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Yuta can hear the rumble of the engine from a few blocks away. He pulls himself out of the water and climbs onto the dock.
“That sounds like Jaehyun,” Johnny says, nodding in the general direction of the sound.
Yuta hums in agreement, taking a towel off the railing and sitting down next to Johnny. He rubs the towel through his hair, then drapes it over his shoulders. The weather’s getting cooler now, Yuta notes, suppressing a shiver from the breeze. “He’s late.”
“Ten isn’t even here yet,” Johnny points out. His voice sounds strained, and Yuta leans forward to see Johnny’s expression better.
“Is he coming?” It’s not like Ten to not show up at all, and he had seemed fine when Yuta had seen him a few hours ago.
Johnny sighs, turning away from Yuta to watch the rapidly approaching motorcycle. “I don’t know.” Normally, Yuta would tease him about acting like the whole world is on his shoulders, but Johnny seems to be genuinely distraught.
Yuta frowns, but before he can push any further, Jaehyun has already pulled up. “Hey!” Yuta calls, waving a hand. Jaehyun waves back, getting off his motorcycle, and that’s when Yuta realizes that he isn’t alone. He lets his hand fall, squinting at the two figures. “Who’s that?”
It’s not Ten; Yuta can tell that much from the way the other boy carries himself. He’s a half step behind Jaehyun, who’s walking over to them.
“You’re late,” Johnny says, tossing a can of beer at Jaehyun.
“Thanks.” Jaehyun takes a seat next to Johnny. The dim streetlamp illuminates the other person then, and Yuta finally realizes who he is.
“What’s he doing here?” Yuta asks, letting hostility seep into his tone.
Taeyong stops, still a good two meters away from the rest of them. His eyes are large, scared, as he looks at Yuta. He’s still wearing his school uniform, all his shirt buttons done to the top.
“Sit down,” Jaehyun says, pulling on Taeyong’s hand. He sends Yuta a warning look.
Yuta raises an eyebrow in response, but he doesn’t say anything as Taeyong sits between Jaehyun and Johnny. It’s not Taeyong’s presence specifically that bothers him, Yuta reasons, resisting the urge to glance at Taeyong. Jaehyun should have at least given them a heads up that he was bringing someone else.
“Do you want a beer?” Johnny slides a can towards Taeyong.
“No thanks,” Taeyong says.
Yuta rolls his eyes, reaching out and grabbing the can. He pops it open and takes a long sip. It’s unusually quiet; everything feels wrong tonight. Johnny’s staring down at the ground, Jaehyun’s looking out at the lake, and Taeyong is completely frozen next to him, like he knows that he shouldn’t be here. “So how do you guys know each other?” Yuta asks conversationally, setting his beer down.
It’s as much of a concession as he’ll make, and Jaehyun seems to recognize that. “We’re in the same arts class. He’s one of the best dancers there.”
“I’m not,” Taeyong says, and it sounds like he’s trying not to smile.
Jaehyun grins, like it’s an inside joke between the two of them. “Both of you guys know Taeyong?” he asks, a question that doesn’t dignify a response. There’s no one in the school who doesn’t know Lee Taeyong, class president and one of the top students. “This is Johnny.”
“Nice to meet you,” Taeyong says, and Johnny nods, shaking Taeyong’s outstretched hand.
Jaehyun turns to Yuta, but Yuta beats him to it. “We know each other,” he interjects, tapping his fingers against the side of the can. He can feel Taeyong’s eyes on him, and he jumps up, unable to remain sitting any longer. “I’m going to swim,” he announces. He hangs his towel up before jumping back into the water.
Yuta stays under the water for as long as he can, relishing in the relative peacefulness, the momentary distraction from his thoughts. He only breaks to the surface when his lungs can’t take it anymore. As he takes in a long breath, he hears laughter from the shore, the sound much clearer now.
He swims in circles under the bridge, then drifts lazily on his back when he gets tired of it. He almost manages to doze off like that, only to start at a hand wrapping around his ankle. Yuta shrieks, kicking at the water to get away.
“Calm down,” Johnny says, laughing as he surfaces.
Yuta glares at him, panting to catch his breath. He’s still offended that Johnny had crept up on him, but seeing Johnny grinning so widely now, a stark contrast to his distraught expression before, is enough for Yuta to partially forgive him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” He splashes water in Johnny’s direction, laughing in satisfaction when Johnny sputters and flinches away.
“I wasn’t,” Johnny starts to protest, only to break off in a shriek of his own when Jaehyun comes up behind him and pulls him down.
They end up half wrestling in the water, and Yuta smiles, swimming away from them. Taeyong’s sitting at the edge of the dock, his feet dangling over the water. Yuta pulls himself out and sits down next to him, running his hand through his wet hair.
“Aren’t you going to get in?” he asks.
Taeyong meets his eyes, the surprise in his expression obvious, and shakes his head. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
“None of us did,” Yuta points out, lying down against the wooden planks. He stares up at the sky, at the stars shining brightly overhead.
He can practically feel the discomfort radiating from Taeyong, so he isn’t surprised when Taeyong clears his throat after a few minutes of silence. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice so soft that it’s almost drowned out by Jaehyun and Johnny’s antics in the water.
“Don’t worry about it.” Yuta waves a hand dismissively, closing his eyes. “Just don’t let those two idiots sneak up on me.”
Yuta is woken up by the shrill sound of his ringtone. He reaches out blindly, grabbing his phone off the nightstand and picking up the call without opening his eyes.
“Hello?” he mumbles.
“Hey.” It’s Ten on the other end, his voice slightly muffled. “I’m outside your house. Can you open it for me?"
Yuta groans, rolling towards the edge of the bed. “Yeah, hold on a sec.”
He makes his way across his room without turning on any of the lights. Yuta stumbles over several objects strewn across the floor, even bumps into the wall as he’s near the door. Luckily, his room is close to the front door, so he reaches it quickly without any further mishaps.
There’s a loud click as Yuta turns the lock and the door creaks when he pulls it open, but it’ll probably take more than that to wake up anyone else in the house at three in the morning. Ten is standing right in front of the door, smiling sheepishly.
“Hey,” Ten says, his voice too loud in the dead quiet of the night. He’s still in his uniform, just without his blazer, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He seems to be curled in on himself, like he’s trying to avoid the chill outside.
“Get inside.” Yuta takes his arm and pulls him in, then locks the door behind them. Ten heads towards Yuta’s bedroom immediately. He flicks on the overhead lights and reaches towards the stack of granola bars that Yuta has in one corner of the room.
Yuta squints against the sudden brightness and closes the door to his room. “What are you doing here?” he asks, taking a seat on the bed next to Ten.
Ten chews slowly on the granola bar and stares out the window, taking his time answering the question. “I figured your house would be the easiest to sneak into.” He gives Yuta a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry for waking you up so late.”
Yuta shrugs. His phone is on Do Not Disturb, which only allows calls from Ten, Johnny, and Jaehyun to come through. It’s an unspoken agreement that they’ve got each other’s backs, whenever and wherever. “You’re not going back to your home?”
Ten shakes his head. He’s already done with the granola bar, finishing it so quickly that Yuta wonders how long it’s been since he’d last eaten. “Not tonight.”
Yuta takes the wrapper from Ten’s hands, flinching when he realizes how cold Ten’s fingers are. “Why are you so cold?” he asks, reaching for Ten’s hands when he’s thrown the wrapper away. He holds them within his own to transfer some of his body heat to Ten.
“I was outside for a while.” Ten grins at Yuta’s concerned frown. “I didn’t want to come in too early, in case anyone was still awake.”
Yuta exhales loudly. “Ten—”
“My dad really wants me to work in the factory,” Ten says, his voice much softer. Yuta holds onto his hands tighter when he realizes that they’re shaking and waits for Ten to continue. “They think—they think that I’m wasting my life, that I’ve already wasted my life. But I don’t want to be stuck working in the factory just to survive,” he finishes in a rush.
Yuta hugs Ten, listening to his breathing even out before he pulls away. “Get under the blankets,” he says. He tosses Ten a T-shirt and a pair of shorts to sleep in, then gets up to turn off the light.
Yuta makes his way back towards the bed, more carefully this time. He shifts on the bed for a while, trying to find a comfortable position. There’s a long moment of silence, and Yuta almost drifts back to sleep, when Ten speaks again. “Do you think there’s a future for us outside of here?”
Here, the unnamed town where they were born, where they had grown up, and where they would probably die. Yuta swallows around the sudden tightness in his throat. “I don’t know,” he admits softly.
“It’s not fair,” Ten says, his voice strained with barely repressed emotions. “Just because we were born where we were, we don’t have the same opportunities that everyone else does. They force us to go to school just to show us all the things that we can’t ever have and teach us all the things that we’ll never need. I don’t want to just stay here.”
From the moonlight streaming through his window, Yuta can see the clear exhaustion on Ten’s face, the determination in his eyes even as he’s struggling to keep them open. “You know your parents just want the best for you,” he says. “They wouldn’t try to stop you from doing what you love.”
“I know.” Ten closes his eyes, and Yuta thinks that he sees a tear slip down his cheek. “I just feel like it would kill me, if I had to settle.”
The problem isn’t Ten’s parents, Yuta knows; that’s not why Ten had run away from home. His chest aches, and he wishes desperately that he could give Ten the answers that he’s so clearly seeking for. Wishes that he weren’t so lost himself. “I’m sorry,” he says instead.
Ten laughs softly, opening his eyes so that he can flick Yuta’s forehead. “What are you sorry for?”
Yuta shakes his head and quickly changes the subject. “You’ll have to go back to your home early tomorrow. I don’t have any clothes that will fit you. My aunt and uncle get up at six, so you’ll have to sneak out before that.” He hesitates before adding, “Don’t run away from home so much, you’ll make your parents worried.”
“I know, I know. Thank you for being here, even if your morals are awfully flawed,” Ten says, muffling his giggles behind his hand.
“Shut up,” Yuta retorts, but he’s grinning brightly as well. He reaches out to take Ten’s hand, which is already warm, and intertwines their fingers together.
It looks like there’s going to be a fight under the bridge. Yuta eases his hand on the brake of his motorcycle, slowing down as he approaches. It’s none of his business and this isn’t even the day that he’s supposed to be here. He recognizes Hanbin’s crew, though, and Hanbin’s crew is never good news. At the very least, Yuta reasons, he’ll be privy to the gossip a good twelve hours before everyone else.
Jinhwan turns as Yuta approaches, and they make eye contact with each other. Yuta raises a hand, sees Jinhwan nod briefly in acknowledgment. He’s ready to keep going, mind his own business, but then he recognizes Taeyong under the streetlamps.
Taeyong. They’re circling around Taeyong. Yuta exhales shakily, forcing himself to continue past them steadily. He notices a car parked by the side of the road—sleek, new, and horribly out of place—and it doesn’t take long for him to form a picture of what’s happening.
He turns the corner, out of site, and quickly gets off his motorcycle. Faster, faster, Yuta repeats to himself, trying to ignore the many other thoughts swirling in his mind. It can’t take him more than half a minute to reach the ring of boys, but it feels like a short eternity.
Yuta flicks open his switchblade when he’s only a few meters away. By then, some of them have already noticed him, but none of them manage to react before Yuta has an arm around Donghyuk’s throat, pressing the edge of the blade into his skin.
“Get away from Taeyong,” Yuta says, dragging Donghyuk with him back a few steps. He glances around at them, notes the way the other six are positioned. He’s not reckless enough to try to take all of them alone, but if it comes down to that—
“Whoa, whoa,” Jiwon says. “Calm down, what are you getting so worked up about? It’s just our class president—” He takes a step forward, trying to put on a non-threatening appearance.
Yuta puts force on the blade, feels Donghyuk’s skin give way. Donghyuk cries out, briefly. The cut is shallow, but it’s enough of a message. His blood spills from the wound, traces a path down his neck. Still, Donghyuk doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch in Yuta’s hold. “Stay where you are,” Yuta snaps, surprising himself with how steady his voice and hands are.
He looks over at Taeyong then, really looks at him. Other than appearing slightly shaken, Taeyong seems to be outwardly unharmed. He’d gotten here in time, Yuta thinks, giving himself a second to bask in the relief that washes over him.
“Taeyong, come over here,” Yuta says.
Taeyong moves hesitantly, like he’s expecting to be attacked over the few meters that he has to cross to get to Yuta. His eyes are round, like he can’t believe that Yuta has brought the whole scene to a standstill. Yuta can’t quite believe it either, but he focuses on maintaining a confident front.
“You know him or something?” Hanbin speaks up, leaning his weight back on one foot.
“Don’t we all?” Yuta stands his ground, refusing to budge.
“You know you’re violating the Code right now,” Hanbin says, but it’s a sign that he’s stepping back. Yuta holds back the urge to smile. Despite their personal differences, at least Hanbin is smart, knows when to pick his battles.
“I know.” He’ll deal with the consequences as they come. They all know the Code forwards and backwards, the unwritten, unspoken Code that keeps the West side together. According to the Code, Yuta shouldn’t even be under the bridge right now, much less helping an Eastsider.
Hanbin shrugs, his laughter shrill in the tense silence. “You can have him if you want him that much.”
Yuta steps back, letting go of Donghyuk. “Back to back?”
Hanbin nods. “Back to back.”
Yuta turns and grabs Taeyong’s hand. He forces himself to walk at a steady pace away from the bridge, holding onto Taeyong tightly with one hand and his switchblade in the other. He only lets go when they’re by his motorcycle. His hands shake uncontrollably as he wipes the blood off his blade and sheathes it again. He brings his hands, one still holding the knife tightly, back into his pockets and waits for the tremors to stop.
“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says softly. “I didn’t know—”
Yuta’s eyes flicker over to him, and the wave of anger that washes over him is at least a start to sorting out his chaotic emotions. “You can’t just do that,” he snaps, surprising even himself with the vehemence in his voice. Taeyong flinches away, and Yuta takes a deep breath. “Listen, I know that you’re best friends with Jaehyun or whatever, but you can’t just come over here whenever you want.”
“I’m not…” Taeyong trails off, staring down at the floor. He fiddles with the sleeve of his school blazer. He looks incredibly young under the yellow glow of the streetlamps, not at all like someone who would belong on this side of town.
“You should go back.” Yuta takes a few steps back, towards his motorcycle. “It’s getting late, you can’t drive that kind of car around here and expect to be safe.” He tries to lighten the mood, but the words fall awfully flat.
Taeyong takes a step forward, reaching out even though he’s too far away to make contact. “Wait.” He lets his arm fall, fingers curling into a fist. “Thank you. If you weren’t here—”
“It’s fine,” Yuta says quickly, stopping Taeyong from finishing that thought. “Just don’t come here if you’re not with Jaehyun or someone. We’re not the only ones who come over here.” He turns around, waving over his shoulder. “Get back safe.”
Yuta can feel Taeyong’s eyes on his back as he leaves. He gets onto his motorcycle, resisting the urge to turn around, and takes off down the road.
It’s barely six in the evening and Kun is already frazzled. He touches Yuta’s hand to get his attention, gesturing to a table. “Can you get them menus? I have to take care of something.”
“Okay.” Yuta takes six menus and makes his way towards the table with a smile. It falters when he recognizes Taeyong and several other Eastsiders from school.
“Here you go,” Yuta says, handing out the menus. Taeyong doesn’t look up from his phone, and the girl next to him takes his menu as well.
Doyoung is the first one to recognize him—or, more accurately, to call him out. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he says, and Yuta doesn’t miss the fascination in his voice, the amazement in his eyes as he slowly takes a menu. It draws the attention of everyone else at the table; Yuta notices Taeyong finally putting away his phone from the corner of his eyes.
Yuta smiles tightly, trying to ignore the stares from the rest of the table. It feels like they’re all here, the whole group of them—people Yuta would mess with in school just to mess with them, but not people he’d ever really thought he’d meet like this. In the real world. Now, more than ever, he can feel the divide between them, and it makes him sick to his stomach.
“I’ll come back to get your order,” Yuta says. He keeps the smile on his face until he turns, then quickly makes his way to the front of the restaurant.
There aren’t any other guests coming into the restaurant yet, and Kun is talking on the phone. Yuta waits until he’s done, then taps him on the shoulder to get his attention.
“What’s wrong?” Kun asks, scribbling a few lines onto his notepad.
Yuta hesitates, chewing his bottom lip. He knows that Friday nights are the busiest for the restaurant, that they can barely manage as it is. And yet— “I have to leave,” he says.
Kun frowns, leaning closer to Yuta. “Are you okay? You can take a break if you want.”
“I don’t think I can work tonight.” Yuta reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes and reaches that his hands are shaking. He hates how he’s still so weak, how he can’t do something as simple as wait on a table. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Kun is still watching him in concern, and Yuta hates it, hates how Kun would let him leave for such a stupid reason. “You can call Taeil or Jaehyun. If they’re not busy, I’m sure they would help.”
“Okay, I will.” Kun takes Yuta’s hand. “Stay safe, okay? Text me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Yuta gives Kun a quick half hug. He almost runs towards the back of the restaurant, where he switches out of his work clothes. It’s not until he’s outside, on the streets, that he finally feels his heartbeat calm down.
Yuta sits down on the curb for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He doesn’t regret leaving, even though he knows that he shouldn’t be running away from his problems. He does regret leaving Kun shorthanded, though, and he makes a mental note to work extra hours to make up for it. Beyond that—Yuta tries not to think about what had happened at the restaurant, tries not to keep reliving the scene like it’s a video stuck on repeat.
I didn’t know you worked here, Doyoung had said. He didn’t know, Yuta repeats to himself, over and over. He didn’t know, they didn’t know, none of them knew.
A car speeds past, dangerously close, and Yuta gets up and starts walking. The bus won’t be at the station for another ten minutes, but he doesn’t want to go home anyway.
It takes him a little over half an hour to reach the railroads, and he hears laughter even before that. Yuta takes in a deep breath, feeling some of the tightness of his chest dissipate at the familiarity of the place. He breaks into a slow jog and barely keeps from attacking the first person he recognizes.
“Sicheng!” Yuta captures the boy in a tight hug. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long.”
Sicheng pats Yuta’s back, waiting for his grip to loosen before backing away from him. “I’m good. You should come around more, Yuta.” He pauses briefly, like he’s trying to remember something. “Oh! Jaemin’s with my brother over there.”
Yuta turns his head towards where Sicheng is vaguely gesturing. He swallows, his throat suddenly too dry. “What do you mean?”
Sicheng tilts his head. “Were you not looking for him?” he asks, a hint of concern slipping into his voice.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Yuta says, touching Sicheng’s shoulder as he hurries past him. He makes his way over the tracks, responding shortly to the boys who greet him. It doesn’t take him long to spot Jaemin sitting in the middle of the tracks, deep in conversation with four other boys. He takes a deep breath, but it does little to calm his building irritation.
Yuta doesn’t bother with a graceful entrance, heading straight towards Jaemin. “Come with me,” he says, placing a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder.
Jaemin looks up, and the smile on his face falls immediately when he sees Yuta. “What do you want?”
Yuta squeezes his shoulder in warning. “Get up.”
Jaemin stares at him for a long moment before realizing that Yuta isn’t going to yield. “What do you want?” he says. He jumps to his feet and starts walking past Yuta.
Yuta falls in step beside him, and they make their way to the edge of the tracks. “What are you doing here?” he returns.
“I was hanging out with my friends.” Jaemin sighs loudly. “What’s your problem? You come here whenever you want.”
“You know your parents don’t want you here,” Yuta says, trying to make his tone light, reasonable. Jaemin turns and he realizes, not without a little surprise, that Jaemin is almost eye-level with him now. More than that, there’s open defiance on Jaemin’s face.
“Has that ever stopped you before?” Jaemin shoots back. He continues quickly, not giving Yuta a chance to respond. “I don’t get why you get to do everything, but I don’t. I never ratted on you all those times you snuck out of the house, so why can’t you just…” He waves his hands in an exasperated gesture. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Yuta hates the parts of himself that he sees in Jaemin. He thinks that he’d always known that this would happen, but he’d never really wanted to believe it. Even now, he wants nothing more than to hug Jaemin and keep hugging him until everything else just goes away. “Let’s go back home.”
“Why?” Jaemin says, and although his voice is much deeper now, it still reminds Yuta of a much younger Jaemin begging for candy. “Sicheng is cool with Renjun being here all the time, Jisung’s even younger than me—”
“Let’s go,” Yuta repeats, grabbing Jaemin’s wrist. Jaemin doesn’t quite manage to hide his wince at the force that Yuta uses, and Yuta quickly loosens his grip.
When Yuta starts walking, Jaemin falls in step beside him. He knows that it’s not a victory, that Jaemin probably hates him now more than before, that this isn’t a solution to any of their problems. But those are problems for another day. Right now, Yuta just wants to go home.
The score is seventy to sixty-six. Yuta grips Ten’s hand tightly, keeping track of the countdown by the scoreboard while also watching the bodies moving around on court. They just have to maintain the score, there’s no way the other team can catch up—
Ten jumps up suddenly, pulling his hand away from Yuta’s so that he can cup them around his mouth. “Johnny Seo!” he screams, and Yuta flinches away from him at the sheer volume. Then Ten pulls at Yuta’s arm, dragging him up. “Come on,” he urges.
Yuta can’t tell if the command is directed at him or Johnny, but he gets up anyway and joins Ten in screaming Johnny’s name. Their cheers get lost in the rest of the noise. The crowd is uncharacteristically alive tonight, probably because it’s the final game. When there are only five seconds left, the cheers just become screams, and Yuta finds himself hugging Ten tightly while screaming incoherently.
“Let’s go,” Ten says once the excitement has died down a bit. He takes off towards Johnny and Jaehyun, who are still standing on court and quickly being mobbed by the rest of the audience. He slips through the crowd easily, and Yuta follows at a significantly slower rate. “Congrats!” Ten throws an arm around Johnny, who’s still drenched in sweat, and kisses him quickly, the action so casual that almost no one reacts. Yuta even doubts that he had really seen that for a second.
“Yeah, congrats,” Yuta says, pulling the four of them into a quick group hug. “You guys kept it up well in the end.”
“I almost thought Jeonghan was going to score at the end,” Jaehyun says, between gulps of water. “It was pretty close.”
“Did you guys watch the whole game?” Johnny asks. “I was looking for you two in the beginning.”
“We saw the important parts,” Yuta says, not quite willing to admit that he and Ten had slipped in at halftime.
“We knew you guys were going to win anyway,” Ten adds. He makes eye contact with Yuta and gives him a secretive grin.
“Yeah right,” Johnny snorts, but he’s interrupted by his teammates calling his and Jaehyun’s name. “We’re getting drinks at the usual place!” he calls as he’s pulled away.
The usual place is at an outdoor stall, the tables filled with both teams and both sides of the audience. There are also significantly older and younger faces in the crowd, fathers and uncles joining in on the excitement as well as the younger boys who are allowed to join.
Yuta is pressed between Jaehyun and Jungwoo, nursing the small cup of alcohol before him as he absorbs the atmosphere. There are already some people leaving after the first round of celebratory cheers and drinks are done. He squints, thinks he makes out Renjun sitting a few tables away from them, his head tipped back in laughter and a half-full shot glass in one hand. He doesn’t recognize anyone else at Renjun’s table, though.
“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asks, leaning closer to speak directly into Yuta’s ear.
Yuta blinks, meeting Jaehyun’s concerned gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, smiling to prove his point. “Just a little tired.”
That’s not a lie. Usually, Yuta would be part of the party, willing to drink down anyone who wanted to challenge him. But right now, he’s not quite feeling up to it.
Jaehyun frowns, feeding Yuta a piece of meat with his chopsticks. “You sure?”
Yuta nods, placing a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “I’ve had my excitement of the day. It’s too hard to keep up with youngsters these days.” He laughs as Jaehyun rolls his eyes at him, getting up from his seat. He pats Jaehyun’s back before he leaves, and Jaehyun raises his shot glass in acknowledgment.
“Are you leaving already?” Ten calls loudly from the other end of the table.
“Heading back early,” Yuta replies, projecting his voice to be heard over the general din. He reaches forward to touch Ten’s hand, then exchanges handshakes and greetings with many others before he finally makes his way out of the crowd.
The sudden drop in volume is almost as jarring as the commotion had been. Yuta puts his hands in his pocket and walks briskly back home. It doesn’t take him long to reach the house and unlock the front door. The lights are already off, so Yuta slips in as quietly as he can. He hesitates before the door to his own room, walks down the hallway towards Jaemin’s room, then abruptly turns around and goes into his room.
He can deal with everything tomorrow. Right now, he just wants to go to sleep.
It’s past three in the morning when Yuta finally locks the store. He leans against the door, allowing himself a small break.
“You’re just finishing?” a voice speaks up suddenly, and Yuta barely keeps from screaming.
He hadn’t realized that there was anyone else in the area, and he certainly hadn’t been expecting Taeyong, who’s standing on the curb by his fancy car. “What are you doing here?” Yuta says, willing his heartbeat to calm down again.
“I left school not long ago, so I thought I’d stop by.” Taeyong shrugs. He’s still wearing his uniform, so his statement seems plausible. But then, Yuta doesn’t think he’s ever not seen Taeyong in his uniform. Not in a long time, anyway. “Get in the car,” Taeyong says. “I’ll drive you back home.”
Maybe his offer comes from a good place, but right now, all it does is make Yuta’s skin creep with agitation. He steps forward, too quickly, and backs Taeyong against his car. “What do you want?” he snaps, the tension building in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. He just wants it to snap, to destroy it for once and for all. “Why are you trying to force your way back into my life?” His voice comes out too hoarse, a combination of overuse and a chaotic swirl of emotions. There are lines—lines that shouldn’t be crossed, lines as clear as the distinction between the East side and the West side, and then there’s Taeyong.
“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. I’m sorry, let me make it right. Yuta tastes the sweetness of victory, briefly, before it’s almost completely drowned out by an overwhelming guilt. Taeyong stretches a hand out hesitantly, lets it hover in the air between them. “Aren’t you tired?”
It’s like Taeyong’s just manipulating the strings that dictate Yuta’s feelings. Suddenly, the full force of the past few hours seem to crash into Yuta—the strain of constantly having to be on his feet, ring up purchases at the cash register, watch out for mischievous little pickpockets. Yuta closes his eyes, exhales slowly. When he opens them again, Taeyong is still standing before him, his face dimly illuminated yet shining with trust. Openness. Acceptance.
Yuta feels his chest constrict again, this time with a feeling that he categorizes as want. He steps away from Taeyong, towards the passenger side of the car. “Do you even know how to get to my house?”
Taeyong grins, the delight on his face simultaneously unnerving and calming. “It’s past the bridge, right?”
“On the right side.” Yuta gets in the car as Taeyong makes his way around to the driver’s side. He settles back into the seat, closing his eyes. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a car, much less one this nice. The engine starts so smoothly that it’s almost imperceptible, and Yuta thinks that he could doze off right here.
“Is it just you working at the store?” Taeyong speaks up as he turns onto the street.
Yuta leans his cheek against the headrest, staring out the window. “At this time, yeah. Mark leaves after ten. There’s not many customers around anyway.” He taps his finger against the window. “How did you know I would be here, anyway?”
“I’ve seen you working there a few times before,” Taeyong admits. “And I just thought—it’s a pretty long trip back to your house, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Mainly it’s bothersome, since he can’t drive his motorcycle to school and he certainly can’t leave it anywhere on the East side. He has to transfer buses twice to get anywhere close to his house. “You’ve never…” Yuta bites his lower lip, hesitating. “You’ve never been to my house before, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. We always used to hang out at mine,” he adds, and it’s the first time they’ve talked about this in years.
Yuta wraps his arms around himself, seeking warmth even if it’s not cold in the car. It hurts, to think about how young they were back then. Yet even then, he had been conscious of the difference between them. Even then, he’d carried that weight of shame, the reluctance to invite Taeyong to his home. “Why are you being so nice?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“What do you mean?” Taeyong responds, and Yuta doesn’t bother to answer. He’s silent for a long time, so long that Yuta thinks that his question will be ignored, before he speaks up again softly. “It’s hard for me to fall asleep at night. Even when I’m done with all my work, I just can’t stop thinking. And—I don’t know.” Taeyong’s voice falters, and he continues after a moment, “I don’t know why, but being on this side of town makes it easier for me to breathe.”
Yuta turns his head, staring at Taeyong’s side profile, the sharp lines of his jaw. Taeyong’s gaze is fixed on the road, and he doesn’t seem to notice Yuta staring at him. The lights from outside create random streaks of light through the windows, but they’re enough to illuminate the exhaustion in his features. “The college entrance exam is in a few weeks, isn’t it?”
Taeyong smiles faintly, turning to look at Yuta. “Even you know?”
“Please, I’d have to be deaf and blind if I didn’t.” Taeyong’s smile grows wider, more genuine, at that, and Yuta holds back a smile of his own. “Eyes on the road,” Yuta admonishes him, snapping his fingers. They’ve already passed the railroad and the bridge is in sight. Yuta sits up a little. “Keep going and—”
“Turn right,” Taeyong finishes for him. “I know, you already told me.”
“I’m trying to give you directions, Mr. Class President.” Yuta smiles at Taeyong’s dry chuckles.
It doesn’t take long before they reach Yuta’s house. Yuta doesn’t get out immediately, instead turning to meet Taeyong’s eyes.
“I’d invite you in now, if it weren’t so late,” he says, surprising himself with how much he means those words.
Taeyong takes his hand off the steering wheel, touching Yuta’s arm. “I know.” He hesitates, gaze flickering towards the house. “You should go back, it’s getting late.”
He shouldn’t feel this secure, Yuta thinks, but the want that he’s carrying with him tonight, the same want that he’s been carrying for years, expands into something that almost resembles hope. “I’m always out really late,” he admits quietly, running his finger along the leather insides of Taeyong’s car. “Sometimes—sometimes I feel like it wouldn’t matter if I never came back.”
“Of course it would. Your aunt and uncle love you,” Taeyong says, his words filled with so much confidence.
“But not in the same way.”
Yuta knows that he shouldn’t compare, that he’ll hurt himself more than anything else, but it’s hard not to notice. He’d worked part-time jobs for years before he was able to buy his first motorcycle at the age of fifteen; Jaemin had been gifted a new motorcycle this past year, when he’d turned thirteen. Even the little petty things. When they were younger, he and Jaemin would get into fights often, and his aunt and uncle would almost always side with Jaemin. If Jaemin was in the wrong, Yuta would still get scolded for not yielding to his younger cousin.
And Yuta knows that it’s not something that he or anyone else can control, nor is it something that he should expect. Love is impossible to quantify and there are millions of ways to express it. But somewhere inside, he’s still the little boy crying in his room, wishing that someone would take his side for once.
“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says. Yuta glances at him, ready to make a sharp comment about not needing Taeyong’s pity, but he stops when he makes eye contact with the other. “It’s just—hard to realize that you’re hurting someone sometimes.”
He’s not talking about Yuta’s relationship with his aunt and uncle anymore. Yuta had promised himself, years ago, that he wouldn’t entertain this conversation with Taeyong, but he thinks he’s ready now, to hear what Taeyong has to say. “Middle school?”
Taeyong nods, staring down at his hands. “I don’t think I realized what I was doing until you stopped trying to talk to me, and then I was too stubborn to apologize.”
Yuta stares out the window at the large tree in his front yard, a tree that he’s scaled and fallen from countless times. “It’s not entirely your fault. Your parents didn’t want me to hang out with you, did they?”
Sixth grade summer had been when Yuta and Ten got close, and he’d let the other boy talk him into getting his right ear pierced. That had also been one of the last times he’d hung out with Taeyong. It’s hard to forget the way that Taeyong’s mom had stared at his clothes, his hair, his shoes in disdain.
“Not really,” Taeyong admits.
Yuta smiles. “Well, your parents weren’t completely wrong. Look at where I am now and look at where you’re about to be. I would’ve been such a bad influence.” He’d resented Taeyong so much during middle school, had carried the shells of that hurt into high school, but talking about it now, he barely feels anything.
“It must have hurt a lot.” Taeyong places a hand on Yuta’s arm, and his eyes seem to be shining with unshed tears.
“I know,” Yuta assures him. They sit there in silence before Yuta’s drawn by the urge to move. He leans forward slowly, giving Taeyong the chance to back away.
Instead, Taeyong closes the last of the distance between them. His lips are warm, soft, and when Yuta pulls back, he doesn’t look so sad anymore.
Yuta brushes a strand of hair from Taeyong’s eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Taeyong nods, squeezing Yuta’s arm once before letting go. “See you.”
When he reaches his room, Yuta heads straight to his window and watches Taeyong’s car soundlessly drive off into the distance.
Yuta falls asleep the fastest during math class. Sometimes, he manages to doze off before Mr. Park even starts to drone on in his monotone voice. And unlike Ms. Kim, who would make him get up and solve a problem on the board, Mr. Park never calls him out on it.
Which is why, when Yuta’s nap is rudely interrupted, he’s more than a little annoyed. “What do you want?” He knocks away the pen that Taeyong had been prodding his arm with, trying and most likely failing to scowl at the other.
“Math is over,” Taeyong says, like that’s not obvious from how most of the classroom is empty. “Do you want my notes?”
“It’s not like I’d understand anything anyways.” Yuta leans his chin on his hand. “Aren’t you not supposed to interact with me in public, Mr. Class President?”
Taeyong rolls his eyes, choosing not to respond to Yuta’s teasing. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Yup, I did.” There’s a weird tension between them, and Taeyong looks like he has something else to add, but Yuta beats him to it. “You should worry about yourself, your eyebags are way worse than mine.” He pokes a finger at Taeyong’s cheek, making the other smile and getting rid of some of the tension.
“At least I’m not the one falling asleep in class.”
“You can’t tell me you actually find Mr. Park’s class interesting.” Yuta waits expectantly, but when Taeyong doesn’t refute his statement, he groans. “Taeyong—”
“Taeyong!” Doyoung hurries into the classroom, walking like he’s in a rush, as usual. He reaches them quickly, only to freeze when he realizes that Taeyong and Yuta are talking to each other.
Yuta jumps up from his chair agilely. “I’m going to fill my water bottle. Don’t go around looking too important,” he adds, directing the jab at Doyoung, who flips him off.
Yuta practically skips to the water dispensers, cutting in line to throw an arm around Johnny’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, tiptoeing slightly to speak directly into Johnny’s ear.
Johnny barely bats an eyelash. “Hey.” He steps out of Yuta’s hold to refill his water bottle. “Are you going to come tonight? We haven’t hung out in so long.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” Yuta says. He’s not on the graveyard shift at the store tonight, at least, though he’ll probably have to help his aunt at the restaurant in the afternoon. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Johnny hums contemplatively. “So what’s going on with you and Taeyong?” he asks, so casually that Yuta almost spills all the water back out of his water bottle. Johnny laughs at that, and Yuta flicks water at him in retaliation.
“Don’t know,” Yuta says as they walk back into the classroom, Johnny’s arm around his shoulder. “Just—something.”
He makes eye contact with Taeyong halfway across the room, and the hope that had been growing in his chest stretches so tightly that it threatens to burst.
“Are you never going to get into the water?” Yuta asks, pulling himself up onto the dock.
Taeyong shakes his head, passing Yuta a towel. “No, I didn’t bring any clothes to change into. It’d be too obvious if I did.”
Yuta shrugs, drying his hair quickly and pulling on his T-shirt. “Let’s go up to the bridge.” He grabs the book that Taeyong had been reading. “Stop studying already, you’re here to relax.”
“Being with you guys is already relaxing,” Taeyong says, but he slips the book back into his backpack and follows Yuta up the bridge.
There’s a narrow walkway between the road and the railing. Once they reach the middle of the bridge, Yuta climbs onto the railing and sits on it. Taeyong hesitates, staring at the narrow width of the railing, the expanse of the water under the bridge.
“Come on,” Yuta urges, stretching out a hand. “It’s sturdier than it looks. If you lose your balance, just fall forward. The drop’s not that bad.” He’s jumped into the lake from the bridge several times before, and it’s a popular place to practice diving.
Taeyong gets onto the railing slowly. Yuta wraps an arm around his waist to steady him and leaves it there.
“You good?” Yuta asks, noticing the way Taeyong is gripping the railing tightly with both hands.
“Yeah.” Taeyong exhales shakily. “I’m just slightly afraid of heights. It’s fine,” he adds, before Yuta can suggest that they go somewhere else.
Yuta hums, staring down at the waters. He can barely locate Johnny, Ten, and Jaehyun in the lake below them. “Where do you want to go after this?”
“You mean next year?” Taeyong leans a little further into Yuta’s embrace. “I want to go to the city for college. I’ve been preparing for it almost my whole life.” He turns his head towards Yuta, so close that Yuta can feel his breath against his cheek. “What about you? Are you going to stay here?”
Yuta nods, tapping his fingers lightly over Taeyong’s hipbone. They’re physically closer now than they’ve ever been, but the distance between them seems to be more pronounced than ever. “I’ll finally be done with school, so mainly just work. I’ll probably start at the factory for something steady.”
“I’ve never thought of staying,” Taeyong says. When Yuta turns to look at him, he’s staring up at the sky, and Yuta can almost see the stars reflected in his eyes. “This town always seemed like something I should be escaping from. You’ve never been outside of this town, have you?”
Yuta smiles tightly. “I’ve driven to the outskirts of this town, but not beyond that.” They’re only a few hours’ drive from the city—not particularly far, but it still feels like an uncrossable distance. Yuta knows without even setting foot in the city that he wouldn’t fit there.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to go? I could—”
“It’s fine,” Yuta cuts him off abruptly, not wanting to continue the conversation. “We don’t owe each other anything.” He pauses, realizing that his words had been too harsh. It’s just frustrating that they’re having this conversation when there had never been an us component in their relationship from the start. Time is running out, and it’s beyond their control when they’d been set on different paths from the beginning. “If you ever come back, though, we’ll be here,” he adds, even though he knows that it doesn’t mean much. Still, it’s as much as a promise as they can make.
Taeyong nods, quiet as he seems to process the information. “I’ve been here my whole life, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve really lived here. I’ve probably experienced more these past few weeks than I have in years.”
“You almost experienced getting beat up by a whole gang.” Yuta grins at the memory, feeling Taeyong shiver slightly. “You spend so much time reading and studying that I’m surprised you’ve experienced anything at all.”
“It’s not that bad,” Taeyong says, and Yuta can practically hear the pout in his voice. He draws in a breath and continues speaking in a more serious tone. “You have a home here, don’t you? Ten, Johnny, Jaehyun…”
“I’d trust them with my life,” Yuta finishes. It’s one of those facts that generally go unsaid, but it feels good to voice it aloud. And you? he almost asks, but they both already know the answer to that. Yuta pulls back from Taeyong, grinning when they make eye contact. “Do you want to jump down or what?”
Taeyong shakes his head vehemently. “Absolutely not.”
Yuta stands up carefully, balancing himself with a palm on his railing as he jumps back onto the bridge. “Here,” he says, holding out a hand to help Taeyong over. He holds on tighter when Taeyong wavers unsteadily and doesn’t let go.