can’t turn back now, I’m haunted ; heechul & himchan
It had been three days since Himchan had some sleep - just a small hour where he had allowed himself to close his eyes, thinking that he’d be able to deal with the sounds and images, that maybe he’d be able to get a grip on himself but, hah, who was he kidding? He woke up with a hand gripping at the gun he was hiding under his pillow, drops of sweat rolling down his face and the despaired screams of people dying echoing in his ears.
PTSD, a voice was whispering in his head. Himchan refused to listen to it; he wasn’t traumatized by any mean. Being traumatized was for weak people and wasn’t weak, dammit. He was strong and he had easily been able to move on from the masquerade fiasco, it was just his stupid brain who wouldn’t let him forget about what happened. Not his fault. Not. His. Fault.
Why are you staying close to the doors, then?
The agent stepped through the doors of the agency, the tense atmosphere making him inhale through his nose and clench his jaw - the feeling of running away to safety crawled up his spine and curled itself around his heart, always present with each of his steps that led him further inside and away from the outside world. In all honesty, he didn’t know which was worse but at least, he kept himself busy at the agency and didn’t have time to face his personal demons each time he allowed them to come out and keep him company. (Which happened way too often lately but Himchan didn’t have the strength to fight them back when he was alone and they laughed over his shoulders and haunted him tirelessly-- )
A file was handed over to him and he was asked to join the agent who was already waiting for him for their mission. He would have rather used his time searching for the criminals but it wasn’t like he could refuse a mission so he quickly went over the details of the mission: it was simple, just blend yourself in and observe the target and take notes of his habits. A piece of cake, Himchan thought as he threw the file on the passenger’s seat of the car he was driving.
He should have looked at his partner’s name.
Driving was another test. Something that used to relax him was now putting him under stress, the sound of cars honking or the cars suddenly appearing from one side or another had Himchan restlessly drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he repeated himself that no one was going to kill him or explode or kill innocents-- He was fine, perfectly fine. He’d make the mission a success with his partner, go home and get some deserved sleep; if only he managed to get the caffeine out of his system. He made a mental note to buy sleeping pills before he parked the car and made his way over to the agent he knew was waiting for him at the terrace of a coffee shop their target was a regular at.
But the familiar profile and the way the man held himself felt like a slap for Himchan who was just thrown ten years in the past when he was fat, dumb and useless, when he let his bullies hit him and abuse him each single day without being able to defend himself -- His blood ran cold and Himchan found himself unable to step forward, memories of him curled up on the floor of the bathroom in an attempt to try and protect himself from the kicks and laughter and mockeries flooding his mind, making him feel like he was back to his fifteen years old self and all of his self-confidence disappeared when the man turned his head towards him and locked eyes with Himchan.
Himchan had a partner, and it was his bully.