please don't ...
His bones ached. There was something weak about the way he dragged his feet into the headquarters for the Brotherhood--there was something wholly detached about the way he sifted his shaking fingertips through mussed hair and tried haplessly to wipe away dirt and dried blood from his already dirtied face. Time wasn't on his side. He'd just finished his mission yesterday, maybe even this morning, and his number one priority since then was to get back.
To get back home.
There were people training, faces Sungjoon couldn't recognize after his month or two of being sent out to kill his own morale. He couldn't quite recall off of the top of his head how many times he remembered being shot at but it was one too many times for such a short time span. As the memories stood, he could still hear the gunshots ringing. He could still feel the victim of his deception clinging onto his wrist, begging to be spared.
(If he squinted, he could almost see the red that stained the walls right after he'd toyed around with the gravitational force around the target.)
It took him five minutes. He entered the headquarters with a heavy heart and immediately dragged himself to the meeting room, shoving the door open without so much as a knock.
He was met with silence.
"Sorry I'm late."
"Ah, Sungjoon. You're back already," Dongwook commented with an easy smile. He gestured to the empty seats towards the end of the table (Sungjoon realized in retrospect that a certain face he'd been yearning to see was already occupying his).
He nodded and tried to quietly ignore the aghast and bewildered stares that followed him as he limped to an empty chair and immediately seated himself.
There was something comforting about being back at the place her sarcastically called "home." However, he could barely, barely register the words Dongwook uttered when he was already immersed in reciting lines that would soon spill out of his mouth.
Phrases like--
I don't care.
I never did.
Leave.
It's over.
