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You can’t understand me, of course
The flashy world is filled with different colors and scents
The center of that is you, you’re perfect, just one idol
I try stopping myself but my jealousy toward you rises up
I hate you and love you,
Can’t understand these feelings
I want to resemble you, I want to hug you
But you it’s too much to even linger next to you
I know it’s funny to compare myself
To the great you
-Jonghyun, MONO-Drama
The silence spread itself thin in the space between them when the light turned off.
The darkness hurt.
The silence hurt.
His ribs hurt.
His throat hurt.
You could suffocate him with a pillow.
The thought made him take in a sharp breath, flinching. He dug his nails into the healing scars on his wrists until they opened.
Better. Better him than his probe.
God, I should have fucking died.
“Please don’t say that.”
Oh. He said that out loud. He turned to face the wall. “It’s not like it isn’t true. Go to sleep, Yoohan.”
“Yeonwoo, please.” He heard the rustling of sheets and squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Please, I can’t sleep thinking you’ll do it again if I take my eyes off of you.”
“I should. I deserve it.” You could do it with the bedsheets. If you weren’t a coward, you could do it with a razor. You could do it at the train station, you could do it in the garage with car exhaust and you could do it if you got gun. You should get a gun.
He heard Yoohan sniffle. “I don’t care,” he said, voice wobbling. “If the choice is killing yourself or killing me, I’d rather you kill me.” Yoohan took a gasping, shuddering breath, and it was the worst thing Yeonwoo had ever heard.
Yeonwoo flinched at the image. Images. Blood, the exact color of which he still didn’t know but knew to be something like red. A knife, a gun, anything was a weapon in his hands. “Please don’t say that.”
“No, Yeonwoonie, you-you don’t understand.”
“I do. I understand perfectly well what I am, and you should too, before I hurt you.”
“HURTING YOURSELF IS HURTING ME!” Yoohan shouted and sat up, turning the light on. “Why would you think I would want you to die? Why do you act like you don’t matter? You matter to me! You matter to Minjae-ah and Joohaeng-ah, you matter to your Aunt, and you matter because despite what the media has made you believe you’re a human being!”
Yeonwoo didn’t look at him. He was afraid to see the look in his eyes. He wondered what seeing red meant. He wondered if Yoohan was seeing red right now. He pulled the covers over his head.
“You won’t let me touch you, you won’t let me sleep in the same bed, you didn’t even call me to say goodbye before you fucking hanged yourself!” Yoohan was crying now, he could tell by the warp of his voice. He hated it. He did that. He made Yoohan cry. He hated himself. “I had to watch them put you on gurney like a corpse. I heard them shatter your ribcage just so they could get your heart to beat again. I thought you were dead, and it was my fault!”
A cloying, familiar feeling of guilt washed over him. No matter what he did, he hurt everyone who cared about him.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I-I don’t know what to do.”
“Live! Fucking live, it’s not even that hard!”
He hugged the blankets tighter. “I don’t deserve it.”
I should’ve never been born.
“You do. Anyone who would rather hurt themselves than someone else deserves to live more than anyone. Don’t you see? You’re so terrified of being evil because you’re not. You’re-you’re better than me! You’re better than anyone, and I-I’m in love with you and if you really kill yourself I think I’ll kill myself too. I-I won’t forgive you, and I won’t forgive myself either.”
He could feel tears welling in his eyes. He really couldn’t do anything right.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry, because for you sorry means suicide, apparently.”
He threw the covers off, sitting up and staring into the space between Yoohan’s face and shoulder. “I-I don’t know what else to do. I really don’t know what else to do. Everything I do hurts people no matter what I do,” he sobbed, finally looking at his Probe’s masked face and meeting those crying, moon-gray eyes. “Wouldn’t it be better if I was dead? I-it’s all I can think about, all the time. All I want to do is die. It’s the safest option. I’ll do less damage when I’m dead.”
“When have you ever hurt anyone directly? The only way I’ve ever seen you hurt anyone is hurting yourself.”
“I-I do. All the time.”
Yoohan stared him straight in the eyes. “Give me an example.”
“I-I-“
“I’m waiting.”
“But it’s only because, because I hurt myself that I don’t hurt other people. It’s self control. It-it takes so much every day just to stop myself. I’m dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a Mono. We kill people.”
“If you did literally any research that wasn’t sensationalist headlines, you would know the people Monos kill are usually themselves. I’ve researched it. You’re not evil, you’re mentally ill!”
“Mentally ill people are dangerous!”
“To themselves!”
“I-I’m obsessive. I’m crazy. I’m obsessed with you.”
“You are obsessive. Obsessive-compulsive. You’re obsessed with the idea of being obsessed!” Yoohan ripped his mask off. “Beloved, I am literally begging you to do any form of research that doesn’t feed your self-hatred. You need help! And don’t you dare say you don’t deserve it.”
Yeonwoo blinked away the rainbow aberrations in his vision. The world flooded with color. The white of the sheets, the yellow of the light, the pink of Yoohan’s face, the deep brown of his eyes flushed with tears. He looked away.
“No. Look at me. Look at what you’ve done to me.” Yoohan’s hands forced his chin to face him. They dropped, fingering Yeonwoo’s sleeves. He flinched away, and Yoohan’s tears fell. “No. I know you do it. Show me. Show yourself.” He forcefully grabbed his arm, forcing the sleeve of his striped turtleneck up. Yoohan grimaced. “Look at you. Look at how many there are,” he warbled. “When did you do this? You’re bleeding.”
Yeonwoo examined his mangled wrist in full color with a clinical sort of detachment. So that’s what blood looked like. “Pretty.”
Yoohan’s hand met his cheek so hard it was more painful than the cuts. “ Pretty? That’s pretty? If that was my arm would it be pretty?”
Yeonwoo jerked his wrist back and pulled his sleeve down. “No!”
“Then why is it pretty?”
“I-I don’t know. I’ve never seen blood like that before. I like the color.”
Yoohan stormed off into the bathroom and returned with a disposable hotel razor. “I’ll show you blood and you’ll tell me if it’s pretty.”
“Yoohan! Give it to me!”
“No. You watch and you watch good.”
Yeonwoo stood, reaching for Yoohan’s hands. “No!”
Yoohan threw it on the floor. “Fine. I’ve made my point. Do you get it now?”
Yeonwoo bit his lip. “You’re-you’re different than me.”
“How. Explain it to me, or I’m going to do it.” He picked up the razor.
Yeonwoo opened his mouth. “And if you say it’s because you’re a Mono I’ll do it twice.”
Yeonwoo closed his mouth. Yoohan ground his jaw, met his eyes, nodded, and slid his thumb sideways across the blades in one swift movement Yeonwoo couldn’t stop.
“Yoohan-ah!” Yeonwoo rushed to his side, snatching the razor and throwing it across the room.
Yoohan gave him a thumbs up, blood dripping towards his palm. He smiled bitterly. “Well? Is it pretty?”
Yeonwoo shook his head, taking his hand gingerly. “I-it’s so ugly I can’t stand it.” He sobbed. “Here, let’s wash it.”
“Do you get it now? Do you wash yours?”
“I-I get it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he muttered, guiding his Probe to the bathroom and running his thumb under the faucet on hot. Yoohan hissed, and Yeonwoo continued muttering tearful apologies into his hair. He turned the faucet off, finding the first aid kit and dabbing antiseptic on the wound. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” he mumbled as he searched for a bandaid. Yoohan sat on the counter and Yeonwoo came back with a bandaid and knelt to take his hand.
“Do you do this for yourself?”
Yeonwoo didn’t answer, just secured the bandaid and put pressure on it, and pressed a hesitant kiss to the meat of his palm.
“Yeonwoo. Do you do this for yourself? Look at me.” Yoohan used his other hand to guide Yeonwoo to face him. His face was ringed in a rainbow halo. Yeonwoo shook his head.
“Aiyahhh, all that is worse than a little cut.” Yoohan’s eyes scattered across his face, settling on his lips with a weak smile. “My beautiful, pretty Yeonwoo…” His free hand wiped away Yeonwoo’s tears. “I’ve done my research. I always do my research when it comes to you. I know I can’t make you promise not to hurt yourself just yet, but will you let me do this for you when you do?”
“I-I-“
“Call me next time. Any time. Even if you just want to, but especially if you want to hurt yourself. I’ll bandage you up, I’ll sing you a new song and teach you new colors.”
“W-why?”
Yoohan smiled ruefully in a way that made the corners of his lip twitch down. “Because I love you, idiot.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re lovable. You’re kinder than you know and you’re smart and you’re the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
Yeonwoo shook his head, standing and throwing out the bandaid wrapper and putting the first aid kit away. “I’m not.”
“You are. Because you’re my Mono.” Yoohan grinned. “It’s romantic, isn’t it? One look at me and your world bursts into colors you’ve never seen. That’s love. I think that’s how love is for everyone, not just Monos. I think Monos just show it better.”
Yeonwoo evaded eye contact. “Monos kill the people they love.”
“One out of every ten thousand. You know how many kill themselves? One in ten. You can look it up. If you don’t I’ll send it to you. I’ll send you the suicide helpline number. I’ll send you links to special Mono therapists, and if you’re good I’ll send you nudes.”
He felt his eyes widen. “Go Yoohan!”
“That got you to look at me. Your ears are red. Cute.” Yoohan’s hand reached for his ear and he turned his head away. He frowned. “You still don’t believe me.”
“I don’t-I’m not-“
“You do and you are. You can’t deny fate, Yeonwoonie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Yoohan laughed. “Would aegyo be better? I’m good at it.” He said, making a finger heart and winking.
Yeonwoo pursed his lips around a smile. “Gross.”
He dropped the aegyo and gave a rueful smile. “You’re smiling. That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in a long time.” His eyes dropped to his lips. “They’re so pretty…” he whispered. He met his eyes again. “Can I kiss you?”
Yeonwoo blinked. “Um.”
Yoohan leaned in, his red-tinted lips brushing Yeonwoo’s own. “You’re cute. I like you. Love you-“
Something inside Yeonwoo snapped and he pressed his lips clumsily to Yoohan’s, closing his eyes and watching color explode even in darkness. Yoohan’s lips moved against his own, slow and firm yet soft and tasting lightly of the cherry flavor in his lip mask. Yeonwoo’s knees went weak and Yoohan caught him by the waist and pulled him closer as his neck lolled and their lips finally separated.
“Jagiyah? Are you okay?”
Okay? He was having the most intense color rush of his life, lightheaded and panting and squinting his eyes shut as every muted color of the hotel bathroom became neon-bright.
“Color rush,” he mumbled, slumping fully into Yoohan’s arms before passing out.
He woke with Yoohan’s arm across his chest, wrists bandaged, legs tangled with his own and free hand caressing his hair. The reflexive panic set in, body and mind screaming to get away, get away before you hurt him-
Yoohan’s arm held him tighter and pulled him back to his chest. “Please, don’t move. I need to feel you to know this is real. I-a part of me still thinks you’re dead, Yeonwoo-yah,” he whispered. “Please don’t scare me like that again.”
Yeonwoo took a deep breath. “I still don’t know how…to live…”
“That’s okay. I’ll just love you until you do, and then I’ll love you more.”
Yeonwoo breathed in, mouth opening-
“Don’t ask why. I will, I can’t help it. I don’t need a reason.”
He closed it. “I-I’ll try. I’m so…so scared. I’m scared to love you.”
“That just proves you do. Sleep, love.”
Yeonwoo stared at the wall, counting breaths until he drifted off to sleep in his Probe’s arms.