the world in gray

— yesterday wasn't me

"Tch--" Myungsoo responded a little less insensitive than he had originally planned it to sound.

He decided not to answer him because it was true Sungjoon was back and he was secretly relieved and happy and he had missed him so much, but saying anything along the lines of I missed you or I'm glad sounded like forgiveness and that wasn't something Myungsoo was wholeheartedly prepared to give yet.

"You came back, though." he repeated quietly as if it would somehow soothe the pain that still hadn't healed completely. In a sense, Sungjoon's return was like a belated birthday present for him, although his real birthday had passed two months ago with Myungsoo bitterly whispering happy birthday to himself a minute before midnight.

Carefully and wordlessly, he wrapped Sungjoon's arm around his own shoulders and allowed the other male to lean on him for support. He convinced himself that this was the least he could do for someone who had made a martyr-esque sacrifice in his stead or at least for someone who had done a tremendous and honorable deed for the cause. Yes, that was it. This--Myungsoo allowing Sungjoon to use him as a crutch--was purely out of comradery.

He managed to help Sungjoon into the infirmary where he loaded him onto a small bed where the injured usually awaited treatment, except there weren't any medics on duty this time of night and Myungsoo knew it was best to have Sungjoon here where all the equipment was rather than in a bedroom.

Fortunately, he knew enough first aid to treat wounds and make splints, so he grabbed a kit and pulled up a chair to see how bad the damage was. At first glance, he knew it was bad and there was no way Sungjoon could make it through the night if he didn't have immediate treatment.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked while pulling an iv drip rack over, then preparing a new hypodermic needle and a pouch of medication Sungjoon probably needed to replenish his malnourished body. He held Sungjoon's hand, briefly noting how it was the first time holding it in a year (his fingers were so callous but the warmth was still familiar) and gently inserted the sterilized needle into his skin. He subconsciously grazed his thumb over the digit where the ring should have been, and he knew then that he still hadn't let go of Sungjoon.

— yesterday wasn't me

It was a completely breathtaking moment to see Sungjoon in the flesh when he had thought him dead for so long. Myungsoo was almost on the verge of forgiving and rushing into Sungjoon's arms but there was that gap--that infinite gap built with bricks of I hate you's chanted all night--separating the two.

He exhaled slowly through his nostrils and narrowed his eyes a bit, not to intimidate Sungjoon but to see in what terrible condition he returned in. The bandages came into view first, then the bruises, dried blood, and eventually the uncomfortable leg Sungjoon was keeping his weight off of.

They were both so broken beyond repair; Myungsoo couldn't count how many nights he spent blaming himself again and again, especially after he came to know of Sungjoon's sacrifice--for him.

"I did it for myself."

Myungsoo curled his fingers into loose fists, half in frustration and half to hide the silver band that was still wrapped around his finger (even if he had parted with Sungjoon, he couldn't bring himself to part with the ring which, at least, filled up the space Sungjoon had left behind).

"Liar." he muttered under his breath, finding it borderline amusing how an accusation could be the second thing he'd say to someone he thought was dead.

He wished--now that Sungjoon was back and everything was okay now--that he'd stop with the pretending and just be Sungjoon again. It isn't too late for a birthday present, Myungsoo thought, but then he wondered if he was being unnecessarily hopeful when it was so obvious that nothing was the same anymore. Maybe.

He pursed his lips when Sungjoon asked why he came, which he couldn't answer right away at first. He wasn't sure why he had come, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like he hadn't left at all. He had always been here.

"You're the one who left--" he said just as nonchalantly, giving Sungjoon a quick once-over again. "Bastard."

— yesterday wasn't me

"He's coming back today."

Myungsoo couldn't believe Dongwook, not when the other male had told him that Sungjoon had gone on a suicide mission months ago, that he won't return and he did it for you. Myungsoo had given up searching for Sungjoon too with the little to no information he had of his whereabouts, and Dongwook had kept emphasizing that there was no point--he was dead.

Of course, Myungsoo spent an even longer time hating Sungjoon for pulling the martyr shit on him but most of all, he hated himself for being so oblivious and unaware. He was the reason Sungjoon was dead, that he had gone through so much pain--both physical and mental--to protect him, and it was so unfair.

He hated Dongwook, he hated being a part of the Brotherhood (but he stayed because he had nowhere else to go), and he still hated--but loved--Sungjoon for leaving like that.

Once the initial trauma subsided, anger, denial, and depression followed, then gradual acceptance. Although it took months to finally come to terms with the fact that Sungjoon was gone for good, Myungsoo hadn't forgotten him. He ate less and trained more, often losing an unhealthy amount of sleep to insomnia and stress. When his condition worsened, Dongwook told him to let go, but he couldn't--Myungsoo hadn't let go of Sungjoon since the day he left.

Months later, Dongwook told him Sungjoon was still alive.

He didn't believe him until he came out to greet Sungjoon back from his "suicide mission" near the outskirts of town in Dongwook's place. It was night, the street was mostly empty except a street vendor that was still selling fish cakes and dukbokki by the pavement.

He purposely met him outside of the hideout and it was funny how someone so dear to him looked so much like a stranger now, although he had spent so many days and nights keeping him close. The distance between them felt so impossibly wide; Sungjoon wasn't Sungjoon to him now, yet his heart still raced when their eyes met.

Myungsoo paused, swallowing a lump in his throat at the memory of a ruined birthday and a bitter I'll never forgive you circling his mind. "Did you think I'd be happy if you did this?"

— yesterday wasn't me

Myungsoo exhaled slowly through his nostrils, jaws locking and eyes red-hot with tears. He was so furious, upset, disappointed, and in disbelief of everything that had happened that he lost the words he wanted to say and merely watched Sungjoon bleed. He let Sungjoon destroy him with every crass comment he uttered, as if to prove a point that he was hurting so bad, so please stop.

"I trusted you--" he lowered his gaze and muttered so full of naivety because he had truly and hopelessly loved Sungjoon without wanting, expecting, nor needing anything else.

He had lived his tomorrows to see Sungjoon; Myungsoo once had everything, and suddenly, he had nothing.

Myungsoo raised his fist again thinking he should dislocate his jaw or give him an unsightly bruise so Sungjoon could feel at least a fraction of the pain that was surging through his body, but he lacked the willpower. He couldn't hit him again. Myungsoo ducked his head when the tears finally fell and he couldn't help but think he was so pitiful being like this on his birthday.

Of all fucking days, it had to be today. Why? Why couldn't Sungjoon wait one more day to crush everything he had?

"Shut up." he seethed, shaking Sungjoon by his collar and yelling so loud he was sure every metal beam in the hideout was groaning and bending in response to his unbridled rage. "I don't want to hear the shit you say, so shut up!"

He cried and lowered his head again, his voice now a defeated whimper. "I'll never forgive you... never, ever..." Myungsoo shook his head slowly as if to convince himself more than anybody else that he really wouldn't. Then, he shoved Sungjoon back against the wall and turned to leave, wiping his tears with his sleeve and slamming the door behind him--

and then he left the Brotherhood hideout. He wasn't sure where he was going but he didn't care as long as he and Sungjoon weren't breathing the same air.

— yesterday wasn't me

Myungsoo's breath hitched when Sungjoon mocked him just because he had never seen that smirk before; Sungjoon had never spoken to him in that condescending tone.

Again and again, Sungjoon said words that cut him deep and deeper still--it hurt so fucking much that Myungsoo couldn't breathe. Word after word, the pain increased tenfold and became so excruciating that the trauma settled like poison coursing through his entire body. Sungjoon was killing him, or at least torturing him with insecurities like he wasn't good enough, he had never been good enough, he didn't matter.

Myungsoo yelled to drown out Sungjoon's venomous words and every metal object in the room groaned in response to his towering, raging anger.

Instead of words, his fingers tightened into Sungjoon's collar and Myungsoo pinned him to the wall. The anger was up to his throat now, threatening to spill in a mess of incoherent words just messily glued together with raw emotions. "You bastard--"

He curled his fingers into a tight fist and slammed his knuckles straight across Sungjoon's jaw--hard. "How could you!" he screamed and dragged Sungjoon up again to punch him across his face again, feeling the silver wrapped around his digit make a harsh collision with a face he had grazed it along many times in the past.

I thought you loved me!

There were so many things he wanted to scream but somehow those words were lost in translation and Myungsoo made up for it in tears and hard punches. He grabbed and threw him around on every hard surface, hitting him over and over again to wipe that taunting smirk off of his face.

But, to be honest, what bothered him more than the smirk was how Sungjoon refused to retaliate as if he had lost the fight before it even started. Myungsoo knew Sungjoon could win against him if he tried, but there was no effort on Sungjoon's part at all and it pissed him off (he wasn't even worth a fight anymore).

He narrowed his eyes when he dragged Sungjoon against the wall again, the tears on the verge of falling over. "I'm never--" he seethed, jaws locking and voice wavering, "I'm never going to forgive you."

(Because I loved you, and today was once the best day of my life.)

is this the end?

— yesterday wasn't me

For some reason, Myungsoo couldn't look at Sungjoon. His gaze was stubbornly focused on the box in his hand, never leaving it although his fingers were trembling around it, desperately hoping Sungjoon would take it back--

and then he made the mistake of looking up.

It would have hurt less if Sungjoon had shot a bullet straight through his skull instead. He could have twisted a million shards of broken glass into his flesh and the pain wouldn't be anywhere close to the gut-wrenching trauma he felt upon hearing Sungjoon's next words.

At first, he wasn't sure how to feel. His body and brain had simultaneously gone into panic mode so he wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment. Emotions--let alone coherent words--were a blur to him. Myungsoo swallowed dryly and exhaled the air that had been burning his lungs from the inside-out, his body finally letting go. His heart sunk into the pit of his stomach and the strength in his limbs suddenly left--just like that.

"What?" he whispered after a brief pause, the raw emotions in his gaze a mixture of overwhelming disbelief and anger. Then, he was suddenly so fucking upset and helpless that he felt the need to beg. Then, he was apathetic and angry all over again.

"Hyung--" Myungsoo tried to say calmly this time, but his voice cracked halfway through and he bit down so hard on his lower lip that the skin peeled and blood surfaced.

He looked up at Sungjoon with desperate, pleading eyes, hoping to God that all of this was some sick birthday prank but it felt so fucking real--

Myungsoo glanced down at the ring that once belonged to Sungjoon but suddenly it felt like a weight that he wanted to get rid of because it didn't belong in his hand. "I don't have time for this anymore?" he repeated slowly and when he remembered how Sungjoon had brought Dongwook up in their fucking conversation on their anniversary, Myungsoo snapped and threw the box at Sungjoon.

The ring fell out of the box and just clattered on the ground.

"Why?" he seethed and tried all he could to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes, because he wanted to scream why today! but he couldn't.

"That's all I was to you?!" he screamed, shoving Sungjoon back so hard his own bones throbbed from the harsh impact.

— yesterday wasn't me

Myungsoo was quick to realize that something was wrong, something was definitely out of place, but--for the sake of four more hours, he assumed Sungjoon just wasn't feeling well today. Then, he thought maybe something happened and he started panicking inwardly, unspoken words just ricocheting in his head in haphazard patterns.

He pursed his lips and smiled because Sungjoon had remembered two consecutive years and that was all he needed, wanted. "Thank you," he said softly, still smiling as he thought of how similar this birthday was to the last. Myungsoo didn't mind it at all; he liked it when Sungjoon was nervous and displayed some sort of human weakness despite the cold-hearted facade he put up on a daily basis.

Yet, he still couldn't shake off the feeling that a bolt was loose somewhere, that Sungjoon was hiding something and this all seemed so very staged. He was half-expecting Sungjoon to cut the "solemn" crap and stop making him so damn nervous, but Myungsoo was still just slightly insecure.

"You were busy today, huh?" he asked, initiating small talk to instinctively prevent whatever was coming up ahead.

Myungsoo, however, let his guard down when he saw a small box--a present--that Sungjoon handed to him. He took it gingerly in his hands and opened it slowly, his heart beating just a little bit faster because it was romantic of Sungjoon to prepare a gift for him and he was having a hard time thinking of how to react--

and then he saw what was in the velvet box: a familiar ring that was a twin to his own.

He stared at it for a long time and wondered if Sungjoon had maybe forgotten they already had matching rings, or maybe he thought they needed an expensiver one--

"I already have one, though." he chuckled softly, closing the box and slowly pushing it to Sungjoon (please take it, please take it back, I don't want it), "I like the one we have now."

— yesterday wasn't me

March 13th.

March 13th had never been a special day for Myungsoo before. Despite the fact his birthday only came around once a year, he wasn't into loud celebrations. Nobody remembered it anyway so he naturally forgot about it too; people would ask was it March 15th? March 18th? and Myungsoo was tired of correcting them, but there was one person--

There was one person who had remembered his birthday. Sungjoon couldn't remember whenever they planned to meet for a "date" or details for his life, but somehow, Sungjoon always remembered his birthday. It was funny--Myungsoo only recalled telling him once while the both of them were intoxicated and never expected Sungjoon to commit it to memory,

but he had.

It wasn't like Sungjoon had prepared him an elaborate and romantic birthday party with hundreds of balloons scattered on the floor and a path of candles leading to a bed with rose petal sheets--no, his first birthday with Sungjoon had been nothing short of awkward and clumsy. Their "romantic" conversation went something like uh, happy birthday and oh, thanks (but Myungsoo couldn't have been happier that Sungjoon remembered it was March 13th and not the 15th or 18th).

A year had gone by since his first memorable birthday and they were well into their second year. It was already March 13th.

Myungsoo woke up thinking will he remember?

He hadn't seen him all day but Myungsoo received a text message close to eight in the evening (four more hours... four more hours...) from Sungjoon asking to see him in his room and Myungsoo wasn't at all suspicious--yet.

In ten minutes, he was outside Sungjoon's room, the next second inside it with the door closing behind him with a soft click. He greeted Sungjoon with a reserved smile (reserved as in, it was reserved for Sungjoon) and chuckled. "Don't tell me to go here and there--I'm not your dog."

#dumbjoon #MELON DROPZ

please don't ...

#melon dropz #/conscious omg

His eyes widened as his grip in Sungjoon's collar loosened, fingers giving in to the absolute shock that riddled his thoughts when Sungjoon's expression never changed, never faltered. He thought he'd see a trace of the man he had grown fond of once upon a time, but all he saw was a stranger--

and he felt utterly foolish because he felt robbed, scammed, and betrayed to believe in something--a feeling--that only existed to him. But, he didn't know why he was still holding on to something Sungjoon wanted to let go of, he didn't know why it aggravated him so to hear the "let it go" from someone he trusted to hold on.

He didn't know what Sungjoon thought, let alone how he viewed him anymore, but Myungsoo wondered if he would at least remember their memories. If anything, he wanted those to be pleasant memoirs of the past that was, at least, real and wonderful to him. For someone who had grown up not knowing what it felt like to be truly happy, the memories he shared with Sungjoon were just fleeting samples of sincere happiness that he had taken for granted.

Now, he had to let it go, and he wasn't sure how.

"Do you really?" he asked quietly, his gaze softening like his fingers that were weak against the fabric of Sungjoon's collar, "Do you really... not care?"

It was a final plea for Sungjoon to reassure him that he did care, that everything up until this particular lie was false. He didn't know if he was just childishly stupid, but Myungsoo was past the phase of pretending to be someone he wasn't. In that brief moment, he was emotionally vulnerable, his feelings reverted to his broken state when he first discovered that Sungjoon had left him behind.

His eyes were getting glossy, glazed with tears that were blurring his vision.

"Do you..." he whispered, voice trembling, "not care?"

please don't ...

If Sungjoon wanted to lie, Myungsoo wanted him to make one that was worth believing, a lie that would slip past his radar because he really did read him like an open book. But now that he had, Myungsoo thought--for a second--that Sungjoon would finally tell him the truth since his cover had been blown.

The truth (although it wasn't the truth in some aspects) hurt, left him staggering for a breath he hardly remembered how to inhale. A shattered 'what?' left his pale lips in response to the other male's crass statement, the careless "So I did" opening new wounds that left him breathless yet again. It was one thing to leave him by choice, but to leave without a word... simply because he was told to? Myungsoo's jaws slacked open slightly, lips parted to utter thoughts that refused to translate into words.

He felt angry, betrayed, but most of all, he felt disappointed. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but, at the same time, there was none.

There was nothing he wanted to say, but it didn't stop him from storming right up to the other male, fists curling tightly into Sungjoon's collar. He pulled him out almost too easily out of his seat, hovering him at his eye level with malice in his glare.

The metal around them rumbled, moaned, reacted ever-so-slightly to the control that was slipping through his fingers. He had trained to keep it under check (if his emotions were stable, so were his abilities), but the magnetic fields surrounding him had gone haywire already, levitating things that should be fastened to the ground.

"I trusted you, you bastard!" he seethed between clenched jaws, locking a fist across Sungjoon's jaw, spitting venom, "I fucking trusted you!"

I trusted you to stay.

I trusted you to be different than the rest.

please don't ...

If he had clenched his jaws any tighter, they would have shattered. He was riddled with anger, with grief, with longing, but he couldn't say anything because he felt so disconnected from Sungjoon. It made him think he was so naive to think everything would magically recover if only Sungjoon would come back to his place.

But, there he was, sitting at the other end of the table with no trace that assured Myungsoo that--yes, he was the Sungjoon he still cared about. Although the uncomfortable length of silence that followed his question irritated him at first, it posed as a relief when Sungjoon talked. Every white lie he threw at him--even after Myungsoo had warned him not to break his trust again--dug deeper than it should have.

He almost winced.

Myungsoo was so fed up with Sungjoon distancing himself, with his audacity to lie whenever he demanded the truth. It was probably impossible for a stranger--someone who didn't know Sungjoon--to notice there was an ulterior motive behind that casual lie. But Myungsoo was someone who knew Sungjoon intimately once upon a time. He, at least, knew how to read the words right off Sungjoon's lips.

However, the apathetic "is that it" affected him much more than it should have. It was as if Sungjoon couldn't be bothered to tell him the truth anymore, as if he wasn't worth the air he breathed or the time Myungsoo was subtly attempting to prolong.

"Yeah," Myungsoo responded flatly, standing up from his seat with his lips turned into a scowl and glare passive, but speaking more than his words could utter, "That's it."

please don't ...

Myungsoo was a thought closer to leaving when the other recruits filed out, and by all means, it sounded fair. After all, Sungjoon had played the same card by walking out of his life without a warning or a bittersweet farewell so he wouldn't have to wait with false hopes harbored close to his heart. He would have snatched up his documents and left the room in a heartbeat, but his curiosity overpowered the anger and pain. He stayed.

When the silence settled like a thick, palpable fog and weighed his heart down like an anchor, he knew things had definitely changed for the worse. Sungjoon was more or less the same, although the lethargy hung over his stoic expression spoke otherwise. All he knew about the long-term mission he had been sent to was, indeed, a long-term one, but of the details he was left in the dark. Curiosity played its part before Sungjoon addressed it, because Myungsoo had questions--a lot of questions.

"How was your mission?"

"Why did you leave without saying anything?"

"Do I still mean nothing to you?"

Those were just the beginnings of word vomit that was squeezing past his throat, threatening to fire like bullets in an automated magazine gun. But, like always, Myungsoo held back his tongue because he didn't want to give off the impression that he had been waiting like some desperate thing that depended on someone too much. It gave off the impression that he cared, when he was under the pretense that he didn't give a rat's ass about what happened to Sungjoon--

"What's there to talk about?" he asked, wondering how long it had been since he said something--anything--to a voice that wouldn't respond. The thought alone made oxygen feel like sand grating against his lungs.

"How you left me, how you think you can show up all of a sudden and just..." he trailed off, eyebrows quirking up slightly to accent his attitude, "Talk?"

Silence.

"Where have you been?" a breath--

"Don't lie to me."

#melon dropz

please don't ...

#xmen-changmin #wewt #whore!aegyosoo

Even as a child, he had grown up too fast with the world weighing down on his shoulders. He was still growing, expected to mature much faster than the rest of the recruits because Dongwook had "plans" for him. A few months ago, he had been shedding blood and sweat in the training rooms, but now, he was seated directly beside the Brotherhood leader as his right-hand man. It was a seat that once belonged to Sungjoon--once.

After leaving the seat empty for weeks, Myungsoo claimed it as his own for two reasons. One, Dongwook insisted, and two, he couldn't bear to see anyone else filling the spot Sungjoon had left behind. If he was completely honest with himself, even he couldn't fill that gap, not with new lovers or hobbies that would leave him feeling emptier than ever.

So, he somehow ended up taking Sungjoon's spot on the far end of the table, arms crossed lightly over his chest with gloved hands tucked under his biceps, as always. The dim room was filled with the first ranks and some second ranks with potential. Such occasions were far in between, so Myungsoo tried to focus, although his attention span was somewhere out the door by the first half hour.

He glanced up when the door opened (who in their right mind came this late to a mandatory meeting, unless they had a death wish?), eyes widening and heart skipping a beat on cue. It literally swelled off-beat, causing Myungsoo to inhale rather uncomfortably to pace his heart again.

Here?

When?

Myungsoo's fingers tightened into fists under his arms as he only stalked Sungjoon with his gaze, the same one that the other members tried to avoid when they sensed the palpable tension between the two. The silence that settled when Dongwook spoke again was thick.

Myungsoo waited for Sungjoon to look at him, although he never did during the entire meeting. But maybe he felt the daggers that his infamous glare was pointing directly at him.

I don’t care.

I never did.

Leave.

It’s over.

›› second nature

` be mine,

“We should consider it.”

Pause.

“If Dongwook hyung needs us enough to ask personally, we should consider it.”

The last half hour had been a heated back-and-forth about whether or not a return to the Brotherhood was worth it and whether or not the invitation back to Jejudo’s headquarters that currently stood, signed by a certain Choi Dongwook, was a promising prospect in itself.

While Sungjoon knew he was happy where he was, and more importantly, who he was with, he couldn’t help but feel a tug of obligation towards Dongwook. He’d been raised by the older man, in short, and just blatantly denying him any return was difficult enough.

He paused again. “We should at least consider it—we owe him that much.”