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“I won’t do it again, Appa. I don’t like it here, please let me out!”
“You should've thought of that before disobeying me, Seongje.”
The wardrobe was dark. It was cramped. The smell of dust and rotting wood assaulted his nose. It was as if he could feel nothing and everything all at once. His own cries rang clean in his ears, but it seemed like none echoed outside the wooden confines of the small cabinet where he was left all alone.
“Eomma! Eomma! Help me, please!”
He repeated the same words over and over again. Like a prayer that became too rusted, one that tasted bitter on his tongue, clashed with his teeth as if daring to break them. And his throat felt rough and dry. His cheeks, wet, sticky, warm and cold.
He cried until he could no longer hear his voice, only the disappointment of his father that became louder until it felt like it made his ears bleed.
And the wardrobe cabinet was dark. It was cramped. The smell of dust and rotten wood made him nauseous. He wanted to vomit. But everything felt like it was closing in closer. And closer. And closer. He couldn't breathe. Eomma left, Appa said she got sick of him, like everyone would eventually if he kept being bad.
The wardrobe was too hot, Seongje felt like he was drowning.
“Yah. Keum Seongje.”
“Yah. Keum Seongje.”
It has been three months.
Three months of constant pestering and Sieun was nearing the end of his patience. Seeing as the bane of his existence is currently sitting outside of his apartment, bruised and bloodied, and half asleep, it made him want to scream into his hands. Or throw a punch or two. Or just throw himself off the eighth floor.
Or all of them. In that particular order.
Keum Seongje groaned as he stretched from his back pain-inducing position that he chose before he apparently decided to doze off. He even had the audacity to carefreely yawn as if he was simply waking up from a comfortable slumber in a cozy hotel room.
“What took you so long, princess? I almost froze to death waiting for you,” he complained like a child, adjusting his glasses that sat skewed on his face. Sieun fought the urge to punch him square on his nose.
“Doesn't seem the case, given how you fell asleep like a log,” he replied flatly, which the union executive took as an endearment.
“It was awful. I had a nightmare.” The bastard grinned, although he winced the second that he did. His lip was cut, the left corner turning into a shade of purple with a hint of green and yellow. A bruise slowly screaming vividly like a reminder of a vicious fist fight.
“Get out, I don't have the energy to argue with you.”
Sieun didn't spare him a glance and just searched his bag for his keys. His day wasn't the greatest. He couldn't catch the last bus because he was stranded in his cram school due to the rain. He didn't have an umbrella and couldn't risk his books getting wet so he had to wait for it to stop. Walking home after a long day of studying ruined his mood more than it already was.
“You're heartless, princess. Do you not feel sorry for me?”
Sieun wanted to roll his eyes. He really didn't have enough energy to even muster a reply that would hurt enough to send the Ganghak tyrant away.
“Go home.”
“Can't, my old man would scream my ears off.”
“Leave me alone.”
“I'm cold, and injured, and pitiful.”
Sieun sighed, glancing at the taller boy with exhausted eyes. Indeed, he was. Only then he realized that the other’s hair was somewhat damp, the spot where he was sitting earlier was also wet, and the boy himself looked like a drenched dog that survived a fight to the death.
He didn't answer anymore and just pushed his key in on the knob, twisting it open before stepping inside. He looked back and stared at the boy that made his previous months annoying and unbearable.
“No smoking inside or I’ll stab you.”
Something akin to surprise flashed in the taller boy’s eyes for a split second. Like a secret he wanted to keep. Like a whisper that leaked through a gap that he immediately covered with a cloth squeezed in between to keep it from leaving. The annoying smile came back, crawling into his lips in practiced ease as he entered the door like he now owned the place.
Sieun led him to the living area before he walked towards his room, only coming back a couple of minutes later with some clothes that Baku left when him and Hyeontak last slept over.
“Change. I’ll fix you up after,” he said, throwing the clothes in Seongje's direction which the boy caught easily.
“Yes sir.”
Sieun breathed sharply. Fed up. But still fetching the first aid kit, anyway. Seongje came back wearing the loose old shirt and the cotton pajamas that Baku owned. Without being told to, he slumped on the couch next to Sieun, closer than he should be.
Sieun didn’t inch away like he should’ve. He blamed it on his exhaustion.
Surprisingly, the union executive kept quiet the whole time he was being treated. He just stared. Sieun had to hold his breath.
Because somewhere in between, the gaze dropped the smugness, the usual rough around the edges kind of stare that he always received from the taller boy.
It was replaced by something that was too warm.
Like adoration.
Sieun didn’t want to believe it was. Because there was nothing to be adored about him. And Seongje’s eyes, sickeningly genuine, felt like a lie that scratched something uncomfortable beneath his ribs.
And so he continued treating his wounds. Cleaning the cuts. Methodically. Swift, careful, practiced. Like he’s done this countless times. Which he had.
For the past three months, Keum Seongje stubbornly crawled his way through the crevices of Sieun’s walls. Ones that he undoubtedly made himself by slamming his whole body until the little cracks formed and slowly became bigger.
He followed Sieun to his cram school. Waited for him to step out of Eunjang. Pestered him when he visited the convenience store near his apartment building.
Keum Seongje became a constant headache that showed up every other day.
Some days he was wearing that bright orange windbreaker. The color too obnoxious to miss even under the dim lights of the streets during Sieun’s midnight runs to buy something outside.
Some days he wore a graphic shirt with a big print of a wolf in front. That, and a leather jacket.
Some days, he’d be waiting in front of the convenience store, sitting on the curb, blood running down his temple. His signature grin plastered on his face as always. He’d greet Sieun with his annoying voice. Sieun always loses the fight and always ends up treating his wounds like a designated guardian.
And after three months, Sieun memorized every slope of the taller boy’s face. The mole under his right eye. The scar on his left brow that you’d only notice if you stare hard enough.
He memorized how the boy’s nose twitches when he winces in pain. Or how he hisses so quietly when the alcohol soaked cotton touches a bleeding wound. Too quiet, perhaps. But Sieun hears it when he’s leaning too close.
What he refused to memorize was his stare. He never looked straight into his eyes. They were too sincere. Like two pools of innocence waiting for him to dip his feet in so he can pull him to the bottom and drown him to death.
So Sieun held his breath and treated him like always. Quietly, he put away the first aid kit. Getting a blanket from his room and giving it to the boy that shouldn’t be sitting on his couch but was there anyway.
Quietly, he retreated back to his room without hearing even a word from Keum Seongje. His heartbeat was loud enough to drown everything else, anyway.
***
The next morning, Sieun woke up, the couch was empty. No signs of anyone staying over the night before. But a familiar scent lingered. Cologne that didn’t belong to him. A scent that he associated with the smell of the alleys, the rust of blood, and midnight convenience store runs.
He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. Something that shouldn’t be there in the first place. He ate breakfast and wore his uniform like usual. He walked down the same path to Eunjang. Not one glimpse of a red blazer.
His day continued like any other. Gotak and Baku fooled around like always, an exasperated Juntae trailing behind, reminding them that they are not immortals and shouldn’t be doing stunts that may or may not break their bones into pieces.
Sieun stayed silent, commenting less, his attention elsewhere. Juntae noticed, he sent glances his way, but nevertheless, didn't ask.
The bell rang and Sieun made an excuse to ditch the basketball game that Gotak kept trying to drag him into. He found himself walking to cram school. His ear was not assaulted by an obnoxious voice.
He came out later than usual. Took the bus, walked home.
And in front of his apartment building stood a boy wearing a black and red windbreaker. Smoking. Lazy. There.
“Princess. Missed me?”
Sieun didn’t answer and kept walking, ignoring how Keum Seongje flicked the cigarette butt somewhere before following him inside the building. Like he’s done it many times before. That he had.
“Hey. Are you mad?”
“Fuck off, Keum Seongje.”
“Sorry for leaving without telling you. Didn’t wanna wake you up.”
Sieun ignored him and kept walking, the union executive still hot on his heels. That was until they reached the elevator.
He stepped inside. Seongje didn’t. He hesitated, faltering almost so slightly that anyone would’ve missed it easily. Sieun wasn’t just anyone.
A couple of seconds in, the taller boy entered inside. Sieun pressed the eighth floor button and waited as the lift slowly moved.
Then. It stopped.
A sudden shake that made Sieun stumble and grip the railing attached to the side to support himself. The light of the elevator flickered before it went out.
***
The first time Seongje showed up bruised and battered, he didn’t expect anything from Eunjang’s Ice Princess.
He was prepared to be ignored, or maybe take a punch depending on Yeon Sieun’s cranky level.
What he didn't expect was to be held. Like he mattered. Like bleeding wasn't normal. Like he wasn't an abomination that should be locked inside a wooden wardrobe cabinet, away from the world where he might do damage.
The first time Seongje showed up with cuts and bruises was the first time Yeon Sieun touched him without the intention to inflict pain. Quite the opposite. That night, in front of the convenience store the quiet boy frequented, they sat not like two enemies from sides that never got along. Two people who used to speak in mocking jabs, punches to the gut, a hit on the face.
The smaller boy took a look at him once. An expressionless stare that seemed to study him under a microscope with those sad eyes of his. Then he entered the convenience store without a word.
Seongje should've felt insulted, being ignored like he was some dirt on the ground that wasn't even worth attention. He didn't. Instead, he followed. Like always. Saying random things just to get a reaction.
He was so preoccupied with annoying the other that he didn't notice the things that he brought over to the counter.
Some bandages, cotton balls, an ointment, antiseptic, some other shit.
Before he knew it, Yeon Sieun was already dragging him towards the chairs and table outside the convenience store. Quietly, with a blank face, he cleaned his wounds without saying anything. Seongje knew better than to say anything, knowing he’d probably say something stupid that would make the boy recoil, leaving him with open cuts, bruises still throbbing.
From there on, it became a routine. Seongje knew the nights when the other teen left his apartment to buy something. Canned coffee. Triangle kimbap. Milk. Random things.
Those nights, Seongje would be all too happy to volunteer to clean up some mess for the union when he’s only ever sent to deal with serious things. He’d let some fuckers hit him more than usual. In places that would bruise easier. In places that the eyes can see without being covered by clothes. Then he’d wait. Sometimes a couple of minutes. Often, hours. Sieun always showed up.
Seongje just learned to laugh through being berated while his cheeks were being cleaned gently with a cotton ball.
“You always let them hit you this much?” the boy would ask, applying an ointment on a bruise that's debating whether to stay purple or green or yellow.
“Only when I know you’ll be fixing me up.” Seongje would answer.
“You’re unbearable.”
“I’ve been told.” He’d always try to drink Yeon Sieun’s every expression with his eyes. “But you let me stay, don’t you?”
The smaller boy never answered back. Seongje didn’t need him to. Because the fact that he always carried that little first-aid kit whenever he went to the convenience store told Seongje everything he needed to know. He’s not something to be locked away because he’s a burden.
Yeon Sieun always showed up.
Seongje wanted to know how much he can push. How closer he can get.
Then came the first time he entered the boy’s apartment.
Yeongshin fucked up. Na Baekjin wanted him to clean up their mess. This time, he couldn’t afford to let them hit him too much or he’ll actually need to visit the ICU. He finished the job, came out a little more battered than usual.
The sky chose that timing to fuck with him, rain started pouring and he had no choice but to walk through it on his way to Yeon Sieun’s apartment. He was tired, but he took the stairs. His legs were already shaky when he reached the eighth floor. He waited. And waited. And waited. He didn’t remember how he fell asleep slumped against the door of the apartment. But then, he woke up with Yeon Sieun nudging his leg.
He didn’t expect himself to be let in that night, but he found himself sitting on the smaller boy’s couch, wearing clothes that probably belonged to that fucker, Baku, or Gotak. They were too big to be Yeon Sieun’s.
Seongje hated when people got too close. He hated it when his space gets crowded. But he leaned closer as Sieun cleaned the cut on his cheek m. He leaned closer when the other boy dabbed antiseptic on his busted lip.
He wanted to be closer. Only to admire how beautiful Yeon Sieun’s features came together. He wanted to figure out how his eyes could hold so much emotion when his face stayed as blank as paper. He wanted to memorize every single twitch of his muscle.
So he followed him inside the elevator. He didn’t want to leave yet. What’s a minute of suffering when Yeon Sieun was by his side?
But to his luck. The fucking elevator stopped. The lights died.
And suddenly, he was seven again. Back inside that tiny wardrobe cabinet after he spilled water on the carpet. After he breathed too loud. After his father looked at him wrong. Suddenly, all he could smell was dust and rotting wood. He couldn’t breathe.
***
Sieun was quick to click his tongue in annoyance after gaining his bearing. There must’ve been a power outage if even the lights went out and not just the elevator itself. Now, he has to be locked inside a closed space with Keum Seongje.
“…fuck…”
Amidst the pitch black space of the elevator, a humorless chuckle escaped the only person he was with before a quiet thud echoed in the air. Like someone sliding down because their legs gave out.
“What’s going on with you?” He asked, feeling his brows knit in confusion when not a snarky reply but ragged breathing reached his ears. The Union executive sounded like he was choking on something, like drowning on air and he was trying his hardest to squeeze oxygen into his lungs.
Sieun quickly fished his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight, shining it directly where the taller boy was.
And there he found him. On the floor, staring down, clutching his chest like it was hurting. Keum Seongje, the boy who never showed any weakness, was trembling on the corner of the unmoving elevator, like a child facing his biggest nightmare.
They were textbook signs of a panic attack.
“...sorry… I’m sorry…. I’m sorry…”
Sieun’s breath hitched, hearing Keum Seongje sounding so broken and small, curling to himself like he was confined in a small space.
He glanced at the intercom. Even if they press the button and scream for help, it wouldn't work. The power is out.
So Sieun gave up on the idea and turned his attention back to the boy trembling on the floor. He placed his phone down, making sure the light was still on so it wouldn't be totally pitch black inside the elevator while they waited for the power to come back.
“Keum Seongje, breathe,” he said, making his voice as soothing as he could.
Even with the minimal light that his phone provided, he was able to see how the Union executive’s face was drained of its color. He was pale and sweating bullets.
“S-Sieun?” The boy stuttered, meeting his eyes. Gone was the glint of mischief in them. The confident gaze that made everyone cower beneath his feet. It was replaced with fear and something broken. The look of a child waiting for salvation.
“I’m here, hold onto me.”
And he did. With trembling hands, Keum Seongje held onto him like he was a lifeline. As though letting him go would make him vanish. Like he was so afraid of being left alone.
“Don't leave… Please… Don't leave me…”
His voice cracked as tears slowly welled up in his eyes. Like he was expecting Sieun to just let go and leave him all on his own. That night when he first invited the boy over flashed in his mind. The surprised look that Seongje sported for a moment, as though he was too used to rejection that anymore wouldn't make that much of a difference.
Like a child pushed away so many times that asking for a hug felt like asking for too much. Perhaps, that was the reason why everything that Seongje did, it was hidden behind cruelty and amusement.
Before Sieun registered his actions, he was already pulling the trembling boy into an embrace. His arm snaked around his shoulder, cradling the back of the boy's head as he buried his fingers in his curls.
“I won't. So, breathe with me.”
Seongje did. He followed how Yeon Sieun’s chest rose and fell, memorizing his heartbeat like a song he wouldn't mind playing on repeat.
In that moment, he was seven again. The wardrobe was still locked, the door still unopened. But he had Sieun by his side, hugging him tight.
The air no longer smelled like dust and rotten wood. It smelled like comfort. Like routine. Like the stinging scent of antiseptic and newly opened bandages. It smelled like the pavement outside the convenience store where he'd sit for hours waiting for a certain someone to show up.
It smelled like Yeon Sieun. Clean laundry and mint flavored hand sanitizer.
It smelled like home.