Archive of Our Own ^beta

Since the start of time (Junhyuk’s second year in high school), Son Dongpyo had been an acute pain in his ass. Chronic, incurable, malignant, medically complicated pain. To breathe peacefully beside Dongpyo is not only highly discouraged (if your name is Junhyuk Lee), but synonymous with prolonged suffering. It’s a sign from above that Junhyuk has to atone for some unknown sins committed in his past life - maybe he killed Dongpyo in the past life or owed him a debt. No other sensible explanations exist to justify the persistence in which Dongpyo committed to making Junhyuk’s life painful.

“Are you plotting more ways to kill Dongpyo?” Shou closes Junhyuk’s laptop, has to reach across his zoned-out form to accomplish this feat. Junhyuk's shoulders jump, the rest of him returning to the world of the living. The time reads 8.30PM, the sky painfully alight as Junhyuk groans over the thirty minutes he lost ruminating over Dongpyo. Again.

“I shouldn’t kill Dongpyo; he’ll only come back to haunt me.” He grumpily admits, loathe as he is to admit it. Dongpyo as a ghost would be hellish and Junhyuk will go insane then die. 

“Cute kid. Ruthless though.” Shou assesses. “We should go. I promised I’d drop you back home or else your mother will think we’re about to elope. Again.”

You got busted sneaking into your bedroom at 1AM from watching a drag race in Keilor with a mate and suddenly your whole family thinks you’re involved in some elaborate courting ritual equating in elopement with said mate. Shou, as the incriminating mate, finds this inordinately hilarious and abuses his elderly status in courteously driving Junhyuk around, as if Junhyuk doesn’t have a licence. It is cool for March, Shou losing his mind cackling at how Junhyuk yelps, shrinking into himself in his thin t-shirt.

“Oh, hyung!” A voice that sounds suspiciously like Michael ‘Khael’ Lee Sangmin calls out. Junhyuk casts his eyes heavenward in desperate prayers. Please, let it be Siyoung with him.

Please see the previous point about the powers that be hating him. Instead of sweet, softly-spoken Siyoung who loves Junhyuk, Son Dongpyo who hates Junhyuk pops out from behind Sangmin like a sign from hell, a grin slicing up his face.

“You’re out late.” He singsongs, a melody from hell. 

“Pot kettle much?” Junhyuk huffs, arms wound defensively across his chest. “We were studying.” He tosses his head to Shou, comfortably dressed in a puffer jacket. 

“I was studying; this one was doing jackshit.” Shou dances away from Junhyuk’s kick. “And you babies are doing what, sports?”

“Only me, hyung.” Sangmin raises a hockey-playing hand up. “He was in theatre.”

“Want me to drive you two home too?” Shou spins his keys in a circle before the eyes of first year kids who don’t have a car of their own. They’re sharks in troubled waters - obviously they’ll say yes. Junhyuk doesn’t know why he still calls Shou a friend - surely he killed this one in a past life and he too is tormenting Junhyuk in this life as payback. 

“Dibs on the front seat!” Sangmin yells, plastering himself on Shou’s red Hyundai. 

“Oi!” Junhyuk reacts too late. “That’s my seat?”

“I don’t see your name on it, hyungie.” Dongpyo continues to singsong, like he’s starring in a musical. “First in, first serve.”

Shou shrugs remorselessly. “Fair’s fair, Junnie.”

“I don’t bite, hyungie.” Dongpyo assures him with a whole row of sharp teeth. Junhyuk would rather walk home in the cold for three hours than sit in a car for half an hour with that. 

Dongpyo’s expression shifts lightly, the menace bleeding out when he takes note of Junhyuk, a whole head taller than him, shivering like a meerkat in the Melbournian turn of the weather. Sangmin slides in the front seat triumphantly, as Dongpyo hands him a big bundle. It smells of vanilla fabric softener and the inexplicable tang of sweat. 

“What do you want me to do with that?” He eyes the bundle suspiciously, like it might bite his hand off if he takes it. 

“You’re cold.” Dongpyo observes. “It’s Sangminnie’s. He doesn’t get cold and you’re about the same size anyhow.”

“And who gave you permission to give out other people’s things?” He still stares. “What’s the catch?”

Dongpyo’s smile quirks up, just one side of his mouth. “You’ll owe me one.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” 

"Aw, just a meal then? You're shaking." Dongpyo has a hand over the door, the jacket in between them. 

"I'd rather not owe you anything." He insists.

"Then you won't." Dongpyo shrugs. Which has the opposite effect, obviously. Junhyuk right now feels the acute dilemma of accepting what is essentially a trap from his mortal enemy that comes at a small reward of not freezing to death.

"One bubble tea." He acquiesces, snatching the jacket from Dongpyo's grip. The boy steps aside for him to scramble inside, leisurely making the long trip to the other side of the car, opening it loudly and with theatrics. 

Junhyuk has the jacket pulled over him like a blanket, considerably less miserable, but apprehensive for his future. Dongpyo isn't actively ripping into him from two seats away, content to type on his phone. Sangmin and Shou bicker over what radio station to listen to, cranking the heater on max, while Junhyuk gathers his wits about him.

"I'll cash that bubble tea in next week." Dongpyo looks up. Then he smirks. "Nice arms, by the way."

Junhyuk visibly shudders. It's not entirely from the cold.

"Isn't that my jacket?" Sangmin looks back in affront.

"Finders keepers!" Dongpyo yells, kicking the back of his seat. Shou lightly reprimands him for damaging the car, to which he shows a winning smile that gets him out of all trouble. Junhyuk shivers harder and burrows into the jacket.  

★彡

He is in line for an atrocious order of bubble tea, which is essentially a dessert by the look of ingredients involved. This is the Dongpyo-esque specific flavour of repayment for the jacket lending, a combination designed to exasperate and draw a berating from Junhyuk. He has no patience nor time to accommodate the thought of Dongpyo in his head anymore than he does in the flesh, which is why he's here to write off the debt.

Because he's also great at multitasking, he's getting Siyoung something too, as a congratulatory gift for finishing his hellish essay, so it's not all pain. He’s second in line when a jumbled text from Sangmin and Dohyun sends his phone into a fit of demonic vibrations.

kale: siyoung said ur getting him boba can u get me a matcha boba all ice all sugar thanks ill pay u back!!! ily!!!

kale: heyyo this is dohyun can u get me a large brown sugar milk tea load it with boba pearls no ice all sugar thanks mwah

He replies with ‘just do drugs while youre at it at least that wouldnt make your teeth fall out’, but Dohyun, satisfied that Junhyuk, despite complaining, will do as he is bidded, leaves him on read. At the counter, he faithfully recites the painful orders (Dongpyo’s, Dohyun’s) and the relatively acceptable orders (the lovebirds). He reassures the cashier that he’s fine, he’s on boba duty, thank you for your concern.

Dongpyo is at the revolving door, probably victorious in the scramble for first-dibs boba, standing with his hands out to receive his dessert-drink. Junhyuk hands off the sugared concoction, wondering how Dongpyo still has teeth left after consuming sugar consistently. He grins too often and too much, flashing his gums and teeth at him, to be missing dental structure. At least with Dohyun, the guy only drinks it when it inconveniences Junhyuk, like right now. Usually he drinks herbal tea infused with the tears of engineering students, but if it brings Junhyuk pain and it separates gum from teeth, Dohyun will make an exception to drink the sweetest bubble tea to ever tea. 

“Is that Dohyunnie’s?” Dongpyo gasps, pointing at the brown concoction. 

“It’s hyung for you.” He reflexively corrects. “You two drink about the same amount of sugar.”

“Aw, hyungie, I’m built different.” Dongpyo tips up his chin, eyes twinkling with evil intent. At Junhyuk’s flat look, he squares up his shoulders. “Let’s go up then. Dohyun might go into a boba withdrawal.”

“I’m sure you’d like that.” Junhyuk snorts, cradling the three other drinks to his chest like a baby. 

Dongpyo leers. “It would be hilarious, but Dohyun isn’t fun to laugh at.”

Of course. Junhyuk reigns number one target shooting practice and Dongpyo reminds him daily of it. 

At the tiny four-seater table, the other three swarm him (Sangmin and Dohyun swarm him, and Siyoung gets the drink hand-delivered to him by Sangmin). Dohyun had wisely picked the seat across from the lovebirds, sprawling into Dongpyo’s space. Who retaliates by pushing back, almost shoving Dohyun out of his seat. Junhyuk is not going to get into the middle of this all; he’ll stand for a while then run off. 

“Sit with us.” Dongpyo pats the tiny space he’s procured from violence. Junhyuk eyes it like it might open up a direct portal to hell and drop him right into where Dongpyo’s minions reside. “It doesn’t bite, hyungie.” 

Dohyun chokes out something suspiciously similar to ‘kinky’, but then Dongpyo shoves him harder, halfway onto wrestling onto the floor, a hand thrown over his mouth. Siyoung and Sangmin watch this calmly, Sangmin filming and Siyoung scoring. 

“I was actually about to go. Shou’s got something he wanted to show me. I’ll see you kids later.”

Dongpyo stops trying to actively choke Dohyun to death, turning big eyes up at Junhyuk, who’s on the defensive immediately. 

“It’s hyung for you too, hyungie.” He corrects, mocking the stern tone Junhyuk dishes out to him just before. “I’ll walk you.”

Dohyun retches, loud and fake, behind Dongpyo. Sangmin cackles into Siyoung’s shoulder, who has the decency to offer him a sheepish smile, holding onto the boyfriend breaking into hysterics. 

“Why?” He squints. “Don’t you see me enough?”

What he meant is: Stop following me around. What Dongpyo heard must be a twisted interpretation of the clear dismissal, because he perks up and steps off Dohyun like Junhyuk sought his constant company most ardently, like they’re the best of mates and have to go everywhere together. 

“Never.” Dongpyo beams, like a car beamlight lancing through the cornea. Dohyun also sits up, apparently taking pity on Junhyuk stuck right in the middle of Dongpyo imposing his evil will onto innocent people, and announces that he too will come along. Dongpyo turns to protest but Dohyun feigns deafness, latching onto Junhyuk’s elbow and dragging him out.

“You owe me one.” Dohyun hisses under his breath.

Junhyuk hisses back. “I don’t owe you anything. What was that?”

“What was - what do you mean what was that? That was a lot of tension -!”

“There’s always going to be tension when people hate each other, genius -!”

Dongpyo catches up to them, fighting to break up the death grip Dohyun has on Junhyuk. They don’t exactly touch, but Junhyuk gives a wide berth anyways, jumping away as if spooked, eyes wide under his bangs. Dongpyo’s mouth twists and he twines himself onto Dohyun instead, cheek pronounced in a pout. 

“We haven’t seen Binnie for a while.” Dohyun speaks over the top of Dongpyo’s head. “Let’s get the whole gang together and cry.”

“Very cathartic.” Junhyuk agrees. “I’ll get Siyoung on that. Shou might be stuck at work because he’s a tax-paying capitalist rat, but we can always go home late.”

“What, and let your mum think you’re eloping again?” Dohyun barks out a peal of laughter. Dongpyo’s expression continues to dip, sighing loudly every time Junhyuk so much as breathes. 

“Mum doesn’t think that anymore.” Junhyuk looks at his friend, offended. “I wouldn’t elope with Shou.”

Dongpyo stirs from his brooding fest, question pitched sharply. “Why, he’s not your type?”

“Too tall.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t even consider a marriage pact with him.”

Dohyun shoves in, a shit-eating smile splitting his face. “What about me?”

“Sit down, cuz.” He snorts. “I like people who are, y’know, contained. Not too excitable, not too tall. Sweet, kind, honest. Leave me alone.”

Dohyun and Dongpyo process this information: Dohyun, ecstatic, Dongpyo, with increasing irritation. 

“Bingo.” Dohyun crows. “Like you, hyungie.” 

“Don't call me that.” He bats the boy away. “And why are you so quiet?” He directs this to Dongpyo. 

Who promptly adopts a wide-eyed, instantly-suspicious change in mannerism: pouting lips, round eyes, buttony nose, soft brows. Junhyuk has an inkling this is the strategy Dongpyo employs to swindle favours from people. It is also the strategy he adopts to relentlessly make his life hell. Junhyuk steel himself for the attack to come. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Junhyuk-hyung.” Even his voice is chock-full of cloying sweetness. And the name-calling. Upon learning Junhyuk’s name, Dongpyo had since day one never called him by name. It’s a two-pronged approach, and both prongs hurt. Half in mockery of Junhyuk’s Asian sensibilities in deferring only to his senior status, and half for Dongpyo’s constant insubordination, Junhyuk's name had been forever omitted, while everyone’s names rattled off freely from Dongpyo’s mouth. When addressing, each of them knows who it is. If it has no name and a mocking honorific, it’s for Junhyuk. 

In this instance, the name sets up an instant barrier despite the veneer of intimacy. Junhyuk can feel a muscle jump in his temple from how hard he cringes. Dohyun makes a horrified choking noise. Blink, goes the row of mascara-ed lashes on Dongpyo’s eyes, blink. Junhyuk’s stuck. He’s not sure if he’s meant to turn away or keep staring. The muscles in his temple are vibrating so hard from him clenching his jaw, about to snap and fall off if this carries on any longer.

“Oh look, Shou-san!” Dohyun breaks away into a sprint, leaping at an approaching Shou. Junhyuk abruptly turns his head away, as Dongpyo drops the saccharine expression to his default ‘I’m plotting your demise’ look. 

“Everything alright?” Shou looks at them, Dohyun prattling his ears off about engineering and maths. 

“Fine.” Junhyuk bites out, jaw sore from his herculean efforts in suppressing the inexplicable urge to do something rash in reaction to Dongpyo’s thing. 

“All good, Shou-san." Dongpyo twinkles, voice like it’s funnelling through his nose. “Everything’s perfect.”

★彡

News flash: Everything was not perfect. It’s never been further from perfect, and at the centre of it all, Junhyuk is stuck as the perpetual victim singled out by yours truly, Son Dongpyo. He’s always gritting his words through a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, or glaring mutely whenever Dongpyo acts out at him, which totals to all of the damn time. Obviously, everyone watches in rapt attentiveness, because they’re all traitors and seagulls to free morsels of entertainment, as Dongpyo dances in circles around Junhyuk, delighting in tormenting him to the death. 

“He’s not doing anything though?” Yubin wonders over his shaved ice. Junhyuk heaves a sigh encompassing many depressing emotions known to man, then pats the younger boy’s knee for lack of an explanation that will even begin to paint an accurate picture of the shitshow currently happening. 

“He doesn’t need to be doing anything. It’s stupid anyways.” He bites down on an ice chip, the pain momentarily too blinding and too sudden, distracting him. 

“If it bothers you, you should let him know.” Yubin continues, spoon in his mouth. 

“No thanks. He’ll lord it over me.” Crunch goes another ice chip. “Not everything is rainbow and puppies, Binnie-ah.”

“Not everything Dongpyo does is evil and malicious then.” Yubin concludes. Junhyuk looks at him, victimised.

“Aren’t you on my side?”

“Think of me as Switzerland in this weird one-sided warfare thing you’ve got going on. I think you should at least talk to him about it - Dongpyo has been known to stop when it gets too out of hand.” The youngest person in his group of friends shrugs, completely remorseless at the pain he’s induced in his friend. Yubin doesn’t have a cruel hair on his person, but he also has grown up to be meticulously analytical. It has to be the STEM influences (Siyoung, Dohyun and Shou), since Junhyuk as the education major didn’t raise him to become this beacon of sense. 

“I’m not Sangmin or Siyoung.” He points out. Sangmin, by virtue of being Dongpyo’s best friend, and Siyoung, by virtue of being the embodiment of everything good ever, are the only success stories in which feedback had been heeded and acted upon by one Son Dongpyo. Otherwise, mortals like Junhyuk must bend to his wills.

“If you were them, Dongpyo wouldn’t look twice at you.” Yubin observes. He looks right into Junhyuk’s soul, as if the sentence is supposed to mean something deeper. “I’m of the opinion that he picks on you because you’re you.”

What does that even mean?  

“I’ve just got a huge reserve for tolerance.” He sighs, kicking his feet out in front of him. “But you think if I mention it, he’ll stop?”

“I think you should try, at least.”

So Junhyuk goes and gets that done. Before their hotpot session, he reaches out a hand in front of Dongpyo, sweet-eyed and long-lashed. Who steps aside and tips up his chin, looking down his fake glasses at Junhyuk, who shifts on his feet, unsure of how to frame things.

“Can you give me some space? I just - recently things have been overwhelming for me. I’d like some space to think.”

Dongpyo mulls over the convoluted explanation. 

“Am I too much for you, Junhyuk-hyung?”

You’re too much for anyone, but I’m not saying that to your face, his mind flashes. And, more traitorously, it also thinks - you're calling me by name. You're still mad.

“Nothing’s wrong with you.” He says instead. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s told Dongpyo in the history of their acquaintance. 

“That’s not a reason.” Dongpyo rolls his eyes. Crosses his arms, pout on his mouth. 

“It’s the reason I can give over to you.” Junhyuk grinds his teeth. “C’mon, play nice.”

The demon from hell narrows his eyes. “You don’t like liars.”

“I also don’t like being teased, but sometimes in life, we don’t get what we want.” He grunts. “Truce for a fortnight. Please.”

Dongpyo considers it. Junhyuk must’ve looked more pathetic than he feels, because Dongpyo schools his expression into a pleasant one, the bland polite mask that he wears around strangers, a polished sweetness that doesn’t bring bile to the top of Junhyuk’s oesophagus. 

“Deal.”

★彡

News flash: it gets weird.

Despite his life being free from Dongpyo popping up to keep him on his toes, Junhyuk grows increasingly more paranoid. The mathematics do not add up. By removing the obstacle to making his life hell, he should be having a fulfilling life now, right?

Wrong. 

He keeps expecting something to happen. A sign that this will go terribly wrong, a sudden calamity will strike. But nothing happens (an unsettling truth) and Dongpyo goes out of his way to avoid Junhyuk, as if he knows that he’s unable to maintain politeness in his presence. Dongpyo dips out of existence, fleeing or outright ignoring Junhyuk when they have a group hang-out. The others pick up on this, giving them both space and separating all conflicted parties if needs-be, but so far, Dongpyo has been doing a good job of running as if his life depends on it. Junhyuk feels extremely bereft at all of this. But he requested the space! He got the space! How is he feeling all these emotions if he instigated them in the first place!

His meeting, sans everyone else, with Siyoung opens up with him collapsing face-first by Siyoung’s seat, an inhuman groan escaping his throat. Siyoung, bless him, doesn’t ask questions, only pats him firmly between the shoulder blades while flipping through his textbook. Sangmin is nearby, because try as they may, the lovebirds cannot exist as two people - they must go everywhere as a whole unit. True to this, a cacophony of someone hobbling back to the table signals Sangmin’s return, belt and chains twinkling as he runs back to Siyoung.

“What’s wrong?” He can hear Sangmin ask over his head, Siyoung still rubbing his back roughly. It’s more a massage than a back rub, but Siyoung is trying and he gets points for that. Another hand joins, the rings unmistakably Sangmin's. Great! Now even the Christian God is pitying him and sending Michael the human angel to comfort Junhyuk in these confusing and trying times.

“He’s going through it.” Siyoung cryptically answers. “Do you need me to get anyone for you, hyung?"

“What is this, a triage?” Shou’s amused voice joins the fray.

“He knows what he needs.” Dohyun croons. Great! It’s a group activity now. Junhyuk looks up, bleary-eyed and with hateful glare, to be greeted with Shou’s irritating wave.

“Nobody asked you to come over.” He fumes, then turns to whine. “Siyoungie, make them go away.”

Unsympathetic, Siyoung shakes his head. “I can’t take your side in this, hyung. You have made a decision. It was not a good decision. You should fix it while you can.”

“I’d rather die first.” His face pinches. “No thanks.”

“Don’t even try, he won’t listen.” Dohyun chews obnoxiously on a gummy bear. 

“We’re not saying you should apologise or beg for forgiveness, but,” Sangmin scoots closer, eyes earnest. “You can… y’know, always be friends and not avoid each other again. It’s allowed. You’re allowed to go back to how it was first, then talk later.”

A chorus of complaints rises at Sangmin’s suggestion. If left to his devices, Junhyuk will carry all his unspoken needs and die with them. He’s incapable of speaking honestly, like any good Asian person, while Dongpyo, excessive with words, cannot string a whole sentence which communicates what he needs. They would rather do something embarrassing to one another first before any fruitful conversation can unfold.

So he knows the form of the problem, or maybe, what’s a crucial ingredient of what constitutes the current problem. It doesn’t mean he’s keen on fixing it. Dongpyo avoids him like the plague, and he’s embarrassed. These two facts make for a fraught acquaintance. They will never speak again.

“Go take a walk, Junnie. You’re rotting your bones.” Shou instructs him firmly. “Go on, a few minutes won’t hurt you.”

“If you get lost, we can come pick you up!” Siyoung volunteers, cheery voice and sparkling eyes. Sangmin nods from beside him, offering a fist bump in the air.

“He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.” Dohyun waves him off. “See ya.”

So Junhyuk is exiled. He walks, a foot in front of the other, one, two steps. Eventually he meanders out to the soccer pitch in the sports precinct, where he’s on his own, alongside a bundled-up figure glumly walking to the goal. Junhyuk squints, before slipping on his glasses. Wait, isn’t that -

“Yah!” He calls, uncaring of whether his voice is pitched too high and too desperate. “Son Dongpyo!”

Dongpyo whips around, mouth pink and a wonky oval. He breaks into a dead sprint at him while Junhyuk stands dumb-founded. Skidding to a stop on the dried up grass, bangs fluffed up by the rush of wind and his little sprint, Dongpyo freezes, gathering his limbs into himself, mouth set on an unhappy curl as he stares up, defiant, into Junhyuk’s eyes. Try me, his eyes say.

"Hyungie." He announces imperiously. "I'm not great company right now."

No name-calling. He's no longer mad... just puple in the eyes and messed up brown hair. 

Despite Junhyuk’s constant monologue of how Dongpyo is the devil's spawn and he's surely some agent of bad will, he is still a close friend. An old friend, a friend who Junhyuk checks in on. 

"Did something happen?" He asks, forgoing all the tension of 'I asked you to leave me alone and both of us are taking it extremely badly, but we're not touching that topic for another five years'. 

Dongpyo gives him a mutinous look and says nothing more. Usually there are at least five speeches locked in place to roast Junhyuk to a crisp, but since they last spoke, hesitation settles heavily onto Dongpyo's shoulders. Dongpyo, who hasn't let the force of anything affect him ever since his unnatural spawning onto the face of this earth, is now affected. He's so… expressive, every emotion magnified clearly: irritation, anger, despair, dislike. For Junhyuk’s benefit, surely, but he feels icky having asked Dongpyo to leave him alone.

"Everything’s fine." Dongpyo huffs, a touch waspish.

Junhyuk tries to be gentle with his next words. 

"You know I don't like liars." 

Dongpyo sighs, put-upon, but no longer tightly-wound like he's about to break into a sprint in the other direction. Accompanied with a bratty eye-roll, they could almost pretend that things are back to normal.

"Heaven forbid I do something I like, hyungie." Dongpyo tells him mulishly, an open line. An invitation for him to ask more questions.

So he does.

"What do you like, then?"

A sharp blush spikes through the boy's round face, nose and cheeks splashed with a splotchy pink, unbidden, unasked for. Dongpyo who is ungovernable to the masses but regulates his body with exacting strictness, rendered flustered at a request. From Junhyuk Lee, forever tormentee. 

"That's not something you should be asking anyone!" The reply is a clear avoidance of the question, but Junhyuk has some shreds of kindness to not bring it up. 

"Fine, fine, sorry." He holds out his palms in truce. "I … wanted to say sorry."

"For wanting space?!" Dongpyo's voice kicks up, sharp and incredulous. 

"Well, no, not that." Junhyuk immediately scowls. "For making you feel bad. It wasn't your fault." It kinda mostly was, but they can overlook that. 

"I did feel bad." Dongpyo sniffs an affected air about him. Junhyuk’s responding eye-roll is a bald-faced lie to mask his relief and some unbidden fondness rising from the pit of his chest. "You should cough up compensation for my emotional loss."

"You're right," the magical words, "what do you want?"

Dongpyo goes pink again, a fist darting out to scuff Junhyuk’s arm. It feels like a leaf brushing him. 

"I love ice cream." The boy lifts his chin, eyelashes long and nose upturned. "Buy me like, five scoops."

"That's how you'll lose your teeth before twenty-five." He raises his eyebrows, walking backwards as Dongpyo trails after, sharp words biting at him. 

"Are we… I mean, are we okay?" Dongpyo stares mournfully at the campus ice cream, the flavours melting together in the hot March afternoon. 

"I am if you are." He shrugs. "You should tell people what you want too, instead of going around in circles."

Instead of being affronted, as planned and as previously witnessed in the past twenty minutes, Dongpyo's expression turns shrewd. Calculating the most accurate spot to hit him where it hurts.

"Oh yeah? Do you know what I want?" He drawls, biting fearlessly into his mountain of ice cream scoops. Junhyuk knows he's doing that to be annoying, voice pitched lower, teeth flashing sharp.

His front two teeth are forever flexed as dead-yet-not-quite, the nerves beyond salvation, but not damaged enough to warrant a root canal intervention. As the poor bugger who recklessly drove Dongpyo to the emergency after-hours clinic shaking out of his mind, Junhyuk still jumps whenever Dongpyo eats hot and cold things in blatant celebration of no longer having nerves in his teeth.  

"I don't want to read your mind. It's a disturbing place." Junhyuk bites back, teeth closing around thin air. "So just tell me."

"But what would be the fun of that?" Dongpyo giggles, fingers reaching out to poke his arm. "Hyungie." 

No name, directed straight at Junhyuk. Speaking of hyung- ship, he really is the only one Dongpyo listened to since the start regarding honorifics. Dongpyo's only hyung. 

He's with no ice cream, he's in direct sunlight, yet Junhyuk shivers, heat flushing under his collar. 

"Leave me alone." He growls, but Dongpyo, satisfied with this non-answer, grins with all his teeth, ice cream stained.

"Aww, but you'll miss me, hyungie." 

★彡

The friends form a coalition, as is the inevitability of friendship, to tease Junhyuk to the point of death. He is harassed, he is picked on, he is ridiculed – and he is strangely in mutual misery alongside Dongpyo throughout the whole ordeal. Dongpyo too is the target of unsubtle, cryptic ribbing, mostly from the side of Sangmin and Yubin. The rest simply pile onto Junhyuk, pointing and laughing whenever he ever so much as breathes. 

"Okay, seriously." He kicks Shou's chair. "What's your deal?" Because Shou has the power of God and anime on his side, the chair remains stuck on the ground despite the bang! after his kick. 

"Nothing's wrong." Shou trills, like a smug songbird. He’s also repeating the Junhyukian mantra: Everything is fine. 

Everything is in fact, not fine. Not with the way Shou is leering at him, knowing something he doesn’t. 

"Obviously something’s wrong. It’s why you’re making that face.” He then makes a face. “Will you ever tell me or let me simmer in misery forever?”

Dohyun hovers his disgustingly good-looking face in direct line of sight, beaming beautifully at Junhyuk’s misery. 

“This is deeply, deeply amusing to me, I’ll have you know.” Dohyun announces. Junhyuk shoves his face away. “It’s a good look, Junnie!”

“Leave me alone.” He grumbles. “You’re both not helping.”

“No, because you’ll say no to our offer.” Shou rightly, and hurtfully, points out. 

“Efforts had been made. Efforts had been rejected.” Dohyun supplements. 

“You don’t know that.” He mulishly replies, even if they’ve hit the mark. “What happened to meddling without my express permission, when I desperately needed it?” 

Shou and Dohyun can probably count on one hand between the two of them the number of times Junhyuk had explicitly requested help. Junhyuk had been produced rather than conceived, according to his mates, a funky cyborg guy brought into life fully formed and realised, while the rest of his peers tried to catch up to his pace. Junhyuk’s main calling in life is to help others, which means selecting his future careers had always been predetermined. It’s a linear progression of a life well-planned, of good decisions made. This bump in the road is highly unappreciated and exposes humanity under the robotic casings. 

“You don’t need help.” Dohyun tells him straight on. Not unkindly, but firm enough that there's no wiggle room for him to escape. He's forced to confront this truth.

“Yeah, none of this passive shit.” Shou gestures vaguely to Junhyuk’s face scrunch of pain. “Be assertive. Start the revolution you want.”

To ask Junhyuk, king of ‘I’ll wait and ask if you need help, no assumptions’, to assume first is akin to asking the earth to spin the other way. It’s simply not done. He’s spent over two decades applying himself wholeheartedly in this principle - to ask for an immediate 360 woud bear more success in endeavours such as world peace and ozone layer repair than it is to find Junhyuk changing his ways. Old habits will die with him. 

"This looks like a party." Yubin observes from the doorway, Dongpyo tucked under his arm. Upon seeing Junhyuk dejectedly sitting on a chair, Dongpyo floats over, his jacket gleaming with pins and badges. 

"You look awful." He says in a stage whisper. He looks ridiculously delighted in pronouncing this, that the tone and the words clash, communicating a different meaning beyond the surface.

Junhyuk hears it. Junhyuk has no faculties to deal with that and him and all this. 

"'m sick. Or something." He mumbles. Dongpyo's face crumbles into one of concern, as he leans down, palms to his knees, face hovering near Junhyuk’s. He's trying to catch Junhyuk's eyes in vain. 

"Ooh, that's a good one." He can hear Dohyun whispers, impressed.

"My beloved is dying!" Dongpyo gapes, exaggerating his aghast expression. "Have some compassion, Dohyunnie!"

For a long stretch of silence (three seconds), nobody speaks. Junhyuk is certain that his blush can be seen three galaxies away. There's incriminating and there's… that. 

"Wow." Yubin speaks first. It holds weight. It holds meaning. It holds exasperation. 

"Wow." Shou exhales. It's a badly-hidden laugh. It's a muffled laugh. Dohyun doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. The silence says it all. He's too busy wheezing himself into next week.

The door creaks open, Sangmin's chatter joining the fray.

"What are we all laughing about?"

Before any of the four clowns present can further deteriorate the situation, Junhyuk sits up and gives a remarkably convincing impression of someone not actively losing his shit.

"They're roasting me."

"Aww, always, Junjun . " Dohyun coos, dropping a hand on the top of his head. 

"Are you here to take him away?" Shou questions the lovebirds, to which Sangmin opens his arms and beckons Junhyuk to come. "Urgh, good. He was getting unbearable."

"I do nothing but breathe –" He starts to argue, Dongpyo jerking away - the two of them refusing to acknowledge it. "See you people never." 

"But you'll miss us." Dongpyo tips into his space, so brave for someone who can't see his eyes. Junhyuk shuffles away with an eye-roll.

"Whatever makes you happy, Dongpyo-ah. Sangmin, let's leave."

Sangmin shares a disgustingly sweet kiss with Siyoung in front of everyone's eyes, then ducks away first, holding the door for Junhyuk. The door shuts as the clown entourage makes kissy noises at their backs, though he suspects only half of it was directed towards Sangmin.

"So how did you and Siyoung happen?" He asks, striking Sangmin odd-footed. The other boy bounces back up swiftly, wariness set on his face.

"It's not a grand love story or anything." He warns. 

Junhyuk hears the insecurity nonetheless. "Just because it's not conventional doesn't take away the romance."

Sangmin squints. "You don't know that. Dohyun-hyung told me you have zero bone of romance in your body."

"Nobody's romantic according to Dohyunnie." He snorts. "Ignore him. What about you and Siyoung?"

Bringing up Siyoung momentarily blinds Sangmin to the burgeoning elephant of Junhyuk ardently focusing on a friend's romance. Blindness and inherent kindness in not provoking the elephant.

"I just told him. I pulled him aside and told him all my feelings. Then we didn't talk about it because honestly, big change, we both needed time to think. Uh, then we were out for boba one night, and Siyoung was like no big change, okay? Then I said yes and that's how it's been."

It's not a grand, meant-to-be love story as much as it is chaotic. Siyoung’s energy and Sangmin's weird luck beat out the cosmic odds. Did they plan it? No. Did it happen anyways because love found a way? Yes.

"I'm going to cry." Junhyuk announces, eyes already tremulous due to the strain of holding in his emotions. "It's the most straightforward, happy ending thing ever. I'm serious, I'm going to bawl."

"Please don't." Sangmin holds out his palms, distressed, but hilariously so. "I'll start crying too."

(They end up bawling and clutching onto each other anyways, Dohyun pointing and laughing at them when he comes over to pick Junhyuk up for class.)

★彡

Without alerting anyone in his sudden need for space, Dongpyo resumes his ghosting activities, dipping out of sight and appearing in the open arms of one confused but dependable Cha Junho. From Junho to Alex Lee Schmidt to Yubin then to literally everyone else in his friend group, Junhyuk had been the simultaneous target of pity and suspicion across two different friend groups. The reasons for both these reactions remain mysteries for him, forever unsolved it seems, for no one is in any hurry to clarify the situation and Dongpyo insists on avoiding him still. 

Junhyuk must’ve looked incredibly dejected, for Shou and Dohyun tag-teamed and dragged him outdoors to drive up a mountain. Dohyun is so committed to this European-esque depiction of a Christmas man - mountains, forests, scarves, boots, hiking, campfires - that he fails to account for the fact that Christmas in Australia is the middle of summer. Sweltering heat under the collar, sweat pouring from under the hairline, wanting to shed your skin, humiliatingly hot sort of summer . Either by wilful blindness to the turn of weather in the southern hemisphere or denying reality in commitment to the fantasy of a cold Australian Christmas, Dohyun appears in long sleeves like he has a death wish, towing a reluctant Junhyuk, who is dressed more appropriately for a hike in the middle of summer. Looking at them, no one would know that they live in the same city, let alone share the same hemisphere, while Shou prances along in a chest-revealing singlet, hair pushed back with a headband. Everything about this situation is entirely horrible, yet he cannot escape, manhandled by a Christmas elf and the worst sort of twunk one could get picked from a lineup from hell. 

“I invited people.” Dohyun drops the warning, casually like he’s commenting on the state of the weather. Junhyuk momentarily contemplates rolling him downhill like a hay bale. 

“We all look like shit.” He takes note of their appearances. Shou maybe not so, because he ironed his clothes and performed sorcery on his hair. Show-off, but he looks good.

“Let’s not project our insecurities here.” Shou reminds him lightly, smiling around a mouthful of sharp teeth. Junhyuk makes a face at him, then turns to Dohyun.

“Who did you invite?” 

“The kids.”

He squints. “And?”

“Just our kids.” Dohyun makes big eyes at him.

“We have a lot of kids between us.” He admits dubiously. “Are we counting Yunseong as a kid too?”

“Yunseong is a parent.” Dohyun stresses. “He’s a retired single father of six. But emotionally speaking, he’s your kid.”

“Fuck off.” He says, almost like a reflex. Dohyun shows him a row full of perfect, polished teeth. “That’s it? What about -”

He’s choking. He can’t say his name. Shou and Dohyun share a quick look of commiseration. They don’t get to say anything smart, because the gaggle of children show up, Lee Hyeop waving at them at the front of the pack. Dongpyo is short and lingering in the middle - Junhyuk can’t see him, doesn’t know if he wants to see him, but a sense of dread settles in him. He’s here. Dohyun shoves him onward and he stumbles, Yunseong catching him.

“Alrigh’?” He asks more with his eyes.

“I’ll cope.” Junhyuk sighs, very tired and wanting to go home. “Thank you. Mind your own.” He tosses his head to Yunseong’s kids, his tempered tone a contrast to the dismissive words. Yunseong, burdened with responsibility, looks to be raising objections to Junhyuk’s dismissal, but reigns in his protective instincts when he notes the pleading note.

“He’s with Junho.” Yunseong tells him as if this fixes the gulf between them. 

“So he’s in good hands…?” 

Alarmingly, Minseo floats by, snorting audibly. He’s locking elbows in a long line of ‘02 kids and their connections: Sangmin and Siyoung, Dongyun, Junho and Dongpyo at the very far end. Junho’s height obscures Dongpyo from view, with the rest of the ‘02 conga line closing ranks around their comrade. 

“I wouldn’t trust Junho.” Minseo tells him in an aside. 

“Why?” He whispers back.

“Slippery.” Dongyun supplements. They proceed to never elaborate on those two points, shuffling away in their conga line.

Changuk, refusing to be lumped with the middle children, attaches himself firmly between the babies (Yubin and Alex), leaving only the oldies to split or stick to themselves. Hyeop and Shou pick up idle conversations at the front, Yunseong and Dohyun splitting up to keep an eye out for the younger kids. As the odd one out, Junhyuk lingers in the back, terrified that Dongpyo might bolt up the hill or roll down it, with Junho nothing more than a decorative piece in either scenario. 

The trail is hard in autumn (not the first time that Dohyun scammed him into mutual hiking pains) but it is a fresh portal of hell in summer. All those in long jeans are soon lifting their thighs and peeling the clinging fabric away from sweating skin. Those with less shame are openly swearing in all the languages they know (Dohyun, Shou, Changuk), while those who are committed to never making a sound walk on in stiff, suffering silence. Yubin and Siyoung seem fine, as well as Junho, but he checks on the broken-up conga line only to startle. Junho’s gone! Where –

Yunseong trudges by, Junho on his back, laboriously placing one foot in front of the other, concentrating on his breathing. Dongyun tags alongside, two bags strapped onto him, chattering softly to a grimacing Junho, whose ankle is wrapped with a satin bandanna, one Dongyun previously had around his bicep. The boy meets his eyes and mouths ‘we’ll be right, hyung’ as they hobble along, as Junhyuk scrambles with a head count. There should be thirteen, him, the fourteenth, like Thorin and the Company minus Gandalf -

Except he can’t find Dongpyo anywhere and he’s missing one no matter how many times he recounts. Catching Sangmin by the wrist, he hurriedly imparts news that he’ll be sprinting down a hill, don't follow. Sangmin frowns, scanning the group, before his brows even out in understanding, then horror.

“Oh gods!” he squeaks. “Dongpyo?!”

“He’s just further down.” Dongyun flaps a wrist. “Said I’d get someone to return to him.”

"Did something happen to him?” Sangmin’s voice climbs, sharp and piercing. 

“How long ago was this?” Shou frowns, harried footsteps kicking up dirt and rubble. Yunseong continues to climb with Junho on his back, unconcerned, but Yubin’s eyes snag on the ankle-in-bandanna situation. 

“Five minutes. Maybe fifteen?” Dongyun muses. “Junho fucked up his ankle and Dongpyo was just tired. Figured he’d be up here by now.”

“Mother of God.” Dohyun groans, hand to his forehead. “Someone has to come and get him.”

Dongyun visibly bristles as he’s being casted as the villain. “Hey, we had to triage and prioritise the sick -”

Dohyun doesn't lift his head from his hand.

“Literally nobody cares about your paramedic training right now, Dongyun-ah."

Junhyuk’s had it. The weather, the avoidance, the bickering, the rising tension. He clears his throat once, reaches out to Dohyun’s arm.

“Calm down. We’ve got half an hour left, keep going.” He looks at Dongyun. “You try to stay away from him, he scratches when he’s upset.” At Shou - “You’re in charge now.” To everyone at large - “I’m going back to Dongpyo. Don’t worry about us.”

“We can’t even call you if you get stranded in there, hyungie.” Sangmin points out miserably. 

“I’ll call triple zero and together, we know first aid.” He shoulders his bag, thanks Dongyun for the sudden provision of first-aid supplies. “Thanks?”

“Don’t die or anything.” Shou is still frowning. “Climb a tree and call us if you need to.”

“Okay.” He breaks away from them. “I’ll live.”

With a big group, Junhyuk had no space or time to contemplate the Cold War waged between him and Dongpyo, to his planned benefit. He spends too much damn time in his head (Dohyun), that he shouldn’t be allowed a moment by himself, for he’ll spiral into insanity.

Separated, and trekking towards the other party guilty of this conundrum, he is at the brink of debilitating terror. Staring-into-a-void full-body-freeze terror. Would not recommend. If it was up to him, he’d take indefinite self-exile to Iceland with a flock of sheep. No talking, no interrogating the mortifying unknown depths of your psyche to dredge up self-awareness, no becoming aware of answers you’d rather not have. 

Here is Junhyuk, on a slant of a dirt track, and here is Dongpyo, fanning himself desperately with his cap, bangs wet with sweat. Here is Junhyuk, unsure, half a mind to run back and away and here is Dongpyo, eyes flickering, mouth set on a mulish line, chin tipped.

“I didn’t need any help, hyungie.” He sniffs, feigning fragility to offset the steel in his words. 

“You never do.” Junhyuk can’t help the snort. “Let me walk with you?” He asks, tentative. Bracing himself to be rejected.

It’s Dongpyo who braces himself, no vulnerability in steely refusal. “What’s the catch?”

By no circumstances should Dongpyo ever need to say those words, because he’s never tormented. The tormentor is the one with the perpetual upper hand, the negotiation scale tipped in his favour. Junhyuk may have towered over Dongpyo since the start of time (second year in high school), but Dongpyo had always dealt with him like he’s a subordinate. Kept him on his toes with sarcasm and an insolent attitude. 

“There’s no catch." He reminds Dongpyo. Maybe himself too. "Not with me."

Dongpyo's face scrunches in on itself, fists darting out to swing at Junhyuk’s direction. It’s baffling. Dongpyo usually flusters people, partly as a defence mechanism, mostly as an intimidation tactic. It’s to compensate for the lack of height, Dohyun posited once. Junhyuk on the other hand tries to appear as friendly and bubbly as much as his 180cm height can allow. He tries hard not to fluster anyone, and mostly succeeds, for his bumbling foolhardiness is a safe ground. 

"Liar." Dongpyo huffs, armed crossed. "There's always a catch with you."

Junhyuk tries to shift himself to Dongpyo's eye level, as much as being nearly six feet and on an elevated hiking track will allow. He's at a loss as to where the thread of their conversation starts and goes, as with all their conversations. Dongpyo refuses to speak plainly and Junhyuk, for his crimes of sparing everyone the bad news, have never reached the same ground of mutual understanding. They circle around each other, always on edge, always missing the elephant in the room.

"What would help right now?" He asks, resigned. "I don't want us to fight."

"You've been fighting." Dongpyo points out hurtfully. Junhyuk gives him a disbelieving look. "If there is no catch when it comes from you, then there was never malice when it came from me, hyungie." He explains, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. "Don't ask me what I want. You wouldn't like it."

"Then don't tell me what to do." Junhyuk rolls his eyes.

Dongpyo’s gaze twists – sharp and mean. "Aww." He coos. "But you don't like it when I leave you alone, hyungie." 

Doomed if he answers, doomed if he doesn't. Anything is as good as an admission. Junhyuk sets his jaw, drafting defensive words to counter this accusation. Dongpyo watches, face unusually serious – even if his baby fat and button nose hinder his project of appearing more mature. He's grown up alongside iterations of this face – scraped, bloodied, riddled with acne, the first attempt at makeup that didn't fit his skin tone. Even if their current dealing with each other is rocky, the history between them is too sluggish to take their feet out from. Junhyuk at the very least would like to salvage it. 

"Can't we be friends?" He asks, a touch away from plaintive begging.

Dongpyo crosses his arms, chin up.

"No."

"What is your problem?"

Dongpyo glares. "You."

"And how do you propose I fix that!" He throws up his hands. Always the first to concede, always the first to offer the olive branch. "I can't read your mind, Dongpyo-ah."

Son Dongpyo – unfearing of anyone, but nowadays, of Lee Junhyuk asking him what he wants – flinches. 

"You don't need to. I –" his jaw clenching, words through gritted teeth "– want you to look at me."

The first thought Junhyuk has is – Am I blind or something? The second thought he has is – Do I not look him in the eye when we talk? Then, horrifyingly in his last thought – I've always been looking at him!

"I look after you. Which includes looking at you."

"Liar." Dongpyo hisses, but deflates quickly. "You're always looking away." 

"Why is it important to look at you?" He thinks he's reaching the precipice of understanding, but he needs Dongpyo to put it into words. For peace of mind. For clarity. For going forward and knowing what the hell he's doing next with this kid.

"Don't antagonise me, hyungie." Dongpyo hides in his hands. 

"You do that enough for yourself." Junhyuk snorts. "You wanna say it or you want me to start guessing?"

It's the gear kicking things into motion. Dongpyo lifts his face promptly, hands reaching up and seizing Junhyuk's collar, yanking him down so they're eye level. His face, usually mocking, is a vivid shade of fury. His own medicine is bitter on the tormentor's tongue.

"Don't make fun of me, Lee Junhyuk." He says, barely louder than a breath. The woods are muted around them, Dongpyo's breathing running ragged, shaking his shoulders, setting his teeth on a fierce line that cuts. 

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Junhyuk asks, his curiosity mounting even in the face of a furious Dongpyo. "Dongpyo…"

"I don't need this from you, hyungie." Dongpyo's fists shake. Junhyuk slowly, as if placating a small child, brings his hands to cover Dongpyo’s, his hands completely dwarfing the other boy's. 

"If I don't act out," a ragged breath, "you wouldn't look twice at me."

That's – is that true? Junhyuk tries to be disaffected in the face of all shenanigans, because he was young and stupid once. He doesn't look twice at the other kids acting up in his friend group, but somehow, when it comes to Dongpyo –

"Surely I'm not that important, Dongpyo-ah." He murmurs, gentle and disbelieving. "I don't even like to be bothered half of the time."

"And that's all the fun." Dongpyo sniffs, seemingly better with the prospects of antagonising Junhyuk again. 

"For me to be mad at you?" 

"For you to pay attention to me." 

Right. Right, right, okay. Okay. Junhyuk freezes, then something in him knocks loose. Possibly his last two brain cells, but who can blame him. It's one thing to suspect, but it's another to be confronted with that knowledge. 

"Thank - thank you. I'm honoured, really." He chokes out.

"We don't need to talk about it. Just pretend like nothing happened." Dongpyo rolls his eyes at him, fingers losing their death grip on his crumpled collar, still caged behind Junhyuk’s hands. 

“You sure?” He asks. Doesn’t let go.

Dongpyo doesn’t look at him, head turned away, the tip of his pierced ear flaring warm pink. 

“Stop looking at me.”

★彡

Since the Conciliation (as derisively termed by Dohyun), a notable shift in how Junhyuk carries himself around Dongpyo prompts multiple averted eyes and frank disgust in his friend group. 

“Bruh.” Yubin says, as Dongpyo squeals around Junhyuk draping himself over his back, smothering the top of his head. 

“Buy you a noise-cancelling headphone if you trip them.” Sangmin leans over, debit card between his fingers.

“Can’t do that, Junnie’s mum wants to see them married.” Dohyun yawns.

“What.” Siyoung looks up, eyes boggled. “What?”

“They’re not allowed to run around freely anymore since the Great Mother realised that she’s been focusing on the wrong childhood friend this entire time.” Shou cackles. “Now she’s tasked me with full supervisory power to make sure they don’t elope in a different state.”

“This is horrifying.” Sangmin makes a face. “I wish I didn’t know this.”

“Ay, macarena.” Siyoung bumps their water bottles together.