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As Han Yoojin turns off the lights and lies down on his bed, he could feel the whispers of a nightmare making its way beneath his tired eyelids. He closes them anyway. He thinks that it would be better than spending his time staring at the ceiling above him until the hints of sunlight seeps into his room. He’s done that plenty of times already.
And then the nightmare hits him and he forgets.
The first thing he knows is that he's falling.
He falls and falls and black smoke—sour and bitter and filled with poison—is curling around his neck and tearing at his limbs. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. He feels the wisps of pitch black fog in his mouth and it makes his stomach twist.
Everything is dark and filled with shadows, indistinct whispers and voices, faceless people with disgusted expressions. They’re mocking him, treating him as trash.
Treating him as something less than trash.
And then it changes.
He sees something flicker in front of him—he hears a distinct voice, shouting something unintelligible, before everything blurs into colorful noise, the unpleasant kind. It’s vivid and radiant and inky gray all the same.
(He thinks he feels the heat of dying flames in front of him.)
After that, he’s hit with an immeasurable amount of grief and he’s on his knees. The black smoke thickens, turning into something akin to tar, choking his neck and clogging his throat and he feels like throwing up. He feels something else too. Something like guilt drowning his body in murky waters and legs buried under piles and piles of sand.
He sinks into the water slowly, before falling again.
He falls into that bottomless void filled with locked memories and loud, loud, voices.
He’s falling and falling.
He’s plummeting down the unfathomable emptiness.
He falls faster and faster and he still can’t move his limbs and he’s choking on nonexistent air and——
And he wakes up.
He gasps loudly for breath, heart beating fast and hands uncontrollably shaking.
He sees a system window in front of him, informing him that Fear Resistance is activated. He calms down. The last remains of the nightmare linger in the corners of his vision, but this time, he’s only filled with discomfort and dread instead of the mind-numbing fear and regret from before.
(Although the fear and regret are still there, replaying in the back of his mind.)
He sits up, propping himself up with a hand. He stares at his room, etching every nook and cranny into his memories while catching his breath and settling into the numbness.
Then he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, feet touching the cold hard floor.
It’s cold, Han Yoojin belatedly realizes. He ignores it, or tries his best to ignore it.
He walks slowly and checks Chirpie’s basket while suppressing a shiver. Still asleep. Good.
Then he slips out and walks to the bathroom as quietly as possible in order to not awaken the other inhabitants of the house.
He turns on the lights of the bathroom before going inside and locking the door in a practiced manner. He looks up to see his reflection in the mirror, staring at it, feeling unfamiliar—he compares this reflection with the ones he's used to seeing not that long ago.
The Han Yoojin looking back at him feels like a stranger. The features on his face too young to his liking. He wants to rip the flesh of this body out. He wants to tear the skin apart and pick out the bones. He doesn't do any of that.
He remembers blood on himself, on his hands, on his skin. Blood that is not his. He remembers the weight of a body with an owner he cares about but no longer lived. He remembers the heaviness of that body against his two hands, his hands.
He looks at himself in the mirror again, looks at the reflection that is himself and at the same time not. He wants to see blood again, his own blood this time. As a replacement. To make up for the blood from then.
(He wants to feel the pain he should have felt back then.)
He takes out a razor from the cabinet, hidden underneath piles of other basic necessities, and slides down against the wall, (It's cold.) sitting on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom. (It's so cold.)
He takes off the pyjamas he's wearing and leaves them strewn about not that far from him, but far enough that the blood won't stain them. The sudden chill of the air seeps into his skin and bones and wracks a shiver out of him.
He looks at his forearms, at his sides, littered with an array of fading scars. He lets his hand pick up the razor and give those scars new and fresh companions.
The first is light and shallow, barely a graze, with only little blood slowly seeping out. It stings all the same, and Han Yoojin relishes it.
The second is placed near to the first, this time with the dark red liquid clearly oozing out. The sting of the wound meeting the cold air gives him a sharp jolt of pain. He doesn't make a sound.
Han Yoojin doesn't count the number of times he digs the edge of the razor into his skin. It didn't matter. What matters is every sting and jolt that gives him pain. He deserves to feel it. He needs to feel it.
His thoughts mindlessly floats around, all his senses zeroing on the aching soreness on his skin. He feels as though a haze of gray blanketed his brain. The clean slices decorating his arms and sides, dark red webs running down his entire body, open flesh in the particularly deep cuts.
He vaguely feels like he’s sinking again, like in the nightmare from before. He’s sinking slowly, not in murky waters this time, but in a lake of red and darkness. His body feels so heavy and cold, and that’s when the fog in his head lifts.
Han Yoojin blinks, stares at the blood and scars, admires them a little, slightly feeling guilty of the relief he finds in crimson red. He tries to shake off the guilt. Tries and fails.
The red is welcomed, the stinging pain is even more welcomed. The wet stickiness is not. It’s uncomfortably settling on his skin and Han Yoojin decides to wash it off before it gets worse. He needs to clean up anyway.
He stands up and turns on the sink tap, letting it wash away the blood on his arms. He takes out a basin and towel he keeps in the cabinet, puts the basin underneath the running water, lets cold apathy swallow him whole.
He’s moving mechanically now, body already programmed to know what to do. He looks at the mirror again. At the reflection that looks back at himself. It’s like he’s detached from reality, separated from his body by a transparent screen, nothing but a film reel playing before him.
When he returns to his body, he’s already back in bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.
He closes his eyes.
There aren’t any nightmares this time.
The next day starts smoothly. Han Yoojin takes care of the magical beasts in the Facility, talks to a few people from the Hunter Association, sorts out sharp exchanges of words hidden beneath a polite facade.
He thinks that nothing could go wrong.
And yet he’s proven wrong. Very very wrong.
It begins to go off the rails when Kang Soyoung appears to take a look at Comet without prior notice, and with Sung Hyunjae of all people also coming along to—quoting the Seseong Guild Leader’s words— “talk to Han Yoojin about a new business proposal.” Han Yoojin knows that there’s nothing he can do to convince the latter to leave. He tries anyway.
Just as he opens his mouth to speak, another person enters the room.
How nice of you to join us, Yoohyun-ah. Please turn around and walk out the door quickly before that ahjussi starts causing trouble.
But of course the telepathic message he attempts to send to his younger brother does not work and instead backfires. Once Han Yoohyun notices the presence of another S-Rank Hunter, he becomes the overprotective little brother he is, more so that it is Sung Hyunjae in the room instead of the others.
“Ah, if it isn’t the young master of the Hayeon Guild.”
Han Yoohyun gives the older man a murderous glare while keeping his voice light and steady. “What brings the Seseong Guild Leader here of all places?”
Sung Hyunjae smiles innocently while pretending not to see that glare. “I was just about to talk to the young master’s hyung about a proposal I have for the Facility.”
“Is that so.” It sounds more like a statement rather than a question. Han Yoojin sees a notification that tells him that Fear Resistance is being strongly activated.
“Yes, it is indeed so. I hope I won’t be intruding on a meeting between family members?”
You bastard. Han Yoojin wants to shout. If you really feel like that, you wouldn’t have shown up unannounced in the first place!
“I’m afraid you are, so I must ask for you to leave, Seseong Guild Leader.” Han Yoohyun is seething.
“Well—” A shout outside the room diverts everyone’s attention. Thank goodness. Han Yoojin internally cries with relief of not needing to repair the furniture or walls.
They leave the room to check the situation outside only to find Blue making a fuss as the other Hunters try to chase her—ahem , calm her down.
“Blue?” Han Yoojin calls out to the gryphon. What happened? Does she want to play with me or something?
Said gryphon stopped the chaos she was creating and flew down to lightly snuggle between his arms and stomach. It would’ve been adorable had it not been for the flinch he gives at the action. Too sharp with how gentle the blue-eyed gryphon was. Han Yoohyun notices and his brows furrow. Sung Hyunjae sees it too and blinks in barely concealed surprise.
Blue seems to notice it as well and stops what she was doing before giving Han Yoojin a questioning look.
“Ah—” Shit. Shit. What was he thinking? “It’s alright, don’t worry.”
The gryphon doesn’t seem to believe him. She gets off of him before flying above their heads, her entire demeanor filled with concern.
The other Hunters are, thankfully, wise enough to back away and leave them alone. They were already grateful that Blue stopped causing them headaches for the time being, they would rather not get into trouble with S-Rank Hunters.
“Hyung.” Shit. What is he going to do now?
The Fear Resistance window appears in front of him once again.
He gives his brother an awkward smile. “Yoohyun-ah.”
Han Yoohyun’s brows furrow even more and he takes a few steps closer to his brother, looking angry. “Hyung. You’re hurt.”
“What? No— No, I’m— I mean. Yes. Wait. No—”
“Hyung.”
“No. No. I’m not— No one hurt me. Yoohyun-ah, calm down.”
“You’re injured—”
“I’m alright. It’s okay. No one hurt me, I’m fine—”
“You’re not fine—”
“I—”
“No. You’re going up with me.”
Han Yoohyun takes him by the wrist to the portal and they go to the second floor, Sung Hyunjae still following behind, that fucking bastard.
“It would be the best if the Seseong Guild Leader leaves now.”
The older man asks lightly, “Banishing me away, young master?”
He doesn’t get an answer but he complies and doesn’t move any further.
“Yoohyun-ah.”
Han Yoohyun ignores him and stays quiet as he leads them into the house. He forces Han Yoojin to sit on the couch.
“Take off your shirt.”
“Yoohyun-ah.”
“Hyung. Please.”
Han Yoojin stares at him for a moment. The Fear Resistance notification has appeared too many times for him to count. He doesn’t have a choice anyway, so he gives up and looks away. He can’t—he won’t—see his reaction.
Han Yoohyun sees this and goes to slowly tug off his shirt.
Silence fills the room.
When he glances at his brother for a second, he could see him frozen stiff, unmoving. He looks away again. He shouldn’t have given in to his curiosity. It would’ve been better if he hadn’t seen his face. He’s disgusted, isn’t he? Would he leave again? Would he leave again because I’m not strong enough? Would he leave again because he couldn’t stand seeing his brother so weak and shameful?—
A few moments pass like that before Yoohyun finally breaks the silence.
“...Hyung.” His voice is but a small whisper, shaking slightly in the edges, afraid of what will happen if he speaks louder.
(He remembers a young boy looking up at him with bright eyes and a quiet smile.)
He looks at his younger brother and lets out a trembling breath. “Yoohyun-ah.”
“Did you—” He swallows, tries again, changes his words. “No one else did this?” Did you do this to yourself? is what he means to ask but does not. Both of them know this. The correction didn’t change the true meaning of his words. Han Yoojin stays quiet, letting the silence answer.
Han Yoohyun breathes out slowly. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats again, a bit quieter than before, “I’ll get the first aid kit. Hyung. Don’t— Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He quickly leaves and Han Yoojin distantly wonders if he would get out through the window or something, leaving him alone on the couch, upper body bare and arms and sides covered in both faded and new scars. He stops the downward spiral when he hears footsteps and Han Yoohyun appears once more.
The both of them are silent as Yoohyun cleans the scars as gently as he can, as if forcing himself to be steady, making sure to pay attention to each and every one of them.
He works on one particularly deep cut and Yoojin bites back a sound. He can’t be pathetic here, he can’t be weak here. Not again.
( He can’t let him leave again. Never again. )
Yoohyun notices. Of course he does. He frowns slightly but returns to the focused expression he had before, deciding to stay quiet and continue.
The silence grows and it becomes a bit too unbearable for the both of them.
Yoohyun breaks the silence once again.
“..Hyung,” he starts slowly. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”
Han Yoojin stays quiet for a moment, face carefully blank and eyes staring at nothing in particular.
“No.”
A complicated expression flits through Yoohyun’s face but he accepts it. “Okay.”
When Yoohyun finishes, he gives back the shirt that was previously tugged off. The both of them stay quiet, unsure on how to proceed.
This time, Yoojin says something first.
“I’m sorry.”
For being weak, for being unable to save you from dying, for being so horribly selfish, for not understanding, for not being good enough to be your big brother—
“Hyung, you did nothing wrong.”
Yoojin feels bitter. Isn’t this a bit too cruel?
“I’m sorry.”
Yoohyun stares at him.
“Hyung.”
He looks at him with a bitter smile.
“I’m sorry.”
Tears well up at the corner of his eyes. He tries to blink them away but they begin to roll down his cheeks instead. The dam holding them back crumbles apart.
“I’m so sorry, Yoohyun-ah.”
Yoohyun’s hands shake a bit as he tries to hold his older brother. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s never seen his hyung like this.
“Hyung, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry, it’s okay.”
Han Yoojin feels as though the tar from his nightmare is clogging his throat again. He chokes and tries to breathe. Does he even have the right to breathe? He was supposed to die instead of Yoohyun, he wasn’t supposed to live —
“Hyung, breathe. Please— Take deep breaths with me. It’s okay.”
He tries, he really does but he just can’t .
“Deep breaths, hyung. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
Yoohyun is hugging him now, rubbing circles on his back, afraid to let go.
He faintly feels the warmth of the hug and the weight on his chest lightens a little.
He thinks in guilt that maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to hug him back, maybe it’s okay to breathe now.
Han Yoojin hugs his little brother and cries for everything they’ve gone through in the previous life, for all the mistakes made before, and for being given a second chance.
Han Yoojin won’t let him go. Not again. Never again.