and i open my eyes and it is today.
at some point, the seasons have changed.

chapter two.

Junhong loved his Fridays, but they never failed to leave a toll on him.

Spending the whole of his night running around town with his brother, laughing and screeching to the high heavens (while Yongguk got red in the face, frantically waving his arms around, trying to keep his brother from making such a huge scene) took a lot out of him. Who could sleep, after all, with a grand overdose of sugar (, spice) and everything nice anyways?

And after, sneaking bags of chips and coke to bed didn’t at all help either. Instead, their together time often ended with Junhong burning out and Yongguk already long gone with a snore resting on his lips.

Their bonding time made sure to keep the lanky teen curled up nice and warm in bed until the lazy afternoons the next Saturday morning, pleading (read commanding) Yongguk to fetch him his breakfast in bed and feed him.

Usually, noon was never too late stay dead in bed, curling in blankets and squealing when his brother came to sit on his stomach, attempting poorly to stir the dead teen to the world.

But of course, there was an exception to everything.

While on a regular Saturday, Junhong may have been still in bed, squeaking every so once in a while for Yongguk to care, that particular day, he sat hunched in the living room sofa, sporting a bedhead competitive to the cracked hairstyles of Japanese animations. A distinct tug turning down his lips ugly, with puffy eyes lazy with sleep, Junhong glared, cursing everything in the world.

Nothing ever went right in his world, in his otherwise blissfully happy world, when Choi Gina was around.

(Never.)

And now, he was aching all over, his muscles complaining at having been overworked just the night prior (he really needed to start working out - or something - if he wanted to be able to keep up with their crazy Friday nights out in the future). Yongguk was probably too. It would have been in everyone’s best interest if the jacked up woman excused herself out of the ChoiBang (Junhong swore his father was in no way related to this crazy one that called herself important) residence.

“Yongguk,” Junhong flinched, “let’s go out today.”

The words were laced with sticky sweet, almost like melted ice cream on a warm summer day out. It made Junhong want to scream, pull out his hair and curse the good lord for having let out such an atrocity into the world as wonderful as theirs.

Gina was batty; not even Junhong laced his words so thick with sugary lust when talking to his brother. She was batty to think that it would work, luring Yongguk out.

(Yongguk reserved his weekends for Junhong and Junhong only.)

“A date, baby, we haven’t gone on a date in absolutely forever.”

Junhong nearly gagged at the ghastly sweet way the words poured out glossed lips. Nearly choked and a hundred (and fifty) percent threw up a little in his mouth. Gross. He shivered.

Really, Junhong wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was doing in the living room, clad in a pair of flimsy pajama bottoms (Superman!) stained a little in coke and dusted nicely over with chip crumbs (he’d never said he was the most neat of them when it came down to lazing around) and a oversized hoodie (Yongguk’s) draped over his slim frame. Surely, he wasn’t jealous of any sort, he knew Yongguk wasn’t as damned to leave Junhong on their promised weekends together, but he was a whole lot of worried. Not for his own sake, but Yongguk’s.

Since the day the woman by the names of Choi Gina had walked into their house, her arms curled and tucked around his brother’s arm, Junhong had known something was absolutely wrong with her. He’d never quite found it right, how her eyes never seemed to scrunch awkwardly in the way his did (how her lips didn’t form awkward arches when forcing a smile because their mother had indirectly - accidentally, she meant no harm! - insulted her hair dyed color).

There was something definitely something wrong with the woman.

And it took Junhong perhaps the whole of five meetings to figure out what exactly it had been that had bothered him upon their first meet.

Choi Gina - completely unrelated to the Choi Seunghyun that Junhong called his father - was a witch.

(Junhong dared anyone to call him childish for thinking witches really existed, because he didn’t. Witches didn’t exist, but Gina did - which was a thousand times worse, in his opinion.)

He nearly had all the proof it would have taken in the past Salem Witch Trials to send the woman to be hung and burned at the stake. But unfortunately, in the twenty fourth century, “we don’t burn innocent woman out of the blue, Junhong.”

(The woman had his father put under a spell, Junhong was sure.)

And the only other person that seemed quite immune to the nonsense that was Choi Gina was Junhong. Even their mother, who always had something negative to point out (she wasn’t at all mean, she was just very observative) about everyone, seemed to like Gina.

So Junhong had put it up to himself to save Yongguk from the wrath of Gina, the witch.

That - he had to remind himself as he sat half asleep on the lumpy sofa -, was why Junhong was awake now, several hours far too early for it to be considered morning for the lazy teen (but who was he kidding, it was already far past ten, ranging close to the hours of noon). He was playing guard dog, to protect his gullible older brother, keeping that safe barrier up and making sure Gina couldn’t out all the human of Yongguk’s soul.

Yongguk was naive, someone who couldn’t differ left from right.

(Yongguk was a real idiot sometimes.)

“You know I can’t Gina,” was Yongguk’s reply to the sugar coated offer (take that Gina), “I told you I was going to stay back at home today and watch Junhong today.”

“But why,” she seemed to huff, bloating her powdered cheeks. “Yongguk, Junhong is fifteen. Don’t you think you’re choking him a little? Kids his age want to be able to run outside and play with friends of his own age! Aren’t I right?”

Gina turned to Junhong, her hair swiping a little at Junhong’s nose when she turned - why was he even sitting next to her, ugh -, as if expecting him to excitedly nod out to her so-called logic. He didn’t. He stared, frowning and glaring.

(Gina made sure to figure the constipated look Junhong offered her.)

“He’s still my baby brother, Gina.” Yongguk’s voice was firm (Junhong 2, Gina zilt), offering no room for disagreement. “I told you I’d go out with you on Monday, when mom was home.”

There was many cases as to where Junhong full on argued that he’d grown up enough to considered an adult (or at least a young adult), but this wasn’t one of them. He could be forever a baby if it meant having Yongguk cuddle him up in arms and love.

“But,”

“No buts.” Again was the hard look in Yongguk’s eyes. It was obvious he didn’t want any argument to his statement. His mind was set. “I’ll get you something you drink instead, you can stay here, but I’m not leaving, alright?”

The witch woman sighed, but seemed to come in terms with the agreement.

“Now what would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice,” she paused, just a bare graze of a second, before continuing, a sharpened finger stuck in air, “no pulp, love, you know how I don’t like pulp in my orange juice.”

Junhong thought Gina should shut up and just drink whatever she was offered.

But Yongguk was nice, and not Junhong. He smiled and stood up, reaching over to pet the pouting woman on her head fondly and kissing her once on the top of her head, promising he’d be just one second.

(Junhong frowned. Yongguk didn’t ask what Junhong wanted.)

And, again unfortunately, Gina attempted at conversation while the older brother was gone. A sad ploy to get the younger brother in her jinxed grasp. One that wouldn’t work, not while Junhong was still smart.

“So, Junhong?” Her smile was again sick, curling up bright in a way Junhong was sure wasn’t natural. Surgery, he was positive. “How was your day so far?”

“Alright.”

He always offered short, one or two worded answers whenever he absolutely was forced to talk to the woman (because it would be rude if he ignored her; Yongguk hated rude people). Technically, he did answer, just never enough to offer a way to continue the conversation.

“What did you do?”

“What does it look like?” There was a dumb look in the woman’s eyes and Junhong sighed. She was dumber than she looked (which was saying something). “I slept.” Rolling his eyes, Junhong gestured to his outfit, scraping the words off his tongue with surprisingly high patience.

At this - perhaps she understood now that she was being insulted -, Gina stopped smiling, her glossed lips forming a soft ‘o’ before shutting. Perhaps if Yongguk didn’t enter then and there with Gina’s orange juice (in their mother’s pretty mug, the one that she used to have her morning coffees in before Gina came in and contaminated it with her ugly), she might have exploded all over Junhong.

Boy Junhong was glad for Yongguk’s amazing sense of timing.

Excitedly reaching his arms out for his brother upon his return, Junhong made a sort of noise as Yongguk smiled and came to sit by him, letting the younger curl up against him in a way Gina probably should have as his girlfriend. Yongguk didn’t seem to care though, and Junhong again considered this his win.

(Junhong 3, Gina a big fat ugly zero.)

“Why’d you come so early, Gina? You should have called me or something.”

Junhong agreed. Perhaps then, he would have had time to gear up in anti-Gina gear instead of left unprotected in thin pajama bottoms and a messy bedhead to boot. He didn’t want to be seem unguarded by the blast woman; there wasn’t a point to showing her a state of weakness.

“But Yongguk,” Junhong again gagged - mentally, because it’d be rude to cut her off - at the cooing that should definitely not have come from a grown twenty two year old’s lips, “I missed you!”

“You saw him two days ago.”

Junhong’s eyes narrowed and so did Gina’s.

“Oh you don’t understand my pain,” she seemed to huff, “you get to see him every day, but I don’t. He seems to think that studying is better than his girlfriend sometimes.”

(Yongguk got this apologetic look on his face and shooted just a tad closer to Gina, opening an arm for the woman to crawl in. And Junhong wasn’t sure whether to consider this his win or loss. Curse it.)

“Sorry, baby,” Yongguk sighed, flicking a strand of his girlfriend’s hair between his index and thumb, “you know I get distracted with work sometimes.” And then he smiled, at Gina and not at Junhong. “Forgive me?”

“You know I can’t stay mad at you for long, love.”

Gina was squealing like a pig - not even a pretty one at that - and Yongguk got this goofy look on his face. They kissed (first on Gina’s hand, her finger, her cheek and slowly escalating to her lips), several times, cooing and all the sudden Junhong felt so very uncomfortable sitting.

He was - god damn it - right there for Christ’s sake.

He cleared his throat.

“Yongguk, I’m hungry,” Junhong announced, as if just at an attempt to separate the couple. He wasn’t sure just how much more of face he could handle before wanting to swipe the kitchen knife to crack into Gina’s skull.

And he was trying really hard to play nice.

In the next second, the teenager was already up on his feet, tugging childishly at his older brother’s shirt shoulder, letting out a series of obnoxious whines to be heard over the squealing of the witch. It was a good thing he did too, because otherwise, Gina might have witchcrafted Yongguk’s soul right out of him.

The look on his brother’s face was a mix between apologetic and sheepish, untangling himself from his girlfriend’s arms to stand up, smoothing out his clothes and clearing his throat. He’d apparently forgotten he had his underaged younger brother in the same room as they.

“Sorry.”

Junhong couldn’t believe Yongguk had forgotten about him.

As an apology, Yongguk swiped his arm around Junhong’s waist, pulling him to a one armed hug, his other hand looping around the younger boy’s shoulders to ruffle the dark locks. “Forgive me?” He got maybe all of a garbled, it’s okay, back.  

Junhong’s head was tilt down, chin pressing up against his chest with Yongguk’s warm palms squishing his cheeks, and a sweet kiss to the top of his head. “Gosh, when did you get so tall?” (You could hear the pride in his voice at that.) Pulling from the sweet gesture with a final ruffle of hair and a second kiss, this time to the cheek, Yongguk mentioned something of making fried rice before shuffling over toward the kitchen, a disgruntled Gina following hot on his trails.

“Yongguk, Junhong’s too old for kisses like that!”

Junhong rolled his eyes. No one was too old for kisses.

“No, he isn’t. He’s my baby brother, Gina.”

(The exhaust was all the sudden too clear in Yongguk’s voice. It was obvious Gina’s shrill voice didn’t only just bother Junhong - Yongguk was just too nice to admit it.)

“He’s in middle school. Middle schoolers don’t go around kissing their older brothers. Don’t he have friends? You’re probably smothering him.”

Replacing himself on the couch, flicking on the tv in vain hopes that it’d drown out Gina’s ing (impossible), Junhong scrunched his nose. Gina was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She couldn’t have been any more wrong than she was now.

“Gina,” if in the seconds prior, a steady rhythmic chop of their kitchen knife was sounded against their cutting board, it now stopped, bringing a sort of eerie silence to their house (given exception the tv gently buzzing and Yongguk’s sigh sounding ever so louder than usual), “please go wait out in the living room with Junhong.”

Junhong 3, Gina - nada.

There was a huff (Junhong could practically visualize the scrunched up way Gina’s face would go whenever Yongguk - though it was rare - didn’t go her way) and stomping of feet (“Gina, please don’t stomp, our downstairs neighbor has a kid in third year high school. You know how important it is for them to get their peace and quiet.”) before Junhong was joined in the living room. This time, he smiled back, though it might have come off as mocking.

“Hi Gina,” he cooed, his left lip curled so obviously to a mocking grin. “Didn’t want to company Yongguk with the vegetables?”

The woman scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest with a roll of eyes, seating herself on the center sofa, but as far away as she could from the baby brother.

“I honestly don’t understand your brother. I mean, you want to go out and play with friends your age too, don’t you? He should stop being so overprotective.”

He rolled his eyes. The kids his age were stupid (except Changhyun, Changhyun was a godsend). It was so much more fun to play with Yongguk than the five year olds in overgrown bodies he was forced to call classmates. Who the hell was Gina kidding?

“Don’t you have anything better to do than try and out my brother’s soul?”

“Excuse me?”

Here, Junhong could nearly swear her eyes fell out of their sockets. In fact, he was a little upset it didn’t; at least then, Gina would have somewhat interesting to look at.

“Nothing,” he smiled, sickeningly, turning back to his tv to flip through the channel once more.

His words would be wasted on her anyways. Gina was too stupid to understand.

“I honestly don’t know why you’re so mean to me, Junhong,” the woman sniffed - Junhong winced, god damn it, she’d better not start crying. “I haven’t done anything bad to you, have I? What did I do wrong? I just wanted to be friends with you.”

She started crying then, starting off small as tiny hiccups and sniffs, soon escalating to drawn out wails and tears the size of mini-vans pouring from her make-up smudged eyes. And Junhong did try to stop her from crying, jumping out of his seat and awkwardly flopping his arms around and spitting (hopefully) positive words her way (“Stop crying, you look uglier when you cry.” - that meant that she looked better when she wasn’t crying black tears, didn’t it? It was meant in a positive light, sort of).

Apparently though, his words had her sob a little louder, raking harsh trembles down her shoulders and body, wailing sorrowfully like a baby whose lollipop had just been stolen.

And it wasn’t long until Yongguk made his reappearance, a spatula in hand and eyes thrown wide, looking between Junhong and Gina.

“Junhong!”

The mentioned boy winced. Because it wasn’t his fault, not this time.

Gina had started crying on her own.

He hadn’t said anything bad. Not this time, at least.

“What did you do?”

But Yongguk didn’t seem to care anyways, his voice stiff and eyes on fire. He had, after all, warned his baby brother that he wouldn’t forgive him the next time Junhong made Gina cry.

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything!”

Yongguk was greatly misunderstanding, and stupid Gina wouldn’t say anything to clear the misunderstanding, sobbing a little more between the two brother’s conversation and clinging onto the fabric of Yongguk’s shirt when the older brother approached, pulling her close. “H-he didn’t do anything, baby. I’m sorry, it’s a-all my fault. I-I shouldn’t have come at all to-today!” And again came the drawn wails.

“See!”

Junhong really didn’t see what was the problem. Gina herself had said that it was all her fault. So why did Yongguk glare so hard at him, as if Junhong had just killed someone right in front of his eyes. As if Junhong had something something so terrible, it couldn’t be undone.

Gina was stupid and Yongguk was even stupider.

“Let’s go Gina. Junhong can sit out alone until he decides to stop being a spoiled brat.”

His voice gave out then, jaw dropping in disbelief. Yongguk was ditching him. He was leaving him behind for stupid Gina.

(Junhong had won all their games today and with this one stupid battle, he’d lost.

Junhong 3, Gina 1.

And yet, Gina got the final prize. Why?)

The last Junhong saw of Yongguk was as he pulled his girlfriend out by the waist, shushing her sobs and wiping blobs of tears with the heels of his palm. He pushed Gina’s hair back, tucking them behind her ears and out of her eyes, just as he would have done for Junhong when the boy’s hair grew too long. It should have been Junhong in Yongguk’s arms now, not Gina.

Stupid Yongguk.

Stupid Gina.

Junhong just couldn’t find himself to care, or forgive, even when Yongguk crawled into his bed at the crack of dawn, returning home smelling awful of alcohol and smoke.

“Sorry Junhong. Your brother is so very, very sorry.

“Forgive me?”