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Chapter Text

𝙾𝚑, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕. 

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢. 

𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢.

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚙 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙.

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Lee Felix

2:13 AM September 15, 2020  

Happy birthday to me.

Accelerating down the flooded rural highway were hundreds of assorted vehicles, each one transporting individuals consumed in their own lives and pursuits. Each individual with their own story, their own futures.  

Perhaps that red semi-compact vehicle was operated by a university student traveling back to her dorm after an exhilarating Tuesday night college party.  

Perhaps that silver minivan was operated by a middle-aged father transporting himself, his wife, and his teenage daughter to the Daegu International Airport, fully packed and prepared for their red-eye to Japan.   

Perhaps that black luxury SUV was operated by an up-and-coming entrepreneur traveling from Daegu to Seoul on business.  

And then there was Lee Felix.  

Blood seeped into the neckline of his already soaked black tank, the cotton material adhering to his lean figure like wax paper. He had been stripped of his insulating brown duffle coat minutes before, as well as his phone, his wallet, his watch, and the little dignity he had left in his frail body.  

His delicate hand shook vigorously as he brought it to the open slit in his right eyebrow. The brunette winced upon contact, immediately retracting his blood-stained fingertips.  

Approximately two hours earlier, Felix had ordered his first ever alcoholic beverage: a cosmopolitan cocktail as advised by his company, Choi Hyeon and friends.

"Cheers to Yongbokkie," Hyeon projected in the densely populated drinking establishment, rising to his feet and raising his glass. "Who has, as of 15 minutes ago, officially reached the age of legal majority."  

Hyeon and the rest of the friend group, in addition to surrounding eavesdroppers, erupted in applause, whistles, and boisterous cheers.  

Felix's freckled face reddened as he grinned sheepishly.

"Cheers," the brunette flushed, his cocktail glass soon joining his friends' glasses as they hovered above the friend group's reserved table.  

The mass of beverage-filled glassware clinked together, the high-pitched sound ringing through the establishment's lively atmosphere like church bells.  

"Cheers," the friend group followed suit, their smiles dazzling as their tipsy eyes crinkled upwards.  

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"Bokkie, what's up?" Hyeon slurred, attempting to maintain a proper posture as he downed yet another shot of tequila.  

Felix, the only conscious mind at the reserved table, smiled weakly as he eyed the half-drunken cosmopolitan in his hands, swirling the beverage aimlessly.  

"Just a bit nauseous," he informed the older, gently placing his margarita glass on the table before him.  

"Someone's intolerant," the young man to Felix's right snorted before belching shamelessly. "Must suck."

It was now 1:07 AM, approximately one hour after they had initially arrived at the area's most favored drinking establishment: the Nocturnity Lounge. Illuminated by entrancing blue and purple hues and decorated with abstractly-shaped, neon furniture, which glowed beautifully under the black light, the Nocturnity Lounge was the place to go to be free as a bird, as carefree as a child, as sloshed as you desired, as shameless as a porn star.  

Felix detested it.  

The overly-tart cosmopolitan taste mimicked that of pure lemom juice, stinging the walls of the brunette's throat as he consumed it slowly.  

The way his friends eyed him was discomforting, stomach churning even. Behind their irises were not rational thoughts, but rather inexplicable urges. Urges that motivated Felix to rise from his chair rather aggressively.  

"I'm not feeling to well," he forced an apologetic grin. "I think I'm gonna head out now."  

Immediately, the drunken gazes of his peers darkened. Looming behind their eyes were emotions that sent chills down the 20-year-old's spine. Chills of unease.  

They were drunk. Drunk and hungry.  

It was when Felix began to back up leisurely that a hand gripped his forearm in a rather harsh manner.  

"How will you get home?" Hyeon questioned, his fingernails digging into the brunette's skin now.

Felix parted his lips to reply. However, his voice got caught in his throat once a gust of hot breath hit his nape.

"Would you like us to call you a cab, Bokkie?" A voice slurred lowly behind him.  

Felix remained frozen as two pale hands rested on his shoulders. The hands trailed down the expanse of the brunette's chest before teasing with the neckline of his brown duffle coat.  

"Such a nice coat," Hyeon stated, the corners of his chapped lips lifting slightly. "Where's you get it?"  

"I-I think I-,"

"Why don't you let me take you home, baby?" The voice behind Felix suggested, a provocative tone behind the words.  

Baby?

"I th-think I'll just-,"

As the brunette tried to escape his supposed friend's grip, a sudden wave of fogginess rushed over him. Keeling over, Felix desperately gripped the edge of the group's reserved table for stability.  

"What the-," he slurred, attempting to blink away the cloudy feeling consuming him.  

"Looks like you've had one too many drinks, Felix," Hyeon proposed, smiling mischievously as he brought his hand to rest atop the helpless brunette's. "Perhaps we should get this little guy home."  

Hyeon's words were muffled slightly, likely drowned out by the constant ringing in Felix's ears. It was as if Felix's head had been submerged in a pool of water, the sounds of his surroundings muffled by the cloud encapsulating him.  

"I've only had...," Felix attempted to vocalize his thoughts coherently, but trailed off mid-sentence.  

His lips remained slacked as saliva trickled from the corners of them. Making eye contact with the friend group member sitting on the far side of the table, the brunette swore he could visibly see the appetence seeping through the young man's pores. Despite his current state, Felix could sense the venom wafting through the air like mustard gas. He needed to open his mouth. He needed to say something.  

"Please," he mouthed weakly, his voice failing him at the worst moment.  

This was it.  

He should have known.

He should have fucking known.  

"Happy birthday, Yongbok," Hyeon and his henchmen smiled unnervingly, their images swirling like whirlpools in a body of water.  

The churning images slowly became dimmer and dimmer. Like the fading out of a music video, or the dimming of the stage lights after a performance. Obscurity gradually infected Felix's senses. His conscious slipped elsewhere, leaving remnants of foolishness and naivety in its wake.  

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It was now 2:37 in the morning, but Felix wouldn't know. After all, he had been robbed of both his gold watch and cell phone while unconscious.  

Something else, something heinous occurred while the brunette was insensible as well. Despite being unable to recall the disgraceful event by memory, he knew. He was certain. And oddly enough, he was ashamed.  

Felix felt as though his insides had been frothed like whipped coffee creamer. Shaken up like a pair of dice. He felt as though his body had been torn from his navel to the small of his back.  

He couldn't walk. His body was both tainted and immobile.  

All because he was stupid. All because he ignored the signs.  

"It's all my fault," he cried, tears escaping his eyes and blending in with the raindrops that cascaded down his cheeks. "I'm a rape victim and it's all my fucking fault."  

His lower lip trembled, joining his limbs in a constant shiver that didn't seem to let up.  

He was cold. So fucking cold.

Slowly but surely, the pace of the 20-year-old's heart decreased in speed. His eyelids grew heavier, soon feeling as heavy as a set of 2 kilogram dumbbells. Moments passed and Felix soon found himself lacking the strength to open his eyes at all. All he could do was stare into the darkness behind his eyelids. Stare and wait for the remains of his life to pass him by.  

Here, on the Daeguoegwaksunhwan Expressway at 2:49 AM, Lee Felix died.

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Bang Chan

2:50 AM September 15th, 2020

"Hey, hyung," Changbin called from behind blonde-haired Bang Chan. "Pull over, I need to take a piss."

Sighing, the nomad group leader glanced in the rear view mirror of the 2015 Hyundai Santa Fe.  

"Bin, you think you can hold it for-,"

"No," the raven-haired answered shortly. "I need to go now ."  

"We're 30 minutes out, for Christ's sake," Hyunjin complained beside Changbin, adjusting the black sleeping mask that shielded his eyes. "So shut up and wait."  

"Man, fuck you," the older of the two bickering men snapped. "I'll pull it out and piss on you right now."  

Cursing under his breath, Chan put on his blinker and pulled over to the side of the road.  

"Want me to text Minho and tell him?" Seungmin questioned from the passenger seat, already reaching for the device situated on the mount before him.  

"That would be great," Chan sighed, shifting the gear into park before retrieving two foldable umbrellas from the glove compartment and handing one to Changbin.  

"Make it quick, Bin," the eldest instructed to which the raven-haired nodded before hastily exiting the SUV.  

After taking a few leisured breaths, Chan cracked the driver side door open, slipping his foldable umbrella past the opening and allowing the material to extend fully. He then slipped out of the vehicle and into the showery climate.  

"Where are you going?" Seungmin called from the SUV's interior just before Chan closed the door fully.  

"Just getting some air," the older answered with a warm smile.  

Gently nudging the car door closed, Chan turned around and began to stroll through the damp wild grass beyond the expressway's shoulder, the fine blades tickling his ankles.  

The air was crisp, burning the interior of Chan's nose with each inhale. The atmosphere was humid and heavily laced with the thick smell of rain and vegetation. A light film of rainwater began to collect on the blonde's skin and clothes despite his using an umbrella. However, Chan didn't pay any mind to this, for he was captivated by the peaceful elements surrounding him.  

Cars whizzed past the parked SUV, each vehicle occupied by individuals that were consumed in their own unique lives. Following their own unique paths. The paths that lead to a cosmic variety of future endeavors.  

Perhaps the woman in the red semi-compact vehicle was destined to graduate with a nursing degree from Yeungjin University.

Perhaps the man in the silver minivan was destined to experience his most memorable vacation yet in Tokyo with his wife and daughter.  

Perhaps the woman in the black luxury SUV was destined to expand her business beyond anyone's expectations, becoming CEO of Seoul's next hit clothing company.  

And then there was Bang Chan.

After scoring unsatisfactorily on his Suneung CSAT college entrance exam, Chan had stopped chasing his academic pursuits entirely. His parents had kicked him out of the house upon hearing the news, for they had expected more of their son and would, under no circumstances, allow their unemployed, trust fund offspring to reside in their house after such a disappointment.  

Newly homeless Bang Chan had no choice but to sleep in his car and survive off of the tteokbokki and dosirak that he purchased with the little allowance money he had saved throughout his childhood.  

At that time, Chan had fallen into an intense depression.  As a naturally extroverted individual, the sparse interactions he had with convenience store cashiers didn't supply him with nearly enough energy.  

He needed a friend.  

"So you need a friend," Han Jisung stated doubtlessly as the two complete strangers conversed outside of the Gunwi Rest Stop. "And I need a ride. So whatcha say, hyung?"  

At that time, approximately four years prior to present day, Chan was an 18-year-old licensed driver. Jisung, on the other hand, was merely 15 years of age. The poor boy couldn't even legally operate a vehicle, and yet he somehow managed to end up at a rest stop three hours away from his hometown.

"A ride where?" Chan questioned before bringing his lips to yet another mouthful of instant noodles.  

Having been told that an extremely heated argument between Jisung and his father had been the primary cause for the ginger's running away, Chan doubted that the younger would be picky about a location. Based off of first glance alone, one would easily be able to identify Jisung as a stray. A vagrant, spontaneous teenage boy whose only desire was to escape his emotional burdens and daddy issues.   

"Anywhere," Jisung beamed, confirming the blonde's suspicions. "I don't really give a fuck."  

And so the two boys ended up voyaging to the Amnam Park on the coast of Busan. And then the May 18th Liberty Park in Gwangju. And then Jeonju. And then Seoul.  

One day on the road turned into one week. One week turned into two weeks. Two weeks turned into a month. Then two. Then six. Then 12. One year turned into two, and before Chan knew it, two years turned into four.  

Over the course of four life-altering years, a two-man van-lifer duo had manifested into a seven-man nomad group. Together, they were known as “Stray Kids,” a fitting title in Chan’s opinion.  

At the center of the nomad group’s operations was yours truly. From route planning to RV maintenance, Chan knew exactly which decision to make at any given moment.  

At Chan’s right hand was Han Jisung. As the primary road-trip entertainer, the jovial ginger was never short of fresh playlists, brilliant games, and captivating media. From 21 Questions to Mad Libs, from 200 Pounds Beauty to the Daebak Show, Jisung ensured that despite the endless hours on the road, no one would ever grow bored.  

At Chan’s left hand was Seo Changbin, the brawn’s of the group. His unadultured strength and confidence was like no other. Aiding the eldest in the many formidable and discomforting tasks of RV life such as checking the RV’s roof seals and seams, checking the tire pressure and tread, maintaining all three holding tanks, and so on, Changbin was viewed as somewhat of a superhero.  

As the second eldest, Lee Minho acted as the unspoken second-in-command of the Stray Kids nomad group. The designated RV driver frequently offered Chan input in administrative decisions such as selecting the most cost-efficient campsite, determining how long the group should remain stationary, planning out meals, and deciding whether the group’s financial situation called for much dreaded boon-docking.  

Kim Seungmin was undoubtedly the group mediator. At the center of each dispute was the latter himself, deescalating situations before they spiraled out of control and keeping each member of the group in line.  In addition to aiding Chan in discipline, the brunette served as the messenger between his hyungs. When not fulfilling his duties as the mediator or messenger, however, Seungmin acted as somewhat of a wild card. On the rare occasion that he didn’t have his nose in a book or a set of headphones cupping his ears, he would crack out-of-pocket jokes and relentless roasts.  

Habitually following Seungmin’s humorous dialogue was the infamous laugh of none other than Hwang Hyunjin. Constantly leaving a trail of random art sketches in his wake, Hyunjin’s creative ability and natural eye for style seeped into each and every seam of the group’s class A motorhome. From decorating to furniture positioning, from cabinet arranging to wall painting, the detail-oriented workhorse made certain that his travel companions resided in luxury.

Finally, Yang Jeongin, the youngest amongst the seven males, had yet to find a niche within the group. After all, the 19-year-old had been rescued from a run down alleyway in Vegas a mere two months prior. At the time, the latter was frighteningly thin and malnourished. His immune system was weak and he was nearly incapable of both speech and affection. Even in present day, Jeongin had yet to open up to his peers and disclose the trauma that loomed in his past. Despite this, his elders viewed him as their younger brother and vowed to make him as comfortable as humanly possible.  

“Chan!”  

Changbin’s invasive shriek immediately snapped the eldest from his trance.  

Springing off of the Hyundai Santa Fe hood that he had been absentmindedly leaning against for several minutes, Chan followed the sound of the exclamation. His feet were light as he bounded toward his dongsaeng with haste and purpose, shrubs and grass slicing at his ankles unforgivingly as he rushed further into the borrow ditch.  

“Changbin, what’s-,” the blonde began before the remaining words died on his tongue.  

His eyes grew wide as he stood over the disturbing image below, his jaw slacking as he mouthed a hushed “oh shit.”  

Beyond the blonde’s feet lay a limp, ghastly male figure. The male’s frail legs loosely curled into his stilled chest, fresh blood draining from the cracks in his lips and the slit in his eyebrow. Scanning down the brunette’s lifeless body, Chan’s eyes couldn’t help but latch onto the prominent blood stain on his light brown sweatpants. The blood stain that was suspiciously close to the latter’s intimate regions.  

Crouching down steadily, Chan brought a finger to the side of the young man’s neck, carrying out his actions with utmost alertness.  

“No pulse,” he sighed, retracting his hand from the brunette’s carotid artery before bringing it to the latter’s forehead.  

“Anything?” Changbin questioned, an audible shake to his usually confident voice.  

“He’s warm,” Chan snapped his head up to make eye contact with the raven-haired that towered above him. “He hasn’t been out long. We can-,”

“Hyung,” the other man warned, his grip around the foldable umbrella handle visibly tightening. “If we do this, we’d be treading into dangerous territory. I know you see it too. Let’s just-,”  

“If we wait for emergency services, they’ll get here long after he’s passed. He’s bleeding out as we speak, Bin.”  

“He’s already dead.”

“He’s not dead until I say he’s dead,” Chan said brusquely through gritted teeth. “Never leave a stray behind. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” 

“Fuck,” the younger cursed under his breath, bringing his chin to his chest. “Bloody he-, where’s your umbrella?”  

“I ditched it when you called me over,” Chan answered to which Changbin hummed, the latter seemingly deep in thought.  

“Here, keep him out of the rain,” the younger courteously handed the blonde his own umbrella, thereby surrendering himself to the persistent downpour, “What do you need me to do?”  

“Go fetch the others and help them prepare the trunk for treatment. I’ll meet you there.” Chan instructed. “Gather as many blankets and jackets as you can. Anything to warm him up. And get the first aid kit.”  

Without hesitation, Changbin turned on his heel and sprinted to the parked SUV a few yards away, leaving Chan alone with the lifeless blonde before him.  

“Oh, fuck,” the 22-year-old sighed, struggling to recall the CPR procedure that was taught to him in middle school.  

Ultimately deciding to wing it, Chan repositioned the male to a supine position before placing both of his hands on the center of his chest and locking his elbows. He then began compressions, instinctively singing the song “Stayin Alive” by Bee Gees in his mind as he did so.  

“Please, man,” he cried, desperately pressing his weight onto the other man’s chest. “You have too much life left to live. Too many places left to see. I could take you where you want to go. Show you anything you want to see. Just…

“…please, let me show you the world.”  

Chapter Text

Lee Minho
3:32 AM September 15, 2020

40 minutes.

It's been 40 fucking minutes.

Lee Minho continued to lean against the recreational vehicle's black, white, and grey exterior, staring down at the text conversation that set his insides ablaze.

iMessage
Today 2:51 AM

DandyPup🐶
hey min-hyung, we made a pit stop on the expressway abt 30 min out. we'll catch up w u in a few

🐱Catlord🐱
kk. lmk when ur back on the road.
Read 2:52 AM

"Have you tried calling them?" Jisung called from the front right corner of the RV, the newly 20-year-old man in the process of lowering the last stabilizer jack.

"I've tried at least five times with each one," the raven-haired older sighed, releasing his head back against the cool exterior supporting his weight. "Radio silence."

"Hey, Minho-hyung," a soft voice resonated from the entrance door. "Can you move for a second so I can extend the slide-outs?"

"Oh, crap," Minho scrambled off the wall hastily, sparing the younger a warm and apologetic smile. "It's all yours, Innie."

With that, the slide-outs of the RV begin to extend one by one. Meanwhile, Minho stood off to the side, aimlessly checking the weather as he awaited a response from somebody. Anybody.

"Minho, do you know where Chan stores the slide-out stabilizers?" Jisung questioned, approaching the older before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No clue," Minho said in response, "You could try calling h-, oh wait. You can't, 'cause the bastard doesn't know how to answer the fucking phone. None of them do!"

Huffing, Minho shoved his phone into the back pocket of his cargo shorts before advancing towards the RV's entrance door.

"Well, it looks like I won't have to call him after all."

Stopping in his tracks, Minho turned to the ginger with a raised eyebrow. Jisung proceeded to flick his gaze towards the familiar SUV approaching their campsite.

Minho sucked his teeth before turning his entire body towards the vehicle and placing both hands on his hips.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," he scoffed as the SUV came to a full stop mere inches before him.

The raven-haired proceeded to tap the hood of the vehicle twice before approaching the driver side door.

"Chan, what the hell?" He barked, placing a hand on the now open car door. "You could have at least-,"

"We found a stray."

Oh.

Oh crap.

"He's hypothermic and has lost a substantial amount of blood," the eldest continued as he popped the trunk. "He's also a victim of...,"

The blonde's voice trailed off then, the silence accentuating the sound of rustling clothes and scurrying feet around the duo.

"Where do you want him, Chan?" Seungmin called from behind the SUV as he tampered with something in the trunk.

"Lay him on the pull-out couch," the older answered, sparing the brunette a brief glance before returning his attention to Minho.

"A victim of what?" the raven-haired spoke softly, his tone heavily laced with worry. "Of ra-,"

"Chan, where is the cord for the electric fireplace?"

"It should be-, fuck," The blonde sighed, and Minho swore he could see the anxiety-infused smoke seeping through the gaps in the older's gritted teeth. "I'll be right there."

Chan then redirected his attention back to Minho for the second time.

"Yes," he replied shortly before turning on his heel and bolting towards the RV, leaving the raven-haired alone with his palpitating mind.

So, they found a stray on the side of the expressway. The boy had been raped and left to freeze to death in the persistent downpour, which has since subsided.

Perhaps he has loved ones. What if they're searching for him at this very moment?

What if he needs medical attention? Medical attention that we can't give him due to our lack of resources and experience?

Do we dial first responders? No. Absolutely not. What if he's illegal? There's no way in hell I would willingly subject him to such a predicament.

Where would he sleep? Seven bodies is plenty already.

What would we-,

"Earth to Minho," a familiarly high-pitched, youthful voice chirped. "Yoo-hoo!"

Blinking with great vigor, Minho turned to Jisung with eyebrows raised.

"Good?" The ginger questioned, tangling his fingers with the older out of habit.

Minho hummed in response, absentmindedly tracing circles in the back of Jisung's hand with his thumb.

"How about a trip to the store?" The younger suggested with a crooked smile. "We need to restock some of our first aid supplies."

Staring ahead voicelessly for a second too long, Minho blinked himself back to reality and physically shook away the cloud that had been cocooning his brain.

"Y-yeah, that would be great," he said, mentally slapping himself silly for how vulnerable he sounded.

Everything is going to be fine, Minho. Take a deep breath.

"I'll drive," the raven-haired added, earning himself yet another mental slap to the face.

"Well duh," Jisung snorted as the two began their walk toward the Santa Fe Sport. "I can't drive worth a shit, remember?"

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Seo Changbin
3:40 AM September 15, 2020

"Dude, what if this guy's a fugitive?" Hyunjin stated absentmindedly as he continued to pick the foliage out of said guy's hair.

"Hyun, look at him," Changbin gestured toward the unconscious individual situated on the pull-out couch. "Be for real here. He wouldn't hurt a fly and you know it."

"Can I touch his hair?" Jeongin questioned, reaching a hesitant hand towards the fluffy brown locks.

Immediately, the curious hand was swatted away.

"Patience, child," Hyunjin barked, sparing a threatening glance at his dongsaeng before returning his attention to the task at hand. "He just died. Give him a break."

"Now I know you didn't just swat Innie's hand away," Changbin challenged, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow.

"And what about it, biddie?"

"Ladies, ladies," Seungmin groaned, instinctively massaging Changbin's toned shoulders in an attempt to calm the boy's nerves. "Let zombie boy rest in peace, for God's sake."

Sucking his teeth, Hyunjin spared Changbin one last death glance before fully immersing himself in his work at last.

Sighing, Seungmin stopped his calming ministrations and brought his head to rest delicately on Changbin's shoulder.

"How are you feeling, Bin?" the brunette asked tenderly.

"Fine," the older sighed, melting against the 19-year-old seated behind him on the dinette seat. "Just a little shaken up."

"I'd imagine. Seeing such an image without warning would be quite the scare, no doubt."

Silence.

"You did the right thing, hyung." Seungmin added after the brief moment of tranquility.  "You saved a man's life tonight. You should feel accomplished."

But I don't, Changbin thought to himself. I found the body, yes. But did I contribute to his resurrection? Not in the slightest.

"I know what you're thinking right now," Seungmin brought a gentle hand to Changbin's jet black hair then, giving the older's head a few experimental scratches before fully committing to a relieving massage. "Don't you dare think like that. Do you want me to shrink myself, crawl into your ear canal, and fight off those little demons in your head that keep downplaying your successes?" 

Scoffing, Changbin rolled his eyes and wiggled slightly between the younger's sprawled-out legs.

"I didn't do anything aside from finding the body, Min." The raven-haired explained, shaking his head in disappointment.

The hands that were laced in Changbin's hair tensed then, halting the older's head movement.

"And it was that action that set this entire thing in motion," Seungmin stated, "So shut up and be proud, Goddamnit."

Changbin complied without having to be told twice, pursing his lips together and letting his heavy eyelids fall.

Sometime during that touching and tranquil moment, Changbin's consciousness slipped elsewhere, abandoning his body and ascending into dreamland.

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Hwang Hyunjin
3:46 AM September 15, 2020

At last, the final bits of herbage had been removed from the small boy's heavily tousled hair.

Releasing his head back, Hyunjin collapsed onto the floor gracefully, producing as little noise as possible as to not wake the two dormant bodies on one of the dinette chairs.

It was those two figures that brought awareness to just how late (or early, rather) it was in the day. Hyunjin knew that the only thing between him and his much-needed slumber was the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The blonde assumed that the two other conscious men were undergoing the exact same sense.

"Jin," Chan approached the other whilst rubbing his eyes, which were heavy with sleep. "Let me take over. You look like a dumpster fire."

"You should take a look in the mirror, Sherlock."

"Shut up," Chan slurred, ruffling the younger's hair lazily. 

"You've been behind the wheel all day." Hyunjin retorted, quietly of course. "Take the suite. I've got everything under control."

"You sure?" The older questioned, his head lolling to the side upon its own accord.

Hyunjin could only spare his hyung a sympathetic smile and coo at the adorable sight. 

"Positive," he affirmed, patting Chan's back before shooing him towards the king suite.

Upon hearing the king suite door close, Hyunjin turned his head back toward the man of the hour. A smirk tugged at his lips as he gently ran his fingers through the irresistible strands of brown hair.

"You are incredibly strong, you know?" he directed towards the unconscious man beneath his fingertips. "I've never even spoken to you and yet I already envy you.

"You we're given the golden opportunity to leave your life behind, and yet you didn't. I admire you for that. I admire you more than you'll ever know."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Han Jisung
4:01 AM September 15, 2020

"It's okay, hyung." Jisung caressed Minho's forearm where it rested on the center console. "I don't know why I even suggested we go to the store at 3:30 AM anyway. That was really stupid of me."

"It wasn't stupid," the older scoffed. "You're stupid, but that doesn't necessarily mean that all of your ideas are."

"Ouch."

"I'm kind of glad that we got away from that scene," Minho continued. "Not that I don't want to help or anything. I'm not that kind of person. It's just that-,"

"You we're stressed back there," Jisung interjected, looking up at Minho with the fondest of smiles. "It was written across your features in bold, Min. You froze. You panicked. And that's okay. That's human."

"I shouldn't be panicking, though. Not when there's a stray involved." Minho countered, eyes transfixed on the road ahead. "I should be aiding Chan. Providing him with an extra set of hands. Not running away like a shorebird faced with an incoming tide."

"Not everyone reacts well under pressure. It is completely natural for the human brain to shut down in situations similar to this one," Jisung explained, continuing to caress his hyung's forearm. "You are among the vast majority. Don't beat yourself down for it."

Minho hummed, sparing the younger a warm and thankful glance before returning his eyes to the road, which quickly morphed into an uneven gravel driveway as the vehicle approached the nomad group's designated campsite.

They were greeted with complete obscurity aside from the small lantern illuminating Jeongin's languid features.

"Bud, what are you doing out here? It's freezing," Jisung scolded the group's maknae upon exiting the confines of the heated SUV. "You'll catch a cold."

"Ji, he's only four and a half months younger than you. Cut the 'Bud' bullshit, for crying out loud."

"Make me, Minnie Mouse."

"Fuck you."

"Everyone else is asleep," Jeongin interposed, "Thought I'd come out here and wait for you two to get back."

"Aww, you're adorable."

"Jisung...,"

Jeongin couldn't help but smile warmly at his road mates' playful bickering, his contentment soon sucked away by an inescapable coughing fit.

"Oh no," Minho approached the younger, bringing a cautious hand to the boy's back and rubbing circles in the flesh. "Let's get you inside, Innie. The cold is certainly no place for you."

Just as Jeongin had broadcasted, not a conscious soul met Jisung's gaze as he entered the recreational vehicle with ears sharp and pupils enlarged.

Instinctively, the ginger's gaze latched onto the unfamiliar body occupying his usual sleep spot.

Fuck.

He had forgotten all about this guy. For a moment he experienced peace. For a moment he managed to avoid the unadulterated stress of such a predicament. He should've expected the inevitable collapse of the serene walls protecting him, and yet he became too complacent. Too immersed in the little bubble he had constructed with Minho.

Now, the floodgates had opened. He supposed he was more prepared for such an impactful surge than he had been 30 minutes ago. However, that didn't dampen the bizarreness of the situation.

Approaching the pull-out couch with light feet, the 20-year-old allowed his eyes to linger on the foreign figure much longer than his conscious usually permitted. This was likely because the boy was unaware of the ginger's gaze. Therefore, he was unable to grow uncomfortable under such undivided attention.

"Careful, Jisung," Minho snickered. "You might burn a hole in him with that stare."

"Oh please," the latter scoffed, whipping his head toward the older who was staring with the exact same intensity. "You're no better off than me."

It was strange, adapting to yet another foreign presence in the place that he called home. Despite undergoing this process on six different occasions, Jisung found himself unable to grow accustomed to such a feeling. A feeling he could only describe as a rush of both love and envy.

"So, where are we going to sleep, Sung?" Minho cut into the younger's thoughts then, capturing Jisung's full attention.

"Um...," the ginger hummed, his eyebrows knitting together thoughtfully. "Looks like Seungmin and Changbin's bunks are open. We could crash there for the time being."

The older hummed in contentment before ambling nimbly toward the bunks beside the stove.

"Top or bottom?"

Jisung could do nothing but release a brief, sputtering laugh before clapping a hand over his mouth to suppress the embarrassing sound.

"I shouldn't have said anything," the older sighed monotonously, climbing into the bottom bunk and curling up like a baby kitten.

"Interesting choice," Jisung stated smugly, earning himself a forceful kick to the shin.

"Go to bed, Han." Minho insisted firmly as the other man keeled over in agony, biting his fist dramatically to suppress his pained whines.

"Yes sir."

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Kim Seungmin
7:48 AM September 15, 2020

Sunlight flooded Seungmin's eyelids completely unsolicited, wrenching him from his sleep ever so abruptly.

Forcefully blinking his eyes open, the brunette scanned his surroundings out of habit.

His eyes settled first on the bundle of heat tangled between his limbs. A subtle flush was present on the shorter's cheeks as soft puffs of air escaped his lips.

Adorable.

The brunette then allowed his eyes to wander to the kitchen just beyond the dinette. One of the drawers
had been left open, revealing the many electrical cords within its confines. The stovetop was polished to perfection. After all, it had remained unused for months on end.

Just to the left of the kitchen were Seungmin and Changbin's designated bunks. However, they weren't in use by their owners, but rather a lagomorph and his annoying rodent friend. How classy.

The living room, which was to the right of the kitchen, was occupied by three men. Yang Jeongin, certified fennec fox who apparently failed to reach the drop-down overhead bunk before falling victim to the sandman. Hwang Hyunjin, who hadn't even attempted to search for a suitable place to hit the hay and instead lay limp on the cold, vinyl flooring. A pool of saliva gathered atop his forearm, which the blonde had apparently been using as a makeshift pillow. And finally, there was Subject H.

Subject H had yet to rise from his grave, which happened to be located on the pull-out couch designated to the lagomorph and his annoying rodent friend. Remember them?

After stretching his arms above his head and releasing a yawn that damn near dislocated his jaw, Seungmin maneuvered his way off the dinette seat, careful not to tamper with Changbin's dormant body too intensely.

At last, Seungmin arrived at the edge of the pull-out sleep sofa occupied by his fellow brunette. The 19-year-old considered himself to be a step ahead of the other six nomad group members. This was due to his and the new kid's shared hair color, the first established commonality. The thought nurtured the latter's ego more than he would care to admit.

He stared down at the stray with curious eyes, taking note of his entrancing freckles and distinctly heart-shaped lips.

He was unfairly attractive, and yet Seungmin believed that the latter's full beauty had yet to unfold. Perhaps it was hidden behind the boy's closed eyelids.

Seungmin fully presumed that Figure H's eyes would overflow with wonder. Gleam with curiosity.  Glisten like the stars in a countryside sky. After all, these characteristics would have complimented the already observable features of his face perfectly.

What the brunette didn't expect to see was the unadulterated terror behind the frantically moving, horrified irises of a freshly awakened stray.

Chapter Text

Lee Felix
7:52 AM September 15, 2020

Pain.

Pain surged throughout every nerve in Felix's body as his mind began to awake.

His head was throbbing like a bass drum. Blood pumped through his temples and tore through his brain, jostling the muscle around in his cranium like clothes in a dryer. His lips felt like a mud mask. Even the slightest of movements would've resulted in them cracking. Shedding like a snake's skin during ecdysis. Peeling like the price label on a Christmas gift.

His eyelids shot open, pupils dilating swiftly as sunlight invaded his senses.

He couldn't see. Couldn't hear. Couldn't smell.

He could only taste the discrete, metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Feel the blood pumping through his body in a vigorous manner. Feel his heart palpitating out of desperation. Desperation to strengthen his feeble body. Bring color to his ghastly, waxen limbs. Bring life back to his traumatized being.

"He's awake!"

"He's awake. I need help!"

People, Felix thought to himself, Such horrid and insatiable creatures.

People.

People who had injected red ink into his once white soul.

People who had taken advantage of his untainted, virgin body.

People who had poisoned him with flunitrazepam. Spiked his drink with roofie.

People who had allowed him, in all his naivety, to reside with them. Make him feel at home. Make him feel safe.

People who are not to be trusted.

People are not to be trusted.

"People are not to be trusted," he muttered aloud, tears cascading down his cheeks as his pulse began to skyrocket. "People are not to be-,"

"Guys, wake the fuck up!"

"People are n-not to be-," his voice soon gave in to the irregular, fast paced breaths and spontaneous sobs that managed to breach his lips.

The brunette's entire body began to spasm, juddering the weak foundation supporting his weight. His hands proceeded to fly into his hair then, tugging at the brown strands with no regard for their integrity.

"Stop that," a foreign, shaky voice demanded as the perturbing sensation of warmth encapsulated Felix's wrist.

"Don't touch me!" The 20-year-old barked, flailing his arms blindly with the intent of scaring off the unwelcome pursuers. "I don't wanna!"

"Son of a-,"

"Chan, what the fuck do we do?"

"Well, for starters, don't put your hands on him, dumbass!"

"I didn't know it would-,"

A deafening wail left Felix's lips then, his limbs thrashing against the sheets below as the elongated sound tore through the atmosphere like a tornado siren.

"It hurts!" He cried through gritted teeth, fisting his black tank and undoubtedly stretching the cotton fabric. "For fuck's sake, it hur-,"

Another ear-shattering cry followed by uncontrollable hiccups and sporadic breathing.

"Hey, hey, hey," a youthful, nasally voice whispered tenderly. "Breath for me, please. Let's start with an inhale...,"

Fuck you.

"No!" The brunette shrieked. "No, no, no, no...,"

"Let's start with a-,"

"Shut up!" Felix retorted, slamming his fist down on the sheets beside him. "P-please-,"

His words were cut short by a series of wet sobs and uncontrollable hiccups. His chest expanded and contracted erratically.

As Felix continued to hyperventilate, lightheartedness began to arise. He lacked sensation in both hands and feet at this point, for he failed to intake the oxygen needed for proper bodily function.

He couldn't see, for tears obstructed his vision. Even before the accumulation of said tears, Felix had been blind. Blind to the signs. Blind to the vibrant red flags. Blind to everything.

He couldn't hear, for his ceaseless cries and violent hiccups drowned out any and all noise present in the foreign atmosphere.

He couldn't smell, for the tremendous blockage of nasal mucus that had grown during this attack prevented him from doing so.

He couldn't ground his suspended mind. Couldn't bring himself back to reality.

Lee Felix was completely detached from his surroundings. Trapped in a bubble, floating aimlessly through the black void that is deep space.

For a moment, it was quiet.

For a moment, it was just Felix and his intimate bubble.

For a moment, he felt at peace.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"That's it. Breathe for me."

"In through your nose...and out through your mouth."

A breath of air left Felix's lips then, mingling with the crisp, chilled air around him.

His rapid heartbeat began to decelerate, as was his body spasms and hiccups.

His ears now had the ability to perceive surrounding sounds, as his since deescalated hyperventilating and hiccups no longer stifled them.

Bodies.

Bodies shifted around him. Their movements sounded anticipant, as if they were waiting for something to occur.

Nature.

He was able to decipher the faint resonance of beautiful, early morning birdsongs and rustling tree leaves.

"Where am I?" The brunette questioned, nearly cringing at the cliché nature of such a statement.

"Uhm," an Australian accented voice spoke hesitantly, "You're at the Chilgokbo Auto-camping site. We brought you into our motorhome to treat your critical condition to the best of our abilities."

"Who is we?" Felix questioned, his state of blindness remaining constant.

"I, um... we are-,"

"We're nomads."

There it was again. That youthful, nasally voice. How serene and consoling it was.

"We travel the world in search of memories and experiences. Nothing more and nothing less."

Nomads. Interesting.

"Can you tell me your name, please? If possible, of course."

"Felix," the brunette replied. "Lee Felix."

Following the 20-year-old's reply were a series of thoughtful hums and exchanged whispers.

"Do you perhaps have a, uhm, Korean name?"

"No!" the brunette replied hastily, a slight bite to his words. "No, no, no...,"

"Cheers to Yongbokkie!"

"Would you like us to call you a cab, Bokkie?"

"Happy birthday, Yongbok."

"That's okay! That's fine," the Australian voice reassured Felix warmly. "Felix it is."

The atmosphere became still for a moment, completely silent aside from the marginal AC unit rumble within the mobile home and the light gusts of autumn air outside of it.

"Felix, are you able to see?" The Australian voice questioned then, concern heavy in his tone.

The brunette blinked rapidly in an attempt to somehow rid his eyes of the blurred filter shielding them. The action was of no use.

Growing irritated, Felix tried to sit up. However, his body remained adhered to the covers, incapable of any form of movement. Pain surged throughout the latter's entire nervous system in response to the attempt. Felix parted his lips and released a pained wince, his eyebrows furrowing downwards. His face was painted with agony as his insides boiled, mocking the heat of an active volcano's magma chamber.

"Please don't try to move. You are still recovering from your injury."

"Injury?" Felix croaked, squeezing his eyes shut and allowing the constant buzz in his abdomen to subside. "What injury?"

Once again, the atmosphere became still.

Felix swallowed, opening his eyes once more in hopes that a decipherable image would emerge. And it did.

Seven men. Three raven-haired's. Two blondes. One redhead. One brunette. All about the same height as him or perhaps a bit taller.

Well, maybe not that guy over there.

"Felix, what hurts, exactly?" The Australian blonde asked, tilting his head attentively. "Describe the pain to me."

"Who are you?" Felix questioned instead.

"I, uhm..., I'm Bang Chan. But you can call me Chan. Chan-hyung if you're-,"

"How old are you?" The short, buff raven-haired interjected, closing in on the brunette slightly.

"I'm uh, I'm 19," the 20-year-old stated confidently, his brain still muddled from his post-death experience.

"When's your birthday?" The raven-haired continued, an eyebrow disappearing behind his yet-to-be-styled bangs.

"September 15," Felix answered. "2000."

Silence.

"Felix, can you tell us what day it is?"

Silence.

"Can you tell us the last thing that you remember?"

Happy birthday, Yongbok.

He had been raped. Regardless of whether the Grim Reaper made its appearance, the brunette would never forget.

He would never forget the sickening feeling consuming his lower body as rainwater soaked into his pores, freezing within them and stimulating sharp, burning pains.

He would never forget their stares. Their stares as cold as the frozen rainwater that had drawn the life from his body hours earlier.

They were his friends. They were his roommates. They were his refuge.

And most importantly, they were his cause of death.

"I remember them," he breathed, pupils shrinking to the size of a ballpoint pen's tip.

"Them?"

"They were..., they were like brothers to me," the brunette whispered shakily. "Apparently, they didn't-,"

The remains of Felix's sentence died on his tongue suddenly. A quivering breath escaped his throat then, his eyes latching onto him.

Choi Hyeon.

That sick bastard. That murderer.

Felix's eyes widened as his heartbeat began to radiate throughout his entire body, his bones imitating poorly maintained support beams in an earthquake. His core trembled with fear as his hand roamed nearby surfaces, feeling for anything that would-,

"Felix, are you-,"

"Hyeon, you son of a bitch!" The brunette yelled, seething as he hurled a television remote at the nearby blonde, the object managing to nail the man's sternum.

"Shit!" The blonde gasped, gripping his chest and keeling over, a string of curses leaving his lips as he did so.

"What the fuck was that?" Another raven-haired hissed, his cat-like features twisting in rage. "Why did you ju-,"

"You fucking murderer!" Felix shrieked, fishing for more ammo as the blood in his cheeks boiled.

"Stop that! Sto- Minho, don't!"

There it was again. That perturbing sensation of warmth that encapsulated both of Felix's wrists.

"You little shit," that same cat-like raven-haired growled, caging Felix's upper body in an unwavering hold.

"Minho, get off of him!" Chan demanded through gritted teeth. "Get off!"

The blonde swooped in, grabbing the aggressor's waist and managing to disconnect one of the raven-haired's hands from Felix's right wrist.

The brunette used this opportunity to plant his unrestrained hand on Minho's chest and attempt to shove the man aside. However, this attempt was deemed useless, for the raven-haired didn't budge.

So, Felix proceeded to do what his conscience begged him not to do: spit in Minho's face.

Scowling, Minho peeled himself from the brunette willingly and stumbled back a bit, dragging his palm down his face to remove the bacteria-ridden substance.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He hissed. "You're crazy!"

Rather than paying any mind to the hostile raven-haired, Felix dragged himself to the edge of the pull-out sleep sofa and slipped off the raised structure with ease, dragging his dysfunctional lower body behind him as he crawled ahead.

"Hey, where are you going?" The short, buff raven-haired planted his feet directly in front of the crippled brunette.

Felix made quick work of retrieving a nearby broomstick that had been propped against the wall and cracking it against the man's ankle, sending him tumbling into the brunette at his side.

"Son of a-," the raven-haired winced, massaging the assaulted joint once he had been safely lowered to the ground.

Felix proceeded to discard the broomstick and crawl toward the nearest exit with utmost haste. He had only one objective in mind, and that objective was to escape this venomous environment alive.

"Felix, you-,"

"Seungmin," Chan demanded firmly, "Let him go."

And so the brunette managed to escape the unnerving confines of the mobile home successfully and venture out into the early morning wilderness.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Hwang Hyunjin
8:07 AM September 15, 2020

Directly following the intense slam of the RV door was a deafening silence. An eerie stillness that rang throughout the air within the motorhome, raiding Hyunjin's eardrums unforgivably.

The blonde continued to clutch the shirt fabric shielding his pulsing sternum, his upper body curling into his knees in a vulnerable manner.

"Jin, you okay?" Chan questioned, breaking the silence at last.

Rather than granting the older a coherent answer, the 20-year-old simply hummed reassuringly.

"Bin?"

"Yeah," the 21-year-old rasped.

"Minho?"

Silence.

"Min, you with us?"

A light thud rattled the recreational vehicle momentarily, the sound followed by Minho's arising from the floor. The raven-haired padded toward the exit wordlessly, his facial features sharp and his fists clenched.

"Min," Chan began, springing toward the second eldest nimbly and making quick work of grabbing the man's wrist. "Min, don't."

Groaning, the 21-year-old turned toward his hyung with piercing eyes.

"How will he-,"

"We can't force him to do anything," Chan sighed, dropping his head slightly. "At least, we shouldn't. Not after what he's been through.

"He'll either return to us or find an alternate route. Either way, we must wish him well and we must not interfere."

Minho's eyes became distant then, the raven-haired gently coaxing the eldest aside to properly view the scene before him.

"Where's Jisung?" He questioned, his mindset switching from one of both anger and worry to one of urgency and alertness.

Chan's body perked up immediately, his head whipping around to follow Minho's gaze.

"Shit."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Han Jisung
8:10 AM September 15, 2020

The air was crisp and infused with a strong post-rainstorm scent. The smell was calming, remarkably so.

As Jisung admired the still, tranquil lake before him, wind rustled the red strands of hair atop his head. The breeze comforted the 20-year-old like a soft lullaby. It brought his once agitated nerves much needed relief.

The redhead had fled the recreational vehicle a few minutes prior because the environment felt too similar to...to his childhood home in Icheon.

The yelling. The physical assaults. The rage. The loud noises.

The entire situation provoked a sense of déjà vu within Jisung. An unsolicited sense. A wounding sense.

When Jisung was in the womb, his father had been convicted of assault and sentenced to one year in prison. Upon his father's release, Jisung was about nine months old.

This hadn't been Mr. Han's first offense. He had been locked up in juvenile hall numerous times during his adolescence due to his aggression. Despite seeing several cognitive behavioral therapists and the like, his aggressive behavior never appeared to subside.

Throughout his early childhood, Jisung had grown accustomed to sleeping through his parent's altercations, treating his mother's wounds, and walking on eggshells near his rather fragile father.

While he initially hadn't been a victim of his father's domestic abuse, that changed once his mother had taken a job in Namyangju during the latter's preteen years.

Due to his mother's frequent absences from the household, Jisung was forced to assume her responsibilities. These responsibilities included cooking dinner, washing dishes, maintaining cleanliness within the house, and so on. Because he had taken on said tasks, Jisung was forced to coexist with his father more often. It was then that the abuse began.

It started with insignificant remarks of dissatisfaction.
Mr. Han would complain about Jisung's cooking, his so-called inability to be thorough while cleaning, and the like.

These remarks evolved into frightening outbursts over undercooked cabbage and dishes that hadn't been polished to perfection.

Within months, Jisung had officially taken his mother's place in Mr. Han's eyes.

After school trips to the drug store to restock bruise treatment cream, concealer, and band-aids had become routine in Jisung's life. His father had jabbed a finger in his son's face on numerous occasions, stating something along the lines of, "If you allow anybody, your school faculty, your classmates, your mother, anybody, to see or hear what I have done to you, I will kill you. Understand?"

And Jisung had no choice but to comply.

Jisung had no choice but to put up with his father's constant abuse and function as a youth-shaped punching bag.

The latter had been able to successfully keep the confidential matter under wraps for quite some time. However, at the age of 15, Jisung accidentally allowed the secret to slip through his fingers. This mistake was grave.

On August 27, 2016, Jisung somehow managed to sleep through both of his alarms. The boy habitually ate breakfast with his mother before her daily commute to Namyangju, and his tardiness from the breakfast table that morning captured Mrs. Han's attention.

Upon visiting her son's room, however, Mrs. Han's eyes were met with a rather gut-wrenching sight.

"How could you do such an inhumane thing to our son, Jaesung?" She cried to her husband minutes after her discovery.

Newly confronted Mr. Han was glowing with rage. His balled-up fists shook at his sides, and his teeth just about shattered because of how intense he was clenching them.

"You told her, you heathen?" He turned toward Jisung then, who had been helpless in his mother's firm grasp throughout the entire conversation.

The raven-haired's eyes widened then.

"Don't you dare talk to-,"

"I told you what would happen if you allowed anybody to see or hear what I have done to you, correct?"

Gulping, Jisung nodded weakly.

It was then that Mr. Han lunged at the 15-year-old boy, pinning him under his weight before pummeling the youth with merciless punches.

The memory of such a traumatizing experience jolted 20-year-old Jisung from his lengthy trance.

Or perhaps what jolted him from said trance was a rustling sound. One that was far too close for Jisung's comfort.

Whipping his head toward the noise, the redhead narrowed his eyes in hopes of identifying the culprit. To his surprise, a head of light brown hair entered his line of vision.

"Hello?" Jisung questioned, craning his neck slightly to view the foreigner concealed by the tall blades of grass. "Who are you?"

Suddenly, a pair of curious brown eyes met his own.

"Who are you?" A familiarly deep, Australian accented voice responded.

"I asked you first."

"Congratulations. Now who are you?"

Jisung's eyes narrowed at the boy. At Felix. At that point in time, the ginger wasn't particularly happy with the latter.

"You know who I am, Felix," he replied, a slight bite to his tone.

"Just because I've seen your face doesn't mean I know who you are."

"Why should I tell you who I am?"

"Why did you run away?"

"That's-," Jisung began before the remaining words died on his tongue.

The two men simply stared into each other's eyes for a few moments, gazes battling. Who will cave in?

Jisung sighed in defeat after about 15 seconds of silence, lowering his gaze and slouching his shoulders. "My dad yelled at me a lot when I was a kid. I would rather not relive that."

Felix inhaled sharply then, leisurely sitting upward and bringing his chin to his chest.

"My mother yelled at me too," the brunette said softly. "So I understand. I didn't mean to-,"

"If you understand, then why'd you lash out?" Jisung spat, "I don't think you understand just how similar you sound to my father when you raise your voice."

"I'm sorry, I-,"

"What did Hyunnie do to you?"

Instead of answering, the freckled Australian simply screwed his eyes shut and twiddled his thumbs aimlessly.

"Are you crazy or something? I mean, you hurled a TV remote at the guy for fucks sake."

"Hyunnie? Is that his name?"

Jisung's eyes latched onto the man before him, blinking vigorously as his expression twisted into one of confusion.

"Why do you care?" The redhead questioned, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I thought he...," Felix trailed off then, his eyes meeting Jisung's once more.

"You thought he looked like someone else, didn't you?"

Silence.

"Hyunjin," the older began to explain out of the blue, "Hyunjin is his name. Hyunnie, Hyun, or Jin for short.

"He expresses himself through art. You know, drawing, painting, sculpting, etcetera. Art is his outlet. His passion. He takes pride in every project. Every paint stroke. He's a bit dramatic, I'll admit. But he's completely harmless. The guy wouldn't hurt a fly. Certainly, he'd never-,"

"Jisung!"

"Jisung, it's Chan!"

Oh crap.

Jisung had completely forgotten about his road mates.

"Alright, Felix," Jisung began, placing a hand on the younger's shoulder absentmindedly. However, the latter instantly flinched away from the man's touch, his button nose scrunching upward in discomfort.

"Sorry," the redhead responded in an apologetic manner, retracting his hand swiftly. "Felix, you're going to apologize."

"To who?"

"To everybody, but especially Hyunjin."

"No," the brunette demanded shortly, "Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because he-,"

"He what, man?" Jisung shrugged, his eyebrows raising in anticipation.

Rather than providing the nomad with an answer, Felix's lips remained sealed. The latter began to nibble at his lips nervously, indicating that he didn't intend to speak up.

"He didn't do jack shit, bro. You're just delus-, fuck."

The older refrained from finishing his thought, for he wasn't heartless. Instead, the ginger rose to his feet and offered the brunette a hand.

"Look, I may not like you very much right now," Jisung stated blatantly to which Felix drew back a bit with knitted eyebrows. "But this wilderness and its dangers yield to no one, especially not the injured.

"Whatever your past may hold, we never made an appearance in it. Whatever trauma you may have, we never contributed to it. Regardless of who we look or sound like, we are innocent. We are here to help.

"Believe it or not, each and every one of us has trauma of our own. Each and every one of us has been in your position. You feel like you are one man against a swarm of hostiles. You feel like no one is able to empathize with your pain.

"Felix, you are not alone. You never have been, and you never will be because we are here to help you. We are here to heal you. We are here, offering you our hearts. A ticket to our brotherhood. Our family.

"We may all be somewhat broken, Felix. But together, our hearts piece together to create a masterpiece. The family we lacked in the past.

"Felix, we want to help mend your injuries if you'll let us.

"So, will you let us?"

Chapter Text

Seo Changbin

8:26 AM September 15, 2020

"Which slide-out did you say it was, Innie?" Changbin questioned, a can of silicone lubricant in hand. 

"The kitchen," Jeongin answered softly, gesturing toward the mentioned slide-out as he spoke. 

"Well, you know what to do. Go ahead, kiddo."

With that, the maknae turned on his heel and entered the recreational vehicle with nimbleness only a 19-year-old could possess. Within seconds, the structure began to extend outward, indicating that the raven-haired youth had successfully reached the slide-out button. 

Just as Jeongin had mentioned, the mechanism emitted an unpleasant screeching noise that jostled about Changbin's rib cage and prompted a headache that would be a pain to treat. 

Once the slide-out was fully extended, the nomad crawled beneath it, his eyes immediately latching onto the nylon gear tracks present on both corners of the structure's underside. 

"How's it going down there, Dwaek?" A familiarly high-pitched, melodic voice resonated nearby. 

"Oh, it's a cake walk, Sung," the older replied, positioning the nozzle of the lubricant can near the end of the track. "How's it going up there, man?" 

Sighing, Jisung shifted his weight before replying to the older. 

"The newb locked himself in the suite. Hasn't been out since he came back." 

"I'm surprised you managed to lure him back in the first place," Changbin commended his dongsaeng pridefully, the grin on his face enunciating the soft dimples decorating the flesh. "You've always been a sly dog, you little slime ball." 

"Shut up, titface." 

"What's up with your blatant obsessions with my tits?" 

"They're nice tits. You got tits but not eyes?" 

"Why are you two arguing about tits?" Chan sighed, approaching the conversing duo with an obvious smile in his tone. 

"Because we-,"

"Hey, guys," Seungmin called from the RV's front entrance. "The ankle assaulter is hungry. What do I do?" 

"Throw a raw onion in the suite and see if he's hungry then." 

"Bin, the guy has trauma. Leave him be," Chan scolded the third eldest. 

"Given his current mindset, I wouldn't be surprised if he bit into that thing like a fuckin' apple." Jisung added, disregarding his hyung's previous rebuke entirely. 

"Sung...," Chan warned, and Changbin imagined that the older's eyes were piercing the redhead's soul at that moment. 

"He says he wants brownies," informed the distant voice of Jeongin, to which Seungmin hummed in confusion. "Like boxed brownie mix. Home cooked or whatever." 

"Did you just refer to boxed brownie mix as being home cooked?" Seungmin chortled, shaking his head at his only dongsaeng. "Jeongin, please." 

"This bitch wants us to make brownies? For him?" Changbin inquired, spraying one final coat of silicone lubricant on the slide-out tracks as his eyebrows knitted together. 

"At least we get something out of the deal. That shrimp definitely won't be able to eat a full batch himself." Minho stated optimistically, which was oddly out of character in Changbin's opinion. 

"True, but who's going to bake them?" Seungmin asked levelheadedly. 

"Me. Who else, dumbass?" Minho stated blatantly. "If any of you even breathe on my oven, you'll be stuffed in it. Capeesh?"

"Min, quit threatening the kids," Chan sighed, retrieving the raven-haired's hand and dragging the man behind him hastily. "We're going to the store. If you need anything besides what's already on the list, shoot a text." 

With that, the pair boarded the vehicle and exited the camping site. Their absence indicated that Changbin was now in charge. 

Emerging from beneath the kitchen slide-out at last, Changbin instructed Jeongin to retract the slide-outs before extending them once more. This action would ensure that the lubricant was evenly coated on the tracks. 

Fortunately, the headache provoking screech that the mechanism once emitted could no longer be heard.  Changbin released a pleased exhale. 

"Alright, we're clear."

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Lee Minho

8:42 AM September 15, 2020

"Coke or-,"

"Cider," Chan replied briefly as he plodded toward the shopping cart, lugging a case of bottled water in his arms. 

"You fucking imbecile," the younger sucked his teeth, unenthusiastically retrieving a 6-pack of chilsung cider. "The world should be ridden of heathens like you."  

"Dark sodas are disgusting," Chan cringed, eying the raven-haired with false disgust that the latter returned reluctantly. "You're disgusting." 

After staring at each other for a moment, noses scrunched and eyebrows furrowed, the pair suddenly erupted into boisterous laughter. 

"Let's go get some Oreo O's and...," Minho said once their shared laughter had died down, his sentence trailing off momentarily. "Shit, what did Jisung want?" 

"Didn't he want donuts or something?" Chan questioned, "Maybe bungeoppang?" 

"Did he put it on the list?"

"No."

"Did he shoot a text?" 

"No."

"Well he'll just have to cry about it, then." Minho shrugged, retrieving a 6-pack of his personal preference, Coca Cola, from its corresponding shelf. 

Laughing at his dongsaeng's harsh antics, Chan continued through the grocery store, Minho and the pair's semi-full shopping cart in tow. 

Eventually, the two men ended up in the baking aisle. The objective was to locate an adequate box of brownie mix for their new RV mate. If he chose to stay, that is. 

"We have fudge, milk chocolate, dark chocolate, frosted, and-," 

"Fudge," Minho interjected, "Everyone loves fudge." 

"Everyone loves milk chocolate," Chan countered. "Milk chocolate is the universal brownie flavor." 

"Bullshit." 

"You're shit."

"That's my line, dibshit." 

"Well, consider it looted." 

"Oh please," Minho scoffed, "You're just unoriginal. Leeching off the catchphrases of others. How pathetic." 

Chan narrowed his eyes then, the white of them barely visible behind his eyelids. 

"Fuck it, let's get both," he gave in, chortling as he retrieved both fudge and milk chocolate brownie mix from the shelf and flung them into the shopping cart. 

"I suppose we could do that," Minho huffed, a fond smile painting his features. 

The expression was returned by Chan momentarily before the eldest drew his phone from his pocket to spare a glance at the time. 

"We better get home to the kids before they burn the RV down, don't you think?" 

As the pair made their way to the nearest checkout lane, Minho glanced down at his hyung with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.  

"I don't know about that, Chan. I think that our dear old Bin has everything under control." 

"So you're suggesting we ditch our parenting duties completely?"

"Precisely." 

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Despite Minho's previous proposal, both older men had unanimously agreed that Changbin most likely didn't have everything under control. Within minutes, the Hyundai Santa Fe Sport, inhabited by the eldest pair, had parked on the nomad group's reserved lot. Both parties were pleasantly surprised that their mobile home wasn't, at the very least, emitting smoke upon their return. 

It was now 9:05 in the morning. Minho found himself studying the baking instructions on the back of a brownie box at this time, his weight on the palms of his hands as he pressed them into the galley kitchen countertop. His ass had been inadvertently accentuated by the position. 

"Nice ass, Min," Hyunjin snickered as he maneuvered past the older man on his way to the refrigerator, sparing the irresistible plushness a brief slap. 

"You fucker." Minho scoffed, retrieving a nearby silicone spatula and cracking it against the blonde's forearm remorselessly. 

Expectantly, the 20-year-old drew the assaulted limb to his chest and keeled over dramatically, gripping the reddened flesh between his fingers and emitting forced, high-pitched whimpers. 

"You don't have butt hunting privileges, remember?" Minho pushed himself to a standing position then, crossing his arms and pursing his lips in a cheeky manner. "They were revoked because of that one-,"

"Minho-hyung, that was four months ago," Hyunjin whined, dramatically stomping his foot on the floor and concealing his flushed face with his hands. 

"You talking about that time when he accidentally cupped Binnie-hyung's-,"

"Precisely,” Minho halted Jisung's statement then. "Therefore, hands off the merch, Princess." 

Huffing, Hyunjin marched toward the unopened box of fudge brownie mix and seized it from the countertop, his cheeks puffed and his lips pouted. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Minho raised an eyebrow then, nibbling the inside of his cheek inquisitively. 

"Helping you make brownies," the younger replied softly, placing both a mixing bowl and measuring cup set on the marble counter before the raven-haired. 

"I don't-," 

"Aw, the tremendously oversized ferret feels bad," Changbin cooed from the dinette seat, his limbs tangled with Chan's this time around. 

"Let him help out, Min." Chan said, ruffling the third eldest's slightly unkempt locks of hair as he spoke. 

And so Minho allowed Hyunjin to join him in the kitchen. 

What a terrible mistake that was. 

Approximately an hour after the pair had embarked on their baking journey, five pairs of eyes stared down at the catastrophe beneath their noses, breathing through their mouths as the intolerable aroma diffused throughout the air. 

"Damn," was the only word that could be spoken amongst the deafening silence. 

"The fuck is that smell?" A deep, Australian voice barked from a distance, the sound accompanied by light, approaching footsteps. "Smells like a goddamn crematory in here." 

"Ah, Felix. Glad you could finally join us," Minho spoke, sarcasm evident in his tone. "Just popped your brownies out of the oven. Want a bite?" 

It was when the brunette ambled into Minho's line of vision that the raven-haired resorted to silence. 

Decorating Felix's face were several plasters and band-aids. Enveloping his small-framed upper body was an oversized, sherpa-lined zip-up, and insulating his lower body were a pair of matching black sweatpants and white cushion crew socks. His eye area was swollen and sported a vibrant red hue. The color was shared by the whites of the latter's eyes, which were also abnormally glazed. 

"Thank you for the first aid kit and spare clothes, by the way," he spoke softly, noticeably flustered by the five older men's undivided gazes. 

"Of course," Chan replied, his eyes dropping to the scorched dish on the counter beside him. "Felix, we tried to-,"

"Make brownies," The brunette completed the eldest's statement, maneuvering through the group of nomads to stand directly before the overcooked dish. "As I had asked, which I do appreciate. I guess I should've been more specific.

"Firstly, I prefer raw ingredients to boxed mix. Something about making brownies from scratch just gives the dessert a more rich, homey flavor." 

"But you never-," 

"Do you happen to have cocoa powder?" Felix interrupted the shorter, well muscled raven-haired without an ounce of remorse. 

"Excuse m-,"

"Yes," Chan answered the 20-year-old, placing a comforting hand on Changbin's chest. 

"Sweetened or unsweetened?" 

"Unsweetened." 

"Perfect. Where is it?" 

"The pantry to the right of the fridge. Eye-level shelf."

With that, the brunette slipped past the older men and into the nearby storeroom, shortly retreating from the room with a number of ingredients in hand, including unsweetened cocoa powder, granulated sugar, all-purpose flour, backing powder, and brown sugar. 

"Vanilla extract?" The brunette spoke with a tilt to his voice as he set the goods he had fetched beside the pan of burnt brownies. 

"Should be in the spice cabinet to the right of the microwave." Chan replied, eyeing the boy as he padded from one location to the next, determination evident in his eyes. 

Felix sucked his teeth as he eyed an unopened package of butter, shaking his head in chagrin. 

"Salted," he scoffed. "This'll have to do, I guess." 

He then placed the box, as well as a carton of eggs, next to the many other ingredients he had collected. 

"Do you have any espresso, by chance?" The latter questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

Chan's eyebrows knitted together at this, Minho's exact thoughts reflected in the eldest's puzzled expression. After all, the request was quite odd. For brownies, at least. 

"Espresso?" Chan repeated, eyeing the second eldest with slight apprehension. 

Alright, it has to be said. 

"Look, man," Minho spoke up at last, the little patience left in his body evaporating completely. "I speak for everyone when I say that I don't trust you operating our kitchen appliances. Hell, you haven't given me a reason to trust you in general." 

"Minho," the brunette spoke in a calm manner, and Minho's jaw tensed slightly at the informal addressing of his name. 

"I was once a culinary arts student at a hospitality school in Seoul." Felix explained, "And while this recipe is amongst my simplest works, it has been acclaimed by a handful of the most experienced chefs in Seoul. These chefs also happened to be my instructors."  

"I'm not asking for a vocalized resume, Felix," the second eldest snarled. "I'm asking for a reason. A reason for me to trust you." 

"And I suppose you ask the same of the cooks at restaurants you visit?" 

The raven-haired stood before the brunette, mouth agape as he processed the younger's audacity. 

"I am not a random serviceman, and I am certainly not your enemy. I am the man you recruited. I am the man whom you brought into your home without hesitation.

"Normally, by this point, I would have thanked you, for I'm not as heartless as you might think, nor am I crazy. And I certainly wouldn't bite into a raw onion as if it were an apple. That is beneath me." 

The brunette spared both Jisung and Changbin a poisonous glance before returning his attention to the raven-haired before him. 

"Jisung mentioned earlier that each of you share trauma similar to my own," Felix continued. "Therefore, you should all be aware of the pain that I'm feeling both physically and emotionally. However, the only one who has shown even the slightest amount of empathy towards me is Chan-ssi.

"Jisung also mentioned earlier that you offered me a ticket into your brotherhood, which I have since accepted. But brothers don't refer to each other as bitches humorlessly, nor do they pin their emotionally detached, victimized brethren to a pull-out couch. Brothers don't refer to each other as crazy. At least, not when the other party is already wallowing in self-hate as is. 

"My parents stopped funding my boarding and education at hospitality school. They also asked me not to return to their doorstep in Sydney, leaving me homeless at 18 years of age. 

"Choi Hyeon offered me to stay in his shared dorm here in Daegu, and there I became part of what I thought was a stable brotherhood. A family. However, my thoughts were proven false once my supposed brethren roofied, raped, and ditched me on the side of the expressway two hours into my 20th birthday.

"Minho, you asked me to give you a reason as to why you should trust me. I believe that I should be the one demanding such. After all, I am the one standing in this unfamiliar motorhome. I am the one who is out of my element, and the six pairs of loathing, unsympathetic eyes piercing my back are certainly not helping my unease. 

"So until you begin to care about my emotional wellbeing, until you stop feeding the demons in my mind that continuously tell me that I am the problem, that I am the one leading this life of mine straight to hell, you will receive no respect from me.

"No honorifics. No trust. No strings. 

"Just a batch of brownies, courtesy of the roof over my head.” 

With that, the petite brunette finessed his way through the mass of speechless men. He then located the oven, gauging the appliance rather quickly and preheating it to 180 degrees C with a few simple clicks of his fingers. 

“Now,” the brunette breathed. “Where do you store your mixing bowls?” 

Chapter Text

Kim Seungmin 
9:37 AM September 15, 2020

🌈Stray Gays🦄

Text Message 
Today 9:37 AM

FoiVe y/o🤪 
minnie, innie, where tf r u guys?

DandyPup🐶 
exploring the site 

🥖BabyBaguette🥖 
ya. there r a lot of old ppl here

🥖BabyBaguette🥖   
like. a lot. 

qUOKKA 
well get yo skinny asses badk here. felix made brownies and there fcking delicious

DandyPup🐶 
they poisoned?

FoiVe y/o🤪   
oh yeah. and im calling a family meeting

🥖BabyBaguette🥖   
so they are poisoned? 

🐱Catlord🐱  
man, fuck a family meeting

DwaekGotCake    
fr

FoiVe y/o🤪
no, the brownies aren't poisoned, jeongin

FoiVe y/o🤪  
and we're having a meeting, no ifs, ands, or buts. hyun, u getting this?

🥟PrincePotsticker🥟  
yes

🥟PrincePotsticker🥟  
now please stfu

DwaekGotCake 
he's jus saltu cuz he can't cook

DandyPup🐶 
*bake

DwaekGotCake 
stfu

Powering off his phone and shoving it into the back pocket of his khaki colored cargo pants, Seungmin glanced over at raven-haired Jeongin, who had done the same thing. 

The fair-skinned, delicate featured boy continued to lay atop the dull blades of grass, allowing the sun to illuminate his unblemished, supple skin. His lengthy eyelashes fluttered closed, bringing a warm smile to Seungmin's face. 

Absentmindedly, the brunette brought a finger to a stray hair obstructing the younger's face, gently looping the lock behind the latter's ear. A wide, tight-lipped grin painted Jeongin's face then, the flushed apples of his cheeks ever so endearing in Seungmin's eyes. 

"Min, what are you doing?" The young boy chuckled softly, leaning into the older boys touch as he proceeded to deliver a head massage to the younger. 

Jeongin hummed in contentment as his entire body relaxed against the soft landscape below. 

"IN-ah," Seungmin nearly whispered, admiring the youth beneath him as he continued to caress his head. "Have you eaten today?" 

"'S to early," the boy grumbled, pouting lazily. "'M not hungry." 

"You said that yesterday," Seungmin stopped massaging the younger's head then, eliciting a dissatisfied whine from the latter. "What did you eat yesterday, hm?" 

"A cup of espresso," the raven-haired slurred, his hands moving to conceal his guilt-ridden face.

"And you believe that a cup of espresso is enough?" Seungmin raised both eyebrows in a challenging manner, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "Innie, that isn't even food for Christ's sake."

"I know, I know," Jeongin sighed, dragging his hands down his face and groaning, likely due to the frustration resulting from his own actions, or lack thereof. "Believe me, Seungmin. I'm trying my best. Just-,"

"I know," the older interjected. "And I'm proud of you, J. So fucking proud."

The brunette turned his head toward the boy once more, his gaze softening as a pair of fox-like, comforting eyes met his own. Seungmin inhaled sharply. 

"When we found you that night, in that alleyway in Vegas," the latter began. "I genuinely questioned how you were able to survive up to that point.

"But now, after witnessing all of the progress you've made thus far, I no longer worry for your health."

Jeongin released a hushed chuckle at that, his eyes morphing into entrancing, moon-shaped sources of joy. 

"The catch is," he spoke, "Someone needs to monitor my progress and ensure that I don't become complacent. And thankfully, that person is you." 

"Exactly." 

Jeongin continued to look fixedly at the older, nothing but tenderness, pure adoration, existent in his eyes.  

The two men remained in this position for a moment, gazed unwavering and lazy smiles persistent. It was the sudden clearing of Seungmin's throat that acted as a needle, piercing the bubble that had formed around the pair. 

"You think you could stomach a brownie?" The brunette questioned. "We could split one, if that's what you'd prefer."

"Maybe after this so-called 'family meeting,'" Jeongin replied, a bit of a teasing tilt to his voice. "I'm curious as to what Channie-hyung has to say." 

"Likewise," Seungmin agreed. "Though, I do have my suspicions." 

The raven-haired nomad sat up at this, his head snapping toward the lake before the duo. 

"It's been nice, Min," the latter sighed, basking in the serene atmosphere for a moment longer. "Now let's go see if your suspicions are correct."

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"Alright," Chan began, clapping his hands together enthusiastically, "I believe that the discussion regarding the obvious elephant in the room is long overdue. Would you agree?" 

The six younger men nodded their heads lazily, their actions displaying the obvious disinterest shared amongst them. 

"Jisung, what is the elephant I'm referring to here?" 

"Felix," the ginger replied briefly, avoiding eye contact with the eldest as if he had just committed a felony. 

"Precisely," the blonde replied, "Felix. Who exactly is this guy? Changbin, enlighten us." 

"Felix is a rape victim who had been discarded in a burrow ditch on the side of the expressway. His lifeless body was initially discovered at three in the morning by yours truly," the addressed raven-haired explained, his eyes glued to his own lap. "He has since been resurrected by our beloved leader and regained consciousness at around eight o'clock this morning. As of now, his relationship with the group, excluding Chan-hyung, is quite strained." 

"And that is why we are here today," Chan concluded, gesturing wildly with his hands to articulate his words. "In this common area. In this circle. We are here to discuss the relationships between Felix and the six of you. Or rather, how to mend said relationships."

"You can't mend what's never existed," Minho muttered, his left eye twitching as the words left his lips. 

"Minho," Chan spoke rather thunderously, startling the second eldest. "During her middle-aged years, your mother was a well renowned psychologist, correct?" 

Finding himself unable to speak, the raven-haired man resorted to simply nodding his head. 

"Perhaps she is here with us at this very moment," the eldest continued. "What lecture would she give you regarding your actions toward our emotionally troubled newcomer?" 

"Uhm," the second eldest was at a loss for words. "A, um, a lengthy one." 

"Thank you for your honesty," Chan nodded curtly toward the man, before his demeanor suddenly shifted to one of intimidation and crossness. "You should consider listening to her some time. Or perhaps you've lost respect for your dear old mama because she is no longer with us. Is that it?" 

"N-no," Minho insisted. "That's not it at all." 

"Well then prove it!" Chan barked, shifting his attention to the third eldest rather abruptly, abandoning Minho and his now mildly trembling figure. 

Changbin's eyes widened as dread engulfed his entire being. 

He was next. 

"Changbin, I don't even know where to begin with you,"  the nomad group leader scoffed, his face twisting in disappointment as he pinched the skin between his eyebrows. "Your own fucking father was diagnosed with late-onset schizophrenia. 

"Essentially, you were your family's rock. Your mother worked like a dog to pay for your father's medical expenses, leaving you alone to care for both him and your sister. It was your responsibility to ensure the safety of your mentally incapacitated dad. It was your responsibility to maintain your family's structural integrity, and yet you failed. Do you really want history to repeat itself once more?" 

"Channie-,"

"Hyunjin," Chan interrupted his fellow blonde, snapping his head toward the addressed 20-year-old with an unnerving gleam in his eye. "You have a pretty complicated history with drugs, correct?" 

Forcing a swallow, Hyunjin nodded hesitantly. 

"What, benzos? Morphine? Codeine? LSD?" 

"Hallucinogens." The blond replied lowly. "Cannabis, LSD, but mostly ketamine." 

"Ketamine," Chan snapped his fingers at that, the fourth eldest seemingly hitting some sort of mark. 

The older blonde then shifted his gaze toward the only brunette in the room, whose confidence shattered entirely under the eldest's stare. 

"Seungmin, what exactly is ketamine?" 

"I, um," the man stammered, his eyes frantically shifting from one location to the next. "I-I'm not really sure, hyung." 

"Don't play dumb with me, Min," Chan narrowed his eyes at the latter. "You fetched it for your sister and her stoner boyfriend on numerous occasions when you were a kid. What. Is. Ketamine?" 

"It's a dissociative anesthetic," Seungmin spat, screwing his eyes shut as his entire body became as rigid as an iceberg. "Medically used to induce and maintain anesthesia. Illicitly used as a hallucinogen. By definition, hallucinogens may cause hallucinations and/or the dissociation of users from their body or environment." 

"Thank you, Seungmin," Chan nodded curtly once more before turning his attention toward every participant in this rather confrontational family meeting. "Perhaps one should think of extreme trauma as a hallucinogenic. Ketamine's vintage, less trendy older brother. 

"Extreme trauma is able to induce dissociations, similar to its hallucinogenic brethren. Perhaps that connection will help you all understand why Felix was acting the way that he was. Perhaps that connection will help you all understand exactly what feelings the boy was undergoing and may still be undergoing currently.

"Felix was high. When you're high, you make poor decisions. When you're high, you lash out for inadequate reason. When you're high, you see and hear things that may seem entirely realistic, but are completely imaginary.

"If I had told the six of you that Felix recently snorted ketamine, how would you have acted toward him then?" 

Silence. 

"I'd imagine you wouldn't have pounced on the poor boy. That I am certain of," Chan snapped his head toward Minho then. "I need answers, and I need them now.

"Jisung, I want you to speak for everyone when I ask you this. Why did you welcome Felix to our brotherhood in such an uncivil manner?" 

The ginger beside Seungmin cleared his throat before swallowing, his eyes hooded as they remained glued to the floor beneath his shoes. 

"He assaulted a member of our family, Chan-ssi," the 20-year-old said quietly, twiddling his thumbs as he spoke. "I suppose our inexcusable actions were based upon instinct.  After all, we are a pack. We attack those who harm our pack mates, regardless of who they are." 

"And Felix is not a fellow pack mate?" Chan raised an eyebrow at the man. 

"He is," Seungmin interjected unexpectedly. "But we need time to adjust to his presence. Now that we have been put in our rightful place, we will do so civilly." 

"Oh, you will now?"

"Yes," the brunette spoke confidently, looking up from his shoes to meet the eldest's eyes at last. "We are greatly remorseful for our past actions, believe me. And as a family, we will do everything in our power to accept Felix as our own. To make him feel comfortable, and to feel comfortable around the man ourselves. 

"But hyung, please understand that we are still human. Humans are naturally inflexible creatures. This doesn't imply that we're unable to properly welcome him to our brotherhood. Hell, we've done so 7 times already. However, we do need time. Is that a reasonable request?" 

Chan sucked his teeth before leaning back in his seat, tapping his fingers against his own thigh. 

"Yes," the blonde replied. "That response is reasonable."

Before the six younger men had a chance to sigh in relief and relax in their seats as well, Chan's voice humbled them yet again. 

"But," the man began, his eyebrows raising and his body snapping up once more. "This period of adjustment comes with a set of rules.

"Rule number one. Avoid conversational topics regarding sex and the like. I believe I don't need to elaborate on this one. 

"Rule number two. Don't touch Felix in any way without prior consent from the man himself. Also requires no elaboration. 

"Rule number three. Keep the stares to a minimum. They're creepy, uninviting, and will undoubtedly send the boy bad signals. 

"Rule number four. Don't force Felix to participate in any activities and conversations. Any induced discomfort will certainly not make a good impression.

"Rule number five. He shares the king suite with me." 

"Wait, hyung. Are you serious?" Hyunjin gaped at the older man, his previously lowered head whipping up at the statement. "You're kicking me out?" 

"I am kicking you out," Chan repeated the younger,  his lips stretching into a nearly indiscernible smirk. "A sleeping bag should do for now. However, I will look into future renovations because you're you and I'm not heartless.

"Moving on to my sixth and final rule. Hyunjin, you are to maintain an adequate amount of distance between yourself and our new recruit. I am aware of your innocence, but regardless, your appearance makes him noticeably uncomfortable." 

"But-,"

"He will come around when he is ready. As rule number four states, don't force the man to participate in any activities or conversations. He will do so on his own time, and we must be patient. Capeesh?" 

"Capeesh." The younger six agreed synchronously. 

"And Jeongin," Chan called, the raven-haired maknae perking up at the sudden addressing of his name. "Eat a damn brownie, will ya?" 

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Han Jisung
10:02 AM September 15, 2020

Jisung was heavily surprised to find the new recruit just where Chan had left him. 

The brunette had been asked to guard the box of brownies located on the picnic table outside whilst the so-called "family meeting" took place amongst the other seven men. Jisung fully anticipated that Felix would try to escape. After all, it was the perfect opportunity to do so. However, for the second time that morning, a head of light brown hair entered his line of vision, proving the redhead's suspicions false. 

Jeongin trailed directly behind Jisung, eyes studying his shoes as the pair advanced toward the occupied picnic table. 

Felix's head snapped up to view the approaching parties, the defensive gleam in his eye yet to disappear. As soon as he identified the two men, however, his head returned to its downturned position. 

"You shouldn't do that," Jisung said, noticing the younger picking intensely at the broken skin on his left hand. 

Rather than discontinuing his harmful actions, Felix disregarded Jisung's statement completely. Heat began to brew in the ginger's chest because of the other man's blatant neglect . 

Jeongin's gaze shifted between the redhead and brunette for a moment before dismissing the encounter and taking a seat directly across from Felix. However, rather than retrieving a brownie from the box as he was instructed, the raven-haired simply sat in silence. He appeared to be pondering something. Jisung couldn't help but wonder what was occupying the youthful boy's headspace. 

"Jeongin, you gonna grab a brownie or what?" The eldest of the three men questioned, gesturing toward the container that had yet to be touched by the maknae. 

"Could you pick one out for me?" The youngest questioned to which Jisung raised an eyebrow. 

"Wha-," before the ginger could question the boy further, Felix made quick work of fulfilling the raven-haired's request instead.

Within seconds, a compact cube of chocolate delicacy was held out to the youngest. The latter simply stared at the offering with dumbfounded eyes. 

"Here," Felix stated briefly. 

Jeongin brought a hesitant hand to the confection before removing it from the brunette's hand cautiously. He then brought it to his lips, but the muscles failed to separate. Instead, Jeongin simply remained in that position for quite some time, a brownie connecting to his lips but failing to breach them. 

"IN-ah?" Jisung questioned, a worried tilt to his voice. 

"I can't," the younger mumbled, placing the brownie back in its corresponding container before burying his face in his hands. 

A number of tears managed to slip through Jeongin's fingers and meet the picnic table's splintery surface, causing Jisung's heart to sink to his stomach. 

Suddenly, Felix reached back into the container of brownies. After retrieving yet another piece, he broke the cube in half before offering the slightly smaller half to the man before him. 

"Jeongin, can you look at me please?" The brunette questioned to which the youngest shook his head. "Well, m-may I touch you?" 

Jisung witnessed Felix scowl at the obvious weakness in his voice then, the sight moderately endearing, he'd have to admit. 

To the ginger's surprise, Jeongin gave the brunette a faint nod. Taking advantage of the man's consent immediately, Felix set his own brownie down on a nearby napkin and brought his now free hand to the maknae's concealed face. He then managed to peel the latter's hands away from his face in a gentle manner. 

"Open your mouth, please," Felix asked softly, breaking a smaller piece off of Jeongin's half brownie and bringing the portion to the boy's mouth. 

Jeongin's eyes flicked toward the brunette briefly before hesitantly parting his lips. 

"It's more effective to work your way up to large portions," Felix explained as he began to feed the younger. "You're doing well." 

Jisung could do nothing but stare at the interaction in awe, his jaw somewhat slacked and his eyes unwavering. 

What the fuck is happening right now?

As quick as the exchange began, it ended. Upon swallowing his last mouthful of brownie, Jeongin's jaw matched Jisung's, leaving Felix to glance at the other males in bewilderment. 

"Are you two okay?" He questioned as he retrieved his own half brownie from where he had left it moments prior. 

"Y-yeah," Jisung blinked, physically shaking his head and averting his gaze, the same actions repeated by the maknae at his side. 

The silence between the trio stretched out for several minutes, Felix occasionally munching on his brownies and picking at the broken skin on his left hand once more. It was when the latter winced in pain that Jisung's head snapped up from its downturned position. 

A bead of blood had accumulated on a freshly opened wound on the brunette's palm, and the droplet was only increasing in size as the seconds passed. 

"Jesus," Jisung sighed, standing to his feet before gesturing to the brunette to follow him. "I told you that you shouldn't do that, Felix." 

"And why should I listen to you?" 

“Because I'm your brother," Jisung spoke assuredly. 

"You sure don't act like my brother," the younger turned toward the redhead, his right eyebrow raised in defiance. 

"Well," the shorter man began, his gaze lowering to his feet as humility began to overtake his being. "Let me act like your brother, Felix." 

Felix's resistant expression melted then, his facial features retreating to their usual positions as the brunette bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

"Okay," he spoke softly, rising from the picnic table before jolting forward suddenly, his nose scrunching in noticeable discomfort. 

"You okay?" Jisung questioned, taking a step forward and raising his arms toward the boy upon instinct. 

"Yeah," Felix massaged his lower back for a moment before resuming his leisured steps toward the ginger. "Just got up too fast is all." 

"Backache?" The eldest of the three men questioned. "I believe there's a bottle of ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet if you-," 

"No need," Felix rejected the older's offer with a simple wave of his hand. "All I need at the moment is soap, water, and a band-aid, if that's alright with you." 

"I-uh," Jisung stammered, clearing his throat as his subconscious cracked an imaginary fist against his skull. 

Pull yourself together, dumbnut. 

"Of course." 

And so Jisung led Felix inside his motorhome, their motorhome, where the ginger was left to wallow in his own conflicting emotions as he treated the wounds of the very man who provoked them. 

Chapter Text

Lee Minho
1:24 PM September 15, 2020

"He said his birthday was today, right?" Changbin questioned as he continued to fish for a slice of bulgogi using his chopsticks. "What is he, 19?" 

"20," Seungmin corrected the older, "Don't think he knew what day it is when he told us how old he was." 

The youngest of the four restaurant booth occupants then closed his lips around a mouthful of spicy cold noodles, closing his eyes as he seemingly savored the taste. 

"I’m glad Jin and Innie chose to run to a clothing store and get him something," The 5'6" raven-haired suggested. "Not just because it's his birthday, but because the poor guy was stripped of pretty much everything from the get go." 

Jisung and Seungmin hummed in agreement as they indulged themselves in their respective dishes, the ginger amongst the two moaning obnoxiously around a mouthful of jajangmyeon. 

"This shit slaps," he insisted, his words muffled by the yet-to-be-swallowed wheat noodles stuffing his cheeks. "Minho, you've got to try some." 

When Jisung offered a small portion to the raven-haired on his right, however, the latter's hand shot up to reject the former’s charity. 

"No thank you," he spoke, refusing to look up from the table that he’d been surveying for half an hour. 

It was then that the three younger males noticed Minho's bowl of untouched jjigae. Jisung's eyebrows knitted together at the sight. 

"Min, you good?" The redhead questioned, gesturing toward the mentioned dish. "You haven't even touched your stew." 

Rather than explaining himself to the anticipant younger, Minho remained both silent and stationary. His gaze was firm and his body was still save for the slight rise and fall of his chest. Worried, Jisung placed a delicate hand between the eldest's shoulder blades. 

"I-uh, nature calls," Minho spat frantically as he flinched from the ginger's touch and attempted to flee from the booth. 

"Min, wait," Seungmin called to the raven-haired. 

Sighing, Minho faced the man, his gaze low and shadowed with guilt. 

"Are you upset because of what Chan-hyung said to you?" the brunette questioned, his eyes puppy-like and ever so sincere.

The eldest’s heart seized as the truth-laced words filtered through his skin. 

"Because, if it makes you feel any better, we all feel like shit right about now." 

You’re just more skilled at concealing it than I am,  Minho added mentally, for he was certain Seungmin’s own mind was thinking such. 

"It's not because of that.”

Liar. 

"Well then what is it, then?" Changbin spoke impatiently, his eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs as he spoke. 

"Nothing," Minho waved the younger off. "Jus-, if you'll excuse me, now." 

With that, the oldest upon the four men turned on his heel and abandoned the booth, not all that eager to undergo an interrogation from his concerned road mates at that moment. 

Moments later, Minho found himself staring at his own reflection in the restroom's lengthy wall mirror. The harsh, cool-toned fluorescent lighting bore down on his pale complexion, illuminating the faint tear stains present on his cheeks. 

Yes, Minho had shed a few tears during this rather spontaneous lunch outing. However, his companions didn't need to know that. 

They also didn't need to know about the unbearable guilt housed deep within the raven-haired's heart. 

How could I be so fucking inconsiderate?

Pouncing on a mentally traumatized rape victim. How could I? 

"Exactly, Minho. How could you?" 

It was then that the contractions of Minho's heart stopped, and as a result, the blood that had been coursing through the latter's veins and arteries came to an abrupt halt.

Mom?

"My darling, I've raised you better. I've raised you as the work of art that you are. Beautiful, elegant, and civil. Why have you betrayed me, my little lavender?" 

A sharp exhale. 

Minho's gaze flicked toward the mysterious figure that had suddenly appeared behind him in the mirror, and immediately, his eyes met those of the woman herself. 

His mother. 

Her skin was powdery snow, pale and illuminated. Contrasting entirely with her complexion were her jet black hair strands. Given her youthful appearance, one wouldn't expect those strands to be dyed, eliminating the grey they once were. 

Her facial skin was that of a young woman, fine lines and wrinkles seldom present on the surface. Instead, a rosy, sun kissed blush occupied the supple space. 

She stood at a height approximately five inches lower than that of her son. Her build was petite, that of a fairly fit woman. Certainly not the build she had when she passed. 

When Minho's mother died, she was frighteningly thin. Thanks to the conclusively ineffective chemotherapy she had been receiving for several months prior to her passing, her musculoskeletal condition was poor. As a result, she was unable to complete basic tasks such as walking to the bathroom without assistance, sitting up in bed, and even raising an arm. 

Seeing his mother in such a state in present time felt extremely surreal, for she was standing, functioning on her own. But what really grasped the raven-haired's attention were his mother's eyes. 

The borders of them were clearly defined, forming a distinct almond shape similar to that of Minho's eyes. Her irises were pure gold rings, and her enlarged pupils were dark voids overflowing with warmth and wisdom. 

Her eyes were just as beautiful as the day they lost their light. 

"Momma?" Minho whispered, his voice breaking as he did so. 

"Yes, baby." Ms. Lee smiled then, a tear managing to escape her eye. The substance glistened like a diamond in the sunlight, and Minho would have given his own life to be able to wipe it away. "I'm here. It's okay." 

A sob left Minho's lips then, his lower lip quivering as his finger's nervously tapped against the granite surface beneath them. 

"Momma, I'm so sorry," he cried, "I didn't mean to-," 

"Don't apologize to me, my love," Ms. Lee explained, her sincere smile and half-moon eyes causing her son's heart to wrench. "Apologize to him." 

"Him, wha-," 

Oh. 

Wait a minute.  

It was then that Minho whipped his head around, eager to face his own mother directly rather than speak to her through a mirror. However, her comforting figure was nowhere to be seen once he had done so. 

It was then that Minho perceived the two shadows extending from beneath one of the stall doors. Moments later, the raven-haired's ears registered the faint sounds of vomiting. Piecing two and two together, the 21-year-old concluded that one of the two people occupying the stall was keeled over the toilet. The other was at their aid. 

Clearing his throat to dislodge the bile that had accumulated there, Minho returned his attention to the mirror before him. He then tapped the sinks metal handle lightly, encouraging a light stream of water from its faucet. 

He cupped his hands beneath the stream, collecting an adequate amount of water before bringing the liquid to his face. Accompanying the fluid was a rush of clarity. 

The raven-haired needed to snap out of this guilt ridden daze. He needed to move forward and learn from his mistakes rather than dwell on them, for moping about only harmed the man's ego further. 

"You're totally shit-faced right now, dude," a voice raided Minho's thoughts then. "How much booze did  you down last night?" 

"Enough," a deeper, more hoarse voice replied. 

"At least you're not as intolerant as Yongbok was," the higher pitched of the two voices stated. "If he were in your position, I'm fairly certain he would've died from alcohol poisoning by now." 

Rather than sticking around to eavesdrop on two random strangers' conversation, Minho tapped the sink's handle once more to terminate the flow of water. After drying both hands thoroughly using a handful of paper towels, the raven-haired ambled toward the restroom's exit and placed a hand on the cool, cylindrical handle. 

As he began to open the door, however, a hushed utterance triggered the hitch of the raven-haired's breath, his entire body freezing where it stood. 

"You can't kill what's already dead, Sanghun." 

A feeling in the raven-haired's gut pushed against the latter's navel, urging him to leave the room. However, his feet remained planted as he released his hold on the door handle. 

"It sounds like you don't regret a thing that went down, hyung." 

"It's 'cause I don't," the deeper voice stated matter-of-factly. "The man was leeching off our resources. He was dead weight, and now he's just...dead." 

"So your solution was to-," 

"Hey!" The older barked. "Keep your voice down, dammit. Someone will hear you." 

"Shut up," Sanghun demanded to which his hyung scoffed. "Shut up and listen." 

Despite his blatant protest, the older obeyed. Instinctively, Minho's respirations became shallow once the bathroom grew quiet. The 21-year-old screwed his eyes shut and prayed for the ground to swallow him whole. For his presence to spontaneously vanish someway. Somehow. 

Our Father, lord in heaven. Hallowed be thy name...

"Hear that?" Sanghun spoke after a brief moment of silence. "We are completely alone right now, Hyeon. Relax." 

 Hyeon?

Apparently, Minho's heart was more familiar with the name than his brain was, for the muscle suddenly dropped to his feet while his cerebrum remained oblivious. 

Who the hell is Hyeon, and why do I feel as though I've heard his name before? 

"Dude, you good?" 

It was then that Minho realized that the bathroom door before him had swung open, and behind it were three familiar and heavily concerned faces. 

"Min, you look like you've just seen a ghost," Seungmin stated, caressing the older's porcelain cheeks as the brunette's eyebrows knitted together in worry. 

"Or perhaps he just needs a bit of vitamin D," Han suggested, his lips pursed as his eyebrows danced obnoxiously. 

"Jisung, get the-," 

"Excuse me." 

For the second time in the last ten minutes, the contractions of Minho's heartbeat stopped. His eyes widened as he felt four eyes drilling into his backside. 

And then it hit him.

"Hyeon, you son of a bitch!" Felix had shrieked only hours before. "You fucking murderer!"

Immediately, the raven-haired whipped his entire body around to face the foreign pair. To face him.

Minho knew who these two men were, and to say that he was absolutely terrified was an understatement. 

He was face to face with Felix’s rapists. 

"Shit, H," Sanghun chortled, placing a hand over his mouth to suppress the sound. "We've finally found somebody who's paler than you."

"You good man? You need some water?" Hyeon questioned, tilting his head. 

"I-I uh-m," Minho faltered, his mind more engrossed in studying Hyeon's features than delivering a coherent response at that moment. 

The man's heavily tousled blonde locks fell about half an inch above his shoulders, the natural, black roots the slightest bit perceptible. His straight, naturally raven colored eyebrows furrowed, casting a shadow over his mono lidded, hazel eyes. 

Minho no longer questioned why Felix lashed out at Hyunjin, for the man before him looked frighteningly identical save for the hazel eyes and more masculine features. His jawline was boxier and his cheekbones were more hollow. Other than that, one could easily mistake Hyeon for Minho's blond-haired dongsaeng. 

"He's alright," Jisung snapped the raven-haired out of his thoughts upon seizing the latter's wrist.  "Just a bit hungover is all." 

With that, the ginger dragged the flustered 21-year-old out of the restroom, sparing the two unfamiliar men an apologetic smile before turning his attention to the raven-haired within his grasp. 

"Minho, what the fuck?" He hissed once the four men returned to the booth that they had vacated. 

"What's wrong with you?" Seungmin added as he began to tidy up their table. "You seem-,"

"We need to go," Minho spat abruptly, eyeing the two men who had taken a seat at their own reserved table nearby. Both were already glaring at the man with equally poisonous eyes. "We need to leave this restaurant. We need to leave Daegu. We need to leave, period." 

"But Min, we agreed to remain stationary for at least a week," Seungmin stated, eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. "Look, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing, just-," Minho cleared his throat before rising to his feet with an arm raised. "Check, please. Waiter? Yes, thank you." 

"But I'm not finished with my food, yet," Changbin whined as he peered over his shoulder at the approaching restaurant employee, a gleam of dramatized sorrow in his eyes. 

Minho's narrowed his eyes at raven-haired as his hand began to fish through the back pocket of his graphic sweatpants. Scoffing, the eldest man drew his leather wallet from the fabric and began to tamper with its buttons. 

However, his active digits froze once the 21-year-old's ears registered the sound of dining chair legs scraping against the vinyl beneath them. Upon following the sound, his eyes met those of Sanghun and Hyeon as they forcefully strode toward them, fists clenched at their sides. 

Shit. 

"That doesn't matter. We have to go," the man demanded through gritted teeth, grabbing hold of his fellow raven-haired's shirt collar and wrenching the man to a standing position. "Now."

The older guided his dongsaengs out of the booth with utmost haste, encouraging the oblivious men forward while also guarding their backs. 

"Excuse me, sir," the waiter called from behind the group. "You haven't paid for your meal." 

"Wait for me in the car," Minho whispered to his road mates, tossing the eldest amongst the three the set of keys that were housed in the front pocket of his sweatpants. "Now go." 

The man then withdrew a 50,000 won bill from his wallet before flinging the banknote at the restaurant employee. 

"Keep the change," he added before throwing the restaurant door open and excusing himself from the building. 

Once outside, Minho charged toward the Hyundai Santa Fe, his legs accelerating faster than ever before. 

"Hey!" A voice called out from behind him, but the raven-haired didn't listen.

Instead, he continued his sprint towards the familiar SUV, not sparing a glance at the duo on his tail. 

Don't look back, the raven-haired thought. Eyes forward. 

Move forward.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan
1:30 PM September 15, 2020

He said that his birthday was today, and rather than celebrating as a newly legal adult should, Felix simply stood by as Chan pondered over how to proceed with the brunette's treatment.

The window for sexual assault evidence collection typically closes 72 hours after the initial occurrence. 

Approximately 12 of those hours have already passed us by. 

Perhaps Felix should be taken to a hospital so that he can be provided with a rape kit. Using the evidence collected using the kit, he could press charges against the assailant(s). 

If he chooses not to press charges immediately, perhaps we could seek out a medical center that is able to freeze the evidence for later use.

However, he has to press charges. There is no way in hell that I will allow myself to stand by as Felix's rapist(s) run free, potentially assaulting other men and women in the process. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I allowed Felix to make such a terrible mistake. 

"Chan-ssi," a deep, sleep ridden voice reached the blonde's ears then. "Quit researching rape recovery, for Christ's sake. I told you I'm not interested." 

Setting his phone face-down on his chest, Chan sighed before turning toward the man who'd made himself comfortable on the sofa a few feet away. 

"I told you to call me hyung," the blonde whined. "The formality’s odd." 

Felix sucked his teeth before breaking eye contact with the older and fully relaxing against the provided couch pillows, his nose pointing toward the ceiling. 

"Why do you care about me so much?" The latter questioned unexpectedly. 

The blonde shifted to an upright position in the dinette seat, his gaze remaining fixed on the 20-year-old brunette. 

"Because I know what it's like," the man sighed. "Being abandoned. Being taken advantage of. Those feelings are the worst possible feelings a human could ever experience." 

Exhaling, Felix rolled onto his right side to gaze down at the eldest with lidded eyes. 

"You're right," he agreed, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "I feel, I don't know, dirty. I feel like a...fuck, why am I telling you this?" 

"You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable," Chan explained. "I'd understand completely." 

"But I want to tell you this." 

"Why?"

"Because...," Felix trailed off momentarily, and upon speaking up once more, his voice was significantly softer than before. "Because I have no one else to talk to about my feelings." 

"Really?" Chan questioned, sincerity in his tone rather than judgement. "No friends or family? Perhaps I could set you up with a therapist?"  

"Once again, I'm not interested."

"It would be no problem. Honestly," Chan shrugged, his light brown eyebrows raising. 

"I know, I just...I just don't really trust people at the moment for you know, obvious reasons."

“But you trust me?” 

Felix opened his mouth to reply to the blonde, but only a brief croak managed to escape his throat for a few moments. 

“I-I guess, in a way…,” Felix spoke up at last, his gaze moving elsewhere for the time being. “I mean, you did save my life.”

“So did the others,” Chan replied, “Does that indicate that you trust them as well?” 

The younger’s jaw parted his lips as he closed his eyes, visibly pondering his words before they were spoken. 

“No,” he spoke straight from the shoulder. “Not in the slightest.” 

Chan hummed in response, his index finger and thumb massaging his chin thoughtfully. 

“So Felix,” Chan pushed himself off the dinette seat then before relocating to the opposite end of the sofa that the addressed man had been occupying. “I would like to be the first to apologize for the behavior of our road mates and I.

“We certainly weren’t the most welcoming bunch, and while I don’t enjoy speaking for other people, I assure you that they were only defending their brothers. At the time, they didn’t recognize you as one.” 

Upon glancing over at the brunette to his left, Chan was met with a rather unconvinced set of eyes. He took this as his cue to elaborate further. 

“I’ve spoken with them since, and the apologies should begin to roll in soon. But believe me when I say that they are truly amazing people.” 

“Are they really?” Felix questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes narrowed a bit. 

“Absolutely,” the blonde replied from the bottom of his heart, clutching the fabric of his black muscle shirt to further emphasize his point. “Jus-, please. Give them a chance. Please.”

“Do you understand how difficult it’s been to give people second chances as of late?” Felix scoffed as he began to chew away at his bottom lip. “Thus far, giving people second chances has gotten me pelvic bruises and a near death experience, or rather, an actual death experience. So I hope you are able to understand why I’m not all that eager to hand out my trust like candy.” 

The brunette exhaled as he released his head against the sofa’s back, closing his eyes as he allowed his fist to tense and relax at a fixed pace. 

“Hyung,” Felix spoke hesitantly, glimpsing toward Chan to view the man’s response to the honorific. The corner’s of his mouth quirked upward at the eldest’s pleased expression. “Promise that you won’t hurt me like everybody else has. I don’t think that my body would be able to handle it.” 

As his mouth formed a tight-lipped grin, Chan cautiously offered the younger a pinky. 

“Felix,” he spoke with confidence, his eyes fastened to the smaller man at his side. “Even if the entire world population were to turn against you, even if the sky were to fall and the planet were to be set ablaze, even if a trillion Manila ropes attempted to remove you from our hold, the seven of us would never abandon you. We would never let you go.”

Adjusting his jaw and pursing his lips, the brunette lifted his head toward the blonde. Soon after, a petite pinkie finger warily looped around Chan’s larger one.

“You are safe here,” Chan assured the younger. “I pinkie promise you that.” 

Chapter Text

Hwang Hyunjin    
1:30 PM September 15, 2020

"He is most definitely a soft boy," Hyunjin spoke as he continued to caress the sage green sweater beneath his fingertips. 

"Why? Because he's small?" Jeongin countered as he shifted through the athletic racks a few yards away. "Perhaps he's into athletic wear. You never know." 

"Perhaps he's a sucker for converse and collared shirts." 

"Perhaps he-," 

"Is there anything I can help you gentleman find?" An employee approached the bickering pair with attentive eyes and a welcoming smile. 

"Uhm," Jeongin scratched the back of his nape then, flicking his eyes toward his companion in hopes that the other would take the wheel. 

"Yes, actually," Hyunjin's body perked up, discretely winking at the younger before continuing. "We're on the hunt for some basic clothing essentials, like jeans and simple tees and the like." 

"For you or-,"

"For a friend," the older man spoke up, displaying his charming set of teeth to the worker who reciprocated the expression at once. 

"And what are your friend's clothing sizes?" 

"Well," Hyunjin swallowed then, his throat eliciting a clicking sound as he did so. "He's a relatively petite guy, so I suppose an adult small would suffice."  

"Perfect. And does your friend have a fit preference?" The clothing store employee questioned, to which the blonde raised a questioning eyebrow. "Does he prefer a looser or more body-con fit? Or perhaps neutral?" 

"A looser fit will do," Hyunjin nodded after a moment of internal debate, the newcomer's fit preference completely slipping his mind. 

"Very well," the professionally dressed woman gestured for the pair to follow her through her workplace. 

As the two young men treaded on the heels of the employee, their curious eyes wandered throughout the establishment. A grand assortment of clothing items were available for the public's choosing. From straight jeans to cardigans. From hightop footwear to baseball caps. The brand wasn't particularly luxurious, which made the environment all the more consoling. 

Dotted throughout the shop were a number of diverse customers, most of whom were relatively young. Hyunjin supposed that the displayed style of clothing, affordable, casual, and comfortable, attracted such a crowd. 

Before the 20-year-old knew it, the clothing store employee came to a halt before an extensive section of rather flavorless clothing items. 

"Before you are our shop's acclaimed essentials," the worker beamed, turning toward the pair as she explained further. "Labeled with pink size markers are our small tops, and labeled with yellow size markers are our medium tops. I would recommend those for your friend. Bottoms are folded on the display tables scattered throughout. I would recommend sizes 55-66 when it comes to those." 

After displaying their gratitude through a bow, Hyunjin and Jeongin left the employee's side and dived headfirst into the mass of clothing racks and display tables, taking the woman's fruitful advice into account. 

"You think he'd approve of capri pants?" Jeongin questioned as he held that particular style of pants to his waist. 

"Negative," the older man stated whilst taking inventory of the clothing store's profuse supply of T-shirts. "Capris are either a hit or miss. Straights are a safer bet." 

"What about skinnies?" 

"Negative," Hyunjin spat briskly, "Skinnies are sensory issue central." 

"Bootcut? Wide?" 

"Wide. Skip the bootcut. The man doesn't even have boots to compliment the bootcut." 

"We could get him boots." Jeongin suggested. "We should get him boots. You know, since winter is nearing and the air's already a bit crisp." 

"Boots cost money, Jeongin," the other man sighed as he selected a flavorless black shirt from the store's collection. "At least ones of satisfactory quality do." 

"And thanks to Minho-hyung, we're able to afford said boots." 

"Jeongin," the older blonde hissed, "We shouldn't tamper with Minho's funds recklessly. After all, they're not ours. Yes, they are available to us. However, leeching off of them is morally wrong and you know it." 

"Morally wrong is failing to provide our brother with proper footwear for the incoming cold," the maknae countered, his tone venomous and resolute. "Morally wrong is withholding funds from the man who we should be extending an olive branch to." 

"IN, it's not that-,"

"It's not that serious?" Jeongin completed the older's statement, laughing humorlessly once he did so. "It's the least we could do for him. Hell, we're monsters, for fuck's sake." 

Scoffing, Hyunjin forcefully flung the black shirt he had seized into the pair's shared shopping cart whilst maintaining eye contact with the raven-haired. 

"Don't you think I know that?" He spat, forcing the shopping cart forward and giving the younger no choice but to follow, a pair of size 55 straights in hand. "I'm more monstrous than everybody combined solely because of my appearance, and that fact has haunted me for hours." 

"I-," 

"If you think that money will buy Felix's trust, than you're wrong," the older man spoke in a softer manner than before. "It'll take much more effort to undo our mistakes." 

A strained silence stretched out between the pair, one that contributed heavily to Hyunjin's rapidly stirring nerves. At last, the silence was broken by a hushed sniffle. Immediately, the older's head whipped toward the sound, his advancing feet slowing to a halt.   

"Jeongin?" He questioned, his tone laced with worry. 

Digging the palms of his hands into both mildly drizzling eyes, the maknae shook his head and gritted his teeth, likely out of frustration. 

"I jus-," his words were cut off by an abrupt sob, "This's just my first...,"

"Your first stray," Hyunjin loosened his grip on the shopping cart's handle then, his statement less of a question and more of a realization. 

Nodding, Jeongin withdrew both hands from his face and glued his pupils to the floor. 

"You feel as though you're the problem somehow." 

The 20-year-old man took the younger's silence as a sign of confirmation. Parting from the shopping cart momentarily, Hyunjin approached the latter before delicately wrapping his arms around his waist. 

"We don't have to talk about it now," the blonde whispered fairly close to the shell of his companion's ear. "In fact, we should table this discussion. For now, the smartest course of action is to call Minho and ask him for some sort of budget." 

Humming approvingly, Jeongin peeled his chin from his chest to look his hyung directly in the eye. The left corner of his lips quirked upward bittersweetly. 

"Yeah," he sighed, sniffling. "Sorry. I was- that was... really dramatic." 

Sparing the younger an adoring expression, Hyunjin ruffled the latter's raven colored hair, the action resulting in the boy fleeing from the older's hold. 

"You needed that, didn't you?" The blonde man spoke tenderly. 

"Yes," Jeongin replied with a comforting beam. "Thank you." 

Before Hyunjin even began to move his hand toward the pocket containing his phone, someone beat him to the punch. The latter shrieked in reaction to the unexpected yet perfectly timed vibration of the device against his backside. 

"What the-," the man drew his phone from its corresponding pocket and held it within eyeshot. 

Minho-hyung? 

Shortly after pressing the answer button, Hyunjin brought the device to his ear, his eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement. 

"Hey, Mi-,"

"Hyun, we're on our way to pick you up, so start wrapping things up." 

A lengthy silence drew out between both lines momentarily, Hyunjin taking a moment to process his hyung's words. 

"What?" he questioned, adjusting his hold on the electronic within his grasp. "Wait, why? We're not done here." 

"Well, I need to speak to Chan immediately," the man on the other end of the line explained. "Unless you're willing to find yourself a ride back to base, I'd suggest you start heading to checkout." 

"Uh-m. Okay, hold on a sec." 

Drawing his face away from the phone and clasping a hand over its speaker, Hyunjin turned toward the oblivious maknae at his side. 

"Minho's on his way over now," he iterated to the boy. "He said we aughta start wrapping things up." 

The raven-haired's eyebrows knitted together then, his face exhibiting an expression akin to Hyunjin's. 

"Why?" 

Shrugging, Hyunjin followed up the younger's question with his own, "What do you want to do, IN?" 

"I-," the man began, the remains of the statement failing to roll of his tongue. 

Hyunjin brought his index finger and thumb to his chin, stroking the surface as he pondered over the pair's next course of action. 

"Tell you what," the older of the two began, placing an assuring hand on his companion's shoulder. "Take your leave. I'll stay here and continue where we've left off." 

"Hyung, wha-," 

"Felix needs clothes," the blonde continued, "That and other essentials that we can't afford to purchase at a later date." 

"And that requires my leave?" 

"Yes," Hyunjin concluded, inhaling sharply. "You need to rest." 

Jeongin deadpanned at this, his arms going pliant against his sides and his neck craning to the side moderately. 

"I-," the older man sighed, running his free hand through the loose, blonde strands of hair atop his head. "I've got everything under control, I promise. Just let Minho take you home, okay?" 

It was then that the maknae's rather tense features softened. 

"Okay," he muttered, placing his hand over the one situated directly atop his shoulder. 

After sparing the younger a warm smile, Hyunjin withdrew his hand from the maknae's figure and returned his attention to the active call between himself and Minho. 

"Okay," Hyunjin agreed. "Let us know when the chariot's arrived." 

"Already ahead of you," the man at the other end of the line replied. "The chariot already awaits you."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Minho   
2:03 PM September 15, 2020

Concealing his face with his hands, Minho let out a substantial sigh. His shoulder blades chafed against each other courtesy of his remarkably stiff upper body. 

"You saw who?" Chan spoke, his voice as robust as it was deep. 

"Him," was all that the raven-haired could manage. 

Clearly, the blonde at his side wasn't at all satisfied with his explanation. However, to Minho's fortune, the man chose not to question him further. Instead, he too buried his face in his hands, his broad back expanding and deflating with each exhale. 

"We can't tell him," he stated, dragging his palms down his face as he released his head back against the bed frame in the pair's wake. "In fact, we can't bring it up whatsoever." 

"Hyung," Minho peeled his gaze from his lap to meet his companion's gaze. "We need to do something."

"I know, Min," Chan swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so. "I've been pondering about relocation even before you encountered the devil himself." 

"And...?" Minho leaned forward, canting his head to the side as he anticipated the older's response. 

The eldest proceeded to propel himself off the bed and stroll toward the rearmost window of the RV. 

"We can't," he concluded, placing a hand on the window frame before him and shifting his weight onto said hand. "Not until a rape kit is conducted." 

"Well, maybe he doesn't want a rape kit," Minho countered. "And say he did. There are thousands of hospitals and rape centers available within the borders of South Korea, and only a fraction of them are located in Daegu." 

"I'm well aware of that fact," Chan chuckled humorlessly, "But riddle me this. You've just been adopted by seven men whom you're completely unacquainted with. In the unlikely event that those seven men provoke you to run away, would you rather do so in familiar territory or uncharted terrain?" 

"You are referring to the familiar territory that is also home to he who shall not be named, correct?" 

"This isn't about him," the eldest retorted, "Your encounter with him was purely coincidental. I'm not asking Felix to invite the entire city to a backyard barbecue. I'm asking him to take a simple trip to the hospital with me. The risk factor is barely existent." 

"Chan-," 

"We're staying in Daegu until I call for relocation, understand?" Chan demanded. "I'm doing this for Felix. Daegu has been his home for quite some time now and regardless of who lives in it, comfort will always reside within these city limits for him. I want him to feel as though he has an out. That he's not obligated to stay with us." 

Clearing his throat, the blonde peeled himself from the window frame to turn toward his inarticulate dongsaeng, an apologetic gleam in his eyes. 

"You're a good person, Min. I've never once doubted that fact," he spoke tenderly, his gaze flicking elsewhere for the time being. "And you'll have the opportunity to prove that to Felix very soon, okay?"

Sparing the older a tight-lipped, sheepish grin, Minho nodded in contentment, the steadfast, grounded persona he had entered the room with since evaporated. 

"Thanks," the raven-haired man replied, "And if he does agree to a kit, protect him with your life in public." 

At that, Chan released a consoling chuckle.  

"Of course." 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix     
2:05 PM September 15, 2020

Felix wanted to escape. 

He wanted to escape the internal battle between his heart and cerebrum. The game the two organs played was titled, "To Trust or Not to Trust", and reaching the endgame stimulated pain far beyond the brunette's limits. 

His stomach was churning at a constant, tireless rate. The pressure clawed at his insides like a confined demon.  

His impulses acted as the rope in a lethal game of tug-of-war, catapulting from one end of the playing field to the other in an erratic monsoon. 

He wanted to believe that the men who had adopted him were without malicious intent. He wanted to believe that his safety was insured. That he wouldn't end up being victimized once more. 

He wanted to have faith. He wanted to have a home. A family. 

He longed for the sense of security that he had been lacking for far too long. Craving for as long as he could remember. 

His heart desperately wanted such yearnings to morph into reality. However, his heart was only one component in this complex game of checkers. One wrong move and that component would be benched without thought. Jumped by it's primary competitor: the brain. 

The lone monarch of logic and reason, Felix's brain longed for one thing: the welfare of its host. It had no care for the blooming of relationships or the wellbeing of its host emotionally. No matter the conflict his brain caused, Felix knew better than to neglect its urges. He was at the mercy of both his heart and brain. He had no choice but to be strung along on a leash through the hurricane and pray that the unforgiving winds would fail to snap the tether. 

"You're a menace to society, you heathen!" Felix was hurtled back to reality by the seemingly offensive dialogue. "Dark chocolate should be outlawed!" 

"Bullshit, Bin," Jisung countered, shoving a square of dark chocolate past his lips in a rather aggressive manner. "Personally, I'd plant a big, fat kiss on the cheek of the bitch that discovered this delicacy. They saved lives, dammit." 

"Dark chocolate is proven to benefit human health," the brunette whom Felix recalled to be Seungmin added, a smug expression written across his Labrador-like features. 

"Doesn't matter," the man who, by process of elimination, Felix assumed to be Changbin retorted. "They're all loaded with sugar anyhow. However, the best amongst the toxic bunch is undoubtedly white chocolate." 

"Now that's a bit of a stretch," Jisung continued. "Dark is the GOAT. End of discussion." 

"Absolutely not. This trial is still active," Changbin insisted, slamming his fist against the dinette table in a dramatic fashion. "White chocolate is simply better. Help me out here, Innie." 

"I approve of Binnie's message." 

"Innie, I thought we were a team," the ginger of the quartet whined, huffing as he slouched in the dinette seat supporting his weight. 

The raven-haired boy at his side did nothing but spare Jisung an endearing smile and caress his shoulder in hopes that the gesture would be at least somewhat soothing. 

"Dark chocolate's good, too." 

Sucking his teeth, the persistent redhead flicked his attention toward the brunette situated on the sofa a few yards away. Immediately, Felix's joints stiffened like planks of wood. 

"Felix, what type of chocolate are you into?" 

As soon as the ball fell in Felix's court, the surrounding ambiance morphed into one of both unease and suspense. As he scanned the expressions of each face within eyeshot, Felix perceived a variety of complex emotions. Fear, bewilderment, and the most notable, remorse.

"I've spoken with them since, and the apologies should begin to roll in soon. But believe me when I say that they are truly amazing people."

Felix would be lying if he said he hadn't doubted Chan's direct quote on at least one occasion. However, he would also be lying if he said he dismissed it entirely. 

Truth be told, Felix hadn't interacted with his supposed brothers enough to properly determine whether or not they were bad news. Sure, they had made a fairly bad impression initially. However, a sensation in his gut told him not to run away. A sensation in his gut told him to give the nomad group as a whole a second chance.

"Do you understand how difficult it's been to give people second chances as of late?" The brunette had scoffed only hours prior. "Thus far, giving people second chances has gotten me pelvic bruises and a near death experience, or rather, an actual death experience. So I hope you are able to understand why I'm not all that eager to hand out my trust like candy."

Yeah. That quote was his cranium's doing. 

In this persistent game of "To Trust or Not to Trust", the game piece known as the brain had its successes. Despite its winning of many battles, Felix's cranium wouldn't prevail in the war. After all, Felix was human. Hope, courtesy of the muscle within his chest, was a given. 

And so, the brunette decided to offer minuscule pieces of his heart to this brotherhood one interaction at a time. If they handled those pieces with care, the entirety of his heart would eventually belong to them. 

"I think milk chocolate is the safest bet." 

Don’t you dare make me regret this. 

Chapter Text

Hwang Hyunjin
2:42 PM September 15, 2020

"That red dress hugs your body in all the right places...,"

"But it would compliment you even better...,"

"If it were discarded on the floor of my apartment." 

Hyunjin's first love was nothing short of momentous. 

At first, the relationship was tranquil. Overflowing with passionate kisses and affectionate touches. Teeming with mutual pleasure and tenderness. For the first time in his life, Hyunjin felt heard. He found himself able to discuss his passions with his lover without being judged. Without being perceived as an overly delicate and sentimental being. 

However, as Hyunjin ran his fingers over silky red cloth under the harsh commercial fluorescents, he could only recall the later moments in the relationship between himself and his ex-boyfriend. 

Over time, the once frequent tranquillity had become rather foreign. Replaced by the substantial tension that would forever define their relationship. Forget the serenity and pure bliss that the two parties shared after their initial meeting. The toxicity and venom that followed overshadowed their honeymoon period tenfold. 

Rather than discussing their disagreements and settling their differences as mature men, Hyunjin and his ex basked in the tension and smoke that saturated their shared apartment. No words were exchanged. No apologies were made. The only things that had been shared between the couple were the flames between their cigarettes and the smoke from lung to lung. The pair had preferred cannabis and its effects to peacemaking and the mending of their relationship, for mediation was simply unachievable between the two. 

Refusing to see eye to eye, Hyunjin and his ex coped with their problematic affair using a hefty amount of hallucinogenic substances. Their veins had been abused by the constant injection of ketamine. Embedded in their lung tissues was a mixture of both tobacco and nicotine. Their bodies were hosts, and drugs were their parasites. 

"Excuse me."

The sound of a soft and rather melodic female voice infiltrated the blonde's ears at that moment. In response, the man stepped aside to allow the source of the voice to pass. 

He had been in a trance for several minutes, his stilled body tucked within the sea of clothing racks and display tables. This likely indicated that the closure of this retail outing was due. 

Ambling toward the register with an amply full shopping cart beneath his palm, Hyunjin fished into his back pocket for the wallet housing his form of payment. 

"Good evening, sir," the male cashier greeted the blonde with a tamed grin, scanning the provided items methodically as he spoke. "Did you find everything okay?" 

"Yes, I did," Hyunjin replied, a forced smile adorning his features. 

First the red dress. And now this cashier. 

Everything reminded him of the man that had abandoned his side a year prior. 

The endearing downturn of his eyes that convinced all in his wake that he was lethargic. Desperate for rest. The prominent aegyo sal that enlarged his eyes further, despite their already impressive size. The sharpness of his eyebrows, upturned and well-maintained, displaying the man's pride in his own mien. The prominent Cupid's bow above flushed and full lips, a constant, entrancing shine decorating them. A gloss that had attracted Hyunjin to them like a moth to a flame. Moistened muscles slotting between each other in since discarded passion. Tongues dancing together languidly, exploring every inch of each other. A map of one another's mouths engraving itself onto both parties' brains. 

Perhaps solo shopping wasn't Hyunjin's brightest idea. 

After thanking the cashier who's resemblance to his ex was all too apparent, Hyunjin made haste toward the nearest exit, retail bags in hand. 

After successfully booking a taxi, the 20-year-old settled into a nearby bench and waited. Conveniently, the blonde's current location was just across from a relatively petite art gallery. It's architecture was fairly similar to that of his previous workplace in Saitama. 

At age 15, Hyunjin immigrated to Japan where he completed his formal education at Columbia International School located in Tokorozawa, Japan. When not attending classes, Hyunjin job shadowed at an art gallery located along the outskirts of Saitama. He observed a multitude of artists, from painters to sculptors and the like. For a time, he served as an apprentice painter, cleaning pallets and preparing surfaces. Finally, at age 16, Hyunjin was appointed as a paid artist for the gallery. 

As the blonde's 18th birthday approached, however, a rock began to wedge itself between him and his passion for art, that rock being Hyunjin's ex-boyfriend. 

After successfully meeting the deadline of a rather difficult job, the blonde illicitly indulged in an ample amount of alcohol at a classmate's house party. This social outing had been the first one Hyunjin wore a dress to. Even under the influence of liquid courage, the 17-year-old was a bit anxious. Of course, the occasional judging glances were a given. However, what the latter didn't expect was to seize the attention of someone worthy of his own. 

Seok Namgil had been visiting his maternal grandparents in Tokyo for approximately a week at that point. However, after a recent argument with the elders, he took up his friend's offer to join him at a nearby house party. The nearby house party. Alas, Hyunjin and Namgil's relationship went off without a hitch. However, the road failed to remain so smooth. 

Upon graduating from Columbia International in March of 2018, the now 18-year-old male decided to part from his job in Saitama and relocate to Seoul, South Korea. He did so for the sake of permanent South Korean resident Namgil, whom he had recently become official with. 

The pair's relationship dynamic started to shift approximately four months after their initial meeting. Their shared apartment began to take on the characteristics of a house rather than a home, and it was only a matter of time before the Seok ménage shattered into pieces. 

Paisley Bertelsmann was her name. The name of the woman who embezzled Namgil from Hyunjin's hold over a year into their established relationship. Who motivated the former to withdraw funds from his boyfriend's bank account and disappear without a trace. 

Hyunjin later discovered that the thieved funds were used to purchase a one-way plane ticket to Miami, Paisley's place of residence. The desperate piece of shit had chased a hot tourist across the globe, leaving his now ex-boyfriend behind to feast on his dust. The fucking nerve. 

Approximately three months following Namgil's disappearance, Hyunjin was evicted from the apartment that he'd claimed full ownership of. Thanks to recurrent drug deals and the embezzlement of a great deal of his earnings, the blonde found himself unable to pay rent and thus became homeless. 

The distressing, unhygienic streets of Seoul were his home from then on. He often counted sheep on park benches or in alleyways. He sought heat from trash can bonfires at dusk and freshly opened commercial buildings at dawn. His belongings were housed in a shopping cart that had been stolen from a nearby E-mart. Occasionally, the wheels wouldn't turn properly, conclusively making travel more difficult. However, Hyunjin's belongings were all that survived the fire, and he wasn't all to eager to leave them behind for the sake of convenience. 

"Where to?" 

Oh right. 

Hyunjin had ditched that dreadful lifestyle in January of this year, approximately nine months ago. Or rather, he was rescued from it. 

"Chilgokbo Auto-Camping Site, please." 

It had been nine months since Hyunjin joined the Stray Kids nomad group, and to say that those months had been the absolute highlight of his life thus far wouldn't be an exaggeration. Not in the slightest. 

Like all roads, however, the brotherhood's route hadn't been entirely smooth. The rather frequent bumps in their path were largely induced by the trauma of their pasts. However, the commonality between each member wasn't necessarily the grief in their wakes, but rather their shared path to recovery. A shared path that Hyunjin hoped for Felix to join them on.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix
5:47 PM September 15, 2020

It had been approximately 15 hours since Felix had been rescued from that fateful burrow ditch a few kilometers southeast. 15 hours since he'd been withdrawn from the afterlife.

It had been three hours since he'd unintentionally fallen asleep in the king suite of his rescuers' RV. He'd rather not ponder the potential consequences of such carelessness. The events that could've unfolded while he was dormant and vulnerable. However, the brunette would be lying if he said he regretted his decision entirely. 

To put it simply, Felix's body desperately needed rest. The events that had transpired over the last 17 hours had done more than enough to drain him of energy. Strength and vitality had been absent from his anatomy for far too long. The effectiveness of just ten minutes of sleep at that point would be overwhelming.

The brunette's freckled eyelids fluttered open on their own accord. Upon the intrusion of harsh, evening sunlight, his pupils shrunk to the size of a sewing needle's tip. Fortunately, the sensorial shock subsided within minutes, allowing the man to shift to an upright position and properly stretch his taut muscles. 

As he did so, a collection of unfamiliar retail bags entered his line of vision. The 20-year-old would have taken no interest in the receptacles had there not been a note attached to them, his name adorning the paper. 

𝓕𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓍:)

A consoling warmth brewed within the latter's chest at that moment. The nostalgia that viewing English characters induced was surprising, he'd admit. He hadn't seen such a print in quite some time, and to think that the author of said print put effort into giving Felix such an experience was heartening, to say the least. 

Upon opening the folded sheet of paper, the brunette wasn't at all surprised to view Korean characters rather than those of his native dialect. He hadn't expected as much. 

𝓘 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒-𝒽𝓎𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓘 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓔𝓃𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓁𝑜𝓁. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝑔𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓂 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓘 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝓑𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹-𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹. 𝓘 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂:)

~𝓗𝓎𝓊𝓃𝒿𝒾𝓃<𝟥

Hyunjin. He...

He purchased all of these items for someone who...

Who hurled a TV remote at his chest?

For a number of beats, Felix remained motionless as he stared intently at the handwritten note beneath his fingertips. His temporal pulse was especially prominent at that moment, his temples palpitating with abnormal vigor. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he continued to study the Korean characters. 

Why would he do this for a leech like me? 

I'm nothing but a parasite. 

Placing the note atop the dresser to his right, Felix lowered himself to the ground before the mysterious collection of retail bags. He then brought a hesitant hand to the opening of the one nearest him before spreading the edges apart. 

Meeting his eyes immediately were a pair of denim jeans, stone washed and in mint condition. Upon withdrawing the article of clothing from the kraft confines, Felix took note of its rather unique style. Bootcut, if he recalled. 

The brunette supposed he should try the pair of jeans on, for appearance was the least of his concerns. 

Upon slipping the material over his undraped, pale hipbones, Felix was pleasantly impressed by its near perfect fit. After fastening the jeans correctly, he stood before the full sized mirror provided, rucking his jacket up just enough to view the pants' waistband. 

He felt...

Beautiful? Was that the word to describe this sentiment? 

"You are an angel, my precious Lixie," Felix's grandmother once told him in their native tongue several years before, "You're beautiful, my darling. Never forget that." 

He tried not to forget. However, at times, he found himself unable to remain true to his word. Times akin to this morning, when Jisung was treating the wound adorning the brunette's hand. 

He had been settled on the closed toilet seat directly adjacent to the mirror. As the ginger at his feet disinfected and dressed the tear, Felix could do nothing but view his own reflection. Stare into the eyes of a whore. A slut. 

He certainly didn't feel beautiful then. Even now, it felt inappropriate to experience such an emotion. Yet, he craved a heavier dose of it. 

So he parted from the mirror for a moment, soon returning with a black, casual knit crew neck in hand. Setting the material aside, Felix brought a delicate hand to the zipper of his jacket before leisurely dragging it down his torso. He then tugged the edges of the zip-up apart, exposing his porcelain, well-toned chest. 

As his arms worked to peel the sherpa-lined material from his body, his eyes lingered on the bruises and plasters littering his torso. 

How could one be so tarnished, so flawed, and still be cared for? 

How could one who deserves nothing but neglect and humiliation be handled as if they were a freshly hatched duckling?

Physically shaking the cynical thoughts from his head, Felix rolled the casual knit material over his trunk in a delicate fashion before standing upright to view himself in the mirror once more. He was taken aback by the rather form-fitting appearance, but he wasn't at all displeased. In fact, he was quite fond of the top. 

The way it complimented his rather petite waistline whilst also accentuating the tone of his arms. The way it was versatile; able to serve as both outerwear and an undershirt. The way it was neither too heavy or thin. Too loosely or tightly knit. 

"Black suits you." 

Felix froze at that moment, eyes wide and breath trapped within his lungs. The hairs along his forearm shot up as a chilled wave rippled throughout his anatomy.  

In a leisured manner, the brunette's gaze shifted toward the man behind him in the mirror. His expression was hesitant, as was the rest of his figure.  There was a soft, apologetic gleam to his eyes accompanied by neutral eyebrows and a sheepish grin. 

"I-I just came here to grab a few of my belongings," the blonde explained, warily approaching the dresser on Felix's left. 

Subconsciously, Felix took a curt step to the side, inserting more space between himself and the 20-year-old blonde. Hyunjin's smile faltered at this, but he chose not to confront the action. 

As Felix continued to observe the older, he found himself quite allured by the man's remarkable stature and proportion. The brunette supposed that these two qualities served as differences between Hyunjin and...him.

Hyeon, despite his 6 foot attitude and inappropriately large ego, stood at a mere 170 centimeters in height, one centimeter below Felix's own crown. 

Additionally, Hyeon was a particularly selfish being. Yes, the man had allowed Felix to live in his Daegu apartment. However, that privilege certainly wasn't without charge. Contrary to Hyunjin's charity, Hyeon fully expected to receive what he gave, regardless of the gift exchanged. 

Picking at a loose thread on his sweater, Felix hesitantly turned over his left shoulder. However, Hyunjin's figure didn't enter the brunette's eyeshot like he'd anticipated. Craning his neck toward the suite door, Felix caught sight of it actively closing. 

Before the structure bolted shut entirely, the latter released a hasty "Hyunjin, wait." 

A number of beats passed before Felix's eyes were finally met by an equally ambivalent set. 

"Yes, Felix?" 

"I-uhm," the brunette began, anxiety bubbling within his abdomen. "Could y-you stay?" 

An elongated and rather strained silence fell upon the pair following the spontaneous proposal. Felix, having not premeditated such a request, swallowed nervously. 

Lee Felix, what the hell are you-

"Of course," Hyunjin spoke up softly, his tone neutral. "If that's what you'd like, I'll stay." 

Oddly enough, a healthy dose of Hyunjin's company did sound fairly comforting. 

"Thank you." 

With that, the older man seated himself on the bedside farthest from Felix, nervously threading his fingers through loose, blonde hair and clearing his throat. 

"So-,”

"I'd prefer not to make small talk," Felix prefaced as he approached the stock of kraft bags once again, withdrawing a mysterious shoebox from the center receptacle. "Some company would be nice, though." 

"I-uh," Hyunjin gnawed at the inside of his cheek before breathing out a defeated "Yeah, sure." 

And so the room remained completely noiseless, its occupants coexisting in deliberate solitude. It was as if both parties were isolated yet accompanied. That was, until Felix's faulty back threw a monkey wrench into that arrangement. 

The brunette was supremely eager to try on the pair of boots that had been gifted to him as soon as possible. Courtesy of his bending down to lace the footwear, a sudden flash of pain ravaged his spine. 

Standing upright with a wince, Felix placed a supporting palm against the small of his back, using the individual digits to knead the deep tissue within. 

"Are you okay?" Hyunjin questioned, standing to his feet at once. 

"Yeah, I'm-," 

Suddenly, a second sharp, distressing pain shot up Felix's vertebral column. In response, the brunette threw his weight onto the nearby dresser in hopes that the action would induce some form of relief. 

Had he not been so absorbed in his own agony, Felix would've taken notice of the affectionate hand hovering over his backside but refusing to make contact. 

"Why don't you have a seat. I'll fetch some ibuprofen, if that's okay with you." 

"No need," the younger dismissed the blonde's offer, gently raising himself off the dresser. "I'm fine." 

"But you're not."

"I'm fine," the brunette reiterated, a hardly discernible bite to his tone. 

With a sigh, Hyunjin surrendered, placing an adequate amount of distance between himself and Felix. The nomad then swallowed, fingers combing through his shoulder-length, blonde locks once more.

"May I lace your boots for you, at least?" 

After a moment of contemplation, Felix granted the older a curt nod. 

"Okay," he mouthed nonverbally to which the other man acted without delay. 

Kneeling to the brunette's feet, Hyunjin exchanged a brief confirming glance with the boy before bringing two delicate hands to the black, nylon speed laces. 

Four bunny ears later and the older was upright again, stepping back from Felix out of respect and perhaps a bit of caution. While he awkwardly stood before the brunette, the latter dropped his gaze to the pitch-dark combat lace-ups hugging his feet and ankles.

The combat boots were made of water resistant java leather that was brown in color. Lining the shoes' interior was a thin layer of shearling, perfect for the approaching winter months. Such consideration brought a hardly discernible, tight-lipped grin to Felix's lips. 

"Hyunjin," he more or less whispered to the blonde, his chin lifting steadily. "Would you mind if I called you hyung?"

"I would," the man replied to which Felix furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback slightly. "I was born in late March of 2000, which makes me just under six months older than you. Honorifics aren't necessary." 

"Would you like me to call you hyung?"

The blonde parted his lips then. However, the action was fruitless, for nothing but a feeble croak rolled off his tongue. Sighing, Felix took a leisured step forward, his emotionless eyes fixed on Hyunjin's own. 

"I'm gonna hug you now, Hyunjin-hyung," the brunette spoke, "Don't say anything. Don't even hug me back. Just...,"

Felix's voice trailed off as he began to close the distance between himself and Hyunjin, unhurriedly hooking his chin over the latter's shoulder and snaking both arms around his waist. The brunette then melted into the other's touch ever so gently, his muscles becoming pliant where he stood. 

As instructed, the older did not return the embrace. Instead, his hands remained glued to his sides, his gaze trained on the wall ahead. 

A tear escaped Felix's eye then. A tear that the boy didn't quite understand. A tear that he wasn't certain he wanted to understand. The droplet descended his cheek before seeping into the velvety wool material of Hyunjin's sweater. 

Said article of clothing had a consoling, suede effect which made the embrace all the more curative. The effect contributed to the warmth brewing within Felix's chest. 

Warmth on the 15th of September. Perhaps the first genuine, pleasant sentiment Felix had felt in the past 17 hours. Perhaps the only sliver of hope within a thousand mile radius. 

Perhaps this life of Felix's wasn't destined to plunge into hellfire. Perhaps his once futile existence had morphed into one of value. 

Here, he had value. 

Here, he was seen as an individual rather than an impotent parasite. 

Here, he was home. 

Chapter Text

Lee Minho
7:15 PM September 15, 2020

"Kindle, but never smother. Remember, Minho," Ms. Lee had told her son several years prior. "Care for your flame correctly, and it will care for you in return." 

As the woman continued to toast the marshmallow pinned to the end of her skewer, she chuckled, a yellow-orange glow reflecting off the apples of her cheeks.

"I suppose it will care for you in more forms than just warmth," she added, retracting the skewer from the flame at last. 

Minho, who had been going on 13 at that time, smiled from ear to ear as the toasted delicacy was fitted between two graham crackers, one of which was topped with Hershey's milk chocolate. 

At this very moment, nine years later, Minho was experiencing déjà vu. Situated between his fingers was a s'more akin to the confection he and his mother had made before. In the distance was an RV similar to the vehicle he and his mother shared quite often. 

In the years leading up to her diagnosis, Ms. Lee was quite the adventuring soul. Despite having a fixed address in Gimpo, she'd often travel the country, her homeschooled son in tow. Together, the mother-son duo would venture into uncharted city limits in hopes of encountering life-altering attractions. And encounter they did. 

Minho and his mother would often visit the city of Jeonju. After all, Ms. Lee found ancient temples, shrines, and any attraction of historic value intriguing. After exploring the area, the pair would return to Seoul, where their RV was located, via the train line that ran between the two cities. 

When the opportunity arose, Minho and his mother would visit the N Seoul Tower and hike through the surrounding Namsan Park. Occasionally, they'd take time to explore the Namsan Hanok Village. Ms. Lee found the preserved historic villages fascinating. 

He missed those times dearly, but he especially missed his mother. 

Despite the extreme measures Minho took to contribute to his mother's medical expenses, all of his efforts amounted to nothing. To this day, the raven-haired's ears were plagued by the flatline that symbolized his conclusive failure. 

He'd sacrificed an overwhelming amount. Lent his body to sex-driven loners time and time again. Worked for perhaps the most perverted sex company manager in South Korea. Been assaulted by said sex company manager on a number of occasions. And yet, his actions proved fruitless. 

He hadn't done enough. 

"Hey, Min. Can you pass the marshmallows, please?" 

The voice of Minho's only hyung pierced the phantom partition that had briefly separated the raven-haired from reality. 

Blinking, Minho turned toward the unopened bag of marshmallows at his side, took hold of it, and passed it to his anticipant comrade. 

"Muchas gracias," he spoke, retrieving the bag with a tender smile illuminated by tones of warmth. "You good, mate?" 

"Of course," the ravenette assured the eldest. "Why? Do I look pissed or something?" 

"You look preoccupied with something."

Curse Chan and his x-ray vision. 

It had been a phenomenal superpower of his for quite some time, his ability to see through Minho as if he were cellophane. The fact was both consoling and daunting, warming Minho's interior whilst chilling it to frost. 

"Nothing abnormal," he answered, his gaze lowering to the ill-lit terrain beneath his feet. 

Chan hummed, that particular hum of his voicing thousands of words through its high, clean pitch and curtness. 

He understood, because of course he did. 

"If you want to talk, I'm here, yeah?" 

Rather than verbalizing his apprehension, Minho simply nodded, hands fidgeting where they slacked off his knees. He then lifted his gaze toward the blonde, forcing as much gratitude into his expression as possible. Noticing his efforts, Chan returned the former's expression tenfold, that charming squint to his eyes turning Minho's heart into mush. 

Suddenly, a distant motion entered the raven-haired man's peripheral. 

Directing his gaze toward the movement, Minho's eyes fell upon the open RV door. Emerging from the structure were Hyunjin and Felix. 

Sporting a loose, baby blue sweater, a ribbed grey undershirt, loose sweatpants of an identical color, and a pair of tarnished, white sneakers, the latter trailed behind the former whilst a content smirk adorned his features. 

His hair, chestnut and shaggy, cascaded across his forehead in a messy yet elegant fashion. The longer bits fell just shy of his shoulders, pendulous and shifting with every leisured step. 

"Glad you could join us, Jin," Chan began before shifting his gaze to Hyunjin's company. "Hey, Felix! Have a seat, mate." 

The eldest gestured toward the unoccupied portion of supine log to his left with a grin of pure welcome and sentiment. Felix gravitated toward the blonde's magnetic pull as if his own bones were comprised of iron. He then seated himself atop the timber, his hands lacing together where they rested upon fairly thin thighs. 

"I love your sweater," Chan acclaimed, beaming toward the brunette. "Jinnie, did you get this for him?" 

It was then that the two blondes of the group made eye contact with each other, the youngest of whom had taken a seat between Changbin and Jeongin. 

With a verifying hum, Hyunjin nodded as he looped his arm around Changbin's shoulder and forced the latter's weight onto himself. 

"Very good choice," Chan commended the 21-year-old with a lift to his eyebrows. 

A number of tranquil beats passed then, the voicelessness accentuating the surrounding atmosphere, packed with nature and eternal notes of wilderness. Oceans of grass blades swaying to the rhythm of infinite wind gusts. Shrubbery dancing as convected air brushes past, whistling about virescent, waxy surfaces. Choirs of winged creatures bidding the daylight farewell before crouching beneath their wings, shrouded by splintered twigs, entwined herbage, and moss. The crackle of a gentle fire, symbolizing the scorch and liveliness of the wood at its base. The air, thick with water vapor and evergreen, aiding the timber in fueling the flames. 

"I brought the eight of us together, before this campfire," Chan began, "Because I believe we owe Felix a proper introduction." 

The eldest then turned toward the addressed party with an expression that was anything but judgmental. 

"Is that okay with you?" 

As if he were a deer caught in headlights, Felix's eyes widened comically. Behind weighted, swollen eyelids were a pair of titanium scleras and contrasting cocoa irises that basked in the nearby campfire's light. 

With an apprehensive nod, the petite boy shifted rather tensely in his seat. 

"Alright. Let's begin, shall we?" Chan clapped his palms together before clearing his throat. "My name is Bang Chan, but I'm addressed mononymously as Chan. I'm 22, the eldest and most responsible amongst these six idiots. You may hear said idiots address me as Channie, Kangaroo...,"

"Crispy, Old Fart, Chris," Seungmin stated further, a mischievous smirk decorating his otherwise refined demeanor. 

"That last one is short for Christopher," Changbin added, squeezing the bicep of his blonde neighbor as he spoke. "Christopher Bahng of Sydney, Australia. Fascinating shit, no doubt."

"Yeah," Chan released a humored breath, "Born in Seoul on October 3rd, 1997. Raised in Australia from infancy to age 15. Returned to Korea to attend high school with the intention of pursuing a post-secondary education. However, after scoring terribly on my Suneung SAT, my parents gave me the boot and an enthusiastic middle finger."

"Ouch," Jisung commented under his breath. 

"Swung by a rest stop in Gunwi County to grab a bite, but ended up leaving with a red-headed douchebag in tow." 

"You're better than me, hyung," Adorning Changbin's face was an impish, angled smirk, "I would've ditched his ass without delay."  

The chaffing remark earned the raven-haired a blunt swat to the arm from aforementioned ginger. 

"You owe me thanks," Jisung jabbed an insistent finger at the older's cheeks, soon gesturing toward the entire group with said finger. "All of you do." 

"He's right," the eldest blonde nodded affirmatively. "He's the one who spotted our third recruit, Changbin, nodding off beside the air conditioning unit of a local café, hence why we continued our search for strays like yourselves. 

"Jisung, why don't you introduce yourself next?" 

Clearing his throat and adjusting his sweatshirt collar, Minho's sweatshirt collar, Jisung began his characteristically extensive monologue. 

"My name is Han Jisung, but I'm addressed monogo-, mogonan-, mol-,"

"Mononymously," Chan corrected his dongsaeng with a humored, affectionate timbre to his voice. 

"Yeah, that," the red headed younger chucked sheepishly, "You can call me Jisung, or Ji if you're feeling extra brotherly. Sung, Sungie, or Hannie works too. And apparently, I have the appearance of a squirrel, so Squirrel or Quokka's cool as well."

"It's the cheeks," Minho interjected, particularly nonchalant as the words escaped his lips. "Specifically when he's actively chewing food." 

"We call 'em the jeekies," Seungmin added on. "Very squishy. Very elastic. Hell, they could probably engulf an entire television, no strain." 

Surrendering to the alluring impulse, Minho's finger drew toward aforementioned cheeks. An awestruck expression decorated the raven-haired's features upon prodding at the flesh, abnormally supple and adorned with a subtle glow. Jisung, on the other hand, wasn't so amused. 

"Hilarious," the ginger deadpanned, swatting the older's finger away from his features. "Anyway, as I was saying, I'm Jisung. Born on September 14, 2000, I'm older than you by one sunrise, my friend."

At this, Felix's eyebrows uplifted ever so slightly. His lips, chapped and rosy, parted at the news. 

"Crazy, I know," Jisung chortled, reading the newcomer's expression as if he were an open book. "We're essentially twins, man." 

The redhead then proceeded to explain the prior days of Stray Kids, not a detail glossed over. After discovering Changbin, as Chan had explained, nodding off beside the air conditioning unit of a local café, the trio resided in the eldest's veteran, timeworn sedan. In no way was their lifestyle without hardship, but the three wanderers managed to survive nonetheless. 

And then they met Minho. 

"Surname's Lee, identical to yours," Minho began, his eyes tethered to his shoelaces and his hands adhered to his lap. "My formal name is Minho, but I also respond to Min or Minnie. Not Rhino." 

It was then that the ravenette's gaze flitted upward, his eyes piercing those of a particular ginger who could do nothing but scratch his nape in feigned ignorance. 

"I was born on October 25th, 1998 to Lee Gyeong, the best mother I could've ever asked for and more," Minho continued. 

"In February of 2016, unfortunately, she was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma, the treatment of which was funded by my desperation. 

"In December of 2016, she passed away just before the new year rang in despite our combined efforts. I inherited my mother's house, a large portion of her assets, and her prized RV. Ultimately, I made the difficult decision to sell both the house and RV. However, I didn't do so rashly."

Minho gestured toward the group's shared RV with a nod of his head. 

"An allotment of funds from both sales were used to purchase that motorhome, and the remaining green contributes to its upkeep and our expenditure."

Approximately three and a half years prior, Minho had been behind the wheel of said motorhome. The absence of April's stark, luminescent moon drastically accentuated the headlights of the vehicle. The illumination was entrancing, hypnotizing even, as the highlight it cast on the restless sea of gravel ahead acted as a magnet, capturing Minho's attention as if it were metal. 

Eventually overwhelmed by rather intense hypnosis, the raven-haired pulled over to permit himself a brief and much needed power nap. However, his efforts were to no avail. Not when a trio of uproarious men were wrangling with each other directly across the expressway. 

Their shared sedan appeared to have broken down, and they'd been squabbling over whether to contact a tow service or take matters into their own hands for eternity, it seemed. Ultimately, Minho decided to seize the wheel and survey the sedan himself. 

And yeah, it was essentially a brick at that point. 

So Minho did as any Good Samaritan would do: offer the men a ride to the nearest rest stop. Only, the RV failed to stop at that location. Failed to remain within the city's limits. Within the country's borders. Within the continent's boundaries. Within the northern and eastern hemispheres. 

Together, Minho and his company circumnavigated the entire globe, collecting post cards like seashells on Sanibel Island. Accumulating shot glasses from Hiroshima, Osaka, Beijing, Bangkok, Rio de Janeiro, Havana, Cancún, Orlando, New York...

"Long Beach," Seungmin began, "Long Beach is where  I was found on July 4th, 2018. The brutal California sun nearly killed me. On the brink of lethal dehydration and heat stroke, I had been recovered just north of the waterfront...,

"...I also respond to Seungminnie, Minnie, Dandy Boy, Dandy Pup, and Puppy. Don't question the last three...,

"...oranges, strawberries, eggs, the color purple...,"

"Black and white are my favorite colors," Hyunjin explained next. "Any form of art brings me unadulterated joy. Hell, even something as simple as holding a paintbrush between my teeth index and thumb spreads warmth through my chest..., 

"Hyunjinnie, Jinnie, Jin, Hyunnie, Hyun...,

"For reasons unknown to me, I'm associated with a ferret...,

"...was recovered in a Seoul alleyway...,"

"...Las Vegas alleyway," Jeongin began. 

"...February 8, 2001...,

"IN-ah, Innie, Baby Bread, Jeonginnie...,"

"Felix, would you like to introduce yourself next?"

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix
8:07 PM September 15, 2020

"Felix, would you like to introduce yourself next?"

"Felix...,"

"Introduce yourself...," 

Chan. Jisung. Changbin.

I'm exhausted beyond words. 

Minho. Seungmin. 

I'm overwhelmed. Overstimulated.

Hyunjin. Jeongin. 

Tired. Tired. Tired. 

"Tired." 

With that, Chan's features instantly softened, their warmth and endearment nearly blinding the brunette. 

And Felix found it strange, how someone could pour so much affection and care into something as simple as a gaze. How someone could communicate millions of unuttered words with their crescent-shaped eyes. Their beaming smile. 

He found it strange when a hand extended toward him, intent on assisting him rather than mistreating him. 

He found it strange when the eldest of the men spoke ever so softly, "It's settled, then. Let's sleep." 

He found it strange when Chan's hand enveloped his own, radiating warmth through his arms. His chest. His gut. His being. 

He found it strange when that warmth was removed. When he'd been allowed complete seclusion within the king suite to prepare himself for bed and make himself as comfortable as can be.  

Approximately an hour after the brunette had fallen asleep, the mattress dipped gently at his side. Careful not to wake his dormant bedmate, Chan placed a respectable amount of distance between himself and Felix. 

The eldest then slipped into a deep slumber, dreaming of his and Felix's unforeseeable future. 

Perhaps then, he'd be able to embrace the latter. Inhale the citrusy musk of their shared shampoo in his pillow-soft mullet. 

Perhaps then, they'd be able to fall asleep in each other's arms and bask in each other's warmth. 

Chapter Text

𝙴𝚍𝚎𝚗,

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚜, 𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍. 

𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍'𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝙳𝚊𝚎𝚐𝚞, 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝙺𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚊. 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢, 
𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝. 

𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝. 

𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙼𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛?

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

7:09 AM September 16, 2020

"Chan-ssi," Felix had uttered to his hyung hours prior.  "Quit researching rape recovery, for Christ's sake. I told you I'm not interested."

The brunette should have anticipated the eldest's eventual defiance. 

Now, he knew better than to assume anything. 

His fingernails shredding the skin of his palms and his knuckles sporting a chalk white hue, Felix stormed into the wilderness. His body was adorned with the clothes he had worn to bed the previous night, and his hair was disheveled, courtesy of the pillows supporting his head as he slept. 

"Felix!" Chan cried, pressing his weight against the RV's doorframe and scraping his nails across the structure. "Let's talk about this, yeah?"

White noise. 

White noise and the rhythmic crunch of grass beneath the brunette's boot clad feet. 

"Yes, I would like to make an appointment...,"

"...2:00 is perfect. Thank you." 

Nothing, absolutely nothing could persuade Felix to surrender his body to an individual at that moment, physician or not. 

Speculum exams. Genitalia swabs. Rape kit exams are centered about an anatomical region that Felix was rather reluctant to expose. Hell, the mere thought of internal swabs made the 20-year-old's chest swell with rage. 

No. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. 

Why would Chan suggest such a repugnant procedure? Better yet, why would he assume the younger man would attend? Why would he schedule an appointment without Felix's input?

"I only want what's best for you, Felix," Chan cried, a defeated tone contaminating his words. "I care about you. Please, just...,"

White noise. 

White noise and the steady lap of freshwater against the lake's shore, waterlogged twigs and dead vegetation being washed up from the gentle waves. The distant laughs of children, frolicking in the tall, dewy meadowlands. Of early morning kayakers and canoeists dipping their paddles beneath the lake's surface, depending on that force to propel their vessels across the water. 

White noise and the gentle whisper of morning wind, dancing through tree leaves and abundant shrubbery. The gentle hum of distant aircraft, appearing to float casually across the horizon, yet catapulting through it at blistering speeds. 

White noise and the phantom melody of "Viva la Vida" by Coldplay. The introductory cello. The magnetic staccato. The heavenly, synthetic arrangements. The relaxed, baritone timbre of lead singer Chris Martin. Oh how to attend a concert of Coldplay's. Have the opportunity to raise his phone to the sky, flashlight at its brightest, swaying to the pulse of "A Sky Full of Stars." 

Oh to be encapsulated in a star-packed void, floating aimlessly amongst ethereal celestial bodies. The absence of sound ringing deliciously in his eardrums. His body weightless, enmeshed in an eternal free fall. 

No responsibilities, no obligations, and certainly no stubborn blonde men by the name of Chan. 

Bang fucking Chan. 

At approximately 5:00 AM, Felix's eyelids parted leisurely, courtesy of the gentle gust of breath tickling his exposed nape.

A brief panic erupted in his stomach then. The sentiment soon subsided, however, when a flash of blonde hair entered the younger's peripheral. Replacing the panic was a rather foreign feeling. Comfort, perhaps?

Two hours later, at approximately 7:00 AM, Felix awoke once more to the muffled voice of his eldest hyung. Honing in on the sound, Felix was able to identify Chan's relative location. 

The picnic table outside. 

"Yes, I would like to make an appointment..."

"...2:00 is perfect. Thank you." 

Felix had no choice but to stand weakly beneath the RV's doorframe, jaw slacked and stomach low. The soles of his feet weighed down his light head, and heated blood throbbed in his rapidly racing cranium. 

An internal cadence that had yet to cease, even as Felix  placed one foot in front of the other, no discernible objective in mind other than getting away. 

The brunette's pace quickened to a fleet-footed jog, and upon sighting sparkling ripples and blue-green freshwater, Felix accelerated to a full-fledged sprint. Not a sound breached his eardrums as he paced on, his senses fixed on the body of water ahead. 

At a certain point, the brunette began to strip himself of clothing one article at a time, beginning with his T-shirt. His pants followed, and by the time he reached the water, the 20-year-old sported nothing but a pair of black boxers. 

As expected, the man's expeditious pace plummeted once water resistance became a factor. He trudged desperately through the blue-green, seaweed thrashing at his calfs and wrapping around his ankles. Rocks spearing the balls of his feet unforgivingly. 

The lake was dangerously cold, he'd admit. However, his advancement didn't slow. If anything, more tenacity was incorporated into his steps.

Once the waterline fell right below Felix's chest, he dipped his head beneath the surface, soon springing upward to comb his now waterlogged hair back. He then took a substantial breath before plunging into the water once more, and using the air he'd collected, he unleashed the most wrathful, impassioned yell he could manage. 

At that point, Felix felt as though the lake's freshwater was his only upholder.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Kim Seungmin

7:17 AM September 16, 2020

"Seungmin...

"...Seungmin, wake up." 

Brisk, exhilarating winds whipped across Seungmin's features, dragging across his cheekbones and loading his nasal passages with the potent scent of evergreen and freshwater. 

"He won't listen to me...

"...Can you do me a solid?" 

Cupping both hands over his mouth, Seungmin prepared to exclaim his hyung's name. However, just before the syllables escaped his lips, a trail of clothing caught his eye. Familiar clothing at that. 

He was in the lake. 

Felix and his yet-to-be-healed wounds, his sexual assault evidence, was in the fucking lake. 

"He needs to get a rape kit examination...

"...Could you, perhaps, talk him into getting one?" 

What would there be to talk Felix into if there was no evidence to examine in the first place? 

Fuck. 

Immersed in his own thoughts, Seungmin failed to register the waterlogged mullet that entered his peripheral. That was, until said mullet turned sharply, revealing the face of him. The one and only. 

He was scared. Mistrustful.  His slender figure trembled where it stood amongst swaying blue-green waves. A billow of vapor escaped his dehydrated lips, and a stream of nasal mucus dribbled from his nose before pooling atop his upper lip. The plasters that Chan had dressed his wounds with were nowhere to be seen, likely long since settled at the lake's bottom. 

"Felix?" Seungmin uttered softly, eyebrows pinching together in sincerity. 

Combing drenched, brown locks back with his fingers, the brunette took a slight step back. 

"Chan sent you, didn't he?" He questioned, voice deflated. 

Rather than responding to the older's inquiry, Seungmin simply settled atop the pebbles and sand adorning the lake's shore, his gaze dropping to the fluctuating shoreline before him. 

A deep breath. 

"My sister's ex-boyfriend," he began. "His birth name is Kaneko Kane, Japanese native. My sister had met him through a friend of hers whose family had hosted him during his foreign exchange period. He'd spent about two years consistently attending classes at my sister's university. Their junior and senior years, however, Kane and my sister frequently skipped class to smoke blunts, pop pills, and toss back vodka shots. 

"At that point, I was but an 18-year-old youth. Often, Kane and my sister would travel overseas without thought, blowing borrowed cash and worsening their already tragic credit scores. While they were away, I was tasked with visiting their dealer and securing their inventory with the issued funds. At one point, however, their dealer, Seullim Jusig, spontaneously raised the price per bump of ket. I couldn't purchase as much as usual because of the inflation, and upon his return, Kane was furious. 

"He assumed that I purchased a smaller amount of ketamine at its initial price and embezzled the remaining funds for myself. I attempted to explain the situation, but my efforts were cut short when I was pinned against the wall and forced into a chokehold."

Seungmin brought a hand to his neck then, fingers brushing against the integument ever so lightly. Even so, the brunette barely refrained from wincing, the phantom memory of Kane's touch prompting the most traumatic of memories. 

"One of his thumbs pressed forcefully against my carotid pulse point, the other sinking into my hip."

Seungmin's eyes broadened then, the stark black of his pupils shrinking at the recollection. His vision shifted in and out of focus as his jaw stiffened. 

"It was there, in that hold, that he-," 

"Seungmin, you don't have to-,"

"He had his way with me," the younger spat, voice breaking as his gaze snapped upward. "He had his way with me and he continues to have his way with men and women across the globe. Continues to wound them as he wounded me." 

A shiver ran down Seungmin's spine then, the sensation coaxing his eyelids shut. A tear was forced from behind them and descended down the brunette's cheek. 

"I remember his poisonous touch," he spoke in a hushed manner. "The putrescent breath that descended upon me. 

"The agony. The excruciating agony."

"Seungm-," 

"I could've placed Kane behind bars. My clothes, my body, everything on or within me could've been used as evidence. Could've placed his malicious hands in cuffs. Could've prevented the sexual assault of dozens to come.

"But instead, I was as you are: traumatized. Paranoid. Reluctant to hand my body to anyone, even for but a handful of hours. Even to a trained professional. I was afraid. Fearful that such vulnerability would be undoubtedly exploited. 

"After 72 hours, getting a rape kit exam became a bygone opportunity. Initially, I wasn't bothered by this. If anything, I was relieved that the pressure no longer burdened me. Now, roughly two years later, I firmly believe that those 72 hours of silence were the most regrettable hours of my existence.

"Constantly, I am reminded of the men and women I could have saved. The men and woman I could have rescued from irreparable trauma. Constantly, I envision their defeated cries. Their fruitless tears. Constantly, I am consumed by a lethal force of guilt. 

"I could have spared them."

A tremulous breath. 

"But I didn't."

It was then that Seungmin's eyelids separated, his pupils recoiling from the sun's invasion. Once his vision stabilized, the brunette was able to identify a pair of milk-white legs. The lower extremities of said legs were hidden behind fine, compact blades of grass. Cascading down each shin, each calf, were hundreds of liquid, colorless pearls.

Seungmin lifted his head, the delicate point of his nose aimed toward the older's face. 

"Please," the youngest among them pleaded, "Don't make the same mistake that I made." 

Contrary to Felix's prior expression, his features at that moment were soft. Consoling. Not at all judgmental. For the first time since his rescue, perhaps, his features weren't guarded. Weren't drenched in restraint or paranoia. 

For the first time since his rescue, Felix appeared to be tranquil. Not ensnarled in figurative restraints, trust so close yet out of reach. 

"Oh, Seungmin," the boy sighed, a heavy dose of sympathy mingling with his words. 

He then settled beside the younger, pebbles and sand crackling beneath his weight. Sighing once more, the latter rested his head atop the former's shoulder. At this, Seungmin's body became a bit rigid. After all, he hadn't expected such boldness from the brunette, regardless of the gesture's insignificance. 

It was insignificant, right?

"I'm terribly sorry, Min," Felix said. "No one, no matter the strength of their backbone, should have to go through that."

A brief silence. 

"And you're right. I'm paranoid and not all that eager to place trust in others, physicians included.  My body's been exploited recently, and I would rather history not repeat itself."

"That's why we'll-,"

"I'll do it." 

Seungmin craned his neck to overlook the older, his eyebrows pinched together he struggled to fathom the words held firmly above the duo's heads. 

"What?" 

"I'll get the examination." 

Felix's eyes darted upward as he spoke, his gaze locking with Seungmin's in a peculiar yet tender exchange.

He was unfairly attractive, and yet Seungmin believed that the latter's full beauty had yet to unfold. Perhaps it was hidden behind the boy's closed eyelids. 

Indeed, Felix's eyes overflowed with wonder. Gleamed with curiosity. Glistened like the stars in a countryside sky. Complimented the additional features of his face with the utmost perfection. 

If only he knew...

How beautiful he is. 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

2:12 PM September 16th, 2020

"We must receive verbal consent prior to each step. That is Daegu law...

"...Lee Felix, are you ready to undergo a sexual assault forensic examination?"

"Yes."

...

"May I continue?"

"Yes." 

...

"May I continue?" 

"Yes." 

...

Oral swabs. Laceration swabs. Pubic hair removal. Perineal swabs. The confiscation of the clothes he'd worn that night. 

Felix was petrified. 

The plush of the brunette's lower lip was caught in his middlemost teeth. Tears trickled from both closed eyes  as nails left moon-shaped indents in the flesh of his inner thighs. 

Currently in progress was Felix's final hurtle: the speculum exam. 

He wanted to scream, but all air had fled his lungs. He wanted to run, but after recalling Seungmin's prior words, he refrained. He wanted to flinch away from the plastic instrument upon initial contact. However, the mellow and rich voice of his dongsaeng invaded his senses once more. 

"Please," the youngest among them had pleaded, "Don't make the same mistake that I made."

"As the speculum expands, you will experience discomfort. If you feel as though it's unbearable at any point, let me know, " The physician, male and particularly reliable, it seemed, informed.  "May I continue?" 

A tremulous breath. 

"Yes." 

The time now read 4:37 PM. Felix continued to recover from his prior examination as the seven able-bodied men prepared the RV for transport. 

“Felix,” Chan questioned minutes before Felix’s exam hours prior. “After your appointment, we’d like to pack up and relocate to Busan. Of course, this move would be at your discretion.” 

At my discretion. 

A warmth brewed within Felix’s chest at the gesture. A foreign cordiality at the fact that they were willing to compensate for him. Someone they’ve only known for roughly 36 hours. 

“Did you perhaps want us to retrieve some of your belongings before we leave?” 

A foreign cordiality at the fact that they were willing to place themselves in harm’s way, confront Hyeon and his roommates, for him. 

“I would rather not put you in that position,” the brunette had said. “No belongings are worth all that.” 

“What about your phone?

“Or your wallet?”

Sure, those belongings had significant value. Additionally, Felix did trust the Stray Kids to confront his past roommates in a civil manner. However, he’d never ask them such. The risk factor was too-

“551 Cheongsu-ro, unit 159, correct?” Chan questioned, sparing glances at his cell phone as he spoke. 

Right. 

He didn’t have to ask. Not when Chan, Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin readily agreed to the task, despite his forewarning them of the dangers that came with it.

“Yes,” Felix sighed, defeat evident in his voice. “That’s their address.” 

With a curt, affirmative hum, Chan hastened toward the group’s shared Santa Fe before settling in the SUV’s driver’s seat. Occupying shot gun was Seungmin, and from left to right in the rear were Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Jisung.

“Felix!” Minho called from the recreational vehicle’s entrance, his forearm propped against the doorframe. “We’re ready when you are.” 

Felix, however, didn’t face the ravenette. His figure remained directed toward the now receding SUV, his gut churning with inexplicable unease. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t doubt ‘em,” Minho’s voice was much closer now, and the tender rasp to his voice did very little to console Felix. “They’d do just about anything to ensure the wellbeing of their brothers.” 

At last, the younger rotated his torso a bit to meet the nomad’s gaze. He then passed his tongue across the plush of his top and bottom lip, moistening the muscle.

“I’m sure you would,” he spoke humorlessly, his features growing taut and rather dark. 

He then wedged both hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt before ambling past the older in a casual manner. 

Once situated in the cockpit of the RV, Minho behind the wheel with Changbin at his side and Felix at his rear, the three men began their voyage toward Busan. 

As he directed his nose’s tip toward the floor, Felix’s focus was occupied by one thing, or five, rather. 

Please, meet us in Busan. 

Chapter Text

Choi Hyeon

4:57 PM September 16, 2020

The spectacular aroma of vanilla bean and strawberry delicacy spiraling from a nearby candle. 

Delicious. 

The steam which penetrated Hyeon's exposed skin, lapping at each pore and curling around him like cigarette smoke. 

Delicious. 

The pleasure-induced bite of his lip, the clench of his fist around her waist, the steady drip of sweat from disheveled bangs. 

Delicious. 

And Hyeon found it delicious, the way the feverish pace that had been established at once, tended to his arousal splendidly. Coaxed the sinful whines from his lips. 

He found it delicious, her sheer curvature and unadulterated sensuality. The round of her hips, the dip of her waist. He used his hold on said waist as leverage, pounding into her fervently. So tight. So warm. So-,

Ding dong. 

Shit.

"H, you got it?" Chinmae called from across the apartment, likely overstimulated by the gaming noises thundering from his half-settled headset. Additionally, an active call between himself and his online friends was being relayed through his left airpod, per usual. 

Groaning, Hyeon tossed his head back, beads of sweat propelling from blonde strands as he did so. 

"Can't," he spoke, an audible strain to his articulation. "A little busy here." 

Hyeon punctuated those words by curtly snapping his hips forward, thereby prompting the woman beneath him to whine unabashedly. 

"Goddam-, Sang!" Chinmae barked, rather flustered. "Door!" 

Silence, followed by an extensive and resounding snore.  

"Kang Sanghun! Wake up, you lethargic shit." 

"Fuck off, Mae," Sanghun garbled, voice freshly awoken and raucous. "Get it yourself." 

It was then that Hyeon sucked his teeth and closed his eyes with a piqued sigh. 

"Alright, fuck this," he yielded at last, because someone had to.  "I got it!" 

Squeezing the waist of the woman beneath him, the blonde leisurely drew his hips back. With his length now entirely withdrawn, her gaze was puzzled and albeit, discouraged. 

"I'll be right back, babe," Hyeon reassured her, planting a chaste peck on her upper back. 

He then parted from his sexual partner, making quick work of tucking his firm, pre-cum slicked length back into his trousers. To his expectance, the fabric protruded outward, unmistakably so. Because of this, he hastily slipped a nearby sweatshirt over his figure, adjusting the article to best conceal his arousal. 

Languidly approaching the residence's front entrance, Hyeon settled his palm on the cool, stainless steel doorknob before applying pressure to its surface. 

Peeling the wooden structure from its frame, he spoke, "Hwa, ever heard of charging your god-,"

Oh. 

Bonhwa's not that short...

...nor would he show up all but fuming at the ears. Wait, who the hell are these guys? 

"Choi Hyeon?" 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Seo Changbin 

5:01 PM September 16, 2020

The days were actively shortening, that much Changbin could recognize. The South Korean sun, which, in June, had managed to hang in the sky for 14 hours daily, was beginning to weaken in the afternoon. 

"Bin," Minho began, chocolate irises directed toward the ever fluctuating expressway. "Can you get my sunglasses from the center console, please?" 

As the recreational vehicle continued to travel southeastward, the westbound sun flooded the structure with its luminescence. It was likely that Minho found perception fairly difficult under these circumstances. 

Upon Changbin's offering the glasses, Minho removed his right hand from the steering wheel and retrieved them with prudence. 

"Thanks," the ravenette spoke, placing the glasses atop his nose. 

The air was rather thick with friction, the RV's operator refusing to provide Felix with a long overdue apology, which placed a divide between the two parties. The atmosphere's strain made Changbin uneasy...

...and he would not leave his unease unattended. 

"Felix," the raven-haired began, twisting his torso a bit to view the addressed party. "How're you doing?" 

Initially concentrated on his own lap, hands folded courteously atop it, the brunette's focus snapped upward.

"F-fine, I guess," he answered sheepishly, his gaze weak. "I suppose, a bit chilly?" 

With odd certainty, Minho began to strip himself of the light jacket he sported. Perhaps a nonverbal beg-pardon, Changbin thought. After all, he would be one to refuse to admit his wrongdoings aloud. 

"Here," the eldest of the three offered in a dull manner. 

Contrary to Minho's certitude, Felix remained apprehensive when accepting the fleece. 

"Thanks." 

The conclusion of their curt exchange was punctuated by a toneless hum from Minho. 

These two will be fairly difficult to mend, Changbin thought, I suppose I must be the bigger person, then. 

"I'm sorry," the second eldest projected rather abruptly. 

A sharp inhale. 

"I'm sorry for failing to understand your situation, and for speaking about you disrespectfully." 

Changbin flitted his eyes toward his hyung then, and a faint scowl was written across the latter's features. Nibbling at the inside of his cheek, Minho began to readjust his somewhat taut hands on the steering wheel. 

"I forgive you," Felix all but whispered to which Changbin redirected his attention. The latter's eyes were tender, yet mildly stunned at his comrade's remission. "I suppose I could've communicated my feelings better." 

"No, I'd never ask you to-," 

"Perhaps you could enlighten us now," Minho spoke up, sparing the brunette a brief glance in the rear view mirror. 

"Minho, we shouldn't-," 

"No, no," Felix dismissed the youngest ravenette with an assuring wave, "It's a valid question, Bin." 

Bin. 

"I have yet to recover from the initial shock," he began, "I have yet to completely process the gravity of what my body has undergone. The bizarreness of fleeing Daegu, the apartment, my 'friends,' everything that I once considered safe. 

"However, what I have been able to process is the betrayal. Through my understanding of such, I feel...ostracized? Perhaps a bit vulnerable?

"I feel grief. An overwhelming amount of grief. It feels as though my heart has been ripped from my chest, and in its place, a multiplying pool of blood. It feels as though the life is draining from my body, bound to run out.

"It feels as though I've lost my family, despite their not viewing me in the same manner. I feel mournful because they never viewed me in that manner. I feel mournful because twice I've been deceived. Twice I've been cast aside. You know the saying: 'fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice-,'"

"Felix, there won't be a 'thrice-,'"

"You have no right to promise that, Minho," Felix's speech chilled then, as did his expression. "You, of all people, have no right to promise that. You put your hands on me. You-," 

"I was protecting Jin, because he takes priority." Minho rebutted, stretching his fingers against the leather steering wheel cover and adjusting his jaw. 

"For the love of Go-, I'm your dongsaeng now!" Felix spat, voice escalating, "I understand why your initial feelings were as they were, but damn! It's been over 30 hours since, and an apology still hasn't been issued." 

"I don't feel the need to apologize for an action that's justified. Besides, I've supplied you with shelter, clothing, food, and water. That, in itself, is an apology." 

"So you do feel the need to apologize?" 

"You threw a television remote at one of my closest friends, for fucks sake!" 

"You didn't answer my question." 

"I'm not obligated to do a damn thing because I'm your elder! Your hyung, remember?" 

"And I remember stating that no respect will be shown to you by me. Respect includes honorifics, dumbass." 

Silence.

...

"The fuck did you just call me?"

"Minho, don-,"

"Your beliefs alone prove my point. 'Justified' my ass," Felix spoke, "Two words. Two words, Minho. That's it." 

"Okay then. Fuck. You. That's right. Fuck you, you entitled piece of-," 

"Minho!" Changbin barked. 

"You have yet to pitch your end of the bargain. As of now, you're all but dead weight. And yet, you choose to criticize me despite my contributions." 

"I never explicitly asked to be here! Plus, you can't expect me to recollect myself and pitch my bargain like that," the youngest accentuated with a snap. "I've lost everything, and-,"

"Pshh, join the club," Minho scoffed. "We're all traumatized refugees. We've all fled or been booted from our blood."

"Stop downplaying my feelings, dammit! Your wound has healed. Good for you. Mine is still very much open!" 

"Healed?" The eldest man shrieked. "You don't know shit about how much I've 'healed.' Don't you dare speak for me, you-,"

"I wouldn't need to make assumptions if you were more transparent!"

"Why would I be transparent toward-," 

"Because I'm your dongsaeng now! Jesus Chri-,"

"You are not my dongsaeng!" Minho exclaimed, tense air all the more strained by his volume. "Hyung-dongsaeng relationships are mutual! So long as you show me no respect, I too will-,"

"If you'd just give me a reason to-,"

"Stop interrupt-," 

"Watch out!" Changbin howled, the exclamation followed by a proximal honk. 

At that, the eldest's focus whipped forward, and greeting his eyes was a fast approaching pickup truck. In response, the ravenette wrenched the steering wheel to the right, thus avoiding the oncoming vehicle but consequently swerving into the rightmost burrow ditch. Fortunately, the ditch was fairly level and minimal damage, if any, was done. 

Once the RV came to a halt, its occupants became momentarily paralyzed by shock. A blanket of silence enveloped the trio, casting aside the hostility and adamancy that once choked them. 

The faint purr of the vehicle's engine, its vibrations radiating throughout Changbin, Minho, and Felix's anatomies. The soft whisper of wind just outside of the RV's confines, acting as transportation for early autumn plant litter and the remains of summer's allergens. 

Removing the key from the ignition, Minho excused himself from the driver's seat. He then approached the RV's exit before stepping into the external wilderness. Changbin and Felix soon followed suit.

Fortunately, the atmosphere was bearably crisp. The wind was fairly tame, handling the trio with care rather than clawing at them mercilessly.

Changbin inhaled then, his lungs expanding ever so leisurely and intaking brisk, tonic air. Air that brought awareness and clarity to each of the three parties. 

In the distance, a scarcely perceptible meow was heard. To Changbin's expectance, Minho naturally darted his attention toward said meow. Neither of the ravenettes were certain as to how Felix would react, however. When he, too, transferred his focus toward the sound, though, both were pleasantly surprised. 

The trio soon found themselves at the mercy of a postpartum feline and her three newborn kittens. The mother, who'd very apparently been abandoned, found comfort in the warmth of Felix's lap. The kittens, having yet to open their eyes, simply waddled about via touch and scent. 

"Who would abandon such therapeutic creatures?" Changbin questioned, placing his weight on the RV's frontside and monitoring his comrade's activity as he did so. 

"You'd be surprised," Felix replied as he continued to stroke the mother's back methodically. "Perhaps the initial owner was intimidated by her pregnancy." 

After a fairly brief silence, Minho began to speak of how the trio would proceed.  

"I'll dial animal services," he explained. "Changbin, monitor the kittens. Felix, just-,"

"I'll dial them," the second eldest volunteered, withdrawing his cell phone from one of his rear pockets. Once not occupied by Felix's attention, Changbin gestured between Minho and his dongsaeng insistently, raising his eyebrows at the former to punctuate the demand. 

Rolling his eyes, Minho diverted his attention to the juvenile felines at his feet, cooing at the sight that nullified the chill within his chest. 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

5:12 PM, September 16 2020

Determined that his ears had deceived him, Felix continued to caress the postpartum cat's topside, her fur ethereally soft and soothing. 

"I'm sorry, Felix." 

There it was again. 

Feeling the need to humor himself, the brunette raised his head. It was when he met the gaze of a level set of eyes that Felix realized that it wasn't all in his mind.

"I'm sorry for placing my hands on you," Minho developed, chin adhered to his chest and voice dispassionate. "And refusing to acknowledge my wrongs aloud. That was inappropriate of me." 

A beat of silence, as far as conversation was concerned. Their surroundings, nonetheless, were ever bustling.  

"Was there something, or someone, inspiring you to treat me as you have?" 

Traffic was rather sparse, for kilometers of countryside radiated from the RV's location. However, distant engine hums could be perceived by healthy ears. 

"I suppose...," the raven-haired began. "I suppose my mother ha-,"

Suddenly, Minho's features enlivened, indicating that he'd received an epiphany.  

"My mother contributed to my life then as Stray Kids contributes to my life now. Both were or are my family, and I would've fought a war for my mother then just as I would for Stray Kids now. 

"I believe that my brain falsely perceived you attacking Hyunjin as you attacking my blood, my family, and for that, I'm sorry. I should've recognized you as family also, but instead, I was blinded by-," 

"Instinct." Felix interjected, "You were blinded by instinct. Jin's been your family for much longer than I have, so, in regards to your initial reaction, I understand. However, what I don't understand is why you chose to apologize so late, Minho. 

"You pique my curiosity, honestly, and I've wanted so desperately to hold conversations with you, bond with you, witness the unveiling of the true Minho, but-," 

"Budding relationships are a two way street, you know?" Minho began, but refrained from countering further. Instead, he leaned back marginally and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I guess I just...as I said before, I felt as though my action was justified. I failed to realize that our relationship has developed since then. 

"While I wouldn't owe a stranger an apology, I would owe family, whether the offense was justified or not. You're not a stranger anymore, so I have to...be nice to you...I guess." 

"Yes, hyung. Be nice," Changbin, who'd recently returned to his comrade's sides, scolded with a pointed finger. "Anywho, animal control's here. Let's get these fellas off the streets." 

Once animal control had exited their vehicle, the trio did as instructed by the officers. Said officers departed within minutes, leaving Minho, Changbin, and Felix to themselves once more. 

Plant litter and loose gravel bustled about in vehicle’s wake upon its departure, seasoning the air with soft crackles. 

Several beats later, Felix turned toward Minho, pausing momentarily to collect his thoughts before parting his lips. 

“I’m sorry too,” he began, gaze sunken and posture delicate.  “For being hostile toward your friends as well as yourself. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.” 

“All is forgiven, Felix,” the eldest replied to which Felix lifted his chin. 

Returning the brunette’s gaze were two distinctly sincere and soft irises, hypnotically striking and brown in color. 

“May I…,” the eldest continued. “May I touch you?” 

After remaining silent and relatively apprehensive, Felix permitted this request. Minho proceeded to place a delicate hand on his dongsaeng’s shoulder while settling the other atop his head. 

“Goddamn your hair is soft,” he stated without thought, admiring the collection of strands as if it were the eighth wonder of the world. “Shit!” 

With that, the pair erupted in a fit of relieved giggles, both speechlessly admiring the warmth of each other’s laughter, the beauty of each other’s smiles, and the cathartic sense within themselves. 

Chapter Text

Han Jisung

5:03 PM September 16, 2020

"Choi Hyeon?"

A forbidding, fixed timbre was housed in Chan's voice then, fists taut and gaze unyielding. 

Hyeon's pupils swept the porch then, falling upon the equally unyielding gazes of Chan's company. On the eldest's left stood Jisung, and on his right, Jeongin.  

At last, the foe's eyes adhered to Jisung, his eyes widening and his stomach likely dropping from realization. 

"Shit," he gasped, his irises frantic as the situation's gravity began to settle within.

Instinctually, the blonde reached for the door's edge. Chan's plans, however, differed from Hyeon's. The eldest Stray Kid slammed his palm against the wooden structure, prompting the shorter to flinch backward. 

"The fuck you want?" He spat, his jaw protruding forth in a fruitless attempt to intimidate. "How'd you get this address?" 

"A little birdie told me," Chan smiled, eyes rid of emotion as he readjusted his foothold. "Before he was, once again, abandoned on the freeway. Poor, useless soul." 

His eyes grew distant as they adhered themselves to an insignificant wall. He then shook his head in reminiscence, pretending to recall something that never occurred. 

"Okay, well why are you here?" Hyeon paraphrased himself, eyebrows wrinkled. 

"'Cause you're in possession of something we want."

A momentary silence stretched on, Hyeon's expression indecipherable as he placed his weight against the doorframe. Then, he erupted into breathy laughter. 

"Is this your idea of-," he paused to catch his breath. "Is this your idea of a robbery?" 

"'S not your conventional mug," a midrange utterance reached Hyeon's ears then, prompting the latter to whip his attention toward the residence's interior.  "But screw conventional, am I right?" 

Deeper within Hyeon's apartment stood Seungmin, Chinmae cemented to his front. Constricting the latter's neck was a familiar HDMI cable. 

In the pair's wake, Hyunjin held a kitchen knife to Sanghun's carotid. One insignificant laceration and-,

"H-help," Chinmae choked, his fingers clawing at the cord compressing his airway. "G...g-hive them-,"

"Give them what they want," Sanghun cried, "Please."

Mouth agape, Hyeon's focus returned to Chan. A brew of alarm and rage reflected in his eyes. 

"Son of a bitch," he spat, voice bubbling with emotion. "What do y-, they're young, man. Please don-,"

"Nothing has to change," Chan sympathetically expressed, his signature grin tainted with malice.  "Unless you deny our request." 

Nervously darting his eyes from Chan to the scene in his wake, Hyeon remained silent. Jisung could more or less hear the gears turning within the foe's mind. 

"Tell us...," Sanghun croaked, tears slithering down his cheeks. "...what you want. Then, we'll give it t-to you." 

The brunette released an anguished sob then, his body rigid as to not shift toward agonizing death. 

"We want the watch," Seungmin demanded. "And a little extra, of course." 

"A little extra?" Hyeon barked. "What d-,"

"We pawned the watch," Chinmae spluttered. "S-sorry." 

Chan hummed then, arms crossing over his torso. 

"I suppose another form of hush payment is necessary," he proposed, chewing at his bottom lip. "Tell you what, Hyeon,

"His belongings are now our belongings." 

"Fine," Hyeon hissed, chin downturned and gaze severing the space between himself and Chan. "Take what you want, but let my friends go." 

"Deal," Chan then directed his attention toward Jisung, his speech softening. "Start from the top of the list and make your way down, capeesh?" 

Jisung hummed assuredly, punctuating the response with a curt nod. 

"Innie, at his six."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Upon entry, Jisung was inundated by putrescent body odors, ineffectual body spray, soiled socks, and sex. 

Resorting to breathing via mouth, the ginger approached the closet in which Felix's belongings were stored, separating the door from its frame ever so warily. 

Beyond the closet door was an array of personal belongings, including outer and underwear, footwear, accessories, culinary and pastry arts books, recipe journals, miscellaneous notebooks, and a cellphone. 

Approaching the cell phone, Jisung removed it from the shelf on which it was stored and surveyed it's exterior out of curiosity. 

The device's screen protector was oddly pristine, only exhibiting one hairline scratch on its upper right corner. The clear phone case was pristine as well, entirely free of browning. Within this case was a 10x6 Polaroid photo. Felix was in the photo's center, shoulder to shoulder with two young women who resembled him a great deal. Written on the film's white border were the English characters "The 3 Lees <3".

"Two sisters," Jeongin hummed. "I wonder what happened between them." 

"Me too." 

Jisung softly tucked the device into his sling crossbody and continued onward, collecting the books and journals that Felix had requested, one of which was labeled "🤍Lixie's Confidential Confections🤍". Cute. 

Once in possession of the belongings that Felix desired, clothing and wallet included, Jisung and Jeongin returned to the eldest's side. 

"Ready when you are, hyung," Jisung announced, gaze adhered to the foe before him. 

After an elongated beat, Chan spoke authoritatively, "Jin, Min, at ease." 

With that, Hyunjin and Seungmin released their captives and withdrew from the apartment, not once turning their backs on the other men. 

"Car," Chan instructed in a curt manner to which his dongsaengs obliged. The blonde then addressed his adversaries. "Gentlemen, as you were." 

Upon turning his back to the property, a hostile declaration reached his ears. 

"'Gentlemen, as you were' my ass," Hyeon hissed, "When I encounter you bastards again, Hell will be the least of your worries." 

The blonde then slammed the door in Chan's wake,  punctuating the rather dismaying confrontation. 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan

9:32 AM September 17, 2020

🌈Stray Gays🦄

Text Message

Today 9:32 AM

FoIve y/o🤪 added Felix to the conversation

FoiVe y/o🤪

gm idiots

🐱Catlord🐱

thats lame asl

FoiVe y/o🤪

🧍

FoiVe y/o🤪

wdym

🐱Catlord🐱

felixs name

qUOKKA

it doesn't match the vobe 

Felix

?

FoiVe y/o🤪

morninggg. welcome to the family chat🤗

DandyPup🐶

hyung we're gonna scare the newb away

🐱Catlord🐱

he'll deal

🐱Catlord🐱

wb his name tho

Felix

who tf is catlord 

DandyPup🐶

that's minho. im seungmin, btw

qUOKKA

dude change ur name homes

FoiVe y/o🤪

cut him some slack, ji

FoiVe y/o🤪

chat's stressful enough as is

Felix

what should I change it to

🐱Catlord🐱

brownie boy

qUOKKA

PeowPeow🐥🐈⬛

🐱Catlord🐱

Zest Fest

FoiVe y/o🤪

no

🐱Catlord🐱

im talking abt the chat namr

FoiVe y/o🤪

no

🐱Catlord🐱  renamed the conversation 

"Zest Fest💅🫦"

Felix

...is everyone here homo or sumn?

🐱Catlord🐱

guilty

DandyPup🐶

its a minho thing. we just go along w it

🐱Catlord🐱

please. the closets are clear

DwaekGotCake

dude stfu

FoiVe y/o🤪

good morning Binnie-ah

DandyPup🐶

he's been up. left us on delivered

qUOKKA

asshole

FoiVe y/o🤪

sung, wheres jin and in

qUOKKA

jin's ktfo. in's...somewhere

🥖BabyBaguette🥖

up your ass

🐱Catlord🐱

...🤭

FoiVe y/o🤪

jail. both of you

FoiVe y/o🤪

but srsly, what's ur 20?

🥖BabyBaguette🥖

setting up the fire pit for tn

DandyPup🐶

by urself?

🥖BabyBaguette🥖

...yah

🥖BabyBaguette🥖

oh wait nvm. Felix is here

🥖BabyBaguette🥖

loggin off✌️

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

9:38 AM September 17, 2020

"Good morning, Felix," Jeongin addressed the brunette, the ravenette's bangs as untamed as the turf beneath his shoes.

"Morning, Jeongin," the elder replied, ruffling his own fringe as he approached the maknae. 

"IN," the boy corrected. "You can call me IN." 

The raven-haired returned his gaze to the project at hand, adjusting the fire pit's framing stones to his liking. 

"How may I help, IN?"

The younger hummed in acknowledgment, movements faltering a bit. 

"Pantry's directly to the right of the fridge," he explained. "There should be some firewood on the floor in there."

"Of course," Felix said, pivoting toward the RV without hesitation. The brunette then halted for a moment, stating over his shoulder, "Is there anything else you need?" 

Jeongin simply hummed, shaking his head. 

"No, but thank you, Felix."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The kitchenette was rather lively upon the brunette's entry, Chan and Jisung entangled on the sofa as they embarked on an anime binge session, Seungmin seated at the dinette and wholly consumed by his headphones, Hyunjin sardine-packed in his sleeping bag, completely comatose, Minho utilizing one of three cooktop burners as he sported an exceptionally form-fitting apron, and Changbin immersed in an unopened box of pancake mix. 

"Morning, sunshine," Minho addressed the 20-year-old, his gaze adhered to the skillet topped with raw bacon. "Why've you come back?" 

The raven-haired then adjusted his sleeves before manipulating select strips of meat with tongs. 

"Jeongin requested some firewood," Felix answered, admiring the bacon's mellow crackle and delicious scent. 

The second eldest clicked his tongue in disfavor, placing distance between himself and the active burner. 

"Monitor this bacon for me," he instructed, edging past the younger and toward the pantry. "I'll take care of the firewood." 

With that, Minho slipped into the storeroom, leaving Felix alone with the underdone meat and an outwardly confused Changbin. 

"Bin," the younger approached the cooktop then, narrowly avoiding a rogue, airborne bead of grease. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah," Felix's hyung responded curtly, correcting his posture once acknowledged. 

Said posture was sustained for several beats. Alas, Changbin's spine relaxed with an extensive and passionate sigh.

"How do you make pancakes?" The ravenette forfeited his pride at last.

The younger's jaw slacked a bit, his gaze shifting toward the unopened box of pancake mix. It was when Felix's focus returned to Changbin that a ripple of warmth dispersed within him. 

With a passionate, soul-melting beam, Felix replied, "I'm glad you asked." 

After but five minutes, the countertop was coated with the following materials: measuring tools, a large bowl, a plastic spatula, whole milk, large eggs, vegetable oil, salted butter, and of course, pancake mix. 

"Heat the burner to 190 degrees C," the brunette instructed as he removed three well-done strips of bacon from the skillet. 

The elder obliged, soon returning to his idle and anticipative position. 

"In the large bowl, mix one cup of pancake mixture...,"

Changbin attentively loaded a plastic measuring cup with the powdered ingredient, soon placing the portion into the bowl. 

"...3/4 cup milk...,"

The shorter then utilized the measuring glass, carefully distributing 3/4 cup of whole milk into the bowl as well. 

"One tablespoon vegetable oil...,"

"...and one large egg."

As instructed, Changbin brought one large egg to the bowl's rim. However, his soft strikes were fruitless, as the shell failed to break.

"May I?" Felix spoke tenderly, approaching Changbin's backside and placing his own hand atop the latter's. 

Changbin tensed for a moment, observing the other party with evident reluctance.

"My instructors did this many times," the younger spoke, recognizing his companion's discomfort. "It allowed them to guide me without doing it themselves. Truly effective education, I'd say." 

He proceeded to guide Changbin's hand toward the bowl's rim once more, striking the produce expertly and then withdrawing. Not before comparing the shorter's impressive bicep to his own, of course. 

"Now carefully part the egg and allow all of its contents to drip," Felix continued. 

Within the hour, the batter, which had been stirred via spatula, had become 13 neatly stacked pancakes. All were a delectable, golden-brown hue. 

Minho had long since returned, plating moments before Changbin and Felix.

"Breakfast!" The former announced, preparing seven plates of varying portion sizes. Some were dominated by protein, and others were dominated by carbs. 

Arranged prior was an assortment of drinking glasses, two brimming with coffee, two with milk, two with orange juice, and one with a protein breakfast shake. 

Felix became idle as Minho and Changbin began distributing each dish, feeling somewhat vulnerable as these evidently routine operations continued. He then met Chan's gaze, as warm and understanding as it'd been the days before. The older proceeded to gesture toward the dinette seat, now vacant as its prior occupants hovered about the kitchen. 

"Have a seat, Felix," the blonde instructed, his dimples ever so prominent. How endearing. "You haven't been forgotten, I assure you." 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan 

~Less than 3 hours earlier~

iMessage 

Today 7:01 AM

FoiVe y/o🤪

careful, min. he's not the heaviest sleeper

DandyPup🐶

🙄

DandyPup🐶

i should get comped for this

FoiVe y/o🤪

comp is for curing cancer 

FoiVe y/o🤪

if you fancy bed privileges, i suggest u dont f up

 DandyPup🐶

holy shot he's adorable

DandyPup🐶

[image.jpg]

DandyPup🐶

🫠

FoiVe y/o🤪

tell me about it, mate

DandyPup🐶

okay so what journal am i looking for?

FoiVe y/o🤪

the one titled "lixie's confidential confections"

DandyPup🐶

subject located and in possession

DandyPup🐶

now what

FoiVe y/o🤪

open it and tell me what u see

DandyPup🐶

holy guac 

DandyPup🐶

homie has a whole as table of contents

DandyPup🐶

[image.jpg] 

FoiVe y/o🤪

sweet

FoiVe y/o🤪

flip to the cakes section

DandyPup🐶

this section's the largest one, mate

FoiVe y/o🤪

gotta narrow it down to uno

FoiVe y/o🤪

there a favs section or sumn?

DandyPup🐶

uhmm 

DandyPup🐶

ooh i found one

DandyPup🐶

[image.jpg]

FoiVe y/o🤪

"chef's choice" eh?

FoiVe y/o🤪

well shoot, i say no-brainer

  FoiVe y/o🤪

let's secure the sweets

Read 7:11 AM

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

"Good morning, gentlemen," the bakery hostess began,  her hands clasped together and her smile astonishingly bright. "How may I sweeten your day?" 

"Good morning, miss," Chan smiled as well whilst offering the employee a slight bow. Seungmin offered this as well. "We would like to order a custom round cake." 

"Of course! To start, would you prefer a 15 cm, 20 cm, or 25 cm cake?" 

"15 cm, please."

"Fabulous. Now, we do offer plenty of simple, pre-iced cakes if that's what you'd prefer." 

"Interesting. What types of icing do these cakes have?" 

"Currently, we offer buttercream and whipped pre-ice." 

Chan then turned his attention to Seungmin, whose eyes held just as much hope as his own. This encounter would be perfect if...

"Do you have a whipped pre-ice with chocolate flavoring, perhaps?" 

The hostess then snapped her fingers, inadvertently startling her customers a bit. 

"My apologies," she spoke sheepishly, growing small as she scratched her nape. "But you're in luck! I recently iced a chocolate cake. With whipped icing, might I add." 

As his shoulders became instantly lighter, Chan released a soft, pleased chuckle. 

"That would be-," he chuckled once more, shaking his head in immeasurable relief. "That would be perfect, ma'am. Thank you." 

"My pleasure," she concluded, showering her customers with bows before excusing herself from the register. "When I return, we may discuss decorations and messages if you'd like." 

And discuss they did. 

He will be delighted. I'm sure of it. 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

10:21 AM September 17, 2020

The dinette's leather booth was cool beneath Felix's palms. His knees were cemented together in anticipation, as were his ankles. 

Upon Chan's return from the SUV, the brunette's eyes grew wide, for within his hyung's hold was a 21 cm box. Square in shape, the receptacle was a soft yellow hue and decorated with porcelain white ribbon. 

"For you, Felix," Chan uttered tenderly, his eyes overflowing with unmatched warmth as he placed the box before his dongsaeng. 

With slight skepticism, Felix brought a hand to the ribbon. One soft tug later and the ribbon pooled at the box's base, prompting the 20-year-old to continue. Sparing his companion's one final glance, Felix lifted the receptacle's lid, revealing the confection within. 

A round, chocolate cake coated with white, whipped icing. Bordering the cake's top and bottom was a rather simple design: yellow, whipped shells. Beneath a cluster of piped button roses were the following English characters:

𝒲𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒, 

𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝟪𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝒦𝒾𝒹 ;)

Chapter Text

Kim Seungmin

11:27 PM September 22, 2020

"My birthday wish?

"Shit, I wish to get laid." 

The nightclub atmosphere was impressively humid, courtesy of the moist bodies mingling about. On the dance floor's center was Kim Seungmin, 20 years of age. 

Beneath the adult's palms was a petite young woman. She herself basked in a glaze of sweat, her movements effortless and irresistibly sultry. 

Beneath the adult's palms was a fabric of pink iridescence. A magnetic bodycon dress, supported by two nude spaghetti straps. Seungmin intended to slip his fingers beneath those straps. Force them to her elbows, revealing the artistry beneath her collarbone. 

Later. 

At that moment, Seungmin was blinded by euphoria. His blood's soft buzz, which trickled throughout his anatomy and stimulated each nerve. The hypnotic waves of music, which crashed against his bones and rattled his world. 

He needed this. Needed an interruption. A brief distraction. Momentary isolation. 

He needed to part from his family, if only for one night. After all, he'd been balancing atop unstable terrain for approximately one week now and craved security. Nothing more and nothing less. 

For approximately one week now, Stray Kids had been caught in an indefinite free fall, during which Chan had been establishing renovation plans. At his aide was Hyunjin, whose natural eye served well in such situations. 

Minho and Jisung frolicked about, exposing themselves to the ever bustling metropolis and absorbing its culture like sponges. 

Changbin continued to supervise vehicle operations, monitoring the pressure of all tires, inspecting the oil quality of each vehicle, maintaining gas levels, and so forth. Cemented to his hip was Jeongin, the tirelessly curious youth whose niche was becoming progressively evident. 

Alas, Felix had yet to establish a position within the group. In fact, the Australian exhibited little interest in anything beyond the kitchen. He'd occasionally sit in on Hyunjin and Chan's discussions, and accompanied Minho and Jisung during their outings from time to time. On occasion, he'd even join Changbin and Jeongin. However, all reported that, despite completing each task without issue, Felix seemed rather robotic. Like his emotions were elsewhere, as Minho clarified.

Though each nomad intended to remain true to the rules, particularly rule number four...

"Don't force Felix to participate in any activities and conversations. Any induced discomfort will certainly not make a good impression."

...it was as if they'd been residing with a stranger. 

Beyond his culinary expertise, very little was known about Felix. What does his sense of humor entail? In terms of style, does he abide by an aesthetic? Perhaps he finds interest in specific media. Podcasts? TV series? Films? Perhaps he prefers nature over media. Perhaps he enjoys hiking amongst wildlife and encountering the chorus of dollar birds. 

Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. 

Alas, new information regarding Felix was impossible to come by. Thus far, his company had faced an opaque barrier. Stared upon its stout material as though it would burn under their gaze and offer them, at long last, a view beyond. 

In due course, Seungmin had to withdraw from this stare-down and allow his eyes a moment's rest. Tend to his own needs and be a tad selfish, perhaps. What better time to do so than now, Kim Seungmin's 20th trip about the sun?

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

12:02 AM September 23, 2020

A final breath escaped Felix's lips, his chest deflating in consequence, before the brunette rose from the mattress at last. 

"Felix?" Chan uttered into the once undisturbed silence. "Are you alright?" 

The older, who chose to accompany Felix while the others relished nightlife, surveyed the latter as he emerged from the king suite. 

Felix simply hummed, equipping a pre-made turkey wrap before joining Chan in the dinette booth. Stationed before the blonde was a particularly advanced laptop arrangement. Atop an aluminum, luxury laptop mount was a lightweight, space gray MacBook. Attached to the device's rear cover were two multiport adapters and an external hard drive. A neon label characterized this hard drive, exhibiting the English characters 'Bang Chan.'

"Couldn't sleep," Felix explained, grazing on the turkey wrap's edge. 

Chan hummed at this, powering his MacBook off before folding its top panel down. He then turned to Felix and placed his left elbow on the table. 

"How come?" He inquired, chin settling atop his fist.

For a moment, the younger continued to nibble his food. He then withdrew from the wrap and relaxed against the booth's plush leather. 

"Just thinking," he replied, eyelids fluttering shut. "About home." 

He proceeded to toy with his lower lip, the delicate flesh wearing beneath his teeth. 

"About Sydney?" 

Felix opened his eyes then, gaze shifting toward Chan.

"You remembered?" he questioned. 

"Of course, mate." 

The younger's heart faltered then, as the blonde had spoken English. Fluent, comfortable English. 

Felix could do nothing but part his lips, sound failing to escape them. 

"You speak English, yeah?" Chan's Korean dialect returned briefly. 

"Y-yeah," Felix replied in his native tongue. "Sorry." 

"Gosh, your English is...amazing," Chan expressed, chuckling in bafflement. "You have a very unique voice, you know." 

"Thank you," Felix's gaze lowered then, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Uhm, your accent is very...strong." 

"Yeah," Chan chortled, "Yours is pretty bonza as well." 

The younger released a rich, sputtering laugh at this, his hand raising to conceal his mouth. 

"Oi, you think my strine is lousy, eh?" 

Lowering his turkey wrap, Felix lifted both hands to shroud his face. His cheeks grew warm and his laughter became increasingly resonant, permeating the RV in its entirety. 

"I was gonna put a shrimp on the barbie," his hyung continued. "In the arvo, maybe." 

Releasing his head backward, Felix's entire anatomy rattled with his laughter's force. At this point, he was effectively paralyzed by said force, stomach ablaze and lungs starved. Soon joining his laughter was Chan's, a soprano harmony. Together, the harmonies of both men produced an enchanting melody. One that Felix wished to engrave in his being, to listen upon for eternity. 

Then, that melody became but a whisper. A masterpiece toward which his mind could do no justice. A distant, overt sun, soon concealed by thunderclouds. A forlorn ambiance, washed ashore by bittersweet memories and a reminiscence of what once was. 

A tear descended Felix's cheek then, to his own disfavor. 

Show no weakness, berated his psyche, Vulnerability results in the undesired, always. 

Betraying that psyche was its own host, shedding tears that would be collected and used against him. Absorbed by the sponge within his foe's hold, because vulnerability cannot distinguish friend from foe. 

This is a mistake. Dry your tears before they're recognized. Dry your tears before-,

Chan brought a delicate hand to Felix's jaw, cradling it whilst wiping the tearstained surface. Cradling it as though it was invaluable. Timeless fine china, whose porcelain material has withstood generations of exquisite dining. Chan's gaze, flooded with endearment, could convince an entire nation. 

"Let go," he breathed. "You're safe here." 

At last, Felix's psyche succumbed to the flood. The gates that imprisoned it could no longer withstand its force. Alas, a tsunami of emotion rushed ahead, uprooting even the most colossal of trees. 

The brunette surged forth, curling against Chan's chest as sobs fled his throat. 

He missed them. 

Rachel. Born in 1998 to Jude and Eden Lee, she was placed in foster care upon birth. Because her biological parents were unable to care for her, she cycled through two non-relative caregivers. Near the end of Rachel's first year in temporary care, she was adopted. Jude and Eden then gave birth to Felix, both parties agreeing to raise him as their own. 

Olivia. Following his and Eden's divorce in 2001, Jude married a woman named Samantha. In 2004, this woman gave birth to Olivia Lee, Felix's half-sister. She and Rachel had a tranquil upbringing, as their legal guardians were responsible and harmonious caregivers. Felix, however, didn't have such luxury. 

Upon Felix's first Christmas, Jude's mind was plagued with regret. He'd spoken to Eden, suggesting that they contact Rachel's adoptive parents and, if capable, place Felix in their care. After all, the infant's well-being would've increased from such. Eden, however, refused. Amidst their domestic turmoil, Eden received primary custody of Felix despite Jude's well-constructed case. The youth was to visit his father every other weekend. Brief Thursday visits were scheduled as well. 

Since toddlerhood, Felix cherished the moments between himself and his father's family. His passion for culinary arts arose in Samantha's kitchen. She and her stepson would bake various delicacies, including strawberry shortcake biscuits, vanilla custard, berry pavlova, and so forth. All four relatives would then gather around the table and indulge in these desserts, conversing amongst themselves as though time was a fantasy. 

Felix and Olivia would frolic about the garden, acting as fairies would. They'd collect fireflies in an antique mason jar and, upon their release, observe them. Marvel as they sought solitude amongst the stars. They'd inspect nearby fields, selecting material they'd soon braid into flower crowns. With these crowns, they'd perform 'coronations.' 

"I appoint Sir Felix Lee, majesty of the Pixie Nation," Olivia would proclaim, placing the headdress atop her brother's crown. 

"And at my right hand shall be Olivia the Olympian," Felix would follow, "Mightiest amongst our nation's military."

Soon included in this production was 'Madam Rachel,' Pixie Nation's all-knowing oracle.  

"Your infinite wisdom shall guide our union toward boundless glory."

In November of 2012, Felix's father contacted Rachel's guardians, suggesting she visit her siblings on occasion. The couple ardently agreed, allowing Rachel to visit Jude's residence every other weekend. At times, they too would visit the residence. Piper and Jasmine Ferguson were their names. 

Piper. Jasmine. Jude.

Samantha. Olivia. Rachel. 

He missed them. 

He missed their harmonic laughter, which united to produce the most remarkable symphony. Such breathtaking notes would shower upon him, shrouding him from the impending dysphoria. Sheltering him from Sunday's homecoming dread and spoiling him with indescribable joy.

Curse joy's temporary nature. 

Curse joy's tendency to abandon, to retreat from Felix's body. To leave him vulnerable, barren in his hyung's hold. No longer able to suppress his cries. No longer governing his emotions or composure. No longer immobilizing his integrity. His candor. His unique and bona fide character. 

Through his tears, the brunette offered Chan his damaged heart. Placed the muscle within his palm, imploring him to treat it as he would timeless fine china, whose porcelain material featured flaws galore, those flaws hindering the glassware's integrity. 

Soon encircling the brunette were Chan's arms, an affectionate and trustworthy sheild. Applying slight pressure to Felix's shoulders, the man rocked their combined weight from side to side whilst paying his tear-stained attire no mind. 

"You're not alone, Lix. I'm here for you, always," he voiced, the English characters fanning across Felix's crown. "You know that, yeah?"

By then, the brunette's sobs had reduced to sparse hiccups. His fists adjusted atop Chan's chest, disturbing the fabric beneath them. 

"How must I prove it to you?" 

Felix lifted his chin then, cheek grazing the older's chest in a delicate manner. His brow-heads raised at this, his lips pressing together and exhibiting confusion. 

"Wha-,"

"I want to clarify something," Chan interjected, thumb kneading Felix's clavicle as he spoke. "This past week has been, how should I say this...troubling."

The Australian inhaled, chest rising as his gaze became withdrawn. 

"You act like nothing's happened to you. That you experience no pain or grief. But Felix, I've taken note of the distance in your eyes...," 

Said gaze returns to Felix as a hand is brought to his chestnut fringe, brushing it rearward. 

"...the disturbance in your sleep," Chan continued. "Your syllables are blunt, as though you've more to say, so why do you abstain? May I help in any manner?" 

The blonde's hand settles behind Felix's ear, softly tampering with brown locks. 

He then sighs before releasing a discouraged, "I just want to know you." 

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Seo Changbin

1:39 AM September 23, 2020

"Do I know you?" Changbin hissed, timbre laced with irritation. The ravenette then shifted to the bartender, raising his forefinger in feigned nonchalance. "I'll have another." 

"No he will not," Minho barked, shielding the man's glass with his hand. "He is far too wasted and, if he has another, will stain this polished counter with puke."

The older wrapped a palm around Changbin's bicep whilst addressing the barkeep. 

"What's the damage?" he sighed, withdrawing a charcoal-tinged wallet from his pocketed leather pants. 

"₩59,015," the employee replied, hands occupied by a soiled glass. 

Scoffing, Minho sponsored Changbin's foolishness via debit card. He then plucked the man from his barstool, grunting in behalf of his efforts. 

"Moron," he grumbled, undergirding the otherwise immobile Changbin. "Just how wasted are you?" 

The addressed man lowered his chin, head pendulant upon his shoulders as he swallowed. 

"Five drinks," he managed. 

"Five dri-," Minho sought composure then, gaze averting as he inhaled. "Five drinks, Changbin. Five. Drinks. Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm sorry!" 

"Ho-oh, you'll be sorry alright," Minho chuckled humorlessly, "For yourself, when you're kneeling over the toilet and retching into it. 

"I hope those five drinks were worthwhile, dumbass." 

By then, the ravenettes had reached their shared Hyundai. The group's maknae ushered Changbin into the left rear seat while Minho tampered with the SUV's ignition. 

"Where's Minnie-ah?" Changbin inquired, releasing an exhale upon settling into soft leather. 

"Uh, he'll be booking a taxi come daybreak," Minho disclosed, applying light pressure to the vehicle's accelerator. "I hope tonight cures his all-consuming horniness."

"Shit, I don't blame him," Jisung chortled, "As rule number one states...,"

"'Avoid conversational topics regarding sex and the like,'" they grumbled as a collective, voices rid of amusement. 

"Which is understandable, yes," Hyunjin articulated, his speech's pitch somewhat elevated. "But I miss our obscene jokes and platonic flirting. When I see Channie-hyung's cosmic asscheeks, I just wanna...," 

The blonde proceeded to grit his teeth whilst mimicking a compressing motion with his hands, a strained grunt fleeing his throat. 

"'Cause they're just so...," 

"So grandiose," Jisung verbalized, his imagination assuming charge as expressed by his gaze. "So...succulent." 

"Jisung, how much have you had?" Minho spoke, sparing the passenger a fleeting side-glance.   

The ginger lowered his chin, tucking the extremity into his chest. He then compelled a rather lewd belch past his lips. 

"2 drinks," he replied, grinning disjointedly. "And one hell of a dance." 

"Tch, yeah. I saw you," Hyunjin's nose scrunched upward in repugnance. "You indecent little shit." 

"Jin, what did you see?" Minho suspired. 

Hyunjin angled his head, sporting an impish expression as he singsonged, "Hands over hips and ass over dick." 

Changbin surged forth and flicked Jisung's earlobe, the latter recoiling in bewilderment. 

"Ouch, dude!"

"Have some decency, you fucker." 

"How 'bout you sober up first."

"Oh I'm sober alright," Changbin barked, dipping his head fervidly. "Sober enough to beat your ass!"

Amidst Changbin and Jisung's feigned argument, Hyunjin placed headphones over both ears. He then paired the accessory to his phone before launching the Spotify app. 

Now Playing: idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish 

Slackening against his seat, Hyunjin indulged in complete obscurity and absolute solitude. After all, he'd been mingling about for quite some time and required seclusion. Peace. 

Privacy with the lyrics he knew by heart. 

If teardrops could be bottled

There'd be swimming pools filled by models...

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Hwang Hyunjin

1:54 AM September 23, 2020

"...If I love you...," Hyunjin crooned, advancing toward the RV's threshold. In the blonde's wake were two of three raven-haired men. The eldest among them escorted the group whilst undergirding a fairly disoriented Jisung. "...was a promise..., 

"…Would you break it, if you're honest?" 

The man trailed off then, now humming amidst the quietude. 

The RV's interior was faintly crisp, with a pleasant musk distributed about. The refrigerator's mechanics purred, as did the air conditioning system. These sustained tones were soon drowned out by...

...by laughter. Rich, foreign laughter.

It's baritone melody was enthralling, to say the least. Upon the addition of Chan's laughter, an enchanting harmony was produced. One that Hyunjin wished to engrave in his being and listen upon for eternity.

Chapter Text

Seo Changbin

5:14 PM June 27, 2014

"Hello, I'm calling on behalf of my husband, Seo Yongsun.

"I would like to request a medication refill...,

"...Yes, risperidone...,

"...I apologize, but he cannot consult with anyone at the moment...,

"...Ma'am, there must be an alternative. He is in dire need of medication and he-,

"...He feels unsafe around physicians. Feel as though they'll...they'll drug him or something...,

"...His most recent epis-yesterday! I beg, he needs a refill!"

The woman on the other end of the line was silent.

Just static, and then, "I'm sorry. Without a formal consultation-,"

Click .

Changbin flinched as the phone slammed onto the counter. His mother stood still for a moment, hand frozen, her back to him.

He didn't ask what happened. He already knew. The same answer. The same refusal.

The same silence.

He stepped into the kitchen, carrying the folded clothes she'd forgotten in the dryer again.

"Mom."

She turned toward him slowly. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but dry now. A kind of numb had set in.

"They said no," she whispered. "Said he has to come in."

She looked at Changbin like he could fix it. Like he hadn't just spent the night locking every door in the house because his father was trying to go outside barefoot, muttering about spies in the mailbox.

"They don't understand," she said, and he could tell she wasn't really talking to him anymore. "He won't even look me in the eye, and they want me to bring him somewhere?"

She sank into a chair.

"I can't do this again."

Changbin's hands clenched around the laundry. Something in him wanted to scream. Instead, he set the clothes down and said quietly, "I'll try talking to him."

"No." She looked up, suddenly terrified. "You know what happened last time-,"

"I'll be careful," he said. "I have to be."

With that, the ravenette circled toward his father's room, each step more cautious than the last as he approached the hallway's end.

With each step, Changbin felt a sting of his cheek strengthening, reminiscent of he and his father's last encounter.

"Did I stutter, boy?"

"I want nothing to do with you. Nothing!"

"I'm familiar with bastards like you, so if you know what's good for you, you'll leave my sight and never return."

Only then had Changbin realized he'd screwed his eyes shut. He felt cool brass beneath his fingertips; the doorknob that would grant him access to Mr. Seo's room. He'd yet to turn it.

The latter remained idle for a moment, eyes closed and breath deep. Bringing oxygen to the tips of his toes and fingers and, most importantly, his mind. After all, someone had to be grounded in the household.

Once he felt suitably prepared, Changbin opened his eyes. Turning the knob slowly, his heart paced like it already knew what was waiting behind the door.

The room was dark. The curtains were pulled. Only a thin slice of daylight slipped through the bottom corner. It smelled stale, like sweat and something burnt.

For a moment, it looked like the room was empty.

Then...

...rustling.

Changbin's eyes adjusted, and he saw his father hunched over a suitcase on the bed. Clothes were half-folded, half-crumpled, jammed in without rhyme or reason. A flashlight. A pocketknife. An expired passport.

"Dad?"

No answer. His father kept stuffing the suitcase, hands shaking.

"They know, they know," he muttered under his breath, voice sharp and desperate. "Can't stay. They've been tapping the water—tapping the water, you hear me?"

Changbin stepped in, cautious. "You're not going anywhere, okay? Just...talk to me. We can figure this out. Just tell me what you need-,"

His father spun on him so fast, Changbin flinched.

"You!" the man hissed, pointing a finger like a weapon. "You're the one who told them where I live!"

"What? No—Dad, it's me-,"

"Don't call me that! You think I don't see through you? The way you look at me? You've got their eyes."

He lunged forward, and Changbin backed up instinctively, shoulders hitting the doorframe.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Mr. Seo's expression cracked, confusion flashing through the anger. He looked down at his hands, then back at the suitcase like he didn't remember packing it at all.

"...Bin?" he murmured, voice thin and lost. "Why are you...why are you crying?"

Changbin hadn't realized he was.

He swallowed and nodded quickly, hoping not to scare off the moment of clarity. "Because I'm scared. We all are. But if you let us help you, let us take you to a consultation, let us help you get meds-,"

"Medications," his father echoed, softer now. "Right. That's what they want."

"No, Dad. That's what we want. Me. Mom. We just want you back."

Mr. Seo blinked, and for a second, his face softened. Just a second.

Then, his father's eyes twitched sideways, toward the window.

A breath hitched in his throat.

"They came early," he murmured, barely audible.

The suitcase slipped from his grasp and fell open, clothes spilling across the floor like scattered thoughts. He didn't look at them. He didn't even look at Changbin anymore.

He stared past him. Through him.

Then, slowly, Mr. Seo stepped backward into the shadows of the room, as if retreating into a world only he could see.

"Tell your mother to hide the mirrors," he said, voice too calm. "They're watching through the glass."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, facing the wall.

And that was it.

He didn't speak again. Didn't blink. Just sat there. Motionless. Like someone waiting for instructions from a voice that hadn't arrived yet.

Changbin stayed frozen in the doorway, unsure whether he should step forward, or step away.

The light from the hallway stretched across the floor.

Faint. Unmoving. Like the house itself was holding its breath.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan

6:45 PM September 23, 2020

"Hold your breath, Jin," Chan instructs, retrieving a bottle of SPF 50 from the nearby picnic table and leveling it with Hyunjin's face.

Hyunjin obeys immediately. He inhales sharply, shuts his eyes tight, throws his arms out in a perfect T-pose, and expands his chest like a soldier ready for battle.

Chan begins spraying, starting from Hyunjin's face (with as much caution as he can manage), then moving down to his chest and shoulders. From there, he sweeps across both arms, then down to Hyunjin's stomach.

That's when the younger lets out a sputtering laugh.

"Tickles," he giggles, only to cough a second later as sunscreen drifts into his mouth.

Chan barely has time to sigh before a sudden mist hits his own back. He flinches, turning around with a startled look, only for it to melt into a grin.

"Sunscreen train?" Seungmin suggests, holding up his own bottle with a sheepish smile.

Chan just chuckles and shakes his head, amused.

"Sure thing," he says, turning back to the still-laughing Hyunjin to finish the job.

The sun hangs low but warm above Gwangalli Beach, casting a golden shimmer across the calm tide. Laughter and chatter rise and fall around them, mingling with the occasional bark of a street vendor and the distant murmur of city traffic. Beachgoers dot the shore, some strolling along the water's edge, others reclining on mats or under umbrellas. It's busy, but it feels easy. Like everything is allowed to exhale a little.

From the shoreline, Jeongin approaches slowly. His towel hangs loosely around his neck, and his wet hair clings to his forehead. The maknae takes notably calculated steps, likely maneuvering past rocks, seashells, and the like before pausing just short of the group's circle. His gaze flicks briefly to the raised bottle in Seungmin's hand.

"Is there any left?" he asks, voice quiet but clear.

Chan nods, lifting his own bottle. "Want me to get your back?"

Jeongin gives a small nod and carefully lowers himself onto the edge of the nearest beach mat, his legs folding beneath him as he murmurs, "Thanks."

Seungmin wordlessly passes him a cold water bottle from the cooler. Jeongin accepts it with a grateful, lazy smile.

"Doing okay?" Seungmin asks gently.

"Yeah," Jeongin replies. "Tired, but okay."

A beat of quiet settles between them. Not uncomfortable, just soft.

Then Seungmin shifts his focus to their group in general, calling out to no one in particular, "Who's next for sunscreen?"

Across from them, Felix lies under a striped umbrella, a little apart but never out of sight. A breeze lifts the edge of his towel as his fingers trace a slow, idle curve in the sand. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, but there's the faintest grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Not me," he murmurs at last, voice dry but light.

Seungmin glances over at him briefly, then turns back to the group.

"Minho's gonna burn," he notes, squinting toward the waterline.

Minho is out past the shallows, waist-deep, facing the horizon with arms slack by his sides.

"He says he won't," Chan replies. "But I give it twenty minutes before he comes back regretting everything."

Hyunjin flops onto the sand with a content sigh, digging his toes into the warm grains. "I feel like a glazed donut."

"A protected glazed donut," Seungmin adds.

"SPF 50 protection," Hyunjin agrees, holding up a peace sign without opening his eyes.

Chan huffs a laugh and drops down beside him, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his palms. Sand clings to the back of his arms, but he doesn't bother brushing it off. Seungmin lowers himself as well, sitting cross-legged near Jeongin, who's now quietly sipping from his water bottle, eyes half-lidded from the sun.

The oldest among them pays Felix a glance. The man shifts beneath his umbrella, adjusting the towel beneath his head and letting his free hand rest in the sand. He's quiet, but not withdrawn. The tension in his shoulders has eased, his posture no longer braced for impact. He isn't playing yet, not quite. But he's stepped off defense, watching the field from just beyond the lines.

For now, that's enough.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Minho

6:49 PM September 23, 2020

The water is cooler than it looks.

Minho stands waist-deep, letting the tide press against his skin in steady pulses. The horizon stretches wide and open in front of him, soft and hazy under the late afternoon sun. Behind him, laughter drifts faintly across the breeze. Someone teasing. Someone groaning. Probably Hyunjin. Probably Seungmin. Maybe both.

He doesn't turn around.

Instead, he stirs the water absently with his fingers, watching sunlight scatter across the surface. Each ripple he makes disappears before it reaches shore.

Out here, it's quiet. He likes that. Lately, quiet feels like something sacred.

Still, his eyes drift back to shore.

Felix is under the striped umbrella, mostly still, mostly tucked into himself. His face is hidden behind sunglasses, half-shadowed by the towel he's resting on. He hasn't moved much, but he hasn't left either.

Minho exhales slowly. The past few days live heavy in his chest, still.

For a moment, that weight deepens as a memory surfaces, soft but unshakable.

" My little lavender... "

His mother's voice. Gentle, always. Steady in a way nothing else in his life has ever been. A name she gave him when he was small and easily bruised by the world. She used to say it when he cried, when he stumbled, when he did something kind without thinking. Now, it haunts him when he falls short.

"I know, Mom," he murmurs, barely above the tide, eyes falling shut as he lets his body sway with the water's rhythm. "How could I?"

How could he?

The question circles endlessly, each turn cutting a little deeper.

Guilt, unlike most things lately, has been a constant in Minho's life. It's shapeless, but heavy; something he carries in the quiet moments between distractions. It had flared sharp the moment Felix lashed out and Minho answered with instinct instead of understanding. The worst part wasn't that he'd reacted. It was that it had felt familiar. Automatic. Too easy.

He hadn't seen Felix's fear for what it was. Only danger. Only something to contain.

But Felix had needed gentleness. He still does.

Minho dips his hands into the water again, letting the cool of the tide press against the bones in his fingers like penance. Then, steadying himself, he lifts his gaze once more toward the umbrella.

Felix is watching.

Not guarded, not entirely open either. Just present. Still testing the air, like someone who's been hurt too often to trust the sun will stay warm.

Minho raises one hand—slowly, casually—and gestures toward the water. Not urgent. Not pushy. Just one motion.

An invitation.

No pressure. No words.

He lets the gesture fall and waits, eyes on the sea again. Eyes on the tide moving around him, inching forward and back like a slow breath.

His gesture had gone unanswered. He figured as much.

That's the thing about water. It teaches you patience. How to wait. How to let go.

He exhales through his nose, gaze shifting to the horizon. Maybe it had been too soon. Or maybe Felix wasn't ready. Not for him, at least. He tries not to take it personally. He had done what he could. Extended the hand.

But guilt doesn't dissolve in saltwater. It clings. It lingers.

Just as he begins to sink into the familiar pull of regret, he hears it. A subtle splash, close behind. The unmistakable sound of someone entering the water.

He turns.

Felix is there.

He's waded in ankle-deep, arms hanging loosely at his sides. His silhouette is muted in the sun, head tilted slightly, brown hair damp at the ends. He says nothing at first, and Minho doesn't push.

Felix takes one more step, and then another, the water now grazing his knees. He pauses a few feet away, eyes scanning the open sea before flicking over to Minho.

"You looked like you were thinking too hard," Felix murmurs.

Minho lets out a short breath—half laugh, half disbelief. "Guilty."

A silence drapes between them, but it isn't sharp. Just careful.

Minho looks down at his hands, submerged to the wrists. He watches as his fingers sway slightly in the current. "Used to spend a lot of time like this," he says, voice low. "In the water, I mean. With my mom. Before she got sick."

Felix doesn't answer right away. He steps closer until they're shoulder to shoulder, gazing out at the sea.

"What was she like?"

Minho swallows, then answers without looking at him.

"She was warm. Restless, but grounded. Always had this way of making the ordinary feel like...like a story worth remembering."

He pauses, then adds, "She used to say: 'Kindle, but never smother. Care for your flame correctly, and it will care for you in return.'"

Felix glances over. "That's pretty poetic."

Minho huffs softly. "She was like that."

The waves lap around them gently, a rhythm neither tries to break.

"She liked s'mores," Minho adds, almost absently. "Used to toast the marshmallows until they were golden all over. Not burnt. Said there was an art to knowing when to pull something back before it breaks."

He's quiet for a moment longer, fingers twitching just beneath the surface.

"I tried so hard to keep her warm. Thought if I worked enough, gave enough, hurt enough...maybe that'd be enough."

Felix doesn't speak right away, but he shifts slightly, his elbow brushing Minho's. It's light, barely there, but Minho feels it.

And somehow, that's steadier than words.

Felix's elbow lingers against Minho's for a breath longer before he pulls ahead, wading deeper with deliberate steps. Minho watches for a beat, uncertain, but then follows. The water cools as it climbs up their torsos.

Neither says anything.

They move slowly, side by side, the beach receding behind them until the sounds of the others fade into distant murmur. Out here, it's quieter. The kind of quiet that hums in your ears. The kind that demands breath.

Felix stops when the water licks at his chest. Minho stops too.

The younger glances over, head tilted. "Ever scream into the ocean?"

Minho blinks. "What?"

Felix shrugs one shoulder, hair damp and clinging to his cheeks. "Helps sometimes. Underwater, no one hears it. No one looks at you like you're breaking."

Minho studies him. His eyes aren't wild like they were days ago. There's still fragility there, but also something else. Choice.

Minho wets his lips, then nods. "Yeah...okay."

They glance once at each other, a silent count. Then together, they inhale, deep and sharp, lungs full of air and tension, and slip under.

The cold is immediate. It wraps around them like a second skin, rushing past their ears, flattening their hair, pressing in against ribs and throat and thought. The surface bends and blurs above them, replaced by blue hush and pressure. Sound vanishes. The world contracts into stillness.

Minho opens his mouth first.

The scream bursts from somewhere deeper than his chest, more animal than language. Bubbles rip free like startled birds, scattering upward in silver spirals. He screams for the mother he couldn't save. For the body he sold. For the nights he forgot who he was, and the mornings he couldn't meet his own eyes. For all the grief he swallowed like it was medicine.

Beside him, Felix screams too.

It's quieter, but no less sharp. His scream coils through the water like a ghost, trailing grief and panic and all the moments he couldn't fight back. He doesn't have to name it.

The ocean knows.

Their bubbles rise together, shimmering trails of confession. And then the water—vast, cold, ancient— swallows everything whole.

A second passes. Then another.

They break the surface almost in sync, gasping. Air tears back into their lungs, greedy and ragged. Sunlight explodes behind their eyelids, the warmth startling after the cold. Their hair clings to their faces; saltwater drips from their chins. Their chests heave, not from panic, but release.

Both of them are breathless, but not empty.

Felix drags a hand through his hair, laughing a little, though it comes out hoarse. "Kind of stupid, huh?"

Minho is still catching his breath, but he shakes his head. "No," he says between exhales. "Not stupid."

Just human .

For a long moment, they float. The tide buoys them gently, neither sinking nor fighting.

Eventually, Minho speaks again, quieter this time.

"I used to hold my breath all the time. Around people. Around myself. Like...always bracing. Trying not to feel too much or say the wrong thing, you know?" The raven-haired admits. "Thought if I stayed underwater long enough, maybe the guilt would dissolve."

Felix looks at him. Saltwater clings to his lashes, his lips slightly parted as he breathes.

"I think I was doing the same," he says. "Except I forgot how to come up."

Minho exhales slowly. For once, the breath feels easy. "Maybe we don't have to stay under anymore. Maybe it's okay to come up, even if it's just for a bit."

Felix nods, small but certain. Then he leans back into the water, letting himself float, arms spread, eyes closed to the sun overhead.

Minho watches him for a moment, then does the same.

The waves move gently around them. They drift in silence, side by side, water holding them up.

And for the first time in a long while, they just let themselves breathe.

Chapter Text

Seo Changbin

6:17 PM September 23, 2020

They only meant to explore for fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty.

Jisung had tugged at Changbin's sleeve just past the boardwalk, eyes lit up at the rows of street stalls lining a tucked-away alley behind a surf rental shack. The scent of grilled squid and melted sugar wafted between stalls, tangling with the smell of sunscreen and sea air. Plastic crates overflowed with dried cuttlefish and rice crackers. Cold drinks sweated through thin plastic cups. Somewhere, a bluetooth speaker crackled out trot music.

"Ten minutes," Changbin had said.

Jisung didn't answer, already halfway to a table covered in trinkets: polished shells, woven keychains, tiny bottles of sand sealed with corks. The vendor flashed them a gold-toothed smile. Changbin returned it out of habit, but his focus wandered. Even surrounded by noise, he found himself listening for something quieter.

By the time they wandered back to the beach—plastic cups in hand, half-melted slush inside—the sun had dipped lower, stretching their shadows long across the boardwalk.

The others weren't where they'd left them. The umbrella stood, but no one was beneath it. Just a towel, a book, an open cooler.

Jisung slows beside him. "Where'd everyone...,"

Changbin doesn't answer. His eyes are already on the water.

Two figures.

Out past the break.

Minho and Felix.

Their shoulders move gently with the tide, drifting side by side in the gold-tinted surf. No splashing, no roughhousing. Just motion. A kind of stillness that didn't look frozen, but rather earned.

He nudges Jisung's arm. "Look."

The younger follows his gaze. "...Oh."

They stand there a long moment, slush forgotten, watching the way the light bends around their friends. Something had softened. Even from here, Changbin can see it: less tension in Minho's jaw, more air in Felix's posture. As if something had finally cracked open between them, but instead of shattering, it had made space.

Felix laughs then, soft and sudden, the sound barely reaching them through the breeze.

Minho splashes at him, mock-annoyed. Felix ducks, shoulders shaking, and for a heartbeat, they looked young again.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

By the time they make it back to the Hyundai, Hyunjin was already flopped across the back seat, damp hair flattened to one cheek, limbs akimbo like a tossed marionette.

"You sleepin' in that position or ascending?" Jisung asks as he climbed in.

"Both," Hyunjin mutters, not opening his eyes.

Chan takes the driver's seat again, towel slung over his shoulder, one arm resting casually out the window as he turned the keys. Jisung is fussing with the aux cord. Jeongin is nursing a popsicle, his feet tucked beneath him in the rear middle seat. 

Felix and Minho climb in last.

The doors shut with a soft clunk, and the vehicle rumbles back to life beneath them. No one speaks much on the drive. Just the occasional shuffle of limbs, the drone of the road, the lull of post-sun fatigue settling over them like a second towel. 

By the time they reach the RV park, the sun is dipping low behind a line of trees, the ocean now a dull roar in the background. Chan backs into their spot like a pro, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting on the open window. The moment the engine cuts off, the group spills out slowly, like heat escaping a bottle.

Hyunjin grabs his sleeping bag from the overhead cabinet and collapses into the nearest corner, already halfway to unconsciousness. Jeongin climbs to his bunk with a yawn, limbs sluggish but satisfied. Changbin heads for the shower, Seungmin trailing after him to argue over whose turn it actually was.

Minho pulls out the couch with practiced hands, one knee on the cushion, while Jisung grabs them both a bottle of water from the fridge.

Felix lingers near the hallway for a moment, then turns toward the back.

Chan is already waiting at the king suite, door cracked, lights dimmed low. He steps aside to let Felix in without a word.

The door clicks shut.

And just like that, the RV exhales.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan

8:42 AM September 24, 2020

Per usual, breakfast in the RV is chaos.

Hyunjin is sprawled across two dinette cushions like a Roman aristocrat, one hand flung dramatically over his eyes. 

"I have trauma," he declares to no one in particular.

"You got moved from a king bed to a sleeping bag, not drafted," Seungmin remarks from the couch, sipping lukewarm instant coffee like it fuels his soul.

"Okay, that's unfortunate too. But that's not what I'm talking about," the blonde clarifies, blindly pointing in Changbin's direction. "Bin threw my pillow! If only someone bore witness."

Changbin, elbow-deep in a box of cereal, scoffs from the kitchenette. "I pl-,."

"He threw my pillow, Seungmin. There was velocity."

"I didn't throw the damn pillow, Jin," the raven-haired insisted, "I placed it outside the door."

"With intent," Hyunjin hisses.

"You were stealing my protein bars!"

"I was borrowing-,"

"You ate three."

"I'm growing!"

"You're twenty!"

"Okay? Some men continue growing into their twenties! Is that a problem?"

Changbin turns back to the cereal, fishing for the last few cocoa puffs with the kind of steady focus that keeps him from physically launching Hyunjin through the nearest emergency exit.

"We're out of oat milk," he announces.

"Wow," Seungmin says. "Tragic."

"No one's owning up?"

Crickets.

Hyunjin raises his head an inch. "Maybe it's not about who drank the oat milk. Maybe it's about how society-,"

"Okay." Chan, who'd been leaning against a nearby wall and scrolling idly through Instagram, stands upright and grabs his keys from the counter. "Grocery run. Who's coming with me?"

Jeongin is halfway through braiding a small section of his hair for no particular reason, headphones in, eyes half-closed.

Jisung, seated next to Seungmin, pretends to be asleep, snoring so obviously Chan doesn't dignify it with a look.

"Anyone? Please?" he tries again.

Hyunjin rolls onto his stomach and mumbles into a cushion, "I'm in mourning."

Then the rear suite doorknob jostles.

Felix joins the others the common area, hoodie slung over his shoulder, hair a little mussed from sleep. His eyes are still adjusting, but his posture isn't stiff like it used to be. Just slow, like he is easing into the day.

Chan keeps his expression unreadable as he addresses the entire group at last. "Seriously. I'll take anyone. I'm not carrying three bags of rice by myself."

"I'll go," Felix says quietly.

Chan blinks, surprised, but only for a second. "Yeah? You sure?"

Felix nods, already bending to tie his shoes. "Could use the air."

"Alright then." Chan twirls the keys on one finger and opened the door. "Let's go before Hyunjin puts himself on the injury list."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The Hyundai Santa Fe is still gritty from the beach, sand stuck in the floor mats, a crumpled towel forgotten in the back seat. Felix slides into the passenger side without a word, pulling the hoodie fully on as Chan starts the engine.

They don't talk much at first. The windows are cracked, letting in that clean, warm smell of sea salt and pine from the nearby bluff. The road away from the RV park curves gently through low-lying hills. A few other campers are parked here and there—families with laundry lines stretched between trees, someone tending a grill already.

Chan adjusts the AC knob. "You sleep okay?"

Felix nods. "Yeah. Better than before."

There's something in his voice. Something smaller than usual. Not tight. Not fragile. Just...real.

"Thanks for letting me crash in the back," Felix adds after a moment.

"You don't have to thank me," Chan says, eyes on the road. "We wanted you comfortable. Still do."

Felix looks out the window, mouth twitching at the corner. "I guess I'm just not used to...people wanting that."

Chan gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He doesn't say anything to that—not yet.

"You know," he says instead, voice gentler, "You didn't have to come today."

"I know," Felix replies. "But I think I wanted to."

Chan glances over. Felix is watching the ocean pass by through his window, eyes softer than Chan remembered seeing them. No mask. No sharp edges.

That feels like something. Not loud. But important.

So Chan lets the silence stretch, filled only by the soft hum of tires and the occasional gull overhead.

Not everything needed words.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

9:07 AM September 24, 2020

"Use your words, Lix," Chan says lightly, elbow nudging him in the side.

Felix blinks, then realizes he's been staring blankly at the wide selection of ramen for what's probably a full minute.

"Huh?" he says dumbly.

Chan raises an eyebrow. "You've been standing in front of that shelf like a kid in a candy store. There's no harm in asking."

Felix laughs under his breath. "Can we buy this?"

 He points to the spicy beef—the kind that leaves your lips burning—and, with his eyes, offers Chan a gentle plea. 

The latter sucks his teeth in return, eyes overflowing with judgement. 

"To each his own, I guess," He sneers, tossing the ramen packet into the small cart he's handling.

"You always this judgmental about noodles?"

"I'm judgmental about everything," Chan says with a grin. "It's part of my charm."

They move down the aisle in a lazy zigzag, not really in a rush. The store's cool and bright, with narrow aisles and that faint sharp smell of cleaner under the scent of produce. There's an old pop song playing overhead in broken English, and Felix can't help but find it a little funny—how normal this all feels.

Like they're just two friends picking up snacks. Like everything's ordinary.

He likes that feeling more than he should.

They round the corner into the snack aisle, and Chan starts loudly debating between shrimp chips and seaweed crackers, and Felix lets him, lets it be light again. Lets the noise fill the gaps so the heaviness doesn't overtake him.

It's not until they're bagging groceries at the self-checkout that Chan says, quieter now, "Hey...can I tell you something?"

Felix straightens slightly. "Of course."

Chan's mouth tightens for a beat. Not nervous, just thoughtful.

"It's about the rape kit exam," he says, voice lowering to nearly a whisper. "The one from last week."

Felix feels something shift in his gut. Not panic, but a dull awareness curling low in his stomach.

"They don't usually process them fast," Chan continues, bagging methodically. "Could take months. Sometimes longer. But eventually, the results'll come in. DNA, evidence, all of it."

Felix nods slowly. He'd known this. But hearing it said out loud makes it...realer.

Chan doesn't push. "You don't have to decide anything right now. Or even later. I just wanted you to know it's coming. When it does...if you want to press charges, I'll back you. If you don't, I'll back you. Either way."

"It's your call, Lixie," he adds. "No pressure either way. Just...be thinking."

It's quiet for a second. Not awkward. Just full.

Then Felix draws in a small breath and, after a pause, exhales it slowly.

"I'll think about it."

"Good," Chan says, and his voice is warm again, steadier now. "That's all I wanted."

Felix nods, the words settling somewhere deep. Not heavy. Just present.

They don't speak much after that.

Outside, the sky is still pale with morning haze when they finish bagging the groceries. The car ride back is quieter again, but not the same kind of quiet. Easier now. Filled with the soft crackle of plastic bags and the occasional rustle of road wind.

They're halfway down the coastal road when Felix spots it.

"Wait," he says suddenly, leaning forward in his seat. "Was that...a goat?"

Chan slows the car instinctively, brow furrowed. "A what?"

"A goat. In a sweater."

Chan pulls to the shoulder, squinting at the patch of grass just off the road. Sure enough, there it is. Small, wooly, and very much wearing a striped knit sweater. It's chewing something with conviction and zero fear of God or traffic.

Felix stares. "Why is it looking at us like that?"

"I think it's judging your ramen choices," Chan mutters.

Felix huffs a laugh.

The goat continues to stare. Then, without ceremony, it hops onto a low rock and strikes what can only be described as a power pose.

Chan lifts his phone like he's about to take a picture, then pauses. "Wait. Is this animal cruelty?"

"I think that sweater was handmade," Felix says. "Someone loves that goat very much."

They sit there for another few seconds, just watching it. The absurdity of it settles over them slowly, like sunlight through cloud cover. Felix feels something bubbling under his ribs. Not fear panic. Not numbness. 

Laughter?

Not a full one, not quite. But it slips out before he can stop it, short and surprised and a little cracked at the edges. Chan glances over, startled for half a second, then grins.

"I've been waiting to hear that again," he says softly.

Felix doesn't answer, just shakes his head and wipes under one eye with the sleeve of his hoodie.

The goat bleats at them once, loud and abrupt, then trots off toward the trees with the dignity of a king.

Chan pulls back onto the road. "Well, that's the highlight of my week."

Felix leans his head against the window, breath fogging the glass slightly. "Mine too."

The RV park sign appears a few minutes later, wood faded but welcoming. And as they turn into the gravel path, bags rustling at their feet and the sweater goat still fresh in their minds, Felix finds himself thinking...

...Maybe there's more ahead than just surviving.

Maybe, just maybe, there's room for moments like this, too.

They pull into their usual spot near the edge of the lot, beneath a canopy of wind-tugged pine branches. A couple of seagulls squabble near a trash bin nearby. The air smells like ocean and rust and something sweet on the breeze—someone grilling pancakes or cinnamon toast.

Chan kills the engine, glances at Felix. "You good?"

The latter nods. "Yeah. I'm good."

They step out, juggling the grocery bags between them, chatting about whether they remembered eggs (they didn't), and making a mental note to scavenge through what's left of the bread.

But as they approach the RV, something shifts.

The door is slightly ajar.

Felix slows. Chan notices too, his hand instinctively pressing Felix back a half-step as he sets the bags down with a soft rustle.

"Did we...leave it open?" Felix asks, already knowing the answer.

"No," Chan says, voice low and clipped.

The stillness inside is too still. No music. No Jisung yelling about cereal. No Seungmin telling him to shut up. No Hyunjin wailing dramatically from the floor.

Chan climbs the steps slowly, fingers curling around the edge of the door. Pushes it open.

The door creaks on its hinge.

Inside, it's a mess.

Not wildly trashed. Just...wrong.

Shoes are scattered. The fridge is open. A drawer hangs slightly off its track. One of the curtains has been torn down completely and left in a crumpled heap by the bunk beds.

And Jeongin's overhead bunk is empty.

Felix's breath catches.

Chan's jaw tightens.

"Stay here," he says quietly.

But Felix is already stepping up beside him.

Chapter Text

Lee Minho

9:13 AM September 24, 2020

He didn't notice it at first.

The noise of the RV was the usual kind of chaos—Hyunjin reenacting a soap opera breakup in the narrow hallway, Changbin arguing with Seungmin about whether eggs could, in fact, expire a week after the date printed on the carton. Jisung was humming something under his breath while tossing grapes into the air and catching them with uneven success.

It wasn't until Jeongin skipped breakfast entirely that Minho started watching more closely.

He told himself he wasn't worried, just observant. Curious. The maknae had looked fine that morning: quiet, sure, but not much more than usual. He'd even been braiding part of his hair on the dinette bench earlier, earbuds in, gaze distant but not...off. Not like this.

Now, the bunk above the cab was still. A foot dangled halfway off the edge, socked in something bright. Probably stolen from Hyunjin.

Minho stepped over Seungmin's legs and called softly, "Jeongin?"

No answer.

Then he heard it.

A sound like a stifled cough. Or maybe a short breath that didn't quite make it all the way out.

He climbed the ladder slowly.

Jeongin was curled on his side, his body pulled tight, one hand fisting the blanket near his mouth. His skin looked too pale under the thin light coming through the window. His lashes trembled.

Minho didn't like it. Not at all.

"Hey," he said again, softer now. "Hey, you okay?"

That was when Jeongin bolted upright, nearly toppling off the bunk, eyes wide, chest heaving. His breaths came too fast, too shallow, and Minho didn't even think before reaching out and steadying him.

Jeongin's hand was clammy. His lips looked slightly tinged.

"Bin," Minho said, already moving, "Call for help."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Seo Changbin

9:17 AM September 24, 2020

Minho's voice cut through the RV like a snapped wire.

"Bin, call for help."

Changbin didn't ask questions. He dropped the cereal bowl he was rinsing, water splashing up his sleeves as he turned for the door. His shoes were still by the steps. He didn't bother. Just flung the door open and ran barefoot across the gravel.

The office wasn't far. A squat building near the front of the RV park, past a row of coin-op washers and picnic tables where two older women were chatting over steaming coffee mugs. He nearly slipped on the incline but caught himself, bolting through the open doorway.

"There's a kid—our friend," he panted to the woman at the front desk, palms braced on the counter. "I think he's having some kind of panic attack. Maybe a seizure. I don't know. Something's wrong."

The clerk—mid-thirties, hair in a messy bun and half-lidded eyes that screamed 'two too many morning shifts'—blinked once before the urgency seemed to register. She stood abruptly, grabbing a landline off the wall and dialing.

"Lot number?" she asked.

"Fifteen," Changbin replied, barely holding still. "Jeongin. His name's Jeongin. He was fine this morning. Quiet, but nothing like...like this."

She nodded tightly and relayed the information to dispatch, quick and steady. When she hung up, her eyes softened. "Ambulance is five minutes out. You go back to him. I'll send someone to flag the driver."

Changbin nodded once, then took off again, gravel biting into the soles of his feet as he sprinted back down the path.

By the time he reached the RV, Minho was crouched by the front bunk, steadying Jeongin with one arm while trying to keep him lying down with the other. Seungmin hovered behind them, face pale, holding out a wet rag with shaking hands.

"Ambulance is on the way," Changbin said, breathless. "Few minutes, they said."

Jeongin didn't respond. His eyes were half-lidded now, his breathing short and sharp. Something about it hit too close to something Changbin didn't want to name.

Minho just nodded once, low and tight, gaze not leaving Jeongin. "Good. Thanks."

Jisung crouched nearby, silent for once, fingers fidgeting uselessly with the hem of his shirt. He looked up at Changbin, eyes wide, like he was waiting for a cue. Any cue.

"Get his phone," Changbin said quietly. "And pack a bag if we need to go with him. Just the basics."

Jisung was gone in an instant.

Seungmin finally passed off the rag. His voice was thin. "Should we tell Channie-hyung?"

Minho exhaled harshly through his nose. "We will. But they're off-site. Not close. Let's keep things steady here until the medics show up."

"Okay," Seungmin whispered, backing into the kitchenette, hands still twitching slightly at his sides.

Changbin stayed by the door, listening for sirens. He hated waiting. Always had. But this kind of waiting—hands still, jaw clenched, blood buzzing in his ears—was worse than all the silence in the world.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan

9:47 AM September 24, 2020

Felix's breath catches.

Chan's jaw tightens.

"Stay here," he says quietly.

But Felix is already stepping up beside him.

Chan steps inside, scanning the space as though the silence might offer answers.

Then-,

His phone buzzes.

He pulls it from his back pocket, thumb already flicking the screen to life. It's a text from Minho. Sent twenty minutes ago. Just delayed enough to be useless in real time. 

iMessage 

Today 9:27 AM 

🐱Catlord🐱

Something's wrong with Jeongin. He collapsed. We couldn't reach you. Heading to the nearest hospital. I'll text the name once we're there. Don't panic. Just get here.

Chan barely registers the groceries spilling from Felix's arms as they both move, fast, tossing the rest inside the RV. The screen door bangs shut behind them. No words needed.

By the time Chan throws the car into reverse, gravel spits from beneath the tires.

They're already halfway down the coastal road when the next message comes through.

🐱Catlord🐱

We're at Haeundae Paik Hospital. Room number pending.

Felix reads it over Chan's shoulder. "Fifteen minutes if we take the bypass."

Chan nods once, knuckles white against the steering wheel.

The tension in the car is different now. Not silence, but urgency. Shared fear. Felix watches the coastline blur past through the window, the taste of salt still in his mouth, heart pacing faster than it had all morning.

Chan doesn't speak. But his foot presses harder on the gas.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The hospital comes into view in a blink of red lights and white walls.

Felix barely has his seatbelt off before the car stops moving. They scramble inside together, shoulders brushing, cutting through the automated doors into cool, sterile air.

The front desk nurse looks up, surprised at the rush.

"Patient name?" she asks in clipped Korean.

"Yang Jeongin," Chan says.

She clicks at the keyboard. "Room 2C. Emergency wing."

They're already moving.

A left turn. Then a right.

Felix's shoes squeak slightly against the floor, but he doesn't slow down.

They find the others first—Minho sitting tense near the hallway, elbows on knees, staring at the scuffed linoleum. Seungmin pacing slowly beside him. Hyunjin leaning against the wall with arms crossed, trying to look casual but pale beneath the overhead lights. Changbin stands just outside the room door, his hoodie half-zipped and twisted, as if thrown on in a rush.

The moment Chan and Felix appear, every head turns.

"He's stable," Minho says before either of them can speak. His voice is hoarse. "They're running tests. Said it might've been blood sugar. Or shock. Or maybe dehydration. We don't know yet."

"Is he awake?" Felix asks.

"Sort of," Changbin says. "He was asking for water earlier. Said his chest hurt."

Chan exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "Fuck."

"We couldn't reach you," Minho says. There's no accusation in his voice. Just fact. "No signal down on the coast."

Felix places a hand on Chan's arm. "Can we see him?"

Minho nods. "One or two at a time. Nurse said to keep it quiet."

Chan moves first.

Felix trails behind.

They step into the softly lit room, the beeping machines low but steady. Jeongin lies curled slightly on his side, IV taped to his arm, color returning slowly to his face.

He doesn't open his eyes. But his fingers twitch, just barely, at the sound of their steps.

Chan walks over to his side. Brushes the hair gently from Jeongin's forehead. "You scared the shit out of us, kid."

Felix lingers by the door, heart still racing, unsure whether to step closer or give them space.

Jeongin doesn't answer. But his lips part just enough to whisper, almost too quiet to hear...

"...Hyung..."

Chan reaches for the chair beside the bed. Sits without a word. And stays.

Felix exhales. This time, it trembles.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Yang Jeongin

10:54 AM September 24, 2020

The beeping is steady. Not loud, but constant. Like it's measuring the seconds he's lost.

Jeongin blinks slowly, lashes gritty. His eyes feel sunken. Like he hasn't slept in days.

The ceiling above him is white. So white it almost hurts to look at—washed in sterile light, smooth and blank and unfamiliar. He doesn't remember getting here. Just the vague impression of movement, the scrape of gravel, Minho's voice—sharper than usual—calling his name.

He shifts slightly. Wires tug against his arm. A cuff hugs his bicep. A pulse oximeter clamps one finger. His throat is dry. His chest feels too hollow, like he's been scooped out and left behind.

He blinks again. A slow-motion click behind his eyes.

Where am I?

His gaze flicks sideways. There's a chair in the corner. A folded hoodie slung across it—Hyunjin's. Seungmin's bag rests nearby, the front pocket half-zipped.

They're here. Or they were. He isn't alone.

That helps. A little.

But the rest of him isn't so easily convinced.

A quiet rattle in his chest betrays the memories. Not dreams, but memories. Half-fogged and full of smoke and hands that didn't let go. The kind of memories that come back when he's still. When he's too still.

It's cold.

He closes his eyes, and just like that, he's back there.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

-Somewhere in Vegas, two months ago-

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Not that night.

But his body was exhausted. Starved. Curled in on itself like a question with no answer. He was crouched behind a dumpster in a narrow alley just off Fremont Street, where the neon lights didn't reach and the heat from the pavement clung to the air long after sundown. The hoodie he wore had once been red, he thought. But the sleeves were fraying now, the cuffs stiff with dried sweat and grime. He'd zipped it all the way up and tugged the hood over his head, trying to vanish into himself.

The corner reeked of piss and stale beer, of something sour that clung to the back of his throat when he breathed too deep. Trash bags sagged against the chain-link fence, slick with flies. Somewhere down the alley, a flickering motel sign buzzed like a dying insect, pulsing pink and green over rusted-out AC units.

Every noise was something.

A footstep. A voice. A cough. A car door.

Every noise might mean someone found him. Again.

And there wouldn't be anyone else to stop them this time.

He hadn't eaten in at least two days. The last thing he remembered was a crust of bread someone dropped near a diner. Water was harder. He'd tried catching the condensation that ran down soda machines in the sun. His stomach didn't even hurt anymore. It had given up. The ache had dulled into a hollow, a slow burn in his ribs that felt like it had always been there.

But worse than the hunger was the silence.

Not the real silence—there was always something in Vegas. Tires screeching. Bass thudding from strip clubs. The occasional bark or scream or drunken laugh.

No. The silence followed him even through all that.

It was the silence that told him this was it. That he was alone. That he wasn't going to get better. That no one was coming.

That he didn't matter.

So when footsteps approached—steady ones, too heavy to be quiet and too light to be drunk—he shrank deeper into the corner, pulling his knees tighter. His fingers curled around a chipped lighter he didn't know how to use. It wasn't for light. It was just something to hold.

They saw him anyway.

Three of them.

He expected the worst.

But the shorter among them didn't come close. The other two held back.

The blonde with soft, oval eyes knelt first.

Didn't speak at first. Just placed a water bottle on the concrete between them, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. Then a protein bar. Still in its wrapper.

Jeongin didn't move. His eyes flicked between them and the offering. It had to be a trick.

"You can have it," the man said softly, his English infused with thick Australian timbre and notes of 

something else. Korean, Jeongin thought through the haze. "We're not gonna hurt you."

The others stayed quiet. Watchful, but not threatening.

He didn't reach for the water.

The man—Chan, he'd learn later—didn't push. Just sat down, cross-legged, like they had time. Like this wasn't urgent.

"I'll leave it if you want," he said. "But I'm not walking away just yet."

That voice.

It wasn't pitying. Wasn't insistent.

Just...steady.

Jeongin's throat clicked as he swallowed. His lips were cracked, tongue dry. His head felt heavy.

Minutes passed. Or maybe an hour. It got harder to tell.

Eventually, hesitantly, he moved.

Inched forward. Took the bottle. Drank too fast. Coughed. Curled inward again like he was ashamed.

Chan stayed where he was. Still didn't move closer.

Didn't even smile.

Just nodded once, slow and sure.

They took him back that night. Jeongin didn't remember most of it. He remembered warmth. A towel. The low hum of an RV engine. A pillow that smelled like laundry and pine.

He didn't speak for days.

Couldn't. The words wouldn't come.

But they hadn't given up.

They never looked at him like he was a burden.

Just someone who'd been lost long enough.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

-Haeundae Paik Hospital, Room 2C, present day-

The blanket over him now smells like bleach. The IV beeps when it pumps. His mouth tastes like nothing.

But this is different. This bed is clean. These walls are safe.

Jeongin lets his head tilt slowly to one side. There's movement outside the glass. Someone passing with a clipboard. A nurse. A stranger. Not danger. Just...normal.

"You scared the shit out of us, kid."

Chan's voice cuts through the static in his head. Familiar. Solid.

Felix lingers near the door, half-shadowed by the frame. He doesn't step forward right away. Just watches, eyes flicking between Chan and Jeongin, then back again. His hand is curled around one of the drawstrings of his hoodie like it's grounding him.

Jeongin doesn't answer. His chest feels heavy. Not painful, just full. With something he doesn't quite know how to name.

His lips part before he can think about it, the word curling out on a whisper, breathless and bare.

"Hyung..."

The syllable barely reaches them.

But Chan hears it. His shoulders tense, just barely. Then, they soften, gaze flickering to meet Jeongin's. Something raw flickers in the space between them. Not pity. Not fear.

Recognition.

Felix exhales like he's been holding his breath since they walked in. He takes a hesitant step forward.

Jeongin feels the dryness at the corners of his mouth, the tightness behind his eyes. He doesn't cry. Not quite. But he blinks a few times too many. His throat works once, twice, but no more words come out.

Felix doesn't press. Just crosses the room slowly and settles into the chair beside the bed, arms loose at his sides, expression open in a rather soft way. Quiet enough to let Jeongin take up space without needing to fill it.

Chan stands nearby, not hovering, but present. A steady weight in the room; anchoring it. Anchoring them.

The hospital light hums overhead, casting everything in a low, pale gold. Machines blink their quiet rhythms. Beyond the window, the sky shifts. From the compelling bright of noon to the afternoon blue, which warms gradually to the evening's gold. 

Jeongin doesn't speak again.

But his fingers curl slowly in the folds of the blanket, holding on.

And that, for now, is enough.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The next morning will come with softer air and warmer light.

With toast a little too burnt and coffee brewed strong enough to be taken seriously.

With someone nudging someone else at the dinette for elbow room, and Hyunjin dramatically proclaiming his spinal injury from sleeping on the floor.

There will be medicine schedules taped to the fridge, lists scribbled onto napkins, quiet check-ins passed off as casual remarks.

And in the middle of it all—Felix, a little less guarded. Jeongin, a little more steady. The group, not fixed, not healed, but moving.

Still here.

Still trying.

Still theirs.

Chapter Text

Lee Felix

7:43 AM October 18, 2020

The RV smells like burnt toast again.

Someone's left the coffee pot half-full and already cold, its surface glossed with that faint film it gets when no one remembers to stir it. Outside, gulls shriek over the surf, and inside, someone hums low under their breath. Probably Hyunjin, judging by the drama in every note.

Felix leans against the kitchenette counter, barefoot, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The floor's warm beneath his feet from the sun baked into the vinyl. His hair's a mess, but there's something almost comforting in how no one seems to care about things like that here. Not first thing in the morning.

The screen door clicks open. Chan steps in, brushing sea air off his shoulders like it's just another layer of sleep. He's carrying a folding camp chair, his hair damp at the ends, shirt sticking slightly to the curve of his collarbone.

He blinks at Felix, still adjusting to the dimness inside. "You're up early."

Felix shrugs, eyes flicking to the pot. "Coffee's terrible, if you want some."

Chan huffs a short laugh and steps closer. "Terrible sounds perfect."

Felix pours, not bothering to rinse the mug out first. As he turns to pass it over, his knuckles brush the side of Chan's hand. Quick. Warm. Nothing more.

Chan doesn't flinch. Just murmurs, "Thanks," and curls his fingers around the mug.

Felix doesn't say anything either.

He watches Chan walk to the dinette and settle onto the bench, one arm thrown over the backrest, and something about the way he moves—comfortable, casual—makes Felix's chest pull a little tight before he can catch it.

He doesn't dwell. Just turns back toward the counter, grabbing two slices of toast and going about his routine as though he hadn't been interrupted.

The others drift in one by one.

Jisung's first—loud, sock half-on, two granola bars under one arm and a bottle of water balanced precariously in the other. He says something about the fire pit still smelling like "sadness and burnt wieners," and disappears into the bathroom with a dramatic groan.

Hyunjin follows, already humming again, his pajama pants tucked into mismatched socks and a plastic hair clip barely holding back his bangs. He flings himself into a seat and sighs like someone mourning lost youth. "Those renovations couldn't happen soon enough. I think I have a crick in my soul."

Changbin arrives next, half-buttoned flannel thrown over a sleep shirt, eyes puffy. He's carrying a crate of kindling and a thermos he probably forgot to drink yesterday. He sets the wood by the door, stretches with a grunt, and claps a hand on Chan's shoulder in greeting. "Morning, boss."

"Morning," Chan mumbles, still sipping the bitter sludge that passes for coffee.

Changbin turns toward the kitchenette. "Felix, be honest. Did you kill the toaster again?"

"It wasn't me," Felix replies, deadpan. "It died on its own terms."

Seungmin appears, wrapped in a throw blanket like a disgruntled burrito. He eyes the coffee, sniffs, and chooses violence.

"Who made this? Be honest. I won't tell anyone you're a monster."

"Monster's in the bathroom," Changbin says, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom door. "Jisung made that yesterday and refused to admit he used salt instead of sugar."

"Bold of you to assume he knows the difference," Hyunjin adds.

Jeongin comes next. Quiet, towel slung around his neck. His damp hair flops over his eyes as he offers Felix a small nod on his way to the dinette. His movement isn't nervous, not anymore. Still cautious, but not brittle. He takes a spot near Hyunjin and sinks into the seat without flinching.

Felix watches it all quietly from the kitchenette. The easy flow of it. The small claims on space. The way everyone shifts into a rhythm without really trying.

And then—almost like he'd waited for a break in the motion—Minho slips in last.

He doesn't say much, just brushes a hand through flattened hair and moves toward the fridge. Folds himself into the leftover spaces, slotting into the rhythm rather than disrupting it. His presence is soft-edged. Intentional.

"Who finished the yogurt?" Minho mutters, half into the fridge.

Seungmin, from across the table: "You mean the expired yogurt? You're welcome."

"It wasn't expired," Jisung calls, reappearing with minty breath and renewed energy. "It was aged. Like cheese. Aged dairy builds character."

"You're gonna build intestinal trauma," Seungmin replies, deadpan.

Minho sighs and rummages through the freezer. He emerges with a half-empty bag of hash browns and a look of vague triumph.

Hyunjin doesn't even look up from adjusting his hair clip. "Let's try not to char them into existential despair this time, yeah?"

Felix leans quietly against the counter, chewing slowly as the morning unfolds around him.

The overlapping voices, the scrape of chairs, the hum of casual routine. It's a mess, but it moves with a kind of ease. No one asks where to sit. No one fights to be heard. It just...works.

And somehow, without effort, there's space for him in it too.

He looks down at the final slice of toast in his hand and realizes, not startled but certain—

he likes this.

The brunette ends up between Minho and Jeongin at the dinette. The latter is slowly pushing a spoon through a bowl of cereal that's more soggy than anything now. He hasn't said a word this morning, but Felix can tell—he's here. Not just physically, but actually here.

The shadows under Jeongin's eyes have faded a bit. His posture is still guarded, but less so—like he's learning how to take up space again. Every now and then, his eyes flick upward as someone speaks. He doesn't laugh, but Felix catches the corners of his mouth tugging, just slightly.

He says nothing, but he's listening. And that's something.

Felix nudges the box of cereal a little closer to him without looking. Jeongin's hand drifts forward after a second. He takes more. Felix doesn't say a word. Just keeps chewing his own toast.

He never would've thought himself the nurturing type. Hell, he still doesn't know what kind of person he is here. But Jeongin... Jeongin's different. Not in a fragile, breakable kind of way. More like something that's just beginning to breathe again. Felix doesn't want to startle that away.

There's something about watching Jeongin try—just try—that makes Felix want to try, too.

The conversation bounces around him. Something about the eggs being rubbery. Hyunjin starts dramatically reciting a eulogy for the lost hash browns. Jisung adds sound effects. Changbin mutters something about "respecting the dead" and starts stacking empty mugs. Seungmin throws a napkin at someone and Minho mutters a threat in sleepy half-syllables.

Felix doesn't contribute much. But his chest is warm.

It stays that way even as the plates get cleared and the group starts to disperse. Changbin throws a glance toward the outside generator, sighs, and grabs a jacket. Jeongin lingers by the window, his cereal bowl in hand, eyes drifting toward the ocean.

Minho gathers up a few stray forks and napkins while the rest drift toward their own rhythms.

He doesn't announce it. Doesn't look for thanks. Just moves in the gaps others leave behind.

"Hey," Jisung calls, tapping the back of Felix's head with a knuckle. "We're hitting the boardwalk. Come with?"

Felix arches a brow. "We?"

"Me, you, and this disaster," Jisung says, jerking a thumb at Hyunjin, who's already tugging socks over his mismatched ones.

"I'm not a disaster," Hyunjin mutters.

"You literally tripped over a plant stand yesterday."

"It was bolted wrong!"

Jisung shrugs and looks back to Felix, a little grin tugging at his lip. "Come on. You've been staring at that cereal box like it owes you money. Get some air."

Felix hesitates.

Then, just past Jisung's shoulder, he sees Jeongin ease into the bench cushion again, this time beside Minho, who slides a juice box over without a word. The sight is so simple, so quiet, and so full of something like peace that it nudges him over the edge.

"Yeah," Felix says. "Okay."

He grabs his hoodie from the back of the chair, brushing crumbs from the sleeve, and follows the two of them out into the morning light.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Hwang Hyunjin

9:31 AM October 18, 2020

The sidewalk glimmers faintly in the midday sun, warmth pooling in the cracks like spilled honey. It reminds Hyunjin a little too much of summer in Tokyo. Warm pavement, the smell of exhaust and cheap sunscreen, the hum of cicadas that seemed to nest in his skull. Here, though, it's quieter. Calmer. More sea breeze, less suffocation. 

A soft breeze tugs at the edges of his shirt, carrying the scent of salt and fried batter and something sweet—maybe caramelized peanuts from a stand they passed earlier.

Hyunjin walks a little behind Felix and Jisung, more from instinct than choice. He likes the view from here. The way Felix's brown locks bounce slightly when he laughs. The way his fingers hover near the seams of his pockets, like he doesn't quite know what to do with his hands when he's relaxed. Like he's not used to having space for peace.

They stop at a sunglasses vendor near the end of the boardwalk. Plastic racks spin lazily in the breeze, glinting with gold, tortoiseshell, and mirrored lenses. Hyunjin reaches for a pair with gold frames, slipping them on with a practiced flourish.

"Too much?" he asks, glancing sideways at Felix.

Felix eyes him, lips twitching like he's trying not to grin. "It's...very you."

"Was that a compliment or a crime report?"

Felix shrugs. "Could be both."

Hyunjin preens anyway, adjusting the frames just so. But before he can respond, Felix reaches up—delicate, deliberate—and slides the sunglasses off his face.

Their fingers brush. Hyunjin stills.

"I think these would suit you better," Felix murmurs, voice lower now. He holds out a different pair—sleeker, matte black, with a subtle cat-eye curve that screams expensive taste.

Hyunjin arches a brow but doesn't take them. Instead, he tilts his chin slightly, gaze steady. "You trying to style me now?"

Felix doesn't back down. "Maybe."

A second of silence stretches between them, just long enough to press at the edges.

Then Hyunjin huffs a quiet laugh and leans in, closing the distance by a fraction. "Go on then," he says, voice smooth. "Put them on me."

Felix hesitates, but only for a moment. Then he slips the glasses gently onto Hyunjin's face, adjusting them with careful precision, his thumbs brushing along the line of Hyunjin's temples.

It's nothing. 

Just sunglasses.

Felix steps back to survey his handiwork, head tilted. "Told you," he says, softer now. "They suit you."

Hyunjin doesn't answer right away. Just watches him with the sunglasses still half-tilted on his nose, lips parted like he wants to say something clever but forgot what it was.

Jisung reappears at that moment, holding up three corn dogs like some kind of fried prophet. "I bring offerings!"

Hyunjin breaks the moment with a dramatic gasp. "My hero."

They move on together, weaving through the tide of boardwalk strollers and street performers, corn dogs in hand. Hyunjin's newly-purchased sunglasses sit snug on his nose, the frame still warm from Felix's touch.

Jisung mutters something under his breath—probably about the price of bottled water or the horrors of boardwalk pigeons—and Felix lets out a laugh, sudden and unguarded. It catches him by surprise, bursting through his lips before he can temper it. His head tilts back just enough for the sun to catch the edge of his cheek, brightening the freckles that dust it like powdered sugar.

Hyunjin watches, startled by the sound of it. Not because it's loud, but because it's real. Loose. Unpracticed.

Felix covers his mouth with the back of his hand, as if unsure whether it's allowed to happen again.

Jisung nudges him with an elbow. "What, you think I'm not funny?"

Felix doesn't answer. Just laughs again, smaller this time, but more sure of it.

Hyunjin grins. His chest feels a little too full all of a sudden, but not in a way he wants to fix.

Felix wipes his fingers on a napkin and flicks it toward Jisung, who dodges with an exaggerated yelp. The three of them tumble into some half-formed pattern of teasing, gentle shoves, and offhand remarks, and Hyunjin lets himself be pulled into the current of it all—quiet, steady, watching.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Minho

9:41 PM October 18, 2020

The night air tastes like salt and leftover smoke from the dying campfire.

Minho's already halfway up the ladder on the side of the RV when he hears voices from below. Jisung and Seungmin still linger by the fire pit, poking at the embers with the end of a stick. They're wrapped in blankets like capes, talking about something Minho can't quite hear, but Jisung keeps laughing between words, and that's enough to let him know it's nothing serious.

A few feet away, Changbin's crouched near the generator, hands smudged with grease as he fiddles with one of the access panels. He mutters something under his breath—probably about the wiring—and Seungmin lobs a pinecone toward him with no real aim. It bounces off the gravel.

"Try that again and I'm unplugging the space heater," Changbin warns without looking up.

"You wouldn't," Seungmin replies, utterly unimpressed.

Minho swings himself up onto the roof with practiced ease. The fiberglass shell dips slightly under his weight, then evens out. The sky is clearer than he expected, stars pricking through the soft, hazy dark above the hills and ocean.

The sounds below fade into a low hum. Someone washes up dishes. Someone drags a lawn chair across gravel. There's a quietness up here that Minho's been craving all day. A quietness that doesn't demand anything from him.

But then-,

The ladder rattles softly behind him.

Minho turns his head just enough to see Felix climbing up, turtleneck top settled just above his chin, eyes flicking toward the roof like he's checking whether it's safe to join. His footing's careful but confident, and Minho waits until he's hauled himself over the top before saying anything.

"Didn't think you'd climb up here."

Felix shrugs, adjusting his sleeves to shield his hands and wrists from the chill. "Needed some air, I guess."

Minho gestures to the space beside him. "Well there's plenty of it up here."

Felix settles cross-legged, leaving a few inches between them. Not too close. Not too far.

Below, Seungmin calls out, voice rising over the fire crackle. "Hyung, you left your tea down here!"

"I don't want it!" Minho shouts back, not bothering to stand. "Tastes like grass!"

"It is grass," Seungmin retorts.

Felix laughs once, quiet and short. Minho doesn't look over, but he hears it—the sound, small and real, caught in the edges of his chest.

Eventually, the chatter below fades. A door creaks open. Footsteps thud up the RV steps. Then the night goes still again, broken only by the rustle of trees and distant tide.

They sit like that for a while.

Then, Felix breaks the silence.

"Do you always wait to go last in line?"

Minho turns to glance at him. "What?"

"You always do. Like...when we're getting food. Or queuing up for the shower. Or even just when we're walking somewhere. You hang back."

Minho exhales, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "You've been watching me."

Felix doesn't smile, but something in his face softens. "Yeah. I guess I have."

Minho leans back on his hands. He could brush it off. Say it's habit. Say it's strategy. But Felix is looking at him like he really wants to know.

"It's something my mom used to do," Minho says eventually, voice low. "She said letting others go first was a way of knowing what mattered to them. You learn what people need, what they want, when you wait."

Felix nods, eyes thoughtful. 

Minho shifts, arms resting on bent knees. "It stuck with me."

Felix adjusts the waistline of his shirt a bit, then hesitates. "Did it ever feel like you weren't allowed to want things for yourself?"

Minho's breath catches for half a second.

He doesn't answer right away.

Then a breeze picks up. It tugs lightly at Felix's hair, carries a shiver down his shoulders.

Wordlessly, Minho pulls off his hoodie and holds it out.

Felix hesitates again, but only for a second, before taking it. He tugs it over his head, arms disappearing into sleeves too long for him. The fabric bunches at the wrists. He gives a small tug at the hem and breathes in.

"It smells like cedar," he says. "And something sharp."

Minho side-eyes him. "Sharp?"

Felix doesn't flinch. "Like you."

Minho lets out a dry, amused breath. 

"I'll take the compliment," he says, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly, "If you can call it that."

Felix's voice is soft but sure. "It is." 

He then sinks a little deeper into the hoodie and rests his chin on his knees.

The stars stretch above them, cold and quiet.

They sit like that until the fire pit below crackles one last time and fades out completely.

And when they climb down again—Felix still wearing Minho's hoodie, sleeves brushing his knuckles—Minho doesn't ask for it back.

He doesn't think he will.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan

11:52 PM October 18, 2020

The RV has fallen silent now. 

Chan stands just past the kitchenette, leaning lightly against the narrow wall outside the bunk area—close enough to see the soft rise and fall of sleeping forms, far enough to keep from waking anyone.

Minho and Jisung are folded unevenly across the pull-out, a blanket kicked half to the floor. The bunks are dim; quiet. Seungmin's curled with a book facedown on his chest. Changbin's snore is low, arm draping over the edge and one foot sticking out like a bookmark. 

Jeongin's tucked away in the cab-over bunk, earbuds glowing faint blue in the dark. Hyunjin's curled in his sleeping bag by the door, somewhere between theatrical discomfort and real contentment, as always.

And Felix is in their room, the eldest believes, though Chan hasn't checked in quite yet. 

A few weeks ago, the group was splintered. Scattered. Holding each other together with whatever they had.

Now?

Not fixed. Not perfect. But something close to whole.

He sees it in their collective effort to care for Jeongin. In the way the group moves around each other, naturally. Gently. In the rhythm of mornings spent tinkering with Changbin under the hood, Jeongin nodding along as Changbin explains something with grease-streaked hands and half a smile. In the way Seungmin brews tea and shares it without asking. In Minho's wordless gestures. In Hyunjin's humming. In Jisung's chaos.

And in the way Felix doesn't sit at the edge of it anymore.

He's part of it now. The rhythm. The air.

Not orbiting. Not surviving.

Just—

Living.

Chapter Text

aHwang Hyunjin

4:37 PM December 3, 2020

-Andong, South Korea, roughly 6 weeks later-

The air smells like woodsmoke and pine bark.

Even this far from the fire pit, Hyunjin can still feel its warmth tugging at the cuffs of his coat, slipping like breath into the fibers. The sun's already low—caught in the gables of the hanok rooftops nearby, glinting off frosted tile. Nearby, the RV glows faintly in the dusk, lights flickering soft yellow through frost-laced windows.

He settles onto the low stone wall behind the RV, just uphill from the fire pit, with a sketchbook balanced on his knees and a pencil hovering near the page. From here, he has a clear view of the clearing, the hanok rooftops beyond, and the soft glow spilling from the windows.

The move to Andong had been quiet. No one made a big deal of it. One day they were waking to the crash of waves, and the next, the rustle of dry trees and the wind off the Nakdong River had taken its place. There's a hanok village just past the ridge. He hasn't wandered far enough to learn the names of the shrines yet, but he plans to. Eventually.

Today though, he draws.

He sketches the shape of the RV first, its long roof faintly dusted with frost, the slope catching a pale edge of light. Then the figures around it, captured in gesture more than detail. Chan is crouched by the skirting, gloved hands busy with a socket wrench. Changbin and Jeongin are under the hood again, voices low, tools clinking faintly. Jeongin's jacket sleeves are too long, bunched at the wrists like he hasn't quite grown into himself again. But he leans forward with purpose. He's not drifting anymore.

Minho is chopping kindling near the tree line, slow and even. He wears a faded thermal with the sleeves shoved to his elbows, arms bare despite the cold. Seungmin passes by a few moments later, cradling a paper cup of something from the hanok café down the road. He pauses to scold Minho—something about rolled-up sleeves and a death wish in 2°C weather—then vanishes back inside, trailing steam and sarcasm.

And then there's Felix.

He's seated near the fire, hoodie up, legs tucked under a quilt someone left out. A book in one hand, marshmallow stick in the other. There's chocolate at the corner of his mouth, and he hasn't noticed yet.

Hyunjin can't look away.

The firelight plays along the curve of Felix's cheekbone, catching faint freckles and the shadows beneath his lashes. His hair's longer now—soft and a little unruly, tucked behind one ear. There's something about the way his brow furrows when he reads, the absent way he twirls the marshmallow stick, that holds Hyunjin in place.

Felix still jumps at loud noises sometimes, still flinches when surprised. But he breathes easier now. Laughs without apology. His posture doesn't curl in on itself anymore.

Hyunjin's pencil stills.

He's not sure when he started noticing these things. Just that he does now. Glances held too long. Moments caught in the quiet. A smile that sticks with him long after it's gone.

It's not just Felix, either. Jisung's laughter cuts through the cold like heat, sharp and wild. He pulls people in without trying. Hyunjin finds himself leaning closer, sometimes just to feel it.

There's a warmth in all of it. Nothing burning. Just steady. Flickering.

Hyunjin doesn't rush the thought. He just lets it sit there, quiet.

His pencil moves again—slower now, less precise. The sketch turns soft around the edges, more shadow and suggestion than anything else. He just wants to capture this: the way they sit near each other. The way they fit.

Then, from a few meters away, Minho's voice cuts through the quiet.

"Hyunjin-ah! You're on kindling duty."

Hyunjin blinks, then exhales through his nose. Half a sigh, half a laugh. He caps his pencil and stands, tucking the sketchbook under one arm.

He looks once more at Felix, who's squinting at a line of text, still oblivious to the smear of chocolate near his lips.

Hyunjin turns away before he can stare any longer.

He heads toward the stacked firewood, hands in his sleeves, the cold nipping at his cheeks.

The warmth stays with him anyway.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bang Chan

9:12 PM December 27, 2020

-Roughly 3.5 weeks later-

The RV hums low beneath him, engine off but still warm from the earlier run.

Chan sits near the front, legs curled on the bench seat beside the driver's chair, a mug resting against one knee. He taps a quiet rhythm into his phone before lifting it close, thumb brushing the record button.

"Memo," he says softly, voice low enough not to disturb the others. "The engine hums again without crackle. The faces look easy around it."

He pauses, listening to the quiet around him.

Outside, the wind rustles dried leaves across the gravel. Bare branches tick softly against the roof. The hanok rooftops just beyond the RV glow faint under yellow lamplight, their curved tiles slick with cold.

Inside, the warmth is steady. Worn blankets. A little clutter. Someone humming faintly—Hyunjin, probably. The scent of ginger tea and melted butter lingers from dinner.

At the dinette, Felix leans into a game of janggi, elbow propped, brow furrowed like he's solving an international crisis. Jisung sits opposite, biting his lip and whispering strategies to himself that clearly aren't working. Felix snorts after every move Jisung makes, teasing him mercilessly in that soft, deadpan voice he's developed. There's no tension in his shoulders. Just laughter. Real and frequent.

Chan smiles to himself.

Across the room, Minho sits with Jeongin on the couch, a ball of yarn balanced between them. He holds up two knitting needles, demonstrating a stitch slowly before handing them over. Jeongin mirrors the motion with quiet concentration, brows knit, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth. Minho doesn't rush him. Doesn't correct him, either. Just shows him once, then watches him try again.

A few feet away, half-tucked into the kitchenette, Changbin's on his back beneath the sink, one leg bent for balance as he adjusts something in the water line. His ratty hoodie rides up slightly at the side, revealing a smear of grease near his waistband. A screwdriver clinks to the floor beside him, and he reaches for it blindly while still humming along with the melody Hyunjin's been tracing across the room.

Near the couch, Seungmin is sipping something steaming from a ceramic cup, and Hyunjin, scarf around his neck and hair freshly clipped back, leans over to offer him a second one. Their murmured conversation slips under the noise like a lullaby.

Chan lifts the phone again, thumb shifting slightly on the case.

"December's cold," he murmurs, "But we're weathering it alright. Felix doesn't wake screaming anymore. Sleeps through most nights. He teases Minho over burnt rice, calls Jisung a sore loser, and washes dishes shoulder to shoulder with the others—doesn't even flinch when their hands bump reaching for the same sponge."

He glances at Felix again. The younger is laughing now, head thrown back slightly, sleeves slipping past his palms as he gestures at the board. Jisung groans and slumps forward in defeat.

Chan looks toward the curtained window across from him. The paper shade glows faint orange from the RV's exterior light. The view's shifted from the wide stretch of Busan coast to the tucked hills of Andong, hanok rooftops lining the ridgeline like storybook spines. The RV sits parked among frostbitten grass and thin trees, but the warmth from within leaks through every edge of its frame.

He lets the moment stretch.

Then: "It's more than stability. It's almost...,"

He hesitates. Then says it, honest and full: "Home."

He ends the recording.

Chan leans back, pressing the phone to his chest for a second longer than needed. The mug's grown lukewarm in his hand, but the air inside is warm.

Everything feels perfect.

And for once, he lets it.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Lee Felix

January 3, 2021

-1 week later-

Things had felt perfect. 

Now, in this moment, Felix realizes how fleeting it all was. 

The envelope sits unopened on the dinette. Creased. Damp at one corner where someone had set down a mug without thinking. Felix hasn't touched it yet. He just stares, hands braced on the edge of the kitchenette counter like it might steady him.

Chan stands nearby, arms folded, gaze pinned to the paper like it might give him permission to speak. He hasn't yet. Neither of them has.

Outside, the air hangs brittle and gray. The RV groans faintly as the heater kicks on again, filling the silence with a dry hum.

A week prior, the cold had felt lighter. Sharper, even, but not like this. Not like now.

A week prior, Felix had helped Hyunjin hang a row of wool scarves near the front door. Hyunjin had insisted on organizing them by "emotional tone." Felix had no idea what that meant, but he went along with it anyway, letting himself laugh when Hyunjin called one of the grayer ones "emotionally repressed but trying."

Minho had brought home firewood that day. His hands were raw and his sleeves were damp with snowmelt. Felix met him halfway across the clearing with a towel, something he never would've done back in Busan. He didn't say anything as he handed it over, just nodded once, and Minho had nudged his shoulder lightly in return.

Later that night, Felix played janggi with Seungmin at the dinette, and when he lost three times in a row, he accused Seungmin of cheating. Seungmin rolled his eyes and told him to grow a brain. Jisung chimed in with a running commentary so ridiculous it made them both laugh until their stomachs hurt.

He didn't flinch when Hyunjin squeezed his shoulder on the way to the sink.

Didn't pull away when Jeongin leaned into his side while they watched a movie.

Didn't need to run when Chan sat next to him the next morning and said, "You seem lighter lately. How's that feel?"

Felix had blinked, fork halfway to his mouth. "Weird," he admitted. Then, quieter: "Good. But weird."

Chan smiled. "You're allowed to have good."

That was four days ago.

Two days ago, Jeongin crawled out from under the RV with Changbin and held up a wrench like it was a trophy. He was covered in grease, knees scraped, but his grin stretched wide across his face. 

"Fixed the pump line," he said. "Maybe."

Felix clapped for him anyway. Changbin tossed a rag at his head and said, "Fix it again when it breaks."

That same afternoon, Chan found the envelope tucked into the mailbox slot at the RV park office. Plain. Unassuming. Postmarked from the lab.

He returned to the RV and didn't open it right away. Just turned it over in his hands, once. Twice.

Felix saw the handwriting and knew.

He took it from Chan, held it for a while, then set it gently on the shelf above the dinette and said, "Not yet."

That night, Minho offered him the last bite of tteokbokki without making a joke about it. Hyunjin saved him the window seat during breakfast. Changbin said his name without hesitation. Jeongin passed him the last orange slice even though it was the best one.

He slept straight through the night for the first time in over a week.

The envelope stayed where it was.

Now, in the present, it's on the table again.

Felix's fingers curl against the counter. He can hear someone outside—Jisung, probably—dragging chairs back toward the fire pit. The laughter from earlier has faded, replaced by the hush of early night.

Chan clears his throat. "You don't have to read it yet," he says. "But I think we should. Together."

Felix glances at him. Chan's expression is unreadable. Steady, but not calm.

Felix looks back at the envelope.

He doesn't remember crossing the floor, doesn't remember picking it up, but suddenly it's in his hands. He sinks slowly into the dinette seat, eyes fixed on the return address stamped in faint hospital blue.

Chan sits beside him.

For a moment, neither of them moves.

Then Felix slips his thumb beneath the seal.

The sound of tearing paper is so small. So soft. Like it doesn't deserve to mean anything.

He pulls out the sheet—two pages, folded once—and stares at the top line. His hands start to shake.

Chan leans in to read with him.

The letter is clinical. Detached. Full of numbers and dates and legal identifiers that feel both too sharp and too far away.

A partial DNA profile was obtained.

The sample is consistent with reported injury.

Evidence has been preserved for potential legal proceedings.

Felix's eyes skim the lines again. Then again.

There's no name.

But there's proof.

It's real.

He sets the page down like it might burn through the tabletop.

Chan's voice is quiet. "This...this can move something forward, if you want it to."

Felix doesn't answer at first. He just stares at the folded letter, breath snagging in his chest.

It's not closure. Not yet.

But it's something.

A step. A beginning.

Felix exhales, shakier than he means to. "So...now what?"

Chan looks at him—gentle, steady. "That's up to you."

Felix nods slowly. He presses the letter flat against the tabletop with both hands, grounding himself.

He doesn't know what comes next.

But now, for the first time, he has a choice.

He stands after a moment and walks to the window. The fire pit outside is empty now. Just a few chairs and a ring of scorched stone, still warm from earlier.

i'm 

"I don't want to tell the others yet," he says.

Chan nods. "Then we won't."

Another pause. Then:

"Thank you," Felix adds.

Chan's eyes soften. "For what?"

"For letting it be good for a while," Felix says. "Even if it was only for a while."

He doesn't say anything else.

He just watches the trees sway beyond the window. Hears the wind rustle through dry grass. Feels the quiet settle back around him, thinner than before.

The envelope sits forgotten on the table behind him.

And somewhere in the distance, someone laughs.

But the warmth doesn't reach him.

Not yet.

And now, in the wake of proof and possibility, the question becomes:

What comes after good?