The year Yunho turned twelve he was already accustomed to bathing alone. Jaejoong had even dragged a few blankets to the floor next to their bed, setting a place for himself there and telling Yunho that the boy was too old now for them to be sleeping in the same bed anymore. Yunho had agreed grumpily, and the moment Jaejoong had turned his back, he had sneaked in the room to steal the family rug from the floor to his own bed. Fine, so he could sleep without Jaejoong’s arms around him—but he wasn’t going to try his luck and sleep without the second source of comfort he had ever known. He wasn’t quite sure whether Jaejoong had noticed, but during dinner the older boy kept grinning at him with a familiar annoying, all-knowing look on his face. Later, when they were getting ready for bed, Jaejoong told him that if he got scared of fiends and ghosts in the middle of the night, he was welcome to come suck his thumb next to Jaejoong on the floor. Jaejoong’s stifled laughs drove Yunho mad, making him want to storm out of the door. But when Jaejoong stood up to kiss him good night on his forehead, Yunho’s anger dissipated a little, despite the teasing chuckles and the patronising pat Jaejoong gave the younger boy’s cheek.
The next morning Yunho woke up alone, the bed feeling even wider and lonelier than the evening before. Immediately, he crawled to the side to peek over the edge in order to see if Jaejoong was still lying on the floor, but the floor was empty, Jaejoong's bedding in a neatly folded pile next to the wall.
Yunho flopped off the bed onto the floor and rolled over it towards the door, dragging himself up by the door handle. He padded down the corridor, looking for the older boy, until he reached the door of the room holding their rusty bathtub. Hearing a familiar humming voice coming from inside, he peeked through the slightly ajar door and pushed it open, a little wider.
Jaejoong was sitting in the bathtub with his back turned to the door, washing his long black hair. Yunho knew Jaejoong occasionally brought home luxuries, even expensive soaps from the nomads, but this was the first time he ever saw him using one: his white fingers were carding through his hair, splaying the bubbly substance onto his locks. He had already washed his arms and back clean, the normally white skin tinting towards a rosy pink. The difference in the colour of his skin and Yunho’s own was quite remarkable;s Yunho even remembered an occurrence many years ago when he had asked Jaejoong to scrub him harder as his skin always seemed to remain dirty, darker than Jaejoong’s. Jaejoong had smiled at him and explained how people in the world had different skin colours, northerners white and southerners black and the people in between brown, and how they were born in different places and thus they were different in colour also. Yunho had managed to gather from there the information that when he was born, Jaejoong wasn’t present. Intrigued, he had bothered the older boy until Jaejoong had told him the story of their first meeting.
Jaejoong started massaging his scalp, humming some song Yunho couldn’t remember hearing him sing before. After a few moments, he bent forward to dip his head under water, and then he stood up, squeezing the water out of his hair and reaching forward to grab his towel. Slowly, he dried his hair before turning around.
“Yunho!” Jaejoong exclaimed, surprised, as he started to wrap the towel around himself. “How long have you been standing there?”
“I just woke up.” Yunho lied for the first time in his life.
It was a time of the year when water was scarce, and their latest water hole had dried out a few weeks earlier. Jaejoong was not worried since Yunho had never failed to find water before, but he was quietly hinting for him to take a trip by taking newly emptied jars out to the deck everyday, placing them by the bow, Yunho’s favourite place to sit and observe the steppe. One morning when the bow became too cramped for him to fit in, Yunho finally agreed reluctantly. Taking only one jar with him, he jumped down onto the ground. Jaejoong hurried to the railing to toss his sandals after him, warning him about caravans and snakes and even scorpions that only came out during night. Yunho collected the sandals from the grey sand, slipping them onto his feet as he hollered dismissing words of agreement back at the older boy. Without wasting time, he set out, choosing a direction he hadn’t explored in a while.
Yunho was used to traveling by foot. While he trekked past a few small mounds, aiming for a larger cliff he had seen in the horizon, he had time to think. Yunho and Jaejoong were rarely apart; only when either left to look for food or water. Yunho never liked leaving, but he did his job proud of being capable of supporting their little household in some way. Usually, the job was easy enough for him, as springs and ponds seemed to suddenly emerge from the ground every time he stepped out to look for one. Most of the time he only made it a few hours’ distance from the ship before he found one already.
Yunho only started to get worried when the sun was already nearing its zenith. Wondering if his fortune had abandoned him, he started paying more attention to every rock and hole but no matter how closely he looked, the steppe remained covered with sand and grass, not a single drop of water visible anywhere.
He reached the cliff at the hottest hour of the day, frustrated with the lack of water on his way. Quite tired already, he sat down in the shadow of the cliff for a moment, pondering on which way to take next. Before he could notice, his eyes were slipping shut as he was lulled to sleep by the exhausting heat surrounding him.
In his dream he saw a whirl of white and black, streaks of the contrasting colours kissing each other in a wild dance until they started forming a recognisable shape. Pale, naked skin and long, silky hair, clear drops of water running down a body as the person twisted his arms and legs, engaged in a magical movement that reminded Yunho of the elegant birds crossing the sky of the steppe twice a year.
Yunho woke up with an uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling rushing down to his loins. His lower body felt weird and as he glanced down, he saw his tunic forming a small tent between his legs. He reached his hand down, touching it carefully, marvelling at the tingly feeling the touch aroused in him. Pleased, he started stroking the tent—until he suddenly heard a low hissing voice. Yunho froze, his arms coming back to his sides as he pressed his palms against the warm surface of the rock. Slowly, he pushed himself up and turned his face to his left, only to find himself eye to eye with a long, thin snake, with a skin so close to the colour of the sand that it was barely visible against the ground. Yunho felt a burst of panic rushing through him as he remembered each one of Jaejoong’s warnings, certain that he was looking in the eye of his own poisonous death.
The snake stared at him with its yellow eyes. Yunho didn’t dare to move a finger, his knees quivering as he waited for the snake to attack him and carve its fangs into his sanded skin. When nothing happened for a long moment, he relaxed slightly, allowing himself a deep breath.
The snake’s unblinking eyes somehow reminded him of Jaejoong, and when it slipped out a forked tongue, the image was completed: Jaejoong rarely spent an hour without licking his lips. Finally, the snake turned its head and started slowly slithering away. Yunho stayed still, hesitant, but when the snake faced him again to stare at him for a second time, he pushed his back off the cliff, following the snake cautiously.
They moved at a languid pace until Yunho spotted something glimmering in front of them. The snake sped up, slipping into the liquid, forming bands of expanding circles on the surface.
“Water!” the boy gasped, already turning around to fetch his abandoned jar.
“Thank all our forefathers you are finally here! How far did you wander?!” Jaejoong jumped down from the ship’s deck to greet Yunho, his burgundy gown flapping around his skinny frame. He took the water jar from Yunho’s arms, placed it on the ground and started pulling the sleeves of his tunic up, inspecting his body.
“You’re not hurt anywhere are you? What happened?”
Yunho squirmed under his examination, eager to tell him about his great adventure.
“No, there was this big cliff and then there was a snake and—”
“A snake? Did it bite you?” Jaejoong stopped to ask horrified, then resumed his persistent scrutiny. Yunho yanked his arm out of the older boy’s grip, irritated that he wouldn’t listen to his story.
“No! I am fine, Jaejoong!” he huffed. Jaejoong halted his movements for a second before slapping the back of Yunho’s head.
“And still you dare to make me worry like this!” The offensive movement turned into a ruffle as he tousled Yunho’s hair.
“Anyway, now that you are home safe I need to hurry. There was a caravan passing us a few hours ago already—I should be able to catch them if I travel fast—Yunho, take the jar inside! You will return to the water only after I come back, you understand?” Jaejoong fussed, straightening his gown and adjusting his headpiece.
Yunho turned on his best puppy look.
“Can I come with you, Jaejae? I promise I’ll be good, I’ll carry all the food back,” he begged, tugging at Jaejoong’s sleeve. Jaejoong gave him a disinterested look, checking the folds of his gown for something.
“How many times have we had this discussion already?” he sighed resignedly. “No, you can’t.”
“I am not a little boy anymore, I am a man now too, I am already 12 years old!” Yunho argued, not releasing Jaejoong’s sleeve. “Please let me come!”
Jaejoong finally understood Yunho was serious, and he wore the sternest look he could manage on his face before answering the boy with a conclusive no. Yunho frowned, annoyed.
“You are not my older brother! You cannot order me around! I will come with you if I want to!”
Jaejoong sighed, irritated at Yunho’s stubbornness and disappointed at his disobedience.
“What have I told you about finding water, Yunho? It’s your job,” he stressed his point by pressing a finger to Yunho’s chest. “And what have I told you about finding food? It’s my job. And now, you go do your job and take this jar inside,” he pushed Yunho roughly towards the jar, “and I’ll go do mine.”
He engaged Yunho’s defiant eyes in a staring contest until the smaller boy had to steer his eyes off Jaejoong’s fiery ones. With his shoulders slumped, still feeling annoyed, Yunho turned away to pick up the water jar from the ground. Jaejoong blinked at his back for a few times before turning around to walk away without another word.
For a few moments, Yunho tried to obey, sitting on the railing with his legs dangling down, kicking the side of the ship with his heels. Curiosity blended with disappointment and anger crawled down his neck, making his stomach twist and turn and a dry lump he couldn’t get down no matter how much he swallowed rise up his throat. With a sudden flash of determination, he spontaneously grabbed his sandals and jumped down from the deck, stumbling a little at the fall. Far too gone to care, he started running while trying to slip his sandals on, tracing Jaejoong’s footprints to the steppe.
Yunho knew caravans usually passed the ship on its eastern side, trailing a path to the faraway northern plains, the home of Jaejoong’s people. Most of the time they passed near enough for Yunho to see them travel past them, horse after horse loaded with tradable goods, but Jaejoong never went to greet them when they were at their nearest. He always waited for the caravans to travel a few kilometres past them before going after the nomads. He said it was to make sure the traders wouldn’t see him coming out of the shipwreck, but it also prevented Yunho from following their exchange in the horizon from the window of the wheelhouse, his usual place. This time, he wanted to see. He was old enough to come along. He was old enough to take care of himself, to take care of his own nourishment and wellbeing.
Soon Yunho could hear the noisy caravan that had paused its trek for a while, giving a much-needed break to hardworking packhorses. The distance had seemed like nothing; Yunho had many a time wandered much further in search of water. But he had never been as close to a caravan before. Ever since he was small, Jaejoong had day after day warned him about the nomads who would steal him away and sell him to some rich man as a slave, telling him to hide from the first sound of neighing or stomping hooves. As Yunho neared the group, he couldn’t help but to be amazed by the beautiful, noble horses of the nomad men. Even the packhorses looked enormous and grand to Yunho’s unaccustomed eyes, but the real gems were the majestic beings the nomads rode.
Jaejoong’s usual warning ringing in his head, Yunho approached the party cautiously, intent on finding Jaejoong without being noticed himself. He could see some of the rectangular nomad tents put up: the caravan seemed to have decided to stay for the night. Guessing he would find Jaejoong where there would be food, and that food could be found where the nomads would eat, he decided to head for the tents, as cooking would most probably happen in the refreshing shade.
A horse was standing next to one of the smaller tents, relieved of its load of firewood that was piled up on the sand, creating a metre-high stack. Deeming it a perfect hiding place, Yunho sneaked between the animal and the wood. He could hear funny voices coming out from the tent, and curious, he lifted his head to peek through a slot in the pile.
What Yunho saw made all his vital functions stop momentarily. His breath hitched and his heart stopped pumping blood through his veins, his lungs collapsing at the sudden lack of air inside them. He closed his eyes once, willing the dream to fade away, and opened them again, expecting to see Jaejoong kneeling there, negotiating for food and other goods he usually brought back from the nomads. But what he saw was the same scene he had witnessed the first time. Yunho gripped the firewood, trying to prevent himself from toppling over as he watched with sick fascination.
Jaejoong’s face was there at a few metres’ distance from him, twisted in a weird expression that made him look like a stranger in Yunho’s eyes. The cloth he usually covered his face with during his trips was lying aside, discarded. He was panting heavily, his lips opening and closing in an irregular rhythm. He kept frowning, but Yunho wasn’t sure if it was caused by pain or something else as his shallow breaths turned into breathy moans every now and then.
Jaejoong was lying on his stomach completely naked, his hands on both sides of his head, gripping tightly into the folds of his own burgundy gown that was laid on the ground below him. The milky white northerner skin of his arms almost glowed under the intense sun as he trembled, his muscles restrained. There was another man on top of him, elbows on both sides of Jaejoong’s shoulders, hands holding onto his wrists and his face buried in Jaejoong’s long hair, his hips snapping up and down to the rhythm of both of the men’s laboured breaths.
“I never believed what my friends told me—uhh—about the ghost courtesan of the steppe but—oh dear—oh— I se-see the truth now,” the man above him stammered, shifting upwards to support himself on his arms, exposing Jaejoong’s naked back under him. Jaejoong grunted in response, not releasing his fingers from the gown under him. The man fastened his pace, his face twisting in immediate pleasure.
“Oh-hoi, what a beauty!”
Yunho turned his eyes to a tall man, taller than even Jaejoong and at least three times his width. The approaching man was wearing strange clothes, a short jacket of a kind Yunho had never seen even in the books, and very hot-looking leather shoes. The man’s hair was frizzy and light, completely different from the black straight hair of Jaejoong, or even the brown, coarse hair of the nomads and Yunho’s own.
Jaejoong raised his face from the ground and tried to turn his neck into the direction of the voice.
“One at a time!” he snapped, irritated. The man on top of him faltered his movements slightly, flustered at the situation.
“Oh I am just watching, please go on,” the man exclaimed with feigned innocence, stepping closer and sitting next to the pair of men, taking out a pipe and starting to fill it with tobacco. The man on top of Jaejoong eyed him uncertainly and after a few thrusts, he got up, pulling his pants up and his gown down him, fastening his belt.
“My turn already?” the man fiddling with his pipe asked in mock surprise but Jaejoong sat up, starting to pull his gown over his lap and torso.
“I am done here, thank you very much,” he answered. “I will now take what rightfully belongs to me.”
The man who had previously been on top of him nodded meekly and started walking towards another tent that had a sack lying next to its opening.
“Oh I don’t think so, pretty,” the bulky man reached out grip Jaejoong shoulder and forced him back on the ground, facing down. Jaejoong hissed, fighting against the man pinning him down, but the man held him in place with ease, straddling his kicking legs and pulling his own pants down to his knees with one hand.
“Don’t you go anywhere, Batbayar!” he exclaimed when he noticed the other man drawing away, a nervous expression on his face. “Let me teach you how these bitches really want it done!”
The man pressed his hand between Jaejoong’s legs, doing something that made the young man under him yelp in surprise.
“You disgusting, insecure little boy,” Jaejoong snarled venomously, his hands searching incessantly around the folds of his gown.
“Does this feel like a little boy’s cock to you, huh?” the man retorted smugly, pressing his hips against Jaejoong’s backside and thrusting against him violently. Jaejoong’s hands stopped their movement as he drew out a long knife, one that Yunho knew Jaejoong always carried around in the folds of his gown when he left the shipwreck. Carefully, he tried to twist his arm so that he could aim the blade into the ribs of the man sitting on his legs.
“Oh, oh-oh-oh, now what are you doing? Hold on, dear,” the man noticed Jaejoong’s attempt and grabbed his wrist immediately, twisting it and making Jaejoong lose his grip on the hilt. The knife clattered down, the man reaching out and tossing it away a little further.
“A respectable try, bitch,” the man chuckled, pressing his palm on the back of Jaejoong’s neck and forcing his head further against the ground in a painful-looking manner. Noticing the branded slave mark on Jaejoong’s shoulder amidst the strands of his long hair, he pressed his thumb against it at the same time as he pushed into Jaejoong’s body.
“Oh, so you’re a slave,” the man noted, intrigued. “Does it still hurt, bitch?” he asked, scratching his fingers over the long-healed scar. “Do you enjoy your master this way too? Does he know what you like to do on your free time?”
Yunho sucked a whimper in, his knuckles turning white from the forceful grasp he had on the firewood. He wanted to do something, anything: he wanted to call Jaejoong’s name, he wanted to run away, he wanted to crawl out from his cowardly hiding place, grab the knife now out of Jaejoong’s reach and stab it into the sickening man’s back, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to cry. But he stayed where he was, unable to move or make a sound. All he did was blink his eyes furiously, focusing them on the gruesome scene unfolding before him.
The man jerked Jaejoong around on his back, pressing his forearm onto his throat and pushing down forcefully enough to slightly restrain Jaejoong’s breathing. Jaejoong’s hands flew up to the arm, trying to push it away from his neck, but his weakened arms could do little more than cling onto it as the man settled between his legs, pushing into him for a second time. Jaejoong’s legs bent as he tried to find a more comfortable position, and as a last resort he tried to spit on the man’s face, continuously letting out a litany of profanities aimed at his violator. The man remained unfazed, wiping off the spit that had landed on his neck rather than his face and turned to look at the other man standing close to them.
“Deep, steady thrusts, that’s how these bitches like it,” the man advised, self-satisfied, ignoring Jaejoong’s hateful glare and the insults he was hurling at him. The man who had previously been left unsatisfied eyed their surroundings briefly before pulling out his cock from beneath his gown, stroking it steadily with a hungry expression in his eyes.
It didn’t take too long for the man to release; carefully, he pulled out of Jaejoong who had closed his eyes, and stood up satisfied, reeling off while pulling his clothes back on. Jaejoong released a deep sigh before opening his eyes, quickly reaching for the knife that had betrayed him earlier to hide it again in the folds of his gown. He started dressing himself, continuously turning his head around and around, suspicious as if checking the surroundings for more possible attackers. The masturbating man had climaxed too and was now recovering from his high. It took him a while to realise that Jaejoong was still there, and when he did, he steered his eyes off Jaejoong embarrassed, tucking his cock back in and rushing to fetch the sack of food from the next tent.
“I am so sorry for our guest’s behaviour, he doesn’t know the proper manners,” the man murmured to Jaejoong in a seemingly sincere manner. “As an apology, please accept a double portion… The ghost courtesan shouldn’t be treated like this…” the man trailed off, mumbling to himself and turning to look for more food to give out.
Yunho finally drew away his eyes. Heaving in a deep breath, he weakly stood up and started wobbling away from the nomad camp. He had barely made it out of sight before he doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach on the grey steppe sand and collapsing next to the puddle of his own vomit. He only wanted to lie there forever, but he knew he had to be back before Jaejoong. Allowing himself only a brief moment of rest, he crawled back up and started staggering towards the shipwreck he called home.
When Jaejoong came home, he found Yunho sitting in the wheelhouse, silent and his defiant back turned to the door. Confused with the cold welcome as Yunho would usually practically glomp him, Jaejoong hauled his food sack on the table and uncovered his face, announcing his return with the cheeriest voice he could manage.
“My Yun, I got so much food this time!” he chirped. Yunho’s back remained impassive.
“I think this is the largest amount I have ever managed to cheat out of those sneaky traders… Should last us for a good month! Even though you’ve been eating more like a little pig than a desert rat lately,” Jaejoong tried again, uncertain. “Come on here! Let’s eat.”
Yunho turned around slowly and looked at Jaejoong, eyes wild like those of a panicked animal.
“I am not hungry. I am not eating,” he said quietly. Jaejoong’s smile withered.
“You know you have to eat. If you don’t eat, you will get sick. Sick like you were when I first met you,” Jaejoong attempted to argue.
“I am not eating,” Yunho repeated wilfully. Jaejoong was taken aback. He tried opening his sack, revealing the many delicacies it hid, rummaging through them in what he hoped to be an alluring manner.
“Come on, look! I even got some yummy dried persimmons.”
“I am not eating that food,” Yunho said once again. “I am not eating the food you bring from the nomads ever again.”
He tore the cloth covering his head down, revealing his long black locks and ruffled them in a violent manner, trying to contain his temper as his breath came out in short, irregular puffs.
“Is that so?” he yelled, pulling at is own hair. The fire in his eyes was burning up. Yunho had never seen him like this before, not even when he had used up all their just-gathered supplies to water a seed that he had dug out of an orange and buried in the sand next to the ship. The closest Jaejoong had ever come was when Yunho had ran out one day, determined to catch a caravan to see if they would let him ride one of their horses. Jaejoong had caught him in the last minute and scolded him gravely. It was an incident Yunho would never forget, and the fury in Jaejoong’s eyes had been nothing compared to this moment.
Even so, Yunho wasn’t going to budge. “I am not eating,” he repeated for the fourth time.
“I worked hard for this food! You ungrateful child! I brought this food home for you and you will eat,” Jaejoong shouted, “you will eat and you will do so gratefully…!”
Jaejoong grabbed a piece of bread from the table. Roughly tearing it into two pieces, he tossed the other one on the floor—and Jaejoong never wasted food—to grab Yunho’s arm. Catching the younger one in a headlock, he forced the piece of bread into Yunho’s mouth, indifferent to the furious tears threatening to spill from the boy’s eyes. Yunho struggled against him, trying to keep his mouth shut, but Jaejoong’s relentless fingers pried his mouth open, cramming the hard bread past Yunho’s lips. When he finally released the boy, Yunho stumbled away from him and brought his hands to his face, spitting the food onto the floor, scraping the remains out of his mouth with his bony fingers. Still gagging a little, he raised his face, meeting Jaejoong’s unfocused, almost frightened eyes. The older boy stood there unmoving, a mask of disbelief covering his face bit by bit. Yunho could feel his own tears finally overflowing, rushing down his cheeks as he stared at Jaejoong who seemed to be lost inside his own world already. Angrily wiping his face, he ran out of the door.
Yunho was lying on his stomach on the bed, the sick feeling that he seemed to be unable to get rid of twisting inside him. They had stayed away from each other for a whole day, he and Jaejoong; Yunho couldn't remember such a thing happening ever before. He pressed his face flat into the blankets, willing away the never-ending supply of salty water that suddenly seemed to populate his tear ducts. He still felt angry, but mostly just frustrated: frustrated with Jaejoong, with the harsh environment they lived in, and with the caravans; but most of all he felt frustrated with himself. He felt like banging his head against the wall and was just about to carry out his plan when he felt the bed dip.
“Forgive me, my Yun,” a husky voice croaked, and Yunho couldn’t contain his tears anymore. Without revealing his face, he rolled over and pressed his face onto Jaejoong’s soft thigh. Two gentle hands came up to caress his shaking shoulders and his coarse, short hair as he sobbed against the silky material of Jaejoong’s gown.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” the familiar, breathy voice continued and Yunho was almost sure he could hear in it the same tears that were streaming down his own face at the very moment.
“But you have to eat,” the voice continued, choking on nothingness for a brief moment. “Yunho when I met you, you were starving… You were dying. I was dying too, inside.”
Yunho felt him shifting, but the hands never left his body.
“I promised myself back then that whatever happens, I will take care of you. I will feed you.”
Jaejoong quieted, petting Yunho’s hair as the smaller boy tried to calm down, thinking about the familiar story of their meeting, an event he couldn’t remember himself. All he knew was Jaejoong, Jaejoong’s long hair and his fiery eyes and his soft hands and painful flicks.
“You have to eat,” Jaejoong repeated once again after a moment’s silence, in a quiet, quiet voice.
“I am sorry too, Jaejae,” Yunho whispered against his leg. “I will eat.”
Jaejoong sighed, a strange sound nearing a mixture of a sob and a sneeze. Carefully, he lay down, settling himself behind Yunho in a manner they had used to sleep for the better part of their lives. Tucking the family rug over them and draping his arms around Yunho’s chest, he settled his nose into Yunho’s coarse hair, inhaling the familiar scent.
Yunho lay motionless, staring forwards, eyes open but unseeing in the darkness. A turmoil of emotions was flying through his brain, heart, and body at a mindboggling speed.
Then suddenly, he detached Jaejoong’s arms from his chest, slipping down to the bedding on the floor.
“What is it, my Yun?” he heard Jaejoong ask, his voice quivering slightly with a fearful tint.
“I think I am too old to sleep in the same bed after all,” Yunho whispered back, tightening the blankets around himself. His mind was a jumbled mess, the emotional exhaustion of the day taking its toll on him.
There was a brief moment of silence before Yunho could hear silent sigh. Jaejoong shifted on the bed, and then, Yunho felt the older boy bending over his body, covering him with the family rug before climbing back on the bed. Yunho gripped the familiar piece of cloth, listening as Jaejoong started to sing quietly. It was a song that had always comforted Yunho, no matter how much he was hurting or how upset he was; it was one of his earliest memories besides the comforting cocoon he used to be carried in against Jaejoong’s back. Tugging the family rug completely over his head, Yunho listened to Jaejoong’s slightly quivering but all the same soothing voice, letting it console his weary mind until he fell into deep, dreamless sleep.