7:16
myunggyu 101
Myungsoo stiffles a yawn as he carelessly deposits himself onto the tattered and worn couch, the abused springs groaning under the sudden weigh and he can't decide whether he's too tired to sleep or too exhausted to try.
The ever present dripping from within the wearing kitchen, appearing cracked and broken despite their best efforts to scrub it immaculately and fixing a hinge or two, breaks through the insistent noise of cars passing down on the street, and the sobs.
A door opens, squeaking as its pushed wide but Myungsoo can't be bothered to acknowledge whoever it is. A rough hand squeezes his shoulder before the couch dips, groaning again as Howon settles uncomfortably against a lithe frame.
Construction work had done Howon good, or as well as it could, he had gained more bulk as opposed to Myungsoo who was fading away as days went and came and Dongwoo shoved food down his throat he couldn't keep down on worse days.
"Did Dongwoo have another bad dream?" he prods and Myungsoo hums in affirmative, a heaving breath breaking their companionable silence.
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Dongwoo tears at the loaf of bread, the pieces are unevenly torn and the largest piece lands on Myungsoo's plate despite his best efforts to fend it off. Howon eyes it eagerly as Dongwoo scrambles to fill their plates as much as possible.
It isn't nearly enough for the elders and Myungsoo forces them to accept his leftovers as he begins to wash their plates.
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Dongwoo is on the phone with Sungjong for an hour or two before he calls Howon over to speak with the volatile ex-maknae. Myungsoo spots the initials woven underneath a multitude of different designs of infinity on Howon's and he can barely keep his anguished cry at bay as tears prickle the back of his eyes.
When Howon is quite finished Dongwoo begs Myungsoo to take the phone, Howon is gone for work and Dongwoo has homework to do.
He adamantly refuses, as always, but ends up with the phone pressed to his ear regardless, small breaths flitting through the machine as Sungjong blabbers on about the new girl in his class and how no one has forgotten them.
Most days, Myungsoo wishes everyone had.
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He comes home from his third session at the tattoo 'shop', a shady little room with questionable odor and strong white light that illuminates every speck of dirt that accumulate far from the prestine working area all hidden behind a door at the local car park, it's still illegal and they have to do it in small portions to avoid the risk of being caught midsession.
Dongwoo cooks a hearthy amount of stirfry that night as the ahjumma's at the local market had more fresh beef than they could sell and Howon's mouth twitches for the first time in years, premature lines of age stretching and twisting with the movement.
Dongwoo cries, and Myungsoo wishes he could.
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When Sungyeol visits, Howon isn't home and Dongwoo is caught up at school. Myungsoo forgets how to greet for a moment, then remembers he doesn't need to and settles for making them a cup of tea in their half-broken kettle, no sugar nor milk in the house to add to it, it comes out as a mug of lukewarm, flavored, water.
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When they finally get the chance to sign a contract as back-up dancers they find it to be Woohyun who has patiently pulled a lot of strings to get them under a man with no thoughts left in the past.
But Howon is adamant in his decision to keep his face as it is, he refuses to have the scars littering his face, and neck, removed. They're a constant reminder, just as the words and signs marking his skin. Dongwoo supports the decision for what it is and Myungsoo condoles it silently, soon, his own tattoo will be complete, and he was never one for hypocrisy.
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Woohyun comes by in an attempt to get them to sign, but he knows it's pointless as Howon threatens to throw him out first and he finally understands why Dongwoo is residing with them.
Myungsoo is forced to lose his shirt and careful fingers trace his markings as Howon struggles out of his own shirt and Dongwoo is already shirtless.
Woohyun chokes on his own breath and rushes out the door, calling that he'll need the sketches cause he's getting Dongwoo's version!
Dongwoo laughs for the first time in months, Howon really smiles and it's Myungsoo's lips that jerk awkwardly this time as he fingers the white bandage wrapped tightly around one of his forearms.
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Myungsoo releases a ragged breath and the mask fogs as he attempts to blink away the film of fatigue that has settled on his eyes. A dull throbbing is present in his white wrapped wrist and he wonders what date it is.
"28th of April, 7:16pm" Howon announces in a tired voice and Dongwoo is curled up in a chair by his side, fast asleep, notebook dropped and forgotten on the linoleum floor.
"You" Dongwoo jabs him in the chest after being roused from sleep, eyes stern and watery and his voice positively trembling despite the serious tone, "are an idiot." he concludes before promptly hitting him on the back of his head, with a fist.
Howon calls he deserved that one as Myungsoo hisses and curls up in bed.
"We're leaving, we need to visit his grave you know."
"No amount of bloodloss is going to make it go away Myungie." Dongwoo attempts to sound soothing, but if Myungsoo could, he would cry, he really would.
He's hauled out of bed, dizzy and wobbly on his own two feet. The nurse protests and puffs up her tiny frame but Howon does not heed her requests and Myungsoo is efficiently removed from the hospitals premises.
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Dongwoo only has enough on his T-Card for the ride out, and they'll have to walk home, but Myungsoo'd rather they walked there and drove home.
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The grave is littered with bouquets in white and blue and yellow, all bended, twisted and abused into shapes identical to the ones printed on their backs.
Sungyeol, Woohyun and Sungjong are already there, and from the look of empty cans and take-out trays, they have been for awhile.
They all fuss over Myungsoo as he stares blankly at the rounded marble with shimmering gold letters embedded, the setting sun makes it gleam oddly, the white of the stone mirroring the hues of the sky.
He doesn't hear anything but white hot noise as he feels the all too familiar burn of self loathing, rage and regret it's way from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.
Gritting his teeth is the only warning before he launches at the stone in a fit of rage, an anguished scream tearing from his throat as he pounds his fists at the cold, unforgiving rock.
He manages to smear blood on it before he's pried away from it, he screams and cries his throat raw and his eyes sting so bad he can barely blink.
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The flashing of red and blue lights causes his heart to race even faster as he tears through the crowd of people and ducks under the police tape. He's caught by the arms as Howon's scream intensifies and he can only make out two words "help" and "Sunggyu".
When he replies with his own screams of frustration, trashing in the hold of a gruff man, it only spurs Howon to scream louder and Myungsoo faintly registers the other members pulling and tugging at both him and the police man.
Then Howon hits the paramedic whom is helping him stand and constricting him from moving back to the wrecked vehicle and the paramedic yells at him that "it's too late for the driver."
Myungsoo passes out then, memories of yelling at Sunggyu and Howon to hurry up because they're leaving, to hurry up because it's not fair they had to wait for them, and telling Sunggyu off for being so late.
They were always late, for busses and trains and practice and make-up and weddings and birthdays, but they couldn't rush things, they really shouldn't.
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