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He was littered with scars. They danced on his arms like little ballerinas with insatiable, wild dreams. Yoo Myeongwoo didn’t have any of the sort -dreams that is- long resigned to simply dwelling at the bottom. He wasn’t ashamed of his scars -not all of them anyway. Sometimes, they almost made him proud. They were his proof. A testament to how hard he had worked and how far he had come. His scars were the confirmation of reality.
Such was not the case today. Today, they were insufferable, inching across his body like maggots. It took everything not to crawl out of his skin then and there. His fingertips tentatively flickered over his now red forearms, and he could almost imagine silk-smooth skin beneath them. Instead, his arms were dented, his hands callused, his body rough.
He shut the water off. Suddenly the bathroom became all the quieter, a stark contrast to the roar of his mind. The shower curtain shrieked when he pulled it. No amount of scrubbing could rid his ever-permanent marks. The air was just as humid and suffocating as he felt, fogging up the mirror like a curtain. Perhaps it was for the best.
Sighing, he collapsed on his bed. His alarm clock ticked rhythmically by his bedside. It was nearly four in the morning. Really, he hadn't meant to stay up so late, yet consciousness plagued him regardless. He had half a mind to give up on rest altogether, though he supposed Yoojin would be upset if he did.
The pillow beneath his head found its way over his face, muffling his groan. His eyes close. He should try, at the very least, although he doubts his efforts would reap much fruit. Turning over on the mattress he pulled a weighted blanket over him.
The forge is peaceful. In a way, it was his escape. As loud as it was it drowned out all thoughts. For every clang of metal that rang through his ears, another thought fades into the background. Sleep did not come. As much as he wanted it to, his eyes still vehemently refused to shut.
He wasn't too sure what he was doing yet. All that he truly knew were the repetitive motions required for the project.
Soon enough, hours had passed. Time had flown quickly, as if eager to get away. The blacksmith sighed and leaned back on his chair. He never remembers the time he spends working. Too much of it is spent with his mind empty and drained. You don't typically need to think very prolifically with this kind of work. Perhaps that was yet another facet of his love for the craft.
At this point, he’s not too sure he even remembers why he was upset, the feelings having long washed away. The forge did its job well. Now though, in the silence, Myeongwoo stared at his callused hands. Somewhere along the line, he had cut himself.
An ugly gash sliced across the side of his palm. It was a wonder how he didn't notice before. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it would scar. If it would become yet another morbid decoration on his body. He grimaced. The scar would be ugly, but he was never meant for pretty things.
Almost hazardously, he wrapped his hand in gauze. For every fibre his blood dyed the pristine white, he added a layer until not a spec of red could be seen. Forcefully, he averted his attention. Another sigh. He’s been doing that a lot today.
On one of his desks held the days' worth of creations he had whipped up. A short sword, a set of rings, and a pair of daggers laid out innocently upon it. He’d give something to everyone maybe, then sell the rest.
Nearly flinching at the strain, he picked up the rings. They were all made in similar styles and he quite liked them. Jewelry wasn't exactly his speciality after all. He placed them all in a box. If he remembers correctly, Yoojin was looking for a stat-boosting ring. Although he’s not too sure it would still be appreciated. He’s likely already found another ring.
Still, he closed the box and placed it to the side for the other. A stone caught the corner of his eye. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it yet, as it was only brought in an hour ago. He glanced at the clock. One more couldn't hurt. Perhaps a great sword this time.
Yoo Myeongwoo was missing. Well- not really, truly missing. Rather Yoojin simply hasn't seen him.
Most mornings Myeonwoo would make breakfast for the both of them. They would sit, talk and laugh about just about anything. He’s always been head over heels for the blacksmith’s food, even the slight whiff of their aromas could send him to his knees. Even the thought could have him just about drooling like a starved dog.
That being said, in Myeongwoo’s place today was none other than a bento box adorned with a yellow sticky note.
“I hope you enjoy this meal. I apologize for not being there to enjoy it with you. I am at the forge if you need me.”
The food was already cold. He huffed, what time did this man even wake up this morning? Throwing the box into the microwave, he stood by the kitchen island.
It wasn't uncommon for the man to be found working away in his forge by any means. Oftentimes he would spend hours on end forging, foregoing all other needs in pursuit of the clangs and scrapes of metal. Yoojin has had to drag him out of the forge on far more than one occasion.
Typically, he would wait the dawn to do so. Although typically, the blacksmith didn’t leave until after breakfast. Still, he wasn't too worried. Really, he wasn't! Myeongwoo is a fully, wholly grown man and can perfectly well take care of himself.
Then again, maybe he should check on him earlier than usual today. Who knows what ungodly hour he decided to leave their magnificent and wondrous abode... Knowing the blacksmith, Myeongwoo was probably overworking himself over a single piece again. Or perhaps a set. He was so very talented. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say the other’s craftsmanship rivalled even the works of gods. Or, well at least a demigod.
He sighed. Regardless, he should wait a few hours at least before fretting at all. Worry wasn’t a good look on him. Nodding to no one in particular, he resolved to let the other work until dinner. Maybe he would even treat the both of them. He nodded again, closing his eyes this time. Peace tilted her head at him.
Humming, he pulled his food out from the microwave just a second short of hearing its unholy beeping.
A melodic chime pulled him from his mind. Huh. Would you speak of the devil. (Or angel? He's not totally sure Myeongwoo could be a devil if he tried.)
/Would you like rings /
/?/
The text was followed shortly by an image of no short of five rings, presumably with a plethora of attributes and stats each. One of them in particular was exactly his style, a simple black band with a nearly unnoticeable engraving. He smiled giddily and nearly contemplated proposing to the blacksmith with one of those rings. He messaged Myeongwoo back.
/!!!/
/yes, please!/
/you can bring it home when y-/
Before he could so much as send his message, a whoosh sounded from behind him, accompanied by a light and Myeongwoo stepped out with a few clicks of his heels. Why does every s-class do this? Or at least some variant of this. Is it suddenly a trend to appear from thin air? To fly through windows? To open portals? Could it be part of the trade? He supposed he wouldn't know.
“Ah! You're here!” Peace perked up as he turned around to greet his friend. The other smiled, “I am.”
“Come on, sit down.” He pats the seat next to him, “You look tired. Did you at all sleep last night?”
The blacksmith took a seat, and he took the opportunity to take the man in. His dark circles ran deep and his hair messy. He’s certainly looked worse, but there was a telltale weariness to his voice and demeanour.
Myeongwoo shifted his gaze, “Here are the rings I made you.” He narrowed his eyes at the other suspiciously but otherwise had his attention diverted to the box placed in his hands. Yoojin wouldn't force him to talk right now, but this certainly wasn't the end of the conversation.
The blacksmith looked on and he lifted the lid. They were all beautiful. He tried one on. The black band from before gave him and additional seventy points towards his stats. Giddy, he smiled and looked at the blacksmith.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it. Your skills truly are one of a kind!" He laughed as the other's face coloured slightly. Yoojin eyed the small band fondly.
"Hey, you should try one on too, Myeongwoo. You made them after all. You should be able to enjoy the fruit of your labour too!" He shoved the blacksmith lightheartedly and with a chuckle, only to freeze when his friend winced and moved his hands away. The action, despite being made to hide, only served to draw his attention to the bandaged palms.
In a swift motion, his hands found their way to the other's wrist. He almost regretted his haste when he heard a sharp intake of air shortly following his actions. "Where.." He hesitated, lightly drifting his thumb across reddening wraps. "How did this happen...?"
Myeongwoo avoided his gaze as though it were the plague. "..just an accident in the forge." A short laugh followed in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Unfortunately, that doesn't work very well when one is as tense as him. When one's right hand is squeezed as tight as him. Yoojin could almost feel the crescents digging into his own palm.
Gentler this time, he took hold of his friend's other hand. He pressed a thumb into the palm until the other relaxed his near-unyielding grip. "Stay here. I'll go get new wraps." He stood and Myeongwoo was left alone.
Should anyone ask, let it be known that this has not been the most painful wound he has ever gotten, nor will it be the last. Likewise, this day has not been his worst, despite all his troubles, nor will it be the last terrible day. Myeongwoo is not a stranger to feeling "down" and his body has served as his medallion of proof. The unfamiliar feeling is how his stomach stirred as he watched Yoojin's brows furrow in worry.
When he finally came back with a new gauze in hand, he found Myeongwoo deep in thought. He sat on the couch, rigid as ice and his face hard as stone. The frown etched into his face almost seemed painted if not for the narrowing of his eyes. They stuck to his hands, yet they did not watch his wound. Instead, they found their way to every other blemish adorning his arms.
Flick! "You'll give yourself a headache from frowning too much. Or worse, your face will be stuck like that forever! What was it they called it? ...You'll be stuck with a.. resting bitch face!" Yoojin jokingly scolded the other as he flicked his forehead. The suffocating tension that engulfed his face instantly melted.
As he knelt to attend to his friend's injuries, the other's eyes widened, and his back straightened.
"Ah-, Yoojin I can wrap it myself.." The blacksmith lightly pushed his elbows up, encouraging him to stand back up. His actions were swiftly shut down with a quick stare.
"..Just let me do this for you." Myeongwoo's voice died in the back of his throat and his would-be-nurse settled on the floor.
The silence was calm. The ruffles of movement on Yoojin's end were one of the very few sounds permitted by the air as he unwrapped his bloodied bandage. The silence was almost uncomfortable the way it squeezed his chest. In the back of his mind the silence, this silence, was warm. The methodic breathing and shuffling of his friend was peace-inducing. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't the silence that curled around his chest. Instead, it was the tenderness in the other's eye and the careful movement of his hands. It was the way Yoojin watched him and kept vigilant for hints of pain. It was the way he had immediately offered to help him with his cut.
Yoojin's hands were soft. They glided carefully over his wound like a figure skater on ice. “Does it hurt?” He broke the quiet.
Myeongwoo shook his head. His hand stung a little as the other cleaned it, yet much easier to tolerate than when he had done it himself. The two of them fell into silence once more.
“Yknow, you should pay more attention to these kinds of stuff..” He said it in almost amusement, likely attempting to lighten the mood once more. Perhaps it has become a habit of his.
He chuckles “Says you.”
The other looked at him incredulously for a second before his expression dropped in resignation, mind flashing to the numerous times he's been caught in much for harmful situations, “That's-.. a fair point. But still, you know what I mean.” He gave a pointed look in punctuation. They both laughed.
His wound was now freshly wrapped in pristine white gauze, yet the one who wrapped them remained on the floor. As the laughter died, and their smiles faded, Yoojin held the blacksmith's wrist in contemplation.
Myeongwoo didn't say a word when the other's eyes wandered from his hand to his arms, leaving their trail in the scrunch of his face. He said nothing when he pulled his arm closer and nothing when his thumbs worked their way up from the veins of his wrist. Again, he said nothing when Yoojin looked up at him in question.
He's not sure how long they stayed like that. Yoojin continues tracing his scars with his thumbs. Part of him wants to pull away, to run and hide. It wouldn't be a surprise, would it? It's not exactly shocking for a coward to run. He knows what his scars look like. He knows what they are. He knows Yoojin knows. And he so badly wishes he didn't. Yet something stops him, acting as if a blockade of iron. And so he remains still.
Eventually, he works up the ability to speak. His friend's face does not move, as if his voice was to be expected. And perhaps it was. Yoojin has always been observant.
"It was the day of my awakening." His face may not have changed but the porcelain stillness of his hands gave him away.
"I'd done it before then, but not since," Myeongwoo looked at the lingering ghosts of his past cuts blankly. Disconnected. "I got my ability right after."
If the other had anything to say about his retellings, he didn't show it. In fact, he didn't even look at him. Instead, it seemed his sole focus attached themselves to his arms.
The blacksmith hesitated for a moment, his words stuttering, barely hanging on the tip of his tongue. Then they fell."..- it was just a bad day. It wasn't like I hadn't had a bad day before, but it was just so much worse? My bones ached just a little more. My stomach growled just a little bit louder and I was.. just a little bit more useless." Every word, every thought he's dying to talk about spilt out of him like water from a faucet. He went on for god knows how long.
He told his dear friend all of it. He detailed every moment, every encounter of that day. He told him of the grouchy old man he had run into, of the boys who had pushed him around, of the children playing in the park. He told him of the server who had snuck him just a bit of extra food, and of the other server who had caught him. He told of the cuts, how every one had burned so good he almost smiled. He told him how he had awakened after that, of how shame burned in the deepest pits of his stomach as he stared at the ugly mess that was himself.
When he finished, the only remainder of his voice until further notice was heavy breathing echoing from deep within his chest. It was only then that Yoojin looked at him.
"I don't believe that they are shameful. I am upset you ever had to go through such a thing, and should you ever do anything of the sort before calling me first your head will be the first one rolling." He gave him a pointed look before continuing, "Your scars are anything but ugly nor shameful."
And gods if he didn't want to believe it. He wanted to do so so badly. Yoojin's eyes carried a heavy sincerity within them, shining just a bit too brightly. His disbelief must have shown though because his friend continued.
"...I think it is your scars that show you are strong. Not all of them are from you, right." It wasn't a question. "Some of them are from the forge, born from your determination. Your scars are your story. They do not define it, but they are very much a part of you... If you'll have me, I would listen to every part." The hand on his wrist squeezed tighter and fresh tears bloomed in his eyes. Myeongwoo said nothing. No words from way to his lips. No word could express the lump of emotion lodged in his chest.
Kiss. Yoojin's lips were as soft as his hands. Fat, glistening tears rushed down his face as his friend kissed his knuckles.
"...If it is any consolation, I do think you are very pretty with your scars."
Myeongwoo sobbed.
