A/N: I just want to say real quick that I know that Seungyoon and Hanbin might be a little out of character sometimes, but, I mean, we don't really know them that much so it doesn't truly matter. There are mentions of Taehyun and the time he left the group, but none of the things I've written have anything to do with what happened in real life because that's clearly and frankly none of my business. Also tw// for the smallest reference to suicidal thoughts, blink and you'll miss it, but I just wanted to be safe and put the warning.

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ksy - 2016

He was staring at the void in front of him, that void that somehow called him in, from below. He was so up high he was sure he would've broken into a million pieces if he fell, and, yet, couldn’t stop staring at that nothingness.

Maybe because he felt that way. Empty, completely empty; like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest and the only thing he’d been able to do was stare. It was difficult. To pretend that everything was alright when instead he felt like his life was falling apart. But there was nothing else he could do, but smile and keep quiet, giving everyone words of comfort he didn’t even believe in himself.

After all, he knew it was all his fault. He should’ve seen the signs that something was wrong, should’ve helped him, but he’d kept thinking about himself and only himself; he hadn’t been there for him when he needed him the most, had always tried to avoid his pain, always tried to pretend nothing was happening when it was right in front of his eyes.

He was a coward, he’d always been and that was the reason why he’d run away, when he should’ve stayed. Nothing would’ve happened, had he been a better leader, a better friend. The only thing he’d managed to do was make matters worse, if anything.

He felt  sick  thinking about his own words, those words he’d spat out without thinking, too submerged into his own egoism to realise what he was doing. He’d sent everything shattering to the floor, he had ruined everything. He disgusted himself.
 
‘Get over yourself! I know you think you’re so perfect and your stupid songs are masterpieces but that doesn’t mean you can do what the    you want!’
 
‘Looks who’s talking. You truly never gave a damn about us, you just want things to go your way; and you never cared about me, I don’t know why it took me so long to realise it.’
 
‘If you think so little of me, then maybe you should  ing  leave! I can’t stand to look at you anymore. Leave. Just  leave.’
 
And, now, he was gone. He’d left like he’d asked him to, but he just wanted him to come back, although he knew that it was never going to happen, because what he’d broken couldn’t be fixed. He kept trying to reassure everyone, but, on the inside, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ruined his group, if everything they’d been was over simply because he’d only thought about himself.

He should’ve never become a leader, because he would never be good enough. He didn’t know if their fans would ever want them back, he didn’t know if they would despise him for what he’d done, without even saying it. He didn’t know and maybe it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he’d left and that it was his fault.
 
He didn’t know why he’d climbed on the roof, but, perhaps, he’d seen it as the only way he had to escape, escape from his own mind, escape from those memories that wouldn’t want to leave him alone; memories of happier times, when he felt like he had everything and still hadn’t realised how deeply flawed he was. He’d just needed a place where he could be alone, without anyone asking him if he was okay, as if they could read right through him and tell that he was not, for how much he wanted to show that he was.

He felt like he was suffocating and he needed to breathe. Looking back, he knew that he shouldn’t have done that, not as tired as he was, not as desperate as he was, not to stand on the edge of the roof staring down, looking for an answer in the darkness before him, but he hadn’t found any other way. He felt so empty he couldn’t even cry.

He wondered if the others knew that he was just feigning indifference, but was hurting terribly; they probably did, they knew him well enough to know how much that mess was affecting him. He’d had enough of people’s pity, of the way people looked at them, of the way everyone seemed to look at  him . In that moment, he couldn’t feel anything at all, not even the cold air that shuffled through his hair without a sound.

For a second, he wondered what would’ve happened if he just disappeared, if it wouldn’t have made the world a better place, and closed his eyes. There was something extremely liberating about standing there, somehow just a step away from the void, away from becoming that nothingness he was feeling.
 
He was so lost into his own hollow world that he didn’t hear the door that led to the stairs opening and closing with a loud clang, and didn’t notice someone’s eyes on him, until they were followed up by an extremely confused and almost terrified voice; the voice of someone who didn’t understand what he was doing and was probably scared he could do something stupid. And, who knew, maybe he was right. He didn’t understand himself at all, and didn’t know what he wanted, anymore; maybe he just wanted everything to go back as it’d been.
 
“Seungyoon-hyung?” he cracked his eyes open and slowly turned around, suddenly snapping out of that haze he’d ended up in without even realising it, still unable to catch up with what was happening.

Near the door, faintly illuminated by the orangey emergency lights on the wall, was a startled Kim Hanbin, who was gaping back at him, with his dark melancholic eyes wide and deep, one of his earphones dangling useless at his side; one second later, before his brain could even catch up with what was going on, the boy was next to him, grabbing one of his arms to pull him down from the ledge, frantically.
 
They tumbled on the floor together. Hitting the ground was painful, but it made him realise how stupidly he was behaving, as he gasped for air, which had been knocked out of his lungs because of the impact. They remained still, both breathless and trying to understand what was going on, without saying anything, for a couple of seconds.

Seungyoon wanted to apologise, apologise for scaring him, apologise because he was sure he’d painfully jabbed his ribs with his elbows while they were falling and because he was sure he’d hurt his back falling on top of him, apologise for looking so miserable; apologise for even thinking what he didn’t even want to remind himself.

But, as soon as he even tried to move away, the younger’s arms found their way around his waist and kept him close, as if he was afraid he would try to go back where he’d been if he let him go, balanced between the ground and the void, between the painful reality and the only way he had to escape. Instead of trying to get free from his grip, he remained silent, with his head on his chest, listening to the furious beating of his heart progressively calming down.
 
Something inside him broke, then. Suddenly and inexplicably, his feelings came back to him, and he felt completely overwhelmed and taken over by them. He wouldn’t have been able to stop himself even if he’d tried to, but he wasn’t even sure he wanted. Tears started to uncontrollably stream down his cheeks.

After days of pretending everything was fine, pretending nothing had happened, he finally felt like he was getting rid of the weight on his shoulders, at least for a small part. He couldn’t stop crying, he felt like it was overflowing, like he was drowning in his own tears. He wanted to scream, to curse the world, to curse himself, but he couldn’t stop weeping. Everything in him told him that he didn’t have any right to cry, that he looked pathetic. That it made sense that he’d been abandoned yet once again, because he didn’t deserve anyone’s love.

Those tears were scorching hot, they hurt, and he knew his face was becoming progressively redder and he was a mess. He was a mess and he should’ve never let anyone see him that way, because he hated showing that he was fragile and vulnerable, and not as cold and composed as he wished he was, sometimes. It would hurt less, if he was. But he always cared too much, always gave too much of himself and always got hurt because of it; he cared so much that he couldn’t help but up, at some point.

Hanbin didn’t speak, had seemed to have even stopped breathing, he just let him weep in his arms.
 
“I’m sorry—” Seungyoon whispered when he didn’t have tears left, unable to stop himself. His voice sounded incredibly hoarse, so much he almost scared himself, because he could barely recognize his own voice. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry,” he didn't even know why he was apologizing, anymore. He didn’t even know who he was apologizing to; he didn’t know if he was apologizing to Hanbin for making him think he was about to do something drastic, or if he was apologizing to someone that wasn’t there at all. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I swear—” maybe, he just felt the need to say those words he’d never been able to, those words that he should’ve screamed at the right person in the right moment, and that now he was just murmuring to the wind. “Please, come back,” he choked up on his own tears, but he couldn’t stop. He kept repeating those words, over and over, until they didn’t have any meaning at all, until they were just an uncoherent mumble. He expected the younger to say something in response, but he remained quiet; he simply let him free himself of everything he’d kept inside for too long. “I’m sorry—”
 
Eventually, he stopped. Only when his voice seemed to be about to give out on him, he stopped. Only when he realised he was talking to someone who couldn’t hear him, he stopped.

Sensing that Hanbin’s arms had loosened their hold around his waist, he quickly pushed himself up and pressed up against the wall behind them, uselessly trying to dry the tears he still had on his cheeks with the back of his hand. But he knew it was too late to pretend nothing had happened at all.

He observed as the other boy got up as well, evidently trying to hide the pain and he felt guilt gnawing at his conscience; he hoped he’d only hurt him temporarily and that it was nothing serious, but he could bet that having a grown man falling on him, even though from a minor height, hadn’t been exactly harmless. As the younger stared back at him, probably asking himself what to say or what to do, he suddenly felt small. He knew he had to give him some sort of explanation on the scene he’d just caused, and desperately started looking for the right words.
 
He didn’t even have time to think about it, because, to his surprise, Hanbin wordlessly sat down next to him and reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. It amazed him how he still hadn’t asked a single question, and how soft his eyes were, as they were usually resolute and almost immovable. He couldn’t even imagine what he must have thought when he’d seen him standing on that ledge and, honestly, he didn’t even know why he’d been thinking, in that moment.

He was glad that he was there, holding his hand and looking at him with such worried eyes, because he felt that, if there was anyone in the whole world that could understand how he was feeling, it had to be another leader, because there were things only leaders could understand.

Maybe, he’d been fearful of messing everything up, and it was that same fear that had made him actually mess up. He didn’t know if Hanbin constantly lived with that same fear, but he felt that he could at least sympathise with him; and so, he started talking, in a rush of selfishness.
 
“I guess—I guess I’m kind of angry,” his voice was still rough, and it felt weird, because he knew it was better to get everything out of his system, but he also hated it. He hated it because he felt like it wasn’t right. It was right of him to feel that way. “I’m angry at myself and I just—” he looked away, unable to hold the younger’s gaze, because he was honestly ashamed. But he knew nothing could’ve stopped him, now that he’d started talking. For some reason, he knew he wasn’t going to judge him, and he was revealing things he would’ve probably kept himself hadn’t he been there.

“I’m scared people will leave us because of what I’ve done. Had I been a better leader, a better friend, maybe Taehyun wouldn’t have left,” that name left a bittersweet taste on his tongue, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He didn’t think he would ever stop missing him; or blaming himself. “I miss him so much,” he murmured, his voice quivering almost imperceptibly. Hanbin probably hadn’t been able to tell, and he was glad. He was glad he was listening to him without saying anything. “God, I only want him to come back, but I know it’s never going to happen,” he felt the need to laugh, because it was just ridiculous. He couldn’t even expect him to come back after everything, after what he’d said. And the worst part was that he knew. He knew he hadn’t left just because of what he’d said; but maybe it was better to believe it’d gone like that.

“And sometimes, sometimes I look at the others and I can’t help but be angry at them, too. They look like nothing ever happened. They always look like everything was fine, but it isn’t,” that was probably something he would’ve never said, but he knew everything said between them would probably remain on that roof, and he’d truly felt the need to mutter those words. Because, after all, that what he thought, and he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t right, but pretending was probably worse.

“Maybe—” he hesitated, asking himself if he could truly say those words. Turning around, he observed the younger’s face for a moment, and noticed that he was simply looking at him, blinking quietly; he wasn’t even frowning. He seemed to think that he didn’t have a right to judge him, when he didn’t know what had happened, not entirely, and he was grateful. He’d expected him to be frowning, because he didn’t get what he was saying. He did get it, he realised, and, perhaps, that knowledge scared him, because he didn’t want anyone else to feel that way.

For a second, he wondered what he’d been doing there. If he’d gone there to escape, too. He looked at the ground once again, at their joined hands, and swallowed nothing. “Maybe I wish I could just walk away. This is just too much for me to handle. I don’t know. I guess I’m not truly made to be a leader, I had just fooled myself telling myself I could be. I wish I could be enough,” he bit his bottom lip, still feeling like it wasn’t enough, still feeling like he desperately needed to say more, to keep going, because there was something stuck in his throat begging to be freed.

He kept going, just telling Hanbin whatever came to mind, like it was the only reasoned he had to remained grounded. It probably was. He didn’t want to feel like he was just one step from the void again; he didn’t want to feel like that ever again. And yet, he just physically wasn’t there, because his mind was still torn, torn between what he knew and what his irreparably damaged heart told him.
 
He had no idea for how long he kept speaking, when his voice finally died in his throat, and, even though he couldn’t say he’d completely gotten rid of the weight on his shoulders, he felt better. He felt better, knowing that he’d talked to someone who wasn’t going to judge him for those thoughts, but who could understand him, even.

Looking up at the younger’s face again, he realised he’d leaned over to rest his head against his shoulder. Everything in him was telling him to move away, but he didn’t, seen that he hadn’t said anything. Something else he realised was that he didn’t feel ashamed of what he’d just told him, as he unfortunately knew he would have felt if he’d talked to his  hyungs , for how much he loved and cherished them; he was terrified of disappointing them more than he’d already done, and if everyone was to abandon him, he wanted to at least still have them, because he hated feeling lonely.
 
“I think—” Hanbin started after a couple of minutes, as if he’d been looking for an appropriate answer. “I think the only way you can get past this crisis is by talking to your members, remembering that they’re suffering, too,” he almost asked him how he could do it when he had such ugly thoughts, but the younger seemed to understand before he could open his mouth. “Even if you think it’s something they don’t want to hear, because they  have  to,” he knew he was right, of course, he knew. That didn’t mean that it didn’t scare him to death.

He almost asked him how leading came so natural to him, as if he’d been born to be a leader, but he didn’t find the courage. There were so many things he probably didn’t know about him, and he didn’t want to assume anything. But sometimes his eyes seemed stones no wave could’ve worn away, and he wondered if he’d ever felt like giving up, how he continued holding on despite all the difficulties him and his group had had to go through.
 
He nodded, slowly, to show him that he’d understood, and that he would take his advice to heart and talk to s as soon as he could, because he had to. And he wanted to. There were probably many things he hadn’t realised about them as well, and maybe, he’d just been to sunken into his misery to see what they were really feeling. He couldn’t give up, and he knew it. Even though he sometimes felt like he wasn’t good enough to be their leader, he had to live with the fact that he was, and he couldn’t give up. He needed to find a solution to all that mess, and he could only do it with them; he couldn’t do it by himself.

And yet, he told himself, as he unconsciously curled up closer to the younger, looking for a warmth he’d been missing, he was glad he’d been found by the least likely person; he felt like he’d found someone he could talk to when he had things to say that he shouldn’t even have thought. He’d found someone he’d never known he needed.

When he walked back into his apartment, the sky still dark, he found himself face to face with Seunghoon as he entered the kitchen. He was startled when he noticed the dark circles under his  hyung ’s eyes, and truly realised how selfish he’d been acting since Taehyun had left. He’d never once thought about how they were truly feeling behind those smiles they were forced to keep on their faces. They’d been pretending, all along, exactly like he’d been doing.

Surprisingly, the older didn’t say anything at all. He walked towards him him and carefully wrapped his arms around him, as if he was afraid he was going to break if he held him too tightly. He thought he could feel what he was trying to tell him. ‘ It’s going to be alright, we’re going to be fine ,’ and, even though they were both too tired to speak and still felt hopeless, he almost believed it.

Quietly returning the embrace, he understood that the only thing he could do to survive was becoming better; a better leader, a better songwriter, a better singer, a better person. He needed to become a rock that nobody could consume, for how much they tried. They could damage him, but never destroy him. 

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A/N: I'm going to post the next chapter like, tomorrow, considering the story is already out on another platform and it wouldn't make sense for me to take longer to publish it.