As each drop of water fell into the plastic cup, Leeteuk counted: 1, 2, 3…  He had purposely held the spout of the water cooler just enough that it would drip slowly, allowing him to be aware of every small drop that fell into the cup.  He was strangely fascinated by the movement of the water.  Enraptured, he tried not to lose sight of even the smallest drop.  Counting had always been incredibly calming for him ever since he was a kid.  He had tried to teach that trick to his brother but Woo Jin had always been more of the quiet type. Counting just made him vanish further into himself, leaving Leeteuk profoundly lonely.   

“If that cooler’s broken there’s another one down the hall.”

Shaken from his task, Leeteuk released the water spout quickly and turned to face the owner of the voice. 

Siwon raised an eyebrow at him.

“I wasn’t thirsty anyway,” he admitted, embarrassed, before dropping the cup into the trash can.  Leeteuk knew he hadn’t been expecting anyone to show up and momentarily scare the bejeesus out of him, but he was still impressed that the officer had managed to sneak up on him.  He didn’t have to ask what Siwon was doing there, though, seeing as he was wearing his uniform.  He must have been on duty.  He’d mentioned that he had an office in the Child Protective Services building where Shindong also worked.

Finally addressing the questioning look he was getting from Siwon, Leeteuk tried to explain, “I was just. . . Do you ever get the feeling that good things are going to happen?”

“Sometimes,” Siwon admitted without judgment.

“I know I should be worried to find out if there’s a way to help Donghae and I should be nervous to find out what, if anything, is wrong but. . .” he shrugged, “I feel like things are going to be okay now.”

“I think I understand that,” Siwon said helpfully.

Leeteuk seemed to remember something suddenly and said, “I need to thank you again, for all of your help, actually.”

“I just pulled a few strings,” Siwon brushed the comment aside.   

“You pulled a lot of strings,” Leeteuk said knowingly.  After having plenty of time to think during Donghae’s appointment, he’d realized that what Siwon was doing for them was putting his job at risk.  He didn’t owe them anything, but he was still willing to break all the rules to help them.  It was nice to know there were good people in the world, and Leeteuk figured he could use a friend—at least, one that didn’t live with him. 

                “Oh, speaking of pulling strings,” Siwon spoke all of a sudden, “and the borderline illegal, probably unethical use of police equipment, I started running the search on “Lee Donghae” when I got into work this morning.”

                “Did you?” Leeteuk wondered, his curiosity almost desperate. 

                “Yes, and it probably won’t finish until much later, but if there are any answers out there, then we should have them by nightfall.”

                Leeteuk expected himself to be more anxious about this news, but it was a strangely good day, and instead his first thought was to ask, “Nightfall?  Is that something people say still?”

                “I see that you’ve taken note of my speech pattern.”

                “Taken note?  You’re just pushing it now.”

                Shrugging with his hands clapped behind his back, Siwon admitted, “Yeah, I’m exaggerating right now, but only a little bit.  I guess I’m just a little old fashioned.”

                “I think it’s admirable,” Leeteuk cheered encouragingly, standing up straighter and echoing Siwon’s motions and tone with gentle mockery.  “The world could use more upstanding gentlemen such as yourself.” 

                “Well, I am “upstanding” taller than you.”

                It took Leeteuk a moment to realize that Siwon was making a joke and immediately moved onto his tip toes, but even that failed to bridge the gap in their heights.  Feeling self-conscious, Leeteuk settled back down on his heels. 

Siwon, for his part, just smiled to himself and didn’t say a word.

The sound of a door opening drew their attention down the hallway.  Donghae bounded excitedly from Shindong’s office. 

“How did everything go?” Leeteuk asked warily, casting his eyes from the boy to the psychiatrist who had left the office after him.  Shindong didn’t look gravely serious and Donghae didn’t look any worse for wear.  In fact, he seemed like his usual cheerful self. 

“Eh, it went alright,” Shindong shrugged.

“Are you kidding?! Donghae exclaimed with a large grin. 

Wincing at the boy’s loud voice, Leeteuk shushed him slightly.  “Sorry,” Donghae whispered before returning to a normal volume to continue letting his excitement escape.  “Shindong is awesome!”

All of a sudden Donghae noticed that Siwon was also standing there.

“Oh, hi, Siwon!”

“Hey, Donghae, how’s it going?” Siwon greeted.

“Great! You’re awesome too by the way. Have you met Shindong?”

The psychiatrist and the police officer exchanged a look and almost couldn’t stop themselves from laughing.

“I think we might have seen each other once or twice before,” Siwon offered, “Business you know?”

Donghae nodded, looking appropriately serious, which was almost more adorable than when he acted hyperactive.  Leeteuk watched this exchange feeling rather pleased with this turn of events.  Donghae seemed really comfortable with both Shindong and Siwon.

“Actually, Donghae. . .”

Leeteuk looked over as Siwon started talking and deduced by his facial expressions that he was communicating telepathically with Shindong who was giving him a look.

“My office is in this building too,” Siwon said, as Leeteuk noticed Shindong nod approvingly a little, “if it’s okay with Leeteuk I could show you around.”

Donghae snapped his head in Leeteuk’s direction.  “Can we?”

He did falter for a moment, as he thought it over, but he decided there could be no harm in it. “I don’t see why not,” he responded to the eager tone.  Shindong probably wanted to talk with him without Donghae around and Siwon was helping accomplish this goal.

And with that Donghae and Siwon started off down the hallway, Donghae skipping ahead excitedly and looking everyone once and a while to make sure Siwon was coming.  This was a rather bizarre sight mostly because they made an odd pair, the small, hyperactive preteen and the calm, tall police officer but also because Donghae didn’t know where he was going. 

Leeteuk looked after them until he realized that Shindong was also watching the pair, though he seemed to be focusing mostly on Donghae as if studying him.  If it had been anyone else, even another psychiatrist, Leeteuk felt he would have been a little defensive regarding this action, but as it was, he didn’t have any concerns about Shindong.

“How did things go?” Leeteuk finally asked when they disappeared around the corner.

“Excellent.  He’s a wonderful kid.” Shindong answered genuinely.

“Thank you. . .”

“I did manage to make some tentative assessments if you want to listen but I should warn you after one session there won’t be too much for you to learn, just sort of a baseline so you know the terms I’m going to be using and my methods and what we’re going off of.  Donghae is rather friendly wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes,” Leeteuk answered a little flustered.  Shindong was all business now, zooming through his thoughts almost faster than Leeteuk could follow.  “He actually seems to be a little too comfortable with new people. . .”

“Can you elaborate?” Shindong asked, even though he already seemed to know what Leeteuk was going to say. 

“Well, he seemed to get attached to me rather quickly, and then he also seemed rather attached to my roommates, and I thought it was just because he could sense we were good people but he seems to do it with everyone.  It doesn’t seem to matter if he knows the person well or not, he just gets attached quicker than I’d expect.  I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“The term I am tempted to use on him is indiscriminate attachment,” Shindong announced after hearing this assessment.  It would mean that he doesn’t really make the distinction between a genuine caretaker and a stranger, treating them in the same way, but in a technical sense this isn’t the most appropriate diagnosis.  As far as you know he wasn’t adopted as a child or in foster care in his early years?”

“No, I mean, I don’t think so. . . not Donghae.”

“That’s what I gathered as well,” Shindong agreed, nodding, “He didn’t seem to be the type.  He does have heightened inhibition and a lack of discrimination but I can’t really label it as indiscriminate attachment without that kind of upheaval in his past.  I know you’ve noticed that he’s very comfortable with strangers.  He might not understand when to be cautious. . . “

“That sounds exactly like Donghae,” Leeteuk said, “But. . . he was actually apprehensive when he met with Siwon for the first time!  Maybe he’s just extra friendly. . . ”

“Well that, honestly, I’d contribute to your influence.  I think his time with you has started to help him adjust, wouldn’t you say?  Having a long term caretaker again is doing well for him.  He talked a bit about your roommates too.  I think honestly that to help him even more you should just be sure that only one or two of you are the “parent” in this family situation.  Having all of the adults being like parents might get too confusing.” 

“Well, my roommate Heechul jokes Kangin and I are married, so I guess that would be us.  It’s hard sometimes though because I feel like Donghae’s hyung and he calls me hyung, but then I have to sort of be his parent too. . .”

“Your confusion is more than understandable,” Shindong said with a reassuring smile, “but you just have to feel this out and figure out what works best for you and Donghae.  There’s no manual for being a family and there certainly isn’t one for your particular situation.  Not that that’s anything to worry about.  Every case is unique.  Donghae, for example,  I wouldn’t put him on paper as having indiscriminate attachment but he’s clearly a bit regressive when it comes to age appropriate behavior.  Perhaps it’s his personality or perhaps its a unique reaction to the trauma he suffered.”

“Did you learn anything about that?” Leeteuk wondered cautiously.

“No, that will come with time, I believe, though to help the process along I should be able to help you understand him.  Going off of your description and the slight triggers I managed to see during our meeting today, I’m willing to go ahead and diagnose him as potentially having post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“What?  But. . .” it was a scary sounding conclusion and Leeteuk subconsciously lowered his voice. “Isn’t that for people who come home from war? How could Donghae. . . ”

“Not necessarily,” Shindong tried to explain gently, “it can be caused by a number of things including trauma and abuse.  I feel confident in ruling out abuse.  Although that would couple nicely with the attachment disorder, since those could go hand in hand, he just doesn’t seem to be the sort to be a victim of abuse.  I’m going on instinct, you understand, but I’m sure that you will agree with me.”

Leeteuk fidgeted uncomfortably as he answered, “Yeah, I agree.”  Shindong’s last comment had seemed a little too knowing for his liking but he was right:  Donghae was nothing like him.

“I mean, you know as well as I do that sometimes the most unexpectedly happy people can have experienced some pretty rough childhoods but. . .Donghae lived on the streets for a while and all of his behaviors can be explained by this and a single traumatic event in my opinion.  He’s not acting like I’d expect an abuse victim to act.  He talks about his parents in vague but entirely loving sense.  He also hasn’t started to collect people as a way to replace the family he never really connected with out of a desire to fill the gap of love in his life.”

Leeteuk stood with his mouth open.  Shindong smiled but not in a cruel way, in a pleasant, understanding way.

“Yes, you see, Donghae probably spoke more about you than he did about himself.  Night terrors brought on by stress and worry, a brother who committed suicide, living in an apartment with way too many empty rooms, as if waiting to fill the hole in one’s life. . .”

“Kangin’s the only one who knows,” Leeteuk interrupted in a surprisingly level voice, his tone unreadable.

“It can stay that way,” Shindong said comfortingly.  His eyes seemed to have a depth to them like they were smiling but with a deep knowledge as if beneath his outward lightheartedness he could see the universe.  “I just want you to know that you are doing a wonderful job.  You are your own person.  Your past family experience does not have to affect your current family.  ”

Leeteuk said nothing, forcing Shindong to be the one to continue.  “Kangin was your roommate, yes?”

“One of them.”

“The one you’ve known longer yes?

“Yes.”  There was still no tone to Leeteuk’s voice.

Shindong seemed to be filing every bit of information away.  Leeteuk wanted to be upset that Shindong appeared to be analyzing his whole life, but he felt somehow that the information was safe with him. 

“And then Heechul was your other roommate?”

“That’s correct.”

Shindong furrowed his brow slightly in thought and then said politely, “The two of you could probably have a lot to talk about.” 

Leeteuk narrowed his eyes in confusion, trying to get something out of Shindong’s eyes but they just continued to smile with that slight light like he knew the whole universe star by star.

“So, about Donghae. . .” Leeteuk suddenly tried to direct the conversation.  He didn’t like to linger on things that no longer mattered.  As much as Shindong’s words would mean to him, he knew right now he couldn’t dwell on them. 

“Well, as I was saying, I believe that he is exhibiting the signs of post-traumatic stress, based on the severity of the nightmares you are describing, the potential flashback episodes etc.  What this means in the long term is that he can adjust and grow out of it.  It also means that he may not be able to tell you about the event because he has blocked it out of his memory.  Most likely though he just physically can’t.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to.  He physically can’t connect with and formulate words to describe the memory.”

“What do I do then?”

“Well, you start being on the lookout for triggers and you avoid them.  You make yourself into a safe person to talk to but you do not force him to talk since that might cause more anxiety.  You be patient if he gets angry, it’s typical for a child his age experiencing PTSD to lash out a bit but all in all, I think that despite whatever he’s locking up in his head, Donghae is a perfectly well adjusted child.  I feel like between you, your roommates, Siwon, and I, Donghae’s going to be just fine.  Don’t you?”

Shindong’s smile managed to pull the same expression onto Leeteuk’s face.  Remembering his earlier feeling that today was going to be a good day, he decided to fulfill his prophesy and take this as well as he could. 

“Thank you for your interest in Donghae’s wellbeing.  I honestly can say what a relief it is to know I’m not alone in this.”

“It takes a village to raise a child, doesn’t it? But anyway:  For now, I’m going to tentatively diagnose Donghae with PTSD and a very big heart.”

“Well, I hope that the second part of that diagnosis isn’t curable.”

“I think in Donghae’s case it won’t be,” Shindong agreed gravely.

“Also, what would you say about someone who won’t leave home?”

“You mean a fear of leaving the house?  Agoraphobia?”

“Yeah.”  Leeteuk had decided he might as well take care of both of his youngest dongsaengs while he was here.

“Um, I can’t really tell you much more unless I know more information.”

Just as Leeteuk was debating whether or not he had the right to say more, Donghae and Siwon reappeared. 

“We can always talk at another time,” Shindong told him before the two came into earshot.

“So,” Shindong began as he smiled at Donghae who had just approached.  “Do you think you’re coming back next week?”

“I hope so!” Donghae grinned.  “Siwon has all sorts of cool stuff in his office!”

Pretending to be hurt, Shindong mumbled, “Well, if you want to hang out with him instead of me then that’s alright I suppose.”

“No!” Donghae quickly tried to explain.  “I want to come back and see you too!  I think you’ve both really cool and. . . I mean I like both of you the same way!  No, different ways but equally cause you’re both awesome but you’re different.”

Leeteuk just smiled and looked from Shindong to Siwon.  “You should be ashamed making him choose.” 

Siwon got down onto Donghae’s level and assured him, “Since we both have our office in this building, you can see both of us anytime you stop by.  How does that sound?”

Eyes bright, Donghae smiled at both the officer and the psychiatrist.  “Sounds good to me!”

“It’s a deal,” Leeteuk agreed. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you next week,” Shindong said cheerfully.  To Leeteuk he added, “Call me any time.  You can always leave a message and I’ll try to help you out if I can.”

“I appreciate it.”

“And Leeteuk, I’ll call you sometime later about the thing.”  Siwon held his hand up as if trying to get Leeteuk to visualize what he meant without having to say it.

Leeteuk opened his mouth with understanding then closed it, nodding.  “I’ll keep my phone on.” 

After speaking their final goodbyes, the men split off in their separate directions. 

“Hey Leeteuk?” Donghae asked as he watched them go.

“Yeah Donghae?”

“You’re kind of short aren’t you?”

Ruffling the boy’s hair violently, Leeteuk scoffed, “Yeah, well you’re not that tall either.” 

And with that, they headed out toward home. 

Meanwhile, back at the Park family apartment, Kangin had gotten home early from work.  He wished that the office had air conditioning because he was unpleasantly hot.  It also would have been nice if the apartment had air conditioning.  He didn’t know why it had to be such a hot summer this year.  He did not approve.

He pushed through the bathroom door without a moment’s hesitation then immediately spun around, an apology halfway out of his throat as he realized he should have knocked.  Except, he quickly corrected, as he registered what he’d just seen, he couldn’t exactly let Yesung sit there on the bathroom counter with a pair of scissors angled at his bare torso.

“What are you doing,” he asked as he turned back around.

Yesung was still sitting there on the countertop of the sink, the small manicure scissors in his hand.

“Uh,” he faltered, blinking his eyes like a lost owl.  Apparently he hadn’t realized anyone else was home either.

Before the teenager—because that was what he was, even if no one else seemed to realize it—could find the right words to make up excuses for himself, Kangin passed a judgment.

“You’re not trying to do anything stupid, right?”

Acting like he no longer knew or remembered what words were, Yesung just sort of pointed toward the raised pink and white line that ran across his abdomen, intercut by almost clear thread.

Wincing a little internally, against his more manly instinct to not look like a pansy, Kangin none the less understood what Yesung’s intentions were:  sitting in the bathroom when he thought no one was home with a pair of scissors and a fairly well healed stab wound.

“Are you cutting out your own stiches?” Kangin was simultaneously impressed and horrified.

“It’s pretty easy,” Yesung responded, trying to sound like it wasn’t a big deal.

Kangin tried to figure out whether Yesung was just speculating or he actually knew from experience how easy removing stiches was on your own.  His thought process then immediately began wondering whether Yesung was functionally insane or really brave. 

“The hospital can do that, you know,” he pointed out in what he hoped wasn’t a too critical tone.  He definitely didn’t want to sound all mothering and concerned like Leeteuk.

Yesung returned to his former owlish state and Kangin struggled to work out why this kid decided playing operation with a pair of manicure scissors was a decent idea.  The kid had been to the hospital before, it wasn’t like he was afraid of them. 

And he hadn’t left the house since that hospital trip.

Shoulders sagging a bit at this realization, Kangin choose to play it cool, like they had all silently agreed, and pretend not to notice that Yesung just didn’t leave the house. “Yeah, well, the last thing we want is you getting some crazy infection and having to go to the hospital anyway.”

“I cleaned them,” Yesung assured, clearly talking about the scissors and looking over at an open bottle of rubbing alcohol on the counter next to him. 

Kangin tapped his fingers against the doorframe as he debated what to do.  It wasn’t really any business of his what Yesung did or didn’t do.  He didn’t exactly approve but he couldn’t think of a better solution.  The stitches needed to be removed and Yesung wasn’t going to remove himself from the house to do it.

  “Aish,” he finally sighed, rolling his eyes.  Doctors didn’t make house calls anymore.  Yesung was going to have to do this.  Stopping him would only put off the inevitable. “Have fun with that,” he gestured vaguely, trying not to think about what Yesung was about to do. “I’ll be taking a shower on the other side of the house.  And you better be bleeding to death if you bother me.”

Yesung nodded, looking appreciative and Kangin went back out into the hallway, pulling the door too behind him.  He shook his head wearily, wondering if he was doing the right thing.  He knew one thing for sure:  he wasn’t going to tell Leeteuk.  That’s usually how he figured out whether he was doing the right thing or not.  If he didn’t want to tell Leeteuk he was probably in the wrong.  Except this time, he wasn’t so sure. 

But later that night when everyone gathered around the table:  Yesung in one piece, Leeteuk none-the-wiser, and Donghae chatting excitedly about his first meeting with Shindong to Heechul, he was pretty certain that things were going to be just fine. 

…

Time passed wonderfully slow after that day.  Small steps became big steps without notice.  Like Kangin and Leeteuk had both predicted.  It was like someone finally the light and even though nothing extraordinary happened, the little moments seemed that much brighter.  The moments blurred and separated from each other in a strange dance:

                “Heechul, come on!” Donghae whined, following the feminine man around the house with a convincing “sad puppy” look on his face.

                Heechul stopped for the billionth time and spun on the boy, crouching down to take hold of the boy’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks.  The last thing he wanted to do was spend his day off playing sports in the park. 

                “Donghae,” he began, trying to be convincingly authoritative like Leeteuk or Kangin.  “I do not want to go to the park to play soccer.  I’m not good at soccer.”

                “We don’t have to play soccer.”

                “I don’t like any sports.”

                “You don’t have to like them,” Donghae complained. “You can just pretend you do.”     

Finding it hard to argue with that logic, Heechul decided to change his tactic, really hating the idea of doing this.  It was so hot outside.  Even inside the house he felt like he was in an oven.  All he wanted to do was lie down in front of a fan and never move again.  Donghae who actually looked sweaty, didn’t seem to be as effected.  The light in his eyes was not the slightest bit dimmed.

“Why don’t you just ask Kangin like normal,” Heechul whined at last.

“Cause he’s not home,” Donghae whined back, upping the concentration of whine in his voice to beat Heechul’s before suddenly breaking into a smile, clearly enjoying this game.

                Heechul couldn’t believe he was losing an argument to a 12 year old.  Aware that he was slipping, he turned his head around, looking for an assist and saw Yesung leaning lethargically over the arm of the couch watching them, a laughing smile on his face.

                “Why don’t you ask Yesung,” Heechul quickly threw out without thinking.

                “Oh,” Yesung tried to spit out now that Donghae was looking at him, sitting up slightly so he could protest better “I ca—”

                “Aish, what am I saying,” Heechul recovered quickly.  “Yesung’s idea of a sport is collecting bugs.”

He made a great show of burying his head in his hands while Yesung sent up a weak protest that there was no rule saying that collecting bugs wasn’t a sport. 

“That’s it,” Heechul announced suddenly, “I give up.  Let’s go Donghae.”

                “Arasso?!” the boy exclaimed, jumping excitedly. 

                “Neh,” Heechul begrudgingly confirmed, “We can go if you aegyo Leeteuk to convince him we need to invest in air conditioning.”

                “Deal,” Donghae said enthusiastically, not believing his awesome luck that all he had to do was convince Leeteuk to buy something.  Getting Leeteuk to buy something was like asking the sun to rise.

                “Hold down the fort while we’re gone,” Heechul said with a salute to Yesung as was his new habit.  He wasn’t sure if Yesung was aware that he was half-mocking him, half-joking with him, because he always saluted back with a fairly serious expression on his face.

…

“Kangin, should we get the blue to match our old set or should we go with more of a sapphire to mix it up a bit?”

Poking his head around the aisle to make sure Leeteuk could see the look on his face as he mocked him, Kangin said in disbelief, “Teukie, sapphire IS BLUE.”

                “But no, no, no, they’re different,” the blonde insisted, holding two almost identical cups, one in each hand.  “See, this one is pearl blue and this one is sapphire.”

                “Oh my God,” Kangin sighed, rolling his eyes. 

                “Hey,” Leeteuk teased, “if you don’t believe in God you can’t talk about him.”

                “You’re right, I don’t believe in God.  A just and loving God wouldn’t subject me to this unreasonable torture!”

                “Oh come on, it’s not so bad.”

                “Teuk, we came here to buy an air conditioner, not remodel the kitchen.”

                “But we don’t have enough place settings for everyone. . .” Leeteuk frowned.

                “Yes we do!”

                “Not if we want to be able to have guests!” Leeteuk tried to make him understand. 

                “Like who!” Kangin exclaimed, “None of us have family or other friends.”

                “Like. . . Siwon!” Leeteuk said triumphantly after racking his brain and realizing Kangin was almost right:  they pretty much had no friends.  They were a sad bunch.

                Narrowing his eyes, Kangin started to come down the aisle, a joking and knowing look on his face.  “I knew that was what this was about,” he said, coming to a stop and crossing his arms.  Leeteuk waited expectantly for whatever brilliant remark Kangin was about to make.  His excitement at how clever this comment would be was written all over the larger man’s face.

                “You’re cheating on me, aren’t you,” Kangin said matter-of-factly, trying heroically not to smile. 

                “I am not,” Leeteuk protested with a stamp of his foot.  “I just want us to have nice things.  Why don’t you like nice things, Kangin!”

                “Because you dragged me here to buy an air conditioner and we now have curtains and plates and that weird little welcome mat with the peppers on it.”

                “I think it’s cute.”

                “I think you’re insane,” Kangin exclaimed, now failing to stop himself from smiling, his eyes turning into triangles as his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

                “You didn’t have to come,” Leeteuk informed him, spinning around to put the cups back down on the shelf.

                “Like hell I was going to let you drive my car.”

                “There you go with the religion again,” Leeteuk cheerfully pointed out.  “Maybe you should just convert and get it over with.” 

                “You’ve been spending too much time around Siwon, I think he’s starting to affect you.”

                “There’s nothing wrong with being religious.”

                “Except that all the religious people I know seem pretty crazy.”

                “So you’re saying that Heechul is 100% sane?”

                Kangin pondered this for a moment and said, “Never mind, I restate my position as everyone is crazy but me.”

                “Shindong isn’t crazy,” Leeteuk informed him.  “You’d like him.  Real funny guy, big heart, great with Donghae.”

                “You in love with him too?” Kangin demanded.

                “No!  He’s in his 30s.  He’s way too old.”

                “You’re still going to buy him a place setting though, aren’t you.” 

                “Sure am!” Leeteuk bit his lip happily and spun back to the cups he’d set back down on the shelf.

                “How old are you, Teuk, really?  I think Heechul’s wrong.  You’re not Belle, you’re Peter Pan.”

                “I’m almost 25,” Leeteuk smiled, “and since Siwon, surprisingly, is only 23 . . .”

                “You have 5 seconds to make a decision before I go out and buy Donghae the dog he’s always wanted.”

                Leeteuk’s eyes went wide.  “You know I hate slobber.”

                “Then choose,” Kangin threatened in a low voice which wasn’t all that threatening because he immediately broke into a smile.  Leeteuk was the one person Kangin could never intimidate, and he couldn’t help but smile at that.

. . .

Leeteuk leapt over the stone wall, holding his messenger bag down with one hand as he ran.  He glanced down at his watch as he approached the tall brick building in front of him.  He still had 2 minutes left to pick up his paper. 

If Kangin hadn’t driven to work this wouldn’t have been a problem.  It was true that Kangin never actually gave him permission to use his car—He said he didn’t want to endanger the entire city by letting Leeteuk behind the wheel—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t borrowed the little silver sedan on occasion. 

He couldn’t really be mad at his roommate.  He didn’t NEED to pick up his paper.  He’d already taken care of getting his weekly assignments in on time, but he desperately wanted to check his grade for his most recent Communications paper.  He couldn’t say why he’d chosen Communications as a degree.  Maybe it was because it was the farthest away from business, once his father’s profession, as he could get.  Communications was about talking to people.  It was about real life human beings, not numbers.

Today was his last chance to catch his professor before the weekend.  It didn’t matter that the professor had promised to post the grades online before Monday, he needed the corrections and the grade in his hand now. It was a matter of principle that he make it on time.  He bounded across the impeccable green grass at a full sprint and took the stone steps up to his professor’s building two at a time, almost literally running into his professor as he stepped out onto the porch, his briefcase in hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Leeteuk apologized, bowing hastily, completely out of breath.  It was going to be one of those hot summers.  “I was actually running to find you.”

“The paper?” his professor guessed with a raised eyebrow. 

Leeteuk nodded fervently and his professor sighed, reaching into his bag. He flipped the paper out quickly and Leeteuk took it with hands shaking from adrenaline. 

He frowned at the red marks covering the page and flipped to the last page, looking for the circled final grade:  74/100 

He didn’t know what to say.  He just stood there looking at the page with his mouth agape. 

“Not your best work,” the professor tsked, zipping his briefcase back up.  “Although, this does seem to be a pattern of yours lately.  Now, if you’ll excuse me. . .” The professor gestured toward the stairs Leeteuk was blocking and Leeteuk moved automatically, his eyes still locked on the paper.

The professor brushed by him and Leeteuk continued to feel the sting of disappointment in his heart.  He’d worked so hard on that paper.  He tried to think of what had gone wrong.  He knew that he’d had a busy week, his work on the paper had been a little sporadic, the majority of it happening in the early hours of the morning the night before its due date. Still. . .he took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, tucking the paper into his messenger bag with his head hanging low. 

He really couldn’t fail this class.  He was already so far behind.  Maybe college was an unreachable goal for him, he thought, as he sat down on a chair next to him on the porch.  Every time he thought it was his time to conquer college, something got in the way:   his father’s death had delayed him from entering school as he had to take care of a lot of business regarding the company which he’d hated and the legacy he didn’t want.

His brother’s suicide had pulled him away from college again.  Kangin had come to stay with him at the apartment that time and helped him through a pretty deep depression, but Kangin had managed to do so without dropping out, finishing his degree and now leading the life he’d wanted.

Leeteuk had decided to start making up credits around the time Kangin needed him with his sister’s deteriorating illness.  Kangin hadn’t asked him to, but he felt it would be best if he put off his studies for a little while longer.  Kangin didn’t think his parents had done the right thing about his sister’s cancer and he was still estranged from them because of it.  They thought holistic, home remedies would be better than modern medicine.  Only near the end did they give in.  Leeteuk had been there for all of those late night hospital stays.  College hadn’t seemed important then.  

Now he’d just started to try again and he was struggling to stay afloat.  He couldn’t afford another grade like the one in his bag.  He rubbed a hand harshly across his forehead and tried to figure out what to do.  He didn’t even know why he wanted to graduate really:  maybe so he wouldn’t feel like such a failure.  Yet. . . what did he really consider failure? 

Every time he’d tried to graduate, he’d been interrupted by family.  Finally he had a family he wanted to be interrupted for and yet he was still struggling to fulfill a dream he’d never wanted.  He remembered now why he’d gone to college in the first place:  his father wanted him to follow him into the family business and he had complied because he wanted to be as far away from home as he could be.

Now. . . he just wanted nothing but the family he had.  What was a degree going to do for him?

He pulled the paper out of his bag, stared at the red marks for a moment, then ripped the paper in half.  It was less dramatic then he would have liked as he struggled to tear all four pages at once, but when he finally succeeded he smiled.

. . .

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

Leeteuk jumped in surprise and turned to see a police car crawling next to him at a snail’s pace down the road.

“Come on,” Siwon told him with a smile, his arm hanging out of the open window.  “I’m starving.” 

Continuing on at his normal pace, Leeteuk rolled his eyes and said, “Sorry, Siwon, no can do.  I’m going to go pick up Donghae from school.”

Siwon looked at the clock on his dashboard and then wondered aloud, “He gets out of school at 2:30?”

“No, but it’s going to take me forever to walk there.”

“I can drop you off after we get some coffee,” Siwon compromised.

“Are you allowed to do that?” Leeteuk wondered.

“I think that we’ve probably established by now that I am not a good police officer.”

“I’m not getting in trouble by doing something illegal while in a police car. . . with a police officer. . . I just realized this sounds a little dirty.” 

“You’re not committing murder, you’re getting coffee.”

“With a police officer.”

“With a friend.”

Leeteuk knew it was cheesy, but he smiled anyway. 

“I’m off duty, this is my break,” Siwon elaborated.

Leeteuk hesitated, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.  Siwon had stopped the car and Leeteuk wasn’t going anywhere.  After putting on a show of debating it for a while, he walked over to the passenger side door and climbed in awkwardly. 

“These things are smaller than I thought,” he said, commenting on the size of the police car.

“So are you.”

Leeteuk frowned disapprovingly as Siwon chuckled happily to himself.  He might have pretended to be old and mature, but Siwon was just a big old kid.

A short drive later and they were sitting in a nice little coffee shop:  Leeteuk with a tea and Siwon with a black coffee.  They were silent for a moment and then Siwon said,

“I’m sorry I never called you about the search.  I was a little busy these past few weeks and I tried it more than once. . .”

Leeteuk perked up immediately.  “And?”

“It came up empty.”

Leeteuk’s face fell slowly as he wondered what this meant.  How could there be no record of Donghae?  Had he lied about his last name?  Had he even existed at all?  Just when he thought the story was starting to come together, something like this came along.  It’s not that he wanted Donghae to be normal, or was scared of not knowing where he’d come from, but the uncertainty of it all killed him.  How could he be sure that someone wouldn’t show up one day and claim Donghae as their own if he didn’t know who he was?

“Don’t worry too much,” Siwon tried to reassure.  “If he’s not actually from the greater Seoul area he wouldn’t be in the database.”

“What does that mean, though?” Leeteuk whispered, still feeling the aftereffects of the time they’d had to spend bundling Donghae around, pretending like he didn’t exist, all the lies they’d had to tell once they could pretend he was there’s. 

“It means he could just be from a different part of the country.”

“And he ended up here?”

“Perhaps.”

“Aish, Siwon, sometimes I feel like I really have no control over anything.  Maybe I’m being selfish but I want to feel like I’m in charge.  I don’t feel in control if I don’t know Donghae’s story.  And I feel guilty that I only focus on him but. . .”

“I think that you’re worrying too much about worrying.  Really, without knowing where Donghae is from, how would you say things are going with you strange little family? “

Thinking honestly, Leeteuk said, “Amazingly well.  It’s not perfect.  We all have our moments and Donghae still has nightmares and Yesung doesn’t leave the house and sometimes Kangin and Heechul still fight but. . . things are just moving along like they’re supposed to.”

“Exactly.  Knowing where Donghae came from would be helpful but in all honesty, you don’t need it.  In the meantime, I’ll keep looking and you keep looking after your little family.”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t looking out for them as much as I am,” Leeteuk laughed. 

“I can’t play favorites with the citizens.”  

“Yeah, but you do anyway.”

“Shamelessly,” Siwon admitted, taking a sip of his coffee.

. . .

With a loud “uff!” Leeteuk fell to the ground, sending the curtains he’d been carrying into the air.  They fell into a heap around him on the floor as he blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what happened.

The person he’d run into began apologizing profusely.  “Sorry, I didn’t realize you couldn’t see me.”

Yesung was already trying to pick up the curtains but Leeteuk managed to grab his attention to slow him down by saying, “It’s really not a problem.  I couldn’t see where I was going.  I bumped into you.”

“Sorry I’m in the way.” Yesung apologized, looking Leeteuk in the eye for a moment in a way that told him he wasn’t just talking about this moment. 

Leeteuk stopped halfway through folding a curtain, his hands falling into his lap, a surprised look on his face.  “Yesung, are you kidding?  I stay home all day and it’s like I barely see you.” 

“Sorry about that too,” Yesung said, turning his attention to the gathering another curtain from the floor. 

“Yesung,” Leeteuk called lightly, not continuing until the teenager looked at him again.  “You could never be in the way.  This is your home too.  Don’t feel like you don’t belong here.”

“Well, I never leave,” he practically mumbled with a bitter, ironic laugh, finishing one of the curtains and moving onto another.  It was the first time he’d actually admitted it.  The first time anyone had. 

“And what do you honestly think you’d do if you did leave?”

Understanding Leeteuk’s humor coming through in his little lesson, Yesung allowed a faint smile, “Thanks.” 

“No, don’t say that.  This is all possible because of what you did for us and how you wanted to and did help us.  This might count as returning the favor, but really, you always belonged here, didn’t you?  You’re 19 for goodness sake, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Exactly, I’m 19 and I haven’t done anything worthwhile in my life.”

“Haven’t done anything worthwhile?”  Leeteuk shifted until he could move to stand and Yesung followed.  “That,” Leeteuk finished, looking Yesung dead in the eyes, “is a lie and you know it.” 

“Yeah, but I feel like everything I built is nothing now,” Yesung sounded more in the moment and young than Leeteuk had ever heard him. “I’m just a kid relying entirely on people for everything again and I worked so hard not to be that person.”

“You are your own person, Yesung, but that old life wasn’t what you built.  You built yourself.  You built yourself into a person I respect.  And there’s nothing wrong with relying on people if you trust them.  The bravest thing you can do is risk trusting other people.  Plus, I mean, we have air conditioning now, no one wants to leave this house.”

A small laugh escaped Yesung and Leeteuk smiled.  “Why don’t you make yourself useful now and come and help me replace all the curtains.”

“Why white?” Yesung wondered as he inspected the set in his arms.

“Because white reflects sunlight and makes rooms seem bigger and cause it matches my wardrobe.”

Yesung laughed and after helping Leeteuk collect the rest of the curtains, they set to work on the new project, having much more fun times putting up curtains than respectable men should. 

. . .

Heechul dragged his feet through the front door.  He didn’t know why he kept taking these extra shifts.  He didn’t have anything he was saving money for, it just was kind of addicting to get a paycheck.  He dropped his things and collapsed onto the couch, enjoying the heat radiating off of the lamp that was always left on for him when he took these later shifts.  He now understood why women always complained they were cold.  Their clothes were stupidly thin and impractical.  At the end of the day he didn’t even care how fabulous he looked, he just wanted to wear pajamas forever.  Pulling his feet up next to himself on the couch, he crossed his arms and nestled further into the cushions, leaning further toward the warmth of the light.

“Aren’t you the one who convinced me to get the air conditioning?”  Leeteuk was talking quietly, but Heechul instantly recognized his voice and opened one eye to look at the blonde member of their family who had just appeared coming from the side of the house that he shared with Yesung.

“No, Donghae did,” he corrected, closing his eyes again.

“Don’t even pretend it wasn’t your idea.”

“How could you possibly pretend to know that?”

He heard Leeteuk scoff lightly with amusement. “I know everything that happens in my house.”

 “You keep saying house but you live in an apartment, Teuk.”

“Fine, in my home:  i.e. the place I find my family.”

Heechul felt the couch move as Leeteuk sat down next to him, making sure their shoulders touched as he did.  Sensing that Leeteuk wanted to have one of his talks, Heechul opened his eyes.

“So, Donghae’s psychiatrist thinks that we should chat,” Leeteuk told him.

“Does he now?”  There was a tone Leeteuk had between nervous and amused and Heechul heard it in his words now.  Hearing this tone always made him more confident for a reason, like he was more prepared than the other, but at the same time, he knew that this meant they were about to talk about something serious.  He was surprised then when Leeteuk said:

“But respect him as I do I think he’s full of crap.” 

Keeping his expression set, Heechul tried to figure out what was going on inside his roommate’s head.  There was a light in Leeteuk’s eyes, a shining amusement mixed with a strange confidence Heechul hadn’t seen for quite a while.

“You and I don’t have to say a word to each other to understand that we are not that different in the childhood department, are we?”

Sensing Leeteuk’s meaning at last, Heechul was a little stunned, amazed that Leeteuk was being so strangely forward.  He agreed even as he shook his head no.  “We’re not.”  He’d known all along about Leeteuk’s family and his past, he was just glad Leeteuk recognized it now.

Sighing heavily at this silent confirmation, Leeteuk bit his lip subconsciously as he looked up and away toward the ceiling, processing as he kept his emotion carefully measured. 

“I guess we’re a little different though,” he admitted, his voice strained in an attempt to say what he wanted by pushing past his emotions.  “I waited until the old bastard up and died.” He laughed ironically.  “You made sure that no one would step foot in that house again.”

“I got one house taken off the foster list, but it was just one house.”  He looked Leeteuk steadily in the eye, just to make sure he understood the nuance of what he was saying.

Leeteuk took a deep breath, and Heechul felt guilty for making him feel like that.  It didn’t bother him anymore, the past was in the past, Leeteuk was just too sensitive.   “I was afraid you’d say that,” Leeteuk admitted.  He didn’t want to think about the reality of Heechul’s time in foster care anymore than he wanted to think about how stupidly weak he was when it came to his father.   

“Stop thinking you’re not a strong person, Teukie,” Heechul found himself saying, “just because you feel more.  That’s a whole other kind of bravery I don’t have.” 

“Your kind of bravery would probably have saved my brother’s life.”

“And your kind of bravery saved mine.”

Leeteuk blanked, looking into Heechul’s black eyes and understanding him far better than he had before.  He had been the one in the dark, who hadn’t realized a lot of things.  Heechul had probably always known. 

Leeteuk didn’t even have words anymore, he just put his arm around Heechul’s shoulder and one-arm hugged him out of gratitude.  “Thanks for existing, Heechul.  I appreciate it.”

He heard Heechul start to laugh and immediately knew that a snide remark was headed his way.  “Does this mean that we can go back to my place and. . .”

Leeteuk took the opportunity to squeeze Heechul’s shoulder until he yelped and stopped his sentence. 

“Your place is my place, Heechul, and I just bought new sheets for everyone.”

“You’re worse than I am,” Heechul laughed, appreciating Leeteuk’s sense of humor.

“And you still have a defense mechanism.”

“Denial.”   

. . .

Leeteuk’s phone rang just before midnight.  He didn’t even think twice when he saw the caller ID flashing:  Siwon. 

                “Hey, Siwon,” he greeted cheerfully as he opened the phone.  “I was just about to call you to tell you we have to reschedule you coming over for dinner tomorrow since Donghae has parent conferences that night which he conveniently forgot about.”

                “Leeteuk,” Siwon interrupted, his tone serious, scaring Leeteuk into silence.  “You know how I told you one day you’d get a call from me and I’d be asking for a favor?”

                There was no answer from Leeteuk, so Siwon finished,

                “Well, consider this me calling in that favor.”

A/N  HEY!  I'm back. I know, I need to explain myself but I have work like. . . now XD <3 So I have to go.  If you care to hear my lame excuses and all and the usual crazy A/N stuff you can check back in a few hours but I wanted you to have this before I left since it's like 20 pages and I promiesd it and I'm sorry about it being a little rough i willl explain stuff later. <3  BYE FOR NOW YOU LOVELY BEAUTIFUL STUNNING PEOPLE. <3 <3 <3