“When is it gonna stop?”

Jonghyun looked at his younger brother again, the shine of sadness replaced by guilt. He put an arm around him as Kibum sat beside him on his bed, bringing him closely, “Soon,” he lied, “Soon someday.”

Outside their shut door, they heard someone’s voice scream insults—but neither of them knew who. By this point, after so long, their parents’ voices sounded the same when shouting.

They had no clue what to do to resolve it; they were only children. Each time Jonghyun asked for them to stop, especially in front of his brother, half of the plead stuck in his throat before he ran, pulling Kibum with him, keeping him from being exposed from his failure’s result.

  “Hyung?” Kibum nudged him at him, his child eyes staring into his, “You did a good job, this time. This time, you said two sentences before we left.”

Jonghyun cringed, a soft cry escaping his lips as he crushed Kibum’s body to him. He hated it. He hated how his brother had to say ‘this time’. How his brother witnessed so many fights. How his brother witnessed so many failures. ‘This time’ was an insult to Jonghyun, but he couldn’t help being so cursed with a closed up throat.

Kibum’s small arm tried to hold Jonghyun as best as he could, trying to be strong. Trying to be the one to shield his brother.

Jonghyun’s words—all of them; encouragement, positivity, pity, depression—for his brother died then and there. Kibum’s small comfort closed up his throat once more and he couldn’t speak. Possibly the only words coming out of his mouth would be profanity, but he couldn’t expose Kibum to that either—it wasn’t fair.

The younger jumped and Jonghyun finally fully held on to him as the sound of a loud stomp (or maybe even a body drop if they used their imagination) fell on their ears and vibration sent through the house. It was unrealistic how such action could travel so far.

  “Hyung?” Kibum asked, “Hyung, why do they always start fighting? What are they always fighting about?”

Jonghyun slowly pulled back, seeing for the first time tears in the young boy’s eyes. No, he saw them before, but Kibum was only confused then.

Kibum . . . Kibum looked like he truly understood yet asked.

He bit his lip, wiping the tears demanding their way down Kibum’s cheeks. Kibum was old enough to know what a reality of life was, but his young innocence still held him back from accepting it. Kibum knew it could be anything to set either parent off, and maybe he really did figure that out, but he just didn’t want to listen to the answer. He didn’t want to grasp it in his small palm and watch flames dance on his skin and burn him.

Jonghyun certainly knew this. He had no doubts in Kibum; he’s lived with him all eight of out eleven years of his life, so he would know best. Even better than his parents, he thought.

He believed Kibum was smarter than his age, given he seemed to need to grow up a little faster than others. All because of his parents. All because they couldn’t go a day without insulting each other.

It wasn’t always like this. It’s only been this way for five years. Even though Kibum said it wasn’t a long time, Jonghyun knew even though it was only five years, it was way too long.

They used to love each other, smile at breakfast, drop them off to school together, all the things a happy family would do.

Jonghyun didn’t know what happened, but when one small issue started, they had to move, get new jobs, started getting lazy, all the details of a fall, and it brought Jonghyun and poor Kibum down with them.

  “. . . Hyung?”

Jonghyun tried to lighten up his own tears, a watery smile trying to brighten up his little brother. He affectionately teased his hair, nodding his head.

  “They’re just angry because they forgot how to love. How to respect. How to understand. They learned miscommunication, and for them, it’s the only way to communicate.”

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(No true A/N will be provided today.)