7:30pm, Friday (Taeyong)

Taeyong wasn’t even surprised when he received Jaehyun’s message. He had actually hoped the younger would cancel the appointment. Taeyong wasn’t sure he could face Jaehyun now, or ever, for that matter.

The events from the night before were blurry much to Taeyong’s relief. It wasn’t something he would recall with relish. After Jaehyun had spun round the corner, Taeyong had remained paralysed for what seemed like centuries. Then about an hour later, he had found himself standing outside the gate of his house, quite unsure of how he had gotten there in the first place. Haechan had been waiting for his return, eyes wide as saucers as they lit up initially in glee, then relief and finally concern.

‘Hyung, are you alright?’ Haechan had sprinted towards him and for the first time, Taeyong noticed how tall his baby brother had become. Taeyong had taken up one too many jobs and during the rare days when he was free, his siblings were either at school or asleep. It pained him to see the three small children, hardly above the age of minority, yet never had a trusty adult to lean on. Taeyong had tried to play the part, but he was also only a young boy himself. He could only do so much.

‘Hyung, you look… terrible,’ Haechan had frowned.

‘I’m fine. Go to sleep now, don’t wait for me, I’ve still got a few things to sort out,’ Taeyong reassured, patting the younger on the head.

As headstrong as Taeyong was, his stepbrother knew it would be to avail trying to force things out of Taeyong. He’ll tell me in his own time, Haechan had thought, and sauntered unwillingly back into his room.

That night, after he had ushered Haechan into bed, Taeyong sat on the rickety bench in their small square of a garden. He remembered when he used to come home from kindergarten. His mother would be completely soiled as she shoveled up weeds and planted in their miniature plot. Gardenias, tulips and even the occasional rose. She would pat the soil off her apron, slip off her gardening gloves and motion Taeyong to come in for a hug. And 5-year-old Taeyong would do just that. The glorious scent of her mother’s perfume, strawberries and cream, blended with the sweet smell of assorted blooms. Taeyong’s memories were fuzzy but the fragrance still fresh to his senses. Even now, when all the flowers had wilted, the plot conquered by weeds, to Taeyong, the garden was still redolent of the pleasurable springtime aroma.

-

7:35pm, Friday (Taeyong)

Taeyong was actually relieved from the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to face Jaehyun that night and busied himself with administration work at the office. Mark wanted to introduce more tourist packages, seeing as more and more customers were demanding for customizable ones now. ‘It’s proof that our current packages aren’t appealing enough,’ Mark had said. Mark had also begun to recruit new tourguides, mostly university students in the area looking for spare cash and while the younger boy interviewed the college kids, Taeyong sat next to him zoning out.

‘So, what do you think about candidate number 4?’ Mark asked expectantly.

‘Who was that again?’ Taeyong hadn’t been paying attention.

‘The guy with the accented Korean,’ Mark replied, flipping through his binder.

‘Accented Korean? You mean Mark Lee?’ Taeyong joked and was met by a harsh thump on his back.‘Just kidding. Number 4’s the Chinese guy right? Wasn’t he called Win or something?’ ‘Win Win,’ Mark corrected. ‘Yeah, that one,’ Taeyong continued, ‘I’d say it’s a pretty solid choice, given how we’ll probably be able to secure a few Chinese customers,’ then added, ‘And who doesn’t love a handsome tourguide?’

‘Talking about ourselves now, are we?’ Mark teased and Taeyong shrugged, ‘What if I am?’

Taeyong was glad that he had Mark’s company. They had never been the closest of friends but there was something about the younger that was so dependable, like a beacon of light in the dark, stronghold in the wind and rain. Taeyong never revealed much about himself but the younger took the liberty of breaking his barriers and in time, Mark had become more of a friend than a superior.

9:15pm, Friday (Taeyong)

A few more rounds of interviews and unsuccessful deals later, Taeyong was released from the office. With Jaehyun wrenched from his life, it seemed almost laughable that he had returned to his routine: work, lunch, more work and now on Bus 152 shuttling his way home.

9:30pm, Friday (Taeyong)

Taeyong’s phone rang and his stepbrother’s toothless grin lit up the screen.

‘Haechan, what’s u-’

‘Hyung!’ His stepbrother screamed and to Taeyong’s alarm, he heard the sound of a flower pot crashing onto the cemented ground.

‘Haechan! Haechan, are you there?’ Taeyong was positively horrified now and he had caught the attention of all the passengers on the bus.

‘Hyung!’ Taeyong was put on speakerphone but all he heard were shrieks and the line went dead.

Taeyong didn’t even know it was possible for his limbs to get any colder as all the colour was drained from his hands, his face, his lips. His mouth was parched and disgusting as he punched the redial button like a madman as if his life depended on it.

The bus halted under the slope and Taeyong raced uphill, bumping into schoolchildren on their way home from tutorial classes, manners be damned.

The gate to the house was swung wide open, the concrete littered with shattered porcelain and terracotta. Taeyong bounded toward the living room and to his utter horror, he found Haechan, arms wrapped around the two other children, huddled in the corner of the room.

‘Haechan!’ Taeyong gasped, ‘Renjun! Miyoung! What happened?’ He clasped them in his arms.

‘Yuta,’ Haechan answered, a single word that clarified the situation, no explanations needed.

‘Where is he now?’ Taeyong was boiling. How could Yuta come for his family? Of all people, Yuta should have known nothing else mattered to Taeyong as much. Or maybe he did, which was why he targeted them first. Taeyong didn’t even have to wait for an answer because a menacingly quiet voice called out his name from behind, ‘Tae, you’re here.’

Adrenaline was coursing through Taeyong’s veins, else he would’ve backed down and called the cops, but seeing his siblings in utter fear had