JUNE 1

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    To numb the guilt, to avoid the vitriolic screaming of his brain (which had been jostled by this start of a complete 180 in his life), Chan threw himself into making sure he had everything during this second, final trip. Everything he'd need for a summer away from home. In his own home. There was no pretense of 'doing it for the family' to hide behind, as it had been with college, when he'd mostly just given in to the desire to escape and committed himself to four years of intermittently living four hours away.

   His clothes were already waiting there, sitting in hastily packed boxes in an otherwise empty bedroom(?) (could one really call it a bedroom without a bed in sight?), along with his laptop, his favorite mug and instant coffee mix— even his phone, which he and his permanent scatterbrain accidentally left on the card table Changbin had brought to temporarily serve as their kitchen table.

   At the moment, his mother and little siblings were helping him carry out his disassembled bed frame and his mattress.

   He couldn't stop to let himself think for a second about what that meant. The fact that he was leaving them. And the way they smiled lovingly at him nonetheless, without a hint of betrayal in their voices as they asked how they could help Chan get his car packed up, to let him leave them. 

   Most of all, the way that, standing directly across from him as she carried the other end of the bed frame, Hannah avoided eye contact with him as her smile crumbled.

    It felt like a stake driven through Chan's overtaxed heart.

   When they were all much younger and their father's more extreme alcoholic episodes had begun— the first time he'd threatened their mother, shouting in a drunken stupor— Chan remembered hiding with his siblings in the closet under the creaky wooden stairs, with little Lucas in his lap and Hannah against his side. He'd told them not to worry. That their big brother would keep them safe. And that one day the three of them would run away together and never have to feel afraid like this again. Together.

   No, he couldn't think about that. Otherwise he'd call it all off— he'd have to tell Changbin he chickened out, and he'd have to go back and get all his things, and he'd have to call the owners of the house and tell them he'd changed his mind— would they even let him take back a rental agreement he'd just signed?

   No, he'd made his decision; Mom said this is what she wanted. So, as he slid the pieces of the bedframe over his folded-up seats, he forced his brain back to: laptop, check. Coffee, check. Pillow, check. Melatonin?  Out of it. Pick up some more later. Not that it's been helping.

   Thank heavens above for a distraction. Across the way, not far in the distance, a door slammed open and footsteps thundered on concrete. Glancing over his shoulder toward the noise, Chan could just make out the form of Jisung across the street, bent over, hands on his knees as he squinted back at him. And that was just a second before he started shouting, "CHAN HYUNG, YOU GOT A HOUSE!?"

   Finally, something to make him laugh today. He could always depend on Jisung for that.

   "Ow, ow, ow," Jisung chanted, increasingly audible as he came closer, running across the gravelly road in bare feet.

   "Hey, Ji. Yeah, just packing up the last of my stuff now."

    "Awesome, can I help?"

   Chan hummed thoughtfully as he looked back over the other shoulder, where he saw his mother carrying out a (clean) trash bag filled with his bedding. "There might be a few more things. I'm not sure. You can have Lucas show you my room; anything that's left will be piled up in there."

   "Got it." He patted Chan's shoulder as he passed by, heading toward the front door, chirping, "Hi, Chan's mom!" as he went.

   He sighed, chest feeling lighter. Then he turned his head one more time, thinking he'd heard the sound of door hinges again.

   Chan found himself smiling genuinely as Jisung's mother stepped out on the porch, hand high in the air, waving hello to him. To be honest, for some reason, he'd wanted to see her again; say goodbye for the summer. Was it weird for him to want that when he'd only seen her once before?

    He shut the trunk of his car while his mother found a place for the bag in the front. "I'll be right back, Mom." And he walked across the street, headed down the driveway and climbed the porch steps to where Jisung's mother stood with a patient smile, her hands having drifted into her pockets in the time he took to get there.

   A wave of unfamiliar peace swept over him as she asked, "How've you been?"

   It seemed an earnest question, not just a polite greeting. The smile fell from his lips and he found his lying tongue paralyzed by the arresting look in her big, solicitous eyes.

    "Sleeping more?" she added, in his silence. The faint wrinkles in her face (unobscured, as her hair was pulled back by a flowery headband, except for a few framing wisps), seemed to jump out as she waited for Chan's reply.

    "Haven't really been able to," Chan admitted. She frowned, and he continued, "But I think that'll change soon."

    "Good." Her hand settled on his shoulder for a moment. Comforting. Soul-quieting. "Jisung told me you're moving out for the summer. I'm happy for you."

   Somehow, it was like she knew everything he'd been through; everything he'd been struggling with for years. Like it was all written, plain as day, in bold calligraphy, on his face. Even his recent dealings with incessant insomnia and claustrophobic courtrooms— all of it.

    "Thank you. It's a shame we won't be neighbors anymore, though. I guess... I would've liked to learn more about making bread," he chuckled— but that wasn't really it. Making bread had been nice, but what was it really? What drew him to this woman so much?

   She laughed flowery notes that sounded just like a lighter, gentler version of Jisung's crazy giggles. "Come visit now and then."

   Chan nodded, grateful for the invitation. Conversation concluded.

   He supposed that now would be the moment that he'd turn to go back, but suddenly, the woman standing in front of him gave half a shrug and opened her arms invitingly, almost inquisitively. Just an offer, to be taken only if he wanted it.

    Somehow, even with the few inches he had over her, he felt small in her embrace, which was every bit as warm and soul-touching as her son's.

   "Thank you," he uttered, as he pulled back just a second or two later.

   Her closed-mouth, puffy-cheeked grin was a sweet 'you're welcome'. She gave his back a single, final pat as she offered her goodbye: "Have fun."

   "See you soon." As he walked away, his heart felt unnaturally heavy once again, chest weighed down as if by a stone.

    Jisung seemed to have made friends with his siblings already, though. They were all standing on the driveway in a semi-circle, chatting as they held popsicles— the kind that were made of real fruit and had stupid jokes engraved on the sticks. The ones that had always been reserved for special occasions, since they didn't quite fit in the budget.

   It made Chan chuckle lightly; wistfully. His mother, standing on the porch with the box of them, smiled as she held one up in the air to offer it to him from afar, but he put on a smile as he shook his head and waved his hand downward in a 'no thanks' motion.

   Chan began making his way towards them, overhearing a bit of Jisung's nonsense: "So my question is, if there's no seed inside the coconut, how do we get new coconut trees?"

   Upon seeing Chan, though, the conversation circle drifted apart, and Jisung piped up, "Ah, hyung, you're all set. Everything's packed."

    "Cool. Thanks, guys." And then the string of farewell-family-hugs began. Unlike the hug he'd received across the street, during each of these hugs, he had to go back to focusing on check, check, check in order to keep it together, to the point that he could barely even feel them.

   Jisung, once again, swooped in to save the day as he made Chan laugh by lining up to get a hug, too. "You're coming over with me, though, right, Ji?"

   "Yep."

  It felt so final when Chan gave one last wave, left them with his love and best regards for the summer, then got into his fully-packed car, which looked ready for a road trip. It was only three months. And only just over ten minutes away. So why did it feel so long, so far?

   Though the two were each only a stone's throw away from the other, the space between responsibility and freedom was a wide, gaping chasm. That chasm was, in Chan's mind, was otherwise known as the distance between his childhood house— his family's home— and the house he'd just signed an agreement to rent. 

Check, check, check. He didn't even know what he was checking anymore. But repeating that over and over in his mind kept his hands steady on the wheel. It'd only work for so long though; he'd need to find something else to occupy his shaky mind quite soon.

   Very quickly, relying half on memory and half on Jisung's navigation due to the fact that he'd forgotten his phone, Chan arrived at his new, charming little townhouse, noticing a peculiar pair standing on the porch. Hyunjin and Minho. (Who must've left their houses only minutes after he sent the text asking if they'd like to come over.) No Changbin.

   Hyunjin, his lanky, long-haired figure easily identifiable from the street as Chan pulled in, stood at one end of the porch, seemed to be carrying on a very sparing, awkward conversation, judging by not only by the way he scratched his neck as he moved his mouth, but by the way Minho stood listening.

    Well, on second thought, Minho's current demeanor was rather typical of him. As always, his expression was so determinedly— almost aggressively— neutral. Lips set in a firm line. Eyebrows flat, without a hint of a raise; no twist to them or wrinkle between them. Eyes almost glazed over, like a permanent fog had settled over any emotion; like there'd never be clear skies. Hands hanging limply in front of his body, shielding it subtly, his fingers clasped together like a less in-your-face version of arm-crossing. He looked uncomfortable, and remained that way even as he directed his gaze toward Chan (who'd begun getting out of the car). That wasn't surprising; it was characteristic.

    What was surprising was what happened next, when Jisung's door popped open and the boy came around the car: Minho flashing a smile. The smile was a lightning strike— bold and bright, but gone in a moment; he appeared to chew his lips into submission to make it more or less subside. And Chan glanced back over to Jisung to see him with a longer-lasting, matching smile etched into his face as he headed toward Minho.

Hm. Chan thought. Interesting.

   There had always been something between those two, an electric current that ebbed and flowed and changed over time. In the beginning it had been nothing but ceaseless tension— they were polar opposites; mismatched magnets impossible to put together. And then they weren't. What exactly had it changed into now?

    With that question echoing in his mind, Chan realized he was more aware of what was going on around him than he had been in weeks, months maybe— and this certainly seemed to be a great time for it. If he paid close attention, it seemed, he might find some interesting answers.

   Right behind Jisung (who was now taking his place beside Minho, having offered a casual, smiley 'hey' to both guys standing on the porch), Chan made his way up the steps, asking: "Where's Changbin?"

   As was his habit, Minho stayed quiet, leaving the explanation to Hyunjin. Chan watched his head snap down toward the hand that Jisung placed on his arm briefly as another part of his greeting— an extra note of acknowledgement. And he watched Minho relax, very quickly, while that hand was still on him. Now that was something.

   Hyunjin spoke up: "Went back home a few minutes ago to get the last of his stuff. We offered to help, but... he said he was good. Now we're just standing here." He shrugged.

   Chan rolled his eyes, chuckling, "Not the best host."

   Not a moment later, when the sound of a slowing engine approached, defying that same habit Chan had just been reminded of, Minho said something. "Speak of the devil..." he hummed, though not without first clearing his throat.

   And out of the front of Changbin's car popped a blondie, arms full of red solo cups and bags of snacks. "I come bearing housewarming gifts!" Felix beamed.

   Chan grinned, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hyunjin crossing his arms. Glancing over, he saw that Hyunjin was furrowing his eyebrows while Felix kneed the door shut— his eyes passing from Felix to Changbin, who followed suit with two liter bottles of soda.

Hm, Chan thought once again. Interesting.

   First, Felix excitedly pushed his "housewarming gifts" into Chan's arms with a heartfelt congratulations. After that, he was smothering Jisung in a hug. Then Hyunjin, who'd swiftly come behind Jisung, got his hug. 

   Chan saw Hyunjin's smile break out in splinters as Felix's arms came around him. Saw his gaze graze against Changbin's, with his eyebrows twitching ever so slightly downward as he gingerly pressed Felix closer to his chest. OH,  Chan thought. How long has this been going on?   

   It was like he'd woken up from a coma, asking, "How long was I out?"

   But, since everyone was gathering now, the small townhouse porch was getting crowded, and there were two full cars of things to bring inside, Chan figured he should quit standing around and get things moving. His first order of business was to go inside and grab his phone from the table, and check the group chat. After all, two were still missing from the housewarming party.

   Changbin and a few others drifted in after him, passing through the meager foyer (a glorified hallway, really) into the wide-open living room which currently housed nothing but a stack of boxes in one corner. To no one in particular, Chan remarked, "Hm. Seungmin and Jeongin haven't answered. Well, I guess that's what we get for announcing this short-notice." He sighed, his shoulders falling in a motion akin to a shrug. "Hope you're all ready to help us move in," Chan chuckled. 

   The four guests each made their own concurring noises (some more noticeable and/or enthusiastic than others).

   Changbin stepped in to help direct. "I think we should split up between inside and outside. As in, some of us just take stuff from the car to the door, and then some of us take it into the house and some take it upstairs. Assembly line style."

    "Divide and conquer!" Jisung agreed.

   The moving party began with gusto, largely due to the fact that Felix brought a speaker with him (which he handed over to Hyunjin; it only seemed right). With the music loud and echo-y, floating freely through the barely-filled house, the two teams of three made quick work of each car. For the sake of knowing where to put what, Changbin stayed outside, handing items to Hyunjin and Felix for them to drop at the door for Jisung, who either left them in the living room or passed them on to Minho— who had been put on stair duty. (With those thighs... Well, he was the obvious choice.) Finally, Minho handed them off to Chan, who sent anything he recognized to the room overlooking the street (his), and anything he didn't to the room on the other end of the hallway (Changbin's).

   This worked quite well, and having developed a steady pace and rhythm, (matching that of Hyunjin's playlist) they were all non-stop moving, boxes changing hands over and over. But then it slowed. It'd been a bit since Minho had come (huffing and puffing by now) chugging up the steps (two at a time), and Chan was left hanging at the top, all by himself. It took a full minute before he decided to head down to the bend of the narrow staircase so he could look around the corner and peer into the living room for clues.

    And he was just in time to witness Jisung shrugging, shuffling a few steps away from the door and putting his hands on his hips, facing Minho.

   Grinning, Jisung broke into a relaxed groove, infected by the music almost instantaneously from head to toe. From the side Chan watched him stare pointedly at Minho with a look in his eyes that seemed to say— in a way that was somehow still amiable and caring: 'I dare you.'

    Chan's eyes darted to Minho just in time to see him— egged on by Jisung's overflowing enthusiasm— do the tiniest little dance move Chan had ever seen. A slight head bob; a stiff, restrained sway; that's all. But somehow it still shocked Chan that he would move like that— Minho, who'd always walked around with his posture rigid and straight, arms stuck to his sides as if glued. Wiggling the tiniest bit.

    Chan kept his hand over his mouth to contain his fond, proud noises. This felt like a moment that was meant to be private— it'd be ruined if either (but mostly Minho) knew they had an audience.

   Despite Chan's efforts, the moment was still cut short in the end, with the outside group, calling in sync: "Minho hyung!"

    It turned out that the holdup had been due to the fact that before anyone knew it, they'd nearly finished, and now all there was left to do was to haul in the— Chan looked out a window to see it halfway out of Changbin's car now— the... big, fancy, red and gold couch that Changbin had brought. Hyunjin and Felix were having some trouble with it. Felix had already set it down, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, looking expectantly towards the door, waiting for reinforcement.

   Chan chuckled dryly; just the slightest bit wistful. There was a time when he would've been first to be called to help lift something heavy. Before it became obvious that he was withered and weakened. But he wouldn't let himself wallow in self-pity for long— he had to smile for real at the way Minho lit up just so at being called for. The way he ran.

   "This thing is boujee," Jisung gaped, having pressed himself to the wall after pushing a few things out of the way to clear a spot. He reached out a hand to run over the plush, velvet-y looking material.

   "Where on earth did you get that, Bin?" Chan questioned, sitting on the landing (as if he'd only just gotten there) as they positioned the couch in the middle of the room amongst a maze of boxes.

   Changbin shrugged, deadpanning: "My parents' basement. They weren't using it."

    "Geez."

    As comical as it was, with their meager and incredibly mismatched furniture supply (a card table sitting in the kitchen surrounded a combination of both plastic fold-out chairs and lawn chairs, with a couch that, to Chan, looked straight out of a castle taking up half the living room for example), it made Chan's heart feel lighter than it had in forever.

    He watched a home come together as they carried in the bed frames, the chairs, the blankets. Perhaps they could still use some rugs. A shoe rack (with the moving done, quite the pile was about to accumulate by the door). A real table-and-chairs-set. But everything they needed was there now— the rooms upstairs were now bedrooms, the front room a real living room, and so on. Everything was there now, except family to fill it to the brim. As for the bedrooms, it was just him and Changbin inhabiting them for now; the other two rooms were perfectly bare. 

   And as they all took their chances, in between carrying in boxes and bed frames, to look around and explore the house, from the (relatively) (for two people) spacious kitchen and living room to the multiple bathrooms, and most of all, the two completely, almost forebodingly empty bedrooms, Chan noticed their puzzled faces here and there as they surveyed.

   "So, guys." All eyes were on him at that. He got up off the stairs, walked to the middle of the room to stand with the rest of them. "You may have noticed the surplus of rooms," Chan began. Why was he nervous? Breath held, this felt strangely akin to the moment before he blew out his birthday candles. Back when he had birthday candles to blow out— it'd been years. "I was wondering if any or all of you would want to move in with us..?"

    "Dude! You should've told me before I came here; I would've packed my stuff!" Hyunjin griped.

   "Sorry. Kinda wanted it to be a surprise." Chan grinned. Relieved that his wish was immediately beginning to come true; his plan working. He looked around the room and saw excitement.

   "There are four rooms, so assuming everyone wanted to move in we'd have two to a room," Changbin added. 

   Chan nodded. "Take some time to think about it; I know this was all very short notice. Well, Hyunjin, you've already decided. That's fine. I figured. Also— if you guys have any kind of furniture to bring with you..." He glanced demonstratively at the lack of furnishing, chuckling.

   Felix, who had been nodding along, suddenly spoke up, setting down a cup of soda on a makeshift box-table. "Well, sounds like it's time for congratulatory housewarming cuddles."

   Chan felt a tug at his hand, and before he knew it, he was laughing at the bottom of the dogpile forming on the couch. He was so preoccupied with bodies stacking on top of or beside his that he didn't even notice how or when Minho joined— given, he was at the less populated corner of the couch, mostly maintaining a bit of elbow room, but he was there nonetheless. Chan was absolutely sure Jisung had something to with it.

   Yeah. He made it. In this moment, everything was perfect. Peaceful. Nothing to worry about. Surrounded by peers. Nothing to right. No one needing his help. And for now, any twinges of guilt, any self-deprecating thoughts were pushed far away. He finally escaped.

   The evening passed in a perfect golden haze like that— the only letdown was that Seungmin eventually definitively texted to say that he and Jeongin couldn't make it. Snacks passed around. Laughter thrown back and forth throughout the rooms (which were considerably less echo-y now). Soda only spilled once (on account of someone getting a bit too rowdy during the card game Felix had started with the deck he'd pulled from his pocket halfway through the night— but we won't name names.). Someone called for pizza at some point, and the smell hung thick in the downstairs rooms, giving Chan an appetite stronger than he'd had in quite some time. His stomach actually growled audibly.

    By the time the sun went down, Chan had become one with the (surprisingly comfortable) couch and didn't want to move. And then he remembered, having gotten a ride from him, Jisung was stranded here. At once sharply inhaling and opening his eyes as if he'd just come back from the dead, Chan called out, "Ah, Jisung, I almost forgot I gotta drive you back." He paused, stretching. "Unless you just want to crash here and sleep on the fancy couch," he joked. Half-joked.

   Suddenly, Minho's small, ever-shaky voice cropped up. "I'll do it."

   A trace of a smile formed on Chan's lips.

    "I, however, will gladly take his place on the couch." Hyunjin grinned, dropping down next to Chan. Chan glanced over and Hyunjin's smile faded as they each nodded slightly, mutual understanding lingering there between their shared gaze.

    Standing patiently by Minho as the other boy put on his shoes (All this time Jisung had been barefoot, having not brought shoes with him— he'd run straight out to see Chan from his house and hadn't gone back before he got in Chan's car) "Ooh! Let's have a sleepover next time. Movie night. Y'know, when this place isn't covered in boxes and stuff."

   Felix gave a series of rapid-fire, concurring claps. "Yes! That would be so much fun!"

   "I can pack tomorrow. Can I move in then?" Hyunjin drilled.

   "Sure," Chan answered, through a yawn. "You wanna sleep here? I'll find an extra pillow and blanket for you."

   "Yessir."

    The hardest thing about going to sleep tonight, when he'd already half-drifted off on the couch just now, would probably just be working up the willpower to get himself up to his bed.

Yeah.

I think I needed this.

]

too long 2 proofread </3 

aaah i have four minutes to save my duolingo streak

 thanks @natterflynate for helping me come up with a convo topic for jisung and chan's siblings haha... but now i have an unsolvable question that will haunt me until i find the answer...