The sky shatters and rains shards of glass. Explosions ring in his ears and debris falls all around him. 

His body is mechanical—dodging, shooting, running—he lands behind a blown-in-half wall and glances around. His face is caked in dirt and blood and he can feel the trickle of sweat running down his back. He has an hour left before his squadron meets up but he doesn't know if he'll make it back on time. The ground shakes and he covers his head with his arm as concrete explodes beside him from an enemy grenade. He can't hear anything aside from the pounding of his heart—his ears probably burst.

Suddenly there's a tug to his shoulder and he whirls around, gun cocked and ready. There's a brief pause before he puts it down, the round brown eyes of Youngbae send a chill down his spine. He can see Youngbae's lips moving but he can't hear.

He shakes his head and tries to yell back. Youngbae just motions for him to follow and he runs behind him. Glancing around he spots gun movement to his right, lifting his rifle and without thinking he pulls the trigger and shoots.

His eyes barely register the blood spatter of bone and brain before he's moving on. It's shooting to kill now. The war between South Korea and North Korea is as bloody and violent as everyone had predicted.

If someone had told him a year ago he'd be called to enlist before he was ready he'd have laughed. Idol-dom was as far away from his mind as could be.

The attack was unexpected. Yes, South Korea always had part of their military ready and, yes, North Korea made threats everyday but they never acted on them. Until one day they did. Their threats of bathing the land in fire came true.

The missile didn’t hit Seoul like everyone expected. They aimed at a smaller town closer to the border. Gimpo was completely decimated and the aftershocks were felt all the way in Seoul. From then on the nation was on high alert, draft laws were changed and enlistment by last names began.

He was one of the first called and Youngbae followed after. Jiyong and Daesung weren’t in his unit but he had heard about their draft calls. Jiyong was stationed somewhere in Seoul to help with cleanup and Daesung was in one of the units he and Youngbae were to rendezvous with.

It all felt so surreal. It was like he had never been an idol, Bigbang never existed, and all he knew was gun powder and adrenaline. It felt like déjà vu all over. Oh Jang-beom and gunfire haunted his dreams months and months after movie filming had wrapped up and now it seemed as if it came back to haunt him for real.

He picks up loud yelling to his side and hears their captain shouting orders. They make it back to the starting point and crouch down behind a quickly constructed barricade.

“Changhee, I need you and Youngbae to run this ammunition to the machine gun stationed by Yongsan Electronics. Seunghyun, Sangwoo, and I will circle around and meet up with squadron 33. Once you deliver the ammunition go to base camp and wait for us.” Seunghyun watches as Youngbae and a guy two years younger (all the way from Busan with an accent to match his country manner, reminding him of a certain country boy from Gwangju) peel out from behind the barricade, strapped down with strands and strands of bullets, and race past crumbling homes and shops toward their destination.

He isn't a religious person, that was more Youngbae’s area, but he sends out a silent prayer. For Youngbae, Jiyong, Daesung, Seungri, for his friends and family, even for himself.

Picking himself up he runs in step with the men in his unit. He hears nothing but the loud footfalls as they run through abandoned neighborhoods, a flower shop stands to the side—everything wilted and dead after weeks of bloodshed ravaging the streets, sending the owners to some other place looking for safety—every person who lived here, gone, torn from their homes and sent away. All because of a war—that had ripped apart their nation years ago—decided to engulf them once more. It was a never-ending cycle—a nightmare to destroy the masses.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand the pure hatred and animosity between himself and his fellow Koreans. They were all Koreans in the end.

Whether from the North or South they each held a heritage that couldn’t be erased by gunfire—unless all of them died.
And that is what it appeared was going to happen. No one would live through this, no one could.

His breath caught in his throat, suddenly engulfed by the inevitable reality of what they were fighting for, they were fighting for their lives, for the continued future of their people.

“Seunghyun!” He hears a sharp warning and glances down to see a grenade land near him. Before he can even run he is pulled by the collar and forced down into a small alcove. The resounding blast shakes his bones and he is sure he will feel it in his nightmares.

He stares wide eyed and scared at Sangwoo. He gives a terse thank you, his heart too busy clogging his throat for him to speak. Sangwoo only nods before they are off again. They are behind and can just see the other men running ahead of them.

Navigating the streets that housed all their fears and desperation they reach unit 33. Upon arrival he is met with a huge hug, his muscles tensing on contact but he knows those arms. Has known them for years—almost feels like lifetimes.
A soft husky voice fills his ears, "Hyung" before he knows it he is clinging tightly to his dongsaeng.

"Daesung I..." And he can't put into words everything he is feeling. He never has been able to—not even to his mother or sister. But he knows Daesung understands. He understands about the fears and anxiety, the heart pounding adrenaline, the blood, and the gunshots that would never leave their minds. He understood everything that he felt before this catastrophe and he still understands it. Daesung the mind reader—Daesung the boy who acted more like the hyung than he ever did in their years together.

It was another thing for them to share. Just like yellow light sticks burning their retinas, the roaring crowds, the exhaustion and the loneliness. He feels different hands on his back and turns in time to see panda eyes, he blinks in surprise when Youngbae appears as well, breathing heavily but with a huge grin on his face.

"Hyung look who decided to join us" Youngbae’s eyes turn upward in his crescent mooned eye-smile.

He laughs even though he wants to cry. Seeing Seungri was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want his maknae here and he can see the same sentiment mirrored in Daesung and Youngbae's faces.

Suddenly another familiar voice reaches him above the cacophonous tune of war and he swivels blood shot eyes to see an unglamorous looking Jiyong. His hair is buzzed short and he has dirt across the bridge of his nose, blood caked beneath his fingernails, and left forgotten are his brilliantly clean name brand clothes. His gums are showing as he smiles over at them and he jogs to stand in the semi circle that they have formed.

He glances around at all of them, his dongsaengs, and his heart aches. He wants to stand up with them forever but not like this. They all turn to smile at him though as if they sense his thoughts.

"Hey why don't we do a huddle" Seungri's bright eyes meet his and he watches his maknae step forward first. They all move together as one, almost as if this were another concert, and drape arms across each other’s shoulders. Standing together they keep silent, all glancing at each other, each carrying a weight no person should bear, all covered in blood and fright—unsure of their futures, wondering if their dreams are as shattered as the nation around them, unsure if they’ll be able to see each other again—and try to pick up their lives amongst the scattered shell casings and cracked earth.

They are together though. Bigbang is still alive. But he mourns who they were before the war tore them apart—a blast sounds behind them and they all turn to watch a building fall to the ground, much like their lives raining down on them now—and Seunghyun closes his eyes wishing it away

Wishing he was still on an airplane, exhausted, but laughing at some lame joke Seungri said. Wishing Daesung was sitting beside him smiling and sharing his earbud. Wishing Youngbae was still trying to talk him into getting a tattoo (“hyung you don’t even need to take off any clothing). Wishing Jiyong was still sneaking selcas of everyone and posting them to twitter. He wishes and wishes but he opens his eyes to chaos again and the faces of boys pretending to be men—soldiers.

Orders are shouted at them and looking at one another they all disband with a quick "fighting."

Seunghyun raises his gun and falls back in line, finger poised over the trigger he fires, and begins the cycle again.