Hello, new subscribers and thank you to those who upvoted. I really appreciate all of you, you give me the motivation to keep writing and improving and I read every single one of your comments so don't be shy! I tried to make this chapter a little longer to compensate for my lack of updates. Also, if you like Banglo, I've got a fic up of android!Zelo :). Enjoy.

“The ?” Yongguk yelps as he hits the floor, jaw pulsing with pain. Jongup is standing over him, ire masking the otherwise chipper man’s face. Yongguk shakes his head, tries to process what is happening.

Just as things begin to register, another fist contacts his cheek in an ugly meeting of skin and his vision blurs with the spinning room. It’s not long before he is pinned to the floor, not that he’d be able to get up regardless what with the hangover pummeling his skull. Jongup straddles him, takes the opportunity to land a punch on an already bruising cheek. Yongguk shakes his head to keep from blacking out; the adrenaline pumping through him veils the pain for the time being and he is able to drive an elbow into the side of his captor’s jaw as he swipes a finger over his lips, crimson dripping down its length.

Jongup recovers a second too late, finding himself being mounted, but manages a knee between their chests and kicks the elder over. Yongguk hits the floor again, this time harder than the first and he holds his side in agony. The aggressor is approaching; Yongguk can feel the fear of another blow and readies himself for it, able to catch the fist aimed at his nose and its owner jerks back for a moment of peace.

“What the ?” Yongguk bellows, seizing the chance to get on his feet. Jongup’s eyes narrow with a larger wave of resentment and socks the elder in the abdomen. Yongguk keels over, chokes back gasps of air to fill deprived lungs. Any lower and it would have been detrimental, Yongguk thinks through bouts of pain. Jongup steps back and watches him squirm on the floor, arms clutching desperately around his stomach as he gags for air.

“It was you,” Jongup snaps, the rancor in his tone commanding the other to stay down. Yongguk recuperates slowly, torso contorting in an awkward twist. “What the did I do?” he barks back.

Jongup scoffs with disgust, “You’re the ing prick who hurt Dae!”

Yongguk a sharp breath in, expression taking on a softer guise. He doesn’t oppose when the younger takes a handful of his shirt and backs him into a wall, fist recoiling at the ready. It’s a little shocking, he finds, that the elder seems to be surrendering himself to the beating to come as his head falls to the side, no resistance left in his eyes. The longer Jongup waits, the more he feels his arm quiver because he can see beyond the guilt splayed upon Yongguk’s countenance. Jongup releases the other, lets him drop to the floor in defeat and takes a step back. He doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to follow through, why the fury is dissipating because he wants to make him pay, bleed, break.

But the second he sees that look, a look that is so reminiscent of Daehyun’s, it all comes crashing down. Jongup kneels to the other’s level and asks, “Why?”

Yongguk’s lids weigh down with his fleeting consciousness, his body following suit. Jongup catches his head. “Hey!”

The elder mutters into Jongup’s palm, the aftermath claiming its victim.

Jongup is torn. On one hand, he is irate, and for good reason. He can’t stand how all this time Yongguk walked around under the same roof as Daehyun so nonchalantly. It just pisses him off more. He wants to make him suffer, show him what it feels like, wants to avenge his best friend.

Yet, on the other hand, it seems as though Yongguk knows – knows the pain firsthand, knows exactly what he has done, like there’s so much more to it. There’s some part of this puzzle missing and Jongup can’t quite put his finger on it, but the elder is too off to ignore. It all didn’t add up – the look he just had, the grief in his eyes. Yongguk isn’t allowed to be the sad one. Jongup glances down at a battered Yongguk, a twinge of guilt passes as he lays him down to rush back up the stairs. “Dae.” The bedroom is empty.

“Dae!”

He finds the latter curling beside the toilet, his weeping nearing the end of its course. Jongup places a hand atop Daehyun’s shoulder and chuckles as he examines the other’s puffy face. “You look like a blowfish.”

Daehyun shoots a brief look, but turns up a smile and is taken into Jongup’s arms. He coos, “I’m sorry. Everything is gonna be okay. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.

*

Yongguk’s eyes shoot open, adjusts to the dark surrounding him. He remembers being in the kitchen and tries to lift himself, but lays back down when a jolt of pain runs through him. He brushes a hand over his face and winces with the swelling of his cheek, dreading the bruise that most likely accompanied it.

Ever so slowly, he peels himself from the floor, finds the railing to aide in his ascent and manages to make it to his room. A cry breaks out when he collapses on the bed, too weak to bring the rest of his body onto the mattress. He clasps a hand over his lower abdomen, feeling for more discomfort than he’s already used to.

The clock shows 3:02 in the morning.

---

“Hey." Jongup's voice wakes Yongguk and he feels a foot nudge his side. “You have thirty minutes.”

Yongguk rubs an eye, but stops with a wince when he remembers just how bruised a good amount of his face is. “What?”

Jongup pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “Pack your things. Leave the key on the table.”

Yongguk strains an eye open, “Wha-“

Jongup slides the suitcase over a bit, cuts the other short, “Get your and leave.”

With that, he is gone, leaving the elder tired and confused, but he complies with a sigh and somehow within the thirty minutes is dragging his b suitcase down the stairs. To his relief, the parlor is unoccupied, makes his exit all the more tolerable and he takes a fleeing glance at the second floor before tossing the keys onto the kitchen island and shuts the door with a faint click.

Daehyun pokes his head into the hall, faces the now vacant room to his right and he can feel the emptiness dripping from the walls, permeating through the entire house. With eyes still puffy, he creeps closer until he is in the frame of the former’s room. Yongguk’s cologne lingers. Daehyun remembers that scent – he loved that scent.

The room doesn’t need more than a glance to tell that it’s uninhabited, but an indifferent eye would have gone without seeing what Daehyun couldn’t bring himself to believe. On the nightstand adjacent to one end of the bed, lay a pale pink heart crafted of clay, tainted where fingers have paused. Cracks mar the surface in an almost afflictive way, translucent material seeping through where it was glued together. Daehyun dares to venture into enemy – at least formerly so – territory and picks the heart up.

Yongguk kept it. Yongguk mended it back together – the heart Daehyun had sculpted himself. It’s the gift he brought to the elder’s house that mortifying day. He remembers dropping it, crushing the shattered pieces as he fled the scene.

Questions begin welling up with the tears he chokes back.

---

The sheets are a deep shade of violet, matching the drawn curtains that leave the room a bit bleak. Yongguk places his suitcase alongside the closet and slips out of his jacket to sit on the foot of the bed.

The suite is elaborately decorated with mirrors and unnecessary furnishings that aren’t quite his taste, which does nothing to bring him out of his sour mood.

Checking in at the lobby not five minutes ago, only worsened his disposition when a tuck of his hat did little to shield him from the presumptuous looks being shot by guests and employees alike.

With another tip of his hat, room service is trading a bucket of ice for a hearty tip and he closes the door in gratitude, rushing to the kitchen to place a handful into a towel and onto his cheek.

Some part of Yongguk is relieved that everything is finally out there, that he doesn’t have to bear the weight of a secret he had no right to keep anymore. That beating was inevitable, yet Yongguk wishes that it had been Daehyun delivering the punches because maybe then he could have made things better, maybe then he could have taken him into his arms and begged to be forgiven, maybe then he could have freed them both.

---

Yongguk has a friend who lives in the States. A while ago, Junhong had offered Yongguk a place to stay if he ever decided to visit so when the situation presented itself, he took the first flight out.

It was back when they first had broken up. Yongguk drowned himself in liters of scotch and mounds of melancholy, regret constricting him whole. He couldn’t function let alone move on with life and as he lay in bed night after night, the world around trudged along eventually catching up to him. Everything was a mess and Yongguk was sinking deeper into a groove of desolation he had dug himself. He was no more than an empty vessel, simply taking part in normal activities, but there was nothing left of a man that once emanated an infectious kind of joy, smile on hand always.

It took a while for the numbness to veil over what ever was left and as things became just the tiniest bit easier, he would venture to the only coffee shop he dared to frequent on the outskirts of town, never knowing what to expect once he got there. To his surprise, it did him some good instead of the damage he thought it’d inflict. Yet on days when Daehyun would pay a little more attention to one other employee in particular – slowing as he passed, glancing in opportune chances, smiling just the slightest more – Yongguk knew he couldn’t keep this up. The small surge of joy that sprouted from the daily trips was not worth the flood of grief that came with it.

He needed a change – any type of change.

And that’s where Junhong came into the picture.

About a year had passed since they had broken up and Yongguk turned to the only other person who knew more about himself than he did. Junhong was always the one that could make Yongguk smile no matter what and it was a perk the elder never took for granted.

Yongguk grins when he arrives in America. Junhong is the same charming kid – at least in Yongguk’s eyes – he’d always admired. Junhong is absolutely tickled that his hyung is actually here by his side like old times and he doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around the now shorter hyung he had missed more than he’d ever confess.

A couple of months fly by and Yongguk is learning fast – the ways, the language, and the food, his peaking interest helping. Repressing memories of home and friends and him are becoming easier. Within another couple of months Yongguk begins coming back to life and things look to be turning around at last, but every now and then something triggers his innermost thoughts – a waft of cologne, the occasional dukbokki run, a maniacal bout of laughter.

Sometimes he finds himself beneath a darkened sky, back against