#gmxchar

i'm not coming backi've done something so terriblei'm terrified to speak but you'd expect that from me

kim joonmyun is a strong house.  

but even the most sturdy of structures bend against the wind of a hurricane, the ferocity of an earthquake.  tired and bleeding, he too, bends; his fingers fold clothes and pack suitcases and he wonders just where he plans on going from here.  the room is empty as he works and joonmyun’s almost grateful that he doesn’t have to see char’s eyes staring at him with hurt, something like betrayal as his side of the room becomes a little more empty with each passing moment.  it feels a little weird saying his side when it became their side — even now, joonmyun can feel the breathing on his neck and the way char’s nose would search for its place somewhere in the crook of his shoulder as he slept.

he has never been as strong as others would like to believe.  that’s why he is ever the coward, running when the comfort of someone else’s arms doesn’t do enough to purify the scars still bleeding on his torso.  once upon a time, char was the fire to burn away at him, destroy the dead parts that sting his skin and weigh down his shoulders and leave only the purest parts of him behind.

joonmyun doesn’t deserve it now.  in reality, he doesn’t think he ever did.

he’s much faster at working than he’d like himself to be, because it doesn’t give him a chance to regret this decision — to go back when the room is empty and the light outside is only that of gray rain.  it matches his mood when he picks up a suitcase, picks up a box; his hands are full when he goes to open the door but it opens for him and it’s char staring at him with confusion in his eyes.

he tries to make sense of this because it’s a little strange ( something feels off to him ).  but the boxes are the weight of joonmyun’s sin, the ultimate sign of his betrayal and he can feel his heart sinking to the floor when he suddenly can’t breathe.  char doesn’t say anything, his lips forming a hard line — it’s an expression he only makes when he’s angry, and joonmyun can’t blame him ( doesn’t blame him — almost wishes that char hates him enough to burn him to the ground ).  

char opens his mouth to speak and instead of the curse that joonmyun is sure to find shaking with his name, it comes out as nothing more than a whisper. “ please, don’t leave.”

— wake.

he sits up with a gasp, mouth round as he tries to take in air that’s been denied him.  his hands are clutching at sheets and there’s no one beside joonmyun to tell him that he’s had a nightmare; it will be fine now, hush.  it takes him a few moments to recall the events of the dream, finally figures out the reason for its oddity — it’s because char, in the real world, wasn’t there to stop him at the end.

joonmyun closes his eyes.

the appearance of char in his life after three years time, signed with the name jongin — after near misses and held breath and wishing brought with it the arrival of the dreams.  it’s the regret that’s cut fresh into his heart with all the words he wants to say ( but doesn’t ).  joonmyun knows enough to recognize what’s going on; he sees it enough in students that come to him with tears in their eyes when they’ve burned every bridge they’ve ever built.  

joonmyun is not the one with fire in his veins, but he certainly feels the carnage he’s left behind with the arrival of kim jongin.

his fingers fumble over his nightstand as he reaches for his phone, hopes that his number hasn’t changed in all of three years ( he wishes, prays — ) it’s almost like a reprieve when the call connects and finally, he lets the tears flow.  there’s fire somewhere down in the pits of his heart that char planted there years ago that threaten to take him alive.  a sleepy voice on the other end of the line answers and joonmyun holds back a sob, he’s always muffled himself but he smiles because —

it’s the same sleepy voice that whispered you’re too noisy, extractor in his ear as arms wrapped around joonmyun’s waist.  a shaky sigh of relief and joonmyun’s sure that char — jongin — knows who it is by now.  “ i’m not going anywhere this time.  i’m so sorry.”  he whispers into the phone and finally feels what he’s been searching for.

Sinking to the ground in relief, Sangster took a few moments to recollect himself before turning his attention to his saviour. He counted his blessings that this young man had come ambling along just when he was cornered in an alley with a group of thugs. All it took was a shout and the bullies were taken down, muscles and all. They had long since fled, leaving the alleyway to the two of them. 

Those had got to be the most terrifying moments of his life thus far. Jeez, people were so sensitive nowadays. Sangster couldn’t even remember what he said, though he suspected it had something to do with a tattoo resembling something it wasn’t meant to resemble. 

egt away from emE

nothx

(/ laughs like a douchebag from afar )

nah

jesus christ