Everything was spinning. A slow, tilting turn to one side as he lay on his back and watched. He had to watch it, with his eyes closed it only felt worse. 

A warm, heavy hand was protecting his heart. Palm down right over where it was beating and turning slightly at the same rate as the room. Everything was warm and cosy and spinning. Right down to the blood in his veins. Right down to his rather drunken mind. 

Hongbin groaned beside him. Shifting slightly and groaning again before he gave up and lay still. Hyuk covered his hand with his own and gave a soft laugh. 

“Oh, lord,” Hongbin moaned pathetically. “How much did we drink?”

“Enough that I’m not even hung over yet,” Hyuk mumbled back, his voice a deep, scratchy baritone. 

It beguiled Hongbin enough to raise his throbbing head and crack an eye open to look at Hyuk. It only lasted a moment before he settled his head back down and sighed heavily. 

“Hyukka,” He drew the name out, “I feel sick.”

“I bet you do.” Hyuk moved to wrap Hongbin into his arms properly. “Those two got us extra drunk last night.”

“Why would they do such a thing?” He gave a weak laugh and pressed his face into Hyuk’s chest. “You smell like beer.”

“So do you,” Hyuk grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position with Hongbin in his arms; the man was a hundred degrees. 

Bits and pieces of the night before washed into the turning room as Hyuk waited for sleep to come back. 

Ken had signed off on a marketing plan, agreeing to at least 1 interview for a major art blog and magazine. He also agreed to a preliminary release of some of his work prior to an exhibition. Then the celebration had started. Beer, wine, and even whiskey in the darkest and dimmest parts of Hyuk’s memory. Hongbin laughing, long and hard over something Ravi had said. Ken laying spreadeagled on the wooden floor. And Hyuk and Ravi, standing at the bench doing shots of tequila?

Of all the spirits, why tequila? That was why he was still drunk. They had been talking too. Talk, talk, shot, shot. Sporadic memories hit Hyuk and he realised sleep wasn’t coming back. Warmth that had nothing to do with alcohol crawled through his chest and over his face with a smile. All he could really remember was watching Hongbin and Ken take photos together across the room while he and Ravi gushed about them. When he was a little more sober he wanted to see those photos.

Leo knocked again, louder and harder than the two previous times. He shot an apologetic face to Hakyeon as he waited by the edge of the veranda. Hakyeon merely shrugged in reply and inspected his cuticles. Leo’s lips twisted and he grabbed the doorknob. Giving one last knock he turned the handle and opened the door himself. It gave easily, not even locked. 

Ken, hobbling like an old man and holding the hall of the wall for support stopped in his tracks and instead doubled over his legs.

“I was coming,” He wheezed, clearly trying to hold down what little stomach contents he had.

“You look a little worse for wear,” Hakyeon announced far louder than necessary. 

“Oh,” Ken groaned and stopped to sink to the hallway floor. 

“Are you OK?” Taekwoon asked, slipping out of his shoes and going to crouch by Ken.

“Oh, you,” Ken tried to sound irritated but failed as the hangover left him sounding nothing but sorry for himself. “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

“I know,” Leo gave a small smile and waited.

“Please, help me,” Ken wrapped an arm around Leo’s shoulders instead. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Leo’s grin widened and he helped Ken to his feet and straight into the bathroom opposite them. 

“Where’s Wonshik?” Hakyeon asked, not bothering to soften his voice at all. 

“Bedroom,” Ken’s voice was tight before he doubled over once more.

N retreated from the room, shutting the door behind himself as he went. 

Leo patted Ken’s back slowly, taking shallow breaths. When Ken had finished, Taekwoon stood and slid the window open. Next he wet a towel and passed it to Ken as he slumped against the wall gasping for air. He looked tortured enough, Taekwoon held his tongue for a little while longer. 

“Thanks,” Ken waved a hand and sat a little straighter. “Ah.” A strange look passed over his face, filtering around the pained expression. 

Taekwoon waited, feet on uneven ground as he tried to prepare for what Ken would say next. 

“Can we pretend we did all the loud arguing already?” Ken asked still a little breathless. “I just don’t have the energy for the yelling.”

Leo nodded, smile shrinking and folding in on itself. He still felt unbalanced, off kilter as Ken laid the cool towel over his whole face and sighed. 

“Jaehwan,” He began, voice soft. “I know it’s not an ideal time…”

There was no reaction but Leo forged on. 

“I keep making the same mistakes. I keep walking the same path thinking it will lead somewhere different. And it’s not even me that it’s hurting when I do.” Takewoon sighed, watching for even the slightest hint that Ken was listening. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m a terrible friend. I’m sorry I let your mother get into my head but never seem to give your words a second thought. I’m sorry I keep driving you away when all I want is to grow old and senile with you.”

Nothing. Taekwoon chewed at his lip, glancing at the door. As his eyes turned back to Ken a loud snore erupted from beneath the towel. Taekwon huffed a sigh and rubbed his eyes. 

“Of course,” He mumbled moving over to Ken again. “We’ll talk when you’re sober.” He reached down to peel the wet towel away.

“Bah!” Ken yelled. Taekwoon actually started so hard he toppled backwards and cracked his head into the sink behind him. 

“Ow!” He cried, holding his throbbing head and glaring at Ken. Ken was too busy laughing at his expense, pressing the damp towel against the back of his neck. “Do you have to be such a child all the time?” Taekwoon snapped, eyebrows knitted. 

“Yes.” Ken giggled, “Because you deserve it. And this is what I’ll be like when I’m senile.”

There was a long silence. The irritation that pooled around his throbbing lump drained. Taekwoon pursed his lips. 

“Does that mean you forgive me?” He asked, leaning forward slightly. 

Ken’s smile twisted and he sighed. With effort he dragged himself to his feet. He still hadn’t spoken as he sipped water from the faucet. Leo stood, patiently waiting. 

“I don’t forgive you,” Ken mumbled, washing his face and pressing the damp towel to it. “I can’t forgive it yet.”

The pain in his head died as the grief of Ken’s words filled him instead. Taekwoon nodded slowly. Ken turned to face him, heavy circles and a darkness to his eyes that had nothing to do with his hangover. 

N slipped his face into a door opposite the bathroom. He had been looking for Ravi, but found Hyuk and Hongbin instead. After taking a moment to smile to himself he pulled his head back and continued to the next door along the hall. This one was on the same side as the bathroom, adjacent to the door to the kitchen. Hakyeon slid it open and poked his head in. 

It wasn’t the bedroom either. Daylight filtered in, lighting the numerous sketches that were still hanging on the walls. 

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he should slide the door closed and try the door opposite. But Hakyeon slipped inside and closed the door behind him. Since the very first mention of Lee Ken, he had been intensely curious. He had craved to see Ken’s art, to know what made him special enough to matter to Ravi in a time when nothing mattered to Ravi. 

Most of them were nature studies. Some quick, rough sketches of trees and grass. Others detailed panoramas of the mountains or a lake. One was a bird, flying in the far distance over a ridge. Another was a tumble down of posts in water and grass. There were forest studies, one looked almost familiar of two trees beside one another. Then there were figures.

A hunched model, not much more than slashing lines. A face with a nose that was too big for it but no mouth. A figure turning to smile over one shoulder, their long fringe framing the face beautifully. N paused for a long moment at that one. Even with one eye closed he could tell it was Leo. He wondered if Ken would notice it go missing. 

Beside that was another face; this time with no eyes. It sent a shiver down his spine. The final few were all the same subject. A man sat before a window, his face hidden as he was looking away from the artists point of view. Ravi, of course. 

N almost hummed to himself as he looked over the sketches again. There was certainly more to Ken than his frustrating attraction to Wonshik. 

There was a loud thud from the room next door and N almost shot off the planet in fear. He scurried out of the studio, sliding the door shut quickly and dashing across the hall. 

Finally, this was the bedroom. Wonshik was sprawled on the bed, snoring softly with one leg emerging from the covers. Guilt still throbbing though him like liquid fire, he crossed to the bed and climbed on facing Wonshik. It took a moment, the snores fading as he woke a little. 

“Who was at the door?” Wonshik asked, voice pure gravel. 

“Bible salesman,” Hakyeon replied in a whisper. 

“It’s too early to buy bibles.” Wonshik rolled, and reached out for Hakyeon. His hand thumped onto Hakyepn’s face, making his nose wrinkle in distaste. 

“That’s my face,” Hakyeon said in a deadpan voice. 

“What?” Wonshik’s eyes slid open the slightest amount, his brows coming down like a thundercloud in confusion. “You’re not Jaehwan.”

“Wonshikkie,” N sang softly, “How much did you drink? How much did you miss me?”

“Too much.” Ravi rolled and pushed his face between the two pillows. Another noise emerged, Hakyeon leant closer.

“What?”

“Even more,” Wonshik mumbled before pressing his face into the pillows again. 

“Aww.” N patted the back o