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The cafe was quiet that afternoon, save for the gentle clink of cups being set down and the distant hum of the espresso machine behind the counter. Suho had chosen it, said it looked peaceful and Sieun just followed. Sieun didn’t care where they went, as long as Suho was there, he didn’t mind.
They sat across from each other, sunlight filtering through the windows and casting soft shadows across their table.
Sieun ate silently, absently cutting small pieces of cake with the dull cake knife provided. Across from him, Suho worked through a plate of pastries—biting into a buttery doughnut and licking a crumb off his thumb between easy laughs. His usual grin was firmly in place, the one that seemed to erase any trace of the pain he'd gone through.
It had been months since Suho woke up, but some days, it still felt like a fragile dream to Sieun.
Suho stirred his iced Americano, the straw squeaking faintly against the plastic lid. He took another casual sip, then looked up, a familiar mischievous glint in his eye.
"Yah Sieun-ah," he said, voice light and teasing. "What would you have done if I actually died back then?"
Sieun’s hand stilled, the knife paused halfway through slicing his cake. He didn't look up right away. His fingers tapped the knife’s spine once, twice, before answering.
"I would’ve killed them.”
Suho snorted, thinking it was a joke or some dark humor. “You’re serious, huh?”
Slowly, Sieun raised his gaze, meeting Suho's eyes heads on. “I would’ve killed them.”
There were no drama in the words. Just a blunt honesty from someone who seemed like he’d already lived it a thousand times in his head, and maybe he had. He didn’t need to think twice about it. If Suho hadn’t woken up, if he'd never opened his eyes again, there would’ve been no mercy for the people who did that to him. Not one.
He could already feel the anger stirring in his chest, the heat building up like it did every time he thought about those days. It wasn’t just about the people who hurt Suho—it was about the fact that they’d made him feel powerless. Suho had been lying there, barely breathing, and Sieun hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to stop it.
But he’s here now. And I’m not weak anymore.
Suho's smile faded into something smaller, something gentler. Because yeah, that sounded like Sieun. The kind of person who didn’t say things unless he meant them.
If hurting people meant keeping Suho alive, he’d cross that line without looking back.
If hurting someone meant Suho would stay safe, then fine. That’s a line worth stepping over.
Burn the whole damn school if I have to. Turn everything black. I’d still sleep at night knowing that he’s breathing.
Sieun’s grip tightened unconsciously around the cake knife. He clenched his jaw as if he was chewing on words he couldn’t quite spit out, mind unhelpfully drifting back to the video footage that burned into his memory of Suho lying unconscious on the boxing ring floor, to the relentless beeping of hospital monitors, to the sickening metallic smell of blood clinging to his skin after he’d beaten the ones responsible.
And beneath all of it, heavier than the rage, was the guilt.
Guilt for not seeing it coming. Guilt for letting it happen. Guilt for being too late.
Even if I have to become someone else to make sure no one ever touches him again, I will.
“I’m serious,” Sieun repeated, quieter this time but no less certain. "I'd have killed them."
Suho looked at him for a long moment, his eyes crinkling in amusement before nodding. "I know," he said simply.
Suho popped another bite of doughnut into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before another smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You damn psycho,” he added, shaking his head in that way he always did when Sieun said something utterly insane.
“Anyway,” Suho said, leaning back, “you need to stop looking so scary. The barista keeps glancing at me like I’m in danger.”
Sieun’s lips twitched into a small, awkward smile, a flush creeping up his neck as he felt simultaneously embarrassed and ridiculous. “I’m not that scary.”