✉ state of mind

The raging storm outside does nothing to calm his anger. If anything, it encourages the primal feeling inside of him to multiply. He wants to lash out, to yell, to do something to relieve himself. Anything to satisfy his thirst for violence at the moment. The flash of lightning and rumble of thunder seems to be a reflection of his emotions: uncontrolled and seeking destruction.

"Sir, the leader of the Golden Dragons wishes to speak with you," a trembling voice behind him pipes up.

He abruptly turns away from the large windows and pinches the bridge of his nose, waving off the servant with an irritated flick of his wrist.

"Send him in."

The large mahogany doors slowly open, the gold designs etched over its wood reflecting the light from the chandeliers on the ceiling. A tall, intimidating-looking man with thick-set eyebrows resting on top of his dark eyes walks in. His face is set into a perpetual frown, but it doesn't faze the other man in the least.

"Wufan."

"Luhan," the leader of the Golden Dragons greets respectfully, his dragon emblem glinting as he bows.

Most people think that Luhan, behing as short and innocent-looking as he is, would be no match for the tall man in front of him. But of course, most people don't know what Luhan can do. He is more threatening than Wufan and the other clan leaders combined. With his intelligence and strength, he can take down a whole army in the blink of an eye if he wants to. The fate of the political world rests in his hands, and he knows it very well. The world sees him as an arrogant man who hasn't worked a day in his life, but they only see him for what he shows himself as. They don't know anything. Wufan, having been with him for years, knows better. The world can be very wrong about things.

"What is your business here? I thought you had left for Sailles days ago." Luhan regards him with narrowed eyes. They may be friends, but friends can always turn into enemies.

"Ah, yes, the city of the Messengers? I hear that it's quite nice there."

"Don't change the subject," he snaps.

"Well, why would I need to go if they're bringing the package to us?"

Luhan is in front of him in a flash. Before Wufan can even react, long and slender fingers are curled around his throat, trembling with force.

But the violence in his actions disappears as quickly as it had come, replaced instead with something that the taller man associates with fear. Luhan reels backward, shaken by what he has done. He looks at his hands as if they are not his own. He is shaking, and Wufan is suddenly reminded of the frail boy he encountered just a few years ago.

"Wufan, I-"

"It's fine," he cuts him off, smiling reassuringly. He knows that Luhan is not stable in a state like this, so he tries to take off his mask just this once and provides a genuine smile in his direction. He continues, "I suppose I should explain, then?'

Luhan has finally calmed down, but Wufan knows that he is not completely over his actions if his eyes, glistened with tears, are any proof. Before he can take another look, though, Luhan walks back up the marble steps and settles onto his throne once again. His face is back to being merciless and unemotional; Wufan realizes with a strange feeling in his stomach that this is the face Luhan uses when talking to business clients. He has used this face countless times, but never with him. The strange feeling grows larger.

"Please do."

He swallows the bile in his throat, cursing inwardly, and begins.

"They're sending a Messenger to us from Sailles to deliver the package. Not sure why, though, unless they want the girl to get killed."

Luhan snorts. He reaches out next to him and picks up a wine glass. The liquid reminds him of blood as he sloshes it around mindlessly. What a cocky move. Were the Messengers really that arrogant to send such a weakling to the most powerful clan known to man? They were supplied with a strong force of warriors. He could kill her with a snap of his fingers, and that would be the end of it. How dare they underestimate his abilities! Those arrogant fools.

"They're sending a girl?"

Wufan chuckles at the anger in his friend's voice.

"People tell me that she's the best Messenger in the land."

"Well, Wufan," Luhan laughs bitterly, taking a sip of his wine, "people lie."

"Yes, but-"

"There is nothing to be unsure about. I'll just have my men take the package and we'll be on our way," Luhan interrupts, smirking. "Maybe we could even take the girl. She could be of use to us."

Wufan stares up at him in horror. Did he really plan on taking a Messenger hostage, of all people? Even Messengers of the lowest ranks were regarded with respect in society. Kidnapping such a person - especially the most skilled Messenger, to make things worse - was like sticking a sign to your head reading, "I WANT TO BE KILLED."

Luhan catches wind of Wufan's reluctance but pays no mind to it.

"The head of the Messengers will not be happy," Wufan remarks cautiously.

"Let him be unhappy. Like I care."

Yes, Luhan lives and breathes violence. Every time he fights, his blood sings in happiness and all he can do is kill, kill, and kill again. Violence is a part of him he cannot ignore, and the feeling of submitting to his carnal desires brings him to a place he can't even comprehend himself. It makes him feel so alive, despite the fact that to feel such a way, he has to take away the lives of so many others. At this point in his life, he doesn't care. Killing the innocent is part of a clan leader's life if they want to get anywhere. Simply standing by and trying to stay "peaceful" makes one weak. Or at least, that's what his father always told him.

"I'll get the girl. Let them take it as a declaration of war if they want. I don't mind."

Wufan looks at Luhan and scoffs. He shakes his head as he walks out the door.

"You're crazy. But maybe that's why we're friends."

Luhan laughs more than he has in a while, his voice echoing throughout the throne room as he just sits there and laughs alone.

"I am crazy, aren't I?"

*   *   *   *   *   *

Jongin is concerned. 

He doesn't know if he was asked to get cow's milk or goat's milk. He is currently terrified out of his mind, for if he gets the wrong type of milk, he will surely be punished.

It sounds extremely petty to be worrying about what type of milk to buy, but he can't help it. His life is on the line, and the only thing he can do to save it is to buy the right type of milk. He surely is in a dilemma.

If he buys the wrong milk, then Kyungsoo will kill him. If he buys the right type of milk but takes too long to get it, then Kyungsoo will kill him. If he goes back with no milk at all, then Kyungsoo will kill him.

Jongin puts his head into his hands and groans, "I'm going to get killed!"

He sits by himself on a disregarded cart, looking at the marketplace in hatred. He especially directs his glare towards the milk section. If only he could remember what type of milk to buy! Why is it so difficult to remember such a simple task? Because of his forgetfulness, he will have to wish his life goodbye: goodbye to his wonderful home, goodbye to his caring friends, goodbye to the pretty girls that swoon over his good looks, goodbye to the delicious cake that Kyungsoo was going to bake with the milk he couldn't even get.

He clutches his heart as his face twists in pain. "Goodbye, world!"

"Jongin," a voice behind him inquires cautiously, "what are you doing?"

Oh, no. That voice is familiar. Too familiar.

He turns around to face the person, a nervous smile on his face.

"Kyungsoo! What brings you here?"

The smaller boy regards him suspiciously before walking past him in a huff, lugging a carton of cow's milk in the basket he was holding. Jongin's eyes widen as he sees the grinning cow on the label, as if it were mocking him.

"So it was cow's milk!"

"Yes, I needed cow's milk. I just knew you were going to forget," Kyungsoo sighs as he pays for the milk, handing the person across from  him a few silver coins. He bows before making his way back to his childish friend, who is staring at him with those puppy eyes that he knows no one can resist.

Kyungsoo shakes his head before grumbling, "Let's just go so we can be back by dinner."

Jongin nods his head eagerly and takes his place beside him, a happy jump in his steps as they walk down the stone path towards the boys' dorms of their school.

The journey towards their dorms leads to a comfortable silence settling around the two, wrapping around them like a soft blanket and calming their thoughts. They can say anything to break the silence, but neither of them makes a move to open their mouths. It is silences such as these that lead them to think that they really are the best of friends. Silence can sometimes make up for words left unsaid. The relationship between the two, no matter what it seems like on the outside, ties them together. No matter how far they are from each other, it doesn't matter. Jongin and Kyungsoo are like a rubber band, always snapping back towards each other even if they are on opposite ends of the world.

The silence seems as if it can go on forever in an uninterrupted stretch of time, but Jongin will never be able to keep up something for so long. His mind races and his hands twitch and he knows he will never be able to stop moving no matter how hard he tries.

"Hey, Kyungsoo?"

The shorter boy snaps out of his reverie slowly, as if he is dreaming and is still making his way back towards reality. Maybe he is.

"Hm? What is it?" he asks softly.

His large and unblinking eyes stare back at him, large and clear windows to his soul. Jongin can see straight into him, and he reads him like a book. Kyungsoo's eyes are exactly as Jongin knows him to be: too soft and too caring. And especially innocent; too innocent to be doing what he knows they are meant to do.

Jongin doesn't answer him for a while, despite knowing that he should, because Kyungsoo hates to be left with something he can't hold onto. But he can't help it. He just stares straight ahead, trying to make sense of the thoughts running through his head at a hundred miles an hour. There is so much he wants to say that it creates a traffic jam in his throat, stuck with no means to come out without someone saying it for him. Kyungsoo is staring at him worriedly now, making a move to put a hand on his arm, but Jongin shoots him a look, and the boy reluctantly curls his fingers. His arms fall limply at his sides, looking broken and useless. Jongin cringes inwardly. He feels guilty now. His friend really is too innocent, he realizes. Or maybe he is just desperate, like they all are. So desperate that he holds himself up cautiously, taking careful steps to avoid stepping into the shadows, always running away from the darkness and jumping into the light. Maybe that's it. Maybe they all try to see to good in things, not just Kyungsoo, because they are afraid.

Fear. That's exactly it.

"I'm afraid," Jongin finally says, his voice sounding far off, and he really is afraid because it doesn't sound like him at all.

Kyungsoo looks at him for a long time, really looks at him. This time he's the one staring into his soul, ripping him open and examining every little part so closely his eyes start to water. They don't say anything for a while and the blanket of silence covers them once again in a protective embrace.

"I'm afraid, too. We all are, I think," Kyungsoo finally whispers, a sigh escaping his lips so small Jongin has to wonder if maybe he imagined it.

He's not sure how to reply, and the words burn at the edge of his tongue, painful and foreboding.

"We're not- I just- is there-" Jongin starts, ending each of his sentences with a mangled sound in his throat.

It's happening again, the traffic jam. The words are building up too fast for him to keep track of, and they are growing-

growing-

getting bigger-

The words can't fit in his throat.

It is the beat of his heart, incessant and impatient, clamoring against his ribcage for a way out. It is the pounding in his head, loud and unforgiving and merciless. It is the adrenaline running through his veins, burning so hot inside him that he can't take it. Whatever this feeling is, it settles deep inside his soul and travels all the way up to his brain, clouding it with a jumble of sounds and sighs and smells and excruciating feelings. He lets out a scream, because it is the only thing he feels that he has the slightest bit of control over: his voice. The words, of course, are still stuck in his throat, the block getting larger as the seconds tick by, but at least he can let out sounds. Everything is muffled a bit. A blurry world stares back at him. This is not right.

"Jongin! Jongin, come back! Come back, listen to me!"

Kyungsoo is worried. This has happened before, this episode that Jongin is having, and he hates it. He hates it so much, seeing his best friend breathing hard with tears gathering in his eyes, and all he can do is stand there. The first time this happened, Jongin had suddenly stopped talking in the middle of his conversation with him, everything going silent until all Kyungsoo could hear were his harsh breaths echoing throughout the room. Tears had gathered in his eyes until they overflowed and trailed down his cheeks, and his eyes glazed over. Kyungsoo knew then that Jongin was not where he was supposed to be. He was somewhere far away from reality, even so far away from dreams. He was somewhere that couldn't be reached by anyone. Not even the most ambitious dreamers could get where Jongin was then. He was in a place where reality and dreams were one, where memories flowed together at an impossible speed, where only Jongin could go.

At that time, Kyungsoo hadn't known what to do, but it had happened several times after that, and now he is rushing in front of Jongin and grabbing his hands, squeezing them so hard he's sure that it's going to bruise after. He hates to do it this way, but this is the only way he knows how to get Jongin back, so he takes in a deep breath and stares long and hard at the tanned face in front of him. Jongin is in anguish, He has to end this now.

"Sorry, Jongin, I'm sorry, I-"

Bam!

His fist has a nice meeting with the other boy's cheek, and the impact is so much that Kyungsoo reels backwards once he realizes what he has done. They both yelp at the pain: Kyungsoo's knuckles are sore, while Jongin's cheek is throbbing. It's already starting to bruise. They both just stare at each other for a while, ragged breaths escaping their trembling lips.

It is Jongin who breaks the silence.

"Thank you."

Kyungsoo knows he really means it if the look in his eyes is any proof. He curses under his breath, because his eyes are starting to burn with the coming onslaught of tears that are sure to come, and it's not because of his aching fist. He knows the younger boy has too much pride to ever say thank you again, so he just grabs the two words like precious gems and stores them inside his head, repeating them over and over in a melody of "thank you's."

"You're welcome," he finally replies while grabbing Jongin's hand and hauling him up.

They walk the rest of the way in another silence, a bit more strained than the last, but still relaxed enough to be considered as comfortable.

Jongin's cheek is throbbing painfully; who knew the small boy could pack such a punch? However, as much as the pain make shim want to whine and ask for medical attention, he knows that was probably the only way he cold have gotten out of his "thing," whatever it was. He feels extremely guilty for having put his friend through something as strange as that. After all, he knows that Kyungsoo is never one to take strange occurrences very well. The boy strives for normalcy as much as possible, trying to make his life lackluster and dull to make up for the chaos going on around them. He makes sure to apologize once they get back to the dorms. The silence around them may be comfortable, but it feels a bit suffocating. What if his words get stuck again? He has to say what he wants when they are in a safe place, somewhere inside where he knows that everything will be okay.

Kyungsoo believes that he should be the one to apologize. He punched his best friend in the face, for Pete's sake. Sure, it got him out of whatever state he was in, but he doubts that Jongin isn't feeling the pain. If his own hand is suffering from this much from the punch, then Jongin must be feeling much, much worse. These are the times when Kyungsoo hates himself for being who he is, because he knows that he is just some weakling constantly following him around like an annoying pest. He needs to get stronger. He needs to protect Jongin from whatever it is that is making him act in such a way. But he wants things to be peaceful, too. He wants a lot of things at the moment.

By the time they arrive at the dorms, night has come and painted the sky a deep, rich purple. They both know that they would have stopped to take a good look at the beautiful stars and landscape around them, but dinner time has already started. Besides, a gangly teacher, wrinkled like a prune, is staring at them under her pointed noise with disapproval. The two boys offer her sheepish grins before rushing inside. It is Mrs. Robin, and she's always been a bit of a pain. There's also something awfully strange about her, although no one can put their finger on it.

They brush off their apprehension and proceed to walk into the cafeteria, which is bustling with activity and the smell of half-decent food. Making their way towards their usual table (it is situated in the back by the windows, away from prying eyes), they find that someone is already waiting for them.

"Oh, Sehun, you're already here."

The said boy stares up at them, his tousled brown hair a mess as he pulls back his hood. He must have been sleeping, they think, as he offers them a groggy smile.

"My name is Oh Sehun. There is no random pause between my last and first name, Jongin."

"Shut up, you brat, and don't put me in a worse mood than I already am."

The boy grins as the other two sit down, Jongin eyeing him with an annoyed expression. He doesn't seem to mind, though, since he receives those looks from them all the time. He's used to it by now, so he just grins even wider (Jongin and Kyungsoo silently agree that he looks stupid) and leans forward, his lips. It's a disturbing habit of his that Kyungsoo never fails to cringe at.

"What's up with the bruise?"

Kyungsoo shoots him a warning look while Jongin simply shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. His face is the epitome of calm as he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. It would have worked, too, if only Kyungsoo weren't so bad at lying. The said boy is fidgeting nervously in his seat, playing with his fingers, and sneaking anxious glances around the room. He looks like a trapped animal, and Jongin can't help but laugh.

"So? What happened?" Sehun whines. There must be some inside joke that the two are keeping to themselves, like they always do.

"Kyungsoo here punched me right in the face."

"What? Really?"

The youngest boy of the group stares wide-eyed at the other equally as wide-eyed boy. Kyungsoo, of all people, committed an act of violence? This Kyungsoo, right in front of them, the one who shrieks at the sight of blood and is scared of bugs? He must be joking!

"Yes, really. He was so mad because I'm taller than him that he came right up to me and - bam! - I get a face full of fist."

"But you've always been taller than him," Sehun points out.

"Oh, Sehun, you shut up!"

"It's Oh Sehun! No pauses!"

"Jeez, can't you keep your mouth closed for even a minute?"

 author's note 

Wow okay this chapter is all over the place :/ I'll probably edit this sooner or later (probably later because I procrastinate).

Oh and yes yes just look at that ninja!Kaisoo. Can't leave them out even though they're not the main couple! (But they only have a bromance, ok?)

3.01.2013 So I revised this chapter a bit. Yup.

4.03.2016 Editing the format of this chapter as well!