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The receipt was just the beginning. He'd told himself he'd stop after that, just one thing, just enough to ease the pressure behind his ribs, but his hands moved faster than his resolve. The next cup was already in his grip and in the dustbin before he could think, fingers wiping condensation rings with the hem of his shirt. Muscle memory carved through years, before his father’s footsteps reached the door. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until his lungs burned, and when he exhaled, it came out shaky, uneven.
The door clicked open, and Seonghwa froze. 'It wasn't done! There was so much to do! Why was he so early?!' But then he turned and saw Hongjoong, coffee cups and sandwiches in hand, brows furrowing, and he exhaled, all adrenaline leaving him. 'Right. Right. He wasn't at home. Appa wasn't here, just Hongjoong, Hongjoong wasn't going to do anything. It was okay, everything was okay.'
Where Seonghwa has experiences he needs to process and Hongjoong is initially confused but manages to help Seonghwa heal, albeit accidentally.
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9/10