it was certain that daehyun would accept a request from a friend, especially from someone who’d put enough trust into him to teach him how to handle a gun. hanbin’s life was a collection of stories stitched together in daehyun’s thought – enough to be aware, but not for it to be certain, nor for the judgement to be final. it consisted of fate and what he’d endured, which only fueled him to help more; hanbin, he was sure, deserved much better in his life, and even if it was a struggle, even if it was hard, he would have to learn to be dependent only on himself.
and it wasn’t a surprise when he claimed he couldn’t do it, almost expected, though daehyun wouldn’t allow him to escape this so easily.
“hey, hey, hanbin.” he spoke, voice calm, cut short by a smile of reassurance. he stepped closer and placed a hand over hanbin’s. “you can do this. i know you can, and deep down you know you can, too. because you asked for help and because you want to protect yourself – you and those close to you. you still want that, don’t you?”
he moved both their figures closer to the gun, his hand set on a motioned path to the gun; though he didn’t push it on the gun, didn’t force him. if hanbin was going to take the gun, it’d be by his own compulsion. “a gun can be both things. an ally or a foe. if you make it your ally, you can defeat the foes. so why give up?”
He was embarrassed, at the very least. He felt like a child, like he was being told that there was nothing to fear about the big dog that lived down the street or the strange-looking vegetables on his plate. He hated that he was so utterly crippled by a fear that was nearly six years old, that his every move was being controlled by the fact that his brain seemed to think an inanimate object would leap up off of its resting place and sink razor sharp teeth into the fragile skin of his hand.
“I--” He stopped himself from repeating himself, from reiterating just how much he couldn’t do this, because he was quite certain he couldn’t. The very thought of even touching the gun made him nauseous, made his ears begin to faintly ring, even under protective gear, as if he’d already shot, as if the residual memories had come back to life to sing loudly against his eardrums.
Daehyun’s voice was reassuring, and Hanbin could hear the smile in it, even if his tunnel vision was zoning in on his worst fear getting closer and closer to him. He wasn’t even sure he heard everything his friend had even said, but he knew it had to be something encouraging and helpful and sensitive to his struggles.
But that fact didn’t make his hand shake any less as it inched closer to the cold metal waiting to go warm in his hands. He swallowed back the sharp tang of bile as he closed the gap between the gun and his left hand, his fingers curling weakly around the grip and all the while threatening to give out completely as they did. He held his breath without realizing it as he gingerly lifted it off the smooth counter top, his palms dampening with nervous sweat.
His voice was soft, tentative, nearly inaudible, the next time he spoke.
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