Archive of Our Own

"Close your heart."

"Care for nothing."

"You are above everyone."

Grandfell's father's words bounced around in his head like a disease. Yelling at him, cursing him for all eternity. Damning him to loneliness, convincing him he couldn't love, couldn't care for anyone but himself.

The city ambience was too overwhelming, the constant honking and bustle of cars and people grinding on his already overstimulated senses. He could barely keep himself upright, stumbling over his own two feet like a drunkard in broad daylight.

But Grandfell couldn't bring himself to care. Not truly.

The sun was far too bright, unwelcoming to his kind bound for the darkness of shadows. People flowed around him like a river, casting judgmental glances at him as they passed. It was too much. He couldn't stand it anymore. Grandfell was no stranger to pain, far from it. But right now, in an odd moment of weakness, he couldn't bear being in any more pain.

He threw himself into the nearest alleyway, choking in instant relief as darkness wrapped itself around him. It was dirty, disgusting among the various dumpsters and trash. It was perfect for somebody like him.

A hiccup catches in Grandfell's chest. Painful. Like a stone trying to escape his throat, dragging it's sharp edges deep into his esophagus. He curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his head as he leaned against a dumpster.

It smelled terrible. Grandfell didn't care.

All he cared about was preventing the tears that were threatening his eyes. His father would beat him if they fell. He would find Grandfell, no matter where he was. Find him and drag him away into the deepest recesses of his old home.

The smallest part of Grandfell tries to remind him his father has long since passed away. Unable to exact his violent tendencies of him. The rational part of Grandfell kept trying to convince him that he was okay. There was nothing to be scared of.

Everything else drowned out that small voice, his lungs unable to bring in air. His mouth had grown cotton dry, making it hard to swallow. To bury the pathetic noises he couldn't hold back.

A shadow cast itself over Grandfell's trembling body, the man's silhouette cloaked in sunlight.

His father has found him, Grandfell realized. He was done for. Maybe if he apologized, pleaded, begged that he would do better—

The man crouches down, matching Grandfell's level. He couldn't bear to look at his father, already imagining the disgust written all over his face. The sneer that he'd wear whenever catching Grandfell submitting to weakness.

A voice. Impossibly soft, impossibly gentle. A tone of which Grandfell had rarely ever heard reached out to him.

"Hey… Are you alright?"

Grandfell choked, his throat closing at how tender this stranger's voice was. Relief flooded his adrenaline filled veins.

It wasn't his father.

That phrase kept repeating in Grandfell's mind over and over as the tension slowly seeped out of his bones. He couldn't help the tears running down his face. He really couldn't.

The tiniest touch registers against his elbow, hesitant. Unsure. Grandfell's neck felt impossibly heavy as he looked up, opening his swollen eyes. He watched the stranger nervously. Were they friend or foe? Grandfell couldn't tell.

His breath caught.

Gentle eyes stare at him in worry, their dark recesses holding nothing but care and concern. Scrunched by their eyebrows, as if they were truly anxious to know about Grandfell's well-being. The sunlight reflected off his features, the man's black hair shining brightly, defiantly. He was positively blinding.

"Hello?" The man asked, his brows scrunching even more. "Do I need to call an ambulance? You don't—"

"No!" Grandfell barely chokes out. "No, it's okay. You— You can just leave me here. I'm alright."

He snorts, rolling his eyes, "Yeah right. Even I can give a better excuse than that, man."

Carefully sliding his work bag off his shoulder, the man settles next to Grandfell. Did he just come back from his job? Wearing a suit and yet he would willingly sit down in such a disgusting place? Grandfell's gut yelled at him to stop the man, to keep this blessed figure from being tainted by grime and dirt.

Alas, it was too late by the time Grandfell could get his mouth to work. The man looks at him appraisingly, tilting his head curiously as he stared.

"You know," he began, smiling nervously. "I feel bad just referring to you as 'Some Guy' in my head. If I can ask, what's your name?"

"I—" Grandfell coughs. Swallowing harshly, he clears his throat. "Grandfell. My name is Grandfell."

"Grandfell? Well, that's quite the foreign sounding name," the man hums, nodding to himself as if he predicted it. "Well, my name is Lee Hoyeol."

Hoyeol stretches out a hand, smiling, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Grandfell."

Cautiously, his hand shaking ever so slightly, Grandfell takes his hand, shaking it. "Likewise."

They sit in silence for a bit, the sounds of the city washing over them in their little alleyway. Grandfell trembles with each breath, the action seemingly too difficult for him in this state.

"Are you feeling better?" Hoyeol asks, leaning his cheek against his knee. "You aren't shaking as much, now. And you've stopped crying."

Oh?

Bringing a hand to his face, Grandfell wipes his damp cheeks to find nothing. Just remnants of his break down absorbing into his skin.

"Huh."

The man smiles patiently, waiting for an answer that may never come. Like a boulder in a storm, unmoving. A place that won't budge with even the harshest of winds. The sunlight was already beginning to fade, the alleyway growing darker and darker by the moment. But it was as if the man didn't care as he continued to sit in companionable silence.

Grandfell's chapped lips open slowly. Of course he was okay, why wouldn't he be okay?

"I don't— I don't know."

Hoyeol hums in understanding, shifting ever so closely to Grandfell. He pretends not to see the shocked face the man makes at his own words, clearly intending to say something different. "Do you have someplace to stay for the night? It gets chilly here in Seoul."

He shakes his head. He didn't want to go back yet, didn't want to face Pride. Shame festered in Grandfell's gut as he imagined his brother's reaction to his wretched state.

"I'll take that as a no," Hoyeol says after not hearing a response. He stands slowly, his knees popping quietly. Leaning down, Hoyeol lends a hand to Grandfell, his smile brightening the evening gloom, "Well then, care to rest at my place for a bit? I'm pretty sure I have clothes that fit you after you clean yourself up."

"I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I wouldn't be offering if you were intruding," Hoyeol's hand waves in the air, laughing softly. He takes Grandfell's hand, pulling him to his feet. "Can you stand?"

Grandfell stumbles over his own feet, colliding with Hoyeol. His legs are weak beneath him, too tired from his thoughtless trek around the city.

What an embarrassment.

Thin arms wrap around his torso, stopping them from tumbling back onto the dirty floor. "Careful there. We've been sitting down for a while."

Hoyeol slips Grandfell's arm around his neck, supporting Grandfell's weight as they left the alley. He wasn't kidding when he said it got cold, Grandfell quickly realized. In his blind panic, he hadn't brought any protective clothes with him, merely leaving with a thin, simple shirt and long pants. He grit his teeth, painfully so, as shivers attempted to wrack through his body.

"We're almost there," Hoyeol assured, helping the shaking man into a nearby bus seat. Carefully removing his suit coat, he drapes it over Grandfell's shoulders, helping him slip his arms into the sleeves. "There. This should help a bit until we get there."

Pale hands grip the rough fabric, the unfamiliar quality somehow soothing him. It was low quality, so unlike what he was used to. It was new, fresh. Something Grandfell's fuzzy mind couldn't find any flaws in. He pulls it tighter around him, breathing in deeply as Hoyeol rubs his back encouragingly.

The speaker over head droned on without a care.

"Next stop…"

It was stuffy, warm, damp inside the bus, full of workers heading home for the night. Exhaustion hung in the air, some riders falling asleep in their seats. The two get off several stops after sitting in silence, the frigid night air hitting them like a wall.

"Yikes, it got cold way too fast," Hoyeol groaned, his face immediately flushing a bright red. Readjusting his grip on Grandfell's arm, Hoyeol leads him into a large apartment building, calling down the elevator and stepping in.

After a few moments, Hoyeol opens the door to his small studio apartment, "Welcome to my humble abode. Now, let's go get you cleaned up, yeah?"

Grandfell absently nodded, taking in the quaint living space. It was small, impossible to live in by his standards. Barely the size of his own personal room, in fact. Yet, somehow, it felt more lived in than the entirety of his family's estate.

The sound of rushing water jolts Grandfell out of his revere. Beneath him, the couch he hadn't even known he was sitting on shifted, creaking ever so quietly under his weight. It was soft, well worn.

Taking in another deep, shuddering breath, Grandfell allows himself to melt into the pillows. This kind of warmth was nicer than the stifling humidity of the bus. Cozy. He felt his eyes droop, the warmth blurring his sense of boundaries. To fall asleep within someone else's residence without permission would be incredibly rude. Hands gently shook Grandfell awake from his drowsy stupor, reminding him that, no. He was not in his own home.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that he wasn't.

"Come on, you can sleep right after you take a warm shower. Let the water wash away all your stress and stuff."

With the help of Hoyeol, Grandfell slowly stumbled to the bathroom, his limbs heavy like lead. His feet were barely even dragging across the floor, his dress shoes scrapping quietly against the soft carpet. Steam billowed into their faces as Hoyeol opened the door, flowing into their lungs like a healing balm.

Carefully depositing Grandfell onto the toilet, Hoyeol helps him remove his shoes. Looking up at the man from his kneeling position, Hoyeol blushes ever so slightly in the warm room, "Do you need help getting undressed? Or like, showering? You don't look so good…"

"I'll be quite alright, thank you." Grandfell smiled at his behavior. Kind to the point of being uncomfortable. Not that he minded, he wasn't easily flustered over such matters.

Hoyeol left the room with a soft click of the door, leaving Grandfell alone to figure out how he was actually going to shower without slipping. Perhaps he could crawl? He's already fallen so far, after all. What's a little crawling around on clean tiles compared to being curled up against a dumpster? Grandfell's knees already hurt just thinking about it.

…

Baby steps. That's what people typically say when preparing themselves for something, right? First, his socks. Thanks to Hoyeol's assistance, Grandfell didn't need to struggle with his shoes. That was easy enough.

Then, his shirt. Carefully pulling his t-shirt up over his head, Grandfell could feel his arms tremble. Arms that could easily lift two full grown men were struggling with a single, weightless shirt. What an awful—

No. Don't succumb to such thoughts.

Next was his pants. A task that typically required standing. Shit.

Leaning a hand against the counter, Grandfell pressed all his weight into his arm as he struggled to shimmy off his slacks. His entire body shook from this herculean task, cramps developing in his trembling calves. While he's at it, underwear comes down along with the pants. A two for one deal.

Finally, standing for long enough to properly bathe. What others would call, 'A Final Boss'. Opening the glass door, Grandfell stepped into the shower, careful not to slip. The water sprayed over him, the warm water washing away the grit and grime of the stressful day passed. His thoughts couldn't help but wander.

Was Pride worried about him?

Was Ophelia and Tempest hunting him down at this very moment? That dog always did have a knack for tracking.

Grandfell gathered his hair, the ends nearly black from dragging along the floor all day. He wrung out the strands until it returned to it's silvery color, lathering the bubbly shampoo along each gathered clump. He repeated the cycle over and over until Grandfell was confident his hair was completely clean. Washing his body was equally difficult.

Ensuring he was squeaky clean before sleeping in someone else's home, using their extra mattress and sheets, being clean was a requirement.

Before he realized it, Grandfell was done. The shower was flicked off, leaving only the hum of the fan to fill the misty room. Clothes rested on the sink counter near the door, dropped off by Hoyeol at some point during his shower. Grandfell couldn't recall when.

Grabbing a towel Hoyeol lent him, he dried slowly. If he slipped here, he would only bring more trouble for this angelic being disguised as a human man.

A burning smell leaked through the bathroom door, quickly staining the pleasant smell of soap. Quickly donning his new, clean clothes, Grandfell practically ran out with an amount of strength he didn't know he still possessed. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug.

"What's wrong? Is something burning? Where?" Grandfell demanded quickly, scanning the small studio with a crazed look. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, so what…?

From the kitchen, quiet cursing was spewing from Hoyeol's mouth as he worried over the active stove. Something sizzled on the stainless steel pan, clearly the 'damn bastard' that was burning. Hoyeol took the pan off the stove, depositing it elsewhere off the heat so it could rest before swapping his attention to a large pot of boiling water.

Hoyeol looks back in surprise, "Ah, you're already done? You can take longer, you know?"

"Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you," Grandfell thanked, standing awkwardly just outside the kitchen. "What are you making—?"

"Nothing!" Hoyeol squeaked, his hands flailing in panic. He jumps from his spot by the stove, pushing Grandfell towards the dinner table, "Just dinner! Don't worry about it, you'll see! Sit, sit! The food's almost ready."

Grandfell tilts his head curiously to the side, his eyes flicking from Hoyeol's face to the busy stove. "You're water is going to boil over."

"Oh fuck—!"

A fond huff escaped Grandfell, something neither of them noticed. He pulled out a chair and made himself comfortable, finally letting his tired body rest. Even if for a little bit. Water drained down the sink loudly as the Hoyeol strained whatever he was making. Pasta of some sorts, by the sound of it.

Grandfell tore his gaze from the domestic scene. Hoyeol wanted the meal to be a surprise, right?

Clink!

Soon, an ivory white plate is placed before Grandfell. Hoyeol's head is lowered as he apologized, "Sorry, but I only had butter to use as the sauce."

Angel hair pasta with bits and pieces of burnt veggies scattered about sat on the plate, along with a fork placed on the side. Ah, so that's what caused the burning smell.

"Haha, the burning scared you, didn't it? I'm sorry," Hoyeol apologized again, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want to. I can always order takeout—"

"No, I'll eat."

Another gift to add to the list of things he needed to return. Spinning the pasta around his fork and stabbing some bits of broccoli and carrot, Grandfell took a large bite. It was greasy, no doubt from the amount of butter Hoyeol added. The pasta was a little too soft than Grandfell was accustomed to, having spent too much time in boiling water. And the burnt flavor of the vegetables definitely added some… flavor to the dish.

All of that to say, it was perfect.

Tears slide down Grandfell's face without his permission for the second time that day. He scarfed down the food like a man starved, eating bite after bite until the entire plate was spotless. Hoyeol had barely even gotten started on his own meal when he finished.

"Do you… Do you want seconds?" Hoyeol asked, full of hesitance. "Feel free to eat all you want. I've made plenty. Here, let me get you some more."

"Thank you," Grandfell sniffled as he wiped his tears away. As he takes the newly filled plate back from Hoyeol, he says, "I can grab my own plates. You shouldn't have to tend to me like a personal servant. This is your house, after all."

"But you're my guest! I can't have guests do strenuous things ! I'd be a terrible host!"

"I should be the one caring for you, Lee-nim—"

"—Please, just call me Hoyeol—"

"—After all you've done for me, I want to be able to repay it while I still can."

"S-Still can…?" Hoyeol asks, trailing off. "Are you being hunted down?! Or are you going to die soon?"

He babbles on with every possibility, the anxiety rolling off of him in thick waves. Each time Grandfell would try to chime in—to explain that, no, it wasn't what it seemed—Hoyeol would speak right over him in his panicked state.

"Do I need to call the police? If you're in danger, I can probably—!"

"Enough," Grandfell interrupted as firmly as he dared, the foreign feeling of a laugh bubbling up his throat. "It's not like that. I merely fear that the more you help me with your generosity, the greater my gift to you in return must be. At this point, there's nearly nothing I can give you to balance this debt I hold."

"S-So, you're not being chased by the mafia…?"

"No. I am not being chased by the mafia."

"A-And, you aren't going to suddenly pass away in your sleep?"

"I'm quite healthy, so no. Not that either."

Hoyeol collapses in a nearby chair, his legs weak from all the fretting, "That's good. That's good…"

A smile cracked past Grandfell's lips. How sweet of him to be so worried for a stranger he met just a few hours ago. Just the sight of this man made something dormant deep within Grandfell's soul begin to bud once more. Uncomfortable, in many ways.

Wearily standing from his seat, Grandfell motions to Hoyeol's sink, "It's getting rather late. Allow me to clean the dishes as thanks, even if it does little to alleviate your burdens."

"No no, I can just do them tomorrow—"

"Please," Grandfell pleaded. Should he wash the dishes tomorrow, the food would dry and stick to the ceramic and create a more difficult task. "Just this once. Go prepare for rest."

"Okay, if you're so adamant…" Hoyeol nodded nervously before scampering away to grab pajamas. "I'll be in the shower then. Try not to overexert yourself; neither of us want to clean up broken dishes."

Grandfell shooed Hoyeol off playfully, waving him away with both hands. He turned towards the sink, staring at it like a puzzle to be solved. Now, this was something Grandfell was unaccustomed to doing. His family was wealthy enough to have servants for nearly ever household task, including the dishes.

Well, there was nothing his genius couldn't solve.

Flicking on the faucet, Grandfell waited patiently as the water warmed, donning pink, plastic gloves. Careful not to steal the shower's hot water, he kept it on the relatively cooler side. His hand reached out to a dirty plate, bits of food from their recent dinner still sitting on the glossy dinnerware.

It was a calming process, he quickly realized. Soak under the water, soap a sponge and drag it along the surface. Grandfell soon found his mind wandering into hazy static, his body easily going through the newly created motions. Before he even realized it, the sink was devoid of cutlery or dishes.

The shower was still running, the sound of water bleeding through the thin drywall. Roaming to the living room, Grandfell surveyed the house. The lack of walls separating rooms in their designated places was odd, like being in a vast plain after living in a mountain range your whole life. Hoyeol's bed was on full display next to a small window, the sheets thrown haphazardly to the side.

It'd be odd to clean it up. He would be crossing some boundaries by an extreme mile, in fact! But before Grandfell could steel his nerves properly—

"That was nice," Hoyeol hummed, exiting the bathroom with a towel around his neck. His hair was still damp with water, a clear result of its lack of proper drying. "Now, let me set up your bed. There's no way I'm letting you sleep on the couch."

Plomph

Setting down the futon, Hoyeol throws a thin blanket over it, "There. The apartment's ondol should be able to keep you warm tonight, so you'll be nice and cozy."

Grandfell presses a hand onto the soft mattress, testing it. His hand sunk nicely before jumping back up as he pulled away. Melting into the futon, Grandfell burrows under the sheet, the ondol's heat already heating his temporary bed.

Hoyeol's bed creaked next to him as Hoyeol crawled up, quickly curling on his side and staring at Grandfell. They stare at each other in silence for a while, unsure who should close their eyes first.

"Ahem, good night, Grandfell," Hoyeol coughs, bundling his covers over his shoulders. "Pretty please don't kill me in my sleep. Thank you in advance."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," Grandfell smiled, rolling onto his back. "Good night, Lee-nim."

"Ew. Speak comfortably, it's fine."

"As you wish, Hoyeol-nim," Grandfell's smile grew, hiding his face to escape Hoyeol's seething glare. Smoothing his face into something more professional, he eventually returns the gaze, "Now, let us rest. The day has been long and cruel."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Sizzle sizzle

Hoyeol wakes up to the sound of sizzling, its savory aroma making his mouth salivate and his stomach growl. He didn't have anything in his fridge. If he recalled correctly, he actually emptied it out last night when cooking for the weird guy.

Sitting up, he checked himself up and down. Good, everything was still intact, as far as Hoyeol could tell. Maybe some aching muscles from lugging around another person's weight, but he felt relatively fine, all things considered.

"Are you awake?" A smooth voice called from his kitchen. In fact, it was a voice he didn't recognize. "I went to the store to by some things for breakfast."

Hoyeol shrieks, throwing himself into the nearest corner. He grabs the nearest object—a pillow—and holds it in front of him like a shield. Seconds passed in tense silence, occasionally interrupted by a crackle of oil.

There was a stranger in his kitchen. Cooking in his kitchen. With ingredients he didn't have. That the man bought himself?

The sizzling slows to a stop as the pan is taken off the heat, the contents being placed on a plate smoothly. Turning around, the stranger stares at him quizzically, "Is everything alright, Hoyeol?"

And he knew Hoyeol's name?!

Wait.

Wait.

"Grandfell," Hoyeol barely squeaked, his blood pressure dropping slowly. He struggles gets out of bed, testing his shaky legs, "R-Right, it's just you. You, uh—You look better."

"I rested well, thanks to your efforts," Grandfell smiled, placing the plate of potato pancakes onto the filled table. Several plates littered the surface, different assortments of food scattered about. Rice, multiple types of banchan, and last night's leftovers. Eggs and toast were there as well. Those were the things Hoyeol was familiar with.

Everything else was very foreign. Of course, the latke that were crisped to perfection, a nice golden brown. A plate of similarly colored oladyi sat near the banchan. Patties made of spinach sat on a smaller plate and next to the toast was a bowl of green mush.

"That's horokhivka, or pea soup. It has bits of pork inside, if you don't mind it," Grandfell supplied, chuckling lightly at Hoyeol's confused look.

"Oh…" Hoyeol stared blankly at the spread. "This is a lot of food…"

"It's alright if you can't finish it all. You'll be able to store leftovers for later."

"Right, of course!" Hoyeol said, seating himself at the table. "Did you make all of this?"

"It took some time to gather the correct ingredients, but other than that, it was quite simple to make," Grandfell bragged, smiling softly as he sets a plate and bowl down before Hoyeol. "Feel free to begin eating while it's still hot."

Hoyeol piled the food onto his plate and carefully scooping up some of the pea soup. Right as he's about to take an experimental bite out of a spinach patty, someone knocks on the door. Jolting up, Hoyeol shoves the food in his mouth and wipes his greasy hands, stumbling towards the door, "Hello? Yes?"

A pale, silver-haired man stared down at him, his amethyst eyes poking holes into his skull. Is this one of Grandfell's relatives? How did they find him so quickly— Eh?!

"Move," the man growls shoving him to the side as he storms Hoyeol's house. A woman with a similar appearance walks in after him, quickly followed by a giant wolf dog on her heels. It bared its teeth at him, nearly emptying Hoyeol's bowels.

Grandfell stands suddenly, his shoulders tense. Completely ignoring his siblings, he hurries to Hoyeol's side, checking him for injuries. Once satisfied that he was unharmed, Grandfell pulled him to his chest protectively, "Pride, be more careful. You could have hurt my savior."

Savior? Hoyeol? That doesn't sound quite right. Also, who named their kid 'Pride'?

"Who? That sad looking man?" Pride scoffed, sneering at Hoyeol. "If anything, he was the one who kidnapped you. You were clearly in a vulnerable state and he took advantage of that—"

"You think me so weak that I can't protect myself? If I didn't feel safe, he would be dead already."

Well, that's nice to hear.

"Even so, that doesn't—"

The woman's voice booms, cutting between the arguing brothers, "Enough! Grandfell is safe and warm with a place to eat. Is that not enough, Pride?"

"But Ophelia—"

"No buts! You should be thanking this man for taking in our baby brother, not threaten him for it!"

"Tch."

Pride turned to Hoyeol, his eyes burning angrily as he spat out, "Thank you for watching over Grandfell. We'll be taking him home now."

"Yeah… Of course…" Hoyeol wheezed, wiggling in Grandfell's crushing grip. It felt like his lungs were going to pop.

"I'm afraid I had arrangements prior to you barging in to Hoyeol's home," Grandfell huffed, loosening his grip. Hoyeol took a gasping breath of fresh air. "You'll have to wait someplace else until I'm finished."

"Yes! We understand, Grandfell," Ophelia intercepted before Pride could say anything, roughly grabbing his shoulders with a tight smile. "Please, enjoy your breakfast. We'll be waiting in the lobby when you're finished, alright?"

Quickly shoving Pride out, Ophelia gave one last wave to the duo before leaving, the dog slipping out behind her.

…

"So—"

"Those are my siblings."

"Ah. Understood."

"You're not surprised?"

"I have three older sisters," Hoyeol explained lightly, sitting back down at the table once Grandfell released him. "Nothing can really surprise me in this sort of field."

"I see," Grandfell breathed a sigh of relief. "Well then, let's eat."

Hoyeol smirked slightly, his lips twitching up. What an interesting fellow.