Junjin turned over in his bed, staring at the thin curtains covering the small window. Outside the sun was shining for the first time in a while, but he couldn’t stand looking at it for too long. If Junjin ever thought life in the Remains had been hard, he'd never imagined how hard it would be back in the Core again.

Losing someone while being a Runner had been something surreal, something Junjin had easily brushed away whenever the thought struck him. But reality had hit him like a truck on the highway, slapping him hard in the face when he saw Eric pull the trigger.

Junjin had been naïve. He’d been a fool, insisting that he could trust anyone. Everyone had to be good somewhere inside, they just needed the right motivation, the right people. That was what he'd believed.

He missed Hyesung. Junjin missed him so bad, and the worst part was that he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t wait for a dead man to return, could never hear his last words – hell, Junjin couldn’t even visit his grave because Hyesung didn’t have one. Junjin could only imagine what the cops shooting at them had done to his hyung after they got away. No wait, Junjin actually didn’t want to imagine it at all. It made everything hurt even more.

Hyesung on the ground, lifeless by Eric’s feet, Hyesung’s face right before Eric pulled the trigger… Junjin closed his eyes and pressed his palms against them, letting his memories fade and welcoming the darkness behind his eyelids.

Why didn’t he jump in between them? Why didn’t he leap forward as soon as Eric turned against Hyesung? Why didn’t he beg for Eric to take him instead, why didn’t he force his body to move, why did he let Eric kill –

The door to his room opened and someone entered, forcing Junjin’s attention away from his internal discussion. Someone tiptoed over to his bed but Junjin, with his back against the door, couldn’t see who. The smell of eggs reached his nose and Junjin felt his stomach rebel over the tiny amount of food he’d managed to get down the past days. Had the others been out shopping groceries, maybe? Junjin hadn’t even noticed them leaving the house.

“Hyung.”

Andy.

Junjin felt the edge of the bed dip when the maknae sat down, then a finger poked his shoulder as a plate was handed over to him.

“We just ate, but I left some food for you,” Andy said, leaning over Junjin to place the plate on the tiny nightstand instead. Junjin watched it tremble dangerously between Andy’s fingers. “Dongwan hyung almost ate it but I was quicker.” The younger man softly laughed, and Junjin could smell the weak scent of some kind of soap as Andy pulled back to the edge of the bed again. Had they bought soap too? Had they all washed up? Scrubbed away the dirt, the sweat, the proof from the night they lost Hyesung?

Junjin felt a new wave of fear wash over him.

Had they all moved on?

“How are you feeling?” Andy continued, apparently oblivious to Junjin’s inner turmoil. “You didn’t step outside the room today either. You sure you don’t need anything?”

Among the four of them, Andy was the one tending to him the most. Junjin would call it tending, as the couldn’t bring himself to do anything, and therefore Andy made sure to feed him and check if he hadn’t bitten his tongue off or anything out of sheer depression and killed himself. It was a farfetched idea, too extreme, and Junjin wasn’t even mentally there yet, but the walls were thin in this place and he’d heard Minwoo and Andy discuss it. They were worried about him. He got it.

Andy always asked him how he felt. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to feel? Junjin never answered the questions.

He heard Andy huff behind his back while standing, heading for the door again. They never had any long conversations anyway.

“Thank you,” Junjin muttered, inhaling the smell from the food on the nightstand now instead of Andy’s soap.

“No problem.”

Andy closed the door softly behind him, and Junjin immediately heard Minwoo ask how he was doing. Andy replied with the usual – the two of them hadn’t exchanged more than a “thank you” and a “no problem” the past days anyway. Not after Kangta had showed up, making Andy even more puzzled while trying to figure out how to piece together his memories correctly.

Junjin sighed and removed his palms from covering his eyes. He turned to the door, wondering if Andy was going to enter again. Lying in bed all day, thinking about things he could have done instead of what he actually had done, wasn’t healthy. Junjin knew that, but he had no reason to get up. He couldn't bring himself to. If he did, he might start functioning again. Start showering. Start talking again, start laughing.

Start getting over the loss of Hyesung.

Warm. He was comfortable.

When Hyesung blinked his eyes open, the first thing he saw was a plain, white ceiling. He found himself in a square room where big windows with white curtains covered one of the walls. Hyesung blinked again, letting the fact that he wasn’t on the street anymore sink in. He immediately bolted up into a sitting position. A thin blanket fell from his shoulder to his lap, but his light head restricted him from actually getting up from the couch he was placed on.

He warily looked around, body tense and eyes struggling to focus. His surroundings seemed like nothing more than a normal living room, with a cheap television in the corner and a wobbly coffee table with a black laptop placed on top. In another corner closer to the couch he saw a big shelf with some books, but mostly various photos of people posing together, especially one familiar face –

“Hyung.”

Again, Hyesung could recognize that voice anywhere. It didn’t stop him from staring at the framed photographs on the shelf though, with that familiar face revealed in almost every single one, the man smiling down at him together with people whose faces he’d never seen.

He managed to tear his eyes off the photos, however, when said man suddenly walked over to Hyesung and threw himself around his neck.

“Hyung!” he whimpered into Hyesung’s shoulder over and over. Hyesung found his arms acting on their own accord, embracing the younger male tightly. “I thought I‘d lost you forever.”

“Jinkyo,” Hyesung muttered, desperately trying to keep the painful tug in his heart away. He’d been struggling, ever since he heard that voice back in the grocery store, to wipe his little brother off his mind. He’d recognized the uniform on his brother back then. He’d known where Jinkyo came from. “What… What happened? How did you find me?”

“I had no idea you were still alive after I lost you years ago, but then you suddenly show up in Area 3,” Jinkyo whispered like he hadn’t even heard Hyesung, pulling back slightly to get a better look at his brother. “And I got my hopes up again, but then he told me you were dead.” Jinkyo clutched Hyesung’s shoulders so hard between his hands Hyesung’s shirt wrinkled, but Hyesung couldn’t help but be impressed as he closely watched his brother, letting the fact that they had finally met again sink in.

Jinkyo had grown so much.

His round, once innocent eyes were still as big as ever. But he’d seen much more of the world than when he and Hyesung had tried to run away. His face was older, more mature, and Hyesung wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or disappointed in him that he’d managed this far. He’d managed to survive without him.

Wait, Hyesung almost missed what Jinkyo had said.

“He? Who told you I was dead?”

“One of the guys I saw you together with in the store. I returned just in case you would show up again,” Jinkyo shrugged, but then his expression darkened. “But he told me you were dead, or at least implied it.” Jinkyo frowned as he tried to remember. A faint spark of hope was lit inside of Hyesung.

“Who? What did he look like? Short? Innocent looking face, like he didn’t really belong in a place like this?”

Jinkyo nodded.

So he had met Andy.