Work Text:
“Today’s activity,” the teacher said brightly, “is about expressing your emotions through art.”
The classroom groaned.
Paints were handed out.
Brushes.
Blank canvases.
At the front, the instructor smiled warmly.
“Don’t think too hard. Just paint what’s in your heart.”
At the back of the classroom, Ijin stared at his blank canvas.
*What’s in your heart.*
He didn’t move.
Didn’t pick up the brush.
Because what was inside him… wasn’t simple. And definitely not easy to paint.
.
.
.
.
Around him, the other students had already started.
Bright colors.
Messy strokes.
Flowers.
Sunsets.
Normal things.
Seokju leaned over.
“…You’re not painting?”
“I am thinking,” Ijin replied.
Seokju snorted. “That’s dangerous.”
---
The instructor stopped by Ijin’s desk.
“Having trouble?”
“…No.”
“Then just try,” she said gently. “Anything is fine.”
After a moment, Ijin picked up the brush.
Slowly.
Like he was holding something much more dangerous than paint.
He dipped it into black.
---
At first, it was just lines.
Clean. Straight. Careful.
Too careful.
Not like a student painting—more like someone planning something.
Seokju squinted at it.
“…Why does that look like a map?”
Ijin didn’t answer.
The lines turned into shapes.
Buildings.
Broken walls.
Ruins.
Then gray followed.
Ash.
Smoke.
---
The classroom faded away.
For Ijin, it wasn’t a painting anymore.
It was memory.
---
A battlefield.
Cold. Quiet.
There were shapes in the distance. Bodies.
The echo of gunfire that never really left.
Then he painted people.
Not rough sketches.
Every position carefully placed. Every detail deliberate.
Because back then, getting it wrong meant someone didn’t make it back.
At the center was a small group.
Weapons ready. Eyes sharp.
The Numbers.
002 standing slightly ahead, calm and steady.
004 off to the side, relaxed in a way that felt dangerous.
032 just behind, close enough to never be left alone.
Others placed around them, each in the right spot.
And at the front—
Him.
“…Dude,” Jaehyung said quietly.
No response.
“…Dude.”
Still nothing.
“…Why does your ‘feelings painting’ look like a military operation?”
---
Ijin paused.
The brush hovered in the air.
Jaehyung and Hyeokjin were not wrong.
But they were not right either.
This wasn’t a plan.
It was the only way Ijin knew how to remember them.
---
The instructor came back and stopped in front of the painting.
She went quiet.
This wasn’t what she expected.
It wasn’t colorful.
It wasn’t soft.
But it felt… heavy.
“These people,” she said gently, “they matter to you.”
Ijin didn’t look up.
“…Yes.”
She looked closer.
At how they stood—not apart, not alone—but positioned to protect each other.
Even in chaos, they were connected.
Solid.
Unbreakable.
“…It feels lonely,” she said softly.
“…but not completely.”
Ijin’s grip tightened slightly on the brush.
Because that was exactly it.
It was a battlefield.
But it was also the closest thing he had ever had to a family.
Hyeokjin and Jaehyung scratched their heads.
“…So your heart is just war and emotionally constipated soldiers?”
“…Yes.”
“…Yeah, that checks out.”
---
The bell rang.
Students packed up, laughing and comparing their paintings.
Ijin stayed seated for a moment.
Looking at the canvas.
At the Numbers.
At the careful space between them—
not too far, not too close.
A silent rule they all understood.
*Don’t turn on each other.*
Finally, he stood up and left.
---
Seokju, glanced back at the painting.
“…It’s kinda cool,” he muttered. “…also kinda terrifying.”
At the front, the instructor gently set it aside.
Not with the others.
Somewhere separate.
Like it needed more room.