Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Most people knew Kim Chul as Iron, but not many people knew the fragile boy that came before.

Chul had been an unsuspecting child for all the wrong reasons. Being the youngest born into a family of exceptional talent meant there were expectations to uphold, and unfortunately for him, he had fallen short of those expectations. His siblings were all naturally gifted with scholarly intelligence and aspired to be great leaders in their craft, while Chul barely scraped by in school. His lackluster grades made him the target of his parents’ scrutiny, which didn’t serve well for his already crumbling esteem.

For a while, Chul accepted his place below everyone’s gaze. He was either looked down upon or ignored like a wallflower. No one expected for him to succeed in anything, and who was he to argue that? The only thing he felt capable of accomplishing was living each day without ambition; after all, he didn’t care about getting perfect grades or whatever. His parents saw nothing in him, so in turn, he saw nothing in himself. He didn’t even know what he wanted in life, and with his parents completely abandoning any prospects of success for him, he was given no guidance on how to move forward.

Then, one day, the trajectory of Chul’s life took a slight curve upwards. It was just any other day, only a little worse than most because he had to endure a tongue-lashing from his father after presenting another poor progress report. But right before his father stormed out his room, an offhand comment trailed from the crack of Chul’s bedroom door.

“You’d be better off making use of your height, if not your brain.”

Words that were meant to jab at Chul’s insecure heart instead lit a lightbulb in his head. Chul’s only outstanding quality was that he was taller and sturdier than most kids his age, so why not make use of that quality?

This train of thought led to Chul dabbling in a multitude of sports—Basketball, football, volleyball. He expected to fail, but found he wasn’t all that bad at them. And even more surprising, his coaches saw potential in his athletic abilities. “If you continue working on your skills, you could go pro someday,” they would all say. For Chul, these words of encouragement were soothing balms to his battered pride, instilling hope within him and, for the first time, a drive.

Despite Chul’s newfound love for athletics, none of the sports he tried struck a chord in his heart. Sure, they were fun, which was a nice change of pace in his life, but he wouldn’t have wanted to go pro in any of them.

Except running.

How Chul encountered running was quite different from how he encountered the other sports. Entirely unintentional, in fact. In short, a group of kids who liked to bully Chul decided to give chase when he refused to give them money, and quickly discovered that he could outrun them without much effort. These weren’t slow kids either; at least three of them were highly-revered members of the track and field club, so the fact that he beat them with ease surprised him. Even more, there was something thrilling about running that got his heart pumping. For a while, he couldn’t pinpoint the reason for this feeling, but after spending a couple of mornings and evenings jogging, he finally understood the reason.

Running chased away Chul’s doubts and insecurities, made him forget about all the disappointed looks and malicious words used as weapons against him throughout his life. The rush of crisp wind as it brushed through his hair would shed all the scars these weapons impressed onto his heart, whisking them far, far away. Running was… liberating.

Chul continued to cultivate his speed throughout middle school. Everyday, he would train to strengthen his body and hone his endurance. The school’s track became his secondary home where he would spend long hours before the sun rose and after sunset. Chul would not settle for being just good; he wanted to be the best. Whenever he faced a limit to his speed, he would find a way to surpass that limit. And he did, time after time.

These efforts were not all self-serving, though. Yes, Chul pushed himself to surpass his own limits, but he also did it to surpass everyone’s lowly expectations of him. He wanted to prove to everyone that they were wrong about this hopeless boy.

Students around Chul witnessed him transform from a meek, ambitionless child into a track prodigy, winning junior races and achieving various other accolades. In fact, it was as if he had become a different person entirely. Even his parents couldn’t recognize their son, though Chul paid no mind to any of their stares or opinions. Maybe he was a different person now. Maybe he had stamped out that meek child and from the ashes, a spirit forged by iron took its place.

The new Chul that students would come to know as Iron didn’t care about satisfying other people’s expectations. This Chul didn’t win races to make his parents proud. This Chul raced because it had become his dream. Running was no longer a sport; it was his joy.

Eventually, Chul graduated into high school and immediately tried out for the track team. Chul wasn’t one to boast his talents, but he wasn’t going to hide the fact that he would be the team’s greatest asset, either. Amused by such big words, the captain of the track team decided to give him a challenge.

“Alright, newbie. If you’re so great, then beat each of our seniors in a race!”

Not surprisingly, Chul outran every senior, as well as the rest of the team for good measure. With all doubts chased away, Chul easily became the track team’s newest member.

In the world of sports, every participant strove to set themselves apart from others. Everyone clambered to the top, but in the end, only one would stand above the rest. For many years, through endless hours of hard work, Chul had been that person at the top, an unreachable dream, coveted yet never attained. Until…

Until Chul met that boy.

It was the first day of the school national track and field preliminaries and Chul was going to run his first race as a member of his school’s track team. This would be his opportunity to assert his right at the top.

The moment Chul walked onto the field with his team, he was immediately aware of the competitive tension hanging thickly in the air, so thick he could nearly taste it. As he walked by his competitors, they would steal brief glances at him. Size him up. Some recoiled as if he were a monster, and, well, compared to his teammates, his hulky frame and towering height did give a monster-like impression.

Monster or not—none of their opinions mattered. Whatever impressions they had of Chul, he would strike them down and leave each racer in his dust, just as he had in the past. Just the thought sent excitement and exhilaration surging through his veins, like a warrior manifesting the thrill of battle. He wanted to run, to win, to earn glory to his name and for his team. But before he became too lost within his excitement, his captain started barking at him about warming up.

A little while later, a rowdy group of guys sauntered into Chu’s peripheral. He didn’t pay attention to them until they started engaging in conversation with his captain, flaunting their rookie first-year prodigy, or something of that nature.

Chul was able to catch the name of this revered first-year: Sung Jin-woo. For a very, very brief moment, he found the name familiar, but this familiarity vanished in the blink of an eye. Shrugging it off, he returned his focus to his warm-up.

Then, Chul’s captain called him over.

“Actually, we also had a monstrous newbie join us too,” the captain was saying by the time Chul reached his side. The captain glanced up at Chul and used a hand to direct his gaze to the group of guys clad in purple and white uniforms. “Say hi to them, Iron.”

Chul shifted his gaze to the team in front of him and his eyes immediately landed on the guy who must have been Sung Jin-woo, based on how Sung’s captain leaned on his shoulder like a proud father.

And for some inexplicable reason, Chul felt himself freeze up.

An aura dark and menacing surrounded Sung, acting as a natural extension of his very being. It exuded a domineering presence, flowing like translucent smoke from his ice-sculpted eyes, which Chul swore shimmered a bright violet from underneath his dark bangs. The aura slithered to Chul and wrapped its fingers around his body, seeping into his skin until it reached his core. With an iron-grip, it seized his core, making Chul’s chest clench painfully.

Then, an impulse arose.

An overwhelming impulse permeated into every bone and muscle. It curled around his heart, floated in his ears, tantalizing him in the form of soft, demanding whispers that spoke only one word.

Kneel.

“What's wrong, Chul?” a voice asked to his side—his captain. Wait, why was Chul next to his captain? What were they talking about, anyway?

Oh yeah, Chul was supposed to be introducing himself to Sung’s team. He would be doing that if his jaw wasn’t clenched so tightly. Even after working out his jaw and opening his mouth, his own name dissolved onto his numb tongue. It was like his body was revolting against his will to speak. Rather, his body wanted him to do one thing and one thing only:

Kneel. Kneel. Kneel.

All the sounds surrounding him were drowned out by Chul’s thunderous heart beats and that insistent chant. Everyone faded from the world, save for one person.

Sung.

Sung and his cold, stoic eyes boring into Chul, practically knives penetrating his soul. Eyes that could see right through to him, like he knew Chul better than Chul knew himself.

Chul felt pried open, helplessly nude and vulnerable against this teen. His limbs trembled against his will and his chest ached as his heart continued to drum mercilessly.

What’s happening to me?! Chul thought while wiping the sweat that dribbled down his temples. Am I getting nervous? Or maybe…

Could it be that I’m… afraid of this guy…?

“THAT’S RIDICULOUS!” Chul suddenly exclaimed, scaring his teammates and the guys from the other team, even scaring himself.

“Ch–Chul? Are you alright?” his captain asked, but Chul let the question fly over his head. He stomped towards Sung until he was glowering down at the teen, their faces merely inches away from each other. Sung returned the glower with an unflinching glare.

Chul scanned this so-called prodigy from head-to-toe. After his short assessment, he clicked his tongue. Kid’s got strong legs, but otherwise he's pretty weak-looking. And this was the guy that got him so riled up? Up close, Sung looked like nothing more than a scrawny, edgy teen.

But, those eyes. Shielded by a thick layer of indifference, it was hard to read Sung’s thoughts past that blank, unwavering stare that lazily held Chul’s heavy glare as if Chul just wasn’t worth his time.

This guy needs to be put in his place.

Chul gritted his teeth. “What’re you looking at? If you have something to say to me, then let’s go somewhere else.”

Sung blinked languidly, his silence an answer of its own as both teams roared and cheered for a fight to ensue.

Alone, under the concealment of a staircase’s silhouette, Chul grabbed a fistful of Jin-woo’s track jacket and lifted him off his toes.

“Who do you think you are, looking down at me like I’m nothing? Do you think I’m a joke?!” Chul snapped in a heated voice.

Sung rolled his eyes to no direction in particular and sighed, which only added fuel to Chul’s fuming rage. “You come from the same cloth as the rest of us, so don’t think you’re better than everyone just because everyone calls you a prodigy!”

Again, Sung sighed, though this time he gave Chul the courtesy of his full attention. His voice was low and measured, too measured for someone his age. “You feel better, now?”

“About what?” Chul gritted out.

Sung narrowed his eyes. Chul hated how the sight made his skin crawl. “About projecting your insecurities onto me. Does it make you feel better about yourself?”

Chul flinched, feeling a vein bulge on his forehead. Where did this guy come off saying something so arrogant? Sung would never understand how it felt to be looked down on for most of his childhood. To feel completely talentless when everyone around him was brimming with talent and promise. To be cast aside like trash while your siblings were lavished with praises. It took years for Chul to defeat that pathetic, worthless thing he used to be and to outrun everyone’s ugly perceptions of him. He wasn’t going to let one stranger put him back in that spot.

Tightening his grip on Sung’s jacket until his knuckles whitened, Chul growled, “You know nothing about me. Nothing, you understand? Don’t you dare talk to me about insecurities when you’re…”

For some reason, the arm that grabbed Sung began to quiver. Chul raised a brow, though decidedly ignored it. “You’re… You're just… huh?”

A damp sensation trickled down Chul’s cheeks, catching him by surprise. Chul blinked rapidly, confused. Though, his confusion quickly turned into horror when the trickling evolved into voluminous streams of tears, as if someone had unplugged a dam to his tear ducts. No matter how much he tried to wipe his tears away, they would return with greater force.

Chul’s eyes went wide, tense with a wild expression. How could one person bring him to tears with so little words…?

Maybe it had nothing to do with what Sung said. Maybe Chul got himself so worked up that he brought himself to tears. Yeah, that was probably it. His nerves must be to blame.

The only question was, why did Chul feel so… happy?

Chul took a step back, and then another. He released a high-pitched groan, struggling to fight back the sobs climbing up his throat. The strange comfort of his happiness imbued his heart with relief, though he had no idea what he should be so relieved about. He glanced at Sung and saw those icy eyes spew a dark, purplish aura like they had before.

Then, that impulse arose again within Chul, muting the world around him except for Sung's presence, who stood at the center of his attention.

KNEEL.

No longer perceiving anyone but Sung and weakened by his storming emotions, Chul finally succumbed to the impulse. The muscles in his hand relaxed automatically, releasing Sung's uniform. His knees buckled, forcing him into a kneeling position on the stone ground. He lowered his head, body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. His emotions didn’t feel like his own, and yet, they felt so right to feel.

Sung, oddly enough, didn’t appear fazed by the sudden change in Chul’s behavior. Once released, he picked up his bag and turned his back to Chul. He stole one more long glance at the kneeling Chul before he started to walk away.

“WAIT!” A desperate call cried out from Chul. It didn’t sound like his own voice. “W–wait, please.”

Sung halted his steps and slowly turned to face Chul. Not an ounce of annoyance graced his face, which relieved Chul. “I need to ask you something.”

Sung stood there, silent and patient as he awaited Chul’s next words.

Chul gulped. His heart pounded against his chest wall so ferociously that he worried it would bust his chest open. He clutched at the cloth of his track uniform covering his heart in a vain attempt to alleviate the pain, but unintentionally ripped his uniform from the shoulder strap. Forcing levelness to his voice, he asked hoarsely, “What I’m feeling right now… Is this what people call… love?”

The moment those words left Chul’s lips, he wished for the world to end right then and there.

For the first time since they met, Sung actually showed emotion. His face paled, twisting in a distasteful manner. His mouth opened and closed, seemingly at a loss for words. Eventually, his calm demeanor returned.

“I was wondering what nonsense would come out of your mouth,” Sung intoned.

“H–hold on!” Chul stammered, hoping to rectify the misunderstanding. “I don’t mean ‘love’ like that. I meant, like…”

There was no way for Chul to accurately explain the depths of his feelings for Sung, this complete stranger for whom he felt a strong sense of history with, despite only meeting him for the first time. The “love” Chul assumed he was experiencing was the kind of love carved from unwavering loyalty, the kind of love that could inspire a knight to jump in front of blade for his king, or make Chul crawl through the fiery bowels of hades to save Sung. That kind of love. There was a name for it, but what was it? Devotion?

Sung observed Chul, his gaze strict and piercing. Chul froze, feeling like he was being wordlessly reprimanded. Then, Sung lifted a hand and pinched his thumb and middle finger in the form of a snap.

A mesmerizing hue of purple glowed in Sung’s eyes. Chul’s breath suddenly caught in his throat at the sensation of his limbs becoming stiff. It was like an invisible power was forcing him to be still and he had no way of breaking free. The look in Sung’s eyes made Chul dread a terrible fate, though he couldn’t imagine what that fate could be. He certainly didn’t want to find out.

However, Chul’s dread was unwarranted. Sung suddenly lowered his hand, resting it to his side. At once, Chul's limbs were released from that tense power. Heaving breathlessly, Chul squinted up at Sung, shocked and, frankly, a bit terrified.

With a parting smirk, Sung turned over his shoulder and walked away without sparing another word to Chul.

Chapter Text

Chul couldn’t get Sung out of his head throughout the remainder of the school national track and field preliminaries, which wouldn’t have been a bad thing if his mind was more focused on beating Sung than trying to understand Sung.

It was hard to ignore Sung whenever he was in Chul’s vicinity. Even though Chul tried not to look Sung’s way, every now and then, without intending to, his gaze would find itself pulled in the teen’s direction before he would catch himself. Thankfully, Sung never took notice of Chul’s stares—not overtly, at least.

When Chul was not looking at Sung, his presence still lingered eerily in the background like a wraith, haunting the corner of Chul's vision, putting Chul on edge. It was annoying, distracting.

And because of that cursed teen, Chul lost every event he participated in.

Well, “lost” was a strong word to use. In reality, Chul earned second place in all of his events, which was basically synonymous with a loss in his mind. And the one who stole his rightful place at the top was none other than Sung Jin-woo.

Chul would normally be upset at this turn of events, especially given the arrogant garbage Sung was spouting during their tense interaction before the preliminaries started. But, oddly enough, the anger he expected to feel never came. Rather, a warm tide of satisfaction and pride washed over his emotions at seeing Sung wear the gold medal, like… like Chul was proud of Sung. He probably would have broken into tears had he not reigned in his emotions in time.

By the time the preliminaries ended, Chul had long given up trying to wrap his head around Sung and the weird emotions Chul felt towards him, having been more drained by that effort than the races themselves. As he departed the fields with his track team, he purposely avoided eye contact with his competitors in case Sung was among them. His tense and uneasy demeanor throughout the preliminaries had already caused concern among his teammates; he didn’t need to worry them any further.

Though, as if wanting to be silently known, a shadow flickered mischievously in the corner of Chul’s eyes before vanishing from sight.

After giving time for his interaction with Sung to stew in his mind, Chul came to two conclusions.

One: Sung Jin-woo was not human.

Two: Chul knew he had met Sung Jin-woo before, but he couldn’t pinpoint when, where, or how.

Firstly, the guy was crazy fast. No— “crazy fast” was an understatement; the guy might as well have been the wind. One moment, Sung was kneeled in line with the rest of the racers, and without sparing a second after the sound of a gunshot resounded, he was gone. By the time Chul had reached the finish line, Sung was just standing there at the edge of the track, hands on his hips with not even the faintest hint of fatigue in his posture. He let out a short, light breath as if he hadn’t just run multiple 400-meter laps.

Yet, for a reason Chul couldn’t comprehend, he had the distinct feeling that Sung was holding himself back. A terrifying thought.

Then, there was the most disturbing aspect about Sung, the aspect Chul couldn’t write off as his imagination no matter how many times he tried to.

Unless Chul was hallucinating, normal people didn’t emit wisps of shadowy smoke from their bodies like some sort of eldritch deity, or possessed the ability to make their eyes glow purple. And how could a mere stare cause Chul’s body to tighten up like a taut bowstring and steal his breath away—literally?

On top of all of this, a strong sense of familiarity would tease Chul's mind whenever he looked at or thought about Sung, as if they shared history. Sifting through his distant memories gave him no explicit recollection of Sung, and yet, an inkling of familiarity would push him to the cusp of remembering a far-off memory, only for it to sift between his fingers like fine sand. It was nagging Chul to no end.

Sung might look human. Sound human. But, he gave off an otherworldly air, and it was too recognizable to ignore.

So, Chul did what he imagined anyone would do in a predicament like this: He sought out to investigate the mysterious teen.

Searching Sung on the internet bore little fruit. Chul came across a younger picture of Sung posing absentmindedly next to a girl with long, brown hair at what appeared to be an amusement park. Visiting the source of the picture led him to the girl’s social media page and discovered that this girl—Sung Jin-ah—was Sung’s younger sister. The family resemblance was pretty uncanny, minus the apparent contrast in personality between the two, with the sister Sung appearing more jovial and extraverted in comparison to her aloof brother. Besides that, Chul couldn’t really grasp much new insight from these pictures.

The only other match that Chul made to Sung was the guy’s high school track team page, where he was merely a name among his teammates in a roster. Once again, a fruitless search. Either this guy was incredibly protective of his online identity, or he had no interest in having an online presence.

Next direction of Chul’s investigation was to ask students at his own high school. The track team knew nothing about Sung other than what they had been told by Sung’s captain and his fellow teammates during the preliminaries. They concurred with Chul’s views of Sung being quite mysterious and abnormally gifted, though didn’t regard these things as particularly inhuman.

There was always the option to DM Sung’s sister online, but what was Chul supposed to say to her anyway? “Hey there, my name is Kim Chul and I want to know if your brother is human or if he’s an eldritch deity”? Plus, the last thing he needed was for Sung to find out that he was trying to pry into his life through his sister.

Seeing as he was getting nowhere, Chul decided to give up his investigation for now.

One early morning on a weekend, Chul was taking a leisurely jog around a park when he came face-to-face with the last person he expected to see.

There, standing next to a wooden bench while fiddling with tangled earphones, was Sung Jin-woo dressed in casual track gear.

Chul came to an abrupt halt and jumped behind a tree in hiding… not because he was scared of Sung, of course. Because this opportunity was way too good to pass up.

Peering at the clueless Sung from behind the safety of the tree, an idea formed in Chul’s head. Maybe if he followed Sung without being noticed, he could get a better glimpse of who, or what, this boy was. Was this technically stalking? Er… yeah. But, it wasn’t like Chul had any malicious motives planned towards Sung, not at the moment at least. Just for a little bit, he would follow Sung.

The moment Sung put his earbuds in and started jogging the opposite direction, Chul followed after him.

Weekends passed, and Chul gained more insight on Sung, day by day.

One thing Chul didn’t expect to learn about Sung was that he liked going to the library. A lot. His propensity to read wasn’t the unexpected part, it was the types of titles Sung would exit the library with—voluminous crime-related titles that appeared more like textbooks than leisurely books. A future career interest, perhaps?

Another thing Chul didn’t expect to learn about Sung was that he was seeing someone.

It was a warm, clear-skied afternoon when Chul watched Sung enter an ice cream parlor. He didn’t order anything upon being seated at a booth. Rather, he waited, and given that there were two menus present, including one placed directly across from him, it was obvious that he was waiting for someone. After a couple of minutes passed, a teenage girl with short blonde hair entered the parlor and greeted Sung with multiple bows, face flustered in a bright pink shade. Sung had stood to greet her, but ended up laughing at her, waving off her actions. With a pleasant smile playing on his lips, he led the girl to the booth and sat himself opposite of her.

Their conversations started off weak, but seemed to increase in intensity over time, interweaved with bouts of laughter. The girl, while meek as she spoke, looked generally relaxed, entirely unthreatened by Sung’s presence.

Chul couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The look of bliss on Sung’s face as he interacted with the girl was something he had never seen before. When the girl spoke, Sung wouldn’t say a word. He would only smile through his eyes, holding her attention with a gaze that seemed to treasure rich, storied years between them, longer than Chul could possibly understand.

As time passed, and Chul struggled to gather insights about Sung that would support his cold, inhuman perceptions of the elusive teen, a different picture started to paint over the initial impression Chul had of Sung—a picture that was softer, nuanced, and undeniably human.

Was Chul just imagining things about Sung after all…?

It was a weekend morning not unlike the ones that came before. While Chul observed Sung from a distance at the park, a new type of determination was burning within him.

Alright, no more sneaking around. Today, I’m going to talk to that brat.

Chul would be doing just that if his desire for closure with Sung wasn’t warring with his hesitation.

The truth was, Chul couldn’t keep stalking Sung like this. Sung might have been oblivious to Chul so far, but Chul had a visceral feeling that the guy was more perceptive than the eye could see. It certainly didn’t help that Chul could never shake the feeling of omniscient eyes watching him from behind whenever he stalked Sung. One of these days, Sung was going to pick up on someone following him.

Which meant there was only one thing Chul had to do. He needed to talk to Sung. That was the only way he was going to get the closure he needed.

Sung was only a couple of meters from Chul. All he had to do was walk up and tap Sung’s shoulder. Simple enough, right? So, why did the mere thought of doing that simple act send cold sweats down his back?

Chul groaned and slapped his cheeks. Get a hold of yourself, Chul! He’s just a puny kid, not a menacing warlord! And don’t you have a score to settle with him?

“Projecting your insecurities onto me. Do you feel better about yourself?” Reliving the humiliation of Sung’s deadpan words before the preliminaries rekindled Chul’s anger until he could feel his face flush. That anger was enough to scorch away his hesitations and push him in Sung’s direction until he stood at Sung’s back.

Chul extended an arm to Sung. His hand was hovering over the teen’s shoulder when, suddenly, Sung twisted around.

Their gazes met like static electricity. And just like that, Chul’s determination fizzled into smoke.

Chul froze, breath lodging in his throat. He almost expected for that impulse to seize his will like when they first met, but luckily, that didn’t happen. Maybe he was adapting to Sung’s presence? Still, Sung’s eyes, though wide and speckled with surprise, continued to carry an intangible aura that unnerved Chul to his core.

Sung slowly removed his ear buds. His mouth parted slightly as if to say something, though no words came out.

“Uh…” Chul gulped, grimacing as nervousness pooled thickly into his stomach. “Hey?”

“Hey…?” Sung parroted Chul’s inquisitive tone, though none of its awkwardness. He raised an eyebrow when his attention shifted to Chul’s hand, which was still hovering in the air where his shoulder used to be. Gasping, Chul brought it down, slapping his own thigh.

Chul cleared his throat as he tried to regain his composure. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again after the track and field preliminaries.”

Sung stared at Chul for some time before giving an affirmative hum, nodding his head. “Quite a small world it is, isn’t it? To be honest, I’m surprised you approached me here. I figured you held some animosity towards me based on our last meeting.”

Chul frowned. “Don’t get it twisted, kid. I’m plenty pissed at you.”

“For beating you at the preliminaries, or for our little squabble beforehand?”

“For looking down on me like I’m nothing, firstly, which seems to be a bad habit of yours.”

“It’s sort of hard to look down on someone who’s taller than me,” Sung deadpanned, though the easy smile he gave glinted with a hint of mischief. He was purposely trying to upset Chul.

Chul’s brow twitched, but he didn’t take the bait. Sung seemed to take Chul’s silence as permission to keep running his mouth. “So, did you come here just to say hello, or were you planning on throwing another tantrum?”

“God, you’re so annoying,” Chul huffed.

“If you find me annoying, then why have you been following me all this time?” Sung asked.

“That’s only because—” Wait. Chul paused. He could feel the color drain from his face. “You… You knew that I was…?”

“You’re not as slick as you may think.” Sung took his time to roll his eyes. “I didn’t originally plan on letting it slide on the first day because I assumed you were going to jump me. But, when you never laid a hand on me, I suppose I started to get curious about your true intentions.”

Sung narrowed his eyes, pinning Chul on the spot. “So, why have you been following me?”

“I…”

What was Chul supposed to say? That he wanted to know if Sung was human or not? That he couldn’t rid the feeling that he had history with Sung? That sometimes he felt strongly devoted towards Sung for no apparent reason?

That nothing about Sung made sense in Chul’s head?

“I wanted to get to know you,” Chul settled for in an embarrassingly sheepish voice.

Surprise and amusement colored Sung’s face as his expression relaxed considerably. “Is that all you’d wanted? Why didn’t you just approach me like a normal person instead of sneaking around behind my back like a smitten schoolgirl?”

“What?!” Chul’s face flushed a searing red, though it was hard to tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “Who’re you comparing to a—”

Sung raised his hands defensively. “Calm down, I’m just joking. Jeez, you need to work on your tolerance to jokes. No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

Chul flinched like he had been slapped in the face. The only people he had something akin to a friendship with were his track teammates, and even that was questionable. During practices or during a track event, they had great chemistry; otherwise, Chul rarely interacted with them. So, Sung wasn’t wrong, but…

How the heck did he know I didn’t have friends…?

Before Chul could voice out his confusion, Sung thrusted a phone in his direction. Chul blinked, alternating glances between the phone and Sung’s expectant stare. “If you’re not busy tomorrow, how about we meet up somewhere?” Sung asked casually as if he were asking to catch up with an old friend.

“But, why…?” The question rolled out of Chul’s lips, not even trying to restrain himself.

“Because I think we got off on the wrong foot. Well, mostly you, but that’s besides the point,” Sung replied.

Chul frowned, feeling his new impressions of Sung sour. Of course Sung believed he had done nothing to precipitate their heated exchange before the preliminaries. It wasn’t like Sung was looking down on him or anything. Just for that, Chul should have refused this offer.

Though, the coaxing tilt of Sung’s head and his easy-going tone implied genuineness beyond his snarky attitude, reminding Chul of the Sung who smiled and laughed with that girl in the ice cream parlor.

Thinking back on his actions, Chul didn’t really give Sung a chance to truly express himself. Maybe Sung deserved a second chance just as much as Chul did.

Sighing, Chul scratched the back of his neck. “Alright, sure.”

Sung smiled. “Good.”

After the two exchanged phone numbers, Sung finally gave his farewell to Chul.

Chul’s thoughts were in a haze as he watched Sung walk away in such lithe movements, practically becoming one with the wind as a soft breeze sighed throughout the park.

Chapter Text

When Sung suggested that they should meet up for an outing, Chul had expected someplace quiet. Quaint. Somewhere with little crowds and even less disturbances, like the library Sung seemed to love. A small corner cafe would have even fit Chul’s expectations.

What didn’t fit his expectations, however, was a party center bursting with energy and the screams of children and blaring music from all corners.

“Why the surprised look? Do you not like this place?” Sung asked from the side, pulling Chul out of his thoughts.

“Dunno.” Chul watched a group of laughing children rush by in front of him. He’d never been taken to a place like this in his childhood, so he couldn’t judge one way or the other. It was loud, that was for sure. “You just never came across to me as someone who would enjoy loud places.”

“I would say I tolerate them more than I enjoy them.” A tight smile grew on Sung’s face. “Truth is, I’d completely forgotten that I promised to take my kid sister and her friend here today. Since you and I were already supposed to hang out, I figured I might as well invite you.”

Chul frowned. “Will they mind?”

“Mind what?”

“About me tagging along. It was just supposed to be you three, after all.” Chul didn’t want to intrude on a family get-together, even if it was just between siblings.

Sung gave a loose shrug. “Well, if my sister wants to bring her friend along, then I should be able to bring my own, too.”

“That doesn’t really answer my—” Chul tongue suddenly went numb. Wait, his own…?

Just like that, the inner-wirings of Chul’s brain short-circuited as the implication of those words sunk in. Sung had a recent history of subverting his expectations, but to say something like that so naturally, without any hint of his usual snarkiness, as if there was no mistake that the two of them were—

“You okay? Your face is getting all red,” Sung observed, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

Chul’s hands flew to his face, coming to the horrid realization that the skin underneath his touch was indeed burning. Turning away from Sung’s gaze, he mumbled, “You’re just imagining things.”

“Uh-huh. Then I guess I’m also just imagining the sound of your heart beating out of your chest, right?”

“Shut up.”

This brat, I swear. Sung was lucky he had company with him. If it had just been Chul and Sung alone, Chul would have already smacked that smug smirk he knew Sung was making right off his face.

Speaking of company, Sung’s sister was calling out to them from behind the entrance line, standing alongside a dark-haired girl who he assumed was her friend. “Hurry up, Jin-woo! The lanes are getting taken up!”

Sung nodded. “Alright, be there in a second.”

“Lanes?” Chul looked to Sung for clarification.

“Bowling lanes. Have you ever bowled before?”

“No.”

“Then I guess today’s my lucky day. I’ll finally have an opponent I’ll be able to beat with ease.”

Beat with ease? Is he underestimating me? Again?!

A vein bulged on Chul’s forehead as another type of heat began to rage inside of him. Knowing exactly what he had done, Sung’s lips made a mischievous curve upwards.

Sung could sing all the tunes he wanted to send Chul’s competitive spirit into overdrive, but he was clueless to the true ferocity of that spirit when tantalized with a challenge. Whatever Chul set his heart out to accomplish, he made sure to not only succeed in the task, but to also excel with flying colors. No matter the task, he reached the top.

“Oh, you are SO going down, brat.”

There was a saying by George Stillman Hillard that went, “Ambition is not a weakness unless it be disproportional to the capacity. To have more ambition than ability is to be at once weak and unhappy.”

Chul understood the inherent meaning, and warning, behind these words, but never truly took them to heart.

Possessing more ambition than capacity was imperative for personal growth, was it not? How could one grow if they did not set high expectations for themselves? Realistic ambitions were important, yes, but in Chul’s mind, fear of setting the bar too high could easily encourage one to settle for mediocrity, and settling for mediocrity was not a part of his code.

However, in Chul’s blinding desire to humble the arrogant teen who loved crawling underneath his skin, he learned the hard way that no amount of ambition could ever make up for lack of experience and skill.

And thus, for the second time since their first meeting, Chul lost to Sung.

Which was fine. Whatever. Sung had lost to his little sister and her friend—Han Song-yi—almost as badly as Chul had in bowling, so at least they shared a mutual loss. He was willing to choke down a bitter defeat if Sung had to as well. Problem was, Chul’s losing streak didn’t end with bowling. It followed him to the arcades, laser tag, even to those cursed, money-draining claw machines. Seriously, how could someone be a pro at claw machines?!

Inexperience was the culprit for Chul’s losses, obviously. Yet, he wasn’t in the habit of making excuses for himself, so he took each loss like a stab wound to his pride. And when his pride could no longer endure the damage, he ended up separating from the group with the excuse that he was getting hungry, hoping that food would be a healing balm to his tortured pride.

For a little while, it worked. With multiple plates stacked high with food, Chul happily indulged in all the delicacies the buffet had to offer. Being a competitive runner required strict diets and exercise routines, so he didn’t have many opportunities to pig out. He blissfully reveled in his lunch while the painful losses he endured against Sung faded to the outskirts of his mind…

“So this is where you ran off to sulk.”

… Until Sung decided to ruin his bliss.

Chul lifted his head mid-chew to see Sung standing over his table. His expression was as straight as a board, but his lips were trembling in a conspicuous effort to hold back his laughter.

“I’m not sulking. I’m eating,” Chul responded gruffly over a mouthful of pizza.

“Yeah, eating in a very sulking-like manner.”

“Go away.”

To Chul’s annoyance, Sung did the exact opposite. He plopped down into the booth across from him and swiped a slice of pizza from his plate, much to Chu’s groans of protest.

“Oh hush, you’ll survive. You have three plates of pizza already,” Sung scoffed. Chul felt his irritation elicit eyebrow twitches as he watched the insufferable teen gobble down the pizza. Chul’s pizza.

It was times like these when Chul honestly couldn’t tell if Sung was just being playful or if he was genuinely trying to invoke his ire.

Through his chewing, Sung prattled on, “You know, I knew you could get competitive, but you’ve been on a whole different level of competitiveness lately. What gives?”

Chul scowled at Sung’s feigned obliviousness. “Don’t act innocent. You know why.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Chul slammed his fist down onto the table, causing the tableware to clatter. He ignored the stares he drew. “Quit toying with me! I don’t know why you get off looking down on me with that smug nonchalance of yours, but it ain’t cute. You’re lucky you didn’t make that snide remark on the track ‘cause if you had, I would be making you eat those words.”

A look of what appeared to be genuine confusion swept across Sung’s face, but it was quickly broken by snickers.

“What’s so funny?” Chul hissed.

“You.” Sung leaned back into the booth. His demeanor took little time to recover its default calm, though an utterly punchable grin stuck around to show he was still humored. “I mean, look how heated you’re getting over nothing.”

“Over nothing?! You’re the one who came over here and—”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not even petulant at this point; it’s just straight-up hilarious.”

Sung laughed again, and his only saving grace from being jumped was the table between him and Chul.

Sung’s doing this on purpose. He has to be.

Every smug word or little smirk flung at Chul was bait, inviting him to lose his composure and react exactly how Sung wanted him to. And each time, Chul fell for the bait. It almost felt natural at this point, like some sort of deeply ingrained instinct being triggered from the depths of his consciousness. An instinct Sung knew the exact triggers for, entertaining himself, like Chul was some slave.

Well, Chul was no slave, and he certainly wasn’t going to let Sung play his emotions for his own pleasure.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” Chul grumbled, shoving his tenth pizza slice into his mouth.

“Come on, don’t start sulking again. I swear I’m not trying to make fun of you.”

Chul snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Alright, alright. Maybe I’m making fun of you a little bit.” Sung leaned forward, the curve of his lips softening into something benign, gentle. Friendly, even. “Seriously, man, thanks for agreeing to join me on what is essentially my sister’s playdate. It’s not the ideal outing I had in mind for us, but if you’re willing to deal with me again, I would love to make it up to you by planning something else for us in the future.”

Chul paused. He slowly drifted his gaze back up to Sung. “You mean… You actually want to keep hanging out with me?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“I mean, yeah. With how our first meeting went down, I thought you would, you know…” Chul bit his bottom lip. “… Hate me.”

“Hate you?” Sung chortled. “Please, you give yourself too much credit. You haven’t done anything to deserve my hatred. If anything, you only annoyed me when you were following me around for weeks.”

“Oh.” Chul blinked. “Um, well, sorry about that.”

Sung waved the air with a curt flick of his wrist. “Eh, it’s all in the past, so don’t let it trouble you.”

Chul blinked again, unsure of how to respond. Was everything truly forgiven, from their almost-fight at the track and field preliminaries, to his stalking? All of it, just like that?

Chul parted his lips to interrogate Sung further, but closed it upon thinking better of it. Maybe it was best to just accept the grace given to him without questions or complaints. “You’re a strange one, Sung,” he settled for, mostly to himself.

A light chuckle floated between them, and Sung’s smile revived its playful edge. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Then, wisps of purple aura glimmered in Sung’s eyes, there and gone, as fleeting as a blink. Chul tried not to let his surprise show on his face. Even though he’d already witnessed this unusual, magical aura extend from the enigmatic teen in the past, it continued to carry the same ominous splendor as when they first met, as well as an eerie familiarity that Chul still couldn’t attach a memory to.

“Hey, Sung,” Chul began warily, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for awhile—”

“WHO D’YA THINK YOU’RE TALKIN’ TO, BRAT?!”

An enraged voice with a slurred quality cut Chul off, pulling his focus to the arcade region of the party center. It was hard to see what was going on from the booths; all that was visible was a man, looking no older than twenty, glaring down at someone significantly shorter than him, based on how the booths completely obscured them.

“I’m talking to you, old man! You bumped into my friend, so you should apologize!” the feisty cry of a young girl snapped back, no less heated than the man, and...

Hold on, didn’t he know that voice…?

Realization seeping in, Chul turned back to Sung. Except, all he was met with was an empty seat across from him.

Chul turned back to the scene and found that Sung was now standing between the man and the other person, who Chul was certain was his sister.

This can’t be good, Chul thought as he clamored out of the booth.

By the time Chul got to the scene, Sung was making attempts to appease both parties, but the drunken man—confirmed by one waft of his breath—was clearly not having anything Sung had to say. “You needa teach those girls some manners! Can’t just have ‘em runnin’ around and bumpin’ into people without apologizing!”

“You bumped into my friend! Why do WE have to apologize?!” Sung’s sister shouted back, while poor Han shrunk behind her, looking terribly like she wanted to disappear.

“Jin-ah,” Sung sighed. He focused on the drunken man. “Sorry, sir. I’ll deal with them.”

The drunken man opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, Sung turned on his heels and began walking away with his fuming sister in tow, leaving the man to gawk at their backs.

Chul fought to keep a snort of laughter from breaking through his nose. If he were being honest with himself, he almost felt bad for the man. Almost. There was only so much pity he could have for a grown, boozed-out adult picking fights with children. He should have considered himself lucky that there was no staff to witness his laughable immaturity.

Deeming the conflict resolved, Chul turned to follow Sung’s trail. But, he hardly took a step when the man started shouting again. “Hey, we’re not done here! That brat still needs to apologize!”

The man zipped past Chul, an outstretched hand reaching out for the hood of Sung’s jacket. And in that moment, danger roared through every fiber of Chul’s body.

As swift and vicious as electricity, Chul snatched the man’s wrist before it could grab ahold of Sung. The man devolved to spastic rounds of blinking and sputtering breaths as he struggled to register what just happened. His eyes fell on the grip latched onto his wrist and pulled against it with a distressed frown. “What the? Let go of me!”

Chul only responded by tightening his grip, unyielding eyes never leaving the man.

Fear seeped into the man’s face. Those clouded eyes sobered, growing more acutely aware of the threat his wrist bones were under if that monstrous grip decided to tighten any further. A meek glare rose past the fear, the heat in his voice thoroughly fizzled away. “I’m warning you, kid…! You better let go, or I’ll…”

Whatever the man was going to say next faded over a command, incessant and constant like a heartbeat, obscuring all sense of reason or logic: Protect. Protect. Protect.

A hand touched Chul’s shoulder and a placating voice danced over the pulsing command. Sung’s voice. “Come on, man. Let’s not do this.”

No. You must protect him.

In the background, Sung’s sister cheered while Sung continued to talk Chul down. Though, in the end, they were just sounds—distractions hovering around the outskirts of his senses. All that was clear, and all that mattered, was the threat in front of him, whose image was bleeding red as the seconds passed.

You must protect him. You must protect his sister and her friend. Chul’s grip clamped deeper, and the man produced an agonizing cry. You must ki—

“Chul. Let him go.”

At once, Chul was thrusted back to his senses with all the clarity of a cold splash of water. That simple command overrode the one pulsing incessantly in his mind, worming its way into his every string of muscle and loosening all the tension in his body. Limbs jelly, he dropped to his knees and released the man’s wrist, heaving breaths he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Once free, the man backed away, rubbing at the red impressions left by Chul’s hand. He gave Chul one more fear-ridden look before running away for his life.

“Hey.” Chul flinched to the feeling of a touch to his shoulder. He angled his head, catching Sung’s face in his periphery. It was tinged with worry. “Are you alright? You looked out of it for a while there.”

“Out of it.” Huh. That was one way to put it. For a short moment, Chul didn’t feel like himself. He felt like his body had been moving on autopilot, driven by pure instinct, almost like he was…

Chul stared at the hand that nearly broke the man’s wrist without hesitation.

… Possessed.

“Chul?”

Eyes fluttering out of his thoughts, Chul mumbled, “I… just remembered I had something to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Sung asked.

Instead of answering his question, Chul stood carefully, finding his balance after a momentary struggle. Then, he turned away from the three.

“Aw, don’t leave! I wanna keep playing with you!” Sung’s sister pouted from behind.

Chul stopped. He turned slightly. “I had fun. Thanks for having me around.” Then, he looked at Sung. “See you later.”

And with that, Chul walked away to the entrance.