What if...? || Markhyuck

-17-

[end of september 2019]

[minhyung]

I trembled all over my body from an unusual tangle of different emotions that began to boil in me from the morning. I walked around the apartment talking on the phone with Steven. With each subsequent meter I broke through, my irritation increased, gradually choking my anxiety. I had the impression that all problems suddenly fell on my head because the ignorance of others left them unsolved.

"Maybe it's just enough to go home to him and check it out?" asked Steve, who sounded like my phones were starting to get boring. I knew that he had everything and everyone deep in the ass but I didn't think that so much.

"Believe me, I've already been there," I sighed heavily. "At first, his mother probably took me for a thug, although I lived with her a few months next door. When I asked about Hyuck, she was terrified and just shook her head, almost closing the door in my face. "

"Does she know you work with us?" he was surprised.

"Rather not but that's not even the point now," I nodded wearily. Such issues weren't currently a priority. Izzy unsuccessfully wanted to start a conversation with me for a few minutes but I waved her aside again. I didn't have time for any stupidity and she hasn't done anything else  but it lately. "Donghyuck wrote her a text yesterday so that she would leave the door open for the night and if he doesn't come back, she shouldn't worry too much about it because he'll definitely appear the next day," I said. "In a word, he was really fully aware of why he was going to Marco yesterday and what condition he would come out of, Steve," I replied, somewhat devastated by my own discovery. The man, however, didn't respond to the message in the way I suspected. He laughed as if he had expected such a turn of events.

"This boy always knows how to decode the impending danger," he sighed tiredly. After a moment of silence, he decided to continue his speech. "The only information I can tell you right now is that I found his clothes in the basement when I came to work," the man replied slowly. "Somehow, before he disappeared, he still had time, imagine that, for changing clothes, leaving a dirty, bloody pile of rags on the ground."

"At least we know he should still be alive," I remarked grimly.

"He should..."

~ * ~

[donghyuck]

When I was little, my aunt often took me to the opera and philharmonic. She sat us next to each other on a chair and told to admire art.

Aunt was an artist.

After the Music Academy, she quickly found a job in her profession. She began to lead a successful life, entered the path of the so-called lucrative career.

Aunt was very unhappy.

Lost in her own ideals and striving for perfection, she missed the opportunity to love and start a happy family life.

Aunt died young.

She suffered from frequent mood swings. Very easily, in just a few seconds from the state of euphoria, she fell into deep apathy.

Aunt committed suicide.

One windy day, she climbed the roof of the hotel where she slept during the trip and gently fell from its edge down. That's how I always imagined it.