Seunghyun bit back a sigh and hoped his dismay didn't show up on his face. It didn't take a genius to figure out that his dongsaeng’s thoughts had gone beyond what he'd been through with the psychopath.

He had known that the ugly scene would have to be dealt whether sooner or later. And thanks to the psychopath – and even though their dad had realised the mistake – he was highly doubt that his dad could patch up his relation with Seungri.

But he had a high hope to see a good relation between them – that’s when Seungri is capable to deal with everything else.

However, fate clearly had other ideas.

Seunghyun allowed the silence to stretch for a moment, as he tried to figure out the best way to respond. He knew that the timing was all wrong for Seungri to actually endure all those events – but, for Seungri's best interests or not, he was about to add to the web of lies that already ran way too deep.

But then he shove the idea away. Though it might seem easy, he wasn't about to indulge the mind-games with his little dongsaeng. He would offer only complete and utter honesty – and he would be there to pick up the pieces should there be any overly painful consequences.

The silence dragged on for a beat too long and so Seunghyun manage to pull-up an encouraging smile.

"We will work through together, bro. We just need to take it one step at a time."

Seungri nod when his hyung said those words – even though it did nothing to calm the raging confusion that threatened to consume him.

Deep down, he actually understand his hyung's reason. There was so much for them to work through – but the priority had to be to undo the damage that had done. Even he could recognise that.

Through his pain and disorientation, Seungri tried to cling on the honesty of his hyung's words – the belief he had instilled in him back at the police station. But, in spite of what his mind was telling him, the guilt still lingered – and it was a constant battle not to give in to the words his kidnaper had incessantly thrown at him; the words he had spoken aloud.

So, yes, the rest could wait; the peripheral memories didn't have the potential to destroy him. At least, he didn't think they did.

Seungri still vividly remembered the fear suddenly spiking through him when he looked at his dad – and that memory was deeply disturbing. He just didn't know why.

Striving to hold on to what was really important, Seungri let his eyes shut again. His kidnapper was there again; hovering just at the edge of his consciousness.

Hyunsuk was completely unaware of the situation between both of his sons. But, even if he known what happen, his own actions might be the cause of the new crisis, he would rather not have intervened.

Seunghyun had worked absolute miracles this far – and he was going to put his utter faith in his eldest son and had already vowed not to go blundering in where he only had the potential to do harm.

So he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead and block out the occasional muted conversation behind him.

But, though he seemed to be concentrating solely on his driving, his mind did still wander – and it opened up new and unpleasant trains of thought:

How Seungri will react once they back to the house? Hyunsuk cringe at the memory of how hard it had been for his youngest son to even get out of the car.

How could they watch him twenty-four/seven? Can they trust him if he said he's ok? Though Hyunsuk have a suspicion that his eldest son had that particular issue firmly in his head.

Finally, he thought about his wife – and about funeral arrangements which would need to be made. It wasn't a road he wanted to go, but he had no choice.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when the thought had come to him, but revisited it had almost killed him each time he did.

His beautiful, beloved wife was dead.

Hyunsuk stifled a sob, not wanting to alert both of his sons with his distress – and then, potentially, have to explain what in his mind – but his hands curled around the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

There is no other choice. He had to do it. He had to lay his wife to rest in peace.

But what was that going to do to Seungri?

Words seemed to be getting through to him, but those words had only ever centred on what Arashi had done. Yes, Seungri knew that his mother was dead – but it had never been the focus for him; had never been rudely back into his reality.

A funeral would do exactly that – and the shock might undo everything they had achieved so far. Hyunsuk knew that grief could play cruel tricks with the mind – and it might well send his youngest son spinning back into a destructive spiral of guilt.

Hyunsuk felt like he was trap in hard place. He genuinely didn't know what to do – and he didn't want to turn to his eldest son for advice; didn't want to heap another burden onto his eldest son's already over-burden shoulders.

Maybe he would be able to decide once he saw how Seungri’s reaction when they return home; once he got a better impression of exactly what mental state his youngest son was in with regard to his mom – now he was trying to get used to the fact that he was blameless.

Then he suddenly realised it wasn't going to take long for him to form that impression, either.

Hyunsuk eased the car to the side of the road and deliberately relaxed his muscles – loosening his death-grip on the steering wheel.

In a deceptively calm voice, that belied the pounding in his heart and the fear in his gut, he simply said:

"We're home."

Seunghyun look at Seungri, trying to gauge his younger brother’s reaction. He remembered well his father's near-paralysis from just a few short days ago and wondered if he was to be in for a repeat performance.

Seungri was absorbed with his thinking and was making no move to get out of the car, but Seunghyun could detect no other reaction from him.

A few seconds passed and just when Seunghyun was about to break the silence, Seungri beat him to it:

"What's it like?" he asked in soft voice.

Seunghyun was completely taken aback by the question, his mind can’t formulate a response. He knew exactly what his dongsaeng was asking; he just wasn't quite sure how to answer.

He let his eyes drift away from his dongsaeng and looked through the car window to where their house stood – the home they had spent their entire lives in. The mere sight of it prompted a flood of memories and he smiled faintly as he found the answer in his heart:

"It's our home, Seungri," he said – even as he reconciled to that fact for himself.

"It feels different – emptier – but it’s our home." And he could speak with utter conviction because he knew there were still more memories to be made in that house; memories which might not include their mom – but which she would somehow be able to share with them anyway.

He knew the sentiment had been received in the spirit he'd intended when Seungri faintly smiled back at him.

Seunghyun allowed himself one last glance at the house – and he did so just in time to see the front door open. It was their Aunt Ga-in.

He returned his attention to focus fully back on Seungri: "Are you ready to go in?"

Three car doors opened simultaneously and Aunt Ga-in was standing in the porch with her hands clasped in front of her and worry was a clearly evident on her features.

Seunghyun practically ran around the car so that he was by Seungri's side as they walk to the house. It came as no surprise to him when their father fell into step on the other side of him.

For a short while, Seunghyun dared to believe that it was all going to go without a hitch but, as they neared the house, Seungri's steps began to falter. Seunghyun clasped his hand to his dongsaeng’s shoulder –offering a silent support – but Seungri slowed down even more and his breathing was laboured.

Behind Seungri's back, Seunghyun met his dad's eyes and saw his own concerns reflected back at him. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea; maybe it was too soon. But where else were they supposed to go?

The look exchanged between them wasn't only full of concern. It was also filled with despair and helplessness. What they were supposed to do now?

And then rescue came from the most unlikely source.

As Seungri's steps stop, Aunt Ga-in rushed forwards with her arms outstretched in welcome.

"Seungri, it's good to see you. Welcome home!" And her small frame caught the strapping teen in a fierce hug.

Seunghyun waited a few second to see how Seungri would react on the display of affection.

Seungri was taken aback and he returned the hug but his action somewhat mechanical. It was as though he didn't know how to react.

"I've made soft tofu soup. It won't take a minute to heat up and I'm sure you must all be hungry." Aunt Ga-in said after releasing Seungri and headed through the front door. Strangely, it seem to have a positive effect on Seungri and he meekly followed – not even a single word of protest.

Before he could really process what had happened, Seunghyun found himself in the kitchen with a steaming bowl of homemade soup before him.

Silently, he applauded his Aunt. She barely given Seungri a moment to wonder about how hard it might be to go back into the house now that their mom was no longer with them.

Seungri stirred weakly at his soup – he even took a sip or two – but, after a few minutes, he laid down his spoon.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, keeping his eyes down. "I'… I have a headache. I think I might go to lie down…" Seungri practically fly from the table and Seunghyun was less than a step behind him.

Seungri throw himself down onto his bed and threw one arm across his eyes. Storm of emotions were assailing him and he didn't have a clue as how to start sorting through them.

It crippled him that nothing had changed; how could they all sit around eating soup as though his eomma might walk through the door at any moment.

His eomma was never coming back.

Grief hit him hard like a hammer slammed in his skull. He began to sob. Hoarse, braying sobs torn from the very depths of his soul. It had nothing to do with his kidnapper; nothing to do with blame or accusation. It was mere reaction to the stark fact that his eomma was dead.

Seungri rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball. The pain of grief was overwhelming and it crushed his defences; brought memories to the fore that he couldn't fight against.

His kidnapper's 'truths' merged back towards reality and he felt the crushing weight of guilt descend on him.

"I'm sorry!" he gasped. "Eomma, I'm so sorry!"

There was no pole.

That had been his mantra – his lifeline – and, unbidden, it slammed into the forefront of his mind.

Seungri scrubbed the heels of his hands across his eyes. His confusion was overwhelming – but one simple fact stood out stark and clear in his mind: his eomma was dead.

Fresh sobs sought an escape, but he couldn't draw breath. And he hadn't been lying about his headache; it felt on the verge of killing him.

Then he felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder and pull him out of his fetal position he'd curled into. He was eased upright and then a pill was pressed into his hand.

"Take it." It was his hyung's voice – but Seungri took comfort from it anyway. A plastic cup was put into his free hand. "For the headache."

Seungri nod – and even that action sent fresh agony spiking through his skull. He swallowed the medicine and gulp it down with water but, to his dismay, more tears leaked from his eyes.

There was no pole. He was blameless. He need to get over this weakness and let them all get on with their lives. His hyung need to grieve, too – and not have to sit around babysitting him.

"You can go, hyung," he muttered. "I'll be okay."

But even as he said those words, he wondered as to the truth of them. Memories were fuzzy – but he did remember the most God-awful, terrifying nightmares. Though tired –the effect by the medicine – was on the verge of incapacitating him, he was afraid to sleep.

Then his lifeline was there. Not his mantra – there was no pole – but his real lifeline. His hyung. He heard muttered words: "I’m not leaving, and that’s not an option."

And then strong arms wrapped themselves around him and then held him tight and he could hear further soft murmurs of reassurance – even if he never actually heard the words.

Finally feeling safe, Seungri drifted to sleep.

Seunghyun's back was ached, but he didn't care. His shoulder was numb and he was uncomfortable beyond belief but it didn't matter.

What mattered was that Seungri was able to sleep – and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

He will endure any amount of discomfort for that.

Unable to sleep himself – and unable to even fetch a book to read to pass the time – he allowed his mind to wander.

He thought about his eomma – invoking only happy memories – and a smile settled on his lips. Of course, he still need his own time to grieve; to allow himself a huge outpouring of emotion which he had, thus far, denied himself. His own dark time could wait and when that time did come, his grieving would be done in private – and certainly not when his dear doangsaeng was clinging to him as though he was the only solid thing he had left in the world.

Sitting on the edge of his dongsaeng's bed, with his feet on the floor, Seunghyun was achingly uncomfortable – and, as good as his intentions were, he knew he couldn't remain in that position for too long. And he had no intention of going anywhere.

Toeing off his loafers – and absurdly thankful for his choice of footwear that morning – he began to move slowly and carefully; barely shifting a fraction of an inch at a time. He managed to lift his feet up onto the bed and then rested more comfortably back against the headboard. Seungri didn't even stir.

Knowing, from previous experience when his dongsaeng had been hurt, he wouldn't sleep very soundly – and would be awake the instant Seungri need him – Seunghyun gave in to his own crushing tiredness and allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.

Hyunsuk paused outside the door to his younger son’s room – knowing without a doubt that both of his sons would be in there. His hand rested lightly on the door handle, as he listened intently for a moment – not wanting to barge in and interrupt any potentially intense conversation they might be having.

He could hear nothing and so, with the lightest of knocks, he eased the door silently open; just far enough to poke his head into the room. The sight which greeted his eyes had him instantly withdrawing again – and, when he did so, there was a reminiscent smile on his lips.

It was like his boys had reverted back to their childhood time. From a very early age whenever one of them had been hurt, or sick, or scared, or just in need of the other for whatever reason, they would always in one or the others' rooms – often falling asleep side by side and drawing strength and comfort from one another to help keep the nightmares at bay.

As Hyunsuk closed the door again, he leant his head against it just for a brief moment – deeply thankful for the closeness his boys shared. Otherwise, he knew that they wouldn't make it through this.