not afraid to fall [chapter 18]
Title: not afraid to fall [chapter 18]
Author: ivoryroyale
Genre: supernatural, drama, friendship, hurt
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, some little hints of abuse
Summary: in which a group of six aren't afraid to stand tall because they have each other.
Note: 4,432 words. Unbeta-ed. I don't know how to write anymore tbh.
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[prologue] [chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [ chapter 7] [chapter 8] [ chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11] [ chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [ chapter 15] [ chapter 16] [ chapter 17] [ chapter 18] [ chapter 19] [ chapter 20]
not afraid to fall
chapter eighteen
Jongup stands in front of Daehyun's door, mask crumpled tight in his hands as he knocks-one, two, three times-each one timed precisely so they'd match to the slow beating of his heart rapidly getting faster.
He takes a breath-long and deliberate, throwing air into and out of his lungs to try and calm himself, but it doesn't work as well as he'd hoped and the fact that Daehyun isn't answering him is making his nerves jitter and his heart stutter and his stomach sink. His hands are starting to sweat, and Jongup briefly worries about how gross that is and if Daehyun's going to be angry or something because of it, before he's knocking-louder this time-more urgent-like his knuckles rapping against the plain wood might actually break the door into pieces if Daehyun doesn't answer him within the next five seconds.
It's around a second later when a small piece of post-it is quietly shoved through the bottom of the door (Jongup probably would've missed it if he weren't staring at his feet). Slowly, almost anxiously, Jongup bends down to pick it up, examining the small, yellow note, creased carefully down the middle, concealing whatever message Daehyun wants to tell him.
(Jongup can't help but wonder, just for a moment -just for one tenth of a millisecond-what Daehyun has to say to him. Wonders what in the world he has to say after almost kissing him and then running off to flirt with one of his best friends. Wonders what could be so damn trivial that he couldn't just say it straight to his face after he's worked up so much nerve to wipe away his tears and come face him. God dammit, why does Daehyun have to be such a coward-)
Taking in another breath, Jongup closes his eyes, counts to ten, and then opens the post-it carefully, almost as if, if he tried to open it any faster, he'd somehow manage to rip the paper in half. In Daehyun's messy scawl, Jongup reads-letters squished tight to fit on the tiny piece of paper: Sorry. Can't answer door. Don't have any clothes on. Who is it?
(Almost shamefully, Jongup catches himself rereading the second sentence, and actually imagining-)
"Er, sorry," Jongup says, and through the door, he can hear shuffling, and Jongup silently wishes he was smart like Youngjae, so that he'd be able to predict what Daehyun could be doing. "It's, um, it's Jongup, but you probably already know that by now from... from my voice," He chuckles, almost nervously, and when he doesn't hear Daehyun chuckle back, he has to keep himself from shrinking back. "I just... I wanted to return your mask. You kind of... left it in my room. I guess." There's a pause, like Daehyun has to really think about it, has to process all the words before he actually understands why Jongup's decided to come knocking at his door. Before Daehyun gets a chance to write another note though, Jongup's had enough time to think about the situation to blurt out, "Wait, your naked? Why don't you have any clothes?"
And again, before Daehyun can write another word, or even say another word, Jongup's shouting through the door, before he can even think, "Okay, wait-wait here, I'm going to get some of my clothes; you can wear them, just-just wait."
And he's off, running before he has a chance to hear Daehyun, letting out a breath that he'd been holding since the moment Jongup spoke.
Daehyun doesn't really know what to do in the three minutes that it takes Jongup to run to his room, pick out some clothes big enough for Daehyun, and run back.
For the first few seconds, Daehyun stays still-silent as a rock-trying to remember how to breath. He thinks and thinks about Jongup and what the hell just happened and how can he still be so nice after all that's happened until he realizes Jongup is coming back again and he's naked and he's probably going to embarrass himself so bad.
Then Daehyun snaps up from the ground, towel placed in an iron grip around his body, trying to cover every inch of skin he can manage while muttering a soft, "What," What the hell is happening. And then he starts pacing the length from the door to his bed, a hand curling through his wet hair, looking left and right in a slight panic, eyes wider than dinner plates, grip on his towel getting tighter.
This isn't what he planned. He planned to see Jongup later, planned to see him while fully clothed and ready, with every single word that he needs to say at the tip of his tongue. He's not ready now, and he does not want Jongup to see him right now.
His fight-or-flight response is telling him to run, run before he sees you. Because he doesn't-can't-won't confront. He's losing it, he thinks, because he's starting to compare Jongup to the soldiers. He's starting to think, if he does anything wrong-if he does one thing wrong-Jongup's going to be so angry. He's going to be angry with him, so angry that he'd do something horrible-he's going to beat him, or he's going to burn him, or he's going to shoot him with something, or-
There's a knock on the door that makes Daehyun jump and fly under his bedsheets-shaking, cowering, almost crying-peeking through it, and breathing irregularly, until he hears the soft timbre of Jongup's voice accompanied by a soft knocking. His breathing stops, abrupting, along with his shaking, and Daehyun pops his head out of the sheets, hair sticking up, and eyes still as large as saucers. "Hey, I have some clothes for you..."
Daehyun almost opens his mouth to say something, but he has no voice, not unless he wants to convince Jongup into doing something he doesn't want to do. Like forgive him.
"Daehyun?" It's a question, soft and sweet, and it's almost enough for Daehyun to come crawling out of his hiding place. He rubs at his eyes instead, trying to calm himself by breathing, in and out, short breaths. He may or not be having a panic attack-he doesn't know. "I'm coming in, okay?"
And before Daehyun has a chance to stop him, to shout a sudden command, the doorknob is twisting and Daehyun is ducking underneath the bedsheets before he has a chance to even think.
"Daehyun?" He hears Jongup say as he creeps into the room, voice unsure and almost scared. Daehyun wonders what he has to be afraid of before he remembers himself, cowering in a blanket from just about the sweetest guy he's ever known.
"In here," Daehyun says, finally, when he hears Jongup getting closer to his bed-to the bedsheets and Daehyun. Daehyun creates a little crack in the sheets, one that he can peek through without Jongup seeing him, and Jongup's there, standing in front of his bed, a hoodie and sweats wringing in his hands.
He almost thinks he sees a smile.
"What are you doing in there?"
Without a word, Daehyun subconciously reaches for his post-its and pen, only to find them gone. "Um," He mutters, forgetting how to speak for a moment and feeling sort of pathetic and so awkward. "I... I don't-clothes."
Jongup chuckles, and he almost sounds relieved, so Daehyun relaxes a bit, allowing himself to blink for the first time since Jongup knocked on his door. "Um, then, I guess I'll just leave the mask and clothes here?" He sees Jongup place the clothes on his bed, sees him start to walk away, and all of a sudden, Daehyun sees himself-his hand, reaching out of the blanket in a flash and catching the tail of Jongup's shirt, tugging him back without a word.
"Wait," He hears himself say, almost tearfully, like he's going to cry if Jongup takes another step away from him. A moment before, he didn't want to see Jongup, because he didn't know what the hell he was doing or what the hell he was going to do and he thought Jongup was going to be mad at him and that he would never want to speak to him ever again, but now that he's seen him-not that he's here, making Daehyun's head spin and his chest swell, Daehyun thinks he's never going to not want to to see Jongup. It's confusing to him, and Daehyun doesn't know what the hell he thinks he wants anymore, but he knows that he thinks that he might be crazy, and that it might be okay (it might be more than okay) if Jongup's there to make it all okay for him. "I-I need to explain-about the kiss-the almost... almost kiss." His mouth is dry, and everything that he's saying isn't making a lick of sense-not like how he planned it to-but Jongup stays anyway, because he has to when Daehyun commands him to. He stands, and he almost has this pained looked in his eyes that makes Daehyun want to let go and take it back-take it all back-but before he can, Daehyun is telling him to wait again, telling him to hold on as he wraps himself tighter into his bed sheets.
"Um, I don't-I'm not eloquent, okay? I'm not a good speaker. And I know you're probably not going to actually listen to anything I say, because I'm probably-probably brainwashing you right now, but I want you to listen," Daehyun takes a deep breath, one big enough to make his head dizzy again, and as he looks at Jongup, face twisted in confusion, he spews out the next sentence with as much grace as he can muster (which turns out to be not much). "You-you're great, okay? You're better than great, actually, you're amazing-absolutely amazing, and I must sound like the stupidest guy in the world right now, but I really, really don't want you to hate me, and I know that I probably scared the shit out of you when I-when I tried to kiss you-and it's really unfair of me to ask you not to be mad," He dares to look up, to see Jongup, and the look of confusion on his face is lessening, which is a good sign, but Daehyun doesn't know whether or not it's because of his voice or if it's because of him. "but I'm sorry-I'm really, really sorry and I-" He stops short, voice catching in his throat, because he's about to lie. He's about to tell Jongup that it didn't mean a thing-that he didn't mean it-it was an accident, when, really, it meant everything to him-meant the world to him. He meant every single action, and it scares him, because he doesn't want to ruin something great by trying to ask for something greater. "It was an accident, okay? I didn't mean it."
And the look on Jongup's face kind of just breaks, and Daehyun briefly wonders what the hell he did wrong this time and kind of wants to cry because his stomach does this funny little thing wear it falls beneath his feet and his heart shatters.
"It's okay," Jongup says, smiling just a bit, and even Daehyun can tell that it's not okay. It's really not, and he wants to know why.
What's wrong?
"Thanks for that," Jongup says, voice more sincere than before, a hand scratching at his neck, but he won't look Daehyun in the eyes. "I was-yeah. I was confused." And everything should be okay again, because Jongup understands, he's not mad and he's talking to Daehyun, but everything doesn't feel okay, and the tension in the air is almost too much for Daehyun to handle.
It's all wrong.
"Um... yeah," Jongup says conclusively, letting out a breathy chuckle, and all Daehyun can do is stare. "Thanks. Again. And, um, yeah." He's nodding and Daehyun's still trying to figure out what's wrong, but Jongup's obviously not going to tell him, because he's still smiling even though he doesn't mean it. "My clothes are right there. If you want to wear them," Jongup points at the space next to him, on the bed, and the boy turns to leave, quickly, like he wants to get out of here as fast as possible. "I'll see you later. After you have some clothes on." Another airy chuckle. "Bye, Daehyun."
Daehyun has to resist the urge to point out he's not using the nickname he gave him earlier as he asks, tentatively, "Wait. Jongup?"
The boy turns around with a hum and a smile that Daehyun doesn't believe.
"We-we're okay. Right...?"
And Jongup nods, almost enthusiastically. "Yeah! Of course."
"We're definitely okay."
Himchan has this too-big grin on his face that Yongguk undeniably can't help but smile at as he leans back into the couch cushion, sitting crisscrossed with his hands on his ankles. "Okay," He starts, giving him this leveled stare, almost like he's challenging him to oppose as he says the next few words. "I think I want to be a baker."
Yongguk returns the stare, crossing his arms and suppressing an almost-smile. He tilts his head a fraction, bringing a hand to his chin to contemplate the option: Himchan as a baker. Not a lot can go wrong with that. He cooks enough not to burn down the building like a maniac and Himchan might actually like (more than like, actually-he'd probably love) having a job at the bakery. It's close enough to the house not to be a hassle and he's sure there's a phone there, so Himchan could call him up every now and then whenever he has a break.
The job's prettty much a given, but still, Yongguk feels the need to give Himchan a hard time about it. So he finally comes to a conclusion, leaving forward, with a half-serious, half-not look on his face. "Baker's boring," He says decidedly, going as far as to nod.
Himchan's face twists into a look of fake outrage-eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, a slight quirk to his lips despite that. Yongguk has to purse his lips to keep the smile away from his lips. Himchan snorts at that. "What's wrong with being a baker?"
"What?" Yongguk asks, way to exaggeratedly, eyebrow raised and all, throwing his hands out just a bit. "Besides standing near a hot oven all day?"
With an air of arrogance, Himchan tilts his head back, flaring his nostrils just slightly, and Yongguk thinks he looks absolutely ridiculous-seriously, what kind of face is that? And Yongguk finally loses it, grin stretching for miles and string of chuckles leaving his mouth without his permission. Himchan doesn't even falter when he's asking, still with that look on his face. "And what if I like standing near a hot oven all day? What then, hm?" His smile is pleasant-probably because he knows Yongguk actually has no objections to the baker option or maybe because Yongguk was the one who laughed first out of the two of them.
"Then you obviously need to get out more," Yongguk retorts simply, sticking a tongue out at the younger, bumping into his shoulder with a chuckle on the tip of his tongue and a twinkle in his eyes.
Himchan's still trying (and failing-pretty badly, at that) to look offended, but he has this smirk on his face that makes Yongguk wonder what the hell he's planning to say, because he knows that look-it's Himchan's I'm-going-to-say-something-stupider-than-usual face. He's nudging Yongguk in the ribs with his elbow, a suggestive raise to his brows, and he's chuckling, saying without a single thought, no doubt, "Who said I was talking about the oven in the kitchen, hotshot?"
It takes a moment for it to click in Yongguk's head, because what the hell would an oven be doing outside of a kitchen? Isn't that where they're supposed to be? Until Yongguk finally understands what the nudges and the stupid look on Himchan's face are supposed to mean, and he finally gets what Himchan's insinuating. Yongguk gives Himchan this look like he's crazy-eyebrows furrowing close together and forehead creasing as he pushes Himchan's elbows away from his ribcage. "Are you comparing me to an oven?"
The look on Himchan's face is answer enough, but he still answers, with an airy giggle snaking through his teeth. "Maybe,"
"Wow," Yongguk says, shaking his head at Himchan who's still laughing like he made the best joke in the world, "you're so lame. Tell me why you're my best friend again?"
Himchan has enough decency to try to stop laughing, holding a hand to his stomach. "Okay," He wheezes out, waving a hand in the air like he's telling Yongguk to wait. "In my defense, it sounded a lot smoother in my head."
"Really?" Yongguk demands, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. He can't believe how much he's laughing, how much he can still laugh after all that's happened: with Junhong's condition and Daehyun and Jongup and his fight with Himchan and with Youngjae's strange behavior and this Key guy still on the loose. "You thought 'hotshot' was smooth?"
"Okay, that was actually priceless; you have to give me that one!" Himchan demands, jumping at his spot on the couch like he's on some kind of sugar high. If he jumps anymore, he's either going to fall off the couch himself, or Yongguk is going to push him off. "The look-on your face-" He can barely breathe, he's laughing so hard, and Yongguk wonders if someone can pass out from lack of oxygen from laughing too hard.
"No, Himchan," Yongguk tries to explain, "if you said that to anyone else, they'd probably slap you. Or walk away." And Yongguk has to think about it for a second, playing the scenerio over in his head to see if there would be any more possible outcomes. "You know what? They'd probably do both."
Himchan rolls his eyes, like Yongguk missed something really important, and looks him dead in the eyes as he says, "Well, I'm not talking to just anybody, am I? I'm talking to my oven."
It almost doesn't register to Yongguk that he should probably feel offended by something like that. The words sort of just pass through one ear and out the other, and Yongguk doesn't even feel the slightest bit angry-just a little confused-as he asks hesitantly, "...your oven?"
"Mhm," And Yongguk briefly thinks about how the stupid grin on Himchan's face is making his chest swell, before he stops himself, listening and watching as Himchan brings a hand up to give him a tiny, little wave. "Hi!"
Yongguk laughs then, waving back and shaking his head as he greets back, "Hello," in a gruff voice. They're getting so off task, he thinks, because what was supposed to be them choosing jobs for Himchan to apply to, ended up being them joking around.
They've been discussing this for hours-it's almost dark out, and Himchan should probably start up dinner for the kids-and they've went through hundreds of different options ranging from actual ideas-like a baker or a waiter or a cashier-to completely ridiculous ideas (which more often than not turn out to be Yongguk's)-like one of those strip-o-grams or a fortune cookie writer or a snake milker, that sounds like an awesome idea. And for each one, both of them have managed to trash on each and every one of the other's ideas instead of actually picking one.
It's fun though-really fun-and it keeps both of them from actually thinking of what's going to happen within the next month. Neither of them like to think about it much-they never do whenever Yongguk has to leave-and they try to put it off for as long as possible-try to joke about it so that it's all smiles and laughs and everything happy until the moment Yongguk has to leave and all of it comes flooding forward like a typhoon. They don't talk about Junhong or when he's going to get better or if he's going to get any better and they don't talk about what can happen-what will happen-to Yongguk while he's away. They don't talk about how stupid this all is or how scary or how they never ever, ever want this to happen again.
They just talk about how stupid Himchan's going to look with a hairnet and how Jaebum is probably going to make fun of Yongguk for asking for more money, even though he really doesn't care because he always has more than enough.
Himchan sighs-a chuckle and a groan hidden somewhere between breaths-laying his head down on the cushion of the couch as he looks at the invisible watch on his wrist. "I don't want to start dinner," He whines, burrowing his head into his arms, and all Yongguk can do is smile and laugh at him. "you do it." Himchan says, looking at Yongguk with pleading brown eyes. If Yongguk hadn't trained himself to ignore things like that a long time ago, he probably would followed Himchan's orders.
"See," Yongguk says instead, getting up from the couch and pulling Himchan along with him, the younger groaning but not attempting to slink back to the couch. "you wouldn't last a day as a baker; you're too lazy."
"Oh, shut up," Himchan smiles, rolling his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen.
Yongguk follows him, saying as he does, "What? No 'hotshot' this time?"
"Are you hungry?" Youngjae asks, even though he already knows the answer-will probably always know the answer.
Junhong nods his head anyway though; instead of telling Youngjae he doesn't need to ask him anymore or that he'll probably never ever be hungry ever again. He knows it would probably be the worst thing to say right now, and it would hurt Youngjae a thousand times more than he already is. "Do you know what's for dinner?" He curls himself closer to where Youngjae's sitting on his bed. He's getting used to Youngjae being here, and cuddling up close to him whenever he wants to feel something.
He thinks he kind of likes it, but he isn't sure about whose opinion that is-his or Youngjae's.
Youngjae takes a minute, leaning away, and Junhong finds himself tracing his fingers along Youngjae's wrist. He feels almost overwhelmed by the sudden sound of something-of voices-of familiar voices, but Junhong pays no mind to that, and instead, focuses on the smell of dried paint and his own shampoo-the abrupt hit of ginger, garlic, and seasoned vegetables invading his nose and sending a warmth down to the tip of his spine. "Is Himchan cooking kimchi?" Junhong asks, curiosity that isn't his lacing his voice, and suddenly, he feels hungry-stomach grumbling and mouth watering-until he pulls his fingers away from Youngjae's wrist.
Then he feels nothing at all again.
And Youngjae's giving him this really incredulous look that he knows should unnerve him but doesn't.
"Um, okay," Youngjae says, laughing slightly-nervously. There's a pause again, like Youngjae has to take a breath before he can continue. "That's going to take some getting used to."
Junhong doesn't even bother to try and figure out what he means by that.
"So, do you-do you want me to bring a plate up for you? Or something?" He scratches the back of his head, and Junhong kind of asks himself why, because does he feel uncomfortable or something? Did Junhong do or say something wrong again? "Still hungry?" Bashful-Junhong thinks. He looks bashful. Timid. Like he's scared of doing something wrong or maybe saying something wrong. But why?
Nodding, Junhong inches himself away from Youngjae, further onto his bed, and the genius seems to relax a bit. And Junhong asks, without feeling one ounce of confusion: is that it? Is he embarrassed because Junhong's been touching him? "Kimchi's my favorite. Why wouldn't I want some?" He tries his best to smile, and when he can't, when Youngjae has this hint of a grimace playing on his face, he nearly reaches out to trace the edge of Youngjae's jawline.
"Okay," Youngjae murmurs, and Junhong examines the way he keeps distancing himself, how he keeps looking away.
"Hey," Junhong says, and he isn't sure if it's too soft or if it's too loud in this situation, but he does his best to sound convincing, and by the way Youngjae's shoulders seem to slump and his eyes connect with his, he assumes whatever he's trying to do is working. "Is something wrong?"
Something in Youngjae's eyes flash, and too quickly, he's shaking his head no. "Um, no," And he's still shaking his head, even though he probably knows Junhong isn't interested-isn't really interested-in the slightest. "I just-I thought I heard Daehyun and Jongup talking."
"Still worried about them getting together?" Junhong asks, unsure of whether or not to keep eye contact or to pat him on the shoulder or something.
Youngjae shakes his head again. "No-that's not it. I just thought-" And Junhong's eyes connect with his briefly, just for a second, and Junhong can tell from the little flecks of light brown in his eyes that Youngjae's worried-legitamately worried.
"Were they fighting?" Junhong guesses, and Youngjae's eyes change-the pale brown flecks darken, and Junhong can tell that that's Youngjae's way of saying yes even though he's saying no.
"They weren't fighting, but-" And Youngjae sighs, rolling out of Junhong's bed with his eyes shut and his hands rubbing at his head. "nevermind." But Junhong hears instead, you won't get it, because that's probably what Youngjae means-because that's the truth. He doesn't get it, and right now, Junhong thinks it's actually easier not to, because Youngjae looks really distressed. "Wait here," He tells him. Wait here, and Junhong agrees, because he can't do much else. "I'll bring you something back to eat."
And before Junhong can say, okay, Youngjae is bringing a hand up, like he's telling Junhong he'll take just a minute-just a second. Junhong almost points out how reluctant Youngjae looks to leave. "I just think I need to talk to Jongup about something."
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Previous | Next
Author: ivoryroyale
Genre: supernatural, drama, friendship, hurt
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, some little hints of abuse
Summary: in which a group of six aren't afraid to stand tall because they have each other.
Note: 4,432 words. Unbeta-ed. I don't know how to write anymore tbh.
-----
[prologue] [chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [ chapter 7] [chapter 8] [ chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11] [ chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [ chapter 15] [ chapter 16] [ chapter 17] [ chapter 18] [ chapter 19] [ chapter 20]
not afraid to fall
chapter eighteen
Jongup stands in front of Daehyun's door, mask crumpled tight in his hands as he knocks-one, two, three times-each one timed precisely so they'd match to the slow beating of his heart rapidly getting faster.
He takes a breath-long and deliberate, throwing air into and out of his lungs to try and calm himself, but it doesn't work as well as he'd hoped and the fact that Daehyun isn't answering him is making his nerves jitter and his heart stutter and his stomach sink. His hands are starting to sweat, and Jongup briefly worries about how gross that is and if Daehyun's going to be angry or something because of it, before he's knocking-louder this time-more urgent-like his knuckles rapping against the plain wood might actually break the door into pieces if Daehyun doesn't answer him within the next five seconds.
It's around a second later when a small piece of post-it is quietly shoved through the bottom of the door (Jongup probably would've missed it if he weren't staring at his feet). Slowly, almost anxiously, Jongup bends down to pick it up, examining the small, yellow note, creased carefully down the middle, concealing whatever message Daehyun wants to tell him.
(Jongup can't help but wonder, just for a moment -just for one tenth of a millisecond-what Daehyun has to say to him. Wonders what in the world he has to say after almost kissing him and then running off to flirt with one of his best friends. Wonders what could be so damn trivial that he couldn't just say it straight to his face after he's worked up so much nerve to wipe away his tears and come face him. God dammit, why does Daehyun have to be such a coward-)
Taking in another breath, Jongup closes his eyes, counts to ten, and then opens the post-it carefully, almost as if, if he tried to open it any faster, he'd somehow manage to rip the paper in half. In Daehyun's messy scawl, Jongup reads-letters squished tight to fit on the tiny piece of paper: Sorry. Can't answer door. Don't have any clothes on. Who is it?
(Almost shamefully, Jongup catches himself rereading the second sentence, and actually imagining-)
"Er, sorry," Jongup says, and through the door, he can hear shuffling, and Jongup silently wishes he was smart like Youngjae, so that he'd be able to predict what Daehyun could be doing. "It's, um, it's Jongup, but you probably already know that by now from... from my voice," He chuckles, almost nervously, and when he doesn't hear Daehyun chuckle back, he has to keep himself from shrinking back. "I just... I wanted to return your mask. You kind of... left it in my room. I guess." There's a pause, like Daehyun has to really think about it, has to process all the words before he actually understands why Jongup's decided to come knocking at his door. Before Daehyun gets a chance to write another note though, Jongup's had enough time to think about the situation to blurt out, "Wait, your naked? Why don't you have any clothes?"
And again, before Daehyun can write another word, or even say another word, Jongup's shouting through the door, before he can even think, "Okay, wait-wait here, I'm going to get some of my clothes; you can wear them, just-just wait."
And he's off, running before he has a chance to hear Daehyun, letting out a breath that he'd been holding since the moment Jongup spoke.
Daehyun doesn't really know what to do in the three minutes that it takes Jongup to run to his room, pick out some clothes big enough for Daehyun, and run back.
For the first few seconds, Daehyun stays still-silent as a rock-trying to remember how to breath. He thinks and thinks about Jongup and what the hell just happened and how can he still be so nice after all that's happened until he realizes Jongup is coming back again and he's naked and he's probably going to embarrass himself so bad.
Then Daehyun snaps up from the ground, towel placed in an iron grip around his body, trying to cover every inch of skin he can manage while muttering a soft, "What," What the hell is happening. And then he starts pacing the length from the door to his bed, a hand curling through his wet hair, looking left and right in a slight panic, eyes wider than dinner plates, grip on his towel getting tighter.
This isn't what he planned. He planned to see Jongup later, planned to see him while fully clothed and ready, with every single word that he needs to say at the tip of his tongue. He's not ready now, and he does not want Jongup to see him right now.
His fight-or-flight response is telling him to run, run before he sees you. Because he doesn't-can't-won't confront. He's losing it, he thinks, because he's starting to compare Jongup to the soldiers. He's starting to think, if he does anything wrong-if he does one thing wrong-Jongup's going to be so angry. He's going to be angry with him, so angry that he'd do something horrible-he's going to beat him, or he's going to burn him, or he's going to shoot him with something, or-
There's a knock on the door that makes Daehyun jump and fly under his bedsheets-shaking, cowering, almost crying-peeking through it, and breathing irregularly, until he hears the soft timbre of Jongup's voice accompanied by a soft knocking. His breathing stops, abrupting, along with his shaking, and Daehyun pops his head out of the sheets, hair sticking up, and eyes still as large as saucers. "Hey, I have some clothes for you..."
Daehyun almost opens his mouth to say something, but he has no voice, not unless he wants to convince Jongup into doing something he doesn't want to do. Like forgive him.
"Daehyun?" It's a question, soft and sweet, and it's almost enough for Daehyun to come crawling out of his hiding place. He rubs at his eyes instead, trying to calm himself by breathing, in and out, short breaths. He may or not be having a panic attack-he doesn't know. "I'm coming in, okay?"
And before Daehyun has a chance to stop him, to shout a sudden command, the doorknob is twisting and Daehyun is ducking underneath the bedsheets before he has a chance to even think.
"Daehyun?" He hears Jongup say as he creeps into the room, voice unsure and almost scared. Daehyun wonders what he has to be afraid of before he remembers himself, cowering in a blanket from just about the sweetest guy he's ever known.
"In here," Daehyun says, finally, when he hears Jongup getting closer to his bed-to the bedsheets and Daehyun. Daehyun creates a little crack in the sheets, one that he can peek through without Jongup seeing him, and Jongup's there, standing in front of his bed, a hoodie and sweats wringing in his hands.
He almost thinks he sees a smile.
"What are you doing in there?"
Without a word, Daehyun subconciously reaches for his post-its and pen, only to find them gone. "Um," He mutters, forgetting how to speak for a moment and feeling sort of pathetic and so awkward. "I... I don't-clothes."
Jongup chuckles, and he almost sounds relieved, so Daehyun relaxes a bit, allowing himself to blink for the first time since Jongup knocked on his door. "Um, then, I guess I'll just leave the mask and clothes here?" He sees Jongup place the clothes on his bed, sees him start to walk away, and all of a sudden, Daehyun sees himself-his hand, reaching out of the blanket in a flash and catching the tail of Jongup's shirt, tugging him back without a word.
"Wait," He hears himself say, almost tearfully, like he's going to cry if Jongup takes another step away from him. A moment before, he didn't want to see Jongup, because he didn't know what the hell he was doing or what the hell he was going to do and he thought Jongup was going to be mad at him and that he would never want to speak to him ever again, but now that he's seen him-not that he's here, making Daehyun's head spin and his chest swell, Daehyun thinks he's never going to not want to to see Jongup. It's confusing to him, and Daehyun doesn't know what the hell he thinks he wants anymore, but he knows that he thinks that he might be crazy, and that it might be okay (it might be more than okay) if Jongup's there to make it all okay for him. "I-I need to explain-about the kiss-the almost... almost kiss." His mouth is dry, and everything that he's saying isn't making a lick of sense-not like how he planned it to-but Jongup stays anyway, because he has to when Daehyun commands him to. He stands, and he almost has this pained looked in his eyes that makes Daehyun want to let go and take it back-take it all back-but before he can, Daehyun is telling him to wait again, telling him to hold on as he wraps himself tighter into his bed sheets.
"Um, I don't-I'm not eloquent, okay? I'm not a good speaker. And I know you're probably not going to actually listen to anything I say, because I'm probably-probably brainwashing you right now, but I want you to listen," Daehyun takes a deep breath, one big enough to make his head dizzy again, and as he looks at Jongup, face twisted in confusion, he spews out the next sentence with as much grace as he can muster (which turns out to be not much). "You-you're great, okay? You're better than great, actually, you're amazing-absolutely amazing, and I must sound like the stupidest guy in the world right now, but I really, really don't want you to hate me, and I know that I probably scared the shit out of you when I-when I tried to kiss you-and it's really unfair of me to ask you not to be mad," He dares to look up, to see Jongup, and the look of confusion on his face is lessening, which is a good sign, but Daehyun doesn't know whether or not it's because of his voice or if it's because of him. "but I'm sorry-I'm really, really sorry and I-" He stops short, voice catching in his throat, because he's about to lie. He's about to tell Jongup that it didn't mean a thing-that he didn't mean it-it was an accident, when, really, it meant everything to him-meant the world to him. He meant every single action, and it scares him, because he doesn't want to ruin something great by trying to ask for something greater. "It was an accident, okay? I didn't mean it."
And the look on Jongup's face kind of just breaks, and Daehyun briefly wonders what the hell he did wrong this time and kind of wants to cry because his stomach does this funny little thing wear it falls beneath his feet and his heart shatters.
"It's okay," Jongup says, smiling just a bit, and even Daehyun can tell that it's not okay. It's really not, and he wants to know why.
What's wrong?
"Thanks for that," Jongup says, voice more sincere than before, a hand scratching at his neck, but he won't look Daehyun in the eyes. "I was-yeah. I was confused." And everything should be okay again, because Jongup understands, he's not mad and he's talking to Daehyun, but everything doesn't feel okay, and the tension in the air is almost too much for Daehyun to handle.
It's all wrong.
"Um... yeah," Jongup says conclusively, letting out a breathy chuckle, and all Daehyun can do is stare. "Thanks. Again. And, um, yeah." He's nodding and Daehyun's still trying to figure out what's wrong, but Jongup's obviously not going to tell him, because he's still smiling even though he doesn't mean it. "My clothes are right there. If you want to wear them," Jongup points at the space next to him, on the bed, and the boy turns to leave, quickly, like he wants to get out of here as fast as possible. "I'll see you later. After you have some clothes on." Another airy chuckle. "Bye, Daehyun."
Daehyun has to resist the urge to point out he's not using the nickname he gave him earlier as he asks, tentatively, "Wait. Jongup?"
The boy turns around with a hum and a smile that Daehyun doesn't believe.
"We-we're okay. Right...?"
And Jongup nods, almost enthusiastically. "Yeah! Of course."
"We're definitely okay."
Himchan has this too-big grin on his face that Yongguk undeniably can't help but smile at as he leans back into the couch cushion, sitting crisscrossed with his hands on his ankles. "Okay," He starts, giving him this leveled stare, almost like he's challenging him to oppose as he says the next few words. "I think I want to be a baker."
Yongguk returns the stare, crossing his arms and suppressing an almost-smile. He tilts his head a fraction, bringing a hand to his chin to contemplate the option: Himchan as a baker. Not a lot can go wrong with that. He cooks enough not to burn down the building like a maniac and Himchan might actually like (more than like, actually-he'd probably love) having a job at the bakery. It's close enough to the house not to be a hassle and he's sure there's a phone there, so Himchan could call him up every now and then whenever he has a break.
The job's prettty much a given, but still, Yongguk feels the need to give Himchan a hard time about it. So he finally comes to a conclusion, leaving forward, with a half-serious, half-not look on his face. "Baker's boring," He says decidedly, going as far as to nod.
Himchan's face twists into a look of fake outrage-eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, a slight quirk to his lips despite that. Yongguk has to purse his lips to keep the smile away from his lips. Himchan snorts at that. "What's wrong with being a baker?"
"What?" Yongguk asks, way to exaggeratedly, eyebrow raised and all, throwing his hands out just a bit. "Besides standing near a hot oven all day?"
With an air of arrogance, Himchan tilts his head back, flaring his nostrils just slightly, and Yongguk thinks he looks absolutely ridiculous-seriously, what kind of face is that? And Yongguk finally loses it, grin stretching for miles and string of chuckles leaving his mouth without his permission. Himchan doesn't even falter when he's asking, still with that look on his face. "And what if I like standing near a hot oven all day? What then, hm?" His smile is pleasant-probably because he knows Yongguk actually has no objections to the baker option or maybe because Yongguk was the one who laughed first out of the two of them.
"Then you obviously need to get out more," Yongguk retorts simply, sticking a tongue out at the younger, bumping into his shoulder with a chuckle on the tip of his tongue and a twinkle in his eyes.
Himchan's still trying (and failing-pretty badly, at that) to look offended, but he has this smirk on his face that makes Yongguk wonder what the hell he's planning to say, because he knows that look-it's Himchan's I'm-going-to-say-something-stupider-than-usual face. He's nudging Yongguk in the ribs with his elbow, a suggestive raise to his brows, and he's chuckling, saying without a single thought, no doubt, "Who said I was talking about the oven in the kitchen, hotshot?"
It takes a moment for it to click in Yongguk's head, because what the hell would an oven be doing outside of a kitchen? Isn't that where they're supposed to be? Until Yongguk finally understands what the nudges and the stupid look on Himchan's face are supposed to mean, and he finally gets what Himchan's insinuating. Yongguk gives Himchan this look like he's crazy-eyebrows furrowing close together and forehead creasing as he pushes Himchan's elbows away from his ribcage. "Are you comparing me to an oven?"
The look on Himchan's face is answer enough, but he still answers, with an airy giggle snaking through his teeth. "Maybe,"
"Wow," Yongguk says, shaking his head at Himchan who's still laughing like he made the best joke in the world, "you're so lame. Tell me why you're my best friend again?"
Himchan has enough decency to try to stop laughing, holding a hand to his stomach. "Okay," He wheezes out, waving a hand in the air like he's telling Yongguk to wait. "In my defense, it sounded a lot smoother in my head."
"Really?" Yongguk demands, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. He can't believe how much he's laughing, how much he can still laugh after all that's happened: with Junhong's condition and Daehyun and Jongup and his fight with Himchan and with Youngjae's strange behavior and this Key guy still on the loose. "You thought 'hotshot' was smooth?"
"Okay, that was actually priceless; you have to give me that one!" Himchan demands, jumping at his spot on the couch like he's on some kind of sugar high. If he jumps anymore, he's either going to fall off the couch himself, or Yongguk is going to push him off. "The look-on your face-" He can barely breathe, he's laughing so hard, and Yongguk wonders if someone can pass out from lack of oxygen from laughing too hard.
"No, Himchan," Yongguk tries to explain, "if you said that to anyone else, they'd probably slap you. Or walk away." And Yongguk has to think about it for a second, playing the scenerio over in his head to see if there would be any more possible outcomes. "You know what? They'd probably do both."
Himchan rolls his eyes, like Yongguk missed something really important, and looks him dead in the eyes as he says, "Well, I'm not talking to just anybody, am I? I'm talking to my oven."
It almost doesn't register to Yongguk that he should probably feel offended by something like that. The words sort of just pass through one ear and out the other, and Yongguk doesn't even feel the slightest bit angry-just a little confused-as he asks hesitantly, "...your oven?"
"Mhm," And Yongguk briefly thinks about how the stupid grin on Himchan's face is making his chest swell, before he stops himself, listening and watching as Himchan brings a hand up to give him a tiny, little wave. "Hi!"
Yongguk laughs then, waving back and shaking his head as he greets back, "Hello," in a gruff voice. They're getting so off task, he thinks, because what was supposed to be them choosing jobs for Himchan to apply to, ended up being them joking around.
They've been discussing this for hours-it's almost dark out, and Himchan should probably start up dinner for the kids-and they've went through hundreds of different options ranging from actual ideas-like a baker or a waiter or a cashier-to completely ridiculous ideas (which more often than not turn out to be Yongguk's)-like one of those strip-o-grams or a fortune cookie writer or a snake milker, that sounds like an awesome idea. And for each one, both of them have managed to trash on each and every one of the other's ideas instead of actually picking one.
It's fun though-really fun-and it keeps both of them from actually thinking of what's going to happen within the next month. Neither of them like to think about it much-they never do whenever Yongguk has to leave-and they try to put it off for as long as possible-try to joke about it so that it's all smiles and laughs and everything happy until the moment Yongguk has to leave and all of it comes flooding forward like a typhoon. They don't talk about Junhong or when he's going to get better or if he's going to get any better and they don't talk about what can happen-what will happen-to Yongguk while he's away. They don't talk about how stupid this all is or how scary or how they never ever, ever want this to happen again.
They just talk about how stupid Himchan's going to look with a hairnet and how Jaebum is probably going to make fun of Yongguk for asking for more money, even though he really doesn't care because he always has more than enough.
Himchan sighs-a chuckle and a groan hidden somewhere between breaths-laying his head down on the cushion of the couch as he looks at the invisible watch on his wrist. "I don't want to start dinner," He whines, burrowing his head into his arms, and all Yongguk can do is smile and laugh at him. "you do it." Himchan says, looking at Yongguk with pleading brown eyes. If Yongguk hadn't trained himself to ignore things like that a long time ago, he probably would followed Himchan's orders.
"See," Yongguk says instead, getting up from the couch and pulling Himchan along with him, the younger groaning but not attempting to slink back to the couch. "you wouldn't last a day as a baker; you're too lazy."
"Oh, shut up," Himchan smiles, rolling his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen.
Yongguk follows him, saying as he does, "What? No 'hotshot' this time?"
"Are you hungry?" Youngjae asks, even though he already knows the answer-will probably always know the answer.
Junhong nods his head anyway though; instead of telling Youngjae he doesn't need to ask him anymore or that he'll probably never ever be hungry ever again. He knows it would probably be the worst thing to say right now, and it would hurt Youngjae a thousand times more than he already is. "Do you know what's for dinner?" He curls himself closer to where Youngjae's sitting on his bed. He's getting used to Youngjae being here, and cuddling up close to him whenever he wants to feel something.
He thinks he kind of likes it, but he isn't sure about whose opinion that is-his or Youngjae's.
Youngjae takes a minute, leaning away, and Junhong finds himself tracing his fingers along Youngjae's wrist. He feels almost overwhelmed by the sudden sound of something-of voices-of familiar voices, but Junhong pays no mind to that, and instead, focuses on the smell of dried paint and his own shampoo-the abrupt hit of ginger, garlic, and seasoned vegetables invading his nose and sending a warmth down to the tip of his spine. "Is Himchan cooking kimchi?" Junhong asks, curiosity that isn't his lacing his voice, and suddenly, he feels hungry-stomach grumbling and mouth watering-until he pulls his fingers away from Youngjae's wrist.
Then he feels nothing at all again.
And Youngjae's giving him this really incredulous look that he knows should unnerve him but doesn't.
"Um, okay," Youngjae says, laughing slightly-nervously. There's a pause again, like Youngjae has to take a breath before he can continue. "That's going to take some getting used to."
Junhong doesn't even bother to try and figure out what he means by that.
"So, do you-do you want me to bring a plate up for you? Or something?" He scratches the back of his head, and Junhong kind of asks himself why, because does he feel uncomfortable or something? Did Junhong do or say something wrong again? "Still hungry?" Bashful-Junhong thinks. He looks bashful. Timid. Like he's scared of doing something wrong or maybe saying something wrong. But why?
Nodding, Junhong inches himself away from Youngjae, further onto his bed, and the genius seems to relax a bit. And Junhong asks, without feeling one ounce of confusion: is that it? Is he embarrassed because Junhong's been touching him? "Kimchi's my favorite. Why wouldn't I want some?" He tries his best to smile, and when he can't, when Youngjae has this hint of a grimace playing on his face, he nearly reaches out to trace the edge of Youngjae's jawline.
"Okay," Youngjae murmurs, and Junhong examines the way he keeps distancing himself, how he keeps looking away.
"Hey," Junhong says, and he isn't sure if it's too soft or if it's too loud in this situation, but he does his best to sound convincing, and by the way Youngjae's shoulders seem to slump and his eyes connect with his, he assumes whatever he's trying to do is working. "Is something wrong?"
Something in Youngjae's eyes flash, and too quickly, he's shaking his head no. "Um, no," And he's still shaking his head, even though he probably knows Junhong isn't interested-isn't really interested-in the slightest. "I just-I thought I heard Daehyun and Jongup talking."
"Still worried about them getting together?" Junhong asks, unsure of whether or not to keep eye contact or to pat him on the shoulder or something.
Youngjae shakes his head again. "No-that's not it. I just thought-" And Junhong's eyes connect with his briefly, just for a second, and Junhong can tell from the little flecks of light brown in his eyes that Youngjae's worried-legitamately worried.
"Were they fighting?" Junhong guesses, and Youngjae's eyes change-the pale brown flecks darken, and Junhong can tell that that's Youngjae's way of saying yes even though he's saying no.
"They weren't fighting, but-" And Youngjae sighs, rolling out of Junhong's bed with his eyes shut and his hands rubbing at his head. "nevermind." But Junhong hears instead, you won't get it, because that's probably what Youngjae means-because that's the truth. He doesn't get it, and right now, Junhong thinks it's actually easier not to, because Youngjae looks really distressed. "Wait here," He tells him. Wait here, and Junhong agrees, because he can't do much else. "I'll bring you something back to eat."
And before Junhong can say, okay, Youngjae is bringing a hand up, like he's telling Junhong he'll take just a minute-just a second. Junhong almost points out how reluctant Youngjae looks to leave. "I just think I need to talk to Jongup about something."
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