Archive of Our Own ^beta

A noise disrupts Renjun from his sleep.

He blearily stirs himself awake, disorientated and confused. Usually, the only things that manage to wake him up when he's exhausted like this are alerts from his pager or phone, but neither of those is ringing out right now.

It takes him a few moments to realise what's woken him. There is someone knocking at his door. Each knock is quiet and careful, something that doesn't seem urgent.

A quick glance at his phone shows that it's currently 3:07 AM, however, and no one knocks at this time if it's not urgent.

His instincts finally kick into gear, and he slides quietly out of his bed. He keeps his fingers tightly gripping his phone, his heart racing in his chest.

Maybe it's a neighbour that's locked themselves out, he tries to reason with himself. A late-night kind of call that's knocking on the wrong apartment door. It can be Jisung, maybe even Chenle. They might be in trouble. Maybe they want just to cause trouble for Renjun — because nothing isn't trouble-worthy at 3 AM.

There are no missed messages on his phone. No messages by anyone that says they're going to swing by at 3 AM. Behind the door could be a friend, an ally.

Or it could be an enemy. A villain. They might have found him, might have hacked into the highest level of security to find his living address, and are willing to strike while he's unmasked.

But the knocking is cautious, considerate of the neighbours beside Renjun — it'd hardly been loud enough to rouse Renjun from his own sleep. It probably wouldn’t have woken the average person.

He moves to the peephole cover, keeping his breaths as quiet as possible. He’s trying to make sure his presence isn't realised by the person on the other side of the door, not until he knows exactly who it is and what he's facing.

The person on the other side of the door is softly illuminated by the automatic sensor hallway lights. They have the hood of their jacket pulled up, covering their hair and some of their face, and it’s just working against the light enough that Renjun can't discern the rest of their features properly.

Renjun is trying to narrow his eyes like that will help him see through the darkness easier. The person had been standing still, but they glance down the hallway for a quick moment. In that second, Renjun catches sight of their wide eyes and the way they shift anxiously on their feet. They're worried about someone following them.

It's instinct to open the door as he recognises that someone has come here for help, they've come here to run from something, but right as his fingers wrap around the handle of his door, he stops.

When the person at his door looks back, their hood has shifted just enough that Renjun can see their features a little better now.

They glance at the peephole like they're staring right back into Renjun's gaze. Like they know he’s standing on the other side of it.

His heart feels like it stops. He knows the person at his door, he realises.

He recognises their hair, the dark strands falling over his eyes. And he recognises those eyes — they've been in positions similar to this, standing on opposing sides, staring each other down as they fight. He has seen those eyes winking at him, has seen the way those lip curls up in a smug smirk as he manages to escape Renjun's grasp once more.

He does not recognise the clothes that he has on. He's only ever seen him wearing his usual dark and simple get-up that he calls a costume. There is no face paint on, no mask like he sometimes wears. All he's wearing is a zipped-up jacket and some looser dark pants meant more for comfort than for engaging in a fight.

He looks like a normal boy, standing here at Renjun's door. Just like any other normal boy that is Renjun's own age.

But he is not an ordinary boy, just like Renjun is not either.

At his door, Haechan stands.

Haechan, who shouldn't know where Renjun lives. Who shouldn't know who Renjun is behind the mask either.

Haechan, who is glancing down the hallway again, unknowingly breaking their staring contest. He's nervous about something following him. Haechan, who—

Who is bleeding.

He has a hand pressed at his side, slipped underneath the jacket. He's hunched over, breathing shallowly.

Renjun thought it might have been the lights, but he is definitely pale when Renjun manages to catch another glimpse of his face.

The hand used to knock at Renjun's door, now lowering down to his side like he's giving up, is bloody.

Renjun's fingers tighten on the handle of his door, and he opens it without another thought.

Haechan surprises him by startling, apparently having given up on Renjun actually answering the door. He gives Renjun a wry smile, even though it's hardly as convincing as he usually is in his cockiness.

"Sorry about the blood," Haechan says, once again surprising Renjun. He's never heard Haechan apologise genuinely for anything, but he sounds like he's being serious as he gestures to the door.

There are traces of his bloody knuckles having knocked on Renjun's door. He's going to have to clean that up before the other tenants wake up and see it.

Still, that's not the most pressing matter right now.

Haechan could have been knocking out of the door of pure chance, but Renjun sees the way that Haechan looks at him, and he knows the identity game is up. Haechan knows exactly who he is, and knows exactly whose door he is knocking at.

"Why are you here?" he harshly whispers.

Haechan gives him a loose shrug, and the smile on his face is a little weaker now.

"Didn't have anywhere else I could go," he replies.

Renjun falters.

They're enemies. They fight each other every single time they have ever come across one another.

Haechan is powerful, a fair match for Renjun — one he has yet to beat. If he's ever close to doing so, then Haechan is cunning enough to slip through his grasp before he can be detained.

If something bad enough chasing Haechan has led him to Renjun's door, then he does not like the implications behind that.

"Can we take this inside?" Haechan asks him, while Renjun stands protectively in the doorway, not letting Haechan get any further .

"You are not coming into my home," Renjun fires back, mind whirring as he thinks god, I have to move after this. This isn't home anymore.

Haechan huffs, evidently frustrated. "Then I'll knock on everyone else's door until someone lets me in."

Renjun tenses. His neighbours certainly don't know about his other identity, and they definitely won't know the boy standing bloody at their door is none other than the wanted vigilante Haechan.

Haechan seems weakened and injured, and Renjun might just have enough of an advantage to actually take him down for once, but it's too early in the morning. The sound of fighting will draw people out in the hallway, and possibly get all his innocent neighbours dragged into whatever kind of trouble Haechan has just rained upon his door.

He can't put them at risk.

Haechan is still standing in front of him, clutching his side, and has not made a scene despite everything.

Renjun glares in warning, but steps back, making the decision to trust that Haechan will keep quiet if he lets him in.

He has to move apartments anyway, he figures. Haechan already knows this much, seeing the inside of it isn't going to change that he knows exactly where it is.

"Fine. But do not try anything," Renjun threatens.

Haechan doesn't even respond to it. He's not in a good way, and it's worse than Renjun thought. He's still clutching his side, and when he takes a step, it's jerky. His breaths are even heavier now, even though it seems like he's trying to measure them out to try and grit through the pain he's in.

Haechan steps through the doorway, and Renjun moves around him just to glance out the hallway to make sure no one has witnessed anything. Satisfied that the rest of his neighbours seem to be unaware of everything transpiring, he shuts the door as quietly as he can.

There's a thump, and Renjun whirls around, braced to attack or ready to counter one.

It takes him a second to understand what's happened. The thump was just Haechan's weight falling against the wall, and he's curling up further in on himself. His eyes are scrunched shut, and his arm is slowly dropping from where he's been pressing it tightly against his side.

The wall is the only thing keeping him upright right now. His legs are shaking, and it seems like they're about to give out. Haechan takes in one breath, shaking and shuddering, and —

Haechan collapses. Right in Renjun's own goddamn apartment.

He moves without thinking, stopping Haechan from hitting the ground. His body isn't prepared for the sudden movement — certainly not at 3 AM on his day off, and his knees protest at the sudden pressure of trying to keep Haechan upright.

Haechan's pained sound mixes with Renjun's own grunt of exertion, but he doesn't fight against Renjun's hold.

He's basically a deadweight in Renjun's arms. Still breathing and alive at least, but clearly physically exhausted. He's wounded more severely than Renjun assumed — he was likely just holding on long enough to get to a safer spot, and that was the most his body was able to take.

A safer spot apparently being his own enemy's apartment. Renjun doesn't like any of this, and he feels nothing short of bewildered as he realises he's already mentally cataloguing what medical supplies he has and what he can do to help.

He's able to get Haechan over to his couch, placing his phone down on his kitchen counter as they pass by it to make sure he has both hands free.

A distant voice in his mind tells him he's going to have to clean this too, right after the door. Maybe he can save the couch until tomorrow, at least.

Haechan's not completely unconscious yet, as he's blinking slowly at Renjun with half-lidded eyes. He's not quite able to keep his own weight up, sinking down into the couch, breathing heavily like getting dragged over to the couch was nothing short of a marathon.

"Hey," Renjun says, lightly tapping his cheek. "Hey, stay with me here. What happened?"

Haechan swallows, but he's clearly out of it, as it doesn't quite seem like he takes in the question. His arm has gone completely slack, no longer pressing against his side.

Questions are pointless, then. Haechan isn't able to give him any answers.

Renjun's going to have to find out for himself. He turns on the living room lights, even though he's reluctant to leave Haechan in this condition even for a second, but it's going to be easier for him to see what's going on.

Haechan looks even worse under the bright lights. He's pale and starting to tremble, and the blood is more visible on his darker jacket.

Renjun crouches before him. Haechan is a little more with it, likely having stirred from the lights, and he's eyeing him warily, suspicious.

But Haechan has come to him for help. They both just need to deal with whatever the hell that means.

Haechan has undoubtedly considered the fact that Renjun could have turned him away at the door. He could have taken Haechan down right there in the hallway. He could have called the cops — he still can. His phone is just a few steps away.

Whatever happens here tonight, they just have to live with it. Haechan has weighed up his options, and he's still decided to come here.

"Do not die on my couch, I swear to god," Renjun tells him, surprised to find his breath shaky. He clears his throat and shakes his head, forcing himself to focus as Haechan manages to offer him a small attempt at a smile.

"Didn't come this far just to die on your sad little couch," Haechan tells him with a raspy voice. He groans with pain in the effort, curling in on himself. He looks better now that he's sitting at least, but Renjun is still nervous he's about to give up the ghost right here.

"God, stop moving," Renjun scowls, carefully moving Haechan's hands away from his middle. Haechan grimaces in pain, so Renjun tries to distract him. "And fuck you, my couch is not sad."

"It is." Haechan takes a second to reply — it's a weak retort, both in his voice and in the words, but it's enough to keep him focused on staying awake.

Haechan's side is a gruesome sight. It looks like three big claws have managed to scratch at his side, and blood is quickly spilling over Haechan's fingers, and quickly over Renjun's own when he tries to inspect the wound for a second before placing pressure on it again.

"What the hell happened?" Renjun asks him, looking up for a brief second, meeting Haechan's eyes as he looks down at him. Haechan licks at his lips and his head rolls back on the couch.

"Tried— ah," Haechan cuts himself off with a wince as Renjun's hand shifts slightly. "You know the big, ugh, big sewerage guy? That likes to come out and flood everything?"

"I do," Renjun says, half-focusing on trying to think of what medical supplies he has in his bathroom that will help here. He's got bandages, a sewing kit, and only a couple of things he can clean the wound with. He's not sure if it's going to be enough.

"He's got big claws now," Haechan says, with a weakened laugh that sounds close to disbelief.

"What," Renjun's head snaps up again, trying to find the edge of a joke in Haechan's expression. He doesn't find it. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious, darling," Haechan says, but he's missing the usual sharp saccharine in his tone when he tries to flirt with Renjun. "But, yeah. He's got claws. Or had them."

"Had?"

Haechan's smile is a little more genuine now, closer to his usual smirk of satisfaction. "Yep."

Renjun breathes out. "I'll be back. Keep pressure on that."

Haechan grunts in acknowledgment, and his fingers come up to press against his skin. Renjun has to force him to press a bit harder than he is.

"I'm serious, Haechan. Do not die on my couch," Renjun warns, and stands up from his crouch before Haechan can reply. He still looks pale, and he's lost a lot of colour in his lips. Renjun hurries to his bathroom, pulls out his medical kit, and makes sure he has everything else he thinks he needs so that he doesn't need to make another trip back. He's got everything he has in his hands, and it still doesn't feel like it's going to be enough.

But it's just going to have to be.

He walks back over to the couch, putting the medical kit aside for the moment. Haechan is breathing shallowly, but he's still conscious, and that's a good sign. Renjun just needs to keep him awake.

He peels Haechan's jacket off him, carefully but not slowly.

He can feel Haechan's attempt at a smirk directed at him, but he ignores it.

"Why were you fighting that thing anyway? I thought you got along with him?" Renjun asks, even though he knows Haechan doesn't work with these kinds of creatures — usually mindless creations, experiments gone wrong, things that only focus on causing destruction and chaos. Haechan is chaotic and destructive, but he is not mindless about it. He's just unlawful and takes things too far, reckless to a dangerous fault, but he's not inherently bad like some of the things that pop up in this city. He knows this, but he asks if just to get Haechan talking.

Haechan smiles like he's laughing, but he doesn't quite have the energy to make noise. "That thing? No. Ew. It smells."

"Is that your quota for team-ups? If they smell or not?"

"Yeah," Haechan replies, teasing. "If he smelled of perfume, I'd have let him go wild. But he was about to crash into my favourite cafe, so..."

That's a strange thought. Until now, Renjun has only ever seen Haechan in the suit — he has never seen civilian Haechan, who has likes and dislikes beyond just causing some chaos for his own agendas. It's strange to think of the boy in front of him sitting at one of the cafes in the city, enjoying whatever his favourite drink is.

Distantly, Renjun wonders what that drink is.

Now, Haechan's hood has fallen away completely, and Renjun can see the way his hair naturally sits. It's ruffled up, some ends going wild from the hood. But he looks softer than Renjun has ever seen him — just like any other ordinary boy. Cute, if Renjun had just seen him in the street.

But they're not in the street. They're in Renjun's apartment, and Haechan is bleeding on his couch fresh out of a fight, and they are meant to be something like enemies. There is nothing ordinary about this situation, and there is nothing ordinary about the boy in front of him.

Once the jacket is off, Renjun eyes the shirt underneath. Haechan probably doesn't have the energy to hold it up the whole time while Renjun looks over the wounds, and Renjun doesn't really want him moving more than he already has. But the shirt is in the way, and Renjun needs it off so that he can properly look over the injuries— and make sure that Haechan isn't hiding anything more.

He reaches for the scissors in the medical kit, and takes hold of the bottom of Haechan's shirt, putting the blades against it.

"Always knew you wanted to see me naked," Haechan teases lightly, but he's squirming a little on the couch, actions not quite lining up with his words.

"Yes, because you bleeding on my couch is exactly the scenario I've always fantasised about," Renjun replies with a deadpan voice. It makes Haechan huff, but he settles on the couch, still as Renjun cuts right up the shirt, and then cuts through the sleeves so that Haechan doesn't need to move his arms through them.

Renjun cleans up the wound as best as he can, trying to wipe some of the blood away and disinfecting the skin around it, muttering apologies when Haechan winces at the sting sinking into some of the smaller cuts.

He's medically trained, but it's different to have Haechan here on his couch, bleeding, very much brushing against death if he continues to do so.

He takes in a deep breath, telling himself to focus. It's not going to do any of them any favours for Renjun to start freaking out and doubting himself now. While Renjun would love to scold Haechan for darkening his doorstep instead of going to a proper hospital, he also knows why that's exactly off the cards.

Haechan goes to look down at the wound, but Rejnun is pretty sure that Haechan hasn't actually properly looked at it yet, and definitely not under lights these bright. He doesn't need Haechan freaking out either, so he tuts at him, flicking Haechan's chin up when it lowers.

"Just focus on the wall or something," Renjun tells him.

"And deny myself the view of you on your knees?" Haechan asks, and when Renjun's head whips up, Haechan takes a second to blink before he seems to realise exactly what he's said to a person holding scissors in their hands. "Like, in surrender! Not— not like that! I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't like that either, but, like, I'm not trying to be crude. You'd be the type to like dinner first, right? I respect that. Um. Yeah. My bad. It's the blood loss?"

"Just shut up," Renjun warns with a glare. Haechan presses his lips together and nods, thoroughly scolded. Renjun takes the couple of moments of silence to actually focus on a plan for the wounds — they're still bleeding too much, and he's pretty certain he's going to have to clean and stitch them up. Out of the three claw marks, one is particularly deep, so Renjun bundles up Haechan's discarded shirt and presses it into Haechan's hands, making him hold it against another one of the wounds for now.

He cleans up the deepest as best as he can, making sure nothing is lodged in it. His fingers start to shake as he tries to thread the needle, but he forces himself to calm down.

"Alright," he says once he's done it and has the needle near Haechan's skin. "Tell me, what were you running from?"

"Huh?" Haechan asks, stirring himself back into focus as he tries to focus on Renjun's question. "What?"

Renjun asks again as he starts the first stitch. "You defeated the monster, right? So why were you running?"

Haechan groans. "Milk."

Renjun tries to give Haechan a second to explain, but it doesn't seem like there's anything else forthcoming. "What? Milk?"

"What's-his-name. Mork. Makgeolli," Haechan replies, but there's something close to a snicker on his expression, and Renjun figures it out.

"Mark? He was on scene?"

"Yeah," Haechan replies. "That guy. He's so obsessed with me, you know?"

Renjun sighs. He only knows bits and pieces of Mark and Haechan's dynamic, as Mark refuses to say anything about it. But he's pretty sure they're childhood friends, and while Mark is strict when it comes to following the law, Haechan views rules as lines to be crossed and laws as things to break. It's put them at odds, though Mark looks at Haechan with some kind of fond exasperation when he isn’t looking back.

"He probably just wanted your statement," Renjun mutters, shaking his head. And then he narrows his eyes. "He saw your injury, didn't he? He was probably just trying to get you to a hospital like any reasonable person should have done."

Haechan tuts at him. "He just wanted my autograph."

Renjun doesn't even bother with a reply. Haechan seems intent on ignoring the comment about the hospital, so Renjun isn't going to reward him for it.

Haechan is starting to suck in his breaths with each stitching, so Renjun goes for the distraction technique again.

"How did you find me?" Renjun asks.

Haechan is quiet for a few moments, and then he speaks in the most careful voice Renjun has heard from him yet.

"An accident," Haechan tells him.

Renjun scowls at him, pausing in his stitching to look up at Haechan with an unimpressed glare. Haechan meets it, but it doesn't seem to deter him.

Renjun grumbles, and he can't go too long without moving, so he focuses back on the injuries. He ties off the stitching for the one wound, and then makes Haechan move his grip so that he can see the next deepest one. It isn't as bad, but Renjun is worried about having left it for as long as he has had to.

"I guess you really didn't see me that day, then," Haechan breathes out.

Renjun looks up at him. "What?"

Haechan's throat bobs as he swallows, and Renjun's eyes track the movement before he reminds himself he has a job to do. He's started stitching again by the time Haechan starts to speak.

"We were in the elevator together once," Haechan says.

It takes Renjun a moment, and then he freezes.

"You were here?" Renjun asks, and then he looks up again. "Were you following me?"

"I lived here first," Haechan mutters, his lower lip jutting out in something akin to a pout.

Renjun is so stunned that it takes his brain a couple of seconds to reboot. "You live here?"

"Since last year. November. Before you, right?" Haechan replies.

"How do you know that?" Renjun asks.

Haechan looks a little more sheepish now. "Um. Judging by your response time and the areas you usually patrol. You changed about three months ago. So... four months after me. You followed me."

Renjun's still whirring in shock, but he ducks his head down and hides his expression as he finishes off the next round of stitches. He makes Haechan move his hand away from the final cut, inspecting it before he starts again.

"Trust me, I didn't," Renjun mumbles.

"No," Haechan agrees, his voice back to that strange level of serious genuine that's been ringing through his words tonight. "We only caught the elevator together once."

"I didn't recognise you?" Renjun asks — more of a question as to why, because he recognised Haechan unmasked, standing half-hidden in shadows at his door.

"You were on your phone," Haechan replies, his voice getting lower. Weaker. "And you were tired. You tripped getting into the elevator, and you seemed intent on ignoring me after that."

"Oh," Renjun swallows down a laugh. He does remember that moment — he had, in fact, been very eager to pretend like the person in the corner of the elevator didn't exist after that moment.

He sits back on his heels, inspecting the stitches. The skin is still red, blood still staining Haechan's skin. Haechan's breathing is still shallow — he's been doing well to hold on, but he's too pale. If he passes out now, Renjun isn't confident that he's going to actually wake up again.

There isn't much else that anyone can do. The best they'd be able to do is clean up the blood, stick some bandages on over the sutures, and hope it's enough. Renjun has a cloth he can use in his bathroom to wipe away the blood.

He rocks forward on his heels, still kneeling. He taps Haechan's cheek when Haechan blinks a little too slowly, his gaze a little too far.

"Come on, focus," Renjun tells him. "You're always demanding my attention, and now you've got it."

"Mhm," Haechan hums.

"Hey. Come on. I still have questions for you," Renjun says.

Haechan blinks again, and his eyes squint, like he's trying to find something to focus on. Renjun stares at him, waiting until Haechan is able to meet his gaze. With their eyes locked, Renjun's hands press against Haechan's stomach.

Haechan's eyes go wide, and he moves, curling in as pain must start to ricochet through him. But he doesn't try and actually push away Renjun's hands, despite the fact they both know that Renjun is done with the stitching.

"What— what are you doing?" Haechan asks, still not stopping him.

"Sh," Renjun replies, shaking his head a little.

Now, Haechan is starting to look a little more alarmed. He's using the last of his energy to try and sit up, and it looks like he's about to question Renjun further, so Renjun speaks first.

"How did you know this was my apartment though?" He questions.

Haechan blinks, pausing in his movements. He doesn't try to move again, but it means he doesn't quite settle either.

It'll have to do. Renjun takes in a deep breath, and hopes Haechan is too distracted to notice the glow that's starting to subtly arise from Renjun's own skin, spreading from his heart, down to his fingers, spreading across Haechan's own stomach.

Anyone else would have gotten up to clean the wound. Renjun is not quite anyone else.

"The elevator doors close slowly," Haechan grits out, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain seems to increase.

"Mhm," Renjun agrees, but he leaves it open like he's still waiting for more.

"I saw the door you walked to," Haechan admits once he has the breath to be able to speak again.

Fair, Renjun supposes. He had picked the apartment closest to the elevator for a reason — so that he'd be able to get in and out as needed as quickly as possible, and that he wouldn't disturb as many people with the elevator doors opening and closing at random times. Usually, he waits a little bit if there's someone in the elevator, just in case, but it seems like his embarrassment made him flee to his apartment immediately.

Of course, the one person he embarrassed himself in front of just had to be Haechan.

"So you live on a higher floor?" Renjun asks.

"Two floors up," Haechan agrees, tension loosening in his body as the pain starts to fade. "Renjun, seriously, what... what are you doing?"

The glow of Renjun's skin doesn't quite fade by the time Haechan's able to open up his eyes again. He's staring at Renjun critically, trying to piece it together while Renjun lets his hands fall away from Haechan's skin. A quick glance at his face shows that his lips are losing some of that blue hue, and he doesn't look so ghostly white. Renjun breathes out a sigh of relief.

“You said you didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Renjun prods, trying to get Haechan to focus again.

“I forgot to refill my medical kit,” Haechan mutters, clearly a little embarrassed about it.

In the end, Renjun’s glad for it — if Haechan tried to stitch this up himself, he might not have made it.

"So, this apartment has two superpowered people just running up and down these halls, huh?" Renjun muses, getting to his feet. Haechan watches him warily, but pauses when Renjun gestures for him to stop moving when he tries to do so.

"Renjun... really, what did you just do?"

"Nothing dangerous," Renjun replies, quickly heading into the bathroom to find a clean towel to dampen with water. He comes back out with it, and while Haechan is still eyeing him critically, he doesn't resist as Renjun presses the cloth to his skin and wipes away some of the blood there.

"If I thought you'd do something dangerous to me, I wouldn't have come," Haechan says. "But you did something."

Renjun sighs. He can tell Haechan isn't going to let this go.

He wipes the last of the blood up as best as he can, and then looks back through his medical kit for some gauze to put over the sutures for now. Haechan is pressing his lips together, clearly unpleased about not having an answer, but he thankfully keeps still as Renjun bandages him up.

Finally, Renjun settles back on his heels. There are spots of blood already on the bandages, but it's not too bad, so Renjun figures it's good enough for now. Haechan will, at least, make it through tonight.

"Renjun," Haechan says again.

Renjun sighs, but holds up his hand and wriggles his fingers in demonstration. "You know how my powers work?"

"Uh," Haechan blinks at him, and then he narrows his eyes. He figures it out in the same second. "You did not."

Renjun lowers his hand with a small shrug.

Haechan gasps. He looks like he's about to move again, so Renjun reaches forward and pins him down by the shoulder. "Seriously, Haechan. Stop moving. I did not just sew you back together for you to ruin your stitches."

"You didn't— but you did more than that!"

"Not much more," Renjun replies.

Haechan stares at him in disbelief. "But you..."

Haechan knows how it works. Renjun can convert anything, any type of energy, as long as he has a source to draw it from. Renjun has, despite the fact that they're on opposing sides, given Haechan some of his own life energy just to make sure Haechan had enough to heal and live through the night.

Judging by Haechan's reaction right now, though, he hadn't actually considered this a possibility — and Renjun feels relieved by that. Haechan hasn't just come to his door knowing that Renjun would live up to his morals — that everyone can and should be saved. He hasn't come here expecting Renjun to give him what he has.

"I told you, I wasn't having you die on my couch, Haechan." Renjun says.

"You could have just stitched me up and sent me on my way," Haechan replies, shaking his head.

"No," Renjun sighs. "No, I couldn't have."

"Well, I..."

It's strange to see Haechan speechless like this. It's strange seeing him lose all that bravado and all that confidence, and just act like any typical uncertain boy their age.

"If you tell me you didn't expect me to do it, I know," Renjun says, because he has a feeling that's what Haechan is intending to say. "I did it because I wanted to. It wasn't much. Maybe just a couple hours, that’s all."

"Of your life," Haechan whispers.

"Don't waste any more hours trying to argue with me," Renjun says. He'd made up his mind, and he's made his decision. There is no taking it back now, and he does not want to. He's glad to have done it, even if he doesn't agree with Haechan's behaviour and morals, he's not going to let Haechan die because of it.

He's not bad. He's annoying, arrogant, confident, and chaotic at worst when he's out on the field in his suit. But he has his own reasons, his own way of doing what he thinks is right, and Renjun knows this. The world would have lost more than it gained if Haechan were to die tonight.

It's quiet between them for a few moments, Haechan looking like he's trying to understand everything and process it.

"Thank you," Haechan says eventually, soft but genuine.

"Yeah," Renjun replies, "no problem."

Haechan pulls a face like he disagrees, but he keeps quiet about it if he does.

It feels like the hour of the night is starting to hit Renjun again now that the danger has passed. He rubs underneath his eyes, and Haechan shifts uneasily on the couch as he also seems to realise the hour as well.

"Look," Renjun says, tilting his head as he looks him over. "I need to clean my door before the neighbours wake up and see it. And you... making you head up, no matter even if it's only a couple floors, just makes me nervous you're going to pull at those stitches. So... I'm going to give you a shirt and a blanket, and you're going to sleep on my couch, alright?"

"You're going to let me stay?" Haechan asks, eyes wide in surprise.

"I just told you why," Renjun sighs.

"Yeah, but..."

"You haven't stolen anything so far, have you? Burned anything down?"

Haechan's face twists in obvious displeasure at the thought. "No, obviously, but..."

"I'm going to get you a shirt," Renjun insists, and heads into his bedroom to go get one. He picks an oversized one, just to make it easier for Haechan to slip into it, and drags out one of his spare blankets and a pillow.

Haechan is nervously playing with his fingers when Renjun comes back out and places the blanket and pillow down.

"I won't tell anyone that you live here," Haechan says.

Renjun sighs. He's too tired to deal with this right now, really. If he was worried that Haechan was going to reveal it all after realising it was an accident, he would have found something to blackmail him with to keep it quiet.

"I'm serious," Haechan insists. "I live here too, anyway. Number 606."

At this, Renjun is now the one in shock.

"You don't need to tell me this," Renjun quietly says.

"I want you to trust that I'm not going to tell anyone," Haechan says. "I haven't told anyone so far, and I'm definitely... I'm definitely not going to do it after tonight."

"I didn't consider you would after you told me it was an accident," Renjun admits. "So... don't worry about it, okay? I get it. But thanks, Haechan."

Haechan's hands clench in his lap.

"Donghyuck," he says.

Renjun frowns. "What?"

Haechan lets out a deep breath. "My name. Donghyuck. Donghyuck Lee. Not Haechan. You may as well know. The least I could give you after everything tonight."

Donghyuck.

"Okay," Renjun breathes out. He's not sure how many more surprises he can take tonight — Donghyuck has always done his best to conceal his identity. His real identity has been a question that's never had an answer. And now here he is, sitting on Renjun’s couch, telling him. "Thank you, Donghyuck."

Donghyuck's smile is a little brighter now. Renjun can't help but give his own small one in return. He sets the pillow down on the couch, and then holds up the oversized shirt. Donghyuck pouts at it.

"If you bleed through those bandages, I'd rather the shirt soaks it up," Renjun tells him. Donghyuck pulls a face.

"Why not just have a towel?" Donghyuck asks.

"It's not as comfortable. And I have less towels than I do shirts, so..."

Honestly, Renjun doesn't really care for the couch. He's been meaning to get a new one anyway. He'd rather that Donghyuck just be a little bit warmer and more comfortable.

Donghyuck's disturbed expression shifts into acceptance. He raises up his arms slightly, and Renjun helps get the shirt over his head — it’s so large that it doesn’t take much movement at least. He places the blanket in Donghyuck's lap, and then gets up again to get a glass of water and some painkillers. He flicks off the main overhead light when he comes back, but the room is still warmly illuminated by the lamp beside the couch.

"Thanks. Did you want help, uh, cleaning?" Donghyuck asks, taking the painkillers and the glass of water from Renjun's hands.

Renjun snorts. "What, and have you pull your stitches and bleed over my floor again? No thanks. Just lie down, try and get some sleep. That's the best thing you can do for me right now, as well as promise you're not going to cause trouble for me."

"I'm not going to cause trouble!" Donghyuck whines. It's kind of endearing, but Renjun slaps his own cheek lightly to try and slap some sense back into himself. No. No, he does not think his enemy is cute.

Unfortunately, Donghyuck is not much of an enemy right now. Renjun's reasoning kind of slips right through his fingers.

The hour is late, and he's exhausted, but he has to clean up his door before it's seen. At least he's kind of used to cleaning up the scene of blood with his own injuries, so he isn't short on supplies. He can feel Donghyuck's eyes following him as he moves through the apartment, and as he opens the door inwardly and starts to try and silently clean it.

Donghyuck doesn't say anything, not with the door open as it is, and Renjun is glad. He starts to wonder if Donghyuck knows any of his neighbours, what it's like on his floor when he arrives home at strange hours too. He wonders if Donghyuck has these same cleaning supplies in his own apartment, and how much blood he's had to clean of his own.

Thankfully, the blood cleans off pretty easily — there hadn't been too much to begin with, as Donghyuck had tone his best to cover his knuckles with his jacket, but that was also bloody. Still, it's not nearly as bad as it could have been considering the amount that Donghyuck had spilling between his fingers.

He cleans up a couple of spots on the floor too, checks down the hallway to make sure there isn't any there, and then shuts the door with a relieved sigh. Now, at least, he only has to worry about the inside state of his apartment. Donghyuck is still watching him, though he's at least settling to lie down on the couch now.

The glass of water is half-finished, but Renjun makes sure to refill it just in case. He cleans up a couple of blood spots that have made it onto his floor, knowing that it will just be so much harder if he waits to do it until morning. Thankfully, the spots clean easily enough, and Renjun is nothing short of relieved. He's too tired to be scrubbing at stains.

"If you need anything, please just... I don't know, yell politely," Renjun says, running a hand down his face. "I'll hopefully hear it. Just do it at a level where the neighbours won't."

Donghyuck gives him a thumbs-up, but he seems to pause in the motion like he's thinking something over.

"What?" Renjun asks.

"Can I get your number?" Donghyuck asks him.

Renjun stares at him. "Are you seriously still going with the pick-up lines right now?"

"I don't see a good reason to stop them," Donghyuck replies, finally lowering his hand. "But no, not just that. Instead of yelling, maybe I can just call? That way there are no neighbour complaints about a guy, you know, screaming in your apartment."

"Why would you scream," Renjun says, a little appalled at the thought.

Donghyuck shrugs. "What if you don't hear my 'polite shouting'? What if I try and get up and pull out some stitches..."

Donghyuck's voice is fading into something teasing, clearly just riling him up, but Renjun is so tired that he doesn't really acknowledge it. He sighs and walks over to the counter where he put his phone, but stops before he can give it over.

"Give me yours," Renjun says instead.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, and the pout gets a little bigger. "I wouldn't do anything on your phone, you know?"

"No, I wouldn't think you'd do anything dangerous," Renjun appeases, "but you'd make your contact name something ridiculous, wouldn't you?"

Donghyuck laughs, but he does not argue it. He fishes out his phone from the pocket of his pants, and passes it over.

Renjun whistles as he sees the state of it. "Did the screen crack tonight?"

"Yeah," Donghyuck sighs. "It's still working though, right?"

"Somehow," Renjun confirms, navigating to the contacts to add himself in. Instead of putting his name in, he saves the contact as Downstairs Neighbour. He passes it over, and while Donghyuck seems bemused by the name, it doesn't look like he changes it. It’s better for both of their identities, really.

"I'll get it fixed sometime this week," Donghyuck mutters.

"I'd definitely recommend just resting the next couple of days. Please, god, no more fighting for this week," Renjun says. "Or like, as long as it takes for those stitches not to rip."

"Yeah. I have some shows to catch up on anyway," Donghyuck replies, surprisingly in easy agreement. Renjun supposes he's also not usually chipper and eager to get back into things when he comes so close to a near-death experience.

Renjun gets the urge, suddenly, to ask what kind of shows Donghyuck is into. What movies he goes to see, what kind of drinks he gets at his favourite cafe.

Tomorrow, he tells himself. If he still finds himself wanting to ask these things, he can. If Donghyuck is closer to the civilian bleeding on his couch than the arrogant Haechan out on the field, and Renjun is still curious, then he tells himself he can ask. In the back of his mind, he's sure that he will anyway — that Donghyuck on the couch has forever changed his perception of Haechan.

But now it is too late into the morning, and Renjun's entire body aches, and he's sure Donghyuck aches worse.

"Also... don't try and leave without me knowing about it," Renjun says. "Because then I will assume you're doing something suspicious. So just... crash there, and let's figure it all out in the morning. Together, okay?"

Donghyuck swallows heavily. He looks conflicted.

"Donghyuck. Please."

Thankfully, Donghyuck nods. He lifts up his hand, and Renjun realises what shape his fingers have formed. He lets out a long exhale, but he walks over and forms a pinky-promise with Donghyuck.

"Well, if the most gorgeous person alive wants me to stay, I guess I have no other choice..." Donghyuck laughs.

Renjun just shakes his head. "Go to sleep, Donghyuck. Rest."

Donghyuck's teasing smile fades into something more genuine and private, and he gives Renjun a nod.

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Renjun. For... everything," Donghyuck says.

Renjun gives him a smile and a small wave. "Yeah. Sleep well, Donghyuck."

He turns to give Donghyuck the privacy to settle himself however he'd like on the couch, but it's not until Renjun has climbed into his own bed that he actually hears Donghyuck lie down properly. He plugs his phone in to charge, makes sure the ringtone is at a high enough volume that he'll wake up from any kind of sleep when it rings, and he puts it aside.

With just how tired he is, he knows that if Donghyuck moves as quietly as he sometimes can out in a fight, then he likely will not wake up. Donghyuck might just head out of the apartment — up to his own, maybe, if he'd been telling Renjun the truth. Maybe that would be safer than having Donghyuck actually in his apartment, now unsupervised, able to set taps or wiring devices.

But Renjun finds that he believes in Donghyuck's sincerity. He believes in the quieter moments, when he's not acting like this is just another game out on the field to him. Renjun believes in Donghyuck.

He probably won't be able to sleep much, even if it's deep for a short while — Renjun's body is just wired this way now. In the late morning, when he likely wakes a few too many hours short of a proper rest, he believes that he'll find Donghyuck still out on the couch. He believes that he'll get the chance to ask him what his favourite shows are, what his favourite cafe is, and what medical supplies he needs to restock on that Renjun can get for him.

Maybe it'll be different when Donghyuck leaves the apartment. Maybe they'll just be back to how they are on the field, on opposite sides, where Haechan just mindlessly flirts with destruction behind him, and Renjun bats him away with annoyance.

Maybe.

But Renjun believes that things are different. That there's something here, something that's changed. His stomach twists in anxiety and anticipation.

Whatever comes in the morning, he's sure that it's worth finding out.