icarus.
ft. @kgjunho
yongguk comes back to seoul because he has to, not because he wants to.
when he says it like that, he sounds like an awful person who hasn’t treasured the relationships he’d somehow managed to make upon joining kingsman but sometimes he wonders whether the burden that forms itself like a boulder weighing on his shoulders until they feel numb and his head feels dizzy are worth it for the few people he knows he treasures — and he knows they treasure him, too.
it always brings him to the inevitable realization that they’re going to leave one day because they have to, need to, because they’ll wake up and realise kingsman isn’t shit, or they’ll realise that they don’t enjoy the way they live. and he’ll be caught in the backwash of it, wondering whether any of them were planning to tell him in the first place or whether they wanted him to figure out he wasn’t vital in the first place.
at that thought, his hand that’s shoved deep inside his pocket curls into a fist, fingernails are cutting into the palm of his hand and it’s only when he can feel the telltale droplets of blood that he stops for the sake of stopping. yongguk’s exhausted, having come back from what was supposed to be relaxing looking even more shit than he should have and wandering around the same streets that he’s been walking around for the past ten minutes, at some obscure hour of the night like he shouldn’t inform kingsman he’s not dead at least.
he exhales, jerking out of a stupor when his shoulder collides with someone and he’s fragile enough that the impact leaves him stumbling for a second.
“shit — sorry.”