"In the quiet moment

When the earth holds still"

What did I do.

What did I do. I know I did something horrible, I know that now. I know I hurt Mir, I know I only did him damage. But it's too late; the words are already out and a quarter hour stale. I could feel the shape of the words on my lips, on my tongue, although I don't know where I got them. They just came out, and nothing will trap them back into my horrible heart. 

And I can't do anything. I can just sit here, knees curled to chest, my breath echoing in the little broom closet I had retreated too, with pounding feet and a panicking brain and a need to get away from Mir, who was shrinking and sobbing and shaking and still bleeding, still hurting, because of me. No one has found me yet. I could hear them, the distinct slams of Seungho hyung's feet again the wood floor, and I remember hoping that he wouldn't find me, because hyung's rage is something to be afraid of. But I don't want anyone to find me, because I don't want and I don't need another voice telling me I did wrong. They haven't given up, but hyung has gotten quieter with his footsteps after I heard them meet with Byunghee hyung's softer, lighter ones. 

Why did I do that? Why did I make him do that, to look at me, to acknowledge me again? I've never thought of myself as a cruel person, as someone who hurts others around him, but maybe I am. 

I am.

My breath hisses out again, this time a long, drawn out exhale, and I watch the dust on the wall opposite of the one I am leaning again stir into the air, released from each other, floating out alone. I wish we could do that, us humans. That whenever it got too hard to bear, or we were simply pushed apart, we would be free. That we would forget, go along with the breeze, find another place and start over. That we could cut our ties and be free.

But that's not how it works. There are more strings, too many to count, and it is simply impossible to find them all, to completely illuminate everything tying two together. So I will stay tied to Mir, and him to me, although I know, as my eyes skip over darkened poles and a square of complete shadow, I have just cut a few more. 

I know I can't hide here forever, that life doesn't work like that, but I wish I could. I wish to it so much it hurts. But it could never hurt as much as the look on Mir's face, the sadness imprinted on his eyes, the horrible emptiness of him when he looked at me, when he used to look so different. 

~~~

I storm around, my mood as black as tar at the bottom of the sea and my need to confront Joon a flood wave, overwelming everything else. I let my feet fall heavily on the creaking slabs of wood until Byunghee reminds me of the sobbing Mir in the house, comforted by Cheondung who when we left him looked like he had no idea what to do with the shaking Mir, and I softened my steps, enough that only a slight creak could be heard every time I move.

I stop, suddenly, the small door to the left of me quiet. But I had heard something. A sigh. A rustle. A breath. Something, but nothing but us and Mir and the sea are here. And no one would be hiding in a closet other than Joon. I felt my jaw lock, my breath come a little faster, and I strode across the hallway to the door, making sure Joon can hear my footsteps. 

I pause just in front of the door, knowing that Joon has frozen inside, and I let my hand linger a little on the knob before turning it, slowly, purposefully, so Joon can hear the click. I push open the door, let it slide into the wall on the right of me and left of Joon, and Joon squints at the sudden stream of light. He looks at me, charcoal circles under his eyes, just like me and Mir, but they are somehow more apart of him than mine are to me, although I am known for them myself. I know he has had them for four months now, I know he searched along with us and shouted his name into the shadows until his throat ran dry, just like the rest of us. I know he suffered, maybe even more than all of us. And that softens the anger toward him. But I am still mad, and the reason, more or less, for my anger is in front of me. 

~~~

Seungho hyung is standing in front of me, outlined by fuzzy yellow, but I know he isn't an angel. His eyes are terribly black; if it was because of the angle of the light or the amount of anger he had, I don't know. He clenched his teeth, unclenches them, clenched them, but he doesn't say a word. And when he does, it's so quiet, so unexpected, but I can hear what he feels in them. 

"You don't have the right," he says, his voice trembling, and nothing could have struck me more, struck me harder, than that. 

"You don't have the right to take whatever you think, whatever makes your blood boil and your tears run, whatever lives inside you, and unleash it because you do not have control over your beast." His voice is still quiet, still forceful, still burrowing into me like a silver drill.  

"I-" I start, but I don't get to finish. 

"You don't have the right to lash out at Mir because he cannot do what you want him to do, what you want him to say, what you want him to think," hyung says. 

"You don't have the right to try to force him to forget when you know he can't." 

And then the tears come, finally, mercifully, so I have a reason to not look hyung in the eye anymore, when I couldn't even if I could see. Hyung doesn't reach down to me to comfort me, which I am strangely thankful of. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything, not after what I did to Mir. He just lets out a sigh, blowing through his lips and teeth so the air, with no life for humans left in it now, is almost trapped. But the air finds the way out, as it always does. And then he leaves, which I can see, because his back is so straight but I know he feels like it should be bent. 

~~~

I wish...

I don't know what I wish. For them and me to be happy? For the monsters in my mind to die? For what? I just want to call Joon back, to explain, but I can't wish that. I can't wish something of me; I have to choose to do it myself, and I can't choose, so here I stay, there Joon stays. 

"They call you Mir."

It is a new one today; Four days after I woke up here, in a strange place. There has been two so far, and this is the third, the one with oiled hair that is the color of dirty rust and is pinned to his head. His eyes are the sharpest; a unusual dark gold, clever and clear and as unreadable as tracks in a blizzard. I can feel them drilling into my brain. 

I don't answer; he doesn't need an answer. They never do.

"Well, I am not going to call you that. You will be Res, for you remind me much of my late nephew, with that auburn hair."

I don't answer, because I don't know what to say to that. So I just keep silent. I have learned my lesson. 

"Res, I would like you to look at me while I'm speaking," the man said, and steel had crept into his tone, until it was all there was, and I raised my eyes to his sharp, golden ones, obediately, because I have already lost my will, and that terrifies me but it keeps me safe, just enough. Just safe enough, although I am never safe. 

The man doesn't smile, because he never does. He just nods, sharply and quickly, and smoothed a hand, with nails perfectly rounded to the tip, through his hair which was flat and slick and smelled of spice and pumpkin, if you got close enough. 

Sometimes, if I raise my hands to my nose and breathe, I can still smell it, that faint dose of sharp spices and pumpkin, and I can hear his voice, what he would always say to me the moment he walked in.

"Look at me," he says, and I always do. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yay! Another chapter! I thought of this when I was at this festival thingy so I couldn't write, which annoyed me, but I got candy. So it's all good. 

Sooooooo there's this awesome story, Killing An Angel, by the awesome fandomfriends, and she let me put it on here. 'Cus she's awesome. It's all gorgeous and sad and ANGESTY. With Exo. 'Cuz Exo is awesome. 

Click on the link.   

I know you want to. 

I know you do. 

I think you should click on it. Fandomfriends thinks you should click on it. Seungho thinks you should click on it. 

*waggles eyebrows*