Youngjae refused to close his eyes; knowing all too well that sleep was what he needed the least of right now. At least with his eyes open, he could control the terrors of this particularly restless night.

His left earbud popped out of his ear as he rolled over in bed. He picked it up and was just about to slide it back in when another thought demanded his attention elsewhere. He gave in and listened in for any sounds downstairs. Nothing but the soft rustle of leaves greeted his focused hearing. Maybe Jaebum really had left. Youngjae wouldn't be surprised to know. He wouldn't even put it past him at this point. He had all the right in the world to walk out on someone as insufferable as Youngjae had been.

Youngjae sat up and nearly tumbled forward as the blood rushed to his head. It seemed like in the time he had spent crying silently to himself, every last drop of water in his body had been depleted.

He wrapped his arms around his chest. The cold was long gone, replaced by a growing heat that made Youngjae wonder what kind of feeling rested in the hollow of his heart. Where an abundance of emotions once crackled at the center of his red-hot hearth, an all-the-more familiar numbness had since fizzled them out; leaving behind an opening that Youngjae filled with self-loathing.

The enthused look on Jaebum's face, right before it was swept away by the loss of control in Youngjae, snapped into place. Youngjae's heart sank. Jaebum was not at fault. He could never be.

Youngjae was still stuck in the past and as he felt, without a way to escape. So he had taken the moment fueled by his fear and driven by his regret to attack Jaebum through the most powerful weapon of all: words.

Youngjae's moment of remembrance lingered on the feel of his hands pressed up against Jaebum's chest. To the feel of something influenced by positivity beating below. A heart.

An organ Youngjae had stopped exercising in both sentiment and value when it came down to his own emotions. He had no right to be happy. How could he when the other boys had been left tainted from an unwanted touch, while he, who was His favorite—His King—had left the orphanage unscathed.

So it was that on Youngjae's way to recovery, he had chosen the path that allowed the flux of negative emotions to guide him through life. And in the midst of succeeding to emerge from the thorny brambles, Youngjae had forgotten something equally as important as breathing.

He had forgotten how to love without reserve.

Thoughts of the single-bedroom apartment from his childhood blurred into focus. From the beaded curtain that had been created by taking the collectible tokens found in the brand of chips Youngjae liked best to the throng of objects his mother would bring home from her actual job as a hotel attendant, the little kitchen flared bright with detail. A flash of memories whizzed by until they stopped on the image of his mother holding the house phone up to her ear.

Bright, sunny. Dark, gloomy. Anyday. Most days. Anytime. Everytime.

The memory, regardless of a change in details like what she wore or how she styled her hair, was one and the same, brought together by intention. These were the times when she would use up her minutes chatting with the women who would call her for dating advice or marital problems.

At some point, being forced to hear the conversations because the walls were so thin became less of an annoyance to Youngjae since by that time, he had begun to discern the tenor of her voice to that which she said. He came to enjoy eavesdropping.

With listening in, came a longing. He wanted one of the business cards she would use to write her saying down on as she repeated the phrase to those distraught women. Self-created or self-taught, Youngjae had never once found the saying outside the sphere of his mother's lips.

Eventually, he realized how flawed his thinking of wanting a card was. He didn't need one. Not when he had other resources. So, he threw the thought out and turned to the childish journal he had been given to write down whatever he liked. He flipped to that first, clean page and spent a little over a week making sure each word he jotted down was right before finally signing off with his mother's name at the bottom.

The journal perished in the fire but by then the words were so heavily ingrained in his memory, that he thought even the angels who carried his mother away that fateful day would have been able to see the words etched on his soul.

The bad things we do tend to stick around the most because there is always us to blame and the good things that happen tend to be buried away because there will always be someone to thank.

"So, sweetie, which one will it be?"

Youngjae tugged his hoodie off and ventured downstairs.

He lowered the thermostat's temperature to the degree he normally kept it on and like a nurse who needed to be reminded of where he last left his patient, crept towards the couch. He swallowed as the sight of a sleeping Jaebum filled his vision. The puppy lay nestled into the crook of his toned arm.

Youngjae used to fall asleep with Coco like this. He recalled the feel of her silky, smooth hair against his skin and smiled. His heart felt heavy again but not because of the swirl of despair that lingered from the dream. No. This feeling was a bittersweet type of sadness. The kind of blissful sensation that thoughts of having a companion brings along with it.

Youngjae sat down on the coffee table. As his fingertips brushed against the cool glass, a recollection of images from earlier tumbled to the front of his mind. He whipped his head around and scanned the floor for the fish bowl's shattered form; knowing that he had to clean it up immediately, lest he risk the puppy getting hurt. But instead of finding a shining splatter of shards, he discovered a polished spot on the floor. Youngjae darted his eyes back towards Jaebum who continued to sleep soundlessly.

He looked down at his knees and squeezed. I can't protect you. So why do you continue to stay? He looked back up at Jaebum as if expecting an answer. Silence.

Youngjae felt the temperature beginning to drop. He retrieved the blanket from the loveseat when an idea struck him.

He returned a few minutes later with a folded slip of paper in hand; of which, he set down on the edge of the coffee table nearest Jaebum. Underneath the flap, the words: "Don't take the dog home. We'll talk about it later," were written.

Feeling the cold beginning to seep into his bones, Youngjae hurried. He unfolded the blanket and slid it over Jaebum's legs.

"Welcome home," Youngjae whispered. He reached a hand out to touch Jaebum and let him know that he was here but drew back, alarmed. Whatever amount of strength he had garnered from his mother's words was gone now. He turned and ambled back to his room.

Jaebum waited a minute longer then necessary before cracking an eye open. A soft yip from the puppy who who seemed to be having a riveting dream—something fascinating enough to make him drag his paw down along the front of Jaebum's shirt.

"You hear that little one?" Jaebum planted a kiss next to the puppy's left ear.

" 'Welcome home.' "

The puppy started thumping its tail as if it were listening in. With both eyes closed and a smile tugging one corner of his lips up, Jaebum nestled deeper into the cushions. He allowed himself the satisfaction of sinking into a slumber that would give him yet another days worth of time. Time to win over Youngjae's trust. Because, as Jaebum had come to learn since his arrival, trust was what he wanted, needed, craved the most from Youngjae. Without it, he would never be able to see a Youngjae far removed from the pain and agony of what continues to plague his existence. And apart from having his heart, being able to see Youngjae smile without worry was the one thing Jaebum desired the most.

Welcome home.

#

Youngjae's eyes languidly moved around the room. It was apparent that he was still stuck in a dream-like trance; unwilling to break free from that which brought him some measure of comfort. Because even as his world came into focus, the  feeling that the dream from last night had been just that—a dream—was difficult to shake.

It was unbearably hot but instead of removing the plush blanket heaped over his lower half, he chose to pull it up higher as he rolled over in bed. He closed his eyes in hopes of falling asleep again but an unresolved matter refused to let him sink back under. In a matter of seconds, he was wide awake.

He sat up and without paying heed to the fact that he had spent the last couple of days without taking his Vitamin C supplements, headed downstairs.

Youngjae walked past the living room, confused to see the note in the exact same place and what looked like the exact same position from the night before. Without sight of Jaebum or the dog to quell his doubt, Youngjae hurried on towards the kitchen. He stopped at the threshold when a soft padding greeted his hearing. He looked down and felt a crest of relief flow over his body. The puppy sat on the floor in a puddle of its own clear liquid.

Youngjae tsked. He bent forward to pick the puppy up and carry it over to the tub when a bright spray of light from the corner of his eye drew his attention towards the entrance. He watched as a familiar figure stepped in through the opening in the door with a bundle of flowers in hand. Jaebum looked up and understanding registered across his face. He slammed the door shut and rushed towards Youngjae.

Youngjae flinched as Jaebum wrapped his hands over his eyes. One of the flower's petals slid into his nostril, causing him to sputter and nearly sneeze. He reached up to pull Jaebum's hands away.

"Jaebum," Youngjae said with what he hoped was a v