Chapter Text
Matthew finds Hao on one of the many plastic chairs lining the hospital corridor. He's bent over his knees, hair messy and dripping water onto the light brown material of his sweatpants. Hao is the perfect picture of grief and exhaustion, the weary but stiff curl to his shoulders highlighted by the blank white walls and the endless tiled corridor stretching behind him.
It feels wrong to walk closer and take a seat. Putting his hand over Hao's shoulder still feels wrong too. Matthew does it anyway.
“Hao-ssi,” he says, and Hao startles up with a cut off gasp of shock at the sudden interruption. He lets Hao collect his breath for a moment, watching the way Hao’s face moves from surprise to confusion to a careful blankness that makes Matthew feel vaguely uneasy.
Hao clears his throat and straightens in his seat. He then pushes the wet strands of his hair out of his face and gifts Matthew with a tremulous smile.
“Matthew-ssi.” His voice is hoarse, only a little more than a whisper in the silence of the corridor they're in. “Thank you for coming.”
Not coming hadn't been a choice, really. Not after he'd been there to witness Sung Hanbin’s fall—both physical and metaphorical—which was disastrous to say the least. Matthew had tried his best to erase Sung Hanbin's tear stained expression from his mind to no avail. He hadn't been able to sleep at all last night, struck somewhere between horror and grief for the luminous boy he doesn't know but thinks of often. After all, an injury as debilitating as this is a sugar coated death sentence for a dancer.
In the end, he'd managed to talk himself into coming for a visit. It wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't help, either. But Matthew had come anyway.
If someone were to ask him why, Matthew wouldn't know how to answer. He had followed his heart’s orders as he was wont to do. No reason, no rhyme.
And so he doesn't really have an explanation for being there, even though he'd tried to come up with a reasonable explanation on his way. Clearly, he had failed at it.
“You don't need to thank me. It's. Well.” Matthew hesitates. “I know we aren't friends per say. But I…”
Matthew's words die on his tongue and he fumbles for some kind of response that wouldn't result in him sounding like an asshole or end up with him making a total fool of himself. Hao's face lights up with a cheeky grin in response to Matthew's silence. It's the same smile he would direct at Matthew whenever he caught Matthew staring at Hanbin during their many practise sessions, albeit it's a bit dimmed than usual.
“You're not as sneaky as you think you are,” Hao cheeks, eyes filled with mirth. “It's alright, though. Don't worry, Hanbin-ah doesn't know.”
Matthew feels his eyebrows furrow at the words. Know? Doesn't know what? He'd stared at Hanbin plenty, sure. Matthew is certain that Hanbin’s noticed it before and so has Hao. What is there to know?
“There's nothing to know?” Matthew says, trying to make sense of Hao's mirth filled eyes.
“Are you sure?”
Matthew blinks. “Yes…?”
Hao laughs a little, turning his head to the side a little inquisitively. “You don't sound like you're sure, though.”
Matthew shakes his head in lieu of a reply. They're going out of track, Matthew should get to the point sooner rather than later.
“It's. It doesn't matter. Hao-ssi I…” he rubs his sweaty palms against the rough material of his jeans, glaring at the white tiled floor as he gathers enough courage to say what he planned to when he had approached Hao. “I'm sorry, but. I came in earlier than I was supposed to and I happened to… overhear your conversation with Hanbin-ssi and I know it's not right. I apologise for eavesdropping when it wasn't my place and I'm also apologising in advance for what I'm about to ask but uh.”
Matthew's rant is interrupted by a polite but pointed cough and he looks up from the floor to meet Hao's eyes that are lined with genuine confusion, replacing the bright mirth with doubt.
“I'm sorry Matthew-ssi I don't think I'm following you.”
Matthew takes a deep breath and braces himself. “I have an extra room.”
Hao blinks, cocking his head to the side. “Room?”
Matthew tries to not let his internal frustrations and anxiety show as he chews on his lip, trying to frame it as gently and clearly as he can. Don't offend. Be nice. You're trying to sound like a good person, and not presumptuous.
“Hanbin-ssi needs a place to stay at, right?” Matthew asks, voice careful and measured.
“Of course, he does but—”
“I live by myself off campus. And I have an apartment with an extra bedroom that I don't use for anything.”
Matthew watches in silence as Hao takes in the information, expression shifting from confused to baffled and coming to rest at something like understanding. “Oh.”
There's really no way to frame the question without sounding at least a little presumptuous and pitying. Matthew's not really their friend, he's an acquaintance at most, a mere classmate. Matthew tries his best anyway. He lets his hand hover over Hao's for a moment before settling in lightly and giving it a squeeze, hoping that it comes off as reassuring as he wants it to. “I can help. I want to help.”
“Matthew-ssi, you—”
“Just Matthew, please.”
“Matthew. This is surely— you're sure about this?”
Matthew nods. “I am.”
He wouldn't have asked if he wasn't. Sure, he doesn't know these boys as it stands, but they're his classmates. If Matthew can help—if he can do more than help, even—he doesn't see why he shouldn't.
Matthew tries to not squirm under Hao's calculating gaze. He keeps his face open and inviting, trying to convey that yes, I'm honest to the best of his ability.
The silence stretches on, and it's only probably a few seconds at most but it feels like hours to Matthew. He forces himself to keep his hand over Hao's, not retreating from the touch like he oh so desperately wants to. He'd placed his hand there of his own volition. And Hao hadn't rejected his touch, hand both relaxed and stable under Matthew's touch. Matthew pulling his hand off so soon would make things awkward and that's the last thing he needs.
Hao looks down at their joined hands, gaze complicated before a tiny and hesitant smile takes up his face. He flips their hands around so that he's holding Matthew's hand in both of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Hao's hands are cold around Matthew's own, but the smile that Hao gifts Matthew with when he looks up is warm and lovely despite the exhaustion tinting its edges.
Matthew smiles back.
𝅘𝅥𝅮
He calls Jiwoong on his way back home.
The roads of Seoul are surprisingly empty considering the hour and day, but Matthew is not one to complain about the rare reprieve from Seoul traffic. He keeps his car at a steady speed, eyes trailing the long road ahead of him filled with vehicles of people going home for the day. Home, wherever that is for them.
The line rings twice before Jiwoong picks up, silent and expectant. He never greets first, always waits for Matthew to set the pace of their conversation. It's perhaps an odd habit of theirs, but they've gotten used to it, and so now it's merely second nature for Jiwoong to wait and Matthew to be the one that speaks first.
“Hyung,” Matthew says, eyes fixed on the relatively empty roads of Seoul. “Are you busy?”
There's a rustle on the other end, before the silence is interrupted by a short cough. “Not right now. Is everything okay?”
There's simply no other way but through. Matthew takes a deep breath, says, “Yeah, so I might have done something.”
Silence answers Matthew, both pointed and judgemental at the same time. Matthew can almost picture the deadpan look on Jiwoong’s face, the way his lips would be turned down the slightest bit at the corners in mild disapproval. He blows a breath through his lips, trying and failing to control a pout. “Nothing bad, hyung!”
Jiwoong chuckles lightly at the whine in Matthew's voice. “I didn't say anything Matthew. Don't whine. What did you do?” There's a ding and the same rustling sound from before. Jiwoong had mentioned the convenience store when Matthew texted him, and it sounds like he's at the counter. “Uh, wait.”
Matthew waits. The silence of his car fills with the tiny trickle of noise coming from Jiwoong’s end of the call. Jiwoong’s voice, low and deep and the answering ring of a much higher female voice. The cashier, ringing up whatever it is that Jiwoong had bought.
It takes a few minutes, but then the noise clears out and Jiwoong’s voice comes through. “Okay, I'm listening.”
Matthew chews on his bottom lip, considers the best way to approach the situation. He's going to have to tell Jiwoong the whole story anyway, but where does he start.
“I think I'm getting a new roommate,” he says, settling on for the most summarised statement that he can.
Silence, then, “You think?”
Matthew makes a face at himself, teeth snagging on his bottom lip before he sighs. “Ugh. Okay. Well, I am getting a new roommate.”
“Mhm?”
Matthew lets silence fall in between them again. The absolute ludicracy of the situation hits him. Sung Hanbin. Sung Hanbin is going to be his roommate. What was Matthew thinking?
“It's Sung Hanbin.”
“... come again?” Jiwoong replies, sounding absolutely bewildered.
This is ridiculous. The more this drags on the more stupid matthew feels. “Hyung. You heard me.”
“Matthew-yah, he's in the hospital. Isn't he supposed to go home? What do you mean he's your new roommate?”
Jiwoong sounds bewildered. He's never known Matthew to be impulsive, and the thing is that Matthew isn't. But Matthew cares and if caring means being impulsive, well then.
“It's a long story, hyung. And not really mine to tell,” Matthew says with a quiet sigh. “He needed help, and I'm helping him.”
Jiwoong sighs. “Are you even friends? Do you even know him?”
Matthew bites his lip, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Hanbin isn't Matthew's friend, and that means he should be a mere classmate but somehow, it doesn't feel like Hanbin is merely just something to Matthew. It confuses Matthew too, but he'd stepped forward. He had taken the bait, he won't be letting go of it now.
“I don't know what we are. Honestly? I don't think that matters.”
The sound of a car horn breaks the silence on Jiwoong’s end. Jiwoong hums, thoughtful.
“He's going to be living with you Matthew. Are you sure about this? You know we can figure something out if he really needs a place to stay. You don't have to—”
“Jiwoong hyung. Do you believe in hearsay?”
Matthew has never hated Hanbin, never really considered him to be his rival either—no matter what their schoolmates seem to think. Jiwoong, if no one else, should be aware of it.
“Of course I don't. I'm your best friend, I know you never hated him but he's not your friend either. You guys are barely acquaintances!”
Matthew shrugs, then replaces the shrug with a gentle dismissive sound. “It's the right thing to do. We can be friends after. We have time.”
Silence falls between them again, and Matthew lets it settle, focusing his attention back on the road. He's maybe five minutes away from his apartment block, eager to rest after the mentally exhausting day he's had. Maybe he could ask Jiwoong to come over with the snacks he had undoubtedly bought from the convenience store? A movie night sounds really appealing to Matthew's exhausted mind. they can watch Howl's Moving Castle again and—
“You're really sure about this?” Jiwoong asks, breaking Matthew out of his rambling thoughts. His voice is gentle and open, accepting of Matthew. It's a rhetorical question. Matthew answers anyway.
“I am, hyung. You know I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't.”
Jiwoong chuckles lightly. “Okay, Matthew. Okay. I'll take your word for it then.”
Matthew feels relief trickle through his body. Jiwoong approves, even if it's hesitant and only because of Matthew's words. After all, Jiwoong wouldn't let Matthew get away with it if he thought Matthew was doing something he shouldn't be. And so long as Matthew isn't actively about to sabotage himself, then everything will be alright.
𝅘𝅥𝅮
Cleaning up his guest room is easy. Jiwoong stays the night often enough that Matthew only has to do a bit of cleaning to get it set up for Hanbin’s impending move in. He changes the sheets and curtains, vacuums the floor and stocks up the cupboard with some extra bedding and it's done.
Hao had called Matthew just a week ago and said that Hanbin will be moving in as soon as he's discharged. According to him, they were only keeping Hanbin at the hospital until the deepest of his surgeries wounds close up, and then he was free to go.
It feels strange to think of living with Hanbin. He's still in the early stages of recovery which means that Matthew's got to be more careful with him than with anyone else moving in. He's never had a roommate before either, so there's no basis for Matthew's comparison. Jiwoong staying over doesn't really count because he treats Matthew's home as his own, almost too comfortable living there if Matthew has anything to say about it.
Hao had said that Hanbin was capable of taking care of himself, since he was only waiting for the fracture to heal. Matthew worried anyway.
What was he thinking? He's never taken care of anyone before. And technically he doesn't have to take care of Hanbin either, but he has virtually no experience with injured people, which is daunting to think of.
The last and only time he had helped anyone with something like this was when his mom twisted her ankle during a dance class. She was used to small injuries like that—every dancer was—so Matthew barely had to help her with anything. A fracture, however, is not as simple as a sprain.
It's too late to go back on his words now, not that he wants to. Matthew keeps his word. He always does. He takes pride in it, almost—in being honest to both himself and others. It's not always easy, but Matthew thinks that the extra effort he puts into it is always worth it.
Matthew finishes setting up the two pillows on the bed, freshly pulled light blue covers brightening up the room. He steps back, letting his eyes run over it once more. It's clean, the blinds of the window are half pulled back to let the morning sun in and the light rays fall over the dark wooden floor in the pattern of the tiny slits on the blinds. The room and the bed are not as big as Matthew's but they are more than good enough for someone to sleep in. And Matthew himself knows that the mattress is comfy. He's fallen asleep on this same bed too many times to not know how it feels.
It's a good room, a comfortable space. Matthew is pretty sure that Hanbin will like it.
He gives himself a satisfied nod, humming as he opens the blinds further to let more sunlight in. His phone pings against his back pocket and he pulls it out to see Hao's message.
하오 형
Hi? We're here •ᴗ•
Matthew puts his phone away, throwing it onto the nearest flat surface before he bolts to the door. His apartment is on the fifth floor of the complex and since it's a bit high end compared to other places, the security is more strict than Matthew thinks is necessary.
And Matthew, in all his haste, had forgotten to inform the security guard about his new roommate. He curses quietly to himself as he takes the elevator to the ground floor, foot tapping impatiently.
Hanbin and Hao are standing by the check in—or in Hanbin’s case, sitting on his wheelchair—and Hanbin seems to be locked in light conversation with the aged security guard that always has the sweetest of smiles to offer whenever he sees Matthew.
The three of them spot Matthew coming from afar, and the conversation between the guard and Hanbin trails off into silence as their attention diverts to Matthew. Matthew jogs the last stretch of distance separating them and gifts the guard with his brightest smile.
“They're with me,” Matthew pants, grinning and turning around to nod at Hao and Hanbin and then turning back again to bow to the security guard. “Thank you, ahjussi.”
Hao's got a firm hand secured against the back of Hanbin’s wheelchair, and there's a polite smiling curling around the corner of his lips. It's a perfect mask, so unlike the wide smiles that Matthew is used to.
“Would you like help with the luggage?” The security guard asks. He makes a step forward, and Matthew hastens to reply, waving his hands in polite denial.
“Ah no, thank you. I think we can manage.” There's only two suitcases and they look like they'll barely weigh anything. Matthew can carry it himself, he's not so weak. “I'll see you later, ahjussi.”
The security guard nods back with a smile and Matthew is quick to turn around and step closer to both Hao and Hanbin, hands already reaching for the luggage. Hanbin avoids Matthew's gaze, eyes fixed on his lap where he's fiddling with a ring on his pointer finger, the thin band silver silver and shiny.
Matthew picks up the suitcases and Hao settles behind Hanbin’s wheelchair with a mildly awkward fumble. Matthew ignores the stumble as gracefully as possible, and starts walking towards the elevator.
“The security is tight,” Hao mumbles, his tone conversational and polite.
Matthew hums in reply. “Yeah. I think it's a bit too much if I'm being honest.”
“Oh?”
“My mom is a little overprotective.” Matthew chuckles.
“I think that just means that your mom loves you a lot,” Hao says. There's a smile in his voice, faint but apparent.
Matthew laughs, tilting his head at Hao. “Is that so? I think she's sweet, too. Although I'm pretty sure she thinks of me as a brat.”
Hao laughs along with Matthew, eyes turning up in a more genuine smile. Hanbin remains stubbornly silent, his breathing and the creak of his wheelchair the only sounds of his prescence.
“Let's take the elevator. I'm on the fifth floor.” Matthew presses the button to the fifth floor, letting Hao push Hanbin in before joining them inside. “Hanbin-ssi doesn't have to worry about the stairs at all, since the elevator is free most of the time.”
It doesn't take long for them to reach Matthew's floor, and then they're piling out of the elevator and into the expansive hallway lined with multiple doors.
“I'm apartment number 023,” Matthew says with a nod to the copper plated number plaque on the entrance to his apartment. He scans his fingerprint and opens the door to let the other two in.
“Here, come in. You can leave your shoes there.”
Hao toes out of his shoes and goes down on his knees to help Hanbin take off his rubber slippers, the motion almost second nature. Matthew averts his eyes—the moment feels oddly intimate to witness, Hanbin's vulnerability all too apparent—and focuses moving the suitcases in the direction of Hanbin’s new bedroom.
Hao follows him within seconds, Hanbin now pushing his wheelchair forward by himself.
He watches as Matthew settle the suitcases by the bed, then asks with a cautious voice, “Your parents…”
Matthew looks up, raising an eyebrow at Hao in question. Hao looks mildly uncomfortable, and a little sad. Matthew blinks, confused for a moment before Hao's thought process registers.
He stands up properly with a choked up laugh. “Oh! I haven't told you about them. Right!”
There's only one thing people assume when they see a child from a well off family living alone at such a young age. Matthew's used to the assumption that his family is neglectful of him, although it is so far from the truth that it never fails to make him laugh.
Matthew's laughter smoothes out at Hao's bewildered face. “My mom was the prima ballerina of the Seoul Opera. She signed off a few years ago, and opened an academy for really young ballet students. My dad's a businessman.”
Hao nods, understanding. He helps Hanbin push into the room with one hand, free hand coming to rest lightly against Hanbin’s shoulder.
“That's nice. My family is, of course, from China. And Hanbin-ah comes from Cheonan. His…”
Hao trails off, looking down at the top of Hanbin’s head and biting his lip. Matthew tries to not squirm, eyes roving over Hanbin’s lowered face for any sign of emotion.
He doesn't look sad or uncomfortable, but then again Matthew doesn't know Hanbin like that, does he? He wouldn't be able to read Hanbin’s emotions even if they were painted across his face. And now—with it all held behind the mask of grief and exhaustion—it's an impossible task.
Matthew's so deep in his head that it startles both him and Hao when Hanbin speaks up, filling the blank space of Hao's trailing voice. “My parents passed away when I was young. Only halmeoni lives in Cheonan now.”
There is probably an appropriate response to Hanbin’s words and the tilt of his head as he looks at Matthew with his dark eyes. But if there is, Matthew doesn't know it. He could say he's sorry, but would that help? He could give his condolences—no he should give his condolences—but would that come off as pitying? He's already crossed the line as is. He doesn't want to make Hanbin feel as if it's all pity and nothing else.
Hanbin keeps eye contact, gaze still blank as ever. Like this, curled up in his wheelchair, Hanbin looks small and a little sad. Diminished, the brightness of his usual presence waned but not gone. He's still beautiful, despite it all. Carrying the exhaustion lining his whole self with pride and grace that only few are capable of.
This really isn't the correct time for thoughts like this. Matthew should be speaking up, replying. But the words are stuck somewhere around his sternum, refusing to come out.
Hao clears his throat, breaking the silence with a gentle cough. He removes himself from behind Hanbin and approaches the door.
“I'll make us tea,” he says, stopping at the doorway and smiling at Matthew over Hanbin’s shoulder. It's supposed to be reassuring, Matthew's sure, although it isn’t. “You guys should talk.”
He leaves the room without much preamble. Hanbin blinks, breaking eye contact with Matthew and looking back at the empty spot that had previously occupied Hao.
Matthew wipes his hands against the dry linen of his pants as discreetly as he can. He doesn't know why he feels so nervous suddenly, faced with Hanbin and Hanbin alone. They're going to be living together, and this awkwardness won't do them any favours.
He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, once again trying to prepare himself to breach the awkward silence between them. It's easier said than done, because even like this Hanbin is still a presence that makes Matthew feel as if all his nerves are on fire. Yes, Hanbin has changed so much in the span of a few days, but to Matthew he's still the same luminous boy capable of lighting up rooms with his mere presence.
“Thank you.”
Matthew blinks out of his stupor, letting his wandering gaze fall back onto Hanbin’s form by the door. “Huh?” he says, feeling unmoored at the sudden awakening from his musings.
“Thank you,” Hanbin repeats. Outside, there's the sound of a tap opening as Hao presumably starts filling water into the electric kettle in Matthew's kitchen to heat up water for the tea. A few more pots and pans clang, and a cupboard opens and closes with a quiet thud.
Matthew coughs, shifts on his feet again. “You're welcome. I hope you like the room, Hanbin-ssi.”
Matthew tries to not rock on his feet or wring his hands, curling his palms into tight fists that he presses to his lower back while he waits for Hanbin to speak up again.
There's another ominous thud from Matthew's kitchen and then the sound of the coffee maker beeping fills the apartment. Matthew should be more concerned about his kitchen than he is, but It's Hao after all. He can trust Hao to not burn his kitchen down while making tea.
Hanbin smiles at Matthew, weary and sad and more than a little insincere. But then again, it's not like Matthew can blame Hanbin for not being able to muster the energy needed for a sincere smile. “I do. Thank you.”
The room is stifling, with both of them at a standstill at their own corners. Matthew shifts on his feet and makes a grab for his phone on the bedside table. He could say many things to Hanbin—you're welcome, it's nothing, I wanted to help—but none of them feel right. So Matthew settles for a smile and a nod, swallows against the dryness of his throat and then gestures at the open doorway with his head.
“That's alright um. Do you want to go see what Hao hyung is doing?” He asks, hoping that Hanbin will agree. At least with Hao, the stifling awkwardness won't linger in between them.
Hanbin hums and aquisces with a simple nod.
Matthew steps forward, hand automatically reaching out to Hanbin’s wheelchair. Hanbin flinches a little at the action. It's subtle, really, and it would've gone unnoticed if Matthew hadn't been paying such close attention to Hanbin. The movement makes Matthew stutter on his path, hand hanging awkwardly in the air before he backtracks with a smile.
Hanbin looks away, eyes moving to the ground as he pushes his wheelchair around by himself. It takes a bit of struggle, and Matthew has to hold himself back from reaching out to help. But then he's pushing himself out of the room, head and eyes firmly angled away from Matthew.
Matthew watches him go in silence, thinks, What have I gotten myself into?, and then follows Hanbin with a quiet sigh.