unknownballad | [ archived ] Open RP Post

Hayun thinks nothing of leading the man through his darkened home. He thinks nothing of the trust that it requires to allow yourself to be walked (and with his eyes closed, no less. As if the darkness isn't yet nearly enough) through an unfamiliar place. Were his mind a little more clear, Hayun might realize that a man who travels with bodyguards isn't likely to let just anyone lead him around by the hand in the dark. Then again, were Hayun's mind a little more clear, he might've also noticed that there are no bodyguards here right now. Mr Siwoo is probably waiting outside, but in here? It's just the two of them.

Seeing the hand reaching out for his in the dark, Hayun threads his fingers with Yohan's and slides himself a little closer, wanting to feel the older man's body next to his. A reminder that it's not just him here, that there's another life in this otherwise lifeless home, even if only temporarily. He turns his head to press his face against Yohan's arm. The man always wears such nice clothing. Expensive too, probably. Hayun shouldn't be crying into his shirt. He should stop. He should apologize. But when he opens his mouth to do just that, those aren't the muffled words that come tumbling out before he can even think of stopping them. "I don't have an aunt. I lied about her and I'm sorry but I couldn't tell you that I'm alone. I'm completely alone and it's really, really hard sometimes. My grandparents were all I had left but they died. I did everything I could and I tried so hard to take care of them but I couldn't help and now it's just me. Maybe there's more I could've done but I swear, Yohan, I really did everything I could, it just wasn't enough and I lost them."

In a situation with less gravitas, Yohan might have admitted he knew Hayun didn't have an aunt. He might have gasped and faked utter shock (no he couldn't, he's not that sort). He definitely would've teased the boy about how long he perpetuated his lie. But none of that was right at the moment.

Rather than look at Hayun, Yohan instead tried to focus on their joined hands (now that his eyes were beginning to adjust in the darkness). He squeezed Hayun's fingers between his, listening to each muffled, sobbed word. The shirt didn't matter to him. It will be laundered and as good as new. What's important is Hayun's pain. Hayun letting out that pain, choosing to share it with him.

"You did everything you could," he repeats softly. "That's the most valuable lesson in life, darling. You can work hard and do everything right and still lose. That isn't anything to feel guilt or shame about. As long as you know you did your best, feel sad. Feel pain. But never feel ashamed or blame yourself."

Maybe sometime in the future, Yohan can reveal the fact that he knew all along about Hayun's aunt. Or rather his lack of one. He can gasp and feign shock and tease him about the lie. But not doing it today is clearly the right choice. Not right now. Not when Hayun is falling apart.

Hayun pulls his face away from Yohan's arm and scrubs at his eyes with his free hand, trying to dry them. But he can't stop. The tears just won't stop coming. They slow, but they never quite stop falling. He feels like they'll never stop and he hates it. He hates that Yohan is seeing this side of him. Yohan was never supposed to see this part of his life. He was never meant to see the lonely, depressed boy.

"But why did I have to lose them? I loved them so much. They were my favourite people and now they're just gone and I'll never see them again." Hayun tugs his hand free from Yohan's grasp and moves to lay down on the bed with his back to the older man. "It's hard to not feel like it's all my fault." Even though he was a kid trying to take care of his sick grandparents (he's still a kid) so what could he have possibly done differently?

Yohan gives him the freedom to move away, keeping his promise not to look. He feels Hayun's weight shift, sees his legs on the bed. He gives the boy a moment, listens to what he has to say, to his crying. Maybe he could relate more if he'd lost a beloved family member, too. Yohan knows his father retired and slipped away with is mother in secret. The world at large thinks they're dead, but Yohan knows better. He's even in touch with them once or twice a year.

So it's nothing like what Hayun feels.

After a moment, Yohan stretches out beside him. On his back first, then rolling to spoon against Hayun, to wrap the boy up in his arms. To help him feel less alone.

"There's no answer to why, darling." Everything that lives has to die eventually. That doesn't make it easier for the ones left behind to carry their memories. "But it's not your fault."

It's difficult to relate to situations that you've never before experienced, and quite frankly, Hayun appreciates that Yohan isn't trying to. He doesn't want him to. 'I understand how you feel' or 'I know exactly what you're feeling right now' doesn't help him. It doesn't help anyone. He doesn't want anyone to be able to understand what he's going through because then that means they've gone through it too. It's a little frustrating. He knows it's just people trying to help in their own way (at least it was with his parents. The passing of his grandparents is still largely unknown) but that's not the kind of help Hayun wants. Just be there for him. Like Yohan is.

Hayun lifts his head a little when he feels movement behind him, though doesn't move beyond that to actually discern what it might be. See, his initial assumption is Yohan getting up to leave. Time's up. He's got a real life to get back to. An important man with important things to do and all that. No more spare time for Hayun's tragic backstory. He gets it. He'd probably get up to leave too if he were Yohan. This isn't what he signed up for when he walked up to him after the school function that day.

He's a little surprised when the narrative he's built up in his head doesn't actually match reality, when he feels the bed move and shift behind him where there should be no more movement, when he feels body heat when there should be nothing but cold at his back. And then the way Yohan curls around him, it brings on a fresh wave of tears. "I feels like it was my fault. It all feels like it's my fault." Sometimes he almost wants it to have been his fault, even though he knows deep down it isn't true. Sometimes it feels better to not think of it as an impossible situation, where the outcome wouldn't change no matter what he did or didn't do. Just as often, it feels better reminding himself that he really did all he could.

"...Yohan, can you stay with me tonight?"

That feeling, it's my fault, is something Yohan can empathize with. Every time one of his bodyguards is injured. Every time his father got hurt, he remembers his mother crying and blaming herself. If it was her fault, wasn't it his fault, too? Wasn't his father protecting them from danger? Didn't that make it his fault, too? Of course not, but logic hardly intervenes with feelings.

Yohan tightens his hold on Hayun, curling his legs against the boy. "I can. I will."

Logic really has no place when feelings are involved. The more intense the feelings, the further away the logic. And when the feelings get to be a lot, it's so easy to look at a situation and see all the places where you can fit in personal fault, which much makes the feelings worse, which just means placing more personal blame. Maybe if he checked on his grandparents a little sooner than one night, or if he'd stayed home from school that other day, maybe he would've been able to see their rapid decline. Maybe he couldn't called the hospital and saved them.

"Thank you, Yohan." Hayun grabs a fistful of Yohan's shirt and curls himself into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "For a long time, I wanted to go with them. I just didn't want to be alone anymore, and I had no one to talk to about it." Which also meant he had to talk himself out of it in the end. "I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want to raise myself and learn how to take care of an entire house on my own." Though the house was his own choice. He kept his grandparents deaths a secret from everyone he could so he could keep living here, so they wouldn't take him away and put him in foster care of something. "It was a lot to deal with on top of them dying and I didn't want to do it anymore."

Hayun can rest assured that Yohan wouldn't share his secret. Nor would he allow Hayun to be taken from his home and put into any sort of system. That's not the reassurance Hayun needs in this moment, though. No. What he needs is to know that right here, right now, he's not alone. He has Yohan.

"No one can replace them in your life, but you're not alone anymore, Hayun. You're not. That you're still here when you didn't want to be makes you very strong. And, selfishly, I'm glad you're here. So I'll be here for you whenever you need someone. Tell me you understand."

Until Hayun is in a place where he's able to process anything other than the reassurance that he isn't alone, he just has to trust that Yohan is the good person he thinks he is and will keep his secrets for him. They're out there now, after all. He can't take them back. He can't just say that he didn't mean it and take it all back. He can't produce grandparents or his fake aunt and say that he really had them all along. It's out there now and there's nothing he can do about it except for hope Yohan understands how important this secret is to him.

"I'm the only person who really remembers them. Dying and taking their memories with me isn't fair to them. They deserve better." Truthfully, he was simply too scared to act on any of his darker thoughts. He was afraid of what it would feel like before he didn't feel anything anymore. He was afraid of it not working and then laying there in pain with no one to help him. His cowardice in that situation is by no means a bad thing, but it definitely doesn't make him feel strong for not doing it.

For a moment, there's silence. Even the soft sounds of Hayun's sniffling have quieted. That short silence is broken, however, by the quiet sound of Hayun's cheek and hair rubbing against fabric as he nods his head against the comforter. "You'll be here whenever I need someone. I understand."

Hayun can't produce grandparents or an aunt, but if the need arises, Yohan absolutely could and would do that for him.

"That's a noble reason to stay alive," Yohan assures. Memory is important. It's how the people who've left them live on. It's the closest thing to immortality anyone can get: being remembered.

"I'll be here whenever you need someone, Hayun." Even if it's not specifically Yohan needs, he'll be there. "All you have to do is tell me and I'll be there."

There are probably friends and neighbours who hold memories of Hayun's grandparents (they've lived in this neighbourhood forever) but their memories of them will fade in time, in a way that Hayun's never will. They'll move on with their lives and the kind couple who lived next door with their grandson won't even be a distant memory. So it really is up to Hayun to keep them alive in the only way he's capable of.

Which also feels like so much more responsibility piled on top of the boy already being crushed by it.

"I can see that now, but it didn't feel like it at the time." It felt like breaking a promise he'd made to see them again. "I haven't really thought like that in a long time, by the way. So if that's something you think you have to worry about, it isn't." At least he thinks it isn't.

Gathering up a little more of the fabric of Yohan's shirt, Hayun nods his head yet again. He doesn't want to disrupt Yohan's life with his own problems. He'll be fine. Eventually he'll be fine again because he has to be. But he nods anyway. "Thank you, Yohan. Not just for that but for tonight too. And everything else you've done for me. Thank you."

"You, my darling, don't get to dictate my worries." His voice is soft, gentle, but with a small edge of command. Sure, Hayun could suggest what Yohan doesn't need to worry about, but in the end, Yohan will concern himself with whatever he pleases. "If I want to worry about you, all of you, I will."

That said, he pulls Hayun a little closer, a little tighter. Whether Hayun likes it or not, Yohan is a part of his life now. For good or ill.

"That also means, I'll take care of you as long as you'll allow me to. So you don't have to thank me for anything. Even out of politeness." Even now, he knows Hayun's a good boy. Polite and respectful. Always polite and respectful.

"Thank you for trusting me."

"I'm sorry. You're right." For trying to tell Yohan what to do when he knows better. It's just important to him that Yohan knows that he's no longer a danger to himself. He no longer harbours those sorts of thoughts It's important to him that, since Yohan insists on worrying about him, those worries not be burdensome. Give Yohan as little to worry about as possible. He doesn't need to disrupt Yohan's life anymore than he already is.

Hayun starts to shift on the bed, though he's very careful to stay exactly as close to Yohan as he is right now. It's nice. It's comfortable. It's what's helping to slow the flow of tears. He rolls onto his back and rubs at his eyes, trying to dry them. He's so tried of crying -- he's so tired from crying -- and he'd just like to stop. Please. He can't keep doing this. He turns his head toward the dark shape wrapped around him, and then rolls onto his side to face it. It's so warm and present. It's bringing life to a place that feels so cold an empty on nights like tonight, when Hayun really starts to feel just how alone in the world he really is. Was.

Reaching up with one hand, Hayun feels around for his phone to turn the flashlight on as well as down a little so the light isn't quite so bright. Then he just drops it back onto the bed above both of their heads, leaving it shining up at the ceiling. It doesn't illuminate much, but it does ward off the total darkness Hayun had them laying in previously. He's not ready for Yohan to fully see him yet but he's getting there. Little by little.

"I don't have to but I want to. Please." He appreciates everything Yohan's been doing for him. The nice dinners and offer to send him to college. Helping him get his camera fixed. Showing up whenever Hayun needs him. Just being someone in his life he can count on. Thanking Yohan feels like the absolute least he can do.

"You seem like someone I can trust." Thank you.

"I am someone you can trust. But anyone can say that. I plan to prove it." To keep proving it if he hasn't already. As if being here, now isn't proof. But it's not Yohan's place to decide whether or not Hayun trusts him. He can do what he can to push the boy in the direction, but it's his choice at the end of it.

But this is a good start. That Hayun called him, not a friend closer to his own age, not anyone else. That he didn't want to sit here alone in the dark. That he reached out of the dark for Yohan.

"I want to be someone you trust, Hayun."

In ways both large and small, Yohan has already been proving that he's someone Hayun can trust. He's proving himself to be a worthwhile person, someone good to have in Hayun's life. He's quickly cementing himself as someone Hayun can depend on. Deep down, Hayun knows he shouldn't do that. He shouldn't depend too much on someone he's still getting to know, someone who could decide he's done with him one day and leave. And yet the only person he wanted to call when he had a bad day was Yohan. The only person he wanted to stop lying to was Yohan.

This could be the beginning of something good, or it could be really bad. There's no in between.

"I want you to be someone I trust too."

"I'll keep working to prove that I am." In the end, only Hayun decides who Hayun trusts. Yohan can read the clues and signs, but the only person who'll ever know for sure is Hayun. That's simply how it is with other people. You never know their absolute truth.

Usually awe is enough. Usually sweeping up some unprotected boy into his life, showing them a world they've never known is enough. And, until a few moments ago, it was enough here, too. But seeing this, seeing how Hayun lives, how he fights the darkest battles along to keep what's important to him. Well, Yohan isn't much different at his core, is he?

Now that Hayun's moved and put a soft light one, Yohan shimmies closer, pulling Hayun closer. Even with the light, he's looking over the boy's head. He said he wouldn't look at him and he's a man of his word. Until Hayun tells him it's okay, he won't.

"You can call me whenever you need someone, Hayun."

Even for Hayun, even very recently, he thought that awe might win him over in the end. He got so caught up in all the glitz and glamour of being in Yohan's orbit rather quickly. Getting to see how the rich live, getting to see a life he never could've imagined. It would've been so easy, but he's glad that he waited so he could see this Yohan. The one that's more than his money and power. Basing the future of his relationship with Yohan on that awe wouldn't have been fair to either of them.

This Yohan, though, this is the kind of person who Hayun could see himself developing a real relationship with. Real and deep and meaningful.

When Yohan tugs him closer, Hayun curls in against him. He presses his face to the man's chest and tucks his hands in between their bodies. This feels like everything that's been missing from his life. This feels like comfort. It feels like belonging. It feels like someone to help lighten the load of some of Hayun's worries, so he isn't crushed beneath them. Not someone to relieve him of his worries and burdens (he needs to take those on himself. He needs to deal with them himself. He can't put them on someone else. He needs to be responsible) but someone to talk to about them.

Is it really okay to put that all on one person? To put all of his eggs in one basket, so to speak? He shouldn't do it, but he wants to. Needs to. He can't keep doing all of this completely alone. Hayun nods against the man's chest and answers in a quiet, muffled voice. "I'll call you whenever I need you. Someone. I'll call you whenever I need someone."

The awe is usually wants keeps his boys around. But they grow bored of it, as does he. They see some of the world, some parts they could never reach without him, and then they want to explore for themselves. They want to find their place in it. While he's in direct contact with very few of them (only Taraga, really), he does try to facilitate them finding themselves. He'd help any of them if they asked. None ever have.

But Hayun is trusting him with a deep secret: that he's well and truly alone in the world. Completely on his own at such a tender age. And he's not asking for Yohan to pay his bills or take care of this house. He's asking him to listen to his secret, to share in his worries. It's jarring. It's jarring and it warms in a way he didn't anticipate.

"Any time, day or night." There's very little he couldn't walk out of at a moment's notice if Hayun asked for him. "Say it back to me, Hayun-ah. Any time, day or night."

Hayun is trusting Yohan with his secret, and his secret is everything. He's too young to be living on his own, still young enough to end up in the system. Too young to maintain a household. Too young to be paying for a house or figuring out bills (which ones can he get away with partially paying and which ones can he get away with not paying at all for that month. Which ones require his immediate attention). He shouldn't have to be trying to figure out ways to stretch meals. A kid his age should not have to take on so much responsibility but it was foisted upon him so he's doing his best with it. He's doing his best to hang on to everything he has left. All on his own. With no one's help. And letting the wrong person know that's what he's been doing is dangerous. It could easily lead to him losing everything.

So he's trusting Yohan with everything. He doesn't want help to pay his bills or maintain his house, he just wants Yohan to keep his secret and to hold him like this when he feels like he's falling apart.

"Any time, day or night. I'll call you whenever I need you. Any time. Day or night."

"Good boy," he praises quietly, lifting a hand to card his fingers gently in Hayun's long pastel hair. That's easy to do in the dim light without looking at him.

Hayun's pretty extraordinary, isn't he? Handling so much on his own, never reaching out for fear of losing what he has. Yohan felt like the once upon a time. He's cultivated a little trust since then and, he thinks, it's gone a long way in making his life better. Having others to confide it, it's important.

"Thank you for trusting me with this."

It hasn't been easy. Of course it hasn't been easy. In fact, it's been painfully difficult, every step of the way. Not just everything he's had to take on in order to keep what he has, but the fact that he's had to keep it all to himself. He's had to keep all of his struggles buried deep where they wouldn't accidentally bubble up to the surface. He's had to keep acting like everything is fine when his whole world is continuously trying to fall apart around him. So often, he's thought of what a relief it would be if he just had someone to talk to. Someone to vent to. Someone to help lighten his emotional load a little.

Now he has Yohan. He has Yohan to help him test the theory that being able to even just talk to someone will make a world of difference. He doesn't need any other help. Just this. Just someone who'll listen. Someone who'll talk to him. Just... someone.

Hayun nods his head against Yohan as a fresh wave of tears start. It's not entirely pained sobs this time, however, but mostly relief. Relief and comfort. It's because of how good it feels that someone knows, and how good it feels to have someone here. The feeling of having an actual warm body wrapped around his instead of tangling himself up in a blanket and imagining it's his grandfather holding him after he's had a bad day. There's an actual person here holding him and running their fingers through his hair. There's an actual person here, allowing him to be the hurt kid he couldn't truly allow himself to be since before his grandparents passed.

For a little while, he can hand off the reins of 'responsible adult' to someone else. It feels good.

"I just- You're welcome." Thank you for seeming like a trustworthy person. "I wasn't ever going to tell you," he admits softly, pulling his face away from Yohan's chest just enough so his voice isn't muffled. "I was going to keep it to myself until you eventually left me too, because everyone leaves me." They didn't leave. They died. "But then you showed up tonight. I didn't ask you to, but you showed up. That... I don't know. It made things different."

Hayun pulls his face back even further so he can look up at Yohan in the dim light of his cellphone. "You can look at me now. If you want."

He's glad Hayun trusted him. And he'll respect that Hayun isn't asking for any intervention on his behalf. He's asking for someone to be there to support him emotionally. Until that need changes, Yohan will be happy to simply listen when Hayun's having troubles. He'll be there when Hayun needs someone.

Because it's okay now, Yohan looks at Hayun's face. Drawn, tear-stained, still worn down but also, somehow lighter than it seemed when he first arrived. Yohan holds the boy's face in his hands, meets his eyes.

"Whenever it's possible, I will be here. There are times when it won't be possible. That's a reality. But whenever it is, I'll be here for you."

Hayun has a system. It's far from perfect but it's the best that he could come up with for keeping him in this house as long as possible. Intervention could possibly help him stay in this house longer. It could help him away from his flawed but serviceable system. It could improve things. But intervention could also improve things beyond Hayun's ability to maintain it financially. It could disrupt his system in such a way that he's never able to get back on track. Hayun can't let himself rely on anyone but Hayun. What if he starts to rely on someone else and they disappear? He can't take that risk. Not with his family home.

The financial burden, he can deal with. Enough. He can deal with it enough. It's the emotional burden that he needs the help with. His finances, he can do something about. There's a tangible solution. Emotions are harder. That's what he needs help with. Coming home from school and crying himself to sleep every so often isn't productive. It's short term relief but not a long term solution. Hopefully, that's where Yohan comes in. Someone to talk to. Someone to vent to and share some of that emotional burden with. He doesn't need Yohan's wallet, just his ear. Maybe a shoulder to cry on sometimes.

"Whenever possible," he agrees, his voice a little shaky. He holds Yohan's gaze for no more than a few seconds before averting his own. Just because he said Yohan could look at him now, that doesn't mean he wants to see Yohan looking at him. His red eyes and his puffy, splotchy face. Ugh. "I don't expect you to drop everything. You have a whole life outside of me and I don't want to get in the way of that." But, whenever possible, Yohan will be there for him.

“Hayun-ah,” he says very firmly, even as he runs his hand through the boy’s hair. “You’re a part of my life. An important one. I’ll do whatever I can for you when I can. I don’t want to make any promises I know I won’t be able to keep.”

His is a dangerous line of work. Some of the people he deals with are more like him: stable and not endlessly power hungry. Yes, growth is good, but it can’t be infinite. Yohan’s happy to spend the bulk of his energy in maintaining what he has and taking smaller, subtler steps toward expansion. But there are some who are greedy and petty, some who want it all, and some who want to see him fall just because of his success. Some are dangerously unhinged. Those aren’t the types of people Yohan can simply excuse himself from if Hayun’s having a bad day.

“I mean it when I say I will be there for you whenever it’s possible.”

[ archived ] Open RP Post

legit cried writing this! help, i'm too soft D:

:< :< :<

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cw: suicidal ideation

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