A month before the end of his world, Kyungsoo awoke to the smell of dark coffee and the feeling that something was terribly wrong with it.

When he stepped down into the kitchen, the feelings of intense wrongness multiplied. Luhan was nursing a small bone-china tea cup. On the opposite side of the warm kitchen, Yixing was gently stirring the boiling contents of his saucepan with a bright orange spatula. With his other hand, he was scratching absently behind his head, a soft song gently humming in his throat. Kyungsoo watched with a sort of morbid fascination as Yixing set down the orange spatula to empty a can of brightly colored sprinkles into the dark brown brew, which, from the smell, was definitely coffee. 

“Please stop,” Kyungsoo said, something inside of him dying a little at the smell of burned sugar smothered in overcooked coffee beans.

Luhan set down his cup to smile crookedly. "You're late this morning, pup," he cooed, beckoning Kyungsoo closer, "Come give your Lu-ge a hug!". Kyungsoo edged into his seat, pointedly ignoring the red haired man-child sitting across the table from him. 

Luhan pouted, ('What self-respecting man lets himself pout? 'Kyungsoo wondered) and the corners of his lips turned downwards in hurt.  "Why are you so mean to me?" he whined, "I raise you and feed you and hug you and this is what I get in return?"

"Your decisions in life are not my problem."

"Here you are," Yixing interrupted, gently setting down a porcelain plate onto the little table. Around the border, a string of yellow, painted ducks looked blearily outward in an expression that leaned towards perpetually high. In the middle of the plate, a pile of bacon crackled, still hot from the frying pan. Kyungsoo watched, stone-faced, as Luhan gleefully upended a jar of peanut butter onto the greasy meat and mixed it in, sending bits of bacon flying outward. 

"Please be more careful, Lu-ge," Yixing said pleasantly as a streak of grease and peanut butter flew into his hair. 

Luhan rolled his eyes and flicked his fingers casually, a practiced ease evident in the movement. Something shifted in the room and Kyungsoo thought he felt a sudden throb in his heart, the feeling not exactly pleasant. He looked up just as Yixing grabbed Luhan's hand between his own, fingers tight and expression unreadable. Luhan looked at Yixing with a half-amused, half-challenging face, one eyebrow quirked upwards. Slowly, Yixing let go of his brother's hand, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"As I said, Lu-ge," he repeated softly, "please be careful. There are other people in this room who might not appreciate your behavior."

"Relax," Luhan said airily, picking up his fork to stuff some corrupted bacon into his mouth, "itsh awwl fine."

Yixing let out a sound between a sigh and a grumble and pulled down his apron, settling into the empty seat between the two of them. "How are you this morning puppy?" he said gently, a mellow smile on his face, "Did you sleep well? Don't let the heathen over there bother you sweetheart."

Kyungsoo answered stiffly before turning back to his own plate, a slow, subtle tension churning in his stomach as he tried to swallow the crumbly meat.  

The grease stain that had matted Yixing's hair was gone. But he was sure that he had seen no one clean it off.

~~~

It wasn't as if it was the first time something strange had happenned. Luhan and Yixing attracted eccentricity like magnets, their habits bordering on the ridiculous. Kyungsoo had grown used to the unholy food recipes Yixing cooked up, and Luhan's constant nagging for affection. He had long stopped caring about the strange state of their clothes and the forest of fabric monstrosities lurking in the back of their closet.

Really, what self-respecting human being wears a jacket decked out in giant dinner plates? 

And during the times when they disappeared once a month and left him with Jongdae, he'd even stopped asking them why. But that didn't mean he was particularly happy about it.

“But I thought you liked playing with me,” Jongdae whined from where he was perched on top of his pastel purple sheets.

“It’s not that I don’t like being here Jongdae,” Kyungsoo mumbled, watching Yixing and Luhan's embarassingly cute volkswagen drive off into the distance. 

“Your cute little pouty face is telling me a different story.”

Jongdae ducked as a purple Rilakkuma came sailing through the air aimed at his head.

“I just hate feeling like I need to be dumped once a month,” Kyungsoo muttered, “like they need a break from babysitting me. I don’t need-”

“You don’t need to be treated like a child. Got it. But while you’re being babied, we might as well take advantage of it,” Jongdae grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “What goodies did they leave you with this time?”

“It’s like they think bribing me makes it all better,” Kyungsoo grumbled as he rummaged through the bag Yixing had left with him an hour earlier. He pulled out a small plastic bag half full of something amber and shiny and another filled with a crumbly pastry. He threw the first bag onto Jongdae’s bed and then sourly ripped open the second for himself.

“What is this?” Jongdae asked incredulously as he examined one of the dark amber shards in his palm. He popped the piece into his mouth and chewed loudly. He choked a little as he swallowed.

“Sugar covered jerky,” Kyungsoo mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs, “Yixing used up half a bag of sugar making this last night.”

“Has anyone told you lately that your family is weird?” Jongdae said as he chewed on another mouthful of the sweet, crunchy bits, “I mean, your mom’s cooking is amazing, but this is too much carnivore even for me.”

“He’s not my mother,” Kyungsoo sighed as he tossed the other half of his food at Jongdae.

“He raised you. No one takes care of me like this.” Jongdae mumbled, Kyungsoo’ leftover cake stuffed in his mouth. His eyebrows quirked upwards in confusion as he chewed.

“Is this bacon in the icing Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo ignored the question and stretched out on the thick carpet of Jongdae’s bedroom floor. He played with the loose strands, the soft woolly threads tickling his fingers.

For awhile, they both fell into a companionable quiet. Kyungsoo to his side to look through the single window adorning Jongdae’s snug bedroom. The sky outside was tinged with the beginnings of dusk, soft orange and violet glowing on the edges of the horizon. A pale, full moon watched from overhead, it’s pallor ashen in the twilight sky.

“Did you finally stop?” Jongdae said quietly, "Asking I mean?"

Kyungsoo sniffed, uncurling from his hunched up position on the carpet to face the ceiling of Jongdae’s room. In the fading dark, his form was tense and brooding. 

"...Yes," he said softly, "If they want to go off once a month and sell drugs or assasinate people for the mafia or whatever it is they do out there, then that's their business."   

"If they don't want to tell me the truth about it, then that's that."

Jongdae was quiet, something like disappointment in his face.

"They're your family," he said at last, "family doesn't do this to each other." 

Kyungsoo grunted. "They found me on the side of the street. We're not real family." 

"For some not 'real-family', they do the whole putting-up-with-your- thing really well."

"Jongdae..."

"Don't Jongdae me," Jongdae mocked, "Who was embarrassing himself on my doorstep for an entire half hour saying goodbye and trying to cuddle you to death? Who calls me all weepy at three o'clock in the morning when you've had a fight and won't speak to him? Who makes me put up with your sorry instead of abandoning you at home just to make sure you don't drown yourself in your sleep or something? "

"All that proves," Kyungsoo said darkly, "is that they can't even trust me with myself. How insulting is that."

"My god," Jongdae muttered, "You all exhibit the exact same brand of stupidity. What more do you need to be a family?"

Kyungsoo looked down at his feet, his fists balled at his sides, his words stuck in his throat. He hated it when he got like this, words lodged somewhere in the mess between his heart and his head, tongue numb in his mouth as his shame roiled, unexpressable, beneath the surface.

"Hey," Jongdae said softly, "relax ok? I'm not asking you to beat yourself up. Just..open yourself up a little ok? The whole world is not against you, you don't always have to think so badly about everyone and everything around you. And you're weird little set of parents love you, in their own stupid way. Even if they don't always tell you the whole truth."

They were quiet for a little while, one boy watching the other intently. Kyungsoo breathed in through his nose, letting out a soft exhale. Slowly, his posture relaxed and his fingers unclenched. The roils of shame subsided, until they were just a slow, dull throb in his chest. That was about as good as it got.

"So," Jongdae said, "now that we're calm again, how about something fun?"

Kyungsoo looked at the other boy, a sinking feeling in his chest. Jongdae's idea of fun usually ended in regret. Painful, stupid regret. Jongdae scowled.

"Oh come on," he scoffed, "We've got one whole day together. Why don't we do something useful for once? "

"No," Kyungsoo said, deadpan. But Jongdae was already throwing himself onto his feet, a devious smile on his face. He rummaged through his warzone of a table, humming lightly to himself. And when he turned around, Kyungsoo already felt the beginnings of a headache.

Jongdae was holding a mess of wires and electrical equipment in left hand. Kyungsoo thought that some of it was still alive, tiny, blue crystals lit along the mass of copper and rubber. In his right hand, he was holding a small handful of what looked like batteries, each no bigger than a fingernail. Jongdae was looking at him with an air of expectancy, one eyebrow raised. "Well?" he said, "Am I a genius of what?"

Kyungsoo looked at him, his brows drawn together. "I'm not helping you with your homework," he said slowly, "I don't particularly want anything to do with your weird sciencey lab classes Jongdae."

Jongdae rolled his eyes. "Engineering classes," he corrected loftily, "I build things that are actually useful. Like these babies. Little bugs can track you through every kind of weather and terrain for fifty miles. All GPS coordinated."

Kyungsoo looked at the tiny, round buttons in Jongdae's hand, and suddenly, it clicked.

"You want to track them," he said disbelievingly, "Yixing and Luhan. You actually want to spy on what they're doing."

"Wow you're slow," Jongdae snorted, "What else am I going to do with these gems? Follow you through your boring no-life schedule?"

Kyungsoo wasn't listening to him anymore. A thousand things ran through his mind, guilt and excitement flooding through him fast as lightening. He could finally have the truth. He could finally understand. He could finally find out who Yixing and Luhan really were.

And maybe, just maybe, they could be a complete family again. Without the uncertainty of secrets hanging over them like cobwebs, always suffocating their every movement.

Kyungsoo looked Jongdae in the eye, grimly determined. The other boy was smiling, the curled corners of his mouth pulling up as he realized that he had won.

"You're on Jongdae."