For yunho
Title: Neverland
Pairing: Rain/Joon
Rating: PG
Summary: Changsun is a clone living in Jihoon's apartment. But what is Jihoon's secret?
Notes: I hope you will like this! I was a bit unsure about some things, but I hope the fic turned out good enough.
There’s a photo on Jihoon’s bookshelf - it’s almost hidden behind newer photographs and small objects, and Changsun has to scrape the caked on dirt and dust away with his nails. Jihoon’s obviously in it - a younger, happier Jihoon, with his arms around a shorter person - their face destroyed by the cheap paper.
Changsun isn’t sure what he was expecting, but the picture doesn’t make him feel anything. He opens the frame, and takes out the photo; he slips it into his pocket, and places the frame back amongst the dirty pictures.
“When I was a teenager,” Jihoon says. They’re on the couch, and Changsun can’t help but move closer every time he thinks Jihoon isn’t looking. “I had a friend.”
Changsun wonders what it feels like to be a teenager, but he keeps quiet and shifts a bit closer.
“We were best friends,” Jihoon says. “We were planning to conquer the world, and make lots of money, and grow old together.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and Changsun doesn’t move closer, but he wishes he could - wishes he would cross the invisible line completely. “What happened to him?”
Jihoon shrugs. “He died.”
“Welcome to Quality Laboratories,” Seungho’s voice says, crackling slightly. “This is Seungho speaking.”
“Hyung!” Changsun grins into the phone. “How are you?”
“Are you okay?” Seungho says. Changsun frowns.
“I am,” Changsun says.
“Changsun,” Seungho says, sighing. “You’re only supposed to use this number for emergencies.”
“This is an emergency!” Changsun says, trying to prevent Seungho from hanging up.
He sighs again. “Okay, what do you need? It’s not like I’m working or anything.”
“Of course you’re not,” Changsun says happily. “I’ve never seen you work.”
Seungho hangs up, and Changsun dials the number again.
“Hyung,” he says, and he can almost hear Seungho rolling his eyes.
“It’s serious,” Changsun says. “I’m hungry.”
“Can’t you order something?” Seungho says, and Changsun knows he’s just about to hang up again.
“Jihoon isn’t home,” Changsun says quickly. “And he didn’t leave any money. I don’t know how to cook!”
“So why are you calling me,” Seungho sighs into the phone.
“Isn’t it obvious,” Changsun says. “You eat a lot. You have to be able to cook.”
Seungho hangs up again.
When Jihoon comes home, the kitchen is very, very wet, and there’s a burnt smell in the air.
Changsun meets him in the door, proudly holding a plate with a very soaked, and very burnt bacon sandwich.
“Your friend,” Changsun says later when they’re done cleaning up the kitchen, and they’re relaxing on the couch. “Your teenage friend. What was his name?”
Jihoon looks away from his book, and studies Changsun for a long time, and Changsun is about to say he doesn’t have to answer. Jihoon makes him feel like that a lot of the time - as if he’s supposed to know the answer, like Jihoon’s just waiting for him to remember.
“Joon,” he says then, but Changsun can see the reluctance on his face. “Lee Joon.”
Changsun falls silent again, burrowing into his pile of cushions, wishing he could be closer to Jihoon. “My name is Lee.”
“I know,” Jihoon says, and Changsun can’t help but smile.
Changsun has his own room in Jihoon’s apartment, and with it comes a bed - it’s soft and the covers are warm, and there are more pillows than he had had at the laboratories. It’s everything Changsun never knew a bed could be like.
His bed at the laboratories had been an old, rickety bunk bed, the mattress well-used and lumpy, and the pillow had been used until it was flat.
His room had been a giant concrete chamber with several other bunk beds filled with other clones. They were all male - Changsun had grown up with rumours about female clones, and he knew them to be true - he had seen clones with body mass in all the wrong places.
He had asked Seungho once why they were kept separated, and he had answered with a cocked eyebrow - that they didn’t want any funny business.
Changsun didn’t know what Seungho had meant by that, but when Changsun had been too cold or lonely at night, he had used to sneak into Cheolyong’s bed. Or Cheolyong would sneak into Changsun’s.
Maybe that was what Seungho had meant.
Changsun’s bed in Jihoon’s apartment is warm and soft, but hugging one of the many pillows don’t make him feel any less alone.
Jihoon’s room is slightly bigger than Changsun’s, and it’s full of clothes and photos and books, and it’s much more homely than Changsun’s, even in the dark. Jihoon’s bed is against one of the walls, and Changsun can hear him breathing underneath the fluffy cover.
He sits down on the foot of Jihoon’s bed, making sure not to wake Jihoon up, or touch him, and he sits there, watching Jihoon sleep, feeling the gnawing in his chest slowly come to an end.
It’s light outside when Changsun wakes up, and the cover is carefully tucked around him, and with a quick glance, he notices that Jihoon is no longer in the room, and with a pounding heart he gets up to search for Jihoon.
He finds him sitting at the breakfast table, wearing dress pants and a shirt as usual - the jacket’s hanging on the chair behind him. His tie is hanging around his neck, the ends dangling dangerously close to his sandwich. He usually doesn’t tie it until minutes before he has to leave.
Changsun slides down in the chair opposite of him, trying to fight the blush threatening to take over. He silently takes one of the bagels from the bread basket in the middle of the table, and picks crumbs out of it.
“Slept well?” Jihoon asks with an amused smile. He looks up from his paper, mirth dancing in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Changsun grimaces. “I usually wake up before you.”
“Before me?” Jihoon says, and Changsun blushes harder when he realizes his mistake. “Have you done this before?”
Changsun shrugs awkwardly. There’s nothing he can say to make it less embarrassing.
“Hyung,” Changsun says when Seungho picks up, Seungho sighs deeply, making the static crackle in Changsun’s ear, but he doesn’t hang up.
“I’m assuming there’s no emergency?” Seungho says. “Not a real one, anyway?”
“You can’t just assume that,” Changsun protests, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Well, is there?” Seungho says.
“No,” Changsun says. “I’m bored. And I know you like me. Like talking to me, at least.”
“I have no idea where you got that from,” Seungho says, and Changsun snorts at his tone. “What do you need this time?”
“It’s not really anything,” Changsun says.
“Then can I hang up?”
“No,” Changsun says. “I have a question.”
He bites his lips, trying to think of how to put words to his thoughts. “Why did you hand me over to Jihoon?”
“Why?” Seungho asks, suddenly alert. “Has he done anything?”
“No!” Changsun protests, not really knowing what Seungho is asking. “Just… Why him?”
Seungho sighs again, and doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Changsun is scratching at the dirty residue on the table, trying to feel less nervous than he is.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Seungho says quietly. “It’s sort of an unwritten rule, thought someone might have added it to the official set of rules since the last time I checked.”
“Tell me,” Changsun says, and he can’t resist whining just a little bit
“Well,” Seungho begins. “We don’t hand over clones to just anyone. The clones and the caretakers have to… connect.”
“Connect in what way?” Changsun asks, frowning. “They have to like each other?”
“Changsun,” Seungho groans. “I’ve already told you more than I should.”
“Please?”
“No,” Seungho says. “Figure it out on your own.”
Jihoon only has one friend that regularly comes over. Her name is Lee Hyori, and her hair is always smooth, and even though she sometimes wears makeup (something Changsun hasn’t gotten used to yet), and she’s almost always dressed in what looks like really expensive clothes.
“Ah,” she says the first time they meet, and Changsun would’ve been scared of her chilly attitude, if she hadn’t smiled then, and pulled him into a too familiar hug. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Changsun usually doesn’t look at the dirty picture frames with Jihoon’s old memories - it’s in Jihoon’s bedroom, and even though he sometimes still sleep at Jihoon’s feet, he’s afraid that the older man will know that he spends most of his days inside Jihoon’s room. Jihoon is working.
Jihoon doesn’t need to know.
There’s a photo on the shelf - Changsun had looked at it before, but that was before he met Hyori, and he goes to stand in front of it, recognizing a much younger Jihoon and Hyori - Jihoon’s wearing some sort of loose pants and a sweater that’s lost its colour as the photo grows older, and Hyori is dressed in tight jeans, and a hoodie, and she looks so different to the Hyori Changsun has gotten to know.
There’s a third person in the photograph, and even though the guy’s face has been carefully burnt away, Changsun is sure it’s the same person that’s in the picture he stole.
It’s completely dark outside when Changsun quietly makes his way into Jihoon’s bedroom. He almost expected the door to be locked, but it easily slides open, and he slips inside, mindful of the creaking floor boards.
Jihoon’s sleeping - Changsun can hear his slow, steady breathing, and he sighs in relief, as he inches forward towards Jihoon, intending to sleep at the older man’s feet until the dull ache in his chest has stopped.
Just as he sits down on the bed, Jihoon mumbles something and turns on the bed, facing Changsun, and Changsun freezes, his heart in his throat. Please don’t wake up, he thinks quickly. Please don’t make this any worse than it already is.
Jihoon doesn’t wake up, but a hand shoots out from underneath the covers, and grabs one of Changsun’s wrists, pulling him towards Changsun.
“Jihoon?” Changsun whispers. “Are you awake?”
Jihoon doesn’t say anything at first, but then he pulls harder on Changsun’s wrist, and Changsun curses softly to himself as he follows, and lies down next to Jihoon, not daring to relax.
“Go to sleep, Joon,” Jihoon mumbles sleepily, and Changsun’s breath catches in his lungs. Joon?
It takes the better part of an hour, but when Changsun find the last photograph of a young Jihoon hidden inside a dictionary (between damsel and dapple), the small pile of photos on the kitchen table is considerably larger than he thought it would be.
In some of the photos, Jihoon is smiling and laughing, and his arms are more often than not thrown around the man Changsun’s sure is Joon. Hyori is even in a few of the pictures, and she looks younger than Changsun has ever seen her.
In all of the photos, Joon’s face is destroyed.
“Hello?” Hyori’s voice says, and she manages to sound strong and confident even through the phone.
“Jihoon?”
“It’s me,” Changsun says, wincing as he says it, because Hyori most likely doesn’t recognize him by the voice only. “Changsun?”
“Hi, Changsun,” Hyori say with a laugh.”How are you?”
“I’m good,” he says. “Noona? I was wondering if I could ask you something?”
“Don’t call me that,” Hyori says with whine, and Changsun can just imagine her pouting. “But go ahead.”
“Could you…” Changsun starts, and stops himself, biting his lips for a moment, wondering if he really should ask her. “Could you tell me about Joon?”
Hyori falls silent, and Changsun counts his shaking breaths. “What do you want to know?”
There’s a final photograph hidden deep inside Jihoon’s bedside drawer, just like Hyori promised, and Changsun pulls it out, holding his breath as his heart is beating fast. He concentrates on Jihoon’s serious face, his combed hair, his expensive clothes, and how he’s sitting so confident in that chair.
Changsun tries not to stare at his companion’s face, but as he looks at the clothes and the shoes, and the hand that’s gripping Jihoon’s so tightly, Changsun’s eyes flicks up to study the stranger’s face.
He doesn’t move from his spot next to the bed.
“Changsun?” Jihoon’s voice echoes through the apartment. He’s used to being greeted by the door by a lonely and hungry Changsun. Jihoon tries to not compare Changsun to a dog, but it’s difficult when the thinks of the younger man’s happy mood, and twinkling eyes, and his preference to sleep at the foot of Jihoon’s bed.
Changsun doesn’t answer him, and Jihoon suppresses the fear he knows is irrational. Changsun knows better than to leave the apartment, especially without telling Jihoon, and the door was locked from the outside - Changsun doesn’t have a key.
“Changsun?” Jihoon calls again, worried, and he kicks off his shoes, and hangs his coat on its hanger, trying to pretend he’s not hurrying.
His instincts tell him to go to his bedroom, and he obeys them, striding towards the open door, stopping abruptly at the sight of Changsun next to his bed. Jihoon can’t see what Changsun’s doing, but he has his suspicions, and as he walks closer, he knows they are right.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Changsun says quietly, and Jihoon slides down onto the floor next to him, leaning his elbows on his knees. He combs an agitated hand through his hair, and sighs.
“The laboratories told me it wasn’t a good idea,” Jihoon says.
“Would you have told me if they hadn’t said anything?” Changsun bites out, bitter, and Jihoon twitches at the concealed anger.
“No,” Jihoon whispers, and Changsun turns around to stare at him with flushed cheeks angry tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t do that to you.”
“To me?” Changsun laughs. “I think you were just trying to protect yourself.”
Jihoon nods in agreement, and looks away from Changsun’s eyes - he understands why Changsun’s angry, and he feels guilty.
“Why did you take me in if you hated him, me, so much?”
“I don’t hate you,” Jihoon sighs. “I never could. If I hadn’t let you live here, they would’ve gotten rid of you in some other way, and I can promise you it wouldn’t have been better than ending up here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Changsun says, and Jihoon can see he’s telling the truth.
“You don’t think you’re the first clone of Joon they made?” Jihoon smiles sadly. “They’re only letting you go because they’ve done all they can to you. Or well, versions of you.”
“So why did you take me in?” Changsun says, and rubs his face with the end of his sleeves. “Why didn’t you just let me…”
“I didn’t know they had been making clones until they contacted me,” Jihoon says quietly. “And I couldn’t let you go once they told me what would happen to you. I couldn’t take it, knowing you would die even when I could stop it.”
“Will you throw me out now that I know the truth?” Changsun says with a whisper.
“Never,” Jihoon smiles, and his hand closes around Changsun’s.
Pairing: Rain/Joon
Rating: PG
Summary: Changsun is a clone living in Jihoon's apartment. But what is Jihoon's secret?
Notes: I hope you will like this! I was a bit unsure about some things, but I hope the fic turned out good enough.
There’s a photo on Jihoon’s bookshelf - it’s almost hidden behind newer photographs and small objects, and Changsun has to scrape the caked on dirt and dust away with his nails. Jihoon’s obviously in it - a younger, happier Jihoon, with his arms around a shorter person - their face destroyed by the cheap paper.
Changsun isn’t sure what he was expecting, but the picture doesn’t make him feel anything. He opens the frame, and takes out the photo; he slips it into his pocket, and places the frame back amongst the dirty pictures.
“When I was a teenager,” Jihoon says. They’re on the couch, and Changsun can’t help but move closer every time he thinks Jihoon isn’t looking. “I had a friend.”
Changsun wonders what it feels like to be a teenager, but he keeps quiet and shifts a bit closer.
“We were best friends,” Jihoon says. “We were planning to conquer the world, and make lots of money, and grow old together.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and Changsun doesn’t move closer, but he wishes he could - wishes he would cross the invisible line completely. “What happened to him?”
Jihoon shrugs. “He died.”
“Welcome to Quality Laboratories,” Seungho’s voice says, crackling slightly. “This is Seungho speaking.”
“Hyung!” Changsun grins into the phone. “How are you?”
“Are you okay?” Seungho says. Changsun frowns.
“I am,” Changsun says.
“Changsun,” Seungho says, sighing. “You’re only supposed to use this number for emergencies.”
“This is an emergency!” Changsun says, trying to prevent Seungho from hanging up.
He sighs again. “Okay, what do you need? It’s not like I’m working or anything.”
“Of course you’re not,” Changsun says happily. “I’ve never seen you work.”
Seungho hangs up, and Changsun dials the number again.
“Hyung,” he says, and he can almost hear Seungho rolling his eyes.
“It’s serious,” Changsun says. “I’m hungry.”
“Can’t you order something?” Seungho says, and Changsun knows he’s just about to hang up again.
“Jihoon isn’t home,” Changsun says quickly. “And he didn’t leave any money. I don’t know how to cook!”
“So why are you calling me,” Seungho sighs into the phone.
“Isn’t it obvious,” Changsun says. “You eat a lot. You have to be able to cook.”
Seungho hangs up again.
When Jihoon comes home, the kitchen is very, very wet, and there’s a burnt smell in the air.
Changsun meets him in the door, proudly holding a plate with a very soaked, and very burnt bacon sandwich.
“Your friend,” Changsun says later when they’re done cleaning up the kitchen, and they’re relaxing on the couch. “Your teenage friend. What was his name?”
Jihoon looks away from his book, and studies Changsun for a long time, and Changsun is about to say he doesn’t have to answer. Jihoon makes him feel like that a lot of the time - as if he’s supposed to know the answer, like Jihoon’s just waiting for him to remember.
“Joon,” he says then, but Changsun can see the reluctance on his face. “Lee Joon.”
Changsun falls silent again, burrowing into his pile of cushions, wishing he could be closer to Jihoon. “My name is Lee.”
“I know,” Jihoon says, and Changsun can’t help but smile.
Changsun has his own room in Jihoon’s apartment, and with it comes a bed - it’s soft and the covers are warm, and there are more pillows than he had had at the laboratories. It’s everything Changsun never knew a bed could be like.
His bed at the laboratories had been an old, rickety bunk bed, the mattress well-used and lumpy, and the pillow had been used until it was flat.
His room had been a giant concrete chamber with several other bunk beds filled with other clones. They were all male - Changsun had grown up with rumours about female clones, and he knew them to be true - he had seen clones with body mass in all the wrong places.
He had asked Seungho once why they were kept separated, and he had answered with a cocked eyebrow - that they didn’t want any funny business.
Changsun didn’t know what Seungho had meant by that, but when Changsun had been too cold or lonely at night, he had used to sneak into Cheolyong’s bed. Or Cheolyong would sneak into Changsun’s.
Maybe that was what Seungho had meant.
Changsun’s bed in Jihoon’s apartment is warm and soft, but hugging one of the many pillows don’t make him feel any less alone.
Jihoon’s room is slightly bigger than Changsun’s, and it’s full of clothes and photos and books, and it’s much more homely than Changsun’s, even in the dark. Jihoon’s bed is against one of the walls, and Changsun can hear him breathing underneath the fluffy cover.
He sits down on the foot of Jihoon’s bed, making sure not to wake Jihoon up, or touch him, and he sits there, watching Jihoon sleep, feeling the gnawing in his chest slowly come to an end.
It’s light outside when Changsun wakes up, and the cover is carefully tucked around him, and with a quick glance, he notices that Jihoon is no longer in the room, and with a pounding heart he gets up to search for Jihoon.
He finds him sitting at the breakfast table, wearing dress pants and a shirt as usual - the jacket’s hanging on the chair behind him. His tie is hanging around his neck, the ends dangling dangerously close to his sandwich. He usually doesn’t tie it until minutes before he has to leave.
Changsun slides down in the chair opposite of him, trying to fight the blush threatening to take over. He silently takes one of the bagels from the bread basket in the middle of the table, and picks crumbs out of it.
“Slept well?” Jihoon asks with an amused smile. He looks up from his paper, mirth dancing in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Changsun grimaces. “I usually wake up before you.”
“Before me?” Jihoon says, and Changsun blushes harder when he realizes his mistake. “Have you done this before?”
Changsun shrugs awkwardly. There’s nothing he can say to make it less embarrassing.
“Hyung,” Changsun says when Seungho picks up, Seungho sighs deeply, making the static crackle in Changsun’s ear, but he doesn’t hang up.
“I’m assuming there’s no emergency?” Seungho says. “Not a real one, anyway?”
“You can’t just assume that,” Changsun protests, his eyebrows furrowing.
“Well, is there?” Seungho says.
“No,” Changsun says. “I’m bored. And I know you like me. Like talking to me, at least.”
“I have no idea where you got that from,” Seungho says, and Changsun snorts at his tone. “What do you need this time?”
“It’s not really anything,” Changsun says.
“Then can I hang up?”
“No,” Changsun says. “I have a question.”
He bites his lips, trying to think of how to put words to his thoughts. “Why did you hand me over to Jihoon?”
“Why?” Seungho asks, suddenly alert. “Has he done anything?”
“No!” Changsun protests, not really knowing what Seungho is asking. “Just… Why him?”
Seungho sighs again, and doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Changsun is scratching at the dirty residue on the table, trying to feel less nervous than he is.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Seungho says quietly. “It’s sort of an unwritten rule, thought someone might have added it to the official set of rules since the last time I checked.”
“Tell me,” Changsun says, and he can’t resist whining just a little bit
“Well,” Seungho begins. “We don’t hand over clones to just anyone. The clones and the caretakers have to… connect.”
“Connect in what way?” Changsun asks, frowning. “They have to like each other?”
“Changsun,” Seungho groans. “I’ve already told you more than I should.”
“Please?”
“No,” Seungho says. “Figure it out on your own.”
Jihoon only has one friend that regularly comes over. Her name is Lee Hyori, and her hair is always smooth, and even though she sometimes wears makeup (something Changsun hasn’t gotten used to yet), and she’s almost always dressed in what looks like really expensive clothes.
“Ah,” she says the first time they meet, and Changsun would’ve been scared of her chilly attitude, if she hadn’t smiled then, and pulled him into a too familiar hug. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Changsun usually doesn’t look at the dirty picture frames with Jihoon’s old memories - it’s in Jihoon’s bedroom, and even though he sometimes still sleep at Jihoon’s feet, he’s afraid that the older man will know that he spends most of his days inside Jihoon’s room. Jihoon is working.
Jihoon doesn’t need to know.
There’s a photo on the shelf - Changsun had looked at it before, but that was before he met Hyori, and he goes to stand in front of it, recognizing a much younger Jihoon and Hyori - Jihoon’s wearing some sort of loose pants and a sweater that’s lost its colour as the photo grows older, and Hyori is dressed in tight jeans, and a hoodie, and she looks so different to the Hyori Changsun has gotten to know.
There’s a third person in the photograph, and even though the guy’s face has been carefully burnt away, Changsun is sure it’s the same person that’s in the picture he stole.
It’s completely dark outside when Changsun quietly makes his way into Jihoon’s bedroom. He almost expected the door to be locked, but it easily slides open, and he slips inside, mindful of the creaking floor boards.
Jihoon’s sleeping - Changsun can hear his slow, steady breathing, and he sighs in relief, as he inches forward towards Jihoon, intending to sleep at the older man’s feet until the dull ache in his chest has stopped.
Just as he sits down on the bed, Jihoon mumbles something and turns on the bed, facing Changsun, and Changsun freezes, his heart in his throat. Please don’t wake up, he thinks quickly. Please don’t make this any worse than it already is.
Jihoon doesn’t wake up, but a hand shoots out from underneath the covers, and grabs one of Changsun’s wrists, pulling him towards Changsun.
“Jihoon?” Changsun whispers. “Are you awake?”
Jihoon doesn’t say anything at first, but then he pulls harder on Changsun’s wrist, and Changsun curses softly to himself as he follows, and lies down next to Jihoon, not daring to relax.
“Go to sleep, Joon,” Jihoon mumbles sleepily, and Changsun’s breath catches in his lungs. Joon?
It takes the better part of an hour, but when Changsun find the last photograph of a young Jihoon hidden inside a dictionary (between damsel and dapple), the small pile of photos on the kitchen table is considerably larger than he thought it would be.
In some of the photos, Jihoon is smiling and laughing, and his arms are more often than not thrown around the man Changsun’s sure is Joon. Hyori is even in a few of the pictures, and she looks younger than Changsun has ever seen her.
In all of the photos, Joon’s face is destroyed.
“Hello?” Hyori’s voice says, and she manages to sound strong and confident even through the phone.
“Jihoon?”
“It’s me,” Changsun says, wincing as he says it, because Hyori most likely doesn’t recognize him by the voice only. “Changsun?”
“Hi, Changsun,” Hyori say with a laugh.”How are you?”
“I’m good,” he says. “Noona? I was wondering if I could ask you something?”
“Don’t call me that,” Hyori says with whine, and Changsun can just imagine her pouting. “But go ahead.”
“Could you…” Changsun starts, and stops himself, biting his lips for a moment, wondering if he really should ask her. “Could you tell me about Joon?”
Hyori falls silent, and Changsun counts his shaking breaths. “What do you want to know?”
There’s a final photograph hidden deep inside Jihoon’s bedside drawer, just like Hyori promised, and Changsun pulls it out, holding his breath as his heart is beating fast. He concentrates on Jihoon’s serious face, his combed hair, his expensive clothes, and how he’s sitting so confident in that chair.
Changsun tries not to stare at his companion’s face, but as he looks at the clothes and the shoes, and the hand that’s gripping Jihoon’s so tightly, Changsun’s eyes flicks up to study the stranger’s face.
He doesn’t move from his spot next to the bed.
“Changsun?” Jihoon’s voice echoes through the apartment. He’s used to being greeted by the door by a lonely and hungry Changsun. Jihoon tries to not compare Changsun to a dog, but it’s difficult when the thinks of the younger man’s happy mood, and twinkling eyes, and his preference to sleep at the foot of Jihoon’s bed.
Changsun doesn’t answer him, and Jihoon suppresses the fear he knows is irrational. Changsun knows better than to leave the apartment, especially without telling Jihoon, and the door was locked from the outside - Changsun doesn’t have a key.
“Changsun?” Jihoon calls again, worried, and he kicks off his shoes, and hangs his coat on its hanger, trying to pretend he’s not hurrying.
His instincts tell him to go to his bedroom, and he obeys them, striding towards the open door, stopping abruptly at the sight of Changsun next to his bed. Jihoon can’t see what Changsun’s doing, but he has his suspicions, and as he walks closer, he knows they are right.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Changsun says quietly, and Jihoon slides down onto the floor next to him, leaning his elbows on his knees. He combs an agitated hand through his hair, and sighs.
“The laboratories told me it wasn’t a good idea,” Jihoon says.
“Would you have told me if they hadn’t said anything?” Changsun bites out, bitter, and Jihoon twitches at the concealed anger.
“No,” Jihoon whispers, and Changsun turns around to stare at him with flushed cheeks angry tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t do that to you.”
“To me?” Changsun laughs. “I think you were just trying to protect yourself.”
Jihoon nods in agreement, and looks away from Changsun’s eyes - he understands why Changsun’s angry, and he feels guilty.
“Why did you take me in if you hated him, me, so much?”
“I don’t hate you,” Jihoon sighs. “I never could. If I hadn’t let you live here, they would’ve gotten rid of you in some other way, and I can promise you it wouldn’t have been better than ending up here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Changsun says, and Jihoon can see he’s telling the truth.
“You don’t think you’re the first clone of Joon they made?” Jihoon smiles sadly. “They’re only letting you go because they’ve done all they can to you. Or well, versions of you.”
“So why did you take me in?” Changsun says, and rubs his face with the end of his sleeves. “Why didn’t you just let me…”
“I didn’t know they had been making clones until they contacted me,” Jihoon says quietly. “And I couldn’t let you go once they told me what would happen to you. I couldn’t take it, knowing you would die even when I could stop it.”
“Will you throw me out now that I know the truth?” Changsun says with a whisper.
“Never,” Jihoon smiles, and his hand closes around Changsun’s.