(A.N. remember, Hyojoo is Yunho's mom.)

•

"Hey, kid." The man takes a seat, handing Jongho half a stale loaf. "You're gonna have to start bringing your own bread."

They sit in silence for a while, just the fighting of pigeons, before, "so what's on your mind? I mean, you look like you want to talk."

Jongho sighs, because absolutely. "I think-I think I need to leave. For real this time."

"Ya don't say."

Jongho pointedly ignores the snarky comment. "Yeah, because things are even worse now. I could stay, but it wouldn't end up good for anyone and-" Jongho goes on for a small monologue, before a rude interruption.

"Kid, why the hell did you even come back?" He tries not to yell, but is so purely irate at the situation before him. This boy took a chance to leave, to escape, and he came back?

The man knows well, the self-loath, the regret; he had a chance once, yet he declined.

In actuality, the man had chance after chance, and-to be honest-he still has the opportunity, but perhaps he is ashamed, ashamed for neglecting the opportunity which was quite literally pulling on his arm. The voice of his brother saying, come after me. And perhaps that shame leaves him stuck, bolted in place.

"I-" Jongho doesn't even try to hold his tears as his heart leaks into his eyes. "I was supposed to say goodbye, to leave my family decently."

"So why the fuck-" He catches himself. "Jongho, then why are you still here?"

"I don't know!" Jongho all but screams in reply.

The man stares at Jongho a moment. There's something akin to sympathy in his eyes, understanding, maybe, but Jongho can't quite tell. "I want to show you something," the man states and makes sure Jongho is watching.

From his shopping bag, he pulls a little container. From this, he shakes some white lumps into his palm.

It looks kind of like soggy crackers.

Jongho looks on as he tosses the food into the flock, startling the birds closest to them.

Of course, this new food gains their attention the instant it lands on the cement.

"Now watch," the man says quietly, but Jongho already is.

A brave bird hops forward, eyeing the clumps. She pecks it, just a little nibble, before spitting the lump back out and hoping away, shaking her beak in disgust.

A second bird comes up, then a third, and so on, all with the same reaction. After tasting it, they hop away without looking back.

"What is that?" Jongho eyes the abandoned pile.

"Horseradish."

"Oh." Jongho just looks at the cement some more. "That's pretty bitter, right?"

"Yup. Glad you know. Anyway. You see how the birds just taste it once then leave?" His eyebrows raise as he questions Jongho. "They don't come back. Once the birds realize it's bad, they don't come back even once.

The same with plants: they always grow toward the light."

Jongho hums, slowly realizing.

"Humans aren't like that." He lays back against the bench. "Sometimes we can learn a thing or two from nature. Actually," he chuckles, "I'm sounding like my brother now. My brother, he had a saying, 'if we can't change the world we need to change ourselves.' And that's what Namjoon did."

"Namjoon is your brother?"

The man nods, staring off in thought.

"What's your name, by the way?" Jongho turns to face him. "Mine's Jongho, don't remember if I told you."

He just smiles, looking far more amused than he did ten minutes ago. "The kids call me Gloss."

Jongho has heard the kids call him Pigeon Man, but he keeps that to himself.

Gloss turns to him a last time. "Look, I got one more thing to say and then I kindly hope I never see you again."

Then after a minute, "because you went back to the mountains," he clarifies, "not because you're dead."

"Disobey this hell of a society." Jongho looks straight into Gloss's eyes, gleaning whatever he can, for Jongho, too, hopes this is a sort of farewell. "Give a special pardon to your dream. Ask yourself what is your dream. What is it's profile. And become the subject of your own life that's always been suppressed."

With that, he stands, tossing the last slice of bread to Jongho's lap. "Good bye, Jongho. Don't let that light in your eyes die."

- • -

To a certain extent, the train is a dreary place. There's bursts of color in the group of foreign girls dawning cowboy hats, the reunited family, that man in full hanbok.

There's also plenty of drudgery. Men and women in suits, grey-eyed teens, the homeless woman speaking coherent nonsense to the air. Perhaps she spots a ghost of her past self in the window's reflection.

Jongho occupies the train seat directly ahead of said woman, but he's too self-conscious to move.

No worries, though, he's only a station away from his stop: Mindertown. The sole place he knows of to purchase a working compass.

He doesn't have much to spend, just the paper won that was untouched in his desk. But it should be enough. Though, now standing in front of the watchmaker's shop, Jongho isn't quite sure how much compasses go for nowadays.

But, lo and behold, Jongho exits a half hour of haggling later with a worn out compass as his new pride possession. (He's been assured it holds true north.)

Now for what he dreads.

"Mama?" Jongho calls once he arrives back home. It's Saturday, so the kids are home as well. Even Eomma.

"Dining room!" She calls back. She's sitting at the table in front of her laptop, no doubt researching the highest rank finishing schools for her two youngest.

"May I speak with you?"

At this, she looks up from the screen because, "that's very... formal. What's wrong?"

Jongho clasps his hands behind his back, nervous to look her in the eyes and doing it anyway. "I want to go back." Not exactly the grand explanation he half-heartedly concocted, but it gets the message across.

Whether it's received is another question.

Shutting her laptop, Wheein sighs. She's not quite contemplating, Jongho can tell, but she seems to regret her answer even before it leaves her mouth. Alas, for her, the course is set. "I know you do. And although I wish you found a, well, safer route, I still give my blessing. But at this point, I don't think you're looking for it."

But that's where Mama is wrong. Jongho is still, in many ways, a child. And even though, yes, he would still leave without her blessing, he's immeasurably happier to secure it. It makes him feel that, just maybe, this is okay.

괜찮아, that blessing whispers in his ear. Gwenchana.

The little ones cry when Jongho tells them. Their begging eyes nearly break his resolve. Woohyeon is more understanding.

"Take me with you." She says.

His sister's request catches Jongho off guard.

"I- I don't..." But what reason does he really have to say no? If Jongho believes Gidae is the better place, and he truly does, shouldn't he want his family to join?

"I mean- if-," he stutters out.

Woohyeon just scoffs, and Jongho can see her retract into herself. "Nevermind. I'll see you later, Jongho Oppa." Woohyeon clasps around him, a little stronger than usual, before pulling back to look up into his eyes. Any words are caught behind her tongue. And Jongho doesn't even know what he could say.

So Jongho watches her leave the house, without looking back.

Turning around in the living room, Jongho quickly intakes the oxygen around him, because there is Wooyoung, leaning against the wall. He looks so stern when he's serious, a trait Jongho has noticed more and more.

"The kids told me." He says simply. "When are you leaving?"

"The... Tuesday. The day after tomorrow."

"Think you'll come back again?"

Neither brother approachs the other. Jongho in the middle of the room, the older slouched against a far wall. Watching, assessing.

"I don't think so." I don't hope so.

Wooyoung nods slowly, repeatedly, glancing around the room before pushing off the wall.

"Jongho-ya, don't tell anyone I said this, but I'm kinda proud of you." Wooyoung's voice is a void melancholy, his eyes looking drained.

But those words mean the world to Jongho; they come from his oldest brother.

- • -

Two days later, Jongho dawns his backpack, far more preparedly packed than three months previous.

"Eomma?" He enters his parents' bedroom. "I'm ready to leave now."

She looks up from her laptop, finally settling it aside. "There's nothing I can do to change your mind, huh?"

Jongho plays with the straps of his bookbag, keeping a fragile silence.

"Well, you might as well take off. As your parent, I want you to be happy, Jongho, even though as a citizen, I believe you're doing wrong."

But being happy is simply not enough for Jongho. He needs to be fulfilled. Needs to be doing what is right. Needs to find where he belongs.

Only then will he be at peace. Happy, some would say.

"Goodbye, Eomma." He opens his arms to embrace her and she smiles, sliding off the bed.

"It still seems like you shouldn't be taller than me," Hyejin says against her son's chest. "To me, you're still a baby." She presses a palm against his head, holding him to herself.

Jongho can't stand much longer. Can't stand the civil war within not only his mind, but his body; whether to push her away or melt closer. He draws a deep breath before stepping away. "Goodbye, Eomma," he says again.

- • -

It's the third day, now.

The third back back in the forest.

Jongho was chilled to the bone last night, his second night back in the woods. But the first snow shouldn't usually land until the end of November, a few more weeks, and Jongho prays that's the case this year.

He's still headed north. Extremely slow as he hacks through brush and spider webs.

But he's determined. And perseverance itself is almost the entire fight.

Jongho scowls at his last water bottle. He thought he'd brought enough this time. Obviously not.

His food is dwindling along with his patience. The last of the mosquito and gnat population swarm his skin, eager to feast before they die out for the winter. There's a strange rash around his ankle where an orange and black beetle was hanging onto him. Jongho pulled the beetle off yesterday, but that's when the rash started; red circles on his skin.

Maybe I really will die this time.

Thankfully, the rash neither hurts nor itches, so Jongho doesn't pay it much mind, simply pulling up his socks.

Downing the last of his water, he shoves the plastic into his backpack. That's all his bag is full of now, empty plastics and wrappers. Every time Jongho wants to litter, he can't; Yunho's voice scolds him in his head.

"Hello out there?"

Jongho stops in his tracks.

Great, Jongho rolls his eyes, now I'm hearing even more voices.

But then he sees a trail. A 'deer trail,' Jongho remembers they're called. Small and roughly blazed paths through the forests.

He's ecstatic. Or rather, his heart is. His whole gut is going haywire with anxious expectation.

"Hello!" Jongho calls out.

And he freezes when someone calls back.

"Hello? Anyone out there? We'll help if you'd like!" It's a man's voice he doesn't recognize, but he's only hesitant a second before calling out again.

Following up the path, he sees two boys first. Both are annoyingly taller than him. But when Jongho's eyes catch on the person behind them, he immediately releases five tense exhales in one. Because it's Hyojoo, and Jongho knows he'll be okay.

"Jongho-ya?" She's stunned, never expecting to see the boy again.

Most people who leave the mountains become caught in a net. Everyone has a slightly different net, a slightly different vice which keeps them encaged. Pulled along by an incessant current, Hyojoo has seen how most people never return.

Knowing the boy isn't big on shows of physical affection, Hyojoo walks up to him, settling to place a congratulatory hand on his shoulder. "Jongho-ya," she says again, softer. "Welcome home."

- • -

Once more at Geoncho, Jongho sits in the dining room of his hanok. Across from him, at the other end of the table, sits the tall boy. Neither speak. Jongho doesn't mind the silence, but this boy's stare is, at the least, unsettling.

Jongho has yet to see him blink.

Jinsik, the other boy (the one with the voice of a man), enters with two steaming bowls of noodles, Hyojoo following with more food behind.

During dinner, Jongho has a hard time staying awake, the hot food and warm fire lulling him further into a restful state.

"Jongho?" He hears Hyojoo call. "Are you feeling alright?"

Jongho looks at her a moment before responding. It takes that time to process. "Yeah," he says after a worried glance between Hyojoo and Jinsik. "I think I just need some sleep." Every muscle hurts when Jongho stands, joints feeling like the doors of an old shed, its hinges rusted.

"Jongho-ya," Hyojoo calls as he stumbles toward the bedroom. She comes to his side supporting him by the arm. "Can I check you over before you sleep?"

Jongho just nods.

Once Jongho is settled in bed, the corpus lays her hands on his temples. To help him relax, she massages a little as she feels through his electrical pathways, riding the currents, looking for an injury, a source of pain. Is there heat coming from somewhere there shouldn't be? And she feels it; his ankle.

"Jongho, I'm going to roll up your pant leg." And sure enough, the point of his fatigue. The bullseye rash, the telltale sign of Lyme disease. She sighs. Even a few days later could've led to irreversible brain and nerve damage. The effects have worn Jongho, for as Hyojoo looks up, the young man is fast asleep. So Hyojoo stays quiet as she holds him, through the time it takes to transfer her own energy, her own health, into Jongho.

They both slept quite well in the night.

After breakfast the next morning, Hyojoo hosts an impromptu study session for the three boys on the dangers of rashes, bug bites, poisonous plants, and every other horror tiny things in the woods have to offer.

Just as she's started - to the dismay of her captive audience - on the deadly effects of the invasive Kissing Bugs, two sets of footsteps are heard by the front door.

"Oh my gosh, you need a shower," a woman's voice says. "Please, I know you love the dirt but-"

"Ha! Exactly," and Jongho recognizes this voice... "I wouldn't expect an Ignis like you to understand." This voice full of flowers and laughter and annoying little games.

Jongho stays quiet until they enter the hanok, his eyes glued to the doorway. When their eyes meet, Jongho doesn't know what to do, how to act. But thankfully Yunho does.

"Jongho," he breathes. Dropping his bag by the door, he walks to the low table and pulls Jongho up into a hug.

After a second against Yunho's chest, Jongho feels Yunho pushing him away. But no, no let me stay, his mind speaks in silence. But then Yunho still holds onto the younger's shoulders, and Jongho is given no time to cringe at his sappy thoughts.

"It's so good to see you back!" Yunho smiles. His beautiful smile. Jongho's mind is at it again. Seeing the happiness in Yunho's voice and sincerity on his face... Jongho slowly breaks into a smile as well. A big smile that, unbeknownst to Jongho, Yunho finds utterly adorable, all crescent eyes and lips stretched so wide they reveal his gums.

Yunho laughs, reaching up to ruffle the younger's hair, and- "dang, Jongho-ya, you need a shower."

But Jongoho's smile only widens at the tease. He covers it with a roll of his eyes and a scoff as he pushes Yunho away by his shoulder. "Shut up," he mumbles.

"Yah, Yunho-ya!" Hyojoo calls from her place at the table. "Stop picking on him. Do I get a hug too?"

And just like that, everything feels right again.

- • -

"Why'd you come back?" Yunho asks.

It's just the two of them outside, under the stars, both wrapped in colorful wool blankets. After the others retired, Yunho built them a fire of kindling and flint. (It took a while, and a lot of smoke, since fires are in no way the Flora's specialty.)

Jongho contemplated a moment. When everything is good, it's so easy to forget how bad things used to be. Jongho just tried to remember what he said to his brother, what he said to Eomma and Mama.

"I-." Jongho looks into Yunho's eyes over the flames. He sees how they dance in the older's eyes. Not destructive, not dangerous, but instead warm. "I couldn't stay."

Yunho raises his brows, waiting for elaboration.

"I love my family, but I was drowning. It felt like I couldn't do anything right. I couldn't- it's not that I couldn't live up to their expectations, but I couldn't even live up to my own. I-" Jongho looks down. He picks at the blades of grass under his feets, messings and fidgeting. "I hated myself... I-" his heart sinks, "couldn't do anything."

There's a shuffling at his side and Jongho looks up to notice Yunho coming to sit beside him. He feels weak; he feels vulnerable; he feels emotional; to Jongho, those are all the same thing.

Jongho clears his throat, looking away, trying to push his heart back down, far away, and lock it there. He tries to make logic reign.

Real men don't cry, hmm? The memories say. "You gotta stay strong for your family! You only have moms, right?" His grandmother says, holding a little Jongho and Wooyoung in her lap. "So you both, you're the men of the family."

But humans are body and soul, heart and mind. They are a balance of everything in creation. Logic and emotion.

Yunho chuckles softly watching how Jongho tries to avoid him, avoid himself. "Come here." He pulls Jongho into his side, wrapping his blanket around both of them.

Jongho worries the older might get cold without his blanket shut, but he stays still, stays quiet.

"I can't say I've felt that way, Jongho." Yunho's arms rests across the younger's shoulders, coming up to stroke his hair. "I've been disappointed in myself, I've been guilty, but not like that." Jongho sighs, of course not. Of course you don't understand. The person I-

"I wish I could say I have, I wish I could say I was strong. That I was still alive even when my own mind tried to kill me. But the only think that tries to kill me out here is bears."

Jongho laughs, a wet laugh, and rolls his eyes. He knows Yunho is trying to make him smile, because he knows Yunho actually loves bears.

"But I can't. But can't I still be here for you, with you, in these feelings?" Yunho taps the side of Jongho's head, making him look up.

"I..." Jongho knows what he wants to say, truly he does, but he doesn't want to pull Yunho down with him. Those feelings, that guilt, it's all just history, right?

"Hmm? Tell me."

"I don't... want to make you, you know," Jongho looks back down at his lap, "sad."

"I won't be." Yunho smiles, looking up to the stars. "Because I can feel your pain and still know it's not mine. I can feel, and try to understand, your life and thoughts and emotions without absorbing them. So don't worry," Yunho pokes his cheek, "you won't hurt me."

Both Jongho's mind and body relax a little at that. He slouches more into Yunho's side.

"You're so strong, you know that, Jongho-ya?"

"Don't say that to me," Jongho sighs.

"I'm serious-"

"So am I, Yunho Hyung." I've heard it too many times. "I don't want to be strong anymore."

The early afternoon sun finds Jongho once again at the edge of the forest. Compass in hand, covered in synthetic wool and weighted by provisions of water and protein bars.

The mountains of Taebaek lie ahead of him, dead north.

•

6-6-23 3.4k words.

Remember you are loved. Love yourself. Be kind because you don't know what's happening in another's mind. And be who makes you fulfilled.