xxxi. No Time To Hesitate, No Time At All

His heart pounding against his ribcage. His feet running endlessly on. The pads of said feet smashing against the thin grass that grew in patches here and there, late coming out for the blazing summer. Said grass crumpling beneath his determined stride. Doing the same all around him, echoing as though in melodious symphony, due to the five others who accompanied him. That’s what he heard as he trudged on. That’s who he heard as he ran through the endless shades of brilliant green and neutral brown. Not his pack. Not a pack that belonged to another.

Not a pack at all.

Rather, something different.

Something different whose origins he was currently on his way to discovering. To uncovering something larger than him and those he called friend. To convening with said something; the outcome of which he couldn't help but have his doubts about.

But, Denmark was a long ways away from Springfield.

Which meant that with each kilometer he covered, with each yard he bounded over, with each step his hind legs propelled him towards, there was no room for doubt. Because what awaited him was anything but patient. What awaited him wasn't looking to make things easier in the long run.

It would be more difficult.

It would make things much more difficult.

But, it would also make him capable of dealing with it. Of protecting those he cared for the most. Of maintaining his place in the town he called home. Of sustaining those who he looked at as his extended family, no matter who they were, no matter where they might have come from.

He had listened to the terms. He was given a chance to back down. He would be given his second chance when he arrived there not even four days later. And, even then, he wouldn't turn back. Even then, he would look on at the Himalayan giant before him, more than ready. More than prepared for it. A pickaxe in one hand and a set of clenched fingers in the other. No matter the level of his determination, however, he couldn't help but wonder.

Was this what his grandfather would have wanted?

Well, didn't he always tell him he thought too much about things anyway? Didn't be always tell him he should be impulsive every now and then? It was advice that had served him well multiple times now. From meeting Hoya and Sungjong to staying with Sungyeol despite the lack of a chance he had had. From trusting a human to trusting a pack of impure werewolves. From Springfield to England and back again.

There was not a single regret he had regarding this impulsive choices of his. Not in the past. Not in the future. And, certainly not right now.

Right now, he was doing what his grandfather had always wanted for him – something he would discover further on into the future.

He was helping to restore them to their former glory. To give back to those who had had their livelihood, their sense of security, their everything stolen away from them.

He was helping to restore it all.

And his four paws carried him there.

Steadily.

Surely.

And, without pause.

The wonders a single phone call could create, at this point, unfathomable.

“I’m just saying,” Kyung shrugged, letting his head fall back into the cushion of the lounge chair he sat in, “Four days without a single word? Kind of suspicious, don’t you think?”

“You disappeared once for three months when we were eleven and you didn’t even put in the effort to call home to even say, “Hi, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”” Zico pointed out, eyeing him from his position on the couch, both feet propped up onto the coffee table.

“Okay, you see,” Kyung straightened up immediately, pointing his finger accusingly at Zico even though the other boy’s fault in the situation was nonexistent. “That,” he began, only to pause, thinking over his words before he came up with the winning, stereotypical, “that was different.”

“How so?” Zico challenged him, cocking an eyebrow, only to receive a meek smile from him in return.

“Different is different.” Kyung defended himself, as though the definition of the word was enough to protect his hypocritical accusations, “so lay off it, alright?”

“Wasn’t it because you wanted to join the circus as a tightrope walker?” Sungjong interjected, leaning over in order to snatch a peek at Kyung whose face was turned away from him. Whose face wasn’t turned away from him for long as Kyung flipped around in his chair, startling Sungjong into almost falling from the precarious sitting position he maintained on the right armrest of the lounge chair Kyung now sat in, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

As though Kyung were so shocked the younger wolf revealed to everyone the details of a conversation they had had last month about their childhood dreams. As though Sungjong didn’t feel sorry in the least for stomping all over them, he proceeded to laugh along with everyone else, Kyung’s dream so good-naturedly odd and curious that smiles couldn’t help but be spread around the room like a virus, infecting one person after the other.

“I told you that in sworn secrecy. I probably can’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Which, may I point out, isn’t all too short a distance, you bag of skin and bones.” Kyung grumbled as he delivered a quick hit to Sungjong’s thin side with his elbow. A hit that was returned tenfold as Sungjong hit him in his jaw with his own, much more bony, elbow.

“You want to start something?” Sungjong glowered at him from his higher position, snarling at Kyung whose temper had begun to be riled up, despite now not being the best time for a brawl across the couches and the coffee table: the furniture in the living room of Zico’s pack’s home.

“The point is,” Taeil attempted to bring the conversation back to its intended subject, noticing the look of pure entertainment dancing across Zico’s, Jaehyo’s, Sungyeol’s, Jiyeon’s, and P.O’s eyes. Noticing it and not liking it in the least. Noticing it and thus not expecting them to step in any time soon. “Sunggyu’s whereabouts are still unknown. He’s been bailed out of the police station but we’re still not sure what his charges entail. Nor what he did to land himself there in the first place.”

“Nor where he’s gone now.” B-bomb added, looking on with disinterest as Sungjong and Kyung settled their matter with a subsequent set of whispers that sounded like they had something to do with Sungjong cooking dinner in exchange for breaking his promised silence. Which were followed by even more mumbles of dissatisfaction from Sungjong himself as he swore he had “sworn” himself to no such secrecy. That he had made no such promises. Which caused another mini-debacle to take place between the two, as though between a married couple, eventually settled as B-bomb added, “Isn’t that right?”

The two threw sideways glances at each other before clearing their throats. They synchronized their nods then, without even trying to do so, without even noticing they had done so, bobbing their heads in confirmation regarding B-bomb’s and Taeil’s – rather obvious – deductions. Despite the argument, however, despite the fact that it wasn’t settled, that it would most likely never be settled, that it would be set aside as most of their arguments were until they were blown up in the form of fists flying this way and kicks flying that, Sungjong remained seated beside Kyung. His frame unfaltering. Kyung’s own not bothered by it in the least.

“And I’m going to say the same thing I have for the past four days now,” Jiyeon groaned, stretching her limbs outwards in a bored manner. Because, she was, in simple terms, bored. She was bored of having this conversation for the umpteenth time. “Are we going to look for him or not? Because if we are, then we better start now before the trail goes cold.”

“It probably already has, honestly.” Jaehyo commented from between Zico and herself, only to be hit in the face by one of her outstretched hands. Despite being wounded and struggling to see through now watered eyes, Jaehyo wasn’t going to back down from her provocation. That is, until someone stopped him. Until he saw the glare he received from the young werewolf with the deep voice and the long longs.

P.O, who sat beside Jiyeon, the four of the filling the couch. P.O, whose looks could certainly kill right at this moment. And Jaehyo, who wasn’t looking to visit the pits of hell beneath the surface of the Earth anytime soon – the place P.O would surely send him should he attempt to harm a single hair on Jiyeon’s body – stopped himself before he could even begin.

“Graduation day is almost here.” Hoya pointed out, even though he was sure everyone was just aware of that fact as he was. He continued on, unabashed by the lack of response he received, “We either spend our time looking for him or spend our time preparing ourselves without him.”

Because that was the reality of the situation. Because even though Hoya wanted to follow Sunggyu’s scent as far as his legs could take him, the dangers of what lie ahead of them here and now were much more demanding of his attention. Of all of their attention.

“Stating those two options out loud is much easier than actually choosing one of them.” Taeil diverted his eyes towards his feet, his spine pressing ever-harder into the shelves of books that stood behind him.

Uncertainty plagued his mind along with a string of possible messes Sunggyu could have gotten himself into. And, the fact that he was no doctor, the fact that there was only so much he could treat, the fact that once an injury reached a certain level he could do nothing to stop the inevitable, left him downtrodden. It left his thoughts riddled with ill-boding, undesirable endings to the current situation. Hoya, who leaned against the wall of literature beside him, casted an understanding look his way, more than grateful that the ultimate decision wasn’t left up to neither him nor Taeil.

No, it wasn’t their choice at all.

It was the choice of Zico and the temporary leader of their own pack, Dongwoo. Two of whom began the open ended conversation they had been having for as long as Jiyeon had been asking that same question.

“Dongwoo?” Zico looked to the older boy who as sitting in front of the fireplace, starting into it’s lifeless depths with heavy lidded eyes and an even heavier frame.

Now that Sunggyu was gone, missing in action for the time being, it was up to him to fill his place. To fill the gap he left. Something that, to him, felt impossible. The gap was too insurmountable. Too large. His bones ached as he stretched his fingers as far as they could go, attempting to cover all the ground that lay barren. Even now, he struggled to keep himself steady. To remain in place. Even now, as this weighty decision was left on his shoulders, Zico’s eyes looking to him for a second opinion. Everyone else’s eyes looking to him for a final conclusion to their deboggle.

And, you couldn’t help but want to help him. Even if you didn’t know how. Even if you yourself were unable to settle upon a single choice. What was more important was obvious. However, who was more important was just as – if not more so.

“There’s always tomorrow.” You whispered by his side, your legs pulled to your chest, held in place by your forearms. You pressed your toes further into the carpet under you, watching as his gaze shifted towards you. The look in his eyes, utter confusion swirling amidst the black of his irises, eyelashes fluttering downwards slowly, the effort put into each blink so painfully obvious you felt yourself consciously mirroring each and every one, left you at a loss for words. 

His hesitance was incurable.

It would always be there, festering at him endlessly. Gnawing down to the bone, his impressive regenerative abilities unable to even begin to heal his wounds.

This was why.

This was why Dongwoo was skipping college for one semester. This was why he was staying in Springfield after Graduation – if they even made it to that time. Because he was still unsure. His doubts when it came to being alone made him unwilling to leave the nest so soon. Especially since the most recent occurrence of mother bird's disappearance.

Still, he knew a decision had to be made. He knew there were no pros in delaying it all any longer; the cons of it outweighing them in greater vastness and number. So, he knew what had to be said, even if he didn't want to say it.

So, he opened his mouth to say just that. He would have, at least, had he not been cut off from doing so.

“Tomorrow then.” B-bomb interjected, knowing just as well as you the reluctance that had seeded itself in Dongwoo, “We’ll decide tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Woohyun agreed loudly before another could object, nodding his head as he stood beside his fellow Wolfketeers near the foyer entrance.

“Waiting again?” Sungyeol rolled his eyes, the trepidation of "waiting" weighing down with too much pressure on his mind. He sighed as he leaned forward on his palms which kept him hovering over Jaehyo's head from behind the couch.

“Be patient, young grasshopper.” Jaehyo mocked him, an inside joke between the two of them that no one else knew. That Sungyeol attempted to strangle him from the back of the couch for. And yet, despite no one knowing what he was referring to, there were smiles all around once more as Jaehyo dodged his attack, leaping from the couch and bounding across the living room into the kitchen at light speed – though Sungyeol didn’t fail in following after him just as closely.

And, as the conversation of what to cook for dinner arose, Jiyeon offering to cook and many others stepping in to stop her from doing so, your pocket buzzed.

Or, more accurately, your phone vibrated against your thigh.

You absentmindedly pulled it from its confines and unlocked it, your eyes still following the flow of the conversation happening right in front of you. As a result, you didn't see it right away. You didn't see the text message you had received from a contact saved as "Lil D." A nickname not entered by you, but by, the older, "Big D."

The message read as follows: I’m going to call you. Start walking.

You couldn't be blamed for the amount of time you spent simply staring at it, your mind reeling as you pondered why he had to warn you he was going to call and, also, what it was exactly that he wanted to talk about in the first place. Your hesitation, understood by the party whose message you had just read, was put to rest when your phone buzzed again against your palm.

It was a second text that read: Outside. Now.

The urgency with which the message was sent combined with the current turbulent winds that wrecked against your nerves, freezing you with its unforgiving gusts, had your legs stretching upwards, moving you to a stand. Because you understood now. Now, he needed to talk to you. Now, where the ears of those who could hear so well were at the very least out of an earshot's range. Now, despite the sullen look U-kwon had on his face as he realized you were moving with the intent to leave the living room.

“Where are you going?” He asked, genuinely curious. And, slightly worried as well. Something he didn't pay as much attention to as he should have.

“Phone call. I’ll be right back. I promise.” U-kwon continued to stare at you, a single word failing to slip from between his lips.

As everyone engaged themselves in conversation, it was him and Dongwoo who had noticed you attempting to slip away. The latter of which was looking up at you from his seat on the carpet, not his voice but the entirety of his expression inquiring from you the reason behind your sudden departure.

You were being obvious.

You were being obviously troubled by whatever phone call you were about to make.

You knew it.

And, you knew that they knew it too.

So, you used the best defense you had.

You cracked a joke, “It’s not like I’m going to run off somewhere.”

And their expressions fell into the norm. Their usual patterns of upper lip twitches and eyelash fluttering returned.

“I’d catch you if you did.” Dongwoo joked languidly, his usual lighthearted tone not rolling off of his tongue with ease the way it usually did.

You didn't want to leave him like this, but what else could you do? The dangers that awaited you just mere seconds away from calling had you pulling your gaze from his own, offering him the most genuine smile you could muster before you were out of there, leaving behind the laughter and the smiles and the banter.

And as you left it behind, someone else caught it.

Someone else's eyes caught onto your actions, their feet not soon after attempting to catch up to your own.

It wasn't long before you had arrived by where you parked your car, a good ways away from the large front door of the even larger house. It wasn't long after that that your phone vibrated in your hand continuously, surprising you despite the fact that you knew it was coming. You answered then, turning away from the house, your hips steadying you against the driver's side of your car.

"Soryong?" Was the first thing you said, not waiting for him to speak first, to even begin to explain himself, "What's going on? Did something happen?"

That's how worried you were. That's how uncharacteristically urgent his text message had seemed. That's how you ended up surprised again, this time not expecting it in the least.

"Hyunjoo."

You froze, your hand almost dropping the phone from your ear. Because it didn't make sense. Because it didn't seem real. Because you didn't want it to be, an awful feeling pooling at the pit of your stomach that left you silently gasping for words to say. Because the last time he had called you, you didn’t see him for over two months.  

"This is Sunggyu." He named himself, as though you hadn't known it was him, due to your silence. Your silence that continued even then, not even a "hey" or "hello" managing to leave your lips. You shut your eyes tightly, refusing to believe it. Clenching the fingers of your open hand, blunt nails digging into your skin, trying to wake yourself up because this was the farthest thing from what you expected. This was the farthest reality from that which you preferred. Quite literally, this wasn't the reality you wanted.

Still, he himself continued.

Still, he said the words you had feared the most.

"I'm leaving for a little while."

He's leaving.

Again.

"I know that if I told anyone else, they'd want to come with me. They'd want to help somehow. But, this is something I have to do on my own. The rest of you have much more pressing matters to deal with in Springfield."

Which meant, even though he hadn't said it, that he wasn't sure he'd be back before Graduation. Which meant, he wasn't sure when he'd be coming back at all. "A little while" held a connotation that differed greatly from its denotation.

"You're probably thinking it's not fair of me to choose to call you though. Out of everyone, it's you who probably worries for me the most, even if you appear to be happy and content with everything no matter what happens. But, I need to ask you to be as strong as always. To be even stronger, because I know you can. Is that unfair of me?"

It was.

Incredibly. Undeniably. Unbelievably. All those words and more.

It was.

"I'm sorry," he let out a breath then, more of an inward groan than a sigh. More of a breath of nervousness than of annoyance. "But, I know, right now, that you're with them. That you're with everyone, probably deciding what to do now. Because Dongwoo’s mindset makes him, at most times, unwilling to lead the others. Because Zico won’t make a move when there's still someone else whose unknown opinion matters to him. So, I need you to ask you to do something for me."

And being able to figure out what it was that Sunggyu was about to ask from you was easier than figuring out what Ricky did on a Saturday night – a certain best friend of his and a video game of any kind always somehow involved.

"Convince them not to look for me, okay? That's all."

As though it were the easiest thing in the world.

But, he must have known. He must have known it was anything but. Lying. Smiling. Laughing. The three would have to go hand in hand. The three were a set meal you had no intention of shoving down the throats of those you called friend. But, Sunggyu was asking you.

Sunggyu, who, without a doubt, was the person who sent you those text messages earlier. Sunggyu, in his urgency. Sunggyu, in his anxious state that left you the only person he deemed fit to call.

And, as he had said before, it wasn't fair of him.

“Sunggyu.” You spoke up, a rush of anger flowing through you. Of frustration. Of annoyance. Of weariness. Of worry. Of longing. "You can't just say goodbye over the phone again.” You pleaded, your voice close to cracking, to breaking down right then and there, that poisonous pool that had sunk to the bottom of your stomach threatening to come up in the form of water breaking the dams that were your lower eyelids, "You can't."

“Hyunjoo.” He called your name, voice buzzing through the transceiver, where he was now far away. Too far away. A distance that left you wishing it didn’t have to be like this. That you weren’t like this. That you didn’t trust him so much to the point where you could only push him farther away from you. But, you did.

So, you did.

As he called your name, you understood his tone. Whatever he was doing now was something he couldn’t runaway from. Whatever he was doing now was worth doing. Whatever he was doing now, no matter how determined he was, scared him.

And, as he called your name, you could only respond one way. With one sentence, because you understood what he felt so well. So well, you wished he could have said your next sentence to you as well.

Blinking away the impending waterfall that had almost succeeded in washing you away, you wished him all the luck you could give him, even if your own was stolen away in the process, "We’ll be here. We’re not going to run away. So, you can’t either."

There was silence following the closing of your lips.

A long pause that had you checking to make sure you hadn't hung up on him on accident – a mistake you were sure only you could make. But, then, you heard his voice at long last, causing you to lift the phone to your ear immediately, your free hand wiping away the tears that never fell.

But, almost did.

“Hyunjoo.” He began, as though he meant to say something then. As though there was some piece of information, some unsaid secret, that he wished to divulge to you and you alone right then and there. If only, another calling your name hadn’t stopped you from ever hearing it then. If only, you didn’t have to reflexively hang up on Sunggyu, so abruptly.

So unwantedly.

With no time at all to even say goodbye.

"Hyunjoo."

You turned, your hand slipping from the hood of your red Volkswagen. Your other hand dropped from your ear, slipping your phone into your pocket. And, you felt yourself wanting to simply slip away as well. To pretend he hadn’t just showed up so suddenly, the likelihood that he heard the conversation you were just having with Sunggyu much too high for your liking. To act normal, despite the unnatural smile you could feel stretching your lips, raising your cheeks to the heavens.

And, you didn’t say anything.

You merely hummed in recognition of his call.

Because you couldn’t trust the words your mind would think up on such short notice.

That left him to come up with words to say. That left Myungsoo to fill the silence he had been the cause of.

“You, Jiyeon, Hoya, and Taeil are making dinner tonight.” He announced, shoulders slouched, a blank stare all he gave you as he declared right after, “I nominated you, in case you were wondering.”

And that made it easy for you.

With that last comment, he made it easy for you to respond.

Dwelling on whether it was on purpose or not was something you had no time to do. Or, rather, something you rather not do at all.

“How kind of you.” You smiled, sarcasm coating your tone, lathering your words with bitter honey, in a playful manner.

“Not really.” And his own lips curved, just slightly. Just the tiniest, most miniscule amount. And yet, that was enough for you to feel your own shoulders relax, your stomach unclench. It was enough to make you feel secure as you walked past him them, reaching out to push him, just slightly, in jest.

But, it didn’t end there.

You only wished it could have.

You only wished he hadn’t tilted his head in irritation, eyes closing, lips parting as a deep sigh escaped him, just then. Just then, because he had grown annoyed by this same repetitive turn of events. One of you always approached the other. Playful banter was exchanged. One of you always departed, leaving the other to deal with what was said alone. It had happened too many times for him to count. The two of you had fallen into a trend that was easy, predictable, but most of all, annoying. And, it’s certainly not what he followed you in order to do.

He had been wanting to break the harmonious, heavily leaded circle dug as deep as a moat into the paper labeled his relationship with you with a swipe of his eraser, so that it’d be easy.

He had been wanting to rip it off quick, eyes closed, hand swift, like a band aid; all in order to make it as painless as possible.

He had been wanting to do this since his talk with Sunggyu – too many things getting in the way of it up until this point. Occurring with magnificent bravado. Effectively shocking and awing him, stalling him in what he wished to do. Such as, for example, Sunggyu’s arrest. And now, Sunggyu’s disappearance.

But, if said person was here, he’d tell him to do it, wouldn’t he? To go for it, because not a single circle is perfect. Because maintaining one that tried to be was pointless and by definition, not in the least “good” for him or for you.

He had been wanting to shake things up a bit, for the second time, because it had been too long since he had done so. Since he had done this. This: the act of skin on skin contact with you, his hand catching yours before you could connect a shove to his shoulder.

“I’m going to hug you.” He announced, loudly and clearly, without a single once of embarrassment. With such boldness your mouth fell open, your mind seemingly not having caught up to what was happening. Because it was happening too fast. Because there was no time for things to go slowly anymore. “And that’s not a question. It’s a warning.”

What puzzled you even more was your response. Not words. No. Just a gesture. Just a simple nod, your fingers wiggling ever so slightly in his grip, testing the amount of breathing room he was giving you there. Testing to see how much leverage you had in this situation, because it would soon come closer. Because soon, quite literally, you’d be wrapped up in it.

Quite literally, wrapped up in his arms.

And, like the sun on a summer day, shining down on a treeless field, you couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t evade the sun’s burning rays, melting you inch by inch until there was nothing left. He had given you no room, no shade, with which to cool yourself off. With which to rest beneath, peacefully.

And, without it, you were left to whatever mercy he chose to offer up to you.

Because he had given you a warning of his impending action, not a question of whether or not he should make it so.

It’s funny, though. He said it wasn’t a question and yet, he stayed still, not moving an inch before that nod of yours had spoken for you loud and clear. It’s funny, though. How you were too wrapped up in it all, in him within that next second, that you failed to notice this until later that night – something that caused you to smile despite it all.

You had never “hugged” Myungsoo before.

He had held you before, yes. He had stopped you from falling to your doom on more than one occasion. He had dragged you behind him forcibly on more than one occasion. However, anything but a brief touch here or there crossed into unknown territory.

So then, this was something new, wasn’t it?

Feeling his forearm wrap around your waist, tugging you closer. Closer and closer until you were there, pressed against him, your hand he once held forced over his shoulder as it had nowhere else to go. Your fingertips bristled against those tiny hairs at the back of his neck, freezing your other hand into an outwardly stretched position. You were scared. You were scared of what else you’d feel if you let it hold him to you as he allowed his two hands to hold you.

Because all of it was new.

Because the weight of his chin which buried itself into your shoulder was new.

Because that wandering hand of his that wrapped upwards, pulling your hair out of the way, shifting it to the side, out of his face, was new. That along with the cooling sensation that burned at your nape, the corner of his lips brushing past the expanse of skin just below your earlobe innocently. Accidently. And yet, in no way did he express his apologies for doing so.

And you didn’t ask him to.

Because this wasn’t only new to you.

It was new to him as well, wasn’t it?

Adjusting himself so that he fit against you perfectly took some time. But, there was something even more enticing about the fact that he didn’t. That he didn’t from start to finish, his chest heaving once heavily, his breath traveling down the collar of your shirt, drifting down along your spine, tracing each curve all the way to your toes which wiggled in the confines of your shoes.

 Innocently.

Accidently.

And, you didn’t complain.

You relaxed in his arms which held you not up – as though your knees were too weak to do so – but merely in place.

Because that’s how Myungsoo was towards you.

Because Myungsoo knew you could stand on your own two feet.

And because he wouldn’t take this power away from you, because he seemingly saw no reason to, you wrapped your outstretched hand around him loosely. Gently. Just a bit.

And after the call you had just received, you had never needed something more than that.

Gratification. Satisfaction. Nervousness mixed with a relaxing ease – a contradiction most addictive.

All of it felt new, despite him having made you feel all of this and more on more than just this one occasion. As a result, the impulsive words that attempted to spring from your lips had you nuzzling closer to him, a bubble of air forming in your chest. A bubble that when it rose to the surface and finally popped, would release upon the world your own decision. But, not now.

Now, the words “Thank you” weren’t able to come out.

The bubble disappeared, all but nonexistent, as he unknowingly the air right out of it with his own words, "I want to piss him off."

Who? Why? Was that all there was to this? Was this his intention from the beginning? Then again, as you recalled just moments ago, when had Myungsoo ever hugged you? Of course, he had ulterior motives than just, well, wanting to do so. Because why would he want to? Of course, thinking he meant anything else was ridiculous.

Of course.

And as he pulled back, you stared into his eyes, those same two words repeating themselves over and over like a broken record as you spoke, "I've, at this point, stopped trying to figure you out."

You’ve said it so many times, it would appear all you are is a broken record.

That’s all you feel you are as he smiles again, and you think: how unfair.

How unfair of him, to smile like that.

How unfair of the both of them, who you trusted too much to hold onto.

The faraway street lines peaked through the tree line, fighting to conquer each and every contour of his facial features. Hidden eyes. Curving lips. Rising cheeks. Emerging dimples. The shadows danced across his face impishly as he laughed, just once, "Liar."

And, that’s how it ended.

And, in the end, you decided to treat the “hug” as being just that. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And, in the end, you followed him inside after that, restraining yourself from redialing the phone number that just called you. That you just left hanging on a single word.

In the end, you had succeeded in the task given to you by Sunggyu. You had convinced everyone that now was not the time to be looking for him. That Sunggyu, even if he didn’t know what he was doing, would do it, no matter what it was. That he would come back, even if he didn’t say when he would to you moments before, his voice buzzing from somewhere far away. Or, rather, you had convinced Dongwoo, who had known this to be the right choice all along. He simply needed a single push further to eventually say, “Starting tomorrow, we’ll begin our training exercises again.”

Because he needed to say it.

Because Zico needed him to agree with the decision he had come to long ago.

Because they all needed him right now, Sunggyu’s departure lasting much longer than even he himself anticipated.

Waking up feeling as though you just spent hours in a steam room is not an all too pleasant experience. Especially when it just so happens to be on a Saturday when all you want to do is lie down. When all you want to do is stay in bed for a few more hours. When you're forced to drag yourself out of the warm comfort of the combo of soft, cottony sheets and pillows in order to take a shower that will be anything but refreshing so early in the morning. That'll feel as though pins and needles are stabbing you all over as you wash off the after effects of whatever bad dream you can't remember anymore.

That's how you felt this morning. That's how you felt when you woke up drenched in your own sweat. That's how you felt as you washed your hair without much thought, walked to your room in nothing but a towel without much thought, and proceeded to change behind the shelter of a slightly ajar door, unbeknownst and uncaring of the wandering eyes you knew your mother possessed.

But, you hadn't cared much for that. She was your mother, after all. The mother who would be in the kitchen with the breakfast she promised to make last Thursday. A promise she had fulfilled quite well, apparently, as the spell of buttered waffles and sizzling bacon filled the air, fueling each step you took down the stairs. Your hair was halfway dry, your body was clean, your mind was anything but ready for the person who was standing at the fridge, apron tied around their waist, head of black hair turning towards you as you fell backwards.

As you gripped onto the frame of the entryway into the kitchen, stopping yourself from collapsing from shock, your body and your mind sent into panic mode at the sight of him there. Of him who was not your mother.

Of Cha Hakyeon.

"Good morning!" Hakyeon cheerily greeted, smile wide, eyes gleaming specks of gold.

You bowed your head noiselessly in return, staring at him with large eyes. The epiphany that, yes, Cha Hakyeon was wearing your mother's apron in the kitchen of your house, his fringe pulled back with a pink hair tie, hadn't hit you yet. You could only deftly stare in amazement as he scooped a set of waffles and bacon from the counter behind him and set them down on the breakfast table, as natural as can be. He was as natural as can be as he poured two glasses if apple juice and sat down, leaving the seat across from him, the seat closest to you, empty. And he gestured you to sit with an open palm, tanned fingers curling slowly, clasping themselves into his palm.

Because you had done as he so silently suggested. You had approached him with sluggish steps, your hair sticking to your neck here and there; failing to dry completely. Your senses failing to wake completely until you took your first bite into the panacake he had placed in front of you, topped off with maple syrup and slices of strawberries whose origin you knew not. And you said, "It's good."

Your first words to him this early morning in which you were rudely awakened by your own dreams. Words that caused him to stare on at you, eyelashes blinking slowly, breathing deep and long as though it were all you could hear, the room having gone silent. Awkward. And ultimately, unexplainable.

You had also failed to explain your words, the reason he was prompted to say, "What is?" a playfulness scratching at the end of his question that was made up of both mocking and adoration. A tone that was wholly and irrevocably his and his alone. A tone that finally allowed you to make up for where you had failed.

A tone that allowed you to not only recognize his presence, but also explain exactly what it was that was good; the morning versus the food. And you chose neither.

"The view." You held back a laugh as you pointed with your fork to his current hairstyle that despite being hilarious, had you cringing at the sight of such an un-cutely cute apple hairstyle: his fringe trapped within the confines of the pink rubber hair tie sticking up from his head like the top of a pineapple.

"Same here." He shot back, giving you a smile that had you kicking him from under the table, despite knowing your puny kick wouldn't have hurt him in the least. Especially since you weren't trying to hurt him. Especially because of another fact about him that you hadn't named out loud as of yet.

You went back to eating, leaving him to fill in the blanks that remained regarding this situation. Because you expected him to know he had to explain himself. Despite the meal he had seemingly made, you weren't going to overlook his sudden, unannounced appearance. He must have known that. Why else would he then do just what you expected of him? He was getting used to you just as easily as you had gotten used to him.

Or, perhaps, he had been used to you from the very beginning. For some reason, that didn't seem that implausible. For some reason, you had a feeling that from the very beginning, he had grown to accept and embrace every single thing about you. Or, perhaps, you were just imagining it all. Perhaps.

"You mother was here just earlier," he leaned forward, smiling that smile, cocking that head of his, "cooking, as it were. I'm pretty sure we both know that wasn't working out all too well."

He was right about that. Cooking was something your mother used to practice regularly. Only the dishes she had experience with were delicious. The others, those she hadn't been all to familiar with – such as waffles, no matter how easy it was to use the waffle maker that was currently cooling off on the stove top – always had a dubious taste about them. As for you, you were always awful, just like your father. Your cooking was what you would call an "acquired taste." As for your mother, she had stopped practicing long ago – for reasons you would yet again not name.

"So," he continued, grabbing you attention again as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes down casting towards the food that lay between the two of you, as though he had ever lost it in the first place, "I offered to cook for her. For the both of you." He gave you a look then, a look coupled with the raising of his brows as if to say, "Aren't I kind?" You couldn't help but laugh, though you held the brunt of it back, the taste of buttermilk melting against your tongue in a way that you could most definitely get used to – no matter how much you shouldn't have.

He concluded his explanation then, pursing his lips in contemplation as though even he had no clue as to how his timing was always so precise, "She got called to go to the hospital right after. Not before taking a waffle with her, of course. Not before leaving you in my care, of course."

He coyly smiled at you, batting his eyelashes. Smiling as though he were as naive and innocent as an angel when he was anything but. So then, you knew the how and the when, but you still didn't know the why. You still didn't know why he came over in the first place. He hadn't even called you once since he took the necklace away from you weeks ago for "safe-keeping" until graduation day. All you had gotten was an ominous countdown of days each day as a text message; which you would reply to in wonder only to receive an insinuating winking face emoticon in response from him each time.

So, why was he here? And what did he want this time? What other unsaid promise was he going to make? If you were keeping track, he had yet to break any of them. But, he had also yet to come through with any of them. But, still, still, promises made with him felt real.

Palpable. Heavy. Anything but breakable. Anything but just words. Anything but just promises.

More like facts. Facts of life. Facts regarding the future. Facts regarding the past. And facts regarding the present.

For sure things.

Stronger than promises.

And, there was something scary about that. There was something undeniably frightening about that. And yet, there was also something extremely enticing about that.

About him.

Not for reasons you couldn't say. Rather, for reasons you didn't know.

For the purpose of finding out why, however, was the reason you said your next words, "Why are you here?" It was a question not only posed to him regarding this morning in particular but rather all mornings. All nights. Every day since he had first approached you. Because what was in it for him? What did he have to gain from befriending you? What did he have to lose if he didn't?

"I was bored," he simply stated, as though nothing made more sense, as though it was the most logical of explanations, "and I wanted to see you." And then he did it again. He turned it back around on you. He flipped the switch, changing the course of the conversation that wasn't shifting in his favor. He changed the topic effectively as he eyed you, playfulness nowhere to be found, his expression deadpan as he said, "Am I not allowed to want to see you?"

As though somehow, you were the one in the wrong. You were the one in the wrong for not knowing what his insinuations meant. For not knowing what that gleaming gold glow his eyes held meant.

"That's not—" you bit back your words, not knowing how to respond. Wishing you could go back in time and pretend you didn't care how or why he was here. Oblivious to the impact your following action had on him. The shift of your still slightly wet hair over your left shoulder in order to stop it from falling in front of your eyes. Such a simple action and yet, it ushered from him the most volatile of responses.

At least, the most volatile one you had seen from him thus far.

With a swipe of his hands, your fork had nowhere to go, missing its target by a long shot. You looked up, narrowing your eyes at he who had stolen away the breakfast he had just given to you. At Hakyeon, whose expression had twisted to the point where you questioned if he was even himself. If he was the person you had been spending all this time with. Or, if he was someone else.

Someone else with an expression you couldn't place then. Mostly because you didn't understand it then. But, by the end of this upcoming summer vacation, you would. By the time school started again, by the time you were a senior studying to get into university, you would have already become acquainted, much more than simply familiar, with the face behind the pitch-black mask.

Right now, however, it was something you didn't like.

So much to the point in which it was indescribable. Or rather, once more, you really rather not.

You'd really rather not describe the face he had nor the face that replaced it soon after. But, at the very least, that one was easier. It was easier to comprehend, even if you didn't fully understand it.

"First, take a shower. Wash your hair again. Tie it up in a ponytail when you’re done," he explained, smile so large, so fake, it made you cringe, "then, we can eat." You mumbled a low comment about how you already took one only to have him add another task to the list of things he had given you to do, "And make sure you scrub hard. Really hard, okay?"

You stood up from your seat after pushing your chair back; the eerie sound the scratching of wood upon wood created plus his endlessly smiling expression moving you without question. You threw glances at him all the while as you left the kitchen, unsure of yourself. Unsure of him. Even up until that last moment in which his image disappeared behind the cover of the wall and you were left doing that which you would have, on any other occasion, refused doing.

Taking a shower literally five minutes after having already taken one, not a speck of dirt or dust of the visible kind to be found on your person.

But, before you ascended that third rickety, wooden step to do just that, you heard him say, "It's like he's purposely trying to piss me off."

And it made sense now.

Without even trying to, you now understood the actions of the boy whose eyes held galaxy upon galaxy between each and every brown streak that spread outwards from the black: comets you could witness without a microscope.

Myungsoo knew.

And you had a feeling you wouldn't be eating breakfast anytime soon.

A/N:

What was this chapter even? Where am I even? Who am I even? All I know for certain is that about two seconds ago, I laughed at the fact that when I stretched backwards, I could feel excess snot from the inside of my nose rolling down my throat. Is that too gross? I guess one can only laugh at bodily fluids when it's their own. Other's bodily fluids = gross. Your own bodily fluids = hilarious. That's right, I have a cold. What am I even doing? Oh yeah, an author's note. Um, so yeah, I didn't turn into a lobster! Though, I got an awesome burn right between my collarbones where the sun hit me on my buttoned up, sleeveless, jean jumpershorts (I left the top button open.). I guess I can apply similar logic to that as I did earlier. Someone's elses sunburn = gross. Your own sunburn = hilarious. It's gone now though and all my bones are sore and I'm too lazy to even get up to get the tissue box and what was I doing again? it. 

On a sidenote, thank you for all your well wishes. Thank you all who checked out my other stories (whether you let me know or not). Thank you for over one hundred upvotes on "Springfield." You guys = awesome. I = tired and hungry. Off to get munchies I go!

I fell asleep twice writing this a/n.
Though, I may have miscounted.

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