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The tree had been put up late this year but there were no complaints since with it came the 'prodigal son' home from his journey— with the exception of Hanbyul who had to have the last word on any topic, including one as innocuous as the decorations to be used. But all in all, it had been a silent night, which spoke more than any words could've. 

All the members of the Lee family understood why it had been so quiet within their house. Despite the return of its main chatterbox, without the other, nothing seemed the same and the first acted as if he were broken; as if, with the departure of the household dinosaur, his vocal chords left too. 

But it was not merely a lack of words that left the night feeling so lackluster. It was everything about Hoya's behavior and his aura, put simply. His eyes themselves seemed... dull. His smile didn't reach his eyes and the usual crinkle at the corners didn't appear even once during the night.

The greatest drawback was that Howon believed his act was working but it fooled no one, himself in particular. Singing carols at the top of his lungs and throwing tinsel around as if it were glitter, overwhelming the tree with the thin material and making it victim to his mood— or lack of— although it had been a valiant (and that's only to put it nicely) effort, it had that bitter tinge of being pretentious. 

By the time they were intended to place a tree topper on the tree, completing the first activity they did as a family for the holidays, Hanbyul had seen more than enough of pretending to be ignorant for her elder brother's sake. As she dragged him away, there were no jokes about his shirt wrinkling in her grasp and the younger almost wished he was back to his lame, embarrassing antics. 

"Where is Dongwoo oppa?" 

Again, his silence said it all and she only grew louder as she continued to ask, her voice wavering by the time she was right in front of him, fists balled as they landed against his chest, demanding a legitimate answer.

But he had no answer and silence felt like the only option he had as he hugged his baby sister, one hand on the back of her head as he guided her to allow the tears to fall onto his shoulder because he knew that if anyone could see her cry, she would try to stop. Hoya was barely coping with the fact that he had left words unspoken with his best friend, he wouldn't be able to stand it if his sister did the same with her tears.

Albeit muffled, he managed to make sense of the incomprehensible mumbling. So Dongwoo was meant to teach Hanbyul how to cook... Howon hadn't know but it wasn't surprising. If she were to ask anyone for help, it would be the dinosaur. Sure, he made jokes but he was one of the most caring of the entire family— and there was the problem with his abrupt disappearance. He was— is— part of the family and his departure was beginning to reopen wounds they had since long ago forcibly stitched together. 

As her tears ceased, for the moment, Hoya winced at the thought of telling Hyunshik. The family already danced around the mention of their father and so it was odd to think that they would now have to do the same for Dongwoo. 

As if he knew his older brother's thoughts, the youngest of the Lee household dashed into the room, holding up what had been their tree topper of choice since the arrival of Dongwoo to their lives. A teddy bear intended to be Christmas themed. The santa hat adorning its head was Dongwoo's handiwork the first Christmas the Lees could afford a large enough tree for a tree topper.

Whereas other families debated between a star and an angel, each year, the choice was easy in their house. Dongwoo's Christmas minion was there to stay and Hyunshik held it in his hands when he bounded between his older siblings, feigning curiosity in why they had left when he already knew. 

"Hyung, the stuffing on the back of Santa Bear is sticking out... Can you fix it?" Just as it has always been, the eldest son was horrible at sewing but, still, he nodded and managed a tiny smile, a hand reaching out to ruffle the youngest's hair before taking the bear. 

Hanbyul volunteered to take over, intentionally pointing out that he couldn't even thread the needle without pricking himself. Pretending to yield, he let her thread the needle as she insisted she must and snatched it back, smiling genuinely for the first time that night as he told her he had something to do. 

Four hot chocolates, one swollen thumb, and two yawns later, he announced he was finished, handing the bear back to Hyunshik and promptly lifting both together onto his shoulders. With a small huff, the young male placed the bear in its rightful place, proudly tapping his brother's head to be put down. 

As Hyunshik and Hanbyul joined their mother on the couch, Hoya stood behind it, his eyes never leaving the bear as he tried to smile again. Without his consciousness, Sooyoung took his hand, squeezing it lightly as she mouthed 'good work' to him.

The white of the wings he had meticulously sewn onto the bear's back gleamed brightly as he nodded and squeezed her hand back in acknowledgment. 

At least they had a Christmas angel to stand in for the one they lost and Hoya had an answer for Hyunshik when the time came.

[text] Same.

[text] I get pretty busy with cases, you know. 

[text] Did ya miss me? 

a promise

As much as he wanted to, there's not much he could say. There is a lot that he wishes he could say but he knows better. In fact, his thoughts begin to closer follow the lines of 'if I had been here, it wouldn't be like this' instead of 'why didn't she take better care of herself.'

In typical Lee Howon fashion, he'd rather blame himself than see any other logical explanation so he can't find it in him to walk into the room just yet and, considering how much strength he had to muster to merely walk into the hospital, it's too great a feat for him to attempt right away.

He doesn't know himself better than most people— despite his urging that he does— but he does know one thing for certain; viewing someone laying in a hospital bed would be far too much for him to handle and, given the recent circumstances, shock still lingers in his core at the fact that he did manage to make it inside the building. 

Fingers further curl into the plastic of the bag he's clutching, his grip almost tearing the thin material with each passing second, and Hoya leans his forehead against the wall, sighing under his breath.

"Damn it."

Momentary carelessness lead him to forget that he was holding flowers in the other hand and when he lifted his hand to rub his eyes, fragrant petals brushed against his face, the sound of cellophane crinkling filling what was otherwise a silent hallway. 

Caught between the desire to harshly judge himself or laugh at his weary actions, Howon somehow found it in him to finally step into the room, his gaze immediately falling on the one person he came to see. His feet carried him to the seat beside her and he stopped just short of it, glancing down at her hand before he gently took it— besides, if she was awake, he wouldn't be able to. 

Squeezing her hand lightly as he sat down, placing the bag and its contents securely on the bedside table, he smiled as he told her. "I'm sorry I... wasn't here but... I'll always bring you blueberry pancakes when I can." 

Resting his forehead against the back of her hand this time, easily finding it more comfortable than the wall, he murmured two more words as his grip on her hands tightened. 

[text — drafted] I miss you. 

"Hyung, will you help me with my homework?" 

"Of course. What is it?" 

"I need an example of a metaphor." There was a brief pause as Hyunsik sheepishly grinned before continuing, "so what's a metaphor?"

--------------------------

He wasn't sure what he expected.

A barrage of minions showering down on him, or barely any space for him to set a foot down and make his way to his bedroom. Clothes left around the apartment as if a tornado personally made its way through each room. The pleasant scent of freshly prepared food wafting in from the kitchen. Scolding in all kinds of fabricated languages that he could only assume his best friend learned from his closest minions.

He could say he knew what he wanted. A hug would be nice, granted, but he knew better. What he wanted most was what Dongwoo effortlessly gave him. A sense of home. 

But, in all honesty, he would've been okay with anything other than what greeted him once he pushed open the front door he had come to miss. 

Nothing. 

Silence.

An empty apartment, and he wasn't sure it had ever felt so cold. 

--------------------------

Hoya chuckled as he kneeled beside his baby brother's desk, clapping one hand on his shoulder as eyes flickered over the page on the surface. "A metaphor is comparing one thing with another. It's a representation, instead of saying the real thing."

"Oh, like when you call Dongwoo hyung a snowflake?" 

"I call him a special snowflake— don't tell him that— but that's one example."

--------------------------

It must be a dream and his initial reaction certainly made it feel that way. Howon was in a daze and minutes must've melted into hours because he found himself sitting in the living room in the middle of the night, blood slowly dripping from his hand before he finally cared enough to nurse the injury. 

He had gone through multiple stages of reactions without realizing or comprehending just why he felt so strongly— no, that was a lie. 

Because it had happened again. He lost someone again. 

But this time was different. It wasn't just anyone. He lost his best friend. He lost the one person who had seen him through it all. From when he was still lost after his father's death to his entrance into a law firm. From his brother's last baby tooth falling out to his sister entering the same level of school they first met in. He lost the one who kept him sane. 

So his reaction did make sense, starting with the numbness that came with the news to the anger that rushed through him when he destroyed their living room, the side of his hand colliding with a broken shard of a glass panda when he tried to actually clean his mess. 

It slipped through his hands just like everything and everyone else. 

The texts lighting up his phone went just as unnoticed and the suitcase he bought to carry the minions he bought for Dongwoo— unable to avoid the temptation to buy one for the dino practically everywhere he went— laid on its side, its fluffy contents spilling out forlornly.

The stuffed plush on top appearing the most desolate as its arm hung pathetically from its socket, stuffing starkly sticking out against the dark fur. 

His effort on the last train to Heukyang would go to waste. 

He wasn't truly coming home after all. 

--------------------------

"Why do you call him that, hyung?"

"Because—"

It's probably too late, he tells himself— in various aspects of time; in how late it happens to be because his common sense doesn't reign any longer and he doesn't consider trying to contact her in a few hours, when it doesn't seem so ungodly early to how long it had been since he last contacted her. 

Maybe it could've only been days to her— hell, hours— he reasons, yet it fails to pacify his distraught mind. It probably hadn't. It probably felt as if it had longer and it actually was. 

Ironically, after giving up his own time, after spending countless hours searching and involving himself with the rescue despite the option for him to stay behind and wait, Howon had chased after her himself.

He had risked his position at work. He had risked his life. But, most importantly, he had risked his sanity considering all that had transpired and all that he had learned. 

A mutant. After consoling her that he still accepted her when they first met again, reiterating over and over that he didn't care, he ran away just as he had.

Ran away from being a mutant. Ran away to protect others or himself. Whatever it was, the point was that he left— so maybe it's the alcohol that's made him so brave at this moment in time, or it's the recent insomnia wearing on his conscience, impulsiveness rearing its head and taking advantage of a prime opportunity. 

"Sora..." and his voice croaks already, the drink in his hand failing to soothe the irritation of his throat, serving to further incite its coarseness. "Sora... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not as great as you think." 

After a long pause— enough to make him think she'd hung up by this time once she listens to the message— he exhales long and slowly. Tongue darting out to sweep over cracked lips and the next few words come out softer than he intended— not that he realized he had spoken them aloud either. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you sooner. You deserve better." 

[text] Do you have unproductive tomatoes? You ought'a can 'em. 

[text] Get it?

{` and the loud, awkward laughter takes over as Hoya shakes his head at his own childish antics. Why did he tell such a pun? He knew himself just how lame they were but he always found them amusing. That, and his mun isn't too sure how to be saucy. Hoya's not the saucy type and Yixing's sure to know how impossible it is for both Hoya and his typist. After all, they actually had to use google to find a pun like that. Who thinks about puns about tomoates?}

[text] No, I'll be home for Christmas. I promise, and I'm not avoiding that dinosaur. Really. I just... there's a lot to think about. A lot to do. Tell him he better be home when I get there. 

[text] Oh damn, I'm sorry for that. It's a new phone. 

[text] If you don't get text, let me know and I'll compensate you. ... for these messages too. 

{` quickly, he sets the phone down, a stream of chiding words rushing through his mind as he waits and hopes he hadn't annoyed more people than he knew he already was, given his vague replies to everything}