#and before and during THAT I did some small harmless exercise and somehow strained something badly in my neck

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

Ok, I could use prayers.

[drivingsideways]

For the ship and one word thingy, of you're still doing it(and thank you!) . Seunghyo and Seunwoo, exhaustion.

Hi anon! Sorry this is a bit late, and I'm not sure this will quite be what you were looking for, but I hope you'll enjoy the snippet. Once again, I'm setting this in my "Where Your Treasure Is" 'verse, but this works as a prequel to the first part of that series and is gen or pre-slash if you squint (or have read the rest of the 'verse!)

This is set post-canon, premising that Seon-woo gets a life-saving surgery, and Gu Seung-hyo is still with Hwajeong group but in an overseas posting. He's also dating Lee No-eul.

cw: mentions of physical disability, depression

The nurse is carefully unstrapping the prosthetics when there's a knock on the door, and a quiet voice says, "May I come in?"

Seon-woo looks up, startled. In the doorway is the last person he'd expected to see this morning, or indeed, for a long while.

"Gu sajang," he says, surprised. "Good morning," he adds, belatedly remembering his manners.

"Good morning, Ye Seon-woo-ssi. Is this a bad time?" Gu Seung-hyo asks, "I can come by later."

"Almost done," Seon-woo says, gesturing for him to enter. "I've just finished my exercise round for the morning."

The second leg is off now, and the immediate lessening of the weight makes him sigh unconsciously in relief, as he leans back into the pillows. It's been a month into the physiotherapy with the prosthetics, but he's still not used to it- neither to seeing the world from a different height, nor the strain on his back. He much preferred the chair still.

"I'll see you at 4," says Nurse Jang, with a smile, and he dredges up one for her. She's his favourite: a real sweetheart, with deft hands and a wicked sense of humour. She bows politely to Gu Seung-hyo, who bows back, before he takes the chair by the bed.

"I didn't know you were in town," Seon-woo says, "I thought No-eul-ssi mentioned you were in Indonesia."

"I have some meetings here this week," Gu Seung-hyo says, "And some free time. I hope this isn't an imposition on yours."

"My time has less value than yours, Gu sajang," he finds himself saying, "It's very kind of you to come by."

He curses himself inwardly the moment the words are out of his mouth. That had been well short of the inane courtesy that he should have responded with; that kind of self-deprecation wasn't as harmless with Gu Seung-hyo, as it might have been with another, less perspicacious man.

"Kindness has little to do with it, I'm afraid. I've been given a task," Gu Seung-hyo says smoothly, "I'm merely an errand boy."

He rises, holding out a brown paper that Seon-woo hadn't noticed before, toward him.

"From No-eul-ssi," he says, "Since she's unable to visit this week."

It's cherry tomatoes, which he knows come fresh from the little vegetable garden that No-eul's got going in her backyard in Gangneung.

Seon-woo smiles.

"Please help yourself," he says, holding out the bag to Seung-hyo, who looks hesitant but then picks one out, gingerly, as he seats himself again.

"You don't like them?" Seon-woo asks, as he roots in the bag, looking for the ripest one.

"I'm don’t usually snack in between meals," says Gu Seung-hyo.

Seon-woo nods; somehow that seems entirely in character. "It's nice though," he says, "To break the rule once in a while."

"Yes," Gu Seung-hyo says, and the corners of his eyes crinkle a little as he continues, "Though, as you know I'm rather fond of keeping them."

Seon-woo can't help chuckling at that, and the crinkles get more pronounced.

Silence reigns for a few minutes as they munch on the tomatoes; sweet with just a hint of tartness beneath. Gu Seung-hyo studies the room as he takes a second tomato, when the bag is proffered. It's not very large, but there's a long window which overlooks the garden of the rehab facility, and lets in the warm sun in the afternoons. The window sill and the small desk is covered in the detritus of Seon-woo's stay: books (from Choi Seo-hyun, mostly), a stuffed toy (No-eul), board games (which he plays with Jin-woo during his daily visits, flowers and snacks (eomma), a picture of the three of them taken at a cousin's wedding three years ago.

"This is a nice place," Gu Seung-hyo says, thoughtfully. "A good location, and they have good staff and equipment, it seems."

"Yes," Seon-woo agrees, wondering if Gu Seung-hyo's ever-ticking brain was thinking of a business opportunity. "I was lucky to get a place here after the surgery, it's always full, because they're competent but not very expensive. I have Chief Joo to thank for it, he pulled strings on my behalf."

"Did he?" Seung-hyo says, neutrally. "I'm glad it worked out."

Seon-woo nods, and attempts to concentrate on the sweetness of the tomato, and not the bitter aftertaste of pity.

It's hard though, getting harder every day, to not—

Gu Seung-hyo's studying the view from the window now, peering through the glass, hands shoved in his trouser-pockets. He's dressed in his customary three-piece suit, this time a light grey with a fine pattern, over a crisp white shirt and a navy tie. Conservative, reliable. Seon-woo wonders whom he was meeting today- some oldish government type, he assumes.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Gu Seung-hyo asks, suddenly, turning back to Seon-woo, startling him out of his thoughts. "Sorry, " he adds, taking in Seon-woo's surprised expression. "But I thought it was better to ask it straight, than attempt to infer."

"It gets better or worse," Seon-woo says, "but there's always some. It's—" he shrugs. "I'm doing as well as could be hoped, at this point."

"The prosthetics—"

Seon-woo shrugs. "They'll take time to get used to," he says, "It still feels strange. The ones I'm trying out are among the best on offer, but the cutting-edge stuff is only available if you're in some clinical trial."

"Who's doing that here, in Korea?"

"SNU, for one," Seon-woo says, "They're really out there in terms of their ongoing projects. But it's hard to say when one of those will become commercially viable."

Seung-hyo nods, thoughtfully.

He smiles at Gu Seung-hyo. "But it's boring to talk about me, you should tell me the news of the wide world."

Gu Seung-hyo's sudden smile reminds Seon-woo that he's a handsome man.

"Do I need to? Isn't that what the internet and that tablet by your bed is for?"

Seon-woo acknowledges it with a half-smile. "Then tell me stories," he says, surprising himself, "Of your adventures in the wild jungle of corporate life. I suppose the new assignment must be a relief after the drama at Sungkook."

"It's more what I'm used to," Seung-hyo acknowledges, and then easily, as if they were friends, "but I admit I miss the challenge of dealing with the eccentricities of top-notch medicos."

The crinkly-eyed expression makes a reappearance. The man was quite unfairly charming when he chose to be, Seon-woo notes; he'd forgotten that, somehow, in the year since he'd last met Gu sajang.

"Your successor isn't faring much better, I think, the last I heard."

"No doubt your brother has nothing to do with that situation," Seung-hyo says, gravely.

Seon-woo laughs, "Nothing at all."

Talk drifts from Sungkook, to other things- Seung-hyo's new role, Korean chaebols, the economy, the Blue House's current occupant and the prospects for the next elections which are less than a year away, books that they discover they're both fond of, and music, and somehow, before Seon-woo realizes it, it's lunch time. There's a knock on the door- it's the kitchen staff with a tray of food. The young woman pauses when she sees Seung-hyo and asks if they'd like another tray.

Seon-woo, mortified by the realization that he's probably upset Gu sajang's schedule irrevocably, is just going to decline, when Seung-hyo says, "It looks delicious, I think I'll have some, if that's not a bother."

"No problem at all," says Min-joo-ssi, with a pleased smile, "We have extra trays."

After she leaves, Seung-hyo says, "Do you feel like having lunch outside in the garden? It's a fine day. I noticed there are some tables set out."

"Uh," says Seon-woo, "I've already made you late."

"Not at all," says Gu Seung-hyo, blatantly lying without missing a beat- another talent that Seon-woo had forgotten he had- "I'll call someone to get a chair."

He's already at the desk phone, quickly dialing the extension after a quick check of the list tacked on the wall, and somehow, before Seon-woo can quite process it, they're outside, under the shade of a garden umbrella, watching butterflies flit, and the bees stagger, punch-drunk, among the roses that are in outrageous bloom.

Seung-hyo eats heartily, Seon-woo notices, without affectation.

He looks up at that moment, to meet Seon-woo's eyes. "You must be bored of the food here," he says, looking a bit rueful.

"They try their best to vary it," Seon-woo says, "and eomma always sends dinner or breakfast with hyung, so I don't have too much to complain about."

Seung-hyo nods, though something flashes in his eyes, that Seon-woo has no way to parse.

A silence falls between them, as they finish the meal. It's not an entirely comfortable one—and Seon-woo feels compelled to occasionally make a remark of some kind to break it, as he becomes more and more conscious of the passage of time. Gu Seung-hyo doesn't look at his watch or mobile even once.

"Do you mind showing me around the grounds?" Seung-hyo asks, after they are done.

Seon-woo looks at him in surprise. "There's not much to see," he says.

"A walk might do me some good," Seung-hyo says, "I'm afraid I might have overdone on the meal."

"You should snack more often," Seon-woo says, smiling at him, "That might prevent these situations from arising."

"Shall we?" Seung-hyo asks, rising from the chair. "Where do I put away the trays?"

So they make their way toward the rear entrance of the kitchen to hand over their trays, Seon-woo wheeling his own chair, and Seung-hyo keeping pace with him. After, Seon-woo directs him toward the southern end of the property, toward the area where there are some tennis courts and even a basketball court set up for the residents who might be able to play.

It's just after lunch, so the courts are empty.

"You used to play," Seung-hyo says.

"Yes," he says, surprised.

"No-eul-ssi mentioned it," Seung-hyo says, "She said that your brother and you made a formidable duo on court."

"Is that so?"

Seung-hyo slants a smile in his direction, "Well, her exact words may have been that you were both bastard cheaters."

"Sore loser," Seon-woo says immediately, "She hated it when she lost."

"She's surprisingly competitive about some things," Seung-hyo agrees, and the accompanying smile is a revelation, starting up an ache beneath Seon-woo's ribs.

"I hope you'll be able to play again soon," Seung-hyo says, "The next time I come by, we should have a game."

"Sure," Seon-woo says, "Next time."

"Seon-woo-ssi," says Gu Seung-hyo, "You can say no, if you don't want to."

Seon-woo looks up, startled.

Seung-hyo is smiling wryly. "I'm quite good at it, so I should warn you it won't be an easy game. You should consider it carefully."

"Is there anything you aren't good at?" Seon-woo says, a trifle acerbic.

"Cooking," Seung-hyo says, immediately, and then adds, reflectively, "And the care of tiny creatures."

"What happened to the dog?" Seon-woo asks, immediately concerned. He's seen enough photos of the creature thanks to No-eul to justify the feeling.

"Oh nothing, Nighty is, as the kids say these days, living his best life. He's eomma's dog now, barely acknowledges me."

Was that a hint of petulance? That was unexpectedly amusing. But there was something a little wistful in it, as well.

"You aren't home," Seon-woo finds himself- consoling- the man. "It's quite natural."

"I'm aware," Seung-hyo says, "And it's fine. It's good, actually. Like I said, caretaking isn't one of my talents."

Unlike compartmentalization, Seon-woo thinks. I wish I had that.

"Shall we head back?" Seung-hyo's voice breaks in. He hadn't realized that they'd been standing there in silence for a while. "You seem tired."

There's something oddly gentle about the way he says it, something that makes Seon-woo both want to punch a wall, and break down crying.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, before he nods.

"Seon-woo-ssi," says Gu Seung-hyo, "Is there something you want to say?"

Seon-woo looks up at him.

Gu Seung-hyo's face is watchful, cautious, but not closed off.

Seon-woo looks away, across the empty basketball court.

"I regret the surgery," Seon-woo says, aloud, for the first time. "I wish I had never let myself be talked into it. I should have had the courage to—let go."

Seung-hyo doesn't respond for a long minute. Then, with a sigh, he says, "But there's so much to let go of. And why should you?"

Seon-woo turns to him, but Seung-hyo isn't looking at him either. Instead, he squats, running his hands over the rough grass at the sidelines.

"I don't suppose you could understand," Seon-woo says, softly.

"No," says Seung-hyo, "You're right, I don't. But it's not your disability or its consequences that I don't understand. It's that I've always wanted everything that this world could offer, and I'm determined to have it. Whatever it takes. I don't accept any other possibility."

He turns to Seon-woo after a minute of silence.

"An uncle of mine once told me that it was better to be alive than dead, and to be born than not at all," he offers.

"Was your uncle a priest?"

"A foreman in a factory that made precision tools. He worked forty years there for the same company, before he retired to a fishing village."

"Close," notes Seon-woo, and Gu Seung-hyo gives him one of his genuinely warm smiles, that he's only seen in photographs No-eul had sometimes shared.

"I'm selfish," he says, "about the world, and my place in it. I have an outsized ego, perhaps, to insist on my significance in the face of the vast unknown. But I am convinced that there's one thing only I can do, and that is to live my life to the fullest."

"The universe has been benevolent to you," Seon-woo says, "You're her favourite. You know, as a pep talk this is remarkably bad."

Seung-hyo smiles, a quicksilver flash of amusement.

"If you wanted a pep talk, you'd talk to your psych," he observes. "Or someone who's invested in keeping you alive, for one reason or the other."

"I'm exhausted by people trying to fix me," Seon-woo admits. "You're a nice change."

"I don't think you need fixing," says Gu Seung-hyo, "I suspect you have problems that need to be fixed. Like the rest of us."

"Is that how you see yourself?" Seon-woo asks, diverted. "As a problem solver?"

Seung-hyo shrugs. "It helps me to think of the world that way," he admits. "A series of problems that I can apply my mind to."

"Sounds exhausting," Seon-woo says, not quite kindly.

Gu sajang seems unperturbed. He shrugs out of his jacket and spreads it on the grass, before sitting down on it.

"It is, sometimes," he responds. "But there's that ineffable component called luck," he adds, "Sometimes the problems sort themselves out."

"Hashtag blessed," says Seon-woo, "Do you have a social media account?"

"I've hired a very competent firm to run my PR," Seung-hyo says, "Though they insist that I post at least one cute picture of my dog or my mother every day. I believe I have a respectable number of followers."

Seon-woo laughs.

Seung-hyo looks up at him, with a raised eyebrow.

"Likeability is a problem that's not too difficult to solve these days," he remarks.

"Another win for the universe's favourite," Seon-woo murmurs, "Hurrah."

The silence that follows lasts a while, but oddly enough, doesn't feel awkward.

"Thank you," Seon-woo says, finally. "For your time today. I'm afraid I've messed up your schedule."

"You were the only meeting on my list."

"You're dressed to meet a government bureaucrat type—" Seon-woo starts, incredulously- and then stops, outraged.

And this smile- pure mischief, that makes him look ten years younger- is something he didn't even know Gu Seung-hyo was capable of, he thinks, and close on the heel of that, he looks like someone I could be friends with.

"You didn't mess up my schedule," Gu Seung-hyo says again, "I don't have those kinds of luxuries in my life."

Seon-woo huffs, looking away. He feels hot under his collar, and it has nothing to do with the afternoon heat. He wishes he had more experience in dealing with this kind of thing- the kindness of strangers was one thing, but Gu Seung-hyo's place in his life was ill-defined.

What rot, says a voice in his head, he's the enemy.

It sounds suspiciously like Jin-woo hyung.

But Seon-woo doesn't have that kind of luxury in his life, either, or the inclination for it. Whatever lay between them- Gu Seung-hyo's time at Sungkook, his ongoing relationship with the love of Seon-woo's life- that was a past perhaps best laid to rest. Life was constant turmoil, and to fight against the current of it in this matter seemed a pointless waste of energy he didn't have.

"Tell me more about this research they're doing at SNU," Seung-hyo says after a minute, and Seon-woo takes the out offered. Sooner than Seon-woo had thought, it's almost time for his second round of physiotherapy.

"I have to get back," he says, "I don't want to make Nurse Jang wait."

"Of course not," says Seung-hyo, as he rises, folding his jacket neatly over his arm. "Shall we?"

They head back, slower than strictly warranted, as the conversation continues.

Nurse Jang is waiting for them at the door.

"Ah, Ye Seon-woo-ssi, I hope you had a good day today," she says, "with your friend."

It seems pointlessly rude to correct her; what was he going to say anyway—

"Yes," he says, not looking at Seung-hyo, "I did."

But he can't resist a glance, and catches quietly pleased look on his face, though, perhaps, to a stranger, it wouldn't look any different than his normal expression.

Somewhere between strangers and friends, he thinks, that's where they were.

As Seung-hyo makes his farewell, Seon-woo says, impulsively, "Next time, we'll play a game."

"Sure," says Seung-hyo easily, "Basketball?"

"Hmm, I prefer strategy games."

There's a glint in Gu Seung-hyo's eyes that Seon-woo finds highly entertaining.

"Loser pays for a meal," he says, recklessly.

But there was something, Seon-woo thinks, to be said for making plans for an unknown tomorrow.

'Deal," says Gu Seung-hyo, holding out his hand, " I'll be seeing you then, Seon-woo-ssi."

"Yes," says Seon-woo, as he shakes the proffered hand, "See you soon."