[CONTENTID1]Your tears burn the cuts on my heart.

- Red and Regret[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]Baekhyun woke up and pain filled his entire being.

The hard coldness of the ground worked its way past the dirty straw and seeped into his bare stomach. His entire body screamed and chains thicker than his legs anchored him down, digging into his bones.

He could remember clearly what had happened the day before. He had been forced to kneel in front of some Official, who kept asking him if he would admit to being guilty. And of course he didn't and would never. Jongin said once that he would rather bend than break, but Baekhyun would rather break than grovel at the feet of an Elite.

His Punishment was 300 lashes and a “P” branded on his chest and to be thrown into this cellar until they thought it was enough. And according to the Official, they had gone easy on him.

He had cursed the Elites, the society, the world, the whole ing universe with every lash but lost consciousness somewhere around the fiftieth.

And now he lay on the ground of some warehouse with a torn back, thinking of Jongin.

Because normally, when he got in trouble, Jongin would be there with the cheap alcohol, cleaning his wounds and telling him how dumb he was. But he's not here now and after everything, he was the one that kept appearing in Baekhyun's mind.

He found himself imagining scenarios where Jongin would rescue him. Maybe Jongin would appear in a puff of black smoke, hold him in a safe embrace and whisk him away, out of this hell. But he knew there was no chance of that happening. Jongin probably didn't even know he was in here. The Government didn't care if a Numbered died, so why would they announce when one was thrown into Punishment?

And even if he knew, he probably wouldn't care. His last words had been “Have fun. Don't come back.”

Time dragged on and from the light that streamed faintly through the cracks in the wall, Baekhyun began to familiarize himself with the warehouse. There wasn't much to see. Iron bars going from the ceiling to the ground divided the entire thing into crude cages and most of them were occupied by immobile lumps like him. Occasionally, a Worker would walk through, tossing scraps quickly into each one. Baekhyun half-wished the Worker would be Sehun.

Sehun, the shy broken boy who took forever to feel safe around him.

Sehun, the boy he didn't even say goodbye to.

And then he found himself thinking of Chanyeol. No matter how hard he tried not to, he would see that wide smile shining brightly at him. It was still there even when he squeezed his eyes shut, chains clanging on the hard ground as he curled into a fetal position, trying to will it away.

The darkness was perfect for him to wallow in self-pity. But as he replayed the last conversations with his friends, he realized how much of an he was. Reckless, self-centered, selfish .

Guilt crept in slowly at first before slamming into him full force. The pain that it brought was so different from the one burning on his back. This one solidified into a dagger, drilling into him and twisting, ripping away chunks of his heart.

He deserved this.

Not the lashes for breaking some rule, but this overwhelming guilt and regret for leaving his friends in the same life he tried so hard to escape and for pursuing another life without even thinking of them.

But why did he even feel bad? They probably all hated him anyway. Maybe they were happy he left, taking his negativity away with him.

He hoped they were happy.

The days dragged on and he began to drown in filth and regret.

The wounds on his back scarred, but the cuts inside festered and never healed.

Giving up the hope he didn't even know he had, he stopped eating, moving, blinking, thinking. His mind became an empty void and he didn't sleep, didn't wake.

~ ~ ~

He could've died and not even realized nor cared- in fact, he might have welcomed it- but one day, suddenly, the bars clanged open and the bodiless arms were back, grabbing him again. After days- or was it weeks- of rotting in the cell, his legs were useless, collapsing as they dragged him outside. The unforgiving sun was blinding, reminding him of the day he was taken out the orphanage, when all of this began.

And just as quickly, they were inside another building and he was pushed into someone. The person held onto him, letting him put all his weight onto the other's body. People said things and the door slammed shut. They were alone again.

The man separated himself while still keeping a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Baekhyun.”

He dared himself to look up. “Yixing?” he whispered, voice raw and rough from disuse.

No one spoke and the silence was suffocating. Baekhyun suddenly felt as Yixing's eyes traveled from his dirty face to his bare torso to the brand on his chest to the protruding ribs to the scars everywhere to his stained and torn pants to his bruised ankles and back to his eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Baekhyun finally asked.

Yixing broke eye contact and stared down at the ground. His arms fell from Baekhyun's shoulder and dropped to his side. “I-I'm a horrible person,” he stammered. “This is all my fault. I'm so sorry.”

“You-”

“No, Baekhyun. Let me finish,” Yixing said, voice a bit stronger. He took a deep breath. “I was so naïve and idealistic. All I knew was that your life was miserable and I wanted to help you, but I didn't think of all the consequences. I thought it would be easy and simple. I gave you hope and I promised you, but I let you down. And I'll admit that I was selfish too and thought that maybe we could both get something out of it. It's all my fault- I could've just kept hiring you so you didn't have to do all those things, but I came up with this stupid plan instead- but you're the one who was punished. This isn't fair! You- your back- I- I hate everything! I-” He gasped, choking on his words.

“Sh . . . Yixing. It's okay, really. I would never blame you," Baekhyun said as he swayed slightly on his feet.

“I haven't even told you the rest,” Yixing mumbled.

“The rest?”

“You'll be freed from Punishment, but you'll have to go back to you-your life with more . . . uh . . . security and reduced rations for a long time. And they've decided to put a limit on how many times an Entertainer can be hired by the same Elite too. They're making sure this can never happen again. I don't know what to do.”

“Seriously, stop blaming yourself. This was more than I ever expected."

“But why? All you received from this whole thing was torture and Punishment.”

“No,” he replied firmly. “You gave me a week that I never even thought of having. You might not think it was anything, but to me, it was everything.”

“But now you'll have to go back and . . .”

“When I leave this room and go wherever the Government takes me to, I'll just be a normal Numbered who does his job and nothing more.” Baekhyun smiled wryly. And as he spoke, it surprised himself how much he meant it. He might never stop hating the social system, but maybe surrendering to it would be punishment for his guilt. “So, Yixing, from now on, you should probably call me One Hundred.”[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]This chapter is so...ugh. I don't know what to think of it lol.

but i wrote it in one day? [/CONTENTID3]