not afraid to fall [chapter 13]
Title: not afraid to fall [chapter 13]
Author: ivoryroyale
Genre: supernatural, hurt/comfort, friendship, romance
Rating: PG
Summary: in which a group of six aren't afraid to stand tall because they have each other.
Note: 4,249 words. Unbeta-ed.
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[prologue] [chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [ chapter 7] [chapter 8] [ chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11] [ chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [ chapter 15] [ chapter 16] [ chapter 17] [ chapter 18] [ chapter 19] [ chapter 20]
not afraid to fall
chapter thirteen
Youngjae doesn't cry.
At least, Junhong thought he didn't cry-from what he remembers, Junhong's only ever seen Youngjae cry once.
Youngjae's always been placid, always tried to hide every emotion he can muster inside his head the best he could, disguising them with his sharp tongue and acidic words.
The only time Junhong's ever seen him cry (really seen him cry) or even show the slightest bit of vulnerability was way back when they lived together, were still living under Youngjae's parents' roof, on Youngjae's fourteenth birthday.
It's been about four years since it happened, but Junhong still remembers the day like it was just yesterday. (There's something about seeing your older brother lose it that just sticks to the back of your brain.)
It was about five months after Youngjae's family first adopted Junhong, and Junhong remembers Youngjae waking up early that morning so excited, only to be ignored by both their parents on his special day (like any other day). Youngjae had really though, since it was his birthday, that their parents would treat him differently, would actually act like he was their son for once. But apparently, they didn't think so, and the genius had been so crushed that he spent the rest of the day unreaveled, crying into the crook of Junhong's eleven year old neck, wrapped up in his arms like they were the safest place on earth for him (because Junhong was the only one that actually remembered to pay attention to him, to give him one simple birthday wish).
That had been the first and, Junhong thought, the last time he would ever see Youngjae cry again.
Yet here Youngjae is, right next to him, curled in on himself, shoulders shaking in the quietest of broken gestures. His hands are covering his face, so Junhong can't really see the tears, but he can here the tiny sobs, the angry whimpers, the breaks in his voice, and they should trigger something in Junhong, should break him into tiny pieces but they don't.
(And he wants them to so bad.)
"Hyung," Junhong whispers, leaning over in his spot on the bed to run fingers through Youngjae's hair, and he wants to be shocked at the fact he can't feel it, can't feel Youngjae's thin strands of hair between his fingers, but he isn't. "I'm sorry,"
And he isn't, but he wants to be.
And maybe if he says it enough-once, twice, three more times-he might just be able to convince himself that he actually is.
(Just maybe.)
"Okay," Youngjae chokes out, hands still curled against his face, palms glued tight against his eyes in hopes to keep his tears tame. He sounds like he's talking to himself instead of Junhong, like the word is some way of saying he's done, done crying, done with all of this.
Junhong remembers Youngjae saying the exact same thing four years ago, pushing himself away from Junhong, wiping away his tears to bottle them away again.
"Okay, Junhong, I-I know your sorry, okay?" Youngjae's hands move from against his face to smooth across his hair, tossing his bangs away, forcing Junhong's hands away in the process, sighing ever so softly with a hiccup on the tip of his tongue. "Please. I know your sorry, just-just stop saying it... please,"
I'm sorry, Junhong thinks, and it dies in his throat before he says it, just as Youngjae's shallow breaths die in the silent air around them.
"Stop-" Youngjae whimpers, hands knotting into his hair, pulling away at the strands, knuckles a bright white as he grits his teeth together to keep back a silent scream. The sentence catches somewhere in between his throat and brain and he can't force it out, so he curls his knees tighter against his chest and Junhong is left, hand frozen in the air where Youngjae pushed it, to just stare because that's all he can really do. He doesn't know what to do, seeing Youngjae like this, and it makes it worse that he can't feel anymore, can't tell what Youngjae's feeling anymore, because his ability's practically gone.
"Youngjae-"
"Stop," He says again, whipping his head around, hands pulling away from his face long enough to glare dangerously at him, and Junhong does nothing but stare, studying the older boy's tear stained face. It's really been a long time since Junhong's seen Youngjae cry, and the youngest can't get over how red his eyes are beneath that glare, how tight his mouth is set yet his lips still manage to quiver, how hard the older boy has to work to just breath through his mouth, puffs of air anchoring from his chest only to be drawn back in a second later.
The sight should make Junhong crumble, but all the youngest can do is watch.
"I'm okay," Youngjae breathes, glare softening just enough to wipe at his eyes again. "Shut up, I'm alright,"
And Junhong wants to tell him to stop lying because he knows he's not. He might not be able to feel, but he's not stupid either and Youngjae is definitely not okay.
Before Junhong can say much of anything though, Youngjae is picking himself up from the ground, sniffling back anymore sobs as he attempts to brush the whole thing off as if he didn't just lose it. "I-I can't believe..." And he stops, like he doesn't want to say it, and his gaze flicks over to the little scissors, the sutures, the bandages, all scattered against the floor closest to Junhong's wall. "I have to clean that up," Youngjae mumbles, pausing long enough to take a long breath, and although Junhong is just staring at his back he can easily picture Youngjae closing his eyes, shutting back his brown irises to collect himself because he's always done that. Whenever he's angry, whenever he's sad, whenever he's tired.
Youngjae takes one tiny step away and Junhong has to think because he can't rely on instinct anymore when he reaches out for him, grabbing a handful of the end of the genius' t-shirt to stop him. With a sharp tug, Youngjae freezes, body going rigid, and Junhong wants to cry because he can't feel sad, wants to scream because he can't be angry, wants to whine about the pain because he used to be able to before, but now he can't. "You don't have to." Junhong says instead, voice even, cold. "Leave it." He tries to cough, to make his voice commanding, but it stays at the same octave, frozen into the same tone.
And Junhong thinks Youngjae can tell he's trying so hard to act normal because he breathes in deep, shoulders heaving, and he turns around, swiping Junhong's hands away from his shirt.
"I'm sorry," Youngjae murmurs and Junhong thinks, thinks that he wants to be able to do that. Wants to be able to apologize and mean it again.
"Me too," But Youngjae only winces. "I want to be sorry." Junhong amends, playing with his bed covers, avoiding Youngjae's gaze, eyes glistening with held back tears and a puffy pink from crying. Junhong's trying, trying but failing, to feel something-the soft fabric of his blankets, the pain from seeing one of his best friends cry, the guilt from doing something that made Youngjae cry-he's trying so hard but nothing is working. "I want to be sorry, hyung, but-"
"I know you can't," Youngjae huffs, cutting Junhong off before he can finish, knowing what he's going to say before he says it. "And I'll fix you. I'll fix you, I just-" Junhong peers over to look at Youngjae, eyes downcast, bangs hiding most of his face as he clutches his hands at his side like he's trying to fight something. "That wasn't supposed to happen. I don't-" Lose it, Junhong finishes in his head, because he knows Youngjae. Has known him long enough to know what he's going to say.
"I'll fix you." Youngjae reiterates instead of finishing and Junhong thinks he'd still have trouble believing him, even if he could still believe in anything at all.
Junhong curls his hands into his blanket as he lies, "I know."
Daehyun is sitting in front of Jongup, who's hugging his pillow tightly against his chest, when they hear the crash, resonating loud against the thin walls accompanied by Youngjae's yelling.
Jongup clutches the pillow tighter, iron tight grip causing his fingers to break through the thin fabric of the pillow case, and Daehyun can do no more than curl his fingers awkwardly against the boy's cheeks, wiping away at tear stains frosted underneath his brown eyes.
"It's okay," Daehyun murmurs, pursing his lips at the way Jongup sighs, dropping his head resolutely over his pillow. The blonde wishes he could cover his ears, could keep the younger boy from listening in on any of the conversation because he doesn't like the way Jongup flinches at some points of the argument, doesn't like the way his eyes tear up from hearing them.
When the yelling stops, Jongup finally lifts his head from off the pillow, staring up at Daehyun through his bangs. Daehyun sighs and lowers his hand away from the boy. "Youngjae hyung doesn't yell." Jongup states quietly, lifting his chin off his pillow so that Daehyun would be able to hear him clearly. "He might get angry and start saying sarcastic and mean stuff, but he never yells."
Daehyun doesn't know what else to do but stare.
After a while of doing that though, Daehyun finds himself talking, saying whatever comes to his head first, because whatever comes to his head first tends to be the right thing to say. "Youngjae just needs to blow off some steam," Daehyun explains and he suspects he's right. Youngjae's been looking as if something's been eating at him since this morning. "He just needs to break down a little for things to get any better,"
That last part, of course, is a lie. Daehyun doubts anything is going to get better anytime soon, and he suspects Youngjae will break down almost frequently, along with everybody else in this house, but Jongup doesn't really need to know that, so Daehyun keeps silent after that, waiting for Jongup to say something in reply.
"I just," Jongup trails off with a sigh, pressing his face into his pillow and Daehyun has to lean in to actually catch what he says. "I don't like it when any of us fight. We don't really fight that often,"
Daehyun stares at the top of Jongup's head, waiting for the moment he lifts it so that he could stare at his eyes and make sure he wasn't crying, wasn't hurting. "I heard little fights are healthy every now and then,"
"Yeah," Jongup snorts. "Little fights. That fight didn't exactly sound like it was little."
Daehyun shrugs. "At least they stopped yelling,"
With a bit of a sour smile, Jongup lifts his head up to look at Daehyun, staring at him blankly, sitting cross-legged, head tilted to the side as if he's confused. "How are you so casual about this?" Jongup questions, leaning back in his bed, propping himself against the wall behind him.
Daehyun shrugs again. "I've never really had a fight with anyone before." Never really talked to anyone before actually. Daehyun adds in his head, fidgeting with his fingers. Fighting meant that both sides had to go at it. So, unless Jongup considered an angry soldier yelling and throwing punches at him while he cowered in the corner of a cell "a fight", Daehyun hasn't really fought with anyone before.
Jongup smiles, and Daehyun is a bit relieved to see that it isn't sharp anymore. It's a real smile, soft and happy. "I've never really had a fight with anyone before either,"
Figures, Daehyun thinks. Jongup's given superhuman strength and he's never even been in a fight with anybody.
I don't really think anyone would have it in them to actually fight with you, Jongup, Daehyun scribbles down onto his post-its this time, scrambling for the tiny yellow pages before scratching it down and holding it up in front of his face for Jongup to read.
"Why's that?" Jongup asks, tilting his head to the side, raising an innocent eyebrow.
Do I really have to explain this?
"Um," Jongup stammers, reading the note with squinted eyes. "Maybe?"
Daehyun stares at Jongup, blinking slowly, staring back at Daehyun with a silly sort of grin on his face. You're rather... dense, aren't you? Daehyun snorts at the look on the younger boy's face when he reads his note.
With a sad excuse for a scowl, Jongup reaches over and pulls Daehyun's mask away from his mouth, letting go and making it snap painfully back to his face. A tiny yelp of protest escapes Daehyun's mouth and he quickly drops his pen and post-its in favor of slipping his mask down to his neck, rubbing at his mouth where his mask had slapped against, eyes tearing just the slightest at the sudden abuse.
(He tries not to think about the past, the abuse, the smacks to the face, the kicks to his limbs, the scars littering his abdomen and tries to focus on now, with Jongup smiling and giggling at him.)
"I take offense to that," Jongup says.
"Well, I took offense to that," Daehyun whines, trying his best to glare.
It's not the best attempt, apparently, because Jongup laughs at him again.
And then he stops, laughter dying away to silence once again.
Silently, questioningly, Daehyun slides his hand away from his mouth. "Why'd you stop laughing so suddenly?"
With a smile, Jongup wraps a hand around the back of his neck, scratching bashfully before he looks up at Daehyun again with sparkling eyes. He finds it endearing, that Jongup can still smile so honestly after all that's happened, that he's still willing to be happy at a time like this. Daehyun would never be able to do that.
He'd given up on being happy a long time ago, in fact.
"No reason," Jongup answers, staring longer at Daehyun and the blonde starts to become uncomfortable under his gaze, averting his eyes to stare down at one of the drawn characters on Jongup's dorky bedspread. Daehyun twirls his fingers together silently, not knowing what else to say as he burns holes into Jongup's bed. "Hey, Daehyun hyung?"
Daehyun peeks up long enough to catch a glimpse of Jongup, lips curled up into a never ending smile, eyes just the tad bit red around the edges from crying, cheeks the tiniest tinge of pink, and he looks back down quickly, coughing awkwardly as he does so. "What?"
"Do you mind if I start calling you Daehyunnie?"
There's a strange twist in his stomach at hearing the new nickname and Daehyun coughs again. "Um, if you add a hyung to that," Daehyun says as a more-or-less lame attempt at saving face. He doesn't understand why he's getting so embarrassed. Maybe because he's never really gotten a nickname from anybody before. He never really had any friends when he was younger-just the maids and the butlers and maybe his tutor-and at the base the only nickname he really ever had was freak, so getting a nickname like Daehyunnie is kind of a shock.
Jongup laughs and inches himself forward on the bed, adjusting his hold on his pillow before he says, "Okay, Daehyunnie hyung,"
Daehyun feels a sudden heat in his cheeks and he fixes his mask, securing it around his mouth again to hide whatever heat was painted across his face.
"Daehyunnie hyung," Jongup says, and Daehyun almost groans at the overuse of the nickname, wants to fall forward on the bed and maybe ponder over the tight feeling in his chest. Instead he looks up at Jongup, waiting for him to continue, eyeing the way his smile suddenly turn into pursed lips, the way his eyes suddenly turn serious, the way he seems to be trying to hide shyly behind the pillow in his hands. "Thank you." Jongup utters softly, and Daehyun perks up at the words, eyebrows furrowing just the slightest.
"Thank you?" Daehyun asks, mimicking Jongup's soft tone, afraid something might break if he tries to say is any louder, like some moment will be shattered if he does. "Thank you for what?"
Jongup shrugs his shoulders, staring straight at Daehyun with the most determined look in his eyes.
"For comforting me everytime I'm sad," Jongup explains lightly, shrugging again before another tiny smile finds its way on his lips. "I don't know. Just for... for everything."
There's a sudden twist in his stomach, a weight in his chest, and Daehyun bites his lip at the sudden feeling.
He mutters a quick, "Um, you don't really need to thank me," before shaking his head, ignoring it and trying to play it off as some kind of aftereffect from talking so much in one day.
He makes a mental note not to talk anymore and to just write everything down for the rest of the day.
Himchan is wound up in his blanket when he hears a knock at his door.
He doesn't know who it is and he doesn't necessarily even want to find out because he feels like crap and he's been crying all night and he just wants to sleep, but he sits up in his bed anyway, glaring at the wood of his door as he rubs at his eyes, dry and probably bloodshot from lack of sleep and puffy from crying so much. God, he must look so unattractive right now.
"Who is it?" Himchan croaks out, wincing at the sound of his own voice. It sounds horrible, like a frog is somehow wedged somewhere between his throat and his voice box, and he coughs to try and make it go away. The person on the other side of the door is silent for a moment, and Himchan guesses whoever they are is shocked by the state of his voice too. Maybe it's Youngjae, Himchan thinks. The younger boy had checked up on him earlier this morning and Himchan had just waved him off, ignoring him after the genius tried to insist that You're still human, you need to eat, hyung.
There's a command to go away on the tip of Himchan's tongue when he hears a rough, familiar voice.
His heart nearly stops in his chest.
"Um, it's Yongguk," His best friend calls over the wood and Himchan instinctively slips out of bed, running to his door.
He's about two seconds away from yanking it open and just tossing an unexpected hug around Yongguk's neck when he stops himself, fingers hovering over the doorknob hesitantly. He can't just forgive Yongguk that easily, Himchan has to remind himself, lowering his hand away, keeping them frozen at his sides, clenching them into tiny fists.
"Can I come in?" Yongguk asks, jiggling the doorknob, and Himchan eyes the brass knob warily as it shakes around stubbornly, not opening because it's locked.
Himchan bites at his bottom lip before he coughs again, making sure his voice won't fail on him when he shouts, loud and clear. "Himchan isn't here right now, please leave a message."
There's silence again before Yongguk sighs. Himchan can picture him so easily, too easily, forehead pressed against the wood of the door as he stands on the other side, hand hovering over the door in case he has to knock again. Yongguk had a bad habit of doing that-knocking more than really necessary, and Himchan always thought that was a bit annoying. He can't really bring himself to think that now though as he moves to sit cross-legged in front of his door, waiting for Yongguk to respond, if he even decides to respond.
The man has a track record of being stubborn when it comes to arguments.
There's a shuffling on the other side of the door and a thud against the wood that makes Himchan think Yongguk's moved to prop himself against the wood of the door, head lying against the cold wood as he speaks. "Are you still mad at me?"
Himchan is silent, having a staring contest with his door, imagining it wasn't there and Yongguk was right in front of him, in plain sight.
"That's a yes." Yongguk sighs, and Himchan glares weakly despite the fact Yongguk can't see him, pursing his lips tighter together to keep from saying anything.
There's another sigh and another thud against the wood in what Himchan believes is Yongguk banging his head against the door before Yongguk keeps talking. "Youngjae told me you haven't come out of your room yet. And that you haven't eaten."
Oh, really. Himchan thinks, rolling his eyes, cursing Youngjae for selling him out.
"Well, more like he yelled it at me, but that's beside the point."
Himchan snorts without meaning to and he can practically imagine Yongguk on the other side of the door, ears perking up at the sound, gaining a little bit of hope. "You deserve to be yelled at," The shield maker mumbles, and he hears more shuffling against the door as Yongguk presses his head closer, pressing his ear against the door to hear Himchan more clearly.
"Okay," Yongguk murmurs and Himchan finds himself scooting closer, trying to catch every little word, every little breath that Yongguk has to offer. "Maybe I do."
"Not maybe," Himchan states stubbornly, sniffing. "You do deserve it."
Yongguk sighs and groans. Himchan imagines him crossing his arms, a marring scowl on his lips. "I hardly say that's fair."
"I hardly say lying to me all the time is fair either, but I deal with it anyway," The words are tumbling off his lips before he can really stop himself and before he realizes what he's actually saying, the words are already in the air, floating passed the door for Yongguk to hear.
Himchan feels anxiety creeping up his spine at every moment of silence that passes. He's afraid Yongguk is going to just walk away, that he's just wrecked any chance they had of actually making up, but Himchan just sits there, scooting closer to the door still, leaning against it sideways, head propped against the wood where he thinks Yongguk's head is. "I'm sorry," Yongguk mumbles and Himchan feels his heart lurch out of his chest at how sincere he sounds.
And he finds it odd, finds it surreal for some off reason, when he realizes it isn't the first time his heart has lurched out of his chest at something Yongguk had said.
"I didn't know I was hurting you so much,"
Himchan's heart hammers against his ribs.
"I just wanted to protect you. I thought I was protecting you."
More hammering. His chest almost hurts.
"Yeah, well, you weren't doing me any favors," Himchan mumbles, leaning more against the door, imagining it's Yongguk before he stops himself, biting down on his bottom lip after realizing how weird that was. "I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself."
Yongguk sighs, but Himchan can hear the smile behind it. "I know... But can't I just take care of you forever?" He sounds as if he's whining and Himchan has to suppress the urge to smile, has to ignore the way his stomach flips around, the way his heart almost bursts. "I don't know," Yongguk continues. "I've just... We've known each other for so long," Sixteen years, Himchan tallies in his head. "And I'm just so used to protecting you from everything, like I did when we were in primary school, and I guess I've gotten used to the fact that keeping you in the dark is for the best even though it isn't,"
Himchan is silent as he listens to Yongguk, feels his anger dissipate with every other word Yongguk says. "You know I was just lying to protect you," Himchan knows that. "You know that I just want to turn back time and take back every lie," Himchan knows that too. Knows what lie Yongguk is really talking about-not the one related to Junhong or whatever he was doing yesterday. He's talking about the lie from all those years ago that caused everything to tumble down.
"You know that I love you, right?"
Himchan freezes.
Nibbles at his lips at the word love.
Himchan knows the kind of love Yongguk is referring to, knows that he's just talking about platonic love, but that doesn't stop the beating of his heart in his chest to increase tenfold at just hearing Yongguk say anything about that. At the thought of Yongguk and love.
The younger man closes his eyes and presses his ear against the door as Yongguk breathes, waiting for Himchan's reply anxiously.
Of course, he loves Yongguk. He loves his voice, husky and rough; he loves his smile, gummy and large; he loves how protective he is all the time, loves how stupid he acts sometimes, loves how hard he tries, how long they've known each other, how he pouts when he's really sad, how he can stay up with him all night just talking to him.
He loves everything about him.
He loves Yongguk.
Loves him, loves him.
Himchan swallows back the lump in his throat and the butterflies threatening to fly out his stomach, and mumbles back a, "Yeah."
"I love you too."
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Previous | Next
Author: ivoryroyale
Genre: supernatural, hurt/comfort, friendship, romance
Rating: PG
Summary: in which a group of six aren't afraid to stand tall because they have each other.
Note: 4,249 words. Unbeta-ed.
-----
[prologue] [chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [ chapter 7] [chapter 8] [ chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11] [ chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [ chapter 15] [ chapter 16] [ chapter 17] [ chapter 18] [ chapter 19] [ chapter 20]
not afraid to fall
chapter thirteen
Youngjae doesn't cry.
At least, Junhong thought he didn't cry-from what he remembers, Junhong's only ever seen Youngjae cry once.
Youngjae's always been placid, always tried to hide every emotion he can muster inside his head the best he could, disguising them with his sharp tongue and acidic words.
The only time Junhong's ever seen him cry (really seen him cry) or even show the slightest bit of vulnerability was way back when they lived together, were still living under Youngjae's parents' roof, on Youngjae's fourteenth birthday.
It's been about four years since it happened, but Junhong still remembers the day like it was just yesterday. (There's something about seeing your older brother lose it that just sticks to the back of your brain.)
It was about five months after Youngjae's family first adopted Junhong, and Junhong remembers Youngjae waking up early that morning so excited, only to be ignored by both their parents on his special day (like any other day). Youngjae had really though, since it was his birthday, that their parents would treat him differently, would actually act like he was their son for once. But apparently, they didn't think so, and the genius had been so crushed that he spent the rest of the day unreaveled, crying into the crook of Junhong's eleven year old neck, wrapped up in his arms like they were the safest place on earth for him (because Junhong was the only one that actually remembered to pay attention to him, to give him one simple birthday wish).
That had been the first and, Junhong thought, the last time he would ever see Youngjae cry again.
Yet here Youngjae is, right next to him, curled in on himself, shoulders shaking in the quietest of broken gestures. His hands are covering his face, so Junhong can't really see the tears, but he can here the tiny sobs, the angry whimpers, the breaks in his voice, and they should trigger something in Junhong, should break him into tiny pieces but they don't.
(And he wants them to so bad.)
"Hyung," Junhong whispers, leaning over in his spot on the bed to run fingers through Youngjae's hair, and he wants to be shocked at the fact he can't feel it, can't feel Youngjae's thin strands of hair between his fingers, but he isn't. "I'm sorry,"
And he isn't, but he wants to be.
And maybe if he says it enough-once, twice, three more times-he might just be able to convince himself that he actually is.
(Just maybe.)
"Okay," Youngjae chokes out, hands still curled against his face, palms glued tight against his eyes in hopes to keep his tears tame. He sounds like he's talking to himself instead of Junhong, like the word is some way of saying he's done, done crying, done with all of this.
Junhong remembers Youngjae saying the exact same thing four years ago, pushing himself away from Junhong, wiping away his tears to bottle them away again.
"Okay, Junhong, I-I know your sorry, okay?" Youngjae's hands move from against his face to smooth across his hair, tossing his bangs away, forcing Junhong's hands away in the process, sighing ever so softly with a hiccup on the tip of his tongue. "Please. I know your sorry, just-just stop saying it... please,"
I'm sorry, Junhong thinks, and it dies in his throat before he says it, just as Youngjae's shallow breaths die in the silent air around them.
"Stop-" Youngjae whimpers, hands knotting into his hair, pulling away at the strands, knuckles a bright white as he grits his teeth together to keep back a silent scream. The sentence catches somewhere in between his throat and brain and he can't force it out, so he curls his knees tighter against his chest and Junhong is left, hand frozen in the air where Youngjae pushed it, to just stare because that's all he can really do. He doesn't know what to do, seeing Youngjae like this, and it makes it worse that he can't feel anymore, can't tell what Youngjae's feeling anymore, because his ability's practically gone.
"Youngjae-"
"Stop," He says again, whipping his head around, hands pulling away from his face long enough to glare dangerously at him, and Junhong does nothing but stare, studying the older boy's tear stained face. It's really been a long time since Junhong's seen Youngjae cry, and the youngest can't get over how red his eyes are beneath that glare, how tight his mouth is set yet his lips still manage to quiver, how hard the older boy has to work to just breath through his mouth, puffs of air anchoring from his chest only to be drawn back in a second later.
The sight should make Junhong crumble, but all the youngest can do is watch.
"I'm okay," Youngjae breathes, glare softening just enough to wipe at his eyes again. "Shut up, I'm alright,"
And Junhong wants to tell him to stop lying because he knows he's not. He might not be able to feel, but he's not stupid either and Youngjae is definitely not okay.
Before Junhong can say much of anything though, Youngjae is picking himself up from the ground, sniffling back anymore sobs as he attempts to brush the whole thing off as if he didn't just lose it. "I-I can't believe..." And he stops, like he doesn't want to say it, and his gaze flicks over to the little scissors, the sutures, the bandages, all scattered against the floor closest to Junhong's wall. "I have to clean that up," Youngjae mumbles, pausing long enough to take a long breath, and although Junhong is just staring at his back he can easily picture Youngjae closing his eyes, shutting back his brown irises to collect himself because he's always done that. Whenever he's angry, whenever he's sad, whenever he's tired.
Youngjae takes one tiny step away and Junhong has to think because he can't rely on instinct anymore when he reaches out for him, grabbing a handful of the end of the genius' t-shirt to stop him. With a sharp tug, Youngjae freezes, body going rigid, and Junhong wants to cry because he can't feel sad, wants to scream because he can't be angry, wants to whine about the pain because he used to be able to before, but now he can't. "You don't have to." Junhong says instead, voice even, cold. "Leave it." He tries to cough, to make his voice commanding, but it stays at the same octave, frozen into the same tone.
And Junhong thinks Youngjae can tell he's trying so hard to act normal because he breathes in deep, shoulders heaving, and he turns around, swiping Junhong's hands away from his shirt.
"I'm sorry," Youngjae murmurs and Junhong thinks, thinks that he wants to be able to do that. Wants to be able to apologize and mean it again.
"Me too," But Youngjae only winces. "I want to be sorry." Junhong amends, playing with his bed covers, avoiding Youngjae's gaze, eyes glistening with held back tears and a puffy pink from crying. Junhong's trying, trying but failing, to feel something-the soft fabric of his blankets, the pain from seeing one of his best friends cry, the guilt from doing something that made Youngjae cry-he's trying so hard but nothing is working. "I want to be sorry, hyung, but-"
"I know you can't," Youngjae huffs, cutting Junhong off before he can finish, knowing what he's going to say before he says it. "And I'll fix you. I'll fix you, I just-" Junhong peers over to look at Youngjae, eyes downcast, bangs hiding most of his face as he clutches his hands at his side like he's trying to fight something. "That wasn't supposed to happen. I don't-" Lose it, Junhong finishes in his head, because he knows Youngjae. Has known him long enough to know what he's going to say.
"I'll fix you." Youngjae reiterates instead of finishing and Junhong thinks he'd still have trouble believing him, even if he could still believe in anything at all.
Junhong curls his hands into his blanket as he lies, "I know."
Daehyun is sitting in front of Jongup, who's hugging his pillow tightly against his chest, when they hear the crash, resonating loud against the thin walls accompanied by Youngjae's yelling.
Jongup clutches the pillow tighter, iron tight grip causing his fingers to break through the thin fabric of the pillow case, and Daehyun can do no more than curl his fingers awkwardly against the boy's cheeks, wiping away at tear stains frosted underneath his brown eyes.
"It's okay," Daehyun murmurs, pursing his lips at the way Jongup sighs, dropping his head resolutely over his pillow. The blonde wishes he could cover his ears, could keep the younger boy from listening in on any of the conversation because he doesn't like the way Jongup flinches at some points of the argument, doesn't like the way his eyes tear up from hearing them.
When the yelling stops, Jongup finally lifts his head from off the pillow, staring up at Daehyun through his bangs. Daehyun sighs and lowers his hand away from the boy. "Youngjae hyung doesn't yell." Jongup states quietly, lifting his chin off his pillow so that Daehyun would be able to hear him clearly. "He might get angry and start saying sarcastic and mean stuff, but he never yells."
Daehyun doesn't know what else to do but stare.
After a while of doing that though, Daehyun finds himself talking, saying whatever comes to his head first, because whatever comes to his head first tends to be the right thing to say. "Youngjae just needs to blow off some steam," Daehyun explains and he suspects he's right. Youngjae's been looking as if something's been eating at him since this morning. "He just needs to break down a little for things to get any better,"
That last part, of course, is a lie. Daehyun doubts anything is going to get better anytime soon, and he suspects Youngjae will break down almost frequently, along with everybody else in this house, but Jongup doesn't really need to know that, so Daehyun keeps silent after that, waiting for Jongup to say something in reply.
"I just," Jongup trails off with a sigh, pressing his face into his pillow and Daehyun has to lean in to actually catch what he says. "I don't like it when any of us fight. We don't really fight that often,"
Daehyun stares at the top of Jongup's head, waiting for the moment he lifts it so that he could stare at his eyes and make sure he wasn't crying, wasn't hurting. "I heard little fights are healthy every now and then,"
"Yeah," Jongup snorts. "Little fights. That fight didn't exactly sound like it was little."
Daehyun shrugs. "At least they stopped yelling,"
With a bit of a sour smile, Jongup lifts his head up to look at Daehyun, staring at him blankly, sitting cross-legged, head tilted to the side as if he's confused. "How are you so casual about this?" Jongup questions, leaning back in his bed, propping himself against the wall behind him.
Daehyun shrugs again. "I've never really had a fight with anyone before." Never really talked to anyone before actually. Daehyun adds in his head, fidgeting with his fingers. Fighting meant that both sides had to go at it. So, unless Jongup considered an angry soldier yelling and throwing punches at him while he cowered in the corner of a cell "a fight", Daehyun hasn't really fought with anyone before.
Jongup smiles, and Daehyun is a bit relieved to see that it isn't sharp anymore. It's a real smile, soft and happy. "I've never really had a fight with anyone before either,"
Figures, Daehyun thinks. Jongup's given superhuman strength and he's never even been in a fight with anybody.
I don't really think anyone would have it in them to actually fight with you, Jongup, Daehyun scribbles down onto his post-its this time, scrambling for the tiny yellow pages before scratching it down and holding it up in front of his face for Jongup to read.
"Why's that?" Jongup asks, tilting his head to the side, raising an innocent eyebrow.
Do I really have to explain this?
"Um," Jongup stammers, reading the note with squinted eyes. "Maybe?"
Daehyun stares at Jongup, blinking slowly, staring back at Daehyun with a silly sort of grin on his face. You're rather... dense, aren't you? Daehyun snorts at the look on the younger boy's face when he reads his note.
With a sad excuse for a scowl, Jongup reaches over and pulls Daehyun's mask away from his mouth, letting go and making it snap painfully back to his face. A tiny yelp of protest escapes Daehyun's mouth and he quickly drops his pen and post-its in favor of slipping his mask down to his neck, rubbing at his mouth where his mask had slapped against, eyes tearing just the slightest at the sudden abuse.
(He tries not to think about the past, the abuse, the smacks to the face, the kicks to his limbs, the scars littering his abdomen and tries to focus on now, with Jongup smiling and giggling at him.)
"I take offense to that," Jongup says.
"Well, I took offense to that," Daehyun whines, trying his best to glare.
It's not the best attempt, apparently, because Jongup laughs at him again.
And then he stops, laughter dying away to silence once again.
Silently, questioningly, Daehyun slides his hand away from his mouth. "Why'd you stop laughing so suddenly?"
With a smile, Jongup wraps a hand around the back of his neck, scratching bashfully before he looks up at Daehyun again with sparkling eyes. He finds it endearing, that Jongup can still smile so honestly after all that's happened, that he's still willing to be happy at a time like this. Daehyun would never be able to do that.
He'd given up on being happy a long time ago, in fact.
"No reason," Jongup answers, staring longer at Daehyun and the blonde starts to become uncomfortable under his gaze, averting his eyes to stare down at one of the drawn characters on Jongup's dorky bedspread. Daehyun twirls his fingers together silently, not knowing what else to say as he burns holes into Jongup's bed. "Hey, Daehyun hyung?"
Daehyun peeks up long enough to catch a glimpse of Jongup, lips curled up into a never ending smile, eyes just the tad bit red around the edges from crying, cheeks the tiniest tinge of pink, and he looks back down quickly, coughing awkwardly as he does so. "What?"
"Do you mind if I start calling you Daehyunnie?"
There's a strange twist in his stomach at hearing the new nickname and Daehyun coughs again. "Um, if you add a hyung to that," Daehyun says as a more-or-less lame attempt at saving face. He doesn't understand why he's getting so embarrassed. Maybe because he's never really gotten a nickname from anybody before. He never really had any friends when he was younger-just the maids and the butlers and maybe his tutor-and at the base the only nickname he really ever had was freak, so getting a nickname like Daehyunnie is kind of a shock.
Jongup laughs and inches himself forward on the bed, adjusting his hold on his pillow before he says, "Okay, Daehyunnie hyung,"
Daehyun feels a sudden heat in his cheeks and he fixes his mask, securing it around his mouth again to hide whatever heat was painted across his face.
"Daehyunnie hyung," Jongup says, and Daehyun almost groans at the overuse of the nickname, wants to fall forward on the bed and maybe ponder over the tight feeling in his chest. Instead he looks up at Jongup, waiting for him to continue, eyeing the way his smile suddenly turn into pursed lips, the way his eyes suddenly turn serious, the way he seems to be trying to hide shyly behind the pillow in his hands. "Thank you." Jongup utters softly, and Daehyun perks up at the words, eyebrows furrowing just the slightest.
"Thank you?" Daehyun asks, mimicking Jongup's soft tone, afraid something might break if he tries to say is any louder, like some moment will be shattered if he does. "Thank you for what?"
Jongup shrugs his shoulders, staring straight at Daehyun with the most determined look in his eyes.
"For comforting me everytime I'm sad," Jongup explains lightly, shrugging again before another tiny smile finds its way on his lips. "I don't know. Just for... for everything."
There's a sudden twist in his stomach, a weight in his chest, and Daehyun bites his lip at the sudden feeling.
He mutters a quick, "Um, you don't really need to thank me," before shaking his head, ignoring it and trying to play it off as some kind of aftereffect from talking so much in one day.
He makes a mental note not to talk anymore and to just write everything down for the rest of the day.
Himchan is wound up in his blanket when he hears a knock at his door.
He doesn't know who it is and he doesn't necessarily even want to find out because he feels like crap and he's been crying all night and he just wants to sleep, but he sits up in his bed anyway, glaring at the wood of his door as he rubs at his eyes, dry and probably bloodshot from lack of sleep and puffy from crying so much. God, he must look so unattractive right now.
"Who is it?" Himchan croaks out, wincing at the sound of his own voice. It sounds horrible, like a frog is somehow wedged somewhere between his throat and his voice box, and he coughs to try and make it go away. The person on the other side of the door is silent for a moment, and Himchan guesses whoever they are is shocked by the state of his voice too. Maybe it's Youngjae, Himchan thinks. The younger boy had checked up on him earlier this morning and Himchan had just waved him off, ignoring him after the genius tried to insist that You're still human, you need to eat, hyung.
There's a command to go away on the tip of Himchan's tongue when he hears a rough, familiar voice.
His heart nearly stops in his chest.
"Um, it's Yongguk," His best friend calls over the wood and Himchan instinctively slips out of bed, running to his door.
He's about two seconds away from yanking it open and just tossing an unexpected hug around Yongguk's neck when he stops himself, fingers hovering over the doorknob hesitantly. He can't just forgive Yongguk that easily, Himchan has to remind himself, lowering his hand away, keeping them frozen at his sides, clenching them into tiny fists.
"Can I come in?" Yongguk asks, jiggling the doorknob, and Himchan eyes the brass knob warily as it shakes around stubbornly, not opening because it's locked.
Himchan bites at his bottom lip before he coughs again, making sure his voice won't fail on him when he shouts, loud and clear. "Himchan isn't here right now, please leave a message."
There's silence again before Yongguk sighs. Himchan can picture him so easily, too easily, forehead pressed against the wood of the door as he stands on the other side, hand hovering over the door in case he has to knock again. Yongguk had a bad habit of doing that-knocking more than really necessary, and Himchan always thought that was a bit annoying. He can't really bring himself to think that now though as he moves to sit cross-legged in front of his door, waiting for Yongguk to respond, if he even decides to respond.
The man has a track record of being stubborn when it comes to arguments.
There's a shuffling on the other side of the door and a thud against the wood that makes Himchan think Yongguk's moved to prop himself against the wood of the door, head lying against the cold wood as he speaks. "Are you still mad at me?"
Himchan is silent, having a staring contest with his door, imagining it wasn't there and Yongguk was right in front of him, in plain sight.
"That's a yes." Yongguk sighs, and Himchan glares weakly despite the fact Yongguk can't see him, pursing his lips tighter together to keep from saying anything.
There's another sigh and another thud against the wood in what Himchan believes is Yongguk banging his head against the door before Yongguk keeps talking. "Youngjae told me you haven't come out of your room yet. And that you haven't eaten."
Oh, really. Himchan thinks, rolling his eyes, cursing Youngjae for selling him out.
"Well, more like he yelled it at me, but that's beside the point."
Himchan snorts without meaning to and he can practically imagine Yongguk on the other side of the door, ears perking up at the sound, gaining a little bit of hope. "You deserve to be yelled at," The shield maker mumbles, and he hears more shuffling against the door as Yongguk presses his head closer, pressing his ear against the door to hear Himchan more clearly.
"Okay," Yongguk murmurs and Himchan finds himself scooting closer, trying to catch every little word, every little breath that Yongguk has to offer. "Maybe I do."
"Not maybe," Himchan states stubbornly, sniffing. "You do deserve it."
Yongguk sighs and groans. Himchan imagines him crossing his arms, a marring scowl on his lips. "I hardly say that's fair."
"I hardly say lying to me all the time is fair either, but I deal with it anyway," The words are tumbling off his lips before he can really stop himself and before he realizes what he's actually saying, the words are already in the air, floating passed the door for Yongguk to hear.
Himchan feels anxiety creeping up his spine at every moment of silence that passes. He's afraid Yongguk is going to just walk away, that he's just wrecked any chance they had of actually making up, but Himchan just sits there, scooting closer to the door still, leaning against it sideways, head propped against the wood where he thinks Yongguk's head is. "I'm sorry," Yongguk mumbles and Himchan feels his heart lurch out of his chest at how sincere he sounds.
And he finds it odd, finds it surreal for some off reason, when he realizes it isn't the first time his heart has lurched out of his chest at something Yongguk had said.
"I didn't know I was hurting you so much,"
Himchan's heart hammers against his ribs.
"I just wanted to protect you. I thought I was protecting you."
More hammering. His chest almost hurts.
"Yeah, well, you weren't doing me any favors," Himchan mumbles, leaning more against the door, imagining it's Yongguk before he stops himself, biting down on his bottom lip after realizing how weird that was. "I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself."
Yongguk sighs, but Himchan can hear the smile behind it. "I know... But can't I just take care of you forever?" He sounds as if he's whining and Himchan has to suppress the urge to smile, has to ignore the way his stomach flips around, the way his heart almost bursts. "I don't know," Yongguk continues. "I've just... We've known each other for so long," Sixteen years, Himchan tallies in his head. "And I'm just so used to protecting you from everything, like I did when we were in primary school, and I guess I've gotten used to the fact that keeping you in the dark is for the best even though it isn't,"
Himchan is silent as he listens to Yongguk, feels his anger dissipate with every other word Yongguk says. "You know I was just lying to protect you," Himchan knows that. "You know that I just want to turn back time and take back every lie," Himchan knows that too. Knows what lie Yongguk is really talking about-not the one related to Junhong or whatever he was doing yesterday. He's talking about the lie from all those years ago that caused everything to tumble down.
"You know that I love you, right?"
Himchan freezes.
Nibbles at his lips at the word love.
Himchan knows the kind of love Yongguk is referring to, knows that he's just talking about platonic love, but that doesn't stop the beating of his heart in his chest to increase tenfold at just hearing Yongguk say anything about that. At the thought of Yongguk and love.
The younger man closes his eyes and presses his ear against the door as Yongguk breathes, waiting for Himchan's reply anxiously.
Of course, he loves Yongguk. He loves his voice, husky and rough; he loves his smile, gummy and large; he loves how protective he is all the time, loves how stupid he acts sometimes, loves how hard he tries, how long they've known each other, how he pouts when he's really sad, how he can stay up with him all night just talking to him.
He loves everything about him.
He loves Yongguk.
Loves him, loves him.
Himchan swallows back the lump in his throat and the butterflies threatening to fly out his stomach, and mumbles back a, "Yeah."
"I love you too."
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