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Beomseok never thought he would see them again, not after Jeongchan, Taehoon, and a couple other guys beat their asses.
But, you know, fuck Beomseok right? Because why should anything go right in his life?
He and Wooyoung were out for a walk — more like he was on a walk, and Wooyoung was finishing training for the night and texted, asking to come with, which was becoming a strange habit — mind you it was eleven pm. Usually Beomseok goes for walks at this hour because no one would be out there.
But that laugh. That sickening, torturous laugh rang through the hollowed street, the laugh of someone who knew he should be quieter, show some common decency to people probably trying to sleep in the surrounding buildings, but chooses to act like a blaring asshole instead for god knows why. Beomseok knew he would recognize that laugh for the rest of his life. The people who used to torment him, the people who sent him to the damn hospital and made him transfer schools, as some sick idea of ‘fun’.
They were the kind of people you heard before you saw, always being obnoxiously loud and inconsiderate to those around them, but in the large, mostly empty street, the group came into view quicker than Beomseok would have liked.
His feet had stopped, motionless and rooted to the ground. It took Wooyoung maybe two more steps of his own forward to notice Beomseok wasn’t keeping his pace like usual.
“Beom? What’s up? You alright?” Wooyoung asked, eyebrow raising up on his head as he took a step back towards Beomseok, hands leaving their previous resting spot inside his front hoodie pocket.
Beomseok didn’t respond — he couldn’t. Things had changed, he had changed, he was stronger, he knew that, he broke the guys nose before. But that was with Suho, before Suho, he couldn’t have made it that far by himself and he knew it. He shouldn’t be acting like this, he was a grown ass man, not some scared teenager anymore.
”Beomseok.”
But saying that didn’t help, nothing did, he just…stood there. Feet cemented to the floor and breath caught, drying up his throat, every memory and more coming back to him, everything he’s tried to move past from, tried to forget.
”Earth to Beom.”
Not just getting beaten til he couldn’t move, but beating back until he was alive for nothing more than rage and revenge, breathing with pure hatred for everyone and everything around him.
“Beomseok!” an unfamiliar, almost caring warmth surrounded his hand, the hand that he didn’t even realize had been jittering at his side, the other clutching the base of his cardigan.
He drew his eyes away from his old bullies and focused them on Wooyoung.
Wooyoung, who was standing less than two feet away from him, hand outstretched and cradling his own, and the unmistakable glint of worry peeking through his eyes over furrowed eyebrows.
Beomseok looked down at their hands, then back up at Wooyoung, who became uncharacteristically flustered and dropped Beom’s hand.
It was honestly taking all of what was left of his willpower to not wrap his hand with Wooyoung’s again, he craved that gentle, and kind affection. The fact it was Wooyoung basically just made it better.
“Are you okay? You like, shut off.” Wooyoung asked, clearing his throat while his hand snaked back into his hoodie pocket.
“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Sorry.” he made the mistake of looking behind Wooyoung, only to see that the entire group was already looking at him, whispering things, laughing. Beomseok told himself he couldn’t help the way his fists clenched, for once in his life he was grateful for his nail biting habit, or his fingernails would have been digging into his palm.
Wooyoung noticed his focus had shifted again, following Beomseok’s eyes until he spotted the group. His previously concerned and confused face shifted back into his usual cocky grin as he did a mockingly slow one-eighty, turning around to face them fully.
A little over half the group’s faces went white like they’d seen a ghost.
Wooyoung had beat their dumb asses a couple times in the past, some on stream some not, it took a while — and a hospital trip or two — for them to fully fuck off. He had fought a friend of theirs on his stream, and unsurprisingly won, they thought they would try to ‘get revenge’ by going at him as a group, again, and again, and again. You’d think after getting their asses handed to them so many times they would give up, but it was obviously clear they hadn’t.
Beom felt that strange warmth again, but this time around his wrist as he was dragged forward. He wanted to turn around, run the other way, or at the very least ask Wooyoung what the genuine fuck he was doing.
But he didn’t, part of him was confused and shocked, and the other part was still lost, stuck back in the past as their faces got closer and closer, and he couldn’t help remembering the night he fought back, when Suho dragged him kicking and screaming out of the karaoke room.
Wooyoung’s hand still gripped his wrist as they walked past the group, almost all of them had dropped their heads, pretending the ground was ten times more interesting than anything in front of them, or just hitting their vapes and blowing the smoke towards the concrete of the sidewalk.
Unbeknownst to Beomseok, Wooyoung’s eyes focused on the gang the entire time, face rough as if daring them to try something with him again. Thankfully, it seems they’d finally given up on fucking with Wooyoung at least.
Beomseok kept his eyes locked on them until Wooyoung turned them both around the corner. He turned to see Wooyoung, a borderline sadistic smirk spread across his face from them practically shying away in fear, and his hand still wrapped around Beomseok’s wrist as they walked down the road.
He didn’t know if Wooyoung was aware of the fact he was still holding onto Beomseok, or that he just didn’t care.
Either way Beomseok didn’t mind. Thankfully — besides a small noise of surprise — Wooyoung didn’t mind Beomseok trailing his hand down further until their fingers could interlace, just slightly, as they continued to walk.