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Chapter Text

Hongjoong dreamed of silence. First, and foremost, he dreamed for blessed silence against the constant onslaught of white noise that assaulted his every sense. 

Then, he dreamed of comfort. Almost most of all, he dreamed for an end to the cursed solitude he existed within, the cold pressure of loneliness setting a chill in his bones that never went away. 

The world was so fucking loud. 

Even here, in these steel walls, without another soul around for (as far as Hongjoong had been allowed to know) miles. 

The noise pounded against his head, even so far away. 

Fourteen years old and sitting in the middle of an empty compound meant to hold twenty. 

For all the voices pressing against his mind, it created an aching loneliness that Hongjoong had never imagined. He woke up alone, ate something, sat and tried to focus on blocking out the throbbing cacophony surrounding himself. Then he ate, slept, and repeat. 

His only company were the suits who checked in weekly to ensure he was still alive. 

“Hey, kid, how’s the insanity coming?” 

Hongjoong glared at the suit, hidden behind his sunglasses. 

“What- nothing?” he questioned, nudging Hongjoong with his boot. “Not even an angry threat?” Hongjoong glared. “Geez, at least the kids at the other compounds are entertaining. What exactly do you even do?” He tapped Hongjoong’s forehead roughly. 

Useless bastard . Probably defective.  

Hongjoong shoved the hand away, feeling something dark bubbling inside of himself. The mocking, amusing pushes, that treated him like an animal in a zoo. Just an animal. No real purpose, just something they were forced to house and keep alive. 

The suit laughed, amused and so fucking smug. “Keep that up, kid, and you’ll spend another year alone here. Now, learn to play nice, alright? Or maybe we’ll decide you’d make a better lab rat for looking at those rare mental classes.” 

This was the threat that haunted Hongjoong: being taken away from the compound and shoved into some lab somewhere. A place usually reserved for criminals, but it was a very fine line. 

Mental classes were rare. The extent of their abilities, unknown. And here Hongjoong was, a helpless teenager with an attitude problem towards the suits, practically begging to be taken away. 

Here Hongjoong was, holding an ability that didn’t quite fall under any category. 

I’m sure our people would have oodles of fun figuring out what makes this keep ticking . Maybe figuring what makes it stop ticking.  

Hongjoong stared on with contempt, completely still. The suit scoffed. “Boring,” he muttered. “See you next week, kid.” 

And then more were brought. 

And Hongjoong was faced with two options: perfect those barriers or go insane. 

Everyone thought so loud . Even if Yunho and Mingi and San were wonderful people who ended Hongjoong’s loneliness, they were so loud . 

Out of pure survival, Hongjoong learned to dim the noise. 

Their thoughts were nothing like Dumb freaks. Don’t know why we even bother keeping  them alive if we aren’t using them. 

Hyung looks so tired… maybe he isn’t sleeping. 

Maybe if I whisper when I think, it will be better. 

Should we all just give him space? Maybe distance will help. 

Holy shit, that’s a big strawberry. 

Bless their hearts, they tried. And Hongjoong appreciated them all so fucking much, but it usually came down to locking himself in his room until he coud dim their thoughts to background noise that would maybe rid him of the migraine so unrelenting, he couldn’t move . 

But he got used to that pain quickly, just making it another part of the life he lived in this little compound. Even if the others still looked at him in concern, there was really nothing they could do. 

“It’s not something physically wrong, so I can’t help… I’m sorry, hyung.” Bless Yunho’s heart, he looked devastated, but Hongjoong just ruffled his hair lightly with a genuine smile. 

In all honesty, a little pain was worth the company it brought. 

He made a sort-of life that didn’t suck, provided no one started screaming mentally or having strong emotions that assaulted his walls like blunt forces against his skin. 

Some days were worse than others. Hongjoong just tried to roll with them as best he could, just a teenager suddenly handed something too big for himself. 

Part of rolling with it was just getting used to the thoughts. Another was gaining the strength  to quiet them at will, with the right concentration. 

And the third… was Seonghwa. 

In terms of seniority, he came later than most of them, but in terms of the splash he made, he rivaled San sneezing upon introduction and turning into a beluga whale in the hallway. 

“Seonghwa,” he introduced in a flat voice that was trying for confidence. A seventeen year old kid, standing in front of them with thick leather gloves over his hands. “I can, uh… turn off powers, I guess.” 

Stay calm, Seonghwa was practically screaming, making Hongjoong wince. Stay calm, just… don’t freak out. They look nice, you won’t be- 

Seonghwa’s control was spotty, apparently. At its core, his ability was only supposed to work with skin on skin contact. But being a magic class, its reach was a little shoddy if you didn’t have a hard lock on it. Meaning when Mingi went bounding up to him, wide eyed and eager to see what that meant, Seonghwa held his hands up, a quiet refusal on his lips.

Don’t touch me- 

Hongjoong flinched at the mental yell making his mind ring. 

Mingi shuddered, as if shaking snow off of his shoulder, staring at his hands as he stood a foot from Seonghwa. Hongjoong watched as Mingi’s shape flickered between transparent and opaque, like a TV trying to catch a signal. 

“Holy shit,” Mingi muttered, turning to them, his body staying solidly visible. “I can’t turn invisible.” He did it again, flickering as he stepped away from Seonghwa, and finally his body disappeared completely as he succeeded in stepping out of Seonghwa’s rage- only another foot away. 

   Seonghwa didn’t smile, his expression something pained and a little awkward as the others stared at him. Hongjoong couldn’t hear any distinguishing thoughts, just a static buzz of anxiety. 

“Alright, then,” Hongjoong said firmly. “Now that introductions are over, we’ll get him settled, and everyone can go back to what they were doing.”  

Seonghwa settled in… weird. Like he was still waiting for someone to come and tell him he could go home now. 

“Are you afraid of your ability?” Hongjoong asked as Seonghwa set his little bag down on his bed. He leaned against the doorframe. 

Seonghwa glanced at him almost nervously, but ultimately shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “But most people aren’t quite so… eager about it.” He stared at his bad, eyes hard. “I just didn’t expect it.” 

Hongjoong hummed, arms crossed loosely. “And what would you say if you were being truthful?” 

Seonghwa looked up sharply, eyes a terse defensive. “I think that if I was lying- which I’m not- it wouldn’t be any business of yours.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes traced to the gloves over his hands, and Seonghwa jerked them away, hiding them behind his back with a stony expression aimed at Hongjoong’s impassive one. 

“Do you have a problem with me?” Seonghwa asked shortly. “Because if you do, I’d appreciate it if you kept out of my head to exploit it.” 

“I don’t need to go inside of your head to see you’re shit at lying,” Hongjoong said flatly, not really appreciating his attitude. “And for the record, I never go digging in people’s heads. The only thing I’ve ever heard is whatever their subconscious is throwing out. And it’s impossible for me to block that entirely.” 

Don’t touch me . 

Despite the entirety of the room between them, Seonghwa’s thought whispered clearly, as if Hongjoong had been approaching rapidly. And despite the hostility he had been wielding like a weapon, the plea was so quiet, Hongjoong’s expression softened slightly. 

“Why don’t you want anyone to touch you?” Hongjoong questioned. 

“Stop-” 

“I’ve barely caught a single thought out of your head but that one,” Hongjoong informed him. “That says something, don’t you think?” 

Seonghwa closed his mouth, expression tight and almost cornered, as if Hongjoong had backed him against the wall with nowhere to go. 

“Taking someone’s ability doesn’t hurt them, does it?” Hongjoong asked. “Mingi was fine earlier. The briefing the suits gave us said nothing about it. Does it hurt you when people touch you?” 

Seonghwa was stiff as a board. “No,” he said quietly, almost a whisper. 

“Then why don’t you want people to touch you?” He asked again, softer this time. “Is it a moral thing- where you feel guilty for taking something that’s a part of them?” 

Seonghwa winced. “No.” And despite his reaction, Hongjoong could tell that it wasn’t a lie. 

“Then why-” 

“Why exactly do I need to tell you?” Seonghwa snapped, even if his voice almost failed. “It doesn’t matter. Unless you’re gonna touch me just to prove a point, it doesn’t matter, so can you leave me to unpack my stuff?” 

Hongjoong stared at him, eyes an odd mixture of stony and soft. 

For a week, Seonghwa resolutely refused to let others touch him. He kept his gloves on, and flinched when people like Yunho tried to show their natural affection. The affection that was the only thing keeping them sane in here. 

Hongjoong’s head was pounding worse than usual, the rapid flux of emotions and thoughts rushing around as people were upset and trying to offer comfort simultaneously. He forced his eyes opened as they ached against the dim lights. 

Don’t cry, San, Yunho’s gentle thoughts sounded. He didn’t mean it. 

Hongjoong sat up. 

San reached out for Seonghwa, eyes bright as he asked him to come eat cheesecake with them, hand wrapping around Seonghwa’s arm lightly. 

Seonghwa physically jerked away, tearing his arm out of San’s grip, stumbling away with eyes like glass shards. 

“Don’t touch me.” A violent hiss, as if the touch had burned. 

Hongjoong stood, ignoring how the change in position made blood pound its way through his head. 

Enough was enough. 

Hongjoong pounded on the door of Seonghwa’s bedroom. 

No answer. 

Hongjoong counted to five before knocking again, and when no response was given then, he pushed the door open (as if the suits would give them locks ). Seonghwa shot up where he lay in bed, and Hongjoong, for the first time, saw him without his gloves on, a book held between his bare hands. 

He threw the book down, standing defensively. “I didn’t say you could come i-” 

“I don’t really give a shit,” Hongjoong said flatly, closing the door behind him. Seonghwa tensed, looking ready for a physical altercation. 

That was never Hongjoong’s style. 

“You’re hurting the people here,” Hongjoong said, voice like flint. “And that stops now.” 

“I told them not to touch me-” 

“Physical contact doesn’t hurt you or them,” Hongjoong snapped sharply, head throbbing at the volume. “That means you can take three fucking seconds to be kinder about how you refuse them.” 

Are the hyungs fighting? 

Hongjoong shoved the excess thought away, trying to focus without blacking out from the headache. 

“So I’m expected to be like them and just let them hang off of me?” Seonghwa demanded. “I’m not allowed to have space even in my own fucking room?” 

“You’re expected not to make this place into more of a hell,” Hongjoong spat. “We’re stuck here, Seonghwa. Boo fucking hoo, if you can’t deal with the rest of the people here. We had a nice peace going on here before you started shitting on the people here. If it pisses you off that much, fuck off to the suits and tell them to put you somewhere else.” 

“You think that’s how it works?” Seonghwa scoffed. 

“No,” Hongjoong said flatly. “But I’m not going to let you try and stomp out whatever spark these people here created, despite everything. And if I see you trying to put it out again, you’re going to start seeing the suits as a fucking ally compared to me.” 

We should all go do something els- Hongjoong shoved it away, blinking around the pain in his eyes. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were dark. “I don’t want them to tou-” 

“What is your fucking issue?” Hongjoong demanded, pain and anger mixing dangerously, storming forward a few steps, until only the curve of the bed separated them. “Do you hate touch so much? So much that you would try and take the one fucking thing the people here can get? If you’re going to stuck here for the rest of your fucking life, you can’t just try and find a common ground with them?” 

I’m not going to be stuck here. 

“ Yes, you are !” Hongjoong snapped. Seonghwa’s anger flickered like Mingi’s invisibility, eyes widening. “Is that what your issue is? You’re still waiting for the suits to show back up and tell you there’s been a mistake?” he demanded. “You’re never getting out of here, Seonghwa! Every person here is going to be stuck here for the rest of their fucking lives, and you being an ass isn’t going to make it any easier!” 

Seonghwa took an angry step forward. “If you’re not going to be able to keep your mind to yourself-” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Hongjoong snapped, fists clenching. “You don’t have a right to get upset at people being unable to control their abilities. Who the fuck is there to try and teach us? Get your head out of your-” 

“Maybe you should teach yourself to control it,” Seonghwa snapped, another step shifting forward. “If you’re stuck here for the rest of your life, you should have plenty of down time.” 

His head pounded. 

“ Control it ?” he hissed, anger simmering and threatening to flare. “Like you can control this ?” he demanded, closing the distance between them in a two steps. 

Seonghwa’s hand flew up, as if to block a blow, but Hongjoong grasped his bare hand. 

“Is thi-” 

Hongjoong used to play baseball. He knew what it felt like to have a metal bat slammed into the back of your head. Light exploding in front of his eyes before everything went dark, as if a black hole had sucked it up, everything falling into nothing. 

Hongjoong was falling. 

Something dark and… quiet. 

It was quiet. So very quiet, as if everything in the world was dead but him. 

As if- 

I killed him. 

Someone was crying. 

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to I’m sorry

Hongjoong opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He tilted his head that had stopped throbbing, and saw Seonghwa curled with his back against the wall, his head hidden in his knees as he sobbed. 

That was… not something Hongjoong ever thought he would see Seonghwa do. And despite everything, his chest twisted. 

Hongjoong let out a small noise of discomfort as he shifted onto his side. 

He’s alive. 

Seonghwa’s head jerked up. 

Hongjoong winced as he sat up, feeling oddly weighted, as if his equilibrium had been thrown around. “Of course, I’m alive,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “I think the better reaction would be: oh shit, my ability that mutes other abilities just shut down a human being.” 

Hongjoong sat up fully, turning to see Seonghwa staring at him, tear streaks still stained against his cheeks and eyes red. 

He didn’t look angry anymore. He didn’t look like an asshole. He looked like any other person here, at the mercy of forces they produced but had no hope of controlling. 

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing at his eyes. 

Get… San… Lunch… 

Hongjoong frowned, blinking as the whispers of thoughts buzzed in and out, as if caught on a bad channel. He looked at Seonghwa, only a few feet from him. 

“You muted my ability,” Hongjoong said, tongue a little heavy. “You shut if off completely.” 

Seonghwa rubbed at his eyes quickly before nodding jerkily. 

For a moment, Hongjoong’s mind had been unable to perform all the functions it always did. And apparently, doing that hurt a fucking lot. 

But sitting here, just within the sphere of Seonghwa’s range (as Mingi had), Hongjoong felt like the thoughts around him were coming in through water- muffled and distorted slightly. Quiet. 

Hongjoong blinked, staring at his hands in a bit of awe. That was… new. 

Hongjoong looked up, and Seonghwa continued to stare in silent regret. “That doesn’t happen every time you touch someone to mute them, does it?” 

Seonghwa shook his head quickly. “No, I- I didn’t know- I thought-” 

You were dead. 

“It was just an overload to my brain, I think,” Hongjoong muttered, rubbing at his forehead. “Too much at once.” 

“T-Taking it away… was too much?” 

Hongjoong gave him an unimpressed look. “You ever go from a rock concert to complete silence? Those rooms where it’s so quiet, people can only stay for a few minutes before they start losing it? Multiply it by thirty.” 

Seonghwa’s expression was horrified. 

Hongjoong searched his face for a minute. “It’s been a while since I’ve lost the voices completely.” 

His eyes flickered down to Seonghwa’s hands, gripping his knees tightly. 

Outside of the gloves, his fingers were slim and long, pale like his face. They had been warm, in the moment before Hongjoong lost consciousness. 

Seonghwa hid them behind his back again. “I’m sorry,” he said, all the anger and bravado of the past week lost to regret. “I-I didn’t think to keep my gloves-” 

“No one here told you to wear those gloves,” Hongjoong reminded him, feeling like he was talking to the younger ones, despite the fact he was sure Seonghwa was older than him. “None of us care if your ability accidentally discharges. At least you’re not accidentally turning into an insect everytime you sneeze, or crushing doorknobs.” 

Seonghwa swallowed thickly. 

“That doesn’t usually happen?” Hongjoong asked again. Seonghwa shook his head quickly. “Then why do you hate people touching you?” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth. Closed it. Tensed. Flickered his eyes away, as if checking for a quick exit. 

“Seonghwa.” 

His eyes flashed back to Hongjoong’s as if he had him pinned against the wall. 

Hongjoong didn’t feel anger anymore. He just felt pity. “No one here is forced to hide,” he said quietly. “Be it what you feel, what you want, who you are, or who you want to be. If your preference is to dance naked on tables during meal time, we don’t have the luxury to silence that. And if you say something… our policy is that there’s going to be someone to listen.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes were watery again. 

Hongjoong wondered… where along the way he forgot to give this speech. The others had gotten it the moment they arrived. How had it skipped Seonghwa? 

“So if you just don’t like being touched… that’s reason enough. But I need you to tell me why . Even if it’s something insignificant.” Hongjoong settled on the floor, ready for a conversation. “One thing we don’t have the luxury of is hiding, Seonghwa. The world does enough of that for us.” 

I don’t… touch… 

Even Seonghwa’s thoughts came through muffled, despite their proximity. Where Hongjoong’s ability should have been strongest, it was weakest. 

Please… don’t… I… 

Seonghwa looked scared. Like he was trapped. Like he was running. Like he was being threatened. Hongjoong waited, eyes softened in pity. 

I don’t… hate. 

His brow twitched, Seonghwa staring into his eyes, and Hongjoong realized- 

Please…. Just… 

Hongjoong realized that Seonghwa couldn’t find the words to say. 

I just want… touch. 

He was trying to project, eyes strained and fragile as Hongjoong stared. 

Just… me… please… 

Hongjoong couldn’t make out a complete thought, just little bursts of static and whispers. But he wet his lips, taking the smallest leap of faith he could ever remember. 

Hongjoong lifted his hand, holding it between the two of them. 

Almost instinctively, Seonghwa flinched back. 

Don’t… me. Don’t… 

Please… just… me… 

Hongjoong didn’t move forward or backwards. Simply stared at Seonghwa with a heavy gaze. “Touch my hand,” he said quietly. 

“No,” Seonghwa whispered, shaking his head slowly. 

“You won’t hurt me,” Hongjoong said quietly. “Not now that I’m ready for it. Touch my hand, Seonghwa.” 

“I can’t.” 

Hongjoong moved forward slowly, the static of panic from Seonghwa’s mind dimming with each inch he took away. Seonghwa pushed himself against the wall, Hongjoong stopping close enough that Seonghwa could reach him without moving. 

“It won’t hurt anyone, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong assured him, the air around him still with an almost-silence. “I still don’t know why you don’t want to… but you can.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes dropped to Hongjoong’s hand, his own pale ones twisted around each other tightly. 

“You’re free to touch people here, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong assured him quietly. “Regardless of the reason you don’t… if you want to… you can.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes shimmered as he stared, his hands loosening around each other almost unconsciously. 

“We trust each other here, Seonghwa,” he murmured as Seonghwa’s hand slowly dislodged itself from its place being hugged against his chest. “I trust you. You can trust me.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered back up to Hongjoong’s face, shattered and crystalline, but his hand continued it slow trek towards Hongjoong’s. 

“No one here will ever hurt you.” 

Their fingertips barely brushed. The minds around him flickered. 

Seonghwa swallowed, closing his eyes as he suddenly jerked forward the last centimeter, their fingers tangling as Seonghwa shoved their hands together, clenching Hongjoong’s hand tightly. On instinct, Hongjoong returned the hold, both of them holding on unnecessarily tight. 

The minds around his shut off. 

The swirl of emotions and thoughts and whispers went completely silent. It felt like someone had just taken away one of his senses. Something that used to be so constant was  suddenly gone, leaving him feeling unbalanced. Like someone had suddenly stuffed his head full of cotton balls. 

It was so quiet. But not painful. 

Almost… liberating. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were shut tight enough to crease his skin, expression twisted as slow tears forced their way out of his shut eyes. His hand shook in Hongjoong’s. His skin felt clammy against Hongjoong’s. 

His chest stuttered as Hongjoong watched him, something like fear and relief and apprehension shadowing his face. 

“Seonghwa… you aren’t hurting me.” 

Seonghwa only shut his eyes tighter, as if opening them would break something. His hand shook inside Hongjoong’s, and Hongjoong brought his other hand up slowly, curling it around the back of Seonghwa’s, grasping his hand in both of his own. 

Seonghwa’s breath stuttered, stopping completely for a moment before his other hand lifted to touch Hongjoong’s. His hands were soft, his fingers trailing across the back of Hongjoong’s hand, as if he were mapping it out. Feeling it for the first time. 

It was a tentative movement, and Hongjoong wondered what Seonghwa was thinking. It was so strange, sitting in this silence, not knowing. It felt… ordinary. 

Seonghwa’s hand reached his wrist, feeling the soft underskin of it, and then he kept the softest of touches brushing against his hand, as if he were a blindman being told to describe what he was feeling under his finger tips. 

His hands shook. 

Hongjoong watched in almost fascination, but it was overruled by a heavy weight in his chest as Seonghwa took a shaking breath that sounded more like an attempt to remain silent than anything else. 

Hongjoong grasped his other hand, holding it firmly, stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. Seonghwa’s eyes flew open, staring at Hongjoong with wide fear. 

Hongjoong never looked away, shifting their hands until he held Seonghwa’s completely in his own. 

Seonghwa jerked his hands away, holding them to his chest again as his breath came in short bursts that were slightly worrying. As if he had just been sprinting. As if something overwhelming was happening. As if he couldn’t stand the assault he had been placed under. 

He stared at his hands as if they had extra fingers. 

Hongjoong stared at him silently, watching as Seonghwa flexed his fingers, as if trying to regain feeling back in them. 

So long… 

The muffled thoughts began to circle again,but the proximity kept them at bay for the most part. Hongjoong still only stared at Seonghwa. 

“I can’t read your mind this close, Seonghwa,” he said quietly, Seonghwa stiffening. “You need to tell me.”   

Seonghwa looked at him, and Hongjoong truly did wish he could make something out of the noises around him. 

Seonghwa’s mouth opened, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if he would remain silent. Hongjoong placed his hands in his lap, and Seonghwa’s eyes flickered down to them, swallowing. 

“It’s been…” 

Seonghwa’s hands shook where they clenched each other, eyes foggy. 

“It’s been so long .” 

~~~~~~~

“Never touch them,” his mother hissed desperately, shoving the gloves onto Seonghwa’s hands. “Understand, sweetheart? Never. We can’t risk it. We can’t risk them taking you away. Just don’t touch anyone. Don’t let them touch you. We never know who might have abilities manifesting, so just don’t-” 

“Don’t touch anyone,” Seonghwa repeated, to show he understood. “Don’t let them touch me.” 

“Yes,” she said quickly, nodding encouragingly, eyes a little frantic. “I can’t lose you, sweetheart. Don’t let them take you away. Don’t let them take my baby-” 

It was all he heard: don’t let anyone touch you. If you do… they’ll find you. 

From the day he felt the tingle of an ability rushing through his veins, thirteen-year-old Seonghwa had been told that he would be taken away. His mother wielded it almost like a threat, hidden behind concerns and desperate shouts for him to stay with her. 

“You’re all I have left!” she almost screamed. “Your father is gone, Seonghwa! Do you want to leave me here alone, too?” 

“No, Mom, but I couldn’t stop- We were playing sports-” 

“Do you want them to find you?” she yelled. “Do you want to be taken away from me?” 

“N-No-” 

“Then you need to take responsibility! You need to understand the consequences of your actions!” 

Seonghwa was not allowed to let anyone touch him. He was not allowed to touch anyone else. 

His mother did not touch him. What had begun as helping him put his gloves on, kissing each one with a smile and a reminder to stay safe had begun to…. Twist. With each passing year, his mother became… frantic. Almost obsessed. 

Seonghwa stood by stoically, his mother’s words and threats clinging to his ears darkly as he glared at anyone who came within a few feet of him. 

“Your son is not blending well with the other children,” the principal told her. “He stands on his own and almost threatens the children to keep their distance-” 

“Good!” she snapped. “Does my child not have the right to exist in his own space? Shouldn’t you be talking to those people who keep trying to bother him?” 

Seonghwa was… gently suggested to try another school. One that would be better for his personality. His mother was delighted. 

“Why didn’t I think of it sooner!” she said, eyes wide with ideas. “Home schooling! Yes, you won’t ever have to see anyone else. You can stay in the house and no one will ever be able to find out!” 

Seonghwa spent a year barely leaving his home. His mother worked, leaving him by himself, and Seonghwa sat, doing his schoolwork until he went to bed, usually before she came home. 

Not on purpose, he assured her. He was just always tired. He worked hard on his schoolwork. 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said genuinely, not wanting to hurt her after so much, stepping forward with his arms open to hug her. 

His mother flinched back, shoving his gloved hands away. 

Seonghwa stood in shock at the rejection, his heart stopping. 

His mother wet her lips, clearing her throat. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she said, offering a small smile. “I just… we’re not entirely sure what you could do to a normal person, you know?” 

She smiled. 

Seonghwa stared at her, arms slowly lowering as his chest twisted. “A normal person,” he muttered darkly under his breath. 

Her smile faded slightly. “Oh- You know what I mean, sweetheart,” she assured him, expression straining. “Just- Sometimes people like you have side effects, even on regular people. You don’t want to accidentally hurt someone, do you?” 

Seonghwa’s chest was filled with bricks as he stared at the ground. 

His mother simply nodded at him, as if it was solved. “Just remember, sweetheart… you can’t touch anyone. That includes me, okay? We don’t know what might happen, eventually.” 

Seonghwa didn’t know when it happened. He hadn’t even noticed. At some point, it had changed from small touches to his bare skin, and then only over his clothing, and somehow he had missed it when his mother had stopped touching him completely. But she had never… never rejected it before. 

Seonghwa turned on his heel, ignoring his mother’s calls, and he ran from the house. 

He didn’t know where he thought he was going, but he ran. Wound up at some old park he hadn’t been to since before he gained his abilities. 

Seonghwa didn’t go home all night. He laid down in the sand and stared at the sky until he saw the sun over the horizon. 

At some point… his mother had stopped being a mother. Her urges had stopped being caring and had turned to paranoia. Her love had turned to… something else. Something he didn’t recognize. 

Seonghwa dragged his feet home, feeling like his skin was stretched too tightly across his muscles. Like it was burning and freezing and twisting. He just wanted to tear it off. 

In a burst of outrage, he tore off his gloves, throwing them off into a direction he didn’t bother to check, feeling anger burning behind his eyes as he scrubbed at them. 

He pulled his hands away, staring at the tear streaks across them, staring at the pale skin that had… that hadn’t seen daylight in years. Seonghwa stared at his own hand, looking at it as if it were a stranger’s. He didn’t recognize it. He had barely ever seen it. 

He rushed over to where he threw the gloves, picking them up and shoving his hands back into them, his heart rising to his throat. 

He barely even recognized himself. He stared at the familiar, worn leather, choking on something. 

This is who he had become. These gloves. 

He stormed towards home, refusing to feel anything but anger. Fury. At his mother, at himself, at anyone he passed. It was everyone’s fault. Every person on this earth was guilty- 

Seonghwa stood at the end of his driveway, staring. 

A foreign black car sat there. 

Seonghwa’s heart crushed in his chest. No . 

He took a step backwards. 

The door opened quickly, his mother standing there with a smile that was… 

It scared him. 

“Seonghwa!” she called brightly. “Come in, there’s someone-” 

Seonghwa ran for the second time, fear coursing through him as he took off down the pavement- 

A hand caught his wrist painfully, yanking back, and Seonghwa cried out as he fought the hold that dragged him back down the sidewalk. 

The suit’s grip was tight enough to burn, almost carrying Seonghwa who thrashed. “Let go, get off! Don’t touch m-” 

“Seonghwa!” his mother yelled. “Seonghwa, stop fighting, they’re going to help-” 

The man stopped, holding Seonghwa in place as he opened the back door. 

Seonghwa’s eyes met his mother’s who looked tired. 

She was tired of him. Tired of putting up the effort to hide her child. Of the freak, hiding among normal people. 

To her credit, she looked regretful as the man shoved Seonghwa into the back of the car. 

Congratulations. You aren’t a complete monster. But Seonghwa was still being taken away. 

Every spot the man had touched on him burned. 

~~~~~~~~

Touch had not become a matter of hurting. 

It became a matter of instinct. 

Everything in Seonghwa was hardwired to reject it. To fear it. 

Then Hongjoong grabbing grabbed his hand, collapsing onto the ground in the culmination of every single one of Seonghwa’s fears. 

And then Hongjoong held his hand out, and he touched Hongjoong’s hands, and he knew- he knew that Hongjoong could no longer hear his thoughts. Could no longer access any part of his ability. Hongjoong didn’t seem to care. 

His skin buzzed where Hongjoong’s skin touched his. Hongjoong’s skin was soft. Smooth, but Seonghwa could feel the lines and creases of his palm and finger pads that pressed against him. 

Hongjoong touched him back, unflinching and not hesitating for even a moment. 

It felt like a current being hooked up to his skin, buzzing from his fingers, down to chest- 

It had been so long. 

So long since anyone… Since he had allowed anyone… 

Seonghwa had to draw his hands back, the balloon in his chest growing too large to breathe around as he clenched his hands against himself, almost ready to sob. 

Hongjoong’s hands were soft. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong embraced him. 

Seonghwa thought that this must be what it feels like to die. It felt like parts of him were shutting down while others were trying to kick on, and Hongjoong hugged him tightly, wiry arms holding Seonghwa close even when Seonghwa twitched in his grip. 

His own mother hadn’t even touched him in years. 

And this boy he had barely met a week ago was embracing him, face pressing to Seonghwa’s neck as Seonghwa stared over his shoulder blankly. 

Why…

Why was he doing it? 

Why did he… not care? 

“You’re not hurting anyone,” Hongjoong murmured quietly, barely audible. “And that means you’re free to touch whoever you want, Seonghwa.” 

And Seonghwa would have never… never imagined that this place he had been taken to against his will could somehow be better . 

But here he was, ready to throw up because Hongjoong was hugging him and his hands were cool and soft. 

How long had it been since he had felt warmth from another person? 

Seonghwa’s hands moved on their own, touching Hongjoong’s waist. Another beat where he tried to figure out what to do, what- 

He surged against Hongjoong. Wrapped his arms around him tightly and buried his face in his neck, and even as the back of his mind screamed for him not to, Seonghwa let himself press the skin of his face into Hongjoong’s neck, feeling the sensation of another against him. 

He smelled like shampoo. 

“I’m sorry.” 

At first, Seonghwa thought the whisper had come from him, but then Hongjoong was rubbing a comforting hand up and down his spine, sending goosebumps racing over the top of Seonghwa’s skin. 

“You… You were hurt just as much as anyone else here,” he murmured into Seonghwa’s neck. “And I only treated you like an outsider. I didn’t- I should have treated you like I did everyone else. I should have accepted you and tried to help…” 

Seonghwa felt his eyes sting as he tried to laugh, but it came out flat. “I was an asshole.” 

“Not an excuse,” Hongjoong said with surprising conviction, Seonghwa’s chest tightening. “You were here , and that meant I should have… I should have been better.” 

Seonghwa felt like half his brain was trying to shut down. He took a deep breath and smelled the shampoo the compound gave them, mixed with something like laundry detergent. He pressed his nose to Hongjoong’s temple, and the scent became stronger. 

“This makes up for it pretty good,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Hongjoong didn’t respond. Simply swallowed audibly before squeezing Seonghwa a little harder. 

Seonghwa thought he was going to die. 

But, by God, it would be happy. 

Here , of all places, he would die happy. 

~~~~~~~

San’s head rested in Seonghwa’s lap as they watched a movie after breakfast. San swore up and down that it would make him cry. Yunho had excused himself, saying he didn’t feel like sobbing this morning, but Mingi and Jongho were eager to test San’s claim. 

It was halfway through the fifth death scene that Seonghwa glanced around, brow pulling down. 

“Where’s Hongjoong?” He questioned. He kept waiting for the other to wake up and come get breakfast, but it was almost noon, and he still hadn’t seen him emerge from his room. 

San didn’t take his eyes from the screen. “Probably still in bed.” 

“At noon?” Seonghwa questioned, leaning to see San’s face. 

“It’s probably a bad day,” Jongho said casually, glancing away to look at Seonghwa. “You know… for…” He tapped the side of his head, probably pantomiming Hongjoong’s ability. At Seonghwa’s continued confusions, he winced. “He gets headaches and stuff, when things get too loud… up there.” He tapped his head again. “He usually just spends most of the day in his room when it gets bad.” 

Seonghwa hummed quietly, sitting back again, frowning at the TV without really looking at it. He’d heard, in passing, Hongjoong complain about headaches and being over-sensitive, but he hadn’t seen one bad enough yet that Hongjoong would need to confine himself to his room. 

Was it that bad? Hongjoong seemed to have a pretty high pain threshold. 

Seonghwa lifted San’s head, the other sitting up in confusion as Seonghwa stood. “I’m gonna go check on him,” he said in passing as he walked towards the doorway. 

No one really said anything, but when Seonghwa glanced back they were all staring at him curiously. 

Seonghwa made a quick stop by the kitchen, grabbing a cup of water and a pack of crackers, walking quietly to Hongjoong’s bedroom door that was shut firmly. He hesitated, unsure if knocking would be too much for his headache. Maybe he should just go in? But that was rude. But how did he- 

You can come in. 

Seonghwa jumped, spilling some water over his hand as he whipped around, but the hallway was devoid of anyone else, and he turned again, wondering what the fuck- 

Sorry. Should have warned you… 

Seonghwa winced, glancing behind himself once more, and no… that voice was inside his head. 

“Hongjoong?” he whispered, more to ensure he wasn’t crazy. It sounded like Hongjoong’s voice, but… not his voice.

Yeah… Sorry, you can come in…. 

Even in his mind, Hongjoong’s voice sounded… croaky. Raspy. 

But Seonghwa did as he was told, pushing the door open carefully and stepping into the pitch black room. In the light from the hallway, he could see a mound of blankets and a puff of familiar long hair. 

Close the door… Please…  

Seonghwa closed it quickly, blocking out the light as he stood in the darkness, for a moment, unsure of what he should do. 

Sorry… Talking… hurts. 

The voice in his head echoed slightly, like his brain didn’t know where it was coming from, so it just said it was coming from everywhere. 

“Should I…” Should Seonghwa stop talking? Did that hurt more than trying to think? 

You can talk. I just… 

The thought never finished. Seonghwa swallowed. “I brought you some crackers and water,” he said, holding them dumbly. “Since you didn’t eat.” 

Thanks… You can just put them on the… 

He trailed off again, and Seonghwa frowned. “Hongjoong?” he whispered. 

Sorry, you can… The nightstand… 

Seonghwa didn’t move for a moment, worry clawing at his chest as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to make out the startlingly still form in the bed. 

You don’t have to be so worried… It’s normal… 

“What is?” Seonghwa questioned quietly. “You laying in bed in so much pain you can’t even use your ability?” 

I’ve got… a really inconvenient ability… 

Seonghwa let out a quiet sigh, walking towards the nightstand slowly. “There’s nothing we can do to help?” Was there medicine or something they could give him? 

No… It’ll go away once I manage to get…  my barriers back up… 

Seonghwa paused. “Barriers?” 

To block the minds around me… I hear them… All the time… When they get too loud, it’s not… pleasant… I can’t make barriers strong enough to… block them completely… 

Hongjoong sounded exhausted. As if he was losing the energy to even speak in his mind. 

Seonghwa tried to imagine that. The thoughts of… hundreds of people… maybe more… pounding against him at all times… He had described it like a rock concert. His own thoughts were often rapid and chaotic, but to imagine his voice amplified a thousand times- 

You don’t have to pity me… It’s not… that bad… I figured it… 

He trailed off again, and Seonghwa felt something heavy settle in his chest. “Hongjoong…” 

I’m okay… 

That was bullshit. 

Seonghwa wanted to say something, but… really, what right did he have to say it? He hadn’t been here long enough to try and convince Hongjoong whether or not he was truly okay. Hongjoong was tired, he was in pain. Seonghwa needed to leave his little items and then leave him to rest because his thoughts probably weren’t helping. 

Seonghwa, it’s not- 

Seonghwa shook his head, walking to the nightstand. “I’ll let you rest,” he whispered, setting down the cup and crackers with a small noise against the wood- 

Hongjoong gasped, and even in the darkness, Seonghwa saw his hands leap to his forehead, grasping at it as his breathing came harsher. 

“What?” Seonghwa whispered, blood running colder, frozen where he stood. “What happened? What hurts-” He shut his own mouth as Hongjoong curled into his hands with ragged breathing. 

No, it’s- I- you- can’t- 

Seonghwa frowned, Hongjoong’s thoughts coming through in bursts that didn’t make sense. Holy shit, what if whatever hurt him was harming his ability? What did Seonghwa- 

It- Seonghwa- you- ability- 

Seonghwa’s heart stopped. 

His ability. He was currently standing less than a meter away from Hongjoong. 

“I’m sorry,” he burst, stepping away quickly, horror in his veins. 

With surprising speed, Hongjoong sat up, his hand snaking around Seonghwa’s gloved hand, catching his fingers weakly. 

(Seonghwa still wore his gloves, but it was no longer out of such an innate fear. It was mostly just to make sure the others could touch him without having to worry about it.) 

Seonghwa froze as if Hongjoong had crushed his hand. 

“No,” Hongjoong said, aloud, head hung low, voice pinched and tight. “‘s not you,” he rasped. “Not- The.. ‘s quieter…” He brought up the hand not holding Seonghwa’s to his face, rubbing at his eyes. “Didn’t ‘xpect it…It’s okay…” 

Seonghwa stared, heart in his throat and adrenaline pumping viciously. “It’s quieter,” he murmured. “That’s… good?” Or did it just hurt more to have it taken away? Like going from a rock concert to silence? 

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, and Seonghwa was about to pull away, but then his hand tightened on Seonghwa’s slightly, his head still hung low. 

“It’s… better,” he admitted in a quiet voice. 

It was… better. With the voices quiet. 

Hongjoong suddenly let go of his hand. “Sorry, you can go,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll-” 

“Do you want me to stay?” Seonghwa asked quietly, taking a step forward. “I could- I could sit near you… just keep them quiet so you can… sleep it off.” 

Hongjoong was still and quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to-” 

“I’m offering.” Seonghwa’s mouth felt tingly. Like something acidic was sitting in it. “If it’s that bad… I don’t mind just sitting next to you.” 

Seonghwa figured there was literally no reason not to. If taking away Hongjoong’s ability for a few hours was enough to let him recover… 

Seonghwa owed him that and so much more. 

Hongjoong was still quiet, seeming to weigh his options. So Seonghwa rolled his lips, taking a step closer and sitting on the edge of the bed. Hongjoong looked up at the dip of the mattress, and Seonghwa stared at him with heavy eyes. 

“Do you want them quiet or gone?” he offered, holding one of his hands in the other. 

Hongjoong stared, glancing between Seonghwa and his hands, as if trying to figure out if… Seonghwa didn’t know- if he deserved it? If he had a right to it? He looked conflicted. So Seonghwa slid one of the gloves off smoothly, holding out his hand. 

Hongjoong stared at it, a similar level of scared that Seonghwa had been when faced with contact with another. Seonghwa pushed his hand out a little more, eyes almost pleading. 

Hongjoong sucked in a breath, as if bracing himself. 

His hand slid into Seonghwa’s slowly, dragging against him from his fingertips to his wrist where Hongjoong’s fingers curled around it. (It was soft.) 

Hongjoong let out a choked breath, jerking forward a little, one hand reaching up to his forehead, holding it tightly, breathing through his teeth. 

Seonghwa held his breath. Hongjoong breathed deeply, tense shoulders rising and falling as if trying to keep himself from vomiting. Seonghwa waited, copying Hongjoong from before and rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Okay?” Seonghwa whispered carefully. 

Hongjoong swallowed audibly, nodding his head slowly. “Yeah,” he rasped, lifting strained eyes that were misty with relief. “I- You don’t-” 

“Just lay back down,” Seonghwa told him, scooting forward so Hongjoong’s arm wouldn’t have to reach. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

And it probably spoke louder to his condition, the fact that Hongjoong didn’t fight him, just giving him a thick swallow before laying down against his pillow, a sigh escaping him, as if laying down after being on your feet all day. His hand almost shook inside Seonghwa’s. 

“ Thank you .” His voice shook, and Seonghwa pressed his lips together tightly as he gave his hand a little squeeze, the contact point between them thrumming. 

“Anytime,” he murmured, feeling Hongjoong’s skin against his. 

And he found he truly did mean it. 

Hongjoong was out like a light within minutes, and Seonghwa settled in, staring at Hongjoong’s hands- smaller than his own, but warmer more often than not. He placed them palm to palm, seeing where Hongjoong’s fingers stopped short of his own. 

He laced their fingers, feeling the sensation of holding hands- feeling where their fingers touched and where their hands sat comfortably against each other. 

Seonghwa quickly shifted their hands, still holding Hongjoong’s, but keeping it gently in one hand, just holding his fingers, his face burning. 

That was weird, Seonghwa. You made that weird. Just because you have a weird thing with touching doesn’t mean you get to flaunt that weird thing. 

So Seonghwa sat there, keeping whatever thoughts plagued Hongjoong at bay, and when he looked at his face, it wasn’t pinched or tense. It was smooth and peaceful, in a way that Hongjoong wasn’t even when he wasn’t suffering from headaches. 

Hongjoong had been here a long time. Seonghwa had gathered that much. And it was… incredibly heartbreaking when he thought back to their fight… Hongjoong yelling that they were going to be here until they died… that there was nothing for them but this compound and each other. 

All they had was each other. And that meant they stuck together, they combined forces, they made the most of their situations, and they became family .

Hongjoong’s aggressive defensiveness for the others- threatening Seonghwa for his apathy towards them, disturbing the peace they had worked so hard to build in this facility. And Seonghwa, after he had allowed himself to be swallowed up by these people, understood. 

They were in this together. 

Hongjoong’s hand twitched in his as he slept. 

~~~~~~~

And so, Seonghwa found himself in Hongjoong’s bed. 

Not often. Not even close to frequently, but enough that it sort of became a thing. 

Enough that the others would enter the kitchen with sober expressions. “Hongjoong isn’t feeling good.” 

It was weekly, at best. Sometimes going longer. Sometimes more often. Hongjoong would scoot over to the edge of his bed, eyes tight with pain. 

“Don’t just sit there the whole time… you can lay down if you want.” 

And at first, Seonghwa sat there, terrified of moving too much, scared of doing anything but holding onto Hongjoong’s hand (or not touching him at all, if Hongjoong just asked that the voices be dimmed). 

That had sort of been thrown out the window when Seonghwa accidentally fell asleep beside Hongjoong one time and woke up with the other curled up on his chest. 

“You’re touch starved.” 

Seonghwa tensed where he held Hongjoong’s hand, the other’s eyes closed against the headache that had resigned him to his room yet again. 

“And I know why you are,” Hongjoong murmured. Seonghwa had already told him that. “But it’s still… sad.” 

Seonghwa wet his lips. “You always get delirious when you get these headaches…” 

“I talk rubbish, but not nonsense,” Hongjoong whispered, curled on his side. “You don’t… you don’t have to reserve touch for times like that.” He squeezed Seonghwa’s hand, sending a shiver up his spine. “Even if you mute our abilities at the breakfast table… it’s okay.” 

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong, who was constantly bombarded with a thousand thoughts at all times. Who had admitted- in a headache haze- that a part of him so selfishly wanted Seonghwa to just stop the minds around him all the time. Who battled with his abilities every day. 

“Do you hate your ability?” Seonghwa asked quietly, staring at the ceiling. 

Hongjoong was quiet for several moments too long. But Seonghwa still allowed him his time. “Do I hate it…? No,” He answered quietly, slowly. “I regret it sometimes. I get frustrated, but in terms of wishing I didn’t have it… No. It’s just an obstacle to work around.” 

“ Why ?” Seonghwa couldn’t help himself from demanding quietly. “It seems as though the only thing this ability is good for is getting you stuck in the compound and hurting you so badly, you can hardly move .” 

Hongjoong squeezed Seonghwa’s hand. “One of those things is worth the other,” he murmured. 

Seonghwa felt like Jongho had just punched him in the chest. “What?” 

“Being put here is worth times like this,” Hongjoong said calmly, tiredly. “I can’t imagine that I would be better off if I lived back at home. And home doesn’t have you guys.” 

Seonghwa chewed the inside of his lip. Seonghwa was… happier here than he had ever been at home. Here, he wasn’t threatened to hide, wasn’t demanded to keep to himself. In fact, he had almost been threatened to socialize. 

“Do you hate your ability?” Hongjoong echoed. 

Seonghwa had expected the question, and he closed his eyes slowly. “I was told to.” 

Hongjoong’s hand tightened on his. “Do you still hate it?” 

He wet his lips. “I don’t know if I ever hated it. I think I hated myself more than I hated my ability. But I don’t…” He paused, trying to collect his thoughts as Hongjoong threaded their fingers together. “I don’t think I hate it. I just regret everything that came with it. Not this, though,” He said quietly, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. “I hate how I met all of you, but… I’m glad I did.” 

Because without them, Seonghwa would still be nothing but the gloves he hid within. 

Hongjoong shifted, and Seonghwa loosened his grip, in case he wanted to let go, but Hongjoong simply rolled further onto his side, shifting closer to Seonghwa until he was pressed to his side and his head rested on Seonghwa’s chest. 

Hongjoong’s other hand was thrown over his waist. Hongjoong had never had a problem with touch.

Hongjoong was warm. Solid. Even if he was smaller than Seonghwa in most ways. 

“You can touch here, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong murmured, voice a little slurred with residual pain. “You don’t have to be afraid or hate it. Not here. Not with us.” 

Seonghwa… knew this. Inherently, now. 

He couldn’t describe half the feelings and emotions he experienced. Most of them were just a buzz of something in the back of his mind. But he knew that when Hongjoong held his hand, when he laid on him, when he hugged him- 

Things Seonghwa had been terrified of before… 

When he did them, Seonghwa didn’t feel pain or fear. He felt solid. Grounded. He wanted to touch back, to prove to himself that it was allowed, that it was welcomed . 

Seonghwa wanted to welcome it. Because it felt… it felt good . 

And the fact that by touching Hongjoong, Seonghwa wasn’t hurting, he was healing , it was- 

Unbelievable.

Seonghwa placed a hand on Hongjoong’s back, feeling his heartbeat through his shirt, feeling the rise and fall of his lungs, feeling the little puffs of breath against his collarbone, feeling the way he shifted naturally, his fingers playing with the edge of Seonghwa’s shirt- 

A thousand touches Seonghwa hadn’t experienced in so fucking long. 

Some that he was sure he had never received. 

He let his head fall until his nose brushed Hongjoong’s hair- a gesture Seonghwa had never done before- and Hongjoong chuckled against his chest. 

“I feel like a cat.” 

Seonghwa found himself laughing wetly, feeling his eyes sting even as he didn’t move. “This is… okay?” 

Hongjoong hummed, settling in further against Seonghwa. “Feels nice.” 

Seonghwa didn’t cry. No, he did not. But it was a close call that he was sure Hongjoong was aware of. He just made small circles on Seonghwa’s side with his hand resting there, saying nothing. 

And even more than the big touches- the embraces and the dog piles- Seonghwa found his heart racing with every small, insignificant touch Hongjoong placed as naturally as he breathed. 

~~~~~~~

At first, the silence was terrifying. 

And then, it was liberating. 

It felt like a pressure taken from his mind, a weight lifted from his chest, something like pure relief and utter freedom as the thoughts around him were dimmed and then silenced. 

When Seonghwa silenced the minds around him in the throes of Hongjoong’s headaches, it felt like a hand massaging a sore muscle- an inherent desire to press closer and pull away because it hurt, but it was good . 

Hongjoong could never let him do it for too long. He just… didn’t think it was necessary. He would let the headache fade to a manageable level, and then force himself to let go. At least, he never let him do it for long with the purpose of silencing them. 

When he touched Seonghwa just to touch him, he was okay with letting the silence linger. 

Seonghwa’s mind was… not different from the others, but there was something notable about it. Maybe it was the manipulation his mother had enacted on him, maybe it was the certain opinion he held of his ability… maybe it was just Seonghwa’s personality itself shining through. 

But Hongjoong found himself… drawn to it. 

Seonghwa… who had been forced into isolation for so long. Who had been told to fear touches and what they may bring. Who shied from touch, but whom Hongjoong heard begging for it within the safety of his own mind. 

Seonghwa’s thoughts were fascinating, the hestiancies and confidence that they bounced back and forth between without prompting. 

The way those thoughts influenced his actions that he slowly began to mold out of what his mother had shaped them into, and working them into what he wanted them to be. 

“Do you need… me to lay down with you?” he would asked when Hongjoong would be sitting in the living room with his eyes closed, not quite to the point of needing to go lay down. 

Stupid, he would hear his mind hiss. If he wanted you to, he would have asked. Or something. Stop talking, you’re hurting his head. 

And Seonghwa would waver with each second Hongjoong drew the strength to respond. 

He wants you to leave. 

And then. 

No. No, because if he wanted me to leave, he would have said so already. He’s just trying to decide. Just be patient. 

A careful, careful hand would brush his, making the noise flicker blissfully. 

“Hongjoong?” 

He could no longer hear the thoughts racing around Seonghwa’s head. But he didn’t need to when Seonghwa would take his hand more fully. Hongjoong’s response was wrapping his fingers around Seonghwa’s gently, grateful he didn’t need to gather the strength to speak.

And Hongjoong didn’t need to read minds to feel the relief radiating off of Seonghwa. 

And that, more than anything else he had ever experienced, was intoxicating. 

~~~~~~~

Yunho hugged him good morning. San tugged on his arm as he demanded he watch whatever movie he decided on. Mingi annoyed the hell out of him until Seonghwa smacked him, just to get him to behave. 

Like before, he didn’t quite realize when the thought of touching turned from fear to acceptance. 

Or when it turned from acceptance to natural. Or from natural to eager. 

But Seonghwa didn’t want to keep taking every time he touched them. Not that he minded, really , but it felt… felt like it was time to take responsibility. He had spent so much of his life hiding and denying… he wanted to take control . 

Seonghwa took his own advice: they had so much time on their hands, it was time to teach himself. He was going to learn to control his ability. He would learn to touch someone without taking their ability away. He would gain that much more freedom for himself. 

He would do that for himself. 

Which failed terribly. 

“No, I can feel it,” Seonghwa insisted, brow pinched in tight concentration, his head pounding with strain. “No, get closer and tell me-” 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said almost sadly, standing in Seonghwa’s room where he had been for the past three hours, delivering the same news he had for the past three hours. “I can feel it from here. It’s not working.” 

Seonghwa let go of the breath he had been holding and tried not to look as disappointed as he felt, his head hurting for nothing. Another day, wasted to Seonghwa making a fool of himself in front of Hongjoong, whom he roped into helping him. 

“You’re not failing,” Hongjoong assured him. 

Seonghwa had stopped questioning or being surprised by Hongjoong picking up on whatever his surface thoughts were. 

“It’s barely been a few weeks, it took me years-” 

“But I’m making no progress, Hongjoong,” He sighed, scrubbing at his eyes. “ None .” He hadn’t even been able to retract whatever range his ability out to. 

“You don’t have the desperation I did,” Hongjoong comforted, sitting on the bed with him and taking his hand. “Which isn’t bad . It just means you need a new approach.” He brushed Seonghwa’s slightly-sweaty hair off of his forehead. 

(It no longer elicited such surprised emotions, but Seonghwa still found the touches more comforting than any words could be.) 

“It’ll work out,” Hongjoong said quietly. “You just need… guidance or something.” 

And that came in the form of a hyperactive magic class whose voice alone was enough to give Hongjoong a telepathy-level headache. 

Wooyoung was a somnokinetic who walked in and demonstrated his abilities by touching Mingi and putting him to sleep, grinning like a madman. 

It was like taking the powerhouse that San was but putting some amount of control on him. Which made him terrifying. 

He was the only person who had brought more than one bag with him. 

“These are my books,” He said, taking book after book out of his second bag. “I keep records and stuff in them when I remember to. Which isn’t often, but you get the idea. See?” 

A notebook opened to a T-chart was shoved under Seonghwa’s nose as Wooyoung grinned. “See? These are the pulses of Sleep and over here is the stage of sleep.” 

Seonghwa pushed the book down, trying to get out the question he had been trying to ask since Wooyoung got here. “So you have a good control on your ability?” 

Wooyoung didn’t glance up from the book, flipping through it rapidly. “Me? Yeah, I guess. It’s not that hard. It’s just dreamwalking and stuff. Like stepping through a doorway. I mean at the beginning, I was always putting people to sleep whenever I touched them, but I sorted that out. The harder part is stopping myself from picking up everyone else’s dreams. My sister always had this really weird one about-” 

“Can you show me?” 

Wooyoung glanced up from his book, already placing it on the desk as he grabbed another. “Show you what?” He flipped through that one, too. 

Seonghwa swallowed. “Can you show me how you learned to reign in your ability?” 

Wooyoung frowned. “I just… stopped doing it.” 

“ How ?”

Wooyoung shrugged, putting more books away. “I don’t know, I just… I felt the thing that puts them to sleep and I made it stop activating when I touched them. I just felt it.” 

“I’ve been trying to feel it for weeks! It doesn’t work .” 

Wooyoung scanned Seonghwa’s face, trailing his body and then held out his hand. “Let me see,” he said, gesturing for Seonghwa’s hand. 

Seonghwa had nothing to lose, so he let Wooyoung hold it. 

Wooyoung started, his face stretching into a grin. “Cool,” He muttered, letting go and then holding his hand and then letting go and holding. And then he did it slowly, getting close and not touching and then he touched and then he pulled away- 

“What are you-” 

“A vacuum.” 

Seonghwa stopped. “I’m sorry?”

Wooyoung looked at him casually, as if he were stating the obvious, letting go of his hand. “A vacuum. That’s what it feels like. You’re sucking the ability away. Just figure out how to turn of the vacuum.” 

Seonghwa stared at his hand, then up at Wooyoung who was continuing to take out books. “Why are you so in tune to this?” 

Wooyoung hesitated where he made to place a book. He turned back to Seonghwa, a forced smile on his lips. “I had a lot of alone time to figure it out.” He placed the book down. “My parents figured the safest place for everyone was my room, so I was locked in there most of the time. Lots of time to figure out what was what. I measured my dreamwalking distance at twenty miles. Cool, right?” 

And maybe he said it light enough, but Seonghwa knew it was never so pleasant. He could imagine Wooyoung staring at a closed door that hadn’t been opened for days, occupying his time by manipulating his ability that put him there. 

He wet his lips. “Thanks for the help,” he said genuinely. 

Wooyoung gave him a brighter grin. “It’s not a problem. Wanna see what the physical manifestation of Sleep looks like?”

~~~~~~

“Hongjoong!” 

Hongjoong bolted up in his bed as the door slammed open, Seonghwa leaping across the bed and tackling him in a hug. 

I did it I did it I did it I did it- 

Seonghwa face pressed to his neck as he wrapped his arms around Hongjoong, almost crushing him as Hongjoong realized that those were Seonghwa’s thoughts he was hearing. 

It was definitely not at full strength- the thoughts coming in far away, like yelling down a tunnel or across a field, but he could hear something even as Seonghwa’s hands latched onto his bare skin. 

“I turned off the vacuum!” He exclaimed, pulling away. 

Hongjoong’s proud smile faded as confusion slapped him across the face. 

“You what?” 

Seonghwa just hugged him again, tighter, warmer, and it was- 

Hongjoong could feel the excitement thrumming through Seonghwa, pulsing from him in bursts that almost felt like a heartbeat, coloring the air around them a vibrant warmth. 

Hongjoong had never felt something like that from Seonghwa before.

He tried to remember how to breathe for a second, overwhelmed with the physical and mental assault. Even  among all the things that fascinated him about Seonghwa.... Nothing like this had ever smacked him across the face. 

“Hongjoong?”

He hadn’t even realized Seonghwa was speaking until he pulled away to frown at him. Hongjoong shoved his own awe down as he grinned, hugging Seonghwa back, both of them falling back in his bed. 

Yes Yes Finally I did it Finally It’s okay I can- 

“I know you could,” he murmured against his ear, something more than pride swallowing his chest as Seonghwa’s thoughts created a tornado tearing it’s way around his mind in the best   way possible. In ways Hongjoong had never seen before. 

I did it I can touch I can touch I did it-  

Hongjoong had never heard Seonghwa’s thoughts so… bright. 

And for a startling moment, the world was so loud. 

But Hongjoong only heard Seonghwa. 

~~~~~~~

“How did you get here?” Seonghwa whispered, both of them laying on their sides in Hongjoong’s bed, fingers laced. “It’s been… four years?”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, eyes closed as the last remnants of headache were forced away by Seonghwa’s still-not-quite-under-control abilities. 

Hongjoong’s voice came through into Seonghwa’s mind, but it was muffled and far away, like whispering through a crack in the door. It still came through, though, which was more progress than Seonghwa had made in weeks. 

I came when I was fourteen, right after my ability manifested. 

Hongjoong winced. “Sorry,” he muttered tiredly. “I keep forgetting to actually talk.” 

“You don’t have to,” Seonghwa assured him, tapping his fingers against the back of Hongjoong’s hand. “If it’s easier not to.” 

“Yeah, but it’s weird-” 

“It’s not weird,” Seonghwa said quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t mind. It’s cool, it’s-” He cut himself off, coughing. “I mean, it’s just like… like you’re just a little bit closer or something. It’s fine.” 

Hongjoong stared at him, and Seonghwa was grateful for the dark. 

Okay, his voice whispered in his mind. Seonghwa shivered a little, feeling oddly like someone was whispering into his ear, but it wasn’t weird, it was… almost comforting. Almost familiar at this point. 

Not much happened. I started screaming because I was hearing voices, my parents heard my voice in their head, and it didn’t take much to figure what had happened. 

Seonghwa frowned. They just sent you away? 

Hongjoong shuddered a little beside him. You’re getting a little too good at communicating inside your head, he said, a warmth to the voice that was almost amused. But, yeah. My mom was pretty freaked out. I was here, alone, for a couple years before any of the others showed up. 

Seonghwa chewed on the inside of his lip, brow pulling down. Seonghwa had spent years not touching anyone, but at least there had been people around. At the very least his mother, as horrid as it was. 

Seonghwa tried to imagine the massive compound they lived in, completely empty. Just himself wandering its steel hallways and echoing rooms. 

Have you ever been paying complete attention to something, but the back of your mind whispered something to you? Or played a memory that wasn’t related to what you were thinking about? 

Seonghwa focused on the Hongjoong before him, but in the very back of his mind, he saw a younger Hongjoong- a little thinner, a little sadder- sitting in the center of the living area rug, curled over his knees with his forehead pressed into his hands as he breathed harshly through his nose, expression pinched and pained- 

Seonghwa jerked his hand away, but, of course, the image wasn’t coming through his touch, and it only faded after he heard Hongjoong mumble a quiet- “Sorry…” 

Seonghwa turned to him, the other only staring at him through half-lidded eyes. 

The sight was so… heartbreaking. So fucking lonely, Seonghwa’s eyes stung. 

“Is that really what you did?” He whispered, voice shot and weak. 

Hongjoong’s expression wasn’t visible in the dark. “Most days, yeah. I spent most of my time… trying to figure out how to stop the voices.” 

Seonghwa didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what he was meant to do with this information, but it sat heavy inside of him, seared into the back of his mind- 

Seonghwa remembered the days when he sat at his living room table, schoolwork spread in front of him, eyes watching the clock tick second by second as he waited for his mother to return home, the gloves sitting on his hands, even while he was so alone, the empty house almost seeming to echo around him, every creak making him flinch, as if someone was coming to grab him- 

Hongjoong’s breath hitched, his hand seeking out Seonghwa’s, wrapping around it tightly. Seonghwa squeezed it back. 

You were so lonely… 

Seonghwa knew Hongjoong could never say the words out loud. And he said nothing, laying back down beside Hongjoong, chest heavy. 

He was sure why the two of them had shown that side of themselves. But part of Seonghwa felt relief. Like he had shared a secret that had been slowly consuming him. 

“I’m glad… that I met you guys,” Seonghwa whispered, fingers lacing Hongjoong’s. I’m glad that I met you. 

Hongjoong swallowed, half-glancing at Seonghwa who didn’t look at him. Me, too. 

Seonghwa stared at the ceiling in silence, twisting his and Hongjoong’s fingers together idly, the seconds ticking by. 

Hongjoong suddenly shifted, rolling onto his side and placing his head against Seonghwa’s chest, folding himself around the other. 

Seonghwa frowned because usually this position was reserved for violent, persistent headaches that naturally forced Hongjoong closer to him. But Hongjoong’s headache wasn’t that bad… 

Not that Seonghwa was complaining. He simply shifted upwards, allowing Hongjoong’s head to fall more naturally, one arm coming around his waist. 

There was a steady pattern to the rise and fall of Hongjoong’s back against Seonghwa’s hand, and he was sure the other had fallen asleep. 

“I’m glad I met you,” He murmured into Seonghwa’s chest, his throat rumbling with the words as he pressed his face closer. “I’m glad you found a place here.” 

Seonghwa’s chest felt claustrophobic, but not because of Hongjoong’s weight against it. He stared at the ceiling, and then lowered his eyes to the top of Hongjoong’s head, soft hair tickling his nose as Seonghwa smelled the scent of shampoo. 

He pressed his nose into it gently. 

“It’s not like you made it very hard.” 

~~~~~~~

“He dreams about you.” 

Hongjoong frowned, glancing up from the book he had stolen from Yunho. “Excuse me?”

“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung said, hands in his pockets, his face the usual boredom he wore when nothing stimulating was happening. “He dreams about you.” 

Hongjoong felt like someone had dunked him in ice water as he straightened slowly. 

Even as a telepath- not what he was expecting to come out of Wooyoung’s mouth. 

“He- You said- What ?” 

“Dreams about you.” 

“ Yeah , I got that,” he snapped, not really angry, just loud. He tossed the book aside. “Why are you looking into Seonghwa’s dreams?”

(Hongjoong’s entirety of his insides were churning violently, making him feel the need to throw up, even if he didn’t quite know why yet.) 

“I’m not,” Wooyoung stated plainly. “I can’t help the ones I see, the same as you can’t help but hear people’s thoughts on the surface. I only see the dreams with extreme emotions, and for the past week, that’s all I’ve been getting from Seonghwa.” 

Yeah, no, Hongjoong was going to throw up. 

Hongjoong felt like… like… Why?

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, voice quieter than he intended, something inside of him recoiling and withdrawing, like curling over an open to protect it. 

“Figured you’d want to know.” Wooyoung shrugged. 

“Isn’t that unethical?” Hongjoong demanded incredulously. “Telling others what everyone else is dreaming about?” 

Wooyoung laughed. “Hell, if I know. But I did.” 

“ Why ? What do you want me to do about it?” Hongjoong got to his feet, lost. 

“Dunno.” 

Stop beating around the bush, dumbass. 

“What bush ?” Hongjoong demanded, done with Wooyoung’s games. 

Wooyoung’s lips only curled into an amused grin. “I guess it depends on you.” 

“What about me?” 

“Whether or not you realize how much you dream about him.” 

Hongjoong froze as if Wooyoung had just smacked him across the face. Wooyoung’s grin never faded as he nodded. He brought one hand out of his pocket to salute Hongjoong. “I’m gonna go see what it takes to make Sleep explode, okay?” 

“ Wooyoung- ” 

“Later, hyung!” he called over his shoulder. 

Hongjoong was going to throw up. 

Okay, maybe over the past couple of weeks, Seonghwa had been making some appearances in his dreams. And maybe they were all really nice dreams where Hongjoong wasn’t plagued by headaches, and Seonghwa didn’t only lay down with him to ward them off. And maybe Hongjoong was a little braver in dreams. 

Maybe- maybe- he had had a couple where Seonghwa laid down with him and there was no reason for it, it just happened. Maybe- maybe, mind you- they looked at each other and Dream-Hongjoong would feel like something more was about to-  

Hongjoong was going to throw up. 

~~~~~~~

Seonghwa was laying in his room when Hongjoong peered around the doorframe, book open on his lap, a mental sigh on his lips. 

Just fucking kiss already. 

Seonghwa glanced up to see Hongjoong doubled over, hacking into his hand, something going down the wrong pipe. 

Seonghwa sat up, frowning as he set his book aside. 

“You okay?” he asked, as Hongjoong waved an exaggerated hand to tell that he was fine. 

Jesus, this fucking guy was going to kill him. 

He shook his head, giving Seonghwa a thumbs up as he cleared his throat, cheeks and eyes red. 

“Just- I- Choked on my spit,” he managed, clearing his throat once more. “Sorry.” 

Seonghwa snorted. “Okay,” he said, lips twitching. “Do you need some water?”

Hongjoong shook his head firmly. “I- Uh, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Seonghwa frowned slightly. “Sure,” he said, sitting up further, gesturing for Hongjoong to come in. As Hongjoong approached, he felt the voices begin to dim, but then Seonghwa retracted his ability, and they came back at full volume. Including his own. 

Weird… 

“What’s up?” he asked as Hongjoong sat on the other side of the bed stiffly. 

Hongjoong stared at his knees, not quite able to look him in the eyes. “Uh, well. I just- It’s something- I mean, Wooyoung was… He...” 

“Is something wrong?” he asked quietly. Hongjoong could feel the pulses of concern radiating off of him. He reached out, sliding his hand into Hongjoong’s, warm palms pressed together in a soft pressure that still amazed Hongjoong that Seonghwa would enact. 

He dreams about you. 

“It’s not wrong,” Hongjoong said quickly, looking down at his hands and then up at Seonghwa. “I-” 

I’m making him uncomfortable, I think. 

“You’re not!” Hongjoong practically burst, and Seonghwa blinked, taken aback by the strong voice. “I mean- It’s okay, I-” He tightened his grip on Seonghwa’s hand, the gesture a little encouraging. “You’re okay.” 

“I know I’m okay,” Seonghwa said quietly. “I’m wondering if you are…” 

“I-” 

Hongjoong stared at him, begging his mouth to form the right words, but nothing came out. 

He looks scared… 

It was a passing note in Seonghwa’s mind, but something tightened in Hongjoong’s chest. 

“I am scared,” he whispered. 

Seonghwa frowned deeper, hand tightening as he faced Hongjoong more fully. “Scared of what? What happened?” he asked quietly, wave after wave of gentle concern hitting Hongjoong like ocean currents, almost threatening to pull him under. 

What can I do to help How do I help you What do you need What should I do-

He was going to throw up. 

“Nothing…happened, but I’m… scared,” he admitted. 

If he could show Seonghwa him at his lowest, why was this any different?

“Why-” 

Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, shifting on the bed until he was kneeling right beside him, his hand still clasped tightly in Hongjoong’s, their heights slightly off as Seonghwa looked up the smallest bit to make eye contact, eyes a little wide and a little worried. 

“I’m scared of a lot of things,” Hongjoong murmured, heart in his throat. Seonghwa’s hand was warm. His other hand found Hongjoong’s free one, both of them encased in Seonghwa’s. “But for some reason… this scares me most.” 

Hongjoong rubbed his thumb over the back of Seonghwa’s hand, eyes dropping down to stare at their joined hands. It was an innocent gesture… one born out of hesitancy and desperation, but it had always been theirs. Their Thing, their comfort for each other, even when Seonghwa’s ability wasn’t a factor. 

And somewhere along the way, Hongjoong had twisted it into something it wasn’t meant to be. 

I think this is a dream… 

It was a hoarse, quiet whisper in the back of his mind- simply an acknowledgement of a possibility,but with real fear attached to it as Hongjoong lifted their hands closer examine them. 

“It’s not.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he stiffened, and when Hongjoong met his eyes they were swirling with every emotion Hongjoong couldn’t read as his mind whited out to plank, panicked static. 

“It’s not,” Hongjoong repeated, quiet and scared. He was scared. Because this was something different. This was something that he had honestly convinced himself he would live the rest of his life without. 

This was something the suits had promised he would never have. And this was something he didn’t know if they could take away. 

This was more than being taken away to a lab somewhere on the line. This was his everything being gambled here. All of him. And all of Seonghwa, risked on the off chance that somehow, two freaks that the world locked away could keep this from going up in smoke. 

Seonghwa didn’t look like he was breathing. 

“But sometimes…” Hongjoong whispered, thumb brushing his hand. “Sometimes I think it might be... ” 

Holy shit, he knows he knows he knows what you did he knows- 

The panic parted for only a mantra of icy fear. 

“Seonghwa…” His fingers laced through Seonghwa’s tightly, and his face hardened, releasing one of Seonghwa’s hands to wrap both around one, holding it tightly, almost wishing that Seonghwa was the one who could read minds because Hongjoong was running out of what to say. 

Just understand, he begged. 

“Seonghwa, I- For a while now, I… You have- I mean-” Hongjoong sighed, dropping his head down in frustration, his forehead brushing their joined hands, and he just wanted to rest his head there and forget everything and just stay as they were. 

But… 

Everything was silent around them. And it wasn’t because of Seonghwa’s ability. Hongjoong wet his lips, crystal clear eyes staring at Seonghwa and he saw… 

It has to be a dream. 

“Seonghwa…” 

It was a desperate attempt at comfort, at consolation. 

“I…” He was going to throw up. 

Hongjoong doesn’t look at me like that in real life… 

Hongjoong dreamed of silence. First, and foremost, he dreamed for blessed silence against the constant onslaught of white noise that assaulted his every sense. 

Then, he dreamed of comfort. Almost most of all, he dreamed for an end to the cursed solitude he existed within, the cold pressure of loneliness setting a chill in his bones that never went away. 

And then… 

“Seonghwa…”

And then… 

“I’ve been dreaming about you.”