0325 ⤅ stray kids leeknow

part nine - he's gone

Felix's POV; 0329

It's been a long time coming, really. I knew since the first time he blew up at me that this was not going to be simple. God, I wish I were simple, but Changbin paired with someone like me would never be able to work like that. Neither of us could have helped each other being the people we are. I knew this from the beginning, so why did I choose to stay?

But now, that doesn't matter, I have to go.

I realized that as he sat on our bed, clutching the mattress tightly, every breath meaning another wince of pain. His bruise became darker by the hour in the shape of a hand wrung around his thin neck.

"Changbin-"

"Don't."

He coldly cut me off. All of my efforts to help him in — pain killers, ice packs — were all refused. I don't blame him, I really was trying too hard, but all I wanted was for him to feel okay again.

Every time Changbin coughed in pain, I remembered my hatred for the man responsible. If I weren't there, Chan could have killed him, I know he would. I had hoped we could solve what happened to Minho, but this? I will never forgive him for hurting him.

Minho.

I couldn't hide the concern in my eyes as I gazed back at Changbin. He was annoyed, but I had to tell him what had happened to our friend before he said, "leave me the fuck alone," once again. The words hurt to think, let alone say.

"Minho is missing," I quickly said to just get it out.

Changbin didn't respond.

"He's gone," I said again slower, wondering if he even understood me the first time, "Changbin, our friend is missing."

"He ran away?" he cut me off and moved closer to me, surprising me. I grabbed onto his hands to give some comfort. He responded, gripping mine much tighter. It almost hurt.

"I-It looks that way," I stuttered as his grip got stronger. The look in his eyes became more intense as his body inched closer to mine.

As he stood centimeters away from me, he spat, "And we didn't do shit."

I tried to squirm away, but he slammed me against the wall with strong force. As my head smacked against the plaster, memories of the numerous times I was abused like this played all at once, his punches, his grip, his kicks.

But it's okay. It's for him.

"Our best friend is missing, and we didn't help at all!" He couldn't shout even as hard as he tried. The angry words came out as a mere whisper, but I still felt the affect of them. Minho really is gone, we didn't take him in, we didn't assist the police — hell, we didn't even ask if he was alright.

A fist flew across my jaw, knocking me to to ground, and a nosebleed followed, gushing out quickly. I tried to straighten myself up, but a hand smacked me back down, my cheek squished flat on the carpet.

He kept wheezing from his injury; by hurting me, he was hurting himself. The fact that hurting me caused him pain made me more concerned than the pain I myself felt.

All was quiet for a moment — he still forcefully held me to the ground, but we both didn't move or do anything. While he stared into my tearful eyes, sympathy took over.

"Felix, you know I love you," another whisper, just loud enough to make out.

"And I love you," I answered back, the statement bringing a hopeful look to his eyes. He finally removed his clutch from my neck, helping me to sit up, and he rushed to grab a tissue and wiped my nose and mouth, compassion and regret being the only emotions he felt in the moment.

He sat back on his knees as we stared at one another, the silence speaking for itself, but soon one of us interrupted it.

"I need you gone," he started, his voice already wavering, "I can't hurt you anymore."

Tears began to fall, and in that moment, I realized that I had never seen him emotional. He was always the opposite, strong, someone who fixed a problem rather than worrying about anything. Of course, this turned him aggressive at times. Instead of being sensitive, he let out his frustration in other ways — bars, street fights, hurting me, but it was just to help him. I let him hurt me to help him.

But now he's letting me go, because hurting me can't help him anymore.

I stood up and left the room. He did not look up at me as I closed the door. He did not call after me as I exited the house and walked down the sidewalk.

I walked aimlessly through the whole night, hoping that some sense of direction would find me, but none did.

~~~

changbin stans, I'm sorry.
felix stans, I'm extra sorry.
changlix stans??? oh my gosh please forgive me—

I feel bad that I made felix the punching bag, but it had to be some character :/

I hope you enjoyed, and I'll try to get updates out faster now, I promise.