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Dongho's not alone.
He's got Jeongmin, and Minsoo, and, in an odd sense, the manager who's always checking on him and Minsoo while they're practicing.
He's still lonely, though.
He's still in a country that he doesn't consider home. He's still a disappointment to his parents. He's still living in a house that isn't home and-
well, he's never really had a proper home. Living with the Lees was the closest thing he'd ever experienced to a normal family.
Now, it's just him and Jeongmin in a penthouse that's too big for just two people and too cold and too blank and too quiet.
He may not be alone. But Dongho's lonely. Horribly, achingly lonely. He doesn't really remember not feeling that way, though. So he doesn't care too much.
But still, it aches. He knows it's not normal to be like this, to already be so cold and jaded and closed off, but it's safe this way.
It's safe, he tells himself.
And to him, safety is cold and alone and painted in shades of white and black and grey.
Jeongmin notices, of course. And Dongho doesn't necessarily enjoy that, the gentle questions about if he's made any friends at school or with any other trainees, the reassurance that once he does, they're welcome to come over and spend the night, if they want to.
Dongho always just shrugs a bit, says he'll be sure to let his friends know once he gets any.
He has one friend, of course. Minsoo. He's more of a little brother, though. A little brother who's warm and loud and wears the most obnoxiously coloured hoodies Dongho's ever seen.
Minsoo's the opposite of safety. But he still is safe, somehow.
Dongho never invites him over, though. Never mentions the idea, never even says a thing about where he's living. That's where he's safe, when things are cold and quiet and monotone. He's not quite sure if he wants Minsoo there quite yet.
And then something invades that quiet safe place.
That something being a small round ball of pitch-black fur that Jeongmin found huddled next to the car tire.
A kitten. A small, black kitten with glowing green eyes who curled up in Dongho's lap and wouldn't leave.
Jeongmin had just given an amused sigh. "I'll need to go get some supplies for the cat, won't I."
"...that might be a good idea."
And so Jeongmin had left, and Dongho stayed behind with a tiny purring kitten in his lap.
This kitten wasn't safe: green eyes, warm, loud.
But then it yawned and stretched out across Dongho's leg and promptly fell asleep and Dongho smiled at it, carefully petting its head.
"...fluffy little shit. You're staying, now."
He didn't have an explanation for it, for why this little fluffy cat had somehow managed to barge into his safe bubble and make itself at home, but it had happened.
Jeongmin came back to find Dongho holding the cat up and staring it in the eyes.
"Hello, Jeongmin-ssi. This is Boba-yah, he- she? I dunno- Boba's staying, I think."
"Boba can stay, of course. I think they'll fit right in here."
Dongho had smiled, setting the cat down. "Come on, Boba-yah. Let's look at what Jeongmin-ssi bought for you."
The house was brighter and louder and a little less monotone as Jeongmin made dinner, watching Dongho set up the cat stuff and rambling to the tiny kitten resting in his hoodie pocket.
Dongho never talked this much.
But here he was, chattering away about where to put the cat bed and the food bowls and how they'd need to take Boba to the vet eventually.
They do, in fact, take Boba to the vet. When he's brought home, Dongho promptly names Boba the "king of the house" and insists on making a pillow castle for him.
Dongho invites Minsoo over a few days later, mostly to see Boba. Minsoo ends up staying for dinner, then for a movie, and then finally calls his parents to tell them he's spending the night.
Boba stays up with them, winding between their ankles and meowing for attention.
When Jeongmin wakes up, Dongho and Minsoo are sprawled out over the sofas, Boba curled up on a cushion between their heads. He meows upon seeing Jeongmin, and waltzes over to the human who can now feed him.
Once Jeongmin tells him that, Dongho's happy to hear that Boba feels at home already.
After all, the apartment's warm and there's always some sort of music playing and there's cat toys all over the living room.
It's hard to feel lonely anymore.