Lachlan, in the D:FI group chat: do you know how many bones the human body has? its 206. we start with 369 when we’re babies but they fuse. wouldn’t you want to go back? have as many bones as a baby? what if i could help you
Atlas, the only person to text back after this: hi yeah what the actual, literal, GENUINE fuck does this mean
And the heart I know I'm breaking is my own
To leave the warmest bed I've ever known
We could call it even
Even though I'm leaving
And I'll be yours for the weekend
'Tis the damn season
There is one place in the D:FI dorm that is reserved for Lachlan Kim. Every little area in the dorm has it’s place. Some areas are better, some are worse. Some are reserved for certain members and it’s understood to not bother them. Reese likes the kitchen at four in the morning, pouring over whatever lyrics he’s writing. Haneul and Tae usually own the sofa from six to nine and after that it’s anyone’s game. Hyunsik treasures anytime he can sleep. These are all observations that Lachlan has realized. The place that is reserved for Lachlan, isn’t as simple as that. It’s a ledge. A window spot, just big enough for a certain calico to curl up in the sunlight and nap.
And Lachlan doesn’t use it often, not unless he’s upset. Or unsure. Or frustrated. Any range of emotions that Lachlan has no idea how to process, the cat is curled up on that ledge to relax and think. You don’t mess with him, you let him stay like this. (Haneul learned the hard way, and now no one touches him)
He’s not angry. He’s not sad, persay. These feelings are so new. When he had come up with the courage to finally tell Byeol he liked her, he wasn’t sure what the feeling was that he felt. He’s familiar with nervousness, but it felt almost more than that. The calico settles his head on his paws, glancing out as he muses. It’s snowing. He watches people mill in and out of the convenience store across the street. He watches the van that comes to pick Atlas up from the dorm come and take the resident selkie to his new schedule for this show he’s mc’ing. He watches their giant maknae trudge through the snow, probably to sneak some snacks into the dorm for his late night writing sessions. He’s never seen management ever get on him for it. Then again, Hyunsik, Taekyung, and Reese seem to be the ‘all rounders’ of the team. The ones that seem to be always thrown into schedules. Not that he minds. It’s something, however, he mulls over.
Along with one other thought: Why did it matter?
Why did it matter so much to him that he was, essentially, rejected? In technical terms, it was a rejection. But it also wasn’t? He wasn’t sure what that meant. He’d never actually liked someone before, and yet Byeol said she liked him but she wasn’t ready? It was confusing. Though he wasn’t angry with her over that. Not in the slightest. But was he confused on what his own heart and head were feeling? Absolutely.
He never really had a proper growing up. The first memory he ever had was being attached to IVs and wires by the people who should have loved him the most. He didn’t have proper socialization. As far as anyone knew, Lachlan Kim did not exist except for a name on a birth certificate which was technically invalid now, considering that he had been declared dead. When he auditioned for Two Star, he had been on the run and simply did it because it meant a roof over his head. He could work any bit hard if it meant that he could have a roof over his head, and it just so happened the cat-hybrid could hold a tune.
I would be dead by now had I not escaped. He knew it, too. But there were so many scars that would take forever to heal, if they ever did. The scars that littered his chest and stomach. The long scar that the styling team always had to cover up where he’d been cut open and experimented on. The several medications that he had to take in order to just continue existing. Inhibitors, pain medications. The chronic pain in his arms and legs, the heart issues that affected his performance at times, the nightmares that sometimes had the cat up all night. He didn’t know how he kept up with it.
Things just seemed simpler when Byeol was in the picture. Part of him thinks maybe it’s pity. Pity on the poor cat for everything that he’s gone through. She’s had to style him. She’s seen the scars. She knows that Lachlan Kim has seen a little more than most people and isn’t privy to spilling what exactly happened. Hell, not even Illhoon knows the extent of the torture he endured. The rational part knows that’s not true, and it’s the part that always wins out. He’s always been a rational person, seen things exactly how they’re presented. But then why did he feel so emotional? Why did it feel like some sort of loss? He hadn’t lost anything. Why did he feel like he had?
“Since my parents were experimenting on me, at one point they cut my foot open. I’ve got a scar from that too. There’s a lot of scars I have, my stylists have trouble sometimes keeping them hidden.”
“Because I’m half werewolf, I can still scar. The worst thing I got was probably when I got a scar on my wrist. I’m clumsy, and when I was turning I accidentally fell on a rock.”
