Chapter Text
Hyeongjun watches in silence as Gunil and Jungsu comb through the small apartment he has come to call home.
When they first arrived, there weren't nearly enough houses for everyone, only one spare room, and so until they could be built, the Camp Alpha escapees slept in the Community Hall. Hyeongjun remembers the racket of all those breathing bodies in one room. It had made him uncomfortable, on edge. There hadn't been enough futons either, but one of the escapees had an object cloning Variation and she was able to easily produce enough. Hyeongjun had sat by the wall, distancing himself from the victims of crimes he was complicit in. He's certain, even now, if he read through his notebooks he'd find a name or three that match. Variants in Alpha don't usually last long, Seungmin was lucky in some way to be so valuable, and so entertaining to them. Others? Ash. There are only two options for anyone he got sent there: dead, or in that room with him. Ghosts, haunting him. Hyeongjun couldn't sleep even if he wanted to.
Seungmin had beckoned him over and Hyeongjun hadn't gone. After that first embrace in the Camp, the relief of seeing him, and then Seungmin's hug when they were finally safely away, Hyeongjun had kept himself at arms length. He didn't want to taint him. He didn't want to take advantage of his ignorance.
“Just tonight,” he recalls Seungmin saying. “We'll talk about it, we will. But tonight, you're still my Hyeongjun and I'm still your Seungmin. So just hold me.”
Hyeongjun obliged. He can never say no to him. It's a problem, it's a terrible weakness and it's terrible for Seungmin too. If only he could say no, if only he could have just waited until he fell asleep and then walked away. Selfish and cruel in his softness, Hyeongjun had crawled under the blankets and held Seungmin tight.
Seungmin wrapped his arms around Hyeongjun, head resting on his chest. Quietly, he'd begun to cry. Hyeongjun stroked his hair and said nothing until he felt tears begin to fall down his own cheeks.
“I don't know why I'm crying,” Hyeongjun whispered, wiping the tears away. He hadn't cried. All that time, he hadn't cried. Sometimes he'd felt like it, but he hadn't cried. Hyeongjun didn't even think he still could.
“I'm happy,” Seungmin murmured in reply. “I'm so relieved, and I'm so sad, and I'm angry and it hurts so much.”
Hyeongjun hummed, sniffing, but the tears kept coming. He tried to ignore them, focusing on keeping Seungmin comforted, but Seungmin hadn't had the same idea.
“You're allowed to cry, too,” Seungmin said. “It's such a mess. It's such a mess, Hyeongjun-ah. Everything hurts.”
“I don't deserve to cry,” Hyeongjun replied, brusquely scrubbing the teardrops away again. “Seungmin, you don't know what I've done, you don't know what I've done to get here. Don't comfort me.”
Seungmin swallowed tightly. “I can guess,” he said. “And I hate it. But not tonight, please. Just for tonight, we're like before, okay?”
“Okay,” Hyeongjun said and Seungmin tucked his head back into his chest and sobbed. He'd held him all night long, petting his hair, stroking his back, rocking him gently through the worst of it. Hyeongjun cried too, the whole time, his cheeks wet. He's still not sure why. Maybe because he finally had Seungmin safe in his arms.
He's held him every night they've spent together since. It makes Seungmin feel safe and Hyeongjun feels better knowing he can protect him. The warmth of their bodies tangled together is the best kind of affection, so comfortable, so tender. Hyeongjun can almost believe he deserves it, when Seungmin is cuddling him tight. He can feel his love, he feels loved and he knows Seungmin does too. Snuggled together, Hyeongjun can soothe Seungmin through the nightmares of the laboratories and Choi Woosung, kiss soft reassurances into his hair and breathe him back into reality, where the wounds are starting to close. He can tell him, in the softest of voices, what he's done and what was done to him, and Seungmin, so sweet and sincere, tells him that it's okay. That they'll make it right.
He knows Seungmin wishes he abandoned him, that day he was taken. Seungmin has told him time and time again, through tears or through hot rage, that Hyeongjun should have never have become an Agent. He should've left Seungmin, should've lived his life without him. But what even was Hyeongjun's life without Seungmin? He hardly remembers a time before his best friend, his everything. Hyeongjun knows who he is without him: violent, unstable, unfeeling. It's too much of a burden to place on Seungmin's shoulders, so he doesn't tell him this. The answer is really very simple anyway. Maybe Hyeongjun should've abandoned Seungmin and moved on, but he couldn't. Because he loves him. Sometimes Seungmin accepts this answer, and sometimes it makes him angrier. Knowing that he's, indirectly, the reason Hyeongjun has committed such evil deeds is too painful. Hyeongjun can't hide that from him. He can't pretend he did it for any other reason.
“What I did is not your fault,” Hyeongjun has told him a thousand times. “It was my choice and they're my sins to bear.”
Seungmin doesn't believe him still. Hyeongjun doesn't believe him either, when he says Hyeongjun still deserves his love. They're both clinging on to each other, knowing they'll have to let go.
Hyeongjun watches Gunil search under the bed he's spent day and night loving Seungmin in, consoling him in whatever way he can offer, and toss aside the blankets like they're nothing. They're not nothing, they're the fabric Hyeongjun chose and Seungmin's favourite colour. He doesn't find anything out of the ordinary, and he won't, because Hyeongjun has never hidden what he is from them. Just who he was.
Jungsu finds several more of his knives in the custom wall bracket Seungmin made for him and confiscates them. Gunil searches the bookshelf and finds half the volumes braille and the other half well worn from the page brackets Hyeongjun uses to read from further away, and Seungmin's fingers that have thumbed through the pages. He's careful to replace the vase when he's done, the flowers in it wilting. Hyeongjun hopes he'll get the chance to replace them.
Hyeongjun’s diaries are amongst the books Gunil has pulled out. He frowns at them, and decides to take them. In the Command Centre, Jiseok has already begun to examine his ID card and start programming a data mining virus. Hyeongjun won't pretend he understands coding at all, but he assumes that's what he's doing. At least Jiseok is no longer crying, a determined expression on his face as his fingers move rapidly across the keys.
Seungmin is silent across the room. Hyeongjun can see him now, where he's been cuffed to a bed further along. His jaw is clenched with frustration and his eyes are watery.
Hyeongjun doesn't want to ask what's wrong. Everything is wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he says instead, quiet. His voice carries in the sparsely furnished room.
Seungmin turns his head away. “Don't,” he says roughly. “Don't start.”
“But I am,” Hyeongjun repeats, genuine. “I'm sorry it came out like this and I'm sorry you're caught in my mess-”
Seungmin sighs loudly and Hyeongjun trails off, expectant.
“I know you're sorry to me,” Seungmin says eventually. “I thought…I thought you might feel sorry about Jooyeon, too. I thought we'd made progress, Hyeongjun, that you wouldn't keep doing this!”
Hyeongjun bites his lip and hangs his head. He's ashamed, he is. But it doesn't stop him from acting on the cruel thoughts or lessen the sadistic satisfaction he gets from it. He doesn't regret anything but making Seungmin upset.
“Why do you do this? I know you're more than the asshole you're pretending to be,” Seungmin asks, the anger in his voice replaced by something else. Hyeongjun looks at him, examines his face all over, but still he can't determine what Seungmin is feeling. It feels…awful. Terrifying. He's totally out of his depth. Hyeongjun has always been able to read Seungmin like an open book. First his tone, his body language, his breathing and then, later, every minutiae of his facial expressions. But he can't. Is this where they break? Hyeongjun wants to hold on just a moment longer.
“I…” Hyeongjun tries to answer honestly. “I’m not pretending, Seungmin. That's part of me too, I'm sorry, but it is. You know that.”
“What do I know?” Seungmin whispers, tears beginning to roll down his face. “What do I know, Hyeongjun? I know you've done everything you can to help me, and things you can't. I know what you've done, and I know that you're not the heartless monster you think you are. You cry, Hyeongjun, you cry and you never know why, you can never tell me why, and I'll tell you now. It's because you're sad , you're fucking sad, okay? You cry because everything hurt you but you've been pretending so long that it didn't that you don't even know you're pretending anymore.”
There's a lump in Hyeongjun's throat that's starting to hurt. “If I don't know I'm pretending, then it's not pretend,” he says, trying to swallow the lump back down. It won't go. His eyes burn with tears but he's not sad, he's…he's fine. He feels fine. Hyeongjun's only regret is that he got taken down so quickly. He's only upset because he's been outmanoeuvred, and it's injured his pride. Hyeongjun isn't sad. He isn't. He's angry. He's angry at Changwoon, and himself, and the Agency and now Seungmin is angry with him and he feels even more annoyed with himself for fucking that up.
Jungsu hates him. Jiseok despises him. But these burnt bridges are a small price to pay after everything he's held back, everything he's done. All the lies, all the promises of help when he was witholding so much…yes, he deserves their vitriol. Perhaps Jiseok should slap him again, snap him out of this wheel of self-hatred and make him laugh again, at his pathetic display of anger, of protective love. Only, now that Hyeongjun is calmer, he doesn't think Jiseok is pathetic. His hit was firm, and it was meaningful, at least to him. It was in defence of his friend. It was probably well-deserved for Hyeongjun's callousness.
It's a small price to pay. But he doesn't want them to hate him.
He looks at Jooyeon, alone in a cell, curled up on the bed with his back pressed to the wall. He's so afraid. He's so afraid and Hyeongjun is the reason he's there. He meant what he said to Jooyeon before everything went wrong. He meant it. Jooyeon is kind and good and he deserves a safe and happy life. Hyeongjun likes him. Hyeongjun likes all of them. But he can't be fond, he can't be soft. Not even his parents got that luxury, how can he give it to Jooyeon?
Jooyeon looks so small and afraid and Hyeongjun wants to save him. The world is bigger than what he wants. The same Jooyeon who, despite being scared of him has always been friendly, who offered Hyeongjun snacks after their training sessions, the only one who even thought to ask if his knives had names and listened to Hyeongjun talk about them, is trapped and scared and in danger. And Hyeongjun said it could be beneficial.
It could. That’s the truth. It could be beneficial to Jooyeon too, but mostly it will hurt him. Hyeongjun is using him, and Jooyeon is smart enough to be aware of that. He allowed it for his own reasons, he agreed not for his sake but for others. Hyeongjun doesn't feel guilty for that. He knows he's guilty that Jooyeon got caught. However much Jiseok and Jungsu hate him could never be more than he hates himself. They can imagine what he's done. But they'll never understand it.
Seungmin’s handcuffs rattle, catching his attention. He would throw his hands up in the air right now if he could, Hyeongjun knows, utterly exasperated.
“If you're not pretending, why are you about to cry?”
“I'm not,” Hyeongjun says, but his voice cracks. “I got too defensive, I know. I know. I'll try and hide it better, at least.”
Seungmin closes his eyes, pained. Tears wet his eyelashes. “Hide it? That's not what I'm asking, baby. Hyeongjun, seriously, please. You're so much more than this. You're kind. You are. Stop hiding that part of yourself. You don't have to be the bad guy, not anymore, okay? So let yourself be my Hyeongjun.”
Hyeongjun is kind, with him.
“They're coming back,” Hyeongjun says, instead of answering. Seungmin goes limp, like a puppet with his strings cut. Like he's given up. His face falls. He looks like he's collapsing in on himself. Hyeongjun doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix it.
He knows he can't fix it. Hyeongjun broke everything beyond repair a long time ago.
Seungmin blinks open his eyes as two sets of footsteps approach the door.
“It's not been an hour,” Seungmin says pointedly when Gunil and Jungsu step through the door. “Hyeongjun’s ribs are still broken too.”
“I'm fine,” Hyeongjun says, immediately, not wanting to cause tension. Gunil looks between them both, hesitation on his features. Jungsu's mouth is set into a thin line. “Really, I'm fine. I've had worse. If you want to talk now, I'll answer.”
Jungsu crosses his arms, one eyebrow raised. “Really? If you don't, I'll use my Power on you. I'm not even playing, Jun Han. Not anymore.”
Hyeongjun nods, biting the inside of his cheek. He'd prefer not to be under someone else's control. He's spent too long subject to orders and other people's whims.
“We want to talk to Seungmin for now,” Gunil says mildly, resting the heel of his wrist on Jungsu's shoulder in a calming motion. “Seungmin-ah, I want to talk to you privately,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring. He walks further into the room and Hyeongjun loses sight of him as he crosses in front of his bed before he reaches Seungmin and comes into view.
Seungmin stares up at Gunil, his eyes still brimming with tears. Hyeongjun wants to hold him close. Hyeongjun wants to promise him he'll be a better person, but he doesn't want to give him more false hope than he already has.
“No,” Seungmin says, his tired voice shaking. “Whatever you want to ask, I'm comfortable here.” He looks over at Hyeongjun. Hyeongjun really has no problem if Seungmin does want to talk to them privately. That's his choice. Seungmin seems to read that on his face, because he calms considerably.
“Are you?” Jungsu asks, not missing the look they shared. “Can you really share everything, truthfully and honestly, with him here?”
Seungmin scowls. “Why wouldn't I be able to?” He demands, his eyes sharpening in challenge.
Gunil sits on the end of his bed. “Seungmin-ah, we're not trying to imply anything or interfere with you two's relationship. I'm just worried about you.”
“No, you're implying something,” Seungmin hisses. “And I don't like the implications, hyung. Hyeongjun loves me and I love him and that's it.”
Hyeongjun folds his hands in his lap, picking at the nail polish Seungmin helps him apply. It flakes off, his nails rough underneath. They're bloodstained, he's sure.
Jungsu glares at Hyeongjun and heads over to Seungmin too. “How?” He asks, simply. “How do you still love him? You know everything he's done.”
“I do,” Seungmin agrees. “And you don't, so you don't get to talk about it like you do. You know nothing of what we both went through.”
“Nothing justifies my actions,” Hyeongjun says quietly. Everyone looks at him and he falters for a moment. “Really. Nothing can. I don't claim to be justified or righteous or anything like that. I've done things you can't even imagine and I enjoyed it.”
“Stop it,” Seungmin growls, but his eyelashes are wet. “Stop trying to make them hate you, Hyeongjun.”
“It's working,” Jungsu mumbles. Seungmin tilts his head back, frustrated.
Hyeongjun's fingers slip and a sharp, jagged point of his nail cuts across the back of his upper knuckle. It stings.
Seungmin looks pleadingly at Gunil. “Listen to me, hyung. Listen to me. Hyeongjun might be Agent IIl, but he's still the person you know, too. He's still Hyeongjun.”
“Who are you?”
His nerves are on fire, his shoulder is tearing he's underwater he can't breathe-
Hyeongjun's ears are muffled. Seungmin is still talking.
“He's still the person that asked you for help on saving that baby bird, do you remember? Still the one who gives Jiseok his candy rations, he's still the person that taught Sehyuk-ah how to shoot in secret so he could surprise Taegyu-hyung, and the one that Gyeongsun’s Yena runs to after school. He's still the person that goes out every single time you need someone rescued and puts himself at risk to get them back here safely. Hyeongjun has been protecting you all even when he was an Agent!” Seungmin adds, leaning forward as much as he can to drive the point home.
“What?”
“He could see you the whole time!” Seungmin cries. “And he lied under threat of death, or worse, about what he could see, so that you would be safe. When they caught people who knew anything worthwhile, Hyeongjun would make deals with them to give false or no info-”
“What did he give them in return for that?” Jungsu demands, stonily. “Torture?”
“I gave them what I could,” Hyeongjun says, slowly. “A quick death. Less pain. An update on their family. I still tortured them, yes. If it wasn't me, it'd have been someone else. And Seungmin is picking and choosing. I still killed many innocent people without mercy or regret. I turned people in, reported on hidden bases of Variants and got them captured or maybe killed. I infiltrated escapee camps and killed them. Sometimes I made it unnecessarily cruel. Sometimes I was efficient. Min, they don't have to like me. I'll work with everyone anyway.”
Jungsu closes his eyes, leaning back on his heels. Gunil covers his face with his hands.
“They fucking tortured you, too!” Seungmin frowns, something desperate in his eyes. “You've told me about training, about conditioning and reconditioning. I was the one that pried that tag out of you, that bomb that tracked you everywhere like you were some cattle to the slaughter. You've told me how you were treated and it was hardly better than me, in fucking Camp Alpha.”
Hyeongjun turns his head away. He doesn't want to talk about this. These are things he's told Seungmin in confidence and he doesn't think they prove anything. He's not a good person. He's not a hurt or sad person either. He just is.
Who are you?
“You can look at my memories, hyung,” Seungmin says suddenly, his cuffs clinking against the bed as he subconsciously tries to reach towards Gunil. “You can look at my memories of Hyeongjun and what you'll find is someone who is deeply kind, who cares for me. He picks me fresh flowers every week and he reads to me and he looks after me when I can't do it for myself. Even after everything, the Hyeongjun I grew up with, fell in love with, is still here , so no, you don't have to worry about our relationship. That much, I'm sure of.”
Gunil swallows. “I would like to look at your memories,” he says softly. “I want to understand why you didn't tell us and it might mean I have less questions to ask Hyeongjun too. I'd be able to see anything I choose, though. If you're comfortable with that, then I'll look.”
Seungmin presses his lips together firmly, turning them pale. He looks at Hyeongjun again.
“It's your choice,” Hyeongjun says. “They're your memories.”
“So much of it is you,” Seungmin whispers, his voice loud in the silence. “There are things we both want to forget in here.”
Hyeongjun smiles gently. “But we can't,” he says. “I trusted you with that information and I trust you with this decision too.”
Seungmin nods tentatively, mulling it over. Hyeongjun can feel Jungsu's eyes burning on him more than he can see them. He looks…confused, his lips pursed. He stares at Hyeongjun like he's never seen him before.
“You really were different, earlier,” Jungsu says, hesitant. “I don't know what to believe.”
“All of it's true,” Hyeongjun says. Seungmin looks frustrated, but he can't deny that in some part, Hyeongjun is that asshole. The one who callously manipulates and mocks others. He can call it a coping mechanism all he likes, it doesn't change Hyeongjun's actions.
“You changed when I pulled out the gun,” Jungsu mumbles, to himself.
Hyeongjun thinks that's true. As soon as they tried to threaten him, he got cocky and rude, defensive and so fucking angry. He slipped back into being Three with disconcerting ease. Why? He can't say. Hyeongjun doesn't know what he felt in those moments. His default reaction is violence. Violence in words is no different. God, he's really fucked up. He really is. There's something wrong with him.
“There's something wrong with me,” Hyeongjun says, numbly. He didn't entirely mean to say that part aloud, but it doesn't matter that he has, either. “If I say I'm sorry, it won't help, will it? You know I don't mean it now.”
“Why would you say sorry if you don't mean it?” Gunil asks softly. “Just to get us off your back? To settle the issue?”
Hyeongjun blinks, tilting his head. “No, I don't think anything that deserves an apology can be settled with one. It's only settled after forgiveness. Nobody should forgive me, either. I don't feel remorse. But people…say it to comfort each other. I want you to be comforted.”
“I’d be a lot more comforted if you just…didn't do those things,” Jungsu mumbles. “But that's too late now.”
Hyeongjun nods. He taps his fingers together. The cut one is still bleeding a little, so he pinches it, squeezing the last drops out and cutting the circulation. Nobody pays him any mind, caught up in their thoughts.
Seungmin breathes in deeply. “I'll show you, hyung,” he agrees. “You can look through my memories.”
Hyeongjun didn't really want that, but he trusts Seungmin all the same. If Seungmin thinks it's the right choice, it's the right choice.
“Hyeongjun,” Gunil starts, looking thoughtful. “Would you ever consent to me looking through yours?”
Hyeongjun bites his lip. It's raw from where he's bitten it so much already today. “No,” he says. “I don't know if you'd be able to handle it,” he adds. “I'm still a 2.2, and if that can fry Seungch- uh, Two’s brain, it could hurt you. Even if it didn't. What's in my memories…nobody should see that. I wouldn't even show Seungmin.”
Gunil nods. “That's probably for the best. Seungmin-ah, Jungsu-yah will uncuff you and then we can do it. Whenever you're ready, alright?”
Seungmin nods and Jungsu digs the key from his pocket, reaching up to undo the cuffs. He clicks them open and Seungmin sighs in relief, flexing his wrists.
“Did it hurt you?” Hyeongjun asks, worried. Seungmin’s wrists can't be injured, but it doesn't mean he's not in pain.He must've strained against them more than Hyeongjun realised, preoccupied with his thoughts and checking on Jooyeon and everyone else. He leans forward, pulling on his own cuffs. The metal digs into his skin. “You're okay?”
“I'm fine,” Seungmin reassures softly, rubbing his wrist and wincing. “It's just an ache.”
Hyeongjun doesn't think it is fine. “Min,” he insists. “If it hurts, you should still say. Do you need a painkiller?”
Seungmin laughs. “No, baby, it's normal, it'll go away in five minutes.” He smiles fondly to himself. “See?” He says, raising an eyebrow at Gunil.
Gunil chuckles, shaking his head with amused disbelief. “What the hell,” he says, without any venom. He seems baffled, if anything.
“Huh?” Hyeongjun says, feeling much the same. “What?”
“Nothing, Junie, don't worry,” Seungmin says, softly. He looks happy, so Hyeongjun will leave it. He relaxes back into the bed, his ribs smarting at the movement. Jungsu is staring at him again and Hyeongjun tries to meet his eyes, but they both know that makes no difference. Unlike Su, Jungsu and Gunil have long since figured out he's blind. It's hard not to, when he's driving around with Jungsu and using his phone (Jiseok-certified, as all their phones are) the way he does, and eating with each other most days. Hyeongjun’s eyes look different, he knows. Not a big difference, but unfocused. Empty. He's done a lot of exercises to strengthen his eye muscles so they no longer cross, or roll away. They're still the normal brown, the normal shape, and now that he can see in some way, he can direct them better. At the Agency, that was enough. They didn't care enough about him personally to pay attention to eye contact. Hyeongjun could read reports over other people's shoulders and touch-type and he got away with it, except for Seungcheol. Everyone here sees him as a person, and so they notice details about him. He's not just his Agent number.
He's not just his Agent number. Even now, they're looking at him . Hyeongjun isn’t sure why that makes his skin prickle and simultaneously, warm deep inside.
Seungmin takes Gunil's hand. His eyes go misty and he chokes, a sob wracking his chest. Hyeongjun wants to go to him, to comfort him, to hold him, but he can't, so he just sits and watches. His heart clenches.
Jungsu seems to come to a conclusion and looks away from Hyeongjun, to Gunil instead. Gunil is crying softly too. Hyeongjun knows what he's seeing, he's seen all of it, too. All of it. Never from Seungmin's perspective, of course. He can't feel what Seungmin felt like Gunil can, or see from his eyes, but he knows. Seungmin has told him. He feels dirty . Hyeongjun understands. He does too.
Gunil gasps and disconnects their hands. He sits there, shaking. Seungmin folds into himself, sobbing. Hyeongjun can't watch this anymore. He can't. It's drastic, he knows that, but Hyeongjun doesn't care, he's grabbed his thumbs, dislocating them so he can wiggle out of the cuffs. Jungsu is too busy rubbing Gunil's shoulders to notice Hyeongjun popping his thumbs back and climbing out of bed.
His leg and ribs protest as soon as he puts weight on his feet, but he doesn't care. Hyeongjun strides across to Seungmin in a few seconds, well aware that Jungsu and Gunil have now noticed and are staring at him, agape.
Wrapping his arms around Seungmin, he draws him into his chest. Seungmin hugs him close, tight, desperate.
“Shhh,” Hyeongjun murmurs, kissing his hair. “It's okay. It's okay, you're safe now, Seumi, you're safe. I've got you, you're okay.”
Seungmin cries harder. “It-no, no,” he trembles. Hyeongjun’s face twitches, the pain is quite intense now, but he's more concerned with Seungmin. “No, no, don't make me.”
“I didn't mean to,” Gunil says. He hears him wiping his face. “It can bring them back with me, reliving it all…” He sounds guilty and Hyeongjun wants to shake him.
“Then you should've said that!” Hyeongjun snaps. Seungmin flinches and he softens, not meaning to scare him. “I'm sorry, baby, it's okay. You're safe, I'll keep you safe, promise.” He glares as best he can in Gunil's direction.
“You should've said,” he says, quieter this time. “Seungmin didn't consent to reliving it, hyung, it's been just over a year, he still can't sleep properly for the nightmares.”
“It seems like you can't either,” Gunil says without thinking and immediately, he claps a hand to his mouth. Hyeongjun really wants to hurt him, but he won't. He won't.
He scowls, running his fingers gently through Seungmin's hair. “Me?” He asks. “I don't have nightmares . I see everything, even when I'm asleep, right, Jungsu? Maybe I'm a ‘depraved, murder machine’, maybe I'm a ‘psychopathic, suicidal little asshole’ but I'm not unaffected. I get angry. You try and sleep through seeing all of that and worse.”
“I can't,” Gunil says. “I can't either. Other people's memories…I can't forget them.”
Hyeongjun breathes out slowly, his breath trembling. “Sorry,” he says. He half means it. He should've considered Gunil's Variation better. “Sorry, I'm. That was unfair.”
Gunil shakes his head, his hair rustling. “No, I should've been more clear. You're right.”
“How did you get out of the handcuffs?” Jungsu asks, shell-shocked. He sounds more curious than afraid, or angry, though and Hyeongjun is glad.
Hyeongjun closes his eyes. “Is that relevant?” He's mildly annoyed. All he wants to do is look after Seungmin. That's all he's ever wanted to do. Can people just shut up and let him do that? “Training,” he begrudges. “Gunil can tell you.”
“I'm sorry,” Gunil says, startling at being addressed. “I don't know what I assumed. Not…”
“Just,” Hyeongjun starts, Seungmin is heavy in his arms, cried out and hardly present in his body. “Just not now, hyung. Not now. We can talk about what you learnt. But not now. Go and plan Jooyeon's escape. We need him out of there.”
“That guard…?”
“I killed him,” Hyeongjun dismisses, unable to sound anything but pleased. “Choi Woosung. I killed him the day we rescued Jooyeon. I was waiting a year for that. He's dead. He can't hurt anyone ever again. He can't hurt Seungmin again.”
Seungmin stirs at the mention of his name, slumped against Hyeongjun's chest.
He gave Choi Woosung a slow, slow death. He felt every second. All of it. Gutted him alive.
“He can't hurt you,” Hyeongjun repeats, gently running his hand down Seungmin's face to cup his cheek. “He can't hurt you ever again, love.”
Gunil sighs shakily. He sounds so upset and Hyeongjun feels mostly annoyed by it. It's Seungmin's memories that hurt him, it's Hyeongjun's secrets, whispered in that warm embrace, that’s disturbed him. If he's upset, it's only ever a fraction of what Seungmin feels, having had it happen to him.
“We'll leave you,” Gunil says, standing up on wobbly legs. Jungsu steadies him and Gunil leans into his touch. “Come to Command when you're both ready. There's still things I want to ask, but this is enough for now.”
“My leg is fractured,” Hyeongjun says mildly. “I just made it worse.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jungsu curses. “Okay, you're fucked up. How can you even mentally do that to yourself? Fuck. Okay, hyung. I'll stay, get Duri-noona to fix Hyeongjun up and then I'll be along, okay?”
Gunil leans in and it sounds as though he kisses Jungsu on the cheek. Hyeongjun wouldn't be surprised. He's seen them kiss often before, but he doesn't think they're dating. It's not his business. They share a bed, and kiss, and that's that. It's quite cute, really, if Hyeongjun had it in him to care about such things anymore.
“You're a fucking mess,” Jungsu says, when Gunil is gone. “Don't think I trust you for a second, Han Hyeongjun. Whatever sob story you have doesn't make up for it.”
Hyeongjun hums, stroking Seungmin's cheek. He's starting to fall asleep, mentally exhausted. “I know,” Hyeongjun acknowledges. “That's fine. You don't need to trust me. I'm doing it for Seungmin.”
“I can see that,” Jungsu says. “Glad to know we mean so much to you.”
Hyeongjun rolls his eyes, shifting on the bed so Seungmin can lay comfortably. “Don't twist my words,” he says. “You deserve a better world to live in too.”
And Hyeongjun will have to get his hands even dirtier to give it to them.