I see the bruises even though you've covered them in makeup. They're faint but I see them, a deep blue and dark black with a hint of bright yellow. I wonder if everyone else does too and whether they ignore it like I do.

I also see the strain in your eyes, the way you wince today, the sharp intake of breath when I hug you, not tightly, but still too tight. Do they see it? Do you see that I see? That I know? Do you blame me? Hate me? Because I do. 

My fingers brush against your wrist and you pull back. I tell you to stop and I see the flash of fear and too quick memories. Hyung I'm not like that. Don't you know that? 

I curl my fingers in yours and squeeze. The only way I can tell you that I know.  That I'm here. That I love you. And your smile appears easily like most days and you tell me to knock it off and get back to work. And I do. I listen to you and by the end of practice we're both sweating and tired. Laughter is on your face and for the first time in months I don't see the strain or fear in your eyes and you look so beautiful. 

I can't help the catch of my breath or the even faster pounding of my heart. And I almost stop myself, I will myself to stop, but I can't, and I have my arms around you and we're hugging and smiling and laughing. And you're relaxed in my arms and it's like it was at the beginning before you fell in love with that tight grip and bruises on your skin. I'm hugging you because I never want to let you go. And maybe I'm hugging a little too tightly because you gasp and try to pull away but I don't let you and our lips meet, no, crash together. It's so forceful and hard but I'm gentle with you because I know. You are fragile, breakable, I know this, that you aren't invincible G-Dragon and that you feel the blows when they rain down on you. 

And the kiss is everything I want to say and do for you but am too scared to. I can't help when I start crying and the tears blend into our kiss. But you take them like you take the black eyes, in silence. Your lips are so soft on mine and I don’t mind the taste of my tears anymore because I know I’m crying for us both. I can’t tell who’s doing the holding anymore because somehow we both ended up on the floor with limbs tangled and foreheads pressed close together. And I’m breathing you in and you’re stealing my air and this is how it should be. How it should have been this whole time. But some of the makeup has wiped from around your jaw and I can see the faint outline of a handprint and you move away from me when I try to trace my finger along it.

You stand up and fix your clothes like nothing happen. You’re used to doing that aren’t you? Fixing your makeup and making sure your lips don’t look too swollen. But I’m not like him. I plead silently with you, to come back, to kiss me, to run away. You can’t though. I read it in the way your body moves to grab your bag and the smile you flash my way. It’s that easy smile again. The one you give to everyone who tries to look too long at you.

They don’t see it though, I scream in my mind. They don’t see him grab a hold of your arm and squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze until almost breaking or the way you strain so hard to keep your smile for the cameras.  They haven’t hidden behind walls and heard the slap of hand on soft skin, cracking and splitting such pretty lips.

But I see it and I watch as you walk away and out the door smiling but not really. And by the time I chase after you, finally finding courage to bring you back to me, you are already gone and I’m a coward. I don’t go after you anymore. I watch you in practice, watch way you struggle. There’s a bruise peeking out at your collarbone. I wonder if you were just too tired to cover it or he wanted to see it as you moved. Because I see him watching you now, analyzing, calculating, waiting. He’s the predator. And you’ve never really been prey but he wants to make you one.

I can’t stop myself from glaring at him. For hating him for everything he does and has done. But I can’t stop him and maybe you don’t want me to. I remember when you told me you loved him. We were curled up on my bed and I could feel your breath on my cheek. It was before the games he played and the hands he laid on you. You spouted off a list of things you liked, like his lips, the way his hair brushed against your skin as he kissed you, the deep set of his eyes, and the way he whispered things while in bed. You said you especially liked the way he held you, my arms were around you during these times and I could never help it when I squeezed you closer, because you loved him and I loved you.

You still loved him, even if his love amounted to pain and fright that would never leave your eyes. And I had never stopped loving you. You’re tired now and we’ve barely been practicing. You’re always tired now. Maybe from the hits or maybe because you can’t stop loving him? Or that could just be my false hope, that you want to get away but can’t. You don’t fight back though. You never do and I wonder why. What happened to my strong hyung? The one who could stand against anything? What did he do to you?

I move to help you as you crouch down panting harder then you should be. I think you have a broken rib but you don’t show your pain on your face. I touch your face gently wiping at the sweat. You give me a smile laced with pain. And then he’s over you, a hand under your arm, and you stand up shaking. I watch you glance at him but he’s staring at me. His blue haired head is tilted and a smile that doesn’t belong there is flashing at me but I don’t miss the imperceptible grip he gives to your arm or the too quiet intake of your breath. You want to wince but you only smile at me and then he’s leading you out. But I call after you my smile shaky, my breathing too shallow for the moment; I try to tell you with my eyes that I’m going to save you. I’m not going to be a coward this time. I will save you for once. Sometimes the hyung needs his dongsaeng right ? You only smile back and I can’t help but notice that it’s the first smile I’ve seen in a long time that reaches your eyes. But I can also see the small shake of your head telling me you’re fine, that you want this; that the bruises are worth it.

You leave and I think that this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. You aren’t supposed to love him. You aren’t supposed to go with him. You aren’t supposed to have bruises. I can’t stand it anymore. I follow after you. But I don’t know where you are and I’m blindly searching, I need to find you, it’s almost a gut wrenching urge. Panic is in my throat and my heart is going wild. Where are you?

I don’t care what happens to me as I drive recklessly. And I’m running up steps and pushing open a half open door. I see the slew of glass and furniture around. He got angry. And I’m searching blindly through the dorm, past the tilted chair too far across the room to have been tipped, past the bottles of now empty vodka, to a bedroom door that is half closed. My fingers push it away quickly and I almost don’t know what I’m seeing.

You’re hunched over on the floor, so small, so bruised, so broken. And I have you in my arms now, rocking back and forth, as you try to look at me through swollen black eyes no amount of makeup could cover. I wipe off the blood on your lips but there is so much blood in your mouth now it’s useless. I’m crying now. And I think you finally are too. You’ve always been crying though, haven’t you? Alone, in the dark, with fear and wounds worse than just physical pain. I have to stop crying now because you’re trying to speak but only blood comes out. I know it hurts you to be in my arms but you clutch weakly at me and I can’t stop hugging anyway. I’m hugging you, and the blood, and the bruises, and everything that I love in the world. It’s all in my arms and you finally whisper out that you’re free now, that you aren’t afraid, and that you were never afraid when I held you. I can’t stop my sobs now. Because he finally broke you beyond repair and I can’t save you. So I just hug you, it’s all I can do, all I was ever able to do.