Even though he was exhausted, Minseok didn’t go back to sleep after Semi left.  “Not long” in Semi’s book usually meant under twenty minutes, and it was much more comfortable to sleep with somebody beside him than alone.

When half an hour passed and she didn’t come back, he sent her a quick text asking if everything was okay.  He knew she didn’t like it if he rang while she was driving, and he didn’t want to risk waking Jaera up, but Taeyong could always respond to any notifications on the phone.

After forty minutes were up and there was no response, Minseok realised that the passage light had been on for some time.  Semi was conscientious enough not to leave electricity running anywhere that it wasn’t needed, and even on a projected twenty-minute trip, she most definitely would not have left the passage light on.  The outside light for the drive yes, but nothing indoors.

Concluding that she was back and probably either setting Taeyong up with his room for the night or maybe even fixing him a quick meal – it wasn’t the first time this had happened – Minseok slipped out of bed with the intention of joining them.  There was nobody in the passage, and the door to the spare room was open and the light off, though fresh bedding waited outside the door, which meant it was empty, so he resorted to the kitchen instead.

The lights were on here, too.  Minseok frowned, looking around.  The room was empty, but there were clear signs of somebody having been in it not all that long before.  The microwave door was hanging open; a half-empty dish was on the sideboard next to the fridge, cling film mostly off.  The kettle, recently boiled, was still steaming beside the microwave.

Disturbed into a slightly more awake frame of mind, Minseok stood by the kitchen table and tapped his fingers against it.  He was the tidier one, but Semi would never have left the kitchen looking like this, and Taeyong had visited often enough to know that you messed up Minseok’s kitchen on pain of starvation.  Not that Minseok would ever deny somebody food, but Jaehwan liked to scare people like that and steal their portions.

And then he heard it: a light cough coming from the living room opposite the kitchen.  There was undeniably an intruder in the house.  If Jaehwan had decided he wanted a midnight snack, he would have taken it back to his room with him.

Seizing a rolling pin – blood still made his stomach churn, so he didn’t want to use a knife – Minseok made his way stealthily out of the kitchen and pushed the living room door open as quietly as possible.  He’d been called out to one or two break-ins over the past three years, but he’d never expected to have to deal with one himself.  And his security system was supposed to be top notch.

He had time to catch a glimpse of torn clothing and broad shoulders above the top of the sofa in the middle of the room before the man sitting there whipped around.  Minseok froze in horrified disbelief, his blood running cold.

Luhan smiled at him.  It wasn’t a particularly pleasant smile.

“Nice crib,” he said, “but you’re not going to kill me with a rolling pin.”

“What are you doing here?” Minseok whispered, trying not to give away how scared he was either in his voice or his posture.  The hand with the rolling pin started to tremble.

“You owe me a lot,” Luhan told him.  “I’ve spent eight years in prison because of you and I’m supposed to be there until the end of my life.”

Bile hit the back of Minseok’s throat.  “What do you want?”

“You’re going to help me.”

Minseok’s heart sank.  “Luhan, I… no, I can’t.  I have a fam—”

The door opened behind him and a very sleepy-faced Jaehwan wandered in.  A glint entered Luhan’s eyes that scared Minseok more than he was willing to admit even to himself.

“Dad,” mumbled Jaehwan, rubbing his eyes, “Jaera’s crying.”  With a little yawn, he wrapped his arms around one of Minseok’s and rested his head against it.  He was always at his most affectionate when he was tired.

“Don’t tell me,” said Luhan.  “You knocked her up before you went back to prison?”

“Don’t use that kind of language with children around,” Minseok snapped at him.  Jaehwan blinked dopily up at him and then across at Luhan, apparently seeing him for the first time.

“That’s just super protective,” Luhan snorted.

Jaehwan shrank into Minseok’s side, apparently sensing the tension in the room even in his sleepy state.  “Who is he?” he mouthed up at his father.

Luhan caught the question, though, and turned a sickeningly sweet smile on him.  “I’m your father’s best friend.”

Minseok winced.

“You’re lying,” said Jaehwan.  “Daddy’s best friend is the chief of police.”

Luhan snorted.  “How precious.”  He fixed Minseok in the eye.  “You haven’t told him, have you?” he guessed, switching to Mandarin.  With a hesitant glance at Jaehwan, Minseok slowly shook his head.  Jaehwan, thankfully, was glaring at Luhan.

“I can understand you, you know,” he said, irritated and now a little more awake.  “I’m not stupid.”

A mild look of surprise crossed Luhan’s haggard face, making him look much more pleasant.  “You’ve taught him Mandarin?”  His tone was almost friendly.  Minseok kept silent.  The answer was self-evident, in any case.

There was a pause in which Luhan seemed to be mulling over what was best to say.  Minseok noticed him popping a couple of noodles into his mouth.  He’d evidently helped himself.

“You broke the Code, you know,” Luhan began, almost conversationally.  “I kept silent out of respect for our friendship, but all I need to do is open my mouth and everything will be over.”

Minseok’s heart sank even further.  He removed his son’s hands from his arm.

“Jae, go back to bed,” he said gently.

“But Dad—”

“You can go back to my room, Jae.  Make sure Jaera’s okay and stay in there, all right?”

Jaehwan looked torn, but the prospect of the double bed appeared to win him over and he scampered away.

“You don’t need to threaten me and my family like that,” Minseok said reproachfully.  “I can cover for you for on