•••

The following weeks passed with blissful abandon, in contrary apparel to the bleakness that surrounded them. Jonghyun and Jinki would meet up as often as possible, but it was a difficult task given their schedules – Jonghyun’s fluctuating shifts and Jinki’s constant care of Yoogeun. Though a hindrance both could live without, they found ways to meet – Jonghyun’s lunch breaks or the early mornings when Yoogeun was at nursery and Jinki was supposed to be finishing another painting. They hadn’t been able to spend another night together, and had only been allowed to dispel their growing feelings in brief kisses outside Jonghyun’s apartment, where few could see them and few could care. In the shallowest depths of night, Jinki often found himself calling for Jonghyun, his name sliding off the tip of his tongue before he had time to wake. Every passing second, his infatuation with the man seemed to grow, but today, Jinki’s mind was on other matters.

"Yoogeun…” he grinned, tip-toeing up behind his son, who was, as ever, parked in front of the television, tiny fists gripping a tiny teddy bear as he watched the cartoon unfold before him. “Yoogeun, do you know what day it is tomorrow?”

Yoogeun turned his head to his father immediately and tilted his chin upwards, widening his eyes and lifting his fingers to his mouth in contemplation. Though he looked scruffy and his clothing was beset in a miasma of stains Jinki knew would be difficult to remove, his son was still as radiant as ever, with his glowing pink cheeks and tangle of thick hair. Picking up the controller, Jinki lowered the volume of the television, the noise almost blocking out his own voice as he attempted to communicate with his son.

"Take a wild guess,” Jinki pressed, dropping to his knees in front of Yoogeun, who still had the remnants of his dinner crusted across his flushed cheeks. Jinki’s smile was pandemic and his eyes glinted heavily as he knelt in front of the toddler, who kicked his legs against the sofa in thought.

"My bir’day!” he suddenly exclaimed, causing a chuckle to erupt from Jinki. Nodding, he sat down on the soft carpet, to bring himself to the same eye-level as his son, who now seemed to be bubbling with the faintest signs of excitement. Jinki found it easier to talk with Yoogeun this way, as if the generational gap was lifted and all the years of misunderstanding between them both were corrected.

"Hmm, no,” Jinki muttered, cocking his head jokingly, “are you sure it isn’t my birthday?” He raised an eyebrow at Yoogeun who swatted his head playfully.

"No!” protested the toddler, whacking Jinki’s chestnut hair repeatedly. “My bir’day! My bir’day!”

"Really?” Jinki pondered, grabbing his son’s palm and tickling it with his calloused fingertips. Amidst a screech of laughter, Yoogeun exclaimed, “Yea!” and accidentally twhacked a shoed foot against Jinki’s cheek. Even given the soft pang of pain, Jinki simply grinned.

"Oh-kay,” he conceded to his excitable son, retracting out of firing distance. “Well, what does the birthday boy want to do tomorrow?”

Yoogeun stopped his erratic thrashing and tilted his head once more, withdrawing a long sigh in contemplation. The shift in demeanours – from wild to reserved – was so quick it were as if the previous never existed, but Jinki was well used to it by now. Yoogeun’s hands toyed with the leg of his denim dungarees as his eyes glossed over the lights across the ceiling, lights that illuminated the night-time scene succinctly.

"Presents!” Yoogeun exclaimed. “Ca’ we go to the toy shop?”

"We certainly can,” Jinki nodded, “and you can buy whatever toy you want.”

Yoogeun’s eyes became so enlarged that Jinki thought they were going to consume his entire face.

"And Minho is coming to visit too,” Jinki nodded, “and he has a present for you also.”

"Minnie-ho!" Yoogeun squealed happily, already ecstatic about the idea of his one-and-only-hero appearing on his birthday. Although Minho hadn't yet claimed he would visit, Jinki knew he wouldn’t be able to resist a drop-by. On each one of Yoogeun’s birthdays he's managed to impress with his ever-comedic presence, and had even spent a good portion of last Christmas day with the toddler-and-father, teaching them both how to perfect the perfect slam-dunk. Jinki smiled at the memory, before standing stiffly and peering around at the clock. It was just past seven, soon to be Yoogeun’s bedtime. Leaving his son to curl up again on the sofa, Jinki sauntered to the kitchen and lifted his mobile from beside the counter. There were three new messages, all from Jonghyun. He grinned, and began to answer.

•••

"Am I late?” Jonghyun exclaimed, as Jinki hesitantly opened the door to his bumbling form.

"Uh, no,” he assured, stepping aside so that Jonghyun could enter. “But there's not really a set time to be late for, um-“

Jonghyun walked in briskly, looking incredibly sheepish despite the fact that he'd so readily stepped into Jinki’s house. Due to the changing seasons, the jumper Jonghyun wore was thick and his hands slightly chilled, as he clutched tightly to the present intended for the toddler, and gazed wondrously at Jinki’s home. A slight flicker of happiness swept over Jinki as he noticed the abstract state of Jonghyun’s present. The vibrant birthday wrapping paper was stuck in a multitude of places, with ripped edges and torn corners, as if Yoogeun himself had done it.

"Wow,” he murmured, enraptured by how open-planned the living space was, and by how much light dripped in through the large windows. The minimalistic slice of art was miles away from the cramped, sullen flat he resided in, and was so different from any house he'd been invited to before. “I thought I could have been at the wrong house, but I recognised your car. You've a really nice place…”

"Ah, thanks,” Jinki mumbled, cheeks flushed slightly. His house was a relative mess, with Yoogeun’s toys scattered in various random places, such as in the fruit bowl or underneath the television that was smudged with the toddler’s dirty fingerprints. He didn't understand how Jonghyun could be awed by it, and maybe thought their intimate relationship was lending a hand to his opinion on Jinki’s lifestyle somewhat.

"Yoogeun!” Jinki hollered, as Jonghyun rolled awkwardly on the balls of his heels. “We've got a visitor!”

Jonghyun peered around as Jinki moved to the kettle, and began filling it with water. It was his first time in the house, and, though he'd heard countless stories and been assured countless times that Yoogeun already loved him, he couldn't help but feel as if a stranger intruding by a hospital patient’s bed, like someone who shouldn't have been there.

“Coffee?” he asked, as they both awaited Yoogeun’s appearance. Given this was Jonghyun’s first time seeing the younger whilst being Jinki’s partner, he was nervous – not that Yoogeun knew any different.

"Yeah,” Jonghyun nodded quickly, just as the scamper of small footsteps was heard tearing towards the kitchen. Jonghyun smiled instantly.

The moment Jonghyun came into Yoogeun’s sight, the toddler froze. His hair was a curly mess and in his hands he held a small figurine, but it was clear Jinki had tried to make the toddler look somewhat presentable on the afternoon of his birthday, as his face shone and his shoes were polished. The toddler flared his nostrils vigorously as he inhaled the scent of the air freshener Jinki had used to revitalise the room, and Jinki instantly shook his head, well aware of the reasons for his son’s distaste at the fragrance – it was a foreign scent, one he'd never experienced before. Though young, Yoogeun wasn’t a fan of change, possibly the reason why he was struck to silence by Jonghyun sitting in his kitchen, and not passing him in a store-isle.

Jonghyun blinked at Yoogeun and waved a small hand slowly, unnerved by the toddler’s heavy gaze.

"Superhero?!” Yoogeun shouted, and ran at Jonghyun instantly. “Pew, pew!” the toddler exclaimed, as if a war cry, as he stopped below Jonghyun and stared at the present in his hands. Jonghyun appeared to be startled as Yoogeun frowned up at him expectantly, and he glanced quickly at Jinki for help, to which he was only bequeathed a simple nod of encouragement.

"Ah, yeah, ah- for you,” Jonghyun offered. He held out the present to Yoogeun with an outstretched arm, staring down at the younger as if the same age. Whilst the kettle boiled in the background, Jinki folded his arms and observed them both, his son and boyfriend, one seemingly as immature and socially inept as the other. He stifled a laugh and turned to finish the coffee whilst the exchange between the musician and the toddler continued.

Yoogeun glimpsed at the present hesitantly, suspicious of the haphazard wrapping and bulking form, but wrenched it from Jonghyun swiftly. As Jinki turned around again, he saw Jonghyun stumbling forward in the aftermath of Yoogeun’s strength, and watched his toddler scuttle away, back to his fort of toys, with the present in his grubby hands.

"Yooguen!” Jinki called, in a bid to get his younger to return, to treat Jonghyun with more respect. He'd been trying so hard to instil a sense of place within Yoogeun, where he understood how to respect his elders and protect his youngers, and, for the most part, it had been going well, but on some minor occasions the toddler preferred to ignore his teachings, much to Jinki’s embarrassment or distress.

"Thank you!” Yoogeun called, mistaking his father’s shout for an imperative of manner. Jinki released a sigh as Jonghyun looked at his empty hands, startled.

"Sorry,” Jinki apologised, “he's just excited.”

"It's okay,” Jonghyun smiled, “it is his birthday, after all.”

As they both sat opposite to one-another at the breakfast bar, Jinki slid a cup of coffee across to Jonghyun, shooting a watchful eye over at his distant son as he did so. Yoogeun had long-since torn the patchwork wrapping from Jonghyun’s present to reveal a superman figurine. Knowing that Jinki had seen the present, when the artist looked back Jonghyun provided only a shrug as his explanation.

"A superhero from the superhero,” Jinki grinned, linking his fingers around the steaming cup, “that's apt.”

"Glad you think so,” Jonghyun beamed, pushing up the sleeves of his jumper as the comfortable heat in the house began to envelope him. He was feeling progressively at home with Jinki; there was nothing he could hide now from the elder unless he burrowed it in deep coffins, and to be around him was a scintillating experience. Ever-cynical, Jonghyun had predicted that his fascination with the artist and his life would wear away, but it hadn't – in fact, the infatuation had been evolving, taking up every part of Jonghyun’s conscience as he attempted to shake it off.

"So how'd your late-shift go?” Jinki began, concern knitting through his features as he regarded Jonghyun. “Nobody hassled you again, did they?”

Jonghyun shook his head. He was still noticeably tired from toiling through the late shift at work the night before, face swollen and skin lacking its usual tanned flush. If he felt out of place in Jinki’s house, he didn’t show it, as he chewed on his bottom lip in an attempt to conjure up the right words.

"No hassle,” he concluded, “nothing at all like the last time. I just… I really don't understand why we only have one person on so late. I mean, I know there's less customers but, like, the customers that do come are often drunk or out of it, and-and it's not unlike people to do… Something.”

Jonghyun took a sip of his coffee. It was strong, how he liked it.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that,” Jinki mumbled, “I mean, usually most people aren’t that bad, but it only takes one person to do one thing, I guess.”

"Precisely,” sighed Jonghyun. “But anyway, is Yoogeun enjoying his day so far?”

At the mention of his toddler, Jinki smiled, the three year-old’s mad chatter resonating in the background as he invented characters in his own makeshift world of action figures and Lego bricks.

"Yeah, I think so, but…” Jinki then sighed, shoulders slumping.

"What?” Jonghyun pressed, instantly concerned. “What's the matter?”

"It's just-“ Jinki stopped, not wanting to complain to the musician but similarly wanting to dispel his worries. “It's just, this morning, Yoogeun was telling me about a birthday party one of the kids in his class is throwing next week or sometime. Y’know, the type of parties kids usually have – soft playgrounds and ice cream and loads of friends and presents, y’know?”

Jonghyun nodded silently, totally focussed on Jinki as he continued.

"And Yoogeun… he's a good kid, he is. He wouldn't complain if-if he didn’t have something, not much, anyway. But those types of birthday parties… all the kids are having them, and all the other kids are talking about them, and all I want to do is hold a party like that for him, only I- I just can't afford it, not with the way things are, and I just- I feel guilty.”

Jonghyun sighed out of care and appreciation for Jinki’s situation, and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, in thought.

"Hey, look,” he began, “you're doing the best for Yoogeun you can, and that's what matters. Many of the parents at those parties… they just neglect their kids, they do, yet you are spending quality time with him that you wouldn't be able to compensate for in bouncy castles and ice cream. He's content, he's happy, and he's lucky to have you as a father. Don't worry, Jinki, really.”

Jinki dropped his head and fluttered his eyelashes, overwhelmed by Jonghyun’s kind spirit.

He's lucky to have you as a father.

"And now you've gone all speechless on me, again,” Jonghyun jibed, causing a laugh to emanate from Jinki.

Suddenly, there was a loud holler cascading from the living room.

"Appa! Superhero! Come play!”

Jinki exhaled, and stood, beckoning Jonghyun to join him.

"Come on, superhero,” he prompted, “let's go play.”

•••

Kibum and Minho hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks. Well, maybe that was a tad exaggerated, Kibum thought, for he'd commanded Minho to get out of the bloody way a few times and had, on occasion, told him to be quiet when he went to bed. However, overall, communications between the pair were sharp, shrift, and always ended in further angst.

Minho had tried calling Taemin a few times to hear about the dancer’s injury, but had never received an answer. Desperate to ensure the young man’s well-being, Minho had even ventured to his flat, but Taemin hadn't been present and so Minho was left with his burdening curiosity. Kibum, on the other hand, knew exactly how Taemin was, and refused to tell Minho out of stubbornness and contempt. He was confused as to why Taemin was messaging him and not the younger, but didn’t push it – maybe Minho had managed to find some way to upset the pale dancer too.

Taemin’s injury had almost completely healed, much to his surprise. It hadn’t been quite as bad as first anticipated, and he'd stuck firmly to nurse’s orders, avoiding dancing and putting too much weight on it, to allow it to mend quickly. Kibum had met the younger once in passing, still with his crutches however much more able, but alongside his malformed ankle, this time he'd sported a black eye. Apparently, whilst practicing with his crutches, the dancer had fallen into the right-angle of a cupboard – graceful in performance though not in nature. The anecdote had made Kibum laugh whilst he'd purchased a bottle of his favourite wine, in complete ignorance to Minho’s rule of no drinking in the apartment on a week-day. Kibum saw it as a pointless rule at the best of times, but he couldn’t deny the urge within him to aggravate the basketballer in any possible way, to show him that his homophonic sentiments weren't at all appreciated.

However, despite the fall-outs and the tension and the hatred, Kibum was beginning to miss his daily exchanges with his friend. Spells such as this one were commonplace within their friendship, and usually flickered out when one half relented to their spiralling distaste at the other, Kibum just often wasn’t the one to relent, or the one on the clear moral high ground. The role reversal almost confused him, for he didn't know when things would resume to normal, or if he'd have to try and make them.

Watching Minho throw on his coat, Kibum crossed his legs and sank back into the sofa, ever-sophisticated even amidst the apartment’s tight atmosphere. The fabric was soft, comforting, but Kibum was too focussed on other matters to appreciate it. He took a sip from his glass of red wine – it was the evening, after work, he was allowed some form of relaxation – and chewed on his bottom lip carefully.

"Are you going to give Jinki’s child the gift?”

Minho glared at Kibum pointedly, before lifting the neatly wrapped present from the counter and waving it.

"Jinki's child is called Yoogeun,” he muttered, lifting a scarf from the coat rack and wrapping it around his neck. It was Kibum’s scarf, but over the years, each man had become so confused over what was his that they'd eventually decided on sharing various items, the scratchy grey scarf being one of them.

"God, sorry,” Kibum spoke sarcastically, “just asking a question.”

A pause.

"It's about time you started treating me like a person again, Minho.”

Minho froze with his hand mid-way to the door handle, and turned to Kibum with a heavy frown and an unprecedented grit in his voice.

"I am treating you like a human, you're the one who is acting up on me.”

"No,” Kibum shook his head defiantly, “I'm not. Besides, you would deserve it if I was.”

"And why in hell would I?”

"Because of what you said about Jinki and Jonghyun.”

Minho smirked as if Kibum were an adolescent fretting over the most selfish of problems, problems he had no time or energy for.

"Kibum, there is no Jinki and Jonghyun, for God's sake. Why are you suddenly so desperate for those two to get together?”

"I'm not,” Kibum answered slowly, leaning forward from the sofa, “but if they were together, Minho, they wouldn’t need you making their life hell because you can't accept what happened.”

"Who died and made you the ing God?” Minho spat angrily, cheeks flushing as confrontation was not something he was often subjected to, even whilst living with Kibum. “They aren't together, and-and nothing ever happened, so stop it. Stop it right now.”

"I don't understand how you still live in denial,” Kibum muttered. Though his tone and expression were ones of carelessness, his heart hung languidly and he felt his body tense, for he also despised conflict as much as his friend – he was just better at dealing with it.

" you, this, I'm leaving,” Minho responded sharply, opening the door as he did so.

"You can't deny what happened, Minho, even if you don't feel it anymore.”

Minho slammed the door so hard it rattled in its frame.

•••

Jonghyun stared around the room cluelessly, eyes sparkling as he tried to find the hidden father and son.

"I know you're in here somewhere,” he cooed, like a bird trying to find her young. From his position behind the long, thick curtains, Jinki stifled a giggle. Given his perspective, he could also see his son beneath the kitchen table, and every so often waved at the younger and sent gestures his ways to quieten him. Yoogeun, covered in the shade of the table, was as menacing as ever, fingers jammed into his mouth as he awaited Jonghyun to uncover him.

But the musician was taking so, so long.

"Ah, give me a clue!” Jonghyun exclaimed finally, as his attempt at ducking to peer beneath the sofa gave light to none of the players in their arduous game of hide-and-seek. He stood, scratched his forehead, and wrinkled his nose.

Though intelligent, it seemed Jonghyun wasn’t the most perceptive of men.

Suddenly, there was a scratch from the direction of the kitchen table, the chair Yoogeun had been clawing on falling forwards slightly. The toddler squeaked, knowing his unveiling was inevitable, though receding into the darkness as Jonghyun proceeded to approach the table with the Cheshire Cat's grin and the Mad Hatter’s malevolence.

"Yoo-geun,” he sang threateningly, though with a playful manner, and the next thing to overcome the room was a cacophony of shrieks and laughter. Jinki watched with a smile as Jonghyun bent down and grabbed his son from beneath the table, tickling the toddler and yelling, “Found you!” in a babyish tone. Yoogeun responded by squealing and stomping his tiny foot, ruffling Jonghyun’s candy-floss hair before he stood.

"Now,” Jonghyun murmured suspiciously, as Jinki shielded himself with the curtains again, “where's your dad, huh?”

Though Jinki couldn't exactly see what was happening as he held his breath nervously, he imagined the scene with years of fatherly experience. After the breathless excitement had subsided, Yoogeun had probably tugged on Jonghyun’s over-sized sweater and silently pointed at the large curtains that were drawn over the windows to keep secret the pitch night. That meant that any second they'd be over at Jinki, ready to exa-

"Found you!” Yoogeun cheered, delightful as the curtain was torn away from Jinki’s curled-in form.

"No!” Jinki exclaimed in mock horror, as Yoogeun began to batter him with a toy-hammer he'd somehow found along the short journey to the curtains. Jinki looked at Jonghyun helplessly for support, but Jonghyun was too enraptured with paying attention on anything and everything else, whistling as if oblivious and rocking on his heels.

By the time Yoogeun had exhausted himself, Jinki had faced battering on a level he doubted even those in torture camps faced – he was just lucky that his abuse had been dealt with a toy hammer and not a real one.

Suddenly, there was a knock.

Jonghyun stiffened slightly as Yoogeun dropped his toy hammer, everyone's eyes darting to the door.

There was another knock.

"You should probably answer,” Jonghyun advised, staring down at his socked feet awkwardly. Jinki nodded and flattened his top, before dodging past Yoogeun’s toys to the doorway. Yoogeun stayed beside Jonghyun, clutching his clothes and awaiting the reveal of the visitor.

Before he even answered the door, Jinki already knew who it would be.

Choi Minho was tall and uncompromising between the bright houselight as he smiled widely at Jinki, a present for Yoogeun in his hands. The cold air that tore into the house’s ambience from the open door was instantly doused by Minho’s attitude as he pondered, “So, where's the birthday boy?”

Jinki cracked a feeble grin and stepped aside, unknowing what else to do. Minho would probably be confused at Jonghyun being there – in the basketballer’s eyes, Jinki and Jonghyun were merely distant friends – but he wouldn’t know the truth, he couldn’t know. Jinki didn’t want him to yet.

As Minho took a step in, wiping his shoes on the door-mat when he did so, his smile instantly faltered. Jinki tensed and closed the door behind him. Jonghyun offered an awkward wave.

It was down to Yoogeun to evaporate the claustrophobic aura that had stitched itself into the fabric of the room.

"Minnie-ho!” he screeched, instantly dashing from Jonghyun and crashing into Minho. Old favourites were still favourites, it seemed, as Jinki gave the handsome basketballer space to give his gift to Yoogeun. Yoogeun’s manners were more concise with Minho than they had been with Jonghyun, and, instead of running away with the present, he opened it with Minho before him, the basketballer kneeling down to help him with the paper.

"Woah…” Yoogeun breathed, as he unwrapped two new toy cars (a recent craze of his fuelled only by Minho), depositing the wrapping paper on the floor as he did so. “Come play!” Yoogeun commanded, and Minho laughed.

"Maybe in a minute,” he offered, “why don't you go and add it to your collection first, yeah?”

Yoogeun nodded and scampered away, rounding the corner to leave the three adults alone – or, at least, leave the three adults to feel as if they were alone.

"Uh, hi,” Jonghyun greeted, eyes smiling greater than his mouth.

"Hi,” Minho nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow at Jinki that he thought the musician wouldn’t notice.

“I-I was just leaving,” Jonghyun lied, suddenly rushing to the kitchen and sliding his feet into his shoes. “It's quite late, and I've got-yeah, there's-“

"Sure,” Minho murmured. His voice was so cold that it impacted harshly on Jonghyun’s demeanour as the musician nodded at Jinki. Though his eyes communicated so much more, all he could say was, “Thanks for the, y’know, the cake.”

Jinki lowered his head, almost aggravated that Minho had appeared. He wanted to spend more time with Jonghyun, but knew it would have been difficult to try and suppress his affection for him so that Minho would regard their relationship as merely platonic.

"I'll see you around,” Jonghyun spoke sadly, “and, you too, Minho.”

Minho simply nodded.

"Safe journey,” Jinki wished, as emotionlessly as he could, but shooting Jonghyun a sorry expression simultaneously.

"Safe night,” Jonghyun replied, before brushing past Minho and slipping out of the door as if he'd never been there to begin with.

Silence passed.

"What was he doing here?”

Jinki frowned. Minho’s voice was uncharacteristically snipped, as if he were blaming Jonghyun for something he hadn't done.

"He was just visiting,” Jinki replied, folding his arms and immediately assuming a defensive stance. “What's the matter with you?”

"What do you mean?”

"You're grumpy.”

"I'm not.”

"Min.”

Minho tilted his head and sighed as if expounding every thought within him. He'd been caught out by seeing such an unfamiliar guest at Jinki’s, especially given that the guest had been one of the main reasons for his argument with Kibum.

"Kibum and I…” Minho rubbed an eye.

"Sit down, I'll get you coffee. Yoogeun’s getting tired now anyway, he won't pester.”

Minho did as told and sat on the same seat Jonghyun had at the breakfast bar, leaning forward and burrowing his head into his hands. As Jinki began the all-too-familiar ritual of kettle-boiling, Minho couldn’t help but pick at the scabs of doubt that served as scars within him.

"I didn't know you and Jonghyun were such close friends,” he commented, as Jinki reached down some cups.

"Mm-hmm,” was all the older offered. Minho his bottom lip, and slid off his scarf. He did so out of politeness, but kept his coat firmly wrapped around him. Even given the warmth of the house, for some odd reason he felt indescribably cold.

"That's… That's good,” he managed. His words were spoken as if they pained him.

Uncharacteristically for the pair, they remained silent until Jinki had finished making the coffee. Although the elder would often maintain that coffee so late kept him awake for hours, he didn't seem the least bit hesitant as he gulped the warm liquid. Minho figured maybe it was quirk of aging, to become more and more accustomed to coffee as you matured. He knew that his parents drank it constantly, despite the strict health implications, and he was concerned that Jinki would soon become the same.

"What happened?” Jinki finally asked, eyes riddled with concern, as if Minho were a victim to a bully’s childish games. As a distant melody to their hushed chatter, Yoogeun spat various noises out in an attempt to play by himself.

Minho toyed with his mug and leant back.

"So…” Minho began, “a few days ago, Kibum, Taemin and I went out for some food, but I made a comment that upset Kibum and he hasn’t forgiven me since.”

"What did you say?” Jinki frowned.

"Something stupid, I barely remember,” lied Minho, hiding behind the mug of coffee so that Jinki couldn't detect the guilt that flashed across his features.

"Have you tried talking to him?” Jinki cocked his head, expectant. His behaviour was odd – normally, in such situations, the artist wouldn't question, wouldn't initiate demand. Minho could only assume where he'd uncovered his newfound confidence.

"Well, yeah, I mean-“ Minho sighed. “He's so ing difficu-“

"Language.”

“-lt when he's like this. Seriously, Jinki, I've-I've been considering moving out.”

Jinki paused.

"Min, if you move, he'll be forced out, there's no way he could afford the rent on his own, no way.”

"I know, hyung. But that’s like the only thing that’s stopping me. You don't know what it's like to come home and find your housemate lying drunk on the sofa, or to find a stranger raiding through your cupboards. It's a nightmare, I can't-I can't live with it, can't live with him.”

Jinki narrowed his eyebrows, looking away. Kibum and Minho had always been as close as brothers, and had lived together for many years, always arguing and finding a way to cement the large rifts their confrontations created. However, throughout all the traumas and breaks of karma and stunted words the pair exchanged, Minho had never suggested leaving Kibum. Jinki almost felt guilty, for he knew he hadn’t seen Kibum recently, and had become further distanced from the pair because of Jonghyun. He couldn’t help but feel, inexplicably, that he had something to do with their fall-out – maybe if he'd been closer to them the past few weeks, he could have bound them together with rope and twine, stomped out any doubts they had about their brotherhood. Instead, he'd been walking through forest parks with a pink-haired musician, he'd been trading aspirations and secrets with a crazed superhero who was too idealistic to understand the reality outside their relationship.

Jinki clenched his fists, knuckles burning white, feeling guilt start to nestle inside him.

"Maybe you should think this through,” Jinki attempted, not wanting to see the long-time friends part ways. “Helping Kibum get his act together is a better idea than leaving him so it'll get worse.”

"That’s the thing, though,” Minho countered, eyes so inflicted with a metallic gaze that when he blinked his entire expression tightened. “It feels like he can't get better, Jinki. He doesn’t even realise he has any problems. He thinks drinking wine for breakfast is, well, normal.”

"He's not that bad, is he?” Jinki pondered. The happiness surrounding his son’s birthday was beginning to fade as the outside world (one of problems, of fights, of unfair destinies) entered Jinki’s house unexpectedly, pushing out the good and allowing the dark to fester.

Minho arched an eyebrow, and said nothing.

"Well, I mean,” Jinki started, “maybe he'll settle down. Losing that last job interview must have been a blow to him. Once he forgets it, he might improve.”

Minho shook his head.

"It's not that easy, hyung. There's more between him and I than-than his drinking problems and sleeping partners.”

Jinki blinked.

"What do you mean?”

Minho opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Yoogeun’s shrill chime, as if scripted to cut him short. Jinki exhaled, knowing they couldn’t ignore his son lest they want to risk a tantrum, and would no longer have the peace to talk anyway. Minho understood without explanation, having been with Jinki and Yoogeun on many occasions.

He would just keep his thoughts to himself. He had to.

For Kibum’s sake.