“Are you mute?” I ask the guy on the stuffed bunny. Instead of answering vocally, he just shakes his head as he stands up. “If you’re physically able to speak, then why aren’t you?”

“Well, for one, I have no reason to,” he starts, but I interrupt him.

“Incorrect. This place belongs to my family. I think it’s safe to say an explanation as to why you’ve pretty much set up your home here is completely necessary,” I say, moving to sit on the bed in the corner, making sure I put my coat down on it before I do.

“It ain’t dirty,” I hear him say as I sit down.

“Excuse me?”

“The bed,” he starts, pointing to the coat I just put down, “ain’t dirty. There wasn’t really a need to act like a prude before sitting down.”

“Isn’t,” I correct.

“Isn’t what?” he asks, looking completely confused.

Sighing, I explain. “You said that bed ‘ain’t’ dirty. The word you wanted was ‘isn’t’.” I’ll never understand how anybody could be that stupid. He scoffs; I scoff back. “I reiterate. Why are you here?”

“I’ve been coming here for almost a decade. Nobody’s ever been here. Why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have to,” I say, leaning back with my elbows on the bed. “All it takes is a call to the cops about a trespasser. I can prove it that way if you’d like.” He looks at me with a look on his face that’s just daring me to do it, so I pull out my phone. The look on his face falters a little bit, causing me to smirk when I start dialing. When I put the phone up to my ear, he decides he finally believes me, a look of utter defeat on his face. “That’s what I thought,” I say, putting the phone back in my pocket.

“I come here to dance,” he says, laying down on the bunny again.

Holding my arms out wide, I gesture towards everything in the room. “All of the furniture and clothes say different.”

“They belong to my older brother.”

“Great, so I have to deal with two people living here?”

“My brother’s in jail, my family disowned him, and I needed a place to put his stuff,” he says in one long breath.

“That sounds like a personal problem,” I say, getting up to leave. “Feel free to get this stuff out of here.” When I’m at the door, getting ready to leave, I can feel his hands latch onto my ankles. Looking behind me, I can see him lying on his stomach, hands at my ankles. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not above begging,” he says, looking up at me. “If I have to sit here on my knees and beg you until I’m dead to let me keep this stuff here, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“We can talk about it,” I say, turning around and crouching down in front of him, “at your house.”

“My… house? Why?”

Grabbing his hand, I pull him up and drag him out of the building behind me. “I need a place to sleep tonight. Let’s go.”

-

“Whee~,” I shout as my father threw me into the air, catching me right before I hit the ground. “Again, appa! Again!” I shout, clapping when he puts me down.

“Aigoo, again? We’ve done it so many times already. Don’t you ever get tired of this game, Joonhong-ah?” Holding my arms up high, I tell him that I could never get sick of playing with him.

“You sweet talker,” my mother says as she comes in from the kitchen with a plate of fresh cookies and three glasses of milk. “You definitely take after your father.”

“Cookies!” I scream excitedly. “Appa, cookies! Can we do it one more time before we eat? Pretty please?” Sighing, he picks me up and takes a deep breath, launching me into the air again, catching me, and setting me down. As I run off to have a cookie, I can hear him grumbling behind me about all of the energy I have.

“Did you and daddy have fun?” mother asks as I hop up onto the chair in front of the table, reaching out for a cookie.

“Mhm!” I mumble around half of the cookie I just stuffed in my mouth, a huge smile on my face.

“How about you, daddy?” she asks him as he sits down in the chair next to me.

“Are you kidding? This boy has so much energy that it’s like he’s running on batteries,” he teases, reaching over and mussing up my hair. “I don’t remember being like that when I was 8.”

“Joonhong-ah, don’t eat so fast or you’ll get sick,” mom says when she sees me already working on my third cookie.

“But umma~, it’s so good,” I pout. “You’re the best cookie maker in the whole world!” I say, holding both of my thumbs up in her direction.

“Omo, you’re definitely just like your father,” she says, laughing.

-

“So then this place belongs to your father?” he asks as we leave the building. When we’re outside, I turn around and point to the letters over the door. “CJHZ? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Choi Joon Hong. My parents used to call me Zelo.”

“So this place was named after you?” he muses out loud. “Wait,” he says, stopping. “Used to call you Zelo? Are they… not around?” I nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t kill them, did you?”

“Well… no, but –“

“Then that’s all that matters,” I say, cutting him off. “I hate when people say they’re sorry. It’s not like they’re the reason my parents are dead, and it’s not as if they could’ve prevented it. It happened a few years ago. I’ve gotten past it.”

“I’m… sorry for being sorry then,” he says. “I know how you feel. My brother died a few years ago and I hate when people say that to me. I don’t really know what I was thinking.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, smirking. “So, which way is your place?”

“This way,” he answers, pointing south. “What was your reason for staying with me?”

-

My parents died in a car crash when I was 14. Hit and run. I didn’t really have anywhere to go, so I went to live with my brother. He started drinking; a lot. I figured it was because of our parents dying, but he made sure to remind me on a daily basis that it was because he was basically forced to take me in.

“I don’t know why I’m the one that got stuck taking care of your . I have a ing life.” Those were the words he liked to slur regularly. Every now and then he’d change it up. “I don’t know why I’m the one that got stuck taking care of you, you little .” And if he was feeling particularly feisty, he’d toss out every cuss word he could manage to fit into one sentence. “ing . Why couldn’t some other take you in? ! What are you staring at, ? Those stupid blue contacts; I bet you have all of the other fags ing you every chance you get.”

“Are you quite done?” I’d always ask.

“Done with what, er?”

“Your failed attempts at insulting me,” was how I’d always start my answers. “I have things I need to do.”

“Have another to ?” he taunts. “Got another load to take?”

“I’d never dream of taking that title from you, hyung,” I reply. “The whole town knows you bend over every chance you get. Now as I was saying, I have things to do,” I say, leaving, usually by the sound of a bottle smashing on the wall as I walk out. You’d think after always trying to hit me with one, his aim would be better.

-

“So, your older brother is like a bully that you’re forced to live with?”

“You could say that,” I answer. “I don’t know if it even counts as bullying. He fails miserably at it. I figure if I was actually gay, maybe all of the things he says would hurt me or something, but I’m not, so they don’t. Does that make any sense?” I ask, turning to look at him as we walk.

“I suppose so,” he says, an emotion on his face that I recognize instantly. It’s how I used to look the first few times my brother would tease me; before I got used to it.

“You’re gay,” I say matter-of-factly; he nods. “And you get bullied because of it?”

“Frequently,” he answers. “I’m generally a happy person, so it doesn’t really affect me much. Every now and then though, it’s just too much to handle. You know?”

I nod, pushing him ahead so he can lead the way. Walking behind him, I slide my right hand over my left forearm, gently rubbing my thumb over the scar that’s there.

-

“What’s wrong?” the school guidance counselor asked when I walked into her office.

Pulling up my left sleeve, I show her the fresh wound on my arm, red and irritated. “I cut myself, Miss Kwon.”

The way she panics would make you think that I had actually chopped my arm off instead of just cut it. “WHAT HAPPENED!?”

“People always say it helps them calm down when they’re stressed, so I wanted to try it,” I say, completely calm. “I don’t see the appeal myself. It just gets itchy when I put a shirt on, and then it gets all irritated when I scratch it.” Looking at her, still panicking, I leave. I just wanted to let someone know.

-

“That’s… all? You just went in, told her you did it and hated it, and then left?” he asks, disbelief in his voice. I nod. “And… that’s where it ended? She didn’t make you come back to talk about it or anything?”

“That’s right,” I answer. “I don’t really need her assistance in anything. After I did that, I just stayed away from home more often.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

“To the library,” I answer. “I figure I might as well spend my free time studying so I can get a good job and get the hell out of that house. Speaking of which, how much longer until we get to yours?” I ask as I stop and bend over, hands on my knees as I catch my breath. “We’ve been walking forever.”

“We’ve only been walking for like,” he starts, looking at the watch on his wrist, “ten minutes or so. You’ve just been too busy talking the whole time. It’ll only be a few more minutes,” he says, patting my back when I start to cough. My coughing fit ends a few minutes later, and he smiles. Crouching down in front of me, he looks back over his shoulder. “You may be a giant, but hop on. I’ll carry you.”

Without hesitating, I crawl onto his back, glad to be off of my feet.

“You should be an actor,” he says after he’s started walking. “You’re good at acting like things are worse than they are.”

Wrapping my arms a little tighter around his neck, I pat his chest – hard. “Just walk.”

-

“My name is Choi Joon Hong,” I say, bowing as I introduce myself after we arrive at his home.

“Omo~,” a tiny woman squeals after my introduction. “Your friend is such a cutie~. Just look at that pink hair! And those pretty blue eyes! Omo, is that your natural eye color?”

“No, ma’am, they’re just contacts.”

“They’re such pretty contacts. Jongup-ah!” she shouts, turning to him. “Should we get you some contacts too? We can get you some pretty green ones to match your hair.”

“No, umma. I like my eyes the way they are. No offense,” he says, looking in my direction with an apologetic look.

“None taken,” I say, smiling. “They’re not for everybody.”

“Umma,” he starts, turning to the tiny woman again, “what’s for dinner?”

“Kimchi fried rice,” she answers. “I hope you like that,” she says to me, a big smile on her face.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s one of my favorite foods. You might’ve just became my favorite woman ever,” I reply, a smile on my face to match hers.

“Omo~, even his smile is adorable. And such a sweet talker!” she gushes, giggling as she rushes off to the kitchen.

-

After dinner, his mother practically pushes us off to his room, wanting to clean the house, even though it’s so late at night. You have to love how excited it seems to make her though. “I’ll let you know when your father’s home,” she says to Jongup as he drags me to his room.

“Finally,” he says after he shuts the door behind us. “I’m sorry. I knew she could be crazy sometimes, but even that’s insane for her.”

“It’s fine,” I say, laying myself down at the foot of his bed, my head hanging off of one side and my legs hanging off of the other. “I haven’t had someone treat me like that in years. And that food was fabulous.” Reaching down and rubbing my stomach, a burp manages to escape me before I can stop it, as if trying to prove that her cooking actually was delicious. “Excuse me.”

He burps; then he smiles. “It’s fine.”

Letting out a long yawn, I stretch my arms above my head, the cold air in the room hitting my stomach when it’s exposed. “A full stomach always makes me sleepy.”

“Then take a nap,” he says.

“At this time of night, it isn’t called a nap; it’s called going to bed,” I say, pushing myself up into a sitting position, looking over at him as he sits down on the other end of the bed.

“Has anybody ever told you that you blink a lot?” he asks.

“Nothing like switching over to an extremely random and irrelevant topic,” I say, chuckling. “But yes, I’ve been told that a lot. It’s my only insecurity, so thank you for pointing it out.”

“That’s your only insecurity?” he asks, surprise in his voice.

“Well, I guess not,” I answer, reaching up and rubbing my chin. “I have a thing about my chin as well.”

He tilts his head, looking at it when I take my hand away. “Why?” Reaching up and rubbing his own chin, he keeps his gaze on mine. “You have a cute chin.” His eyes go wide. “I-I m-mean… Oh crap,” he mutters, starting to stutter.

He looks so distraught with himself that I can’t help but let out a little laugh. “It’s fine,” I say, reaching over and patting his knee. “I’m straight, not homophobic. A little compliment isn’t gonna make me think you’re trying to get into my pants.”

His face relaxes a little. “T-t-that’s g-good.”

It’s my turn to tilt my head, totally confused. “Would you prefer it if I thought that way? Your stutter got worse after I said that.”

“It’s n-not th-that,” he says, reaching down and taking my hand off of his knee, letting out a content sigh. “There, that’s better.”

And I try – I swear I try – to keep my laughter in, but I can’t. I end up laughing so hard at that that I think I might actually piss myself. The only thing that manages to stop my laughter is his when I hear his mom’s voice on the other side of the door. “Jongup-ah, your father’s home. Bring your friend so he can meet him.”

He reaches for my wrist, ready to drag me out like he did when he dragged me in here, but thinks better of it and drops my hand when he touches it. “Let’s go,” he says, getting off of the bed.

-

“Your dad’s nice too,” I say as I’m rolling out the mat on the floor. “I like your family.”

Kneeling next to his bed, he watches me. “I meant what I said. You can sleep in the bed.”

“Hyung, you were about to have a breakdown earlier just from me touching you,” I say without looking up, still setting up the mat on the floor. “Do you really think you could be in a bed with me all night and not die from shock?” I tease.

“I was just… surprised. That’s all,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “It’s not like I deal with touches on a daily basis. And why are you calling me hyung?”

“Because,” I start, pulling off my shirt, “I like you and your family. Why? Does it bother you?”

“No,” he answers. “Was just curious.” Pulling off his shirt as well before going to crack the window open a bit. “Is this fine with you?” he asks, nodding towards the window; I nod. Moving to his bed, he pulls the blanket back, but instead of getting under it, he just lays on top of it. “And you’re sure you’d rather sleep on the floor instead of the bed? Last chance.”

“I like to cuddle in my sleep,” I tease, hopping onto the bed, reaching over and pulling him into a hug, his back against my chest. “Can you deal with that?” It’s so quiet in the room after that that I can actually hear him as he gulps. I can even feel him shaking a little in my arms. Patting his stomach a couple times, I let go of him. “It’s nice of you to offer,” I say, kissing his forehead to a little more, “but I’m fine on the floor.” Pulling the blanket over me as I lay back on the mat, I look up at him, his face still looking shocked, and wink. “Sweet dreams.”

______

A/N: I'm sorry that this one took so long to get out! I've been so busy writing/reading fanfics that I've been neglecting so many K-Dramas. Lol. So I've spent the last few days catching up on so many (and I still have 2 others I want to start on).

@ZELOsBunny - Thank you. <3
@krismaticlove - Hope you weren't disappointed! Lol.

Hope you enjoyed this update. :]
I feel like the end seems kind of rushed because I really wanted to get this out.
To those of you that read my other story as well, I promise to try to get that updated later today. :3