"Well, I woke to the sound of silence

The scars cutting

Like knives in a fist fight"

Mir walked out, his head bowed, his shoulders slumping in that way that even though we had found him only a few days ago, was familiar. And so sad.

Byunghee hyung dropped the bag on the floor, creating a muffled thump that cut through the silence and complete stillness, and Joon collapsed in a chair, putting his head in his hands. But no one spoke, until finally Byunghee hyung voiced what we were all thinking, what we all were scared to say.

"How... how are we supposed to do this?" Seungho hyung just shook his head, his eyes glued to the doorframe where Mir had disappeared, his brow creased.

Joon hyung let out a little sob. I sat next to him, leaning my elbows on the kitchen counter, eyes tracing the edge of the marble top, feet curling around the stool's legs, like to hold on.

"What are we going to do?" 

No one answered my question, except with silence, because no one knew. No one knew what we were going to do.

Byunghee hyung let out a small sigh, and padded across the room to the large kitchen, rummaging around a little before coming up with a pot. Filling it with water, he the burner and clunked the pot down on the stove. When he realized we were all staring at him, he gave a sort of helpless, clueless shrug.

"It's dinner time," he said, his voice low, his soft brown eyes sad, before busying himself in the kitchen; chopping vegetables, stirring sauce, as we all watched. Not being able to stand not doing anything, I slid off the stool and wordlessly started helping hyung with the meal, forcing my mind into the work instead of Mir. Joon hyung kept still, his head still buried in his hands, not making a sound. Seungho hyung just watched, his eyes empty and blank, but every now and then glancing toward the door where Mir had gone, and hadn't appeared from since. 

There was an underlying feel of tension in the room, so thick I felt like I could reach out and touch it. There was something tense in the air, but it was still familiar to us. It was very much like the four months Mir had been gone; with those unspoken words, the worries, the barrier that was built between each of us, and the wall around us, separating us from everyone in this huge world. But now, Mir was back. He had come back, from whatever had happened to him. But he wasn't truly back. He was physically here, but his mind was in a different place; where he had been for the months we had looked for him, where he had been when he had started to truly realize how much we missed him. I miss him, now. I wish he hadn't had to go through what he had gone through, even if I don't know what it was. I wish I knew what made him unable to talk. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I wish I knew how to fix him.

~~~

I watched as Byunghee and Cheondung made supper. I didn't know what to do; when we were MBLAQ, I had had a purpose. I was the leader of MBLAQ, in charge of my dongsaengs. I was just another person here, but I still need to be a leader. I need to help Mir, to do something, other than stand here, watching Joon with his hair splayed out over his arms, and Cheondung, robotically chopping a tomato, and Byunghee, stirring the rice with a sort of over-focus that I knew he always had when he was trying to forget something, and failing miserably.   

Where was Mir? It had been maybe ten minutes since he had walked out, a bag weighing down his thin frame, and I had heard nothing but silence and the sounds from this room. Something wasn't right. Where was he? But I ignored the feeling, pushing it away. Yet, it kept coming back. 

So I straightened abruptly, causing Byunghee and Cheondung to skid their eyes to me.

"Im going to find Mir," I answered to their questioning stares, and they both nodded tinily and returned to their work.

Joon finally looked up, his eyes red. "Don't touch him," he said, in a muted voice, before letting his head fall back.

I didn't know how to respond to that. Did he mean that in caring for me, that touching Mir would hurt me, because he would surely flinch back like he had when Joon had shook his shoulder, maybe even more because he had always admired Joon so much, more than anyone? Was he caring for me? Or was it for Mir, protecting Mir from getting so hurt and scared like when he had touched Mir, to make him feel safe? Or is it for himself; that he would not want Mir to not jump away from anyone but him? Is he scared that it is only him that Mir is so scared of a touch, of a single shake? 

I didn't know what to say; so I didn't say anything, and only bowed my head a little and left the room, leaving behind the kitchen with the three silent people, each struggling with a different thing, but that different thing was all the same in the end, leaving behind the light into the darkening house as the sun started to be sliced in half by the lapping waves. My bare feet made the stairs creak a little as I descended, first checking the basement, even though I felt somewhere he wouldn't be near the darkness, the aloneness, the abandonness of it. And I was right. When I flicked on the light switch, nothing was there, not curled in a chair or a couch, not on the white carpeted floor, not leaning against the great bookshelves lining the left wall.

I climbed the stairs again, now taking a different hall at the intersection, checking the living room, the bathroom, the mud room, the laundry room, but not finding him anywhere. The walls throughout the house were painted a white which was stained ever so slightly with a baby blue. The wall-to-wall carpet was white, like the downstairs, and plush and deep. Paintings of the seas and beaches from all around the world hung on the walls, looking so realistic I thought that I could reach up to feel the cold sea. The couches were subtle greens and blues, soft and comfortable looking, and finds from the beach around the house was scattered throughout the house; on the walls, collected in bowls and cups, everywhere. A delicate glass bowl of tiny, dark brown and black shark teeth. A large, twisted shell of white and black angled next to the sink. A string of pearly white shells, with the look and shape of coffee beans, clustering the light green curtains together with a decorative bow. It was a homey house; used, but still new looking, with all the machines modern and the carpets unmarked. Even from here, deep inside the house, I could still hear the ocean, calling, the rasp on salt and water on sand faint but ever-present.

But Mir wasn't here. I couldn't find him, even after I searched the upstairs and the middle floor, panic growing. As I raced down the stairs a second time, feet thudding on the wood, I tripped on something on the stairs and sprawled on the floor, which was luckily just a step below. I stumbled to my feet, making sure I could stand steadily before moving my right elbow, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through my arm. Oh well. At least no one had seen it. 

I retraced my steps to the stairs, reaching into the darkness to feel a rough material meet my fingers. I grabbed the shadow, dragging it into the light to release a bag. More specifically, the bag Mir had carried out. 

I spun around wildly, heart thumping. It was happening again. He had disappeared. I wasn't a good leader. I was a horrible leader. In my panic, it was lucky that I saw something near the back door. But I saw it, a flash of color, and I stopped spinning and jolted to a stop to look closer. Two shoes, a matching pair, laying neatly side by side, facing the door which bordered the sandy beach, leading down to the waves. 

Mir. 

~~~

Pain.

So blinding, so bright in the white that it was. I saw it, splotch in on my vision, growing, until it was all I saw. White. I felt the sand mold around limbs that weren't on the sand before, felt the air slide off my back, felt the coldness in my fingers where something had been before, felt the white. And then the white turned to grey, then dark grey, then utter, complete blackness. I could only see blackness, and my tongue could not make a sound.

And then I saw nothing.

And then I felt nothing. 

~~~

The sand ground into my feet, the air brushing off from the moving waves salty and cold and stinging my skin, but I ran. The moon was appearing, the water black and stretching for miles into the almost-gone sunlight, the sand around my clear and fading into darkness, but I ran. My tongue felt thick, burned, and my eyes closed until I could see from just a slit, but I ran. And when I saw a slumped figure, alone, laying in the sand close to the calm waves, I only ran faster, struggling to get a grip on the ever-shifting sand with my feet as my footsteps became heavier and more forceful. I could hear shouts from the house, from the balcony, and then a slammed door and feet pounding on in the house even from where I was.

Panic and fear and helplessness blurred the edges of my vision as I finally made it to Mir's side, the yards I had ran miles to me. Mir was collapsed on the sand, his limp hand resting just near a glittering knife. Not just because of the moonlight. Blood. Blood covered the blade, dripping slowly down from the tip pointed at the sky, to eventually encase the wicked metal in sticky red.

On his cheek, a cut ran across his face, the source of so much blood and pain, red and open and painful to look at. Mir was unconscious, but alive. Not knowing what we had to do, but knowing we needed to get him into the house, I gathered him in my arms. I hadn't truly realized how skinny he was until now. He was all bones, muscle non-existent under his chalky skin, and trembling from the bitter cold of the wind. And then, as an instinct, although he was still unconscious, Mir pressed himself into my jacket, snuggling against me. It was the first thing he had done to be closer to someone, and it warmed my heart, and even though it had made Mir cutting himself, passing out, and having to be carried into the house to trigger it, it was progress. Progress in getting Mir back.

I hugged him closer, my feet sinking into the sand as I tried to run up the beach. Cheondung and Byunghee finally appeared from the house, Joon close behind, a frantic look imprinted on his face. I kept going, until they met me, saw Mir in my arms and the trail of drops from his cheek behind us, and understood immediately.

Byunghee took charge. He told Cheondung to go find the weapon Mir had cut himself with, told Joon to get out of the way, and guided me, with Mir still draped in my arms, into the family room, where he lay out a small mattress and blankets for me to put Mir on. I released him gently onto the mattress, feeling the coldness where he had pressed against my chest immediately. Byunghee rushed around, opening a First Aid kit, cleaning the wound, which made Mir cry out, and wake up briefly before falling back asleep, and bandage the cut, Joon standing in the doorway, trembling, before I hauled him away to the kitchen to let Byunghee work. But there was still a pit in my stomach. Why did Mir do that? Why?

~~~

I had just finished, leaning back on my heels in front of Mir's mattress, before his eyes blinked open. Mine shot wide, and held his, as he realized where he was, slowly. I swallow, intending to say something, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Mir focused his eyes on me, as he took in the image of someone kneeling inches from him, and started trembling, his brown eyes growing wide and scared, and I backed away, disappointed, confused.

I had seen how he had hugged Seungho hyung as he had carried him into the house, how he needed to warmth of another human being. I thought that we had done something. I thought we had fixed a little part of Mir. But we hadn't. And so I left him there, the light turned low, the door propped open, my head hanging low as I retreated to the kitchen, my hope almost gone.