Oh man. First off, I would really just like to apologize to everyone for how long this has take me to update! Like i said in my authors not earlier (now deleted), I got caught up in university and life.. work and such. And just kind of didn't have time, or even the muse to write. But, I decided it was time to get around to working on this story some more. So, after a nearly 7 month hiatus, here is chapter 13!

A heads up, if something seems off -- it's probably because i wrote half of this a while back, and just finished it today so.... I hope you aren't disappointed!

       By the time the gangster had worked his way back to his far less than homely apartment, pushing the heavy black door open and moving aside once he had, he was by no means surprised to find three others standing within his open living room. Though, truth be told, only one of them was actually standing; a tall male with bleached brown locks – so light they might even appear blonde in certain lighting— that was currently set about leaning forwards over the back of the three person couch, both arms planted firmly on the back cushions. The other two were seated at opposite ends of the couch from each other, the first of which was perched on the arm rest, his lips in what could have been annoyance. The latter of the two, a petit male who somehow seemed to have kept his rather boyish features, was nestled quite comfortable in the pillows – his once dark features brightening rapidly as the gangster stepped into the room.

       “Doojoonie~” the baby-faced boy exclaimed when his eyes settled on the gangster, leaping up from his spot on the couch as he bounded across the room to the latter; causing the other two to look up suddenly as if in greeting.

       To this, the gangster, or rather Doojoon as he was called gave a quick roll of his eyes, but yet he took to draping an arm across the younger’s shoulders nevertheless, acknowledging him with a curt, “Yoseob.”

       Using his other hand, Doojoon took hold of the other’s arm, grasping perhaps only an inch or two above the elbow, and used his hold to steer him back to the couch.  After getting said male re-seated on the couch, he stood, folded his arms across his chest, and took turns glancing at each of the members gathered in the room.

       “So,” he began at length, “I’m sure we all remember our good old friend Junhyung, correct?”

       The blonde rolled his eyes.

       “Hyung, please don’t tell me you’ve seriously called us here to talk about that stupid bastard.” he said, earning a grunt of agreement from the stormy male perched on the arm rest.

       Doojoon scowled, casting the blonde a stern look of disapproval in his choice of words.

       “Dongwoon’s right, though.” Yoseob chimed, his previously bright expression dropping into one of almost confusion. “What is there to talk about him?”

       “We left him to die, didn’t we? And even if he did manage to crawl off somewhere, with wounds like we left him with, he would have bled out before the night was even half over.” the third member added, finally speaking for the first time that evening. He sighed, shaking his head slowly from left to right before mumbling, “And here I was thinking you had something of actual importance to tell us...”

       “So what’s the point in even bringing him up?” Dongwoon finished, pushing himself off of the cushions so that he was fully standing.

       “Well, Dongwoon,” Doojoon managed to interject, raising his brow in irritation as he spoke, “If you would be so kind as to let me finish, you would know.” He paused. “As I was saying – we all remember our wonderful friend Junhyung. And we all remember the mess he caused us all to get in—“

       The gathered group nodded, more in disgust than anything else.

       “So, I thought you all would love to know that our little friend is very much alive.”

       To that, Yoseob practically choked on whatever spit he had lingering in his mouth, barely managing a, “You’re not serious.”

       “Perfectly serious. Bumped into him and a new...friend, of his in the market. A little bruised and a little sore, but as I said, very much alive.” He concluded.

       Dongwoon nodded once slowly, a spark of recognition dancing over his features. Well, that made at least one of them who understood where he was hinting at, at least.

       “Just what are you suggesting we do, Doojoon?” the blonde questioned nevertheless, probably more for the others than himself.

       Doojoon felt his lips pull upwards, spreading into a smirk in a matter of milliseconds.

       “Well,” he said coyly, “it’s funny that you should ask that. Tell me, how many of you are familiar with the term, ‘Divide and Conquer?’”

       This “checking,” typically consisted of the following. Hyunseung carefully (or at least as carefully as he could manage) peeling back their make-shift bandages, cursing quietly under his breath whenever Junhyung winces as something pulled a little too far in the wrong direction. After the bandaging was completely removed, and the wounds fully exposed, Hyunseung would frown – always and without fail – and rake a hand slowly through his hair. On most days, and days such as this one, he would mutter under his breath about being unsure of what he could do, and would stare at his pitiful box of dwindling supplies. Then, after practically drowning each of the cuts, especially the still worrisome stab wound just below his collar bone, in anti-bacterial gels and liquids, Hyunseung would try his best to cover each of them with one, or maybe even two band-aids.

       During this whole process, Junhyung preferred to look anywhere but at the sheepish brunette, knowing full well that any source of eye-contact during such an…intimate, for lack of a better word, moment, would send the other into a flurry of clumsy and rather painful movements in his embarrassment – Junhyung couldn’t blame him. It had to be awkward tending to another man in such a way – particularly someone that was still a stranger by any definition.

       And, after nearly having Hyunseung’s fingers shoved into his stab wound one too many times, Junhyung had learned to just… look away.

       The deer-boy hadn’t tried to kill him yet, and so far he had managed to avoid giving Junhyung some ghastly infection – so the gangster supposed trusting him with this was the least of his worries. And, within a matter of minutes, said brunette was finishing his task, patting the re-applied bandaging gently in a silent form of communication, before slowly gathering his things and rising to his feet.  Without a word, he set the supplies on the counter just inches away from Junhyung’s left hip before making a small motion with his hands. It was a typical motion for the male, and one that the gangster had learned to interpret as “come with me,” or in instances such as this one, that he was offering to help him. Junhyung nodded, and allowed Hyunseung to help him lower himself from the counter onto the cool kitchen tile.

       Now standing, he reached behind himself, taking up his discarded shirt in his hands and pulling it quickly over his head before even thinking to look back to the brunette, offering him a thin, lopsided grin as thanks.

       To which of course, the brunette only shrugged lightly in response, already caught up in his own agenda – which was apparently food. For before Junhyung could even huff, Hyunseung had breathed out one simple sentence – “Are you hungry?”