Chapter Text
The first thing he heard was screaming. Children screaming.
It echoed through a room that was far too big, with gray walls Kenta knew far too well.
He stood in the middle of the training room, the harsh white lights burning his eyes.
One boy was crying near the wall. Another was on his knees, unable to stand back up.
Kenta didn’t move.
The door opened behind him.
Silence fell immediately.
Even the children stopped breathing.
The footsteps were calm, measured.
Tony entered the room as if even the air belonged to him.
His gaze slowly moved over the children before stopping on Kenta.
— You’re hesitating.
Kenta lowered his head.
— No, Father.
Tony stepped closer. His shoes clicked softly against the floor.
— Then why aren’t you moving?
Kenta looked at the boy crying against the wall. He couldn’t have been older than five.
His fist clenched.
— He’s weak, Tony said calmly. Weak people are useless.
Kenta gritted his teeth.
— Yes, Father.
— Then prove it. Punish him.
The screams started again, louder this time, more desperate.
But Kenta couldn’t hear them anymore because Tony placed a hand on his shoulder, and his voice became softer.
— You want to be useful, don’t you?
The world went silent.
— Yes, Father.
Tony tightened his grip, his hand now wrapped around Kenta’s throat, and started laughing. A deep laugh that sank into Kenta’s soul and echoed inside his head and chest.
Kenta woke up with a gasp, unable to breathe.
For a few seconds, he didn’t move in the darkness of the living room. His heart was beating way too fast, as if he had just run a sprint.
The first thing he did was look at the front door.
The lock was still there. The chain too.
He stayed still for another moment, breathing shortly.
No screams.
No training room.
No Tony.
Just the couch, the living room, and the blanket that had fallen onto the floor.
Kenta ran a hand over his face and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. He took a deep breath.
He still wasn’t used to the silence of this apartment, even after four days.
Four days since Pete had brought him here without really asking Kim for permission.
He had simply arrived at the condo with Kenta behind him and said:
“Keep him here for a while.”
Kim had looked at Kenta the same way someone looked at a problem they never asked for, then sighed.
“How long?”
Pete had shrugged.
“Until Tony stops searching everywhere. Or until you leave for Korea.”
Kenta hadn’t said anything.
He also hadn’t said anything when Pete left.
Since then, he had been sleeping on the couch and checking the door every night, just like now. He slowly sat up.
A sharp pain suddenly shot through his skull. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he rubbed his temple.
At that moment, a faint sound came from the hallway, and Kenta immediately lifted his head.
Kim was standing there in the doorway, looking half asleep. His hair was messy, and he was only wearing shorts and a dark t-shirt.
He stared at Kenta for a few seconds.
— Are you trying to wake up the whole building, or was this just a test?
Kenta looked away. He didn’t even remember making noise.
Kim leaned against the wall.
— Nightmares?
Kenta shrugged.
— No.
Kim stayed silent for a moment and didn’t push further.
He simply looked around the living room, the blanket on the floor, Kenta’s still too-fast breathing.
Then he sighed softly.
— If you’re going to check the door every ten minutes, could you at least stop shaking it?
The Japanese man didn’t answer. He had no argument against that.
Kim sighed and turned back toward his bedroom, but before closing the door, he added:
— If someone tries to get in, I think we’ll hear them. Relax, there’s only the two of us here.
He went back inside his room, and silence returned.
Kenta stared at the locked door for a long moment.
Kim was right.
But Tony always found the people hiding from him.
* * *
The next few days were strange in this unwanted shared apartment.
The condo wasn’t even that big, yet Kenta somehow always managed to be exactly where Kim didn’t need him to be.
He occupied the couch like it was a temporary guard post rather than a place to live. The blanket stayed folded in the same spot, rarely used properly, and all his belongings fit inside one bag against the wall.
Kim quickly realized that Kenta wasn’t trying to settle in.
He was just waiting.
In the mornings, Kim usually woke up first. He would walk through the still-dark living room toward the kitchen, turn on the coffee machine, make something simple to eat, then sit at the table for a few minutes.
Kenta stayed motionless on the couch.
Sometimes he pretended to be asleep.
The first time Kim left an extra plate on the table, Kenta didn’t touch it.
The second time, Kenta simply said in a neutral voice:
— I’m not hungry.
Kim hadn’t answered, and since then, he stopped offering.
The two men never shared meals.
Most of the time, Kenta waited until the racer went back to his room before opening the fridge. Kim sometimes heard him in the kitchen late at night, but the noises never lasted long. A water bottle opening. A drawer closing. A few sounds of cutlery.
Eggs. Rice.
He barely ate, and only because he had to.
As the days passed, Kim also noticed that Kenta barely slept. He spent long hours sitting in the dark doing nothing, probably afraid of the nightmares whenever he finally managed to fall asleep.
At first, the nights were always interrupted by the same sounds: the soft click of the lock, the security chain being lifted, the handle shaking during another check, attentive silence behind the door, then everything locking back into place again.
The first night, Kim had gotten up to see what Kenta was doing.
The second night too.
By the third night, he just listened from his room.
After a while, he knew exactly what every sound meant.
Kenta checked the door every night.
Sometimes several times.
As if someone could appear behind it at any moment.
Kim eventually stopped caring. It wasn’t really his problem anyway.
Pete had brought Kenta here when he should have handled it himself.
Still, ever since Kim got up that night after the nightmare and told him nobody was going to come in, Kenta had calmed down a little.
Or at least he had stopped shaking the door.
That was already something.
A few days later, the apartment’s silence broke earlier than usual.
Kim was in his room using his laptop when he heard a muffled sound followed by a sharp breath.
He looked up and stayed still for a few seconds, listening.
The sound came again, followed by unclear words.
Kim sighed and stood up.
When he entered the living room, Kenta was curled up on the couch in the dim light, the blanket half fallen onto the floor, his body trembling slightly.
His face was tense.
He was mumbling something.
— No…
Kim stepped closer.
— Kenta, he whispered.
No reaction.
Kenta’s breathing became even faster.
The room smelled like polished wood and cold tea.
Tony’s office.
The curtains were closed, and the only light came from a lamp sitting on the desk.
Tony was seated behind it, his hands folded together.
Kenta stood in front of him.
Eyes lowered.
— You were useful last night.
His voice was calm.
— Thank you, Father.
Tony placed something on the desk.
A phone.
— The men you were with yesterday are very satisfied.
Kenta didn’t move.
— See?
Tony stood up.
— Even a Beta can be useful.
Tony walked closer. Slow footsteps.
— You should be grateful.
His hand rested on the back of Kenta’s neck.
— I gave you everything. I raised you like a son because nobody else would ever want you.
A smile slowly spread across his grim face.
— I hope you understand everything I’ve done for you, my son. You, who has no special ability, no value.
— Yes, Father.
— Then keep making yourself useful.
Kenta nodded obediently.
Then memories from the night before came back in flashes.
Hands on him.
The way he had been held down.
Forced to bend, literally and figuratively.
What he had been made to do.
The pain too.
He wanted to struggle, to scream…
But no sound came out.
And he wouldn’t have been allowed to anyway.
Kenta frowned in his sleep and twisted slightly.
Back in the living room, Kim was now standing close to the couch.
— Kenta.
Kenta’s breathing was too fast now, almost panicked. His body looked like it was fighting against something Kim couldn’t see.
Kim hesitated for a second before placing a hand on his shoulder and raising his voice:
— Kenta!!
The contact made the Japanese guy flinch violently before he finally woke up. He sat up abruptly, breathing hard.
His breaths stayed uneven for several more seconds.
Kim remained beside the couch but immediately removed his hand from Kenta’s shoulder once those wide eyes opened.
Kim stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. How was he even supposed to calm down an atmosphere this tense?
He took a few steps through the living room, wanting to grab water from the fridge.
Something strange was now floating in the air.
And immediately, Kenta’s shoulders relaxed slightly, almost imperceptibly. A warm feeling slowly spread through his chest. His heartbeat and breathing started slowing down.
Kenta noticed it and instantly tensed again.
He hated this.
He abruptly looked up at Kim.
— Stop.
Kim blinked.
— Stop what?
Kenta clenched his jaw.
He didn’t even know how to explain it.
That calm feeling slipping under his skin without understanding where it came from.
He couldn’t identify it, but it made him angry.
He simply looked away.
— Nothing.
Kim stayed still for another few seconds before lightly shrugging.
Kenta suddenly got up from the couch, grabbed his cigarette pack, and disappeared onto the balcony.
The Korean man watched silently.
— Seriously…
he muttered, slightly annoyed, before going back to his room.
He grabbed his phone and searched for Pete’s number. The ringtone echoed for a few seconds before Pete answered.
— Kim?
Kim ran a hand through his hair.
— Your problem doesn’t eat.
Silence.
— Sorry?
— Kenta.
Kim sat back down at his desk.
— He barely sleeps, and he eats even less.
Pete didn’t answer immediately.
Kim added:
— If he keeps going like this, he’s going to pass out in my living room.
A sigh came through the phone.
— Still having nightmares?
Kim instinctively moved his computer mouse to wake up the screen that had gone dark.
— Yeah.
Pete stayed silent for a moment.
Then he said:
— I’ll come tomorrow.
Kim hung up after nodding slightly, his fingers still wrapped around the phone, while outside on the balcony, cigarette in hand, Kenta stayed motionless, his breathing still heavy but already more stable.
* * *
The next morning came quickly. Kim had already been awake for a long time.
He hadn’t slept particularly badly, but sleep had faded much earlier than usual, chased away by the memories of last night’s tension. The scene kept coming back to him in fragments.
The nightmare.
Kenta’s breathing.
And that strange reaction.
But the racer never spent too much time thinking about things like that. He had learned a long time ago that most problems eventually disappeared on their own when people stopped giving them too much attention.
In the kitchen, the coffee machine let out a soft noise as he placed a cup on the counter. The movement was slow, almost automatic. By the time he walked into the living room with the still steaming cup in his hand, Kenta was already awake.
He sat motionless at the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees.
Kim stopped for a second.
The morning light easily revealed what he had only half noticed until now: the dark circles under Kenta’s eyes, the constant tension in his shoulders, and that strange paleness that had settled across his face over the past few days.
He probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
Maybe even longer.
Kim brought the cup to his lips without taking his eyes off him.
— Pete’s coming today.
Kenta didn’t move.
For a few seconds, Kim even thought he hadn’t heard him.
Then Kenta’s shoulders stiffened slightly.
— Why?
His voice was low.
Kim shrugged indifferently.
— I told him you looked like you were about to collapse. And that you weren’t eating anything.
The silence that followed lasted just long enough for the tension to become noticeable.
Kenta slowly straightened up.
— I didn’t ask for that.
Kim set his cup down on the table.
— And I didn’t ask for you to live here.
Their eyes met briefly.
Not really anger. Not resentment either.
Just two men who had no reason to trust each other.
Kenta looked away first.
He stood up without another word and walked toward the kitchen, but his movements were strangely hesitant, as if his body refused to follow the rhythm his mind was trying to force onto it.
Kim watched silently without interfering.
The fridge opened.
A bottle of water. Nothing else.
Kenta closed it almost immediately.
— You could at least eat something.
The words came out before Kim even knew if he really wanted to say them.
Kenta stayed still for a few seconds before answering simply:
— I’m not hungry.
The Korean man sighed in frustration, picked up his cup, and sat down in the chair near the window.
The apartment fell silent again.
It didn’t take long before Kim noticed something else.
Kenta had leaned against the counter. At first, the gesture looked harmless.
But his fingers stayed tightly curled around the edge of the furniture, and his gaze had lost the steady focus it usually carried, as if the room was slightly spinning around him.
Kim set his cup down.
— Hey.
Kenta didn’t answer.
His shoulders trembled faintly.
Then his hand slipped, and Kenta staggered.
Kim stood up immediately.
He barely had time to grab Kenta by the arm before he collapsed.
The contact was brief, but Kenta immediately tried to pull away.
— Let go of me.
Kim frowned.
There wasn’t much strength behind the attempt.
He didn’t let go right away.
Kenta’s breathing was short and uneven, and a strange tension ran through his muscles as if his body was fighting against something.
Then Kenta yanked his arm away sharply.
— I said let go.
Kim stepped back and didn’t push further. But his eyes stayed fixed on him, more attentive than before.
Something was wrong.
And that something probably had nothing to do with simple lack of sleep.
The silence stretched for another few minutes.
Then someone rang the doorbell.
Kenta froze instantly, his eyes locking onto the entrance with almost animal-like intensity.
Kim simply crossed the living room.
— Calm down.
A few moments later, Pete was standing in the doorway.
— How bad is he?
Kim stepped aside slightly to let him in.
— See for yourself.
Pete’s gaze quickly moved from Kim to Kenta, and he understood almost immediately.
In the kitchen, Kenta was still leaning against the counter.
And when he looked up at Pete, something in his eyes seemed caught between distrust and exhaustion too deep to hide.
Pete slowly walked closer.
— Kenta.
The answer took a few seconds to come.
— I’m fine.
Pete sighed softly.
— Yeah.
He paused.
— It really shows.
Kim watched the scene in silence. Still, he had the very clear feeling that the story between them was probably far more complicated than Pete had ever told him.
Pete studied Kenta quietly, taking in his overly pale face, his tense shoulders, and the way he kept leaning against the counter as if his body simply refused to stay standing any longer.
— How long have you been like this? Pete asked calmly.
— I’m fine.
The answer came immediately, almost mechanical.
Pete set his bag on the table and opened it without arguing further. He pulled out a small medical kit whose contents clearly seemed familiar to him.
Kim watched with his arms crossed.
— Sit down, Kenta.
Kenta didn’t move.
Pete looked up at him with quiet patience.
— Sit down.
This time, there was something different in his voice. Not a threat. But something that didn’t really leave room for refusal.
Pete would never use his Enigma abilities on the people close to him, but it was obvious those instincts still influenced everything he did, even unconsciously.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Kenta finally sat down on the nearest chair, his movements slow and unsteady.
Pete stepped closer and gently grabbed his wrist to check his pulse. The contact was brief, but his expression darkened slightly. He checked Kenta’s eyes, his reaction time, and a few other signs.
— You’re dehydrated… and exhausted.
Kenta looked away.
Pete then pulled out an IV bag and started preparing everything with precise movements.
Kim frowned slightly.
— Do you always carry that around?
— With some of my friends, yeah. I’m not a doctor, but I work in a lab after all.
He quickly found a vein and inserted the needle with the ease of someone used to doing it. Kenta didn’t complain. He simply stayed still, eyes fixed on the table.
The clear liquid slowly began flowing through the tube.
Pete watched the IV for a few seconds before stepping back.
— This should already help.
Kim leaned against the living room wall.
— He almost passed out.
Pete nodded.
— I’m not surprised.
Silence settled over the room again. The only sound left was the soft dripping of the IV.
Then Pete turned toward Kim.
— He stays here.
Kim raised an eyebrow.
— Wasn’t that already the plan?
— Yeah.
Pete briefly glanced at Kenta before adding more quietly:
— It’s still the safest place for him.
Tony’s name hadn’t been spoken, but it lingered in the room like a familiar shadow.
Kenta didn’t react.
Pete closed the medical kit and slipped it back into his bag.
— I’ll come back in a few days.
Kim crossed his arms.
— And if he starts collapsing again?
Pete allowed himself a faint smile.
— Then you call me. If it gets worse, I’ll send an actual doctor from my lab. Someone trustworthy.
He briefly placed a hand on Kenta’s shoulder before leaving the kitchen.
— Get some rest.
Kenta didn’t answer.
A few minutes later, the front door closed behind Pete, and the apartment returned to its usual silence.
The IV took a little while to work, but Kim gradually noticed Kenta’s breathing becoming steadier and the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
He waited a little longer before removing the needle the way Pete had shown him.
Then he stood up and cleaned everything away.
Kenta slowly got back to his feet, having regained at least a little energy, and grabbed his cigarette pack.
Kim immediately stepped in front of him and snatched it from his hands.
— No.
— …
— No smoking until you’re fully recovered.
Kenta frowned, clearly ready to argue back, but Kim didn’t give him the chance.
— Go take a shower instead, he added immediately. You need that more.
The Japanese shot him an annoyed look, as if he was still debating whether to protest.
But he had to admit the racer was right.
So he finally gave in and headed toward the bathroom.
A little after noon, when Kenta came out of the bathroom, Kim was standing in the kitchen.
— You’re going to eat.
Kenta looked up at him while drying his hair, looking slightly better despite the exhaustion still visible on his face.
— No.
Kim opened the fridge.
— Yes.
He pulled out a bowl, quickly reheated something on the stove and in the microwave, then finally placed the plates on the table.
Kenta stared at them as if they were foreign objects.
— I said I’m not hungry.
Kim placed both hands on the table and leaned forward.
— Listen to me carefully.
His voice was calm, but firm.
— If you keep doing this, you’re going to end up in the hospital.
Kenta stayed silent, and Kim continued without raising his voice.
— And I think that’s the last place you want to go.
Kenta’s gaze froze and Kim held his stare without looking away.
— Because if Tony or his men find out where you are… a hospital is an easy target.
A faint smile crossed Kim’s face, both mocking and encouraging at the same time.
— So come sit down and eat.
The silence that followed felt heavy.
Kenta clenched his jaw slightly before finally obeying.
After all, stubborn or not, he knew far too well how to follow orders.
Once seated, he picked up the spoon.
The movement was slow, almost uncertain, but he ate.
Kim sat down as well and quietly started eating too, as if the battle was over.
They ate in silence.
Afterward, Kim went to sit on the couch and turned on the TV. The volume stayed low, just enough to fill the room with a constant murmur.
A presence.
A few minutes later, Kenta finished his plate.
He stayed seated at the table for a while before standing up, placing the plate in the sink, and slowly walking back into the living room.
Kim didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on the screen and Kenta sat down.
The apartment was filled with soft afternoon light, and Kenta’s shoulders looked slightly less tense than usual. His breathing was calmer too.
Eventually, his eyes slowly closed.
Kim kept watching the screen without saying anything, but he lowered the volume a little more.
And in the quiet calm of the afternoon, he simply stayed there while Kenta gradually fell asleep beside him.