not afraid to fall [chapter 24]
Title: not afraid to fall [chapter 24]
Author: ivoryroyale
Genre: supernatural, friendship, romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language
Summary: in which a group of six aren't afraid to stand tall because they have each other.
Note: 5,955 words. Extremely unbeta-ed. There will be so many errors I bet.
-----
[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] [ chapter 21] [ chapter 22] [ chapter 23]
not afraid to fall
chapter twenty-four
The name 'Kim Kibum' seems eerily familiar to Yongguk.
It's a common name, but it isn't the regular kind of common where he hears a name and thinks, 'Right, him, that man, he isn't so bad'; it's the kind of common that sends shivers down his spine and warning signals to his head. The kind that sends a sick feeling to back of his throat and suffocates him. The kind that scares him, sends a heat right down to the pit of his stomach where it festers and churns enough to start burning buildings, to burn the sky into molten ash.
The kind that tells him something horrible is going to happen.
And Yongguk has been in the dark for too long not to trust his instincts above anything else, so even though he knows he hasn't seen the name in any of his files, hasn't overheard it in any rumors or come across it during his base investigations, he knows not to trust even the simple name. Not even when Himchan tells him to.
(Because he's had this feeling before--has had it and completely ignored it--and it completely fucked him over. Made his life crumble, right before his eyes, and almost made him lose Himchan.
He's never going to let that happen again.)
"Kim Kibum, huh?" He asks, hands tightening on the steering wheel, muscles clenching around his jaw. (That's the first name he's going to research when he gets home--the first name he's going to read every single article about, no matter how many times it pops up or how many people it pops up for.) "He sounds like a creep."
From the corner of his eye, Himchan's face twists, "I've only said nice things about him so far, Yongguk, how the hell does he sound like a creep?"
"His name." He isn't exactly lying.
"His name? I give you 'perfect gentleman' and 'kind of cute' and all you can think is 'creep' because of something as stupid as his name?"
Yongguk discreetly maneuvers the car to the right, taking the familiar path of trees toward their house. "I could say something about the place he works at, too, but then you'd feel offended."
Himchan purses his lips. Crosses his arms with his angry face marring his usual smile, "I'm already offended." His voice is tight, and Yongguk knows that's a bad sign, because it means Himchan'll probably shut down on him, like he usually does when he's angry (but not angry--not enough to yell or curse at him, not enough to do what he did before and ignore him for a whole day).
He figures it wouldn't hurt to talk about it (not as much as it would hurt to see Himchan hurt because of this Kibum guy), "Why are you offended?"
"Because you don't think I can handle myself again."
"You know perfectly well I don't think that--"
"Then what else is it?" And his voice is laced with something--something other than anger and confusion and complete hostility and annoyance. It's ringing with desperation and pure frustration and hope (and hope and hope), and Yongguk has a pretty good idea about what it is, but he doesn't want to be right. And he doesn't have enough guts to ask it out loud. "What else can it be, Yongguk?"
(And he knows Himchan thinks he's jealous. He knows that that's the only logical reason in Himchan's mind why he'd be suspicious about a guy that he just met, and he knows the only reason why Himchan is mad is because he isn't admitting it. Because he's lying again.
But at least this time it's for all the right reasons.)
In a bout of resignation, Yongguk says, "You know what? Forget I said anything. My mistake," and his hands on the steering wheel are so tight his knuckles are turning white, and he shakes his head even though he knows neither of them is going to let this go. Not anytime soon. (Even though he's going to go home and check all of Kim Kibum's credibility and how safe he really is.) "I hope you and Kibum are happy with your quaint, little cake shop." (And he's bitter and maybe he's a little angry, too, but it doesn't matter because Himchan's just going to let it go like every other thing in their relationship that they let go of.)
Himchan shakes his head, too, but like Yongguk predicts, he doesn't say a word.
"Daehyunnie," Jongup says, a little uneasily, "nobody in the world needs that much cake for a party."
Daehyun looks up from his spot next to Jongup's bed where he's writing a list of the different kinds of cake flavors they can make for the party, pen cap rolling between his two front teeth, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth and words garbled as he speaks. "But I thought parties were all about the cake?" The pen cap slips a little bit forward when Daehyun cocks his head to the side, and Jongup finds it a little hard not to just let him do what he wants when he looks like that--all innocence with a big, toothy grin to match. (Is it possible that Daehyun got cuter since they started dating?)
"It actually depends on whose party it is." Jongup explains, a more than lovestruck smile that he's more than okay with playing across his lips. "And since it's Youngjae hyung's party and not yours," Without really thinking about it, he brings his face down, close to the pen cap sticking out of Daehyun's lips, and the blonde in front of him smiles, corners of his mouth quirking upward in the best of ways. When Daehyun lets the pen cap drop out of his mouth, Jongup doesn't even need to lean forward to kiss him, because Daehyun does it for him, "we don't need that much cake."
"Says you."
"Says everybody." Jongup counters, with a raised eyebrow. Daehyun makes the weirdest face in the world, with his tongue sticking out and his eyes scrunched up. It's a little concerning that Jongup still finds him attractive.
With a laugh, Jongup makes a face back at him and swipes a look at the paper bunched up beneath Daehyun's hands (and he silently loves the fact that the paper isn't post-its and that the list isn't mandatory). He reads one of the flavors on the list and blanches. "Almond peanut butter? What kind of cake is that?"
Daehyun taps him lightly on the cheek. "The best kind."
"Never heard of vanilla?"
The look on Daehyun's face looks so confused; Jongup would swear he was serious. (If it weren't for the slight sparkle in his eyes, he wouldn't have been able to tell.) "Of course I have. I just--" And suddenly the sparkle is gone, and Daehyun's letting out a long breath. He bites at his lips, the inside of his cheeks, and before Jongup can ask what's wrong, he continues, voice suddenly vexatious, "My--um, m-mom used to make it for me..."
And Jongup thinks, 'oh.'
He wasn't expecting that.
It isn't a even a second later that he's babbling, "sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry," faster than he can even think (it's like a reflex to him) and Daehyun is telling him with an obviously forced smile not to worry even though he's about two inches close to breaking down (Jongup can see it--he doesn't know how or why, but he can, and he doesn't want that, and he doesn't know what to do to stop it.) "Sorry," he stutters again--squeaking and begging--even though he doesn't mean to. Even though he's sick and tired of only being able to apologize all the time, "I didn't know."
"That's okay," Daehyun tells him, capping the pen in front of him, and Jongup knows it isn't, "I don't really tell you much about my mom anyway, so it's mostly my fault you didn't know."
And Jongup says, without thinking, "I'll make it for you." But he isn't sure if it's a good thing or not, because it's not another apology (which is good), but he also can't bake for shit (which is bad).
(When Daehyun gives him a huge smile though, with the sides of his cheeks crinkling up with his mouth and his hair falling just in front of the two brown crescents that make up his eyes, Jongup decides it's a good thing.)
"Do you even know how to cook?"
"Not even a little."
"Have you ever tried using your super speed while in robot mode?"
"Oh, so we're calling it 'robot mode' now?" Junhong asks, grin playing at the corners of his lips, fingers playing at edges of Youngjae's splayed hands. He's gotten used to this--the touching--way to used to it, and while it should scare him, the way he can think about Youngjae one second and then Jongup the next, it doesn't. The only thing he focuses on is Youngjae's voice, the way he has to look away when he laughs, how he curls his toes and bites at his lips. "Is that an improvement from 'machine'? I'm not really sure."
Youngjae's smile curls his bottom lip outward, and Junhong isn't afraid to admit that he might be falling a little bit in love with it. "Definitely an improvement. You don't want to know what I thought about you before." Junhong tilts his head sideways, feels his stomach churn in that familiar way, feels the thoughts in his head slipping to a dull hum rather than a roar of curiosity. "I was really mean."
"Meaner than you are now?"
He repeats, "I was really mean." Junhong trusts his judgement. "But, as I was saying before, have you ever tried it? I mean, your super speed could be completely different now that you don't feel anything."
Junhong's face twists, and even though he can't feel it, he really thinks he managed to do it this time, because Youngjae isn't grimacing anymore. (That could be because he's getting used to him like this though.) Junhong says, "You say that like it's a good thing."
Youngjae looks disappointed. "There has to be some benefits to something this horrible."
Junhong thinks Youngjae looks sad, too. He thinks he doesn't like how Youngjae looks sad. He also thinks he likes it better when Youngjae smiles, but he can't be sure (not when he can't feel).
He opens his mouth. Something in the back of his head tells him not to. He closes it.
"I mean," The genius' hands wave around. Weaving around the air in something of a flurry. Junhong doesn't know why. He supposes he's trying to explain something, "sometimes I wonder what it's like,"
The word 'horrible' comes to mind.
It disappears within a second.
"what goes through your head,"
Nothing.
"how your mind works without needing to worry about emotions hindering your thought process,"
He notices things. Things like Youngjae's speech patterns. The fluctuation of his voice when his words don't match with what his brain thinks. How conflicted he is all the time because of it. He notices things like that better than he does when he feels. But it's still not the same. He's like a typewriter like this. Thinking and saying words. Sentences upon sentences. Fragmented thoughts of absolute nothing.
"do you ever want to go back to feeling numb after feeling all this pain?"
And Junhong thinks, for a split second, with complete honesty, with complete feeling, 'never.'
But on the outside he says, with his voice like static, "My super speed relies a lot on my emotions. I wouldn't know how to make it work like this," with his voice like rain--dull and monotonous and endless.
Youngjae looks disappointed again.
He still doesn't care.
(Apparently it becomes too much for him to handle after that, because Youngjae grips onto his hands, weaving his fingers around his palms, and Junhong silently thanks him for that, silently wishes he'd never let go, because it's so horrible.) He feels Youngjae gulping in his throat, feels the relief at the front of his mind now that he doesn't need to bear through the worst half of Junhong, through the part that kills him on the inside a little more everytime he sees him. (And he feels something he isn't supposed to--feels something about his eyes and how they spark like a fire when they touch. Feels Youngjae thinking it as quietly as he can to himself. Feels him trying to pile up thought after thought to cover it up.)
Youngjae's cheeks turn red, and Junhong thinks his are turning red, too (but he isn't sure if it's because of Youngjae or if it's because of his thoughts). "We can make it work." The genius says, voice quiet, and Junhong isn't sure what he's talking about. "You--you know--your super speed. When you're in robot mode." He coughs.
Junhong blinks. He realizes it's become a habit, even when he can feel.
"We have to make it work." Youngjae says, more sternly, and Junhong feels the butterflies in his stomach and how they die when he reminds himself of something else--something Junhong can't really detect. Something Youngjae is doing a really good job at hiding. "Getting your emotions back altogether is going to take a long time, and we can't have you completely defenseless if an enemy comes."
(And Junhong catches something again. Catches a thought--a simple sentence that doesn't make any sense but still makes the air snap painfully in his throat and his eyes go wide.
'I can't have you completely defenseless if I suddenly lose control.')
Himchan's three steps onto the porch when he feels Yongguk latching onto his arm. He isn't too sure why, but he hopes it's to admit his utter jealousy he holds toward Kibum (which is a very slim possibility in reality, but it still doesn't hurt to try).
He's surprised when it isn't. (But not really.)
"Do you mind if I leave earlier than when you said?"
The breath catches in Himchan's throat, and he suddenly feels angry. Feels like tearing his hair out and beating Yongguk with a fist. Even though he knows he isn't really as angry as he is sad (upset, disappointed, dejected, alone--all the synonyms there are in the world). He swallows whatever stupid lump is in his throat and resists the urge to croak, 'why?'
Instead he says, "You and I are grown men." Like that answers his question. (Yongguk's hand is still wrapped around his bicep--burning him, searing into his skin without leaving a scar, and it hurts even though he isn't using his power.) "I don't think it matters when you leave or not." He still doesn't understand why he's so angry. (He wants to beg him to stay. Just a little bit longer.)
The crease in Yongguk's forehead deepens, and in Himchan's mind, that's Yongguk's way of begging to him. That's his way of asking, of pleading, begging for Himchan to say it, too. To tell him to stay, so that he doesn't have to admit that he doesn't want to go.
Himchan thinks, maybe they're too stubborn. Maybe if they weren't so afraid to admit the stupid things, they would be glued together all the time--no fighting and no conflict. Maybe Yongguk would stay with him, and maybe he'd be happy about it.
Maybe they'd be together.
Because if Himchan wasn't so stubborn, he'd have told him how he felt a long time ago, instead of waiting for Yongguk to say it first. Instead of believing that maybe--maybe one day--he'd say it first. He'd wake up and realize and sweep Himchan off his feet and into the sky and into some other planet where they don't have to worry about anything happening to their babies or people like Key or dying or death or things worse than that (like torture, like seeing your son emotionless, disenchanted, heartbroken but not all the same).
Sadly, the world doesn't work that way, and Himchan's left feeling numb when the hand on his shoulder slips off.
Yongguk still has that crease in his forehead, and Himchan wants to say something (to beg) but the lump in his throat is keeping him from speaking. "So if I said I wanted to leave in five days, you'd be okay?" And his words scream for him to say something (because five days isn't two weeks. It isn't what he promised, and it isn't what either of them want), but Himchan still says, "I'd be perfect."
(The crease on Yongguk's forehead leaves, and Himchan feels like crying.)
Yongguk purses his lips and grinds, "Good."
"Great."
"Fantastic."
Then Yongguk brushes against Himchan's shoulder, and he leaves to let him watch as he walks up the porch and types the code into the keypad. Leaves him to watch as he slams the door wide open, so Himchan can follow.
(And it isn't welcoming. It isn't what he usually does where he lets Himchan go first or where he teases him enough to race inside, and Himchan feels like climbing through the window just to avoid accepting any invitation Yongguk throws at him, but instead, he does exactly what he would do if they weren't mad at each other--weren't frustrated to no end and ready to punch the other's head right off. He walks through the doorway, closes the door gently behind him, and follows Yongguk straight upstairs--straight into his room. He walks right to where they keep the disposable phones in Yongguk's dresser and curls himself into the foot of his bed with one of his favorite stuffed animals tucked between his folded legs, because no matter what, he has to pretend they're alright.
Because Yongguk is leaving in five days.
And even if he's mad. Even if Yongguk's acting like he isn't jealous, he's still going to miss him when he's gone.)
"Himchan can bake right?"
"Not this much."
"Do you think if I said this was all for Youngjae--"
"He wouldn't believe you."
Daehyun pouts. Pouts even more when Jongup grins at him. (Even though he does have a very pretty smile, he's learned that if he pouts long enough, Jongup will kiss it away, and he's taken it upon himself to get as many kisses as possible. Seven years worth of them.)
A second later, Jongup leans forward and pecks him on the nose, which he wasn't really looking for, but he will accept all the same. "Why don't we just focus on Youngjae hyung and bake him one cake with one of his favorite flavors?" Daehyun rolls his eyes at all the emphasis Jongup includes in his words, but he still loves the fact that he can tease him. Before, Jongup probably wouldn't have said a single syllable that would've offended him, and every other word he said to him was an apology. They've come a long way, and Daehyun loves that, thinks it'll make them last. (Unlike certain things in his life--unlike trust and family and happiness and life as he knows it.)
Daehyun contemplates his boyfriend's suggestion, tapping the end of his pen to his lips, "That depends, what's one of his favorite flavors?"
"He likes green tea." Jongup says, and Daehyun's face twists. Ew. "He likes green tea flavored everything."
And even though it sounds disgusting, even though Daehyun thinks that might be the worst cake flavor in the world, he thinks about his moms almond peanut butter cake and how other people might think it was gross, too. He thinks about birthdays, on the rarest occasion, where his parents chose him over their jobs. Where they stayed home and him and his dad raced around the house, not worrying about how fatigue he became and just played, with the smell of roasted almonds wafting around the mansion. Where his mom caught up to them wearing a red and white checkered apron and over-sized oven mitts and the brightest smile in the world instead of a look of greed. Where they sat him down in the kitchen and sang happy birthday and pinched him on the cheeks.
He wants Youngjae to feel like he did--happy--so if that means making him green tea flavored cake, so be it.
"I guess we can do that." Daehyun says, pretending to be reluctant, and he's pretty sure Jongup knows he is, too, because he leans forward again, on his spot on the bed. Presses their foreheads together and just stares. After a moment, Daehyun grins and pokes his tongue out, "Weirdo."
"That's offensive." Jongup states, lightly, but he continues, looking above, probably thinking, "We better get going if we want to get the cake on time. Stores close at six, and it's already five-ish. I think."
Leaning backward, enough for Jongup to nearly fall, but close enough to still catch him, Daehyun jumps from his place kneeling next to Jongup's bed. "Or," He exclaims, twining his fingers into the spaces between Jongup's, attempting to bring him up with him but only succeeding in causing a slight eyebrow raise from the younger, "We can just bake the cakes ourselves."
Jongup's face looks doubtful. "I don't think that's such a good idea, hyung."
Without so much as a second thought, Daehyun slowly tugs Jongup off the bed. "How hard can it be?"
Junhong heard it. Youngjae knows he heard it--what he was thinking. His simple thought, so vague it could barely mean anything; his simple thought, so vague that it means everything to Junhong. Makes him anxious and worried and anxious again.
And even though Youngjae can feel the unease dripping off Junhong's actions--from the way his words stutter and his movements turn jerky--he won't tell him. He won't let him see what's in the darkest parts of his head.
He refuses to.
So when Junhong attempts to hold his hands more, Youngjae thinks. About everything. Every little sensation he feels and the different pigments that make up Junhong's skin. Lists off every little factoid that goes through his head about human skin. Anything to get Junhong to calm down.
(And even through all this, Junhong still keeps his hands stubbornly close--worry overcoming any amount of boredom Youngjae's thoughts might cause.
Youngjae doesn't know whether to feel flattered or not.)
Daehyun's face twists, a bit of his bangs peaking out of the makeshift ponytail he made from a loose string to keep his hair out of his face. His face is covered in flour, and he feels disgusting. (There's also a great big green stain on Himchan's favorite pink apron that he doesn't know how to get out. He feels like if this cake doesn't come out at least half cent, the man is going to maim him for it.) He hates baking now--wonders how anyone does it and blesses the souls of all the people out there who do it for a living. He glances at Jongup, who's next to him at the counter, clad in his favorite kitchen wear (a pair of sweats and a tank top), looking and re-looking over the recipe to make sure they're doing every little thing right. (He can't even find that cute at the moment, because this cake is driving him mad.)
With a scowl, Daehyun takes the bowl in his hands and dumps the thermos of green tea that he found in the fridge into it, thinking as he does, 'This thing better be fucking delicious'.
Not even a second later, Jongup suddenly shouts, finger glued to one of the pages of Himchan's cookbook. "Daehyunnie, it says right here that we're supposed to use powdered green tea! Why did you pour actual tea into the flour?"
The blonde feels really confused, and the hand he has around the thermos tightens before he moves and drops it altogether, right into the sink. His other arm is still holding onto the cake batter possessively, "Wait, so we don't use liquid green tea?"
"No!"
"Now that just doesn't make any sense--why do they call it green tea flavor when you don't use actual green tea in the recipe?" Jongup looks at him like he has two heads, "What?"
"You do know that powdered green tea makes the actual green tea that you're talking about, right?"
Daehyun's silent for a moment.
Then, he says, "Ohhhhh," and all Jongup does it double over with laughter. Daehyun smiles, too, but then he realizes something horrible. "Does that mean we have to start over?"
Jongup laughs even more, but Daehyun doesn't really know what's so funny.
Junhong traces his fingers along the fading scabs decorating Youngjae's arms. He nearly forgot about them in the seven days that has passed, nearly forgot about the day he panicked enough to accidentally send a group of scalpels raining down to slice his arms open. He was too worried before, about Junhong, to really think about how much they actually sting. To really take care of them.
(At least they won't scar, he tells himself--measures in his head the amount of time it'll take for them to fully fade away.)
Junhong's hisses a breath between his teeth, and Youngjae glances up. Almost pulls away when he sees how sad the younger boy looks. (Almost pulls away when he notices the way his lower lip juts out and his voice gets deeper.) "That's a long time." He notes, taking his index finger and trailing it up, up, up--up to where the longest cut ends, two inches above his elbow. Youngjae finds it unnerving, still, that Junhong can read every little thing he thinks, no matter how fast he thinks it. Wonders if he should stop this before he accidentally hears something he isn't supposed to--"It'll seriously take two weeks for them to heal?"
The genius nods, and he bites his lips again, out of pure habit.
"And I did this to you?" It isn't so much a question as it is an actual statement.
Youngjae's head snaps up, catches the look on Junhong's face and says, over and over, faster, quicker than his brain can think, "No. No, you didn't. You didn't do anything, okay? " The spark in Junhong's eye is anything but good. "I know what you're thinking." Youngjae states, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes. Even though he isn't like Junhong, who can hear a person's thoughts on contact, who can suck up every single thing about them and call them his, Youngjae knows self-hate when he sees it, and he can't let Junhong think things like that. Not after he's thought so much of it himsel--"I did this myself, by accident, okay? It wasn't your fault."
Junhong's irises strike against his, sparking a flame, causing a fire. "But it happened when you were trying to take care of me, right? When you were trying to save me?"
"Yes, but that doesn't--"
"Matter?" Junhong finishes, suddenly pulling away. Youngjae's arms suddenly start to hurt for no reason. "Can you really tell me it doesn't matter? When you're doing it right now?"
Youngjae doesn't even know what to say.
"Do cakes have ears?"
Jongup honestly doesn't know if Daehyun is joking or not. "Um... no. Why?"
Without answering, Daehyun turns on his spot leaning against the counter and faces the oven, where the cake is now baking. He cups his hands around his mouth, amplifying his voice as he shouts, "Be delicious!" multiple times.
Jongup snorts.
His boyfriend looks accomplished, damn right prideful, and Jongup finds it unbelievably charming. He swings his arms from his spot sitting on one of the counters, and when Daehyun glances at him with a smile, Jongup beckons him over with a wave of the hand.
Daehyun fits himself in the space between his legs, and the younger boy takes his cheeks into his hands, thumbs running gently over the tiny acne scars marring his cheeks. (He doesn't realize it then, but he has the biggest grin on his face that makes Daehyun want to jump up and hug him.) "If that cake isn't delicious," He murmurs, biting his lip, running a hesitant finger along the outline of Daehyun's bottom lip, "I think I'm going to cry."
"Moon Jongup," The blonde starts, a sly smirk playing on his lips, "that cake is our baby. We need to love it no matter what."
When Jongup giggles, Daehyun tiptoes and presses their lips together.
"Look, I don't know what you're hiding," Junhong says, voice choked (but it doesn't matter, because that's going to disappear within a matter of seconds--Youngjae's condition--or whatever the hell he's going through--will not), "and I certainly don't know what the hell 'I can't have you completely defenseless if I suddenly lose control' means, but I'm not going to let you walk around saying things like, 'it doesn't matter if I get hurt', because it does."
Youngjae blinks in front of him--does that thing where he bites at his lip and doesn't know what to say next. Junhong can feel the numbness inching forward with every second, but he still continues. He still continues, because he's scared, and he doesn't know what's happening, but he's not going to let Youngjae get hurt because of it. "You can't just--just say things like that, okay? You can't say things like that and think that I'm not going to care." Junhong shifts in his place on the floor, brushes his hands along the wood of the floor and curls them into fists as if that'll help him keep an ounce of feeling. "You don't have to tell me everything, Youngjae," (And he doesn't even bother with an honorific--not when they're like this--Junhong's emotions hanging by a thread and Youngjae's showing completely on his face.) "you don't. But--but you need to stop hurting yourself, okay?"
And Youngjae's eyes water, and Junhong can see all of the hurt surfacing onto his expression, and it's supposed to hurt him like a gun wound, but it only affects him like a feather. "It's not worth it. You matter way too much."
When Youngjae laughs, a funny sort of scoff filled with something Junhong thinks is gratefulness, Junhong tries his hardest to cling to the last string of emotion before it breaks.
Himchan has somehow made his way closer to Yongguk (he honestly doesn't know how; he just sort of gravitated toward him--out of habit, perhaps) when he hears a crash coming from downstairs and nearly has a heart attack.
Yongguk seems to have the same thoughts, because he turns to Himchan and shrugs, answering the question he knows he must be asking. Even after he answers, Himchan still asks, phone clutched into the palm of his hand, "What was that?" slowly making his way off the bed, so he can check.
"Where do you think you're going?" Yongguk asks, suddenly wrapping a hand around Himchan's wrist. (It makes him feel vulnerable, and he hates that, so he pulls his hand away.)
"I'm going to go check what it was."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
He makes sure Yongguk hears the pure determination in his voice, and when he does, when the older man pauses--speechless, Himchan feels the slightest bit proud.
Yongguk scowls. There's another crash downstairs. Himchan waits expectantly, fear creeping up the back of his spine. 'What if it's someone from a base? What if it's Key? What if they're trying to break in? What if they already broke in?' "Fine, but I'm going with you."
Himchan has no complaints.
When they make their way downstairs, Himchan tries, rather poorly, to lead the two of them.
He attempts to stay in front, hands outstretched on the staircase so that Yongguk is shielded from any oncoming attacks. (He doesn't even have an actual shield put around them, because Yongguk can see he's too shaken up to make one--too busy trying not to cower to actually focus on anything else--and Yongguk finds it stupid and careless and brave, all the same.)
With a sigh (and a smile that he won't admit is there), Yongguk places a hand on the back of his shoulder to urge him forward.
When they finally make it to the end of the stairs, Daehyun is on the ground in the kitchen, nursing his hands, and Jongup is holding what looks like a green cake on a tray in his hands, covered in Himchan's oven mitts.
Himchan's form immediately relaxes, seeing they aren't in any immediate danger.
Yongguk thinks Daehyun and Jongup plus cooking equal an even worse combination than someone breaking in.
"What happened?" Himchan does the honor of asking, voice the tiniest bit shaky.
Jongup's trademark grin is on his face. "We made a cake!"
He sounds so accomplished, Yongguk thinks. "Then what were those crashes?"
The youngest of the four shrugs. "Daehyunnie hyung got too excited and burned his fingers trying to get it out of the oven."
Himchan raises an eyebrow. "But there were two crashes?"
"He did it twice."
Youngjae, for once, can't think of a single thing.
His mind is just a blank slate--nothing but Junhong's words bouncing through his head.
After a minute, a pure minute filled with reluctance to cry, Youngjae finally manages to move his mouth. (And he thinks that Junhong is the single most amazing person on this earth. Thinks about how unbelievable he is--how, only at sixteen years old, he can say something as completely complicated as that in the most simplest ways possible, and still make Youngjae feel a million times better. And he thinks about how unfair he is, for saying all the things Youngjae's been needing to hear.) "Thank you." Youngjae whimpers, "Thank you." And everything rushes up to him at once--his parents, all his bullies, and Daehyun (all the people who refused to love him, who couldn't love him) and Youngjae cries, and cries, and cries, and cries. Cries until Junhong's (the robot Junhong's) eyes flicker. Flicker with emotion.
And he cries some more, until the robot in front of him cracks and reaches forward and pulls him in--wraps warm arms around his shaking shoulders and buries his face into his hair. "Don't cry." Junhong says, remnants of the robot still in his voice, and Youngjae opens his mouth again, opens his mouth to tell him--tell him everything. Everything about his headaches, about the voice in his head, and how it scares him. Everything about his feelings and how Junhong makes him feel safe, all the time, without even trying.
Before he can get a word out, Junhong's door is cracking open, and he sees Jongup and Daehyun and Yongguk and Himchan with a cake and candles and he has no idea what the hell is going on, so he just sobs, right into Junhong's neck.
Jongup looks panicked, Daehyun and Yongguk's faces turn completely shocked, and Himchan pushes forward through all of them and crumples completely to the ground in front of Youngjae and Junhong, curled together like koalas. "Junhong, what did you do?" He demands, looking completely concerned, face twisted, and Youngjae can't help the weak laugh that snakes its way from his throat.
Junhong looks completely offended. "I didn't do anything!"
When Daehyun, Jongup, and Yongguk join in, yelling at Junhong things like, "How dare you hurt Youngjae!" and "You're not getting a single piece of our cake because of this", Youngjae thinks he's going to be okay--voice in the back of his head or not.
-----
Previous | TBC
Author: ivoryroyale
Genre: supernatural, friendship, romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language
Summary: in which a group of six aren't afraid to stand tall because they have each other.
Note: 5,955 words. Extremely unbeta-ed. There will be so many errors I bet.
-----
[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] [ chapter 21] [ chapter 22] [ chapter 23]
not afraid to fall
chapter twenty-four
The name 'Kim Kibum' seems eerily familiar to Yongguk.
It's a common name, but it isn't the regular kind of common where he hears a name and thinks, 'Right, him, that man, he isn't so bad'; it's the kind of common that sends shivers down his spine and warning signals to his head. The kind that sends a sick feeling to back of his throat and suffocates him. The kind that scares him, sends a heat right down to the pit of his stomach where it festers and churns enough to start burning buildings, to burn the sky into molten ash.
The kind that tells him something horrible is going to happen.
And Yongguk has been in the dark for too long not to trust his instincts above anything else, so even though he knows he hasn't seen the name in any of his files, hasn't overheard it in any rumors or come across it during his base investigations, he knows not to trust even the simple name. Not even when Himchan tells him to.
(Because he's had this feeling before--has had it and completely ignored it--and it completely fucked him over. Made his life crumble, right before his eyes, and almost made him lose Himchan.
He's never going to let that happen again.)
"Kim Kibum, huh?" He asks, hands tightening on the steering wheel, muscles clenching around his jaw. (That's the first name he's going to research when he gets home--the first name he's going to read every single article about, no matter how many times it pops up or how many people it pops up for.) "He sounds like a creep."
From the corner of his eye, Himchan's face twists, "I've only said nice things about him so far, Yongguk, how the hell does he sound like a creep?"
"His name." He isn't exactly lying.
"His name? I give you 'perfect gentleman' and 'kind of cute' and all you can think is 'creep' because of something as stupid as his name?"
Yongguk discreetly maneuvers the car to the right, taking the familiar path of trees toward their house. "I could say something about the place he works at, too, but then you'd feel offended."
Himchan purses his lips. Crosses his arms with his angry face marring his usual smile, "I'm already offended." His voice is tight, and Yongguk knows that's a bad sign, because it means Himchan'll probably shut down on him, like he usually does when he's angry (but not angry--not enough to yell or curse at him, not enough to do what he did before and ignore him for a whole day).
He figures it wouldn't hurt to talk about it (not as much as it would hurt to see Himchan hurt because of this Kibum guy), "Why are you offended?"
"Because you don't think I can handle myself again."
"You know perfectly well I don't think that--"
"Then what else is it?" And his voice is laced with something--something other than anger and confusion and complete hostility and annoyance. It's ringing with desperation and pure frustration and hope (and hope and hope), and Yongguk has a pretty good idea about what it is, but he doesn't want to be right. And he doesn't have enough guts to ask it out loud. "What else can it be, Yongguk?"
(And he knows Himchan thinks he's jealous. He knows that that's the only logical reason in Himchan's mind why he'd be suspicious about a guy that he just met, and he knows the only reason why Himchan is mad is because he isn't admitting it. Because he's lying again.
But at least this time it's for all the right reasons.)
In a bout of resignation, Yongguk says, "You know what? Forget I said anything. My mistake," and his hands on the steering wheel are so tight his knuckles are turning white, and he shakes his head even though he knows neither of them is going to let this go. Not anytime soon. (Even though he's going to go home and check all of Kim Kibum's credibility and how safe he really is.) "I hope you and Kibum are happy with your quaint, little cake shop." (And he's bitter and maybe he's a little angry, too, but it doesn't matter because Himchan's just going to let it go like every other thing in their relationship that they let go of.)
Himchan shakes his head, too, but like Yongguk predicts, he doesn't say a word.
"Daehyunnie," Jongup says, a little uneasily, "nobody in the world needs that much cake for a party."
Daehyun looks up from his spot next to Jongup's bed where he's writing a list of the different kinds of cake flavors they can make for the party, pen cap rolling between his two front teeth, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth and words garbled as he speaks. "But I thought parties were all about the cake?" The pen cap slips a little bit forward when Daehyun cocks his head to the side, and Jongup finds it a little hard not to just let him do what he wants when he looks like that--all innocence with a big, toothy grin to match. (Is it possible that Daehyun got cuter since they started dating?)
"It actually depends on whose party it is." Jongup explains, a more than lovestruck smile that he's more than okay with playing across his lips. "And since it's Youngjae hyung's party and not yours," Without really thinking about it, he brings his face down, close to the pen cap sticking out of Daehyun's lips, and the blonde in front of him smiles, corners of his mouth quirking upward in the best of ways. When Daehyun lets the pen cap drop out of his mouth, Jongup doesn't even need to lean forward to kiss him, because Daehyun does it for him, "we don't need that much cake."
"Says you."
"Says everybody." Jongup counters, with a raised eyebrow. Daehyun makes the weirdest face in the world, with his tongue sticking out and his eyes scrunched up. It's a little concerning that Jongup still finds him attractive.
With a laugh, Jongup makes a face back at him and swipes a look at the paper bunched up beneath Daehyun's hands (and he silently loves the fact that the paper isn't post-its and that the list isn't mandatory). He reads one of the flavors on the list and blanches. "Almond peanut butter? What kind of cake is that?"
Daehyun taps him lightly on the cheek. "The best kind."
"Never heard of vanilla?"
The look on Daehyun's face looks so confused; Jongup would swear he was serious. (If it weren't for the slight sparkle in his eyes, he wouldn't have been able to tell.) "Of course I have. I just--" And suddenly the sparkle is gone, and Daehyun's letting out a long breath. He bites at his lips, the inside of his cheeks, and before Jongup can ask what's wrong, he continues, voice suddenly vexatious, "My--um, m-mom used to make it for me..."
And Jongup thinks, 'oh.'
He wasn't expecting that.
It isn't a even a second later that he's babbling, "sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry," faster than he can even think (it's like a reflex to him) and Daehyun is telling him with an obviously forced smile not to worry even though he's about two inches close to breaking down (Jongup can see it--he doesn't know how or why, but he can, and he doesn't want that, and he doesn't know what to do to stop it.) "Sorry," he stutters again--squeaking and begging--even though he doesn't mean to. Even though he's sick and tired of only being able to apologize all the time, "I didn't know."
"That's okay," Daehyun tells him, capping the pen in front of him, and Jongup knows it isn't, "I don't really tell you much about my mom anyway, so it's mostly my fault you didn't know."
And Jongup says, without thinking, "I'll make it for you." But he isn't sure if it's a good thing or not, because it's not another apology (which is good), but he also can't bake for shit (which is bad).
(When Daehyun gives him a huge smile though, with the sides of his cheeks crinkling up with his mouth and his hair falling just in front of the two brown crescents that make up his eyes, Jongup decides it's a good thing.)
"Do you even know how to cook?"
"Not even a little."
"Have you ever tried using your super speed while in robot mode?"
"Oh, so we're calling it 'robot mode' now?" Junhong asks, grin playing at the corners of his lips, fingers playing at edges of Youngjae's splayed hands. He's gotten used to this--the touching--way to used to it, and while it should scare him, the way he can think about Youngjae one second and then Jongup the next, it doesn't. The only thing he focuses on is Youngjae's voice, the way he has to look away when he laughs, how he curls his toes and bites at his lips. "Is that an improvement from 'machine'? I'm not really sure."
Youngjae's smile curls his bottom lip outward, and Junhong isn't afraid to admit that he might be falling a little bit in love with it. "Definitely an improvement. You don't want to know what I thought about you before." Junhong tilts his head sideways, feels his stomach churn in that familiar way, feels the thoughts in his head slipping to a dull hum rather than a roar of curiosity. "I was really mean."
"Meaner than you are now?"
He repeats, "I was really mean." Junhong trusts his judgement. "But, as I was saying before, have you ever tried it? I mean, your super speed could be completely different now that you don't feel anything."
Junhong's face twists, and even though he can't feel it, he really thinks he managed to do it this time, because Youngjae isn't grimacing anymore. (That could be because he's getting used to him like this though.) Junhong says, "You say that like it's a good thing."
Youngjae looks disappointed. "There has to be some benefits to something this horrible."
Junhong thinks Youngjae looks sad, too. He thinks he doesn't like how Youngjae looks sad. He also thinks he likes it better when Youngjae smiles, but he can't be sure (not when he can't feel).
He opens his mouth. Something in the back of his head tells him not to. He closes it.
"I mean," The genius' hands wave around. Weaving around the air in something of a flurry. Junhong doesn't know why. He supposes he's trying to explain something, "sometimes I wonder what it's like,"
The word 'horrible' comes to mind.
It disappears within a second.
"what goes through your head,"
Nothing.
"how your mind works without needing to worry about emotions hindering your thought process,"
He notices things. Things like Youngjae's speech patterns. The fluctuation of his voice when his words don't match with what his brain thinks. How conflicted he is all the time because of it. He notices things like that better than he does when he feels. But it's still not the same. He's like a typewriter like this. Thinking and saying words. Sentences upon sentences. Fragmented thoughts of absolute nothing.
"do you ever want to go back to feeling numb after feeling all this pain?"
And Junhong thinks, for a split second, with complete honesty, with complete feeling, 'never.'
But on the outside he says, with his voice like static, "My super speed relies a lot on my emotions. I wouldn't know how to make it work like this," with his voice like rain--dull and monotonous and endless.
Youngjae looks disappointed again.
He still doesn't care.
(Apparently it becomes too much for him to handle after that, because Youngjae grips onto his hands, weaving his fingers around his palms, and Junhong silently thanks him for that, silently wishes he'd never let go, because it's so horrible.) He feels Youngjae gulping in his throat, feels the relief at the front of his mind now that he doesn't need to bear through the worst half of Junhong, through the part that kills him on the inside a little more everytime he sees him. (And he feels something he isn't supposed to--feels something about his eyes and how they spark like a fire when they touch. Feels Youngjae thinking it as quietly as he can to himself. Feels him trying to pile up thought after thought to cover it up.)
Youngjae's cheeks turn red, and Junhong thinks his are turning red, too (but he isn't sure if it's because of Youngjae or if it's because of his thoughts). "We can make it work." The genius says, voice quiet, and Junhong isn't sure what he's talking about. "You--you know--your super speed. When you're in robot mode." He coughs.
Junhong blinks. He realizes it's become a habit, even when he can feel.
"We have to make it work." Youngjae says, more sternly, and Junhong feels the butterflies in his stomach and how they die when he reminds himself of something else--something Junhong can't really detect. Something Youngjae is doing a really good job at hiding. "Getting your emotions back altogether is going to take a long time, and we can't have you completely defenseless if an enemy comes."
(And Junhong catches something again. Catches a thought--a simple sentence that doesn't make any sense but still makes the air snap painfully in his throat and his eyes go wide.
'I can't have you completely defenseless if I suddenly lose control.')
Himchan's three steps onto the porch when he feels Yongguk latching onto his arm. He isn't too sure why, but he hopes it's to admit his utter jealousy he holds toward Kibum (which is a very slim possibility in reality, but it still doesn't hurt to try).
He's surprised when it isn't. (But not really.)
"Do you mind if I leave earlier than when you said?"
The breath catches in Himchan's throat, and he suddenly feels angry. Feels like tearing his hair out and beating Yongguk with a fist. Even though he knows he isn't really as angry as he is sad (upset, disappointed, dejected, alone--all the synonyms there are in the world). He swallows whatever stupid lump is in his throat and resists the urge to croak, 'why?'
Instead he says, "You and I are grown men." Like that answers his question. (Yongguk's hand is still wrapped around his bicep--burning him, searing into his skin without leaving a scar, and it hurts even though he isn't using his power.) "I don't think it matters when you leave or not." He still doesn't understand why he's so angry. (He wants to beg him to stay. Just a little bit longer.)
The crease in Yongguk's forehead deepens, and in Himchan's mind, that's Yongguk's way of begging to him. That's his way of asking, of pleading, begging for Himchan to say it, too. To tell him to stay, so that he doesn't have to admit that he doesn't want to go.
Himchan thinks, maybe they're too stubborn. Maybe if they weren't so afraid to admit the stupid things, they would be glued together all the time--no fighting and no conflict. Maybe Yongguk would stay with him, and maybe he'd be happy about it.
Maybe they'd be together.
Because if Himchan wasn't so stubborn, he'd have told him how he felt a long time ago, instead of waiting for Yongguk to say it first. Instead of believing that maybe--maybe one day--he'd say it first. He'd wake up and realize and sweep Himchan off his feet and into the sky and into some other planet where they don't have to worry about anything happening to their babies or people like Key or dying or death or things worse than that (like torture, like seeing your son emotionless, disenchanted, heartbroken but not all the same).
Sadly, the world doesn't work that way, and Himchan's left feeling numb when the hand on his shoulder slips off.
Yongguk still has that crease in his forehead, and Himchan wants to say something (to beg) but the lump in his throat is keeping him from speaking. "So if I said I wanted to leave in five days, you'd be okay?" And his words scream for him to say something (because five days isn't two weeks. It isn't what he promised, and it isn't what either of them want), but Himchan still says, "I'd be perfect."
(The crease on Yongguk's forehead leaves, and Himchan feels like crying.)
Yongguk purses his lips and grinds, "Good."
"Great."
"Fantastic."
Then Yongguk brushes against Himchan's shoulder, and he leaves to let him watch as he walks up the porch and types the code into the keypad. Leaves him to watch as he slams the door wide open, so Himchan can follow.
(And it isn't welcoming. It isn't what he usually does where he lets Himchan go first or where he teases him enough to race inside, and Himchan feels like climbing through the window just to avoid accepting any invitation Yongguk throws at him, but instead, he does exactly what he would do if they weren't mad at each other--weren't frustrated to no end and ready to punch the other's head right off. He walks through the doorway, closes the door gently behind him, and follows Yongguk straight upstairs--straight into his room. He walks right to where they keep the disposable phones in Yongguk's dresser and curls himself into the foot of his bed with one of his favorite stuffed animals tucked between his folded legs, because no matter what, he has to pretend they're alright.
Because Yongguk is leaving in five days.
And even if he's mad. Even if Yongguk's acting like he isn't jealous, he's still going to miss him when he's gone.)
"Himchan can bake right?"
"Not this much."
"Do you think if I said this was all for Youngjae--"
"He wouldn't believe you."
Daehyun pouts. Pouts even more when Jongup grins at him. (Even though he does have a very pretty smile, he's learned that if he pouts long enough, Jongup will kiss it away, and he's taken it upon himself to get as many kisses as possible. Seven years worth of them.)
A second later, Jongup leans forward and pecks him on the nose, which he wasn't really looking for, but he will accept all the same. "Why don't we just focus on Youngjae hyung and bake him one cake with one of his favorite flavors?" Daehyun rolls his eyes at all the emphasis Jongup includes in his words, but he still loves the fact that he can tease him. Before, Jongup probably wouldn't have said a single syllable that would've offended him, and every other word he said to him was an apology. They've come a long way, and Daehyun loves that, thinks it'll make them last. (Unlike certain things in his life--unlike trust and family and happiness and life as he knows it.)
Daehyun contemplates his boyfriend's suggestion, tapping the end of his pen to his lips, "That depends, what's one of his favorite flavors?"
"He likes green tea." Jongup says, and Daehyun's face twists. Ew. "He likes green tea flavored everything."
And even though it sounds disgusting, even though Daehyun thinks that might be the worst cake flavor in the world, he thinks about his moms almond peanut butter cake and how other people might think it was gross, too. He thinks about birthdays, on the rarest occasion, where his parents chose him over their jobs. Where they stayed home and him and his dad raced around the house, not worrying about how fatigue he became and just played, with the smell of roasted almonds wafting around the mansion. Where his mom caught up to them wearing a red and white checkered apron and over-sized oven mitts and the brightest smile in the world instead of a look of greed. Where they sat him down in the kitchen and sang happy birthday and pinched him on the cheeks.
He wants Youngjae to feel like he did--happy--so if that means making him green tea flavored cake, so be it.
"I guess we can do that." Daehyun says, pretending to be reluctant, and he's pretty sure Jongup knows he is, too, because he leans forward again, on his spot on the bed. Presses their foreheads together and just stares. After a moment, Daehyun grins and pokes his tongue out, "Weirdo."
"That's offensive." Jongup states, lightly, but he continues, looking above, probably thinking, "We better get going if we want to get the cake on time. Stores close at six, and it's already five-ish. I think."
Leaning backward, enough for Jongup to nearly fall, but close enough to still catch him, Daehyun jumps from his place kneeling next to Jongup's bed. "Or," He exclaims, twining his fingers into the spaces between Jongup's, attempting to bring him up with him but only succeeding in causing a slight eyebrow raise from the younger, "We can just bake the cakes ourselves."
Jongup's face looks doubtful. "I don't think that's such a good idea, hyung."
Without so much as a second thought, Daehyun slowly tugs Jongup off the bed. "How hard can it be?"
Junhong heard it. Youngjae knows he heard it--what he was thinking. His simple thought, so vague it could barely mean anything; his simple thought, so vague that it means everything to Junhong. Makes him anxious and worried and anxious again.
And even though Youngjae can feel the unease dripping off Junhong's actions--from the way his words stutter and his movements turn jerky--he won't tell him. He won't let him see what's in the darkest parts of his head.
He refuses to.
So when Junhong attempts to hold his hands more, Youngjae thinks. About everything. Every little sensation he feels and the different pigments that make up Junhong's skin. Lists off every little factoid that goes through his head about human skin. Anything to get Junhong to calm down.
(And even through all this, Junhong still keeps his hands stubbornly close--worry overcoming any amount of boredom Youngjae's thoughts might cause.
Youngjae doesn't know whether to feel flattered or not.)
Daehyun's face twists, a bit of his bangs peaking out of the makeshift ponytail he made from a loose string to keep his hair out of his face. His face is covered in flour, and he feels disgusting. (There's also a great big green stain on Himchan's favorite pink apron that he doesn't know how to get out. He feels like if this cake doesn't come out at least half cent, the man is going to maim him for it.) He hates baking now--wonders how anyone does it and blesses the souls of all the people out there who do it for a living. He glances at Jongup, who's next to him at the counter, clad in his favorite kitchen wear (a pair of sweats and a tank top), looking and re-looking over the recipe to make sure they're doing every little thing right. (He can't even find that cute at the moment, because this cake is driving him mad.)
With a scowl, Daehyun takes the bowl in his hands and dumps the thermos of green tea that he found in the fridge into it, thinking as he does, 'This thing better be fucking delicious'.
Not even a second later, Jongup suddenly shouts, finger glued to one of the pages of Himchan's cookbook. "Daehyunnie, it says right here that we're supposed to use powdered green tea! Why did you pour actual tea into the flour?"
The blonde feels really confused, and the hand he has around the thermos tightens before he moves and drops it altogether, right into the sink. His other arm is still holding onto the cake batter possessively, "Wait, so we don't use liquid green tea?"
"No!"
"Now that just doesn't make any sense--why do they call it green tea flavor when you don't use actual green tea in the recipe?" Jongup looks at him like he has two heads, "What?"
"You do know that powdered green tea makes the actual green tea that you're talking about, right?"
Daehyun's silent for a moment.
Then, he says, "Ohhhhh," and all Jongup does it double over with laughter. Daehyun smiles, too, but then he realizes something horrible. "Does that mean we have to start over?"
Jongup laughs even more, but Daehyun doesn't really know what's so funny.
Junhong traces his fingers along the fading scabs decorating Youngjae's arms. He nearly forgot about them in the seven days that has passed, nearly forgot about the day he panicked enough to accidentally send a group of scalpels raining down to slice his arms open. He was too worried before, about Junhong, to really think about how much they actually sting. To really take care of them.
(At least they won't scar, he tells himself--measures in his head the amount of time it'll take for them to fully fade away.)
Junhong's hisses a breath between his teeth, and Youngjae glances up. Almost pulls away when he sees how sad the younger boy looks. (Almost pulls away when he notices the way his lower lip juts out and his voice gets deeper.) "That's a long time." He notes, taking his index finger and trailing it up, up, up--up to where the longest cut ends, two inches above his elbow. Youngjae finds it unnerving, still, that Junhong can read every little thing he thinks, no matter how fast he thinks it. Wonders if he should stop this before he accidentally hears something he isn't supposed to--"It'll seriously take two weeks for them to heal?"
The genius nods, and he bites his lips again, out of pure habit.
"And I did this to you?" It isn't so much a question as it is an actual statement.
Youngjae's head snaps up, catches the look on Junhong's face and says, over and over, faster, quicker than his brain can think, "No. No, you didn't. You didn't do anything, okay? " The spark in Junhong's eye is anything but good. "I know what you're thinking." Youngjae states, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes. Even though he isn't like Junhong, who can hear a person's thoughts on contact, who can suck up every single thing about them and call them his, Youngjae knows self-hate when he sees it, and he can't let Junhong think things like that. Not after he's thought so much of it himsel--"I did this myself, by accident, okay? It wasn't your fault."
Junhong's irises strike against his, sparking a flame, causing a fire. "But it happened when you were trying to take care of me, right? When you were trying to save me?"
"Yes, but that doesn't--"
"Matter?" Junhong finishes, suddenly pulling away. Youngjae's arms suddenly start to hurt for no reason. "Can you really tell me it doesn't matter? When you're doing it right now?"
Youngjae doesn't even know what to say.
"Do cakes have ears?"
Jongup honestly doesn't know if Daehyun is joking or not. "Um... no. Why?"
Without answering, Daehyun turns on his spot leaning against the counter and faces the oven, where the cake is now baking. He cups his hands around his mouth, amplifying his voice as he shouts, "Be delicious!" multiple times.
Jongup snorts.
His boyfriend looks accomplished, damn right prideful, and Jongup finds it unbelievably charming. He swings his arms from his spot sitting on one of the counters, and when Daehyun glances at him with a smile, Jongup beckons him over with a wave of the hand.
Daehyun fits himself in the space between his legs, and the younger boy takes his cheeks into his hands, thumbs running gently over the tiny acne scars marring his cheeks. (He doesn't realize it then, but he has the biggest grin on his face that makes Daehyun want to jump up and hug him.) "If that cake isn't delicious," He murmurs, biting his lip, running a hesitant finger along the outline of Daehyun's bottom lip, "I think I'm going to cry."
"Moon Jongup," The blonde starts, a sly smirk playing on his lips, "that cake is our baby. We need to love it no matter what."
When Jongup giggles, Daehyun tiptoes and presses their lips together.
"Look, I don't know what you're hiding," Junhong says, voice choked (but it doesn't matter, because that's going to disappear within a matter of seconds--Youngjae's condition--or whatever the hell he's going through--will not), "and I certainly don't know what the hell 'I can't have you completely defenseless if I suddenly lose control' means, but I'm not going to let you walk around saying things like, 'it doesn't matter if I get hurt', because it does."
Youngjae blinks in front of him--does that thing where he bites at his lip and doesn't know what to say next. Junhong can feel the numbness inching forward with every second, but he still continues. He still continues, because he's scared, and he doesn't know what's happening, but he's not going to let Youngjae get hurt because of it. "You can't just--just say things like that, okay? You can't say things like that and think that I'm not going to care." Junhong shifts in his place on the floor, brushes his hands along the wood of the floor and curls them into fists as if that'll help him keep an ounce of feeling. "You don't have to tell me everything, Youngjae," (And he doesn't even bother with an honorific--not when they're like this--Junhong's emotions hanging by a thread and Youngjae's showing completely on his face.) "you don't. But--but you need to stop hurting yourself, okay?"
And Youngjae's eyes water, and Junhong can see all of the hurt surfacing onto his expression, and it's supposed to hurt him like a gun wound, but it only affects him like a feather. "It's not worth it. You matter way too much."
When Youngjae laughs, a funny sort of scoff filled with something Junhong thinks is gratefulness, Junhong tries his hardest to cling to the last string of emotion before it breaks.
Himchan has somehow made his way closer to Yongguk (he honestly doesn't know how; he just sort of gravitated toward him--out of habit, perhaps) when he hears a crash coming from downstairs and nearly has a heart attack.
Yongguk seems to have the same thoughts, because he turns to Himchan and shrugs, answering the question he knows he must be asking. Even after he answers, Himchan still asks, phone clutched into the palm of his hand, "What was that?" slowly making his way off the bed, so he can check.
"Where do you think you're going?" Yongguk asks, suddenly wrapping a hand around Himchan's wrist. (It makes him feel vulnerable, and he hates that, so he pulls his hand away.)
"I'm going to go check what it was."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
He makes sure Yongguk hears the pure determination in his voice, and when he does, when the older man pauses--speechless, Himchan feels the slightest bit proud.
Yongguk scowls. There's another crash downstairs. Himchan waits expectantly, fear creeping up the back of his spine. 'What if it's someone from a base? What if it's Key? What if they're trying to break in? What if they already broke in?' "Fine, but I'm going with you."
Himchan has no complaints.
When they make their way downstairs, Himchan tries, rather poorly, to lead the two of them.
He attempts to stay in front, hands outstretched on the staircase so that Yongguk is shielded from any oncoming attacks. (He doesn't even have an actual shield put around them, because Yongguk can see he's too shaken up to make one--too busy trying not to cower to actually focus on anything else--and Yongguk finds it stupid and careless and brave, all the same.)
With a sigh (and a smile that he won't admit is there), Yongguk places a hand on the back of his shoulder to urge him forward.
When they finally make it to the end of the stairs, Daehyun is on the ground in the kitchen, nursing his hands, and Jongup is holding what looks like a green cake on a tray in his hands, covered in Himchan's oven mitts.
Himchan's form immediately relaxes, seeing they aren't in any immediate danger.
Yongguk thinks Daehyun and Jongup plus cooking equal an even worse combination than someone breaking in.
"What happened?" Himchan does the honor of asking, voice the tiniest bit shaky.
Jongup's trademark grin is on his face. "We made a cake!"
He sounds so accomplished, Yongguk thinks. "Then what were those crashes?"
The youngest of the four shrugs. "Daehyunnie hyung got too excited and burned his fingers trying to get it out of the oven."
Himchan raises an eyebrow. "But there were two crashes?"
"He did it twice."
Youngjae, for once, can't think of a single thing.
His mind is just a blank slate--nothing but Junhong's words bouncing through his head.
After a minute, a pure minute filled with reluctance to cry, Youngjae finally manages to move his mouth. (And he thinks that Junhong is the single most amazing person on this earth. Thinks about how unbelievable he is--how, only at sixteen years old, he can say something as completely complicated as that in the most simplest ways possible, and still make Youngjae feel a million times better. And he thinks about how unfair he is, for saying all the things Youngjae's been needing to hear.) "Thank you." Youngjae whimpers, "Thank you." And everything rushes up to him at once--his parents, all his bullies, and Daehyun (all the people who refused to love him, who couldn't love him) and Youngjae cries, and cries, and cries, and cries. Cries until Junhong's (the robot Junhong's) eyes flicker. Flicker with emotion.
And he cries some more, until the robot in front of him cracks and reaches forward and pulls him in--wraps warm arms around his shaking shoulders and buries his face into his hair. "Don't cry." Junhong says, remnants of the robot still in his voice, and Youngjae opens his mouth again, opens his mouth to tell him--tell him everything. Everything about his headaches, about the voice in his head, and how it scares him. Everything about his feelings and how Junhong makes him feel safe, all the time, without even trying.
Before he can get a word out, Junhong's door is cracking open, and he sees Jongup and Daehyun and Yongguk and Himchan with a cake and candles and he has no idea what the hell is going on, so he just sobs, right into Junhong's neck.
Jongup looks panicked, Daehyun and Yongguk's faces turn completely shocked, and Himchan pushes forward through all of them and crumples completely to the ground in front of Youngjae and Junhong, curled together like koalas. "Junhong, what did you do?" He demands, looking completely concerned, face twisted, and Youngjae can't help the weak laugh that snakes its way from his throat.
Junhong looks completely offended. "I didn't do anything!"
When Daehyun, Jongup, and Yongguk join in, yelling at Junhong things like, "How dare you hurt Youngjae!" and "You're not getting a single piece of our cake because of this", Youngjae thinks he's going to be okay--voice in the back of his head or not.
-----
Previous | TBC