Chapter Text
"Hyung?"
Donghan’s head snapped up, trying to remember where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. Two sets of worried eyes stared back at him, one pair wider, more startled than the other, and Donghan couldn’t help but zero in on the younger man.
Slow. Cautious. Yohan approached him with his hands up, palms facing forward like he knew Donghan was already itching to grab one of the knives he had left on the table.
This was Yohan. Donghan could trust him. Donghan knew he could trust him.
His eyes caught the white bandage wrapped around Yohan’s wrist, and suddenly the desire to reach for his weapons was gone, and Donghan couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch as Yohan reached down to pick up the cigarette from the floor, leaving a small pile of blackened ash that was purposefully left unmentioned as the cigarette was thrown out the window.
“Donghan-ah…Is everything…okay?”
“Fine.” The word was out of Donghan’s mouth before he could even think about it. He blinked, blinked again, trying to clear the spots from his vision to look Yohan in the face. “Just—I guess I’m just still…shaken up,” he breathed out, fingers trembling as he tucked the phone back into his pocket.
He didn’t mention the messages.
Yohan didn’t push it, didn’t really even seem to question it, and Donghan pointedly ignored the way Daehyeon’s eyes narrowed in question. Yohan shuffled forward, taking careful steps before coming to a stop a few feet away and holding his arms out.
Donghan raised an eyebrow, but Yohan didn’t lower his arms.
“Can—Can I…?”
His phone felt like a weight in his pocket, Donghan didn’t even know what to feel. He felt tired, he felt worn down. He felt exposed and raw and like everything was in black and white.
Donghan should be used to that. He should be used to the black anger and the white sadness, living his entire life in the muddied, grey-area in between. But then Yohan had come along, and Daehyeon. Junseo and Yongha and Seokhwa. Daniel.
They brought the color back.
He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Yohan’s. When he was close enough, his arms felt like they were moving with a mind of their own, reaching up to fist in the back of Yohan’s t-shirt as the younger boy pulled him into a hug.
Donghan sighed, turning his face to the side to tuck his forehead against Yohan’s neck. “I don’t know how to do this…”
“Do what, Donghannie?” Daehyeon questioned, smoothing the blankets on the bed back down around him.
Not blame himself, Donghan thought, but the words were lodged in his throat, refusing to make themselves known. He shook his head, not speaking but not fighting as Yohan led him back to the futon. His eyes caught the bandage on his arm once more, and Donghan couldn’t help but feel that ache in his chest again.
They were all so close to death, at any time. Donghan could blink, and when he opened his eyes Daehyeon’s body could be still in front of him. Laying flat on his back, burns marring his skin. A bullethole in his chest.
“Hey, you still with us?”
Donghan blinked, tried shaking his head to clear the heaviness from his eyes as he looked up. Daehyeon was kneeling on the bed in front of him, palms gently cupping either side of his face as he stroked his thumbs over Donghan’s cheekbones.
“Yeah,” he blinked, breathed, breathed, breathed, “Yeah, hyung. I’m still with you.”
The message could be anything. It could be from anyone. It could be a trap. It was definitely a trap. It could be from the same person that hurt Daniel. It had to be from the same person that hurt Daniel. Yoon Jisung had said that they were trying to get to Donghan.
In the night. Donghan would go.
The morning after, Donghan may not return.
This could be his last day with these people.
“Can we—Can we sleep for a bit longer?”
Donghan allowed himself to be folded into Yohan’s arms, mindful of the bandages circling his left wrist, keeping his own arms tucked close to his chest as he felt Daehyeon settle back down behind him. Donghan didn’t flinch as Daehyeon’s hand came to rest over his hip.
This could be the last time Donghan allowed himself to lay in the arms of someone else, to feel like he was something more than a body filled with scars and bad luck, like he was a person worth caring about. Worth saving.
Almost like he could hear the thoughts running through Donghan’s mind, Yohan’s finger traced along the raised lines marring Donghan’s wrist, sending sparks of conflicting sensations through his nerves like lightning.
“I still don’t get it,” Yohan quietly admitted, “And I know it’s a lot to ask, but…please, don’t do this to yourself anymore.”
Donghan felt Daehyeon’s arm tense around him, like he was waiting for Donghan to snap again, but it never happened. Rather, Donghan sucked in a soft breath before blowing it out in a sigh, “Okay, Yohannie. I’ll—I’ll try.”
Yohan squeezed him tighter, Donghan tried not to think about how much more he had to lose than he thought.
No. Donghan wasn’t going to let anymore people that he loved die.
Even if it meant his own life coming to an end in the process.
Any amount of pain would be worth it.
“Donghan-hyung?”
Donghan blinked away the images of soft, black ears and a sleek tail, of sharp canines and green eyes—only to be met with Junseo’s tawny tail swishing and amber eyes blinking at him in confusion.
“Sorry, Junseo,” Donghan muttered, “I was just thinking about something. What were you saying?”
“Huh? Oh—Right, I was talking about what Jisung-hyung said about us returning to the field.”
Donghan tried not to let his body react to the man’s name like it so desperately wanted to, but he couldn’t help the way his shoulders curled inward as he thought about his last conversation with Yoon Jisung. And then the memories that followed.
It had been only a few hours since Donghan had gotten the message from the unknown number, but he felt better about it upon waking up the second time, with Yohan’s body warm against his own. Daehyeon had gotten up before him—something that almost never happened, but Donghan must have been more exhausted than he thought, leaving a note to him (specifically to Donghan, because he knew there was no chance of Yohan waking up first) explaining that he had to meet with Yoon Jisung in regards to the mission they selected.
Donghan couldn’t believe only a night had passed since that conversation, with him and Daehyeon sat cross-legged on either side of the low table as they shuffled papers between them. It felt like an eternity had gone by since that moment, one in which he had lived and died several times over before the cycle could finally be broken.
Donghan was no longer thinking about returning to the field. Gone was the restless energy, the uncertainty and the anxiety. All that was left was a quiet calm.
Donghan wasn’t thinking about returning to the field, because Donghan likely wasn’t going to be returning at all.
The person that had messaged him. The person that had hurt Daniel. Donghan was going to kill them. He was going to make sure they suffered at his hands, if it was the last thing he did.
That may very well be the case.
“You seem distracted,” Junseo tilted his head to the side, ears flicking ever so slightly, “We can stop, if you’d like? Sparring when distracted is never good. You told Yongha that the other week, didn’t you?”
Donghan hummed, “Yeah…I guess I did.” He dropped his stance, letting his shoulders roll back as he walked over to the bench lining the wall, patting the seat next to him until Junseo scurried over. Donghan watched with a foreign sort of fondness as Junseo’s tail instinctively lifted to wrap around his waist when he sat down.
He was disappointed that he’d likely never get to see Junseo in a full shift, but Donghan was still proud of all the progress the younger man had made in such a short amount of time, and he didn’t shy away from saying that.
“Really? You really think so?” Junseo looked to Donghan with surprise written clear across face, but it wasn’t enough to distract Donghan from the way his eyes seemed to light up.
“Yeah, I really do…” Donghan gave him a soft smile, wondering what it would be like to reach a hand out to brush his fingertips against the fur lining one of Junseo’s ears, but ultimately deciding against it as he looked away, catching himself watching Yongha’s form as Yohan tried showing him how to land a solid kick when his opponent wasn’t just standing there.
“You’ve changed a lot too, you know. Since we met you.”
Donghan didn’t turn to Junseo, didn’t really know what he would see if he looked, but the earnest tone of his words was enough to keep him watching Yongha.
“You seemed really cold when you first joined,” Junseo continued on, “I was really confused when I was the only one you were nice to.”
“I wouldn’t call it nice,” Donghan muttered, remembering the way he had still spoken to Junseo in short, clipped sentences. Keeping his explanations brief because he believed the younger boy incapable of truly understanding. He had been wrong, Donghan will admit that. Junseo was an incredibly fast study—He picked up on many of Donghan’s deceptions and fake-outs, despite how naïve his eyes made him appear.
Junseo shrugged, waving Donghan’s comment off with a quick gesture of his hand. “You were the only one that really understood how my quirk worked. Or, the only one that cared enough to show me how I could be useful to the team, when that’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”
Donghan didn’t have the heart to tell Junseo that he was merely recycling the things he’s seen Yongguk do to counter the fact that he didn’t really have the kind of quirk that helped much in combat. Yongguk had been the one to teach Donghan to always trust his instincts, play into the strengths that he did have, rather than focusing on the things he wasn’t able to do.
“Now, when you smile…it’s…it's not always sad. Sometimes I would look over at you, and you would be looking off at nothing, with a look like you were thinking about someone you really loved. Someone you really missed.” Junseo kicked his legs out in front of him, Donghan just barely caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. “Now we know why, because you talk to us now, but back then…I never really knew what you were thinking. I still don’t, but I think Yohan does. Sometimes. And I think that’s why the two of you are so close.”
Donghan tried not to let Junseo’s musings affect him physically, but then his eyes drifted to where Yohan was shouting something at Yongha over the top of the kick pads he was holding in each hand, but Donghan wasn’t listening to what he he was saying. No, he was paying more attention to the furrow between Yohan’s eyebrows, the tense set to his jaw that reminded Donghan that he wasn’t the same kid he had seen that day, all those years ago.
And then his gaze caught the stark white of the bandage wrapped around his wrist, and memories of his own blood-stained hands flashed in front of his eyes, just for a moment, before the memory of the heat that had been rolling off Yohan in waves in the early morning patted those sparks down before they could ever become a flame.
“And then there’s Daehyeonnie-hyung. He’s never really had someone he could count on, either. None of us really had any sort of eye for decision-making, so Hyung has been shouldering that burden on his own for a while. He seems more relaxed now that he knows he doesn’t have to be the only one making those kinds of choices anymore.”
Donghan thought back to Daehyeon’s fumbled ‘I, uh, respect your opinion?’ from the night before. His chest grew even warmer at the memory.
“None of us really knew what was going to happen to the team before you came. I think it’s not a stretch to say that we all feel safer with you here.”
“You’re a smart kid,” Donghan sighed, finally turning to look at Junseo as he propped his chin on his palm, elbow resting on his knee, “You’ll be fine. All of you. I know you will.”
Junseo nodded. Finally turning his sharp eyes away from Donghan, now he was the one watching as Yongha attempted to kick at the pad Yohan was holding around shoulder-height.
“We’ll be fine,” Junseo repeated, “All of us.”
Donghan wished he could personally make sure of that.
“Hey, Donghan?”
“Hm?” Donghan’s eyes flicked up for a moment, just long enough to catch sight of Yongha’s sheepish expression before dropping back to the knife he had been working on sharpening.
It wasn’t the same one that Yohan had used. No, that one had been kicked under the futon at some point, Donghan didn’t really have any plans to lay his hands on it anytime soon.
“What’s up?” He asked again. After several seconds of Yongha’s silence, Donghan gave the blade one final glance before placing it and the whetstone he had been using down, “You look like Yohan really did a number on you.”
Yongha snorted, slumping back against the wall, “God, you have no idea. I’m so jealous of how easy you can keep up with him. No one’s even been able to touch him in hand-to-hand, let alone actually beat him. I'm useless when you take my guns away.” Yongha looked down at his feet, past his crossed arms and at the point where he was scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor. “Actually, I’ve…I’ve been thinking.”
Donghan was about to quip something back—A very Seokhwa-sounding voice in the back of his head supplied an unhelpful ‘Really? That’s a first.’ But the look on Yongha’s face made him second guess himself long enough for Yongha to barrel on.
“Do you ever feel like you’re doing this for all the wrong reasons?”
Donghan let the words settle over them before huffing out a quiet chuckle. Yongha looked just as surprised at the sound as Donghan did.
“All the time,” Donghan breathed out, watching the way Yongha’s face seemed to fall at his answer, like he hadn’t really prepared himself to hear that. “Considering the sole reason I started doing this was because I hated the Hero-system and wanted to tear it apart.”
“But now you are one.”
Donghan shook his head, “I’m not. I’m just pretending to be one. There’s nothing heroic or noble about the things I do, trust me. Why? Do you think you’re doing it for wrong reasons?”
“I—” Yongha sighed, cutting himself off as he turned back to look over his shoulder before dropping his gaze back to the ground, “I’m…not like you and Yohan are. Or even Daehyeon-hyung. I’m not doing it because I’ve lost someone important to me, or because I genuinely care about saving people. Not—Not that I don’t. Care, I mean. I do care, but if the world was one Hero short, would it really make much of a difference? If it was me? I’m only doing this because I thought it would give me an easy life.”
“How wrong you had been, huh?” Donghan muttered, smiling slightly when it earned a snort from Yongha, “The fact that you’re still here already goes to show that your heart is more in it than you may think it is. You expected an easy life, is that what you got?”
Now it was Yongha’s turn to shake his head.
“And, yet, you’re still here. That’s gotta mean something, right?”
There wasn’t much sound other than Yongha scuffing his shoe against the wooden floor, eyebrows drawn forward and mouth moving around silent syllables, like he was attempting to take Donghan’s words apart before piecing them back together.
“I…guess I never really thought about that before,” Yongha mumbled, “But what else would I even do? What else would I be good at?”
“What else have you tried? If you don’t put effort and time into something, you can’t expect to be good at it.”
Yongha mumbled something that Donghan wasn’t quite able to catch, causing him to prompt the younger man to repeat himself.
“Yohan doesn’t have to try,” Yongha mumbled, still knocking the toe of his boot against the wood. Donghan couldn’t help but chuckle at the outright petulance that Yongha didn’t often show.
He picked the knife back up, keeping his eyes on Yongha, pressing his finger against the tip as he rotated the handle. “Well, you’re not Yohan. Nobody is Yohan except for Yohan, which is probably for the best,” Donghan drew in a breath before letting it out as a sigh, “Heroes like him…they don’t make it without a team. What Yohan lacks in sense, he makes up with in power. That’s why he needs you guys,” he pointed the knife at Yongha, unsure as to why the brief flash of fear in the younger man’s eyes nearly made him falter before continuing, “There’s different ways to be strong, Yongmun-ssi. Yohan is the only one of us that doesn’t have an Emitter-type quirk,” Donghan then pointed out, taking the knife between his fingers to dangle it by the blade, “Not including Junseo, of course. By Mutant-type quirks have their own faults.”
Kenta had been a Mutant-type. Donghan tried not to think about that.
He flicked his wrist. The knife was no longer between his fingers.
Between one breath and the next, everything stopped. The air felt still, heavy, Donghan could feel it pressing down on him, weighted in a way that he still wasn’t quite sure how to explain.
“W-Why would you—”
Yongha was standing straighter now, with his back pressed against the wall and eyes crossed as he stared down the blade that was pointed directly between his eyes. He reached a shaking hand to wrap around the base. The moment his fingers touched it, the heaviness in the air was gone, the world around them regaining that sense of life that it had lost for those few seconds.
“Because I knew you’d be able to stop it,” Donghan shrugged, leaning back on his hands and pretending like his ears weren’t buzzing from Yongha’s quirk.
It was the strangest thing to be a part of, Yongha’s quirk, it made the air around you stale and thick, like walking into a room that had been closed off from everything for years. There was no sound beyond your own voice, when used. Nothing else.
“You know,” he offhandedly started, “The first time you used your quirk on me, I spent about an hour on the rooftop with Daniel. Freaking out.”
“What? Why?” Yongha bristled, worry and confusion replacing the fear and surprise like a switch had been flipped. Donghan wondered when he began preferring people to look at him with worry over fear. When he received no answer for several long breathes, Yongha finally seemed to come back to himself, giving the knife in his hand once last hesitant glance before carefully placing it on the table.
Donghan watched as he settled back against the wall before sliding down it, pulling his knees close to his chest to wrap his arms around, chin settling atop his knees to watch Donghan with the same level of intensity. Yongha’s eyes flicked to his jaw, where Donghan knew the scar curved just under before disappearing.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I would like to know…” Yongha’s lips pressed into a thin line, dropping his gaze, “People don’t really talk about my quirk like it’s anything special. It’s just…it’s a pretty common quirk, you know?”
“It’s not,” Donghan was quick to interject, “Every quirk is different. It doesn’t matter how many people have a time-warping quirk, because it’s all about how you use it.” He swallowed, wringing his hands together, even if only to feel the pressure against the faded bruises on his knuckles, “I’ve been under a few similar quirks, but none have ever felt quite like yours.”
“In—In what way?”
“It had been so fast. I didn’t even realize when it was happening at first. It was like…all of a sudden, all of the noise was just…gone. You don’t realize just how loud silence is until you’re completely surrounded by it.” He hesitated for a second, wondering just how much he should say—But this might be his last chance, this might be the last time he would be able to sit with Yongha and explain himself. “Sanggyun…His illusions—They had that same, sort of, heaviness to them? It caught me off guard, is all.”
Yongha frowned, “That’s not all. There’s more, isn’t there?”
“I…couldn’t feel my heartbeat,” Donghan finally admitted, pressing harder against one of the darker bruises in an effort to keep his voice from shaking, “It just—Once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Yongha looked taken aback, likely no one had ever mentioned that aspect of his quirk. Hell, Donghan wouldn’t be surprised if no one had even noticed it before.
“I don’t know. It’s stupid,” he attempted to backtrack, suddenly feeling like he was admitting something ridiculous, “I don’t know. It—It freaked me out for a second. Got stuck in my head.”
Donghan clamped his jaw shut, pointedly looking anywhere but Yongha in an attempt to make himself stop rambling. It was like the more he regretted even bringing it up in the first place, the more the words pushed themselves to escape.
“And Daniel helped? Why didn’t you…”
Why didn’t you come to us?
Donghan sighed, making a brief aborted mission to grab the knife again, if only to give his hands something to do, his mind something to focus on, before quickly abandoning that idea when he saw how Yongha’s eyes darted to track to motion.
Why didn’t you come to us?
Because he couldn’t. Because he didn’t trust them yet. Because he wasn’t someone that deserved their help.
“Because,” Donghan simply said, “I was scared.”
He wasn’t now. Not anymore.
“Hey, uh…Hyung?”
The voice was Seokhwa’s, far more timid than Donghan was used to hearing it, paired with the sound of socked feet shuffling on the kitchen tile had his attention. “Yeah? What’s up?”
It still felt so strange to be around these people, laughing and joking and mingling like he was a part of their team, and maybe he was. Maybe Donghan had finally found his place in life. This was the most comfortable he’s been in years, the ghosts followed him a little less closely, the shadows pressed a little less heavily. Even on the nights he woke up from the sight of dead eyes and blood on his hands, Junseo was quick to shuffle out of his bed to curl up at the foot of Donghan’s, no questions asked and no words passed between them, just the warm weight of Junseo’s legs kicked over his own and the steady sound of his breathing when he fell back asleep just as fast.
And then there had been last night. With Daehyeon and Yohan. Whatever that had been.
Donghan could see himself being happy here, but he knew he didn’t deserve to be.
“I…I just got off the phone with my mother…” Seokhwa hesitated, looking all the while like the last thing he wanted to be doing was speaking with Donghan, which didn’t really make sense for a number of reasons. Including the fact that he himself had been the one to initiate the conversation.
Donghan hummed, letting Seokhwa know that he was listening as he resumed scrubbing the plate he had been holding.
“Maybe it’s…insensitive of me to ask this, but how are you so…so…unafraid? Of dying?”
His arm stilled before the words could even register, resuming its motion only after he forced himself to continue on like Seokhwa was talking about something as trivial as the weather. “And…?” Donghan gently prompted, unsure of how to speak to Seokhwa when the younger boy didn’t have his usual snark. “How…How is she?”
“Okay, I guess. She wants me to come home.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Donghan heard Seokhwa let out a sigh, sounding like there was far more he wanted to say, but no way to say it. He wrung the sponge out, reaching his arm into the water to drain the sink before grabbing a towel to dry his hands off. “How is she, really?” He repeated, turning around to face Seokhwa and leaning back against the counter. He could feel his shirt growing slightly damp from the water that had splashed out while he was washing the dishes, but made no effort to move.
Seokhwa was still visibly hesitating, looking anywhere but Donghan’s eyes—And, really, he should have done something with this group and their inability to lie before leaving, but hindsight was 20/20 and Donghan probably had far too many ‘should-have’s with this group than he wanted to think about.
“She wants me to come home, she said. It’s—She doesn’t want me doing this anymore.”
Donghan’s lips pressed together, “She’s worried about you?”
Seokhwa nodded, arms coming up to cross in front of his chest in a semi-defensive manner, “She’s scared, I think. Of me getting hurt. I’m her only son, and I’m the youngest,” he explained, before letting out another sigh and finally looking Donghan in the eyes, “It had me thinking. About what would happen if I got hurt. Who I would be leaving behind. And I—I just…How do you do it?”
“Do you want the truth?”
Again, Seokhwa nodded, hands anxiously rubbing together in front of himself, glancing around before finally pulling out one of the chairs to sit. Donghan mirrored the action, taking a seat across the younger man in an effort to avoid making him feel crowded.
“Well, I guess I’ve always found it easier to…run away,” Donghan murmured, “I haven’t spoken with my mother in years. I wasn’t even thinking about how she’d take it if I left, I just knew that I—I couldn’t handle the looks anymore.”
Seokhwa let out a small sound, and when Donghan raised his head to look at him, his peachy-toned eyebrows were drawn forward, sadness painted clear on his face.
“It wasn’t anything…bad. She just—I reminded her of my father. My quirk. I got it from him,” Donghan explained, voice low and soft and raw in a way that came with admitting something out loud for the first time, “It drove him mad, and I think—I think she was always waiting for me to snap just like him.”
And maybe he had. Maybe Donghan had been mad from the moment he had gotten his quirk, developing around the time his father had left them. Maybe that had been the first sign of his terrible, rotten luck.
“I didn’t want her to see that, if I did, so I left.”
“You…You make it sound so easy…” Seokhwa frowned.
And it had been. Easy, that is, but Donghan couldn’t really give a much better answer than a dry laugh, “It was. I left a letter and I was gone by the morning.”
“But—How? How could you just…do that?”
Donghan shrugged, “If I left, packed up and disappeared like I had never been there, then I thought that maybe…maybe she would just forget about me. If I didn’t leave any painful memories for her to carry with her, it would be easier to let me go. I just…didn’t want to see her cry anymore.”
He tried not to think about her. She had loved him, Donghan never doubted that for a moment, but that love had been filled with fear and anguish and bittersweet memories. It had been hurting her more than anything, and Donghan couldn’t bear to lay witness to her rushing to wipe the tears from her face when he came home to see her sat at the kitchen table, folded papers in front of her with numbers that he hadn’t quite understood the significance of, at the time.
She always hesitated before touching him, like she was afraid of him, but Donghan had been just a kid. A child, one with a quirk that brought nothing but misfortune. He had been a kid, and he never understood why his mother didn’t love him like the other kids’ parents did.
He learned quickly, though. It wasn’t long after that he stopped reaching out for her, stopped seeking out comfort from her when he realized it brought her nothing but pain.
“It was…better. That way.”
“Was it? Better, I mean,” Seokhwa’s voice was quiet, eyes following his finger as it traced nonsensical patterns on the wooden table. “How could you know it was better? What if…What if she misses you?”
He looked back up at Donghan, expression still sad but gaze now hardened, as though he was directly challenging Donghan to push back, to get loud and angry like he would have when they had first met.
He didn’t. He wouldn’t.
“Missing a memory of me is better than mourning me while I’m still alive,” Donghan explained, even though he knew Seokhwa would never understand. There was no simple way for him to explain it, no words that he could easily boil the reason down to. But still, he tried.
Tried to explain it, tried to make Seokhwa understand. Because all Donghan had ever wanted was someone that could understand.
That someone had been Daniel, for a while, but it was only a matter of time before he’d lose that, too.
“She looked at me like I was ghost, following her around like a bad omen. So, I became one.”
And he tried to convince himself that he didn’t regret it.
Donghan tried not to think too much about how much lighter everyone seemed, when he let himself laugh and smile and join their joking. Daehyeon looked at him with so much wonder—Every time Donghan would look over at him, he would catch the leader watching him with such raw, unfiltered fondness.
It made his chest ache in the strangest way. Like he was longing for something he hadn’t even lost yet. A feeling that Donghan tried not to let himself dwell in, because he wanted to keep this memory with them as undisturbed by his own thoughts as possible.
“Donghan-ah? What is it?”
“Can we…” Donghan frowned, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he mulled over his words, “Like last night?”
Daehyeon’s fond look only seemed to grow softer at Donghan’s mumbled request. He tipped his head back with a throaty chuckle, making Donghan’s cheeks feel warm and his chest feel warm and his stomach feel warm.
Daehyeon gave him a soft smile, “You mean you want to sleep in the bunker again?” He clarified, “Do you want it to be just us? Or do you want Yohannie with us?”
“Mhm.”
His short response made Daehyeon laugh again, moving forward to take Donghan by the wrist and lead him towards the cozy room. Donghan was surprised to see the futon already made up, with Yohan curled up in the center of it, that same comforter wrapped around him from the night before.
“He’s been having some trouble sleeping, recently,” Daehyeon explained in a quiet voice. Donghan could only nod in understanding.
He went through the motions of unclipping his belt, making sure all of his knives were still in place before he tossed it onto the table. But, on second thought, Donghan felt better leaving them hanging on the doorknob, out of reach of Yohan and any of the stupid decisions he could think of just to prove a point, even if it made a brief flash of apprehension run along his spine at them being so far away while he was asleep.
It would be fine. Realistically, Donghan knew this, but years of sleeping with a knife under your pillow tended to have that kind of effect on you.
Daehyeon had already swapped his clothing out for plain sweat pants and a soft looking t-shirt, Donghan briefly debated removing his sweater, but ultimately decided against it, even though he was more than aware that the two of them knew of the mess that lie underneath.
“Yohannie has some spare clothing in the closet,” Daehyeon offhandedly mentioned, settling into bed next to the aforementioned man, “You two are pretty close in size, so it should be fine. That sweater looks pretty toasty.”
Donghan nodded, uncrossing his arms and forcing himself to look like he didn't feel as out of place as he did. It was fine. Yohan was asleep, and Daehyeon was going to follow soon enough, Donghan shouldn’t worry so much about something as trivial as wearing a short-sleeved shirt to bed. Not when Yohan had ran his finger along the scars that morning, tracing over each one like he was trying to read stories in braille.
It hadn’t made him feel shameful, or disgusted with himself, like Donghan usually did when he looked at the marks.
He decided to throw caution to the wind, tugging the sweater over his head and letting it fall to the floor as he snatched whatever shirt was on the top of the pile, not even realizing the faded 2PM insignia on the front until he was smoothing it down with his hands.
Donghan let out a fond chuckle. He wished he had asked Yohan who his favorite group of Heroes was before now, but he could likely guess based on the amount of merch he had for one group specifically.
There were a lot of things Donghan wished he had taken the time to learn about them, but regret was a waste of time—and it wouldn’t matter in a few hours, anyway. Donghan was going to be gone before the sun rose.
He just wanted to feel safe for one more night.
With soft steps, Donghan made his way over to where Daehyeon was wrapped around Yohan’s back, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress as he took a moment to commit the sight to memory.
They would be fine without him. They had been fine without him before, despite what Daniel claimed. Donghan came in and taught them whatever he could—Junseo was so much more sure of himself now, and he wasn’t disillusioned enough to keep himself from knowing that had been due to him, but he’d be fine on his own now. They all would be, Donghan had no doubt about that.
Daehyeon and Yohan would have one another, and the others as well. Donghan’s departure wouldn’t leave a lasting effect on them. They would be fine.
Unconsciously, Donghan found himself raising a hand to brush Yohan’s bangs out of his face, but quickly stilled when it caused the younger man to sluggishly blink his eyes open.
“Hyung?”
“Hey, Yohannie,” Donghan smiled, “Sorry if I woke you up.”
Yohan hummed, shifting slightly back towards Daehyeon, “S’fine. Wasn’t really asleep yet. Lay down?” The last part was said more as a question than anything else, even as it was mostly slurred with sleep and muffled by a yawn.
Donghan let out a quiet chuckle, peeling back the covers to settle next to Yohan. Immediately, he could feel the heat rolling off the younger man in waves—all he wanted to do was press against him and never leave, but Donghan forced himself to move slower, to savor the moment that he knew may very well be his last.
Yohan was quick to rid them of the space, and the arms around him still felt foreign, but they weren’t too tight or constricting. Rather, they made him feel grounded, secure in a way he wasn’t sure if he’s ever felt before.
“I’m not quite sure when it happened,” Yohan whispered the words against the nape of Donghan’s neck, hot breath ghosting over his skin, making it hard for him to focus on what was even being said, “But…I just want you to be okay, you know? And…”
“And?” Donghan quietly prompted him, like he wasn’t already sure of the answer.
“And you’re not.”
Donghan swallowed, shivering slightly at another breath against his skin. Swallowing again. “I…I really wasn’t,” he admitted, lacing his fingers through Yohan’s, the back of his hand hot against Donghan’s own. “I wasn’t okay, and then I—I met you guys. You’ve all…changed me. So much more than you’ll ever know. So I—I want to…thank you.”
“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” Yohan mumbled, but Donghan could clearly hear that sleep was rapidly pulling him back under, “I don’t…want you to…”
Say goodbye.
It hurt. Donghan’s chest ached thinking about slipping away in a few hours, leaving nothing but cold sheets for Yohan and Daehyeon to wake up to. He hated the thought of leaving them, but he knew it was what he needed to do.
There was a feeling, something he had never been able to put into words, but it was there. It was the same thing he felt before his quirk fully manifested, it was the feeling before their school had been attacked, before Taehyun had been shot, before Hyunbin had jumped, before he had taken the mission with Yongguk. Before Sanggyun had taken Kenta and left him.
When he found out Daniel had been attacked.
It all came down to this same suffocating, dark feeling that Donghan had never fully been able to explain. One that he always boiled down to his awful quirk. So many terrible, fucked up things have happened to the people he’s loved, and it always seemed to be Donghan’s fault.
That was why he needed to leave before he ruined this.
Donghan pulled his jacket tighter. The wind was ruthless in the early hours of the morning, cold biting at any exposed skin it could reach. He wanted nothing more than to return to the warmth he had left just a few hours before, but the bad feeling had kept him from truly being able to hold onto the moment like he had wanted to.
He hadn’t taken anything more than his phone and his knives, the black belt tucked away and hidden under his long jacket, before setting out a few hours before the sun would rise. Initially, he had gotten a ride to the other side of the city, close to where his old team’s base had been, just to see it one last time.
Dawn was beginning to bleed into the darkness, streaks of gold and pink melting into the sky like spilt watercolors. It was beautiful, and painted everything in a shade of rose that felt oddly serendipitous with the situation.
Donghan flicked the cigarette between his fingers, ash falling down at his feet onto the cement. The same road he had last seen Hyunbin on. Body contorted and broken. He swore he could still see the blood staining the sidewalk, but then Donghan would blink and it would be gone. Like it had never been there in the first place.
Like Hyunbin had never existed.
He sighed, snuffing the cigarette out on the wall behind him before pushing off of it. Walking these streets didn’t even seem real. Donghan’s felt like he’s lived so many lives in the short amount of time he’s been in this cruel, cruel world. Each one lasting an eternity on their own, and wearing him down more than the previous one.
Time felt like it was no longer progressing, only the steadily lightening sky let Donghan know the the clock was still ticking, and each moment that passed was another memory that he couldn’t quite manage to leave behind in those previous lives.
The ghosts were following. Donghan could feel them behind him. Yongguk’s joined as he walked along the road where the accident had happened. He could smell the smoke. Hear the screeching of tires. Feel the blood running along the cut on his jaw.
Donghan had wondered along that same road for hours after the accident, just as he was doing now. Walking on the shoulder of the road before Kenta had managed to find him. Bloody and half-conscious, barely seeing anything beyond the smile that Yongguk had given him before everything had shattered down around him.
It felt like it stretched on for hours, and maybe it did, but Donghan had lost count of how many steps he’s taken long ago. His only regret was not being able to stand where he had last seen Taehyun, but that building has been long since gone. Donghan had set it up in flames the first chance he got. Now, in its place sat a gated community that he had no right being in.
That felt like so long ago. So many lives ago, but the memory would be with him forever, long past the day he died.
The daylight was fading again, seemingly just a quick as it appeared. The sun was already making its way towards the horizon, now streaks of navy and wisps of purple bleeding together above him. Out here, it was much easier to make out the stars, where the pollution from the city was just that little bit less, just enough to see their dimming light as the sun went down.
The text had been vague, hadn’t said anything more than to meet at the warehouse, but Donghan didn’t need anything more than that. He knew the warehouse they were talking about, and he was almost certain of what he would find there.
It was sundown by the time the building came into view, spanning far past what Donghan remembered it being the last time he had been here, but the heavy feeling that settled in his stomach was exactly the same. Familiar in a sickening way.
It appeared deserted, but Donghan knew that was never a trustworthy observation to rely on. Even so, Donghan made no move to hide as he walked towards the entrance. There was no reason to. They knew he was coming, and Donghan doubted that they would kill him before speaking with him first.
That was, after all, the reason he had come.
Still, his boots made almost no noise as he walked through the building, both hands close to the knives he had strapped around his waist as he strained his ears for any signs of life.
Nothing.
It was eerily silent. Donghan fought to suppress the shiver that tried to fight its way out, unwilling and unable to take his eyes off the room in front of him. There seemed to be cylinders filled with liquid lining the wall to his right, but it was nearly impossible to make out anything beyond that.
The lights flicked on.
Flooding the building in a pale yellow. Donghan’s eyes struggled to adjust from the darkness of before, leaving him feeling upended as the buzzing above him overtook his senses.
“I almost didn’t think you would show.”
Donghan froze. The knife he was holding clattered to the floor.
He had known. Donghan had known it would be him, had known what face to expect as he walked himself to his own death. He had expected to see a shock of red hair and a sharp, mischievous smile, but that hadn’t prepared him for coming face-to-face with the reality of it.
Sanggyun looked older. Rougher. As worn down as Donghan felt, but there was a dangerous set to his jaw that hadn’t been present before. A wildness in his eyes that haunted Donghan’s nightmares, one that he had always cursed his imagination for conjuring up, but it was real. It was real and it was here and it was Sanggyun.
Donghan struggled to find his voice, and it was still rough and low when he finally managed to, “You knew I would,” he choked out, “You knew I would come. You made sure of it.”
“I didn’t make sure of anything, you did it all on your own,” Sanggyun retorted, taking a step forward. Only then did Donghan notice the cane he was walking with, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the years since he’s last seen the man.
He couldn’t believe the Sanggyun that had pulled pranks on Taehyun with him, the Sanggyun that had taught Donghan how to shoot, the Sanggyun that asked Donghan to help him dye his hair in the middle of the night, was the same man standing before him now.
The closer he came, the more Donghan could see just how much time hadn’t been friendly to Sanggyun. He had scars crisscrossing his knuckles, just like Donghan did, and a deeper, darker one on the side of his face, disappearing under his hair.
He looked so different. Donghan still couldn’t believe it was really him. It felt like, any second now, Donghan would wake up from this nightmare with Yohan’s arms around him and Daehyeon’s gentle voice in his ears.
But he wouldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t. This was real, not a nightmare that Donghan was going to ever wake up from.
“You hurt Daniel,” Donghan murmured, “Why? What did you gain from that?”
He just wanted answers. He just wanted to know why. Why Sanggyun, who had been one of the closest, most important people in Donghan’s life, would have done something like that. He wanted answers, but he was terrified of what he would learn.
Sanggyun chuckled, looking just like he did any time Donghan proposed a prank idea first, “You can be very, very hard to get ahold of. Daniel had been a shot in the dark, truthfully, if only because I knew of Hyunbin’s connections with him. He was never going to be seriously hurt—”
“He was in critical condition,” Donghan snarled, cutting Sanggyun off, “They wouldn’t even fucking let me see him.”
Sanggyun lost the smile, and Donghan was happy to see it go. He hated the way it made him feel, conflicted in the worst sort of way.
“And he means so much to you? Enough to make you forget all about us, I guess.” Sanggyun narrowed his eyes, mouth setting in a tense line before splitting into a snarl. “That’s it, huh? You found a new one to pass all of your bad luck onto and, just like that, you’ve forgotten all about us?”
“You—You fucking left me,” Donghan argued back, “You stabbed me in the back and left me to fucking die here!”
“It’s your fault it happened in the first place!”
Donghan felt like all of the air had been punched out of his lungs.
Sanggyun didn’t seem to care in the slightest. If anything, it brought that maniacal look back as he continued, “You still don’t know what you did, do you? You don’t know how much you fucked my life up.” He took a breath, staring Donghan down with narrowed eyes, “They had been sent after you, you fucking bastard. They had been looking for you, and Kenta had been used as collateral.”
At the mention of Kenta’s name, Donghan felt physically ill, shaking his head like it would do anything to keep Sanggyun from continuing.
“That little bastard from your class had done it. Yeonjun, or whatever the fuck his name was.”
“Was?” Donghan croaked, “What did—”
“What do you think I did? I fucking killed that bastard! His stupid vendetta against you ruined my fucking life,” Sanggyun spat, but his voice sounded just as broken as Donghan felt. “Kenta hasn’t woken up on his own since.”
Donghan watched as Sanggyun circled around him, keeping his eyes on the older man, watching as he walked past Donghan to one of the large cylinders behind him. Now, with nothing preventing Donghan from seeing just what was suspended in the tanks, he was beyond horrified to see Kenta’s face staring back at him.
He looked just like the Kenta that would wake Donghan up from nightmares, or join him on walks late at night, except his eyes were empty and dead, and Donghan could do nothing but watch with dread rapidly filling his chest as the liquid began draining.
Beyond Kenta, there were even more—Bodies of all different types and forms suspended in that same liquid, the tanks now emptying just like Kenta’s was.
“What—What are you trying to do?” Donghan’s voice shook as he asked, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the form in front of him, “Why are you—Why are you doing this?”
Sanggyun didn’t respond. No, he wasn’t even looking at Donghan anymore, now watching Kenta with a look of awe as he took a step out of the container. Donghan tightened his grip on the knife in his hand, if only to keep his fingers from shaking as much, holding his breath as Kenta walked to Sanggyun’s side.
Memories flashed behind his eyes, Donghan struggled to blink them away. To separate the images of Sanggyun and Kenta running alongside him in alleyways—chasing down low-level thugs with smiles on their faces like it was all a game—from the sight of the two of them now, looking ragged and nothing like the people Donghan had once known.
“You took the one person I loved more than anything away from me. I am going to make you hurt like I did.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Donghan tried to desperately reason, but it was all for not. Sanggyun was beyond the point of understanding, and he knew that, but the idea of fighting with him was something Donghan didn’t even want to entertain.
He would have to, he was sure of it, even if it killed the both of them.
Donghan recognized some of the people in these containers. There had been a number of low-level criminals that had disappeared after a string of crimes, completely gone from the watchful eyes of any news broadcasters, even Hero update channels. It was suspected that some Vigilante had gone on a string of takedowns, but there had never been any bodies recovered.
It had been Sanggyun, evidently—and while it looked like the list ended at criminals and grunts, Donghan couldn’t allow it to get any farther than that. He had to stop Sanggyun before it spread, before the hatred consumed him any more and he would start seeking out innocent people.
“Ah, Donghan-ah, you and I both know that’s not true,” Sanggyun shook his head, the small smile on his face a complete juxtaposition to the crazed look in his eyes.
Donghan grit his teeth, “You don’t have to do this, Sanggyun. You don’t have to—”
“Don’t fucking try to tell me what I need to do,” Sangyyun cut him off, leaning heavily on the cane in front of him, “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know that you’re not a bad person. I know that you were the last person to welcome me on the team,” Donghan clicked the knife back into his belt, holding his hands up in a placating manner as he took a cautious step forward, “But when you did, I actually felt something. It was like I had won your approval. I—I looked up to you so much, hyung. You showed me that the world wasn’t black and white, and that people could change.”
He took another step, eyes drifting between Sanggyun’s wild stare and Kenta’s lifeless one. Watching. Waiting. Trying to keep the memories from mixing with reality, but it was growing increasingly more impossible to keep Sanggyun’s bright smile from mixing in with his grit teeth, nearly making Donghan stumble until he could blink it away.
“You’re a good person, Sanggyun. Hyung. This isn’t who you are. You had done so much to change, hyung. You spent so long working to better yourself because you wanted to help make a better world. Kenta—”
Before he could even get another word out, Sanggyun was darting forward, hand clasped around Donghan’s throat as they were both thrown to the ground. Immediately, he attempted to struggle, but Sanggyun had always been stronger than him. It was no use. Donghan could feel his quirk beginning to spread out from his hands, but the black veins didn’t go past Sanggyun’s wrist before Donghan felt the world fall out from under him.
“Donghan?”
He whipped around, shocked by the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard in so long, shocked to come face-to-face with Jibeom’s bright smile. He was dressed in their old uniform, with his shirt tucked in and tie perfectly straight, just like it always was. A stark contrast to Donghan’s typically messy appearance.
“Oh, it is you!” Jibeom’s eyes lit up, taking several steps to close the gap between them, “Hyung! It’s me, Jibeom!”
Donghan opened his mouth, wanting to say something that would keep Jibeom from taking another step closer, anything that would keep them separated, but no sound came out. He felt like he was suffocating, the atmosphere around him heavy and wrong, but Donghan couldn’t place why it felt so incorrect.
Jibeom stopped just a few feet away from him, his bright smile now changing to a look of confusion. “Hyung? Is…something wrong? You don’t look well.”
He was forced to watch in a breathless horror as his arm raised up, Donghan could do nothing to stop it, had no control over his own body as he reached his hand out to lay it flat against Jibeom’s chest. The younger boy reached a hand up to cover Donghan’s with a look of confusion, but he didn’t pull away. No matter how much Donghan wished he would.
There was no heartbeat under his palm, but Donghan was still forced to watch as the black energy spread from his fingers, spreading up Jibeom’s chest like ivy. Wrapping around his neck. Curling over his jaw. Reaching wide, terrified eyes.
Donghan didn’t even try to fight back the retch as Jibeom’s body dropped to the ground, faint wisps surrounding him as his own quirk struggled to fix the damage that Donghan had done.
No. No. There had been no heartbeat. Donghan pressed a shaking hand to his own chest, ignoring the way Jibeom’s blood caused it to stick to his shirt. Nothing. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.
“Donghan?”
He wanted to scream. He wanted it to be over. He didn’t want to exist in this Hell for however long God saw him fit to be punished. Donghan wanted nothing more than to end whatever timeless suffering he was about to be subjected to, but he knew that was impossible. There was no end. It would never end.
“Hyung? Donghan-hyung?”
“Don’t—” Donghan grit out between clenched teeth, hands raising to tangle trembling fingers through his hair, “Don’t. Yohan. Please.” Please stay away. Please, please don’t come closer. Please.
Yohan did not listen, because Yohan never listened. He took another step closer, wearing the same uniform that Jibeom had been in. Donghan squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Shaking his head. Praying to whatever higher power that was willing to listen that Yohan would turn away.
Arms wrapped around his chest from behind, a chin hooking over his shoulder. Yohan’s hot breath tickling his neck.
“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” Yohan murmured, “Come back to bed. Daehyeonnie-hyung is wondering where you went.”
It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. None of this was real. Donghan kept repeating it, over and over in his head like a prayer. As though it would do anything to keep the wave of despair from crushing him as he turned in Yohan’s arms, both hands curling around the younger man’s neck before he could even try to beg himself to stop.
Yohan’s own hands were clutching uselessly at Donghan’s shirt, tangled in the fabric with a weak grip as he didn’t even struggle. It was so uncharacteristic of the younger man, someone that Donghan knew to always be fighting, always winning. Now, that wasn’t the case. Yohan was doing nothing to stop him.
Donghan could smell the sharp sting of copper in the air, could feel the blood mixing with Jibeom’s on his hands, could taste it on his tongue as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from throwing up as Yohan’s voice begged him between sobs.
It wasn’t real. Donghan knew it wasn’t real.
Except the empty, lifeless eyes that stared back at him felt nothing but real as Yohan’s grip on his shirt went slack. Donghan let go, watching another body drop to the floor.
They were everywhere. Their bodies strewn about. Arin and Yongsoo and Wookjin. Sogeom and Bin and Serim. Chan and Doyeon. Jibeom.
For a second, just a second, Donghan couldn’t help but wish he had killed Yeonjun while he had the chance. It would have been so easy. To leave Yeonjun’s body limp and lifeless, surrounded by their classmates, their vacant gazes the only witness to the sin he would have committed. The thought was gone as soon as it came, crushed under waves of anguish and regret, but it was enough to make Donghan drop to his knees, head hanging forward and fingers digging into the rubble that surrounded him.
“Donghan?”
Only then did Donghan find his voice, fingers pulling his hair hard enough to feel the strands ripping from his scalp at the force, pulling in one final, ragged breath to scream. “Stop it! Stop it, just—just fucking stop! I’m begging you. Please—Please, please. Just—Just let it end—”
“Donghan!”
There was a sharp pain in his skull. His head felt like it was splitting apart, agony ringing in his ears for what felt like a lifetime. It burrowed further and further into his skin, deeper and deeper. Donghan knew it was only a matter of time before it took over his body.
He wanted to stop hearing their voices. He wanted to stop seeing Taehyun’s face at night, surrounded by desolate flames and gasoline that Donghan had poured. He hadn’t meant to, he swore he hadn’t meant to. He never meant to do it. Never meant to be the reason they were all dead.
Donghan had been the one to push Hyunbin. Had watched his body fall against the cement below with a sickening snap. Donghan had been the one to crush Yongguk’s body in a burning cage of metal and smoke. He had been the one to hold Daniel down as he screamed and bleed and begged—
The pain had become so overwhelming, but now Donghan could feel his grasp on the feeling slipping away, falling between his fingers like sand. There was screaming. So, so much screaming. Donghan wondered if it was him, if he was the one making that terrible noise. It sounded like bones shattering, like bodies splintering to pieces under too much force.
“Donghan!”
No. No, it wasn’t his voice, but he did recognize it. Far away and hard to place, but Donghan recognized it as someone that shouldn’t be screaming his name like that.
And then the pain faded away. Donghan could breathe again, even if his body still felt like it was years away from his consciousness. Still, he managed to wrench his eyes open, before—
There was a searing pain in his arm, quick and striking, like a jolt of electricity running along his body. All at once, everything was rushing back to him. The beating of his heart in his own ears was near deafening, but Donghan could still make out the shouting around him.
Yongha’s panicked face stared at him from across the warehouse, hand still raised after throwing the knife that managed to nick Donghan’s shoulder and pull him back into awareness, his gun held in a white-knuckled grip in his other hand. Yohan wasn’t far behind him, occupied with his own battle as he fought against two of the bodies that Donghan recognized from the tanks that Sanggyun had shown him.
He scrambled to his feet, reaching behind himself and snapping one of the bars of metal from the wall. The sound of screams echoed around him in a jarring dissonance. The sound of the ground breaking under their feet with each kick Yohan landed, the metal heel of his boot splitting the concrete like it was nothing. Shots firing in deafening, reverberating staccato.
Blackened-energy coated the pipe in his palms, the same metal that sent a jolting shock up his arms as metal met bone, reverberating through his body like his bones had been the ones to shatter.
24 seconds. How long it took them to stop screaming. How long it took for the black veins to climb up the man’s neck, over his jaw, turning his eyes dark and empty and dead. It had been a cheap shot, but Donghan didn’t care. He was smart enough to know to never waste an opportunity.
A single moment of hesitation was all it took for a bullet to tear through your chest.
“Someone, cover me!”
Donghan whipped around, catching sight of Yongha’s forest green jacket just barely moving fast enough to avoid being torn to pieces by a stray arrow. Without a second thought, Donghan pulled three of the small blades from his belt, metal cutting through skin just seconds after splitting the air. All three hit their targets.
Yongha sent him a nod of thanks, but Donghan could still see the way his eyes narrowed at the easy way Donghan sent silver sinking into their jugulars. It was a reminder that Donghan was from a different world than these people.
While the others preferred methods of restricting and binding, Donghan’s way had always been more of the violent, lethal sort.
Death was what he was best at. Causing carnage and destruction, bones fragmenting apart as he knocked metal into someone else’s skull. Warm crimson splattered onto his face, high across his cheekbones like the freckles that had once adorned Taehyun’s shoulders. Donghan didn’t flinch, not anymore. He’s had too much blood on him to care.
Donghan was a monster. He looked down at the faces of these people—people that had innocent blood on their hands, just like Donghan—and wished he could make them suffer more. Even then, the deaths that they fell to were anything but instant; and, sometimes, it almost seemed like their screams went on for hours. Merging with the desperate pleas for forgiveness, but none of that mattered.
There was no room in his heart for mercy, because Donghan was a monster, just like they were.
He watched on as Yohan sent a man crashing into the stone wall behind him, the roundhouse kick holding enough power to nearly send the man’s head spinning off his body, and Donghan was reminded that he wasn’t the only one with blood on his hands. Not like he initially thought.
Just like him, Yohan had stared death in the face and survived. But, unlike Donghan, he had carried on living, even after watching his friends’ bodies being lowered into the ground, one after the other.
The same tragedy had somehow turned them into perfect opposites.
Yohan wanted to be a Hero, with his mindless optimism and dangerous selflessness, and he was willing to stop at nothing to save someone in danger. Donghan wasn’t like that. Donghan wasn’t doing it for the innocent people out there, he wasn’t doing it to save them.
No. He was doing it because the world was a tarnished, blackened pit of despair and violence. It wasn’t just Heroes and Villains to him. He was doing it out of vengeance, out of a sense of duty,
It was life or death. It was the inevitable price of sinking further into that muddied grey area in between.
Another scream pierced the air, different from the others. One that Donghan recognized with striking clarity as whipped his head around, searching for the other three but only finding Daehyeon and Seokhwa struggling against Kenta’s quirk. Neither of them had a physical-based ability, and Donghan didn’t think that Daehyeon’s voice-quirk would work against Kenta. Not when he was nothing but a shell of the person he had been before.
He didn’t think, barely a second passed before the bar clattered to the ground and Donghan was running to the pair the moment he caught sight of them. And then Donghan’s hands were around Kenta’s throat, squeezing with all of his might and ignoring the blood that began to splutter from the corners of his lips, blackened and oil-slick, not at all human.
But neither was he, Donghan couldn’t help but think, as he stared one of his closest friends in the eyes, squeezing whatever artificial life they had been filled with out of them.
This wasn’t Kenta. This wasn’t the man that had taught Donghan what being strong meant, this wasn’t the man that had held on through torture that had never been meant for him. Pain that had been meant for Donghan.
This wasn’t the Kenta that Sanggyun had fallen in love with, and Sanggyun was no longer the man that Kenta had looked at like he arranged the stars. Just for the two of them.
But Donghan wasn’t the same person, either. He wasn’t the frightened, hurt child that had run away from home, angry and sharp-tongued when he joined their team. Nor was he the lost, lifeless person he had become after watching that team, everyone he had held close, leave him. One by one.
No, Donghan wasn’t the same. He was built to endure pain, and this was no different.
Kenta’s body dropped to the ground.
“Are—Are you two okay?” Donghan panted through grit teeth, turning to the two in front of him. The last thing he wanted was for him to see him like this—Like a monster—but he didn’t have much of a choice, even if the way Seokhwa was looking at him made his insides twist together in revulsion.
“Was—Was that—”
Donghan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing another breath from his heaving chest, “It doesn’t matter,” he spit out, “Where’s Junseo?”
That caught their attention, forcing Seokhwa’s wide eyes away from Donghan’s bloody figure to the scaffolding running along the walls of the warehouse. “T-The last I saw him, he was—he was heading up the stairs,” he stuttered out, and that was when Donghan noticed the way he seemed to be favoring his right side.
Daehyeon must’ve caught the conflicted look that Donghan could feel flashing across his face, reaching a hand out to wrap his fingers around Donghan’s wrist. “We’ll be okay. Go find him.”
Donghan couldn’t bring himself to do anything but nod, taking a few steps back before turning on his heel and running towards the metal staircase. He hesitated for a second as he passed Yohan and Yongha, but the two of them seemed to be handling things on their own.
No, Yongha’s holster was almost empty. It was only a matter of time before he was out of bullets and would be left with only his quirk. Donghan didn’t doubt that Yongha would be able to take care of himself when that did happen, but he would rather not let it come to that.
He took the steps two at a time, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to find Junseo, but Donghan couldn’t get that scream out of his head. Seeing Daehyeon and Seokhwa against Kenta had Donghan’s body moving of its own accord, but Junseo’s scream had been the thing that pulled Donghan forward in the first place.
The metal beneath his feet was unstable, creaking and rattling with each step. He didn’t care. Donghan didn’t care. He cared about finding Junseo. He cared about making sure Junseo was okay. He cared about getting there in time—
Except. He didn’t.
He stumbled into the room, finding Sanggyun standing over Junseo’s body.
Donghan saw red.
He saw lifeless eyes and pools of scarlet surrounding him. He saw the faces of all the people he’s killed. All of the people he failed to save. But, beyond all of that, he saw Sanggyun’s smiling face staring down at him.
Donghan turned away from Junseo’s limp form in silence, two of his blades becoming familiar, comfortable weights in his palms as he drew in a ragged breath.
“You…”
The smile on Sanggyun’s face was that same twisted, mangled one from earlier, but all Donghan felt when seeing it was pure hatred. There was no hesitation as he moved forward, no flash of the teasing grin he remembered from years before that crossed his mind.
“You’re too late,” Sanggyun laughed, pulling the cane he was holding forward, and only then did Donghan realize that it had been a sheathed blade as the metal casing fell to the ground. “I told you, Donghan-ah, that I was going to make you hurt, just like you made me. This one just happened to be the unlucky one—”
Donghan charged forward before he could even think better of it. He watched as Sanggyun raised the cane forward to protect himself, but it was too late—he was too late—Donghan already had his arm pressed against Sanggyun’s throat, backing him against the wall.
On the end of one another’s blades.
Blood splattered onto his face, spraying out of Sanggyun’s neck when Donghan pushed the knife forward, taking a sick sort of pleasure in the wide eyes starring back at him. Like he never expected Donghan to do it, to push one of the very blades that Sanggyun had gifted him into his neck.
“I take it back,” Donghan grunted, twisting the knife, if only to hear Sanggyun’s pained scream as he did it, “You didn’t bother to stab me in the back. You stood in front of me and made sure that I watched.”
He felt the energy coating his hands. All of the hatred, the contempt, the fear and the betrayal forcing its way out of his body in the only way he knew how, before it began filling Sanggyun’s from the inside. The man’s skin began bubbling, Donghan could see the black beginning to stretch beneath it.
Sanggyun’s name was another added to the list, but Donghan had carved its place on his body years ago. It was only a matter of time before he added to the blood on his hands. Another body on the floor.
He fell to his knees with him, watching as Sanggyun’s smile grew softer, his eyes dimming, lips twisting around the barely formed ‘I’ll see you soon, Kenta,’ that Donghan didn’t know if he truly heard. Unable to move, even after pulling that damn sword from his side. Unable to think.
It was his fault.
Every moment leading up to this, he could have done something. He could have tried harder, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t save them.
Even with this—this curse he had been stuck with, Donghan could have done more to save them. No. He couldn’t have. Donghan couldn’t have saved them, not when it was his fault in the first place. The only thing he could have done is end it all before it could have began.
He should have done it the moment his quirk manifested. He never would have met Jibeom. He never would have killed him. Taehyun, Hyunbin, Yongguk, Kenta, Sangyyun. They would all be alive, if Donghan wasn’t.
“Donghan?! Oh—God, Donghan. Are—Are you okay?”
Yohan appeared in the open doorway, calling for something but Donghan’s ears were ringing too much for him to make the words out. His vision started to white out, before lighting up like fireworks and the next thing Donghan knew, Yohan was kneeling in front of him. Reaching out for him.
Donghan stumbled back.
“N-No—”
Everything he touched died. Donghan couldn’t watch Yohan become another victim of his misfortune and bad luck. Not again. Not again. Donghan couldn’t do it.
He scratched at his palms. Trying to rid himself of the blood covering his skin, but it wouldn’t come off. It wouldn’t come off. It wouldn’t come off, why wouldn’t it come off. It had already stained his skin. Donghan was never going to be able to rid himself of the constant reminder of what he had done. It wouldn’t come off.
Hands on him. Donghan screamed, throwing the person in front of them as far away as he could manage. Staring at the group in front of him with wide and unseeing eyes.
(No one knew what to do. No one knew how to help. Which, as a Hero, wasn’t something Yohan was used to feeling. Helpless. Out of control. Forced to stand back and watch as Donghan tangled his fingers into his hair and screamed himself hoarse. Forced to witness the fit of rage, of agony, as Donghan relived each and every time he had done something that lead to another loss. Another ending.
There was only so much Donghan could give before he had nothing left, but he had been running on empty for so long, and it was only now that they all realized. They had all missed it, hidden behind narrowed eyes and sharp words, but it had always been in front of their faces. Every time he had yelled at them for skipping training, or criticized their teamwork, had been out of a desire—no, a need—for them to better themselves, so they wouldn’t have to worry about becoming another casualty. Another ending.)
And, maybe that made Donghan selfish, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. Not when he was collapsed in on himself on the ground, screaming until there was no longer any noise. Donghan jerked away when he felt another body settle behind his own, but the touch was familiar in an unfamiliar way. One of the few people that Donghan’s allowed close enough to remember the way they fit together, to remember the warmth of another pressed so close, to remember the short, heavy staccato of a heart that wasn’t his own.
That familiar touch ran its way along his shoulders, down along his arms, hands reaching forward to cradle Donghan’s own between them. Thumbs brushed over his palms. For a moment, Donghan nearly choked as he watched the blood smear over his skin, but with each pass, with each gentle touch, the crimson was growing lighter. Until Donghan could once again make out the lines on his palms. Creases and callouses connecting like constellations.
“You weren’t too late.”
The movement was sluggish and delayed, but Donghan still managed to force himself to look up, to meet Daehyeon’s eyes as the older man knelt in front of him. His chest ached as he looked past him, finding Yongha and Seokhwa pressed close to Junseo. For a moment, Donghan saw a still body and another headstone, but then Junseo’s chest moved slightly, just enough for Donghan to feel the relief flood through his body like a tidal wave.
“You found him, Hannie,” Daehyeon murmured, his hand retracing the path of warmth that Yohan’s had created, but this time running up along his arm, across his shoulder, before curling his fingers over the nape of Donghan’s neck. “Seokhwa was able to heal him. He’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay, we’re all going to be okay.”
Donghan couldn’t help but lean into the touch when Daehyeon’s other hand raised to press against his cheek. There was no hesitation, no flinching—just a quiet, tired exhale as something burned behind his eyes. A quiet hiccup escaping his lips.
“You’re going to be okay, Donghan-ah.”
That was all it took for Donghan to break.
A sob ripped itself from his chest, and then another, and another and another and another. Until Donghan’s entire body was shaking from the force of his cries, that tidal wave of anguish crashing into him, pulling him under and leaving him to drown.
He had been so afraid. So, so afraid, but Junseo was safe. Daehyeon said Junseo was okay, and Donghan trusted Daehyeon. He trusted Daehyeon with his life, and the realization alone was terrifying in and of itself. It left Donghan feeling raw and exposed as another sob tore its way from his lungs, sharp in the way it scratched at his throat like broken glass.
“It’s okay,” Daehyeon pressed Donghan’s face to his chest, and all he could do was scramble to grab onto the back of the man’s jacket, pressing choked whines and desperate cries into the heavy fabric. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to—It’s going to be okay. You’re never going to be alone again.”
That wasn’t true. It wasn’t, and Donghan knew it wasn’t. He was going to lose everyone, eventually, but Daehyeon continued murmuring it until his voice grew hoarse. He had a feeling Daehyeon would continue long after, until Donghan believed it.
The thought only made Donghan want to cry harder. Without missing a beat, Yohan picked up when Daehyeon no longer could, holding the three of them together like he wasn’t crying just as hard as Donghan was.
Gradually, the weight pressing against his chest lessened, the convulsing sobs giving way to ragged, heavy breathing. Donghan pulled Daehyeon closer, breathing in the familiar scent of home.
He had spent years wondering if the life he was living, full of memories that belonged more to the dead than the living, was a fate worse than Hell. Stuck in a haunted world and unable to escape the phantom population of all the people he had killed.
But now, Donghan realized he was wrong.
He had people to live for, a second chance at happiness, and Donghan vowed to stop at nothing to keep his team, his family, safe. Even at the risk of his own life. Thankfully, he now had people behind him that would do everything in their power to keep that from happening.
His life had been a tale of tragedy and misfortune, a symphony for a city of the dead, but that wasn’t enough to stop him. Donghan had faced Hell and survived, because Hell wasn’t a place that one went to when their clock finally ran out. Hell was relentless, and unforgiving, and all around him. The world was unjust and corrupt, tainted black with hatred, and Donghan was sick of it.
Sick of living in a colorless world.
As long as his heart was still beating, as long as he had something to fight for, Donghan wouldn’t quit.
Donghan wanted to change the world.