Oneiric Tryst

8. A Date

A call startled Hongjoong out of his sleep. With a jolt, he sat upright and felt over the nightstand until his fumbling palm brushed the cold display of his phone. Trusting his fingers to hit the right button, he clenched his eyes shut from the bright light. Groaning, he lifted the device to his ear.

"Hello?" He croaked throatily. The digital clock on his desk read 3:12 am.

"Hongjoong? I'm so sorry about having to call you late at night. C-could you come over?"

It took the sleep-befuddled man a while to detect the wetness in the speaker's voice. He glanced at his phone with blurry eyes to confirm it was San.

"Did something happen?"

Sobering, Hongjoong threw his legs over the side of the bed. He put San on speaker and left him on the windowsill while he switched on the light. In the faint orange shine, he snatched his clothes from the prior day from his chair. The air inside his room was cold until he slipped them on.

"Wooyoung and I were attacked outside. I called the police but I don't feel safe." He sniffed pitifully. Anger furrowed Hongjoong's brow.

"Did you get hurt?"

"Nothing too bad. Just some bruises. Wooyoung, too."

A low murmur whispered in San's background. Too quiet to understand.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Hurriedly, Hongjoong snatched his car keys and his wallet. He ended the call so San could look over Wooyoung while he drove. On his way there, his fingers clutched the steering wheel tightly.

A single guess was enough for him to figure out what had happened. In the flat below San's, lived a grumpy dude with major alcohol addiction. He barely scraped by every month and bothered the residents to borrow money regularly. He was a nuisance and particularly despised San after finding out he was gay. Likely, he had heard him with another male outside and sprung into action.

Hongjoong hoped he got arrested. After years of verbal abuse and spitting at San's feet, the bastard sure deserved that.

The streets were mostly empty at this time of the night in their corner of the city. Seeing the usually lively roads discarded felt as if reality had shifted to a different dimension. Everything looked the same and at the very time like a different world.

For a moment, Hongjoong had to pause and ask himself whether he was dreaming. But no, he was awake. His car hummed under him as it heated his seat.

Hongjoong arrived at San's soon. With no care whether the emptied parking lot allowed him to park in that spot or not, he halted his car and sprung out. When he saw no police in sight, he scoffed.

Typical.

As if wanting to punish him, his mind provided him with a reminder of Seonghwa. Probably one of the few officers who actually cherished their work. But he had no shift tonight, and he was stationed in a different district of the city.

Hongjoong jogged up the stairs to San's flat. The door on the floor below was shut tightly, two empty beer bottles stationed next to it. Upstairs, he punched in the code and allowed himself inside. Wooyoung and San sat on the couch, both glancing at him anxiously when he entered.

San tried a weak smile that tugged painfully at his split lip.

"Wooyoung, this is my best friend and coworker. Hongjoong, you have heard of Wooyoung."

"I did." Hongjoong dropped his jacket on the backrest of the couch as he came to sit next to San. His eyes flickered over the split lip and swelling eye that San now pressed a cold pack to. Wooyoung held a kitchen towel to his temple, stained with blood.