^{_{. .}} fourteen ^{_{. .}}

Hyukjae wakes up to the noises coming from the kitchen. Stirring, he notices his leg has gone numb. His tired eyes focus on the slump laying over him, seeing the girl and the dark strands of her hair. Watching his every move, he shifts the girl on the sofa, placing a pillow under her head before he stands up, sneaking to the kitchen.

Something cooks in the kettle, and a variety of vegetables are spread on a cutting board before Donghae, who seems to be in his own thoughts as he works.

“Smells nice,” Hyukjae mutters, and Donghae jumps on his feet.

“Don’t do that!” the younger hisses, turning towards the other who eyes him with amusement, the other end of his lips quirking up.

Hyukjae takes the apple juice from the fridge, drinking straight from the bottle. Donghae glowers, cutting an onion in half.

“Don’t do that either.”

Hyukjae rolls his eyes, and takes a glass from the counter he’s pretty sure he’s used before. No words are shared as Donghae keeps cutting the carrots. He just watches. The other uses the knife expertly. He wouldn’t have thought that Donghae could be one to cook.

“I see you managed to wash your clothes… Didn’t know you like pink clothes though,” the nurse mutters after a while, placing the onion mince aside.

Hyukjae remembers the drying rack in the hallway, where few of his previously white shirts are now hanging, reddish. He doesn’t say anything. Next time, he might remember to was the whites separately.

“I brought the clothes for Jaemin...” Donghae notes absent-mindedly, throwing the carrots into the pot. “My mom put some toys there as well. Plushies, Legos, some dolls, a few books.”

Hyukjae humms.

Donghae is as hard to read as ever. The face remains the same, no emotions clear in sight. He wants to talk, just for the mere sake of it. But Hyukjae’s not sure if he has the right to ask about his day, or if Donghae’s even interested of sharing anything. They’re not friends anymore. But he doesn’t want to think that the nurse is there completely against his own will, either. After all this time, he still said yes, twice, when he asked his help. Why is that, if he doesn’t really want to be here?

“We went to feed the ducks at the pond,” the words slip through his lips. He’s spent all day with a four year old that doesn’t talk much yet. Jaemin’s not much of a conversationalist. Not that he’s much of that himself, but at this point he just wants a moment talking with someone of his own age.

Donghae gives a short laugh. “Yeah?”

“Jaemin fed them cereals. I hope we didn’t kill them.” He takes another glass of the juice. “She was...different. She thought it was funny.”

“What else did you do?” Donghae replies. Hyukjae’s not really sure if he’s actually interested or not, but he doesn’t really give a damn.

“She draws. I think she’s pretty good. She likes to watch Paw Patrol. We watched a few episodes.”

For Donghae’s surprise, Hyukjae starts taking plates for them, then glasses, utensils.

“How was your day?”

Donghae watches Hyukjae’s back, biting his lip.

“Uneventful,” he mutters back. The conversation with Jessica is still clear in his mind. He has never really talked about all of that with anyone. Their past, even if unilaterally, his feelings, Hyukjae’s accident… If he’s completely honest, he finds himself wanting to ask Hyukjae about it. But would asking be disastreous? Is he too much of a random ‘stranger’ to ask? Would Hyukjae get mad?

Instead, he asks: “Do you have any coffee?”

“Sure,” Hyukjae looks a little confused. Uneventful? He couldn’t say anything else? He opens one of the higher cabinet doors, taking out a bag of coffee. From the lower row, he finds the coffee maker he hasn’t used in a while. He only drinks coffee occassionally. Mostly hungover. He makes a pot, and clicks the machine on. Donghae cleans after himelf, putting the knives and the board into the sink, the spices back to their places, and takes two mugs for the coffee.

Before the coffee is ready, they don’t talk. Donghae’s too frustrated towards his bubbling curiosity. Hyukjae wonders if making Donghae stay is only torture for him.

Jaemin still asleep, the kitchen smelling like coffee, Donghae pours the mugs full. He’s the first one to sit down at the table. Hyukjae leans against the fridge, the mug on his hand. Donghae doesn’t look any less put together than in the morning. And how does the other know he drinks coffee, even if rarely?

“Why...” Donghae’s voice splits the kitchen. He’s too curious. Probably suicidal when he finally drops the question. “Why did you drop out of school?”

Where is this coming from? Why is he interested? After all these years... Donghae has not asked a single personal thing about Hyukjae except things that were about the girl in some way. Why this? Why did he have to turn the knife in the old wound? But it doesn’t look like he’s doing it purely out of spite. Donghae sounds careful; he knows he’s walking on thin ice. Yet he asked anyway.

Hyukjae feels the walls bulding up higher around him. That time of his life was the worst. He rarely thinks about it, because it makes him feel so worthless. A failure. Which he is, but someway he’s learnead to live with it. But it still is a subject that makes him vulnerable.

“Why do you ask?” Hyukjae replies, voice low, suspicious. He shifts against the wall that covers the side of the fridge.

Donghae gives him a rare, softer look. He fingers the pen, steering his eyes to the newspaper where Jaemin has scribbled something. He can’t quite make out what it is.

“I just… I haven’t heard it from you.”

“And you care what I have to say?” Hyukjae’s nose wrinkles.

“I—“

Hyukjae cuts Donghae off.

“I was in the hospital for three weeks after the guy attacked me. I didn’t wake up for a week, I was so badly beaten. I don’t even remember what he did to me,” he starts, stiff, but his voice gives the annoyance away. “He thought I killed his sister because I was drunk, like everyone else. You think so too, don’t you? Everyone was talking about it, what else could you think?” Hyukjae continues, more angrily, gritting his jaw. He finally sits down on the other chair, opposite to Donghae. “But what do you know? You weren’t there.”

“Hyukjae...”

“For your information, I wasn’t drunk,” he snarls. “I was driving my father’s car, I was coming back to Seoul because I went to see my sister after I heard Jiah was pregnant. It was late, I had driven for hours.”

Donghae turns the coffee mug, feeling a punch inside his stomach.

“I fell asleep. Asleep! For a split second! I woke up and saw the woman crossing the street. I didn’t have time to react. I crashed her, yes. She died in the hospital... She’s dead because I fell asleep on the wheel!”

Donghae stares at him, afraid, confused. The realization that he’s only trusted other people’s words hits him. Hyukjae’s angry, and for a reason.

“Involuntary manslaughter. But the woman’s family filed a lawsuit. You know my dad’s a lawyer. I won, but I had to pay compensation. A lot of it. I had gotten my girlfriend pregnant and then my dad needs to save my in court. They weren’t happy. It was too much for them to realize their son is a up who makes a mistake after another,” he fumes, but his body is rigid. His eyes are dark, blazing. He feels betrayed. By everyone. He was completely alone when everything just fell down.

“I dropped out because my parents refused to pay my college after the compensation and my medical bills. I didn’t have the money to pay it myself, and I’d already missed three weeks of school. I couldn’t walk for a month without crutches or a wheelchair. When I finally could, dad threw me out. We haven’t talked after that. I lived with my sister for a while. I’ve had some odd jobs to pay the bills after that. My sister helps me out, whenever she can. So there. There you have it. The truth. For once in my life, I wasn’t drunk. I was a mess—and I’m still a mess. Now I have another mistake to take care of.” But the last sentence, he regrets immediately. Jaemin may have been a mistake at the beginning, but now… This time he will deal with it himself. He takes a peek that the girl is still sleeping. She doesn’t need to hear these things. Jaemin… She is the only thing that matters now.

He tries to catch his breath, fingers clasping around the mug so hard his knuckles have gone white. He didn’t give Donghae a chance to talk because he thought the man would just… Start making excuses. He has gone through hell. Donghae has no idea what it has been like.

Donghae is completely silent. His coffee seems a lot more interesting to him than Hyukjae. But Hyukjae knows the look, he remembers it; Donghae’s beating himself up. And for once, it feels like a round win. For once, someone knows the truth. He can’t count the people he’s talked to about this, because there are none. For once, Donghae has to admit he’s been wrong about him. But will hearing about it change anything? Is Donghae still ashamed of him? At first, when Donghae started hanging out with the soccer team, Hyukjae had thought Donghae was just busy. But then it felt more like avoidance, which lead to him thinking he wasn’t cool enough anymore. Donghae was someone better than him. He wasn’t enough.

He’s never been enough.

A shaky breath reaches Hyukjae’s ears, and Donghae slides his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know,” he says. Hyukjae barely hears him. He scoffs back.

“Of course you didn’t.” Hyukjae walks away from the table, putting his empty mug into the sink. He doesn’t say anything when he disappears from the kitchen.

It takes a few minutes, until Donghae hears the shower running.

“,” he curses, so quiet that he only hears it himself.

The rest of the evening is quiet. Hyukjae tries to communicate with the girl, they watch some more Paw Patrol before it’s time to go to bed. But Donghae’s not tired. He couldn’t possibly sleep after that.

He knows he owes Hyukjae and apology, but he is too much of a coward to say it.

The next day, Donghae has an even earlier shift. He doesn’t wake Hyukjae up when he leaves at 7:15am.

When Hyukjae wakes up, a few hours later, he finds a yellow post-it note on the kitchen table.

There’s porridge in the fridge. Just reheat it. I’ll be back around 5pm.

With a sigh, Hyukjae goes to put the porridge in the microwave.

The whole morning, Hyukjae has tried to figure out Donghae. He seemed sorry when they went to sleep, but he didn’t say a word. He avoided him again, like old times. Hyukjae tried, but he wouldn’t look him in the eye. At a point, he gave up. Didn’t Donghae really dare to admit he was wrong once in his life? The sorrowful look in his already sad eyes told a whole lot, but it wasn’t everything. He had left Hyukjae himself. Hyukjae never had a say in it. He doesn’t need to apologize to Donghae for anything.

The sun shines behind the gray clouds, as Hyukjae tries hard to figure out the other man as he walks beside his daughter in the park. It’s warmer. Jaemin seems more open, even if she doesn’t say much. More curious, more lively. Her feet seem lighter.

Hyukjae eyes the playground ahead of them, counting five kids from a variety of age, and four women sitting on the bench. Swallowing his insecurities and deciding it might do some good to the girl to meet other children, he pulls the hood from his head. At least she would get some desensitization. The heck if the ladies would stare. He would let them.

There’s a carousel, a slide, a big sandbox with colorful toys, a climbing frame, few swings and some rocking things he can’t really name to begin with. The other looks like a pony, the other, maybe a bear or a motorcycle?

This time, Jaemin follows after him there and doesn’t turn away. Instead, she eyes the other kids. Hyukjae wonders how much she’s played with other children. Did her mom bring her out at all?

“We could check the swings,” he says softly, hiding his own fear. He doesn’t want the girl to mirror his every emotion. Maybe the other kids could help her get her out of her shell. Eventually, when she’d find the courage to socialize. Jaemin blinks at him and bites her lips, nodding.

“Come on,” Hyukjae continues, encouraging her. He wonders if she can lift herself up to the swing. She tries twice, before she succeeds.

“Hold on tight.”

He gives her a little boost. The swing starts moving back and forth. After a minute, he hears a little giggle. It makes his day just a tad better.

“You want to go faster?” he asks, a little hesitant. She nods once, and Hyukjae pushes the swing with a bit more force. Not too fast, he’s afraid she could fall. But she doesn’t, and for five more minutes they go on like that, in silence. Hyukjae takes note that he might worry too much.

For the day Hyukjae’s gotten himself into some dark jeans and a gray hoodie. He swears he doesn’t look like a regular dad, and he knows the women on the bench keep giving him the curious looks. One of them is older, rounder, with curls on her shorter hair. Other is young, maybe even Hyukjae’s age. She has a black, rather fashionable looking jacket and hair straight as a board, face on full makeup. Another has prams in front of her, obviously for a little one. The last seems to be reading a book. Her hair is dyed brown and tied to ponytail, opposite to the others. She’s maybe in her thirties.

“Daddy, off,” Jaemin suddenly says, and Hyukjae stops the swing. He furrows his brows, but when Jaemin jumps off of it and starts walking towards the sandbox, he sighs. There’s nothing to worry about, she just got bored. And for the first time, Hyukjae feels a little abandoned when the kid just goes on her own, and sits in the sandbox, taking a shovel and a bucket, starting to fill it.

He doesn’t know what to do. The bench where the women sit is full, but there’s another just next to it. What the heck is he scared of? That the women would eat him alive? He clears his throat, and wanders to the bench. He sits on the far end of it.

He hears the women murmur.

Anxious, he pulls out his phone, but first he gives a longing look towards his kid. But Jaemin happily plays by herself, and doesn’t seem too worried about her father. For a minute he manages to browse Facebook, when he hears a cough, and when he looks up, the oldest woman, the curls, talks to him.

“Is she yours? How old?”

All the women eye him, and Hyukjae tucks the phone back into his pockets. He straightens his slouch, stammering.

“Y-yeah… She’s four.”

The woman nods and they get back to their own conversation. Sometimes a kid runs to one of them, and his mother blows his nose. One of them goes to settle a fight. One kid comes for snacks, ad her mother gives her a slice of bread. But otherwise the women just watch and talk to each other. Sometimes they’re quiet, one reads a book, one of them changes a diaper for the baby in the prams. Hyukjae wonders if this is their life too. Everything turns around the child.

But as he takes a look of his daughter, he sees Jaemin has managed to build something that looks like a sandcastle. Hyukjae feels suddenly a tiny bit proud.

After half an hour, Jaemin puts the toys down and comes back to her dad. Hyukjae bends towards her, eyebrow raised.

“I’m hungry,” she says, yawning.

Hyukjae takes a look at his phone, checking the time. It’s around the same time they ate lunch yesterday.

“Let’s go home make something to eat, okay?”

She nods and clasp their hands together. Hyukjae is a little embarrassed about it. He’s not used to it, but it melts his heart a little. He hopes that he would be at least a bit better of a parent than her mother was.

Five minutes past five, the door stealthily opens and shuts again. The first night before Donghae got back to work, Hyukjae gave him the key without a second thought. It just makes things much easier.

The tv is on, but this time Hyukjae is not asleep. Jaemin hasn’t napped the whole day, and her eyes are drooping. The animals going on the screen have gone over Hyukjae’s head a while ago. He’s been thinking. Would Donghae still keep quiet? Would they keep this silent treatment going? He decides to test the waters.

“Hi,” he simply hollers. Donghae doesn’t answer him straight away. But it doesn’t take long before the male stands next to the couch, taking off his jacket.

“What’s this?” Donghae doesn’t greet, but at least he speaks.

Hyukjae shrugs. “I’m not sure. I fell off the wagon.”

“Did you go feed the ducks today?”

“No, we went to the playground,” Hyukjae mutters. “The women there are creepy.”

Donghae snorts. The older notices he looks a little tired, too.

“You hungry?”

“Always,” he replies. “I can go heat the soup we ate yesterday.” Hyukjae stands up. “That okay for you?”

Donghae nods, putting the jacket against his arm. When their eyes lock when Hyukjae purposefully keeps staring at him, he sees the shame in the other’s eyes. He also bites the insides of his cheek again, maybe thinking Hyukjae wouldn’t notice that. But he does.

About an hour and half after dinner, Jaemin has fallen asleep on the couch, the plush doggy on her arms she brought with her when she first appeared.

Hyukjae eyes her from the kitchen.

“I should go bring her to bed,” Donghae mutters quietly, drying his hands on the sides of his jeans.

“I can do it,” Hyukjae mutters, not seeing the stunned look on the other’s face.

He goes and puts the tv off, and cautiously lifts her on his arms. She stirs and snuffles, but doesn’t wake up. Bringing her to the bedroom, Hyukjae notices the clear night sky outside the window. He doesn’t remember seeing the stars before. Laying her down on the mattress and pulling the blanket over her tiny body, Hyukjae exhales warily. She snuggles closer to the dog, sighing contentedly.

When he returns, Donghae has finished putting the washed dishes into the cabinets, back turned towards Hyukjae. Hyukjae watches him for a while.

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, and Donghae turns to him.

“Huh?” His eyebrows are furrowed, his fringe fallen over his forehead.

“For being here.” Hyukjae leans against the wall, hands behind his back. In a way, he does it purposefully. He knows his words would confuse the other. But he’s still really not the man Donghae thinks he is. Or has been.

Donghae’s even more stunned. He steers his gaze away and crosses his arms above his chest. He’s changed a lot since high school. The scrawny boy with crooked teeth is no longer there, even if his heart’s the same as always. He’s gotten muscle, manned up.

“Hyukjae...” Donghae stutters. “I’m sorry.”

“You were an ,” Hyukjae snorts. “You still are. But I know you’re sorry.”

Donghae lips open to say something, but he seems to change his mind about what he was about to say.

“It was a long time ago,” Hyukjae mutters ahead, opening the tv. The volume goes down.

It takes ten minutes, but finally Donghae sits down on the couch next to him, a book on his lap. It takes a few more minutes before Donghae tries to speak again.

“I mean what I said,” his voice is more confident again, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I left.”

Hyukjae changes the channels, not knowing what to watch. But he feels accomplished that Donghae’s finally admitted it. He’s finally sitting next to him on the same couch, which he avoided like plague before. Hyukjae smirks to himself, kowing that he’s won one round of their stupid game of friends or not.

“You’re here now,” he replies.

14.11.17
:)