Eric is awakened the next morning by a pillow being thrown at his head.

“Eric, you have to get up,” someone is saying but their voice is muffled, as though coming from the end of a very long tunnel. For the briefest of moments, he thinks it’s Hyesung, come to finally rain his ire on him for what had happened two days ago and end this silent misery they’ve found themselves in, and Eric can’t help but feel a tiny bit pleased. The illusion is shattered, however, when a whiny and plaintive HYUNG, used only by one person in the direst of circumstances, follows shortly after, and Eric growls without opening his eyes.

“Go the away, Sunho,” he says, unwilling to entertain his youngest brother at what he’s sure is still an ungodly hour. “You have precisely ten seconds to get out of my room or you’re dead meat.”

“No.” The intruder says, and he’s sure it’s Andy now. Andy has always been the boldest, assured of his role as forever youngest and therefore the most easily forgiven, no matter how much havoc he wreaks. Eric feels as his duvet is snapped up and pulled off him in one quick motion, cold air suddenly his exposed skin and causing goosebumps to rise.

“Hey—!”

“Get up.” Andy heaves a pillow at him again, hitting him squarely on the back of his legs. “Mom said we’re going to church.”

“We’re what?” Eric sits up, more from shock at the statement than the fact that the tiny hairs on his arms are standing on end from the cold, and that his skin is stinging where Andy had hit it. He’s not sure if he had heard correctly. “We’re going where?”

Andy is standing by his bed with tired eyes and an expression of vague annoyance on his face. The Thundercats shirt he’s wearing looks like a hand-me-down from Minwoo, and only serves to make him look younger than he really is. “Church,” he says. “Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t my idea.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Mom woke me up herself then told me to get you guys up.”

Eric blinks at his brother. He hasn’t been to church in literal years. “But…I don’t even have anything to wear…” he says rather dumbly, and as though it’s a summoning phrase, he can suddenly hear as the shuffling sounds of feet on carpet cross in front of his bedroom door.

“I still have one or two of your father’s suit jackets. Come find me when you’re ready, Eric, so you can fit them.” Their mother’s voice floats in from the hallway before her head pops in through his open doorway seconds later. Her eyebrows rise to her hairline as she takes in their various states of undress.

“Mom, do we have to?” Andy whines, even stamping his feet a little.

“Both of you take a shower now, we don’t want to be late for the service,” their mother says, her tone light but laced with a threatening edge, making Eric wonder if he’s been transported back in time to when he’s 13 and not actually 33. He supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised. In their parents’ household, Sunday has always been a day reserved for strict family-only time, part of which was their father requiring them all to attend church service before handing them a list of chores that each of them would have to accomplish before dinner. The arrangement is practically sacrosanct, but Eric hasn’t adhered to this kind of schedule in years, having rarely gone home to Rye since graduating from university. Even during the times that they had visited, he’d been excused from the regimen because his parents had always given him and Hyunjin a wide berth.

“Okay, Mom,” he says, and it doesn’t surprise him that he easily obeys his mother’s command despite the grogginess and disbelief still clouding his sense of judgement. He doesn’t want to argue, and he can use the distraction anyway. He kicks a still-whining Andy out of his room so he can shuffle to the shower, and spends enough time inside that he feels he’s already half-attempting to drown himself in scalding water.  By the time he’s scrubbed, brushed, shaved, and dressed, he’s starting to feel a semblance of being alive again, despite the trauma of the past few days.

“Don’t you look nice?” his mother smiles at him when she sees him finally emerge from his bedroom, still buttoning the cuffs of his shirt. She’s already fully dressed and in her Sunday best: a dress that looks halfway between spring fashion and something grabbed from Hilary Clinton’s closet.

“Almost human?” he asks, stooping low enough so she can fix his collar.

“Just barely,” his mother says with a wink. She hands him a dark suit jacket. “This will probably fit you.  It was actually bought for Hyori’s wedding to Trey, but you don’t have to tell her that. I didn’t want to give it away; it was practically brand new…”

Eric shrugs the jacket on, easily fitting into the creases and curves that would have fit his father’s slighter frame. The jacket is made of light wool, and matches his shirt and slacks perfectly. Although it’s a bit snug on his shoulders, it’s something Eric figures he can live with for the next few hours.

“Perfect,” his mother smiles, looking misty-eyed. She clears as she straightens the front of the jacket. “It amazes me sometimes how much you kids have grown…you look so much like your father.”

Eric manages a crooked grin. “I’m a poor excuse.”

“Nonsense.” His mother brushes imaginary dust off of the jacket shoulders. “None of my kids is less than perfect. Pain in the sometimes…but still perfect.” She gives him a grin that matches his own.

“Touche.” Eric laughs.

“Feeling better now, eldest son?”

He doesn’t, not really, but the familiar routine is helping a bit. Maybe church wouldn’t be an entirely horrible idea…but he isn’t a fool enough to admit that to his mother who would be too overjoyed at the prospect.

“Maybe,” he grins. “We’ll see. No other way but up, right?”

His mother holds his hand and squeezes. He feels the weight of his father’s ring – too big for his mother and only held in place thanks to her own – against his skin. The ring, like loss, is ill-fitting and inconveniently worn but something he knows his mother will learn to live with. As it is. As it will always be.

“For us both.” His mother says and kisses his enclosed fingers in a way that feels like a promise. When she drops her hands, she doesn’t let go of his.

“All right, enough stalling now. We’re going to be late for the service…”

Eric checks the time. “It’s already 10…”

His mother looks shocked. “Are you serious, that means we’re late­—!”

“Kidding.” Eric grins and raises his arm, which shows it’s exactly 9:30. He winces and groans when his mother slaps his shoulder hard enough for it to hurt. “Ow! Mom!”

“I did say it, didn’t I? My four favorite pains in the …” their mother says, tutting and shaking her head. She claps her hands and the hallways of their home are suddenly filled with familiar chaos as, one after the other, doors are slammed and keys are gathered as their mother tuts and frets and nags in a single breath, her presence so large and unavoidable that Eric nearly forgets corralling them into the car for church used to be their father’s job.

“All right, everyone, get a move on! We have to go now—

(Last one out to the car is getting TWICE as many chores later!)

“--and I told you all to shower hours ago so you all better be ready!

(I’m not kidding, you kids, I’m counting to three!)

“There’s no time. C’mon now, we’re going to be late!

(Junghyuk! Hyori!)

“Minwoo! Sunho! Let’s go!”

--

Christ Church is located a good fifteen minutes away from where they live, and has been a community icon ever since any of them can remember. Eric drives at his mother’s behest, and it takes all his willpower not to flinch as he goes down the same road he and Hyesung had taken just two days ago. The same road, in the same car, he scoffs to himself. If God really exists, he has a wicked sense of humor.

It’s raining again too and the sky is a miserable grey. He wonders if Hyesung’s leg is hurting him again, or if he’s even still in town, or if he…Hyesung…is thinking about him, right at this moment, the same way Eric is…

“Eric!” Minwoo calls from the back seat, and Eric snaps back to attention. “Bro, slow down, we’re gonna go to church not straight to Heaven. You’re gonna miss the turn.”

“As if you would end up in Heaven,” Hyori teases Minwoo from the seat beside him, earning her a rough poke in the shoulder. “But yeah, be careful, E. The roads are wet—ow! Minwoo! MOM!”

Eric ignores his squabbling siblings as he activates the turn signal just before he has to make the exit towards the church. The tall stone structure has been there since they were children, albeit it’s already undergone several renovations through the years. The parking lot has turned into the beginnings of what promises to be a glorious mud pit, but there’s too little rain anyway for them to be worried. Eric helps their mother out of the car and walks with her at the head of the line that they form, the same way their father used to do. When they sit at their assigned pew, the people around them turn and give them sympathetic nods. Two of them, however, nod in acknowledgement, and it’s Junjin and Charlie in their own pew. Eric pretends not to have seen the empty spot on Charlie’s other side where Hyesung should have been.

“It’s a WONDERFUL day, can I get an A-MEN???” someone suddenly shouts into a mic and Eric jumps up in his seat, startled out of his wits. He can see as Hyori also shirks at the sound like a frightened cat on their mother’s left side, her forehead creasing as she frowns while trying to locate the source of the ruckus.

“Jesus Christ—”

“Hyori!” their mother snaps, just as the second hype phrase is shouted into the mic, deafening them into submission: “I didn’t HEAR THAT, so can I PLEASE get an A-MEN???”

“AMEN!” shouts the congregation, and Eric grows more confused by the second. This is definitely not how he remembers church services went.

“That’s better, in fact that is the best! Warm round of applause for everyone! We nailed it!” the person in charge of the mic is still talking but has yet to reveal himself. Smoke pours out of a machine set up on the side of the podium and a spotlight comes on, illuminating the church insignia carved into the wood. A song about Jesus being the end-all be-all suddenly comes on and without so much as a warning the mystery hype man appears as though this is the WWE and he’s Stonecold Steve Austin, and his entrance music is about Jesus being the redeemer of the world.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Eric can’t help but mutter as he suddenly gets a clear view of Dongwan beaming onstage, dressed in a casual suit and looking like the proudest bastard alive.  Beside him on the pew, Minwoo cackles and whips out his cellphone to discreetly film what’s taking place, while Andy at the end is trying (and tragically failing) to choke back laughter. Several pews ahead, Junjin has also ducked his head, his shoulders shaking in restrained laughter, and Eric sees as Charlie gives him a smart rap on the back of his skull without even missing a beat.

“Junghyuk.” Their mother hisses, and Eric forces himself to sit still and behave for at least the first five minutes of the sermon.

“WELCOME, brothers and sisters, to the house of the LORD! You know how we love to see your smiling faces.” Dongwan points at the congregation, smiling in a way that you’d expect from a local celebrity. Admittedly, Eric has to concede that in Rye Brook, Dongwan probably is one, given the fact that the town is predominantly white and Christian, and he’s the youngest and, with his perpetual tan and Asian features, inarguably the most exotic-looking pastor they’ve had (never mind that he was born in the heart of Westchester county and has never set foot outside of the Americas, the farthest step he probably ever took being a graduation trip they had done to Cancun).

“How is everyone this fine morning?” Dongwan’s energy has always been at the higher end of the spectrum, but this time it’s at ridiculous levels. “Can I get a PRAISE GOD to thank God for this beautiful morning?”

“Praise God!” the congregation, sans Eric and his siblings, shout as one, clearly enjoying Dongwan’s one-man show. He’s going from one end of the platform to the other, waving and smiling at the crowd. When he goes back to the podium, he has a look of puffed-up pride on his face that makes Eric want to smack him while laughing.

“Let’s take it back a notch, just a bit, just for a sec...” Dongwan bows his head then scans the crowd before settling his gaze on Eric and the rest of his family. Minwoo, still secretly filming, waves and smiles back at him with zero shame.

“As you have probably heard, a beloved member of our congregation passed away last week after a long fight with the deadly C, and his family is here with us today to be one with God and our community during this difficult time.” Dongwan speaks in a solemn tone, as though seconds ago he wasn’t just promoting God like he was an up and coming rock star. “James Mun was a dedicated husband and father who has lived here in Rye Brook for the past 40 years. You may have known him as James or Mr. Mun, but I’ve known him all my life as Uncle James, and his loss is quite…personal…for me.” Here, Dongwan pauses and seems to get misty-eyed. For a split-second, something also catches in Eric’s throat as he meets Dongwan’s gaze, the rare, raw grief cresting and tiding inside of him like a slumbering giant.

“I grew up with the Mun kids, and their dad was a dad for me when my own couldn’t be bothered. Their mom, Aunt Emily…” at this, Dongwan raises his hand to wave, and Eric watches as his mother waves back in response, “kept an eye on me when my mom was too busy, and let me sleep over when I had to. I played ball with Eric and M, babysat Andy, and did homework with Hyori…

(“More like ‘played with his balls’, ‘taught him ’, and ‘had daydreams of her kissing him senseless’,” Minwoo mutters under his breath, and the grip around Eric’s chest loosens, affording him a smile)

“…along with Jin and Steve, Uncle Charlie’s boys…how’s it going, Uncle Charlie? Steve we all know as our local Olympic hero, it’s too bad he couldn’t be here today…”

The random mention of Hyesung prickles at Eric and he presses his lips together in response. Thankfully, Dongwan doesn’t prattle on and quickly wraps it up.

“Let’s just take a moment of silence for James Mun, and remember God’s promise of our eventual reunification not only with each other, but with Him, and know that it will be a day worth looking forward to…”

Eric isn’t sure who it is but someone in their pew snorts and earns a hiss from their mother. They bow their heads in commemorative silence and after a full minute, Dongwan claps his hands, and the band commences on starting a song in earnest.

“Love you, Uncle James! You’re with Jesus now, but while we’re here, let’s dedicate our first song to you: everyone, let’s all start with some Hallelujah!”

There’s a smashing of cymbals and a clashing of guitars that’s so loud Eric wonders how anyone can stand the volume of it. In distraction, his hands move towards the lapel of the jacket he’s wearing and his fingers brush against something he previously hadn’t noticed were hidden in the inner pockets. He fishes them out, then elbows Minwoo to look at his open palm holding the two rolled blunts that had been concealed within their father’s suit.

Hallelujah, I say~ Hallelujah~ Dongwan is singing, leading the congregation in praise.

In the Muns’ pew, Minwoo’s eyes widen and gleam as he takes in the sight of what Eric has in his hand. Without another word, he swipes them off of him and stands up, straightening his suit jacket before easing his way out of the pew and into the aisle, then walking straight out of the worship hall.

! Seriously?! Eric stares after his brother in disbelief as their mother frowns at Minwoo’s sudden departure.

“Minwoo—?” Their mother asks, confused, as Minwoo saunters out. Eric raises his hands, pretends to know nothing. He hopes his annoyance doesn’t give him away too easily.

“I’ll get him, Mom, don’t worry.” He stands, excusing himself. From her seat, Hyori’s eyes narrow at him in suspicion, but he ignores it. “Maybe it’s a…uh…stomachache or something…”

Onstage, Dongwan is still singing, his eyes closed in rapture and ignorant of their ongoing escape.

Praise be His Holy Name, praise be~

--

Eric hasn’t gotten high in ages.

“Yooo, I have to ask,” Minwoo says, “where did you get these again? This is high-grade stuff!”

They’ve barricaded themselves in an empty Sunday school classroom and Minwoo is sitting cross-legged on one of the desks. He takes a long drag from the blunt he and Eric are sharing before handing it off, closing his eyes as he lets it kick in.

“I told you.” Eric takes a drag of his own, feeling the low comforting buzz weed allows him. He’s settled himself against the window atop a row of cubbyholes. Beside him is a children’s bible that he deftly flips over before he can feel the judging eyes of Noah and all his animals on him. “Mom lent me Dad’s jacket. Found them in his suit.”

“Dad really had these in his pockets? Dad?”

“Bought the suit for Hyori’s wedding. Guess he figured he would need it.”

At this, Minwoo starts giggling hysterically. “Well he had the right idea.” He shakes his head, letting the shaggy front end of his hair down and cover his eyes. “I hated that bastard. Thank God Hyori called it off.”

Eric tries to recall his twin’s ex-fiancé but can’t get beyond the memory that he was white with a Martha’s Vineyard tan and wore shirts with the collars popped up. “Trey was the one with the wonky nose he got from football?” he asks, frowning.

“No, he played lacrosse and nearly hurled the first time he smelled kimchi jiggae cooking in the house.”

Eric laughs. “Oh, that .” He has a fleeting memory of someone pushing past him to get to their first-floor bathroom in a rush, then emerging minutes later with their skin looking like curdled milk. They smelled like it too.

“They never would have lasted anyway.” Minwoo has gotten a hold of the blunt and is attempting to blow a smoke ring, but immediately stops when he nearly spews out a cloud towards the direction of a crucifix planted on the teacher’s desk. Eric watches but keeps his silence, making it a point to refrain from commenting on Hyori’s questionable taste lest it bounces back on him.

“Ah, you never know…” he ends up saying anyway. “It might have worked out.”

“Who knows, right?” Minwoo says, nonchalantly, lying down on two desks that are placed side by side. He passes the blunt back to Eric who takes another deep drag. “No one ever knows…”

Eric leans back against the closed windows, sated and happier than he’s been in ages. He blows the smoke out with hardly any caution, enjoying the various sensations the weed leaves him with. His brain is light and his fingers are tingly and nothing else really matters for the time being but—

“Hyesung.”

“What?”

“Hyesung…” Eric says again, then realizes he’s been saying it out loud. He sits upright in a sudden motion, sending a pile of children’s prayer books to the floor with a loud clatter, startling him enough out of his reverie. Minwoo is watching him from his spot with a lazy expression, blinking as Eric gathers the prayer books from the floor and places them back on the shelf with shaking hands.

“I mean…” Eric’s palms are sweating and he wonders if Minwoo had heard. And if he had, if he even understood… “I didn’t really…I meant…”

“Calm down, bro,” Minwoo says, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s fine.”

Eric’s heart is racing too fast so he’s not sure he’s heard right. “What?”

“I’m sorry for the mess with Hyunjin. It wasn’t cool what she did. But…you know, you can always start again elsewhere with other people. Hyesung is a pain in the but he ain’t half bad.”

Eric’s breath hitches in his throat in a way that has nothing to do with the smoke that’s gathered in the room. “Nothing’s happened yet, just so you know…”

“Yeah, but…you know.” Minwoo winks at him and it ends there, but it feels as though another weight has been lifted off of Eric’s chest—

The classroom door suddenly swings open with an almighty squeal, and both Eric and Minwoo jump at the sound.

“What the ?!? You guys are smoking weed??? In church??? And you didn’t tell me???”

Andy’s voice is high-pitched with rage but Minwoo quickly leaps up from his spot and drags him inside, shushing him, all the while offering him the blunt.

“Where the heck did you even get this?? We’ve been locked in the house for days!” Andy looks at the blunt between Minwoo’s fingers with an incredulous look on his face.

“Ssshh. It’s a gift from Dad, baby bro.” Minwoo says, patting Andy’s chest. “Enjoy.”

“What?”

“It was in his jacket pocket.” Eric pats the surface of the cubbyholes that he’s leaning back against. “Have a seat, make yourself at home.”

“Mom sent me to look for you, you s. You’re going to be in so much trouble if she finds out…”

“It’s from Dad, Sunho, stop disrespecting it.”      

“Shut the up, hyung,” Andy says, but he’s already smiling, securing himself a seat on another empty desk so that the three of them are now facing each other, forming a misshapen triangle between themselves.

“The Mun boys,” Minwoo grins, looking at his brothers. “How long has it been since the three of us got together huh?”

“We never did,” Andy says, scowling. He’s already taken a first drag and a cloud forms above his head as he blows it out. “By the time I was old enough to do any fun stuff you guys were grown and gone.”

Eric feels a stab of guilt at this, but also realizes that it isn’t completely his fault either. “You had Jinnie though, right?” he asks.

“And Dad,” Andy says, looking wistful. “I swear when the three of you all left for college, I felt like dying. But Dad—Minwoo, stop!” he pushes at Minwoo, whose come closer to hug him (or steal back the blunt), “Dad always hung out with me and made sure I didn’t feel too lonely. Jinnie was a bit sad too at the time because Hyesung had left, but Dad would drive us around and take us to ball games and stuff and made sure we had stuff to do.”

Minwoo has gotten the blunt back and is now on the desks where he’s lain back down. It takes several minutes before he speaks again. “You remember when he would sneak into our rooms on the weekend and pounce at us while we were sleeping?”

This time Andy laughs. “He broke my bed once! Mom was so mad!”

“You remember when Mom was about to give birth to Andy and Dad literally drove through the garage door?” Eric grins.

Minwoo claps like a seal. “The police almost didn’t believe him!”

“And he used to sing that song, remember?”

“Cheek to Cheek?”

“No…” Eric racks his brain for a snippet of the melody their father used to sing, and his mind snags on a fleeting memory of bright afternoons and the sound of fingers tapping on a sun-warmed steering wheel. “You know…that sunshine song.”

“Oh!” Minwoo starts to hum. “You are my son-shine, my only son-shine…”

Eric smiles, his heart twinging at the familiar melody. He sees as Andy looks up at the ceiling, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “He didn’t really know the words beyond the chorus but to hell with it, right?”

“Couldn’t really sing either but that’s what made it all the more memorable…. Can I also just ask the million-dollar question that is on everyone’s minds right now and that is if Dad ever saw Dongwan as pastor?” Minwoo peers up at his brothers like an upside-down Cheshire cat. He hands the blunt over to Eric who accepts it gratefully. “I mean, did you see him out there?”

“He killed it,” Eric snorts.

“Dad would have killed him. He would have clocked him one right from his seat.” Andy giggles, wiping his eyes with his jacket sleeve. “Oh man…a weekly Erowan show…I don’t know how no one has complained yet.”

“Dad would’ve secretly loved it, I think. Dongwan’s always been pretty shameless. That bastard and his ridiculous ideas...” Minwoo says with fondness. “I love him.”

“Can I get an AMEN?!” Eric mock-shouts, and part of him isn’t really sure if he’s already being too loud or if his ears are just getting muffled because of the clouds gathering in his head, but he guesses it wouldn’t really matter now anyway.

“Hyung, I’m pretty sure this is blasphemy—”

Eric ignores Andy’s nagging. “CAN I GET AN AMEN?!” he mimics Dongwan again, this time raising his arms and swaying in his seat.

“AMEN!” Minwoo and Andy shout back, raising their arms in unison, and it’s one of those moments where absolutely nothing and everything makes sense all at the same time, and all three of them end up bursting out laughing.

“Love you, Dad!” Minwoo shouts at the ceiling, sprawled on his back like a lazing seal. “You’re with Jesus now!”

“Amen!” Eric and Andy say, throwing their palms up at the cool white plaster of the ceiling, barely visible now through the thick fug they’ve created. “Amen.”

--

It takes thirty more minutes, or maybe an hour. Eric’s brain is soft pliable goo and he’s sitting in between states of utter contentment and despair as he repeatedly conjures up both Hyunjin and Hyesung in his mind’s eye, placed side by side like two tarot cards about to tell his fortune. Minwoo has taken to humming Swing Low, Sweet Chariot and Andy is providing the second voice as accompaniment while he stands on the desk wearing a plastic crown and twirling a prop spear that had been salvaged from the dress-up box.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rings, echoing loudly through the church. Minwoo shoots up, sunglasses askew on his nose.

“Fire?” he asks, blinking comically.

Seconds later, the ceiling sprinklers in the room come on.

--

Their escape from church is nothing short of miraculous: somehow the three of them manage to stumble out into the sunshine and emerge as the only people in the congregation drenched from head to toe, and it’s Hyori who sees them first and is mindful enough to drag them to the side yard where the dumpsters are before anyone else can see. It doesn’t even take her two seconds to deduce what had happened.

“Jesus Christ, you three smell like a frat house. In church, really, you guys? Is there a bigger group of idiots?” she chastises them as they stand in a line, sunglasses placed firmly on their faces because the sun is just too damn bright. Eric feels as though his whole mouth has grown fur, and Andy nearly topples over a rhododendron bush even while standing still.

Minwoo hiccupped. “Dad gave it.”

“Dad?”

“Where’s Mom? Noona, did you lose Mom?”

“She’s talking to Uncle Charlie, god’s sakes, you’d better thank Dad himself she hasn’t seen you yet, or Dongwan—”

As though summoned, someone else enters the side yard, his heavy footfall instantly recognizable. With him is a taller figure who claps his hands gleefully at the sight of them.

“No way,” Junjin laughs as they approach. “You guys set the fire alarm off??”

Dongwan is fuming, Eric can practically feel his aura, but his glasses are too dark for him to properly assess his facial expression. Not that he’s really sorry, but he just wants to see how bad they’ve managed to piss Dongwan off, which is always funny in his opinion.

“Are you serious right now??” Dongwan goes near enough Andy to sniff but almost immediately recoils. “You jerks were getting high in church during my sermon?!”

“Which we’re sure was very good,” Minwoo says, attempting to sound diplomatic but it doesn’t really work given that he’s practically talking to the dumpster. Andy flicks back still-dripping bangs with the back of his hand.

“We’re sorry, Pastor Erowan…”

“I told you not to call me that—!”

Eric laughs as Dongwan lunges towards Andy, all traces of any of his previous benevolence gone. Thankfully, Junjin is quick enough to grab him and keep him in place, his hands placed squarely on Dongwan’s shoulders.

“You have to admit the smoky entrance is a bit too much, Wannie,” Hyori says, smirking.

Dongwan huffs, red-faced, and held fast against Junjin’s chest. “It’s symbolic.” He twists his head towards Eric, who’s still laughing. “And you. You’re not off the hook yet!”

“Oh c’mon.” Eric crosses his arms, amused at how enraged the shorter man is. “Don’t pull this sanctimonious bull on me. It’s not like you’ve never smoked this before.”

“Yeah, but not in church, you .”

“Same same.”

“Pastor Kim, honest question,” Andy is slurring his words; Eric is amazed at the fact that he hasn’t openly drooled yet. “Would it matter less if I told you that that experience is honestly the closest I’ve ever felt to God?”

Dongwan opens his mouth to retort but is cut off by the sound of a siren wailing somewhere far off: the fire department is responding to the alarm.

“Whoopsies, time to go, kids!” Minwoo says, taking a step forward, and promptly trips over his own feet, saved only by Hyori grabbing the scruff of his collar. “Whoa.”

Dongwan heaves a loud sigh, wriggles himself free from Junjin’s hold, then scowls at them as he smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Get outta here before the cops come,” he said, cocking his head towards the carpark. “I want you all gone within the next five minutes. I’m just going to have to tell them the smoke machine malfunctioned.”

Minwoo kisses Dongwan on the temple, making the pastor recoil in disgust. “I knew you were a good one,” he says, batting his eyes. Dongwan sticks his tongue out at him but doesn’t push him away. He nearly punches him however when Minwoo gives his groin a playful tap.

“Jin, could you take these losers home? I’ll just tell Mom they’ve gone ahead.” Eric doesn’t flinch as Hyori digs into his pockets looking for the car keys. “Would your Dad mind riding back with Mom and I?”

“Nah,” Junjin grins. “Dad’s probably sick of me and Hyesung hyung anyway, so you guys will be a welcome change.”

Eric doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or just his treacherous heart but the world spins at the sound of Hyesung’s name, and he has to compose himself enough so that he won’t fall over. He hopes Junjin would say more so that he wouldn’t have to reveal himself as being totally pathetic enough to ask where his brother is and how he’s doing and why isn’t he calling me back, goddammit…

“Tell you what,” Junjin says, eyes suddenly gleaming, and Eric’s stomach lurches, “why don’t we all grab a few drinks later tonight to celebrate everyone being all together again? One last round before you guys all head back to your own lives. Whaddya say?”

“What, all of us?” Hyori asks, and Eric catches as she gives him a split-second glance. “Even your hermit brother?”

“I’ll make sure he comes.” Junjin grins. “I’ll drag him if I have to.”

If Eric agrees too quickly or too enthusiastically to the plan no one really takes notice, but everyone, high or otherwise, agrees that it’s about time they get together after such a tumultuous week and after…what, 16 years of the seven of them not being all in the same place? It’s been far too long.

“It’ll be great.” The smile on Junjin suggests it can be anything but, but Eric pretends he doesn’t see.

“9PM sharp at The Pub, then.” Minwoo says, looking more alert by the second. “Aye?”

“ you all,” Dongwan snorts. “But…fine.”

“Yes!”

“Now get the outta here before the cops come, I’m not telling you again.”

--

Besides a detour to Chipotle to stave off the hunger pangs the pot has caused, the ride home with Junjin is uneventful (if not a little damp) and they all arrive early enough to grab a quick shower and retreat to their own rooms for a much-needed nap. When Eric wakes, it’s mid-afternoon and he finds he can now move his arms and legs of his own volition and that there’s thankfully no mold growing in his mouth. His stomach is growling again, so he slips on a hoodie and shuffles out of bed, eyeing the gloom beyond his window; the sky is still threatening more rain.

He’s on his way down to the kitchen when he sees the open door to their father’s study. He approaches to close it, but stops short when he sees someone inside: Andy is standing in the middle of the room, unmoving, amidst the piles of boxes their mother has left for them to pore through, his back facing the doorway and his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

Eric knocks, and Andy jumps like he’s been scared out of his skin. When he turns, half his face is hidden in the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“What you doin’, kid?” Eric asks, lingering in the doorway. He’s wary of approaching Andy lest he be in a Mood. Their youngest brother threw the worst tantrums as a child, something he subtly carried into adulthood, although the screaming and breath-holding was replaced by occasional punching and yelling and wrestling. In that particular instance, with no clear indication as to how Andy is feeling, Eric decides that keeping himself out of arm’s reach is the safer option.  

“Oh, um…” Andy sniffs, keeping his eyes low. He fiddles with the fringes of his hair, then lightly touches the tops of the nearby boxes. “You know, just looking around like what Mom said. See if there’s anything worth keeping.”

Ah, yes. They were supposed to do that, weren’t they?

“Yeah?” Eric taps his fingers on the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“…Yeah sure.”

He hesitates for a second out of habit before fully stepping into the room. It almost feels like a crime, strolling freely into their father’s study when they’ve been banned from entering it most of their lives. Eric is amazed at how much smaller the room actually is compared to what he can remember, and how different it looks now that the clutter has been cleared and the shelves have been nearly stripped bare. Right where Andy is standing is the enormous oak desk that their father had treasured (because it made him feel like he was JFK), and Eric takes the opportunity to run a gentle finger across its dusty surface, a childlike sense of awe and nostalgia blooming in his chest.

He remembers hiding under that desk…remembers how, as a small child, he was made to sit on it whenever their father needed to have a Talk with him—usually because he had made Minwoo cry or had sat on Hyori’s head and had made her scream…

“Hyung.”

Eric raises an eyebrow involuntarily. That word again. Alarm bells ring distant in his mind. Is Andy all right? Or maybe it’s still the weed talking…

“Hyung.”

This time Eric can’t ignore it. “Yeah?”

“You know that song…the son-shine one?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Dad always used to sing it to me. Like…all the time. He woke me up with it every morning.”

“Yeah? He used to sing it to me in the car—” Eric turns, pleased, to look at his brother, but his grin vanishes when he sees how miserable Andy looks. “Andy? Why, what’s the matter?”

Andy was ten when the three of them left for college. Eric can still remember how he looked that day as he stood in the yard with their parents, watching them as he, Minwoo, and Hyori started up their cars to drive three separate ways. His expression now is the same as what his expression back then had been: lost, forlorn, and irreparably heartbroken.

“He kept singing it to me every morning when he woke me up and I got so tired of it. I think it was when I was eleven. I made him stop. Like…I got really mad at him for it.”

“You were a kid,” Eric says in an attempt to comfort his brother. He can understand; their dad could be a bit too much sometimes. “You wouldn’t have known any better and Dad probably also knew…”

“No,” Andy shakes his head. “I was really mean to him about it and I think he was so shocked he didn’t really know what to do around me for a week. When we got around to speaking again, he never sang that song to me anymore.”

Oh.

There’s a weighted pause, then Andy lets out a shuddering breath. “But…he sang it to me one last time while I was visiting him at the hospital. Mom wasn’t there, and I was pretending to be asleep because Dad was always mad and in pain those days so we were always fighting. But I was just…pretend-sleeping, you know? And he kind of…whisper-sang it…like he was scared I’d hear it, and I wanted to hold his hand back then but I didn’t…and…”

The wet sob escaping from him like a gunshot takes Eric aback, more so than the sudden confession. Andy has never openly cried in front of him before, at least not after the age of five or six. To see his brother shaking and crying now just within his reach awakens the part of Eric which had sworn since Andy’s birth that he would protect him and do anything in his power to keep him safe and happy.

“Hey, it’s okay…” Andy cries with restrained sobs, and Eric gets over himself fast enough to reach out to pull his brother close to him in a hug. Despite either of them usually balking at any blatant displays of affection between themselves, neither of them pulls away. “It’s okay, kid.”

“I wish it was. If it was, D-Dad would still be here and I would’ve already told him how s-s-sorry I was for being such a little all those years ago. We were always fighting over the dumbest things.”

“I’m sure he knew….” Eric is grasping at the right thing to say. Unlike his relationship with Minwoo, he feels a clear sense of responsibility over his youngest brother, and he doesn’t want to it up by saying the wrong thing. At best, their father had had a unique relationship with Andy; one marred by constant arguments mostly due to the clashing of two very similar personalities, and over the years Eric had learned to play referee. But this time, he doesn’t know how to speak for his father; he doesn’t even know if he wants to try to. 

“I was there every weekend until he died. I c-c-could have told him. I could have told him a thousand things, but I didn’t. I always thought we’d have time…until we didn’t.”

Eric winces as guilt surges hot within him, the uncomfortable sensation settling so heavily in his gut he feels like he’s been er-punched. This is an elephant in the room their family has yet to discuss: the fact that, despite the numerous phone calls, night flights, and two-hour drives that he, Hyori, and Minwoo had made, Andy had ended up taking care of their father alone during his entire ordeal with cancer. Andy, who has a full-time job in the city. Andy, who, without fail, went back to Rye every weekend to check on their parents and made sure bills were paid, groceries were bought, and that their mother had someone to cry to. Andy, their youngest, who probably told their father elaborate lies as to why none of his older siblings could be there, when they all could have set aside their own personal matters for a while to come home.

(Minwoo and Hyori dropped by occasionally, of course, seeing as they were both in the East Coast anyway, but it was nothing like Andy’s dedication, and Eric only managed to fly in thrice after their father’s diagnosis).

The belated realization of him failing them both by stubbornly holding the fort down in LA as his marriage fell apart, and consequently appeasing his guilt temporarily with phone calls, rather than filing a six-month leave of absence so he can do his duties as eldest son and brother fills Eric with a sense of shame and devastation.

“I’m sorry, I should have been there.” With you. For you. For you and Dad. Eric feels like someone’s punched him in the throat; it’s getting difficult to get a breath in. “I didn’t realize in time. You…You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.”

“I hated you for not being there.” Andy mumbles into his chest, almost low enough to not be heard, but Eric hears. He hears it and it hurts.

“Andy…”

“None of you were there…when I had to bathe him…and help him take a …and held him when they flushed his IV and he damn nearly gave me a black eye.”

Eric winces, feeling worse by the second. No apology is ever going to make it feel better, but he tries anyway. “Kid, I’m so sorry.”

“I mean I didn’t expect to see Dad’s ever…but a lot of the time it was just me and him…and the funny thing was…it was just like the old days, when I was growing up. Me and him and no one else, arguing over the stupidest things. I only had to pretend you guys were at uni or something. Maybe that’s why I don’t entirely hate any of you.” Andy pulls away this time, rubbing at his eyes with the insides of his wrists, sniffling. “Maybe…maybe that’s why he sang the son-shine song again. I dunno. Maybe.”

Andy looks up at him with large brown eyes, his plea for affirmation so loud Eric can hear it. He knew I was sorry, right, hyung? He knew I loved him? Did he love me?

“He loved the out of you.” Eric says, finding it within him to give his brother a small smile. “He adored you in a way he never adored any of us. The way he loved you was different. He could have never hated you, especially for a dumb thing that you said when you were barely out of fifth grade.”

Andy’s relief is palpable, as though it’s their father who spoke himself. His shoulders drop as the tension is released, and he stops clenching his fists.

“So…uh…I was the favorite?”

Eric rolls his eyes. Although Andy definitely was (is), he would never admit it. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say that.”

“Yeah, I definitely was.”

“Hey, look,” Eric’s guilt is still heavy on his chest. “I am really sorry for leaving you to deal with…Dad and the hard stuff…alone. I should’ve flown in earlier.”

Andy shrugs, this time looking sheepish. “Well, you also had Hyunjin noona to worry about…”

Eric cuts him off. “It could have waited.”

“You know Dad would have kicked your back to LA if he’d known.”

“I would have liked to see him try.”

Andy finally chuckles at this, probably amused at the thought. His face is still wet and blotched with the remnants of tears but a shadow of a grin has now also graced his features.

“I’m glad you guys all stayed though. We haven’t all been out here in a while.”

Eric is tempted to let his little brother in on the thoughts he’s been toying with the past day or so, but decides to keep his silence for now. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s nice to be around everyone again, no matter how crazy it can get.” He looks up at the cleared-out corners of their father’s study. “This old house has seen a lot.”

Andy pouts. “Do you think Mommy meant it? Selling the house?”

“I don’t know. You know Mom has her own way of dealing with things.”

“Can’t you tell her not to sell it?”

“It’s her life and her house, kid. Let her do what she wants.”

Andy puffs up his cheeks in distaste but doesn’t argue any further. It’s a far cry from the professional nightmare image he’s cultivated in the work setting (proven by the heated phone calls he’s managed to hear Andy take while they’ve been at Rye), but Eric concludes that it’s because they all regress back to their childhood selves at home, and with everyone all accounted for, he knows Andy is only too happy to relinquish Head of the Household duties back to his oldest brother, and Eric is glad to take it, if only to relieve the youngest of the burden that shouldn’t have been his to bear in the first place.

“Sunho…”

“I swear to God, if you apologize to me one more time, hyung—”

Eric feels his face go red. “Shut up! I’m trying to offload some guilt here.”

“I don’t want it.” Andy sticks out his tongue. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Stop feeling so bad about it. It would have been fun to see you suffer a bit but Hyunjin noona arrived and I figured you had enough on your plate already.”

The mention of Hyunjin’s name again makes the blood rush to his ears, but Eric attributes it to muscle memory more than anything. “I hate you,” he says, but without any real heat.

This time, Andy grants him a full grin, one loaded with equal parts mischief and goading.

“Yeah, you wish you could.”

--

(That’s your newest brother, his father says, pointing out to the three of them what looks suspiciously like pink dough wrapped in a blanket, resting in the nursery beyond the glass barrier they’re standing in front of. His name is Sunho.

He’s tiny, Hyori squeals, stamping her feet. He looks like a doll.

Daddy, when I play with him, can I put him in the Tonka truck? Minwoo presses his nose against the glass. I’ll be gentle.

Eric doesn’t say anything. He’s still grasping at the fact that they’re four now, not three. When he’s asked how many siblings he has, he has to remember to say the right number.

You’ll take care of him, right? Your baby brother?

Yes, Daddy! Yes!

Eric feels as his father nudges his shoulder. When he looks up, his father has a wide, expectant smile on his face.

What about you, Eric? You’re the Big Hyung now. Will you take care of him and keep an eye on him?

Eric is nearly eight and he’s not sure if he can handle the responsibility. He’s already responsible for a lot of what Minwoo does, and it’s hard, but if no one will watch out for Sunho, who would?

What’s Big Hyung, Daddy?

It means you’re the eldest brother. Number One. And your brothers and sister will always be able to go to you when they need help. Can you do it?

It sounds nice. He’s sure he can do it. Eric nods with resolve. Yes, Daddy.

His father’s smile feels like the first day of summer, even though they’re in the middle of one of the worst winters they’ve ever had.

Good boy. I know I can count on you.)

tbc

Author's Notes
1. This chapter just kept going and going so I decided to cut it so it would flow smoother. I also wanted to give Andy his moment with Eric, the same way his other siblings already have.
2. Also it's been a YEAR (or so) since I last updated this???
3. Hyesung was supposed to be here but he wasn't in the mood yet. I tried, kids. Hopefully he'll show up in the second half.
4. If you're reading this, could you leave a little comment once you're done? I don't particularly think I'm the best writer out there and this is only something to appease my boredom and personal whims, but some feedback would be nice. :) 
5. I know a lot of you have been waiting for an update to this fic, so this is for all of you! Thank you for waiting so patiently!