It had been two weeks since Yongguk had last seen Junhong. They never seemed to run into each other in the hallways even though they lived only a few doors down from each other – though this really wasn’t surprising considering they’d lived next door for years and Yongguk had never noticed – and his homeroom teacher was no long breathing down his neck about completing his assignment so he didn’t even have to meet up with the kid to keep his grades up.

He should’ve been pleased, of course. His friends had let whatever suspicions they’d had float away as if they’d never existed in the first place, even Himchan. Even Yongnam had stopped giving him grief about it. It was almost as if everything had returned to normal and Yongguk could be his usual cocky, self-indulgent self.

Except that he wasn’t pleased, of course. He’d lay awake at night, tossing and turning as he wondered where Junhong was and what he was doing. He wondered if Junhong was missing him as much as he was missing Junhong.

“I’m surprised that girl didn’t give you a strip show right on the dance floor,” Youngjae laughed. It was Friday night and Yongguk and his friends were stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning. They’d spent the evening at one of their usual clubs, drinking without reservation.

Yongguk bit back a laugh at the memory of the girl in question. She hadn’t been attractive in the least, wearing too little clothing and too high of heels and too much makeup, but she’d certainly thought she was hot stuff. At least it had seemed that way when she came up and started dancing in their midst. She’d started dancing with Daehyun first, moving to each one of them in turn until she’d decided on Yongguk. Then, even drunker than they were, she’d started grinding her into Yongguk’s crotch. He’d laughed and pushed her away, much to the girl’s embarrassment. After offering several times to buy him a drink – he’d refused every offer – she’d slunk off to nurse her wounded pride over another cocktail.

“Hyung is way out of that girl’s league,” Daehyun laughed, munching on some dobboki they’d stopped and purchased from a stall along the way. Daehyun could never go more than a couple hours without a snack.

“I think all of us are way out of her league,” Himchan joked, slinging an arm comfortably around Yongguk’s shoulder. “But there were a couple of cute ones hanging around. What about that blonde near the stage? The one in the silver minidress? I wouldn’t mind taking her home with me for a night.”

The others all laughed, but Yongguk’s was fake. Despite having a good time with his friends, his mind had been stuck on Junhong all night. All week. All fortnight, actually. He wondered for the billionth time what was going on with the kid. He’d texted once or twice but, after receiving brusque replies, he’d given up. Junhong obvious was having an easier time giving up whatever they’d had than he was. Whatever. It was better that way. He figured if he told himself that over and over again, he might start to believe it.

They reached his apartment building first, as it was closer to downtown than the homes of his friends. They all bid one another a slurred, drunken goodnight and the others headed on down the street. Yongguk bit back an exhausted yawn and pulled open the heavy door to the lobby of his building.

He groaned when he saw the sign posted on the elevator doors: down for maintenance. He cursed out loud. Sure they were doing maintenance at two o’clock in the morning, but couldn’t they have waited until after he’d gotten home? Now he was going to have to climb three flights of stairs when he was drunk off his . Great.

Heaving a great sigh, he yanked open the door to the stairwell and started up. He’d never liked taking the stairs, not as long as he and his family had lived in this building. They were dark – the overhead lights were always flickering – and there was always the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and urine. It made Yongguk sick, and the fact that he was drunk certainly didn’t help. He clapped a hand over his mouth and took the stairs two at a time, hoping to get to the third floor as quickly as possible.

He rounded the last curve in the stairwell to reach the third floor and stopped in his tracks, his hand automatically falling away from his mouth.

There, huddled on the landing, was what appeared to be an unmoving lump, huddled in on itself. On closer inspection, however, Yongguk was alarmed to see that the lump was wearing Junhong’s familiar jacket despite the weather being warm even at night these days.

“J-junhong?” he asked uncertainly, taking another step towards the still lump.

The lump didn’t move.

“Junhonggie?” Yongguk asked again, voice laced with concern now. He quickly dropped to his knees beside the lump and yanked back the hood to reveal the face. And then he had to cover his mouth as he gasped. “Junhong, what the happened to you?”

Still Junhong didn’t move, just blinked at Yongguk in a disoriented sort of way. The majority of his face was swollen, bruised beyond recognition. There was a long, jagged line down his cheek, almost directly over the original scar that had marred his perfect features. One of his eyes was swollen almost completely shut, and his opposite ear was bleeding pretty badly. His nose had been bleeding profusely at some point, though it had mostly congealed by now.

“.” Yongguk was panicked at once, not knowing what to do or where to even start. “! Oh my god! Uh…oh god...”

Junhong merely blinked at him, apparently too out of it to properly process what was going on. He more than likely had a concussion, Yongguk surmised.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, to stop panicking. “Okay, let’s get you out of this stairwell,” he said, more to himself than Junhong. He was pretty sure Junhong couldn’t understand him anyway.

He lifted Junhong easily, bridal style. The younger was limp in his arms, light. He couldn’t have weighed much despite his height. Yongguk wondered if he’d been eating lately. He was definitely looking thinner than the last time the two had spent time together.

“Hospital,” Yongguk muttered, again more to himself than to Junhong. “We’ve got to get to a hospital. What’s the fasted way…the blue line? The red?”

Junhong’s hand grasping the front of his jacket weakly caught his attention. “No,” he managed to croak out, blood caked to the corner of his lip. “No…hospital…”

It seemed about all he could manage to get out, but his meaning was pretty apparent. Like usual, he was refusing to go to a hospital.

Yongguk looked down at the younger male helplessly. “Junhong, you need a doctor,” he pleaded, his voice cracking in a manner that might’ve been embarrassing in any other situation. “I-I can’t fix this. I can’t…you need a doctor!”

Junhong didn’t seem able to speak again, closing his eyes against a fresh wave of pain, but he shook his head.

And Yongguk’s figurative hands were tied.

So he carried Junhong down to his apartment, supporting Junhong with one hand while he used the other to unlock the door. Luckily it was late enough that his parents and Yongnam were already asleep, the apartment dark and silent. Kicking the door shut behind him, Yongguk carried Junhong down the hall into his room, setting the middle schooler down on his unmade bed and locking his bedroom door.

He flipped on all the lights to get a better look at the mess before him. Junhong looked even worse in the bright light. If it wasn’t for the familiar coat and mop of curly blonde hair, Yongguk might not have even recognized him. His face was battered and bruised, and his eyes kept threatening to close.

Terrified that he might have a concussion, Yongguk refused to let Junhong sleep. He shook him awake roughly. “No, wake up!” he exclaimed. He’d been in enough fights – and in and out of the hospital enough times – to know better than to let someone with a concussion fall asleep.

Junhong blinked at him sleepily, as if he was struggling to do as he was told.

Working fast but gently, Yongguk took off Junhong’s coat. The kid was sweating underneath, as it was definitely too hot out these days for such a heavy coat, and there was blood staining the collar and one of the sleeves. Underneath, Junhong was wearing a black undershirt that was also stained with blood, though not as abundantly.

Though Junhong was bruised along his ribs, it seemed that the worst of the injuries were on his face, as though his face had been somebody’s punching bag. And this was somebody who packed a mean punch, Yongguk realized grimly. Whoever was doing this to Junhong was no weakling like those idiots at school that picked on him. No, this was definitely someone stronger, someone who should’ve known better. It made his blood boil to think of it.

But at the moment, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Like Junhong’s health, for one thing. Though he was obviously trying to stay awake, his eyes kept threatening to close sleepily. So Yongguk set to work immediately. He cleaned the blood from Junhong’s face as gently as he could – though the younger still winced – so he could assess the damage a bit better. There was definitely bruising and Junhong would have to miss school for several days – maybe even over a week – and his ear was bleeding due to a laceration that Yongguk was going to have to sew up. If this continued, Junhong was going to be a monster with Yongguk being his Dr. Frankenstein.

He applied an ice pack to the worst of the swelling on Junhong’s face, using a cloth to soften the cold. Junhong sighed contentedly as the ice soothed his bruises and aches. He leaned into Yongguk’s touch, relaxing.

Yongguk stared at the boy before him, torn between total affection and utter horror. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “How are you feeling?” he asked, voice cracking.

Junhong forced his eyes open, and Yongguk was pleased to see that his pupils were normal, meaning that he more than likely didn’t have a concussion despite the obvious head trauma. “I’m thirsty,” he mumbled, and he did sound particularly parched.

So Yongguk scurried down the hallway into the kitchen, getting Junhong a glass of water. The younger drained it all at once, so Yongguk got him another. The kid drank half of this glass before handing it back to the elder.

Yongguk set the glass on the cluttered desk and fixed Junhong with a steady stare. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“No.” Junhong’s voice was firmer than it had been before. Now that he had some ice and something to drink – not to mention a couple painkillers – he was returning more to his normal self. “No hospitals. I’m fine.”

“You need to go to a hospital,” Yongguk insisted. “You know that people who have concussions can just fall asleep and never wake up.”

“No,” Junhong repeated, firmer still. “I’m not going to the hospital.”

Yongguk growled in frustration. “What do you have against hospitals, anyway?”

Junhong hesitated, looking away. “I just don’t like them. Anyway, I’m okay. I don’t have a concussion. I can say the alphabet backwards if you want me to.”

Yongguk couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He hesitated, growing serious once more. “Junhonggie,” he said. “Who did this to you?”

Junhong looked away, down at the floor at nothing in particular. “No one.”

“Dammit, Junhong!” Yongguk exclaimed, not remembering to keep his voice down. “How can I protect you if you don’t tell me what’s going on? Don’t you know that I’m worried about you!”

“Yeah, real worried,” Junhong muttered sarcastically. “You haven’t spoken to me in two weeks, hyung.”

Yongguk frowned. “That’s not fair, Junhong,” he said. “I texted you. I tried. You’re the one who ignored me.”

“Oh, really? Is that it?” Junhong muttered, getting defensive at once. “If I remember correctly, I’m not the one who blew you off because I’m afraid of what my friends will say when they find out I like boys.”

“I don’t like boys,” Yongguk growled.

Junhong arched an eyebrow at him sarcastically. “Oh yeah? Really?”

“Only one boy,” the elder muttered, embarrassed, and Junhong seemed to soften at once.

“Hyung…”

“Look, I’m sorry I blew you off at the cultural festival,” Yongguk hurried on. “I know it was a ty thing for me to do, and I’m really sorry. I would’ve much rather hung out with you, to be honest. But my friends are important to me too, and I don’t want to lose them either.”

“If they’re really your friends, they won’t care whether you like boys or girls,” Junhong said stubbornly.

Yongguk just shook his head. “You obviously don’t know my friends.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “And I know you may not believe me, but I am really worried about you. I’ve been thinking about nonstop.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” Junhong admitted, a little shyly. “I-I’ve missed you.”

Yongguk pulled Junhong into his embrace, ignoring the freezing cold ice pack now pressed into his shoulder. “Stay here tonight,” he whispered into the mop of curly hair pressed against his face.

“But what about your family?” Junhong asked, wincing as he shifted his weight in Yongguk’s arms. “Aren’t they home?”

“They’re all asleep,” Yongguk answered. “And they never come into my room anyway. We should be safe.”

Junhong chuckled a little. “You’re actually going to let me sleep? I thought you were worried about a concussion.”

“I think you’re okay,” Yongguk admitted, pressing a tender kiss to the top of the kid’s head. “You’re definitely going to be out of commission for a few days, though. Since you refuse to go to the doctor, I’ll be taking care of you. And my first order is for you to get lots and lots of rest.” He hesitated. “Should I call your parents? I’m sure they’re worried about you. It’s really late, after all.”

Junhong shook his head immediately. “No, hyung. They’re asleep. Don’t bother them. I’ll call them in the morning or something.”

Yongguk gave in and helped Junhong change into something more comfortable, then tucked him snugly into his bed. Then he began to make up a pallet in the floor.

“What are you doing, hyung?” Junhong asked sleepily. “Aren’t you going to sleep up here in the bed?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Yongguk admitted, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Junhong matched his blush. “You never bother me, hyung. I don’t mind if you sleep up here.”

So Yongguk abandoned his pallet on the floor – which really wouldn’t have been very comfortable anyway – and crawled into bed with Junhong, turning out the light as he did so. Junhong hesitated for a moment, then curled himself inward along the curve of Yongguk’s body. The elder’s arms came to wrap around him, holding him close.

He fell asleep with the sweet scent of Junhong in his nose and a heavy worry in the pit of his stomach.