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At first, Sunggyu can't fucking stand Woohyun. He knows it the moment he sees the younger man's puppy-like face for the first time: this isn't someone he'll get along with.
It has nothing to do with his sharp, quick movements or his wit and knife skills. Instead, it has everything to do with the way he makes himself look bigger than what he is — a scrawny 18-year-old — and how he speaks louder than he should, just to be noticed by someone. He's a lot of things that Sunggyu isn't.
Sunggyu is a little bit taller than Woohyun, but just as nimble and sharp. Better at hand-to-hand combat. He doesn't try to be someone he isn't, accepts his height and build, focuses on putting strength into the lean muscles on his arms and legs.
When they're pitted against each other, it comes as a surprise to no one, except Woohyun. He looks at Sunggyu with big, stunned eyes, like he hadn't even fathomed that the older could be a worthy opponent. Sunggyu hates it. Woohyun simply shows up and sweeps the ground beneath his feet away as if it were sand, featherlight and frail. Like he doesn't care that Sunggyu worked his ass off to be where he is, doesn't even take it into consideration.
Sunggyu wants to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the younger just doesn't understand. How much Sunggyu needs this. He won't let them send him to one of the factories in the countryside. He has to come out on top. But Woohyun is always easy smiles and sheepish apologies when he hits too hard and the other kids like him. They'd hated Sunggyu, most of them still do. It's unnerving. Sunggyu hates him.
He hates him, so when Woohyun extends a hand to help him up, Sunggyu grits his teeth and doesn't take it. He turns his head away and spits into the dirt. It's stained with blood.
They both make it. It's the anti-climatic end of a war only Sunggyu was fighting and he's left black and blue with aching limbs and a deep-seated anger, while Woohyun politely bows next to him at a ninety-degree angle and gives a small smile that exposes a sliver of his crooked canine. From the side, his nose looks sharp and pointed. Sunggyu wishes he would've broken it just once.
The other kids watch with barely concealed envy as they're ushered away from that cruel place. Sunggyu prays for them not to suffer his fate. He's worked for this his entire life and yet it feels like he's being led to the slaughterhouse. Woohyun next to him is the quietest he's ever seen him. Sunggyu's throat itches with a snarky remark, but he swallows it down, stale taste and everything.
They're to work separately and Sunggyu should feel relief, but all he feels is a hollowness somewhere in his chest when he comes home with blood splattered on his dark clothes, a barely concealed tremor wracking his hands. The sound of metal slicing through flesh and bones cracking is still ringing in his ears.
He's vaguely aware that Woohyun was placed into the same anonymous apartment complex, but they never see each other — always out for work, returning at odd hours to catch their breaths for short moments before leaving again. Always apart. They're not on the same floor either, that much Sunggyu is sure of. He isn't really sure of anything else.
When he gets his first paycheck, Sunggyu cries. It's ugly and quick and full of uneven breaths, but the tears come anyway. There's no blood on the money, but it reeks of wet iron all the same, red and vomit-inducing. It's when Woohyun knocks on his door at four twenty-eight in the morning, holding his own envelope. His frame has filled out, he's grown maybe two or three centimeters. But his cheeks have sunken in, the sharp bones right beneath the skin showing the wear and tear. His nose is still sharp and pointy. Again, Sunggyu thinks about breaking it. It's all he knows to do.
Woohyun doesn't ask if he's welcome. He simply steps past Sunggyu into the tiny one-room he rents and sits on the floor, places the envelope in front of him. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to, because Sunggyu lets the door fall closed and sits down next to him. They haven't talked since before the ceremony and this is anything but normal for them, but it doesn't matter when Woohyun wraps an arm around Sunggyu's shoulders and pulls him into his space just the tiniest bit. He exudes warmth and another tremor wrecks Sunggyu's body and the tears spill over a second time.
It's the day where Sunggyu realizes how much more than him Woohyun is.
It fills him with the need to plunge his head underwater and scream until his lungs give out or to punch that stupid, crooked smile of Woohyun's face. After the younger leaves, he runs his sink full of ice cold water.
They still don't see each other afterwards, but sometimes Sunggyu comes back to a bag of take-out in front of his door. Aching and creaking, his heart starts to spread it's tiny wings. He does the same for Woohyun, even if he sometimes leaves the handles blood-stained.
When he receives it, Sunggyu stares at the letter for a long time, almost can't believe it. There are very few things written on it. A name, a place and a reward. And Woohyun's name. Inside the envelope, there's also a plane ticket to Moscow, Russia and a reservation for a hotel room. Two people.
On the same day, they take separate flights. Sunggyu lands in the early afternoon and when he arrives at the hotel, Woohyun is already there in the lobby, waiting for him. They check in together, the necessary words rolling off Sunggyu's tongue without too much of a suspicious accent. He'd always liked learning languages. It was one of the few things that hadn't required violence, but he'd only been allowed to learn what was deemed useful.
Once inside their room, they unpack in silence. They keep most of the planning verbal, Sunggyu jotting down only the most important details in code they both learned in case something goes sideways. Woohyun's voice is quiet but sure, like he can already see the scene in his head. For all their differences during training, their approaches to work are quite similar, so working out a plan is easier than expected.
While he slides the gun into the holster, Sunggyu sneaks a look at Woohyun. He looks focused, checking his own firearm, but Sunggyu can almost taste the nervous energy he exudes. And he wishes it wouldn't, but it makes him jittery as well.
Sunggyu wants to say something, anything, as they stand in the elevator to the lobby, but his throat feels raw and dry and his heart weighs a million tons, so he doesn't. Woohyun squeezes his shoulder two seconds before the doors open. Sunggyu doesn't do anything. He's still so much less, doesn't know how to be more without spilling his insides and staining the small sprouting bud of their relationship forever red.
As the sun sets over Moscow, Sunggyu watches the street while Woohyun picks the lock for the building's back door. A tap on his shoulder lets him know that they're in, so he checks his weapons and gear one last time and then slips inside behind Woohyun. Behind him, the door falls shut with a quiet finality.
Inside the building, the noise from the main street is drowned out by thick walls and closed windows, but Sunggyu still hopes they won't have to use their guns. That kind of noise is always loud, no matter what, and it makes him flinch every time without fail. He still prefers hand-to-hand and knives.
In front of him, Woohyun is quiet and light on his feet, carefully checking the corners before rounding them. It brings back memories from their shared training, when Sunggyu was trying to trip him up every step of the way just to see him stumble once. He doesn't do that now, periodically turns to watch their back instead.
For an unnerving while, it's awfully silent, the only sound being their quiet footsteps on the wooden floor. Then, behind them, a door clicks open. Sunggyu pulls Woohyun around the next best corner, pulse thundering in his ears as he presses a hand over his partner's mouth, eyes flicking in the direction of the noise to give Woohyun some kind of signal.
Voices drift through the hallway, a man speaking softly, a little girl answering something that ends in a long yawn. Sunggyu's blood runs cold. His gaze finds Woohyun, who stares back at him with the same horror. Outside, the last rays of light slip beneath the horizon.
A few meters away, the door slips shut with a last good night from father to daughter and footsteps leave down the hallway in the opposite direction. Sunggyu's shoulders relax slightly as the noise grows quieter until it eventually disappears behind another door, but his eyes don't leave Woohyun's for even a second, as something dawns on them.
They hadn't been informed that the target has family.
"What if it's not him?", Woohyun whispers, almost frantic, the first words he's spoken in hours.
"Don't kid yourself", Sunggyu spits quietly. "Nobody else lives here. If it's not him, then we're done for anyway."
"Hyung, I can't— I can't kill him if… the girl, that's his—"
"I know", Sunggyu interrupts him harshly, "I fucking know." He runs a hand over his face, sets his eyes on Woohyun again and his ribs feel too tight around his lungs. And Woohyun is so much more, doesn't think of breaking bones and bullets to the heart like he does, Sunggyu realizes. Woohyun's blood runs warm and vibrant through his veins and he shouldn't even be here. Older and more experienced, it's Sunggyu's duty to lead them into cold-blooded murder.
"But we can't fail. It's not an option." He pauses for a moment, swallows. "We don't have to shoot him."
Woohyun stares at him for a few seconds. Then, he rolls his shoulders, takes a deep breath and meets Sunggyu's gaze. "Okay." They're lambs, and he's leading them both to slaughter.
They make their way back in silence, passing the little girl's room, where a soft orange light shines through the space between the door and the floor, until they reach the only other door in the house where light spills through the cracks. Sunggyu looks over his shoulder at Woohyun, who meets his gaze, steady and sure again. All traces of his earlier horror are gone, replaced by the acknowledgement that they have a job to do and that they will do it, no matter the circumstances.
It takes a long time until the light finally clicks off and they can prepare their next move. Sunggyu's heart is in his throat as he slowly unzips his backpack and reaches for the small box he carries inside. Neither of them say a word as he takes the syringe and one of the tiny flasks next to it. Methodically, Sunggyu goes through the motions of disinfecting it and getting the morphine into the syringe. He's practiced this a million times.
Woohyun carefully pushes the door open and Sunggyu steps inside, one hand holding the poison, the other hovering over his gun.
Their target is lying in bed, chest rising and falling peacefully in his sleep. Sunggyu doesn't know what he did to piss the wrong people off. He hopes the daughter will be okay, desperately wishes he could be anywhere else right now. It's only a few steps to the bed and when he pushes the needle into the man's skin, it twinges sharply in his chest.
Sunggyu only remembers to breathe once the building's back door closes behind them and the night air fills their lungs. It's a warm night in June and it feels entirely too cruel for the skies to be clear and the moon to be bright.
They don't talk on the way back to the hotel, don't talk in the elevator, don't talk as they strip off their sweaty clothes. There's no blood on his hands, but Sunggyu scrubs the skin until it's red and raw anyways. They sit on the floor in their dimly-lit hotel room and Sunggyu's insides feel too heavy and big for his body, seconds away from bursting through the skin and spilling onto the floor, but he doesn't know what to do with them, so he presses his palms into his eyes and wills the feeling away.
"I hope the girl will be okay", Woohyun says quietly. Sunggyu nods. "Yeah." His voice cracks on it.
Just before the sun begins to rise, Sunggyu leaves to destroy the evidence. He hasn't slept. When he comes back, Woohyun is still on the same stop on his side of the bed. Sunggyu wants to shake him and shout at him, asking what the fuck is wrong with him that he can sleep so peacefully after everything. He lies down next to Woohyun, flat on his back and doesn't make a sound. Next to him, the younger still exudes that damning warmth.
A week after their return to Seoul, they're called to the headquarters. They haven't talked or seen each other. Sunggyu has been tailing a new target for three days now, a long-term mission. It's draining, robs him of time to sleep, eat, shower properly. He knows his hair is greasy when he sits down on the black couch next to Woohyun. There had been no further information on the notice, just a time and date and a room number. They don't know why they're here, but Sunggyu has a guess.
A woman walks in, heels clicking on the wooden floor, and slams down a Russian newspaper in front of them. Panic rising in his chest, Sunggyu scans it for the name of their target or anything that would complicate matters for them. He finds nothing.
"Good job", she says, her tone even and void of emotion. "We expected this to make headlines, with the daughter and everything."
Apparently, they'd been left in the dark on purpose. Next to him, Woohyun looks like he wants to say something, so Sunggyu squeezes his elbow. The other man swallows it down, the why and he feels the question burn in his own throat.
"You can expect more duo missions", she smoothly continues, her eyes looking right through them. "You are dismissed."
Sunggyu stands and bows, Woohyun follows.
He turns to leave as soon as they're out of the room, but Woohyun pulls him in the opposite direction to the bathroom where he crowds Sunggyu into one of the stalls. He lets him, goes easily even, watches in quiet curiosity as Woohyun turns the lock.
"I have something for you", the younger says quietly, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket. He takes out a small brown package, long and thin, and holds it out for Sunggyu to take.
It's light in his hands as Sunggyu unwraps it, the handle coming into view first, followed by a sleek, silvery blade. The metal catches the cold bathroom light as he tilts it, glinting sharply. Sunggyu runs a finger along the dull edge, grips it properly, testing how it feels in his grip. He catches his own reflection in the blade, dark eyes staring back at him.
"Do you think I'm a bad person?", he asks. "For killing that man."
Woohyun looks at him, considering his words. "You didn't have a choice. If you didn't— if we didn't do it, they would've.. we'd be sent to one of the factories down South and we'd never— I'd never see you again." The words rush out in fast, violent stream and for a moment, it looks like Woohyun will try and pick them up from the floor, shove them back down his throat.
It's so selfish that it burns the air in Sunggyu's lungs and claws at the soft skin over his stomach and he finds himself staring at Woohyun with widened eyes flicking over the younger man's face, half-shadowed by the light above. His cheekbones and nose look more prominent like that. Sunggyu thinks about tapping his fingers along the edge. "You didn't have a choice, hyung", Woohyun repeats, stronger now. "His fate was sealed."
Sealed. The word loosens something in his chest, something deep-seated and so primal, that it travels through his whole body before landing in the back of this throat, where it latches on to the roof of his mouth, thick and heavy. It wasn't ever about Woohyun's scrawny shoulders or his loud words. He makes Sunggyu hope to become someone who isn't only capable of breaking people's bones. Maybe Sunggyu's fate is sealed too, was set in stone the day he first laid eyes on the other man. Suddenly, there are words sitting at the tip of his tongue. Hope is a dangerous, cruel thing.
There's a fan whirring in the bathroom, but the noise fades into the background as Sunggyu's heart thunders in his ears and his hands clench so hard at his sides that he can feel his bones through the skin. One poke from Woohyun and he'd burst right then and there, his guts and feelings spilling onto the tiled floor in a slick, red mess. Sunggyu would rather the younger have stabbed him with the knife instead of gifting it to him. He swallows the words back down and his throat feels raw and tight.
With stiff fingers, he wraps the knife back into the brown packaging and slides it into his own pocket. "Thank you", he says and it's raspy and entirely too vulnerable. Woohyun gives him a small, private smile. "You're welcome, hyung."
Once, just a few weeks after Woohyun had been added to their training group, Sunggyu had lost a fight against another kid — a rare occasion. He'd never been generally liked, too much of an outsider, so the kid had gone all out even after he'd already thrown Sunggyu to the dusty floor. And Woohyun had been there, as well as everyone else, watching from the sidelines.
When it had finally been over and all Sunggyu had been left with was a ringing in his ears and the feeling of bruises blooming all over his body, Woohyun had walked up to him with a bottle of water and the first aid kit. Initially, Sunggyu had wanted to protest as the new kid started wiping away the blood on his skin, but the disinfectant's sharp sting had shut him up.
"Thanks", he'd said after, raspy and too vulnerable and Woohyun hadn't said anything. But he'd given Sunggyu the same small, private smile, like there was a joke that only the two of them were in on.
When he returns home after too many hours of tailing the same guy at some uneven hour in the early morning, there's another brown paper bag hanging on Sunggyu's door. It reminds him of the words spoken in that cold office days ago and the possibility, the hope, that he'll see Woohyun again soon lifts a weight off Sunggyu's chest. His heart carefully flutters underneath his ribs, wings tender and small, but it's dangerous all the same.