After Hakyeon sent his punch flying, the window’s buckled and rattled. All Wonshik remembered seeing was Hongbin’s cheek implode, and then he was halfway across the room, inside of his fridge. All he could think of was not the fridge. His vintage, 1970s fridge. It was in two and the man’s legs were hanging out of the wreckage, bacon, a cracked milk carton, and some strawberries falling out. A large split appeared on the plaster behind the fridge, too, that extended all the way to the kitchen’s hanging light.

Wonshik gave a dry yelp and almost fell to the floor if Jaehwan hadn’t grabbed around his waist.

Then Hakyeon pulled his fist back and stared as it smoked. His head slowly turned until he pinned Jaehwan and Wonshik to their spots, horror in his eyes. Wonshik felt his skin crawl, jump like there were a thousand roaches on him. Hakyeon came forward, apparently torn on whether to go back to the surely dead man, or, well, Wonshik didn’t know the other options.

Hongbin moaned loudly and Jaehwan tensed up, pinching Wonshik’s fingers in his own until they hurt. Cracks and snaps of the man’s joints made the roaches return, ten fold on Wonshik’s skin and up his spine. His arm, it shouldn’t be bending that way, gave one more hammering crack and then, there, it was back in place. From out of the fridge, his brunette hair rose and he looked in one piece. For as ‘in one piece’ as one could look being punched through a kitchen appliance.

“Unbelievable,” Jaehwan said.

Calling forth the same kind of red and blue lights to his fingertips, Hongbin rubbed his cheek, jolting at the pain. He looked like he’d been hit by a train, then, all the evidence blurred away with the flickering lights. Parts of his cheek lit up like fireflies and bent to attach to the worser areas of his face. Until the clotted black blood was all but gone, he arched up, but he couldn’t quite reach the floor.

“Hey, temperamental, give me a hand,” he fluttered his legs in Hakyeon’s direction.

***

Wonshik felt that he had no more tears left in him, so he simply tightened his hold around Hakyeon, but was saddened when he didn’t do the same. It was like he was trying to squeeze the life out of a plastic mannequin. He felt the coldness of Hakyeon’s body temperature, unnaturally cold. When his arms grew tired and he let go, Hakyeon didn’t meet his eyes.

“I, we, were so worried about you. We really thought something terrible happened. But here you are,” Wonshik tried to chuckle and clapped Hakyeon on the shoulder. “And your wound! It’s gone, too.”

It was now quiet in the small bungalow. Hongbin had stopped to watch them with a look that was peculiar. He and Jaehwan were picking up the remnants of the fridge.

“Don’t worry about that for now,” Wonshik exasperated, waving over Jaehwan. He felt out of place when Hongbin came over, too. He didn’t understand him, what he was doing, why he was there. “It’s Hakyeon. He’s really back,” Wonshik said.

He didn’t know what kind of reaction he’d expected from Jaehwan, but not