𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 • SKIN ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐘𝐔

⌗OO6

Soobin couldn't stomach any more food. In fact, he felt like throwing up what he had eaten so far. The smell of ramen made him feel sick to the stomach.

"Is that why your skin does that—like-" he asked reluctantly, not wanting to say the words that lay atop his tongue. Much to Soobin's relief, Beomgyu nodded before he could finish his sentence, confirming what he didn't even want to say. Soobin watched the crack retreat into the boy's cheek, as if nothing had happened at all. 

The mood was heavy and suddenly gloomy, cold sweat beading on Soobin's forehead. "And they did that?" he asked, poking his chopsticks around his bowl.

"Yeah, but it wasn't supposed to be like this," Beomgyu said, "so they just killed me, but I didn't die as you can see." He forced a smile at his comment, shrugging his shoulders. 

Soobin looked solemn, pain and pity deep set within his soft eyes. His expression eased with will to comfort Beomgyu, but threatened to harden when he realized he might have a ticking time bomb in his home.

Beomgyu was supposed to be dead. He probably wasn't to have existed in this real world. He was a deal made under the table, to be concealed from those who would bat an eye at such inhumane crimes.

At that thought, he abandoned any further effort to eat his ramen and swallowed, hoping to rid his stomach of the discomfort he felt, "So they don't know where you are?"

"No, last they saw I was under a pile of dirt," Beomgyu grimaces. He certainly looked like it, with blood and mud caked to his skin, torn clothes and all.

Soobin cleared the bowls and left the boy pondering at the table, before returning to offer him a bath, which he gladly accepted.

The water singed his skin in a refreshing way, the feeling of being clean instantly washing over Beomgyu as he lowered his body into the steaming tub. A towel and clean set of clothes were tossed into the room, making him jump, bubbles floating in the air around him.

"Put these on once you're done, I'll tackle your hair after," Soobin called loudly and shut the bathroom door.

+×+

Beomgyu pulled on the sweater and sweatpants Soobin had given him and draped the towel around his neck, catching the water that was dripping from his soaking wet hair.

"Sir?" he sought after Soobin, wandering into the lounge. 

"All done?" 

He heard a voice call from above. Beomgyu whipped his head back to see the blonde poking out from a loft.

"I have conditioner and a comb," he waved the objects around as he walked down the stairs. Soobin guided the dark-haired to the couch, sitting him on the floor in front of him.

Soobin switched on the TV, letting whatever drama screening, play. Beomgyu stared wide-eyed, letting out a gasp as the flat screen bloomed with bright colours, and the sound of chatter other than their own filled his ears.

The taller grinned at this, he'd never seen someone so in awe of a television. Such things were commonplace, and it was almost in disregard not to have one.

"Just Soobin is fine. I don't like sir, it makes me sound old," he said, lathering conditioner on his hands before applying it through Beomgyu's dark locks. Beomgyu didn't seem to notice. He was too fixated on the TV screen to pay any attention to what was happening to his hair.

Soobin gently began to comb through the hair, trying his best not to hurt the younger—inevitable with all the knots and matting throughout it. Beomgyu groaned and squeaked at the tugs of pain but didn't make any attempt to pull away. This pain was no match for the pain he'd felt over the past years.

Soobin asked Beomgyu questions as he tackled his hair, to which he nonchalantly answered everyone. And when his mind ran dry, he left the latter to enjoy the drama in peace.

"Soobin-shi," Beomgyu turned around to look at the said boy, a pout upon his cute face. "This is boring," he whined.

"Huh?" Soobin put down the comb. 

"This," he repeated, pointing at the TV, "it's boring, the woman is being stupid."

Oh right, the female lead. Not surprised. It should've been Seojun all the way. 

Soobin laughed and picked up the remote. 

"Look," he said, directing Beomgyu to the buttons. "Push these to change the channel."

The boy took it eagerly, pressing absolutely every button, till the screen went completely blank. He turned around again, the same pout but with wide pleading eyes that Soobin found adorable, "Call me hyung. You said you were 21, I'm 23 so only a small difference."

You literally just met him, I swear to God Soobin. Get a grip.

"Can you make it move again, please?" Beomgyu asked. 

"You try," Soobin responded, dragging the comb through his hair again.

Beomgyu's eyes furrowed, a hard and determined expression on his face as he aggressively pushed all the buttons waiting for the TV to light up.

The colours flourished, and Beomgyu clapped with joy at his success. "Good one, Beom," Soobin beamed. He took a hair tie from his wrist and pulled the latter's now-dry hair back into a ponytail.

"All done!" he exclaimed happily. He glanced at the clock mounted above the TV, 10:23 at night. He watched as Beomgyu's eyelids drooped and head lolled and sighed, "Time for bed, Beom."

Beomgyu groaned, though secretly pleased, because he was exhausted and had been suppressing yawns all evening.

"Okay, Soob."

Soob?

That was a nickname his father had once had for him. Soobin would've been repulsed by it, but the way Beomgyu said it, it was endearing and made him feel almost giddy.

Soobin stood up and went to fetch some blankets. Looks like I'm on the couch tonight.