ashes to ashes.
@idjohyun, at the showcase venue after olympus’ performance, after a falling out with taeho.
san is gripped by panic. entirely. it’s wrapped around him, like a stiff-bodied anaconda. twisted through his bones and veins and limbs. pressed against his windpipe, until his breath comes out thin, a heavy-handed pull from exasperated lungs. he’d pushed himself through olympus’ performances, seemingly on autopilot. a fraction away from snapping. like a fragile bone. spindly and deficient of nutrients. and now, finished, san allows for himself to collapse. a fracture of his mental state, a place far away from olympus’ dressing room. far away from taeho.
he doesn’t regret it, what he’d done to him. he’d wanted to, and taeho had deserved it. but that doesn’t mean san had welcomed the after effects, taeho’s rage. doesn’t mean he’d enjoyed falling back into that headspace, a reminder to just how easily taeho can drag him back to the past. where san felt so small, young, uncertain, powerless. it’s a small hiding spot, some corner, and he’s sitting on a crate. there’s a broom next to him, and a cigarette propped between his fingers. it’s unlit. he hasn’t tried yet, and his lighter remains in his fist. fingers wrapped too tight, to the point of cramping.
but he can’t even breathe properly yet. it’s comforting though, knowing that’s what comes next. for when he finally gets a grip on himself. san hates feeling like this. he calls it weak. many people around him call it weak. san’s learned long ago not to show his vulnerabilities. when he does, people exploit them. he walls himself off instead, tries to save it for private. or if he can’t hold it all in, he stows himself away. his chest flutters, and there’s a cold sweat near his temples. pins and needles prod at his fingers and toes and sternum. heavy limbs, and the beginning of nausea.
he wants to escape his body. leave it there, let it suck in some poor soul floating around, haunting this venue instead. it’s defective. everyone about san feels defective. his eyes sting, but he blinks that back. a refusal. there’s a heavy-sounding cough he hides in his elbow next. it’s not a sob, but it still sounds off. hyperventilation, maybe. it takes him a few seconds to catch his breath again after it forces its way out. that’s when san spots johyun lingering nearby. an inquisitive expression, and san glares. he doesn’t want to see johyun, and especially not like this. if he were in a better condition, he might bark at him to fuck off. instead, he angles his body away. pretends like he might be fine, busy. lifts a trembling fist to fumble for his lighter, tries to spin the gear to make it light. fails three times before he gives up, chucks the lighter to the floor in frustration and watches it skid toward johyun’s feet.