He was going to lie down—- He needed to lie down. A wave of nausea had overcame him and his head was spinning, spinning, spinning. Unwanted memories prickled at the back of his mind, the legacy of a young boy who once felt, the palette of emotions spreading upon his blank canvas and—- oh god, he couldn’t breathe.
Those arms weren’t supposed to be there. Junho tensed, as rigid as a stone, as Minah flung herself upon him. Unwanted warmth, unknown warmth, developed around him yet he found himself silently fighting against it, stubbornly remaining on the other hand. Slowly, the brunet’s ring-cladded hand snaked up and placed itself on top of Minah’s hand. It twitched, as if unsure if it should stay there or yank her away.
Oppa, what’s wrong, the young boy felt arms wrap around his waist, the familiar head of a girl pressing against his back. In a last moment’s resolution, he had tried to wipe his tears away. not trying to show any weakness in front of his friend. Unfortunately, instead of coming off as cool and macho as he hoped, his actions only succeeded to make more tears fall, his breathing heavy and uneven.
I—-I miss my dad, he had hiccuped, I want my dad back… I don’t wanna be here anymore.
This had been a notion back to when he had been innocent, when he had been naive. Such comfort had only been available to him years back, when Lee Junho had been the name of an outcasted orphan, not a demented demon. As much as a part of him would like to let go of his pride, lean back and turn around, greet Minah with a smile and tell her how long it had been, the brunet knew such things would only belong within a fantasy film. In this world, he stood alone, he knew that too well, too soon. The hand upon Minah’s tightened. He didn’t need this.
"Even if I did remember," Junho had began, the tone of his voice slow in reassurance that Minah understood every syllable that left his lips, "Does that make me obligated to care?" He laughed, sardonically. "That was over eight years ago! When I was a kid! Do you expect me to be the same person with the same feelings for that long of a time? Please!”
He tried to yank himself away from the shorter individual’s grasp. The warmth he had felt was simmering away, the icy prick of apathy and his deathly pride creeping back within him. Taking a deep breath, he tried to recollect himself, “Perhaps, it would be most appropriate if I were the one to tell you this…”
Junho turned, narrowing his eyes, glowering straight at Minah, “But people change, darling.” Between the two of them, it was only prominent that Junho had been the one whose personality had taken a one-eighty degree turn. Minah, she seemed to be as bright as day, as she had always been to him, over ten years ago, Junho— His shoulders had turned heavy with sin, his hands tainted with blood. He had turned reckless, cruel, heartless— and he was fine with it. Satisfied, even. “We’re no better than strangers now, the two of us. When I walk down these corridors, I don’t expect or want you by my side or even near me. And this—" He had motioned to his waist, where seconds ago Minah’s arms had been,"— I don’t want your filthy arms around me, or anywhere around me." His arms crossed in front of him, he leaned from one foot to the other.
"The fact that we were close back then, ten years ago—- That is obsolete information, completely a load of bullshit now. Between the two of us—" He motioned his hands, "—We’re nothing. You’re nothing. Whenever I see you in the corridors, you’re not and never will be any different from the peers that I see everyday. In fact, perhaps you’re worse now, hm? I’m not going to tolerate you and I expect you, Minah, to do the same to me, got it?”
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