3

The door opens and squeaks, then closes and squeaks again from the rust. He sighs, throwing something and it cluttered on top of the counter by the door as he shuffled the shoes off him. “Home…” he mutters, hoping it was quiet for the other.

“You’re late.”

Wincing, he turns to the man standing at the end of the hall, sighing, “Job ran overtime.”

“Saw you around 66.”

“And took up another job.”

“Bullcrap,” the other hisses under his breath, going over to tug his collar, “What were you doing?”

He hardens his gaze but evidently sighs, “I was just out riding.”

“Couldn’t you text back or something? She was waiting till midnight until I finally persuaded her to go to sleep.”

“She…was?”

“Of course!” the other messes up his own hair in frustration. “You can’t just drop us. We’re your friends, your family.”

“Family…” he says, casting his eyes to the side and misted over.

“God, you always do this,” he lets go of his collar, walking to the couch; a rather new one, and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “But you’ve got to get it through your thick head that you’ve been forgiven. We are family.” He groans, “I’m not saying come running back, but please just, at least pay attention to her.”

He stays silent in his spot, looking to the ground and at his own feet. The socks he wore with a hole in the sides and worn out to the threads at the parts that stretch, “I’ll tuck her in and send her off to school, Dongwoo.”

The male had his ponytail undone, the hair tie on his wrist as he sighed, “A brother does more than that.”

“A brother who doesn’t want to hurt her can only do that…” he barely is audible but of course the other heard it.

“Doesn’t want to hurt—Hyung, you idiot!” he stood up, raising his voice. “You’re her brother! Be a ing man and just take care of her! Who else is she going to look up to, me?”

“I’d rather it be that way.”

“Idiot!” Dongwoo raged, pulling his arm up to punch him. The other didn’t even flinch but the fist stopped right before his nose.

“What is it?” he started, their gazes caught and challenged him, “Can’t hit me?”

“Don’t start with me.”

“Can’t hit your leader?” he tilted his head. “You really are a pacifist.”

The next second he was on the ground, with a bleeding lip and a blooming bruise. “Now that’s it.”

“Stop making me hit you!” Dongwoo stomped the ground, nearly to tears by this moment. “I can’t be here all the time to take care of you, let alone her! I’ve got a life too! You shoved the responsibility of patching up Woohyun to me, when that was completely for you!”

He growled, standing and gazing, “Don’t mention him.”

“Why?” Dongwoo huffed, his breath tensed and irritated, “Because you couldn’t quote on quote ‘protect’ him? That his arm broke because you played your little game too far?”

“I said shut up!”

“Oppa?”

He skidded, his feet planted to the floor and fist just near Dongwoo’s face, “Gyu-oppa? You’re home?”

“Hyemi, go back to sleep,” the older replied curtly, walking away briskly back down the hall. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

But the girl ran up to catch him, hugging his waist, “Can’t you be home? Just eat with me or something, I don’t mind. Just…can’t you be home?”

He falls silent.

“Yeah, Sunggyu-hyung,” Dongwoo sighed, walking beside him and patting his shoulder, moving in the way to leave instead of him. “Can’t you stay home?”

Silently, he stood there until the door was shut closed and locked; the other had a key. Until then, he put a palm to the younger girl’s hand and sighed, “I’m home, alright? And I’ll be here in the morning to send you off. So please, go back to sleep.”

A pause, and then the hands reluctantly left the hug, Tugging his sleeve to turn around but he really didn’t want to. “Okay… but you have to sleep too.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

“Okay then,” Hyemi bounds to her room again, turning to look at him one last time, “You’ll be here in the morning too?”

“I will,” he promised.

“Goodnight, Gyu-oppa.”

He didn’t respond just yet, and the door with a nice painted sign with her name closed softly, “Goodnight…”

*

Dongwoo crashed himself onto the bed of his own apartment. By the time he made it back, it was around four am. Too late or early, whatever, for this crap.

“How is he?”

Ah, then there’s this too.

Dongwoo moved his arm that was covering his eyes, “You mean hyung? Fine, I suppose.”

“Is he still…”

“Yeah,” Dongwoo sat up, “He is.”

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“No, no, no,” Dongwoo quickly says, pulling the other to sit with him. “It was never your fault, you hear me? It was just…a big mistake, that’s all.”

“I played part of it,” he bit his lip. “I lost control.”

“I know,” Dongwoo pats his back, “We all did, Woohyun. That’s what winning does to you. It poisons your mind to think you can do more.”

“But I broke him,” Woohyun looks at his left hand, opening the palm on his thigh to clench it again. “If I hadn’t—“

“Stop,” Dongwoo sighs, looking