A few days scurried by and Wooyoung was more at a loss than ever. He did not know how to face Khun, after the revelation of his past. To make matters worse, Wooyoung had so embarrassingly cried in front of him. He did not know if he should be friendly to him and be talking to him regularly. The reason he was at a loss was that Khun basically remained the same, in the sense that he was going with Wooyoung’s flow. Khun did not make any extra effort to be close to Wooyoung, mainly because he felt that the boy needed some space. It would be utterly strange if the two of them were suddenly friendly overnight, anyways.

Wooyoung still had not given Khun an answer to his offer yet. He had been thinking hard about it, whether it would be the right thing to do, whether it would be fair for himself and his uncle. In all honesty, his uncle never cared about him; Wooyoung did not see how he should have a problem moving out. Then there was Nichkhun, merely a classmate of his. Frankly, he was as stunned as he was thankful for Nichkhun’s suggestion. Nichkhun was no more than a student just like he himself was, only difference was that Nichkhun held top position in class while he lingered at the bottom few. But that was not the problem here.

Wooyoung told himself that Nichkhun only wanted to help him, seeing how miserable his life had been, and still was. But did he need his affection? This question could only be answered by going through it himself. Wooyoung debated whether he should let his uncle know, after all, he had lived in his house for the past eleven years. He decided to bring up the subject while they were having dinner one night. He was afraid, not of his uncle rejecting his decision, but of his outrageous reaction after hearing he wanted to move out. He was expecting it, and he got it.

Dinner was forgotten; Wooyoung’s uncle proceeded to beat him for being disrespectful to him, bellowing about how he had wasted his time taking care of him all those long years, hollering his dissatisfaction in how Wooyoung repaid him. It had been a while since Wooyoung last received beatings from his uncle; it was one of his childhood things. However, contrasting his childhood, where he would be weeping quietly on the tatami-matted floor as his uncle continuously hit him, Wooyoung resisted. His uncle certainly did not expect Wooyoung’s sudden resistance and on an angry impulse, he flung a ceramic rice bowl at him. The flying bowl crashed harshly on Wooyoung’s left arm, cutting deep into his flesh.

To Wooyoung, this was still too much. No matter how much he was used to treatments like this, he still could not hold back his tears and stay strong. He was long broken. Abandoning his confrontation against his uncle, Wooyoung got up and went to his room, clutching his deeply wounded upper arm, ignoring his blood that was constantly dripping onto the floor. He slammed his door shut and locked it. Outside, his uncle’s yells of anger could be clearly heard, but Wooyoung shut it out.

Wooyoung started removing various things from shelves, drawers and closet and stuffed them into his backpack. His arm hurt, his tears could not stop falling, but he did not stop and care. Shortly after, he threw open his door, and stomped out of the front door of his uncle’s house, paying no attention to the nonstop screams that could be heard a mile away.

He emerged into the cold street, thus remembering to put on Khun’s beanie. Cold was an understatement; Wooyoung could literally feel his bones clattering. His backpack weighing on his right shoulder, he trudged heavily in the snowy street. The first snow had fallen just a few days ago, but thankfully, the weather was clear then.

Wooyoung was dressed in only a long sleeved red button-down shirt under a black knit sweater, jeans and his usual sneakers, mainly because he was never given enough money to buy his much-needed thicker clothing, courtesy of his vile uncle. Blood was seeping through his sleeve and Wooyoung realized that he could no longer lift his left arm. Grimacing at the stinging pain, he removed his right hand from supporting his left arm and reached for a piece of paper in his pants pocket.

On the paper were a few slight cursive words scribbled in black ink: My house – just walk down the street from the park and turn left at the first junction. The second house, NO. 2406. See you soon! =]

Fighting against the murky blackness that kept threatening to swallow his vision, Wooyoung dragged himself weakly to the said house, which was less than a hundred meters away. He passed the park, arrived at the aforementioned junction and turned left as directed.

He barely made it to the single-story house, willing his wobbly legs to carry his body through the small front yard to the front door. Wooyoung rang the doorbell and then desperately blew warm air into his right palm, his left arm still hanging heavily from its socket. His dizziness from blood loss and extreme coldness almost consumed him. Almost. He had to quickly grasp onto the doorframe to support himself.

Just then, the smoothly varnished door opened in from inside, revealing a perplexed Khun. Khun, who was known for his pale, pearly white skin, easily looked dark next to Wooyoung. His expression turned from perplexity from the unexpected ring of his doorbell to shock upon the sight of Wooyoung in that state.

“Woo–”

Wooyoung’s grip on the doorframe slipped at that instant and he fell into Khun’s arms. He was too frail to even keep his eyes open, let alone stand, which explained the panicked, unclear voice in his ears, telling him not to fall asleep.

Khun swept Wooyoung off the ground and carried him to the couch in the warm living room. He kept repeating “I’m here’s” and “you’ll be okay’s” in an anxious and terribly worried tone. He lied Wooyoung down carefully on the couch and then raced into his room, straight to his closet. Khun quickly grabbed a maroon parka and long, white checkered muffler. He was back by Wooyoung’s side in a split second, draping the coat over his shivering body and putting the muffler on him.

Khun then fetched the first-aid box from the drawer by the television and began to examine Wooyoung’s wound. He slowly lifted Wooyoung’s injured arm, causing him to whimper.

“Bear with it for a moment, Wooyoung, it’ll be over in a minute,” Khun gently coaxed him as he pressed a cleansing cloth firmly against the wound to stop the blood flow; Wooyoung was biting his snow-colored lips to suppress the pain, his eyes squeezed shut. Judging from the looks of it, Khun concluded that Wooyoung had gotten injured only a while ago, but he did not ask him just yet as he wanted to let him rest. Saying that Wooyoung was pale was an underestimation; he was downright white as a plain sheet of paper.

Khun then started cleaning the streaks of blood on Wooyoung’s arm after finding that the blood had stopped. By then, Wooyoung seemed to have gained back some of his colors thanks to the warmth of the room and also the additional clothing Khun had given him. Khun watched Wooyoung exhale a deep breath as his hands moved, bandaging his wound professionally. “Just a bit, I’m almost done,” he said as he saw Wooyoung wincing at every turn of the bandage.

The bandage was then sealed off and Khun announced that he was done while moving over to put away the first-aid box. Wooyoung sat up with his knees pulled up to his chin, wrapping the coat around his body tightly. Khun was in the kitchen whipping up a mug of hot chocolate complete with marshmallows submerged in it. He gave the hot drink to Wooyoung and sat down beside him on the couch.

“Thank you…” Wooyoung murmured quietly after taking a long sip of the hot chocolate.

“Well, I won’t say ‘you’re welcome’ unless you tell me what happened,” Khun replied.

Wooyoung remained silent, paying immense attention to only the marshmallows that were afloat in the drink. Giving him time, Khun placed the back of his hand on Wooyoung’s cheek to check if he was still cold, causing him to blush, eyes widened.

“Are you feeling better now? Does it still hurt?” Khun asked him casually.

“Y-yes, it’s less painful now,” Wooyoung stammered.

“Hm, then I’m glad,” Khun smiled at him sweetly.

“Nichkhun, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung said quietly, after setting the mug down and returned to hugging his knees.

“For?” Khun responded, surprised.

“I’m sorry for coming to you at this hour in the night so suddenly, and in such a state as well. It’s just… I feel like I’m being a burden to you,” Wooyoung answered, not meeting Khun’s eyes in case he might stutter.

“Hey, I was the one who told you to come to me if you need me, so it’s okay. I’m really happy to actually find you at my doorstep – literally. I didn’t expect to see you like that, though. What happened just now, Woo? I know that’s not any common injury.”

Wooyoung felt air solidify in his throat thus choking him as his mind ran back to his uncle’s house. He shuddered. Khun noticed his expression turn dark, terror evident in his eyes. He wrapped his arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders and pulled him closer to his side, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

The straightforward and calming voice had a great impact on Wooyoung and the floodgates opened once again. In between sobs, Wooyoung told Khun about what had happened back in his uncle’s house.

When he was finished, Khun could only rub Wooyoung’s cheeks with his fingers, wiping away his tears. Khun embraced him, making him snuggle up against him. He rested his chin on Wooyoung’s head as he lovingly caressed his back, soothing him.

“Just stay with me here, Woo. I don’t want to see you get hurt again – it hurts me. Please?” Khun urged him. He could no longer put up with the amount of sufferings Wooyoung had gone through. When he felt a nod from under his chin, Khun immediately squeezed Wooyoung in his arms, whispering, “You’re welcome. And thank you, too.”

[A/N] Because Khun said he’ll only say ‘you’re welcome’ to Wooyoung after he let him know what had happened, so there’s that ‘you’re welcome’ at the end there.