Retribution and Salvation
Title: Retribution and Salvation
Pairing: Hyukjae/Sungmin, Donghae/Sungmin
Rating: PG-13 (warnings for vulgarity and abuse)
Word count: 5202
Summary: When Sungmin's whole world came crashing down around him, Donghae's the only one willing to pick up the the pieces.
Note: This is so an overdue Christmas fic that I forgot/didn't post because I thought it was not appropriate for Christmas. Anyway, I just wanted Sungmin to be happy, at least. Enjoy!
He never really meant to do it, that's the thing. He'd always thought Hyukjae would be his one and only, that he'd want to watch him forever, keep him safe forever, be with him forever, and he still wants that. Maybe he wants it even more, but he fucked up. He really fucked up. Not just a forgotten date or a missed birthday, not just a broken heirloom, not just a slip of the tongue. Arguments happen, sure, but this kind of argument isn't the right kind. There's no progression. It's all the same.
Jungsoo's been eyeing him suspiciously lately, and Heechul looks at him with outright hate. He doesn't think they know for sure. At least, he's pretty sure they don't. All of Hyukjae's bruises can be explained away - the lump on his forehead was a slip in the bathroom, the split lip was knocking against the kitchen door. The bruises on his arm were harder, five small circles close to his elbow, four on one side, one on the other; but hey, sex bruises happen, right? Sungmin made sure he had some bite marks the next day.
Explaining shouldn't be this easy. The whole goddamn situation shouldn't be this easy.
Hyukjae had been a fidgeting kid with a strawberry smoothie in one hand when Sungmin'd met him. He bounced on his toes as he looked over one of the company staff's shoulder at the rest of the room, Sungmin perched on the edge of a couch. His eyes were wide and his pants were way too loose and he had the worst haircut on any teenager Sungmin had ever seen. Hyukjae was also terribly thin, almost just skin and bones, and he had never wanted to just keep someone like that... before.
They got along though, something Sungmin had never expected. Hyukjae somehow became his best friend. They visited each other's house often, although Hyukjae came over Sungmin's house more, saying he can't get enough of Sungmin's mom's cooking. So when Sungmin visits Hyukjae, he brought leftovers from home or picked up a pizza or some Japanese noodles on the way. Sometimes Hyukjae could be so tired and he didn't look up when Sungmin came in; didn't even notice he was there until there was a hand on his shoulder.
He kissed him right after that first group practice, with Jungsoo gone and the rest of the group waiting in the car outside. Hyukjae spluttered and turned bright red, spun on his heels and ran out of the practice room, leaving his backpack on the floor. Sungmin can remember watching him slamming the car door behind him, yanking the seatbelt a couple of times before it worked. As the car pulled away from the curb, he felt an overwhelming sense of... finality.
Hyukjae was it. Hyukjae was it. He could dance like a machine, and apparently, Sungmin thought his sense of humour makes him more endearing, too. Sure, he might be a bit slow sometimes and he always didn't have money so he ended up paying for their meals and movie tickets a lot, but Hyukjae promised he was going to bring Sungmin to his favourite ramyeon restaurant after their next practice to return the favour.
That's if... there was going to be a next practice.
He never even considered that Hyukjae wasn't going to turn up again. It was only one kiss, and his reaction wasn't even that bad - it wasn't like he had launched into a fistfight or anything. He was Christian, that was all, and maybe he was straight (although Sungmin didn't really believe that at all). Whichever way, Sungmin was sure Hyukjae would come back. There wasn't any room in his mind for any other way.
And he was right.
He's not so sure this time, though. He's not sure why. Hyukjae has tried to leave before, more than once, and he has always came back, no matter what. He's had black eyes and grazed hands and, once, a nasty burn on his forearm, but he has always came back. Sungmin welcomed him home, because he loves Hyukjae, he really does. He loves him with everything he has, every fucking way anyone else wouldn't.
The door doesn't slam when Hyukjae leaves. It closes quietly, the latch clicking against the wood, and Sungmin can hear it from across the house, up the stairs in their bedroom where he's sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. He hears the door close, and he hears Hyukjae walking- no, he hears him stumbling down the path, heavier on one side and perhaps dragging his foot a little, then he hears silence.
He assumes Hyukjae has caught a taxi. He hopes it's to the hospital. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do now.
When Sungmin shoved him, Hyukjae's eyes had gone comically wide, just like the day they'd met. Sungmin saw every inch of brightness in his eyes the split second before he dropped. They were like melted chocolate and untreated wood, and that day last Autumn when they dug a trench in the backyard because they'd just moved into their first apartment together and wanted a reason to call it theirs. Sungmin felt like laughing, because there it was. There was every reason he had fallen in love. There was the reason Hyukjae came back.
There was a smile on his face as Hyukjae fell, stumbled back a couple of paces. Sungmin could hear his heart stop when Hyukjae crumpled, legs disappearing from beneath him. Every stair made a noise, some kind of thud against Hyukjae's poor battered body. When he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, there was blood all over his face and his leg was twisted funny. Sungmin felt like he was going to throw up, but Hyukjae actually did.
They looked at each other for what felt like a long time. Sungmin could still feel the smile stretched unnaturally across his face and it made him sick. When he started down the stairs, Hyukjae actually jumped, his whole body, like he'd been struck by lightning, and he started scrambling backwards, bad leg dragging across the floor. "No," said Sungmin, and Hyukjae had echoed: "No, no, no, please, no, no, no..."
When he reached Hyukjae, there was fear in his eyes. Sungmin couldn't stand to look at him much longer, so now he sits in his bedroom and listens to Hyukjae leave, because Hyukjae wouldn't let him touch him, not even help him up.
Once he's sure Hyukjae is not coming back tonight (it's one in the morning and he's had no messages), he goes through to the bathroom and washes his face, pulls off his clothes, and sleeps on the couch. He feels too dirty to sleep in their bed.
***
Sungmin's woken by the glare of mid-morning sunlight and by someone pounding on his door. He has a crick in his neck, and it tastes like something died in his mouth, and he stumbles to the door in his boxers and the ratty old t-shirt he pulled on in the bathroom the night before, he doesn't even think to check who it is before opening the door.
"You fucking bastard," Kangin growls, and then Sungmin's on the floor and there's spit in his eyes and copper in his mouth. He's vaguely aware of someone shouting for Kangin to stop, and he hopes it's not him, but mostly his entire world is centered in on his ribs and Kangin's fists and Kangin's voice telling him he's worthless. "How the fuck do you like it?" and Sungmin lies there and takes it because he knows Kangin's not wrong.
When Kangin finally lets up - it feels like hours, he fucking deserves hours, but it's probably less than five minutes - it's Jungsoo who drags him to his feet, "What the hell, Kangin?" he says, and he pushes him forward into the house.
Sungmin spits blood and he sits in the doorway and listens to the two of them thudding around upstairs. Ten minutes later, they're back in the hall, Kangin loaded down with bags and boxes and Jungsoo dragging one duffel bag behind him. Kangin steps on his fingers on the way out the door.
Jungsoo makes to follow Kangin out the door, but Sungmin grabs his ankle, "Hyung."
"Don't," Jungsoo replies quietly.
"What?"
"Don't," he repeats. "Don't touch me, don't speak to me, don't- don't even look at me." Sungmin can tell that he's straining to keep his voice down. "I can't stand the sight of you right now, you're fucking pathetic. Let me go and maybe I won't call the police."
If his heart wasn't already broken, if he hadn't already ripped it out and pushed it down the stairs at the same time he pushed Hyukjae, it would break again.
***
Hyukjae's answering machine is this:
What's up? It's me, Eunhyuk. I'm too busy being young, rich, and famous to come to the phone right now. Leave your name and number so I know who I'm ignoring.
He hears Hyukjae's voice eleven times the day after he leaves. Every time it's that message, and every time, Sungmin sobs his way through an apology. "Listen, Hyuk," he says, "Babe, Hyukkie," and he chokes on the last one but forces on. "I'm sorry, I'm so- I didn't- I won't. I won't do it again, please, I- babe, pick up the phone, I-"
He says, "I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm a fucking mess, Hyukjae." He says, "Please don't leave me, please don't leave me, please don't, please don't leave." He says, "I hate myself, I miss you so much."
He hangs up before he says "I love you" each time because he doesn't think he could be so cruel.
Sungmin stays in his house for a week straight without so much as looking at the front. He can't eat. He can't sleep. He doesn't even attend to his schedules anymore, and hell, Hyukjae definitely does the same. He thinks about Hyukjae, always, and sometimes when he's not, he wonders how the company is dealing with his mess. He orders pizza the second night, but can't even swallow the first bite. It sits moulding on the kitchen bench, and all he drinks is beer until there's no beer left.
He sleeps on the couch because he can't even set foot in the bedroom. Hyukjae's stuff is all gone out of the closet and his books are all gone from the shelves. The only thing Hyukjae left is the snapback he gave last Christmas and other tiny items Jungsoo and Kangin missed. The bed is still unmade from the morning before the accident.
Yeah, that's what he's calling it now: The Accident. He's managed to convince himself that he hardly even pushed Hyukjae, he wasn't even angry - Hyukjae'd done something silly again, like left the toaster on or scratched an old CD - and he just gave him a little shove, not even very hard, just a friendly little shove. And Hyukjae had tripped. He'd tripped over his own feet and fallen. Sungmin's fine with taking the blame, he'll take all the blame, he just- he doesn't think he could ever do that to Hyukjae. He doesn't think he'd ever want to do that to Hyukjae.
Only, the black eyes and split lips say otherwise, and Sungmin really, really hates himself.
***
When their first album came out, Sungmin took Hyukjae out to dinner, just the two of them. It wasn't exactly a nice restaurant, because they didn't really have enough money for that and even though his father let him borrow a credit card, he didn't want to spend a lot because Sungmin believed that it was the thought that counts. They were overdressed for the diner but the waitress called Hyukjae 'honey' and told them they were sweet about five times in the span of an hour, and afterwards, Hyukjae let Sungmin hold his hand on the walk back to the dorm.
The first time he hit Hyukjae, they were promoting their second album and Sungmin was at that point where he couldn't stand anything, couldn't bare to share his space with anyone much longer. Hyukjae was just so, so... he was just everywhere, bouncing around in his stupid lavender hoodie with his stupid strawberry milk; even though they'd been performing on different television programs for weeks, and there were still weeks of promotion left, and nobody had more than three hours of consecutive sleep since the promotion started.
Hyukjae bounced a little too hard and fell onto him, Sungmin spilt his coke all over himself and the bench and his fucking shoes, and Sungmin slapped him.
Hyukjae laughed. His mouth dropped open and his hand went to his cheek, and he laughed like it was the most hysterical thing in the world. "God," he said, "Min, I love you," and Sungmin bit his lip and tried hard not to smile.
***
After a week and a half, the doorbell rings. Sungmin hasn't showered. He hasn't shaved. He's still wearing the t-shirt he wore the day Jungsoo and Kangin came to pick up Hyukjae's stuff. The house stinks of beer and smoke and sweat and there's nothing but bad soap operas on the television but that's what Sungmin's watching, anyway. He drags himself to the door and at least, has enough sense to check through the peephole before he opens it.
It's Donghae.
Sungmin swears under his breath and Donghae steps forward to ring the doorbell again. Sungmin turns the handle. Donghae looks up.
He says, "Donghae." He looks at his feet and the cracks in the porch, and he knows what's coming. He waits for Donghae's fist to make contact with his stomach so hard it lifts him off his feet. But, it doesn't come.
When he looks up, Donghae's face is somewhere between disgust and pity. "Right," says Sungmin, and, "Bye," but then Donghae grabs his shoulders and yanks him forward like a rag doll. He trips over the doorstep and stumbles forward into Donghae and he's totally ready for the beating he's going to get, he knows he is, and he fucking deserves it, too, but then...
"You're an asshole," Donghae hisses, but he has his arms tight around Sungmin's shoulders and his face buried in Sungmin's hair. He smells like he always does, like Donghae, like cotton candy and peppermint soap and waffle, and he's so soft. He's wearing a faded green t-shirt and ripped jeans, and when Sungmin looks down, he sees flip flops, fucking alien flip flops, and Donghae's muttering, "You shithead, you absolute cunt, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," but it's okay because he's there. He's actually there.
"I just--" Sungmin starts, and Donghae snaps, "Shut your mouth, Min," and that's when Sungmin starts to cry.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobs, and he's probably making a huge wet patch on Donghae's shirt but he doesn't seem to care, and Sungmin's been living in his own filth for the past ten days so he doesn't care and anyway, Donghae's crying too. "Hyuk," he's saying, "How could you do that to Hyukjae, of all people, Min, why?"
"I don't know," Sungmin wails, and he feels like he's five years old again, like he's fallen in the park. Only this time, he's broken hearts instead of skin. His face is damp with tears and snot and spit and he can hardly breathe, and what breaths he does take are muffled by Donghae's chest. "I'm sorry, I love him, I'm sorry."
"Sorry's not gonna be good enough, Sungmin," he says. But he stays, anyway.
Donghae makes him clean up his mess. He opens all the curtains and throws out everything in his fridge, he even burns the shirt and boxers combo Sungmin's been wearing for the majority of the fortnight. In the shower, Sungmin cries and cries and cleans himself until his skin is red. The heat makes him dizzy but he can't bring himself to turn the temperature down, so he steadies himself against the wall of the bathroom, leaning his head against the cool of the tiles. He comes out of the shower smelling like Hyukjae's strawberry shampoo and wearing a pair of sweatpants he found in the back of the dresser. Donghae has made dinner. Stirfry.
"I'm not hungry," he says.
"Too bad. You're going to eat it."
Donghae sits in Hyukjae's chair and watches Sungmin push his food around on his plate, occasionally choking down a forkful of vegetables or rice. It takes him an hour to finish half his plate, and finally, Donghae stands up, chair legs scraping across the floor loudly in the silence.
"Go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch." Donghae takes his plate and scrapes the leftovers into the insinkerator, rinses it and dumps it in the sink. Sungmin does what he said, dragging himself up the stairs to the bedroom, crawling under the covers and keeping firmly to his side of the bed.
Donghae wakes him early, yanking the sheets back. Sungmin has managed to sprawl himself over most of the bed, and he wakes up with his face buried in Hyukjae's pillow, his scent drilling holes in his head. He rolls over, groaning, and Donghae's standing silhouetted in the early morning light streaming through the window.
"Get up, Min," he says. "We need to be out of here by nine if we're going to beat the traffic."
"Beat the... what?" Sungmin sits up, squinting at Donghae, "What are we doing?"
"You have no edible food in your entire fridge. I'm here to make sure you don't kill yourself, and that includes starving yourself to death," Donghae looks Sungmin over, pale skin stretched over broad shoulders and wide chest, the sharp outline of his collarbones and his hips. "You're lucky I got here when I did."
"Yeah, fuck you, too," Sungmin grumbles, and manages to tip himself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom.
"Go shave!" Donghae yells after him, and Sungmin thought he heard a tinge of laughter in his voice, so he does.
***
Donghae's not close with him exactly, but he's not as cold towards Sungmin as he was after the accident. He stays pleasantly detached. He doesn't bother with conversation past 'lucky charms or cocoa puffs?' or 'you're taking this brand of coffee, god, I can't believe you survived off that shit for so long'. The easy smile's gone from his face, too, and Sungmin feels sick to his stomach when it hits him, finally, that he hasn't just ruined his relationship with Hyukjae; he's ruined his relationship with everyone else, too.
Donghae basically steers him through the day, telling him when to eat and sleep and when to bathe, forcing him to get outside of the house once or twice instead of drowning in his misery and guilt. From what Sungmin gathers, Donghae's the only one of his friends - his former friends - who can so much as stand to be around him at the moment, and so Jungsoo - who still worries about him, even if he hates him right now - sent him over to make sure Sungmin isn't wasting away.
Donghae walks in on him calling Hyukjae for the umpteenth time, hunched in on himself in the bathtub with his phone pressed to his ear. He's still only getting voicemail, but it's enough to hear Hyukjae's voice, and Sungmin whispers, "I won't hurt you again, Hyukjae, I promise- please don't leave me," and when he looks up, Donghae's standing in the doorway. If looks could kill...
"What the fuck are you doing?" Donghae's voice is flat, almost emotionless, but Sungmin knows him well enough to tell that he's seething. Donghae's just too nice to let it out all at once.
"I'm- um, nothing," he says, and snaps his phone shut, pushing it hurriedly into his pocket.
Donghae laughs humourlessly, and holds out his hand, palm up, "Give me your phone, Sungmin."
"What? No!"
"Just- just give it to me, okay?"
"Fuck you, Donghae, I didn't ask for you to be my babysitter!" Sungmin throws his phone across the room, hard, and it shatters against the wall. Donghae has the grace to look surprised for an instant before he breaks, striding across the room and grabbing him around the waist. Sungmin's swearing, lashing out with his arms and legs, and Donghae may be short, but he's sure as hell not weak. He holds his own against Sungmin's stupid panicky freak out, no problem.
"Get off me," Sungmin shouts, "Get the fuck off me!"
Donghae laughs bitterly and says, "You stupid fuck, you didn't really think he'd come back to you, did you?"
"Fuck!" Sungmin screams. Before he knows it, he's raising his hand, curling it into a fist. Donghae grabs his wrist, and his grip is tight; Sungmin thinks that it's going to bruise, maybe, and he welcomes it. He's fucking glad. He deserves it.
Donghae slams him into the wall, pins him there by his wrists, and growls, "Not me. Oh, no. You're not hurting anyone else, do you hear me?" And he just stays there. He leans up against Sungmin, pressing him against the wall with his full weight, and Sungmin's panting like he's just run a marathon. He can feel Donghae breathing against him.
Sungmin refuses to look at him, keeping his head turned away and his eyes unfocused. His face is wet. He realises belatedly that he's crying, and struggles to get himself under control. They stay there, against the wall, in silence, until finally, Donghae huffs in frustration. "Right," he says, and leaves.
He stays flat against the wall and listens to Donghae thumping down the stairs, moving around the kitchen, making coffee and cooking something for dinner. He's sick of everything. For the first time since he met Hyukjae, Sungmin thinks seriously about the bottle of pills in the kitchen cabinet, the coil of rope in the basement, the razorblades in the first aid kit in their little sealed packages.
Sungmin doesn't go down for dinner until after he's sure Donghae's asleep, tiptoeing down the stairs like he did when he was a teenager avoiding his dad. Donghae has left him a plate, and Sungmin eats it cold, leaning against the island in the kitchen.
***
Days go by awkwardly. Sungmin gets the smell of Hyukjae out of the bedclothes, and makes a little pile of stuff Jungsoo and Kangin left accidentally when they came by to pick up Hyukjae's stuff. He tells himself that he's going to take it to Hyukjae when he's ready, but he knows he won't. It just seems too... final.
Donghae spends most of his time at Sungmin's place. Sometimes he leaves for his schedules or spends the night somewhere else, but mostly, when Sungmin comes downstairs in the morning, he's still there, asleep on the couch or pottering around the kitchen making coffee or typing away on his laptop.
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
Donghae doesn't look up from his book. Some comic book for kids, Sungmin can tell that much from the cover - god knows he's got enough of those himself. "You know what I'm doing here."
"Well, can you say it out loud?" There's a sliver of desperation in his voice. He hates it.
Donghae dog-ears the page of his book and puts it on the coffee table. "I'm here to make sure you don't hurt anyone else," Donghae's voice is warm and smooth, and his lips soften the words. "I'm here to make sure you don't hurt yourself."
He snorts, "Oh my god, fuck you. Fuck you so much."
"You're going to have to talk about it sometime, Min--"
"Fuck you," Sungmin hisses, "Fuck you, don't say it, don't--"
"And it's not like there's no precedent for it."
It comes like a punch to the stomach. He actually doubles over from the force of the words, all the breath knocked out of him. He has, he is that kind of guy; if he's not hurting himself he's hurting someone else. All the fucking therapy he went through after his mom found him bleeding on the floor of his bedroom one afternoon when he was thirteen did nothing. He's still fucking destructive - just not to himself.
Donghae's gotten up from the sofa. He's standing close to him, almost too close, and he puts his hand on Sungmin's shoulder; he realises that he's hyperventilating. "Everybody's worried about you, Sungmin."
"They're not," he chokes out, "They're not- they don't care about me, not after what I did--"
"Give them some time," Donghae says, softly.
"Shindong's one of my best friends, but did he even call me to ask if I'm okay? He didn't."
"He's Hyukjae's, too."
Yeah, if Donghae wasn't there, Sungmin would probably be in the bathroom with a bottle of meds, and the bath on to make it quick.
***
It takes Jungsoo a month to call Sungmin, and even then, it's only because Super Junior is scheduled to go back into the studio. Donghae hands him the phone silently, and Sungmin doesn't even attempt to hide the relief from his voice when he breathes, "Hyung."
"I think you should leave the group," Jungsoo says without hesitation.
Jesus christ. Sungmin's entire life is falling down around him, just because of one stupid mistake.
He spits it out in one breath, only instead of 'one stupid mistake' he says "Lee fucking Hyukjae." He knows he shouldn't have said it the instant he closes his mouth.
There's a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then Jungsoo says, very quietly, "It's not Hyukjae's fault, you know it isn't," and hangs up on him.
"Fuck!" Sungmin screams at the phone, then throws it across the room. It skitters to a stop by the stereo. "Fuck!" he screams again, and waits for Donghae to come and see what's going on, come and make things better, but he doesn't. Sungmin doesn't remember him leaving, but now he's gone, he just stands and screams at everything. He stomps around the room like a fucking four year-old, batters the walls with his fists, drags his coat and shoes on and slams the door behind him when he leaves.
He calls a taxi and drives out to a bar, when they get there, he tells the driver to wait. He gets really fucking drunk, falling down shitfaced. He gets back to the taxi and gives the driver their dorm's address. It's a stupid idea, he knows, but the liquor in his veins is making him brave. He has his own key, and he slams that door, too. The light's on in the living room even though it's one in the morning. Sungmin goes through, but it's not Jungsoo there, it's Hyukjae, sitting up and watching some stupid movie on DVD, he's propped up against a pile of pillows.
"Oh, Hyukkie," Sungmin murmurs, before he can even think about stopping himself.
Hyukjae startles, and turns. His face goes pale when he sees Sungmin. "W-what are you doing here?"
Sungmin stumbles forward. "I hate it. I hate this, Hyukjae, I can't live without you. Hyuk, I love you." He's slurring, the words tripping over each other to get out of his mouth, and he hates how drunk he sounds because it means Hyukjae won't take him seriously.
"No, get out!" Hyukjae's voice is shaking. "Get out, Min, you're not--" but Sungmin presses on, goes into the room and the words keep coming.
"Come back to me, Hyuk, please. I love you so much, so much I'll change, I promise! Just give me a chance- just one more chance--"
Hyukjae stands, backs up a little, putting more space between the two of them, "I gave you plenty of chances. You didn't change."
He's going to go on, Sungmin knows it, going to spell out every tiny thing Sungmin has ever done to hurt him, physically or not, and he can't hear that, he just can't. So he lurches forward and kisses him.
Hyukjae gasps against his lips, and their teeth clack together awkwardly. Sungmin pushes forward, tips Hyukjae onto the couch and climbs on top of him, curling his hands into his hair. Hyukjae makes a frantic noise high in his throat and fists his hands in the front of his shirt, Sungmin's not sure whether he's trying to push him away or pull him in closer, but when he pulls back to breath, Hyukjae mumbles his name. Sungmin goes back in.
The door slams suddenly and Sungmin jerks and Shindong drags him off Hyukjae by the scruff of his shirt, shoving him onto the floor. "What the fuck, Sungmin?"
Hyukjae sits up on the sofa, shaky and pale, and Sungmin looks just as wrecked. Shindong looks between them, at Hyukjae's red bitten lips and messy hair, then at his stretched out shirt and open mouth. "Hyuk," Shindong says. He sounds appalled. "You didn't."
"I didn't, hyung, I swear, he just--"
Sungmin spits on the floor, interrupting. "I'm your best friend, Shindong, you were supposed to take my side."
"Sides?" Shindong's shoulders are set, his face rigid with anger. "There are sides? Sungmin, when Hyukjae first came here, his face was so fucked up you could barely tell who he was, and you still think there are sides?"
Sungmin says, "But I love him," in a very small voice.
Shindong shakes his head in disgust. "Oh, fuck off, Sungmin, you almost killed him." He turns to Hyukjae, and says in a decidedly softer voice, "Hyuk, go wait in your room 'til he's gone, okay?"
"Okay," Hyukjae whispers. Shindong taps his shoulder on his way out the door.
They listen to Hyukjae dragging his feet along the corridor and then the click of the bedroom door closing. Shindong looks at Sungmin darkly, lowers his voice so Hyukjae can't hear. "Look," he says, arms folded. "Min, you're my best friend, and I love you. But you have to realise that what you did was wrong."
Sungmin nods frantically. "Yes, yes, I know," he says, "I'll never do it again, never, I promise. I'll... I'd do anything, as long as he comes back."
"He's never coming back."
He already knows that, but he can't leave it at that. He's never been one for subtlety so he says, "But I love him."
"He's never coming back," when Shindong says it again, low and calm, Sungmin finally, finally knows it's true.
The doorbell rings as soon as the words leave Shindong's mouth, and it's Donghae, looking angry and worried, firm around the mouth. He tells Sungmin to get in the car, and he does, sulking in the passenger seat while Donghae talks to Shindong at the door.
Donghae looks back at him in the car when Shindong closes the front door, he sighs and then he smiles, and all of a sudden, Sungmin realises why Donghae's really there.
"Donghae," he says quietly when Donghae gets in the car and Donghae looks at him, Sungmin holds his gaze, "Hae."
Donghae shakes his head, but he's smiling all the same, and just drives.
Pairing: Hyukjae/Sungmin, Donghae/Sungmin
Rating: PG-13 (warnings for vulgarity and abuse)
Word count: 5202
Summary: When Sungmin's whole world came crashing down around him, Donghae's the only one willing to pick up the the pieces.
Note: This is so an overdue Christmas fic that I forgot/didn't post because I thought it was not appropriate for Christmas. Anyway, I just wanted Sungmin to be happy, at least. Enjoy!
He never really meant to do it, that's the thing. He'd always thought Hyukjae would be his one and only, that he'd want to watch him forever, keep him safe forever, be with him forever, and he still wants that. Maybe he wants it even more, but he fucked up. He really fucked up. Not just a forgotten date or a missed birthday, not just a broken heirloom, not just a slip of the tongue. Arguments happen, sure, but this kind of argument isn't the right kind. There's no progression. It's all the same.
Jungsoo's been eyeing him suspiciously lately, and Heechul looks at him with outright hate. He doesn't think they know for sure. At least, he's pretty sure they don't. All of Hyukjae's bruises can be explained away - the lump on his forehead was a slip in the bathroom, the split lip was knocking against the kitchen door. The bruises on his arm were harder, five small circles close to his elbow, four on one side, one on the other; but hey, sex bruises happen, right? Sungmin made sure he had some bite marks the next day.
Explaining shouldn't be this easy. The whole goddamn situation shouldn't be this easy.
Hyukjae had been a fidgeting kid with a strawberry smoothie in one hand when Sungmin'd met him. He bounced on his toes as he looked over one of the company staff's shoulder at the rest of the room, Sungmin perched on the edge of a couch. His eyes were wide and his pants were way too loose and he had the worst haircut on any teenager Sungmin had ever seen. Hyukjae was also terribly thin, almost just skin and bones, and he had never wanted to just keep someone like that... before.
They got along though, something Sungmin had never expected. Hyukjae somehow became his best friend. They visited each other's house often, although Hyukjae came over Sungmin's house more, saying he can't get enough of Sungmin's mom's cooking. So when Sungmin visits Hyukjae, he brought leftovers from home or picked up a pizza or some Japanese noodles on the way. Sometimes Hyukjae could be so tired and he didn't look up when Sungmin came in; didn't even notice he was there until there was a hand on his shoulder.
He kissed him right after that first group practice, with Jungsoo gone and the rest of the group waiting in the car outside. Hyukjae spluttered and turned bright red, spun on his heels and ran out of the practice room, leaving his backpack on the floor. Sungmin can remember watching him slamming the car door behind him, yanking the seatbelt a couple of times before it worked. As the car pulled away from the curb, he felt an overwhelming sense of... finality.
Hyukjae was it. Hyukjae was it. He could dance like a machine, and apparently, Sungmin thought his sense of humour makes him more endearing, too. Sure, he might be a bit slow sometimes and he always didn't have money so he ended up paying for their meals and movie tickets a lot, but Hyukjae promised he was going to bring Sungmin to his favourite ramyeon restaurant after their next practice to return the favour.
That's if... there was going to be a next practice.
He never even considered that Hyukjae wasn't going to turn up again. It was only one kiss, and his reaction wasn't even that bad - it wasn't like he had launched into a fistfight or anything. He was Christian, that was all, and maybe he was straight (although Sungmin didn't really believe that at all). Whichever way, Sungmin was sure Hyukjae would come back. There wasn't any room in his mind for any other way.
And he was right.
He's not so sure this time, though. He's not sure why. Hyukjae has tried to leave before, more than once, and he has always came back, no matter what. He's had black eyes and grazed hands and, once, a nasty burn on his forearm, but he has always came back. Sungmin welcomed him home, because he loves Hyukjae, he really does. He loves him with everything he has, every fucking way anyone else wouldn't.
The door doesn't slam when Hyukjae leaves. It closes quietly, the latch clicking against the wood, and Sungmin can hear it from across the house, up the stairs in their bedroom where he's sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. He hears the door close, and he hears Hyukjae walking- no, he hears him stumbling down the path, heavier on one side and perhaps dragging his foot a little, then he hears silence.
He assumes Hyukjae has caught a taxi. He hopes it's to the hospital. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do now.
When Sungmin shoved him, Hyukjae's eyes had gone comically wide, just like the day they'd met. Sungmin saw every inch of brightness in his eyes the split second before he dropped. They were like melted chocolate and untreated wood, and that day last Autumn when they dug a trench in the backyard because they'd just moved into their first apartment together and wanted a reason to call it theirs. Sungmin felt like laughing, because there it was. There was every reason he had fallen in love. There was the reason Hyukjae came back.
There was a smile on his face as Hyukjae fell, stumbled back a couple of paces. Sungmin could hear his heart stop when Hyukjae crumpled, legs disappearing from beneath him. Every stair made a noise, some kind of thud against Hyukjae's poor battered body. When he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, there was blood all over his face and his leg was twisted funny. Sungmin felt like he was going to throw up, but Hyukjae actually did.
They looked at each other for what felt like a long time. Sungmin could still feel the smile stretched unnaturally across his face and it made him sick. When he started down the stairs, Hyukjae actually jumped, his whole body, like he'd been struck by lightning, and he started scrambling backwards, bad leg dragging across the floor. "No," said Sungmin, and Hyukjae had echoed: "No, no, no, please, no, no, no..."
When he reached Hyukjae, there was fear in his eyes. Sungmin couldn't stand to look at him much longer, so now he sits in his bedroom and listens to Hyukjae leave, because Hyukjae wouldn't let him touch him, not even help him up.
Once he's sure Hyukjae is not coming back tonight (it's one in the morning and he's had no messages), he goes through to the bathroom and washes his face, pulls off his clothes, and sleeps on the couch. He feels too dirty to sleep in their bed.
***
Sungmin's woken by the glare of mid-morning sunlight and by someone pounding on his door. He has a crick in his neck, and it tastes like something died in his mouth, and he stumbles to the door in his boxers and the ratty old t-shirt he pulled on in the bathroom the night before, he doesn't even think to check who it is before opening the door.
"You fucking bastard," Kangin growls, and then Sungmin's on the floor and there's spit in his eyes and copper in his mouth. He's vaguely aware of someone shouting for Kangin to stop, and he hopes it's not him, but mostly his entire world is centered in on his ribs and Kangin's fists and Kangin's voice telling him he's worthless. "How the fuck do you like it?" and Sungmin lies there and takes it because he knows Kangin's not wrong.
When Kangin finally lets up - it feels like hours, he fucking deserves hours, but it's probably less than five minutes - it's Jungsoo who drags him to his feet, "What the hell, Kangin?" he says, and he pushes him forward into the house.
Sungmin spits blood and he sits in the doorway and listens to the two of them thudding around upstairs. Ten minutes later, they're back in the hall, Kangin loaded down with bags and boxes and Jungsoo dragging one duffel bag behind him. Kangin steps on his fingers on the way out the door.
Jungsoo makes to follow Kangin out the door, but Sungmin grabs his ankle, "Hyung."
"Don't," Jungsoo replies quietly.
"What?"
"Don't," he repeats. "Don't touch me, don't speak to me, don't- don't even look at me." Sungmin can tell that he's straining to keep his voice down. "I can't stand the sight of you right now, you're fucking pathetic. Let me go and maybe I won't call the police."
If his heart wasn't already broken, if he hadn't already ripped it out and pushed it down the stairs at the same time he pushed Hyukjae, it would break again.
***
Hyukjae's answering machine is this:
What's up? It's me, Eunhyuk. I'm too busy being young, rich, and famous to come to the phone right now. Leave your name and number so I know who I'm ignoring.
He hears Hyukjae's voice eleven times the day after he leaves. Every time it's that message, and every time, Sungmin sobs his way through an apology. "Listen, Hyuk," he says, "Babe, Hyukkie," and he chokes on the last one but forces on. "I'm sorry, I'm so- I didn't- I won't. I won't do it again, please, I- babe, pick up the phone, I-"
He says, "I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm a fucking mess, Hyukjae." He says, "Please don't leave me, please don't leave me, please don't, please don't leave." He says, "I hate myself, I miss you so much."
He hangs up before he says "I love you" each time because he doesn't think he could be so cruel.
Sungmin stays in his house for a week straight without so much as looking at the front. He can't eat. He can't sleep. He doesn't even attend to his schedules anymore, and hell, Hyukjae definitely does the same. He thinks about Hyukjae, always, and sometimes when he's not, he wonders how the company is dealing with his mess. He orders pizza the second night, but can't even swallow the first bite. It sits moulding on the kitchen bench, and all he drinks is beer until there's no beer left.
He sleeps on the couch because he can't even set foot in the bedroom. Hyukjae's stuff is all gone out of the closet and his books are all gone from the shelves. The only thing Hyukjae left is the snapback he gave last Christmas and other tiny items Jungsoo and Kangin missed. The bed is still unmade from the morning before the accident.
Yeah, that's what he's calling it now: The Accident. He's managed to convince himself that he hardly even pushed Hyukjae, he wasn't even angry - Hyukjae'd done something silly again, like left the toaster on or scratched an old CD - and he just gave him a little shove, not even very hard, just a friendly little shove. And Hyukjae had tripped. He'd tripped over his own feet and fallen. Sungmin's fine with taking the blame, he'll take all the blame, he just- he doesn't think he could ever do that to Hyukjae. He doesn't think he'd ever want to do that to Hyukjae.
Only, the black eyes and split lips say otherwise, and Sungmin really, really hates himself.
***
When their first album came out, Sungmin took Hyukjae out to dinner, just the two of them. It wasn't exactly a nice restaurant, because they didn't really have enough money for that and even though his father let him borrow a credit card, he didn't want to spend a lot because Sungmin believed that it was the thought that counts. They were overdressed for the diner but the waitress called Hyukjae 'honey' and told them they were sweet about five times in the span of an hour, and afterwards, Hyukjae let Sungmin hold his hand on the walk back to the dorm.
The first time he hit Hyukjae, they were promoting their second album and Sungmin was at that point where he couldn't stand anything, couldn't bare to share his space with anyone much longer. Hyukjae was just so, so... he was just everywhere, bouncing around in his stupid lavender hoodie with his stupid strawberry milk; even though they'd been performing on different television programs for weeks, and there were still weeks of promotion left, and nobody had more than three hours of consecutive sleep since the promotion started.
Hyukjae bounced a little too hard and fell onto him, Sungmin spilt his coke all over himself and the bench and his fucking shoes, and Sungmin slapped him.
Hyukjae laughed. His mouth dropped open and his hand went to his cheek, and he laughed like it was the most hysterical thing in the world. "God," he said, "Min, I love you," and Sungmin bit his lip and tried hard not to smile.
***
After a week and a half, the doorbell rings. Sungmin hasn't showered. He hasn't shaved. He's still wearing the t-shirt he wore the day Jungsoo and Kangin came to pick up Hyukjae's stuff. The house stinks of beer and smoke and sweat and there's nothing but bad soap operas on the television but that's what Sungmin's watching, anyway. He drags himself to the door and at least, has enough sense to check through the peephole before he opens it.
It's Donghae.
Sungmin swears under his breath and Donghae steps forward to ring the doorbell again. Sungmin turns the handle. Donghae looks up.
He says, "Donghae." He looks at his feet and the cracks in the porch, and he knows what's coming. He waits for Donghae's fist to make contact with his stomach so hard it lifts him off his feet. But, it doesn't come.
When he looks up, Donghae's face is somewhere between disgust and pity. "Right," says Sungmin, and, "Bye," but then Donghae grabs his shoulders and yanks him forward like a rag doll. He trips over the doorstep and stumbles forward into Donghae and he's totally ready for the beating he's going to get, he knows he is, and he fucking deserves it, too, but then...
"You're an asshole," Donghae hisses, but he has his arms tight around Sungmin's shoulders and his face buried in Sungmin's hair. He smells like he always does, like Donghae, like cotton candy and peppermint soap and waffle, and he's so soft. He's wearing a faded green t-shirt and ripped jeans, and when Sungmin looks down, he sees flip flops, fucking alien flip flops, and Donghae's muttering, "You shithead, you absolute cunt, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," but it's okay because he's there. He's actually there.
"I just--" Sungmin starts, and Donghae snaps, "Shut your mouth, Min," and that's when Sungmin starts to cry.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobs, and he's probably making a huge wet patch on Donghae's shirt but he doesn't seem to care, and Sungmin's been living in his own filth for the past ten days so he doesn't care and anyway, Donghae's crying too. "Hyuk," he's saying, "How could you do that to Hyukjae, of all people, Min, why?"
"I don't know," Sungmin wails, and he feels like he's five years old again, like he's fallen in the park. Only this time, he's broken hearts instead of skin. His face is damp with tears and snot and spit and he can hardly breathe, and what breaths he does take are muffled by Donghae's chest. "I'm sorry, I love him, I'm sorry."
"Sorry's not gonna be good enough, Sungmin," he says. But he stays, anyway.
Donghae makes him clean up his mess. He opens all the curtains and throws out everything in his fridge, he even burns the shirt and boxers combo Sungmin's been wearing for the majority of the fortnight. In the shower, Sungmin cries and cries and cleans himself until his skin is red. The heat makes him dizzy but he can't bring himself to turn the temperature down, so he steadies himself against the wall of the bathroom, leaning his head against the cool of the tiles. He comes out of the shower smelling like Hyukjae's strawberry shampoo and wearing a pair of sweatpants he found in the back of the dresser. Donghae has made dinner. Stirfry.
"I'm not hungry," he says.
"Too bad. You're going to eat it."
Donghae sits in Hyukjae's chair and watches Sungmin push his food around on his plate, occasionally choking down a forkful of vegetables or rice. It takes him an hour to finish half his plate, and finally, Donghae stands up, chair legs scraping across the floor loudly in the silence.
"Go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch." Donghae takes his plate and scrapes the leftovers into the insinkerator, rinses it and dumps it in the sink. Sungmin does what he said, dragging himself up the stairs to the bedroom, crawling under the covers and keeping firmly to his side of the bed.
Donghae wakes him early, yanking the sheets back. Sungmin has managed to sprawl himself over most of the bed, and he wakes up with his face buried in Hyukjae's pillow, his scent drilling holes in his head. He rolls over, groaning, and Donghae's standing silhouetted in the early morning light streaming through the window.
"Get up, Min," he says. "We need to be out of here by nine if we're going to beat the traffic."
"Beat the... what?" Sungmin sits up, squinting at Donghae, "What are we doing?"
"You have no edible food in your entire fridge. I'm here to make sure you don't kill yourself, and that includes starving yourself to death," Donghae looks Sungmin over, pale skin stretched over broad shoulders and wide chest, the sharp outline of his collarbones and his hips. "You're lucky I got here when I did."
"Yeah, fuck you, too," Sungmin grumbles, and manages to tip himself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom.
"Go shave!" Donghae yells after him, and Sungmin thought he heard a tinge of laughter in his voice, so he does.
***
Donghae's not close with him exactly, but he's not as cold towards Sungmin as he was after the accident. He stays pleasantly detached. He doesn't bother with conversation past 'lucky charms or cocoa puffs?' or 'you're taking this brand of coffee, god, I can't believe you survived off that shit for so long'. The easy smile's gone from his face, too, and Sungmin feels sick to his stomach when it hits him, finally, that he hasn't just ruined his relationship with Hyukjae; he's ruined his relationship with everyone else, too.
Donghae basically steers him through the day, telling him when to eat and sleep and when to bathe, forcing him to get outside of the house once or twice instead of drowning in his misery and guilt. From what Sungmin gathers, Donghae's the only one of his friends - his former friends - who can so much as stand to be around him at the moment, and so Jungsoo - who still worries about him, even if he hates him right now - sent him over to make sure Sungmin isn't wasting away.
Donghae walks in on him calling Hyukjae for the umpteenth time, hunched in on himself in the bathtub with his phone pressed to his ear. He's still only getting voicemail, but it's enough to hear Hyukjae's voice, and Sungmin whispers, "I won't hurt you again, Hyukjae, I promise- please don't leave me," and when he looks up, Donghae's standing in the doorway. If looks could kill...
"What the fuck are you doing?" Donghae's voice is flat, almost emotionless, but Sungmin knows him well enough to tell that he's seething. Donghae's just too nice to let it out all at once.
"I'm- um, nothing," he says, and snaps his phone shut, pushing it hurriedly into his pocket.
Donghae laughs humourlessly, and holds out his hand, palm up, "Give me your phone, Sungmin."
"What? No!"
"Just- just give it to me, okay?"
"Fuck you, Donghae, I didn't ask for you to be my babysitter!" Sungmin throws his phone across the room, hard, and it shatters against the wall. Donghae has the grace to look surprised for an instant before he breaks, striding across the room and grabbing him around the waist. Sungmin's swearing, lashing out with his arms and legs, and Donghae may be short, but he's sure as hell not weak. He holds his own against Sungmin's stupid panicky freak out, no problem.
"Get off me," Sungmin shouts, "Get the fuck off me!"
Donghae laughs bitterly and says, "You stupid fuck, you didn't really think he'd come back to you, did you?"
"Fuck!" Sungmin screams. Before he knows it, he's raising his hand, curling it into a fist. Donghae grabs his wrist, and his grip is tight; Sungmin thinks that it's going to bruise, maybe, and he welcomes it. He's fucking glad. He deserves it.
Donghae slams him into the wall, pins him there by his wrists, and growls, "Not me. Oh, no. You're not hurting anyone else, do you hear me?" And he just stays there. He leans up against Sungmin, pressing him against the wall with his full weight, and Sungmin's panting like he's just run a marathon. He can feel Donghae breathing against him.
Sungmin refuses to look at him, keeping his head turned away and his eyes unfocused. His face is wet. He realises belatedly that he's crying, and struggles to get himself under control. They stay there, against the wall, in silence, until finally, Donghae huffs in frustration. "Right," he says, and leaves.
He stays flat against the wall and listens to Donghae thumping down the stairs, moving around the kitchen, making coffee and cooking something for dinner. He's sick of everything. For the first time since he met Hyukjae, Sungmin thinks seriously about the bottle of pills in the kitchen cabinet, the coil of rope in the basement, the razorblades in the first aid kit in their little sealed packages.
Sungmin doesn't go down for dinner until after he's sure Donghae's asleep, tiptoeing down the stairs like he did when he was a teenager avoiding his dad. Donghae has left him a plate, and Sungmin eats it cold, leaning against the island in the kitchen.
***
Days go by awkwardly. Sungmin gets the smell of Hyukjae out of the bedclothes, and makes a little pile of stuff Jungsoo and Kangin left accidentally when they came by to pick up Hyukjae's stuff. He tells himself that he's going to take it to Hyukjae when he's ready, but he knows he won't. It just seems too... final.
Donghae spends most of his time at Sungmin's place. Sometimes he leaves for his schedules or spends the night somewhere else, but mostly, when Sungmin comes downstairs in the morning, he's still there, asleep on the couch or pottering around the kitchen making coffee or typing away on his laptop.
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
Donghae doesn't look up from his book. Some comic book for kids, Sungmin can tell that much from the cover - god knows he's got enough of those himself. "You know what I'm doing here."
"Well, can you say it out loud?" There's a sliver of desperation in his voice. He hates it.
Donghae dog-ears the page of his book and puts it on the coffee table. "I'm here to make sure you don't hurt anyone else," Donghae's voice is warm and smooth, and his lips soften the words. "I'm here to make sure you don't hurt yourself."
He snorts, "Oh my god, fuck you. Fuck you so much."
"You're going to have to talk about it sometime, Min--"
"Fuck you," Sungmin hisses, "Fuck you, don't say it, don't--"
"And it's not like there's no precedent for it."
It comes like a punch to the stomach. He actually doubles over from the force of the words, all the breath knocked out of him. He has, he is that kind of guy; if he's not hurting himself he's hurting someone else. All the fucking therapy he went through after his mom found him bleeding on the floor of his bedroom one afternoon when he was thirteen did nothing. He's still fucking destructive - just not to himself.
Donghae's gotten up from the sofa. He's standing close to him, almost too close, and he puts his hand on Sungmin's shoulder; he realises that he's hyperventilating. "Everybody's worried about you, Sungmin."
"They're not," he chokes out, "They're not- they don't care about me, not after what I did--"
"Give them some time," Donghae says, softly.
"Shindong's one of my best friends, but did he even call me to ask if I'm okay? He didn't."
"He's Hyukjae's, too."
Yeah, if Donghae wasn't there, Sungmin would probably be in the bathroom with a bottle of meds, and the bath on to make it quick.
***
It takes Jungsoo a month to call Sungmin, and even then, it's only because Super Junior is scheduled to go back into the studio. Donghae hands him the phone silently, and Sungmin doesn't even attempt to hide the relief from his voice when he breathes, "Hyung."
"I think you should leave the group," Jungsoo says without hesitation.
Jesus christ. Sungmin's entire life is falling down around him, just because of one stupid mistake.
He spits it out in one breath, only instead of 'one stupid mistake' he says "Lee fucking Hyukjae." He knows he shouldn't have said it the instant he closes his mouth.
There's a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then Jungsoo says, very quietly, "It's not Hyukjae's fault, you know it isn't," and hangs up on him.
"Fuck!" Sungmin screams at the phone, then throws it across the room. It skitters to a stop by the stereo. "Fuck!" he screams again, and waits for Donghae to come and see what's going on, come and make things better, but he doesn't. Sungmin doesn't remember him leaving, but now he's gone, he just stands and screams at everything. He stomps around the room like a fucking four year-old, batters the walls with his fists, drags his coat and shoes on and slams the door behind him when he leaves.
He calls a taxi and drives out to a bar, when they get there, he tells the driver to wait. He gets really fucking drunk, falling down shitfaced. He gets back to the taxi and gives the driver their dorm's address. It's a stupid idea, he knows, but the liquor in his veins is making him brave. He has his own key, and he slams that door, too. The light's on in the living room even though it's one in the morning. Sungmin goes through, but it's not Jungsoo there, it's Hyukjae, sitting up and watching some stupid movie on DVD, he's propped up against a pile of pillows.
"Oh, Hyukkie," Sungmin murmurs, before he can even think about stopping himself.
Hyukjae startles, and turns. His face goes pale when he sees Sungmin. "W-what are you doing here?"
Sungmin stumbles forward. "I hate it. I hate this, Hyukjae, I can't live without you. Hyuk, I love you." He's slurring, the words tripping over each other to get out of his mouth, and he hates how drunk he sounds because it means Hyukjae won't take him seriously.
"No, get out!" Hyukjae's voice is shaking. "Get out, Min, you're not--" but Sungmin presses on, goes into the room and the words keep coming.
"Come back to me, Hyuk, please. I love you so much, so much I'll change, I promise! Just give me a chance- just one more chance--"
Hyukjae stands, backs up a little, putting more space between the two of them, "I gave you plenty of chances. You didn't change."
He's going to go on, Sungmin knows it, going to spell out every tiny thing Sungmin has ever done to hurt him, physically or not, and he can't hear that, he just can't. So he lurches forward and kisses him.
Hyukjae gasps against his lips, and their teeth clack together awkwardly. Sungmin pushes forward, tips Hyukjae onto the couch and climbs on top of him, curling his hands into his hair. Hyukjae makes a frantic noise high in his throat and fists his hands in the front of his shirt, Sungmin's not sure whether he's trying to push him away or pull him in closer, but when he pulls back to breath, Hyukjae mumbles his name. Sungmin goes back in.
The door slams suddenly and Sungmin jerks and Shindong drags him off Hyukjae by the scruff of his shirt, shoving him onto the floor. "What the fuck, Sungmin?"
Hyukjae sits up on the sofa, shaky and pale, and Sungmin looks just as wrecked. Shindong looks between them, at Hyukjae's red bitten lips and messy hair, then at his stretched out shirt and open mouth. "Hyuk," Shindong says. He sounds appalled. "You didn't."
"I didn't, hyung, I swear, he just--"
Sungmin spits on the floor, interrupting. "I'm your best friend, Shindong, you were supposed to take my side."
"Sides?" Shindong's shoulders are set, his face rigid with anger. "There are sides? Sungmin, when Hyukjae first came here, his face was so fucked up you could barely tell who he was, and you still think there are sides?"
Sungmin says, "But I love him," in a very small voice.
Shindong shakes his head in disgust. "Oh, fuck off, Sungmin, you almost killed him." He turns to Hyukjae, and says in a decidedly softer voice, "Hyuk, go wait in your room 'til he's gone, okay?"
"Okay," Hyukjae whispers. Shindong taps his shoulder on his way out the door.
They listen to Hyukjae dragging his feet along the corridor and then the click of the bedroom door closing. Shindong looks at Sungmin darkly, lowers his voice so Hyukjae can't hear. "Look," he says, arms folded. "Min, you're my best friend, and I love you. But you have to realise that what you did was wrong."
Sungmin nods frantically. "Yes, yes, I know," he says, "I'll never do it again, never, I promise. I'll... I'd do anything, as long as he comes back."
"He's never coming back."
He already knows that, but he can't leave it at that. He's never been one for subtlety so he says, "But I love him."
"He's never coming back," when Shindong says it again, low and calm, Sungmin finally, finally knows it's true.
The doorbell rings as soon as the words leave Shindong's mouth, and it's Donghae, looking angry and worried, firm around the mouth. He tells Sungmin to get in the car, and he does, sulking in the passenger seat while Donghae talks to Shindong at the door.
Donghae looks back at him in the car when Shindong closes the front door, he sighs and then he smiles, and all of a sudden, Sungmin realises why Donghae's really there.
"Donghae," he says quietly when Donghae gets in the car and Donghae looks at him, Sungmin holds his gaze, "Hae."
Donghae shakes his head, but he's smiling all the same, and just drives.