Chapter 11

Taekwoon was pretty absentminded when he came home. He had been all day, after meeting the trainees about to debut during his lunch break.

To his own surprise, he had to admit both Eunkwang and Hakyeon had been right, and there was a good chance he would be able to work with them. They had great voices, especially one of them, and he’d found himself wondering how he could write something that fit their voices even while he was still listening to them sing.

To his shame, he had to admit that what sold them to him in the end was the fact that there were two hybrids in the group; one raccoon-hybrid -he’d never known those existed- and the youngest, barely seventeen years old, was a cheetah-hybrid. Eunkwang had mentioned to him that they would be hiding that fact about themselves to the public, for obvious reasons, but the prospect that hybrids got a chance at all to pursue their dreams like that, even if it required them to hide who they really were, was a start.

Only that that dream was in jeopardy now, and Taekwoon would have felt like a jerk if he didn’t do something to help them.

After that, he’d locked himself in his office and started to wrack his brain for ideas to compose for them, until it had been time to go home. He would have stayed longer, if it wasn’t for Hongbin. He was far from blaming him, though, being actually quite glad he had a reason to go home on time. He missed the boy after not seeing him all day.

And still, he couldn’t help but mull over what kind of composition would fit the young idol group best, and what exactly to compose for them. So much so, that he fumbled longer than usually to get out of his shoes and coat, before he was finally free. By then, he was craving a coffee, having denied himself that luxury all day by simply forgetting.

Surely, he could set his coffee machine up real quick to start a brew while he checked on Hongbin…

He wasn’t even fully inside the kitchen when he stopped dead in his tracks, jumping when the sound of a door falling shut reached him. He raised an eyebrow at what he saw, his kitchen actually looking as if a bubble bath had exploded in it.

“What in the world…?” He shook his head, blinking, but the sight in front of him didn’t change. His eyes wandered to the source of the mess, the sink, which still held a considerable amount of foam. Curious, and careful not to slip on the wet tiles, he made his way over to it. He couldn’t see what else the sink held besides foam, and carefully reached through the foam. The water underneath was lukewarm, but he guessed it must have been hot at some point. The only thing he found in the tepid water was the container that had once held the chicken-rice.

He smiled in relief.

Hongbin had heard Hakyeon and actually gone to get something to eat himself. He’d been worried the hybrid wouldn’t dare and starved himself until he came home. And, he must have thought to clean up the container after finishing his meal; which wasn’t necessary and he wouldn’t have asked it of Hongbin, but it was a nice thought.

Still, that didn’t explain why the kitchen looked as if someone had thrown a foam party in it.

He looked around himself as he dried his hand off on a kitchen towel, trying to see if there were any other clues. Eventually, he found one on the door of one of the overhead cabinets: a perfect, round wet spot, just slightly distorted where the soapy water had followed gravity.

Taekwoon couldn’t believe it, but his smile grew, amused and fond.

“Bubbles? He was playing with bubbles?” That was an all too adorable image, and the furthest thing on his mind was to care about the mess it had left behind that was now soaking his socks.

Mindful of the way the door further down in the apartment had fallen shut when he’d first spotted his flooded kitchen, he presumed Hongbin expected a different reaction from him, though. He was most likely terrified, expecting the worst, if not fearing for his life, and he really shouldn’t leave him waiting in agony any longer, but go and reassure him he wasn’t in any trouble.

Still careful not to fall on the soaked floor, he made his way back to the door to the hallway, taking off his socks there so as not to leave wet footprints all over the place; well, more wet footprints, since there already was a set of those.

He followed them decidedly nonchalantly, knocking on Hongbin’s door like always. A quiet whimper answered him from the other side, and he opened the door with a carefully neutral expression.

Hongbin lay curled up on himself under his blanket, pressed into the corner of the room, shaking.

“Hongbin?” Taekwoon called out softly, but all that caused was the boy to tense, curling up impossibly tighter, before Taekwoon could hear his incessant mumbling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Taekwoon sighed softly.

“Hongbin, it’s ok…”

Hongbin shook his head though, and Taekwoon realized he was covering it with his arms when the movement caused the blanket to shift and fall off him partially. It only added to the boy’s distress though, and Taekwoon could hear him hiccup before he launched into another round of apologizing while his fingers curled into his own hair.

“I’m s-so sorry! I’ll clean it up, I’ll clean-… Please, I’m sorry, please don’t-… Don’t-… I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me, I’ll clean it!”

Taekwoon was taken aback by the outburst, not having expected him to be this vocal when the last time he’d thought he’d messed up badly he’d been much quieter.

“Hongbin, it’s ok! You don’t need to clean anything, and I won’t hurt you. I’m not mad at you, you did nothing wrong…!”

Hongbin didn’t seem to hear him, though, still shaking, still hiccupping, but otherwise unmoving.

“I’ll clean it, please… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Taekwoon sighed.

“Hongbin…”

The boy whimpered.

“Hongbin, please, listen to me!” Taekwoon raised his voice just slightly, but it made Hongbin freeze.

“I’m not mad at you. I won’t hurt you. You’re not in trouble. It’s ok, Hongbin.” Taekwoon enunciated calmly, evenly, and eventually Hongbin pried his eyes open to blink at him, trying to gauge at least where he was.

“Y-you’re not…?”

Taekwoon shook his head.

“No. It’s all good. You did nothing wrong. Thank you for wanting to clean the container up. I’m glad you went out to eat something and didn’t starve yourself until I came back home, too. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t know I would have to stay at the company during lunch and couldn’t come home.”

Hongbin looked hopelessly confused as he unwound slightly, sitting up carefully while still making sure Taekwoon stayed as far away from him as he was.

“B-but… The kitchen…”

Taekwoon smiled softly.

“It looks as if someone had fun there, doesn’t it? It’s not wrong to have fun, though. Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean that up.”

Hongbin winced at that, making Taekwoon wonder what he’d said that was wrong.

“I-I should…”

Taekwoon tilted his head in slight confusion, but before he could think to formulate a question, Hongbin sat up straighter.

“I should clean it. I did… that.”

Taekwoon blinked in surprise, that having been the last thing he would have expected. He was about to deny it, to tell Hongbin it was ok, he didn’t have to, when he thought better of it. If Hongbin wanted to do that… He should let him. If Hongbin was ready to voluntarily leave his room with him there, he shouldn’t discourage it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make it easier on him, though.

“Are you sure about that?”

Hongbin’s hands clutched at his pants tightly, but he nodded, albeit hesitant.

“Alright then… You don’t have to clean it up, but if you want to, that’s ok, too. I’ll give you some rags and then I’ll go take a shower in the meantime, alright?”

Again, Hongbin nodded, and Taekwoon left the room, going to find some rags and towels like he’d said he would. He was surprised to find Hongbin standing in the hallway in front of the open kitchen door suddenly, though.

“Ah, you’re here. Uh, alright, so… These ones are for the floor, these for the countertops, and these for the cabinet doors. It’d be best to start from the top, first these cabinets, then the counter, the bottom cabinets, and the floor in the end, ok?”

Hongbin nodded hesitantly, and Taekwoon could tell everything in the boy was telling him to run. He sighed softly.

“Hongbin… I know you don’t trust me, and that you’re scared of me. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to leave your room when I’m here, but I want you to know that if it becomes too hard, it’s ok to just leave everything and go back to where you feel safest, ok? However much you end up cleaning, it’ll be enough. Don’t force yourself beyond what you can take, alright?”

Hongbin stared back at him with wide eyes, but then nodded lightly in understanding.

Taekwoon gave him a soft smile.

“Alright. I’ll leave through the living room and go take my shower. Be careful not to fall and hurt yourself, the floor is slippery.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving Hongbin behind. He could tell the boy was hiding in the doorway, still, when he stepped into the hallway through the living room door, but he pretended he hadn’t seen anything and went to his room to gather comfortable clothes. Hongbin was still standing there when he stepped out again to go to the bathroom, but again he pretended he didn’t notice and closed the door behind him, locking it with an audible click, hoping that, too, would help Hongbin feel slightly safer.

*#*#*#*

He felt like the biggest idiot under the sun for insisting to clean up when the man had said he would do it as he stood in the doorway and made sure the man really went to the bathroom and to shower. He did, the shower starting to run, and the rushing sound of the water becoming more uneven when the man stepped inside and moved under it. That relieved him somewhat; at least in that aspect the man stood true to his words.

Somewhat reassured, he turned his attention to the soaked kitchen, where soapy water was dripping from everywhere. What in the world had possessed him to let himself go and make such a mess?!

He shook his head at himself, and carefully made his way to where the man had left the rags and towels. The floor was really slippery, and it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen when he’d first hurried out. His socks were still soaked, too, and it only made it harder.

Despite what the man had said about the order in which to clean, the first thing he did was spread some of the towels on the floor so he wouldn’t slip as he moved about. He worked almost as if automatized, forcing himself to ignore the wetness of it all and wiping down all the surfaces until they were not just dry but also sparkling clean. He immersed himself so much in his work that he forgot to listen out for the sound of the shower running, missing when it turned off. He also missed the door opening and the footsteps approaching and then stopping, finishing mopping up the floor until he spotted a pair of feet in the doorway to the hallway. He jumped, scrambling backwards and landing on his .

The man lifted his arms in front of him in a placating manner, taking a step back.

“Whoa, easy there! Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I… Wow, you did a really good job! I don’t think this kitchen has been that clean in years!”

Doubtful, he looked up at the man, seeing him smile warmly at him.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to, but I’m really thankful you cleaned this up.”

He didn’t know how to react to the thanks, lowering his head, and then slowly starting to get up. He took a few steps backwards while doing so, hesitating once the distance between them had grown a little more.

“I- I… I don’t know… Where does-… The container go?” He gestured vaguely at the container that he’d finished washing and dried as well, and that sat on the counter next to the sink now.

The man tilted his head, looking like he was about to say something but then thought better of it.

“The cabinet next to the dishwasher. Top shelf. The lid goes next to the other lids on the side, the bowl inside the big bowl that sits there, but under the red one.”

He looked warily at the man, but he didn’t look like he would move from his spot in the doorframe at any moment, and he carefully picked up the container. Thankfully, the dishwasher was on the end of the kitchen that was the furthest away from the man, meaning so was the cabinet. He kept a close watch on the man and his (non-existent) movements as he crouched to open the cabinet and put the container away, but nothing happened, even after he’d closed the cabinet and gotten up again.

The man kept smiling softly, nodding at him once he’d finished putting the container away.

“You worked hard cleaning all of this up. Thank you. How about you go rest for a little bit now while I make us dinner?”

It was all he needed to hear to make a hasty exit and return to his room, now definitely having reached his limit.

Exhausted, he sank onto his blanket in the corner, clutching it close to him while he tried to calm himself down.

In the short time he’d been in the kitchen together with the man, his stomach had managed to coil up so hard it hurt, and it was a wonder he’d managed to keep his breathing in check for so long. Now, though, in the safety of his room, it had sped up to breathless panting mixed with a few hick-ups, which he tried to slowly get under control again.

For some miraculous reason, he had survived wrecking the man’s kitchen. Not just that, he’d had survived unscathed. And the man was even cooking dinner for him, still, despite everything. He wasn’t being punished.

For the first time, that really settled in; even wrecking a room the way he had, he wasn’t being punished.

Granted, being forced to clean up could be considered a punishment, but the man hadn’t dealt that to him. He had volunteered. And it wasn’t actually a punishment, but more like a logical consequence, to clean up a mess one had made.

He had trouble believing it, but it seemed to be true. He wasn’t going to be punished for everything he did.

Slowly, his breathing normalized, his thoughts slowed down, and his stomach uncoiled. He could hear the man rummage around in the kitchen and the smell of food reaching him faintly. The man also seemed to be singing quietly as he worked, which he found strange. He wouldn’t have pegged the man as someone who sang; then again, there was a piano in the office, and music sheets everywhere… He still found it strange, though.

The singing eventually dimmed to a hum, and then stopped as the man made his way over to his room.

He was sitting up in his corner when the man knocked, but he didn’t open the door like usual.

“Hongbin? Can I come in?” The man asked instead, and he startled. The man was waiting for his answer now?!

“Y-yes!” He stammered, and only then did the man open the door. He stared at him in confusion, and the man clearly noticed.

Calmly, he placed the tray with food down on the chair by the door before addressing him.

“I always came in after knocking without you giving an answer because I wasn’t sure you would be able to give one at all. But now, I trust you to do, and I’ll wait until you invite me in. Of course, that also means that if you don’t want me in here, I’ll stay away. It’s perfectly ok for you to tell me not to come in. This is your room, and you decide who can come in and when, ok?”

He stared at the man as if he’d told him he could fly from now on.

“W-what if I don’t answer?” He heard himself ask, cowering in on himself afterwards, since he had not intended to ask that. It sounded like an affront, and he wanted to avoid that at all cost. The man didn’t seem to mind, though.

“If you don’t answer to my knocking, I’ll just peek inside to make sure you’re ok. You might be sleeping, in which case I’ll leave you alone to let you sleep. Or you might have gotten hurt, maybe because of that damned collar, or something else, and then I’ll come in to help you.”

He chewed on his lip as he thought about that, until a question arose.

“And what if I don’t answer even though I’m awake?”

The man’s face stayed serious, but not unkind.

“Then I’ll assume you had a good reason not to answer and will come in or leave, whichever you decide I should do once I’ve found you awake.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, except that he found all that hard to believe, but he kept that to himself. The man nodded to himself eventually.

“Alright… I should leave you alone to eat before the food gets cold… I would like to talk to you about something else later, though… Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Enjoy the meal!”

The man left, and he kept staring at the closed door for a while before venturing over to the food. It was delicious, but he barely tasted it. He wasn’t very hungry, either, since he’d eaten all that chicken rice, and he couldn’t help but think about what the man might want to talk to him about. He ended up worrying anyway, despite the man having said he didn’t have to. If there was something important to discuss, he was sure it was something bad. Important things were always bad; at least for him.

Eventually, he stopped eating after clearing half of his plate, unable to eat more, and retreated to his corner. He was tired, too, and he really wanted to just lay down and sleep, since the scare from earlier had exhausted him to his bones. He waited though, knowing that the man would come back and wanted to talk to him, on top of that.

It took ages, or so it felt, until the knock sounded on the door, and he didn’t even think about daring to deny the man entrance.

The man gave him a worried look, but stayed near the door when he came in.

“Wow, you look tired… I won’t bother you for long and come straight to the point; as you might have heard from my friend earlier, there was a bit of a situation at the company I work at, and I have to fill in for someone else now. The next couple of days -maybe weeks- will be very stressful and packed with work for me, which means I won’t be able to come home during the lunchtime for a little while. I just wanted you to know so you don’t wait in vain, and I’ll make sure to leave you breakfast and lunch all ready in the kitchen so you don’t have to starve. At night I should be back like usual, though.”

For some reason he didn’t understand, he didn’t like that information. He nodded, though, not showing that he was bothered.

“I hope it won’t be like that for long. I’ll try to make this situation last as short as possible… But for now, there is nothing I can do… Which reminds me, do you know how to use the stove or microwave?”

He startled at that question, averting his eyes to the floor afterwards.

“Only… Only the stove…” He admitted. He hoped it would be enough, and that he didn’t have to ‘learn’ to use the microwave. He knew how to use one, he just hated the noise it made; a noise humans couldn’t hear and that went on his last nerve.

“That’s great; that way you can heat up your food. You’ll find pots and pans in the cabinet on the left of the oven, plates in the overhead cabinet next to the fridge, and cutlery in the drawer below it… But just feel free to explore where everything is, ok?”

He nodded weakly, not sure yet if he should do that. He had explored a bit already, but he was also scared of what he would find if he dug deeper; not that he expected to find anything too out of the ordinary in a kitchen, but one could never know.

“Alright… That’s it… Can I take this to the kitchen or are you not done eating yet?” The man pointed at the half-full plate, and he shook his head.

“I’m done…” He answered quietly, and the man took the tray, turning to the door.

“I’ll leave you to sleep now, you really look exhausted. Good night, Hongbin.”

He didn’t answer, not knowing if he should, and the man left.

He really wanted to fall asleep right on the spot, but he found himself unable to. First, he thought it was because of the sounds the man still made in the kitchen as he cleaned up, then in the living room, and shortly after in the bathroom and then his bedroom. Once those sounds stopped, though, he wasn’t sure why it was anymore. He was tired, really exhausted, but he couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position to lay in, and sleep just wouldn’t come to him. Something bothered him, stealing sleep away from him. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, and that didn’t make sense to him.

Was it that the man asked him to answer when he knocked before he came into his room from now on?

No, that wasn’t it. He might not believe that the man would really stay out if he told him not to come in, but still, that was not what was bothering him.

Maybe it was the thought that the man would still come in if he didn’t answer… But then again, that didn’t make sense, because that was what he’d done all this time until now, and to his surprise he found that didn’t bother him at all. In fact, it was somewhat reassuring, knowing that the man would come to help him if he needed it and couldn’t ask for it; not that he would ask if he could, but still.

It couldn’t be the fact that the man would stay out all day from now on, could it?

Despite all of the reasons why it shouldn’t make sense, in some weird way that still made sense. It bothered him to know that he would be all alone all day long from now on until night. And it was not because of the food that he would have to get from the kitchen and heat up himself.

He didn’t want to think about why that bothered him now that he’d found out what it was, and thankfully, sleep finally came and kept him from having to do that.

*#*#*#*

Had Taekwoon had time to feel bad for leaving Hongbin alone at home all day long, he would have. The thing was, he didn’t have the time. His work demanded all of his concentration, and he worked hard, barely leaving himself a moment to breathe until he got home in the evening. And there, he only whipped something up for dinner real quick, asked Hongbin how his day had been, and soon after went to sleep.

The days passed like that, in a blur, for Taekwoon.

For Hongbin, on the other hand, not so much.

For Hongbin, the days passed slower than ever.

More often than not, he woke up after the man was already gone. He sneaked into the kitchen then, without fail finding a tray with breakfast for him waiting on the counter or the table, and lunch ready to heat up and eat in the fridge.

He tried dragging out his meals as long as possible to have something to pass the time, but there was only so long he could do that. He cleaned up after himself, leaving the kitchen spotless when he was done eating. He spent a lot of time cleaning himself and trying to sort out his hair every day, but he hated the first part, rushing it as much as he could, and the latter frustrated him to no end, pushing him to his limits. Sometimes, he was sure he was only making it worse. The rest of the time, he was bored. Everything the man had said he could use to pass the time was useless to him, since he didn’t know how to work it; and he’d rather not try on his own lest he broke something.

His days only improved when he could see the daylight starting to vanish outside, and he started to wait for the man to come home. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he started looking forward to it, to the unmistakable sound of the keys in the lock of the front door, the man shuffling in, setting down whatever he was carrying, and then trudging down the hallway to his door before doing anything else.

He looked forward to the man knocking on his door, and he always told him he could come in. He came to expect the question about how his day had been, to which he would always shrug and answer ‘Good’, even though it had been awfully boring, and the man would smile at him. Eventually, he found he liked how the man looked with that smile. The same way he liked how the man said his name. He wanted to hear him say it more often, again and again and again, but he didn’t ask for that, of course. It was enough that the man said it at all, at least three or four times a day. He treasured every time, but his favourite was when he got to hear it preceded by a ‘Good morning’, since that meant he’d managed to wake up before the man left for work.

A weekend interrupted the routine, but he didn’t see much of the man then, either. He prepared the meals for him and brought them to him, but other than that, the man left him alone to sit in the living room with his computer on his lap and headphones on. He knew that because he’d snuck out to investigate why it was so quiet in the apartment even though the man hadn’t left.

He found that that way, the man wouldn’t hear anything around him, not even if he made a noise. He wasn’t very attentive, since he didn’t notice him sneaking past the open living room door into the kitchen, getting some crackers from the cabinet over the sink and sneaking back.

He was disappointed by that, for some reason, since it meant that the weekend passed as boring as the week. And then it was Monday again, and the man left early in the morning.

Out of boredom, he started to clean. His room, first, since there were dust balls forming under the furniture. Then, the bathroom the day after, since he figured a lot of the dirt that was accumulating there came from him. He would have liked to wash his dirty clothes, but he couldn’t figure out how to use the washing machine, and he didn’t feel like washing them by hand. He swept the hallway instead, on the third day, even under and between the man’s shoes that stood neatly lined up under the coat rack.

He couldn’t remember a time when he had owned shoes of his own; at the lab, he’d had slippers, but after that… He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t remember anyone ever giving him shoes, or him getting some of his own. He was curious what it was like to wear shoes, though, and sneakily, he tried on the man’s shoes. He kept glancing at the door nervously and listening to the noises in the hallway outside the apartment while he tried them on, even though it wasn’t even lunch time and it would still be a long time until the man would come home.

He was disappointed, though, since the shoes were way too big on him, and he quickly returned them to their place.

That night, the man noticed he’d been cleaning, and thanked him for it with that warm smile he wore sometimes that was his favourite. The man also reassured him he didn’t have to clean if he didn’t want to, but that he was very grateful he had been cleaning anyways since he’d been too exhausted to do so. The man also asked him if there was something specific he would like to have, as a thank-you gift, and he had vehemently shook his head. The man had looked disappointed, and felt bad for making him look like that. Later that night, he lay awake for a long time wondering why he’d felt so bad for disappointing the man, getting angry at himself over it.

The next day, he’d forgotten about his anger at himself and took all day to gather his courage to tell the man there was something he would like; for his clothes to be washed. The man promised him he would do it the day after the next; when it was the weekend again.

The next day happened to be the one that dragged on the longest, and he feared it would never end, but eventually, finally, the man came home. He brought take-out food home, apologizing for not having the energy to cook.

He would never have said anything out loud, but to himself, he decided that he liked the man’s cooking way more than the take-out. That decision made him realize how spoiled he had become, that he’d even started to dare to be choosey when it came to food.

That that was even possible showed him how much his life had improved, thanks to the man.

He might be bored most of the time, but it was infinitely better than to live in constant fear. Here, he realized, he no longer lived in fear as long as he didn’t step out of the lines he’d discovered so far. The man didn’t randomly decide to hurt him for no apparent reason, and was nothing but kind to him. He still didn’t trust the man, obviously, but somehow he’d at least learned not to expect the worst from him at any given moment.

Later, while he waited to fall asleep, he wondered if this weekend would be different than the last. If the man would spend the whole time on the computer again, or if something interesting would happen.

When he woke up in the morning, at least one thing was different already: the man was still sleeping. In the quietness of the early morning, he could hear the faint snores coming from the man’s room. That meant he was at least still there and hadn’t left yet; nor was he stuck in front of his computer. It wasn’t particularly interesting, either, though, and he decided he might as well try to sleep a little longer. Or at least find a more comfortable position to lay in.

He rolled over, pulling his blanket higher up, and froze as a sharp pain shot into his scalp at the back of his neck.

He hissed, finding his hair once again stuck in the damned collar. Without much thought other than to stop the uncomfortable pain, he gathered the caught strands in his hand and gave a sharp tug to free them, just to be immediately overcome with ice cold dread and regret.

There it had been again; the click. Another ring had turned, changing the combination on the collar.