𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆

𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒏

𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒆𝒏—-𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚-𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

Playing Iron sky by Paolo Nutini

Cicatrize : to find healing by the process of forming scars.

Confess.

Confess.

Release your sins

Only then will you be blessed.

Changbin was going to confess.

Why? That's a long and complicated answer.

He sat outside in the practically desolate yard outside of Minhos and Felix's childhood home. If he had one, a beer would be in his hands and he'd happily let himself waste a way for a while.

But he couldn't.

He was going to confess to a bunch of people he had before considered strangers. But what were they really now? Who knew. Because he sure didn't.

But was he going to confess?

Back to when they were at his safe house and he saw the way they found the basement, he was irritated. He liked his privacy and his space. But he also knew it was a matter of time before the noisy bastards went down there.

He was perceptive too. He knew each soul in this group had something beneath the skin that they tried so desperately to hide. So he threw the hook out. Let the fishes swim up to it.

He didn't expect chan to take the first hook. And he felt guilty. He felt some way about chan confessing first. He didn't expect it, but his heart ached in such a way he felt guilty.

It was tragic. And he couldn't help but hate himself a bit more than he already did.

Then Hyunjin was next and he felt worse. Never in his life had he met such a group of unfortunate people. Apparently he wasn't the only one life had fucked over.

He still had morals though. He felt guilty. Something between an asshole and a coward. He was so untrusting before with them that he felt a sort of obligation now.

Chan and Hyunjin had been so honest and true and his heart just hurt. He was hiding a lot of things. He wouldn't blame them if they ended up resenting him.

So he'd confess. It wouldn't be easy. As strong and tough as he pretended to be, he wasn't made for everything.

Just because he stood a strong shield like he was the least affected didn't mean that nightmares didn't plague him.

The little girl he had to put out of her misery always stuck to the ceiling above where he slept, no matter the location, she was there.

She'd scream at him, no words, just the gut wrenching cry as if he was killing get over and over again.

It lived with him longer than anyone else.

He took a deep breath, shaking the image out of his mind. He could really go for something strong to drown in. The others were inside, caring to not only Felix but Minho who had locked himself in his childhood room.

Maybe it wasn't the best decision to come here. Apparently the shithole only brought grief.

"Changbin." the sound of the broken wooden door opening accompanied by a familiar voice. He didn't bother to look up to see who had called out to him until another body sat beside him. The person offered his a rusty, brown bottle, the lid already opened with the smell of old, stale beer reaching his nose.