[008][017]
008: [ Locket ]
+ heechul/sungmin ; 316 words
Sungmin stares at the little trinket in his hands, runs his fingers across the grooves of it's surface. It's a pretty little thing, made with silver accents and a little gold line passing through the middle. Sungmin thinks about that little gold line, about the one who made the little gold line with their gold hands and found the inexplicable urge to throw this little, little thing into the lake.
It's a cold day, but Sungmin didn't expect any less. The wintry air is shocking icy, like a certain someone Sungmin knows. His eyes roam across the expanse of the lake, forgoing the ice coating the top of the water and the snow banks piled up on the side. Everything is decidedly empty and dry, despite melting snow seeping through the fabric of his clothes.
"Look here," he mutters under his breath, coming out in short gasps, "I'm going to die alone and cold and miserable." He speaks to no one - not really - but it's almost as if someone can hear him, and Sungmin laughs. "Isn't that rich, Heechul? I'm going to die just like you did."
No one answers. Sungmin doesn't expect one, but the sordid reality of it all weighs on him like a sour note.
"Bastard," he chokes out, throwing their one year anniversary gift into the lake, wishing that it would sink in between the waters. Instead it bounces off the smooth surface, creating a scratched path along the way. Half of Sungmin wants it to sink, and half of him is glad that it's still above water.
"Why won't you disappear," Sungmin whispers, and no matter what he does, Heechul's face is still burned behind his eyelids. "Why won't you leave me alone?" His face is pale and haggard, his voice worn by the amount of tears he's shed the week so far.
In the far distance, the locket twinkled in the morning sun.
017: [ Accidents ]
+ ryeowook-centric ; 273 words
No one ever suspects you if you just smile.
Ryeowook learns this from a very young age. It doesn't help that he's naturally born with a girlish voice and figure, with a gentle disposition and a tendency to cry often. No one really cares. He's been pushed around and shoved and made fun of, ridiculed and disgraced and bullied. Ryeowook often wonders - all the time, actually - why it happened, or even how, and he wonders the reason why it never left a trace.
Or even if it did at all.
He's complimented on his smile and his sly information book of his hyungs. Singing was his escape, his lead to another world. And now that it's joined by twelve others, sometimes Ryeowook doesn't know what to do. His passion dims. The voices - they grab him in the middle of the day, with innocent eyes and pleading smiles. And they scratch, claw, bite at him, growl as the demons they are.
No one notices if you're lying if you don't give them a reason to. Ryeowook can trip on a paint can and the next day there would be a bruise and no one would be the wiser. He could slip his hand on the knife and watch as the blood drains down the sink and it would just be an accident. His hyungs and Kyuhyun would pat him on the back and tell him to be careful and that would be it.
Just an accident. And no one would know the difference.
Ryeowook handles his knife with care, everyone knows that. But there's always those little slip ups that no one can help, of course. Always.