12.

It was a mix of different feelings, both good and bad.

Junhong wasn’t the tiny little needy kid I used to know several months back.

To say that he’d just grown would have been an understatement. Compared to the little kid, forehead at least a good hundred and ten degrees (way above usual temperature), wrapped up in Yongguk’s jumper, he’d grown to be quite the character. Unlike the first night we’d met, he knew how to throw fits and be a bother; screwing up the difference when was and wasn’t a good time to play was his favorite thing to do.

He’d grown at least a good several inches and picked up on his needed pounds. Keeping him in the same clothes for longer than a month was becoming increasingly difficult with the rate he was growing. His clothes didn’t awkwardly hang off of him like sheets on a skeleton anymore.

Watching Junhong grow - I was almost positive (proof lay right in front of my eyes) that he grew a few centimeters a day - was an upside on its own.

I’m pretty sure this was how parents felt, watching their kids grow.

(Except, Junhong wasn’t my child, not really anyways.)

I had to make a mental note to call my parents later someday.

But on another point of view, getting him new clothes - without Yongguk finding out - for his outstanding growth every once or twice a month, was a little to say, exhausting. My wallet went too easily from being a total fat lard, to an underweight poor clump.

I would have been lying if I said I didn’t miss being a rich cheap bastard. It was so much better than being a poor, cheap bastard.

Eventually, it became a sort of promise to go shopping whenever Kwanghee decided ship in my paycheck. Let’s be blunt here, it was a good thing my parents helped support for my college funds, or things may have gone really, really bad - such as getting kicked out of home, college and life in general.

(Now that would have been really, really, really bad.)

So when my phone rang, a message from my bank, Junhong was the first one to jump up, glee written right across his face.

I swear, through the months we spent lazing around the couch together, he’d developed some sort of telepathy with my phone. He always seemed so aware when money came in and or when Yongguk sent a message.

“Himchannie hyung, are we going out today?”

Arms woven around the Pororo doll I’d bought him now a few months back, he skipped to me with one of the brightest grins he owned - the same one that appeared every once or twice a month when Kwanghee texted me about my pay.

Thinking back, I’d bought the plush for him possibly the second time we’d met; it had been when Junhong was throwing a fit, the first one I’d watched this little nightmare throw.

(Not that he was impossible, he just had a tendency to throw fits far too large for a tiny kid like him.)

And judging the way Junhong’s ankles peeked out from under his sweatpants, it was about time we got him new clothes. Again.

Sighing with a nod, because the minute I’d gotten cash into my wallet - not even, seeing as I’d just gotten the message of income -, I was about to dish out my paycheck. Why was it that children’s clothes cost more than adult clothes?

(They took up less fabric, so shouldn’t they cost less - it didn’t make any sense.)

Even just last week, my weekends would have been spent lazing around the couch, a either sleeping or playing Junhong tucked into my half asleep arms, until Joonmyeon called with a threat to barge in and ambush. Given a five minute head start, that would leave us three minutes to brush our teeth and faces enough to be presentable before our usual playmates broke down my front doors with grins (a grimace in the part of Yifan, but when did that kid ever smile?) and bags full of sweets and junk food.

It had been a nice schedule for the longest part of my past months; but changes weren’t always a bad thing. It just meant that I’d have to get used to the way things rolled now. But it also meant that I’d have to watch Junhong all day, sneaking in more nap times than usual.

(Being lazy wasn’t always a bad thing either.)

It also meant that my wallet was more often up for sacrifice in the place of my sanity.

“Go wash up and we’ll go out, alright?”

I guess I had to be thankful that Junhong didn’t absolutely hate shopping. If anything, it was the opposite.

Quite opposite of his dad, who often wore whatever was comfortable - and still somehow managed to make it look good (it wasn’t fair) - Junhong had an eye out for fashion, even at such an age. He refused to wear just whatever, his bottom lip in with this look of concentration on his face whenever it came time for him to get dressed in the mornings. This meant that we had to wake up at least thirty minutes earlier since his new found obsession in matching colors - especially of the highlighted shade, the very tone that burned my eyes if stared out for too long - but it was a sacrifice I didn’t mind making.

At least he wasn’t wearing bedsheets or the same clothes every day.

(Or the lack of any clothes at all.)

It took Junhong a few minutes longer than it did me to get dressed, having to pull me after him into the guest room to help him get ready. By the time he’d grabbed my hand, he’d already had all the things he wanted (which turned out to be a little too much for a sunny spring afternoon), spread out across the floor. He just needed help pulling them on.

Pulling his arms up for me to tug off his shirt, we got him dressed up and ready, topping off his completed outfit with a blue handkerchief tied around his neck.

I was dealing with a five year old fashionista here.

If anything, at least he had good taste (and wasn’t completely color blind).

Taking his hand and firmly closing the front door behind us, we set out for the bus station, a light smile on my face and a playful hum along his lips.

See there was a thing about taking Junhong out on the streets with me. Kids loved him, old ladies loved; but most of all, the shop managers loved him - mostly because he got this shopper’s glint in his eyes that begged me to buy everything in the store for him.

When we went to the department store, it usually wasn’t a surprise to find the shop keepers scrunch down to his height, a ridiculous smile on their face and fingers wrapped around Junhong’s cheeks in a pinch. It’d give me a break from babysitting duties to watch the two then walk around their store, Junhong’s hands being passed along from keeper to keeper, as he toured the place until he found whatever it was that suited his fancy that day.

Today, it was a pair of neon yellow sneakers and just as bright socks to match.

(My eyes almost burned off at the color - and the price, which, mind you, was anything but cheap.)

Really, if it were up to me, I would have never allowed such items to be bought, never mind created. But when those wide brown eyes - the cursed puppy dog eyes - blinked up at me in plea, there really wasn’t a way for me to say no. It was my biggest weakness and Junhong had got it pat down.

He was either a genius, or a genius.

The complete opposite of his birth father; I’m thinking he took after Jieun’s smarts.

To make it happen, he clung to my arm desperately, tucking out his bottom lip in a full on pout that had me twist away painfully. “Please hyung? Please?” He tugged at the hem of my jacket and before he had to ask twice, my hands were already reaching to the back pocket for my wallet.

I could practically hear the money run away.

As I’d expected, the shoes were overly pricey, putting a less than pleased grimace on my face. That didn’t make it any less possible for me to skip out on standing at the register though, pulling out my credit card and handing it over to the cashier.

At least it made Junhong happy.

He wore the shoes back home, unable to look where he was going, too distracted by his new shoes that he decided to wear back home. So pleased with his new purchase, he made none of his usual quips about his other purchases, agreeing with whatever I asked him to try on.

That was the good thing about Junhong: he knew his limits.

(Something told me that if I was Joonmyeon with the same case with Yifan - which, was partially true, judging the fact that he’d grown at just as spectacular speed as Junhong did - I wouldn’t have it as easy. In that since, Junhong was an angel, a blessing from the heavens itself.)

By the time we were heading back home, having to catch a taxi from the load, I had my hands full, having Junhong hold onto my pant leg as not to get lost. It was a good thing Korean taxis lined up in front of the department store; though, unfortunately, I did get a scolding for hauling a taxi when home was just a few blocks down the road).

And when reaching back home, while I spent throwing the new clothes (plus dirty laundry) into the washer, Junhong sat by the front door with a wet wipe, cleaning the invisible dust that had gathered on his new colorful shoes from the way back home.

The next thing he did being to grab his Pororo from the guest room to show off his new shoes to.

Needless to say, I had a feeling I was going to get to see those shoes often from now on.

After pulling his attention from his new obsession (and feeding him an apple), I decided it was time for a bath. For both Junhong and Pororo - who, currently, had turned a queer shade of gray and blue from piling dust and grime on its fabric. So I very much welcomed the plea to take Pororo in the baths with him. It saved from having to tear Junhong from his doll later (and explaining how he wasn’t allowed to join his stuffed best friend in the washer).

Kicking off his clothes before reaching the bathroom, Junhong stood by the door, , while I filled the tub, reaching in and stirring the warm water with my sleeves rolled up. My plan was not to get completely soaked just yet. I’d showered earlier in the morning. Saturdays meant showering just once in the morning, not once every time Junhong decided to pour water on my face.

When the tub was filled, I picked Junhong up, placing him the water - which a little difficulty, since he claimed the water burned him - and his dollie to join. Just to make sure he didn’t accidentally drown in the maybe one feet deep tub, I sat down on Junhong’s foot step - he was still too short to reach the sink properly - awkwardly, my knees coming up against my chest on the tiny makeshift seat.

I was completely fine, content, with myself until Junhong decided to splash me with water, giggling wildly while pouring half the tub’s water, rocking back and forth in the tiny space to make a downsized tidal wave.

If I say so myself, I first handedly witnessed a tsunami.

What was supposed to be a simple shower, filled with calm relaxation and maybe some bubbles, ending with a clean Junhong and a dry me, quickly escalated to making a pool out of the living room restroom. Before I’d gotten to shampooing his hair, I looked like a close replica of a wet dog - though, I’m sure I smelled considerably better.

“Yaah!” Wet hair sticking to my forehead, I lunged at Junhong, splashing water back. I was already wet, so why not?

With my shoes still on, sleeves and pant legs rolled up, I don’t know when, don’t know how, I ended up in the tub with Junhong, him in the small space between my legs as he giggled, messily blowing bubbles on his blue penguin while I worked at untangling and washing Junhong’s hair. As much as my plan of staying dry had completely crash and burned, I couldn’t quite be mad at him for it. He was too cute to stay mad at.

We’d just barely gotten out of the shower when I heard my phone go off from my abandoned jacket in the living room. With a giggling Junhong behind me, I contemplated ignoring the call for a minute. It wasn’t as if anyone important ever called anyways. Still, just in case, pulling his shirt and pants on, I patted Junhong to go grab my phone while I got changed out of my wet clothes. He was the less dripping out of the two of us; he’d leave less of a river following after him in the living room.

“Hello?” Drying my hair lazily, patting down my legs and chest, I heard Junhong answer my phone, his patter of footsteps returning back to the restroom. “Himchannie hyung?” I looked up at the mention of my name and found Junhong still talking into the device, both hands clamped around my phone. “Hyung is right now.”

Before he could say anything more embarrassing, I snatched my phone away, awkwardly clearing my throat. I don’t know who it was on the phone, but sure as hell, whoever it was didn’t need to know I didn’t have anything on at the moment.

“S-sorry, who is this?”

“Is this Kim Himchan?”

“Yes, is there something wrong? Who is this?”

One thing I can say for sure, I didn’t quite enjoy that call one single bit.

My hair was still wet from being attacked my Junhong earlier when I pulled on my jacket and grabbed Junhong. His Pororo was still tossed, unattended in the bath and I’d only just barely remembered to grab Junhong’s shoes by the time I was flying out the door, jamming Hyungjun’s number into my phone desperately.

Something was wrong; something was very wrong.

The police didn’t call for nothing.

Hyungjun was already outside with his little brother by the front gate of his apartment by the time I arrived. He didn’t ask any questions - I wasn’t listening anyways - and took Junhong from me, frowning, while I ran off to catch a cab.

“I’ll call you when I figure out what’s going on!”

I think he called out an OK before I left.

“Seoul National Hospital please!”

I never really liked hospitals, not really. I was there, sitting by my grandmother’s side when she passed away in one and a little later, a month or two, when my grandfather followed suit. They were old and had both lived fulfilling lives, but that didn’t keep from instilling the fear in the younger me. To this day, I still didn’t like hospitals. Mind you, it wasn’t as if I blamed the doctors any, they’d dried their best. It was just that hospitals tended to have this inescapable smell of sickness hanging in the air.

Normally, I didn’t go to hospitals even when when I was sick, opting instead to rough it out with pills and cough drops; but here I was, rushing to the facility for someone who should have never been there in the first place.

When I got there, paying the driver a random wad of money - who knows just how much I’d paid him -, I all but slammed into the information desk. The poor worker there must’ve thought I was crazy; because sure as , I’m pretty sure I’m crazy.

“Yongguk. Bang Yongguk, where is he?”

I just hadn’t expected to get a call that he was in danger.

They pointed me the direction and after getting lost for a few minutes away, I found his assigned room, a little huffy and out of breath by the time I found him blinking back at me lazily from his hospital bed. There were bandages and a great lack of the clothes he’d left home with - he was wearing hospital gowns now - with an iv strapped to his arm, but he was safe. He wasn’t dead, at the very least.

“Oh, Himchan.”

Oh? Was that all he had to give?

My knees felt weak, finally coming undone from the stress of the afternoon. I let it go, falling to the ground with my hand raking down the ivory painted wall.

He was safe. Hurt, but alive.

Yongguk blinked when I hit the ground with a hiss, shifting awkwardly, eyeing his iv with a frown, half way reaching out before hesitating. If there hadn’t been a needle holding him back, would he have come for me?

It didn’t matter. If he came, I was sure I was going to punch him dead for worrying me.

“What the , Yongguk?”

Judging I was okay -I was fine, he was the one in the hospital gown, bandages wrapped around - his right arm in a cast and pulled tight to his chest -, Yongguk gave me a sort of sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head with his free arm. “I got hurt.”

“No, duh Einstein,” I breathed, climbing back to my knees with the wall’s guide to the bed, ignoring the snicker and plopping down on his bed next to him, letting him scoot over to make space. “What happened?”

Since the day I’d first met him, Yongguk had always been a sort of the righteous type. He’d chase after me with his stupid grin, picking up after me and doing stupid favors for the others he clearly didn’t know. If there was a grandma having trouble crossing the street, you’d expect Yongguk to go out of his way to help the old lady cross with nothing in compensation.

So I guess I shouldn’t have been much at all surprised when he told me what happened, explaining as animatedly as possible with just one arm - his excitement was usually described in wild flails of his arms.

I hit him upside the head, complaining how he shouldn’t help others if he couldn’t even help himself and got back a tunnel deep whine about not hurting the injured. He didn’t even take my anger seriously. He had honestly scared me.

I hit him again before rubbing the strength back to my knees and huffing, reaching back for my phone to update Hyungjun on what had happened. I had promised, after all.

“Junhong?” Yongguk asked when I stood up, his mind - still a little hazy, as he’d explained, from the painkillers they’d fed into his system - finally wrapping around how his little junior wasn’t clinging around my waist.

He sure remembered quickly.

“At a friend’s.”

He frowned. “Junmyeon?”

I shook my head. He was making it too obvious he didn’t much have a too fondness for him. So much for being subtle and all. “Hyungjun.” Turning away from him, I returned to my call, finally connected, feeling Yongguk’s hands pull me back on the bed, his chin on my shoulders as he tried to listen in on my conversation. If he wasn’t hurt, I might have kicked him for being nosy.

“Hey, what happened?”

“Idiot thought he could beat up three robbers. Three armed robbers, might I add.” Yongguk whined again next to me, digging into my shoulder with his chin in revenge. “Is Junhong alright?”

A silence and a rush of breath. I could only guess Hyungjun nodded here. He needed to understand I wasn’t a psychic and couldn’t see through the receiver end of the phone. “Hyungseok just put him to sleep. Fell asleep watching the tv and mom helped put them in bed.” This time, I sighed of relief and Hyungjun laughed, a low chuckle. “Take your time getting back, make sure he’s fine. It’s important to rest up when you’re hurt and all. I’ll watch over Junhong till’ tomorrow.”

I thanked him, Yongguk mumbling a thank you in the background as well, a hint of a smile trailing in his voice. I stabbed him in the gut for listening in and shoved him off, ending the call and shoving it into my pocket.

He rubbed at the under of his gut sheepishly and shrugged, mouthing a mute sorry.

When I stood up, still a little huffy, Yongguk reached over again to pull me back in, putting his free arm around me in an awkward attempt at an embrace. More like, it was a half assed one-armed hug, but with one arm tied up, I supposed it was the closest he could get.

He held me still like for a minute, mumbling apologies (I won’t admit, but they were relaxing) in my ear with a low hum. Somewhere along, he’d started petting my head awkwardly, and I hadn’t noticed until he stopped, nudging me to sit up properly - I was cutting off circulation on his leg - and face him.

I didn’t notice I’d cried until he reached over and wiped my eye.

“I’m sorry I worried you?”

“ off.”

It wasn’t just that he’d worried me.

He’d just taken me off surprise.

(I’d never admit I was afraid.)

a/n: i’ve been a little distracted playing kh: birth by sleep recently after downloading it on my laptop. i should have been writing in my extra time though. so excuse the ty update, i ended up writing this while listening to a lecture cause i was running short on time. i really don’t like this chapter. it didn't come out the way i want it to. and i literately finished this chapter with maybe an hour to spare. i don't like my newest dose of lazy hitting me.

also, would you guys prefer if i reply to comments or? i mean, i used to but i got iffy about replying to messages in case i spoiled something and or mentioned something then forgot to add or whatever. i do try and reply to any questions; but some people mentioned that they want authors to reply. so like. i dunno. what do you think. i won’t mind taking the extra time while i’m on the subway or what to go through comments. i mean. i appreciate all comments, subscriptions and upvotes. forever thankful and all. i hope you guys already know this? i don’t know i’m just awkward. otl.

and lastly for those of you that haven’t seen my message on twitter, this story will be ending at chapter fourteen. so like, a chapter more than i intended a couple chapters ago.

i'd be lying if i said i'm not antipating to move this story over to the 'chaptered complete' section.