Archive of Our Own

Once the shouting started, Seonghwa pushed his seat away from the table and stood up, declaring a 10-minute coffee break. Not like anyone heard him anyway; the representatives from the two visiting Institutes had such big egos, he doubted they heard anything other than the sound of their own voices. As the host institute, they did have presiding power, but this was the fifth day of the meetings, his fourth day without Hongjoong by his side to keep the assholes in line, and Seonghwa was just about at the end of his rope.

Farquhar (in the last two weeks they've been here, Wooyoung and Yeosang had taken a liking to mispronouncing his name just to get a rise out of him), a small hot-tempered head of weapons from the British institute was snarling something in a thick Scottish accent at his Japanese counterpart, Sanada. The Asian was a tall, well-built man with a crew cut; he was muttering something in his native language under his breath to his vice-head, who merely sneered at the men sitting across from him.

If no one was going to take the break, he was. If he had to spend another three hours in the room with these idiots, he would need coffee. Maybe two gallons of it.

As Seonghwa stepped away from the heated discussion at the meeting table, San cast him a quick, sideways look. The young man in charge of helping Seonghwa take minutes today — multilingual meetings were always a pain in the ass because they had to conduct it in English, and Seonghwa was only good at listening and understanding it. San was a great substitute for Hongjoong language-wise, both were equally fluent, and plus San's Japanese was better. The only issue was that the Japanese were massive sticklers for rules and refused to listen to non-council members. A position that only a few of them held, and San was not one of them. Not yet.

"I'm going to get coffee. Want some?" San shook his head, his eyes darting to the quarrelsome leaders in front of him.

"You go. I'm going to stay here and clean up my notes a little," he said in clear carefully enunciated English for everyone, which was considerate of him, if anyone was even paying attention to the two of them. Seonghwa nodded, continuing in Korean.

"Yell if you need me. Or, y’know, when they are done."

Seonghwa only allowed himself a sigh when he stepped out of the room, after the glass door had slid shut behind him. He hated meetings.

Ok, untrue. He didn't mind them, meetings exist for a reason. Having meetings help put things in order, and anyone who knew him knew that his middle name is order. Meetings are fine. He knew that they were necessary. He just hated it when things got out of control and tempers run high. And stupid people. Mostly stupid people.

As he walked along the corridor, out to the main walkway, he could hear sounds of sparring from the level below. The Korean Institute, or KOI as most called it, was built for maximum functionality; they had long done away with the unyielding, marble and stone architecture that the American and European institutes favored, going for steel-grated platforms, solid concrete walls, and modern meeting rooms. But the pride of the KOI was the communal level, a space the size of 3 sprawling football fields that served as the canteen and sparring area, and a place for Institute-wide gatherings if there was a need. It was divided right down the middle by heavy screens of canvas to section out the mess hall from the sparring floor. His father had designed it to be a place they could gather, eat, and train. And it served those purposes perfectly.

The grates under his feet squeaked as he strolled out onto the main corridor. Seonghwa stuck close to the guard rail so that he could see how everyone was doing, going about their day. His phone felt strangely heavy and quiet in his hand as he tugged it out and put it back on the KOI network — Hongjoong taught him the do not disturb function last week, and it had been fantastic for when he was at meetings because it automatically let everyone know he was busy if they tried him.

While he waited for the messages to load, he glanced down into the sparring arena, he saw a flash of silver and crimson. This made Seonghwa stop immediately, eyes locking onto the source. There were only so many people with hair that shade of titanium, and all of them were supposed to be out on patrol or in the—

His eyes fell on a familiar figure who was standing at the edge of one of the sparring mats, with one of the bright red trainer zip-ups thrown over his shoulders, hood down. From where he stood, he could see that one of the silver-haired man’s arms was in a sling and the other was heavily bandaged, but it didn’t seem to bother the guy as he gesticulated animatedly at the group of trainees before him. Seonghwa's stomach dropped.

Yup. That was him alright. Of course it was.

As if on cue, his phone started to vibrate and ping like it was having some sort of electronic fit. There were about 20 missed calls, and one of the first messages was from Yunho.

“Hi, hyung, Mingi says the staff can’t find Hongjoong-hyung, so neither of us can come in to say hi. Do you know where he could have gone?”

Jongho’s one is less friendly, a single, terse line, “wheres hong edens pissed”.

It took every fibre of his being to stop his eyes from rolling. What makes you think I know? he grumbled internally as he tugged his stele out from where he had sheathed it to his belt, Why do they always assume I know, when he’s always just doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants? Seonghwa ran the implement up both the lightness and silent rune on his arm, then the neck, where his strength rune was. Then he swung his legs over the guard rail, and jumped.

He landed, and those close to him startled — it was expected seeing how he basically came falling out of nowhere, as quiet and as light as a leaf falling from a tree. They recovered from their shock enough to greet him; he threw them a quick smile, tucking his vibrating phone into his pocket and running off before any of them could start up a conversation. Usually he would have stayed to talk, but right now, he had a rogue Shadowhunter to capture.

Several others nodded to him as he passed, some of the younger ones even bowed. He replied all these greetings with a quick incline of the head, trying not to look uncomfortable. He's still not used to being the head of the institute, especially over and above his friends. His seniors and mentors. All the people who were older, and more experienced. The thought always made him feel strangely unsettled.

He shook the feeling off, eyes zeroing in on his target, like he was about to throw one of his knives at it. With how annoyed he was starting to feel, he thought, he just might consider throwing a blade or two at this troublesome asshat.

As he neared Hongjoong, he noted the expressions on the faces of the seven or eight teens gathered before Hongjoong. A few of them looked uneasy, some confused. Something’s up.

"And I know, for a fact, that Trainer Chungha would never teach you anything like that. That is not the way we handle our equipment, much less the training equipment. So it’s either we settle this now, or we will deal with this as we would by Clave Law." Hongjoong's voice was edged with acid, and his arm that was not in a sling was now akimbo. Even with all his injuries and honestly awful complexion, he still looked like a force to be reckoned with. It always amazed Seonghwa how he could soften into the kindest individual around those he loved, but cut the most frightening figure when he was tested. You never wanted to cross Kim Hongjoong. But that was not what Seonghwa was here to do.

“Hongjoong." The other man didn’t even jump, as if he already knew Seonghwa was behind him. Hongjoong gave him the barest of glances, then indicated for him to wait, his glittering, over-bright eyes sweeping across the group. For a beat, he didn’t say anything. Then he spoke, voice low and cold.

“Last chance. Either you own up right now, or you will be tried and convicted by the Silent Brothers for endangering your fellows, and I will ask them to add the charge of aiding and abetting. For all eight of you.”

Heads shot up immediately, and Seonghwa could see that some of them were wavering. Finally, a girl with a short, spiked pixie cut, Min, Seonghwa thought she’s called, cleared her throat.

“It was JunE. He did something with Gihyun’s mace, I overheard him, Leesan and Mong laughing about it in the changing room earlier.” One of the boys whose had his dark hair all slicked back turned and snarled at her immediately, and she flinched. JunE, Seonghwa assumed that one was called, looked he was about to lunge at the girl and chew her face off when Hongjoong stepped between the two of them, and the boy stopped. The teen was a whole head taller than Hongjoong, but the look on the latter’s face sent a chill down even Seonghwa’s spine. This boy did not know what he was in for.

“It was just for fun,” the boy barked, crossing his arms as if trying to appear bigger, “We didn’t know that Song Gihyun would do that with his weapon, swinging it like that—”

“JunE?” his eyes flitted to Seonghwa, and when he saw the look in his eye, he stopped short, “I think you should shut up, now.”

The boy’s mouth clamped shut. Hongjoong cast a look at the rest of them, fixing on two of the trainees who paled as soon as his gaze landed on them.

“Leesan, Mong.” They nodded, heads bowed, “All three of you, weapons off, and empty out your pockets. Personal items are not allowed in the Pit.”

JunE looked like he was about to protest, but Seonghwa stepped forward, properly this time. A few minutes later saw three senior Shadowhunters in the sparring area, some of whom had clearly been watching the situation play out, escorting the three teens down to the Pit, an in-house confinement unit for criminals. Some of the trainees gathering their classmates’ things to deposit them in Hongjoong’s office, while the rest were ordered to clean up the mat. It is only at this point that Seonghwa realised that there was actually a large patch of blood on the mat. He didn’t notice; he was too busy trying to figure out how Hongjoong was still standing.

“Hongjoong—”

“Not now, Hwa.” Hongjoong was walking away from him, towards the direction of where JunE and the other boys had been escorted. Seonghwa followed. He had to get this crazy idiot back to the infirmary, or Eden was going to have his head on a platter.

“And where are you off to now?”

“Ever heard of the phrase strike while the iron is hot? Where do you think I’m off to?” They were now out of the sparring area, going down one of the corridors that led to the elevators.

“You want to interrogate them now? You can’t be serious. Are you sure you should even be walking around like this?”

Hongjoong ignored him. They turned a corner and ended up almost crashing into San as the boy came out of nowhere. Seonghwa yelped and caught Hongjoong by his bandaged arm instinctively as San yelled in shock. The younger’s expression melted away into one of absolute relief when he saw who he almost ran into.

“My god, hyung! What are you doing here? We’ve been looking all over for you, I got a message from Yeonjun that he saw you in the Block (sorry for leaving the meeting, Seonghwa-hyung, they’re still quarreling by the way). Hyung! you’re supposed to be in bed, resting—" Hongjoong wasn’t paying to the words tumbling out of San’s mouth; he looked more interested in sidestepping the boy and continuing on his way.

“I’m fine. Tell them you found me and to stop looking.”

“Hyung, that’s not it, you should be in the medical wing. You’re not recovered yet.”

“Not now, San-ah, I need to go down to the Pit.”

San paled visibly, his eyes widening, “What? Why do you need to go down to the Pit? What’s going on, is it another invasion?”

“No, no, just some issues with the trainees. I need to go, don’t the two of you have a meeting you’re supposed to be chairing?”

“Hyung—"

Hongjoong tried to shake Seonghwa off, but the elder held on tight. He’d just noticed something, and it was making his blood run cold.

“Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong,” The tone of his voice made the other stop, “You’re bleeding, did you know that?”

Seonghwa held out one of his hands to the two foster brothers, and San’s eyes widened almost comically when he saw that his hyung’s palm was stained rusty red. As San started talking faster than either of them could comprehend, Seonghwa pulled away the side of the hoodie to look where he had grabbed onto Hongjoong’s arm; the bandages were slowly soaking through, turning a dark crimson. That would explain the staining.

“I’m not bleeding, that’s just dirt or something. It doesn’t hurt, San-ah—stop—” The other tried to argue, but San was already reaching for the neck of the loose t-shirt Hongjoong was wearing. With Seonghwa holding onto his left arm and his right arm immobilized, Hongjoong couldn’t stop him. The young man tugged down the collar and hissed angrily at whatever he saw.

“Then explain yourself. What is this?” Hongjoong sputtered. On his clavicle stood a fresh rune; It looked like a reverse thunderbolt with a long tail, connected to what looked like an ‘Exile’ rune.  He had never seen such a combination before, in all his years of learning runes, but he knew what Hongjoong could do. Unrecognisable runes on Hongjoong’s body was never good news.

“It’s nothing, it’s just something new I’ve been working on.”

“Kim Hongjoong.” San’s voice took on a dangerous edge, “Don’t make me call Jongho. You know he will tell Eden-hyung everything.”

“Choi San, I’m your hyung—”

“Not now you’re not,” the man turned to him, eyes wide as Seonghwa spoke up,  “Now you’re just an obstinate runaway patient. Under the care of a very irate head medic.”

Horror dawned on Hongjoong’s face. “He knows I’m gone? I thought he was working on Gihyun for another hour or so.”

Seonghwa glanced at San, whose smile was too sharp for it to be friendly, “Maddox-hyung was available to assist, so they were done in half the time. And guess whose bed he found empty?”

“He said I could leave the medical wing today, technically I just… self-discharged.”

“That would be enough to warrant another few nights in the infirmary.” San retorted as he fished out his phone, his eyes shooting to Seonghwa, who shrugged as an ‘of course’.

“It’s Eden-sshi, I wouldn’t expect any less. You’ll be there for another few nights, that’s all.” San made a satisfied sound at Seonghwa’s support, “He won’t let you off unless…”

Hongjoong looked frenetically from him, to San, then back to Seonghwa. The youngest of them was already typing away, the words filling up the little bubble at the bottom of the chat screen at an inhuman rate. He knew San ‘gamed’ (whatever that meant, he didn’t really understand the language those that were outbred used sometimes) with Yunho, maybe that’s why he could type so fast? Seonghwa could never do that.

“Unless what?”

San’s typing fingers slowed. Their eyes met, and even though San and Hongjoong were technically the parabatai here, Seonghwa understood the younger boy. Perfectly.

“Unless someone vouches for you.” Seonghwa raised his hand, a grin slowly spreading across his face, “Hypothetically, I could have come by to consult you on some of the meeting points and asked you to follow me back to the office.”

“You can do that?”

He shrugged as San stopped completely. The message had already filled up a quarter of the screen, and Hongjoong was shifting frantically on his feet, eyeing San’s finger.

“Orders from the Head of Institute overwrites that of any other staff under the Clave. I could help you out. But…”

Hongjoong’s eyes flashed to his, “But?”

“But only if you tell us what the rune is for.”

San’s finger was wiggling over the Send button now; both of them could see Hongjoong wavering.

“Why do you want to know?” he said. Seonghwa thought he heard a note of distrust.

“Hyung, we already know about your other runes, and it’s not like we tell you not to use them,” replied San, “We just want you to be safe.”

They must look quite odd, three full-grown men standing in the middle of a corridor, staring each other down over a smartphone. Phones were a rare sight in the institute, many of the more traditional hunters hated it. The youth were a little more open, especially those who were friends with the outbred hunters. Outbred Shadowhunters were the most fascinating people to interact with, and Seonghwa had never thought he would one day count some of his closest friends among them.

 “Fine!” Hongjoong relented, “It’s a numbing rune, it’s for the pain.”

San looked like he didn’t know whether he should smack Hongjoong, or smile from relief that the rune wasn’t some weird, angelic morphing shit. Seonghwa just wanted to smack Hongjoong.

“Numbing? So you can’t feel your injuries now?” Seonghwa felt the shout welling up in his chest, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep it down. KOI didn’t need to see their Temporary Head of institute screaming at their head of training and weapons, “Kim Hongjoong, do you know how dangerous that is? You didn’t even feel— by the Angel—”

The thought registered in his head and he felt his heart drop. He immediately released Hongjoong’s arm like it scalded him. He was holding onto his arm… did he cause the wounds to reopen and bleed? Crap, what if he aggravated his injuries, what if he made things worse? What if…

Hongjoong was shaking his head as San stepped away, dialing Jongho’s number, “The bleeding is not your fault. I was due for redressing when Gihyun came in, and usually the bandages soak through if we wait too long. the first two days it had to be changed every two hours because Eden couldn’t find a way to get the bleeding to stop.”

He smiled reassuringly, but somehow, it made Seonghwa feel even worse. He should have known better. He should have asked after his condition in more detail. It was his duty, both as a subordinate and a friend.

When the incident happened, Seonghwa was running a mission brief with Yeosang and his squad, and it was only after he dispatched them that he heard from a runner that the training excursion had gone south, there was an accident, and several of trainers and trainees had been injured, with Hongjoong being one of, if not the worst off. The graduating class of trainees had been scheduled to deal with a Dokkaebi* and its apparitions at one of the ports in Ulsan*, the recon team had stated it was just one of those pesky little gremlins and its illusions, but when the team of two trainers, one head of department and six trainees had gotten there, what they found was a faction of about five goblins that had managed to lure a Mizuchi* into Korean waters.

Seonghwa rubbed his clean hand on his forehead as Hongjoong lifted his arm to try and see the bleed, but his arm, stiff with wrappings, couldn’t be raised above his shoulder, so he looked quite comical, like he was trying to duck under his own arm.

“The jacket isn’t dirty, is it? I borrowed this from Chungha-noona, she would murder me if I got blood on it.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes; trust Kim Hongjoong to be more concerned about someone’s jacket than the fact that he was bleeding .

“Hyung, Jongho says Eden-hyung asks if you want to come back to the infirmary, or do you want to just move back into your room, since you were going to be let out today anyway,” Hongjoong shot Seonghwa a look that said told you I was okay to leave as Seonghwa took the phone from San.

“Jongho? This is Seonghwa, could I speak to Eden, please?” there was a pause, some rustling, and then a familiar voice spoke.

“This is Eden. Park?”

“Hi Eden-sshii, sorry about coming by to borrow Hongjoong. I was told he was allowed to leave the infirmary today, so I wanted to ask him about—”

“It’s alright, Park, I know the idiot snuck out after one of his kids got brought in. I checked the cameras. Stupid maniac,” Eden gave a long-suffering sigh, “Either way, he should be okay to spend the rest of his time recuperating in his room, it's just that someone will have to be around to help him change his dressings every six hours. Not my preferred arrangement, but if he wants to leave the medical wing, he's free to go. I don’t need my staff running around KOI like headless chickens, chasing down a flight risk, and I've had enough of his constant whining about going back to work. Brat can’t even hold utensils and feed himself, and he wants to do up reports? Please.”

It took everything in him to swallow the grin slowly taking over his face. He knew there was no fire to his remarks. Eden loved Hongjoong to bits and doted on him more than he cared to admit, but all of them knew that Hongjoong detested being a patient. It would likely cause all of them, Hongjoong included, a lot less stress if they allowed him to rest in his own room, than forcing him to stay in the infirmary to be fussed over by the nurses.

“But San’s already moved in with Yeosang and Wooyoung, and Jongho is leaving for China tomorrow with his squad. There’ll be no one in their room — ” Seonghwa stopped, an idea dawning upon him. San had been taking a look at the rune Hongjoong had drawn on his collarbone, and the two of them had been bickering in low voices about his reckless behaviour (I don’t get how you can’t hold a fork, but you managed to grip onto a stele to draw this. I was pissed off and I needed to talk to the kids okay. Trust me, it hurt like a motherf— and it’s so damn hard to write with my right hand in a sling. Which is a sign that maybe you shouldn’t be writing at all, stupid. Okay, there's no need to be rude.)

“Eden says you have to stay with someone who will help you with your bandages, would you like to temporarily move to my room?” San’s mouth instantly dropped open, as Seonghwa continued in what he hoped was an unhurried manner, “Because San, you’re sleeping at Woo’s now, right? And Jongho won’t be around from tomorrow until next week—”

Hongjoong gestured for the phone, and Seonghwa helped him clumsily get a grip on it before he pressed it to his ear, “Den-hyung? Yeah, Seonghwa said…”

As Hongjoong walked away from them to talk, Seonghwa turned back to San, whose mouth was still hanging open gormlessly. His speechlessness made Seonghwa feel self-conscious, quite suddenly.

“What, did I say something wrong? Wooyoung told me that you were all moving in together a while ago… and I thought it was probably to his apartment in Apujeong and not Yeosang’s room, he was going on about how he had finally bought his dream apartment. I haven’t seen any of you around for breakfast since last week so I assumed…”

San seemed to find his tongue, but he only managed a, “I did move out to stay with Yeosang and Wooyoung, but—” before Hongjoong came back, a satisfied grin on his face as he passed the phone back to San.

“Eden-hyung says I can stay with you. He says he’ll see me in your room in thirty minutes to help me redo my dressings.”

“Alright. San, adjourn the meeting upstairs, tell Sanada-san and Farquhar something urgent came up, and they have the evening to decide if they want to move forward with the plan proposed. Our institute’s stance is that no weapons are restricted, and that includes weapons that are regionally specific. I don’t see the point of the Japanese hunters having to learn how to use new weapons when theirs work just fine. If they try to argue, please remind Farquhar all the lessons and trainings are already confirmed to be conducted in English. That is the concession we made for their benefit and I think it's high time we reminded him of that." San nodded as he typed away at his phone; Seonghwa took a peek and saw that he was taking notes on some app. Seonghwa made mental note to learn how to do that.

"Ah, yes. Mingi and Yunho are probably hanging around the park because they can’t get in. Could you ask Yeosang to get them in, if he’s not too busy? Drop him a call, he should be free. Tell them that Hongjoong is with me, in my room, they can come right up. I’ll be with him to make sure he doesn’t run off again until Eden arrives.” San nodded and left, but not before shooting Hongjoong a stern look that said behave. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa, astonishment on his face.

“You don’t have to come with me, Eden can do my bandages by himself. You should go finish up the meeting.” Seonghwa sighed as he started prodding Hongjoong gently in the side until he started moving in the correct direction, towards the elevators that went up to the living quarters.

“I need to help dress your burns for the next few days, silly. If I don’t go with you, how am I supposed to learn how it’s done?”

The smaller boy’s mouth formed a comical 'O’ as they entered the elevator. Seonghwa's lip twitched upwards.

“Shall we go get some of your things first? Since you’re going to be staying with me.”

“Oh... Ah. Sure.”

They fall silent as the doors shut. Seonghwa couldn't help but steal a few glances at him, taking in his appearance properly for the first time that day — Hongjoong was generally quite pale, having lived in the city all his life, but Seonghwa was immediately struck by how easily he could see the toll his injuries were taking on him. He had dark smudges under his eyes, and he looked haggard, shoulders heavy with an invisible weight. He hadn't had the time to see him since the mission, despite having daily updates on how he's doing from Yeosang. Guilt filled his throat again, and he had to work hard to swallow it.

As the elevator went past the 4th floor, he cleared his throat, "So... How are you?"

"Hmm? Oh... I'm fine."

He eyed the other man, noting with slight amusement how Hongjoong purposefully averted his eyes as he answered. That it was a blatant lie. Seonghwa knew that recovery had been slow and painful. The usual healing runes didn’t work against whatever it was that the demon had in its spit. He knew that the burns that Hongjoong had sustained covered almost every area of the arm that he had used to shield his face from the attack. The serpent’s acidic poison had been more corrosive than previously thought, according to San, and had eaten through the clothing that Hongjoong had been wearing. He knew from Eden that a lot of the pain medication that worked for normal Nephilim and even the hybrids didn’t have much effect for him, given Hongjoong’s unknown genetic makeup. He just burned through it too fast, and that must be why he looked so tired. The pain must keep him from sleeping through the night.

"Did Eden say about how long until you can... work again?"

Seonghwa held back a wince at how cold and corporate that sentence sounded. He regretted it as soon as it left his lips — it wasn't the first question a friend would ask in such a situation. Seonghwa cared about the other man, he truly did, it's just that sometimes, around Hongjoong, words didn't come out the way they should. Everything that sounded better in his head just came out weird.

Hongjoong didn’t seem to notice. He exhaled softly, leaning against the back of the elevator, "He says it will be a few weeks before we can gauge the nerve damage. And another few more weeks for the skin to heal enough so I don't need the wrappings anymore."

“Oh. Okay.” He tried not to sound too concerned, to no avail.

“Well, at least it’s mostly just the left arm, my right arm’s great!”

“Your right arm is broken.” Seonghwa deadpanned, at which Hongjoong shot him a scathing look.

“I know, but at least it’s not roasted to a crisp. Broken limbs over stinky dragon acid spit any day.” Seonghwa couldn’t help but chortle at Hongjoong’s stubborn optimism, and his snort of laughter made his friend grin.

As little as he'd like to admit it, the older Shadowhunter had missed having him around, not just at work, but just… around. Seonghwa missed seeing the way his bright hair always stood in tufts when he came down for breakfast in the mornings, how Wooyoung would tease him about combing his hair, but he refused to comb it anyway, preferring to use what he called the natural comb (read: his fingers). He missed seeing him in his office when he walked past, seated at his desk and frowning over a report. He missed looking over and out onto the communal floor and being able to spot Hongjoong in the sea of people. Sure, his silvery, almost white hair made it easy, but all the warlock and Seelie hybrids had blonde or dyed streaks too — it was just him. Hongjoong’s presence always made it easy to find him in a crowd.

“How are the meetings going? I assume they’re still going?” asked the other.

“The Brits have been finding lots of things to complain about, so we have not made much progress in outlining the programme details.”

The elevator came to a halt at the 24th floor, where all the leaders and heads used to be housed. Seonghwa had never really liked that segregation. One of the first things he did as the new head was to break up the leadership level and place a head or a leader on every floor of the housing quarters, putting them in charge of those living on that level. He had given Hongjoong charge of the 24th floor, the old leadership floor, to show that he was serious about helping the outbred and hybrids assimilate with the pure-line Nephilim.

“Are they still going on about climate concessions for their people?” They fell into step easily, with Seonghwa hanging slightly back so he could see Hongjoong as he talked.

“I see that you've been keeping up with the minutes. Nah, that was yesterday. We’ve more or less settled that this morning, but then Sanada-san brought up his people’s usage of traditional weapons and suddenly Farquhar had a problem with that,” his friend rolled his eyes as they turned into a corridor of rooms, most with their doors closed. When they walked past some of the open doors, and there were people inside, they smiled brightly and waved to both of them, some even coming out to welcome Hongjoong back and to greet Seonghwa.

“What was the problem he had with the weapons? He seemed fine with our KOI weapons when I brought him for a tour through the stores last week, and we had a few Dang Pa* and Jukjangchang* on the racks, and Jisoo was cleaning out her Hyeopdo* while we were in there. She let him have a go with it. He seemed quite fascinated by it.”

“Some of the Japanese weapons are... special." Hongjoong stopped in front of his door and Seonghwa cast his eyes away as he carefully tapped in his password. The door beeped with an error code at his first attempt, but Hongjoong tried again, sticking his tongue out between his teeth as he tried to be precise with his bulky, wrapped fingers.

"Japanese weapons? What about them?" the door rejected his code again, and Hongjoong made a frustrated noise, "Stupid bandages. Do you mind helping me punch it in? The code's 10248m1t.”

"Ah, sure. 1...0... The Japanese weapons often come primed with magic. Not strong stuff, they have the usual rune carvings, but it is part of their ritual to have their prefectural shamans bless the weapons. What's the last part of the code?"

"8m1t. I remember of that. It doesn't change the character of the weapon much, right? As far as I know, it just helps the weapon act as a detector, similar to the American sensors we use." The door beeped a merry tune and it swung open, admitting them into the room.

"Correct. But Farquhar's concern is that this gives the Japanese an 'unfair advantage' in training. Took us a better part of the day to explain to him that demon-hunting was a cause, not a competition, but Farquhar can't seem get it into his thick skull, and Sanada-san likes to 'see the little man turn red' if my rusty Japanese can be trusted."

He found the room light around the same time as Hongjoong managed to switch on a lamp on the study facing the bunk bed. Their bed was a standard issue KOI bunk, except the bottom could sleep 2 instead of just one. When San was staying with them, Jongho and Hongjoong shared the double bed at the bottom, and San took the top bunk. The room looked slightly untidy, some articles of clothing on  the bed-rails and on the chair, but not as bad as Seonghwa thought it would. Being the head of two departments often kept Hongjoong up late at night, but out of consideration for his younger brother's sleep schedule, Hongjoong often spent those nights in his office. So whatever mess was in the room was probably Jongho's.

He followed the other's instructions to grab a duffel bag and folded some clothes that Hongjoong handed him into the bag. As they packed, He told the other about the rough outline he had for the programme. Hongjoong lobbied some input and questions about the programme structure while Seonghwa folded the clothes into uniform little bundles of 3 to 4 pieces of clothing. He liked things to be neat and orderly, alright, so sue him. It made for easier packing as well.

As he folded, Hongjoong used his leg to nudge open one of the drawers and started bringing over some underwear and socks over. Seonghwa clicked his tongue when it came to him in a knotted pile. In the periphery, Hongjoong sat down at the cluttered study desk while he sorted through the mess, half grumbling about the state of his clothing, half wondering aloud if he could push the representatives to approve the plan today and sign off on the orders. Most of the major issues had been straightened out, he mused as he tucked another bundle securely into the bag, all the issues that were being discussed now were minor.

"If they can come to an agreement, it should be just a matter of signing off so we can forward the documentation to the Clave," the final article of clothing went into the bag, a perfect fit. He made a satisfied noise, "There. Is there anything else you want to bring to my room?"

Silence.

When there was no response from the man in the chair, Seonghwa glanced up. The moment he saw Hongjoong's face, he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Hongjoong?"

Whatever color that Hongjoong had regained in the last fifteen minutes with Seonghwa had been bleached out. He sat slightly hunched in the chair, eyes fixed resolutely at the lamp on the table and lips pressed into a tight white line. Seonghwa got up immediately and went over, swiveling the chair around with care and placing a hand on his thigh. He could feel the other's breathing, it was shallow and uneven, his body was as tense as a coiled spring. Hongjoong's gaze flashed to Seonghwa, the man’s eyes were rimmed with red.

He felt something in his stomach flip. He was in pain, immense pain, he could see it etched in every line on his face. The silver-haired Shadowhunter gave a weak, breathy chuckle.

"I guess now we know how long that numbing rune lasts."

"Did it wear off? Are you..."

Hongjoong nodded jerkily. The young man’s eyes shuttered as he took a steadying breath; he was shaking like a leaf.

"Could you..." even as his friend spoke, his hand was already reaching for his stele. Then Seonghwa stopped.

In such a situation, Seonghwa knew that they should opt for a healing rune, or energy, but the healing rune did nothing for pain, and at this moment, the rune that Hongjoong had carved on his collarbone was standing in his mind like black ink on paper. A numbing rune... Hongjoong said he was working on it, and that was definitely an unofficial rune. If the Clave found that they were messing around with things like that...

"S'hwa?" Hongjoong's voice brought him out of his reverie, halting his racing thoughts in their tracks. The other man was listing sideways, his head tilted at an odd angle. A bright spot of panic sparked in his chest, then he realized that the man was just baring the side of his neck, where there was an expanse of smooth, unmarked skin, yet to be touched by an enemy's weapon or a comrade’s stele. He was staring at Seonghwa, gaze strained but expectant.

"Wha— sorry, did you say something?"

He nodded and took a deep breath, "I asked if you could help me with an energy rune? My... permanent one is covered up... so you should just go ahead and do another one."

"Energy Rune. Right, okay. Okay, I can do that." he tried to pretend he couldn't hear the surprise in his own voice as he hurriedly started working on his request. The older of the two made sure to be absolutely careful, letting Hongjoong press his forehead against his shoulder as he held the back of his friend's head gingerly, preparing to carve the rune into the space provided.

"Ready?"

"Just do it." Hongjoong barely flinched as the glowing tip of the instrument touched his neck, but Seonghwa felt his eyes flutter close, twin butterflies against the fabric of his thin white shirt.

It was only after the rune had glowed like a coal and sunk into the man's skin that Seonghwa let out a breath that he hadn’t known he had been holding. A beat, and Hongjoong gave a relieved sigh, still leaning on Seonghwa.

"Thanks." the older man shook his head mutely, not sure of what to say after such a charged event. The energy rune didn't do much for injuries, his mind supplied, but in a fix, it took the edge off the pain and gave the recipient an extra push to get wherever they needed to go before the enemy caught up. Using the energy rune for pain was often taught to them as a method to run away from the enemy, but Seonghwa often joked with Wooyoung about who exactly was the enemy; was it the demon, or the pain?

The thought occurred to him once again, but this time, after seeing the agony Hongjoong was in, it really didn't seem so funny anymore.

"Better?" He asked quietly as Hongjoong slowly drew away, inclining his head in a nod. He wasn't shaking anymore, and the look of pain had receded somewhat from his posture and his features.

"Slightly. Thanks," Hongjoong seemed to realise how close they were, so he pulled away a little more, "Everything in the bag?"

"Yeah, is that it?"

"That's all I need. Would you mind if I borrowed one of your towels? I can't bathe but I want to at least be able to wash my hair."

"Sure." He stood to grab the bag and slung it across his chest, keeping an eye on Hongjoong as the other leader rose slowly from the chair and they exited the room

"Eden-hyung should be at my room soon," Seonghwa stated as he closed the door. Hongjoong was watching him lock up, standing close to the wall and swaying slightly on his feet. The feverish look in his eyes worried Seonghwa; he felt a sudden urge to offer the slightly smaller man a piggyback ride.

"Can you walk? You can lean on me if you'd like." Hongjoong nodded, automatically shuffling closer to Seonghwa as they began their careful journey to the elevators. He held onto his right upper arm and basically held him up, his other hand hovering on the small of his friend's back in case he stumbled.

Eden was actually early, he was standing outside Seonghwa's room and scribbling away at a stack of paper on a clipboard as he waited. He was in his scrubs, his doctor's bag at his heel — a hefty-looking, soft leather satchel that had been a gift, if he remembered correctly, from Hongjoong. For all his quirks, Seonghwa had to admit that Hongjoong had taste.

It was a good thing Seonghwa's room as only a few doors away from the elevator, near the front of the corridor — he thought if Hongjoong had to walk all the way to the end, like they had for his room, he would have passed out halfway.

"Dennie-hyung," said Hongjoong, when they were close enough. The man looked up at his hoarse greeting, eyes narrowing as he took in the younger man.

"I'm shocked you're still standing." Eden said drily as he took over the role of holding up the injured Shadowhunter, who let out a weak laugh. Seonghwa tried not to eavesdrop as he got around to unlocking his room door.

"Energy Rune. Sorry I ran off, Saem*. Duty calls."  there was the sound of a hollow rattle as Eden rapped Hongjoong's head gently with his board, "Ouch. No fair, hyung, isn't it illegal to hit patients?"

Seonghwa's door beeped open as Eden retorted, "No one called you, you just went off by yourself. And since you've insisted on being discharged, you are now no longer my patient. So if I need to punish you, I will."

"Kinky." he heard Hongjoong remark weakly, and another rattle as Eden tapped him with the clipboard again for his insolence. He held the door open for Eden to guide Hongjoong to the huge, neatly-made bed. It was a good thing Seonghwa had put in a special request for a king-sized— it took a pretty penny out of his savings, but it was more comfortable for him. And, he thought belatedly as he set down the duffel bag, Hongjoong. For now, at least.

Eden made Hongjoong sit near the headboard and motioned for Seonghwa to come over after he turned up his lights. The internal ventilation system hummed gently overhead as Seonghwa helped Hongjoong take off the jacket while Eden rummaged through his medical bag.

"I need a hook or some kind, and something we can hang an IV from." Eden glanced up at the wall that the bed was leaning against, eyeing the metal lattice that Seonghwa had installed there to hang pieces of art, artifacts of interest, trinkets, as well as letters and notes from his family and loved ones, "That thing, how secure is it?"

"I used it to dry out a rune-book that got wet in the rain once. I hang my blades from it sometimes."

"And then you sleep under it?" the medic said, as he returned to pulling materials out of his bag, "with the knives there, over your head?"

Huh, he never thought of it that way. Now that Eden has said it, it does seem...

"Well..."

"Y'know what, don't answer that. I don't want to know, " Hongjoong, despite his pallor and the way he was swaying slightly, even as he sat, was grinning away at Eden's grumbling, "All you Shadowhunters, I have no idea what goes through those thick skulls of yours sometimes. How all of you have survived this long without a proper medical department, I don't even want to know — sit against the pillows and pass me your arm."

Hongjoong slowly but obediently followed Eden's instructions as the medic pulled on a pair of gloves. Seonghwa could see him trying not to flinch as he extended his damaged limb; it honestly made his heart ache.

"Can I help?"

Eden nodded as he supported Hongjoong's arm, so he didn't have to strain himself holding it up.

"A hook for the drip, and I need water. Warm would be best, but we need it to be clean. Do you have boiled water anywhere?"

"I usually keep some in a thermos, I boiled it last night."

"That will do. Put another kettle of water on if you can and bring the thermos of water over in your biggest bowl."

As it turned out, dressing burn wounds was not as easy as Seonghwa thought. Within the next five minutes, Eden had filled Seonghwa's head with so many names of materials and instructions that Seonghwa felt like he was on a rollercoaster. Hongjoong looked apologetic, although Seonghwa could not really tell if he felt bad for the things that were being thrown at his friend, or he was just grimacing at the pain. Probably both.

When Eden finally stripped off all the wrappings on his arm, Seonghwa had work hard to swallow his shock, but a sharp inhale still escaped. Hongjoong's glazed eyes flitted to his, and the young man offered him a wan smile.

"It's okay, it looks worse than it feels."

Eden made a disbelieving noise at the back of his throat, but did not comment on that, instead asking Seonghwa to move closer so he could demonstrate how to clean the wounds.

"See those? Second degree burns. Those are like the kinds we get if we accidentally touch a hot stove. But these ones here; these are different. This whole area doesn't hurt at first but it is actually the worst hit — these are third and fourth degree burns. With these, the nerves, those cells that react to pain, they are all gone. But after that, the cells get inflamed because the body reacts to fight against infection and injury. Then the pain ramps up, all the way up."

"That sounds..." Seonghwa struggled to find words, but he couldn't. Eden just nodded, his eyes grim as he started cleaning.

"Those will scar, but that's not what I'm worried about. Even when they heal, the nerves may not. Not having impaired nerve response later on comes with its own set of problems, especially when it comes to pain."

"I don't think it's a problem," Hongjoong said faintly. Both Seonghwa and Eden shot him the same withering look simultaneously, but the boy's eyes were closed. He was so pale that Seonghwa could see the lavender veins streaking through his eyelids.

They had just cleaned the burns, and Eden was teaching Seonghwa about the ointment and special gauze padding they were to use when there was a sharp rap on the door.

"I'll get it. You continue applying the gauze." Seonghwa took Eden's place beside Hongjoong, and the other Shadowhunter cracked his eyes open as he felt Seonghwa's weight settle on the bed.

"You okay?" His eyes met Hongjoong's immediately, and he almost laughed from how ridiculous the question was. The silver-haired Shadowhunter was blinking owlishly at him as he waited for an answer; he really didn't look like he was joking.

"Are you asking me if I'm okay?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice as he lay another piece of the tacky gauze down. 

"Yeah, are you?"

"Joong, I'm perfectly fine."

"Are you sure? Your eyebrows are doing the thing."

"What thing?"

"You know, that thing they do when you are thinking about something bad, but you're also trying to pretend that you're not thinking about something bad?"

"…I—"

"Park Seonghwa, I can hear the two of you chitchatting. You better be done when I get back, if not I'm taking the patient out of your care and back to the infirmary." Both of them clamp their mouths shut at Eden's call; Seonghwa put all his focus into placing the gel-covered squares on his friend's arm, trying not to meet Hongjoong's gaze.

Eden returned just as he covered the last bit of Hongjoong's (eroded, raw, painful) skin with the bandage and he made a satisfied sound at Seonghwa's work. He left him to finish up with the dry bandages as he went about taking off Hongjoong's sling to set up a morphine drip. Not wanting to distract the medic, Seonghwa quietly continued with his task, waiting till Eden was mostly done before asking.

"Who was that at the door, Eden-nim?"

"San and Yeosang with two gangly idiots covered in mud. I sent them away to wash up before they visit their friend."

Hongjoong's eyes flew from where he had been examining the bag of morphine to Eden when he heard the description, "Two gangly... Wait, hyung, was that Mingi and Yunho at the door? Why did you send them off?"

"I already said why. They'll be back, don't worry," Eden said, "Park, Sannie says that he ended the meeting and the representatives will contact you by the set deadline."

"Hyung, but you know them, it's Mingi. And Yunho." Seonghwa was not sure if he should laugh or flush at the pleading edge that Hongjoong's voice took on. Eden, however, had years of experience with Kim Hongjoong's whining. He ignored him, tacking a large piece of medical tape down on his arm to secure the butterfly needle to his inner elbow.

"They were biohazards. No amount of whining can change the fact that they both needed a good shower."

"Why were they covered in dirt anyway?" wondered Seonghwa as he slowly wound the roll of bandages around Hongjoong's arm. Eden snorted as he packed his things away.

"I asked them exactly that. The two overgrown children were picking flowers."

"Flowers? They probably picked them for me, and you chased them away."

"Yeah, well, most regular 22-year-olds just buy them from a florist, not dig through mud to get them."

"They can't help that it rained this morning — they're just trying to be nice."

Eden used a container that he had in his hand to tap Hongjoong gently on the head, his eyes disapproving. The silver Shadowhunter scowled.

"Stop your whining, you aren't five," he turned to Seonghwa as Hongjoong pouted, placing the container on the bed between him and Hongjoong, "Park, these are all the materials you will need for the rest of the week. If you run out of anything, just send Wooyoung or Yeosang to come get it from me."

"Ah..." He said hesitantly. Eden seemed to catch on, and he corrected his statement.

"Right. Well, send San or Yeosang then. They'll know where to find me."

Seonghwa nodded with thanks as Hongjoong sat up straighter, his arm almost getting pulled out of Seonghwa's grasp.

"Hey, stop moving. I'm not done."

"Why can't Seonghwa send Woo? Seonghwa, why can't you send Wooyoung to get stuff from Eden-hyung?"

Seonghwa cleared his throat uncomfortably as Eden made a noise that sounded like a mix between a cough and a laugh. Hongjoong was now staring at them with confusion.

"I'll explain later." he said as Eden stood, doctor's bag in one hand and his clipboard in another.

"Well, I need to be off. My phone's been going off for the past five minutes, so I suppose Maddox wants more coffee." Seonghwa wasn’t sure if that was a joke. With Eden, only Hongjoong seemed to be able to tell what he was thinking. Maybe Maddox as well. Seonghwa didn’t understand the man.

"See you, hyung. Tell Maddox-hyung I'm sorry I gave him the slip."

"I'm not that dumb. Do it when you see him, face his wrath yourself. But call me when you do it. I do enjoy watching a good scolding, every now and then."

"You're evil."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, kiddo." Eden turned to leave, but at the last moment, glanced back and levelled a sharp look at him, "Be careful with him, Park. If you break him, I will break you."

Then the room door beeped open, then clicked shut, and he was gone.

There was pin-drop silence, then Seonghwa gave a low whistle.

"Ooo.... kay, what was that?" He felt Hongjoong shrug. Seonghwa turned, and Hongjoong looked right back at him, ears pink, eyes shining. Seonghwa was held in his gaze for a golden moment, and then he dropped his own eyes, blushing and feeling strangely warm.

Bandaging, right. He was working on bandaging his friend's arm.

They sat quietly for a while. Seonghwa wasn't quite sure what to say, once again, a problem that only seemed to present when he was with Hongjoong. But now, as he wound the roll of bandages around and around his (intelligent, stubborn, fiercely independent) friend's arm, he wondered if it was because they had nothing to say, or was it because there were just so many things that he was leaving unsaid, that the silence just hung there with all the swirling thoughts in his head and his heart, just waiting and willing him to do something. Say something. Anything.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, "Anyway, back to what hyung said. Why can't you send Wooyoung to get more supplies?"

"... We aren't talking. Not right now." In the corner of his eye, he saw an eyebrow quirk up.

"That's new. Aren't y'all pretty close? He's like your brother."

Wooyoung is my brother. I see him as my biological younger brother. I would kill for him. Seonghwa's words from a past conversation reverberated between them, unsaid. He could feel Hongjoong's eyes burning into the crown of his bowed head and he knew that the man remembered those words.

"Uh..." He almost lost his grip on his roll of bandages, "Well, he's pissed."

"He is? Strange, when I saw him this morning, he didn't seem angry. Still as talkative and chipper as ever."

"Well, that's because he's not pissed at you."

"And he's pissed at you?"

"Yes."

A pause.

"Oh."

The sticky gauze was almost fully covered by the dry bandaging. Seonghwa couldn’t see the color of Hongjoong's damaged skin anymore.

"Why is he angry at you?" Most times, Seonghwa was glad that Hongjoong was not one to beat about the bush. This was not one of those times.

"He's mad I didn't come to visit," he said. When he saw the other's puzzled expression, he added hurriedly, "You. He's angry that I didn't come to see you, I mean."

"That's why you both aren't talking? Because he's angry at you for being busy?"

"Well, yeah. Jongho too."

"Huh."

There was nothing but deafening silence as he reached Hongjoong's hand, then fingers. Seonghwa slowed his movements, concentrating on twisting the wrappings carefully around each digit. The process was painstakingly slow and careful, but Hongjoong didn't flinch as Seonghwa maneuvered the cloth over, around, and between his fingers. The older Shadowhunter tried to pretend he could not feel Hongjoong's eyes on him as he went on, letting the shape of the (delicate, gentle, fragile) fingers get swallowed up by the coarse fabric of the bandages. His heart was beating a tattoo into his ribs.

At last, the roll was cut, and the loose end of the bandage was fastened down, on the back of Hongjoong's hand. He felt a little breathless, like he had just sprinted a mile.

"Done." His lips uttered, but it was not what he meant to say. It was never what he meant to say.

"Done." Hongjoong echoed. Seonghwa looked up at him, full in his face. In that moment he's struck by how easy it would be to lean forwards and—

"Hwa?"

"Good job." He blurted, involuntarily. Both of them stared each other, before Hongjoong let out a single breathy laugh. Seonghwa felt his ears burn. Why.

"Good... job? For?"

"For..."

Now you've gone and gotten yourself into a situation, the voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Eden, let's see how you wriggle out of this one, Park.

"... Letting me, uhm... tie.... I mean. For letting me... help you... no wait, not that..." A perfect time for his brain to run out of words. Seonghwa wanted to evaporate right there and then.

"For being a good patient?" Hongjoong supplied, an impish grin spreading across his gorgeous face, "For not fussing and whining?"

"I—"

There was laughter in Hongjoong's eyes.

"So what do I get for my good behavior? Are you going to give me a sticker, doc?"

The teasing sent a rush of blood to Seonghwa's head, and in the spur of the moment, his frenzied brain decided what the heck. To hell with it. All of it.

"I don't have stickers, but I can give you this."

Without waiting for a response, Seonghwa adjusted his hold on Hongjoong's wrist. He lifted Hongjoong's hand to his lips and pressed his lips lightly, but deliberately, to the back of his hand, where he had secured the bandage. He didn't lift his eyes to see Hongjoong's expression, he (was scared) continued, gentle and methodical, tracing the line across the knuckles with his lips, before ending with five kisses, each pressed carefully to every single one of the other's bandaged fingertips.

When he was done, he could swear the world had been leeched of all sound. Neither of them were breathing.

Seonghwa lowered Hongjoong's hand slowly, waiting with bated breath for a response. When none was forthcoming, he looked up, mouth forming the shape of an apology — in that instance, all he saw was a pair of brilliant, inscrutable eyes, a smattering of delicate freckles that he'd honestly never noticed before, dashed across the angular bridge of Hongjoong's nose, his eyelashes, lightened by the sun, before the boy was too close and he couldn't see anything anymore.

Their lips met, so gently at first that Seonghwa was sure that he imagined it, then he tasted the sweetness of Hongjoong's breath, and the electricity of the sensation jolted him into existence.

They were kissing.

And like a gentle breeze tumbling down a bright, grassy hill, through thickets of spring flowers, Seonghwa kissed him back with enthusiasm, delighted at the little hum of satisfaction his action elicited from the other. Their breaths mingled as his lips learned the shape of Hongjoong's, each dip, each rise, each irresistible curve. He savored every bit of it, his hand reaching for Hongjoong's neck instinctively to cradle his head, his fingers melting into his soft, feathery hair. The best thing about everything was that he could feel Hongjoong leaning into his touch, and he could taste his soft exhales, and that this was real. This was real. Hongjoong was kissing him. Holy shit.

He came up for air, but Hongjoong didn't stop. It was like he was a man who had spent months in the desert, dying of thirst, and Seonghwa was a nice, tall glass of ice-cold water. He felt everything; Hongjoong's lips followed the edge of his jaw, meandering upwards until it reached the middle of his forehead, and then it trickled down his bridge, swift, little pecks until he gave him a final kiss, just at the very tip of his nose, as soft as a rosebud.

Seonghwa pressed their foreheads together, and his even exhales a distinct contrast to the quiet staccato of Hongjoong's breathing. He was astounded, there was no other word for it. Such joy — he had never felt like this before, and it was like he had just stepped out on a frigid winter day into a puddle of sun, and the light embraced him with open arms. It felt warm, it felt wonderous. It felt like coming home.

"Wow." he finally managed, opening his eyes, "You didn't tell me you could kiss like that."

Hongjoong laughed, his breath tickling the top of Seonghwa's lips and sending a quiver down his spine.

"You never asked."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Maybe."

Now it was his turn to laugh as Hongjoong withdrew, leaning back against the pillows. His eyes were shining, twin stars beneath the slow flitter of his lashes. Wings, butterfly wings; he remembered the feeling of them on his shirt and wondered what they would feel like against his skin.

He reached out and brushed a lock of silver hair out of Hongjoong's face, a move, he later realized, that he often used on those he loved. But unlike the others, Hongjoong didn't blush and shy away from his touch — instead, he looked straight back at him, his eyes piercing through. It felt weirdly unsettling and exhilarating at the same time knowing how little Hongjoong cared about the divides, the lines. He didn't care that both of them were who they were, that this would mean fraternization across so many areas, leadership, ancestry, bloodline, upbringing. Hongjoong didn't care. He had never given a single fuck since the day they've met, Seonghwa realized. To him these were just lines drawn in dust by someone else, and he didn’t waste time going around them – he just saw a path, and he stepped.

"Your eyebrows are doing the thing again," a whisper drew him back to the present. Hongjoong's bandaged arm was resting gently on his knee, but it wasn't gripping anything or demanding anything. It just rested, a warm weight, "Thinking again?"

"Yes." his lips betrayed his instinctive desire to throw a veil over everything that he held inside, "I have to."

"Bad things again? Or there's some good in it this time?" the question sounded more like a statement. It cut through his whirlpool of thoughts, a beam of a lighthouse through a stormy night, and suddenly Seonghwa didn't know what his worries were anymore. It wasn't that the trouble no longer existed; it was still tricky, their positions, their lineage, where they had been raised. All the way down to how they worked, what they were taught, what they valued. Everything was still there, it didn't disappear.

Hongjoong's eyes were searching his face, calm and gentle, waiting for a response. The only one that Seonghwa offered was a smile and, lifting Hongjoong's hand again, feather-light kiss on the other's knuckle.

Whatever it is, it's worth it, he thought as Hongjoong grinned, a startlingly beautiful thing.

By the Angel.

Seonghwa closed the distance between them, touching their foreheads once again. They were nose-to-nose.

Hongjoong is worth it. To him, Hongjoong will always be worth it.

Then Hongjoong made the distance between them lip-to-lip and he was gone.