collision

But suddenly she’s all I know, an old refrain

                       "the midnight curfew for all mutant residents is now in effect. you are asked to return to your homes and remain there until—” bzzz.“the midnight curfew for all mutant residents is now in effect. officers will detain individuals found to be in violation—” bzzz. bzzzz.

—detainees will be subject to capital punishment under statute 141.04, subpart C of the mutant containment act. but you know that, don’t you, lieutenant nam jaehyun?

we have the right to kill you where you stand.

the television flickered, signal cut—bright blues and oranges; bars of black and white replacing the images of old faces and older memories staring at him from the other side of the dirty window. overhead, the neon ‘electronics shop’ sign gave one last spark before fizzling out, giving way to the cold, weary sort of darkness that fell in such places. what remnants of life the night had held in the hours before were now—perhaps thankfully—silent.

and changmin was left with only his ghosts for company, running shaky fingertips through the cropped hair at his nape. worn boots scruffed the ground, scattering raindrops across the dampening concrete. the rain fell in sheets; long waves across alleyways, in the cracks where the light failed to reach and the bodies littered the ground in drug-driven hazes.

he could’ve been tempted into that life himself, if it didn’t promise to make things so much worse. he was no glutton for giving the voices in his head more leeway to speak—for turning the volume up on old delusions.

bzzz.

you know the punishment for violating curfew, lieutenant nam.

no, that was wrong. changmin. it was changmin. it had been changmin for as long as memory served; as familiar as the scars embedded into his skin in the mornings; as the humble auto-shop he stood beside, well past the time that he should’ve hidden himself away and waited out the night like everyone else.

so why are you outside, jaehyun?

soojung knows this well, comforts herself with the notion that this is how life is. this is how it’s supposed to be. this is her family’s legacy, broken. this is remnants of her youth, shackled. this is a cage. a boot on her windpipe pressing down, relenting just enough for her to breathe. 

however shallow, however pained.

                                                                                                                          this is mercy.

it is with such conviction that she carries on through life. however shamed, however pathetic way of living it was—it was still living. it was still waking up in the morning and seeing her siblings, her mother, the love of her life.  

yes, shim changmin, however broken, however twisted, was here now.

and however much she hated this way of living—cowardly and contemptible as it is—didn’t matter in the slightest with this very fact. if she fought, if she resisted, she wouldn’t even have this. 

mercy.

it is but a foul bitter taste on her tongue. one that she bites through regardless, if only for the fact that the consequences of not complying meant the loss of everything she’s ever cared for. and her soul, her heart, her mind, her body — it can’t take any more blows.

the journey to the lower levels is tedious. almost painstakingly long in the beginning. soojung had not completely understood why he had insisted on getting his own place—but given the fact that she shared her apartment with her brother, it wasn’t as if she was going to demand otherwise.

and who shim changmin is now—she doesn’t know how to help him.

                                                                                                                    she barely knows him.

“changmin?” her voice rings clear over the city’s alarm, head tilted to the slightest degree as she regards the male before her. still. frozen. the slightest tremble to his frame is heart-wrenching. near frightening, had jung soojung ever been the type to use such datives to a man she knows like second skin.

but this wasn’t the man she knew.

this was the shell of a man that threatened to break. and soojung? soojung wasn’t sure if she could keep him together.

mercy.

her fingers slide over his palm easily, squeezing his hand.

“changmin.”

The vaguest memory, ironic as it was, froze him in place — hadn’t their relationship been built upon pulling each other from ledges? Somewhere along the way they’d crossed a line that he hadn’t seen until it was too late. Until it physically hurt to see Krystal in pain; struggling to keep the pieces together.

Some part of him insisted it was his purpose, and he’d been too late this time.

“Hey,” He murmured, stopping short at the sight of something glimmering in the darkness; the faintest sound of a shaky breath broke the silence — even without his sight, Changmin knew; could feel it in the almost desperate tightening of her hand around his as she moved closer. He knew better than to ask. There were too many things wrong — far too many, and so the male remained quiet, swallowing thickly as he lifted his free hand to push her hair back.

Warm tears slid against his skin, and not for the first time he found himself at a loss. The only thing he could offer with any confidence was simple proximity — and Changmin gave it. With a few careful tugs, he closed the distance between them, keeping their fingers laced together at their sides as his other slipped under the crook of her neck, unrelenting until he could feel the fanning of her breath against his throat.

Every sob tore at him.

“You’d actually save me if I did have a death wish?”

“No. If you had a death wish, I wouldn’t stop you. An accident however…”

This was all an accident — one long string of mishaps that pushed him near an edge he hadn’t seen until it was too late. Changmin couldn’t bring himself to care anymore just how it had happened.

too much for the renegade, too much for anyone she knew--because if it was one thing she knew ( and prided herself on ), krystal jung was as hard as they came when it comes to renegades. there was no room for softness, no room for tears and guilt and naivety--her parents had made this clear since they were young ( the motto was solidified when she was made an example by her capturers ); the clan, the world, had no use for it. 

her family, especially did not.

and so krystal, in return, could not and would not show such a thing.

till now.

but maybe it’s the loneliness. 

maybe it’s the ever sickening twist of failure in her guts, to know that she failed the ones who raised her, the man who gave her chance after chance--everyone in the clan.

death would have been a punishment far more merciful than this.

humiliation and degrading and utterly distressing all wrapped in one.

she simply did not know how much longer of this she could take.

granted, changmin made it that much easier to bear.

if only for a moment.

maybe that’s why she’s here--accepting all at once the tugs closer to his warmth, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her fingers press into skin, heart lurching with every pained noise that slips past her lips, tears burning hot against her skin. 

changmin, who came running at the news, who offered himself up to be bossed, abused, manipulated--changmin, who has to return to his own life sooner or later.

and she will remain her.

a prisoner of her own mind, haunted by her demons.

alone.

unrelenting was the beating of her heart, of the sobs that slip past, no matter how much she tried to subconsciously muffle, lips pressed against his neck and nails digging into his skin.

in those minutes, he presses his nose to the closest inch of skin that he can find and inhales. beyond faint smell of rain lies something familiar that had, until this very moment, lingered only in his dreams; in the moments between sleep and waking that faded no sooner than he opened his eyes in the morning.

she’s here.

she’s living, breathing and speaking words that gradually serve as an anchor to keep him steady. changmin breathes them out, voice thick with a sorrow that lives within his bones, “i love you. i missed you. i missed you.” each emphatic word slips from his mouth on an exhale, as the male himself clings to her fiercely, eyes burning with still unshed tears.

she’s alive.

the relief that comes with the knowledge leaves him speechless; a fact that he’s all too willing to ignore just to keep his hold on jung soojung. and before long, silence falls—the kind that works to settle those frazzled nerves and lend him the ability to speak. though the word that emerges is simple, it’s joyous in a simple way (just a little sheepish, and far too raw).

desperation.

krystal feels it in waves, she’s not close enough--can’t hug him tight enough, can’t be enough comfort to the aching of the man she loves.

what is she to do in a time like this? 

the startlingly disappointing answer is nothing — delicate pads of her fingers smoothing over marred skin as her breath hitches, eyes watering at the onslaught of confessions slipping upon lips she’d sooner like to smother against her own; thick with emotions krystal wasn’t even sure there were words for.

“i know--i missed you too. i love you too.” the words are entirely too tender, entirely too raw, spoken past a lump wedged snug in her throat--it didn’t even sound like her.

the her a lifetime ago would have laughed.

with that, nothing but shared breaths filled the room for a long turmoil laced moment of tranquility. although admittedly, the silence makes it easier to breath, to think, to feel--to maybe regaining whatever stability she had left.

easier said than done.

it’s his voice that breaks the silence, uttered in a way that brought forth a rush of memories of an easier time. when it was just one injured versus the other and no time missed in between. it brought forth a laugh before she knew it. “hi.” the younger murmurs, lips curving a bit against his skin as her lashes flutter, pulling back enough to press them against his, biting back the shiver that comes with it.

“hi.” she repeats between kisses, soft and long, parting only for shallow breaths of air and the single word uttered between relieved laughter as she leans into him further. “hi--shim changmin.” krystal breathes out, warmth lilting her tone as she kisses him again, and again, and again.

there was no need to stop any time soon.

nor did she ever have the intention to.

The fact that those words had sprung to the forefront of his mind almost instantly might’ve been funny if it weren’t for the fact that he felt as if he’d been kicked in the chest. Such a simple request, but with so many connotations that Changmin himself wasn’t sure where it’d come from. Their discussion had been something simple—strangely sweet—and here he was, muddling things up with old insecurities. Just this once, he wouldn’t be the weight that dragged them down.

So instead, he thought of the next best thing, reading the amusement in her expression like a favorite book, “Both of our phones off for a day.” The implication was clear; a day for the just the two of them, unreachable by anyone in the outside world. Already, his phone had buzzed in his inner pocket once, though the decision not to answer had been easy.

How often would moments like these come along again?

Eventually, however, the conversation gave way to silence as Changmin followed his girlfriend into the clearing, eyes flicking over each of the couples with an open curiosity before his attention shifted to the fireworks; blue, green, red and yellow—every color in-between—shot across the night sky in a spectacle of lights, accompanied by miniature explosions of sound and something all too similar to metallic rain.

He hadn’t taken the time to watch them in years.

what was the point in getting him all the way out here just to be bothered by clan business?

although technically those were the pretenses she came out under. still. the point stands.

“alright, i can do that.” the renegade readily agrees, the curve of her lips widening just the slightest as she allows the conversation to give way into something else entirely. perhaps on another day, krystal would ask him about what else he wanted from her—needless to say she had always been curious, about what exactly she could offer this man in particular—but for now, her focus was on something else.

she came with a mission in mind, after all.

it is with as much inconspicuous movements as possible that the renegade moves, first untangling entwined hands in favor of slipping her hand into her sleeve, pulling out her phone and gesturing at it once their eyes inevitably meet. she’s putting her phone on silent – that’s all he needs to know.

to her credit, krystal couldn’t be any more careful with it—surprise is the key element here and the theme of the entire trip—attention divided between changmin and her phone as she takes her time fiddling with the mobile device, waiting for him to turn his attention back to the flashing lights in the sky before she takes a step closer, taking a moment to tuck her phone back in the hidden pocket and procure a silver band instead, hands reaching for his.

it’s now or never, jung soojung.

her heart feels like its going to burst.

so the woman moves, well aware of the rapid fluttering in her stomach as her fingers press into his palm, tugging his left hand close while her other moves to slip the silver band through his ring finger, dancing eyes meeting his once he turns to face her as a smile breaks through—the fireworks in the background nothing compared to the pounding of the organ caged within her ribs—eyes curling into crescents.

she speaks--more so gushes--with a squeeze of his hand, pleased with herself yet curious to see his response more than anything. 

He didn’t know what he was doing. Hell, if Changmin were perfectly honest with himself, he hadn’t had a clue since the day he’d entered the Brotherhood. Every intention he’d had was somehow twisted around in such a way that the only thing that came of it was pain. For him—for anyone and everyone who’d been unfortunate enough to know him or care for him; when he wanted to die, he lived, and people like Miyoung—or Soojung, saw the cost of it.

There was little he wasn’t sorry for when everything he laid hands on was tainted. The blood on his hands hurt more than any old scar ever would, though it was with relief that he listened to her words—followed her gentle pushes to sit up and look at her. He processed them in a corner of his mind that wasn’t drowning in the rush of emotions that seemed to have an unyielding hold of his heart.

She wasn’t blaming him.

Somehow, the expression that met his eyes when Changmin looked at the young woman before him—no older than twenty but all the same as worldly as someone twice her age—wasn’t judgmental; wasn’t anything but pained. Another apology dangled from his tongue, heavy and laden with regret. He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have ever gotten so close—to be able to hurt her. The only thing that saved him was the soft press of warmth against his cheek; fingertips wiping away hotter tears as his name lingered in the air between them. How long had it been since he’d heard it?

He couldn’t answer her question. The words wouldn’t come. No matter how hard Changmin pushed, the only thing he could do was release a low, exhausted sigh as he settled his hands on her waist, allowing his fingers to twist in the fabric of her shirt—binding himself to her in the most simple of ways—before he buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed.

It still hurt, but the pain was finally dulling in the face of the fact that Jung Soojung was very much alive. There, tangible in his arms in a way she hadn’t been for two years.

Even if he couldn’t think of what to say, distorted and frantic as his thoughts were, desperation lingered in his bones—moved through every muscle, every cell of his body from his heart to his fingertips as he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her into his lap; as close as he could possibly get with clothes, skin and bones between them. Changmin had lived for this moment. “Soojung.”

I love you.

It hurts.

shim changmin—who up until hours ago, had been nothing but an occasional flashback accompanied with a rise in her pulse and drop in her stomach as the days went by.

shim changmin—who is here, right here, right now, with her.

but krystal, for the most part, just couldn’t seem to bring herself to be too happy about it.

it’s the pain.

more importantly—it’s his pain; pain that hurt her tenfold in comparison to her own.

krystal has never been receptive, has never been too affected by others, but to have the love of her life—then, now, and for the rest of their foreseeable lives together—breaking down in her arms when she—she was helpless.

unable to do anything other than watch.

her stomach twists at the thought, jaw clenching slightly as she moves anyhow, lifting slowly to settle herself into his lap. a sigh escapes despite herself, unable to think past the weight in her heart as the lump in her throat grows. she’s speechless, for one, what does one even say in a situation like this? never mind the fact that krystal could barely think past the fact that it’s been too long—far too long—for them to end up where they are right this moment.

how far they’ve fallen from the night in the botanical garden of nagashima.

she loves him, all the same—that is a factor that’ll never change.

but whether or not that sort of happiness would ever be attainable for the likes of two utterly broken people—krystal wasn’t sure.

everything still hurts. if not more.

the fact that changmin was here—hurting—and she—unable to do anything about it—hurts far worse.

“i love you.”

the confession is soft, firm—stemming from the need to say it again as he’s clearly forgotten about last night—but it is the desperation that drives her into repeating it, arms tightening around him as she shifts, lips pressed to his skin.

“i love you so much.”

Krystal somehow made it feel possible.

Pulling away from the kiss with much the same reluctance he noted in her demeanor, Changmin smiled lightly at her words; equal parts wry with the tease and anticipating of whatever laid ahead. How long had it been sense he’d looked forward to anything like this? “I can’t wait.” He hummed quietly, leaning forward to press a final kiss to the corner of her lips before moving to walk with her again down the warmly lit path.

Winter held Japan in a firm grasp, but he didn’t mind the cold.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” The words were humored nevertheless, spoken with perhaps too much experience in the subject given how he’d laid witness to the very phenomena himself some time before. Puzzling, perhaps, but ultimately it was amusing and cute in a strange sort of way he never bothered to explain to his girlfriend.

Tact was gold sometimes.

Not that that had been exceptionally hard to do anyway.

"What would you ask to me to do then?" The question was absentminded at best, although the muted amusement behind it wasn't one she bothered to hide, nor the bit of curiosity tinting her words. It would be a lie to say that she wasn't the slightest bit curious as to what Changmin would want from her, if given the chance to ask for, well, nearly anything.

Pausing at the question, Krystal merely lifted a shoulder in response, returning the squeeze as she tugged her boyfriend further down the path. "Sightseeing?" It was vague, if anything, although it wasn't as if she could really tell him where they were going -- as if revealing the fact that she had searched online for every little event around Nagashima wouldn't be suspicious at all.

Starting with the small clearing up ahead that was--according to multiple people online--perfect for viewing the fireworks.

Gradually leading the older male to a stop, Krystal took the chance to scan the area as she shifted, taking note of the small gathering of couples who had already gathered with a slight perk of her brow. It didn't matter anyway, Changmin was tall enough to see over them.

There wasn't much conversation after that, shortly after they arrived the fireworks started.

She was there, despite everything — alive.

Changmin did his best to muffle the sounds, clenching his jaw shut as tears slid over her hand; between her fingers to stain the sheets he gripped onto like his life depended on it. Though the moment he felt her over him — fingers pressing into his back, whatever efforts he’d made to pull everything together slipped. Slowly, he peeled his fingers away from the fabric, turning his hand in her grasp.

He gripped her fingers gently, allowing a shaky breath to escape as he shifted to trace the tip of his nose over warm, wet skin. Even if it was impossible to stop — regardless of the way his heart clenched mercilessly in his chest, he’d do his best to comfort her.

What else could he do?

In the end they both felt it.

Brows furrowed, Krystal could only stare at the shaking man curled up in her bed, registering each and every sob with the resounding tear in her heart, even if no tears came to her eyes -- she was all out of them after last night. Though it didn't mean that it hurt any less, not that the mutant had a single idea as to what to do; Changmin's pain wasn't one she could exactly relate to, judging by the scars scattered all over his body.

Attention fixed on the mutant before her, Krystal did not miss the way he turned her hand, taking a small breath at the tears as her fingers twitched in response, biting her lower lip at the apology that slipped from him. If anything this made everything ten times more painful than necessary -- the last thing she wanted to hear from him was an apology.

It was as if the guilt, irrational and unrelenting as it was, took hold of the beating organ in her chest and squeezed for all its worth.

Her reply slipped out quicker than she could even process the possible consequences of it.

"No," Slowly, she moved him, hands sliding down to his shoulders as she gently pushed the male to sit up, eyes flicking over his face the first chance she got. Unsurprisingly enough, it didn't help the tightening sensation in her chest or the lump in her throat. "what do you have to apologize for?" Krystal murmured, moving a hand to cup his cheek for a moment as she swiped her thumb over his cheekbone, breaking eye contact after for a much needed embrace.

As always the distance between them, however slight in another's eyes, seemed too far for her.

"Changmin..." Krystal murmured, arms sliding around him as she pulled the taller male closer, eyes squeezing shut in a vain attempt to keep the tears at bay -- it hurt, after all, more than anything to see him like this.

Strange, but nevertheless he couldn’t ask why; not without dispelling the first hints of a genuinely good mood he’d seen all week. Why should he ruin things with his pessimism?

So, he chose not to argue it, instead choosing to think over her suggestion — drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he set the book on the coffee table and leaned back. The TV displayed nothing but weather updates for the coming weekend, highlighting a storm set to pass through in the next few days. Changmin watched with little interest — unable to help the way this attention shifted to listen to the quiet footsteps headed his way.

Soon enough, the view was blocked entirely and the male found himself all but forced to follow her waist upward to meet her eyes. The connection was brief — allowing only the most fleeting look to pass between them before his gaze dropped again to the exposed expanse of skin just within arm’s reach as she turned.

Her words nearly fell on deaf ears.

“Sure.” Naturally, the precarious balancing act of keeping himself in check while maintaining their friendship began anew. Difficult, when all he could think about was tracing his lips up the curve of her spine. “Where are you planning on taking me then?”

Conversation: It was something he depended on to maintain that distance even as he lifted his hands to hold the hem of her dress while grasping the zipper with his other. Changmin stood as he pulled upward, allowing his knuckles to slide over her skin — a small indulgence — before sealing it away behind layers of fabric and pretense.

When he was finished, he stepped away; moving around her still form — entirely too close — to open his luggage and find a decent shirt, “I don’t think I have anything that fits.”

His question didn't go unheard, however, although the renegade found it hard to fully concentrate enough to respond given the tingling sensation surfacing after his touch; the fact that he went out of his way to move around her was also a distracting factor on its own. "You'll find out when we get there." She hummed, rolling back her shoulders as she stepped after him, peering over his luggage with interest before leaning down to pull out something that caught her eye, pointedly ignoring the brush of skin contact.

"Wear this." Of course, how she managed to pull a blazer out of the mix--especially since Changmin seemed far from the type to actually pack one on supposedly impromptu vacations, or rather, visits like this--was completely beyond her. Although judging by the expression the taller male had on, she couldn't have been the only one.

"Wear it over something white." Krystal nodded, honestly used to the whole idea of telling him what to wear. She had been wary of it at first, seeing as it was more of a girlfriend duty than anything and she was by far the last person to step up for someone's girlfriend and do that; not that it seems to be a problem now, anyway, the fact that Shim Changmin is single was not one she could stop repeating in her head.

If only for the bit of relief and giddy that comes with it.

Though even she's not sure of the urge that seized her, eyes glancing down at the dark fabric as she pursed her lips in thought, thinking it over before making a move toward the dufflebag near the bed, beelining for the bathroom after she retrieved it.

"Take your time."