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Chapter Text

Their bodies are sore, beaten and bruised, black and blue, but they're still going. Sangwoo's holding Ali's hand tightly, panting heavily as he leads them through the dark, through the thick barks of towering trees. He can't let go, Ali is his anchor and lifeline. Sangwoo leads them, Sangwoo talks for them and sorts out their accommodation, figures how long they can spend in one place before it becomes too risky. And Ali is their strength and their heart. He's strong and can fight off the masked men if needed (he hates doing so, and Sangwoo hates watching it) but he's more than capable. He also uses his words to haggle another night at warm hostels and despite all the harsh things thrown their way, Ali keeps them calm. Ali keeps Sangwoo calm, he reminds Sangwoo why they're doing this.

He doesn't know how long they've been running but he knows it's been a while because his fingers are stiffly interlocked with Ali's and his muscles are on fire. It's quieter, they can't hear footsteps behind them but Ali hasn't decided they can stop so he doesn't, he pushes himself forward until he sees an opening. Another road. A new place.

He feels it faintly, Ali tugging his hands so he slows down, mouth dry and head pounding. But they've done well. They're safe. They can stop.

Sangwoo bends over, hands resting on his knees as he inhales air greedily. Ali is doing the same. He's occasionally glancing back to check that they can stop, it seems they're always playing a game.

"Where shall we go?" Sangwoo asks breathlessly, cocking his head towards Ali. The younger shrugs. He's leaning against a tree, head tilted back, looking at the stars.

"I don't know Hyung. We're in the middle of nowhere."

Sangwoo nods.

"Let's just keep walking." Ali suggests. "We've got to end up somewhere."

Sangwoo nods again, mouth parched because he hasn't drank water all day. They keep walking.

The road is empty so they walk on it, a small space between them as they tiredly stumble ahead. Streetlights are their only saviours, lighting them a safe path to walk on. They haven't had time to change their clothes so Ali is still in his old windbeater and brown crew neck and Sangwoo is absurdly dressed in his ridiculous grey suit though he's lost his blazer so he's just in his shirt. At nights, Ali offers him his jacket to wear, so he's not cold and Sangwoo always gives it back in the mornings.

"Ali we should rest there." Sangwoo points out a huge billboard on the ground, it's a street sign and it's been deserted in the dirt. "Angle it a little higher and we can sleep behind it."

Ali's brown eyes travel towards the sign and he's analysing it. Sangwoo watches him quietly as he does so and then Ali wordlessly nods. Sangwoo let's out a sigh.

The two men approach the huge sign and Sangwoo realises it's bigger than he thought. But Ali is still walking up to it and maybe he's okay with lifting it up. They've reached it and Sangwoo tries to figure out where to put it. Quiet and calculating as usual, but Ali's already picked it up, grunting a little with effort as he propels it against a tree bark. And yes, Sangwoo had picked him in the sixth game for his strength but it still never failed to amaze him how the shorter (not by much) man easily managed to lift such heavy objects. He often finds himself amused by peoples reactions when they witness Ali's strength themselves.

"Is that okay, Hyung?"

He looks up at Sangwoo with big, brown eyes. Always a little anxious and needing reassurance. Like he's always waiting for Sangwoo to snap and criticise his skills. Sangwoo knows it's because Ali is still a little self conscious about his skin colour and worth. He doesn't need to imagine that Ali has been discriminated for it before because people are cruel.

"It's good." He nods and catches Ali's eye. They brighten a little and Sangwoo is content.

They settle on the ground, Ali unzipping his jacket and handing it to the older man. Sangwoo hesitates every night but it's more logical. Ali's crewneck is long sleeved and keeps him warm, he never complains and he's always so adamant so Sangwoo takes it.

It's Ali's turn to sleep first, Sangwoo keeping watch; the Pakistani wastes no time crossing his arms and leaning against a tree bark. His eyes are still open, questions brewing within the dark circles. Ali's smart enough to figure out the answers but he likes hearing Sangwoo speak.

"Hyung?" He calls softly.

Sangwoo hums quietly. His back resting on the billboard, legs up and against his chest, his arms rest on his knees tiredly. His glasses are in Ali's jacket pocket because it's dark and he can't see far in the dark. His hair is rumpled and greasy and he envies the other man because it's been, what, four days on the run? And his hair looks the same. Soft curls cascading everywhere and maybe Sangwoo has noticed they've gone fluffier but not by much and he still looks good, presentable.

They're tired out from running all day, stomachs empty but they're alive and that's got to count for something.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Still in Yeouido." Sangwoo replies.

Ali nods. His eyes flutter shut but he's still thinking. Sangwoo watches him. The billboard shadows them away from the streetlights. They're cramped up on the floor, in the dark abandoned in a corner and Sangwoo's feet are touching Ali's. The leaves on the tree Ali is resting on aren't thick and if Sangwoo looks up, he can see the stars.

He doesn't see them much: in the big city the air is polluted and in his childhood, he never cared for such simplicities. He can't help but scoff. This is the third time he's found himself using their presence to distract himself from the man ahead of him.

"Ali?" He hopes he's not sleeping. "Are you sleeping?"

"No."

Sangwoo nods and looks down at his hands. They haven't had an opportunity like this, to just sit and talk. The corrupt businessman craves to know more about his partner.

"Why were you running?"

He starks Ali's interest because the man's eyes open and his head tilts forward. He looks like how he did in the Games. Curious and tired, there's fear in his brown eyes.

"That night, a few weeks ago. In front of the 7/11. Do you remember?"

Sangwoo knows he does.

Ali thinks a lot before he speaks, Sangwoo has noticed.

"From the police. I stole some money." He sounds so tired and Sangwoo wishes they could book a hotel room tonight instead of sleeping on the rough floor in the woods. But by the time they would've found a place to rest, the sun would be up.

"My boss hadn't paid us wage for six months. He was using us and I needed the money quick." Ali's looking far out in the dark of the night, he talks in the past and Sangwoo knows he's lost in his memories. He sounds far away.

"We got into a fight and there were machines everywhere. I didn't mean to, I didn't know. But his fingers got caught in the machines and it was too late. I ran and ran and soon there were police following me."

He's finally come back from his daze and looks at the older man.

"You were running too?" He asks.

Sangwoo nods and clears his throat. The sleeves of Ali's jacket are covered with grease and dust, no doubt from his workplace and the past few days they've spent on the run, but the warmth from Ali's skin still lingers in the sleeves and it keeps Sangwoo warm too.

"I've been running from the police for a while." He admits. For the first time. Sangwoo's never had anyone to talk to and confide in. It's better than they say: getting that weight off his chest. He feels like he can breathe a little better. But he feels pathetic and cheap, too, and he hates it. Ali won't judge him and he hates that too because he should be judged. He's selfish and only thinks for himself.

"It's funny, that we both were doing the same thing, don't you think?" There's no humour in his words. They're both just exhausted. Ali listens regardless, like he's hearing a story for the first time. He's always eager to learn about Sangwoo. Not just Sangwoo but about the world and other people around him but the businessman likes to pretend that Ali only has eyes for him.

"Tomorrow," he begins. "I'll find us a warm hostel and we'll sleep well." He catches Ali's eyes and looks at him with intent. "I promise."

Ali offers him a weak smile but it's a meaningful one and it strikes a small match within Sangwoo's heart, melting the cold iciness within him. Ali always smiles at him and he wonders how the man does it, how he's always so optimistic. He's thankful for the small sanctuary Ali gives him.

"Sleep." He whispers. "You should sleep. I'll wake you up soon."

"Okay." Ali doesn't refuse, he'll need all the sleep he can get.

Sangwoo watches him doze off, a little cold and a little heartbroken but there are worser things to feel.

He's all alone now and he takes the time to stare at Ali. His gorgeous skin, thick hair, the caverns of his eyes that look deeper in the dark. His breathing is light and he looks peaceful. Sangwoo likes seeing Ali without the frowns and creases from stress. He can't help but let his mind run off to that night: the second time they officially met, after the first monstrous game.

Sangwoo knew Ali had voted to leave, he was watching. He wonders if Ali knows that he voted to stay. What would he have to say about that?

The tired man shakes his head and fast forwards a little after the voting. He's back, half naked with his vision blocked off and his clothes thrown in a heap by his side. Sangwoo remembers hearing the soft groaning of another man and the feeling of rough concrete on his skin.

With all his strength, Sangwoo had sat up. His hands were tied up with the rope but he was adamant and successful in pulling off his blindfold. It was late night and they had been dumped on a random track. He looked around, checking there wasn't anyone passing by and then he noticed him. In the dark, Sangwoo couldn't make out who it was but his build was strong. It was clearly a man and he was on his side, moaning softly, he seemed to be awaking. Sangwoo was in disbelief and shock; he couldn't believe they had just been abandoned on a side road.

The ropes on his legs were tied securely but not too tightly, obviously, so they could untie it themselves and leave. He let out frustrated growls, feeling angry and weak. He hated them for doing this to him and hated himself for getting into such a situation.

"Sir?" A small voice called out, still laced with sleep. "Excuse me, Sir? Where are you?"

His voice seemed familiar and it didn't take Sangwoo long to realise he had been dumped with Gi-hun's saviour. Someone selfless and kind. He relaxed at the thought.

"Roll a little more to your right. I'll help you."

The foreigner nodded and thanked him quietly, he rolled into Sangwoo's knees and blushed. Under the faint streetlight, Sangwoo could make out the red tint on his cheeks. The blindfold was black like his own and soft curls fell over it. The man stopped thinking and instead reached forwards to slip his fingers through the side of the cloth. His skin brushed against the thick hair and he savoured its warmth and fluffiness but only for a second before the cloth came loose and fell. He finally got to see Ali.

The man opened his eyes slowly, smart about the sudden light changes and blinked rapidly to clear his eyes from the blurry haze. They both seemed to be blushing a little.

"Thank you Sir." He mumbled, staring up at Sangwoo.

Sangwoo only nodded.

"Pass me your hands."

Ali listened and Sangwoo worked on untying them, it didn't take long and soon his hands were free. He looked at Sangwoo gratefully and before he could offer his hands, Ali had started on them. His strong fingers undoing the knots much quicker than he had. He moved to Sangwoo's legs, completely freeing him and Sangwoo stood up, body stiff. He picked out his clothes and placed Ali's besides him as he worked on the last knot around his ankles.

It was quiet as they dressed. Sangwoo slipping into his suit and yet again returning to his shitty mask of success. As he tugged on his blazer, Ali called out for him, voice soft as always.

"Sir? Where are we?"

The same question he had asked today.

The businessman had to look around for a sign, anything. The towering buildings with their bright city lights gave away that they were in Yeouido, the heart of finance in Seoul. How ironic.

"Yeouido."

The two had walked all the way to a nearby 7/11 and Sangwoo bought the ramyeon. Ali was so grateful, Sangwoo still remembers how bright and round his eyes were when Sangwoo picked up two cups. And then when he handed him his phone. He had no clue what Ali was saying but his voice was softer than usual, it held something Sangwoo had never heard before and it wasn't hard to guess he was speaking to family. A loved one?

He remembers every moment with Ali; he laughs wickedly. How cruel was his fate? Forcing them to meet not once, not twice but three times. Three times alone but not completely because they had each other. Three dreadful games before Sangwoo realised Ali was special and his heart refused to ignore him. Three mental rejections before he gave up and let the man squeeze his way into Sangwoo's heart. The night they were on guard duty was his downfall.

Sangwoo had never been an idiot, always so smart and logical. The pride of his town. He never missed the smallest of details. Oh how that tortured him, he'd much rather be oblivious or an idiot. He had assumed Ali had a family to go back home to and couldn't help but ask and crush his own heart because Ali was married. And he had a son, a (nearly) year old boy. Both waiting for him back home. Of course he did, why else would he be here? He wasn't selfish like Sangwoo.

The business man stops thinking back and instead stares emptily at Ali. The sleeping man had curled into himself as he dozed. Sangwoo didn't know Ali's plans, didn't know where he was headed and when they would go on their own paths and say goodbye so he savoured his presence for as long as he could. Shuffling his leg a little to be pressed against Ali's. It kept him sane.

Against all good judgement and logic, Sangwoo had inevitably fallen in love. His first love and most certainly his first heartbreak. Oh how cruel. How unfair and injust. To make fate twist and allow him to meet Ali a few years too late. Did they know Sangwoo would, for the first time, love someone? Did they know they Ali and Sangwoo would form such a bond in these circumstances?

Of course they did.

The world was wicked and never liked to let him rest. Ali was taken and Sangwoo was empty and he wished with every atom in him for a miracle to happen, to travel back in time so Ali could've met him first and loved him first. But wishes only came true for good children and Sangwoo had spent too many years committing crimes.

Chapter Text

A new day meant new beginnings, a chance to be a better person than you were the day before but for Ali it meant another day wasted for the masked men, another day of pent up anger and an even worse fate if they were to be found. He awoke gently to a strange blue tone painting the world. It was obviously early morning: Ali usually left his home during this type of sky, starting his journey to work. His eyes slowly parted, the world was coming back to him in random tones of blue and faint lines.

It took him a few more moments to rouse himself and when he finally was sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes with his wrists. His fingers weren't clean. He noticed Sangwoo. The man was asleep, somewhat at peace, it relieved Ali knowing that he wasn't having a nightmare. They didn't happen often but when they did, he'd wake up to Sangwoo's red rimmed eyes and a tired raise to his lips. Sangwoo rarely smiled. Sometimes, Sangwoo would insist Ali to sleep the whole night because he wouldn't take his turn to rest. He must have been tired because he fell asleep without waking Ali, a severe mistake but they had been lucky.

Luck. They didn't have much of that before, Ali's hoping fate has something better planned.

The Pakistani knows the sun will rise soon, he's guessing two more hours at the least. So he looks around at the empty road, trying to find anything useful or helpful but it was barren. He kinda knew they were helpless here anyway. So he looks at the older man. Thinking.

Ali thinks a lot and Sangwoo is kind of permanently quiet. He's always thinking or always remembering, it seems. Unless they're on the run.

Ali can't do anything but look ahead, where Sangwoo is sitting up against the billboard. They're sheltered well and if it were to rain Sangwoo would be completely dry and Ali slightly damp. Ali knows just how tired the man is. He looks comfy in Ali's windbeater. And kind of beautiful too. Ali always had a good mind; a kind one. He always saw the best in people, he thought it made his dull days a little more bearable. So he's sat here admiring Sangwoo. The man is hunched over, hands still on his knees and his lips are pressed together. Skin soft and delicate and hair messy and tumbling onto his head. He relishes this side of Sangwoo, the peace.

He wonders why Sangwoo's here. How he got in debt. And who he can go back to. Ali doesn't want him to be alone. He's not the smartest but he's certainly not dumb and he fears if he leaves the man alone then he'll get lost somewhere in his head. Somewhere too dark and too far and he wouldn't come back. Ali's seen a lot of death in the past few days. Way too much for a single person to handle and he's thankful for the olders support. His constant nudging to keep moving forward and reassuring nods. Sangwoo doesn't smile much but he does with his eyes: like when they got out of that hell hole. Or when they bought their first proper meal. They scoffed it down to quick to remember how it tasted or smelled but they walked in the dusk with a lighter look of the future.

So, Ali can't have Sangwoo leave. Can't have him die.

The sun has finally appeared, it's not completely morning. Maybe late six or early seven, he's not really sure. Ali has a stiff back, numb limbs; cold fingers slowly gravitate towards the older man. He taps his shoulders gently, getting up on his knees to get closer to him.

"Hyung." Ali whispers his name delicately. "Sangwoo-Hyung wake up."

He does this a few more times, careful his icy fingers don't touch Sangwoo's warm skin.

Slowly, Sangwoo stirs. Ali sits back on his knees, watching him quietly. The older man moves slightly, eyes opening as he groans quietly. Ali feels weird waiting and he shuffles back, until he's certain his head won't bang the board or the tree when he stands up.

"Sangwoo-Hyung?"

A few more groans. Ali shuffles on his feet.

"Ali?" He finally calls. Voice raspy and laced with exhaustion. Ali wishes he could travel back a few more hours so Sangwoo could rest longer, nevertheless, he smiles.

"Good morning, Hyung." Ali greets. A happy smile on his lips. (As happy as he could be, anyway.)

Sangwoo hums, he stretches, then makes his way out from the makeshift den. He catches Ali's eyes and offers him a small half smile. It's not a proper smile but the muscles in his face shift. He only saves these for Ali and that alone is enough to satisfy them both.

"Good Morning Ali."

They brush the dirt off of themselves, Sangwoo shrugs off Ali's jacket carefully; thanks him like always as he hands it back. He then, rather shyly, asks Ali to step closer. The younger, more gullible man does so instantly and Sangwoo reaches to remove a leaf from his fluffy curls.

"Thank you." Ali beams and Sangwoo nods, not able to face him.

He has never hated himself more, for falling (a little, he thinks so anyway) in love whilst on the run. With his and Ali's life on stake and the old him wouldn't think twice to run away and abandon the foreigner because it's much safer travelling alone but he can't bear the thought of betraying Ali. Not like he nearly did in the games. He'll never forgive himself for those thoughts.

The two start walking again. Ali hopes it's a little brighter today and Sangwoo hopes it's not cold. They're walking through grassy paths with damp mud underneath them.

"Hyung?"

"Yes?"

"Look over there."

He looks to where Ali is directing him and relief floods his body. He turns to look at Ali, seeing the joy and light mirrored in his eyes.

"The city."

Ali nods. "Yes, Hyung. I've never been to the city."

"You haven't?"

Ali shakes his head, no.

They're waking a little faster, with enthusiasm and hope. They're finally getting somewhere. Sangwoo can start letting himself think ahead: of a future for himself. He can mail some money to his mum, tell her he'll come visit her soon and when things are settled, he'll take her abroad. Somewhere safer for the two of them. He's never leaving her again.

"I can show you around." Sangwoo offers. "Not everything, obviously, but some places. And one day..." He stops, noticing his mistake. They might never see each other again. He feels the familiar flush of embarrassment crawl up in his cheeks.

But Ali hasn't noticed, he looks up from where he's focused on the mud and his shoes. The shapes they lead as he treads.

"One day?" He questions wanting more. He had been listening happily to his Hyung, glad the man is getting comfortable around him. "What will you do, Hyung?"

He nudged Sangwoo softly, head tilted to the side absentmindedly in interest. There's curiosity brimming like pots of gold in his eyes. He's got an excited smile, he's always smiling and it grounds Sangwoo. Let's him feel okay to dream.

The older man coughs awkwardly, looking ahead at the grey sky. He feels Ali's eyes on him, it makes him nervous.

"I can show you the city, properly, one day. Seoul. All of it, if you want?" From somewhere, he has gathered the courage to look Ali in his eyes. And it's the best choice he's made all day.

The brown iris' are gleaming. They shine out against his skin. Like melted honey, dripping their sweetness on Sangwoo and intoxicating him.

Ali is suddenly more than a number, more than a player. He's not an immigrant or a foreigner or a worker in Sangwoo's eyes. He's got the sun running through his veins, bursting out of him every time he talks or smiles or laughs. He's more than Sangwoo will ever be. He's worth more than the money they've stolen. His eyes: they hold bits of the Earth, molecules that glisten when it rains and trap warmth when it shines. He's going off on a tangent now, but Ali is worth it he deems and he reluctantly pulls himself out of his thoughts. Maybe not reluctantly because he can look into Ali's eyes again and breathe.

"Hyung, are you okay?" Ali doesn't look concerned, he looks happy.

Sangwoo nods with pink cheeks. "Yes, sorry."

"It's fine." Ali smiles.

They're okay. They're safe. They keep walking. They've reached the city.

Sangwoo leads the pair through the busy streets, ignoring the looks people are giving Ali. He has a right mind to ask them what the issue is but it wouldn't be wise to gain attention onto them so he clenches his jaw and keeps walking, occasionally checking on Ali, wondering if he has noticed. Luckily he hasn't, instead, his eyes are as wide as saucers. Looking eagerly at everything like a puppy. His neck is craned looking at the tall buildings and then taking in the business of the streets, the cars that drive by and the shops. Dozens of shops and people with stalls on the streets.

"Sangwoo-Hyung..." Ali's voice had faded into itself but Sangwoo hadn't missed it.

"What's wrong?" He asks, walking slower so Ali and him are walking at the same pace. The bustling streets force them to be standing close, shoulder pressed together but Ali looks startled. Sangwoo isn't getting a reaction from him and before he knows it, the younger has enveloped their hands together and has crouched down. He's pushing through the crowds, Sangwoo right behind him. Ali prays they haven't been spotted.

The Pakistani spots a small corner where silver fences are hoarding a collection of bins and he runs behind, breathing heavily as he leans against the rough brick walls.

"They're here." Ali breaths out. Sangwoo looks alarmed, composed, but he's getting better at not hiding his emotions.

"They've found us." Ali sounds defeated but Sangwoo is determined to escape them. He's furious, anger bubbling through his veins. How are they always on their trails?

He storms in lines, back and forth and Ali watches him quietly.

Sangwoo thinks hard, questioning and asking and deducting. The one thing he's good at. He feels a little at ease and then it hits him, his eyes widening. He pulls off his glasses, turning to look at Ali.

"We're being tracked."

It takes a few seconds to understand and when he does, Ali's heart drops.

"Hopefully it isn't in our bodies and it's on our clothes." Sangwoo mumbles too himself, understanding the severity of their situation if it wasn't the latter.

"What do we do?" Ali whispers, looking up at Sangwoo helplessly.

Sangwoo grabs Ali's hands, firm and tight. It's a promise.

"Come on. We need to buy new clothes and get rid of these ones."

"B-but what if..." Ali doesn't finish his sentence, not wanting to even think about other possibilities.

Sangwoo notices and squeezes Ali's hand, shaking his head wordlessly. "I won't let anything happen."

Ali pushes his doubts back and nods, trying to convince himself. "We'll be okay."

Hand in hand, they get back into the streets, heads ducked down and approaching the first store they see. They waste no time, hands separating as they grab the first items they see. Sangwoo has finished first and waits for Ali to appear, the man has had some trouble and comes forward with his head down and Sangwoo reaches for the clothes, placing them all on the counter as he grabs the gold card from inside his blazer pocket. The two had decided it'd be safer to keep the credit card inside Sangwoo's pocket then in Ali's loose jacket one. It surprised him when Ali agreed with his suggestion: the man trusted him incredibly.

Sangwoo pays, nodding his thanks—Ali mumbled his quietly. The pair walk towards the back of the store to the changing rooms. He waits to ask Ali what's wrong.

He walks out in dark jeans, the first black shoes he had spotted in his size (he can't keep running in his old work shoes), and a black sweater which will keep him warm but not overheated. To his surprise, Ali had finished before him. He stands by Sangwoo's cubicle anxiously, old clothes bunched in his hands. Sangwoo let's his eyes run down Ali's body quickly. He's got a pair of jeans on too, his old shoes are still on his feet. The Pakistani was wearing a navy coloured T-shirt and a black zip up jacket over. He looks nice in the clean clothes. It hits Sangwoo: how amazing Ali probably looks when he's dressed up. He hasn't got anymore time to admire the Pakistani so he nods at him approvingly and they start making their way out. Sangwoo has remembered to empty his blazer pockets of his belongings and mumbles to Ali if he's done the same. The man only nods and Sangwoo wonders what's wrong with him.

They go into another shop, Sangwoo has a lighter but he's sure it's been used up so he quickly buys a new one, Ali stands in the corner with their old clothes scrunched into the bag they got from the old store.

"Ali?"

"Yes Hyung?"

"Let's go."

They run back to the bins, Sangwoo flicking the lighter on. Ali throws the clothes bag near a pile of other rubbish bags and then decides to stand back, keeping an eye out. Sangwoo wastes no time crouching down to burn the bag, looking around for more items to grow the fire. They're both highly anxious, the fire is getting bigger, it's the size of a cat and Sangwoo can't help but be a little relieved that he'd no longer see the old, grey suit in his wardrobe or such.

He peers back, notices Ali is seemingly okay, he hasn't spotted anything suspicious yet and he waits a few more minutes to make sure a majority of the clothes has been ruined. The smoke is hot and flickers like a dancer in front of him, it reminds him of his childhood, the burning wood he'd close sit to by with his friends—Gi-hun. He misses it.

"Hyung?"

"Yeah?" Sangwoo replies. Slowly returning from his daze. "Come on. It's finished."

Ali nods—he takes a huge breath—and looks around the small area. Sangwoo watches him curiously, letting him do his thing instead of questioning. Ali is smart, he's quick thinking and Sangwoo is grateful his fate has destined him to run with someone kind and intelligent. The baggage is equal and Ali doesn't mind when Sangwoo slips away a little; Sangwoo is the same with Ali. They're equals.

Ali approached the brick walls, strong hands holding onto thick black poles and pulling his body up. Sangwoo watches in amazement, Ali's strength really is something incredulous.

"Hyung!" He exclaims in a whispered hush, "Let's go from here."

He's already started pulling himself up, feet resting on jagged bricks. Sangwoo watches him swiftly climb up and roll onto his back, on the floor that is at least three meters up. Sangwoo can't do that. He's worried Ali might take off without him.

"Ali—I, I can't do that—"

Ali's not convinced, he's determined the older man make it. "Yes you can, Hyung."

He’s lying on his stomach, hands outstretched, reaching for Sangwoo. He's got to try. Ali won't leave without him; Sangwoo has realised this. He's putting them both at a risk. The Korean man is sweating and he clenches his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself to man up.

He takes tentative steps towards Ali.

"Grip the poles first." Ali encourages. His brows are furrowed, lips pursed as he watches his Hyung. He looks so determined, Sangwoo has got to try—at least for him.

He reaches for the pole, easily enough. (How did Ali do this, he's shorter?)

His feet are next, pressed to the walls, finding a dent to stand on and he grunts as he pulls himself up. Ali is smiling, he looks proud and Sangwoo notices. His heart flutters but he forces himself to concentrate, knowing that he'll fall back to the rough concrete if he doesn't otherwise. He's so close to Ali's hands and he's desperate to make it. His heart is pounding in his ears; the air is thick with the scent of smoke and it dries his mouth and travels straight to his stomach. It feels like the rollercoaster Gi-hun had begged him to go on when they were fifteen. Sangwoo hated it, he never went back on. But now he feels different, he looks up, reaches for Ali's hand which is now in his reach and feels the warmth from it transferring onto his cold ones. He feels victorious.

The rest is easy. Ali has got him from under his arms, hauls him up and they collapse onto the floor: Sangwoo's head by Ali's waist. His legs are dangling off the edge a little and he rolls over, tired but safe. He breathes in deeply, brown eyes studying the sky. He hadn't noticed: it was blue. Their first day without rain. The clouds are fluffy in the sky, the sun not present, hiding somewhere but still keeping them warm and providing it's light. They don't talk but they stay there for a little while. Sangwoo turns to his right, notices Ali is still catching his breath, dark eyes focused on the sky too.

"It's not grey." Sangwoo says. He's waiting for Ali to turn and he does, like expected. Their eyes have locked and Ali instantly starts smiling.

"Thank you." Sangwoo breathes.

Ali ignores it, still smiling as he talks. His hair is fanned out on the grass, he looks a little like an Angel. Sangwoo’s heart races and he takes a risk, not worrying that he’s shamelessly staring at Ali. The man could notice and ask questions Sangwoo wouldn’t be able to answer but like he said, he’s feeling shameless.

But Ali…he doesn’t seem to mind?

The younger of the two has his arms splayed out beside him and he places them under his head; then looks at Sangwoo. His curls are beautifully framing his brown eyes. He looks like a child, it seems like nothing will ruin his day and take that smile off his face. He’s contagious and Sangwoo feels invincible after the previous events.

The sun has suddenly appeared. It shines down on the two; frames their bodies with golden light. Ali looks ethereal and Sangwoo hasn’t felt such warmth on his skin since the previous summer, when his world had just started to come tumbling down. Butterflies are emerging in his stomach, Ali is looking deep into his eyes and it’s like they’re not on the run…instead, it’s just the two of them and no one else exists.

Sangwoo can’t help it, not really.

It happens without him realising at first. His eyes shine a little (they’ve never done so before) and it intrigues Ali. The Pakistani can’t look away. Then, his lips rise: thin, pink lines curl a little at the ends and catch Ali by surprise.

Sangwoo is smiling.

Chapter Text

Hours slipped away like sand, any time spent with Ali never seemed like enough. Sangwoo wants to do better for him but it's hard to do anything whilst being chased. Nonetheless, Ali always looks at him like he's got the stars in his hands. Dusk settles above them, a canvas of multi colours leaking into one another. The sky is purple and blue, it's homey and the world is both black and grey and Sangwoo thinks it's much better than being coated in the orange light from salmon pink clouds like how it is during most summer evenings. There's a silence stretching between the two men, neither awkward nor comfortable and Sangwoo visibly looks relived to see the sign of the small shop. They can't really tell if they're safe until tomorrow: they're playing a waiting game and as each second passes Sangwoo can feel his anxiety kick in. He never does well under stress.

"Hyung?" Ali's voice succeeds in cutting through Sangwoo's intrusive thoughts and he's so thankful for him.

"What's the matter? You don't look okay, is something bothering you?"

The older man takes his glasses off, the energy in him decreasing and so he slowens down. They're a few yards away from the small 7/11 anyway. He pinches his sinus, exhaling in relief. The wind favours him as it picks up, cooling down his damp, sweaty skin. "I'm sorry," Sangwoo starts. "My mind is a mess." He leaves it at that and Ali seems to not mind, he understands how Sangwoo feels.

The shop is empty when they walk in and Sangwoo, without realising, let’s out a breath of relief. The store is warm or maybe they just savour the heat from a building after sleeping on the streets for the past two nights.

“Ali? I’ve got to ask something to the owner. Pick something you want, we’ll stop somewhere soon.”

Ali nods and doesn’t ask any questions, making his way through the lonely isles. The business man slips his glasses back on, looking for the cashier. He finds the counter easy enough and notices the tired looking man, crouched over the marble countertop eyes focused on an old newspaper.

“Excuse me?” Sangwoo gets his attention. “Good evening, I wanted to ask where the nearest hostel is.”

Sangwoo gets his answer easy enough, thanking the elder man and bowing his respects before looking for Ali. The shop is small but he still struggles to find him until his eyes finally land on the man’s figure, which is hunched over on the ground. Sangwoo wonders what he’s doing until he notices the small cat sleeping on the floor. Ali is watching it mesmerised, fingers tenderly stroking its ear. He doesn’t want to disrupt Ali’s moment but they’re not really safe until they’re locked up in a hostel room where no one can find them.

“Ali?” He whispers.

The Pakistani turns over to look at Sangwoo with a smile. “Hyung, look.”

Sangwoo has seen it already but he pretends he hasn’t and approaches the man quietly, crouching down near him. He knows how absurd they must look but he doesn’t want to ruin the one and only moment of happiness Ali has felt during the last few days. They’re just admiring the small, sleeping animal quietly. That is until Ali speaks up. “He looks like you, Hyung.”

Sangwoo splutters and his cheeks burn red. He turns to look at Ali, questioning how the man has come to a such an absurd conclusion but he stops himself from speaking because Ali is smiling at the cat. It’s a genuine smile and Sangwoo can’t say anything bad even if he tries.

“Look,” Ali hushes. He motions for Sangwoo to look down at the animal, clearing not picking up on the blank rather confused look on Sangwoo’s face. “His eyes are creased like he's squinting even whilst sleeping.”

Ali is watching the creature fondly, chuckling so softly it can’t be heard much and Sangwoo, despite the insult (that’s how he takes it anyway) is flattered that Ali thinks about him.

The younger taps Sangwoo’s shoulder with a huge grin, a childish one filled with youth and freedom. His hair is messy like a child that has been out playing in the sun all day and he picks his hands up to form circles around his eyes, nose scrunching up as he furrows his brows purposely. His lips have curled into a frustrated pout as he tries to recreate Sangwoo’s sleeping face. Sangwoo himself is star struck. He knows he is. He feels like the world has slowed down—no it has slowed down—and he can’t hear anything. Not a single thing. The world around Ali has gone blurry, nothing matters more than Ali who is still crouched on the floor with the ridiculously endearing replica of Sangwoo’s sleeping form on his features.

“That’s how you look, Sangwoo-Hyung!”

The older man nods stiffly, averting his eyes to his lap and then down to the cat, hand reaching out to stroke it once on its back. He forces his legs up and steps back, breathing raggedly.

“Ali, have you got everything?” He asks, attempting to forget the sudden familiar feelings that have bloomed deep in his gut. They grow, encircle and tighten his heart with each step he takes backwards, like shackles, ringing like bells; making his head drum and as much as it hurts, he can’t help but think it’s for a good cause. There’s no way someone like him could ever be with someone like Ali.

Ali was a saint and Sangwoo…he was just his miserable admirer.

The Pakistani nods eagerly and stands up, “It’s all in the bag, just needs to be paid for. “

Sangwoo nods quickly. “I’ll go do that then.”

Taking the bag from Ali, he makes his way towards the cashier walking as slow as he can to allow himself some time to think. He knows that they’re in a middle of a crisis and that they had already spent way too much time in the store but he needs the time for his own mental state. He can’t jeopardise that because Ali was at stake here.

By the time the two leave the 7/11, the sky has turned an inky blue, a thick navy blanket over the town and it’s considerably colder.

“There's a hostel a few streets down, we’ll stay there.”

Ali nods as he walks along, hands pushed into his pockets. He's shorter than Sangwoo, it's endearing and the older man tightens his grip on the small plastic bag Ali had filled. The pair don't force a conversation: Sangwoo too quiet, and Ali too considerate for that. So, they stumble side by side like two friends. Lovers? Sangwoo hopes so...one day. Maybe he'd place his arm on the shorter's shoulders or their fingers would latch together like puzzle pieces. He's not sure what Ali would prefer but Sangwoo would do whatever he wants. He can't help but cringe, when did he become this love sick fool? He doesn't think nothing more because he's welcomed these thoughts and feelings earlier on so he can't complain. Instead, he lets them take hostage and warm his cold heart. The feeling is definitely not mutual and Sangwoo has seen a few romance films in his time, knows that he's always sneered or rolled his eyes at the second lead for being so stupidly quiet and secretive about their feelings. Why not just confess and admit defeat?

He knows why now.

Sangwoo wouldn't dare admit his feelings to Ali and ruin everything he's already got. He wouldn't be able to look the man in the eyes again but he wants too; needs to.

Needs, to admire the galaxies in Ali’s dark eyes.

And no mater what, Sangwoo would definitely prefer having Ali in his life as a friend whilst harbouring this childish crush. He'd take that pain any day over the chances of never getting to talk to Ali again. Because he knows that will happen. Ali has trusted him with everything: his past, his present and most definitely his future. Sangwoo can look after him without his emotions getting in the way. It should be easy.

But of course, it's not.

He's finally spotted the grey hostel. It's squashed between several other buildings and inside, a warm orange glow radiates. Ali and Sangwoo look at each other before approaching it. Sangwoo let's Ali in first, holding the door for him. A small 'thank you' slips out of Ali's lips. Sangwoo nods and looks around. The reception desk is to the right, two people are sat behind it. A man and a woman. Sangwoo walks first, fingers reaching for the small gold card to guarantee he still has it; he does. He slips the plastic bag to Ali who takes it wordlessly.

"Good Evening, a room for two please."

The woman turns in her chair, she's only just noticed them. The sight of Sangwoo makes her smile and she peers around. Ali is behind him and she hasn't seen him yet.

"For two?" She questions, eyeing the Korean. "Where's your wife?"

Her voice had lowered, Sangwoo hasn't noticed.

"I'm not married." He replies, voice cold. This wasn't her job, to question him. He hopes she doesn't say anything she shouldn't. "It's for my...friend, and I."

Sangwoo hopes Ali hadn't noticed the hesitance in his voice. The woman hasn't because her eyes are too focused on the computer screen, frowning. He coughs under his throat, to get her attention. "For two." He clarifies.

Sangwoo turns over his shoulder, checking on Ali. The man smiles at him but Sangwoo knows he's uneasy. He hates the reason why.

"Sorry, there's no more. We have two single rooms available, Room 5A and Room 11F." She looks at the man through her eyelashes. "Where's your friend?"

Sangwoo reddens and steps aside a little, letting Ali introduce himself. He fears for the worst and he's right because the woman looks startled and appalled. Ali doesn't look up, head down in shame and embarrassment and Sangwoo wants to reach for his hand.

The woman looks down at her screen, muttering racist remarks under her breath in disgust. It’s obvious she has no clue that Ali understands her and the man’s cheeks burn a bright red, eyes brimming with tears (but Sangwoo can’t see them yet).

“Excuse me?” His voice is low with malice, eyes burning with rage. Both his hands are pressed to the counter, invading her space though he doesn’t want to, he wants to get out of there, as far as he can: with Ali’s hand in his.

“He can understand you,” Sangwoo snarls. “So you better apologise to him now.”

The woman looks up, startled by Sangwoo’s words. Her head whips between the two of them, a little embarrassed as she looks at Ali. The younger man is standing several steps back, behind Sangwoo but still able to be seen. He stutters a few words, telling his Hyung that it’s not necessary. Ali’s Korean surprises the receptionist—Sangwoo see it in the ways her eyes widen.

“What are you waiting for?” He growls, teeth bared. “What’s your problem, anyway? What’s the issue with his skin?”

He curses under his breath, words even Ali doesn’t understand but they make the woman burn with shame. She excuses herself quickly and Sangwoo is so tempted to reach out and grab her by the hair; force her to apologise.

Before he can, Ali has laced his fingers into the material of Sangwoo’s jacket, pulling him back.

“Stop it Hyung…it’s fine, really.”

“No it’s not Ali, let’s go. We don’t need to stay here anyway.”

He’s yet to notice Ali’s teary eyes.

“No, please. There’s no where else to go, you know that. We can’t spend a third night on the streets.”

Ali’s hands drop down to his side. He knows his argument is valid and Sangwoo pushes his glasses up his nose, reaching into his trouser pocket for a cigarette. It makes Ali wince but he stays quiet. The man pulls his lighter out and lights the stick, breathing it in deeply with a sigh.

“Hyung?” Ali’s shaky voice calls him.

Sangwoo nods stiffly, eyes shutting momentarily.

“You can’t smoke in here.”

“Okay.” He nods. He takes one last drag, breathing the smoke out in spirals and holding the stick between his fingers. He looks at Ali, “I’ve stopped.”

Frankly, Sangwoo doesn’t care about the hotels rules but he doesn’t want to upset Ali any further.

The stick stays burning in his fingers as a man steps forward, the annoyance is clear on his features. Sangwoo has grown to not care. He stands closer to Ali. The Pakistani finally looks up at him; the calm that had slowly started settling in Sangwoo’s stomach disappears. Ali’s cheeks are damp, trails of tears having slid down the soft skin and his eyes are still glassy. The Korean can’t stop himself from reaching down and locking their fingers, squeezing them softly. Ali is surprised but he can’t say anything because Sangwoo has started talking.

“Your—colleague,” the words tastes foul on his tongue. Sangwoo has no manners left for these people. “Told us there are no rooms left for two, find a way to make it work. We’ve been travelling for days, we want to rest.”

Sangwoo has his ways, stubbing the cigarette butt on the desk; soiling it with ash before chucking it into the paper trash can behind the desk. It lands. He’s a bit too smug as he pulls out the golden card and plays with it with his fingers—the shiny square radiates their wealth and the man fumbles for his words. Sangwoo knows that the warm hand in his is also the reason for his sudden ego boost.

“Of course, Sir. Sorry for earlier.” The man looks over at Ali, head bowed down as he apologises. Ali’s mouth is a little agape with shock, blood rising to the surface of his skin as he accepts the apology. Sangwoo is nearly content.

“Could you call her out? I want her to apologise, too.”

Sangwoo is bold, he knows that their interlinked hands are on display and could cause a problem (actually, he’s certain it could) but what would they say? He knows the power money gives to people and despite pledging in the games that he would never let that lust ruin him like before, he’s changed his mind. He going to use it for his good. He’s not going to be selfish like that anymore. He’s not the same person he once was.

He knows life has already become easier now that they’ve got this money. Knows that with this new security, no one can touch them. It’s frightening as well as assuring.

The man bows again, embarrassed. “I’ll get her.”

Sangwoo nods. Ali is staring. The older tries to ignore it.

“Hyung?”

Sangwoo hums.

Ali mulls over his response. “Thank you, Hyung.”

The Korean squeezes Ali’s hand again, they’ve forgotten that their bodies are connected in this way. A pink blush blooms on both their cheeks. That’s all they need.

The pair ignore the raised voices from inside the small room behind the counter and Sangwoo shakes his head. Without talking, he tells Ali to not worry. Because he sees it in the way his dark eyes have rounded and stare up anxiously at him. Sangwoo doesn’t want Ali to worry.

The whole ordeal takes much too long for Sangwoo’s liking, he just wants to go upstairs, eat and rest. But then the woman finally appears, reluctant (obviously).

The business man gets an apology out of her. He looks over at Ali softly as he fumbles over what to say. He already knows what Ali will say. He’ll forgive her because that’s the kind of person he is: the kind of person Sangwoo isn’t.

Sangwoo is handed a small key, Ali’s hands are still in his (miraculously) and he leads the youngest up the stairs. The hallways are dim but they won’t complain, not after the nights they’ve had and Sangwoo quickly finds their room. Unlocking it, he reveals a decent sized room. He notices it straightaway. He had requested for a room for two, there weren’t any left but the establishment had managed to fulfil his request. But this wasn’t the type of room he had asked for. Requesting for two single beds was his aim but clearly they were all occupied and so they were pushed into the next best thing. Sangwoo groans internally but ignores the problem as he lets Ali inside, locking the door behind them. This is better than two single rooms, he doubts either of them could spend a night alone. Too much trauma riddled their minds.

Ali steps in hesitantly, he places the carrier bag on the small table and takes a seat on the couch. He’s still shaken up from earlier. Sangwoo approaches him, notices the glistening tear stains on his cheeks and so he crouches down. He’s ignoring all boundaries between friends, male friends, and reaches out to wipe the wetness away.

Ali’s head, (which was once bent down) rises. Sangwoo doesn’t catch his eyes intentionally, focusing on his skin instead.

“Don’t cry.” Sangwoo mutters. His thumbs are light like feathers against Ali’s warm skin. “Not over pathetic people like that anyway.”

He reluctantly moves his hands, both notice how his fingers hover over Ali’s skin for a few seconds. Sangwoo turns red but doesn’t let this distract him. He ignores the ponding in his heart, in his head, it rattles his rib cage with euphoria.

“Go and shower.” He insists. “I think they’ll have spare robes and clothes somewhere. I’ll place them outside the door.”

Ali nods, obedient like a child. He rises slowly and makes his way towards the door Sangwoo is pointing at.

Finally, Sangwoo is alone. And he hates it.

Chapter Text

Ali decides Seoul is beautiful at night. The building in the distance have lights like little stars dotted around them. Trees are tall, lush and tower over the plains. Everything looks so beautiful and healthy and alive. He's dressed in loose pyjama pants and a T-shirt that Sangwoo, like he had promised, had left by the bathroom door. The hotel room is significantly warm and so, all the room lights are off and the window is open, letting the night breeze dry his damp curls. Ali is sat on a chair, knees up to his chest as he rests his chin on his knees. Looking outside peacefully.

Sangwoo is showering.

Ali ponders.

Things are better. They've changed for sure, but he's okay with that. Change is good, he decides.

There's so much he's got left to do. But with the beauty of the city and the make believe stars, he finds himself at peace for the third time in days (first being watching Hyung sleep, and second was spending time with the cat—actually Ali doesn't want to forget the few minutes they spent lying on the field). The games have permanently affected him, he's reminded by the littlest of things, the monstrosities he had faced: that certain shade of green; abandoned marbles lying on the pathways forgotten by children who had used them for games; the smell of sugar. It's all horrifying to him.

Ali stays, seeking shelter in the midst of his mind, blocking out all the chaos of the real world. He thinks back to before the Games, the dark, grim conditions of his home with his wife and his son who he had failed to protect. He had sent them home, sorted out their travel; they deserved so much better. Their last night together, he held her close and helped put his son to bed. They both had felt the tension in the air. They didn't talk much but Ali sat in the dark with her in his arms, she was crying softly from his words. She deserved better and so as he sent her away, he let her go. Given her his ring as well with a promise of never ending his love for her. He told her to sell it so she'd have more money for their son and that'd he'd send more money soon, that he may never come back. He didn't want to string her on in his miserable world so he ended their marriage in their small room, to the soft sounds of the rain.

He's all alone now, and more than ever thankful for Sangwoo, for the kind man that was so incredibly academic and optimistic enough to get them out of that hell and lead them safely here, finally in Seoul.

Sangwoo has finished showering, he towel dries his jet black locks and looks around the dark room, noticing Ali's body on the couch. He calls his name out quietly gaining the youngers attention.

"Have you eaten?" Sangwoo asks.

Ali frowns, cocking his head to the side. He's not heard Sangwoo.

The older man looks to the side table, notices the bag is untouched.

"Let's eat." He suggests.

They eat silently, Sangwoo has noticed the difference in Ali. Something's happened whilst he had gone and he fears that maybe Ali has had another encounter with the woman from earlier, he doesn't know how to bring it up.

"Ali?"

The man hums in acknowledgement.

"Never mind."

They carry on eating and when they finish, Sangwoo gathers their rubbish, throws it away. Ali is in the bathroom. Sangwoo goes in next and when he returns, Ali is on the couch again. Sangwoo tenses at the sight. The lights have been switched off, Ali wants it like this. Sangwoo's okay with that.

The Korean man takes a seat at the edge of the bed, wondering what Ali wants to do about the situation. He doesn't know how to bring it up but he's lucky because Ali coughs gently, wanting to speak though his question catches Sangwoo off guard.

"Will you leave?" His voice is so quiet, Sangwoo can't hear him over the rumbling of the air con. It hits him that he's cold, his knees tremble and he wills them to stop. "When we're finally safe, will you leave me? Are we gonna go our own ways?"

Sangwoo gulps, caught off guard. He doesn't know what to say.

"Ali..."

"Hyung, I don't want you to go. I don't want to be alone—I can't do it."

Sangwoo thinks he can hear his heart crack at the sincerity in Ali's voice.

"I don't want to leave you either." He confesses. "We should—we should stick together...if you really want to."

Ali nods instantly: it's settled,

Sangwoo is still confused because Ali's got his wife but maybe he wants the familiarity of a friend. The reassurance that he wasn't going crazy and imagining things—whatever it is, Sangwoo is willing enough to stay by his side. Sangwoo doesn't mind, being used by Ali like that, it would be more of an honour than a disappointment.

He doesn't dare ask the question, much too selfish to hear the man ramble about his wife. The very person holding Sangwoo back from his world. He doesn't dare open his mouth about that.

The moon cries in front of them, in plain view for the two to see and Sangwoo admires it fully, for the first time in his life. He's never cared for it. The white ball leaks it's tears, they glisten like diamonds and Ali is entranced, he always is. Sangwoo envies the ball, for stealing Ali's attention.

The Korean shuffles back on the bed, back to the headboard and he sits like that for a bit. He's taking up less than half of the space, head tilted to the side and directed at Ali's frame.

"You should sleep." Sangwoo mumbles. "It's late."

"Hyung?"

"Mmm."

"I can't sleep."

Sangwoo looks at his outline in the dark, the light from the window gives Ali's body an outline but he can't see his eyes or his lips, none of those features. Sangwoo doesn't know if Ali's looking at him, if he is then Sangwoo has been caught but he's careless, lazy and doesn't feel as afraid as he once did. Ali won't leave him behind, they've got a bond no one can break.

"Hyung," Ali positions himself against the headboard like Sangwoo. His eyes flutter shut and he sighs, arms wrapping around himsel. "Tell me something?"

Sangwoo panics, he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want Ali to look down on him or frown. He doesn't want to talk much either but he will for Ali. He can manage doing that for him. But what? There's nothing interesting about him,

He says the first thing at the top of his mind, "I haven't seen my mom in years."

He's done it now. Set himself up for tears.

"I'm not the best son, I don't deserve her at all." Sangwoo mutters, head hanging low. "I have to say sorry."

Ali doesn't really know what to say but he can try, he does. "Sangwoo-hyung, you're not a bad person. If that's what your thinking. She'll be happy to see you."

Sangwoo shakes his head bitterly. "I don't think so. I'm a liar, I left her all alone back there. She deserves better than a son like me."

"Don't say that Hyung.”

“But it’s true.” He mumbles bitterly. He hides his face in his hands, extra protection though the dark already ensures his features are hidden from Ali. He’s so ashamed of himself—how does Ali stick with him?

“I was horrible in the games.”

Falling against the wooden headboard, Sangwoo curls into himself. His body trembles lightly, there’s no winning. No one’s happy with this, he wonders if this sadness will ever leave and if they’ll ever find happiness. “I’m sorry.”

He apologises over and over again, to himself, Ali, the world, to anyone who’s listening. Ali has been struck into silence at the scene. Neither know what to do.

Sangwoo’s never shown this side of himself to anyone, shame burns his body but it feels good to finally get it out. He can only hope Ali doesn’t leave alone to tend to the pieces of his brown heart in this unfamiliar, dark room. He can only hope.

Sangwoo pushes himself against he headboard, turned away from Ali. He gives the man some space, not wanting to burden him. Tomorrow they’ll have to set out again, they’ve got to keep running and save themselves. He won’t be selfish again, he’s got to help Ali. Sangwoo wont ruin his life too.

Tonight is a weakness, a small stumble in his path which he only goes will benefit him for the future. He’s taking many risks mentally; he’s just so tired.

Stress from survival and sadness for his family and friends. He’s never at ease. Be it in his heart or his mind. If he’s not worried whether they’re safe, he’s subconsciously thinking about Ali. It’s exhausting, Sangwoo just wants to sleep. A good nights sleep. He jumps at the soft hand on his arm, tapping him softly.

“Hyung?”

Ali’s sweet voice reaches him from somewhere inside his blackened mind. It soothes him. The caresses and lack of danger Ali poses as. Sangwoo nods weakly.

“Hyung, let’s go to bed.” He whispers. “Tomorrow is a new day, we’ll be alright.”

The words mean more to Sangwoo than Ali will ever know. He nods and gets ready to leave but hands on his wrists stop him. Heat crawls up his neck and settles on his cheeks, sparks fly through his body.

“Hyung, stay. We can share the bed…are you okay with that?”

Sangwoo gulps heavily. “Alright.”

He stays how he is, body slumped back on the headboard. Ali is beside him, curls splayed on the pillows and his body under the cover. Hi dark eyes look up at Sangwoo and he gives him a smile mouthing an ‘it’ll be okay’. Somehow, the future looks a little brighter.

Sangwoo hopes it gets better.

Ali is long gone, having fallen asleep a while ago. Sangwoo is still up, leaning on the left of his body. In the dark, he admires Ali. His fingers itch to rise up and stroke his cheek but be restrains himself. He looks at Ali’s hair, the lashes that rest on his round cheeks, the soft pink lips. He’s worried he’ll spend all night looking for answers to questions he fears to ask in the open. Sangwoo is left searching for a his peace of mind.

Chapter Text

Sangwoo and Ali have made the decision to return to Ssangmun-dong. Well, it's Sangwoo who will be returning. Ali will be visiting for the first time. It's safer there then going to Ansan, and seeing some familiar faces may be helpful. Sangwoo knows it's also risky, the pink, masked soldiers could be lurking there just waiting for the two of them but he fears he'll go crazy if he spends another night in a hotel room. Ali is as bubbly as always, excited to meet Sangwoo's mother (he misses his own) and see where Sangwoo spent his childhood. The businessman cannot for the life of him understand what there is to be excited about but he'll do a lot of things to avoid upsetting Ali. The boy is too soft for it (in Sangwoo's eyes) and he never wants to see those big brown eyes shed tears because of his again.

He's learnt to get used to his darker thoughts however: Sangwoo remembers seeing Ali's eyes tear up often during the games, out of fear, or guilt or even just from pressure of needing to win each game. The man already had huge eyes that Sangwoo just couldn't ignore but seeing them filled with tears, coating his cheeks with damp heat, brown crystals ready to crack...Sangwoo loved every second of it.

He was wicked, he knows.

He doesn't like seeing Ali in gut wrenching pain, not at all. It's the power he likes. No one in the games could help Ali, no one but him. In the dark nights, Ali would turn to Sangwoo for comfort. Sangwoo had tried it out first, eager to know more about the mysterious foreigner (he hadn't meant to fall in love but he had) and here he was, with a crippling need to keep Ali close by, safe and sound and happy. Ali just just coming back, the power Sangwoo had was thrilling. With just a few words he had Ali completely under his palms, he could stop those tears in a few minutes or could watch them run and wipe them dry. So last night was strange, Sangwoo had never had someone to talk to. It made him fall for Ali a little more and he knows he's taking a huge risk by losing himself in Ali but he trusts Ali more than he's ever trusted anybody and even if Ali can't save him in the way he wants, he knows the man will never leave him alone.

"Hyung?"

Sangwoo finds himself looking at Ali in the bright bus lights. The light is unflattering, the vehicle looks like something in a horror film but Sangwoo stays grounded at the sight of Ali’s warm eyes.

“Next stop is ours, right?”

Sangwoo glances up at the bus rota, studies it for a few seconds and nods. He straightens his body, Ali immediately knows what he’ll say next is important and leans in.

“We’ve got to be really careful where we go, those men could be there looking for us, it only makes sense.”

Ali nods.

“It’s going to be like how it was on the highway, when we were hiding in all those trees.”

“I’m on lookout?”

Sangwoo nods.

Ali nods back.

They know what to do.

The bus trembles as it passes bumps, they finally arrive. Ali and Sangwoo get off and sit for a second at the stop, the world is only starting to wake up, stars disappearing and the sounds of birds chirping can be heard from far off. Ali and Sangwoo feel the cool morning air ruffle their hair and fog fills the atmosphere. They can’t see far.

Something feels off, Sangwoo can’t place his finger onto it but Ali looks up at him warily, he feels it too and Sangwoo’s skin feels like ice. He looks around, Ali looks at the road and the nearby side street but Sangwoo spots the small camera by the bus shelter, it’s small and hard to detect but it’s there and it’s flashing red. The whole area is under watch and he stumbles back, losing control of himself for a few seconds. He steps on something, Sangwoo looks down—heart drops to his stomach at the sight of the crumpled up card. It’s damp and sticks to the wet concrete but the shapes on it are unmistakeable and his head snaps up in instinct, looking for Ali. But Ali is missing and Sangwoo starts to worry.

The road, from what he can see, is empty so he makes his way to the nearest alleyway, heart skipping beats as he runs as fast as his legs can take him. His throat dries up and he’s sweating despite the cold. He doesn’t know if he should call for him or not, what if someone else is lurking around? Sangwoo regrets coming here, how stupid could he be?

Ali’s name tumbles from his lips anyway, he’s already thinking ahead, worried he’ll never have a reason to call for the man again. Never get to hear Ali call him ‘Hyung’ either. The same panic he felt in the Games has returned and Sangwoo feels like he’s losing his mind. No, he’s already lost it. He’s as desperate as someone in the desert for water. He’s starved, angry, persistent.

Sangwoo isn’t prepared for the sudden sound of rushed footsteps behind him. He starts running through the cramped streets, not looking back because Sangwoo knows the masked men are there and looking at them will make them real and he doesn’t have enough strength in him to fight those demons. He needs Ali by his side to think logically because right now he’s a mess.

He hasn’t been in these streets since he was a teen leaving for university, his memories are hazy but he hopes they don’t fail him as he starts looking for the one hiding place he and Gi-hun had found when they were children.

Sangwoo’s blood leaps with him, his head spins because he hasn’t drank much water and didn’t touch most of his dinner the night before, a really should thing to do, but he’s made so many mistakes he can’t be bothered to scold himself for this too.

He just runs, and keeps running. The men are close, he doesn’t want to go back. They’ve got guns, yet aren’t they shooting? He can’t ask, doesn’t even turn to check. Just keeps running.

He’s spoken too soon, the shot rings loudly through his ears. He stumbles, feels the impact and processes the fact that he’s been shot before the destructive burning in his arm appears. His left hands rises to hold his right arm close, prevent it from banging into street sighs or such because he can’t feel it, doesn’t think he can even move it. He grits his teeth and staggers, they’re so close he can’t stop, but he wants to fall against the walls and catch his breath. More shots come, the sound makes his ear drums vibrate and he runs in messy lines, thanking the stars above him that he hasn’t been hit again.

The blood is hot and thick as it trails down his skin, it’s the only thing that he can concentrate on which he guesses is a good thing because it spurs him on to keep running no matter what. He makes a turn, then two, then three, finally spotting people. At last, people are waking up and getting ready for the day, they make it easier for Sangwoo to blend in and hide. Just by being here, Sangwoo is safer. He runs into he first store he sees, hiding behind a large freezer and peering through the window. He knows the pink soldiers won’t come any closer, they’re dressed too abnormally to not be questioned. They had also shot way too many bullets for the police to ignore. Sangwoo’s right because a few minutes pass and then the sound of distant sirens can be heard. He grits his teeth, laughing deeply though the splitting pain in his arm.

He steps out gingerly, thankful his clothes are dark. The shop owner stares at him silently, eyes zoned into the hole in his sweater from the bullet.

“Sorry.” He apologises, bowing his head. He feels foolish, apologising for running in though he’s bleeding profusely and can’t support his right hand.

The man behind the counter nods at his silently, still a little stunned and Sangwoo can’t blame him. He hovers towards the door, peers his head out and senses the man behind him move. It startles Sangwoo, he doesn’t trust anyone, and he whips his head back, staggering away from the approaching man.

The owner is standing with an outstretched hand, water bottle in it. Sangwoo take it wordlessly, flushing darkly. “Thank you, Sir.”

The old man nods his head.

“Stay out of trouble.” He states. “It’s not worth it. You’re mother wouldn’t be proud.”

Honestly, Sangwoo is a little offended. He’s an adult, a middle aged man, he doesn’t need to be told to stay away from trouble. But he bites his tongue and ear he’s the elderly man patter away instead, mumbling out a quick answer.

His mum wouldn’t be proud of him either way because he had been 6 billion won in debt which he had miraculously been able to pay off because he had joined to be part of some sort of death game but now he’s on the run with a man he’s only known for a week but can’t live without. Oh, and he’s been shot in the shoulder. Sangwoo runs a hand through his knotted hair, grunts at the fire in his arm. He’s losing blood fast and really needs to find his mother, then get help because his head is spinning.

Ali.

He’s forgotten Ali.