A week came and went.

After that evening with Wooyoung, Jongho couldn't stop his brother's words from seeping doubts into his mind.

With his family, Jongho fell into a rhythm, a rhythm which he felt a little outside of. He spent his days differently than before, for he has no phone to distract him. Instead of headphones he listens to the wind and the birds in early morning; he listens to Kyungmin learn piano and Eunmin playing her despised violin.

He didn't see much of Woohyeon in their rhythm.

Eomma acted as if not much had happened.

"The school board and I had a discussion," she told Jongho. (A discussion from a corporate lawyer isn't your average discussion; Jongho knew this well.) "They still have your slot open, and your scholarships are still yours. This will be available until next semester, okay?" She rubbed his shoulder. "But let's not waste time."

This morning, San had been hanging around a little longer than usual. The man wore his heart on his sleeve; Jongho could easily see his worry, the nibbling lips and twisting hands only made it that much easier.

"You know, you can just ask me." Jongho said, looking up from his book.

"Choi..." San started.

"Just call me Jongho," he smiled.

San doesn't believe he's ever seen Jongho smile.

"Okay... Jongho." He started again. "I know it's super unlikely and he might even be like... dead, by now but maybe you even heard his name mentioned or maybe-"

Jongho's recently warmed heart couldn't take the nervous rambling, so he cut San off. "I saw Mingi."

And San's eyes grew huge in relief and wonder. He barely reacted when Wooyoung came up behind to bite his shoulder.

"You... did?"

"Yeah," Jongho smiled again, brighter this time. "We became friends. He's so funny," here, to Wooyoung and San's great surprise, Jongho laughed. "Speaks his mind all the time, is afraid of nothing - well, except bugs, which is unfortunate. But yeah," he looked up, meeting San's eyes. "He's pretty cool."

"Doesn't sound like my little brother."

But San left it at that.

•°°｡☬⁠｡°°•

While Eunmin was at the doctor, Kyungmin became horribly bored. And what does one do when your playmate is MIA? You find a new playmate. After all, seven makes one team.

So Kyungmin brought Jongho to the park with him. (An easy task, actually. Jongho was far more inclined to be spending time outdoors, now.)

After a few rounds of tag, Jongho retires to a shady bench as Kyungmin plays with his new friends.

It was so easy to make friends as a kid... now no one wants to talk.

Jongho ponders on whether it's for the better or worse that one has the habit of becoming hardened with age.

But I guess... I did make friends easily in the mountains.

Pulling Jongho from his thoughts, a man walking past catches Jongho's attention. He holds a shopping bag. Jongho wonders what is in it.

Jongho's heart recognizes someone in him, someone who his features look nothing akin to.

Yunho encases his mind.

And Jongho has no idea why, for where Yunho is significantly taller, this man is Jongho's same hight. Where Yunho has a beautiful tan, this man is porcelain.

Maybe it's the simple fact that it is a man, and Jongho's mind grabs onto any opportunity.

"You know, it's considered rude to stare."

Jongho quickly looks to the ground. He didn't realize he's been watching the man for so long.

The porcelain man sits on the opposite bench as pigeons flock around.

Again, Jongho watches, enthralled by the curiosities.

Pigeons - birds - are considered vermin... Jongho eyes how he reaches into the shopping bag to pull out some little crackers. More birds flock around.

Jongho doesn't mind that he's blatantly staring at this point, because - outside of Geoncho, of course - he's never seen someone care for an animal, never seen someone want to be around "dirty creatures."

Don't touch the animals, darling, his mothers would say, the city is for people, not animals. Animals only make things dirty, okay?

But then why is the city littered with scraps? A young Jongho would wonder.

Piles of trash blown up against concrete walls. Sometimes the pile of trash was a person, a sleeping bag, a shopping cart. Mama would steer her son away.

"Hey kid," Jongho is woken from his memories, "wanna feed the pigeons?"

Jongho looks across the plastic grass to check on Kyungmin. Still playing happily.

As Jongho stands, the birds scatter in a ruckus, but the porcelain man looks unconcerned, so Jongho advances to sit beside him, a respectable distance away.

Slowly, the flock returns.

"Here." The man holds out his bag, offering Jongho a fistful of crackers. Together, they scatter them to an ever growing flock.

"You're not scared of the birds?" Jongho interrupts the silence.

"No," he laughs quietly in response. "My brother taught me to love them."

"Hmm." The silence rests.

Except for the noise of the birds; the birds are furious for food.

"Where's your brother?" Jongho grasps for any conversation.

"Gone."

Oh. "I'm.... I'm sorry." Jongho awkwardly throws out another handful from the bag. Some crackers land between the bird's feathers, which are soon shaken free.

"Don't be. He's not dead, just gone."

Okay...

After a few more moments of peace, Kyungmin comes flying toward them.

"HYUNG!" He flails his arms frantically, screaming at the birds to go away. "You're gross, get! Leave my hyung alone!"

And now there isn't a pigeon in sight.

A concerned Kyungmin rushes to his brother's lap. "Hyung, are you okay? Won't you get sick now?" He looks around for blood. "Did they peck you?"

"Ya! I'm fine."

Jongho turns toward the man to apologize, but he seems entirely unfazed. His sharp eyes are calm, as if used to the interruption. His eyes... dark and faded, hold the dread of lifetimes. The eyes, which are far too old to be set in such a youthful face, are hazy, as if stuck in a labyrinth of memories.

Jongho hopes Woohyeon's fading eyes won't deteriorate that far.

"Hyung."

Jongho pulls in a breath of shock once he sees Kyungmin's bright eyes, the contrast is greatly unnerving.

Kyungmin's eyes look like Yunho's....

Ugh. No they don't. Why is everything reminding me of him?

"You know," Jongho starts, "birds aren't that bad."

"But Mama says-"

"I know-" Jongho interrupts, too harshly. He pauses for a breath. "I know what Mama says, but really, birds are kinda cute. And they have pretty feathers! And they take little baths to stay clean."

Kyungmin thinks for a moment, processing his conflicting information. "But... aren't they dirty?"

Before Jongho can answer, porcelain man turns to them. Jongho realizes they haven't exchanged names.

"No kid." He reaches into his shopping bag, pulling out some crumbs to scatter. "Animals are clean, actually. Birds, too. Or at least... they should be." (A few brave pigeons hop forward to nibble.) "But don't you see how this place is covered in cement?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Kyungmin has something to say. "But it's not all cement. Look at that grass!"

The man sighs. Jongho can't tell if it's sadness or pure defeat, he hopes it's the former. "Kid, that's plastic. It's not real grass. So of course the animals are going to break into the trash - into homes, even - because where else are they supposed to find food?!" The hazy eyes glisten, bathed in tears. "And, if the ground is covered, where are they supposed to bathe? A lot of birds take dust baths, you know, but even the ones who use water, only oil puddles are left for them." The man finally remembers he's talking to a child, his expression softening. "Animals aren't the dirty ones, kid."

The three sit in silence as more birds take up courage and return.

Jongho hopes his little brother doesn't mind.

But soon, even Kyungmin is scattering crackers, giggling at the birds' antics.

How impressionable children are.

— • —

"Eomma, please." Jongho holds his head in his hands.

"Jongho-ya, come on, act like an adult."

Jongho flinches at that, shame encircling his chest until it grips, tighter, and tighter...

She's right, you idiot. You're an adult now, so grow up and get your shit together.

Tighter, and tighter...

"You have got to get a phone. At least get a phone. Go back on your email, check out the text books which were sent, and see what you think, okay? There are some volunteer opportunities, as well. Do those for your transcript."

With every day that passes, Jongho slips further and further back into his old self, his old mindset. And it's terrifying. He thought he was done. Done with the anger, with the doubt, with the shame and self-loathing. Why isn't he done? It was supposed to be over.

Almost three weeks home and he's losing his grip fast.

But it's not as bad, he reminds himself, it's not as bad as it was.

"Oppa." After school, Eunmin grabs Jongho's attention. "Will you go to the park with me and Kyungmin-ah?"

It's been hard taking care of his siblings lately. It's been hard to say yes over and over. He wants to. Oh how much does Jongho want to say yes, to see them happy and fulfilled.

But this has grown difficult.

He's tired.

Minji said something about...— It's been a while since Jongho has thought about the ignis— ugh, what was it she said? Balance! How energy must be restor—

"HYUNG!" Kyungmin screams in his face. "Did you hear Noona? Let's go. Here's your shoes." He throws some sneakers and socks at his hyung's feet. Jongho doesn't think twice anymore as he slips them on.

"Get your coats!" He reminds the youngers before they dash outside, all too eager to finally play, because Jongho is the only one who will chaperone them. The only one who has time, who has mental space.

And so, again, Jongho is at the park.

Maybe he should continue playing tag with his siblings, because sitting on this metal bench is like an ice cage, even through his jeans.

But then, his eyes catch a familiar shopping bag.

Jongho switches benches to sit with the man. Even though he's quiet, it's a comforting silence, a safe silence, one which can either be broken or kept, and Jongho knows the man won't mind either way. At least, he never shows any inkling of minding. He never shows much inkling of anything.

"It's his birthday this month." The man tosses out some crackers, waiting for his flock.

"Who's?"

"My little brother's."

Jongho nods. "How old will he be?"

"The big three five. Finally free of the fucking government." He spits on the ground, careful, of course, of the birds.

Jongho wonders if any of the pigeons are government drones.

Porcelain man chuckles softly. "I'm just glad he never had to serve." His voice, however, is humorless. "He would've been fine, I'm sure, Joon-ah is a strong man. But he would've been wasted there. Military isn't his place, he shouldn't have been there. He should be in the mountains... with what he loves."

Again, Jongho nods. He's learned that the man doesn't really need answers.

"So many of those boys shouldn't have been there..." he says this so quietly, Jongho doubts he was meant to hear.

Bitter September winds nips Jongho's cheeks as the two rest in silence.

Fewer birds flock today. Perhaps, with so few trees, they're freezing due to the lack of shelter. Jongho wonders what happens to the bodies.

Wait.

"Did you say your brother is in the mountains?"

The man meets Jongho's gaze with hardened eyes. "Yeah. What about it?"

I dare you, the eyes say, I dare you to say shit about it.

"Like, in Gidae?"

His hard eyes widen in surprise.

But they quickly become guarded again. "Where did you hear that name?"

Jongho's lips are tight, his mind searching for an answer.

He could lie, but Yunho would not approve. Avoiding the question was a possibility as well. Or perhaps—

Screw it.

"I've been there."

"So have I."

Quiet resides again as Jongho waits for him to continue.

The man sighs. "Yeah, my brother is there. At least, that's where he went over ten years ago... I stayed with him for almost a year, but..." He trails off, his eyes lost once more in the labyrinth. "But I came back for someone I loved."

Loved.

"And now here I am," he blinks back to the present, scattering crackers. "A kid from Daegu, sitting here with a black soul— as you kids say— feeding pigeons. My rebellion." He chuckles. "My fucking rebellion."

Jongho hopes he doesn't become like the man.

Once more, they are silent.

Jongho watches Eunmin and Kyungmin run around the slide, tackling each other.

"Jongho-ya." The man abruptly interrupts the silence, startling Jongho. Did Jongho even tell the man his name? Apparently. Or maybe Kyungmin did. That loudmouth.

"I want you to remember something. Sometimes you can't just go after what you love, who you love. Sometimes you need to put that little brain to use and actually think it through. Okay?" He looks at Jongho, pleading and broken. "Sometimes you have to let down the people you love. Sometimes you have to choose yourself. Because in the end, if you're always just doing what other people want, it'll make you lifeless." He sighs again. "I'm telling you this because I wish someone had told it to me. Do you understand? Sometimes you have to let down the people you love," he repeats. "Sometimes you have to, and that's okay."

— • —

Jongho lies in the dark. Under his covers, he traces patterns onto the bedspread. The pads of his fingers forming petal after petal.

The flowers he can remember come to life in his imagination. Hibiscus, rose, sweet pea. But the colors... Azalea, plum blossom, sunflower. Jongho's breath becomes stuck in his throat, because the colors are fading. The pigment of his memory, it's starting to dull, and the flowers look far from the magnificence he remembers.

Jongho flinches as the bedroom lights turn on with a click.

At least the blinding light stopped the tears which were forming.

Wooyoung walks into their room, looking exhausted. He tosses his school bag to a corner, standing for a moment, before turning around and walking right back out.

(Jongho is rather annoyed he left the light on.)

When Wooyoung returns with pajamas and a clean face, Jongho is again lost in thought.

I told Yunho I'd be back in a week. Is something a lie if you really meant it at the time? Am I still - he shakes his head - yeah, of course I'll go back. Just... Not yet.

"Wooyoung?" He calls as the light clicks off.

A grunt comes in reply.

Jongho turns to lie on his sides, facing his brother's bed; Wooyoung mimics the action.

And through the not-so-dark night, they look toward each other, eyes reflecting the outside light, but not sparkling. They haven't been like this in a while, since they were highschoolers talking into the night.

"Do you hate me?" Jongho asks.

The room is silent— for a moment— before Wooyoung laughs, high pitched and fast, quickly calming back down.

"No Jong-ah, I don't hate you at all." Wooyoung's eyes are soft as they meet Jongho's. "I just think you make bad decisions sometimes."

Wooyoung turns onto his back, so Jongho does the same.

A siren sounds outside their window, flashing lights and angry horns follow suit.

Jongho misses that vast darkness of the mountains. How the nighttime turned the cosmos into a thick blanket, wrapping around and settling his mind. How the only lights were the stars, the only sounds the crickets and wind.

"Sometimes we have to let down the people we love."

The words reverberate in Jongho's mind.

— • —

Jongho tried.

He really did.

But this isn't how it was supposed to go.

"We need to figure out what you're doing." Mama's voice has an edge, one which isn't usual. "Because you can't keep on like this."

This wasn't the plan.

But the guilt. Stupid. Fucking. Guilt. Leaving Wooyoung alone. Disappointing Eomma. Abandoning Woohyeon. Neglecting Eunmin and Kyungmin. Worrying Mama.

If the original sin is disobedience, the secondary one is shame. Because shame makes you hide, a coward.

"You know what Kyungmin told me today?" Mama asks, changing the subject. "He said he doesn't want to attend school anymore. Or wear-" she stutters, exasperated "-or wear shoes."

Jongho's proud smile is bitten back with his mother's next words.

"You know he's just copying you, right? He looks up to you so much. Jongho, I need you to be a good example." The weight in his chest is significant, now. "I need you to understand the impact you have on your siblings."

But, to a certain extent, that's exactly what Jongho is trying to do: be a good example. Show his little brother and sisters—his whole family, really—that they can be different. They can do different. And they can be not merely happy, but joyfully fulfilled.

Jongho slinks out of the house, just for a walk, until he's standing in front of that one, particular park bench.

No one is here, though.

Until Jongho catches the rustle of a plastic bag in the wind.

3-1-23 2.9k words.

A/N: It's chapter 11 and not much 2ho, sorry about that. But yeah, I really enjoy writing this and Jongho has a lot to learn before him and Yunho would work. So stick with him