Won kept glancing at Rocky across the table. The man looked perfectly at ease, sipping his coffee with unreadable calm, while Won’s chest still carried the weight of unease from the night before.

“Umm... hey?” Michael’s small voice finally cut through the silence.

Rocky didn’t bother looking up from his cup. “What?”

Michael shifted nervously in his chair, poking at the pancake on his plate. 

“Do you not like pancakes?”

At that, Rocky’s eyes flicked toward the plate in front of him, then back to his cup as if it didn’t matter in the slightest. 

“I don’t hate them.”

Michael squinted, his eyes fixed on Rocky’s face, staring at him so intently it was as if he was trying to drill into his skull. He poked his pancake again with exaggerated force. Won noticed Rocky’s gaze linger on Michael a second too long, and he let out a quiet sigh, setting his fork down.

“Tch...” Rocky finally gave in, setting his cup aside. “Don’t sulk, brat. I’ll eat it.”

He picked up another pancake from the stack, sliding it onto his plate with casual nonchalance before taking a bite.

Michael’s face lit up with a bright smile, his entire mood shifting in an instant.

Won couldn’t help but smirk, resting his chin against his hand. 

“Didn’t know you gave in so easily.”

Rocky’s eyes cut across the table, sharp and cool.

 “I didn’t give in. I was going to eat it anyway.”

Won bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. It wasn’t the words themselves that got to him, but the faint pink creeping up the edges of Rocky’s ears—barely there, but noticeable if one looked closely.

Michael happily munched away, completely oblivious to the tension humming just beneath the surface between the two older boys.

The quiet clinking of forks and knives against plates slowly filled the space, softening the sharp edges of the morning. For the first time in a long while, Won felt something he couldn’t quite name—an odd, fragile warmth, threaded through the silence.

After breakfast, Won gathered the plates with Michael’s help, the boy humming quietly as he carried utensils to the sink. Rocky leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, watching the two of them with unreadable calm.

Finally, his voice broke the air. “Won. Come with me.”

Won froze mid-step, glancing at Michael. The boy looked up at him with questioning eyes.

“Stay here,” Won said gently, wiping his hands on a towel. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael gave a small nod, though his eyes followed him with quiet worry.

Won straightened, his chest tight with caution, and followed Rocky down the narrow hallway. They stopped at a smaller, private room. Without a word, Rocky pushed the door open and stepped inside. The moment Won crossed the threshold, he heard the soft click of the door closing behind them.

The space was quiet. Just the two of them now.

The door shut softly behind them, sealing Won and Rocky into the dim, private room. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating. Rocky leaned against his desk, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on Won as though sizing him up.

“You’re not here just to freeload. You know that, right?” His tone was cool, matter-of-fact.

Won crossed his arms in return, posture rigid, defensive.

 “Yeah. You made that clear enough.”

“Good. Then listen carefully.” 

Rocky’s voice dropped into something heavier, more serious.

“You’re going to start doing deliveries for me. Simple jobs. No questions.”

Won’s brows furrowed. “Deliveries?”

“Packages. Messages. Sometimes money.” Rocky’s gaze sharpened. 

“You don’t open them. You don’t ask stupid questions. You just deliver.”

Won frowned, but said nothing, his silence making the air between them stretch tight.

“In return,” Rocky continued, voice steady, “you and the kid get food. A roof. Safety.”

Won’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. 

“You’re still blackmailing me.”

Rocky shrugged like it was nothing.

 “Call it what you want. But no one else was offering you anything better.”

The words cut, because they were true. Won lowered his eyes, staring at his hands as they clenched tightly against his sides.

Rocky’s voice softened—not much, but enough to almost sound human. 

“Besides... you’re not bad at surviving. You’ll manage.”

Won shot him a sharp glare.

 “What happens if I refuse?”

Rocky didn’t flinch. His answer came cool, deliberate. 

“Then I’ll have no choice but to report you. And you know what happens after that.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Won’s chest rose and fell, frustration burning hot under his skin. But at last, he muttered, barely loud enough to hear, 

“...Fine.”

A faint smirk tugged at Rocky’s lips. “Smart kid.”

Won shoved his hands into his pockets, his bitterness plain. “When do I start?”

“Today.”

Won scoffed under his breath. “Of course.”

Rocky straightened up, serious again, his tone like steel. “One more thing.”

Won arched a brow. “What now?”

“You’ll move in upstairs.”

The words froze him in place. His chest tightened. “What?”

“Safer that way. Easier to keep an eye on you.” Rocky’s shrug was maddeningly casual.

Won’s glare sharpened. “You mean easier to trap me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The bitter edge in Rocky’s calmness made Won’s blood boil. He stalked toward the door, his hand hovering over the handle, fingers curling tight.

 “Fine. But this doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Rocky’s voice followed him, quiet but certain.

 “I’m not asking you to.”

Won yanked the door open and stormed out, his footsteps heavy with frustration.

Behind him, Rocky remained where he was, leaning lazily against the desk, the faintest smirk curling at his mouth.

You’ll come around, he thought. They always do.

----

Won walked back down the hallway, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. His chest felt tight, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger and exhaustion.

From the living room, Michael peeked out, small and hesitant.

“Won...? Is everything okay?”

Won quickly straightened his posture, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Michael tilted his head, studying him carefully. He wasn’t convinced. 

“Are we staying here?”

Won froze for a second. The weight of Rocky’s words pressed down on him, but he pushed it aside. He lowered himself to Michael’s level, meeting his gaze directly.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Just for a little while, okay?”

Michael nodded shyly, accepting the answer without question, his trust absolute. That trust hit Won harder than any threat ever could. He reached out, ruffling Michael’s hair gently.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

Michael smiled faintly, the unease in his eyes dimming just enough.

---

By late afternoon, Rocky’s office was dim, the blinds casting striped shadows across the desk. Rocky sat with his usual composure, flipping through a file as though nothing in the world could unsettle him.

“You sure about this?” 

James asked from where he leaned against the wall, arms folded. His tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp. “It’s pretty risky.”

Rocky closed the file with deliberate calm, his expression unreadable. 

“If he can’t handle this, he has no place here.”

The door creaked open. Won stepped inside, his expression flat, his shoulders tense. 

“You wanted to see me?”

Without a word, Rocky tossed a small envelope onto the desk. It slid across the polished surface, stopping just short of Won’s hand.

“Delivery job. Downtown. But you’ll have company.”

Won eyed the envelope with suspicion, his jaw tightening. 

“What’s inside?”

Rocky’s smirk was faint but cutting. 

“None of your business.”

Won looked up, irritation flickering in his eyes, but he bit his tongue and stayed silent.

Leaning back in his chair, Rocky spoke again, tone calm and commanding. 

“James will drive you halfway. After that, you’re on your own.”

From the corner of the room, James chuckled under his breath, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Don’t die, rookie.”