Yeah, I know. I'm a b*tch uncapable of maintaining promises and a updating schedule. I'm sorry.

Thank you everyone who reviewed and subscribed and continues to wait for this fanfic that deserved a better author. My mistakes are my own, so please tell me of them.

As Hongbin crosses the small hallway to leave, face still burning – he’s stupid, okay? Stupid, idiot, a ridiculous excuse of a dimpled human being – from the shame from a few minutes earlier, Taekwoon right behind him, he expects to meet Cha Hakyeon and Han Sanghyuk eating the breakfast he was previously helping to make, the very awkward and tense atmosphere around them gone after they supposedly made up. Honestly, he even expects the air heavier if things haven’t worked out the way Taekwoon clearly believes they have.

But he never, ever, not in a million years imagined the scene carelessly displayed in front of him the moment he enters the small living room with the adjacent kitchen.

Han Sanghyuk sits in the same place he was half an hour ago, by the countertop. The thing is, he doesn’t sit alone; on his lap a very happy looking Cha Hakyeon is settled, arms around Han Sanghyuk’s shoulder, hugging him close as they slowly rock back and forward, the younger’s head resting comfortably on the elder’s chest, his eyes – normally framed by thick, scrunched up eyebrows, so angry and cocky at the same time – half-closed, childish on its’ softness. Hakyeon’s own eyes are closed, half his face buried on the mop of white-blond hair. They make quite the vision; a perfect couple-y vision.

“I don’t like this idea,” he remembers Taekwoon saying, after a minute looking so lost and lonely and so… scared? Certainly he had read the emotion – for once so clear on the icy, blank face, changing his whole demeanor, making him a little more real, reachable – wrongly, because, c’mon, why would Taekwoon be scared of his two friends together? Unless…

Unless he felt something more for one of them.

Hongbin turns around in time to see the impassive porcelain face break into an expression of resigned confusion; it’s like while Taekwoon expected them to make up, he didn’t think of seeing them so close, in each other’s arms.

He thinks of saying something – not sure exactly what, given he can’t understand the tightening on his own chest – but the compositor passes through him, going to where Sanghyuk and Hakyeon are. Hongbin can’t see his face, only the broad expanse of his shoulders and the narrow hips – and no, his hips don’t distract him for a second longer than they should –, but he can listen to the softly spoken words that come from his mouth when he says them.

“Everything’s alright?”

For a moment, none of the two answers, seemingly too lost in each other. Then, Hakyeon opens his eyes and glances at Taekwoon, a dazzling – like, wow, the smile stretching his lips really is something else – smile on his lips.

“Yup! Hyukkie here was so cute, Taekwoonie, you should have seen it! All stuttering and–”

“Hyung.”

Sanghyuk’s voice sounds different, not menacing or cocky, instead whiney and sleepy, making Hakyeon laugh a little, seeming to push their bodies impossibly closer. “Hehehe, sorry, baby Hyuk.”

Someone please explain what the hell is happening?! Please?!

They’re a couple; Hongbin doesn’t care about who says otherwise, not even Taekwoon.

“That’s good,” speaking of him, there he goes, voice all soft. It’s probably the most Hongbin has heard the blond speak; actual words are being said, not tilts of head and blank faces.

Some sort of silent communication must go on between the two oldest, for Hakyeon nods before returning his attention to a Sanghyuk that, from this angle, looks mostly asleep and Taekwoon goes back to his side, accompanying him to the door. He steps out of the apartment.

Another minute of silence stretches, with Hongbin awkwardly trying to vocalize… anything that won’t sound like crap and/or sass. “Thank you… hyung, for letting me spend the night.”

“It’s okay,” comes the reply in a whisper. Taekwoon’s face doesn’t betray a single emotion, but Hongbin’s getting better at reading what he means in his silences.

Right now, it’s basically saying: ‘it’s time for you to go’ and well, his grandma did teach him how to take a hint. But, yeah, no work is perfect, and he decides to act bold. After what he did last night – and ten minutes ago, stripping in front of a hyung – Hongbin is starting to think that maybe it’s time for him to throw shame out of the window and simply do whatever comes on his mind.

“I will see you Monday?” he asks, receiving a tilt of head as response. He wants to say it’s a tilt of confusion, not annoyance. Please be confusion, please be confusion, “Caramel misses you. She’s all cranky and way too snappy for a kitten her size.”

A light – adoration? fondness? – shines on Taekwoon’s eyes for a brief instant. “Monday?”

Jackpot! “Yes, Monday and Thursday are the days I’m taking care of everyone, so I can let you in. Two in the afternoon is a good time for you to come, if hyung has no classes. I stay there until four.”

With another tilt – that Hongbin this time interprets as one of comprehension – of his head, blond hair partially covering one of his eyes, Taekwoon makes the younger’s heart almost leapt out of his chest when a small smiles curves his lips up. His sight can’t focus on anything but that slight curve that softened the entirety of Taekwoon’s icy features; for a moment, he imagined how a large, teeth-showing smile would look in that stoic face on front of him, if Taekwoon’s eyes would take half-moon shapes and if his already chubby cheeks would become more round.

At the same time he thinks of it, a counter-thought makes him stop.

His mind can’t quite conjure the image of an openly smiling Taekwoon.

“See you then hyung,” deciding he’s taking too long to move, Hongbin says, letting a dimple appear on his cheek as he tightens his lips together. He’s no genius, and doesn’t need to be one to notice that the older boy likes the holes on his face.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is a, “See you,” coming from Taekwoon, quietly said as he closes the door.

Hongbin actually needs a second to recompose himself after that.

.

.

“Wonshik-aaaaaaah~” Jaehwan whines, face dejectedly dropped on top of the small kitchen table, hair pointing to all directions and half-closed eyes. His head hurts, just as his eyes, not at all satisfied with the amount of light entering through the windows. “Wonshik-ah, where is my miiiiiiilk? You promised you would make it for me if I got up! Where is it?” he petulantly demands, pouting and hitting his feet on the floor like a child would.

He distinctly hears a sigh, and feels his lips jutting out more. Wonshik has no right to sigh at him!

“Sometimes I forget who’s the hyung here,” Jaehwan hears him saying as he passes through him, mug in hand. Moody and in pain, he puts a foot in front of the younger boy, taking a great pleasure in seeing as Wonshik stumbles and almost falls, a bit of the mug’s content spilling on the floor. “Very mature.”

“I was under the impression you don’t agree with the current hierarchy, so I decided to act as your dongsaeng, Wonshik-hyung,” he teases, sticking his tongue out to the other boy.

“Jaehwan-hyung…” peeking his face, Jaehwan sees the frustrated frown and the conforming smile on the other’s face, and smiles too, his vision blurring thanks to his position, half sprawled on the table. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“You can start by giving me my milk and then cleaning the floor.”

With another sigh Wonshik does what told, grumbling under his breath about complicated hangover hyungs and absent clean-freak dongsaengs, which makes Jaehwan remember that yes, where is Hongbin? He’s normally the first one to wake up in the house, to go jogging and to start doing his weekend cleaning, like only he, a twenty-three year old college boy would do.

He sips his milk, appreciating the hot liquid on his sore throat. “Where’s our bean? Got lost on his walk?”

“The bastard never came back from his date,” Wonshik bitterly answers, crossing bare arms in front of his bare chest, some of his tattoos more evident with the bulging of his muscles. Human as he is, Jaehwan takes his time to watch Wonshik’s muscles, his pounding head not at all happy with the chocolate bar on the other’s abdomen. “Sleeping with the girl in their first date… So vulgar”

“You bitter ‘cause yo getting nothin’” Jaehwan laughs at the face Wonshik makes, how his lips pucker in childish annoyance. So cute and so ease to tease.

The bright red that assumes Wonshik’s face is adorable, and if he wasn’t in so much pain, Jaehwan would squeeze his cheeks. “I-I..! T-That’s not it!”

“Oooh~? So if a cute girl or boy offered to spend the night with your sorry on the first date, you wouldn’t accept?” He pushes a bit; even raising his head a little to admire better the flustered expression on the younger’s face. “Nooope, don’t think so. Totally would.”

“Would not.”

“Would too.”

“Would not.”

“Would too~”

“Aren’t you hangover?” Wonshik questions rather ruffled, hand running through his black locks; Jaehwan misses the white-blond of a few months back, and absentmindedly nods. “Then act like one and be quiet.”

He whines in between sips, “So unfair.”

“Unfair was yesterday. You, hyung, ruined all my chances with Hakyeon with your little stunt,” Wonshik pushes a chair and sits in front of him, arms and legs crossed, imposing. “Why did you drink so much? It’s not like you to become that pissed.”

The question sobers Jaehwan up, and he unglues half of his face from the table, leaning back and stretching his legs, poking Wonshik’s until he can settle in between them. He looks at the bright Sunday morning shining through the living room’s window and the pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen’s sink, mind far away from the room, fuzzy memories mixing together behind his eyes and getting in the way of his effort to answer. He recalls colorful lights blinding him and blue drinks coming one after the other, the anxious smile of a pretty girl and the smirk of a boy with glitter on his eyes; blue turning orange then pink and back to blue, and muscled arms enveloping his waist as he started to feel sick, the cold tile of the bathroom’s floor on his burning skin.

Feelings of emptiness, the shallow vanity of having won something and being deeply annoyed with someone.

It’s enough for him to take some conclusions. “Key was there, wasn’t he?”

Wonshik blinks, and nods. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m almost certain he owns me money,” Jaehwan smiles, cracking his neck. “I won a drinking competition against him.”

The younger stares at him with incredulous eyes, mouth hanging slightly open; he looks silly like this, like a larva. Then, he drops his head on the table, grumbling, “I can’t believe I wasted my chance to win ‘cause you’re stupid.”

“You love me.”

“ you,” despite all his complains, Jaehwan sees a sign of a smile on Wonshik’s lips.

“You’re a hundred years too early to try and have my body~” he singsongs happily, hiding his grin behind his mug.

“Argh!”

 .

.

Monday comes a lot like Sunday; sunny and pleasantly warm, not at all like the past week, cloudy and rainy.

Sanghyuk likes to think the climate is mirroring his humor; he feels well rested and happy, and nothing, not even his upcoming reunion with the weirdo, sassy, shabby artist Ken causes more than a light prickle of displeasure on his being. He’s overflowing with the full sensation loving and being loved leaves behind, and it doesn’t matter that Hakyeon doesn’t love him half as much as he does the dancer. After the excruciating days where he ruminated his rude actions towards the one who only wanted his best and how should he apologize – anyone knew that he never apologized, damn all – to the oldest of their group.

He’d spend the entire Sunday cuddled next to Hakyeon, sprawled on their small couch and watching the horrible dramas the dancer refuses to admit he adores, eating the remains of the cakes Taekwoon brought from the cake shop and commenting on said dramas, criticizing the bad illumination on some scenes and the predictable plot.

Weirdly, Taekwoon didn’t leave their room. Maybe Annoyingly Pretty – as Hakyeon had dubbed the boy with dimples – had done something with him; that being the case, Sanghyuk would rip him a new face, this time a lot less pleasant. It seems a little strange to him though; Taekwoon and that guy were hitting off pretty well in his opinion, or as well someone could with the compositor.

“Sanghyuk-ah! Sanghyuk-ah!” he frowns at the sudden calling, mind snapping out of such thoughts.

Jaehwan is fast walking in his direction, waving frantically with a hand full of papers. Great, now he will have to apply more of his precious time into that… thing. Ken couldn’t be described differently, as he wears a bright orange long-sleeved shirt with coconuts drawn all over the material, jeans with ripped knees and folded up to the middle of his calves, neon pink sneakers on his feet.

Nothing with ruin his good mood; nothing will ruin his good mood.

The director waits for Ken to reach him; he puts on his scowling face, to maintain his image. “What do you want, Ken? Couldn’t wait to see me?”

Huffing a little, the older boy pouts with those big lips of his. “So young and so cocky… Anyway! Here,” he extends his hand, full of papers, “the drawings for the characters, in record time~”

This picks Sanghyuk’s attention, and all but rips the papers from the other’s hold.

He admits to himself – he won’t give the artist the privilege of being praised so early. He’ll have to put a lot more of effort to earn it – that these are good, like, really ing good. They had decided on two main characters, both girls; one of them has bored, empty black eyes and a long hair tied into a ponytail, the other stands with sad blue eyes and dark brown wavy hair, biting her bottom lip colored in red. On both girls’ hands, a crimson thread twists around their pinky finger. The thread seems worn out and one can see as it thins and loses its’ fibers; in the middle, it connects the girls by one single string, so thin it’s almost imperceptible. They look hauted and ethereally beautiful, like Sanghyuk wanted.

The other pages are drawing of backgrounds and those same girls in several different  poses.

“I’m amazing, I know,” the singsong-y voice of Ken turns his attention away from them, the ideas buzzing in his head like static dimming thanks to the interruption.

Sanghyuk won’t give him the pleasure of an approval, despite impressed, “Those are sufficiently good for us to start.”

Ken twists his nose in reprobation. “Compliment me.”

“No.”

Jaehwan’s voice is high-pitched and childish, and Sanghyuk wants him to shut up. “Pretty please~ Kennie here did a good job! Compliment me!”

And yet, behind the seemingly juvenile façade, doe eyes stare deep inside the director’s soul, as if daring him to do otherwise.

Remembering the last time they met – his mouth tastes bitter in loathing – Sanghyuk takes one deep calming breath, conjuring the image of a smiling Hakyeon on top of him, caressing his hair and warm like only him is, managing his temper, forcing it to calm down for he needs this weird, dangerous man in front of him.

“These are… very good, Ken,” he says, almost gaging. “We can start earlier thanks to your… prowess.”

The smile Ken gives him can light up the entire campus. “I knew you had it in you! Thanks Hyukkie.”

Deep breaths; deep breaths.