Hi everybody. I'm currently in a lot of pain and very miserable. So that's been fun.

...

Junmyeon gazed up at the two storey apartment, wrinkling his nose. Two months at Jung Ahn's and they deemed him "cured." Though they went to the trouble of lining him up a job and helping him secure a house. He was to be invited back monthly for evaluations and weekly for AA, though they claimed he didn't need constant supervision anymore. He bit back the retort to follow and instead went through the motions of doing what he was told.

Junmyeon did question them on whether or not they trusted him to keep his salvation at bay. They grinned wickedly, saying they trusted him. The first of any to do so. And though he wanted nothing more than to tuck his tail between his legs and go crawling back to the safety of Jung Ahn's or the exhilaration of his vices, he instead thrust his chin in the air and marched inside his new town house. He glanced around the front entrance, taking in the small yet cozy space. He set his bag near the door.

Junmyeon debated inviting people over, but when it boiled down to it who was even left in his life that he could? Baekhyun amd Chanyeol, maybe. He wanted to be more on my feet before they even stepped foot in this apartment though, so that idea flew right out the window. His parents? Absolutely not. He'd rather burn a slow death in a ditch somewhere then have them back in his life. He suddenly wished more than anything his grandma was still around. The closest thing to a parental figure he had, and the only person who cared about him almost as much as they cared about Sehun.

The tired male moved to the kitchen, taking it all in. Small refrigerator and freezer combo. Small stove. Small table with two chairs. Perfect for a bachelor like himself. His nurse's voice flittered through his mind briefly, reminding him that this was the next step towards complete recovery. Whatever that meant. But he believed they had his best interests at heart. He wove his way back to the front entryway, peering into the small livimg room space, taking in the ancient looking couch and armchair, mismatched like they couldn't find their partner when they picked them up from the antique store. No TV. Not that he watched it much anyway.

Junmyeon climbed the staircase to the second floor, emerging into a thin hallway with two closed doors on opposite sides. He propped open the door to his left. Bathroom. A small space, much like the rest of the house if he was being honest. Complete with a tiny standing shower. Guess he wouldn't be able to soak in a bath here. He moved in slow motion to the door on the right, already predicting what he'd find. The door swung open. Mattress and dresser. To his surprise a small TV mounted on the wall across from the bed. A stand up wardrobe tucked into the corner across from me.

Cozy, he thought once more as the door clicked softly shut. It's cozy in here.

One part of him knew this should feel like a fresh start. It was a fresh start. He should have felt elated at the fact he'd been handed all of this on a silver platter and the promise of moral support since that had been severly lacking for ninty percent of his life. He should have been sliding down the hallway or dancing through the kitchen or jumping for joy on the living room. A place all to himself. Finally. In some ways this absolutely felt like a victory.

The other part of him felt crushed in loneliness. These walls reminded him of everything he'd lost in an attempt to gain them in the first place. So much of his life seemed a haze; a fuzzy memory coated in static like an old TV channel, long forgotten. The best years of his life he didn't have any recollection of. Instead marred by a feeling so bitter no human on earth should ever experience it. It squeezed at a heart that he had thought long dried with emotion. He wanted those days back. The days that were robbed from him by forces that were beyond his own control.

He sat at the small table, resting his forehead against the cool wood. After the constant buzz of Jung Ahn's the quiet felt...almost draining. He'd grown accustom to having noise all about. Now it wasn't present. Unsettling. But he knew he'd have to get used to being on my own eventually, without some constsnt presence around. That's what most people did, right? That's at least what he'd been led into believing.

A fuctioning member of society, he fleetingly thought. That's what they want. Someone who fits the mold.

Did Junmyeon even know how to do that now? Alienated from normal life for so long now, he was unsure he could simply slip back into a role befitting of their standards. He clawed at his face, trying to rid himself of the prinkly sensation travelling the length of his body. A thousand tiny needles jabbing and prodding all at once. Stripping away his skin and leaving him exposed to the world. He knew what they expected. Stay clean. Stay sane. Eventually he would work his way to a day job and would rely on Jung Ahn's less and less until the training wheels fell off and he was left to ride this flaming vehicle on his own. He knew what they expected of him. But could he even expect it from himself?

Junmyeon eventually moved to his bed, lying atop the covers and curling himself into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. The quiet... It was even louder than Jung Ahn's. At least there the noise made sense. It almost became...soothing. And after he'd finally gotten used to it they yanked it from him once again. Just like a lot of things he's grown to care about. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive anymore, even knowing it was what he wanted.

...

"Byun Baekhyun, you can't be serious," Chanyeol rumbled, eyeing his hudband's handiwork over his head. Baekhyun just grunted. He gathered his materials in his arms, moving from their dining room to their living room, where his mannequin sat, ready for him to be creative. Chanyeol's footfalls mirrored his own. The giant of a man stood framed in the doorway, watching as his husband worked effortlessly but soundlessly. He didn't even look up to acknowledge his presence. Chanyeol rumbled to himself. "You mean to tell me you do not want to go visit Junmyeon in his mew place? Even though he reached out and asked for a visit?" Asked was even wrong. More like begged for some companionship. Said he was going stir crazy in a space all to himself with no one else around. Which Chanyeol could understand all too well. Baekhyun's working fingers twitched then stilled. His shoulders heaved once.

"No." Chanyeol let him twist through his thoughts. "I don't, Chanyeol. I don't qant to see my best friend in a place so low. I know this is a good opportunity for him. I'm glad Jung Ahn's had this program so he can get back on his feet. But what happens if he relapses? I can't... I can't keep witnessing him throw his life away." The giant man just listened. He'd never once caught his husband's perspective on it. And it made some gut wrenchingly morbin sense. "I know he hasn't had the best life. It got even worse when his grandma passed and he was left with the shattered pieces of his past. But god damn it I can't just continue to try and glue them together time and time again. One of these days I'm going to get hurt doing so." That's when Baekhyun finally turned, hot, sticky tears leaving racing stripes down his cheeks. Chanyeol finally moved from his doorway, bundling Baekhyun in his arms and cradling his head to his chest. As angry as he was about thid whole thing, seeing Baekhyun hurting and upset always brought him to his knees.

"I get your scared," he whispered. "But please. Put yourself in Junmyeon's shoes. He is forced to be all alone. The only person who ever gave him any love has since passed on. His parents probably don't even know he's alive, nor would they care. His ex wife is a psychotic witch who would rather he actually perish. There really isn't much else he can rely on." He held his husband at arm's length, boring into his gaze. Baekhyun slashed at his eyes, and for a fleeting moment Chanyeol believed he wished to gouge them from his skin entirely. Baekhyun sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the world upon them. Chanyeol tenderly pecked his forehead. For all his faults, he was still the man the giant adored beyond measure.

"A perfect pairing," their friends used to say to them. "A match made in heaven." But really all it was to Chanyeol was two people who just found the joy in being in each other's presence. He couldn't deny that it was also beneficial to have someone around to share mutual wins with, and mourn their losses. To forge a path together, intertwined in every sense of the word. He wanted to spend the rest of his life treasuring his little Baekie.

...

"Hey Yixing," Tao greeted as he entered. Yixing paused. Tao sounded...almost normal? No quiver in his voice. No mashing of his words like his breath was running laps from him and he couldn't keep up. But he knew the truth. Things would never be normal again. "Did they get ahold of you?" Tao inquired as he sat on his bed, criss-cross style, studying a magazine spread in front of him.

"About?" Yixing fired back. But Tao offered up no new information. So Yixing pulled the desk chair out, settling onto it and pulling his phone from his pocket. Zitao flipped through the magazine, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. Yixing thumbed through some news articles without really absorbing what they were about, hos glassy gaze unfocused. Tao flicked his eyes up, catching the faraway look. He gingerly closed his magazine, lacing his fingers together and studying his companion.

"Zitao." And just like that his worries melted away. Yifan threw the door aside, making huge strides until he was across the room at his lover's bedside. He scooped Tao into his arms, peppering his face in feather light kisses. Tao soaked it in. "Jung Ahn's called," Yifan continued, gingerly lowering him to the mattress. He sat beside him, taking the smaller man's hands in his own. He pretended not to notice that they felt more frail than the last time he was here. "A weekend visit? Are they sure you are ready?"

"They believe so," Tao said with a shrug, brushing off the whole thing. Yifan's eyes positively lit up. Bright as a main street on Christmas. But Yixing frowned. He didn't say a word, but Zitao knew. He knew what he was thinking. Because he was thinking it too. Even if Yixing and Yifan were both around...could he be so close to everything that at one point had dragged him to the abyss and back again? "I'll be happy to be home," Zitao very softly admitted. That at least was the truth. He missed home. He missed Yifan. He missed the one bright spark in his life. Yifan had always been that to him, even when it felt like the dark would swallow him whole.

"Hey." Zitao jumped as Yifan grabbed a hand in both of his. He brought the younger man's fingers to his mouth, kissing the knuckles gently. "I'm thrilled they think you're ready. I'm ready for you to be home. But..." He paused at last, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "I want you to do this on YOUR time, okay?" Yifan's almost desperate gaze bore into Tao's. "If it was up to me you'd be home right this second. But it's not up to me. And I'm not prematurely dragging you out of the place that's doing you some genuine good for my own selfish needs." He knelt at Tao's bedside. "Just say the word. We'll do what ever you are comfortable doing."

"You...you won't be mad if I say I'm not ready?" Tao asked hesitantly. Yifan's face crumbled. "I'm sorry," Tao blurted. "I could try..."

"Baby, no, I'm not upset at your choice." Yifan stroked the back of Tao's hand with his thumb absentmindedly. "I'm upset that you're upset, that's all." Tao breathed put for the first tike this whole exchange, a weight lifting from his shoulders when he was unaware it was even there in the first place. Yifan gave him a sort of rueful smile. "I'm NEVER going to be mad at you for this my beautiful baby. I just want what's best for you. And if you feel this is what's best, then I fully support you."

"Oh Yifan." Tao thought fleetingly to the man he met in high school. The man who would have partied the night away and would have beaten guys like him to a pulp. The man who buried his feelins so far deep inside himself it was an exibition to try and drudge them up. Now here he was, pouring out his heart while still trying to preserve Tao's. It was enough to drive him to his knees. He stretched his arms out wordlessly, and Yifsn climbed into bed with him, hooking his arms around his waist. Tao leaned his head on his lover's chest, closing his eyes.

I will get out, he briefly thought to himself. If not for me, than for Yifan. He's worth the fight. Every time.

...

Hi guys. It is VERY late but I wanted to finish this. So. Enjoy