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“Fucking great. Now what are we going to eat?” Sangwoo glowers down at the trembling man and the spilled yukgaejang at his bandaged feet.
He had been sitting at the big table scrolling through social media while Bum cooked dinner for the two of them. Bum has been a lot more jittery and on-edge today but Sangwoo didn’t give it much thought and put it down to Bum being weird like usual. The house had been peacefully (for Sangwoo at least) quiet before a loud bang followed by Bum’s gasp cut through the silence. Bum had, somehow, gone and dropped the pot of soup on the linoleum, ruining their dinner.
Now, Bum stares up at him with his mouth open like a fish. Sangwoo’s glare intensifies and he kicks one of the legs on Bum’s rolling chair, irritated even more. “What are you staring at me for? Clean it up.” The smaller man immediately snaps out of his daze. “Ah! R-right,” the words stumble out of his mouth and are drenched in anxiety. Bum gets down from his chair as quickly as he can manage with shattered legs and he grimaces when still-hot broth soaks through his skirt and onto his knees. Unthinkingly and a little bit overcome with fear, he starts wiping at the spilled soup with his sweater sleeves like he had done in the past.
Sangwoo watches as his captive struggles, highly amused though he doesn’t show it. All Bum is succeeding in is spreading the mess even more, further on the floor and on his clothes. He seems to catch on to this too and lifts his dripping arms up a little before looking around the kitchen for a towel. “Um… S-Sangwoo where are the-”
“Your uselessness is pissing me off. I’m going out.” He isn’t even really that angry anymore but the way Bum’s face falls when he thinks he’s made some horrible mistake is funny; maybe a tiny bit cute too. Sangwoo turns around to leave but Bum gently grabs onto his jean cuff, so he looks back at him questioningly and Bum begs, “Please wait! Sangwoo, I… I-” He cuts him off a second time; “Oh. Right. There are paper towels in there.” He nods to the cabinet on the right side of the oven, behind the rolling chair. He yanks his leg out of Bum’s weak hold and walks to the front door without looking back.
Bum only gets more desperate instead of giving up — good. He sounds like he’s trying not to cry when he says, “N-no that’s, that’s not what I- Sangwoo! Please, a-are you mad at me?” Sangwoo rolls his eyes as he pulls on and laces up his boots. “I just said you were pissing me off, didn’t I?” He stands to grab the door handle and Bum is still going. “I’m sorry, I-I can cl-” Sangwoo opens the front door and doesn’t look at his captive when he says, “Bye, Bum.” The door clicks shut just as Bum starts to cry.
Sangwoo doesn’t really know where he’s planning on going. It was an impulsive decision driven by an urge to see Bum desperate for him to stay home. Only as he opens his car door does he realize he actually does have nothing to eat now. If he goes back inside, him and Bum could just microwave some frozen dinners. But that would be giving Bum what he wants, and he’s already made his decision, so he decides to skip eating and gets behind the wheel.
He ends up going to a nightclub 30 minutes away from his house, outside of Jangan-gu. On the off chance that he brings a girl home tonight, he parks a few streets away from the building and walks the rest of the way. Once Sangwoo is let inside, he quickly finds a seat at a bar. The bass from whatever song is playing is so strong that he feels it inside himself, and there are annoying strobe lights shining through the club, but tucked away here they aren’t as bothersome.
The bartender slides a girl a few seats away a drink, before walking over to where Sangwoo is seated and asking him what he wants. Sangwoo orders a bottle of strawberry-flavored soju and watches as the man grabs the bottle from a mini-fridge and sets it on the bar along with a shot glass. The blonde pays for his drink and reaches for the bottle before a large man sits in the seat right next to him. “Let me pour your drink for you.”
Sangwoo glares at the bossy stranger and takes in his features. He has a strong jawline, and he’s tall and broad-shouldered like Sangwoo; maybe even moreso. Sangwoo is a little taken aback, because who just walks up to someone like this and says that? Maybe it’s something Sangwoo would say to a girl he’s flirting with or a younger acquaintance, but not to some stranger as a conversation-starter like this weirdo.
He suddenly feels a bit sick in the stomach thinking that this guy is probably flirting with him, then. He didn’t skip eating dinner so he could be ogled at by men. His thoughts briefly drift to Bum, an exception because of his thick thighs and narrow shoulders and gentle demeanor. But this man is nothing like Bum; he’s big and, by the looks of it, strong, and he’s annoyingly domineering — or tries to be.
Realizing he’s been staring at the guy for a while, Sangwoo snaps out of his thoughts and responds. He wants to tell him to fuck off but resists that urge and instead says, “No thanks,” a bit sourly. He grabs the cool bottle with his left hand and unscrews the red cap with his right. “I’m not interested,” he adds for good measure. He’s not sure if this man is a queer or just doesn’t understand how social interactions work but he hopes he’ll catch the hint either way.
When he’s done filling his shot glass, the man is still in the seat and staring creepily at Sangwoo; and not in the cute way Bum does. He needs to stop thinking about Bum. Sangwoo opens his mouth to ask the stranger why he’s still here but he’s roughly bumped into by another person behind him before he can speak. Usually Sangwoo tries to keep his cool in public, but he’s already really annoyed at the freak sitting near him and keeping him from drinking, so without thinking he spins around in his seat and takes his anger out on the girl before she even has time to apologize.
“Watch where you’re going, you dumb bitch. You could’ve made me spill my drink.”
The girl’s surprised expression quickly changes into one of anger. “What’s your problem? Has no one ever bumped into you before? It’s not a big deal, you’ll live.”
The two continue bickering back and forth for a few more minutes and when the girl decides she’s had enough of being called various misogynistic insults, she flips Sangwoo off and leaves.
When Sangwoo turns back around in his seat, the man is finally gone. Thank fucking god.
20 minutes pass and the girl he saw earlier — the one before the bartender came to him — is now next to him and doing shots with him. Her hair is long and dyed a muted red and her button nose reminds him of Bum. He’s about to order a third bottle for them when he suddenly feels nausea and dizziness creep up on him, worsening by the second. Sangwoo frowns and rests his head on one hand.
“Are you okay?” He looks up into the girl’s worried eyes and weakly shakes his head. The guy from earlier definitely fucked with his drink, that much was obvious. He feels stupid for not watching his glass when he was already getting bad vibes from the man beforehand. He also feels a little insulted because did he look that stupid? Okay, maybe he’s dumb enough to let his drink be tampered with but he’s not so dumb that he won’t notice. The perv is probably waiting in the men’s bathroom right now, expecting Sangwoo to come in so he can puke his guts out. Well, that’s not happening.
He stands up shakily and a girl asks him where he’s going. Her voice sounds like he's underwater and it takes Sangwoo half a second to remember who she is. He mumbles some bullshit about it being late, not telling the truth in case she were to call 119, because the police might come along with the ambulance.
He ignores her voice this time and walks to the club’s exit as the room spins. He can’t drive right now but being out in the open where a dozen or so people are is better than getting lost in a crowd of people too distracted to notice him, right? Maybe he should have stayed with the girl. It’s hard to make smart decisions right now.
It’s too late for Sangwoo to walk back to her though, she’s probably gone by now, so he weakly pushes open the door and walks outside, cool air hitting his skin. He’s exhausted, and doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. Sangwoo is already incredibly sleepy and the night sky makes his brain even more convinced that he should sleep. He walks over to the side of the building so he can nap. He vaguely can tell that he’s being stupid and that he shouldn’t be doing this but it’s hard to care or panic about anything. And he’s still going to be around other people; they won’t let anything happen to him.
Before Sangwoo can lay down and take his nap, a large hand grabs his shoulder and gently turns him around. The figure in front of him is a few inches taller than him, but with the darkness of the night, his blurred vision, and drooping eyelids combined that’s all he can make out. “Are you lost?” The person’s tone of voice is as if they were talking to a kindergartner. Sangwoo’s legs are really starting to feel like gelatin now and some part of him worries a little about falling.
Sangwoo realizes that he needs to answer the person in front of him. Is he lost? He doesn’t remember why he’s outside. That's right, someone drugged him. He should go to his car so he can drive home then, not take a nap. “Yes… I.. don’t rem’ber where I parked.” The hand moves to his wrist, still gentle, and tugs. “That’s alright. I’ll help you find it, okay?” Thankfully the stranger keeps a slow pace that Sangwoo can keep up with. “‘Kay.” And so they’re off to search for his car.
As they pass under some lit-up shop signs, Sangwoo can see the person’s facial features much better when they look back at him next. With mild concern, he realizes this is the man that got him into this situation in the first place. He pulls his wrist out of the guy’s grip, only able to because of how loose it was. The man turns around, confused, and Sangwoo sleepily looks up at him. “Did you see your car?” He asks but at this point Sangwoo can barely hear him. He’s aware enough to know that he should get away from this man. Not sure how to go about doing that, he turns around and starts walking away without another word. After a few steps, his relaxed muscles cause him to stumble and he needs to lean against the nearest building for support; a convenience store. Sangwoo calmly stares at the aisles of snack foods and beverages in glowing refrigerators before he’s gently turned around again and, before he can process what’s going on, is picked up.
He gasps and weakly pushes at the stranger’s shoulders, trying to get him to let him go. He hasn’t been carried in a long time, and he isn’t exactly light, so this guy must be really strong. “No…” He sounds a lot younger than he is as he tries to squirm in the man’s arms. It’s getting very hard to move now. He’s so weak as he attempts to fight back that he may as well have broken wrists. The stranger carries him into the nearest alleyway and Sangwoo half-recognizes that this is about to become very bad very quickly. But he doesn’t want to keep fighting because he’s so relaxed and sleepy, and he wouldn’t be able to win anyways. He tries to reason with the bigger man instead, only to realize with dread that he can barely get any words out.
The man sets him down on the ground, in a sitting position because he can no longer stand. He kneels in between Sangwoo’s legs and starts to unbutton his jeans, inspiring more muted panic. The blonde weakly brushes his fingertips against the stranger’s hands and shakes his head the tiniest bit. He attempts to say “stop” and it comes out incredibly mumbled, his mouth not finishing the word. “It’s alright,” he’s told as his zipper is pulled down. His eyelids feel so heavy. “No… ‘s not.”
Then something happens that Sangwoo, even in this unwanted relaxed state, is thoroughly shocked by. The taller man pulls his hand out of his unbuttoned jeans and punches him square in the nose, the first violent action the man has taken the entire night. He gasps quietly as blood steadily pours down his face. He wishes he could cup his nose right now, but his arm muscles no longer work. Pain blossoms out across his entire face from his nose and he thinks it could be broken. Probably.
Sangwoo expects the guy to continue touching and undressing him but is surprised a second time when he instead smacks him across the face. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. Up until now, this person has been so gentle. Isn’t he supposed to be helping him look for his car...? Sangwoo doesn’t have much time to think about it though, because his wavy hair is grabbed and the back of his head is slammed against the brick wall he’s sitting against. He was already so out of it and disoriented, but now it’s really bad. He deliriously thinks that he should have just taken a nap like he wanted to instead of looking for his car.
The man staring down at him has a look on his face like he’s contemplating what he should do to him. Suddenly Sangwoo has the feeling that he’s swapped places with one of his victims, and maybe that is what’s happened. The stranger pulls Sangwoo up a second time under the armpits, maneuvering his temporarily paralyzed body so that he’s laying on his side, back against the brick wall. He then stands up and, without warning, starts kicking him in the ribs and stomach. Sangwoo can tell his ribs are being bruised, and each kick to his bladder is a humiliating moment where he’s sure he’s going to wet himself. His spine hurts from being pressed up and kicked against the wall, too. Still, he could be getting kicked in way worse places.
Just after that thought, the man kicks him in the fucking face, aggravating his already broken nose, and Sangwoo can no longer hold back his tears of pain. He wishes he could speak so he could beg, but he never listened when people begged so why would this guy? Thankfully his teeth are unharmed and the kicking is over with. He’s pulled away from the wall and positioned on his back before the man straddles him and asks, “Are you going to be good now?” And Sangwoo whimpers because he forgot what this guy had wanted in the first place. Now he wishes he was still being kicked in the face. He doesn’t know what the guy wants him to do to confirm that he’ll be good, because he can’t move or speak anymore.
The man seems satisfied with Sangwoo’s lack of response anyways and tugs down his ripped jeans by the belt loops.
When Sangwoo wakes up, he has no clue where he is but his body hurts everywhere. It takes multiple attempts before he’s able to stand up, hips aching and head pounding. There’s blood on his face and a huge stain of it on the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t know how something like this could happen to someone like him. He racks his brain for the events that led up to this and, only finding a vast pit of emptiness in his memory, concludes that he must’ve been drugged. He can very vaguely recall some guy being creepy to him when he first got to the club but nothing after that.
He’s so confused, and he feels pathetic. The whole point of roofying is that they don’t remember it afterwards and that it’s easier to do, right? So why be an obvious creep beforehand and leave him covered in wounds afterwards? He doesn’t want to think about this anymore. It doesn’t feel real. He should go home.
Taking in his surroundings, he realizes he’s in an alleyway and that it’s daytime; it’s sunny out. The second thing he realizes is that this means he’s going to have to walk back to his car in broad daylight looking like this. It’s not as awful of a thought as he expected but maybe it’s because he can’t feel more humiliated than he already does.
The third thing he realizes is that he’s been gone all night, which means Bum was alone all night. He was so mean before he left. Sangwoo’s stomach drops at the thought of coming home to the sight of Bum with his wrists slit open or hanging from the ceiling. With that in mind, he limps out of the alleyway and starts his painful walk to his car, ignoring people’s stares. He knows where he is now that he’s on the actual street, and it’s thankfully not very far from where his car is parked.
Once he sits down on the driver’s seat of his car, he first checks the time. 11:41 AM which means Bum is definitely awake now, if he even slept at all. He was planning on looking at himself up close in the sun visor’s mirror but decides against it because he doesn’t want to know how fucked up his face is just yet. Sangwoo speeds all the way home and manages to almost get in an accident only two times.
It’s stupid of him to stand outside the front door hesitating like this, when Bum easily could’ve already seen him through a window as he walked to the porch. He sighs and punches in the door’s code, before turning the handle and stepping into the quiet house.
Bum isn’t in the kitchen waiting like he expected, and honestly why did he expect that? He also doesn’t come crawling at the sound of the door clicking, which would irritate Sangwoo if he had the ability to feel things other than numbness right now. Nevermind, he can feel emotions, because undiluted panic takes over him as he thinks maybe he didn’t come because he isn’t in the house anymore. Sangwoo speed-walks as fast as his heavy legs can take him to the downstairs bedroom and opens the door aggressively, only to find Bum sitting up on the mattress looking fearful.
“Bum! Why didn’t you come to the door?”
Bum looks more shocked than normal and Sangwoo wonders why before he remembers his current appearance. “I-I thought I imagined it.” Sangwoo is confused and his face must show it because Bum then clarifies, “the sound… of the d-door.” Okay. Sangwoo doesn’t have the energy to be angry over something so small right now. Bum speaks again, a little quieter this time; “Sangwoo… what, um… happened?” referring to his face and his shirt stained with blood and shoe imprints. He didn’t expect it but suddenly Sangwoo is feeling a lot at once and he turns around before he starts crying in front of fucking Yoon Bum of all people.
He stares at the wood floor silently for a moment before saying, “Nothing. I’m going to take a shower,” in a voice that hopefully doesn't sound as small as he feels.
Once he’s in the bathroom, he first looks in the mirror before he takes his shower. His nose is covered in blood still so it’s difficult to tell but it doesn’t look deformed. Judging by the pain and amount of blood, it’s probably still broken despite that.
Next he takes off his shirt and stares at the indigo and deep purple bruises littering his torso. He stares and stares until he forgets what he’s looking at because he doesn’t want to continue undressing. But he does anyways, undoing his jeans and stepping out of them. His legs don’t seem to have any injuries. Sangwoo plays with the elastic band of his briefs for a nerve-wracking 30 seconds, watching his fingers in the mirror, before he sucks it up and pulls them down too like ripping off a bandaid.
Judging by how he woke up, and the memory loss, and the pain radiating from in between his hips, he was expecting to see this. But the disgusting white and red stains in his underwear make him want to throw up. Actually he does throw up. Sangwoo doesn’t have time to make it to the toilet so he vomits into the sink, clear in color because the only thing he’s consumed in the last almost 24 hours has been Jinro Strawberry Soju and Rohypnol.
He worries that he’ll start wailing so he presses his forehead against the wall, closes his eyes, and covers his mouth with his hands as his whole body trembles. Staring at the darkness of his eyelids, he slowly calms down and takes some deep breaths. He folds the briefs he’s holding without looking at them, then shoves them under his dirty shirt so there’s no risk of seeing them again. He rinses the vomit down the sink then washes his mouth by swishing faucet water a few times.
He turns the shower on as hot as it can go without becoming excruciating and washes himself as quickly as he can.
It’s only 12:37 PM but Sangwoo puts on pajamas anyways. The laundry is in the washing machine now, the comforting noise coming from the kitchen. He couldn’t save his shirt and briefs but he doesn’t think he really wants them anymore.
He probably needs to go to the doctor because of his broken nose but he just doesn’t want to think about it right now.
He suddenly remembers the fiasco with the yukgaejang last night and looks down at Bum. “Bumi, did you eat anything after I left?” The bandaged man timidly shakes his head and Sangwoo walks to the kitchen, signaling for Bum to follow him. “Me neither.” He searches the fridge for something to eat and finds nothing good so he looks in the freezer next and grabs one of those frozen pizzas that cook in the oven. Sangwoo’s stomach is still upset but he knows he should probably eat.
He preheats the oven to the temperature in the box’s instructions before looking at Bum who sits at the table. He was going to sit across from him but changes his mind and sits in the chair next to him instead. They’re both quiet for a bit before Bum breaks the silence first, which isn’t a common occurrence. “Um… Are you still mad at me…?” Sangwoo wasn’t expecting him to ask that and he shakes his head, frowning a little. Bum smiles shyly and looks down at the floor when the eye contact gets to be too much for him. “O-okay… good.”
Bum is smiling but there’s visible concern in his expression that shows he wants to know what happened to the younger man. But Sangwoo can barely admit it to himself, the event feeling far away; being drugged when it happened definitely doesn’t help with that but he has a feeling it’s more than just that. He has the most bizarre urge to tell Bum anyways, a small bundle of frantic energy inside of his chest cavity, but despite that he can’t bring himself to. The feeling dies down quickly.
The oven beeps, signaling that it’s reached the inputted temperature and making Bum jump a little in the process, like a scared but cute wild animal. Sangwoo puts the pizza on a tray and slides it into the toasty oven before setting a timer on his phone for the amount specified. Now that he’s done with the cardboard box he deconstructs it and puts it in the recycling bin.
Maybe he’ll tell Bum another day.