"I thought your eyes looked sad."

Wooyoung's face went completely still.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Wooyoung whispered.

"What?"

San looked toward the street.

"We need to leave."

"You just told me you were going to kill me."

"I know."

"And now you're telling me to come with you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

San looked at him.

The answer was there.

Terrifyingly simple.

"Because I couldn't."

They ran.

San took Wooyoung through alleys, underground parking garages, stairwells, places where cameras couldn't see them.

Wooyoung followed.

At first because he had no choice.

Then because he trusted San enough to keep moving.

That frightened San more than anything.

At one point Wooyoung stumbled.

San caught his wrist.

"Careful."

Wooyoung looked down at San's hand.

Then up at his face.

"You really were going to shoot me."

San released him.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know."

Wooyoung gave a breathless laugh.

"You don't know?"

"No."

"That's not reassuring."

"I know."

They kept walking.

After several minutes, Wooyoung spoke again.

"What's your name?"

San was silent.

"Your real name."

"San."

"Just San?"

"Choi San."

Wooyoung nodded.

"I'm Wooyoung."

"I know."

"Right."

A strange silence followed.

Then Wooyoung said quietly.

"Do you know what I kept thinking while you were aiming at me?"

San glanced at him.

"What?"

"I thought your eyes looked sad."

San stopped walking.

Wooyoung stopped too.

Neither moved.

San looked away.

"You're wrong."

"Maybe."

"Keep moving."

Wooyoung did.

But he smiled faintly.

They hid in an abandoned apartment on the edge of the city.

It had no furniture except a mattress and an old wooden table.

San checked the windows.

The doors.

The hallway.

The locks.

Wooyoung watched him.

"You do this often?"

"Hide?"

"Run."

San paused.

"Yes."

"From people?"

"Usually."

"From yourself?"

San looked at him.

Wooyoung's expression was softer now.

San looked away.

"Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"You almost got shot."

"So did you."

"I'm used to it."

Wooyoung stared at him.

"That's a horrible thing to be used to."

San had no answer.

Wooyoung sat on the mattress.

"Sit."

"I'm fine."

"San."

He looked at him.

"Sit."

Something about the way Wooyoung said his name made obedience feel less like weakness.

San sat.

There was space between them.

A careful distance.

Wooyoung looked at him.

"You really couldn't pull the trigger."

San stared at the floor.

"No."

"Why?"

"I told you."

"You don't know."

"That's right."

Wooyoung smiled sadly.

"Maybe you do."

San looked at him.

Wooyoung's blonde hair was messy now.

There was dust on his cheek.

His lips were dry.

He looked exhausted.

Beautiful.

Human.

San hated the word beautiful.

Because it made everything worse.

Wooyoung reached up and touched his own hair.

"Is it strange?"

"What?"

"My hair."

San blinked.

"No."

"You kept looking at it."

San's face tightened.

"I did not."

"You did."

"No."

"You absolutely did."

San looked away.

Wooyoung smiled.

"I like it."

San sighed.

"You shouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because it makes you noticeable."

Wooyoung's smile faded.

"Maybe that's why they want me dead."

San looked at him sharply.

"What do you mean?"

Wooyoung's eyes dropped.

"I know something."