CHAPTER IV
The Door to the Garden

When Kyungsoo rose the following day from his slumber, the rain poured down in torrents again. He looked out of his window, and saw that the moor was almost hidden by grey mist and cloud. This meant that he wouldn’t be able to go out today. Jina once told him that Jongin doesn’t mind the rain. Jongin would go out just the same as if the sun were shining, often preferring rainy days as the outside was different to when it was fair weather.

Kyungsoo stayed in his room all day, leaning his head against his hand looking out at the grey abyss through the wide window, breathing in the soft  sleeve of his white cotton night dress. It was originally white but as it wore out, it turned to a light shade of grey -due to the dust- matching the murky sky. Despite this, Kyungsoo loved how it felt against his supple skin, the light breeze wafting through emitted a dusty, old smell; one that reminded him of his personal library- which he loved. Although the dress had been washed as to try to remove the smell, it stayed, and the concoction of lavender soap and dusty smell of books relaxed Kyungsoo greatly. He breathed out in pondering as he stared out the window, until he heard a firm knock on the wooden door as the handle creaked open.  

A different servant that he had never seen before had brought him his meals, didn’t say a word  to him and left without asking if he needed anything. Kyungsoo felt incredibly sad, he wished he had someone to talk to - even Anne would suffice by this point. But the weather gave him a chance to check out some new stories he had been meaning to read, as well as get back into old hobbies such as embroidery and music. 

The boy was quite gifted in playing the piano. When he was younger, he used to play on one that was at the orphanage. It was old and had a few keys missing, but nonetheless Kyungsoo still enjoyed playing over and over again, sometimes playing the same song as to improve his accuracy. It drove the nuns mad. 

He dressed himself into something comfortable and sat by the fire reading. He thought about the high walls covered in ivy and decided that as soon as the rain would pass, he would go back outside to try and find the door. For the past two days, Kyungsoo stayed in his room, the rain inside his head was just as bad as the one outside. He was frustrated and felt completely isolated from the world. He was waiting for Anne to come and scold him for hitting Jina but she never came and the harsh words he was expecting were never said. 

In the evening of the third day, Jina came into Kyungsoo’s room to change his bedding and bring him supper. She had on her usual soft smile and acted as if nothing had happened. She sat with Kyungsoo as he ate and rambled on as usual. Because of the rain, the evening seemed to draw over the house earlier than usual. It made him feel more miserable. All he could do was play chess and sit by the fire and make a puzzle with Jina. By bedtime, Jina asked if she could sit with him and read; and Kyungsoo was very happy to show off his favourite stories to someone.

Kyungsoo had a great interest in stories by Charles Dickens and Jane Austen. He picked out a worn out hardcover he took from the library and sat down on the bed, a bit further away from where Jina sat; by the foot of the bed with her feet tucked under her legs and her white petticoat splayed out on the bed sheets like a fan. He opened the leather hardcover, pads of his fingers on the brown-stained pages, and began reading the first chapter.

“You read so well, Kyungsoo!” Jina admired, she listened to him with great interest. “At such a young age, too! How did you learn to read? Our Jongin cannot read nor write a single word.”

Kyungsoo was rather surprised to hear this. He assumed that most children could read as it wasn’t a very difficult task for him.

“I taught myself,” he stated.

 All of a sudden, he started to feel very sorry for Jongin. He wasn’t sure what more to say, so he decided not to say anything at all. Instead, he continued with the story until his eyes were drooping and the candle wax had all burnt out, which Jina had gently taken from his grip and placed on the bedside table, then tucked him into bed and kissed his forehead and left the chambers.

The following day, when Kyungsoo opened his eyes he sat upright in bed immediately and called for Jina, who appeared by the doorway after a matter of seconds.

“Look at the moor!” his eyes were wide in excitement and he had gotten out of bed to gaze out the window on his tiptoes.

The rainstorm had ended and the grey mist and clouds had been swept away in the night by the wind. The wind itself had ceased and a brilliant, deep blue sky arched high over the moorland. Never ever had Kyungsoo dreamt of a sky so blue. It almost seemed to sparkle like the waters of some lovely, bottomless lake, and here and there, small clouds of soft snow-white fleece floated high in the arched navy abyss. The far-reaching world of the moor itself looked softly blue instead of gloomy purple-black, or awful dreary grey.

“Yes,” said Jina, with a cheerful grin. “The storm’s over for a bit. It does look like this at this time of the year. It goes off in the night like it was pretending it had never been here and never meant to come again. That’s because spring is on its way. It’s still a long way off, but it’s coming.”

“I can’t imagine this place in spring. It seems dead, like there hasn’t been any life for years.” Kyungsoo sighed. He sat at the large window with Jina and gazed outside.

“Just you wait, The moor will be covered in gold-coloured gorse blossoms, heathers flowering, all purple bells and hundreds of butterflies fluttering and bees humming. You’ll want to be up and out at sunrise and live out on it all day, just like Jongin does.” 

Kyungsoo stared at the tiny light in the far distance. Jongin’s mother must have lit the fire as smoke was rising to the sky. From here, the cottage looked so small, almost as small as his fingernail.

“Would I ever be able to go there?” he asked wistfully, looking through his window at the far-off blue. It was so new and big and wonderful and such a heavenly colour. 

“To see Jongin? I don’t know,” answered Jina. “It’s a five mile walk to our cottage and I’m not sure your little legs would be able to handle it.”

“I should like to see it. Could Jongin stay over one night here?”

Jina stared at him a moment curiously before she took up her polishing brush and began to rub Kyungsoo’s boots which had gotten filthy from playing in the fields with Jongin. She thought Kyungsoo was a very odd child, yet she couldn’t help but love him just like an older sister would love her brother. She was very curious about him, and after the incident where Kyungsoo hit her, she forgave him and decided that the child might be troubled in some way and wanted to do all she could to help him.

“You sure are fond of Jongin, ain’t you?”

He nodded enthusiastically. There was no denying that Kyungsoo liked Jongin. He liked him a lot, and he felt comfortable around him and understood by him. Jongin had seen Kyungsoo twist his fingers in his hair, he had seen him upset and still never changed his perspective about him. But Kyungsoo was a little blind and wasn’t sure what Jongin thought of him, as he had always struggled with understanding others emotions.

“Nobody has ever been fond of me,” Kyungsoo said pitifully and coldly.

Jina felt a pang in a her chest and an immense wave of emotions as she brought Kyungsoo’s face in her hands, her fingers brushing his cheeks. “That’s not true, I’m fond of you. You are likeable, Kyungsoo,” she whispered in his ears as she his raven hair, brushing his fringe up to place a kiss on his forehead. 

Jina went away, humming joyfully, as soon as she had given Kyungsoo his breakfast. She was going to walk the five miles across the moor to the cottage, and she was going to help her mother with the washing and do the week’s baking.

Kyungsoo felt lonelier than ever when he knew Jina was no longer in the house. He went out into the garden as quickly as possible, and the first thing he did was run round and round the fountain flower garden in circles ten times, arms up like a plane. He counted the times carefully and when he had finished he fell to the ground and lay on the luscious grass in better spirits. When he sat up again, he glanced up at the horizon. The sunshine made the whole place look different. The high, deep, blue sky arched over Misselthwaite, as well as over the moor and he kept lifting his face and looking up into it, trying to imagine what it would be like to lie down on one of the little snow-white clouds and float about. 

He went into the first garden and found one of the gardeners working there, the change in the weather seemed to have him in a good mood. Kyungsoo had seen this gardener often, but he never said a word as the old man usually gave him an odd look and would turn his back to him and walk away. 

He was rather surprised when the gardener spoke to him of his own accord.

“Springtime’s coming,” he said. “Can’t you smell it?”

Kyungsoo sniffed the air and noticed it did indeed smell different. “I smell something fresh and damp.”

He then heard the soft rustling flight of wings, and he knew at once that it was the robin. He was very pert and lively, and hopped about so close to his feet, and put his head on one side and looked at him curiously.

“Do you think he remembers me?” he asked the gardener. 

“Remembers you?” the old man said indignantly. “He knows every cabbage stump in the gardens, let alone the people. He’s never seen such an odd looking boy before, and he’s spent on finding out all about you.”

“I wonder where he lives,” Kyungsoo inquired. “Perhaps beyond the high wall.”

“What high wall?” the old man grunted, becoming surly again.

“In the gardens, there is a high wall that is covered in ivy and it goes around for a long time. It seems that everything around it is dead.”

The gardener hunched his shoulders towards the robin. “Ask him. He’s the only one that knows.”

Kyungsoo began to walk away, slowly thinking. He had begun to like the mystery beyond the ivy wall just like he had begun to like the robin and Jongin. He was beginning to like Jina too. That seemed a good amount of people to like - when you were not used to liking.

He went to walk outside the long, ivy-covered wall which he could see the tree-tops. He heard a chip and a twitter, and when he looked at the bare flower-bed at his left side there he was hopping about and pretending to peck things out of the earth to persuade him that the robin had not followed him. But Kyungsoo knew that the bird had followed him, and the surprise filled him with delight that he smiled and almost trembled.

“You do remember me!” He cried. 

The robin hopped and flitted his tail and twittered. It really did seem as if he were talking. His red waistcoat was silk like satin, he puffed his tiny out and was so grand, and so pretty that it seemed as if he were showing him how important and anthropomorphic a robin could be. Kyungsoo forgot that he had ever feared animals when the robin allowed him to draw closer and closer, and bend down and talk, and try to sing like a robin. 

The flowerbed was not quite bare. It was bare of flowers because the perennial plants had been cut down for their winter rest, but there were tall shrubs and low ones that grew together at the back of the bed. As the robin hopped about under them, Kyungsoo saw him hop over a small pile of freshly dug up earth. The earth had been dug up because a dog had been trying to look for a mole, and he scratched quite a deep hole. The robin stopped by it to look for a worm. 

Kyungsoo kneeled down and watched the robin for a while, he found a small pink worm and pulled it out the earth. It wriggled around and the bird was quick to eat it. Afterwards, the robin hopped along the earth and kept turning his head back to see if the boy was still there.

Kyungsoo thought that maybe the robin wanted him to follow him, so he stood up and was led to familiar ivy. Carefully he looked, he could see nothing but thickly growing, glossy, dark green leaves. The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy onto the top of the wall, and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as endearing and lovely as a robin when it shows off - and it happens quite a lot. It seemed magical and fantastical to him that animals could have such quirky, human-like qualities. 

Doh Kyungsoo had read a great deal about magic in his storybooks, that he often wondered what magic really is.

One of the gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a stronger one than the rest. It was strong enough to wave the branches of the trees, and it was more than strong enough to sway the trailing sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall. Kyungsoo had stepped close to the robin, and suddenly the gust of wind swung aside some loose ivy trails, and more suddenly still he jumped towards it and caught it in his hand. This he did because he had seen something under it - a round knob which had been covered by the leaves hanging over it. It was the knob of a door.

He put his hands under the leaves and began to pull and push them aside. Thick as the ivy hung, nearly all of it was loose and swinging like a curtain, though some had crept over the wood and iron. Kyungsoo’s heart began to thump and his hands to shake a little in his delight and excitement. The robin kept singing and twittering away and tilting his head on one side, as if he were as excited as he was. What was this under his hands which was a square and made of iron and which his fingers found a hole in?

It was the lock of the door. He tried twisting the knob and pushing the door, but it seemed that it was locked. His uncle really did throw away the key. Where could it possibly be? Kyungsoo huffed and gave up on fighting with the door, kicking it out of anger once more before leaving it and walking back to the manor for his dinner.

Anne had allowed Jina to sleep all night at the cottage across the moors, but she was back at her work in the morning with cheeks redder than ever and in the best of spirits.

“I got up at four o’clock,” she said. 

They were sitting by the fire in Kyungsoo’s room, as the boy sat quietly and continued his embroidery. 

“It was pretty on the moor with the birds getting up and the rabbits scampering about with the sun rising. I didn’t walk all the way though, a man gave me a ride in his cart.”

She was full of stories of the delights of her day out. Her mother had been glad to see her, and they had got the baking and washing all out of the way. She had even made Kyungsoo a dough-cake with a bit of brown sugar in it. 

Jina went out of he room and came back with something held in her hands under her apron. “I’ve bought you a present” she said, with a cheerful grin. “What do you you think?”

“A present!” exclaimed master Kyungsoo. He had never received a present in his life .

“A man was driving across the moor, peddling,” Jina explained. “And he stopped his cart at our door. He had pots and pans and odds and ends, but Mother had no money to buy anything. Just as he was going out, Jongin spotted skipping ropes with red and blue handles. They were a tuppence each, so Mother bought one for you, and here it is.”

She brought it out from under her apron and exhibited it quiet proudly. It was a strong, slender rope with striped red and blue handles at each end, but Kyungsoo had never seen a skipping-rope before. He gazed at it with a mystified expression.

“What is it for?” he asked curiously.

“You don’t know? Just watch me,” she gestured to herself and gently took the skipping rope from Kyungsoo’s grip.

She ran into the middle of the room and, taking a handle in each hand, began to skip, and skip, and skip, while Kyungsoo turned in his chair to stare at her, and the strange faces in the old portraits seemed to stare at her too, and wonder what on earth this common little cottager had the impudence to be doing under their very noses. But Jina did not even see them. The interest and curiosity in Kyungsoo’s face delighted her, and she went on skipping and counted as she skipped until she had reached a hundred.

“I could skip longer than that,” she said when she stopped. “I’ve skipped as much as five hundred when I was twelve.”

Kyungsoo got up from his chair beginning to feel excited himself.

“It looks fun,” he said. “Do you think I could ever skip like that?”

“Why don’t you just try it,” urged Jina, handing him the skipping-rope. “You can’t skip a hundred at first, but if you practice you’ll mount up.”

It was plain that there was not a great deal of strength in Kyungsoo’s arms and legs when he first began to skip. He was not very clever at it, but he liked it so much that he did not want to stop. He put on his coat and hat and took his skipping-rope over his arm. 

The skipping-rope was a wonderful thing. He counted and skipped, and skipped and counted, until his cheeks turned a light red from the exercise, and then he was more interested and enthusiastic than he had ever been since he was born. The sun was shining and a little wind was blowing — not a rough wind, but one which came in delightful little gusts and brought a fresh scent of newly turned earth with it. He skipped round the fountain garden, and up one walk and down another. He skipped at last into the kitchen-garden and saw the same gardener from  before, digging and talking to the robin, which was hopping about. 

Kyungsoo skipped round all the gardens and round the orchard, resting every few minutes. At length, he went to his own special path and made up his mind to try if he could skip the whole length of it. It was a good long skip, and he began slowly, but before he had gone half-way down the path he was so hot and breathless that he was obliged to stop. He did not mind much, because he had already counted up to thirty. He stopped with a little smile of pleasure and continued until he reached an area of gravel. He was so caught up in the moment, watching his hands swing round in big circles each time the rope was swung downwards, that he did not realise the rope had got caught between one of his legs and he tripped harshly — landing hands first in the gravel with his knees and chin following after.

A stinging burn was felt instantly, tears began to prick at his eyes when he realised that he was hurt. He looked down at his hands to see them grazed and very dirty, and panic rose in his chest.

He did not like the dirt on his skin, under his nails or even the texture of it. He could feel each individual grain of earth between fingertips. Thick crocodile tears ran down chubby red cheeks, a wave of nausea passed through as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He breathed heavily and started to sob, partly from the stinging gashes on his palms and knees, but mostly from the great discomfort of the gravel and sweat mixed into his skin and that had dirtied his clothes. 

Still sobbing and wiping the snot from his nose with his already dirty sleeve, he threw the skipping-rope in frustration at a bush beside the path, causing the branches and leaves to rustle and shake. The robin, previously perched on one of the branches, had also been startled after silently following Kyungsoo, and feverishly twittered as it flew away from the bush, flying closer to the fallen, crying boy in attempt to comfort him.

“Leave me alone,” sniffled Kyungsoo, covering his face in shame. “You’re just a stupid bird  anyway.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” exclaimed a voice that Kyungsoo recognised. “You didn’t have to throw that at him or the bush,” the voice stopped when they heard Kyungsoo sobbing. “What’s the matter?” 

A hand reached out to grab Kyungsoo’s but surprisingly, Kyungsoo didn’t want to snatch it away like he normally would with people. He glanced up, tears wetting his face and eyes glassy and bloodshot from crying, and gasped when he saw Jongin’s worried face in front of his own. He burst into a new sob that had Jongin immediately put his arms around the other in attempt to comfort him. 

He had never seen Kyungsoo cry, or show any other emotion besides focus and ponder when looking at Jongin care to animals or sharing facts about said animals. Other than the time he smiled, which Jongin will keep in his memory for eternity, the boy was very composed and conservative, so seeing him be overwhelmed by emotions made Jongin all the more curious and worried. 

“It’s alright, I’m here,” soothed Jongin. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“I- I c-can’t...do it” wavered Kyungsoo. “I can’t do it” he shook his head feverishly.

“What can’t you do?” frowned Jongin.

“I-I d-didn’t m-mean to hurt the r-robin,” he sniffled. “I d-didn’t mean to h-hit the bush.”

“No! I know you didn’t, you wouldn’t,” Jongin brought his hands to cover Kyungsoo’s in comfort just like he had the first time they met and the pony.

He felt dirt on his skin and heard Kyungsoo seep in pain and pulled his hands away to see Kyungsoo’s injured ones. He gasped and brought them closer to see better. As he brushed away the gravel from the other’s palms of his hands, he noticed some scraped skin and some blood on the fresh gash. Jongin had seen many injuries after tending to most of the animals in the moor, and the one Kyungsoo had on his hands and knees were far from extreme, but the dramatic whimpering coming from Kyungsoo made it seem as if he were shot. He refrained from laughing whilst trying to calm the other down.

“You don’t really play outside much, do you?”

Kyungsoo shook his head in response, tears no longer streaming down his face, but still shaken from the impact. This time Jongin laughed and helped a moody Kyungsoo stand up.

The other straightened his legs gingerly and winced at the stinging, Jongin tried to take him by the hand but Kyungsoo pulled away hissing at the pain. He didn’t like the feeling, so waited for Jongin to lead the way and followed with a scowl on his face. They walked through the kitchen gardens, past the gardener who had a similar scowl on his own face.The two walked in silence until they reached the manor and Kyungsoo had to open the door to welcome his guest. The boy, however, looked down at his feet timidly, scratching the remaining dirt on his hands. 

Jongin glanced at Kyungsoo, guessing that the welcome wouldn’t come, then directed his attention towards the grand, towering manor. The huge entrance door made Jongin feel small, as well as the hundreds of windows around the building. He walked towards the huge doors and held the cool, black metal door handle in his hands, about to pull it to knock. However, they didn’t need to knock, as the oak door opened slowly with a squeak. The doorman welcomed the two boys in, the warmth hit their cheeks as soon as they took the first step into the building. He had never seen an entrance hall so grand, or a staircase so wide. The walls were three stories high, covered with paintings all the way up to the ceiling. Kyungsoo began to take his shoes off, and Jongin noticed this and did the same. He felt shy noticing that he had a hole in his tattered socks, but Kyungsoo didn’t seem to mind and guided him upstairs to his bedroom. Along the way, Jongin was mesmerised by how many doors they passed, and how the portraits stared back at him disapprovingly. As they walked up the stairs, Kyungsoo led the way this time, ignoring Jongin’s constant commenting and gasping at the intricate confinements of the manor. He would’ve stopped with him to admire and add his own comments, but he was hardly in the mood- he needed to get this disgusting dirt and gravel off of himself, and Jongin was not helping. 

After what seemed like hours of meandering through the corridors, Kyungsoo practically cried in relief as they reached his bedroom. He sat down on a stool beside the table and waited for Jongin to tend to him. The other, however, gaped at him, standing awkwardly still, he felt that he did not belong here. The murals on the walls had such royal colours, the oak king-size bed beside the window was of such luxury that Jongin had never seen before. The drapery was made of fine, rich tapestry that Jongin felt ashamed standing there in his hand-me-downs.  

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, and went into the bathroom to take a small washbowl, filling it with warm water from the sink and taking a washcloth. He placed the bowl on the table and dampened the cloth, carefully, Jongin wiped away the dirt from Kyungsoo’s hands. The younger winced a few times, but Jongin’s warm hands soothed him into a comfortable silence. The crackling from the firewood was the only thing that could be heard and Kyungsoo’s soft sniffles. 

When Jongin was done, he rinsed the washcloth off in the bathroom and dabbed Kyungsoo’s wounds with some ointment he found in the bathroom cabinet. After calmly denying the other’s constant, anxious insisting that he needed a bandage for the small scab, trying once again not to laugh at Kyungsoo’s cute antics -and failing- Jongin returned the ointment back to the bathroom cabinet. Kyungsoo quickly replaced the angry pout from his face with a relieved, delighted smile. He was in a better mood from registering that Jongin was now in the house and that he wasn’t alone, his smile and voice giving warmth and light to his usually isolated room that the glowing ruby embers from the fireplace couldn’t provide. He gazed at his tended hands with growing interest as Jongin returned to the bedroom, and the elder noticed a pile of books by the bedside table. 

“My sister said you are very good at reading,” he began, Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrowed in discomfort. “What are you currently reading?” 

“Moby . It’s about a whale,” Kyungsoo replies hesitantly, as Jongin picks up the book and examines the cover. The pages are worn and the spine has a tear. He sits on the bed, crosses his legs and looks up at Kyungsoo who is still standing by the table. 

“Can you read to me?” he asks excitedly, albeit politely as not to scare Kyungsoo away. 

Kyungsoo looked down at his feet and fiddled with his scab, eyes awkwardly diverting, but started to timidly nod. He raised his head slightly so that he could walk towards the bed, and sat down at the foot of the bed, taking the book that Jongin had placed beside him on the bedcover. Jongin gives himself some distance from the younger and makes himself comfortable on the huge bed, and Kyungsoo takes out the bookmark and continues from where he left off. 

His diction and enunciation of words deeply mesmerised Jongin, the way he expressed his voice made the other greatly invested in the story, and Jongin became envious of Kyungsoo’s brightness. He closed his eyes and imagined himself in the story, floating on the ocean in a wooden boat, wind breezing in his face. He could even smell the wine-dark sea and hear the whooshing of the waves. If the rain in England ceased to stop, continued to constantly bombard the landscape with no remorse, the moors would look like an endless, purple sea. 

Kyungsoo’s soft voice made Jongin feel sleepy, leaning on his hands face forward and legs crossed at the back, no longer kicking as he pondered the story and -more importantly- the way Kyungsoo’s big eyes focused on the pages below him, glassed with interest and passion. Jongin could tell that this was one of Kyungsoo’s favourite stories; a light curve of a smile appeared as he started to read his favourite part of the chapter. Seeing Kyungsoo smile was such a rarity that Jongin made the most of it and watched him read, no longer registering the words into his brain. He felt so relaxed from the sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, and from the soft material of the bed sheets, that Jongin was being lulled to sleep. He wanted to lie down on the cotton sheets and bury his face into the clouds that smelled faintly of lavender. 

However, Kyungsoo’s voice started to drift off, and Jongin thought the younger had fallen asleep. He opened his eyes to see the boy staring at the ceiling with wide eyes and a look of horror on his face. His own eyes diverted into the direction to be met with nothing but white, bland paint. 

“Wha-” Kyungsoo cut him off with a sharp hush. Jongin didn’t dare make a move, and out of nowhere, he could hear a murmur. 

“Do you hear that?” The younger whispered, and very silently, the murmurs had turned into soft cries. In the span of thirty seconds, the crying got louder and roared through the house like a storm. The corridors echoed and shook, Jongin had never heard such a noise. Not even the high winds on the moors were as scary as the blood-curdling crying in this house. Jongin nodded warily, the two boys looked at each other, fear consuming their widening eyes. 

“Since the first night I have heard that, crying, whining. It scares me.” he confessed. “Jina said she couldn’t hear it, and I thought I was going mad.”

“You’re not going mad, I can hear it too.” Jongin replied, the sound rumbled through the bedroom and walked through the walls like a ghost. 

A chill went down Jongin’s spine and his insides started to churn, he felt a great discomfort- but it didn’t compare to how Kyungsoo looked.

“Kyungsoo-yah…” his shoulders slumped as he looked at the other.

His face had turned paper-white, mouth open and drying, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly as he unawarely started to shake. Kyungsoo felt numb and suffocated at the same time. Everything around him was a blur, the sound, his vision, he was somewhere else. He hadn’t realised that he wasn’t breathing until he started hyperventilating and Jongin brought his arms around him so that he wouldn’t fall over. He also hadn’t realised the small tufts of hair in his grip and that his head was aching. Breathing heavily through his nose out of fear, he started to scream. 

“Sshhh, it’s okay, I’m here, everything’s alright,” Kyungsoo felt the silky raven hair on his neck, the crown of the head that it rested on smelt of feathers and a smidge of lavender from the bed. 

Kyungsoo grips Jongin back into a hug and sobs quietly into his chest. The ten year-old felt overwhelmed, but he wasn’t shocked or put off by Kyungsoo’s behaviour, he himself would have screamed until his lungs hurt if he had to hear that cry every day. He unconsciously held Kyungsoo tighter and nuzzled his nose into the top of his hair. This helped Kyungsoo regain himself quicker, as the boy preferred to be held tight as opposed to gently touched. Usually he would slap someone’s hand away if they placed it delicately onto him, he hated the feeling, but -as with most things- Jongin was the exception. Maybe it was because of how he saw Jongin tend to the animals he had been introduced to, he quickly learned to trust the elder. Whatever it was, it soothed Kyungsoo well and he stopped crying almost as soon as he started. 

He rose his head to look at Jongin, wiping the unshed tears from his eyes. 

“Can you sleep over tonight?” he meekly asked, his round glassy eyes hard to look away from once they had caught your attention. “I can ask Jina, I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

Jongin dumbly nodded, deeply hypnotised by Kyungsoo’s facial expression; a mixture of wariness but genuine need for validation- and most importantly- a friend. Spending a couple of months alone in a huge mansion with only Jina for company and miscellaneous noises eventually drove Kyungsoo insane. Jongin understood why the boy was willing to stay outside in the minus ten degree weather to meet him in the gardens for so long now.

“I would love to have a sleepover with you, Kyungsoo,” he smiled. 

Kyungsoo's face was free from any anxiety as he looked up at Jongin with the brightest smile on his face and brought him into a hug. Jongin, startled, hugged back and tried to ignore the warmth in his chest and butterflies in his stomach from being blinded by the sunlight emitted from what Jongin thought was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. 

thank you for reading ♡ please comment
shout out to MBD for helping me with this story