Crumbling Bridges {YuJae} | complete

two

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

Jaehyun blinks through the last of his sleep to will his eyes to not give up on him until the day of work is complete. That's only eleven hours. It's doable. He struggles to open his bottle of face cream and hisses in pain, nail now broken, and launches it back into the cupboard with a curse hanging from his lips before he returns to his bedroom and nearly pricks himself with the pin of his name badge.

He woke up late, so he doesn't have time to mess around with the box of band aids, and tiptoes to Hyejin's room instead. Holding his breath, Jaehyun nudges the door open. It isn't shut, which is strange, but he thinks nothing of it and pokes his head into the room.

Hyejin's bed is empty. The covers are rumpled and twisted to suggest a difficult night's sleep, and Jaehyun sucks in a breath at the realisation that she must have snuck out again. Jaehyun himself had no trouble succumbing to sleep because his exhaustion overpowered the multitude of reasons for him to suffer hours of insomnia. And now Hyejin has unclasped the reins he does his very best to keep secure around her, disappearing without a trace.

It's happened enough times for Jaehyun to guess where she ended up. He spies the empty plate on the nightstand and the knowledge that she had a hot meal before bed loosens his frown a bit. Sometimes, it's a matter of time. She always returns with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders. Sometimes, he drives to Donghyuck's house to collect her. That never goes down well.

On this aching Wednesday morning, Jaehyun hangs her abandoned school skirt on the front of the wardrobe with a shirt and tie and decides to let time work its magic. His fingers sting against the keyboard when he punches out an email to Taeil, the shop manager, to explain why he's going to be late for work. A headache pounds at his skull from the mere thought of letting someone down.

All the clocks in the house taunt him when he perches on the sofa. Bold, white digits flick forward faster and faster in the corner of the news report. Jaehyun prays the pages on the anchor's desk don't contain his stepdaughter's name. He blinks, and his mind supplies the image of Hyejin that would appear on the screen in time with the monotone voice to report of her death in a horrible accident at one o'clock this morning. It would be Jaehyun's fault. Most things are. Taeil replies to his email to express his concern. You never miss work.

Jaehyun doesn't know what's worse: Taeil getting mad at him, or Taeil worrying about him. Either way, Jaehyun sinks into the cushions and uses his weighted blanket as a shield from the cold.

An empty hour passes until the front door clicks open.

"Hyejin?" Jaehyun pushes the blanket to the other end of the sofa and moves to greet the girl in the hallway.

She hums with vacant dismissal as though her stepfather is a mere inconvenience in her life, yet once she's kicked her battered Doc Martens off her feet and stood up straight Jaehyun detects the regret. It flashes through her eyes for a second so brief that it's almost not there at all. But it's there, and Jaehyun clears his throat.

"Why did you do that?" He narrows his eyes. Hyejin picks at her fingernails. The black polish has started to chip around the edges, giving way for her to peel it off in irked flakes.

An apology never reaches the air, but Jaehyun still wraps his arms around the girl and lets the flood of relief dissolve his anger. He squeezes her tight. She doesn't wriggle away like she used to, and it gifts Jaehyun a spark of hope that's quenched as soon as the sharp stench of cigarettes pinches his nostrils.

"And why did you smoke again?" He mutters, releasing Hyejin to stare down at her with as much conviction as he can muster through his injured authority. When she finally meets his eyes with a crestfallen expression, Jaehyun's head rings with the reminder to stand firm and not give into the plea for forgiveness.