Crickets hum numb into the night, creak of the door vague in the distance.

“Hyung,” Jongup’s voice is soft. He waits a moment when the elder lifts his head. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” Yongguk taps his fingers uneasily across his thigh. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Daehyun is always a grump…but lately, he’s been even more so," he pauses, "You two do know each other, don't you? Is there something I should know? What aren’t you telling me?”

Yongguk’s tongue twists to the side. He’s been expecting this question for a while and there’s not much he can do to avoid it now, so he clears his throat. “Once upon a time, there were two boys who were the best of friends. But one day the older one broke the younger one’s toy and he cried. Then they weren’t friends anymore. The end.”

A crinkle forms between Jongup’s brows. “Wait, so you broke Daehyun’s toy? And that’s why he’s mad at you?” He waits for the elder to nod before proceeding, “But that was a long time ago. And it was just a toy. Shouldn’t he get over it by now?”

Yongguk pats Jongup’s arm and elaborates, “Some toys are more precious than others,” his voice tapers a bit though Jongup doesn’t notice, “You can’t play with them.”

A long pause follows, stale and uncomfortable. Jongup looks out to the lawn long and hard before turning back to Yongguk, but the other is already on his feet.

“Don’t worry, Jongupie, it’s not a big deal. I can handle it. Just go to sleep, okay?”

Jongup tilts his head in hesitation, but complies and heads inside. Yongguk sighs as he follows him in, parting ways at the staircase. He doesn’t want to lie to Jongup and technically he isn’t, but somehow there’s a flicker boring into him that he can’t ignore. He wants to tell him everything. Yet he can’t, He’s afraid and the part weighing down so painfully on him right now is that he doesn’t know of what.

He nears the door to his room where a faint whimpering travels from not too far and Yongguk ponders whether to ignore it or not, the latter getting the best of him. Little by little he tiptoes closer until he’s pressed up against the door to his left. Slowly he twists the knob open.

“Dae?”

Daehyun turns abruptly, cheeks doused in tears. Yongguk takes a concerned step past the threshold, “Are you okay?” Daehyun is caught, ashamed and terrified, and throws a picture frame at Yongguk. “Get out!”

The frame cracks against the door as its pulled shut, Yongguk on the other side, incoherent. He stands there, unwilling to move, though he’s sure he couldn’t even if he wanted to. The last time he saw Daehyun cry was

A shrill yelp barks from the other side of the door, commanding Yongguk’s attention and this time he doesn’t hesitate to throw the door open. Daehyun is exactly where he was just a moment ago, only this time he’s grasping one hand in the other, too distracted to bother with the intruder.

Yongguk is fast at his side, kneeling terribly close, and takes the younger’s hand into his own. Daehyun hiccups over a breath or two before his breathing calms enough for him to jerk back from Yongguk’s grip, but the elder is clasping onto his wrist too tight for him to break free, knowing that Daehyun wouldn’t succumb willingly. He shoots a stern look to the younger, the only light shooting from the window casts a shadow that capes Daehyun into submission and he looks away in spite.

There’s a gash running along the length of Daehyun’s pinky finger, crimson spilling in puddles upon the culprit. Yongguk examines their surroundings. On the wooden floor there is a mess of shattered glass strewn about and a photo all too familiar laying crumpled just to Daehyun’s left. Yongguk’s eyes dart to the door whereupon a frame, slightly beaten, is off to the side – he assumes the object that Daehyun had thrown at him just a minute prior – and slowly turns back to the younger, seeking answers beyond glassy orbs.

Daehyun looks down. He wants Yongguk to leave. He doesn’t want his help. He just wants to be alone because that’s all he knows how to do. He wants to be alone so he can cry and bleed in the comfort of his own solitude. But Yongguk isn’t leaving. He’s not receiving Daehyun’s silent cries. Instead, he’s bending over further to meet Daehyun’s gaze, but Daehyun’s eyes are blurring with another wave of tears he didn’t know was forming and before he can twist to hide away in shame, Yongguk is cupping the nape of his neck and pressing his cheek into his shoulder and there’s a hand that releases his own and slides up the small of his back.

There’s a shiver that tickles up Daehyun’s spine and for a second he closes his eyes, letting his world fall onto someone else’s shoulders. His body slumps as he relaxes into the other. It’s warm; calming heat emanating, drawing Daehyun in. Yongguk forms shapes with the side of his thumb, subtle and undefined along Daehyun’s hairline, cooing softly into the shell of his ear. He feels Daehyun loosen a bit, his breathing breaking into mild huffs. Hesitantly, he presses his cheek ever so slightly into Daehyun’s. It’s been too long since he’s had the privilege of holding someone and for a moment he forgets about everything else. Daehyun’s chest settles, rising into smoother motions. His own arm is lifting slowly, fingertips grazing the elder’s forearm, skin softer than he expected. Yongguk’s eyes widen at the contact, finally aware of what he is doing and before Daehyun has the chance to come to the same realization, he pulls back.

Daehyun takes in a deep breath and just as briefly as it all happened, the warmth is gone. His eyes peel open and it takes a few blinks for his vision to clear, focusing on Yongguk walking away. His head falls limply, chin nearing his chest as another velvet drop fall lifeless to the floor.

Slowly he inhales. He wants to cry because for a moment he felt at home. It was the first time in a long time that he let his guard down.

Slowly he exhales. He wants to cry because for a moment everything was okay. But that’s just it. It was just a moment. Daehyun remains still, disappointed in himself for being so vulnerable and for believing that even if just for a second that shell of a man was capable of caring for anyone other than himself. He can feel it. The anger. The pent up loathing brewing from deep within and as his fingers wind into a flustered mold, footsteps trickle into the room. Yongguk is back at his side, antiseptic and cotton swabs in hand. He reaches for Daehyun’s balled fist, gently prying his fingers apart. This time Daehyun doesn’t fight.

“Why are you clenching your fist?” Yongguk asks softly, voice tender. It doesn’t suit him, Daehyun thinks. Nonetheless, he lets the elder tend to his wound, though he doesn’t answer. He finds no reason to. He just stares as Yongguk continues, the former rage simmering to a fizzle.

He came back.

By the time Daehyun is able to look away, Yongguk is done bandaging his digit and has disposed of the shards on the floor. Daehyun still has yet to say anything, but Yongguk knows enough to expect nothing more than silence. He gathers everything and before closing the door, turns back to Daehyun. “Good night.”

Once again, everything is quiet, maybe quieter than before and Daehyun glances at the redness soaking through the cotton. He recalls Yongguk saying that the cut isn’t deep enough to require stitches, or maybe it was the opposite, but right now it doesn’t really matter to Daehyun. Nothing does.

---

Yongguk awakens to walls vibrating with a beat apropos for the morning. He grins as he stumbles out of bed, fussing with his hair that’s been in desperate need of a cut for a while. He opens the door and is greeted with the song blaring tenfold and a tired laugh leaves his lips as he makes his way to the bathroom.

Shortly after, he descends the stairs to find Jongup in the living room, shaking his pelvic region in what Yongguk assumes to be dance-like movements. Along the wall, there’s a stranger laughing quite animatedly with arms flapping about. It seems that he finds this ‘free-styling or what have