Sungjong wakes up on his twentieth birthday, not feeling any different. But he doesn’t have to feel different to be different. And he most definitely thinks different.

The tears from last night have crusted onto his pillow, traces of salt lingering on his skin.

Sungjong thinks it’s ridiculous that he still cries over Myungsoo. Sungjong thinks this every night as more tears join the ones from the night before. Sungjong thought this last night. And Sungjong refuses to think this ever again.

He pretends the pains in his chest are just the vigor of dance practice, of vocal runs, of anything but the truth. Because it’s easier that way, it’s easier to run from the pain.

But running is tiring.

Hiding is tiring.

Sungjong wakes up on his twentieth birthday, not feeling any different. But he most definitely thinks different. He thinks he’s ready to fight.

When Sungjong leaves his bedroom the first morning, he’s not dressed any differently.

His shirts are still too large, his hair still styled by his pillows, his jeans still a little too form fitting. But maybe, there’s a little something different.

Maybe, when Sungjong leaves his bedroom the first morning, he smiles a little differently.

Salt. But not in the back of his throat. Not welling up by his eyes. He picks up a pinch, throws it behind him.

And when he sits down to breakfast, he smiles. He smiles at Hoya, who’s too busy trying to feed him to comment. He smiles at Sunggyu, who’s too busy double-taking to comment. He smiles at Sungyeol, picks up a heart, Myungsoo’s, and throws it behind him.

They say, you don’t know a good thing until it’s gone.

But by the time Sungjong is done, Myungsoo will wish this maknae’s gone.

This is not a payback.

This is my return.

Sungjong isn’t exactly flirting with Sungyeol.

More accurately, he’s letting Sungyeol flirt with him.

Part of Sungjong wonders why his heart isn’t breaking, when the person sending him coy smiles isn’t the one he wants. And with just a glance –no more than a few seconds, he swears –at him, at Myungsoo, Sungjong knows.

Sungjong knows that he doesn’t want anything anymore.

The late nights in the living room, because god forbid the hyungs catch them together in their rooms, whispering as softly as they know how.

Made up grocery runs to obtain lemon drops that Sungjong hasn’t run out of, because Sunggyu won’t ever bother accompanying them on one of those, and holding his shadow’s hand when Sungjong thinks Myungsoo isn’t looking.

Taking turns punching “Sunggyu” while the other one holds him down –hey teddy bears slip when you punch them! –because neither has the heart to harm the real one, but neither can deal with the pain alone.

Sungjong decides that he doesn’t want any of this anymore.

Not if he can’t rely on it being there tomorrow.

And with that, his heart shatters a little more, the salt stings a little more, and he wants to run a little more.

He wants to run with Myungsoo as far as his legs will take him, so far that Myungsoo can never leave him.

But he can’t have what he wants.

So he just won’t want anything anymore.

Sungjong isn’t oblivious to the pain in Myungsoo’s eyes.

It just doesn’t matter anymore.

That pain isn’t a stranger to him. In fact, Sungjong can probably name each atom of salt in Myungsoo’s eyes, and then some.

Sungjong isn’t oblivious to the pain in Myungsoo’s eyes. Sungjong is oblivious to pain altogether. It just doesn’t matter anymore.

Pain doesn’t matter anymore.

And if Sungjong had been in the living room late at night, whispering as softly as he knew how, maybe Myungsoo could have told him that he isn’t oblivious to the lack of life in Sungjong’s eyes.

Because that’s what hurts the most.

The idea that life might not matter anymore.

But Myungsoo shouldn’t have worried about that. Myungsoo should have worried about himself. Because it’s impossible for Sungjong’s life not to matter anymore.

Not when he has something as important as this to do.

Are you ready Myungsoo?

The queen is back in the game.

And this time, the queen is fighting back.