Fifteen-year-old Joshua sat silently at the dining table, pushing the mashed potatoes around his plate with the edge of his fork. The room echoed with laughter and chatter Seungcheol was animatedly retelling a story from work, his gestures making the younger boys giggle. Jeonghan tossed in sarcastic remarks that made the table roar louder. Mingyu and Vernon clinked their glasses together in a toast for no reason, and Seokmin was already on his third helping of rice.
It was lively. Loud. Warm.
But Joshua felt like he was looking through a window from the outside.
He forced a smile when Seungkwan asked him to pass the kimchi, but the knot in his chest only tightened. He wasn't hungry, not really. The food lost its taste hours ago, just like it always did during nights like this. Nights when he realized how different he was.
He had been adopted when he was three, after the fire. It had taken everything his parents, his home, his sense of safety. Seungcheol and Jeonghan had taken him in then, young themselves but determined to raise him. And he had promised himself he'd be good. He never got into fights, never raised his voice, studied hard, helped clean, and smiled even when he felt like crying.
But it never felt enough.
After dinner, he helped clear the table. His hands moved in practiced motions plate, bowl, rinse. He was careful, but not careful enough. As he placed a dish on the drying rack, it slipped slightly, clinking hard against the metal. A small chip formed at the edge.
"Joshua!" Jeonghan's sharp voice made him flinch.
"I'm sorry," he said immediately, eyes downcast.
Jeonghan picked up the chipped plate with a sigh. "How many times have I told you to be careful with the dishes? That's your third plate this month."
Joshua bit his tongue. It hadn't been. It had only been once before, weeks ago. But he nodded anyway.
"Sorry doesn't fix broken things," Jeonghan muttered, and walked away without a glance back.
The words stayed with Joshua even after the kitchen was clean and the others lounged around watching a movie. He sat curled in the corner of the couch, invisible. No one noticed when he slipped away.
He passed by the guest room on the way to his bedroom and paused.
The door was open just a crack, enough for him to hear the voices inside.
"He's a sweet kid, but let's be honest... Joshua's not really one of them."
Joshua's breath hitched.
"You can tell, right? Jeonghan's harder on him. I mean, when Minghao broke that glass vase last month, they just laughed it off. But Joshua drops a spoon and gets scolded."
"It's different when it's not your own blood."
"And did you see? We brought gifts for the kids and left with empty hands for him. Jeonghan didn't even notice."
Joshua stumbled back from the door, vision blurry. His chest was tight, suffocating. His name. Their words. The truth in them.
He turned to leave, but just down the hallway, he froze again. Jeonghan and his sister were talking in low tones near the stairwell.
Jeonghan's sister leaned in close to Jeonghan, voice low but sharp. "You should've never adopted him. You've got your real kids. What were you thinking bringing someone like him into the family?"
Jeonghan froze. His jaw clenched.
Then she went further. "He doesn't belong. He's quiet. He's odd. He's not like the others. You can still change this he's not truly yours. It's not too late to let him go."
