Hyukjae dutifully wakes Donghae every hour, running through a few questions (what year is it, what’s your name, how old are you, etc.) to make sure he’s actually coherent. Donghae answers each question dutifully each time, not even grumbling when he’s woken up over and over again. Though Donghae does look more tired each time Hyukjae wakes him, which makes Hyukjae feel more and more guilty each time his alarm alerts him to wake Donghae once again.

But all things considered, the night goes remarkably smoothly. Hyukjae makes it through reviewing six chapters, which is a personal best. 

The sun is just starting to peek through the curtains of his room and Hyukjae doesn’t know how, but even in his deep concentration in his notes, he immediately picks up on the slight hitch in Donghae’s breathing. He freezes, his pen stopping on his notebook as he listens more closely to the man sleeping behind him. 

It’s quiet for a second, before Donghae’s breathing hitches again and the tossing and turning begins again.

“No, please,” Donghae mutters and Hyukjae’s chest hurts. His grip tightens on his pen as Donghae’s muttering becomes less and less coherent, but more and more agitated. He wonders if he should wake Donghae up if that would help because he almost can’t stand the sounds anymore, his heart might actually break. He’s about to get up and wake Donghae when the man in question shoots upright with a yelp.

Hyukjae stays with his back to the bed for several seconds, listening to Donghae panting, breathing coming out in choked gasps until Hyukjae can’t ignore it any longer. He whirls around, crossing the room to the bed, kneeling next to Donghae. It’s clear Donghae is fighting back tears, his breathing coming out in short puffs as his eyes well up with tears. He’s wrapped his arms around his knees and Hyukjae watches, horrified, as Donghae digs his nails into the fabric of the pants he’s wearing, almost to the point where it looks like he's about to rip the material apart.

“I’m okay,” he says. He repeats it, over and over, like a mantra and Hyukjae desperately wants to help, but is unsure as to how.

“It’s okay to cry,” Hyukjae says. It seems that those words open a dam that has been keeping the tears back. As soon as the words have finished leaving his lips, Donghae lets out a full-blown sob. He curls in on himself, a trembling ball sitting in the middle of Hyukjae's bed. 

Hyukjae hovers, unsure of how to react. After a second,  Hyukjae stands.

"Would you like to be alone?" he asks. When he doesn't receive any sort of answer, he takes it upon himself to make the decision. "I'll just wait outside, okay?"

He's about to leave when a hand around his wrist stops him. When he looks down, Donghae's head is still buried in his legs, but his hand's grip is still tight.

"Stay," Donghae says. 

"Okay," Hyukjae says. "Okay." He gets closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, a few centimetres from Donghae.

"Can I hug you?" he asks after several seconds of silence, with only the quiet choked breath of Donghae crying. Donghae nods and Hyukjae inches closer to get a better angle. He wraps his arms around Donghae's hunched and trembling form, attempting to provide any form of comfort by rubbing his hand up and down the other man's back.

Hyukjae isn't sure how long they stay this way,  but he can feel Donghae begin to stop trembling and relax into his arms. He's starting to think that Donghae might have fallen asleep, but when Hyukjae shifts, Donghae pulls back.

His eyes are bloodshot and his face is blotchy from crying, but he's still the strongest and most beautiful person Hyukjae has ever seen. Slowly, Hyukjae reaches out, brushing a loose strand of hair out of Donghae's face. 

"Do you want to wash your face?" Hyukjae asks. Then he notices the dried blood staining the gauze on Donghae's forehead. "I can change your bandage in the meantime and then we can get something to eat."

Donghae agrees, letting Hyukjae lead him to the bathroom. 

Once in the bathroom, Hyukjae wets a clean washcloth with warm water and hands it to Donghae. 

“Careful with your forehead,” Hyukjae says. He watches Donghae out of the corner of his eyes as he washes his hands and pulls out antiseptic, ointment, and gauze to treat Donghae’s wound. Donghae is wiping his eyes gently with the cloth when he turns to face Donghae.

Donghae sits on the side of the tub without being prompted and Hyukjae kneels, wincing when his knees crack.

Donghae chuckles wetly and Hyukjae scowls.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m old,” he says. Donghae laughs harder.

“We’re the same age,” he says. “If you’re old then so would I, and that’s not allowed.”

Hyukjae chuckles. “Fine, I have old joints, then,” he says as he starts to peel the bandage away. He knows it’s not going to be comfortable, so he keeps going as steadily and slowly as possible, pulling the skin away from the adhesive rather the other way around. When the bandage is off, he inspects the stitches. They’re a little red, but nothing that is something to be overtly worried about. 

He cleans the incision gently with soap and water, dabbing off the dried blood. When he’s finished, he fans the area dry before putting the ointment on it. Then a clean bandage goes on top.

“Okay, we’re done,” Hyukjae says. He stands and Donghae does as well, and just as they do, Donghae’s stomach lets out a loud growl. 

“Just in time, it seems," Hyukjae teases. Donghae offers him a sheepish smile.

"I can cook," he says. "It's the least I can do."

Hyukjae wants to protest, but he knows it's for the best. They go to the kitchen and Donghae glances at him for permission to use the kitchen.

"Feel free," Hyukjae says. Donghae begins rummaging through the kitchen, pulling out things that Hyukjae didn't even know he owned. Though to be fair, it’s likely that Yesung was the one who had bought it, considering that Hyukjae practically lives exclusively on microwave food and takeout. 

Hyukjae sits at the counter and watches Donghae cook, using the leftover rice in the fridge to make fried rice. His mouth starts to water as the smell of the food wafts through the kitchen—Donghae wasn’t kidding when he said he could cook. 

In no time at all and with none of the struggle that would have occurred if Hyukjae had been the one cooking, Donghae is putting two plates of delicious looking fried rice in front of him, complete with a fried egg on top, cooked to a degree where the yolk is runny.

“Wow,” Hyukjae breathes. “We can eat on the couch?”

Donghae nods, and they take their plates over to the living room. They eat in silence. Hyukjae is silent because he hasn’t eaten anything this good in a long time. A glance over at Donghae tells Hyukjae that the other man probably has a lot on his mind. He’s eating, but slowly, eyes blank as he stares at the floor in front of him.

When they both finish their food, Hyukjae collects the dishes and puts them in the sink for later. He returns to the couch to see Donghae staring at his hands. Hyukjae stops, unsure if he should interrupt Donghae’s thoughts. Donghae glances up at him, tilting his head to the side.

“You’re wondering how this happened, aren’t you? How I… ended up like this,” Donghae asks.

“I’m not,” he lies as he walks over, taking his seat again next to Donghae. “It’s none of my business.” And it isn’t. He may be curious, but there’s no need for him to know. He has all the information he needs, Donghae’s boyfriend is an , beat him, and luckily Hyukjae is there to help.

"I owe you," Donghae says after a few seconds of silence, and Hyukjae is quick to correct him.

"No," he says. "You don't owe me anything."

"I do, though," Donghae says. "You've done so much for me, the least I can do is to tell you why I need your help in the first place."

"You will never owe me for my help," Hyukjae says, taking a seat on the couch next to Donghae. "And I can live without knowing the details of your life, especially if you want to tell me out of misplaced debt you feel you owe."

"But you do want to know."

Hyukjae grimaces, because he's been talked into a hole. He sighs.

"Mm, it's human nature to be curious, isn't it?"

Donghae chuckles. "That's a lot of words for yes."

"It's not exactly a yes," Hyukjae says. "But if you are going to tell me, you have to promise me you're not telling me because you feel you owe it to me."

Donghae's face twists for a second. "I also went to Seoul National," he begins. "For law, as you know. I'm from Mokpo, and we had no money, but I did manage to get a scholarship. It covered tuition, but living in Seoul isn't cheap so I worked as I studied."

Hyukjae nods. He's in a similar situation—he's studying on student loans and while his parents could afford to cover some of his living expenses, it is the reason why he's also working at a café.

"I was lucky," Donghae says, smiling in a way that seems empty and disingenuous. "In a way. I was very quick to land a part-time modelling job, and it got me the money I needed. It was good, for the first year of university, but then my dad got sick. And it got bad so quickly and by the end of my second school year, he was gone."

Hyukjae's jaw clenches and he can see Donghae blink