It Ends with Us • Kim Mingyu

[eight]

Dread.

Rage.

Hesitance.

Discombobulation.

The air inside reeks in all that, and so much more.

"Where's Dino?" the eldest asks, the bare stillness in his gaze almost splitting us in half.

"He lashed out."

"He was upset, hyung." Vernon interjects, and immediately, a flame kindles inside Jeonghan's eyes. It doesn't stay for long, however. As rapidly as it rose, it dims down; and the hues of weariness becomes apparent.

"He was upset and lashed out." Huffing out a faint breath, he adds in a low tone — such as all the support has fled from his body.

Seungchol peers at me, and afterwards shifts to Mingyu. "Is that so? I wonder why." says he.

Brother strolls past him like the aching peace after a catastrophe, flinging himself down on the couch as he tucks his chin in between his knees. "You know why." he mutters.

"Was it necessary to bring him along?"

"I didn't bring him. He came on his own."

"You gave the permission!"

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Can we not talk about this now?"

"No, we have to talk about this Jeonghan. Right here and right now," Seungchol looks away momentarily, as though it torments him to say it out loud. Please, don't say it out loud.

"How could you just abandon Dino like that?"

A crack through the flesh; I should've known better.

"Hyung. . ." A murmur materializes in the background. The timidity is a lot similar to mine — my words lingering at the top of my throat before they dissolve into oblivion; a rip-roaring intonation subduing the tiny second of absolute dole.

"You guys better not interfere," he says, "Dino is ours to protect. He's our responsibility, he's Jeonghan's responsibility." 

Dwelling in the fraught beats of a pause, he regards his dear soulmate — now a reflection of his own sentiments — with a look of ignominy. "You witnessed every minute of what he went through," he begins again, only this time a lot more quiet. A lot more pained. 

"You were there when he used to wake up in the middle of the night. Crying, thrashing around in his bed, gasping for safeness — nightmares he never fully talked about. From years when he felt everything to nothing, from when he didn't want to go to therapy to when he didn't come back home after his sessions — you were there. You saw everything. You promised. . . why?"

"I don't know, okay? I don't know," Jeonghan's thunderous words fade with his trembling sigh, gashing the soft edges of my heart along its lone way. 

"I don't know anything."

The other one shakes his head. "Why don't you know, Jeonghan? You should know out of everyone. Why do—"

"ENOUGH." 

The entire space slips into a chasm of noiselessness. Did Joshua Hong, the gentlest of gentle, actually raise his voice? Holy moly.

"You two will go back to your rooms RIGHT NOW, and you will not come out until you're calm enough to resolve this in a civilized manner," he says, "And, you." His eyes dart towards me, standing at the corner of the room; pale as though death has invited me over to its house on a forsaken winter night. "You're coming with me, Miyeon. I need to talk to you." Softly, he adds.