the fight of our lives

warning: depression, slight suicidal thoughts, temporary (i hope) character deaths. this is pretty sad guys. 

Wakanda is a ing hole. Hyukjae is having a horrible time here and he would very much appreciate it if they could wrap this up and go the home. Like, seriously.

Well, maybe that’s a bit unfair, all things considered. Hyukjae already came here once and really it hadn’t been all that bad.

That was back when there’d been some… unresolved unpleasantness between Steve and Tony. Bucky being Bucky—which is to say, a rude brat with the diplomatic skills of a rabid dog—he somehow found himself stuck in the middle. And then because where Bucky goes Hyukjae usually has to follow, for fear that his stupid best friend might die, he also got dragged along into it. That meant causing international conflicts, stealing quinjets, laying low for over two years, and—for ’s sake—fighting against his own boyfriend.

Visiting Wakanda for the first time had been the only perk of their clandestine trip. The people here are wonderful, ruled by a fair and kind king that Hyukjae’s already met once or twice, not always in the best of circumstances. Dense forests and emerald lakes blend with the high towers of tech-driven cities. Technology coexists with nature in a way that’s truly fascinating, just like how modernity seems to go hand-in-hand with traditions.

So, yeah—Wakanda isn’t actually all that bad. Except for the fact that it’s at war.

Thanos—ing Thanos—gathered all of the infinity stones, and—. Hyukjae’s never been so scared in his life. His first thought goes to Donghae. He looks around frantically as he tries to find him amongst the fights and the corpses on the ground. His heart beats painfully inside his chest, like a hammer pounding at its ribcage. Donghae, he keeps thinking, like a mantra for good luck. Please, , Donghae. Cold sweat runs down his face as he breathes raggedly. Aliens try to reach him and he brutally fights them back with outbursts of ice. His hands hurt from the blasts that he’s been firing continuously; long stretches along his arms and some parts of his fingers are frozen up from the effort.

, Hyukjae thinks in a panic, where the is he?! Somewhere at the back of his mind, he can almost hear Steve scold him. You can’t let your feelings distract you in battle, even if it’s about Donghae, he’d say, looking somehow both apologetic and stern—it might cost your life. But he hasn’t seen Donghae in over two years, except for those little moments that they’ve managed to steal from time to time, when they were sure that no one would trace Donghae back to Hyukjae. He hasn’t kissed, hasn’t even touched his boyfriend in months— if he’s not going to worry about him.

Another bunch of Outriders speed at him then. Hyukjae swears under his breath. He gathers his power at his core, coldness spreading through him in intense pulses—so cold that it’s hot—and then lets it explode. Ice spreads from his feet and erects from the ground into spikes that brutally impale the aliens.

And then finally—finally—a lean panther leaps over another group of Outriders and viciously bites their heads off. Hyukjae almost sags in relief. The feline morphs into an enormous lion before his eyes, snarling as he tears the aliens apart with its gigantic teeth.

“, Donghae,” Hyukjae swears. “Where the were you?!”

Donghae growls at him and then they’re off rushing to the other Avengers’ sides, assembling once again for possibly the fight of their lives. But then Thanos goes through Banner’s Hulkbuster armor like it’s just made of mist. He brushes Steve aside with a wave of the fist; punches Bucky and T’Challa to the ground. Natasha goes down, too, and—, this is not good.

Hyukjae pushes hard on the muscles of his legs as he forces himself to run faster. Everything around him freezes from the intensity of his rage and fear—the ground under his feet, the vegetation, the minuscule particles in the air. He sends blasts of ice at Thanos, freezing his legs and up, and up, and—… But then Thanos punches him hard in the stomach, and he’s sent crashing into a tree.

Donghae goes next, ing into a tiger mid-way through a jump. He sinks his teeth into Thanos’s left arm and tries to bite off the gauntlet. Thanos only grunts and shakes him off easily; Donghae slams into a hard rock. Yelping, he shifts back into his human form as he falls onto the ground and cradles his broken ribs.

Steve tries to stop him again, but Thanos strikes him hard in the head—so hard that Hyukjae’s surprised that he’s still alive. Then Thor comes flying in and stabs Thanos’s chest with a gigantic axe.

For a fraction of second, Hyukjae hopes.

But then Thanos raises his hand, snaps his fingers, and—

—and everything just collapses. It goes so fast, so slow, so many horrible things all at the same time. Hyukjae’s ears are deafened by a piercing buzzing; it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s his own terror resonating inside his head. He struggles to get up and immediately his eyes go to Donghae, my love, Donghae, please. He rushes to his side, just as Donghae meets his eyes, looking terrified and panicked.

“No, no, no,” Hyukjae pleads, begs. But already Donghae’s legs are disintegrating, falling apart like ashes. He’s breaking apart right in between his hands, , no, please, not him, I only just found him again. “No, please—Donghae, please.”

“Hyukjae,” Donghae mumbles. His voice is small, scared, but his eyes are warm and determined as they stare into Hyukjae’s. “Hyukjae—look at me.”

Hyukjae does. Donghae smiles at him shakily, lovingly, and then—

—then—, , —

—then Donghae disappears. Falls apart into brittle little pieces that fall listlessly onto the ground. He’s—he’s gone. And Hyukjae’s breaking inside—he’s sobbing, crying, screaming his heart out as Donghae slips through his open fingers like ashes in the wind.

“No,” Hyukjae cries, “no, no.” But Donghae’s gone—there’s nothing left of him.

His first thought—besides the numbing, piercing pain that slices through his heart—is to find Bucky. He wants to collapse into his best friend’s arms, cry all of the tears in his wrecked body. He turns around and—and Steve’s kneeling on the ground, staring blankly at a heap of scattered ashes.

It’s like a blow in Hyukjae’s stomach. He realizes then—realizes all of that he’s lost, in just a second—a fraction of a second, in the blink of an eye. His heart drops inside his chest, stuttering to a pained stop. His breath catches in his lungs while his blood freezes inside his veins. He doesn’t know if it’s literal or figurative—but his whole body feels it.

Hyukjae doesn’t think that he’s ever, ever felt so much pain. He chokes, gasps, unable to utter even a single sound. No, no, his mind continues to cry, begging for Donghae and Bucky to come back to life, to him. No, please, no. His vision starts to blur around the edges. It darkens and darkens, and his heart hurts and hurts, and—

*

—and then it’s just blackness, and it’s almost a relief.

*

Hyukjae has always considered Avengers Tower to be his home, even when he’d been on the run. No matter what might have happened in the past two years—no matter the disagreements or the bad blood—it’s the first place where he truly got to settle and feel safe since he left Korea. It’s where he made friends, and where those friends eventually became family.

He used to have his own space at the tower, a whole floor with wide windows and an open view over the city. The decoration and the furniture had been an elegant mismatch between sleek and urban; an odd yet pretty contrast between his Korean culture and his new life here in the United States. His floor had been right above Bucky’s, and just two down below from Donghae’s. It used to be his home.

Then Donghae stole a piece of Hyukjae’s heart and never gave it back. Between a fraction of a second and the next, he suddenly became an inherent part of his life. He was his best friend, his lover, his light at the end of dark tunnels. He just became—everything. It’d been so good, their relationship—simple and easy, just two people in love and trying their best to fit neatly into each other’s ed up lives. Some time after the beginning of their relationship Donghae moved to live permanently on Hyukjae’s floor, and it became their home, just like that.

But that had been back then. Back when—when Donghae had still been—alive.

Now it’s just empty space. There’s still all of the furnitice, all of the pictures and memories, but they barely matter anymore.

Hyukjae just stares at his surrounding with blank eyes and a numb brain. He takes a step further inside the suite; he chokes on a strangled sob. , but it—it still smells like Donghae, like the woody cologne that he liked to spray on after his showers. A well-thumbed book lies open on the floor somewhere near the couch, and there’s a half-empty glass of smoothie on the coffee table, indicating that Donghae left in a rush when the Children of Thanos first invaded New York.

And—, but—Donghae had still been living here after all, in their home. Even after Hyukjae had to leave—even after everything.

Hyukjae feels his heart break a bit more with each additional step that he takes into the bedroom. Grief makes his powers go wild, entirely out of control. Ice just flows out of him in reckless, helpless waves that freeze the floor, the furniture, the walls. Soon, everything is but ice.

But Hyukjae doesn’t care, doesn’t give a . He just sits there, on the bed where they used to make sweet love; where Donghae ed him hard and good whenever Hyukjae pushed him one step too far with his teasing; where they used to cuddle and whisper together about the future.

Everything’s frozen, and he wishes that his heart was too.

*

Time never stops—not even after the snap. Seconds continue to become minutes, and then hours, trickling by at an excruciatingly slow pace, like drawn-out torture. Every time that Hyukjae dares to glance at his watch, his mind reminds him cruelly of how long that it’s been since Donghae turned to dust in his hands. Just thinking about it—about the look on Donghae’s face, of the fear and the tears in his eyes—it makes Hyukjae choke on a strangled sob. After a while, he just stops checking the time altogether.

Pain still resides somewhere deep inside his chest, like a sharp piece of shrapnel aiming for his heart. It’s here when he wakes up in the morning, wet tears drying at the corners of his eyes; it’s here