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"Enough, stop talking." Sangwoo commands.
Bum lets out a hasty breath, immediately seizing his flow of words. His lips are trembling, as though he is still letting out word after word at what exactly his uncle did to him, how he did it to him, in places an uncle should have never touched his nephew.
"Yes, Sangwoo." he whispers, not daring to look up and instead directs his gaze at the wooden table, which has scratches and welts, marks from a long time ago when Sangwoo's father reigned over the house with terror.
"Look at me, Bum." Sangwoo requests.
Bum feels his head prickle with anxious uncertainty. There is the farthest and the neediest notion of hopefulness he senses.
Redundant wishful thinking, he tells himself, and wraps his arms around himself.
His legs throb and he slides forward on the chair to place them on the ground more comfortably, to ease even more of their broken way of his tattered body and aching back. He does so quickly, hoping that Sangwoo either does not notice or decide to grant him mercy, perhaps today is the day where he'll be allowed some leeway.
„Look at me." Sangwoo repeats, the ire in his tone shocking Bum to the point of tears. He lifts his head, to meet light brown, curious eyes.
„Did your uncle-"
Bum beats him to the punch before Sangwoo can even finish the question. It's understandable why he asks- Sangwoo has the right to know all about the abhorrent being that he is, that he and his family and even Sangwoo made him. He kidnapped him, but Bum was the one who invaded his house in the first place. And while he's being given broken legs, he's also been given a roof over his head; and it brings up a conflict in him he'd rather not consider.
"Come on - ...really?" Sangwoo's tone is right between irritation and desperation. His expression might be one or the other, but Bum can't see. His eyes are blurry, and he hides his crying, disgusting face behind his hands.
Sangwoo clicks his tongue. Bum cowers at the sound. He does not like irritating Sangwoo- he knows the abundancy of punishment that can come from such a simple mistake. And he can't be making mistakes again. Sangwoo is burdened with him enough as it is. And yet, he's too caught up crying, feeling each sob wreck its way through his body, too busy trying to stifle his own sounds of weakness to think of a way to pacify the other.
"Come here." his captor demands. It's harsh enough to cause Bum to whimper; he hears Sangwoo sigh in exasperation, dreads the fact that he was the reason who made him sigh. He, who is nothing but a nuisance and will probably never amount to anything else.
"Bummy, just come here, will you." Sangwoo adds, and his tone is a little softer. Softer?
Bum wonders if he began having hallucinations.
But the requests stands, and even though Bum is mildly terrified, he obeys. His legs are shaking, then lifting, and at last, he is standing, not being quite able to grasp himself that he is.
He walks over to the other side of the table, where the sight of Sangwoo - lent back in his chair, one leg propped up in an oddly relaxed pose, observing him quietly - is enough to let the nervousness spike up again.
He remains where he is, though. Sangwoo told him to come and disobeying him right now would probably be the last recommendable thing Bum could do.
Sangwoo pushes back his own chair, and lifts a hand.
Bum flinches. He struggles against the urge to cry.
And yet, it overwhelms him.
"Sheesh, you really are ridiculous, Bummy." his captor murmurs. He gestures towards himself, opening his arms invitingly.
"Come, sit on my lap."
Biting his lip hard, Bum keeps his panicked self under control as he obeys, uncertainly settling on Sangwoo's lap, tears dripping down his cheeks like ugly raindrops.
He hiccups, as he tries to reign in his sobs, which is a far greater task than he had anticipated.
And then, all of a sudden, there are arms around him. They're Sangwoo's arms, Sangwoo's hands, and he knows they could do anything. And he waits, his heart painfully hammering against his ribcage. He waits until he knows what will happen. He waits, just in case he has to run again.
But Sangwoo only pulls him into an embrace, places his warm hands on his back, and holds him like this.
Bum swallows, as he realizes he might be lucky, for once. Even so, pressed up against Sangwoo's chest, he can't help but worry about the next thing. Such as dirtying his sweater.
When he actually pronounces the idea– his voice cracked, and overall pitiful- Sangwoo chuckles.
"Don't be silly." he chides, "One really can't leave you alone for a second, you end up thinking about the most stupid things."
"I'm sorry." Bum says.
Sangwoo shushes him, and begins caressing his back.
"It's okay. You can let it go now." he says.
Sangwoo's embrace is terrifying and yet warm, most definitely better than the basement.
Bum thinks of escaping, of pulling himself right out those welcoming arms that had inflicted so much pain on him, once upon a time, and thinks of running – but where?
Back to the place where his innocence was taken from him as a child?
Sangwoo hums quietly as he comforts, and Bum feels another sob building up in his throat.
It wouldn't matter if he left. There would be no-one to want him back, only as the more convenient and discreet version of a toy to take out one's sexual frustration and anger on.
The way Sangwoo is holding him reminds him a little bit of his parents, or rather, the faint memories he has of them. They had never hit Bum, let aside commit any other cruelty against him.
It had been the only time in his life no one had harmed him.
Once they died, it was all over. Bum hadn't had a restful night since.
Sangwoo continues humming, and stroking, as though he did love him, as though he hadn't locked him up in a cellar and slit his throat.
But maybe, it wasn't their fault, that they had all hurt him.
Maybe, he, Bum, was the one who caused it, had made this the only way for them to handle him.
Maybe, just maybe….
It is not their fault if he was this unlovable all along.
The tears force their way back relentlessly, and soon he is spilling them all over Sangwoo's already damp sweater again, soon his body is back to being shaken back and forth by violent sobs.
He hears Sangwoo exhale, his breath ghosting over Bum's wet cheeks, feels him press a kiss against his hair.
He's gentle. And he's careful.
And even if Bum knows that this Sangwoo- this caring Sangwoo – only exists for a few split moments, he allows himself to indulge.
He doesn't resist- lets Sangwoo pull him, right up against his chest, until Bum can hear his heartbeat
"It's gonna be okay." Sangwoo says, quietly. There is a cold fury in his voice, but this time, it isn't directed at him.
Sangwoo's hand is warm, and it is gentle.
It caresses his back, over and over again, and Bum feels – almost -
safe, cared for, at home.
Almost.
"I'll make sure he never lays a hand on you again."
It's a promise, and just this once, Bum wants to believe him.