people share about their personal lives.”

Before Sieun could react, the man threw the computer mouse at him, hitting him on the forehead before it fell with a loud noise at his feet.

“Who do you think you are to threaten me?! You pathetic child, I will call your parents and get you expelled for blackmailing a teacher!”

Sieun brought his hand up to his forehead where he was hit. He brought it back down again, seeing a smudge of blood against his fingers.

He felt his eye twitch, looked back up.

“Teacher, I don’t think you understand the situation you are in right now.” Sieun said, stepping closer and grabbing the man’s hand, forcing it up until it was in between both their faces.

“You abuse students. I have evidence of it. And now, so do you.”

Sieun forcefully bent the teacher’s hand until it was semi-closed. Then he pressed the man’s nails hard against his face and dragged them down until blood started dripping from his cheek.

The teacher yelped, forced his hand back and hit his legs against the chair, falling on it.

Sieun swiped his hand against the fresh scratches on his face before wiping his hand on the teacher’s scattered notes all over the desk, leaving a small trail of blood behind.

“I really hate bugs, teacher.” Sieun mumbled.

The man cowered, pushing the chair back until it hit the wall.

“You’ve lost your mind. You’re a lunatic.”

Sieun bit down a smile.

He turned and left the room.

Suho was waiting near the school gate, leaning against a wall next to his motorcycle.

When he saw Sieun walking in his direction, he smiled as brightly as ever.

“Sieun-ah, let’s go see the cherry blossoms today!” he said as Sieun came to a stop in front of him.

His gaze flickered from the mark on his forehead to the scratches on his cheek. His smile remained untouched even when his fingers met with Sieun’s reddening skin. He pressed his thumb in, watched blood slowly come up, cleaned it with a gentle stroke.

“We can get some bandaids on the way.” he added softly, kindly.

Sieun nodded, his body fighting the urge to melt against the other’s touch.

“I’m okay,” Sieun reassured, although Suho never questioned it. He only smiled more. Brighter and real. He patted Sieun’s cheek and pulled away completely.

Suho opened his motorcycle compartment, taking out the usual red helmet he always made Sieun use and turned back to face him.

He stopped to look at Sieun once again, his expression thoughtful, before he stepped closer once more and, slowly, he put the helmet on Sieun’s head.

Their eyes met through the helmet visor and Suho smirked.

“Cute,” he whispered in the space between them. 

“Let’s go!”

The ride to the closest convenience store was fast. Suho bought Sieun cartoon themed bandaids and put them all over his face like a kid playing with stickers. When he was done, he took a picture of Sieun with his phone and showed it to him with a giggle.

“I’m not hurt on my nose,” Sieun said, side eyeing Suho as he kept giggling over his handiwork.

“But you look so cute,” Suho said, “Cinnamoroll fits you.”

The ride to the park where the cherry blossoms trees were was even faster.

The park was full of families, teenagers and couples. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the late evening under the falling petals. Some kids ran around and screamed with joy. Couples whispered between them and shyly held hands.

Sieun looked at Suho who looked at the cherry blossoms.

“Is it like you remembered?” Sieun asked.

Suho blinked slowly, looked back at Sieun and knocked their shoulders together. His fingers tugged at Sieun’s sleeve.

“It’s even better,” he said, giving him a wink and a teasing smile.

They walked together around the park. Suho spent most of the time staring upwards then at where he was walking so Sieun made sure he didn’t run into anyone.

Eventually, they sat down under one of the trees.

Their feet knocked together once, twice. Sieun glanced at Suho with a questioning look and the latter smiled quietly.

His eyes drifted up and above Sieun’s head and he reached out, catching something with both hands before falling back on his butt against the grass.

“Sieun-ah,” Suho called, leaning closer to him as he opened his palm to reveal a cherry blossom petal, “Make a wish.”

Sieun felt his breath hitch, his heart skip a beat. Maybe two. Suho was close to his face, he could count his eyelashes if he tried to. He was smiling, so beautiful and kind. The petal resting between his hands felt more like a declaration of— loyalty, companionship, love.

Oh, this is what it feels like.

Sieun, ever so slowly, grabbed the petal in between his fingers. He closed his eyes and made a wish. A wish he never thought he would need to make. A wish he hoped, begged, would come true.

When he opened his eyes again, Suho hadn’t moved away from him.

The cherry blossoms kept falling gently around them, some falling on Suho’s hair, forming the shape of a halo. There was dry blood near Suho’s nose from when he had cleaned Sieun’s scratches and then touched his own face.

Cherry blossoms symbolize both birth and death, beauty and violence.

Sieun thought it suited Suho perfectly.