》》 Saikin Osen - Bacterial Contamination ◇◇◇ (Trigger Warning)
Era uma imagem horrenda de se presenciar. Algo que, provavelmente rondava a mente de terrores do século 18, onde os homens eram bestas curiosas que abriam e evisceravam em nome daquela curiosidade. Coisas que Jack The Ripper deveria se embreagar imaginando fazê-lo, bem como os outros tantos golens sem nome que aterrorizaram e marcaram a história com sangue.
A freira estava aberta, sua caixa torácica foi cortada, de maneira que as costelas que protegiam os órgãos agora formavam um tipo de asas bizarras ao redor do coração. Coração este que estava sumido. Junto as tripas, que pareciam se espalhar pelos membros inferiores, parecia um ato de explosão, mas Michiko já havia ouvido falar daquela forma de morte. Era uma Águia Sangrenta, bizarra, usada para alertar e meter medo, talvez apenas um pedido de boas-vindas para algo pior que estava chegando. Samcheok certamente havia perdido um de seus fiéis protetores naquela noite.
A/N: for @tsntaehyung . Thank you for letting my bb have a crush on yours <3
I’m only doing this for fun.
Yoongi had been repeating this sentence multiple times a day, every day, for a little over a month now. The problem though was that he was perfectly aware that this meant more to him than just something he’d do for fun. He didn’t spend time making special mixtapes for just anyone. Yoongi giving you a mixtape was the best way to know that he really fucking cared about you like…a lot.
It had taken him weeks to find the best songs for the mixtape. It had started with multiple lists of songs neatly categorized. Songs that reminded of him, songs that reminded him of them spending time together, songs that he had said reminded him of Yoongi. And then he had listened to the songs over and over to see which ones were working together and which ones needed to be discarded.
The list of tracks had changed a lot over the course of the month. Sometimes there were new additions, other times songs were replaced by others or simply removed completely. But eventually he had reached the perfect combination of songs and he had sat back in his desk chair, staring at his laptop, hardly believing that all this hard work had ended up producing a good result.
Now, Yoongi would have loved to make this mixtape on an actual cassette tape (that was his love for retro things speaking), but he knew that no one would be able to listen to it if he did that because who in hell still owned a cassette player among his friends? So he opted to burn a CD instead. While his computer was doing all the work, he took the time to neatly write all the titles of the songs as well as the artists and on the cover, he hesitated but eventually wrote: For Taehyung.
He bit his bottom lip as he pulled his sharpie away from the paper and after putting the cap back on the marker, he reached up to run his hand in his hair. Now that the name was right there in bold black letters, Yoongi was having second-thoughts. What was he doing? He had promised not to make his feelings known and yet here he was doing exactly that via songs. This whole thing was a stupid idea. He was gnawing on his lip, lost in thoughts when his laptop ejected the CD after the burning had finished. It caused Yoongi to startle and he seriously considered just breaking the round object and tossing it in the trash can, but instead he picked it up carefully and placed it in the CD case.
The next day was THE day to give the mixtape. That morning, Yoongi took the time to dress with more care than usual and even though he ended up dressed all in black, he looked good with his button up shirt (with the sleeves rolled to his elbows) and his black pants that were hugging his legs just right and didn’t have any holes at the knees (or anywhere!). He also had nice black chelsea boots on and his hair looked perfect. He had hesitated before leaving his room, but had eventually dared to spray a bit of cologne on which was something he rarely did when he was at school.
His hands were firmly clutching the CD case as he made his way toward Taehyung’s locker. It didn’t take too long for him to see that Taehyung was at his locker which made Yoongi stop dead in his tracks. Shit. Of course the plan was to give the CD directly to Taehyung while trying to remain nonchalant and pretend that today was like any other day. But today was not like any other day and now that Yoongi could see Taehyung in the distance, he suddenly wanted to turn on his heels and go back to his dorm room.
You can’t go back! You’ve worked so hard on this, you have to give it to him!
Do you seriously think you have a chance? He doesn’t see you the way you see him.
Even if he only likes you as a friend, surely seeing this mixtape would still make it happy?
Yoongi was having an internal battle and while he was lost in his thoughts, a lot of things happened. The first one was that Taehyung noticed him just standing there, looking down at something he was holding with a deep frown on his face. The second thing was that Taehyung made his way over and had been able to get really close without Yoongi noticing. And finally, the last thing that happened was that Taehyung managed to pull the CD case out of Yoongi’s hands and by the time Yoongi noticed, Taehyung was already reading the cover, eyebrows arching up. Yoongi felt the color drain from his own face.
”What’s this? This is for me?” Taehyung commented rather than asked. Yoongi didn’t dare answer so he kept his mouth shut and watched in horror as Taehyung turned the CD around and started reading the list of songs on the back, eyes widening before starting to glance back and forth between Yoongi and the list of songs. This was the worst.
”I just…thought…I thought you would probably like this. I know it’s not your birthday or anything, but well…” He didn’t know what else to say. Everything he had prepared to say, he couldn’t bring himself to say it anymore. After all, those were things that he had never planned on telling in the first place. It was okay, he tried to reassure himself, Taehyung didn’t know. Even with this mixtape, he wouldn’t be able to know…because Yoongi had not said anything. Yoongi really wanted to believe that.
O fim de semana da alemã havia sido cheio de emoções. Isso incluía coisas boas, coisas ruins e coisas péssimas. Já havia aceitado seu castigo e o cumpriria ainda no dia seguinte; o que mais havia lhe preocupado era a pontuação de sua casa, que havia sofrido decréscimo pelo que Katarina fizera. Se sentia péssima, mas nada que sua mãe não pudesse piorar.
Era difícil receber uma ligação ou mensagem da mãe, mas já esperava que acontecesse naquele dia, até porque o diretor havia lhe alertado sobre aquilo. Logo que viu a tela de seu celular se alterar para tons escuros com o nome de “Mama” aparecendo sobre a tela, uma expressão nada surpresa tomou o rosto de Katarina, que suspirou fundo antes de atender a ligação.
─ Hallo, mama... ─
Deixou que o corpo recaísse sobre a cama onde antes estava sentada, esperando pelo sermão que não duraria pouco. A voz quase estranha para si ─ isso de tanto tempo que não via a mãe pessoalmente ─ logo ressoou, ainda que mais calma do que ela esperava que fosse.
“Katarina! Sein Direktor hat mich angerufen.”
─ Ja, ich weiß. ─
“Sie wissen? Gut. Also sag mir, was dachten Sie, wenn Sie Alkohol gekauft und brachte sie zu Ihrer Schule.”
─ Ich dachte an nichts. Ich wollte nur ein bisschen Spaß haben, in einem verdammten katholischen Schule leben nicht cool ist. ─
“Was glaubst du wer du bist? Respektieren Sie mich, Katarina. Und verhalten sich selbst, oder Ihre nächste Schule wird eine Militärschule sein.”
─ Ich bin sicher, nichts ist schlimmer als hier. Sind Sie wirklich meine Mutter? Sie wirken nicht wie meine Mutter. ─
“Wann haben Sie solch ein Bengel?? Ich vermisse den alten Menschen. Das ist nicht meine Tochter, Katarina. Meine Tochter war ein süßes und respekt Mädchen. Wo ist sie hingegangen?”
─ She is gone. ─
“Nun, ich sollte erwarten, dass diese von einem Sünder wie Sie. Weißt du was? I’m disappointed but not surprised. Jetzt beginnen sich zu verhalten, oder Sie die Konsequenzen Ihrer Handlungen leiden. Sie wollen wie ein Erwachsener zu handeln? Dann werde ich anfangen, Sie wie ein Erwachsener zu behandeln. Gute Nacht.”
there’s a sharp pain up your calf, and your lungs are on fire despite it being negative ass point dick degrees outside. it’s night, this chase scene shit always is, and you can’t see null except for the guy sprinting ahead with an (unnecessarily) harsh grip on your arm; it’s concrete as far as the blacked eye can see and the worn-out sneakers can step.
“hurry!” i would if i could, bitchface.
the pain is in your side now and you can hear footsteps, footsteps that splash on the rainy puddles and echo on the cracked asphalt, footsteps that should jolt another sprint out of you but your breath is caught in your throat and your muscles are tangled together. you take a turn you didn’t even know existed until you were yanked into it; your shoulder joins the pain parade.
your worst mistake was that you left all your best bodyguards behind. the fastest of the gang dragged your skinny ass by the collar and got you jump-started into the marathon of your life right as the fighting got ugly. you still saw someone’s brains spill out, though.
“it’s not brains, you dumbfuck, joohyun just dropped his ramen.”
it was definitely brains.
“none of us even have guns!”
brains carved right out of someone’s scalp!
you turn to take a fleeting glimpse at the chaser and now this is your worst mistake.
stumbling down shoulder first onto concrete definitely blows the pain parade out the water. you fall with a scream, and no one’s holding your sissy hand anymore. none of us have guns, none of us have guns. you’re suddenly convinced.
you yell for Apparently-A-Backstabber to come help you up but by virtue of his name, he doesn’t.
the shadow is at the edge of your feet, and at a point like this in a story like this, there’s only two ways it can go: you’re either fucked or really fucked.
“gotcha! short bitch.”
really fucked (and also mildly offended.)
“actually, i’m above average.”
you had fantasised a thousand Cool Last Words before getting blacked out, but that had been at the bottom of the goddamn list.
“Party girls don’t get hurt…”
Quando a primeira frase da música foi cantada, Alice já estava muito longe para apreciar devidamente. Ao invés disso, apenas deu um grito animado, que foi abafado pelo som alto demais e misturado no barulho que as outras pessoas presentes naquela boate faziam.
Se ela tinha idade para estar naquele lugar? Não. Também não tinha idade para beber, no entanto ali estava, vendo o mundo girar em sua frente e adorando a sensação. Não havia nada que dinheiro não comprasse naquele mundo, e isso incluía entradas para baladas que, em situações legais, não teria permissão de entrar. E era por isso que estava ali. Já havia perdido as contas de quantas doses consumira desde a chegada no local, e não conseguia se importar nem um pouco. Ali estava misturada na massa e ninguém lhe reconhecia. Ali podia se soltar e ser quem quisesse ser. Ali não era a “Alice do ASTER”. Ali era apenas Alice. Ninguém se importava.
Não podia dizer que naquele instante estava agindo como realmente era. Não tinha ideia de quem era de verdade, então como poderia? Todas as suas atitudes eram reflexos das situações em que se encontrava, e agia como fosse mais apropriado para que lhe aceitassem. Não era como se estivesse buscando aceitação, na verdade, mas… Era complicado. Por que estava pensando naquilo mesmo? Sequer podia ver um palmo na frente do nariz! Pensamentos profundos não teriam lugar ali. Não tinha como. Não queria.
Dançava de forma livre, sem se importar com o ritmo. Era apaixonada pela dança e sempre foi muito disciplinada em seus passos, mas não tinha necessidade de agir daquela forma no meio da pista. Com uma mão ocupada com o copo, a outra foi para os cabelos claros, entrelaçando os dedos finos entre os fios macios e jogando-os para trás, para que eles não atrapalhassem sua visão. Tinha certeza que sua maquiagem — bastante pesada quando comparada ao que usava diariamente — deveria estar toda borrada, mas como se importar? Sua música favorita estava tocando e só queria saber de dançar.
Sentia calor. Apesar da “pouca roupa” — shorts jeans de cintura alta, um crop top branco com uma estampa mais escura que não conseguia se lembrar o que era e uma jaqueta que já havia deslizado de seus ombros e estava presa apenas pelos seus antebraços — havia muita gente ao redor; ninguém parecia disposto a se afastar e na verdade Alice adorava aquilo. Cada rebolada sua fazia com que esbarrasse em alguém, e enquanto alguns reclamavam, outros se chegavam para dançar com ela. Não sabia quem eram e nem queria.
Sentindo a garganta seca, levou o copo aos lábios e sorveu um grande gole da bebida, que queimou em sua garganta e lhe faz sorrir. Um pouco dela escorreu de seus lábios pelo queixo até o pescoço, onde se misturou com o suor. Por um momento, desejou um banho, mas do que adiantaria se a vontade maior era de dançar no meio da multidão e aquilo lhe faria suar tudo novamente? O rapaz atrás de seu corpo e a moça diante de si pareciam não se importar, então ela não era ninguém para dizer algo.
Não era ninguém. Para aquelas pessoas, ela era um ninguém e nunca pensou que pudesse se sentir feliz com aquilo. Por mais que houvesse almejado a fama, jamais quis a parte ruim dela. Jamais quis ficar presa, treinar literalmente dia e noite, controlar o que come e o que diz, não poder namorar, não poder viver, não poder ser ela mesma. E por se restringir tanto, já havia esquecido de quem era, de qual era sua real face, de qual era sua essência. Entre ser um robô programado e ser ninguém, a última opção parecia bem mais tentadora, e era por isso que optava por ela de vez em quando. Era por isso que estava ali.
Era o mais perto que podia chegar do seu verdadeiro eu.
Trigger Warnings: heavy violence/torture, crude language, character death
Leaving the castle without taking a detour to Gryffindor Tower was rather a difficult task for him. He wanted to see Soohyun, he wanted to let his brother know what he was going to do.
He wanted Soohyun to stop him.
No, fuck. Stop thinking about it Myungsoo. It would only deter him from his departure from the castle and he couldn't delay too much or he would have to put off his plan -- and if he had to put it off, he ... wasn't too sure he would be able to go through with it. Not if he saw his brother again. He didn't think he'd be able to leave a second time if he did.
Grey was perched quietly on his shoulder, strangely obedient for once as though he could sense he was having his final moments with his master.
Once he was outside of the anti-Apparition boundaries that were cast on the castle grounds, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, turning on the spot as he gripped onto the Boreal owl's legs. He needed Grey with him the entire way, until the very last minute, right after he cast the charm. He was trusting his quick reflexes to keep the owl safe -- there was something extremely important that he needed to deliver to his brother after ... after everything was over. When he opened his eyes after the squeezing feeling disappeared, he swallowed hard, the usual anger flaring up as he gazed at the house he had grew up it. There was so much hatred, so much pain that came with the memories that Myungsoo was rather glad that there would be nothing remaining of it.
Unlocking the door and stepping inside, he sent out a message to the maids via Patronus, the silvery lynx appearing as he told the maids to get out of the house as quickly as possible if they didn't want to die.
He rushed up the stairs to the second floor, briskly shooting past Soohyun's old room -- he didn't look inside, already feeling slightly choked up. He was never going to see his brother again. Passing his room next, this time he slowed his pace slightly, peeking inside to take in the scene of where he had grown up. Where he had always asked the maids to bring him food. Where his mother used to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. Where he had brought his brother the first time he had found out, bandaging him up and letting the Gryffindor cry in his arms. Where he had decided on what he needed to do to stop it from happening.
Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he slowly made his way further down the hallway, towards his father's study. Closing his eyes, Myungsoo let the rage build up -- everything he remembered about his father was shooting into his mind. All the anger, all the frustration, all the pain that Soohyun had endured for him. Everything.
There were so many things he had held himself back from feeling, keeping his facade of the emotionless ice prince for so long that now that he was actually feeling -- he was seeing red. His vision was scarlet around the edges, blurred, and it was with this mindset that he burst the door off the hinges, storming into the room, wand at the ready. Grey lifted off his shoulder and perched by the window, hidden.
"You fucking bastard," he snarled, casting a silent disarming Charm at the man who had jumped awake, having been apparently dozing at his desk. The picture of fucking innocence. He caught the wand easily, snapping it in two and tossing it out the open window.
Hah. Useless.
"Wh-wha -- Myungsoo?"
He slowly slinked forward, hands behind his back as he circled his old man, eyes like daggers. The other smelt like alcohol, and he couldn't help but hold back a growl of disappointment -- he had hoped that the man who was considered his father would've been sober for the treatment he had planned. He had wanted him to feel every single cut, feel his limbs being ripped one by one from his body, feel the fire of hell burning him alive -- but he guessed, this would have to do.
"You're disgusting," he spat, waving his wand idly as ropes appeared and bound the other to the chair he was reclining in, awkward position and all, chuckling darkly at the cry of surprise. "You're getting what you fucking deserve -- the pain that Soohyun felt. Just, you know, ten times as worse. Maybe a hundred."
The protests coming from the other amused him and he flicked his wand again to gag the man, continuing to speak as he paced around the other, settling down on the edge of the desk in front of him. Myungsoo peered at his nails as casually as possible, waiting for a sound to come from the other, glancing up once there was one and he narrowed his eyes. "No speaking. Only if I allow you to beg for your life -- which I won't."
There was another light sound, as if his father was trying to spit out the gag and he flicked his hand again, a deep gash appearing in the other's arm and he chuckled at the pain that flashed across the other's face. "Can you even feel that? All that alcohol's probably numbing it for you, huh?"
With every light twitch of his wand hand, more incisions appeared along the man's body, the other obviously howling from pain though the gag did a good job in muffling the sounds and he leaned forward, hard gaze peering into his father's face, lips pressed into a thin line as he narrowed his eyes. The bastard was getting was getting what he deserved and he hoped that he would remember that as he burned in hell for the rest of eternity -- that his son had done this to him. That he had done this to his first son and that this was just retribution for making Soohyun's life living hell.
Soon though, he got tired of watching the other bleed, wanting to inflict a worse pain on him and he did what he never thought he would ever do as long as he lived -- he cut an incision so deep into his father's arm that it rendered it useless, taking hold and literally wrenching the arm out of it's socket, tossing it onto the floor. The muffled scream of agony from the old man was like music to his ears -- it sounded almost reminiscent of his brother's screams after being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.
The Cruciatus Curse.
If he was going to hell anyway, why not make the trip more pleasant? He would die peacefully if he knew that he had done the best he could to make the old man feel just an ounce of his brother's pain.
Pointing his wand directly at his father's throat -- the fear in the man's eyes made his lips curl up in a smirk -- he shook his head slowly before opening his mouth.
"Crucio."
It was said that the curse was only ever effective if the wielder meant it. And boy, did he mean it. The gag did nothing to muffle the screams of pure agony that the other was obviously feeling, writhing against his bindings even as more blood poured from the open wounds. There was laughter surrounding him, it was ringing in his ears -- was his father that insane to be laughing whilst dying of blood loss and pain? What in the wor -- oh.
It took him a moment before he realized it was his own maniacal laughter that was bouncing off the walls, the sound foreign to his ears.
What was going on?
What was becoming of him?
He wasn't any better than his father if he was enjoying this torture, this utter agony that he was inflicting on the said man.
Soohyun would be so sad if he knew.
And it was that thought that pulled him out of it, dropping his wand as he stared at his hands, wondering what in the world had become of him. The Cruciatus Curse. He had used one of the Unforgivable Curses. And he had enjoyed it.
Gasping, he stumbled backwards, tripping over his father's dismembered arm before he let out a cry of terror. What had become of him? It hadn't meant to go this far.
There was a dry chuckle coming from the other end of the room, and he glanced up, teary eyed.
"You're ... no better ... than me ..."
"Shut up, shut up, shut UP!" Myungsoo screeched, covering his ears with his hands and shaking his head furiously. There was blood on his hands, there was blood on his hands and -- had he tripped over an arm?
What in the world had he done?
"You enjoyed ... that ... I could see it ... in your ... eyes Myung' ..."
He screamed again, no, no no, he groaned, tearing at his hair. He had lost himself in it, and that wasn't the plan. He had to follow the plan and his eyes flickered towards the little Boreal owl by the window, his eyes dropping to his wand which he slowly picked up, walking back to his father who seemed to have exhausted himself from speaking.
"I'm nothing like you," he murmured, voice like ice as he stared hard at his father. The other only gave a slight quirk of an eyebrow in response and he gave a dry chuckle.
"I'm nothing like you. I will never be anything like you.
"Since, you know, we're both out of time now."
He mutters the spell that he knew off by heart, backing close to the window so he had a chance to get Grey out of there safely. Once he felt the swirling heat around him, he closed his eyes, hoping that the maids had gotten out of the house safely.
"See you in hell, demon."
The swirling heat shooting from the tip of his wand had him opening his eyes, rushing to his owl and placing his wand in his talons. "Remember, a week, okay Grey? I trust you. Go, go!" He literally picked the owl up and tossed him out the window as far as he could, the flames already becoming unbearable and he could already see the scorching remains of his father's body when he looked back.
Tilting his head up to the sky, the Chimaera roaring loudly behind him, he felt a last cool breeze play across his forehead, flicking his fringe away from his face before he closed his eyes, letting the fire consume him.
There was a faint memory in his mind, of a time when he had been bedridden due to a raging fever and he had been so warm, so hot that even Soohyun's fingers felt cool to his forehead.
He tried to pretend it was his brother's fingers brushing his hair away from his face one last time.
He had agonized over how to start this letter. Should he go with something endearing? Like Dear Soohyun or something stupid that he would never say like Soohyunnie hyung. Gah. It took him a while of staring at a blank page before he decided, fuck it, and just wrote the way he always wrote, concise and to the point.
If you're reading this letter ... that means I'm not around anymore. Actually, it means I won't be around ever again.
I'm sorry.
I'm really just so fucking sorry. I'm sorry, hyung. I'm sorry that I can't be there for you. I'm sorry for not explaining this to you and I'm sorry that I got so mad at you over stupid things before. I'm sorry for ignoring you for that one year and I'm sorry that I never said sorry enough.
I'm sorry for saying it too much now.
It almost physically hurt him to write all of that, all those apologies. Myungsoo had never been one to apologize for things, even when he was wrong. He would ghost over it, mumble it under his breath and to write it so many times -- it exhausted him, exhausted his mind but ... it was the least he could do. Right? He owed Soohyun so many apologies over the years that now that it was his last chance to do it, he couldn't help them spilling out.
There's so many things that I wish I could tell you right now. All the years after I found out that I spent staying up until the odd hours in the morning, poring over library books until the crack of dawn. I wanted to find a way to get out of this alive -- for you. I was so fucking scared that if I wasn't around to keep you sane, you'd waste away.
And I didn't want that. I wish I could be there to comfort you instead of sending you a crummy letter with a stick that probably has no use to you now that I ... don't exist.
(It's really weird talking about my future non-existence. Let me tell you.)
You know that little notebook I always carried around? The one that I screamed at you to not touch? (I'm sorry about that too. I probably yelled at you about a lot of things that you didn't deserve. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything.) It was all of my research. I was always looking through it -- Fiendfyre is a horrible sort of Dark Magic. Uncontrollable. I thought, maybe, if I researched enough Dark Magic, I might be able to control it. I'm sorry for making you think I was dabbling in the Dark Arts. I would never. I wanted to be a Healer to help people, to help you.
There were tears picking at the corners of his eyes as he wrote that. sniffling a bit as he tried to hold them back. Kim Myungsoo did not cry. That was his brother's job, but he couldn't help the lone tear that slid down his nose and dropped onto the letter, smudging a mall section.
He wiped furiously at his eyes, picking up the pen again to finish the letter. He was almost done explaining it, he just needed a bit more ...
But after everything I found out about the man who we called our father ... and everything he did to you. I was bent on revenge. I'm sure you knew about it. I'm also sure you didn't know the extent of what I was planning.
... It's probably better that you don't.
Just know that ... if I no longer exist in this world, neither does he. And that makes everything a little bit better.
Expect a letter from mother. She should've written you by now. I told her to wait a week.
Hopefully their mother was in a safe spot now, somewhere where she was no longer pursued due to the fact that their father was dead. Or would be dead. He would be leaving to their father's house after explaining the purpose of this letter to Grey. The Boreal Owl had always been extremely understanding of his requests, and he knew that he wouldn't disappoint this time either.
There was nothing left to do.
Once again, I'm sorry. I had to do this -- I couldn't live with him hovering over us. I hope you one day learn to understand. I hope you don't let my memory stop you from going on with your life -- I'd hate that. You know I would. Become the best Auror you can. For me.
Also, please don't do anything that you'll regret. That's my job, remember? Your job is to be the good Gryffindor, as my job was to be the reckless Ravenclaw.
I'll be watching you from above, okay? Don't miss me too much.
He sighed, rereading the letter briefly, rubbing at his nose as he got up to head to the Owlery. Explaining to Grey the importance of the letter was easy, as was folding it up and hiding it in a small nook between some bricks in the wall of the Owlery. Taking Grey with him as he left was easy as well.
It was the idea that he would never see his brother again that was hard.
I love you, hyung. Don't forget that. Don't ever forget that.
Myungsoo.
But ... he had to deal. No matter how hard it was.
He had done all the research, even sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library to browse through the books there. There was no information anywhere for him to peruse and that was frustrating as fuck. He couldn't find anything and that was pissing him off no matter how much he had already accepted his fate.
There was nothing left to be done.
All his research was going to shit because he had no way of escaping nor controlling the Fiendfyre Curse once he set it off. There was no going back. He wanted no trace of his father to ever be found, and what better way to send the devil to hell than through Hell's Fire?
But his father, that despicable bastard was going to see hell. He was going to feel it in his lung and in every nerve in his body before he went there.
Myungsoo had gotten another letter from his mother, easily exchanging letters with her whenever she had a spare moment, a safe moment from the men who were still tailing her after all these years. She had promised to write to him whenever she could to get updates, though she never explicitly told him any important information. Which was fine, because if it got into the wrong hands they would both get caught -- he could probably end up in Azkaban for his plots and his mother ... he didn't want her to end up back with his father. He wouldn't set that torture on anyone.
(Why Soohyun had taken it for so many years still boggled his mind. He would never understand what the fuck his brother had been thinking.)
I'll take care of Soohyun. You don't have to worry about him. As long as he still ... accepts me as his mother, everything will be fine.
I hope he doesn't hate me as I thought you would.
I promise you, no harm will come to him as long as I'm alive. As long as you promise to explain to him why you made your sacrifice -- I'm sure that that will be the worse thing for him. Regaining a mother who had never been there will not replace the brother who always was.
He had sat there for a long while, staring at the last sentence blankly, silent tears pouring down his face.
It took a while for him to get back to his senses. No, a letter from his mother wouldn't change his mind about what he was going to do. There was no turning back now -- not after everything that he had researched and practiced and everything he had done to ensure that only him and the old man would be harmed. He wasn't even going to tell Soohyun.
No matter how much he was crying at the moment, for everything that was going to be lost, for his brother, for his mother ... for himself. Everything would turn out okay, he swore. Everything had to turn out okay.
