A/N: …Hey…Hi…how ya'll doin? Ahaha... guess who is aliiive~

Hope everyone reading this is healthy and doing well during this quarantine period—whatever that may be like in your part of the world.

Just a quick update on the status of this story:

For those who don't follow me on Tumblr, long-story short, I lost interest in mysme for awhile, got burned out writing while trying to maintain my life at the moment, and so put this story aside. Howeverrrrrr, quarantine has given me lots of time, and the pics of the Mysme Webtoon floating around send me spiraling down the mysme hole. I pulled out the drafts for WTIOH, started editing, and am in the process of finishing it completely—and actually enjoying the process again.

Updates won't be steady, but they will come around :) Thank you for everyone who showed support in the interim! I still did get to read your lovely messages thru my emails, and hopefully I can respond to them all in the near future.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and those to come~

Saeyoung thought a shower would've helped. He thought five minutes under scalding hot water would've dissolved the panic that clung to him like grime. But, it didn't.

Now he was just unsettled, jittery, and damp.

His eyes stung just as badly as his scorched skin, but nonetheless they solely focused on the screens in front of him and the screen in his hand. Numbly, he toggled between his phone and the three computers on his desk, and each time he was met with nothing.

No call. No further instructions. Not even Vanderwood's tracker, which Saeyoung had discreetly installed inside his phone, blinked on the computer screen. There was nothing. Just the echo of Vanderwood's frenetic demands reverberating in his skull.

Saeyoung ground his teeth together, desperately trying to tether the last strings of his poise as he pressed himself deeper into his chair. The leather felt deliciously cool and smooth in contrast to the itchy fabric of his turtleneck, but it did nothing to lessen the abounding adrenaline skittering through his veins.

Unable to sit still any longer, he swiveled himself towards his second computer, ignoring the dip of his stomach at the sight of that haunting area code that initiated this disaster.

The faster he could track the number, the faster this nightmare would be over. He didn't have time to wait for Vanderwood.

"Come on, baby," he cooed to the monitor. "Show me some good numbers."

His fingers whizzed across the keyboard until the tracking program updated its progress…to a full 52.6%. Barely halfway.

"Too slow," he groaned. Even under his harsh glare, the numbers didn't budge.

After a few more unsuccessful attempts at tweaking the code, Saeyoung resorted to physically pounding the side of the tower with his good hand, convinced that the action might somehow coax the machine into running faster. The decimal ticked forward by a whopping .01%.

Great…now he was frustrated, damp, and had a throbbing hand.

He gave his hair a final ruffle with his towel before haphazardly tossing the cloth into the rest of the mess on his computer room floor. A small voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Vanderwood screamed for him to declutter the room…but as usual Saeyoung ignored it.

Right now, his brain could only focus on three things. Phone, computer, Saeran.

So far, the latter was taking the lockdown surprisingly well, his behavior mellow and quiet. If Saeyoung's calculations were correct, his twin would keep busy browsing through television channels or skimming through random magazines, giving him time to upgrade his program for at least another hour, ten minutes, and fifty-six seconds…

"What's too slow?"

…Or not.

Saeyoung's chair tipped when he whirled towards Saeran's voice. He nearly toppled altogether seeing his twin barely a few feet away despite the untidy obstacles.

The redhead placed his hand over his chest. "You scared me," he breathed. "Where did you learn to be so quiet?"

It was meant to be a lighthearted joke, but Saeyoung bit his tongue as soon as the words left it. Of course, after receiving severe beatings for the slightest creak in the floorboards, they had both learned the skill of stealth very early in childhood.

Thankfully, Saeran was too preoccupied navigating through the mess to hear what he'd said.

Saeyoung cleared his throat. "Maybe I should build a program that announces whenever we walk into a room. Like a robot herald! Then we won't keep scaring each other. Do you have a preferred title?"

Again, the boy didn't respond to the attempted humor. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pocket and surveyed the array of flashing screens on the walls. His lips curled upwards in something between a scoff and a snarl. "So, this is where you worked," he muttered, talking more to himself.

"Yeah," Saeyoung said. He followed his brother's gaze to the scenery of streaming code and flickering buttons. "My ultimate lair. I built most of these myself. Pretty cool, right?"

His forced laugh sounded far too squeaky in the silent room. Maybe he should drop the jokes…

Saeran let out a low hum. His eyes flitted across the wall donned with the obnoxious decorations of caution tape and traffic lights, absently wandering from computer to computer.

Saeyoung fidgeted with his shirt helplessly. He wasn't sure why Saeran entered the room, yet he didn't dare ask. Often, he caught him staring at the usually closed door from the couch, but the sight seemed to fill him with something akin to dread—not this wonder lighting his face now.

"Did you want to use a computer?" he said finally. "These aren't very good for anything fun…if you want to play games or something, I have spare systems downstairs with a bunch downloaded—"

Saeran exhaled sharply, shifting his attention away from the computers to cast an irritated glower in his brother's general direction. "Do you always talk so much?"

Saeyoung shrunk back with a mumbled apology. He couldn't help it. Whenever his twin lingered like this, he felt the need to excavate an unspoken demand from the silence.

Lowering his gaze to the floor, Saeran crossed his arms over his chest, nails digging into his sweater.

"The lights turned off," he said, seemingly offering an explanation to atone for his outburst.

Saeyoung glanced towards to the open door which revealed the mostly dark house.

On lockdown, the bunker was on energy-saving mode—which meant electricity was only dispersed where it was being used. Considering Saeran kept to himself, lying on the couch, the system must've re-directed the power—and the lights—to the computer room.

Even from this distance, the open space seemed smaller—suffocating—similar to their tiny childhood house whenever their mom came home too drunk to handle a candle let alone electricity. No doubt, his brother had made the same conclusion.

Cursing his own stupidity, Saeyoung spun back to his computer, tapping in lines of code despite his throbbing arm. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can fix it…"

Florescent light poured through the open doorway, chasing away the gloomy darkness and hopefully the memories that accompanied it.

"Ta-da!" Saeyoung announced, whirling back proudly.

Saeran visibly relaxed at its warmth, but made no move to towards the newly brightened room.

To Saeyoung's chagrin, he ambled deeper into the room instead, lowering himself into one of the empty chairs. His eyes landed on a screen of code, and his fingertips followed almost robotically, grazing the edges of the battered keys. They were trembling.

His brows creased in a deep wrinkle, and Saeyoung could almost see the unwanted memories manifesting across his forehead. In panic, he kicked his heel outwards and knocked over a pile of folders. The ruffle of papers flying in the air was distraction enough to yank Saeran from his daze.

"You really shouldn't be in here," Saeyoung said, kneeling down to collect the scattered pieces of paper. "It's dangerous."

Saeran's jaw tightened as did his fists against the table.

"Dangerous for who?" he said coolly. "I wasn't planning to sabotage anything—if that's what you're worried about."

Saeyoung opened his mouth to protest, but his burning conscience silenced him. Admittedly, the younger man's presence in this specific room was unsettling. Last time Saeran had access to technology, he managed to dismantle an entire intelligence agency. Not to mention, the last time Saeyoung had seen him surrounded by so many computers was Magenta. Even now, his mint eyes reflected the illuminated screens, almost glowing…just like then.

Forcefully, he shoved the memory away and busied himself with the papers.

"It's dangerous because it's so messy," he deflected with fabricated levity. "You might trip and hurt yourself."

Judging by the growing crease on his forehead, Saeran was unconvinced.

"Anyway," Saeyoung went on, a chuckle barely tittering past his throat. "I only came in here to check something. We could…do something together in the meantime?"

He knew he didn't actually have the time. He needed to track his unknown enemy—to keep tabs on Vanderwood and his friends. But he was desperate to start building something new…

He knew the answer would likely be rejection, but he still searched his brother's face with a sliver of hope for acceptance.

Saeran's eyes flickered towards Saeyoung, but never actually met his gaze. Silence hung between his parted lips, only interrupted his shaky breaths. Finally, his hand emerged from his pocket to point to the computer behind the redhead.

"C-can I see?" he asked, pulling his own chair closer. "It's a tracking program, right? Is that what's running too slow?"

His voice was so timid. It reminded Saeyoung of all the times he would meekly ask to see his old hacking book. He'd barely glance at the object, as if he would be punished for simply having curiosity. Back then, he probably would have if they were caught…

Which was why guilt tugged at Saeyoung's chest as he slid back into his chair, successfully blocking his brother's view.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he muttered. Saeran's face fell, and Saeyoung hurriedly pulled his lips into a dismissive smile. "It's just a little program I'm developing on anyway. Super complicated!"

Offense marred Saeran's previously innocent expression, and he recoiled as if he'd been struck across the face. "I know how to hack. Remember?"

Oh, Saeyoung remembered.

He remembered slaving over this same computer because the boy in front of him had somehow found his way into the pitiful dark hole of hacking. He remembered the conflagrating guilt seared into his conscious the day he realized it was his twin. He remembered the vow he made to keep his brother away from that filthy job—no matter the cost to himself.

With a light kick, Saeyoung spun on his chair and faced his back towards his brother—mostly to hide the resurging shame burning his face.

"Not anymore," he said.

"Excuse me?"

Reluctantly, Saeyoung looked at Saeran, pulling his lips into another strained smile. "You don't have to hack anymore," he said. "You're free from that life now."

Saeran stared blankly before shaking his head. "Who are you to decide that for me?"

"It's my fault you even had to get near that. I'll make sure you won't need to go back."

"You don't get to decide that," Saeran bit back with such vehemence that Saeyoung flinched. "Didn't you just say that we get to choose our lives from now on? Are you trying to dictate mine now?"

Saeyoung waved his hands in protest. "No, I'm not! I just—" he swallowed his words, knowing his explanations would only aggravate Saeran instead of soothe him. "I'm sorry. I don't want to involve you in something harmful. This is…something I have to take care of."

To his relief, Saeran drummed his fingers against the side of his leg, but made no effort to argue. Saeyoung waited for several moments before daring to speak again. "You should go in the living room where it's brighter," he said. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to keyboard, afraid the sight would trigger his brother into a rage. "I'll just shut some programs down so the lights stay on—"

"It's Dad, isn't it?"

Saeyoung's hands faltered before they even began. Releasing a wavering breath, he let his wrists fall against the hard desk.

"I know Dad's looking for us," Saeran went on. Despite his steady voice, fear danced around each word.

"I'm taking care of it," Saeyoung said, attempting to sound reassuring despite his own worries winding around his throat like a rope. "Don't worry."

"It's because I released your agency files, isn't it?" Saeran asked, eyes still planted on his shoes.

Saeyoung pushed the heel of his palms against the desk, the wheels of his chair grating against the metal underneath. "I'm not blaming you, you know."

"You should."

The remorse behind the simple statement stunned Saeyoung—to the point that he doubted his own ears. For several long seconds, he stared at the younger man, waiting for him to elaborate, but he continued to stare at the ground listlessly.

Saeyoung swallowed against his dry throat. "You weren't really yourself then—"

"I was," Saeran snapped, his words filled with venom, though Saeyoung wasn't sure to whom it was directed. His gaze darkened as he lifted it to the redhead. "I was myself, so don't make excuses to fit me into some—stupid image of that weak kid. I did it because I wanted to. I did it to make your life hell. That's why I hacked into your stupid charity server—and why I sent that girl to your apartment. To make your life as miserable as you made mine!"

Unlike before, he spouted his deeds like a confession, lacking any audacity he usually held. Saeyoung hated it. He could practically see the guilt clamp down on his brother's shoulders like shackles.

Fix it, his mind kept screaming. Be a good brother, and fix it. But as usual, his tongue failed him, letting silence swallow his courage in its foreboding grip.

With a sharp sigh, Saeran calmed himself, though the resolution was ever present as he glanced at the computer behind Saeyoung.

"You want to do something…together, right?" he said, the words strained as if it pained him to say them. With the way he grimaced, maybe they did. "Let's start with this."

Cold dread trickled into Saeyoung's limbs as his mind slowly pieced together his brother's suggestion. "Y-you…hacking?" the broken question barely drifted past his parted lips.

When the younger man nodded, Saeyoung's breath caught in his throat. The thought of Saeran hacking for his life—again—made him sick.

Already, his twin was dragging his chair closer, but the Saeyoung managed to stop the wheels with his heel. "Saeran, no."

It was more of a plea than a command. Saeran's lips trembled as a shaky breath slid into the air between them. "Why?" he demanded. "I thought you wanted to do something together."

"I do," he said. His hand reached for his shoulder, but Saeran abruptly yanked away from his touch. Saeyoung suppressed the sting of rejection and let his hand fall to his side. "But I want us to enjoy things together—good things. Good memories."

Saeran's throat emitted a strangled laugh as the man thrust himself backwards on the chair. "And you think we can have them with that man out there?"

"Saeran, please don't strain yourself," Saeyoung said, glancing at the balled fist trembling at his brother's side. The blood had drained from his knuckles leaving them deathly pale. His face soon mirrored the same color.

Abruptly, Saeran stood, sending his chair clattering behind him from momentum. Saeyoung forced himself to stay seated—to appear calm despite the panic at what seemed like an impending fit of rage.

"You should rest a little longer. I'll be down in a second— "

"I don't need rest!" Saeran shouted, though his argument was quickly voided as he toppled sideways into the metal cabinets. Saeyoung stumbled forward, catching the younger man before he injured his head on one of the drawer edges.

Saeran's breaths barely wisped past his tightly sealed lips, and his chest rose and fell in shallow intervals. Saeyoung waited until his breathing levelled before guiding his brother to sit on the floor. Saeran slunk against the cabinets, both hands cradling his head and hiding his face.

Hesitantly, Saeyoung lowered himself in front of him.

"Saeran," Saeyoung called. No response. He dared to inch closer. "Please believe me. This has nothing to do with you—or Dad. I just—it's something I need to take care of myself."

"And if it did have to do with Dad, would you let me do it?"

Saeyoung bit his own lip, too ashamed of his answer to look at his brother.

"I thought so," Saeran went on. "You won't let me because you think I'm not good enough, right? Because you think I'm still that…useless, pitiful child."

The words struck Saeyoung so hard that he flinched. In fact, if Saeran would've physically slapped it him, it might've hurt less than the heartache wrenching his insides.

"I never saw you as useless," Saeyoung snapped.

"Didn't you?" Saeran scoffed. He held his gaze for barely a second before turning his face away, but it didn't hide the tears precariously dangling at the edge of his lashes. "You never asked for help. Always left randomly at night—or poured over those stupid books without saying a word to me."

Disdain dripped from his voice, but, unlike before, this bitterness wasn't directed at Saeyoung. It was directed at himself—and that was a million times worse.

"I never once saw you as useless," Saeyoung repeated, unable to withhold vexation from his voice. Despite what Saeran had done, the older man had difficulty finding resentment—but this. "I was protecting you. I am protecting you."

"Protecting me from what?" Saeran spat. "It didn't matter in the end, did it? What is hiding the truth from me going to do now?"

For a second time, Saeyoung struggled for a protest, but, Saeran was speaking the truth. No matter how many times he tried to shelter his brother from all the murky filth of this world, the darkness just retaliated with more force, intent on tearing apart what it could in their lives.

"I'm sorry," he said, knowing the response was far too inadequate for the situation. "But please, give me this. Let me take care of us this last time…and, then we'll be fine."

Anger brewed behind his twin's glare. Saeyoung braced himself for another outburst—another session of screaming and scolding—but instead an unnerving calm settled through his features. His eyes darted back and forth across the floor, but for once, Saeyoung couldn't read his thoughts at all.

"Okay, fine," Saeran said flatly, vigorously wiping the last of his tears on his sleeve. When he lifted his gaze to Saeyoung, that resolution was blazed behind his eyes brighter than ever, but now it was tainted with bitterness. "Do what you want. And I'll do what I want."

Saeyoung wasn't sure how to decipher the statement, but any attempts to continue the conversation were promptly curtailed when Saeran shoved him backwards into the files he had just cleaned. While he struggled helplessly in the clutter, his twin made a straight shot to the door.

"Wait—Saeran—where are you going?"

"To rest," he said derisively over his shoulder before slamming the door behind him with a loud thud.

Yielding in his fight against paper and cardboard, Saeyoung let his head fall onto the mound of underneath him, his hands covering his face.

He should've follow his brother—spewed a thousand of words until the right ones managed to pierce through the wall that had just formed between them—again.

But, the weight crushing his shoulders pinned him in place.

Frustration burned underneath his skin, tightening his every muscle until he was practically trembling from the rigidity. He couldn't even decipher his own emotions. He felt everything and nothing at once building inside of him until finally all he think of doing was scream.

So he did. He screamed into the empty room—into his throbbing, useless hands.

It wasn't until a coughing fit seized his body was he forced him to stop and be still in the suffocating silence. Hot tears welled behind his eyes but never fell, denying him the release he so desperately needed.

He felt so….lost. Just lost.

It was as if he was stuck in a nightmare, bounding through each day, expending every ounce of energy, only to be snarled in the cold tendrils of life's hand. Death was always described as cold and dark and cruel, but some days, Saeyoung wondered if life wasn't the same.

Numbness wound around his hazy mind, enticing him into the spiral of despondency.

He desperately needed an anchor—something to remind him of the reality he was lucky enough to gain in these past months. He just needed a little strength to fight through this next day. He needed…

Instinctually, his fingers slid into his pocket for his phone in search of his personal angel. Even though she wasn't present, he could feel her warmth and unfailing support through her photo.

But he was reminded of his current purgatory when was met with the plain black wallpaper of his emergency phone. His chest panged, and the pain reverberated through the acute void that had filled his chest in her absence.

Treacherously, his fingers input her number into a text.

They twitched above the screen, eager to pour out this tumult of emotions behind his ribs. She could sort them better than he could. She always had the right thing to say…the computer language of his own heart. But fear held his hand.

If she figured something was wrong, no doubt she'd be speeding down the highway to get to him. In his current situation…with the bunker on lockdown and an unknown enemy looming in the distance, he was sure that was a bad idea.

He couldn't involve her in any more trouble…

So, he didn't. He tossed his phone onto a random cabinet and succumbed to dullness.

Cold as he was, he could still feel pain. It sprouted through his head and his arm. It pounded behind his swollen eyes and wrapped its crooked fingers around his throat. Worst of all, it throttled his heart to the point that he could barely breathe.

He just needed it to stop.

"Warning: Target Location moving."

With a shuddering gasp, he pushed himself upright. He turned to the computer to his left which had emitted the sound, but all haziness fled from his body as he saw the source.

Besides tracking an unknown enemy, Saeyoung was keeping close tabs on his friends. Just knowing their general location was balm. As long as they stayed in their routine places…

Normal was good. Normal was safe.

But judging by the rapidly moving green blip signaling his girlfriend's current location, MC was opposed to normal. The numbness that had previously filled Saeyoung's chest was now being rapidly replaced by jittery energy of worry.

The little green dot was zooming down the road—straight towards the bunker.

A/N: Oof. That didn't go well…

Hope you enjoyed and that I'm not too rusty:) I've missed these tomato heads a lot.

Until the next update... please stay safe and healthy—both mentally and physically 3