Adjusting the shower's temperature, the smaller male lets the steady warm water pouring down from the shower head, filling the large bathtub slowly. Raising his right leg, he steps into the bathtub, directly under the stream of water, soaking him through the silk pajamas. Crouching, the smaller male then wraps both hands around his knee close to the chest. Focusing on the sound of the overflowing water that b at the edge of bathtub and eventually fall onto the marble tiles, he rests his chin on top of the knee and closes his eyes.

       The bandage slowly becomes wet and soggy, yet the designer doesn't attempt to turn off the faucet.

       He shouldn't waste water or energy, but he can't afford to think rational now. He disables the anti-overflow system just before he turns on the shower faucet. However, the system set a limit for thirty minutes - if the bathtub is still overflowing, the system will automatically stops the flowing water from the shower head. And the smaller doesn't realize that there is no water running above his head, anymore.

       Playing with the silver band in his left hand, he pulls the ring slowly from his ring finger. It is the first gift from the lanky male at his twentieth birthday. Although, the smaller male has received the engagement ring during the wedding, he never wears any rings except the metallic silver band with a trace of gold lining in the middle.

       He quite surprised that the lanky male also wears it after all this time. Somehow, that particular thought enrages him that he furiously throws the silver band across the bathroom, hitting the mirror, cracking the glass a bit. The ring then bounces at the impactful momentum, before it hits the tile, spinning several times before it inanimately drops flat on the creamy white surface.

       Every little detail from before comes across his mind and demands his attention - even the kiss.

       Standing up on his wobbly legs, the designer unsteadily steps out from the bathtub before he grabs the purple bathroom that hanging on the wall and wraps it against his frame without changing the drenched pajamas. Stepping outside, he closes the bathroom door behind him; the smaller male walks over to the bed before laying his small body on top of it. His body shivers terribly due to the low temperature of the air conditioner.

       04:30 AM - He then calculates that there is an hour before his alarm clock blares which is enough sleep for him, for the day.



       Instead waiting for the alarm goes off; the designer has wakes up ten minutes early, curling up to his chest and, trembling under the cold. Deciding that he doesn't feel like falling asleep again, he gets out from the fluffy bed, and steps into the bathroom. This time around, he opts for a proper shower.

       Stripping his bathrobe and the wet pajamas, he turns the shower faucet on, his body shudders under the chilly air around the bathroom. He waits for the noise coming from the alarm on the nightstand, outside the bathroom before switching off the faucet. Rummaging through the cabinet in the bathroom, he grabs a white folded bathrobe and wraps it around his body.

       As badly as he wants to call Donghae now, he knows it's too early for the composer to take seriously what he is going to say later. He then tugs the damp bandage and peels the plasters off before dumping them in the waste bin in his room.

       Unconsciously, he walks down the stairs and enters the kitchen. When the realization hits him, he begins to think what breakfast he should fix for his family. After all, he has to free his mind from the ceaseless thoughts that starts to form since he went to bed last time. And cooking is the perfect solution for him right now.



       Mrs. Kim, who slowly pacing her way to the kitchen, stops her track. Her eyes widens slightly at the excessive food on the kitchen countertop. The quite large space is crammed with different styles of breakfast, to the point if one nudges any plates, all the dishes will collide with each other before crashing down to the floor.

       Silently, Mrs. Kim watches the undisturbed young man intently - the male is laying the bacon on the frying pan. Just after the designer is turning off the stove, Mrs. Kim walks behind her son before turning him around and hugging the small frame by his waist. Sliding her hand up and down, she reluctantly backs away from the hugs, hands hold still the shoulder, so that the young male won't run away from her.

       With a small smile, Mrs. Kim whispers, "Thanks for the breakfast, dear."

       Ryeowook, who in a slight confusion, smiles back just before he is being pulled again to his mother's warm embrace. Basking in his mother's warmth, the designer wraps hands around her, a little bit closer, seeking and letting the warmth spread to his cold body.

       They stay like that, until Mr. Kim walks into the scene, and ruins the moments.

       "Isn't it too early to be a little sappy?" And right when Mr. Kim's eyes encounter the plentiful dishes on the kitchen counter top, he returns his gaze at the mother-and-son before slowly walking away from them with a soft voice. "Sorry."

       The designer then slowly releases himself from the embrace and takes a step back but Mrs. Kim is fast enough for the younger male as she yanks her son's arm forward. She then brings her hands on both sides of cheek, eyes searching the young male's brown orbs.

       Softly and fondly, she says, maintaining her gaze on her son, "We're going to stay by your side. So, don't be afraid." Muffles a cry, she caresses his cheek, "I love you, son." Leans closer to the young male, she kisses the young male gently, on his forehead.

       Releasing the young male for real, Mrs. Kim walks over to the kitchen counter top, taking one by one the plates and brings them over to the dining table. She fights with tears that b in the corner of her eyes.

       The designer however, freezes at that one spot. Blankly, he stares at his mother who is walking back and forth between the counter top and the table, carefully handles all the plates. He eventually takes a seat on a stool behind the kitchen counter. He then brings the right hand to his other hand or rather a finger on his other hand, only to be surprised that he's missing something on his ring finger. Standing on his feet, he hastily leaves the kitchen and climbs the stairs to his bedroom.

       Stepping into the bathroom, he takes in the sight of the slight crack on the mirror and the messy, abandoned clothes on the floor. Picking up the clothes, he dumps them in the hamper. Comes across the ring under the piles of the clothes, he reaches for it and washes it under the water before slipping it back on its respective place, the left ring finger. Taking a look at the other hand, the smaller male clearly can see the lines of scratching wound tracing his right palm. He then walks away from the bathroom over to the nightstand, reaching for the antibiotic cream in the kit before sitting down on his bed.

       After done applying it on the scratches, he grabs his phone, calling for Donghae.

       Once the smaller hears groggy voice at the receiving end, Ryeowook exclaims, "Hyung, wakes up!"

       "What do you want? This better be important." The composer's words were slurred.

       "It is important. Pick me up at my parents' house."

       "Your parents' house? Your younger brother is available, right?" In the midst of his hazy mind, it is fortunate for Donghae that his brain still can make an excuse.

       "I still need you so you can drive him back."

       "Hmm..." The composer however, clicks in the information after some silence. "Wait, what happen to you?"

       "...Nothing. You can fetch me right?"

       The composer doesn't exactly believe the younger because Ryeowook is a bad liar and he tends to pause a little when he does such devian deed. Not to mention, he will always look like he will cry when he tries too hard in masking his face that he can't keep his emotions straight.

       "Did you play with your silver band?" And this is also a gesture that the composer acknowledges when the younger attempts to hide something from him.

       "You can fetch me right?"

       "Answer me first," Irritated, the composer demands.

       "I ask you first."

       "Yes, I can. Now, answer me."

       Donghae waits patiently for the response but it becomse too deafening for the composer to bear until he hears a soft whisper, "...If I say no, would you believe me?"

       No - "Alright, I come pick you up at noon okay. Cook lunch for me."  He replies rather quickly.

       Taemin, who is being told later at noon, to drive Ryeowook's car to the talented designer's house, fumes over the fact that Donghae is driving the designer back to the designer' house in his car, in which it also means Ryeowook is going to be in Donghae's car, not with him - his brother, his own flesh and blood.

       "Do you hate me, hyung?" Walking in tow behind his brother, Taemin asks out of blue.

       Spinning around, the designer faces the younger male, surprised with the sudden question. "Why would you say that?"

       "You must hate me right." Passing through the other two males, Taemin paces into the living room and plops down on the sofa. Donghae, who too stunned to move, stops his track at the kitchen doorstep while watching Ryeowook walks calmly to the younger male.

       "I do not hate you, Taemin."

       Raising his head, Taemin stares at his elder brother straight in the eyes. "Then why you refuse my help?"

       "I did not refuse you. I'm asking you to drive my car to my house, didn't I?"

       "True." Averting his eyes, Taemin continues, "But that doesn't mean you don't hate me."

       The designer, however can't seem to understand what has gotten into his younger brother claims, "It's because I do not hate you."

       Ryeowook hates getting angry; drops the entire argument his little brother started earlier. He eyes the younger boy carefully before offering his car key to Taemin.

       "Can we go now?" Taemin not budging an inch stays rooted on the couch. Instead, he shoves the designer's hand a little bit too hard, that the car key flies across the room. Baffled, the designer tries to calm his nerve before attempting to ask the younger boy.

       Crouching, Ryeowook lowers himself to the younger eyes' level, "What's wrong? Look, I'm sorry if I offend you in any way, okay?" Biting his frustration that starts to build within him, the designer asks weakly. "Can we just go already?"

       "And then what?" Abruptly, the younger male rises to his feet. "You're going to let it slide like it never happened?"

       Head starts to pound, leaving the designer breathless. "What I'm going to slide like it never happened?"

       "This! The whole ignoring thing you'd always do whenever something doesn't going according to your plan, just like those years." Curling the fingers up into a ball, Taemin shakily clenches his fist, anger infuriates his whole being, "I'm tired that you always see me after you had a fight with Kyuhyun-hyung. And I'm sick that I only available to you when you think I'm the only one who's going to help you the day after that."

       "I did not have a fight with him. And I'm sorry for ignoring you."

       Snickering, Taemin faces his older brother. "Then explain to me why you refuse the dinner I brought? You know I'm just trying to help you!"

       Ryeowook can't possibly tell the real reason to his younger brother, right? Not when the designer realizes his parents and his grandfather are witnessing the whole argument. Slowly stands to his feet, the talented designer almost knocks himself onto the floor, but he manages to keep himself steady as Donghae who just happens to walk closer to the living room, runs to the designer's side.

       Once he regains the balance, the designer paces towards the younger boy. "I'm really sorry if I keep ignoring you. I never meant to do that." Walking closer to the boy, Ryeowook hugs the latter, albeit the violent struggle coming from the said boy.

       Softly, the designer speaks. "I always know you're going to help me, whatever happens and I know you will continue doing so. Taemin, I do not hate you, not in million years. Just because I refuse your help, doesn't mean I ignore you. Please, can we just stop fighting?"

       Tears fill up the boy's eyes, "I'm sorry. It's hard for me because every time I offer something to you, you give me a cold shoulder and you don't do that to everyone else. I know I should try to be better, so maybe then you can notice me and take me seriously. But, it's hard." Collapsing on the floor, the younger boy drags the designer along with him, tears flow like a fountain, non-stop.

       "I love you hyung, to the point that I always come running to you, even after you disregard my help but then, I'll keep going to you the day after that and I keep doing so, hoping that someday for once, you really accept my help. I tried to stop myself from running to you each time but I can't."

       Sliding his hand up and down against the younger's boy back, Ryeowook silently bites the inside of his cheek, pacifying the boy with the same word 'sorry' all over again without spilling his own tears.

A/N: And so Taemin makes his appearance!