The tension hanging in the silence is suffocating, only the quiet sound of shoes brushing against the pavement daring to linger in the air. Daehyun follows behind his father a good distance away, scratching his neck awkwardly. He hangs his head low as he approaches, less out of remorse and more out of necessity, and he clears his throat.

“Appa,” he tries but Yunho doesn't stop his heavy stride. Daehyun swallows thickly, trying to catch up with his father. “Appa,” he reduces his voice to a whine (nearly vomiting in his mouth) but Yunho doesn't even spare a glance at him. Daehyun knows he's finally crossed the line if his wails don't work on his father. It's something Yunho likes because it somehow gives him the blind hope that his juvenile of a son is still the obedient boy he once cradled. Yes, indeed, Yunho enjoys basking in the belief that Daehyun doesn't vandalise public property or set random things on fire.

“Appa!” Daehyun tugs at his father's sleeve and Yunho roughly pulls his arm away. “Don't you dare touch me,” Yunho growls and narrows his eyes at Daehyun's pout. The boy finally drops the act, eyebrows creasing and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It's not like I did anything wrong,” Daehyun grumbles under his breath and Yunho snaps his head towards him. “You didn't do anything wrong?” Yunho mocks, anger rattling through his voice. “You set the principal's car on fire! How is that not wrong?”

“That junk scrap would have blown up sooner or later,” Daehyun scoffs and raises his hands in surrender when Yunho casts him a death glare. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? I can't help it.”

“Can't help what? Destroying things that aren't yours?” Yunho spits and Daehyun hesitates for a moment, wondering if it'd be a bad idea to agree. Yunho throws him a look, as if daring him too, and Daehyun exhales lengthily.

“I don't know, Appa. I just really felt like doing it.” Yunho clenches his fist and seethes sarcastically, “Oh, of course! It's totally understandable to have the urge to set someone's car on fire, nonetheless your principal's.”

“I know it sounds weird, but yeah, it's something like an urge,” Daehyun answers. Recently, he's been having these strange episodes of seeing red flashing. It usually ends up with something burning. He doesn't mean any harm, it's really more of a spontaneous sort of thing. As though something's pushing him, daring him to.

d nearly opens his mouth to explain but Yunho's glare shuts him up instantly. “You're lucky the principal decided not to press charges.”

Yunho storms up to their apartment, and Daehyun follows behind quietly. Yunho throws open the door and nudges the boy in. “You're grounded,” Yunho snarls and Daehyun gapes back in disbelief. “Until when?”

“Until you learn to stop breaking rules. If I come back home and find you're not here, you will regret it, Jung Daehyun.” Yunho slams the door on his son's face and rubs his temple tiredly. He jabs at his phone and trudges down the stairs, lengthy sigh leaving his lips.

--

“You're always on time, Youngjae-ah.” A cheerful voice floats past Youngjae's ears and the boy flashes back a smile, dismounting his bicycle outside the bakery. He pushes open the door and the scent of freshly baked bread in the air wafts into his nose invitingly. Youngjae hands over the pile of flour and earns a squeeze on the shoulder from the baker.

“How's your grandmother?” She asks, grin wide. “She's doing well, Ahjumma,” Youngjae replies. “How about Yoochun?” The elderly woman asks as she moves away to take the bread out of the oven. Youngjae basks in the sweet smell before answering, “He's been a little busy lately, but other than that, he's fine.”

“That man should take a rest if he's working too hard,” She sighs and beams at the boy. She pushes into Youngjae's arms a box of cream puffs and adamantly clamps Youngjae's fingers on the box when he tries to give it back.

“Take it, Youngjae-ah. You're such a good boy, you must be so tired from all the work you have to do,” she fondly pats the boy's head. “Ah, if only I had a son like you. All Minhyun ever does is play video games,” the baker rolls her eyes and Youngjae chuckles in amusement. Bowing and thanking her for the pastries, Youngjae steps out of the shop. A piece of newspaper is stuck to his shoe and he pulls it off, reading the headline. Uljima High student sets fire to principal's car. Youngjae scoffs at the article, binning it and gets on his bike.

“What an idiot,” Youngjae mutters and cycles back home. A drop of rain pelts Youngjae's knuckles and the boy widens his eyes. He picks up his pace, but realises there's still a long way back to cover and the dark skies don't look too merciful. A drizzle starts, and Youngjae peddles faster. The rain steadily gets heavier, and Youngjae knows he should stop under a shelter and wait for it to clear up, but...

Youngjae turns up at his block completely drenched. He almost misses the feeling of rain against his skin, water seeping down his hair. His bicycle drips of rainwater, leaving a long trail down the corridor.

“Youngjae!” The boy hears a familiar voice calling out to him and he stops in his tracks. Hurried footsteps catch up to him and Yoochun gazes in consternation at the soaked boy. “Good God, what happened to you?”

“I got caught in the rain, hyung.” Youngjae scratches his head, sending the man a sheepish smile. Yoochun frowns and asks, “Why didn't you wait for the rain to stop?” Youngjae stares back at the man, blinking rapidly before shrugging. The older man heaves a sigh, leading the boy into his house.

“Halmeoni,” they greet in unison and Youngjae's grandmother hurries over to Youngjae. She ushers Youngjae into the toilet and hands him a new set of clothes. The boy changes out and readies himself for an earful from grandmother.

“You should have waited for the downpour to stop! Now, you're going to catch a cold,” Youngjae's grandmother chides tenderly as the boy emerges. Yoochun and Youngjae take a seat at the dining table as Youngjae's grandmother cooks up soup for them.

“Halmeoni, Youngjae never gets colds,” Yoochun laughs. The boy takes out the box of cream puffs, only slightly wet thanks to the plastic bag around it, and offers it to Yoochun. “Ahjumma said you shouldn't work so hard,” Youngjae says as Yoochun bites on a cream puff.

“I'm not overworking myself.” Yoochun chuckles before a beeping tone cuts him off. He checks his phone before rising from his seat, and Youngjae throws him a teasing look. “Need to go, hyung?”

“I'll be back soon,” Yoochun says and pats the boy on the head, before bolting out the door.