╾ strain
@fmdjoohyuk
Weeks had passed since – since the day he didn't wish to acknowledge more than any other but always did anyway, for how could he possibly ignore the emptiness inside pressing down on his heart with every breath he took? –, since. Betrayal wasn't anything new or unexpected, an everyday occurrence in the industry he had entered years ago, and the fault of not seeing it coming, of not anticipating the knife to his back, was his entirely. Maybe that was what hurt most – that he'd grown weak, susceptible to manipulation masked with warmth and knowing little smiles, which led him to the conclusion that he'd learned absolutely nothing from past experiences. (It wasn't.)
Doubts persistently crept up on him whenever he remained idle for more than a few seconds, like cold winds threatening to freeze him solid if he didn't stay moving at all times, so he did just that – kept busy, whether it was with song-writing, practicing, going for a run, or this; working out. His body was already tired from a severe lack of sleep and all the things he bore on his shoulders but ignored anyway, yet there he was, at his usual gym to live up to the expectations the company and fans had for him. (That was all he had, wasn't it?)
A polite dip of his head and a low “hello” were the characteristic greeting Moonjin offered his senior when he noticed his familiar presence – Joohyuk, another somewhat-regular at this place, albeit no doubt a more willing customer, at least from what he could tell, and, surprisingly, someone whose company he didn't mind all that much on most days. That was all he offered before begrudgingly going back to his weight training, however, pretending for both their sakes that all was as usual and he merely wanted to get things over with so he could do something more meaningful, more productive instead. (Only that he didn't. Not today.)