《stray together》

Progress

Behind the locked office door, Chan had hundreds of notes and papers and folders scattered on the floor. The only light was the blue light of his computer screen, as he had ripped the lamp cord out of the plug hours ago. Slouched against the wall, watching the room spin, Chan kept swirling the pill bottle in his hand.

'Don't do it. You're not supposed to do it.'

'But what's one more really going to do?'

'It'll just take off the edge.'

'But would you really only take one more?'

'Would one more really do anything to help?'

'It's all your fault, Chan. You destroyed Minho. You terrify Han. You put too much on Jeongin. You have Changbin take care of you. What's the point of your fucking "found family" if all they are is miserable because of you? Your mom would be so disappointed. That's why she left, isn't it? Because you sucked the life out of her. No one is happy with you in their life.'

'No, no, no.'

'Because of your selfish need to have a family, you took away Minho's chance at life.'

'Why did you invite Han in if all you're going to do is pawn him off on the others?'

'What are you going to do when you run out of time and you don't have the money? Jeongin can only make so much, so fast. You keep making promises you can't keep. You were supposed to save the girl, not put your family in danger.'

Chan twisted the lid off the medication bottle, fidgeting with it.

Aripiprazole. That was the current drug he was on to see if it helped his assumed BPD.

'Changbin got out of having to take care of his younger brothers injuries. Yet you go and cause them to yourself, making him have to deal with you.'

'They're all going to leave you. Who wouldn't?'

Suddenly, Chan gripped the medication bottle as tight as he could, then chucked it across the room, tiny little pills hitting the floor as soon as the plastic container met the wall. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He yelled, shuffling the papers in front of him as he moved to stand. He stumbled to the office door, but eventually his body just moved on its own, guiding him to leave the base.

As Changbin looked in the mirror, he began unwrapping his bandages. He felt healed enough to not need them anymore. The scar, redness, and slight bruising still lingering reminded him of the past. Even if he healed from whatever injury he last obtained, the souvenir was left behind.

It was always just easier to cover them. If he covered them, he didn't have to explain to his younger brothers what happened that time. If he covered them, no teachers would ask about them. If he covered them, the only person who had to carry the burden of them, was him. Overtime, he got better about hissing less, not scrunching his face, not giving any indication that he was in pain. He wasn't sure if that was from his personal volition, or if it was the years of further abuse if he did show the signs it hurt.

Perhaps that was due to the fact his foster father used it against him, started to say 'It must not be enough if you're not crying!', 'You're not even phased by it! I'll wipe that smug look off your face.', 'You're so tough, huh? This is nothing?'

Then the next week would be beat worse for crying, because it was 'his fault to begin with.', 'Pull yourself together, it's not even that bad!', 'You act like I'm killing you. Keep it up and I might!'

It was December. Taehyun ran ahead of the other two boys, jumping onto the ground and making snow angels, his laugh melting into the flurry around them.