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Changbin doesn’t move at first.
His room is dark, the curtains barely letting in the weak orange glow of the streetlamp outside.
The phone vibrates again.
He groans softly and drags it out from under his pillow, blinking against the brightness.
San.
He answers immediately.
“Yeah?”
There was no greeting. Just breathing, fast and loud against the speaker. Changbin sits up slowly.
“San?”
“Bin-” The name fractures in the middle. Like it scraped its way out. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah. I am.” He swings his legs off the bed, bare feet meeting cold floor. “What’s wrong?”
There’s wind on the other end. San swallows hard. “I need help.”
Changbin’s jaw tightens. “Where are you?”
A pause, then a rush of words, too quick, like he’s afraid he’ll lose courage if he slows down. “The park near the closed convenience store,” he says. “The one past the bus station.”
“Why are you there?” he asks quietly.
“I messed up.” San’s voice dips lower. “I didn’t think it would- I thought I could handle it.”
Handle what?
“Are you hurt?” Changbin stands fully now, pacing once across his room without realizing it.
“No.”
In the background, something metallic clangs. A car door slams somewhere distant. San inhales sharply like he’s trying to make himself smaller.
“San,” Changbin says, voice steadying into something firmer, older. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t.” It comes out almost broken. “I just- I can’t explain right now. Please... will you come?”
Changbin’s eyes drift toward his bedroom door. Down the hallway is his parents' room. Dad would wake up instantly. He always does. Even the smallest noise pulls him out of sleep.
“I will wake my dad,” he says before he can stop himself.
“Don’t.” The word tears out of San like it hurt. “Please. Don’t tell anyone. I can’t deal with adults right now,” San continues, voice shaking. “If they find out- I just need you, okay? Just you.”
Changbin feels chest tighten. If he wakes his dad, this becomes something else.
Bigger. Louder. Official.
If he doesn’t-
“I’m coming,” Changbin says quietly.
San exhales like he’s been underwater. “Okay. Okay. Thank you. Please hurry.”
The call ends, and Changbin stares at the dark screen in his hand. Then he sighs.
He’s not a kid.
He’ll go, see what’s happening, call if it gets bad.
That’s reasonable. Right?
He grabs the hoodie hanging off his chair and pulls it over his head without turning on the light. He shoves his phone into his pocket.
His movements are careful as he opens his bedroom door slowly. The hallway is dim, washed in faint orange light from outside.
He steps out.
“I’ve got it,” he whispers to no one, maybe to himself.
And for the first time, he wonders, if bravery and recklessness are really that different.
Changbin slows down as he approaches the park street. His breathing is controlled, but his pulse isn’t.
The closed convenience store across the street is dark, glass doors pulled close tight. A single vending machine beside it hums faintly, glowing blue against the wall.
And then he hears it.
Voices. Low, rough, older. Changbin’s jaw tightens, and he steps further in. And he sees him.
San is near the old basketball court fence, shoulders tense, back slightly hunched like he’s bracing himself. Three... no, four, older men stand around him in a loose circle.
San spots Changbin first. For a split second, relief flashes across his face. Then panic. Like he hadn’t actually expected him to come.
“Hey.” Changbin's voice cuts through the air sharper than he expected.
The men turn, and one of them smirks faintly. “Brought a friend?”
Changbin steps beside San, shoulder brushing his. “What’s going on?” he asks, but he doesn’t look at San when he says it. His eyes stay on the men.
“Nothing that concerns you,” one of them replies lazily.
“Back off,” Changbin says.
One of them laughs. And then a hand shoves San’s shoulder. Changbin reacts before he registers it. He grabs the wrist that pushed San and yanks it away.
“Don’t touch him.”
One of them steps forward and shoves Changbin this time. Harder. He stumbles back a step, catching himself.
“You think you’re tough?” one of them snickers.
Changbin doesn’t answer. He swings first. It’s not clean. But enough to say he's a boxer. His fist connects awkwardly with someone’s jaw, and it’s enough to break the standoff.
San is moving beside him, now strong enough to overpower, desperate enough to fight like it. For a few chaotic seconds, it’s just movement and noise and breath and fists and pavement scraping against skin.
Then one of the men whistles sharply. Changbin barely registers it until he sees five more figures approaching from the other side of the park.
His stomach drops. This isn’t four anymore.
San grabs his arm. “Bin-”
Changbin shoves one of the men back with all his weight and creates just enough space.
“Run.” He doesn’t wait to see if San hesitates. He grabs San’s wrist and bolts. They sprint across the court, lungs burning almost instantly. Changbin doesn’t look back. San stumbles but keeps moving.
“Left-” Changbin gasps, pulling him down a narrower side road. Footsteps still echo behind them, as they turn another corner, then another, till the shouting fades slightly.
They don’t stop running until their legs physically refuse. They duck into an alley between two apartment buildings, pressing themselves against the cold brick.
San bends over, hands on his knees, shaking, while Changbin leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes for a second.
His heart is pounding so hard it feels visible..He opens his eyes slowly, and looks at San. “You okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.
San nods, though his hands are still trembling. Changbin glances back toward the street they came from.
Suddenly, the world feels too big.
Too dangerous.
And for the first time since he left the house, Changbin realizes exactly how alone they are.
Changbin sits at the table with his head slightly bowed, staring at the condensation sliding down his glass of water. Sunlight spills across the kitchen tiles in warm, golden strips.
His knuckles are swollen, just enough to feel them when he curls his fingers. He keeps his hands under the table.
Hyunjin moves between the counter and the refrigerator, hair tied back loosely, sleeves rolled up. “Did anyone eat the leftovers I kept last night?” The question is light, but it lands like a stone in Changbin’s stomach.
Jisung, seated at the head of the table with a mug in hand, shakes his head without looking up. “Wasn’t me.”
Chan shrugs. “Not me either.”
Changbin’s pulse ticks louder in his ears. Upstairs, in his room, San is sleeping. Changbin had brought him in through the back door just before three in the morning.
Hyunjin closes the refrigerator slowly. “That’s weird.”
“I...” Changbin clears his throat. Keeps his tone even. “I got hungry.”
Hyunjin studies him for half a second longer. Changbin keeps his gaze steady, though his chest feels tight. Then her expression softens.
“Teen hormones,” she says lightly, waving it off. “You boys are bottomless pits.”
Chan raises his hand in agreement. “Binnie is always hungry.”
Jisung chuckles under his breath, finally looking up. “At least heat it properly next time.”
Changbin nods. “Yeah.”
Upstairs, a floorboard creaks faintly. He freezes for a split second, but no one else reacts. Jisung continues sipping his coffee. Hyunjin hums softly while stirring something in a pan, while Chan play with his phone.
Changbin forces himself to breathe normally. San is exhausted. He won’t come down. He just needs a few hours, just until they figure something out.
The teen keeps his expression calm.
Because right now, the lie is small.
And small lies feel easier to hold.
Until they aren’t.
The house feels heavier by evening.
San hasn’t left his room all day.
He’d woken up around noon, quiet and stiff, with few bruises blooming dark along his jaw, gift from underground boxing matches that paid cash and little too much red marks.
Changbin sits at the dining table, fingers laced together, staring at nothing in particular while the clock ticks louder than usual.
He’s waiting.
“You’re quiet,” Hyunjin says gently, placing rice onto his plate. Changbin nods vaguely, while Jisung watches him over the rim of his glass.
“Something at school?”
Changbin hesitates. “It’s not about me,” he says finally.
“What is it?” he asks.
Changbin exhales slowly. “San’s- San is in trouble.”
Hyunjin’s brows draw together. “What kind of trouble?”
Changbin swallows. He keeps his eyes on the table at first, then forces himself to look up. “He’s been doing underground fights.”
Jisung blinks. “Underground what?”
“Boxing.” Changbin try to keep his voice steady as he continues. “Illegal ones. For money.”
Hyunjin’s expression shifts. Confusion first, then alarm. “Why?” she asks softly.
“He’s been supporting himself,” Changbin says. “He needed cash.”
Jisung leans back slowly, processing. “How long?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Changbin admits. “But last night… it went bad.” He tells them in pieces.
“He’s a kid,” Hyunjin whispers. “He shouldn’t be anywhere near something like that.”
Changbin studies their faces, the way their expressions change, the way concern replaces everything else.
“Is he safe right now?” Hyunjin asks immediately.
Changbin hesitates for half a second. “Uhm... yes.” Not a full lie. “He’s not injured badly. Just bruised.”
Jisung rubs a hand down his face. “Does his family know?”
Changbin shakes his head.
Hyunjin exhales slowly. “Oh,”
Jisung leans forward, elbows on the table. “We can’t let him keep doing that,” he says firmly. “Those places are dangerous. There’s no regulation, definitely no protection. It only takes one bad hit.”
Changbin nods. Then the question slips out before he can stop it. “What would you do… if I was in that situation?”
Jisung’s head snaps up. “What?”
“If I needed money,” Changbin says carefully. “And I didn’t tell you. And I got into something like that.”
Jisung’s chair scrapes slightly against the floor as he shifts forward. “Don’t tell me you joined some underground fight club.” The panic in his voice is immediate.
Changbin shakes his head quickly. “No. I didn’t.”
Jisung searches his face for several long seconds anyway. “Changbin.”
“I didn’t,” he repeats.
Jisung exhales sharply, but he doesn’t fully relax.
Hyunjin reaches across the table and gently places her hand over Changbin’s. “You’re our baby,” she says softly. “We would never let you be in that kind of situation.”
“If you needed money, you’d tell us,” Jisung adds firmly. “If you were in trouble, you’d tell us. There is nothing more important than your safety.”
Changbin’s throat tightens unexpectedly. Hyunjin squeezes his hand slightly. “And even if San isn’t our child,” she continues, voice steady but warm, “we won’t let him handle this alone either. If he needs help, we’ll help him.”
Jisung nods immediately. “Of course we will.”
Changbin feels something heavy shift inside his chest. Relief. Guilt. Maybe both.
He nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, and inhales slowly. “I know you won’t be mad, but please don’t panic.”
Both of them straighten. “Changbin,” Jisung says, voice already tightening.
The teen looks between them once. “San’s with me. Here.”
Jisung blinks once. “Here,” he repeats. “As in-”
“In my room.”
“WHAT?” Hyunjin’s hand slips from Changbin’s. “Since when?” she asks.
Changbin hesitates. “Last- last night.”
Jisung’s chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes back slightly. “So he's upstairs?” he asks slowly, as if trying hard to process what he just heard.
Changbin nods.
“You said he was safe.”
“He is,” Changbin replies quickly.
“He came here himself?”
Changbin shakes his head.
Jisung runs a hand through his hair, pacing once away from the table before turning back. “So you left the house.” It’s not a question.
Changbin doesn’t look away. “Yes.”
“At what time?”
“After... after two.”
Hyunjin inhales sharply. “You snuck out?” she asks quietly, but she sounds like she didn't believe what she's hearing.
Changbin nods again. “I didn’t want to wake you. He asked me not to tell anyone,” said the boy. “He was scared. I thought I could just help and come back.”
“And if something happened to you?” Jisung’s voice cracks slightly on the last word. “If those men decided to turn on you?”
Changbin’s ribs throb faintly at the memory. “I handled it.”
Hyunjin’s eyes flick down instinctively, and Jisung steps closer now, eyes scanning him properly for the first time. “Were you hurt?”
“No.”
Hyunjin stands immediately. “Bin.” Her voice is steady, but her hands aren’t. She cups his face gently, tilting it toward the light, thumb brushing faintly over a barely visible discoloration near his cheekbone.
Jisung notices his knuckles next. “Show me your hands.”
Changbin hesitates.
“Bin.”
He slowly brings them up. The swelling is subtle, but it’s there.
Jisung closes his eyes briefly. “You fought.”
“There were more of them,” Changbin says quietly. “We ran.”
Jisung sighs. “Call him downstairs.”
Changbin blinks. “Huh?”
“San,” Jisung says firmly. “Call him downstairs.”
Hyunjin nods, composing herself. “If he’s here, he’s under this roof properly.”
Changbin’s chest tightens again, but this time not from fear. “You’re not… mad?” he asks quietly.
Jisung looks at him. “We are,” he says honestly. “That you scared us. That you put yourself at risk.”
Hyunjin nods. “But we’re not mad at you for helping your friend.”
Jisung’s expression softens just slightly. “You should have woken us.”
“I know.”
“Next time,” Jisung says firmly.
“There won’t be a next time,” Changbin replies quickly.
Jisung gives him a look that says there better not be, as he gestures toward the stairs. “Go. Go get him.”
“Hi,” San says quietly, bowing slightly out of habit.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Hyunjin says gently, pulling out a chair. “Sit.”
San hesitates before obeying, while Changbin hovers near him, like he’s ready to shield him if needed.
Jisung leans forward, forearms resting on the table. “San,” he says, voice calm but firm. “You don’t have to be scared here.”
San’s fingers curl against his knees. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just-”
“You didn’t cause trouble,” Hyunjin interrupts softly. “You just needed help.”
San’s eyes flicker up, startled.
Jisung nods once. “Tell us everything.”
And San does. About needing to pay for things on his own, about how someone introduced him to the underground matches, cash prizes, quick fights, with no paperwork. At first it worked, then the stakes got higher, then the people got rougher, and last night, he’d tried to back out.
“That’s when they followed me,” he finishes quietly.
Hyunjin reaches for a the boy. “You’re a child,” she says, not unkindly. “You should not be fighting grown men for money.”
Jisung’s tone softens. “How about we help you sort this out,” he says firmly. “Whatever debt, whatever pressure, I'll talk to your parents, and the others... we’ll handle it properly. I know people.”
San’s head jerks up. “You don’t have to-”
“I know,” Jisung replies. “But we will.”
Hyunjin nods in agreement. “First, you’re quitting that job. Immediately.”
San hesitates. Hyunjin’s voice gentles further, but there’s steel underneath it. “You let go of that place. No more fights. No more underground... anything. And in the meantime,” she continues, “we’ll find you a safe part-time job. Something normal. Somewhere supervised.”
San’s eyes shine faintly, then he nods slowly. “I’ll quit,” he says. “I promise.”
Hyunjin smiles faintly. “Good.”
Only then do both parents shift their attention. To their own child, and Changbin stiffens immediately.
Jisung leans back in his chair. “So it looks like we’ve been pampering you too much.”
Changbin blinks.
Hyunjin crosses her arms lightly. “To the extent that you’re lacking brain.”
Changbin gapes. “I saved him.”
“You snuck out at two in the morning,” Jisung counters calmly. “To fight grown men.”
“I handled it.”
“You got punched.”
“Barely.”
“You ran for your life.”
“That was strategic,” Changbin argues.
Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Strategic?”
“Yes.”
Jisung stares at him for a long moment. “You’re grounded.”
Changbin recoils. “What? You never grounded me!”
“Oh, we're about to. No going out except school. No late-night anything. No video games. Two weeks.”
“Two weeks?!” Changbin protests. “I was brave!”
“You were reckless,” Jisung corrects.
“I helped him!”
“And we are proud of your heart,” Hyunjin says gently. “Not your decision-making skills.”
Changbin looks betrayed, while San looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
Jisung points toward his son's helplessness. “And don’t think that expression is helping you.”
Changbin throws his hands up. “So I save someone and I get punished?”
“You endangered yourself,” Jisung says firmly. “That is not negotiable.”
Changbin exhales dramatically. “Two weeks is too much.”
Jisung doesn’t even blink. “How about three then?”
“No, no. Two is fine.”
Hyunjin smiles faintly. San looks between them, stunned, overwhelmed, something fragile softening in his expression.
Jisung reaches for his glass again. “From now on,” he says evenly, “no more secrets. Not from us.”
Changbin nods.
San nods too.