TW: Self harm

Ryeowook snatched the cigarette from Kyuhyun's lips and promptly put out the light on his own exposed forearm. Kyuhyun whipped his head around, the evening breeze rustling his brown locks, perfectly framing the shocked expression on his face.

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw you smoking,” said Ryeowook without skipping a beat.

Kyuhyun hung his head in shame.

“You already know that I feel like , did you really have to do that?”

“You know what? Yeah, I actually did, and I’ll do it again if that’s what will make you stop,” Ryeowook replied. “It worked once, didn’t it?”

“Wookie-ah…” Kyuhyun began, exasperated.

“No! Just save it,” Ryeowook held up his hand, as if to silence Kyuhyun. “I sat there and watched you die once already, I won’t let it happen again,” he continued, battling tears and smudging the remaining ashes from his fresh wound. He learned the hard way that burns and cigarette ash can actually leave a mark, like some kind of ed up tattoo-scar.

“I know that you’re hurting, and you miss Heechul-shi but… you’re my best friend, and you’re the most talented…” Ryeowook shook his head, at a loss. “You already almost lost the ability to sing!”

“I don’t give a ,” Kyuhyun mumbled, his mind somewhere else entirely.

“Right...” Ryeowook remembered it all in horrifying detail- when Kyuhyun went under the knife for a surgery that could restore his ability to sing but was far more likely to kill him. If he felt like singing didn’t matter anymore… Ryeowook knew how badly Kyuhyun must have been hurting. It was almost hard not to voice his empathy; Ryeowook was very well acquainted with this kind of hurt, but it would just raise too many questions.

Disgusted with himself, Kyuhyun got up to hug Ryeowook. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help,” he admitted. “You’ve… helped me so much.” He hesitantly held onto Ryeowook’s arm before releasing him, and gently kissed the burn before walking inside, leaving Ryeowook alone once again.

He inspected the perfect red circle, a cauterized wound, closed before it ever had the chance to bleed. Burns were better that way- less messy and didn’t require suspicious bandages. Ryeowook was similar; after over a decade of constant heartbreak, he had gotten too good at suppressing tears and hiding bloodshed. A sudden wave of panic hit him and he shivered, as if he could feel the false hope of Kyuhyun’s kiss seeping into his veins like a virus, infecting him. He viciously rubbed the burn, desperate for even just a small release. He watched a drop of blood form and let it run down the length of his arm like a single tear, as if it were begging to be seen, acknowledged, relieved. But Ryeowook knew better. He rolled down his sleeve and suppressed the words that were always in the back of his mind and, at times, on the tip of his tongue:

“A thousand cigarette burns could never match the pain of watching you long for someone else, Kyuhyun-ah.”