Wait Until | Double B

rec.ollec.tion.

recollection
/ˌrɛkəˈlɛkʃ(ə)n/
noun
'the action or faculty of remembering or recollecting something.'

His shift at the business company he worked at started in approximately 3 hours, yet here he was, wandering the streets at 5am in nothing but his neighbours large black t-shirt, and a pair of thin, white pyjama pants.

The lean male's mind was specifically unruly this night, attacking him with thoughts and words and spiteful images in his behind his eyelids. He didn't want to sleep in fear of the mind-numbing dreams that'd come with it. His eyes leaked out salty tears of sadness, his brain aching and body trembling as he wanders along the empty pavement.

Not an awake soul sight. Even the homeless in the London streets were sleeping.

The streets felt unsurprisingly lonely and.. wrong at night. No noise. No street acts, no dancers, no people or sounds to occupy his racing brain with. Nothing to keep his wild thoughts at bay.

His dirty, sock-covered feet lead him to a house. The house. And his cries just simply get worse, legs slipping from his feet as he leans against the brick wall surrounding the large area, knees tucked up into his chest as he trembles and cries.

And then he was there. Almost as quick as a gust of air, Junhoe was right beside him, his strong arm snaking around the smaller male's shoulders, bouncing up and down with the strength of his shoulder-shaking sobbing. The brunette leans into the immense warmth next to him, his cries dying down as the soft hushes leaving the younger's lips increase in their volume.

"You have work soon, Hyung. Please tell me you slept." He mumbles, lips slightly moving against his soft, chestnut hair as he speaks.

A simple shake of the head was enough for Junhoe to scoop the elder into his arms, rising up from their crumpled position on the floor. His Hyung let out a few sniffles as he burrows into Junhoe's chest, eyes slipping closed.

His tears hadn't stopped, he'd just learnt how to cry noiselessly. Or were his sobs too loud and harsh to even produce sound? He couldn't tell.

By the time they'd reached their apartment complex, his tears had actually stopped, his subzero temperature body snuggled safely into his neighbours arms whilst a small yawn leaves his lips.

"Tired? Fuckin' hope so.." The deep voice rumbles out, and the elder giggles softly at the vibrations against his ear.

He was always mushier after episodes. More soft and pliant, always wanting people to take care of him more than he usually would; easily manhandled, unlike usual. Only Junhoe gets to see the vulnerable side of him, though, the breakdowns and nightmares, sleepless nights due to harsh memories of an old, harsher reality.

"Wan' go bed now, Jun'oe." He whispers lightly, the younger nodding and hitting the button to floor 7. Their floor.

"Are you gonna sleep?" He asks softly, watching the elder's fingers tangle into his shirt softly.

A simple, but hesitant nod was all he received. But then again, it was better than him remaining stubborn and refusing, which he really did frequently.

It was a struggle for Junhoe to get into the others apartment, seen as he had his arms full of Hanbin. Sleepy, whiny, Hanbin. Hurt Hanbin. He needed to care for Hanbin. But not only was he his Hyung, he was his best friend.

Waking up in the morning was hell. Hanbin was cold still, legs felt brittle and numb, his head hurt and his emotional state really hadn't improved from yesterday. He wasn't ready to go, but, he couldn't have a sick day. He just couldn't. He hadn't taken a sick day in the whole four years he'd been working at the company. He couldn't.

Junhoe starts to stir as he begins to wake up, feeling for the warmth of his Hyung, but with no success.

The elder was clad in some black slacks, his black dress shirt (that was—let's be real—probably Junhoe's considering the size) hanging onto his small frame, unbuttoned and revealing his waist, collarbone and chest tattoo.

"Mmh.. Shirts undone." He mutters sleepily, rolling off of his side and onto his back as he rubs his eyes, successfully ridding them of the sleep coating the rims.

"Oh great job, genius." He speaks, almost as if he was sort of breathless. Breathless?

Junhoe sits himself up groggily, looking to Hanbin—of which was now furiously buttoning his shirt wrong—and huffing softly. His feet meet the cold, dark, laminate flooring with soft pats, his tall, muscular frame padding over to Hanbin and enveloping him in a warm, bear-like hug.

"Bin, just calm down. You still have 30 minutes, it's a 10 minute walk. I'll go and make you breakfast, and you fix your shirt, brush your hair an-"

"Oh god, I've brushed it already! D-does it really look that bad!? Ahh, fuck!" He hisses against the others chest, himself being a few more hyperventilated breaths away from a full blown panic attack.

Junhoe pulls away, taking Hanbin's face in his hands, his thumbs rest on his Hyung's jawline, warm palms resting on his cheeks.

"Look at me, Hanbin." He demands, the weary brown eyes of the other chestnut-haired male's meeting Junhoe's—almost black—eyes. "I will make breakfast. Your hair looks great, okay? just fix the buttons on your shirt, put your shoes on; I'll do the rest, okay? Don't panic."

Hanbin visibly calms, almost as if he's counting the chores to finish and the time he and Junhoe has to finish them all. "Okay.. okay, Junhoe. Thank you."

With a newfound smile, Junhoe pulls away and nods, settling for patting Hanbin's forehead instead of ruffling his hair. That'd send his whole time-frame of how to do things this morning all askew, because he'd have to waste minutes on his hair and-

Junhoe stops his mind from rambling, almost like Hanbin's must, and heads to the kitchen. He takes the fluffy bread loaf from the bread-bin, pushing two slices inside the toaster and pulling the butter out of the fridge, slamming it into the counter and yawning.

He knew where everything was in the elders flat, he'd spent almost all of the first year of Hanbin renting this place out right beside him. He barely slept in his own flat, due to the others night terrors, nightmares or just simple loneliness. But it was Junhoe's loneliness, not Hanbin's.

Almost as soon as the taller, darker haired male had finished college at the ripe age of 18, he started renting out his own apartment right next to the 19-year old, Kim Hanbin.

They'd been childhood best friends. Junhoe knows the ins and outs of Hanbin, his mental disorders and his family problems. The family problems that drove him out of his house at 18 years old.

Family problems meant his father's attitude, and his sister. Nobody spoke about his sister anymore, and if they were to, they'd either receive Hanbin's strong punch, or his harsh cries.

They only spoke of her at the anniversary of her death.