Jongup had been out all day, likely working on choreography at the dance studios. The splintered crockery had been mostly cleared up, but the floor cleaner had been re-applied and they'd made a little fence of chairs around the mess to keep anyone from stepping on it. Tensions had been pretty high in the dorm since the previous night and all Himchan could do was stare at the scraped and stained wall and wonder what on earth had brought the usually calm and undramatic boy to that point.

His musings were cut short as the front door opened. It could have been anyone since a few of the members were out, but he could tell from the heavy silence in place of a greeting that it was a certain short dancer trying not to draw any attention. He took a few steps to the doorway of the kitchen and glanced out into the hall, and immediately had his suspicions confirmed. There was Jongup, hood pulled low and hands tucked into the front pocket. Perhaps it was the lighting, but there seemed to be something odd about his face that Himchan couldn't quite identify from this distance.

Jongup glanced up for a moment as he made to walk towards the kitchen, but upon spotting Himchan he stopped and reached a hand back as if to head back out.

“Jongup,” Himchan said in the most gentle tone he could manage.

The younger stopped, but kept a limp hand on the door handle. His shoulders, which had been slumped when he entered, tensed up and raised like hackles as Himchan approached.

“Don't be like this. Come on, come sit down with me.” He reached out to take hold of Jongup's wrist. His fingers only managed to brush against his sleeve, but the younger flinched away like he'd been clawed. Himchan blinked and drew his hand away, unconsciously holding it in his other hand against his chest. What little of Jongup's face he could see was tensed into a strange expression he couldn't quite read – was it guilt? “Okay,” he forced himself to say after a painfully awkward silence, “Are you at least going to sit with me?”

“Of course,” Jongup answered immediately, raising his head to look at Himchan with that hurt puppy expression.

The relief that washed over Himchan as he saw that glimmer of the dancer he always knew almost made him forget why he was trying to have the conversation in the first place. It wasn't until he slung an arm around the younger only to be shrugged off did the sinking in his chest remind him. He watched Jongup slump down on the couch, shoulders hunched and gaze down. A few silver strands of hair had fallen into his face, which was still mostly obscured by his hood.

He perched himself on the edge of the cushion, slightly at an angle so he could face the younger easily. His hands fiddled in his lap uneasily and as the silence stretched between them he realised that if he ever hoped Jongup would speak first it simply was not going to happen. He cleared his throat and took a breath, trying as best he could to figure out where to start.

“Jonguppie... Why were you breaking things with Junhong last night? Has moving back into the dorms stressed you out a lot?” When Jongup didn't reply, he tried again. “If being back here is causing you problems you need to talk to us about it. What's stopping you from talking to us?” He reached out a hand and placed it gently on the other's knee, but he jerked his leg out from under his palm and looked away. Himchan barely hid the small hitch in his breath. “Jonguppie... Please, just talk to me.”

“I already told you,” Jongup mumbled, “I could do it, and I wanted to do it, so I did it.”

Himchan stared at the young man before him that couldn't have been more of a stranger if he'd changed his name. He desperately wanted to shake him, to shake out whatever had overcome his favourite member. “Jongup,” he almost whispered as he tried once again to reach out and find the boy he was so fond of, “Please take your hood off. Please.”

It wasn't often he used that pleading tone, and he couldn't think of a time he'd ever had to use it on Jongup, but it seemed to work. The younger hesitated a moment, before reaching up and pulling the hood down. His silver hair fell in a mess about his face, hiding his eyes once more. Before he could react, Himchan had reached out and brushed his hair from his face, exposing his puffy, red eyes.

“Have you been crying?” Himchan asked, concerned. But Jongup had already shoved himself off the couch and marching away up the hall. Himchan stumbled after him, reaching out after the younger. “Jongup, come back!”

Thankfully his longer legs allowed him to catch up easily and he grabbed hold of Jongups upper arm. Jongup twisted sharply in his grip, there was a swish of something cutting through the air, a sudden sharp pain in the side of his mouth and he was on the floor with the taste of iron in his mouth.

Jongup hadn't meant to do it. He really hadn't. It was some deep self-preserving instinct that had just kicked in. he would've given up everything he had to take back the last ten seconds and make it so it never happened. He would never hurt Himchan. Never. Never lay a finger on that man if it meant it would bruise him. Oh God. He'd really ed up now.

He'd been trying to shake his hyung off, not wanting to make his life more difficult than it already was. Every time the older touched him it sparked a trembling in his chest and made his stomach hurt. He just wanted to stay away from him, until he could crush his feelings into dust and they could be friends again. He just wanted them to be like normal. But now, now he'd ed up so badly they could never go back.

Himchan seemed to be gaining awareness of what had happened. His pink lips were starting to swell and small flecks of blood stained his mouth where his teeth and Jongup's knuckles had broken the skin. He blinked as he touched his mouth and stared at the red that came away on his fingers. Then his eyes darted to loon at Jongup.

He couldn't help it. He spun on the ball of his foot and ran. His heart hurt so much he might have thought it broken if it hadn't been slamming against his ribs. He could hear the voice of one of the members who'd come out upon hearing the commotion and he realised he hadn't even apologised. He hadn't stopped for a moment to help the taller man up. He hadn't shown any remorse for what he'd done.

He shut himself in his and Youngjae's shared room, thankful that the vocalist was out at the time. He slid down the door and crumpled in a heap against the floor, head against his knees. It was only when the heat of his tears soaked through the fabric did he realise that he'd been crying before he'd even made it into the bedroom.

With this knowledge, he gave in to his despair and sobbed, alone with his fingers matted into his hair. He remained like that for some time, cheeks soaked and nose running until he couldn't physically continue. At some point he managed to crawl out without anyone noticing and locked himself in the bathroom – a place that was becoming far too common for him to be crying in – and threw up into the basin of the toilet.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, shaking and sick and wishing he'd never been born, but when he finally wiped his mouth and dragged himself out, everyone else was home and talking quietly nearby. With a monumental amount of effort, he crawled into bed without taking any clothes off, and pulled the sheets over his head.

Sleep didn't come easily.