What's this??? Author is updating quickly?????? Hnnnnnnnnnnnnhello

Fair trigger warning- There are some self-harm stims in the first bit of the chapter. Sorry 'bout that~

Meet your new advanced teacher- Jung Jongup!

Daehyun froze, staring at the screen with wide eyes. I knew it. I knew it was him. His vision grew foggy from tears and he stood shakily, making his way into the kitchen. The conversation faltered in the living room and Youngjae leaned forward, his expression wary.

“Daehyun…” he said warningly.

Daehyun ignored him in favor of stopping only a few paces away from the teen at the sink, clenching and unclenching his fists with the tide of emotion rising inside him.

“Jonguppie-ah?”

There was a clatter as Jongup fumbled and dropped the mug he was washing into the sink. His eyes went wide and his breathing hitched as he began to panic, flashbacks playing in his mind. Instinctively and without any thought, he grabbed for the knife he’d just washed, clutching it with a white-knuckle grip while he tried to stay on his feet.

“Jonguppie, I knew it was you!”

Daehyun stepped forward with tears in his eyes and reached out to grab his brother’s shoulder, shaking.

“He’s got a knife you idiot!”

Youngjae leaped to his feet and jumped forward, grabbing Daehyun and pulling him away just as Jongup whipped around, slashing the knife through the air where Daehyun had been standing only moments ago, knocking a large bowl from the counter as he moved. Youngjae grunted as they hit the floor, shaking and porcelain white from the pain crashing over him in waves from his legs and back. Daehyun winced and pushed himself up into a sitting position, hissing as glass dug into his hands. He looked around, confused, and found Youngjae trembling on the ground next to him, looking as though he was about to throw up from pain, and Jongup curled up in a ball against the counters, a knife still held in his hands and bleeding from multiple small wounds all over his legs and feet, with a few small cuts on his arms. His eyes were wild and panicked, but clouded over as if he wasn’t really seeing. Yongguk was suddenly next to him, and Junhong and Himchan with Youngjae.

Yongguk’s lips were drawn in a tight line. “Are you okay?” he asked tersely. Daehyun nodded, though he didn’t take his gaze off of Jongup. Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks as he watched his brother plead with someone who wasn’t there, sobbing and shielding his head with one of his arms.

“Jonguppie!”

Youngjae dragged himself through the glass toward his friend, though he had to pause several times to push down his nausea from his pain. “Jonguppie, please- It’s just me. It’s Youngjae!”

Jongup, if possible, only began to shake harder, and he fixed his clouded, unfocused gaze on Youngjae with pure terror shining in his eyes. “D-Don’t- Please n-no-” he sobbed. “I-I’m s-sorry! I’ll- I’ll be g-good! I ca-can’t- P-ple-”

“Jonguppie-ah, please- please put down the knife.” Youngjae kept his voice as quiet and gentle as he possibly could as he spoke, and he slowly, slowly reached out to take the knife, whispering assurances constantly as he moved. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the knife and prised it from Jongup’s grip, throwing it out of reach the moment it was free.

Jongup whimpered and flinched away from the noise, curling up even tighter. He tangled his fingers in his hair and tugged harshly, choking with the force of his sobs. “Please don’t leave,” he whined. “Don’t leave! I can’t- I c-can’t-” He broke off with a wordless wail, pounding a fist against his head.

Youngjae’s eyes widened and he moved forward again. “Jongup, no! D-Don’t-!” Daehyun watched on in helpless horror as Jongup lashed out again, missing Youngjae by a hair’s width as he scrambled away, further cutting himself with the glass on the floor. He eventually wound up cornered, and he pulled his lip into his mouth and bit down hard enough for blood to start trickling from the corner of his mouth. His breathing was erratic and shallow, and his shaking continued to worsen the longer he panicked. He began to scratch at his arms, digging his blunt nails into the cuts marring his flesh and tearing them open more.

“Jongup! No!” Youngjae shot across the floor as quickly as he could and grabbed one of Jongup’s arms, grunting with the effort of holding on as he was elbowed hard in the chest. “Yongguk!” he snapped over Jongup’s sobbing. Daehyun yelped as Yongguk suddenly let go of him and ran over to the struggling pair, taking hold of Jongup’s other arm and pulling it away so he couldn’t hurt himself anymore. “Himchan! On the desk in my room, there’s a blue inhaler! I need you to bring it to me quickly!”

Himchan turned and ran away, reappearing only seconds later with the inhaler. Already seeming to know what to do, he knelt down among the shards of glass and leaned in, grabbing Jongup by the jaw and forcing his mouth open. The effects of the sedative were almost immediate, and Jongup began to relax and quiet, his thrashing stopping and his body going limp. Only when he was completely out, collapsed against Youngjae’s chest, did the boy allow himself to notice the tears streaming down his cheeks and the terror in his heart. He cradled Jongup against him carefully and buried his face in the younger’s hair, forcing himself to take deep, shaky breaths until he could speak again.

“Junhong,” he said quietly. “Upstairs in the gym, in Jonguppie’s equipment shelf, there’s a large black box. Could you bring it to me?” After Junhong nodded and took off, Youngjae peeked up again. “Yongguk-hyung, Himchan-hyung, can you help get Jonguppie and I to the couch?”

Yongguk nodded and leaned forward, easily scooping Jongup into his arms and picking his way through the glass to get to the living room again. Himchan helped hoist Youngjae to his feet and carried most of his weight as he helped guide him to the couch. Youngjae sat and instructed Yongguk to lay Jongup with his head in his lap, and then leaned against the back of the couch and began to focus on his breathing as Yongguk helped Daehyun to the other couch and kneeled down in front of him as Junhong came back downstairs, carrying the first aid kit in his arms. He set it down on the coffee table, opened it up, and dragged it within Youngjae’s reach.

“Thank you,” Youngjae whispered. “Please tend to your injuries.” He reached over and pulled out a pair of tweezers, unwrapping them before gently turning Jongup’s arm to begin picking out the glass shards in his skin. The room was quiet and still for a few moments, and then Himchan shook his head.

“Junhong and I are fine. Let us help,” he said. He gestured to the maknae, who immediately headed to the other side of the couch after grabbing another pair of tweezers and began to work on Jongup’s legs without asking for permission. Himchan knelt down in front of Youngjae and reached for his legs, his hands gentle as he took his calf in his hold. Still, Youngjae’s breath hitched and he yanked it back. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Just- Please just-” He didn’t even seem to know what he wanted to say, and cut off with a shake of his head.

Himchan sighed. “Youngjae,” he said softly. “We need to get the glass out of your wounds, or they might get infected.”

Youngjae shook his head. “I’ll do it,” he said stubbornly.

Himchan was quiet for a few minutes longer, looking back at where Yongguk was helping Daehyun with his cut up hands. “I know you can,” he said gently, turning back to Youngjae. “But Jonguppie needs you right now, and we can’t leave the glass in there.”

Youngjae chewed his bottom lip, tears falling anew from his eyes, and kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on Jongup’s face. “Can you do it through the sweatpants?” he whimpered, though he already knew the answer.

Himchan shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Youngjae winced, but nodded slowly, immediately busying himself with picking small slivers of glass out of one of Jongup’s larger cuts instead of watching as Himchan gently pulled off his thick socks and rolled up his sweatpants, revealing the mass of scars covering his flesh. Even with only the small amount of Himchan’s face that he could see from his position, Youngjae could see him wince in sympathy and his eyes grow dark before he went for his cuts, gently poking and prodding at them. He heard Junhong’s sharp inhale, and Yongguk fixed his gaze on him.

“What happened?” he asked firmly.

Youngjae scowled at him. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snarled.

“Jongup has the same scars on his hands, Youngjae. I’m your cousin, and I know nothing! What-”

“Yongguk,” Daehyun interrupted softly. When his partner turned to look at him, he only sent him a gentle smile and shook his head, but Yongguk grumbled and acquiesced.

Jongup whimpered in his sleep and Youngjae winced, one of his hands coming up to cup his jaw and run his thumb gently over his cheekbone, shushing him quietly. Jongup leaned into the touch, quieting quickly, and Youngjae leaned over him to pull a needle and sterile thread from the kit, immediately setting about getting the needle ready for use. He began to stitch up the largest of the cuts on Jongup’s arms, his gaze dark and focused, though he winced every time Jongup let out a sound of pain.

“How do you… How do you know how to take care of him so well?” Junhong asked hesitantly. His tone was half awed and half timid, as if he was scared of whatever answer he would receive. Youngjae paused mid-stitch, blinking rapidly. No point trying to hide it now, right? They probably already knew a lot from Daehyun.

“I was the one who had to patch him up every time he got the beat out of him,” he whispered. His breathing was shaky again, but he shook it off like excess water and leaned back into his work.

The tension in the room grew, nearly becoming suffocating before the silence was shattered by a sob from Daehyun.

“This is my fault,” he cried. “It’s my fault!” Immediately, Yongguk lunged forward and pulled him into a tight embrace, whispering reassurances and promises that it was not, in fact, his fault.

Youngjae, however, was nothing if not honest.

“You’re right. This is entirely your fault.”

His tone was flat and dry, his words blunt and scathing. Daehyun flinched as though he’d been hit, clutching at Yongguk’s shirt harder. Yongguk glared at Youngjae over his shoulder as the younger boy snipped the string for the last stitch and tucked the supplies away in the kit again, finally pulling out the bandages and setting about wrapping him up. Himchan was long since done with Youngjae’s legs, and he rolled down his pants again and helped him