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“- contacted me. They’ve been worried.” Yohan’s voice, though quiet, echoes through the halls of the house. Gaon holds his breath and ducks behind a corner. The feeling of foolishness hits him a few seconds later, but he swallows it down, pushes it away, and leans in the direction that Yohan’s voice seems to be coming from. “You haven’t responded to any emails in a week. It’s only fitting they’re worried.”
For a minute, Gaon assumes he’s on the phone; with whom, Gaon isn’t sure.
“I needed a break,” Elijah’s voice is just as quiet as Yohan’s, and perhaps doubly as surprising as Yohan’s. A discussion held in their house, with a door open, left to echo through the empty halls, like the inhabitants too were ghosts. Ghosts of their past selves, perhaps, Gaon thinks, wonders how things would have been if the fire hadn’t happened.
“You can take a break if you need it, but you can’t just stop replying to emails, Elijah,” Yohan’s voice is more resigned than anything else. He sounds… tired. Gaon is reminded of Elijah’s words, echoing in his mind, Yohan is better at playing pretend out there, so he doesn’t bother here.
Yohan isn’t pretending. For a minute, it seems he’s given in to whatever is eating at his mind. Gaon is surprised still, eyes widening, when rather than the expected argument from Elijah, comes a simple, quiet, “I’m sorry.”
For all Gaon watches their dysfunctional family barely exist as a family, he knows they cared for one another. He, too, had been in similar shoes, left to cling to the only thing he had from a semblance of normalcy, however long ago, and fooled by emotions felt too strongly.
The question remains, whether it is their love for one another or the hatred that clings to Elijah’s existence, the darkness that flitters in the shadows of her young canvas, and paints the flickering candle of Yohan’s steady depth, that fools them into feeling.
“I’m not upset with you,” Yohan’s voice breaks through Gaon’s thoughts again. The words sound less foreign in his voice, in his mouth, than they do to Gaon. “I trust you’ll do better.”
The silence that lingers is more strange than the conversation itself. A bitter, unfamiliar taste, clings to Gaon’s taste buds, that no amount of swallowing makes go away. Yohan sighs, the sound echoing even louder than the words, and the sound that Gaon couldn’t place stops. “Elijah,” Yohan says. A rustle tells Gaon they’re closer than he had thought. “Elijah, I’m not upset with you. Take the breaks you need. It’s understandable.”
“Is it?” Elijah sounds close to tears or, possibly, crying already.
“It is,” Yohan says. Elijah lets out a laugh, practically half-tears, and Yohan makes a noise under his breath that Gaon would struggle to name as something other than a coo . “Don’t cry, Elijah. Don’t cry.”
“You’ve gotten better at this,” Elijah says, voice catching on- laughter? Tears? Gaon isn’t sure.
“Better at what?” Yohan asks.
“Doing- this,” a rustle indicates a gesture around. “Since Gaon started living here. He’s good for you.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Yohan says. His tone is more distant than before, like he’s retreating. Gaon peeks around the corner and catches sight of Yohan striding away from Elijah. She grabs his sleeve before he can make it more than a few steps and he turns to look at her. His eyes drift past her, to Gaon. His expression doesn’t change; Gaon is certain he’s been spotted.
“I mean it,” Elijah says. “You’re less lonely.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Yohan repeats. His eyes drift to Gaon again, lingering, as if memorizing every line of his face in that moment, with that stare that sees through everything. Gaon suppresses a shudder and takes a deep breath, holding Yohan’s gaze when their eyes meet. The corners of Yohan’s lips twitch.
“Don’t pull away from me just because I'm saying something you don’t like.” Elijah is more familiar then, frustrated and irritated and Yohan’s gaze dips back down to look at Elijah with a cocked eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re somehow better than I am,” Elijah mutters. Her hands settle on the wheels of her wheelchair but Yohan catches her before she can leave, shaking his head minutely.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He looks as surprised as the other two watching him in silence. “I don’t mean to be condescending.” The words come out earnest, and each syllable makes Yohan cringe just a little more, the tips of his ears, not quite hidden in his hair, turn the same pink as the trim of the robe he’s wearing that day.
“I know,” Elijah says finally. Yohan’s eyes flick up to Gaon’s again. Gaon is surprised to see the uncertainty still lingering in them, that for once, Yohan is letting himself be read, in a time when Gaon isn’t pretending to be anything other than himself. Yohan is letting him in, that trust lingering between them. Unless… Unless it’s all just part of Yohan’s game, that twisted game. You’ll never understand me, so stop trying .
“Take the time you need off of classes,” Yohan says finally and looks away. As he walks away, he mumbles something to himself, far enough away that Gaon doesn’t quite catch what it is. He does, however, catch the rough jerk of Yohan’s hand through his hair.
Yohan is better at playing pretend out there, so he doesn’t bother here, Elijah said. Gaon is certain she’s wrong. Yohan plays pretend at home and exists as himself in the world outside their little grove of peace. Yohan thrives in survival mode, when it is kill-or-be-killed.
Yohan is prey and predator wrapped into a suit, dangerous and aware of his own danger at all times. He camouflages in the wild, blends in with the socialites and the rich, and he blends in with the courts and the lawyers and judges. Out in the world, Yohan blends in, in jeans and a hoodie, his hair messy, a mask covering his identity. Yohan blends in when he smashes cars that piss him off, corners people that irritate him until they piss themselves with fear.
This softer, gentler Yohan, this is the pretend Yohan.
“You should pay attention to where you’re walking,” Yohan’s voice is quiet and even and startles Gaon nearly into an open door. There’s open mirth on Yohan’s countenance when Gaon shoots him a glare, as Gaon takes a minute to curse Yohan’s deep appreciation for schadenfreude, and turns to look at him. “Are you done eavesdropping?”
“It’s not exactly eavesdropping if you’re having the conversation in the middle of a hallway I use too,” Gaon tries. Yohan cuffs him over the head, which- fair. Gaon figures he deserves that one. “I didn’t mean to. Really.”
A few emotions flit across Yohan’s face, none of them readable and all of them wildly unfamiliar to Gaon in the moment. “How were your grades in school?” Yohan asks finally, as though he doesn’t know the answer, as though he hasn’t had Gaon’s report cards stashed in his desk in his study this entire time.
“Fine, I guess,” Gaon plays along with the game. He doesn’t break Yohan’s gaze when Yohan raises his eyebrows.
“Will you tutor Elijah?” Yohan asks finally, the silence dragging on for nearly a full minute. Gaon blinks. “Preferably in a way that doesn’t make it entirely obvious to her that is what you’re doing.” Gaon blinks a second time. A third time. “Do you intend to answer me or are you going to stand there blinking prettily at me?”
“You think I’m pretty?” The words escape Gaon’s mouth before he can stop himself. He definitely deserves it when Yohan cuffs him over the head a second time. “Yes- Yes, I can tutor her.”
Yohan doesn’t say anything else, just turns on his heels and walks in the opposite direction. Gaon stares after him, baffled, and just shakes his head and mutters when it’s clear no answers will come.