thirty-three

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dowoon was hurt. he hated himself because of it.

wonpil was the only one who could truly say he was in pain, he was the one who had it worse. dowoon never had to go through what the elder did.

there was parts of him that told him he deserved that pain. he couldn't save wonpil. wonpil could've died and it would've have been his fault, he knew he couldn't live without the constant reminder of wonpil being gone.

his mind was constantly battling about how he should feel.

wonpil walked in the living room and saw dowoon sitting on the couch, pop tart in hand, looking off into space.

"woonie," wonpil said, startling the younger. his pop tart fell out of his hand. "i think im ready to thoroughly explain what happened in my dreams."

a/n- im so sorry that i haven't been updating this as often as i wanted to. i just finished my 2jae story and my mind has been everywhere

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