The next morning, Doyoung woke early. The room was still dim, the soft blue of dawn creeping through the curtains. He glanced at his wristwatch resting on the nightstand — barely past seven. With a quiet sigh, he got up, slipped on a hoodie, and padded downstairs toward the kitchen. The house was silent, the kind of silence that felt heavy rather than peaceful.
“Oh? Hyung? You’re already awake?” he said softly, surprised to see Taeyong standing by the counter, sleeves rolled up, coffee half-finished beside him.
“I didn’t sleep well,” Taeyong muttered without looking up. “So I gave up trying.”
Doyoung gave a faint smile. “You’re already preparing breakfast, I see… need a hand?”
Taeyong finally lifted his gaze, his expression tired, eyes shadowed. “That would be nice… thanks, Doyoung.”
Doyoung studied him quietly while slicing some vegetables. “Are you okay, hyung?You didn’t sleep, sure. But there’s something else bothering you — I can see it.”
Taeyong let out a long, shaky breath, setting the knife down. “I talked to Kun late last night,” he said, voice low. “Hendery’s leg… the bullet went clean through the bone. Kun had to remove fragments; he said it was a miracle it didn’t hit an artery. He lost a lot of blood, and he’s out for weeks. Maybe months.” His tone faltered, guilt creeping into the cracks of his voice. “Kun said we’re lucky he didn’t get blood poisoning. Lucky.” He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “I hate that word.”
“Hyung,” Doyoung said gently, “Hendery’s strong. You know him — he’ll bounce back faster than any of us expect.”
“I know,” Taeyong muttered. “But he didn’t deserve it. None of them did. This… this wasn’t supposed to happen.” His fingers tightened around the coffee mug.
“You can’t predict everything, hyung,” Doyoung said quietly. “You don’t control every bullet, every moment.”
Taeyong gave a bitter laugh. “It sure feels like I should have.”
“It's not your fault”
“Exactly,” Taeyong said sharply, “It’s hers.”
Doyoung blinked, taken aback. “Hyung—”
“She’s the reason Hendery’s lying in a hospital bed right now!” Taeyong’s tone rose, raw and cutting. “If she hadn’t been there, none of it would’ve gone like that. Wonchan used her — because of her, everything fell apart!”
“Hyung,” Doyoung said softly, steady but firm, “it’s not her fault either. Wonchan’s the one who started this. He used her as bait to get to you — because she's an innocent! She doesn’t know anything about this world.”
Taeyong turned away, jaw tight. His silence felt like a wall being built between them.
“How can you be so sure?” Taeyong interrupted, his tone bitter. “What if she’s not as innocent as you think? What if she is their spy? We know nothing about that girl. Nothing.”
“Hyung…” Doyoung’s voice softened, but there was warning in it now.
“If you really want to know something about her,” Doyoung said carefully, “ask Sungchan. I am sure he would give you the answers you ask for.”
Taeyong’s laugh was hollow. “And what if he lies? What if he protects her the same way Jaehyun did? I thought I knew him too — and he lied to me twice about his own family. Twice, Doyoung.”
“I was hurt too,” Doyoung admitted quietly. “He should’ve trusted us. But hyung, you know they both look up to you. You’re the person they try to impress, the one they want to protect. They already feel miserable about all of this. If you shut them out now… you’ll only prove their worst fear — that you’ll never forgive them. Especially Sungchan feels miserable.”
