harlow
title: harlow
pairings/character: luhan-centric and sort of luhan/sehun, luhan/minseok, luhan/jongin, luhan/junmyeon, sehun/jongin
rating: pg
genre: horror
warnings: character death, daddy kink? twisted romance?
length: ~2400 w
summary: Sehun asks Luhan about the men he's killed.
a/n: bloodyface au based on doctor oliver thredson's backstory in american horror story season 2 /o/ also, title from harry f. harlow and his rhesus monkey experiment
“Why did you choose them?”
Silence.
Luhan knows he’s adopted. He knows even though no one’s told him, especially when he looks at his foster father and sees nothing but obligation in his eyes. His touch isn’t what Luhan needs. He feels his insides burning whenever he hugs him, whenever he tries to find even a sliver of love for him in his father’s old, dying body.
One might think that after years of his life dedicated to playing house with a woman he thought he loved and a boy they adopted to maybe bring back the spark, he would at least like Luhan. He doesn’t, and he never did. Luhan’s just the boy he needs to send to school, the boy he needs to get out of trouble, the boy who needs to like him more than his wife. He just wants to be better than his wife, to be able to boast to his friends and tell them all about his perfect life and his smart son with the highest grades in his year and bright future.
Luhan can’t pretend anymore. He can’t live like this forever. No, he needs his real father’s touch and he needs it soon.
“Why Kim Joonmyun?”
“His skin was shining under the moonlight, Sehun. How could I have resisted that?”
Luhan’s on his way home after a long day at his office, entertaining patients here and there, being forced to listen to crap and find a way to solve all their problems. It does nothing to help his cravings so his relief once the clock struck five was more than appropriate.
He’s in his car, stuck in traffic at eight in the evening, when he sees Kim Joonmyun. Standing next to his silver hybrid and fishing out his keys from his satchel, his pale skin takes a slight sheen under the moonlight. Luhan has to force himself to look away as the traffic light turns green, has to force himself to forget for a moment the urge to hold his hand out and touch.
When he gets home, eyes resting on a bottle of vodka, he regrets his decision immediately.
It isn’t hard. It takes only less than an hour and a visit to the library to find Kim Joonmyun. For a while, all Luhan does is watch. He goes there during his lunch break and pretends to read a book. On weekends, he spends the whole day there, getting a stack of books to skim through every time he comes in.
Joonmyun’s beginning to recognize him. He nods at Luhan whenever he comes in and sometimes, he approaches with that sweet, sweet smile to ask how Luhan’s day has been. Luhan’s always so polite whenever that happens. They aren’t close and Luhan has no plans on befriending him but he knows he’s on Joonmyun’s good side.
He’ll never see it coming until it hits him with a scalpel and a chain in hand.
It’s a Sunday when Luhan acts. He’s leaning against Joonmyun’s car, waiting while he closes up the library. When Joonmyun finally comes out, he’s humming a French song he heard on the radio earlier that day. It doesn’t take long after that. One moment, Joonmyun just about ready to ask Luhan why he’s still there and the next, he’s sprawled on the ground.
The last thing he sees is the cloudy night sky.
“What about Kim Minseok, then?”
“Minseok?” Luhan laughs. “I always liked him.”
It almost feels like he’s sleepwalking when Luhan crosses the lobby. His eyelids are drooping shut and his shoulders are aching and he’s just so tired all he wants to do is lie down and clear his head and maybe then-
“Are you alright?”
Luhan’s eyes travel from the floor to his outstretched arm, reaching for the door and yet stuck in the air. Someone’s holding it and Luhan doesn’t know why, but he’s suddenly he’s scared. His whole body freezes, his brain shuts down and all he can taste is fear, all he can hear is a single thought reverberating in his mind: oh god why I haven’t found him yet?
But he looks up and there stands Kim Minseok, smiling so warmly at him that he sees everything under a whole new light.
Luhan has always been aware of Kim Minseok. He passes the lobby when he goes in and out of the hospital and every single day, they nod politely at each other. It’s something that genuine and pure, something that sparks a sort of joy in Luhan, something that brightens up his day. Now that he knows-now that his mind is clear and his judgement sound, it’s something that tells him that Minseok can be the one. His father.
There’s a different, much more pleasant warmth that blossoms in his chest when he sees Minseok. Luhan finds himself looking forward to it, making sure he has not a hair out of place when he passes by and lingering in the lobby so long he’s bordering on suspicious.
When he acts, it’s a Tuesday night. He’s just finished his shift after a long day of miraculous operations and taxing conversations with the patient’s family. He’s trudging slowly across the lobby, searching desperately for Minseok. He’s standing at his post, just as he always is, looking even more cheerful than ever.
That’s what pushes Luhan to do it, really, Minseok’s positive, colourful aura. So he trips right in front of Minseok and cries out. It produces just the outcome that he was hoping for; Minseok rushes to him, fussing.
“Are you okay? Do I need to take you up to a doctor?” Minseok asks. “Where does it hurt?”
Excitement throughout Luhan’s body but he doesn’t let it show. He grips Minseok’s arm, shaking his head. “I think I just strained my ankle a little. And don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”
Minseok helps him up, wrapping an arm around his waist. A crease forms between his eyebrows when Luhan winces. “Well you mustn’t be a very good doctor. That looks painful.”
“I can treat myself at home,” Luhan assures him.
“Do you have a car?” Minseok asks, helping him hobble out the hospital.
“Yes.” Luhan leans into his warmth, feeling the softness of his skin where they’re touching.
“Can you drive with that ankle?” The concern in his eyes makes Luhan’s heart soar. “I can hail a cab for you.”
Luhan snorts. “I can handle myself.”
“Okay,” Minseok says, sounding sceptical. “Are you comfortable walking? I can carry you.”
Luhan’s tempted to say yes, of course he is, but with both of his arms around Minseok’s neck, subduing him would be so much harder. “No, it’s okay. My car is parked close by.”
The trip to his car is shorter than Luhan would like so he looks forward, instead, to what’s about to happen next.
“Are you really sure about this? My shift’s about to end too. I can drive you,” Minseok offers. When Luhan replies, it’s a swing to the back of his head and a shove towards his car.
From settling himself on the driver’s seat to strapping Minseok to an operating table, Luhan’s smile is sweet.
“What about-what about Jongin?”
“Oh, that was spontaneous. I think you should know, Sehun. I don’t share.”
The press makes a big deal out of Luhan’s killings and proud of his work, he watches from the sideline as reporters flock to the chief detective, stomping over each other and churning out question after question about the as yet uncaught serial killer.
He doesn’t move from his spot even when the detective leaves, even when the journalists start to drive away one by one. Only a few remain, and included in that few is Sehun.
“You know what this piece needs? It needs a touch of emotion. I want to talk to this man and dig into the deepest layer of his heart. He isn’t just some cold-blooded killer; he’s a person too. He was raised by his parents too.”
That’s the first thing Luhan hears Sehun say and he breaks because finally, this is someone who can understand him. He isn’t just someone who makes Luhan feel flashes of joy. For him, Sehun is a promise of love and compassion, a promise of everything Luhan has ever wanted.
It strikes him so hard that he wonders, for a moment, if he wants to take his scalpel out for this one.
Luhan keeps tabs on Sehun. He finds out everything he can about him, perusing his social media accounts and obsessing over his photos. Luhan finds something he doesn’t like, though; someone who’s always with Sehun in pictures, who will only get in the way between him and Sehun.
His name is Kim Jongin, Luhan finds out, and he really should not be alive.
Luhan takes Jongin by surprise, surfacing from the shadows and, in a flash, cutting his throat. It’s messy and impractical but he just wants this done. He watches life slowly leave Jongin’s eyes until they’re empty, barren. After that, he takes the body back to his house. He doesn’t take Jongin’s skin, no. Jongin isn’t his father. What he does take, however, is his face. He hopes he won’t ever have to use it but who knows, maybe Sehun will like it.
Luhan doesn’t keep his body in the basement and instead, takes it to his bedroom. For practice, he decides.
Sehun doesn’t take it well. He screams and he cries and Luhan just wants to take him in his arms and take away his pain. He can’t, though. He has to wait for the right time, wait until Sehun trusts him. So he’s forced to watch as Sehun breaks, goes into a glum daze that lasts for days. He doesn’t leave his house, doesn’t answer his phone, doesn’t even eat. He cuts himself off from the rest of the world, focusing on Jongin, trying to remember his face, his voice, his touch.
Luhan wants nothing more than to offer Sehun himself, his comfort, his understanding but he doesn’t. He waits. Because ultimately, he thinks, the result will be worth it.
“So what now? Are you going to kill me too?”
“I wasn’t. Now I’m not really sure. Maybe if you like my toast, I won’t.”
Luhan becomes Sehun’s therapist, sort of. It’s a result of incapacitating his competition and warming up to Sehun’s friends, going to charity events and even to night clubs. It’s hard work but he gets what he wants eventually.
He visits Sehun on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, a bag of groceries and coffee in another. He uses the spare key he got from Sehun’s friend-he can’t remember who but it’s an insignificant detail anyway-and lets himself in, setting his things down in the kitchen and padding silently up the stairs.
Luhan finds Sehun curled up in his bed, awake but unaware, staring blankly at the wall. He sits down beside him and runs his hand lightly through Sehun’s hair.
“Get up,” he says, stroking Sehun’s cheek, feeling the soft yet cold skin under his thumb. “Sehun, you have to eat.”
Sehun doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge him.
“Sehun, come on. Get up.”
Luhan takes Sehun’s hand and pulls him up. It isn’t hard, like most people would think. Sehun doesn’t resist, but he isn’t really living right now. He’s an empty shell and Luhan thinks that’s even worse.
“Your name is Oh Sehun. It’s 5:35 pm. You’re in Seoul, Korea.” Luhan keeps him close as he guides them to the kitchen. “And you are going to eat dinner.”
After making sure Sehun isn’t about to fall off his chair, Luhan makes dinner. He cooks something simple-chicken soup to warm Sehun up. He finishes quickly, and in that period, Sehun doesn’t move an inch.
“Time to eat, Sehun.” Luhan sits down next to him, setting down a bowl of soup on the table. “Open up.”
He feeds Sehun, one hand on his jaw and another holding the spoon. He takes it slow, acts carefully and watches as color gradually returns to Sehun’s cheeks. Luhan sees it all, sees Sehun’s eyes go from a dull black to warm brown, sees mixed hurt, anger, sadness, and grief in them.
“Who are you?” Sehun asks, his voice raspy.
“My name is Luhan. I’m a friend.”
It’s a start.
Luhan comes back every day. Sehun improves and the times that he spaces out lessen and lessen until it happens only once or twice a month. They grow close and Luhan becomes Sehun’s pillar. It’s even more than Luhan had hoped for and now, he can’t believe his luck.
Sehun slowly recovers and starts to go out more. First, it’s just to his front yard to take a breather, but it quickly turns to trips to the convenience store and buying pots and utensils for his kitchen until he decides to meet his friends again, to answer their calls and actually show up to their so-called group dates.
Luhan’s beside him all throughout, pushing him, encouraging him to do more. Sehun becomes dependent on him, waiting for his reassurance and hanging onto his every word. It only makes things more heartbreaking for Sehun when he finds out.
It’s a Friday when Luhan finally gives in to Sehun and drives them to his house. Now, Sehun is seated on his couch, eyes wandering all over the room. His gaze stops on a familiar yet peculiar pattern on the lamp by the couch, two small circles, darker than the rest of the material even when stretched, and finds that he’s starting to sweat, his heartbeat quickening.
“Your lamps are,” Sehun pauses, unsure of what to say, “nice.”
Luhan smiles. “I make them myself.”
“What do you use?”
“Skin.”
Sehun tenses, his eyes darting around for the nearest exit because shit that isn’t just the usual animal skin. He doesn’t even get to act, doesn’t even get to stand up because Luhan gets to him first. The next thing he knows, he’s chained to a bed, helpless.
Hope leaves him without a word, so suddenly that even the pleasant smell of nutmeg wafting in the air doesn’t cheer him up.
“You’re a fucking sociopath.”
“I am clearly insane. Get over it.”
“Just kill me already.”
“No. No, I want to keep your skin warm. I’m not going to kill you just yet, Sehun.”
Sehun gives up. He tries so hard to fight but no. It’s too much and now his heart is torn into pieces too small to even pick up. When a woman shows up, dressed in all black and looking at him with such pity, such understanding, he knows. This is his peace. This is his reward. This is his chance to be with Jongin again, to be happy.
He takes her hand and lets himself be pulled into a deep and undisturbed sleep.
pairings/character: luhan-centric and sort of luhan/sehun, luhan/minseok, luhan/jongin, luhan/junmyeon, sehun/jongin
rating: pg
genre: horror
warnings: character death, daddy kink? twisted romance?
length: ~2400 w
summary: Sehun asks Luhan about the men he's killed.
a/n: bloodyface au based on doctor oliver thredson's backstory in american horror story season 2 /o/ also, title from harry f. harlow and his rhesus monkey experiment
“Why did you choose them?”
Silence.
Luhan knows he’s adopted. He knows even though no one’s told him, especially when he looks at his foster father and sees nothing but obligation in his eyes. His touch isn’t what Luhan needs. He feels his insides burning whenever he hugs him, whenever he tries to find even a sliver of love for him in his father’s old, dying body.
One might think that after years of his life dedicated to playing house with a woman he thought he loved and a boy they adopted to maybe bring back the spark, he would at least like Luhan. He doesn’t, and he never did. Luhan’s just the boy he needs to send to school, the boy he needs to get out of trouble, the boy who needs to like him more than his wife. He just wants to be better than his wife, to be able to boast to his friends and tell them all about his perfect life and his smart son with the highest grades in his year and bright future.
Luhan can’t pretend anymore. He can’t live like this forever. No, he needs his real father’s touch and he needs it soon.
“Why Kim Joonmyun?”
“His skin was shining under the moonlight, Sehun. How could I have resisted that?”
Luhan’s on his way home after a long day at his office, entertaining patients here and there, being forced to listen to crap and find a way to solve all their problems. It does nothing to help his cravings so his relief once the clock struck five was more than appropriate.
He’s in his car, stuck in traffic at eight in the evening, when he sees Kim Joonmyun. Standing next to his silver hybrid and fishing out his keys from his satchel, his pale skin takes a slight sheen under the moonlight. Luhan has to force himself to look away as the traffic light turns green, has to force himself to forget for a moment the urge to hold his hand out and touch.
When he gets home, eyes resting on a bottle of vodka, he regrets his decision immediately.
It isn’t hard. It takes only less than an hour and a visit to the library to find Kim Joonmyun. For a while, all Luhan does is watch. He goes there during his lunch break and pretends to read a book. On weekends, he spends the whole day there, getting a stack of books to skim through every time he comes in.
Joonmyun’s beginning to recognize him. He nods at Luhan whenever he comes in and sometimes, he approaches with that sweet, sweet smile to ask how Luhan’s day has been. Luhan’s always so polite whenever that happens. They aren’t close and Luhan has no plans on befriending him but he knows he’s on Joonmyun’s good side.
He’ll never see it coming until it hits him with a scalpel and a chain in hand.
It’s a Sunday when Luhan acts. He’s leaning against Joonmyun’s car, waiting while he closes up the library. When Joonmyun finally comes out, he’s humming a French song he heard on the radio earlier that day. It doesn’t take long after that. One moment, Joonmyun just about ready to ask Luhan why he’s still there and the next, he’s sprawled on the ground.
The last thing he sees is the cloudy night sky.
“What about Kim Minseok, then?”
“Minseok?” Luhan laughs. “I always liked him.”
It almost feels like he’s sleepwalking when Luhan crosses the lobby. His eyelids are drooping shut and his shoulders are aching and he’s just so tired all he wants to do is lie down and clear his head and maybe then-
“Are you alright?”
Luhan’s eyes travel from the floor to his outstretched arm, reaching for the door and yet stuck in the air. Someone’s holding it and Luhan doesn’t know why, but he’s suddenly he’s scared. His whole body freezes, his brain shuts down and all he can taste is fear, all he can hear is a single thought reverberating in his mind: oh god why I haven’t found him yet?
But he looks up and there stands Kim Minseok, smiling so warmly at him that he sees everything under a whole new light.
Luhan has always been aware of Kim Minseok. He passes the lobby when he goes in and out of the hospital and every single day, they nod politely at each other. It’s something that genuine and pure, something that sparks a sort of joy in Luhan, something that brightens up his day. Now that he knows-now that his mind is clear and his judgement sound, it’s something that tells him that Minseok can be the one. His father.
There’s a different, much more pleasant warmth that blossoms in his chest when he sees Minseok. Luhan finds himself looking forward to it, making sure he has not a hair out of place when he passes by and lingering in the lobby so long he’s bordering on suspicious.
When he acts, it’s a Tuesday night. He’s just finished his shift after a long day of miraculous operations and taxing conversations with the patient’s family. He’s trudging slowly across the lobby, searching desperately for Minseok. He’s standing at his post, just as he always is, looking even more cheerful than ever.
That’s what pushes Luhan to do it, really, Minseok’s positive, colourful aura. So he trips right in front of Minseok and cries out. It produces just the outcome that he was hoping for; Minseok rushes to him, fussing.
“Are you okay? Do I need to take you up to a doctor?” Minseok asks. “Where does it hurt?”
Excitement throughout Luhan’s body but he doesn’t let it show. He grips Minseok’s arm, shaking his head. “I think I just strained my ankle a little. And don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”
Minseok helps him up, wrapping an arm around his waist. A crease forms between his eyebrows when Luhan winces. “Well you mustn’t be a very good doctor. That looks painful.”
“I can treat myself at home,” Luhan assures him.
“Do you have a car?” Minseok asks, helping him hobble out the hospital.
“Yes.” Luhan leans into his warmth, feeling the softness of his skin where they’re touching.
“Can you drive with that ankle?” The concern in his eyes makes Luhan’s heart soar. “I can hail a cab for you.”
Luhan snorts. “I can handle myself.”
“Okay,” Minseok says, sounding sceptical. “Are you comfortable walking? I can carry you.”
Luhan’s tempted to say yes, of course he is, but with both of his arms around Minseok’s neck, subduing him would be so much harder. “No, it’s okay. My car is parked close by.”
The trip to his car is shorter than Luhan would like so he looks forward, instead, to what’s about to happen next.
“Are you really sure about this? My shift’s about to end too. I can drive you,” Minseok offers. When Luhan replies, it’s a swing to the back of his head and a shove towards his car.
From settling himself on the driver’s seat to strapping Minseok to an operating table, Luhan’s smile is sweet.
“What about-what about Jongin?”
“Oh, that was spontaneous. I think you should know, Sehun. I don’t share.”
The press makes a big deal out of Luhan’s killings and proud of his work, he watches from the sideline as reporters flock to the chief detective, stomping over each other and churning out question after question about the as yet uncaught serial killer.
He doesn’t move from his spot even when the detective leaves, even when the journalists start to drive away one by one. Only a few remain, and included in that few is Sehun.
“You know what this piece needs? It needs a touch of emotion. I want to talk to this man and dig into the deepest layer of his heart. He isn’t just some cold-blooded killer; he’s a person too. He was raised by his parents too.”
That’s the first thing Luhan hears Sehun say and he breaks because finally, this is someone who can understand him. He isn’t just someone who makes Luhan feel flashes of joy. For him, Sehun is a promise of love and compassion, a promise of everything Luhan has ever wanted.
It strikes him so hard that he wonders, for a moment, if he wants to take his scalpel out for this one.
Luhan keeps tabs on Sehun. He finds out everything he can about him, perusing his social media accounts and obsessing over his photos. Luhan finds something he doesn’t like, though; someone who’s always with Sehun in pictures, who will only get in the way between him and Sehun.
His name is Kim Jongin, Luhan finds out, and he really should not be alive.
Luhan takes Jongin by surprise, surfacing from the shadows and, in a flash, cutting his throat. It’s messy and impractical but he just wants this done. He watches life slowly leave Jongin’s eyes until they’re empty, barren. After that, he takes the body back to his house. He doesn’t take Jongin’s skin, no. Jongin isn’t his father. What he does take, however, is his face. He hopes he won’t ever have to use it but who knows, maybe Sehun will like it.
Luhan doesn’t keep his body in the basement and instead, takes it to his bedroom. For practice, he decides.
Sehun doesn’t take it well. He screams and he cries and Luhan just wants to take him in his arms and take away his pain. He can’t, though. He has to wait for the right time, wait until Sehun trusts him. So he’s forced to watch as Sehun breaks, goes into a glum daze that lasts for days. He doesn’t leave his house, doesn’t answer his phone, doesn’t even eat. He cuts himself off from the rest of the world, focusing on Jongin, trying to remember his face, his voice, his touch.
Luhan wants nothing more than to offer Sehun himself, his comfort, his understanding but he doesn’t. He waits. Because ultimately, he thinks, the result will be worth it.
“So what now? Are you going to kill me too?”
“I wasn’t. Now I’m not really sure. Maybe if you like my toast, I won’t.”
Luhan becomes Sehun’s therapist, sort of. It’s a result of incapacitating his competition and warming up to Sehun’s friends, going to charity events and even to night clubs. It’s hard work but he gets what he wants eventually.
He visits Sehun on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, a bag of groceries and coffee in another. He uses the spare key he got from Sehun’s friend-he can’t remember who but it’s an insignificant detail anyway-and lets himself in, setting his things down in the kitchen and padding silently up the stairs.
Luhan finds Sehun curled up in his bed, awake but unaware, staring blankly at the wall. He sits down beside him and runs his hand lightly through Sehun’s hair.
“Get up,” he says, stroking Sehun’s cheek, feeling the soft yet cold skin under his thumb. “Sehun, you have to eat.”
Sehun doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge him.
“Sehun, come on. Get up.”
Luhan takes Sehun’s hand and pulls him up. It isn’t hard, like most people would think. Sehun doesn’t resist, but he isn’t really living right now. He’s an empty shell and Luhan thinks that’s even worse.
“Your name is Oh Sehun. It’s 5:35 pm. You’re in Seoul, Korea.” Luhan keeps him close as he guides them to the kitchen. “And you are going to eat dinner.”
After making sure Sehun isn’t about to fall off his chair, Luhan makes dinner. He cooks something simple-chicken soup to warm Sehun up. He finishes quickly, and in that period, Sehun doesn’t move an inch.
“Time to eat, Sehun.” Luhan sits down next to him, setting down a bowl of soup on the table. “Open up.”
He feeds Sehun, one hand on his jaw and another holding the spoon. He takes it slow, acts carefully and watches as color gradually returns to Sehun’s cheeks. Luhan sees it all, sees Sehun’s eyes go from a dull black to warm brown, sees mixed hurt, anger, sadness, and grief in them.
“Who are you?” Sehun asks, his voice raspy.
“My name is Luhan. I’m a friend.”
It’s a start.
Luhan comes back every day. Sehun improves and the times that he spaces out lessen and lessen until it happens only once or twice a month. They grow close and Luhan becomes Sehun’s pillar. It’s even more than Luhan had hoped for and now, he can’t believe his luck.
Sehun slowly recovers and starts to go out more. First, it’s just to his front yard to take a breather, but it quickly turns to trips to the convenience store and buying pots and utensils for his kitchen until he decides to meet his friends again, to answer their calls and actually show up to their so-called group dates.
Luhan’s beside him all throughout, pushing him, encouraging him to do more. Sehun becomes dependent on him, waiting for his reassurance and hanging onto his every word. It only makes things more heartbreaking for Sehun when he finds out.
It’s a Friday when Luhan finally gives in to Sehun and drives them to his house. Now, Sehun is seated on his couch, eyes wandering all over the room. His gaze stops on a familiar yet peculiar pattern on the lamp by the couch, two small circles, darker than the rest of the material even when stretched, and finds that he’s starting to sweat, his heartbeat quickening.
“Your lamps are,” Sehun pauses, unsure of what to say, “nice.”
Luhan smiles. “I make them myself.”
“What do you use?”
“Skin.”
Sehun tenses, his eyes darting around for the nearest exit because shit that isn’t just the usual animal skin. He doesn’t even get to act, doesn’t even get to stand up because Luhan gets to him first. The next thing he knows, he’s chained to a bed, helpless.
Hope leaves him without a word, so suddenly that even the pleasant smell of nutmeg wafting in the air doesn’t cheer him up.
“You’re a fucking sociopath.”
“I am clearly insane. Get over it.”
“Just kill me already.”
“No. No, I want to keep your skin warm. I’m not going to kill you just yet, Sehun.”
Sehun gives up. He tries so hard to fight but no. It’s too much and now his heart is torn into pieces too small to even pick up. When a woman shows up, dressed in all black and looking at him with such pity, such understanding, he knows. This is his peace. This is his reward. This is his chance to be with Jongin again, to be happy.
He takes her hand and lets himself be pulled into a deep and undisturbed sleep.