AN: This isn't edited at all. I've just had some very bad days and between school and my new job and all the drama, the chapter probably sucks, and is short. Sorry for spamming your inbox.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this damn shit. Translations and footnotes are at the end.

This is not Seoul; Dae Jung has to remind himself as he dives through far-too-familiar streets of the set. It takes just one glance up for the through to get reiterated and ingrained into his skull: This is not Seoul. He had to make it back to the fake apartment he shared with Yong Soo; Yong Soo was left all alone in there, and Dae Jung was frightened that he would be going back to another body on the floor; Yong Soo honestly seemed like he would at that moment in time.

Dae Jung easily pushed the (fake) door open and looked around, trying to find Yong Soo. "Sillyehamnida*, Yong Soo…" He called out, waiting for Yong Soo for a brief moment; Dae Jung wasn't sure if he was alive—no, don't think that.

"…Chigun toraoshimnikka*, Dae Jung," Yong Soo replied as he wheeled out of the room he had been in—a bedroom—with obvious difficulty. He had cleaned up as best as he could—no blood in sight now as Yong Soo did he best to navigate around the area without getting stuck in the hallway.

"Thank you. How are you?" Dae Jung asked as he walked over and moved Yong Soo to the kitchen, where there was a bit more room and no narrow corridors anywhere that Yong Soo could get stuck in.

Yong Soo just shrugged dully and settled into his spot with a bit of an empty sigh. "Does it matter, Dae Jung?"

Dae Jung frowned, but nodded and studied Yong Soo with a bit of an intense look. The teen was hopeless, but not quite yet broken. Yong Soo seemed to resist this rather well—on the mental front, at any rate—and he would not be held down. Dae Jung admired that; most new props broke within a day or two—if that—and after the injury he had taken…

"It matters," Dae Jung mumbled and shook his head, before he grabbed two instant-soup cups and nuked them in the microwave; that was that most Dae Jung could cook without poisoning someone.

Yong Soo sighed and grabbed eating utensils, before he grumbled under his breath about how the phones didn't make outside calls. Dae Jung rolled his eyes and gave Yong Soo one of the boiling hot foam cups. They both welcomed the heat gladly; while the real Seoul was a bitter negative six*, it was more alone the negative sixteen* inside the theatre set and it was even colder outside it.

The two men sat on the linoleum as best as they could; Yong Soo was awkward half-on Dae Jung as they remained close to stay warm.

Neither cared for manners right now; both Dae Jung and Yong Soo both finished the entire little amount they were given like they were a starving man at the Last Supper.

Dae Jung sighed as he watched Yong Soo. The younger man was shivering, clearly not used to being so cold in such thin clothes. Dae Jung bit his lip as he quickly wrapped his sweater around Yong Soo; if his leg got infected, it would be bad, but if Yong Soo got sick on top of that? It wouldn't be good.

Yong Soo looked at Dae Jung with a bit of an awkward blush, before he snapped, "I can take care of myself, okay?"

Dae Jung sighed as he helped Yong Soo back into the wheelchair. It was all so…awkward. He hated the tense atmosphere, but there was nothing Dae Jung could do.

So he went to cleaning. That was easy enough, right? Yeah, it had to be. Just had to be—

Dae Jung picked up a small set of papers then. It had Yong Soo's sloppily Hangul* all over the place, like it was trying to be written down before something happened.

They want me to testify. To what, I have no idea at all, but I refuse to do so. I guess Raivis was right though; he said Dae Jung was bad for me, but I suppose that he never thought that Dae Jung was a spy! I guess that I always knew that there was something up, but…I wanted to ignore it. I just wanted to be with him. How could I have not noticed? I mean, a lot of things make sense now, and—

Yong Soo had crammed the papers into his waistband then. The guards had come back, and if they found this, odds are it'd be considered a confession. Yong Soo glared at them, before one person jerked him off of the floor and snarled something out; Yong Soo was too worn out to notice.

He swallowed as he watched one of the guards—with the same expression of seriousness that Dae Jung had—came back with restraints and a large black bag. Yong Soo swallowed as he was jerked around like a piece of meat for a moment, before he was put into a chair and held there by the restraints.

Yong Soo closed his eyes as he watched a medical saw come out next. He felt water splash from his eyes as the saw began to cut through flesh.

Yong Soo sobbed and pleaded for it to end, but it felt like it never would.

But it did end; Yong Soo was alive—in this fake Seoul, and crippled, but alive.

He sighed as cold fingers drew Dae Jung's sweater a bit closer to his body. Yong Soo closed his eyes for a moment as he shivered and half-smelt Dae Jung's scent, which was saturated into the coat; a bit of coal, and a whole lot of spice, and just the tiniest hint of some sent of smoked meat, and then Dae Jung's shampoo.

It brought a momentary sense of calm to Yong Soo's erratic nerves. He hated it, but the familiarity—if Yong Soo closed his eyes—helped him pretend he was at home, holding Dae Jung in his arms once more.

Yong Soo buried his nose into the warm sweater then. The first time he had met Dae Jung, he thought he was out-of-place; he had been so quiet, so calm and unassuming…To put it bluntly, Yong Soo had felt like Dae Jung would have been one of those people who would have killed themselves come exam time. Yong Soo didn't want that; although he may have met some of his friends through—and maybe because of—a suicide forum, he didn't want that for Dae Jung.

The attachment had seemed so irrational at the time. But now, Yong Soo felt more attached to Dae Jung than ever, even if it was now only a matter of mutual survival.

Yong Soo bit his lip. Ever since break had started, he had felt himself need Dae Jung so completely that it was like finding your other half and having it torn away from you.

Yong Soo bit his lip as he felt tears spill down his face. "Dammit…Dammit!" Right now, he just wanted to go home, more than anything. He shook for a moment, before Yong Soo put his mind to work. There had to be a way out of here. He may have been cut off, but…He just had to find a computer, first…

Yong Soo laughed softly, then as he wrapped himself a bit tighter in the cold. Of course American and South Korean sites wouldn't be accessible, but surely Chinese wouldn't be, and China was allied with North Korea…

"Yong Soo?" Dae Jung called then as he walked into the room. "What's wrong?" He bit his lip and his hands tensed up.

"Nothing. Leave me alone." Yong Soo said in a snarky deadpan. He didn't dare tell Dae Jung yet; he didn't know if he could trust the North Korean yet.

Dae Jung sighed as he wheeled Yong Soo to the bathroom. "You need to get clean, first. Alright? I'll get the soap and such for you—"

"I'm not an invalid!" Yong Soo snapped. He hated how Dae Jung was treating him like one; Yong Soo wasn't a helpless little kid just because he was in a wheelchair!

"I know," Dae Jung sighed that weary sigh that made him much, much too old, like he had seen too much of the world in such a young life. "I know."

Yong Soo bit his lip then, shaking. He hated how... surrendered Dae Jung sounded. No, not hate; hate was too calm a word, too mild. He loathed it, despised it; it disgusted him. But even then, the words felt far, far too mild for how enraged Yong Soo was at the tone.

He sighed as he pushed Dae Jung away. "I'm able to take care of myself. Leave me alone, alright?"

"Not right now," Dae Jung hissed as his hands tightened around Yong Soo's chair, "Not when you're like this!"

Like what? Yong Soo wanted to ask. Like what, suicidal? Depressed? Anyone else in his shoes would be a sobbing mess by this point! How could Dae Jung not see that anyone else would be a mess?

Sighing, Yong Soo grabbed the soap and shampoo and set them to where he'd be able to grab them. He stripped out of his shirt, sock, and shoe easily, before Dae Jung helped Yong Soo strip out of his pants and underwear.

No shame, Yong Soo told himself as he slunk into the tub, ignoring Dae Jung's blush and pointed stare elsewhere. "Calm down, Kim-ssi*," Yong Soo said bitterly, "It's not like you haven't seen a nude body before. And you've seen mine."

Dae Jung's face got even more awkward as he mumbled something incoherent and played with his hair. Yong Soo didn't hear anything, before he called, "I can't hear you, Kim-ssi. You need to speak a bit louder."

"I said the water is shut off in a half hour. I'm going to have to get clean with you, or wait until whenever it gets turned back on." Dae Jung said quickly and awkwardly.

Yong Soo blushed and nodded as he looked away. "Fine then. Get in." That was certainly not awkward at all, no way. How could it be?

Dae Jung quickly stripped down and slipped down to right behind Yong Soo. Neither said anything as they both began to clean. The tub was cramped; there wasn't enough room for one of them, let alone two. Yong Soo pulled his leg up, and Dae Jung had semi-awkwardly wrapped his legs around Yong Soo's sides, trying to not touch him.

Yong Soo did his best to pry the now-soaked bandages off; he didn't think he'd be able to clean the wound with the bandages on. He winced as he looked at it; it didn't look like it was healing.

"At least I can't see the bone…" Yong Soo mumbled. He had been cut off a little over six centimeters* above his knee, and might had just been left like that, if it hadn't been for an elder soldier screaming at them to cauterize the wound*.

The burn wound hadn't exactly healed well, or it was still healing. But as it was, what was left of Yong Soo's looked more like a raw lump of flesh than anything else. He felt more than just what was left of his leg; if Yong Soo wasn't looking right at it, he would have sworn that he was moving his toes.

Dae Jung was just silent as he wrapped an arm around Yong Soo and held him close. Yong So felt his eyes water as he leaned against Dae Jung, their bodies melting together as if they were two halves of a whole.

Yong Soo sighed as he began to cry. He just couldn't take this anymore; he wanted to be home in Seoul. Tears spilled out of his eyes like a leaky faucet, and Yong Soo wiped at his tears, the futility of the gesture not escaping him as he clung to Dae Jung in desperation, not unlike how gum clung to a school desk.

Dae Jung held Yong Soo a bit tighter, running his hand through Yong Soo's hair. He kissed Yong Soo's head and murmured softly, fully intending on calming the other down.

Yong Soo hiccupped and closed his eyes, wiping at them. "Sorry…" He whispered and curled up as he felt Dae Jung rub shampoo through his hair.

"Don't be," Dae Jung responded in that clipped, deep voice of his. His chest rumbled a bit as he murmured in a low voice, "I'd cry in your shoes, to be honest."

Yong Soo shook, before he looked up at Dae Jung. "Really? Or are you just lying again?" Yong Soo honestly felt like he couldn't take any more of it; he just needed someone to trust at that moment. Someone…Anyone.

"What do I gain from lying?" Dae Jung asked and sighed as he rinsed Yong Soo's hair out.

"Just answer the question," Yong Soo huffed, squeezing his hair dry, "It's a yes or no."

Dae Jung laughed humorlessly, but murmured quietly, "No. I am not lying to you. I promise."

Yong Soo nodded as he suddenly hugged Dae Jung tightly and bit his lip. How did the North Korean always wiggling his way back into his heart? It just wasn't right, not at all.

Yong Soo looked up at Dae Jung, before he kissed him softly. "…I love you. Even if I have to spend the rest of forever here…"

"I'm trying to think of a way out," said Dae Jung softly.

"I think I have one," mumbled Yong Soo, "So long as Raivis checks email…"

"I'm not sure there's any internet, Yong Soo."

"Challenge accepted."

*Sillyehamnida: Sorry for disturbing you. It's a formal expression when entering someone's home, the workplace, etc, etc…

*Chigun toraoshimnikka: Welcome back.

*Negative six degrees Celsius: approximately 22 Fahrenheit, for the Americans.

*Negative sixteen degrees Celsius: approximately 3 Fahrenheit, for Americans. Ain't it cold?

*Hangul: Korean characters

*Kim-ssi: Mr. Kim

*six centimeters: about 2 ½ inches, silly Americans

*cauterizing wounds: basically, you're burning the wound shut so it doesn't get infected.

AN: Reviews make me actually wanna write, guys.
Also, if I write a RusAme story, will anyone read it?