If Without You

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The trio did not speak as they entered their home. A heavy, solemn silence enveloped the entire atmosphere, glueing their throats shut and ensuring no sound escaped, as they took off their shoes, and hung up their coats. Their faces were grim and their movements weighed down by a thousand thoughts, as they tried to pick up the shards of their life and piece them back into some semblance of normality.

San was the first to speak up, his guilty conscience unable to hold it any longer.

"Hongjoongie-hyung, you didn't need to do that for me..." he muttered, curling up on the sofa. "I could—I could handle it..."

"No. You couldn't," Seonghwa said sharply, all of a sudden. "You haven't been through what he does to you. You wouldn't be able to handle it."

"But what about Hongjoongie-hyung? Can he handle it?" San snapped back. "Why didn't you do anything back there, hyung? You could have done something," he demanded, almost accusingly, getting up. "You could have stopped this from happening!" A pink flare swept through the room, dissipating before San could notice.

"I'm not in the mood to argue, San," Seonghwa said, sighing as his voice softened a tone. "Let's just go to bed and try to forget this ever happened."

"No, but I can't forget!" San said, his voice rising as his emotions bubbled over. "Because I'm the villain of this whole situation! If I hadn't gone and gotten myself caught like that—"

San suddenly doubled over, sobbing.

"It's all my fault," he sobbed, head in his hands.

"It's—it's not your fault," Hongjoong said softly, speaking up for the first time since he'd given up his freedom for the sake of San's. "If anything, it's mine. I brought this upon myself, so I don't want either of you to blame yourselves. Go to bed, both of you. It's been a long day."

San managed to stop his crying and hiccuped, then nodded, and headed over to his room. Seonghwa bowed his head, not making eye contact with either of the two.

* * *

The assassin lifted the steaming cup to his lips, rain pitter-pattering on the windows. The time on the clock read 00:03 – signalling another sleepless night. After that nasty reminder of his past actions and what he had done to Yoona, he hadn't dared to even go near those sleep tablets, and had reverted to taking Aronica tablets daily. He didn't want to relive those memories ever again.

But another sort of memory seemed to be slowly floating up in his conscious, and he wasn't quite sure what they meant. He wasn't quite sure if they even were memories.

Two adults always seemed to be the central theme for them, along with grey walls splattered with blood, and a constant feeling of fear, anxiety and uncertainty.

He recognised those two adults, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. Because there was another memory, one he definitely knew he had, that he associated with that horrible grey room. And just the thought of it made him sick.

Suddenly, he doubled over in pain, clutching his side. The cup of tea clattered to the floor and smashed as a piercing agony shot through Seonghwa's abdomen.

Even two weeks later, the Crimson Blade was still alive – in his injuries. Whatever advanced type of Dark Magik he had used on Seonghwa, seemed to be long-term. The aches and pains from the fight had all disappeared by now, but every now and then an unbearable pain would start up in his side, or perhaps his leg, though the pain was starting to lessen each time, little by little.

Big Grey caused all this, and now he's going to put Hongjoong through it too, his mind told him. A little guilty string threaded itself through Seonghwa's mind, scolding him for thinking of himself when his friend had just subjected himself to unimaginable amounts of mental torment.

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