Work Text:
Kang Seungsik isn’t a night owl.
Of all the promises Chan made while convincing Seungsik to drop everything at their central Seoul hospital and help set up a clinic with him in some corner of Busan, the promise of no more overnight shifts was what lured him in the most.
That, and the thought of fresh sea air, milmyeon and a new start away from Seoul and it’s vices was enough to push him away from his high rise apartment with it’s urban jungle view and pull him into the unfamiliar streets of Busan and all it’s beauty.
He figured it worked out for the best. By the time Chan asked (begged, grovelled, “I’ll-call-you-hyung-just-please-come”) him, Seungsik already felt like his midlife crisis had decided to come early. Rather than quitting his job entirely and buying a one-way ticket to Cuba to live out his Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights dreams, he supposed Busan’s beaches are a safer trade.
Seungsik isn’t a night owl, so by the time the others have left for the day Seungsik packs his bag through stifled yawns, making the slow shuffle to his desk to grab his phone. Maybe he’ll finally call his mother after weeks of one worded updates on his condition, text the friends he left behind in Seoul or—
A loud bang! echoing through the clinic interrupts his train of thought. Seungsik freezes, phone in hand and slowly pivots towards the automatic glass doors that mark the clinic’s entrance.
A bloody handprint and two figures are pressed up against the glass. One greets him with a small wave, hand still covered in blood. He then winces and grabs his shoulder. Bad idea.
His shoulders relax at the sight, which is a whole kind of fucked can of worms if he thinks too hard about it.
Regardless, it doesn’t matter whether Kang Seungsik is a night owl or not. Han Seungwoo makes sure it doesn’t really matter regardless.
The first time they meet is in a somewhat similar fashion.
Another night, some months ago when Seungsik is again the last one in the clinic (because Chan is a liar), there is a much more gentle knock on the locked glass doors. Seungsik is already packed and ready to leave when he hears it so he calls out, “Sorry, we’re closed! We’ll be open tomorrow at eight!”
The man at the door doesn’t move, instead hunches over and leans against the door. Seungsik huffs. The doors are heavy; he probably didn’t hear him. The local hospital is less than an hour away, Seungsik figures he could refer him if his issue is serious and opens the doors to tell him so—
—Only to have sixty-something kilos of tall man fall head first towards the floor, or at least would have if Seungsik wasn’t there to take the brunt of the weight and nearly collapse with him.
Panic sets in for a split second, before he jumps into action. Thank fuck he decided that Busan beaches meant a Busan beach ready body because without his somewhat frequent gym visits, Seungsik has no idea how he would’ve carried the man to the nearest bed. He clocks the blood soaking through the man’s white shirt and immediately jumps to cutting through it and stripping him of his blazer.
“Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?” Seungsik strips off his own coat and raises his penlight to the man’s eyes to check his pupils. Constricting normally; he isn’t in shock. At least not yet.
The man groans in response, not seeming able to answer the question. Seungsik decides it’s better to stabilise his condition, then call the local hospital in case the patient needs emergency surgery.
There seem to be two major injuries near his lower abdomen with a few minor abrasions and cuts littered around his torso. Seungsik rushes to the cupboard where they keep the saline and begins to clean the wounds. He lets out a hiss, while they don’t appear to be fairly deep, as he eyes them closely - they appear to be stab wounds.
Seungsik flicks his eyes back towards the man’s face; he’s staring back at him. Seungsik starts in surprise, but composes himself. Pressing gauze into the wounds he asks again, “Sir, can you tell me your name?”
The man doesn’t reply and just continues to stare at him, eyes flicking down occasionally to where Seungsik is treating his wounds and back to his face. His bangs are in his eyes but he makes no move to adjust them.
Seungsik hears impatience creep through his tone and tries to control it, “Can you tell me how you got these injuries?”
The man smiles at him. It’s disarmingly bright and Seungsik is taken aback for a moment. His syllables rough with satoori, “I slipped and fell in the kitchen.”
Seungsik feels a migraine coming on.
“I’ll do my best to clean these up for now and then I’ll contact the local hospital as you may need surgery. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem—”
The man grabs Seungsik’s wrist. “No. I’m not going to any hospital.”
Seungsik sighs, “Sir, it’s in your best interest—”
“No. I won’t die so just do your thing, give me antibiotics or whatever you need and stitch me up here. I don’t need a hospital.”
Seungsik isn’t sure what it is that makes him agree. The steel in his eyes, the vice grip around his wrist, or just a simply lapse in judgement.
He trails his eyes up the man’s body, taking in the damage. Other than his main injury there are a few lacerations, but nothing else causing much concern. He doesn’t seem to have any fat on him at all. Seungsik figures that he can do his best with the major wounds, clean up the rest and convince the man to let him call the hospital.
But something else also catches his eye.
Amid the fresh cuts over the man’s torso there are older scars mottling his skin, one long gash down his chest and slashes on his upper arms. Some have faded into almost nothing but others are raised red and angry, like it hasn’t been too long since they had made their mark. Twisting alongside the scars are tattoos, flowers on his forearm, a date on his shoulder and as Seungsik goes to adjust the pillow behind his head, he sees the third one. A massive black and red dragon stretching from one shoulder blade to the other.
The injuries, the tattoos, the reticence. Seungsik should’ve known coming to Busan wasn’t going to be all sun, sea and scenery.
Ah. Chan is going to love this one.
The next morning, after Seungsik has stitched up the man (mafia) and provided him with an IV (an actual gangster, not from Nameless Gangster: Rules of Time) he falls asleep in a chair next to him, exhausted from the long hours he hasn’t pulled since Seoul. He wakes up to Chan’s face in his face, shaking him awake.
“Dude, why are you here? Aren’t you off today?”
Seungsik groans and stretches, feeling his bones crack with satisfaction. He stills for a few seconds, trying to remember why he is still here and what he was doing.
Ah yes. Mafia man.
He swivels in his seat to check the bed; unsurprisingly, he’s gone. Seungsik sighs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and running a hand through his hair. “We had a patient,” he mumbles, making grabby hands at Chan’s flask of coffee. Chan pulls it away from reach, causing Seungsik to flop forward. “You have your own,” Chan points to the bedside table with his chin and sure enough, there’s a takeaway cup of coffee from the cafe across the street. It must’ve been fairly new, given the ice cubes still floating on the surface.
Seungsik blinks. The fuck?
He picks it up and his fingers brush a piece of paper stuck to the back of the cup. It’s a post-it note.
check the bed
He pauses again, turns to the bed and draws back the blankets. Nothing. Under the bed; nothing. The pillow?
Something.
A stack of fifty-thousand won bills tucked under the pillow with another little note stuck on top.
for taking good care of me last night. hopefully this is enough for your troubles ^^
He stares at the money in his hand for a few moments, then looks up and stares at Chan who looks about as shocked as Seungsik feels.
“So… Did you get a sugar daddy without telling me?”
“So what is it this time?” Seungsik asks, prepping a needle with local anaesthetic for a nasty gash running down Seungwoo’s bicep. “Tripped onto the asphalt while walking the dog?”
Seungwoo smirks at him, “How did you figure it out? There’s nothing that gets past you, Doctor.”
It’s become a kind of tradition between them. Every so often Seungwoo will turn up at the clinic either beat up and bloodied, or with someone else in tow who’s beat up and bloodied. On a difficult day, he’ll turn up with multiple people in various states of injury for Seungsik to treat. On a good day… well on a good day, Seungwoo wouldn’t turn up at all.
They never discuss the injuries in depth, though Seungsik isn’t one not to try. Seungwoo is so clammed up about the nature of his work that Seungsik didn’t even get his name until a month after he showed up. That day was the first time Seungwoo brought someone with him, Wooseok. Doll faced with three cracked ribs and a black eye. If Seungsik had doubts before, the way Wooseok called him Seungwoo hyungnim definitely confirmed any suspicions he might’ve had.
Tonight, however, it’s not Wooseok accompanying Seungwoo. It’s Seungyoun. From what he’s gathered, Seungyoun seems to be somewhat of a right-hand man to Seungwoo. Of all the people that Seungwoo has brought along to Seungsik’s humble clinic, Seungyoun is the most frequent visitor. He’s lively in a way that brings out a different type of smile from Seungwoo, if Seungsik is quick enough to catch it. He has a contagious grin that reminds him of one of their nurses, Byungchan, though the two of them have yet to meet. He intends on keeping it that way.
Where Seungwoo deflects Seungsik’s inquiries with teasing jabs or dead silence, Seungyoun deflects by asking him questions. As he starts to stitch up Seungwoo’s arm, his barrage begins.
“So Doc, it’s been… what, four months since you’ve moved here?”
Seungsik starts on the first stitch. Seungwoo is silent, observing his face as he tries to concentrate. It’s always somewhat unnerving, but Seungsik thinks he’s gotten used to it.
“More like five. Definitely doesn’t feel like it.” Seungsik flicks his bangs out of his face, they’re getting long.
“Damn… You’re close to becoming a local at this point! Have you been able to take in much of the sights?”
“Nope,” Seungsik sighs. “I’ve been doing more than my fair share of overtime, thanks to some persistent patients.” He tries to fix Seungwoo with a hard glare, but his bangs just end up causing him to squint. Seungwoo smirks at him and Seungsik resists the urge to jab him with his suturing scissors.
“Aw, that’s too bad.” Seungyoun continues, ignoring the barb. “Have you been to Gwangalli at least? Haeundae is overrated.”
“Debatable. I think they’re both beautiful, just in different ways.” Before Seungsik can try to flick his hair away from his face again, Seungwoo’s free arm reaches up to brush it back from his face, drawing him closer with the movement and letting his hand trace down the side of his face with one of his tiny smiles. Seungsik can feel his face heat up in embarrassment, ears on fire and something stuttering in his chest.
He pulls away before he catches himself doing something stupid. Like what, he doesn’t know. Seungwoo just watches him, eyes soft as he finishes the final stitches.
After the debacle with the giant wad of cash and Chan’s mistrust of Seungsik’s “outside of work activities” Seungsik managed to get across the proper rates to Seungwoo for treatment without insurance.
(“Look, Sik. I don’t mind what kind of kinks and fantasies you might be exploring—”
“What the fuck.”
“But keep stuff in the clinic at a minimum please. We all need stress relievers and there are plenty of worse side hustles but— Oh my god, I’m joking, put away the scalpel—”)
Regardless, Seungwoo never stays the night. No matter how late or how many hours Seungsik stays up to monitor him, Seungwoo is always gone by morning with his bill paid and a thank you note.
Seungsik convinces himself that it’s probably better that way.
The first time Seungwoo comes while the sun is still up, is also the first time he meets Chan. And Sejun. Byungchan and Hanse. And also Subin. While Seungsik tries to reconcile the image of Seungwoo seemingly uninjured in daylight hours, with the Seungwoo from a week ago, bleeding all over the floor — the others scramble to meet Seungsik’s mystery patient. Seungsik never tells them much, just that he’s a “regular” who only comes at night and always pays in full with cash. And that he might be a gangster.
“So he’s Seungsik’s secret boyfriend,” Hanse whispers to Byungchan as the two of them giggle off to the side. “He’s hot.”
Subin rolls his eyes from the front desk and continues playing Candy Crush. Chan smirks as he fiddles with the water cooler. Sejun snickers from where he’s supposed to be finishing a report. Seungsik wishes the ground would swallow him whole. Seungwoo laughs, a cute, hiccupy sound that bubbles up from his chest as Seungsik pulls him to his office and away from the teasing grins of his colleagues.
(Seungsik notices that Seungwoo didn’t refute their relationship claims. Seungsik also realises that neither did he. Fuck.)
The nurses, Byungchan and Hanse, take an immediate liking to Seungwoo, calling him hyung (or mae-hyung when they think can’t hear them) and offering him many cups of water as Seungsik removes his stitches. Seungwoo, to Seungsik’s surprise, seems to take a liking to the pair as well, avoiding their questions with poise and instead listening to their chatter about the clinic with genuine interest and amusement.
When Chan got the offer to help set up a Busan branch clinic for their major Seoul hospital, he got the chance to select extra staff to take along with him for the initial team. While Seungsik had to be gently persuaded, Byungchan and Hanse (the two came in a set, like a one plus one deal of annoying adorableness) instead begged to go, keen to ditch Seoul city life for a chance at beach side Busan. Subin was the poor resident who got slated down with them. Sejun, their paediatrician, was just along for the ride.
“So, hyungnim,” Byungchan leans in conspiratorially, a dark grin directed at Seungwoo. “What do you and Seungsik get up to when it’s just you guys?”
Seungsik chokes on his saliva and Seungwoo just raises a single eyebrow at Byungchan’s leer. Seungsik definitely needs to schedule in a chat on professionalism and propriety with him, but Byungchan’s always been the type to do as he pleases and rarely reap the consequences.
(Seungsik never really believed that pretty kids got whatever they wanted if they just smiled cute, but Byungchan sure convinced him otherwise. Chan thinks it’s just a part of his charm. Sejun is too far gone under his spell. Hanse, on the other hand, seems immune. And Subin simply has no idea what is going on with all of them most of the time.)
Before Seungsik can splutter out something about “professionalism in the workplace, Byungchan” and “nothing is going on you weirdo, he’s my patient,” Seungwoo smiles, unfazed and let’s his gaze linger on Seungsik with a hint of fondness that makes his ears heat up.
“We don’t do much. He just takes good care of me.” Seungsik wonders if Seungwoo keeps everything he says open to interpretation on purpose, or if it’s just his manner of speaking. When he glances up and sees the amusement in his eyes, Seungsik gets his answer. He feels his ears turn red. Fuck.
Byungchan giggles into his palm and yup, Seungsik is definitely having a talking to him when Seungwoo is gone.
“Byungchan,” Seungsik starts, repressing the urge to sigh. “Can you go and grab me some antiseptic, please?”
“But you have some right—”
Seungsik fixes him with the look. It doesn’t always work but if he’s careful not to overuse it, it tends to be effective on most of the staff. A perfect mix of “don’t test me” and “let’s see where your cheek get’s you.” Except it never seems to work on Subin. He’s immune.
Byungchan let’s out a long suffering sigh, before turning on his heel and leaving. Seungsik let’s out a breath and finishes removing Seungwoo’s stitches. It’s silent for a few moments, with just the sound of their breathing and Seungsik’s heartbeat pounding in his ears. Seungwoo just keeps looking at him and Seungsik can’t take the silence for much longer.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Seungsik glances up at him only to lock eyes with Seungwoo’s warm gaze. Fuck.
“Shouldn’t say things like what?” Seungwoo asks, shifting a little in his seat. He still has that little self assured grin on his face and Seungsik wishes he could wipe it off.
(A little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Sejun shouts out ideas on ways to make it happen. Mostly involving his lips. Seungsik reconciles with the fact that he can’t even trust his own brain.)
“You know what,” he snaps, accidentally tugging the last stitch harder than he needs to. Seungwoo doesn’t flinch, but he looks a little surprised at Seungsik’s sudden outburst. He places a hand over Seungsik’s and he lets him, because Seungsik is a weak, weak man and last night he had a very vivid dream where he was skiing down the slope of Seungwoo’s nose that never seemed to end. He’s tired and Seungwoo’s hand is warm and he could use a little comfort. It’s been a long ass week.
Seungwoo keeps… smiling at him in this knowing way that Seungsik isn’t sure he likes. He looks like he’s a step away from saying something more than the half truths and snippy flirting that seems to make up their entire dynamic. He pulls back though — he always does. Seungsik feels like he’s holding in a breath that he never gets the satisfaction of letting out. Like the swooping in his stomach when he trips over, but never hitting the ground. That odd suspension without the landing; dangling from strings when he’d just like to fall down and move on.
He just lets Seungwoo brush his thumb over the back of his thumb.
“You do take good care of me though,” Seungwoo murmurs. “I’m always thankful.”
Later, when Seungwoo’s gone and everyone’s teasing has faded, Chan comes to find him. Seungsik is checking through tomorrow’s outpatient list when Chan asks, “Are you actually dating that guy?”
If Seungsik didn’t go to school for this, he would’ve believed his eyes truly rolled to the back of his skull.
“No, Chan,” he sighs. “I am not dating Seungwoo.”
Chan hums, dropping a delivery container of jjampong in front of him. Seungsik winces when a droplets of soup land on his papers, but mumbles a thanks anyway. He digs in, while Chan watches him somewhat pensively.
Seungsik pauses. “What?” he asks, cheeks bulging with noodles. He swallows, then points his chopsticks at Chan. “If you want to watch someone eat there are plenty of mukbang saved on Subin’s phone for that.”
Chan snorts derisively, “You deserve your own channel just for the sheer size of your mouth. I bet you could eat the entire bowl in just one mouthful if you tried.”
(A small voice in Seungsik’s head that sounds an awful lot like Subin’s defiant tone says, “Bet.” Seungsik thinks he’s spending too much time with his colleagues.)
He ignores the urge to take up the challenge and continues to shovel respectably sized bites down as he double checks tomorrow’s timings. He’s only scheduled for five hours, but he knows he’ll be at the clinic well into the evening. He has a feeling he’ll be getting a few more patients stumble in unannounced. Seungwoo has his number, Seungsik gave it to him so he could at least get a heads up when he or his boys come by, but so far he’s only used it to send him coffee coupons and samoyed videos. Seungsik can’t complain, but he does blame Seungwoo for the second coming of his caffeine addiction he thought he had mostly in control after he finished residency. Clearly not.
Chan continues to eye him oddly though and just when Seungsik is about to tell him to just spit it out, he does.
“You should be careful. With him.” Chan’s face has morphed into one of concern and Seungsik hasn’t seen this look since college, when Seungsik once stayed up for over thirty-six hours during exam week and nearly ended up on the operating table himself.
Seungsik raises an eyebrow at him. Chan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I mean it, Seungsik. You don’t know who he really is or what he’s doing to get that hurt. You don’t want to get attached to him.” Chan fixes him with a knowing look that makes Seungsik’s stomach twist.
(A treacherous voice whispers, “Too late.” Only this time, the voice sounds very much like his own.)
Seungsik knows there’s far more to Seungwoo that meets the eye, but he doesn’t realise how much he doesn’t know until he bursts into the clinic holding a limp boy in his arms.
A whole child.
Seungwoo is barely making coherent sense, gasping through panic and hysteria as they lay the boy down and Seungsik takes his temperature. The kid is clammy and trembling and shit, he’s running a forty degree temperature. Seungsik turns to Seungwoo, who’s shaking quite a bit himself.
“He’s running quite a high fever,” Seungsik starts, eyeing Seungwoo with concern. “Does he have any medical conditions?”
Seungwoo shakes his head. He’s bit his lips so hard they’ve started to bleed.
“Do you know what might have caused this?” Seungsik pushes, draping a few extra blankets over the kid.
“He said,” Seungwoo swallows thickly, eyes fixed on the boy. “He said his stomach was hurting after he ate some ramen, but I thought— I thought he just ate too fast.”
Seungsik nods, “It’s most likely a rather severe reaction to food poisoning. If that’s the case it’s a bacterial infection and we can treat it with antibiotics and keeping him hydrated.”
“And if it’s not?”
“We’ll have to keep a close eye on him and see how the symptoms persist.” Seungsik rests a hand on Seungwoo’s shoulder. “I’ll take good care of him.”
Seungwoo’s shoulders relax by a millimetre and Seungsik flashes him a small smile. He busies himself with setting up an IV drip.
“What’s his name?” Seungsik asks, inserting the needle. Seungwoo fixes his eyes on Seungsik’s hands.
“Dongpyo. Son Dongpyo. He’s sixteen.” Seungwoo crouches down beside the boy — Dongpyo — and brushes his hand over his sweaty forehead.
Seungsik smiles, then goes off to grab the fever reducer. When he returns, Seungwoo is whispering in Dongpyo’s ear and patting his head. The sight is so oddly domestic and heart wrenching, Seungsik pauses for a second to take in the sight. Snapping out of it, he rushes to Dongpyo’s side, medicine in hand.
“Hi, Dongpyo,” he smiles at the boy, who blinks blearily at him. “Please take this, you’ll feel much better.” He hands the medicine to Dongpyo, who gulps it down quickly.
“How do you feel?” Seungwoo asks, leaning down to stare at his face.
“I’ve just taken it,” Dongpyo says, rolling his eyes. Well, rolling his eyes as best he can despite the pain. “It’ll take a while to kick in.” He coughs, and Seungsik guides him to lay back on the bed.
“He’s right,” Seungsik tucks the blanket around him tighter, laying a hand back on his forehead. “Go grab a chair and take a seat.”
“I’m fine,” Seungwoo says stiffly.
Seungsik fixes him with the look. “Just sit down, Seungwoo. You’re being distracting.”
It works, and soon enough Seungwoo is sitting across from him next to Dongpyo. He’s still anxious, biting his fingernails and tapping his feet in an indecipherable beat.
“Seungwoo,” he says and Seungwoo’s face snaps up. “Can you go out into the hall and grab a cup of water from the cooler, please?”
Seungwoo nods and half-jumps, half-falls out of seat in his rush. Seungsik stifles a laugh.
“Good job,” Dongpyo croaks from the bed. “I thought he was going to have a panic attack.”
“I think he just wants to feel useful,” Seungsik grins at him. “Are you feeling any better, though?” He takes out the thermometer to check his temperature again. It’s already lowered, thankfully.
“Yeah,” Dongpyo nods. “Must’ve just been the ramen. I didn’t check the expiry date.” He says this rather sheepishly.
“Hey, it happens.” Seungsik pats at his head with a damp cloth. “Good thing you got here before anything worse happened.”
Dongpyo lips quirk up. There’s a moment of silence, before, “So, are you Doctor Seungsik?”
Seungsik blinks. “You know me?”
Dongpyo nods, “He’s mentioned you a bit before. Sorry if he’s been bugging you.” Dongpyo rolls his eyes again, it must be a habit. Seungsik definitely catches himself doing the same around Seungwoo. “It’s not like he’s a hypochondriac or that he can’t take care of himself either. Must have some other reason to be showing up all the time.” Dongpyo grins at him, and Seungsik feels his face heat up. Before he can call the kid out on his cheek (or compliment his rather impressive vocabulary), Seungwoo barges back into the room, balancing four cups of water in his arms.
Seungsik sighs and takes two of them. “Those two are for you. Sit down, take a deep breath and drink up.”
Seungwoo stares at him for a moment, then thankfully does as Seungsik asked. He’s oddly obedient in front of Dongpyo. Interesting.
Seungsik takes one cup for himself and gives the other to Dongpyo.
“I think it best we keep him here overnight to monitor. He’ll most likely be better tomorrow, after which he should be on bed rest for around three days. As long as he keeps staying hydrated and getting good rest, he’ll be back to normal.”
Dongpyo groans, “Doc, don’t tell him that! He’s not gonna let me leave the bed at all!”
Seungsik chuckles. Seungwoo fixes Dongpyo with a hard look, “And that’s the only way you’re going to get better! You better do what the doctor says.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll listen to your precious Doctor Seungsikie.” Dongpyo sticks his tongue out at Seungwoo, who looks incredibly flustered. “Don’t disturb me, I want to sleep.” He pulls up the blankets higher and squeezes his eyes shut.
Seungsik has to hold back a laugh. What a sassy kid.
Seungwoo sighs and runs a hand down his face. Seungsik gestures to the door with his chin. The two head outside and Seungsik treats Seungwoo to some of their finest vending machine coffee. Seungwoo leans against the wall and stares down into his coffee. Seungsik stares at him.
“It’s probably not that comforting for me to say this but, Dongpyo is going to be fine. I can get Sejun to have a look at him tomorrow.” Seungsik raises an eyebrow at Seungwoo over his cup. “Assuming you’re not going to run away by morning?”
“I’ll be here.” Seungwoo’s lips curl up in a half smile. “Thank you, for taking care of him.” Sincerity is a good look on Seungwoo (most things are) and Seungsik doesn’t know what to do in the face of an overwhelming amount of it.
“It’s my job,” he says airily. Seungsik wants to tell him that he can go home (wherever that may be) while he looks over Dongpyo, but he figures it would be useless in the face of Seungwoo’s determination. If Dongpyo needs to stay the night, Seungwoo wouldn’t leave — Seungsik is sure of it. It makes him wonder.
“So…” Seungsik kicks his heel against the floor. “Is Dongpyo like, your son?”
Nicely done, Seungsik. Flawless execution. Really stuck the landing.
Seungwoo gapes at him for a second, then pauses. “He might as well be,” Seungwoo’s eyes are on Seungsik but it feels like he’s looking past him. “He’s… not related to me but—” he breaks off, eyes darting back to his cup.
He takes a sip, then snaps his gaze back to Seungsik, eyes burning. Seungsik’s heart stutters.
“He was all alone when we met. I know what that’s like, and I know what can happen if you’re left like that for too long.”
Seungwoo ducks his head and looks into his coffee cup like he’ll find more words amongst the dregs. Seungsik wonders how a high school student ended up with a gangster for a surrogate dad, but weirder things can happen. It’s clear that Seungwoo cares for the kid and Seungsik doesn’t want to pry despite how curious he is about the two of them.
It’s not like Seungwoo will tell him much anyways.
“You must really care for him,” Seungsik breaks the short silence and goes to pull Seungwoo’s empty cup from his hand. “Given that it looked like you ran all the way here when he got sick.”
Seungwoo’s lips quirk up in a half smile, then he grabs Seungsik’s hand from where he’s holding his cup. Seungsik freezes and their eyes meet over the coffee cup, centimetres apart. What the fuck.
“Dongpyo… I want to do right by him.” Seungwoo murmurs, voice barely over a whisper. “Stop what I’m doing and give him the life he deserves.”
Seungsik gets the feeling he’s not just talking about Dongpyo, but his heart is in his throat and blocking out words from coming out. Seungwoo doesn’t seem to mind.
He leans in and Seungsik feels his eyes shutter close instinctively. When nothing happens, they fly open to take in Seungwoo with his hands around Seungsik’s hands around the damn coffee cup and sipping the tiny amount remaining, eyes locked on his. Seungsik feels his face heat up under Seungwoo’s watchful gaze.
“Sorry,” Seungwoo pulls away. “There was a little bit left.”
Seungsik tries not to implode.
One of the last times Seungwoo turns up to the clinic with his body in tatters is also the first time Seungsik cries in front of him.
He doesn’t know what seems to be different today, Seungwoo isn’t any more injured than he usually is, isn’t any less aloof or flirtatious than the norm. But something in Seungsik cracks when he peels off Seungwoo’s shirt and sees the jagged laceration that starts from the top of his shoulder and rips it’s way across his chest all the way down to his hip. It’s awful and will definitely scar and whoever did this to him meant to hurt him. It meant to be torturous and painful and Seungsik doesn’t understand why Seungwoo is okay with this happening— why he’s okay getting hurt and acting like it doesn’t even matter—
A sob breaks it’s way out of Seungsik’s throat before he can stifle it and shove it back down. Fuck. It’s not his business what Seungwoo does and he knows the instant he get’s too attached Seungwoo will stop coming to him for help and then who knows how he’s going to get treatment when he refuses to go to hospitals and—
“Seungsik!” Seungwoo’s voice breaks him out of his spiral of thoughts. He’s been calling his name for a while, it seems. When Seungsik’s head snaps up, Seungwoo draws in a sharp gasp. Seungsik doesn’t understand why until Seungwoo brushes his fingers against his cheek and shit, he’s crying.
Seungsik pulls away and rubs his eyes on his sleeve with a loud sniff. Seungwoo’s arm is still outstretched and it takes a second before he let’s it fall back to the bed. Seungwoo is staring at him in shock mixed with a little bit of apprehension, like he has no idea what to do when faced with a fully grown crying man.
Seungsik very much wants to disappear.
“Are you…” Seungwoo swallows thickly and Seungsik follows the movement to avoid his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Seungsik blinks the last of the tears away before nodding once, back to cleaning Seungwoo’s wounds like nothing happened. He hopes that he’ll just let it go in return for all the shit that Seungsik has let go off for him, but he’s never been that lucky of a person. Seungsik has had to work for everything he has gained, and luck wasn’t something he could earn with effort.
“Seungsik,” Seungwoo starts, eyes so focused on him that it feels like he’s trying to see through his head and into his mind. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Seungsik preps the anaesthetic and avoids his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
Seungwoo’s voice is soft, “I am worried. I’m always worried about you.”
“And I’m not allowed to be?” Seungsik snaps, eyes darting back up to meet Seungwoo’s. He looks so concerned for him and Seungsik feels the initial flares of anger dampen back down to nothing.
Seungwoo blinks at him in silence for a moment. “I don’t know what you mean.”
God.
Seungsik sighs, the tension in his shoulders coming loose with sheer exhaustion.
“Seungwoo,” he locks eyes with him and holds his stare. “Every time you come in here, you’re hurt, someone else is hurt and I never know if one day you’ll come in and I won’t be able to help you. Or worse, if you’re somewhere out there hurting and I have no idea and can’t save you. I don’t like seeing you…in pain like that.”
Seungsik’s heart is beating so hard it’s like he can hear it echo around the clinic. Seungwoo drops his gaze, then murmurs, “Do you not want me to come here anymore?”
Seungsik doesn’t know what a record scratch would feel like, but he imagines it would be something like this.
“Did you not hear what I just said? I don’t want you to be hurt somewhere where I can’t get to you.”
“It’s not going to be for long!” Seungwoo blurts out. He bites his bottom lip immediately after, like he’s forcing himself not to say anything else.
Seungsik raises an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean ‘it’s not going to be for long’?”
Seungwoo glances off to the side, away from him until Seungsik turns his face back around with a palm on his cheek. Seungwoo doesn’t pull away but still avoids his eyes.
“Tell me what you meant, Seungwoo.” Seungsik speaks softly, tries to get Seungwoo to meet his eyes. When he does, Seungsik feels the air leave his lungs for just a brief second.
Seungwoo’s eyes are lined red, wetness starting from the corners before pooling towards the bottom rim like he’s seconds away from breaking. Seungsik feels his heart stumble through the next few beats; Seungwoo is beautiful like this. He’d read somewhere once, that love is when one finds beauty even in the midst of shattering. For Seungsik, there is nothing beautiful about destruction and everything he is is devoted to healing damage, but for just a moment he sees the truth of that statement in Seungwoo. Seungsik can’t look away, but he forces himself to.
He exhales slowly, then presses gauze gently into the larger gash that streaks across Seungwoo’s chest. Oddly it grounds him. Reminds him that the distance between can be summed up by the injuries that Seungwoo shows up in. Wide, deep and worlds apart.
Seungwoo blinks once, twice, and his eyes are clear once again. He takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself.
“I’m getting out. I’m taking the boys and Dongpyo with me. They said they’ll grant us immunity if we help them. I promise, I’m done with that life.”
Seungsik is shocked, then feels confused. There’s so many things unsaid, so many details he’s lacking and he doesn’t know how to process this. He tries to latch onto what makes sense.
Seungwoo looks at him expectantly and Seungsik has no idea what reaction to give him, so instead he takes Seungwoo’s hand in his own and tells him the truth instead.
“I’m happy for you,” he squeezes Seungwoo’s hand slightly and presses his lips to his knuckles. Seungwoo’s face turns a delightful pink and Seungsik lets out a laugh, the most genuine one he’s heard from himself in a while.
Seungsik has never thought that he’d ever be someone to get mugged. He’s a little too unassuming, doesn’t wear brand names and blends well into the background of almost every setting except maybe noraebang when he’s had one shot over his recommended intake of soju. So when he’s pulled into an alley on his evening jog with a knife pressed to his neck, he’s more surprised at the fact that he’s the one getting mugged over the man ten metres ahead of him decked out in Supreme rather than the fact that he’s getting mugged at all.
Well, he supposes he can’t judge all muggers thought processes. Maybe those with flashy clothes have the most empty pockets and muggers are know who to pick.
Regardless, he’s more than a little terrified.
But the muggers don’t seem interested in his wallet. Instead one of them presses him against one of the alley walls, away from prying eyes with a hand over his mouth. A knife is pressed into his thigh and Seungsik wants to scream, bite through and fight out, but the pair are too strong and easily subdue him.
The mugger not holding the knife leers over him, scanning him up and down in a way that makes his skin crawl and bile rise up his throat. His face is mostly covered by a mask, but his eyes stare dead into him.
“Tell Han Seungwoo that we know what he’s up to, and that he’s fucking dead when we get him.”
The knife slashes downwards and his thigh explodes with searing pain, blood staining his sweatpants and seeping into the ground. He must black out for a second, because when he opens his eyes he’s alone on the ground, shaking.
Seungwoo finds him back at the clinic once he’s done patching his leg up. He thanks whatever divine spirit that Chan wasn’t around because his worrying combined with Seungwoo’s utter rage would’ve been an unbearable force to deal with.
Seungwoo rushes to him and holds his face in his hands, checking him over. He’s sweating and panting, not unlike how he was when he brought Dongpyo to the clinic. Seungsik tries to reassure him that he’s fine, but Seungwoo won’t hear a bar of it.
“What did they look like, Seungsik? Did you see their faces? Tell me, I can find them.” There’s something dangerous in his face that has Seungsik anxious.
“I didn’t get a good look at them. Besides, it’s find. It’s just a cut, it’ll heal.” Seungsik tries to calm him down but nothing seems to work.
“I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them for hurting you.” Seungwoo’s eyes are blazing and Seungsik feels terror rise up in his chest. He grabs Seungwoo’s hands and pulls him down next to him.
“Seungwoo,” he says quietly. “You promised me, you’re done with this. Let the police handle it. Please.”
Seungwoo’s breathing evens out, then he buries his face in his hands.
“It’s all my fault. They know. They know that I—” he cuts himself off, tilting his eyes to the ceiling to get a hold of himself.
Oh no he doesn’t.
“What do they know, Seungwoo?” Seungsik asks, with as much sternness he can muster when his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest.
Seungwoo stares at him imploringly. “You know.”
“I won’t know until you tell me.”
Seungsik let’s out a sound of frustration and looks away. He can’t keep it up and soon his eyes are back on Seungsik’s, soft in that way that makes him feel like he’s drowning.
“They know that you’re—” Seungwoo’s voice breaks off and his cheeks flood peach pink. Seungsik could coo if he wasn’t desperate to preserve the moment.
“They know that you’re special to me.”
Well, that’s better than nothing.
Seungsik can’t help the smile that splits across his face at the admission.
“That’s not a good thing, Seungsik.” Seungwoo sighs into his hands. “Me being in your life… it’s not a good thing.”
Seungsik scoffs, “It’s a little too late for that, dude.”
Seungwoo gapes at him. “Did you just call me dude?”
Seungsik presses his lips together and looks away. “Well, being special to you could mean a myriad of different things. I could just be a bro who’s company you enjoy. How am I supposed to know?”
“Well you didn’t say how you felt!” Seungwoo sounds outraged. Seungsik is trying hard not to laugh because now is really not the time and you could’ve died, Seungsik this is not a priority.
“Well, did you ask?” Seungsik asks with as much innocence as he can muster. It doesn’t seem to work.
Seungwoo splutters at him, “Well are you going to tell me?”
“What do you want me to tell you?” At this point, Seungsik is toying with him. Seungwoo definitely doesn’t appreciate it.
“I didn’t realise you were so… mean.” Seungwoo says this with such petulance that Seungsik can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him.
“It’s just one more thing to love about me, right?”
Seungsik freezes. Shit.
Seungwoo’s looking at him like that again, and Seungsik feels his heart squeeze.
“Yeah,” Seungwoo brushes his hand over Seungsik’s cheek. “I guess it is.”
“Even more to come,” Seungsik whispers before closing the distance.
He feels, rather than hears, Seungwoo’s sharp inhale against his lips before he’s pressing into him harder, the arm not on Seungsik’s cheek wrapping around his waist.
Seungsik feels burning heat in every place his body his touching Seungwoo’s and curves into him further, as though searching for a way to keep him anchored to his lips. He presses a hand against the back of Seungwoo’s neck and slides his tongue over his lips. Seungwoo welcomes him readily and it’s like every second, every moment they’ve spent together has just lead to this moment, wrapped in each other like there is nothing keeping them apart.
For the first time, Busan feels like home.