The stairs of his twelve story apartment building always creaked louder at night. The elevator had been out of order for nearly three weeks now and Jongin’s feet were sore from work. With each step, he contemplated turning around and sleeping in the car. The music crooning from his headphones was barely audible beneath the incessant creaking.

These things always seemed so much more magical in theory. The image he’d had in his mind two years ago bore more semblance to a condo by the coast, white collar job—not the best, but enough to get by—occupying his morning hours, coming home to warmth and kisses and skin beneath his fingers. Struggles, of course, would come as well—he wasn’t unrealistic—but nothing could be so difficult with all that by his side.

His mind thought back to the framed crochet piece in the dilapidated flat five stories overhead. A bitter smile curled his lips.

“With Freedom, Books, Flowers, and the Moon, who could not be happy?”

No. No use thinking like that. Cynicism will get you nowhere. So it’s not a condo by the sea, but it’s not so bad. So it’s not a 9-5, but it’s not the worst thing possible. Just think of her. She’s there, isn’t she? No matter what, that warmth is still there. You left together. This is a joint effort. Just think of her.

Jongin could hear the shouting from the staircase of the fifth floor hallway. With each dragging step down the mustard yellow carpet, the hope that it wasn’t coming from 209B crippled. The door opened without the key and the shouting died almost instantly.

“Kai.” Her voice shook just the slightest bit and so did something inside of him.

“You-“ the man’s eyes gleamed with animosity. Jongin felt a twinge of fear.

“Dad!” her voice was simultaneously stern and desperate.

“You ing piece of !”

Two long strides brought him halfway closer to the door. Jongin leaned against it, fist curled by his side. He hoped the trembling wasn’t visible this way.

“I’m bringing her back with me right now.” The man threatened, more than declared. “Pack your things right now. We’re leaving.”

“I’m not go-“

His eyes seemed almost to bulge from their sockets at the meek response. Her lips clamped shut, stiff and pale. The bones of her neck shone as she breathed in.

Jongin wondered how it was that glare always worked. She glanced desperately at him and his insides crumbled.

“You think this is any way to live?” the man shouted, quick, concise, one word blending sharply into the next, “You think you can survive like this? Working 12 hours a day? Two jobs? Wasting your time with him?”

Jongin’s chest burned as if on fire. The tremble in his fist appeared for new reasons. She glanced at him again. His jaw tensed, making it that much harder to open his mouth.

“I’m taking you back home tonight! You’re going to quit these jobs and go back to class! And this idiot, this animal- I never want to see him again, do you understand?”

“Kai.”

“I don’t give a what his name is!”

“Kai!” she met his gaze, “Say something!”

The man turned to face him, mouth barking off a string of insults, each worse than the last.

“God damnit, can’t you say something?” she cried, tears welling up within the rims of her eyes, “Don’t be such a ing coward!”

His lips fell apart, voice dry and raspy. “I won’t let-“

Two more strides and he was standing right before him. “You stay away from my daughter.”

His voice barley had time to form the words before a fist slammed down on his jaw. Jongin fell the floor, hand clutched against his cheek. Someone was coming up the stairs. He could hear the creaking. Or were those screams? The ringing overpowered it all. Jongin was tired.

“ you.” The words spat out with a string of blood.

He hardly had to pick himself up, his collar pulling him from the floor. Another fist collided with his cheekbone, then another, then another.

“ you.” He said, the word falling off his lips without thought. Each drop of blood falling from his lips painted a picture on the floor. To Jongin, it looked like flowers.

He couldn’t hear her crying over the sound of his own laughter. His tongue tasted like iron. Another fist.

She shrieked his name, lunging forward. He glimpsed a view of her over the man’s shoulder, nails clawing into his arms, drawing him back. Then he saw her on the floor beside him, arms clutched around her waist.

Jongin felt exquisite pleasure as his knuckles cracked against some bone or other. His laughter had died down to a low rumble, the smashing sound of his fist against flesh now acting as the predominant melody occupying the floor. Like the routine steps of the ten stories below him, his fists came down, step by step, creak by creak. It was utterly fascinating how the face below transformed with each impact. Jongin was reminded of the moon.

“Stop!”

Her hands on his shoulders brought an end to his next attack, fist falling midair onto his lap. He was heaving, exhausted. He could hear her weeping against his back.

“He’s dead.” She spoke hysterically, “You killed him.”

He looked down at the head below him, breathing heavily. If there had been a face there before, it was gone.

“Kai.” She cried, clawing at his shirt, “You killed him.”

Jongin bit his lip, tender with bruising. He opened his hand, observing the patterns of blood trickle through the creases of his palm.

“I’m not a coward.” He mumbled, just barely audible, “I just wanted us to be happy.”