10.

Life was life; and with life being so … … pleasant recently, my meetings with Kyuhyun had long since gone ignored. At least, until he’d caught me by the arm, red handed, ordering coffee from Yongguk at his work.

So maybe ordering coffee from a shop nearby (lucky that part timer Kyuhyun warned had quit a while back) hadn’t been such a brilliant idea.

(But it wasn’t like I knew he was following me around. Talk about stalker.)

He almost gave me a heart attack.

Though, admittedly, it was amusing watching Yongguk’s eyes go wide in confusion. To him, Kyuhyun was just another customer; it made no sense to Yongguk why some random customer was coming at me with stern eyes and lips pulled to a harsh line.

By the time Kyuhyun had wrapped his arms around my wrist - me screeching a little in surprise - Yongguk had jumped across the counter, hands waving awkwardly in panic. He wasn’t allowed to rough hand the customer, but at the same time, said customer was endangering me (my sanity and all).

“What the , Kim Himchan?”

I almost laughed, honestly, when Kyuhyun began hissing at me, pinching my upper arm (with me whimpering and all). Kyuhyun never cursed - not so often in front of me anyways, he wasn’t allowed to show me his weaknesses (which everyone knew was his short temper). And maybe if it weren’t the fire burning in his eyes, I might have actually laughed in his face, laughed until my sides split in giggles.

“W-wait are you going here?”

Embarrassing as it was, I was squeaking, tugging away from his biting grip. All that was in my mind at that particular moment was getting away. Kyuhyun was embarrassing me.

But Yongguk took my struggling as something different, pulling me out from Kyuhyun’s grip and placing me behind his back protectively (talk about manly - cough).

(And, , the look that crawled on Kyuhyun’s face was one for the records - too bad I didn’t have a camera on me.)

Yongguk’s hands and clenched into a fist as he shielded me from Kyuhyun’s glare, stepping in the place just between the two of us with his brows pulled down to what I supposed was supposed to be scary. Cute. And if I didn’t stop him, a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, I’d have thought that Yongguk would clear a fist straight through Kyuhyun’s face.

All too deservingly too.

But that would cost Yongguk’s job.

That was when the giggles really came.

“Ch-chill, it’s fine.” I snickered between laughs, shaking my head and pulling Yongguk a step further back - putting as much distance as subtly possible between Kyuhyun and us. “He’s my school counselor.”

And the way Yongguk’s face scrunched up only had me grabbing at my sides in a fit. He didn’t get it, did he?

Swiping my tongue over lips, I tried a different approach. Almost as if I were talking to Junhong, and not Yongguk (because it wouldn’t be a lie to say that the two ran on the same code), “He’s a good guy.”

That’s when the frown and burrow of brows cleared away, brown stripes above his head lifting off to a curious arch. He turned automatically to Kyuhyun, folding down a ninety degrees while mumbling out his sincere apologies. I had to pull him straight up. Yongguk had no reason to be apologizing to Kyuhyun; it was Kyuhyun’s fault, not his.

Yongguk had no reason to be sorry.

Patting my friend’s back reassuringly, glaring at Kyuhyun until he nodded out a quiet “It’s alright,” - because Yongguk would never let it go until he heard those words - I pushed him back behind the counter, shaking my head and giving his head a final pat.

For a second, it was almost like in the past, back when nothing particularly mattered. When the most important thing in life had been winning the sports festival and winning those twelve boxes of pizza. Even back then, Yongguk had been a tad protective over me and a whole bunch of our friends. He was, in a way, like a guard dog, ears perked and on high alert; my own little - not so little - rottweiler.

(It was a nice flash to the past.)

“You have another job after this, right?” He nodded. (I frowned.) “Well, remember to eat, alright? I’ll see you back at home.”

Making little waves good bye, I let Kyuhyun glare at me judgingly before turning away and toward a nearby building - his office. And grudgingly, I followed.

“Who’s he?”

Catching the door just before it closed in my face, I followed Kyuhyun into his tiny office - more like a sort of one room for the more rich college students - area, kicking off my shoes before he had a chance to rat me out. I offered him a glare of my own, but otherwise remained free from nagging, slumping down into a couch placed on the right of the room.

“Who’s who?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

The stiff of his voice didn’t really give me any room to argue.

“Bang Yongguk, age twenty one,” I droaned out lazily, kicking my feet into the hardwood below. “Middle and high school friend. Currently a barista, a photo studio assistant, cashier and a burger flipper. Though, he could have picked up a few more jobs while I wasn’t paying attention. Oh and my current roommate.”

Finishing up, I lifted a brow at him, shooting a mute look: “Any more questions?”

He hummed appropriately, nodding. “Your hypothetical friend?”

I scoffed.

“Hypothetical means that they don’t exist Kyuhyun.”

I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t about to fall for his lame attempts at making me open up.

(He’d have to work harder for that - he was getting paid to talk and listen. Easiest job in the world, if I say so myself.)

And he nodded in turn, shifting the files that lay screwed up across his desk. I mentioned that he needed to learn to clean up after himself better and earned a sharp glare. He told me to watch my mouth before my so-called roommate returned home to a forever empty house.

Kyuhyun gave had to reject offers.

(I shut up.)

“So,” after a while of talking, my jaw burned from the excess exercise. Usually, my job didn’t require me to talk so much; Junhong usually did all the talking to cover up for me as well. But apparently in the weeks we hadn’t met up, I’d missed a lot of filling my private counselor in. “How have you been doing?”

He didn’t so easily let me slide the question over to him, looking up from his notes (this was feeling uncomfortably closer to being a psychology session than my usual session) - the yellow pad kind that all good psychologists on television had - to give me a simple look. The look told me that he wasn’t going to answer me.

“Oh come on, I’ve been doing all the talking today. You haven’t even thrown any of your wise cracks at me.”

It was borderlining scary by this point.

Usually, on a regular basis, by the third minute of our session, Kyuhyun would have me spitting back curses at his snide comments and going complete red in the face. I’d yet to snap or flush a total red.

It was weird.

“You’ve changed.” Sighing, rubbing his fingers across his forehead to smooth out the wrinkles that had formed (he’d gotten so much older in the two years he’d known me). “You showed absolutely no progress of getting better from your usual grouch and all the sudden, poof.” With the unprofessional sound, he dropped his pad onto his lap, spraying his hands out in a poof motion. “You change, just like that. It’s been, what, a few weeks at best?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, frowning. I didn’t get it. What was he trying to get at?

“Is that a good thing?”

He shook his head. “Yes. No. Maybe? I’m not sure, Himchan.

“You come to a session asking about being a single father one day and the next, you’re acting like you’ve found enlightenment. You haven’t whined a single time about coffee today since you came.”

He regarded me carefully, ducking his chin and giving me a funky look. I didn’t like that look; made me feel like an animal in a zoo.

“Well, think of it as a good thing, because,” a text message, “I have to go.”

Standing up, stretching my arms and legs (feeling needles pinch at the hike of my feet), I gave him a little wave, ignoring the queer (the thousandth in a single day - my daily dose) look he shot me.

“Unlike you,” he glared, “I’m actually busy, you know?”

(Apparently, he didn’t think this was so funny.)

Ducking out with a quick farewell, I stuffed on my shoes, wrinkling the heel of my Jordans (how unfortunate) and turning back to my phone to write out a reply to the message that’d rescued me from having a lengthy conversation on what could possibly be wrong with me.

TO: KIM HIMCHAN

Help! I forgot to bring candy

& left my wallet in my room!

Yifan’s going to kill me!

Junmyun would never understand if I’d told him that simple message had been what saved me from an hour long conversation.

TO: KIM JUNMYUN

Himchan to the rescue!

Meeting me in front of the store.

The store was a small store by the kindergarten Junhong and I’d hunted down while on a evening walk. A little old grandma ran it on her own, her grandson (Taehyung, if I remembered correctly) helping out when his school let out - a sweet kid, minus the fact that he had Junhong got into a weird face competition every time they met. The grandma there would always give Junhong extra candy and had over the days come to recognize Junmyun and Yifan from the days we brought them with.

(Though Taehyun didn’t get as well along with Yifan as Junhong did.)

Within give or take ten minutes, Junmyun and I’d met up at the store, where he was already chatting it up with Taehyun - the little old lady had gone out for a bit to grab snacks for her grandson - when I arrived. Taehyun greeted me brightly enough, waving his arm wildly and sticking his hand out expectantly for the candy money.

“Four thousand won please!”

“What were you guys talking about?”

The walk from the store to Junhong and Yifan’s kindergarten was only perhaps a total of five minutes - a little more, if we dragged our feet, which was exactly what Junmyun was doing - but it still felt long without a steady conversation flowing. Not that that was too big a problem for us.

We met everyday, minus the weekends, but never seemed to run out of things to talk about.

He was the sort of person that made everyone feel comfortable.

(So given his mood was alright and Yifan hadn’t sent him halfway to hell earlier that morning.)

“Yifan and I were talking the other night,” the smile on Junmyun’s face was gone by now, replaced by this queer press of lips. And I felt the need to pull my arms around him; because whenever his sentences started with Yifan, nothing was ever good. “He asked me if I knew Santa.”

I blinked. Once, twice and a third time. “That’s cute, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t see the problem.

Or was he telling me something good about his baby cousin for once?

Junmyun was shaking his head, flopping his untamed brown hair around. “He said he wanted a little brother.” I still didn’t see the problem. “He wants a little brother, Himchan.”

By then, Junmyun was shaking me, going a little wild in the eyes. Weakly, he glanced between me and the little demon reincarnate, shaking his head and heaving out a huge sigh. Junmyun looked at least twenty years older, that particular minute.

“I don’t need another Yifan. I don’t think I’ll be able to live with another Yifan in my life.”

(It took all I had to hold back a snort and giggle.

They were a classic Tom and Jerry combo.)

By the time we’d arrived to pick up our kids - not literally our kids, but … oh never mind - there only remained the usual five or six, the kids whose parents were usually busy and came later in the afternoon. Junhong and Yifan included, they sat around a clump of legos, casually chatting over the colorful block pieces like old ladies over tea and coffee.

“Hey, Ju-,” before I got out his name, a hand was clamped over mine, Junmyun’s. with a smile, he hushed me, urging me closer into hearing range of the knitting lego circle.

“Just listen for a second.”

I blinked, lifting a brow, but nodded anyways.

I mean, it couldn’t hurt.

“Mommy said that the easter bunny’s coming soon.” There was a girl, long brown hair and wide cat like eyes that housed what I’d only describe as curiosity. “She’s gonna hide chocolate eggs all over the house.”

A scoff. That was definitely Yifan. “The easter bunny’s a he stupid.”

“Whatever. She’s a bunny. Bunnies are girls.”

The two seemed to have sorts of a glare off, frowning and sending invisible dagger straight at each other’s throat until a tinier girl, pale and fragile, squeaked. “Kris, you said you saw Santa before, didn’t you?” It was obvious the girl was trying to break up the two’s fight. “What is he like?”

That seemed to put a quick stop to the argument, Yifan’s eyes lighting up at the chance to brag.

(Children will be children.)

“I did see Santa.” The smile on his lips was the biggest I’d ever seen it go. “He was puttin’ boxes under the tree and stuffin’ candies in my stocking.”

The kids seemed to give a precious gasp, inching closer to get a better account on what happened.

“Did’ya go up and talk ta’ him?”

“No, but he wasn’t fat like everyone says he is. He was skinny.” Yifan made a shape with his hand, going straight down in a stripe motion to describe Santa’s size. “He wears jeans. And a red sweatshirt!”

Again, little gasps echoed around the children.

(Save Junhong, who seemed to give a little frown and turn down to the lego figure - I think it was supposed to be a dinosaur - in his hands.)

“He poked mommy a few times on the stomach. I think he knows that mommy likes to steal my candies.”

And here was when not laughing became an awful too hard. Junmyun and I broke out laughing, shocking the gathered kids. In a matter of seconds, Yifan was over kicking Junmyun in the shin and flushing a bright red in the face calling his cousin all the bad names his five year old mind could.

If Yifan got any stronger, I was pretty sure Junmyun would have to start wearing shin guards in the mornings and afternoons. Lucky for me, Junhong didn’t believe in participating in violent activities - he was a pacific, like his dad.

Before Yifan has a chance to kick me for laughing too, I wave Junmyun off, giving him a quick hug and smile. (And a mute good luck. He’d need it.)

With hands swinging between us, Junhong and I were headed home, him keeping a light banter between us and describing his day at school.

“So, so, so,” he still hadn’t broken his repeating habit, “Kris brought a dollie a … …” He scrunched his nose in thought, mouth wiggling to pronounce the word properly, “Elfaka,” alpaca, I take. Nodding twice, he continued, giving my hand a little squeeze. “And he named him Ace, but Jinri said that Ace was a she cause Ace is cute. So Ace should be something pretty like Victoria. But then Kris got mad cause Ace is his friend.”

He frowned, pausing (stopping his feet too) to take in a huge gulp of much needed breath.

(“You have to breathe while you talk Junhong.”)

“So Kris pushed her and Jinri started cryin’. And, and Soojung got mad and stuff at Kris and, and Kris told her to shut up and Junhong told Kris that shut up isn’t a nice word, that shut up is a bad word and Kris told Junhong to shut up too!”

(My head swam a little from the pressed run-on sentence, nodding diligently and attempting to make sense.)

“Did you cry, Junhong?”

He frowned, looking down at his shoes for a second before looking back up at me. “No.” He did. “But Kris hugged me an’ said that he was sorry.”

I laughed. Couldn’t help it, it was cute.

Pulling my hand from Junhong’s grasp for just a second, I ruffled his hair with a snicker. He whimpered from his screwed hair, stopping me with both his hands wrapped around mine, but smiled back anyways.

“You did a good job Junhong.”

Because what he did, was probably something that not even Junmyun would have been able to do.

Who would’ve known that you could talk back to Yifan without getting a fist to the face (or in Junmyun’s face, a kick to his shin).

Brightening up, Junhong nodded brightly to my compliment, taking my hand back in his, walking on with his hair still crumbled and a smile on his face. His little banter about his day never paused once, even if he repeated his story a couple times in our fifteen minute duration of walk.

At home that night, he ate well, sitting properly at the dining table and finishing his bowl before smiling back at me and asking for desert. For sure, today was one of his rare good days - better than just good, amazing. And just because he’d been a joy the whole day, I granted him his wish, stacking our used dishes in the sink for later washing before scooping out a small bowl of ice cream and strawberries.

(Yongguk didn’t know I gave him ice cream, but what he didn’t know, wasn’t going to kill him.)

Until his dad came home, we rolled around the living room, not bothering with the blankets until the clock struck nine, as we did every day. He got the pillows and I pulled apart the blankets, tossing them, per usual, in a fort in the middle of the living room floor. I don’t know why I bothered clean it up in the mornings, before taking Junhong to school, if we were just going to bring it back at nights.

Like always, Junhong refused to go to sleep until Yongguk came home, and I didn’t bother try and bargain with him. Like Yongguk, Junhong was stubborn as a bull, if not more.

Even with his eyes drooping shut every few seconds, he slapped himself awake, being the first one to run to the front door with a squee when he heard the door click open.

“Daddy!”

Yongguk was home.

Grunting and crawling out of the blankets, I followed Junhong with a smile, putting on a fake pout and whine when Yongguk passed Junhong a bag of jelly beans. “What, nothing for me?”

He rolled his eyes and smiled back.

But it didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did.

(Something was off.)

“What’s up, big boy? Need a hug?”

Following him with a of head, I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his shoulders as we used to as younger. And like in the past, he twist back his head slightly, leaving just enough space for me to nuzzle against the provided space with a little hum.

He sighed though, different from my memories.

“We got a new part timer today at work.”

I snorted.

“What, does this mean that you bullied the poor little newbie out of his lunch money then?”

It was a joke. It was meant to be a joke.

So when Yongguk didn’t laugh with me, I had to state it out loud with a frown, poking him lightly in the gut. Why wasn’t he laughing?

“It means that they don’t need a silly kid who never even graduated from high school anymore.”

a/n: uh. i'm usually really upped and happy when i make updates.

but. i've been feeling whole lots of down lately.

so yeah.

no update next week and maybe the week after.

i'll mention via twitter whether i will or not. enjoy.