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When Soonyoung sees him for the first time, he looks thin, shivering under the sparse glow of the moon; he looks small and vulnerable and Soonyoung feels his heart begin to split in two. There’s a dirty, torn blanket wrapped around his limp frame, and he only hugs it tighter as his eyes find Soonyoung’s. He sees a moment’s panic fleet across his pupils before they dilate and comfort takes over. Soonyoung takes it as a cue to move closer.
“Jihoon?” Is all he can say even though he knows exactly who he’s speaking to. Jihoon looks away ashamedly, shuffling against the wall he’s leant on. Soonyoung finally makes it close enough to sit across from him, legs crossed as he figures out what to say during the silence. There’s nothing. He finds himself playing with the grass beneath their feet instead, tugging it and ripping it from the soil; there’s absolutely nothing he can think of to say to break this silence, and for some reason speaking to who he thought was his best friend seems like an impossible task.
“I’m sorry,” Jihoon finally speaks, there’s a long pause and Soonyoung notices that his voice sounds different, foreign, before he finally continues, shuddering a little as tears start to build up in his eyes, “God, Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry, Soon, I-“ he breaks out into a full sob then, and Soonyoung has never looked up quicker. Jihoon looks so… broken. That is the only word Soonyoung can think to describe him – broken. Tears waterfall from his eyes, and Soonyoung fears they won’t stop even as he crawls closer to Jihoon. He doesn’t even register what he’s doing until he’s completely enveloped Jihoon in a hug, tugging the small boy close to his chest as a means of comfort, though he’s not sure it’s providing any such feeling. Jihoon shakes and sobs into Soonyoung’s chest for what feels like hours and all Soonyoung can do is pet him and tell him it will be okay.
Soonyoung’s not entirely sure it will be, though. Jihoon has been missing for months now, though he supposes ‘missing’ may not be the most appropriate way to describe Jihoon right now; he’s present, existing, alive – though maybe not as living as Soonyoung remembers – but alive nonetheless. He pulls back, one hand firm on Jihoon’s shoulder, the other making haste to rub away the tears still dribbling down his cheeks.
“I- What happened, Jihoon? Where have you been? Everyone’s been worried sick, I was scared half to death when I heard- when they told me you were gone!” Soonyoung moves backs away aggressively, standing up suddenly and towering over Jihoon. His mind struggles for the right words to say as Jihoon looks up at him in submission.
“I-I know Soon, but if you’d just-“
“No! Fuck that Jihoon! Fuck anything you have to say right now, honestly! I-“ He balls his hands into fists, looking almost ready to punch Jihoon, before lunging forward and taking a swing at the wall in front of him instead. Jihoon flinches, watching as Soonyoung beat at the wall repeatedly with his now battered fist. “I thought you were dead, Jihoon… I thought- I thought I lost you, forever…” He finally admits, resting his forehead against the wall. Jihoon keeps to himself, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, refusing to look at Soonyoung.
They’re silent then, and Jihoon’s not sure what he can do to fix it. He’s ashamed, embarrassed, and somehow still so in love with Soonyoung – perhaps even more than he was when he left.
“He hit me,” he offers as an explanation, finally turning his head to watch Soonyoung. His hand is flat against the wall now, eyes wide with what Jihoon can only register as rage. “He-he did so many other things to me, but when he hit me, I… I don’t know, it’s like I finally realised,” he’s spluttering now. Crying, again, like the pathetic little boy he really is. So small and frail and pathetic.
“Jihoon…”
“And so I stabbed him, Soonyoung. So many times, God, I-“ his hands fly to his head and he starts to beat ferociously at his scalp. He’s pulling on weak, matted strands of hair, slapping himself with his palm and digging his knuckles into his temples. Soonyoung is there at his side, trying to stop him but failing. There’s shouting, Soonyoung he guesses, but to him there is no feeling other than the gut-wrenching feeling of remembering. And Lord does he remember; he remembers the words that his foster father had spat at him, remembers the strike of his palm and the force of his kicks, remembers being undressed and manhandled, remembers the numbness, remembers the stabbing, the relentless stabbing. He remembers.
Soonyoung is holding his wrists with an ironclad grip, trying desperately to pull his hands away and hold them down. He gets them far enough to pin them to the wall and then he’s smothering Jihoon once more. This time there’s no sobbing, no shaking – just screaming. Jihoon screams himself hoarse into Soonyoung’s chest and Soonyoung’s sure there are some words in there, maybe even sentences, but they’re incoherent and he’s not sure if Jihoon even wants to be understood right now. He’s patting at his head, smoothing his hair down and pressing kisses into the rough strands.
You’re okay now, he keeps repeating; you’re fine, don’t worry, I’m here now, we’ll fix this. Over and over again, like a mantra, but, even through his own screaming, Jihoon thinks he knows. He knows it’ll be fine, maybe not for long, but for right now; Soonyoung is here and Jihoon is okay, Jihoon is safe. Right now it feels like nobody can ever hurt Jihoon ever again.