"One minute I held the key

Next the walls were closed on me

And I discovered that my castles stand

Apon pillars of salt,

And pillars of sand."

What? No. No, this can't be true. They aren't just ending us like that. They aren't just cutting through all we worked so hard for, and wished so hard for, as easily as that. But here the evidence is, in front of my eyes, even as unwilling as they are. In Cheondung, curled on the floor, head hidden in his hands. He hadn't broken down here yet, but everyone has their breaking point, and turns out this is Cheondung's. 

And then there's Seungho: Our leader, the one with the shortest, hottest temper, but a temper that always fizzed out almost as quickly as it came. The ones who is always strong, always unmovable and untouchable. 

And here he is, sitting with his back to the cupboards, legs sprawled on the cold tile, with his head buried into his knees so his face is hidden, but the shaking of his shoulders that suddenly seem small, and weak, give enough of the story. 

When I had first walked in, meaning to only get a drink, I froze, stunned by this sight and unsure of what to do. And when Seungho had noticed my presence, or maybe just guessed it, he lifted his face up the light, which only confirmed what I had seen in his shoulders. His eyes were red, and the swoops of black underneath his bottom eyelashes were as dark and prominent as an eagle's wing soaring through a blue sky. And the tears; the tears were gathered in his eyes, and lining them with a sparkle of clear mascara that trickled down, down his cheeks and his nose and his chin, leaving a track like a snail's slime. 

He had looked at me, with so much sadness in his eyes, and before he spoke I had realized I was bracing myself, bracing myself for the terrible news that he'll voice to me. Mir's gone. Rain's gone. Someone died, someone got sick, someone fell into the abyss for good. 

"We're not MBLAQ anymore," Seungho had finally said, his voice tired and weary and clotted full of sadness. And I had just stood there, unable to move, as my ears processed what my brain refused too. We're not MBLAQ anymore. 

And now I can just stand here, still frozen, the words that has just brought my already fragile world crashing to pieces around me, shattering on the cold, hard ground. No. This isn't right. They can't do this, they can't abandon us like this, and end our lives as we know it like this. But they have. They have, and they can, and they just did. 

They just did. 

And in a way, this is more horrible to us than someone we know, and care about, dying. As terrible as it is, this is, witness in a small kitchen on the hungry sea, one of the worst moments in my life. In all of our lives. 

Do you know how many hours we've spent, wishing? Wanting? Practicing, hoping, dreaming? Do you know what it feels like to have a dream, to work harder than you ever have in your life, and be successful? To actually make that dream a reality, even against the odds stacked up in front of you? And then to have that dream as your life, finally, and it's harder than you thought it would be, but worth it, so worth it?

Do you know what it feels like to have all that, all you've ever wished for and all you've ever wanted for, ripped away, in one of the worst times in your life? 

As I stood there, finally processing what Seungho, who isn't the leader of anything real now, had told me with a too obvious ring of truth, I felt that. I felt the tearing away of my dream without me having a say, any say, in my life. And it hurt. It hurt so, so much. 

"What happened?" It's Joon's voice, and no, he's not going to take this well and him taking it badly won't help me take it well. He shouldn't be here, but he was part of MBLAQ and he deserves to be here, because he wished and hoped and worked alongside the rest of us.

When no one answers, Joon repeats his question, his tone more aggrivated, and more worried, by the second. I sit down, suddenly not able to hold my body weight, and I slid onto the floor so my back is to the refrigerator. I can see Mir too, lurking behind Joon with his empty eyes, but I don't know and I don't care. I'm too numb.

When none of the rest of us say anything, Seungho speaks again, the same words that he told me. "We're not MBLAQ anymore."

Joon blinks. His eyes grow dark. "What?" His voice is too soft, too vulnerable, and just then I realize that right now, we're all so, so vulnerable. 

"We're not MBLAQ anymore," Seungho says from the floor, robotically, and it's all he can seem to say. 

It's silent for too long. Too long, as tension builds between us, the five in the kitchen as the moon rises overhead, just heartbroken, just numb. Too numb. 

Mir starts to cry, while Joon just stands there.  I tell myself not to cry, over and over in my head, and Seungho and Cheondung just sit there. But Cheondung breaks. He drags his eyes from the floor like he was pulling himself out of a snagging briar thicket and fixes his hot gaze on Mir.

"This is your fault." He says it too softly, so he tries again, his words catching roughly in his throat. "This is your fault!" Mir doesn't look up, but I know he hears him, because he shrinks down, just a little bit. "It's your fault we're here, and it's your fault that we're to who we are anymore!" I want to want to stop him but I can't, I just can't because some twisted, horrible side to me agrees with Cheondung. This was Mir's fault, and it's not his fault it's his fault, but it still is. It still is his fault. 

"It's not my fault," Mir says, his voice muffled by his tears, and his eyes are lowered, trained on his feet. He looks young, so young then. He doesn't look like someone whose been through hell and is paying the price now. He looks barely older than ten. 

"Then whose fault is it, huh? Who made all our work, all our dreams and our effort and our wanting and wishing disappear? Who did it?" It's cruel. It's too cruel, but I wouldn't stop it, I can't stop it.  

"I wanted this. I wanted this so, so much. It isn't fair that it's just taken away. It isn't fair that everything I've worked for is gone. It isn't fair!"

Mir collapses in on himself, draws his shoulders in, lowering his auburn head. "I'm sorry," he says, but it's barely more than a whisper. 

"Why did this happen to us?" Cheondung screams, but it's not at Mir anymore, it's at the sky. "Why do we have to go through so much! Why did... why did we..." And now he's sobbing, too choked up to yell anymore and maybe he wouldn't even if he could because there's no point, no point in yelling at something whose never going to yell back. 

And then Mir, who is scarred and crying and filled with demons, walks over to Cheondung and Cheondung reaches towards him and embraces him, and they sat still, locked together, as they cry pain through silver tears.