Chapter Text
Reporting what had happened to the headquarters was disgusting. The person interrogating Jisung was cold and harsh and Jisung just wanted to get out. He had repeated the same story with different words four times by now and not even once had the person in front of him shown some sign of emotion. Clearly they were trying to see if anything wasn’t fitting the narrative or making sense but it was late afternoon by now and Jisung was tired and wanted to go home. He knew that the others were going through the same struggle and he hated it so much.
At least the others had warned him beforehand.
“I have written down every name I still remember,” Jisung then said and looked at the person. It was a woman, probably early thirties and therefore slightly older than Jisung and she was beautiful yet her neutral expression was sending shivers down Jisung’s spine, a clear sign of warning. He needed to be careful though he knew there was nothing he was hiding from her. They had talked about what had happened to Minho, how Seungmin had arrived and that Chan had eventually taken them out of the chaos and back to the infirmary and then home. “If I remember another one I will of course come back and let you know.” He nodded eagerly, not wanting to accidentally hinder an investigation or any possibility to find who had caused so many deaths.
“We see the mission as successfully finished,” the woman said and looked up at Jisung. It felt as if she was staring right into his soul and he was definitely not a fan of it.
“But-“ Jisung started and then frowned. “The building was blown up so-“ He was stumbling more over his own words than actually speaking, he couldn’t understand how this was considered a successful mission. Not considering how it had ended.
“You got all the information required. The end of the event was unfortunate however you finished the mission and therefore it is successful. Good job, Han Jisung,” she said, still neutral and cold but it was her job, and while he was a very expressive person he did know some people were not. So maybe that was why she was perfect for interrogating people. She was doing a good job and Jisung was more than sure that she had interrogated quite a few people that hadn’t wanted to speak but had eventually given in under her stare. She knew how to get people to speak. Jisung surely wasn’t a pinnacle of stubborn mutism but even if he was he would definitely have every important information spill pretty soon just from her giving him the goddamn cold looks.
His nightmares would be filled with it.
“If you remember any more details, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem to you, you will immediately report it to us,” the woman said and Jisung nodded right away. She didn’t seem suspicious of him but honestly she could think of rainbows and butterflies and Jisung wouldn’t notice so whatever.
“Of course,” he nodded right away and handed her the list of people. He had mentioned it before yet she hadn’t looked at it even once. Maybe it wasn’t important or maybe she was just expecting him to leave it here. Which he would, it just felt utterly wrong to leave a piece of paper in a room with a woman who hadn’t even given him her name. By all he knew she could be an imposter. Jisung couldn’t care less. He wanted out, home, going to the others apartment and cook or to the gym or training area to get the unsettling feeling out of his body. He just hoped the others would be okay.
“As it is considered a traumatic event, you are obligated to talk to our psychologist. The appointment will be sent to you within the next few days.” The woman noted something down and then looked up again, nodding at Jisung and he felt like running. He couldn’t even say why but some people of Clé always gave him the feeling of not belonging. Possibly because he was new or maybe because to them he didn’t fit, yet. He couldn’t tell and frankly speaking right now it didn’t matter to him. “You can leave now,” she added and those were the words Jisung had wanted to hear the entire time. He nodded and tried not to get up way too fast, nevertheless the chair was making an awful sound when being moved over the ground.
Immediately Jisung apologized and bowed, saying a quick goodbye before making his way out of the room, leaving her and the unsettling feeling behind. However even the building itself was giving him an uneasy feeling. It was an additional building to the headquarters, rather new however still very sterile seeming and cold. No pictures, just white walls and a few windows towards the small area next to the building, probably a recreation spot. It had some flowers and trees to cover from the sun, though even that looked clean and untouched. As if everything was made with such a precision and one-hundred percent planning. It was something Jisung disliked.
Jisung loved forests and parks where nature was just growing, filling the surroundings with so much beauty and giving it its own pattern. Here everything seemed the entire opposite. Clean, cold, planned. He didn’t like it. A shiver went through his body as he rushed through the hallway, way quicker than he probably needed to. Grabbing his phone he checked their group chat, noticing that Chan and Changbin were long done and waiting in the nearby café for them. Seungmin was with them too, sounding rather pissed. He rarely used so little emoticons when texting and it was easy to notice that he wasn’t in the mood and requested some sweets and coffee. It was obvious that he didn’t have a good time at all and wasn’t planning on hiding it.
The others however seemed to not be done yet and it worried Jisung as his watch was telling him he had been in there for at least over three hours. Shaking his head he immediately texted the group chat that he was joining the other three in the café – where they had decided to meet up after the interrogation – before checking the address and then looking around to find the place.
Reaching the small café the sweet atmosphere made his body relax right away. It felt like the tension was finally leaving his body, like a weight lifted from his shoulders. It was a petit café, decorated with some comfortable-looking armchairs and even some blankets added and some candles on the table to make it cozier. It smelled like cake and coffee and also some tea if Jisung was picking it up right and he smiled slightly.
Spotting the other three was easy. Changbin and Chan were chatting actively about something, both gesturing widely while Seungmin was just leaning back in his chair, holding his cup and staring grumpily into the nothingness. He clearly wasn’t having a good day.
Instead of walking over right away Jisung stopped at the front desk and ordered an americano, not feeling fancy enough to take his time and choose something particular luxurious. His comfort drink would do much better right now. He didn’t pick a cake yet even though he could see that at least Changbin was having a pastry in front of him and he was pretty sure Seungmin was nibbling on something too.
Walking over to them, Jisung was holding his americano in his hands. “You look quite frustrated,” he said as he noticed the others expressions. He frowned and tilted his head a bit, licking his lips before he sat down next to them, glancing over to each of them. Seungmin looked especially pissed – or maybe that was just his face.
Stuffing his face with some éclair Seungmin denied himself the possibility to answer – a clear sign that he surely didn’t want to answer and Chan sighed, shaking his head.
“He heard Minho in the next room, sounding not exactly happy,” Chan explained and leaned back, sipping on his cup of tea while he watched Jisung. He looked slightly defeated and he clearly was showing worry as well. “So, he is extra pissed because they didn’t let him go and check on him.”
“He is on his fifth éclair and third coffee,” Changbin added and sighed, looking from Seungmin to Chan and then to Jisung. Clearly the information was something unusual and Jisung had to admit that he rarely ever saw Seungmin eat pastries in a larger amount. “How did your report go?”
Jisung frowned slightly, looking at the size of the éclair and then at Seungmin’s chocolate fingers before he turned to Changbin, shrugging slightly. “Pretty okay I guess? I had to repeat the story a few times but it went okay. At first I thought she was there to rip my poor organs out and step on them just to make me cry but eventually she seemed… nicer?”
“Yeah, that is their job,” Chan said and shrugged, clearly not the biggest fan of being interrogated but knowing they were just doing their job. But that didn’t make it less uncomfortable. “Sucks sometimes. Even I sometimes piss my pants when being interrogated by them, they know their techniques too well and its scary.” He shook his head. After all, usually he was the one interrogating – or Changbin, it always depended on the situation but he was never really a fan of it, no matter on what side he sat. It wasn’t a secret that he was a big softie after all and torturing people to get information was sadly part of it as well. He probably wasn’t made for being in the mafia but that was exactly what his job was.
“Doesn’t give them the right to make any of us feel like shit. Yeah, sure, when they think there is some shit going on but clearly, we were not involved with that fucking bullshit of explosion,” Seungmin said, clearly angry. He then got up, grabbing his empty cup and plate.
“What are you doing?” Chan asked surprised and glanced at Seungmin, ready to grab him if he planned on going back to the interrogation as they all knew it wasn’t the smartest idea to do that. They didn’t let Seungmin in to check on Minho earlier and they surely hadn’t changed their mind now. Even if he begged them or punched them in the throat.
Seungmin however only rolled his eyes. “Getting another éclair. I can’t stuff their mouths but I can surely stuff mine.” He then turned around and moved to the counter, having Chan watch him while Changbin giggled.
“He’s always like this. Sulking. He is worried about Minho and I get it, we all know Minho isn’t in a good state but that does not exactly mean he cannot take care of himself,” Changbin explained to Jisung who nodded, slowly but understanding. He too had the feeling that Minho could take good care of himself but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be worried about him after all. “He will text us once he is out. Minho, I mean.”
Again, Jisung nodded. Honestly he preferred getting texted by all of them once they were done. The situation they had experienced had left them with some trauma and who knew how each of them would react to it. Even Jisung wasn’t entirely sure how he would deal with what he had experienced. The explosion, of course, but especially the aftermath. The injured people, the screaming, the blood – he shook his head to get it out of his mind. He could still feel how the fear holding onto his heart, keeping it cold and his body tense, for now at least.
“I just hope it will go okay,” Jisung said and glanced at the employee who hesitantly handed Seungmin another coffee and another éclair. A really big chocolate éclair. He then turned to Chan and Changbin. “Did yours go okay?”
“Yeah, definitely. We didn’t have a lot to say after all,” Chan said and shrugged slightly. “They easily accepted it and just moved on, I guess? We too had to repeat ourselves a few times but that is totally normal. And then we were allowed to leave. Changbin was here first, I joined and then Seungmin came. I was pretty sure he was about to murder someone.” Shaking his head Chan emptied his tea and licked his lips. Shortly he glanced over at Seungmin before turning back.
“He is quite protective,” Jisung said, more to himself than to anyone else. Not that he minded, he had just noticed how both Hyunjin and especially Seungmin were very protective when it came to Minho and it had probably to do with his past, as far as Jisung could tell. He understood pretty well why, it wasn’t rare that he had slept on the couch and woken up to Minho screaming, waking up from what still haunted him, or one of the others walking over with a hot beverage to accompany Minho and his nightmares.
A soft sound of agreement left the lips of the other two people. “He is. It is sweet and concerning at the same time.” Chan said and watched Seungmin pay for his pastry and another cup of what seemed to be just black coffee.
“Family does that to you,” Changbin said and tilted his head a bit. “Especially if you have a hard time expression your feelings and showing that you care, like Seungmin.” It was a rarity, that was true, Seungmin rarely showed what he felt properly, usually having a passive-aggressive way of letting them know what he was feeling. He was angry more often than not or neutral – as it seemed to most people around him. Unless he felt not watched and safe. Or whenever Felix took him to the dog café. Jisung had joined them a few times for those visits and he was almost sure Seungmin wanted to go down with dogs burying him. And honestly that was actually a nice way to go, buried under puppies.
“True, he has his problems,” Chan said and shrugged a bit. They all had their flaws and issues, it was pretty obvious.
“Emotionally constipated is what you call it,” Seungmin said and put his now filled plate and cup down. “And yes, I know it’s about me.” He was still looking pissed and tense but he was clearly not taking their words in a negative way. He was very well aware that he was a rather difficult person when it came to feelings, especially when he was angry, but he wasn’t minding them talking about him from time to time. They all talked about each other and not admitting it would be a lie.
“We were not trying to hide it at all,” Changbin hummed, a small smile on his lips. “But yeah, you sometimes are. But don’t we all have our emotional baggage?”
“Oh, heck yes we do,” Jisung groaned and leaned back, his americano in his hands as he slumped a bit in his chair. Of course, they all had their baggage, otherwise they would most likely not be here and especially after what had happened to them in the art gallery he was very sure they would be filled with much more trauma than before. Jisung had had a hard time sleeping last night, dreaming of the people he had seen before the building had gone to pieces and he had yet to recover from that. They all had to. And he was so grateful none of them were trying to ignore what had happened. None of them were pretending it never happened and Jisung knew it would help them heal though just talking about it was already a hard.
The other three chuckled amused, even Seungmin, enjoying Jisung’s reaction quite a bit. It was something they hadn’t expected though Jisung’s reactions were always a bit stronger than those of the rest of them. Not that any of them minded, it was quite cute and often lightened the mood, just like now.
Chan got up to get a new cup of tea, leaving the three of them alone while Jisung looked out of the window.
“Hopefully the others are done soon too,” Changbin mumbled and looked at his phone, a small smile on his lips when he saw a text pop up. “Jeongin is done, he’s coming over.”
-
Therapy sessions with the organization’s therapist was always something that made Minho uncomfortable. No one ever knew what they would actually keep private and what they would add to his file and how much the authorities would know. Yes, they were not supposed to tell anyone, however Clé liked to break the rules and aside from that Minho had always had trust issues.
“So, you were scared.”
“Of course, I was scared, I was in the middle of a building that got blown up after someone already knocked me out. I was already in pain, I didn’t need the extra bullshit on top. I didn’t need the extra pain,” Minho groaned and leaned back. He hated those stupid questions and statements that were so useless. He wasn’t here to spend his time with being pissed off though he knew letting off some steam might help him with his currently very anxious state. However changing anxiety to anger wasn’t always what he preferred, both got him into trouble from time to time and he could deal with his anxiety but not with pissing off someone or possibly hurting other people because of his anger.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you not need the extra pain,” the therapist asks, looking at Minho. He was surely in his early fifties or maybe sixties, at least twenty-five years older than Minho and he was sure he was an entirely different generation. Sometimes that helped Minho with understanding his worries, sometimes it made things so much worse.
“For fucking-“ Minho started and slumped more in his seat. Was this man fucking joking? “Because I am already in enough pain. We went through this. I hate being in pain and I am always in pain,” he explained and looked at the man. “And being thrown back to that bullshit of a mission that ruined my leg and caged me in this fucking cave for days? Thanks, but no thanks.” He hated talking about that incident. He hated how the therapist always managed to make him furious. “I thought I was back there. So Seungmin knocked me out, bless his soul.”
“Could anything have helped you in that situation?” The man asked and he was so calm, it bothered Minho. Unfortunately, he knew this man had been screamed at so many times, probably even today, he was used to anger issues and outbursts. It was what he had been trained for and Minho was most likely not his most difficult patient. A scrap of comfort.
Minho lifted an eyebrow and then huffed. “Yeah, getting knocked out. Like Seungmin did. I tried breathing, tried reminding myself that I am safe and sound and all that shit but it isn’t exactly a walk in the park when a building is collapsing around you and your fucking leg is stuck. So yes, getting knocked out was the only sane choice, otherwise I might not only be dreaming about the mission more often but have actual flashbacks during the day again.”
“So, there haven’t been more flashbacks during the day?” The therapist asked, noting something down and then looking back at Minho who was shaking his head.
For a moment he blinked before he spoke it out loud: “No. I’ve been spacing out and I’ve been more sensitive to sounds and movements, more suspicious of what people do around me, but I didn’t in fact start having daily flashbacks out of the blue. Or caused by whatever.” He knew his flashbacks had a trigger, even when he didn’t know what trigger it might be. It might be caused by a sound, a smell, a picture, a thought – it could be whatever, even the way his heartbeat echoed in his ears, but sometimes it kicked in hard and drowned him in memories he would rather push away. During his first year in Clé he had suffered immensely by flashbacks and he had had to actually be held back as sometimes his anger issues and flashbacks were hard to control. It was fight or flight and mostly it was fight, without even realizing where he was or in what situation. It had been rather dangerous if he had been in a supermarket, picking out groceries, just to be thrown back into a traumatic situation where he actually had to fight for his life.
One time he had pushed an old lady to the ground just because she had gently touched him to ask him for some help. Luckily, they had later been able to sit down and talk, clarify what had happened but back then Minho had just wanted to scream and cry. He hated hurting innocent people and this could have gone so wrong. Yes, the lady shouldn’t have touched him in the first place but then again Minho should have had himself under control enough to keep him from harming others. He hadn’t been. Now he was, as far as he could tell.
“That is quite the success,” the therapist said and looked at Minho who rolled his eyes.
“I guess,” Minho said and crossed his arms. “Does not solve my problems. Or the re-traumatization. It could have ended even worse. I know I signed up for this when I joined this organisation but holy shit that was uncalled for.”
A small hum left the man’s lips, clearly agreeing with Minho. And that was rare. Of course he rarely disagreed however he hardly gave Minho the satisfaction of actually agreeing.
“I know it might not be their fault but whoever is at fault, I’m gonna fucking kick their asses,” Minho mumbled, more to himself than the man in front of him who was clearly amused by what he had said.
“I know, you always do,” the therapist agreed and watched Minho. “What are you going to do now? What do you think will help you?”
There was a long pause, silence, and then Minho shrugged slightly. “Honestly? No idea. Probably talk with the others. I’ve been through such situations more often than them so I am probably less sensitive to it, more used to it.”
The therapist looked at him with a rather sad expression. Surely, many of his clients were used to such situations, desensitized by what was happening to them, yet that wasn’t something anyone should want to achieve. It wasn’t their fault, yes, but it was a sad truth.
“Don’t forget to take care of yourself just because you want to take care or save your friends, Minho,” the man said and shook his head. “You can support each other but make sure you take care of yourself. I know you like to forget your own sorrow and pain to help whoever is suffering. You still need to work on it.”
“I know,” Minho mumbled and he was very well aware that it was the reason why he was here in the first place. Wanting to help and save people, wanting to support where his help was mostly needed. He had gladly taken some trauma in exchange for saving people who were now alive and blooming. He had seen them, had seen how the children had grown up smiling, laughing, now safe and sound. And while Minho regretted so many things that was something he didn’t regret. That was something he would do again and again. But he was also very well aware of the fact that it would eventually kill him if he kept giving away so many parts of his sanity. His therapist was right, his helper complex needed to step down a bit, no matter how hard it was and the only person who could actually work on it was himself. “I know,” he repeated, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’s just easier.”
“What is easier?” the man asked even though he knew the answer. Yet making Minho say it out loud made him realize what he was saying and that was needed.
“Pushing away my own trauma and not working on it but instead helping my friends,” Minho said and rolled his eyes. “I know, yes, it isn’t a substitute to actually work on my own shit but fucking heck, I just survived a big ass explosion while others did not. I was lucky-“
“No, you were not lucky,” the therapist interrupted Minho who blinked confused. “You just said it yourself, you survived that explosion while others did not. You went through a major traumatic event and just survived because you knew where to hide. You built this specific type of skillset that gave you the possibility to survive because you have been so unlucky to go through this kind of event several times already. You are not lucky, Lee Minho, you are just smart enough to keep yourself and your friends safe. The people who died were unlucky, yes, but that does not mean you were lucky. An actual lucky person does not go through an explosion after they got knocked out before in a way that damaged their hearing for a few hours and then end up with an injured leg and a traumatic event. An actual lucky person wouldn’t sit here, with me, having this talk about how they survived, how they are coping. It is good you are alive but it has nothing to do with luck.”
All Minho could do was look at the man, a big lump in his throat. He hated how right the man was. He hadn’t been lucky. If everything had gone to plan, yes, then he would have been lucky but fuck, he hated this so much. This could have killed his friends, his family, it nearly threw him back months, no, years in coping with sorrow and mourning and fuck he was angry. Angry and pissed and just relieved they all were alive despite all the repercussions they now had to bear.
And he hated it but he could feel the tears on his cheeks, hot and angry. A loud sob left Minho’s lips. He wasn’t ashamed of crying in front of the man who looked surprisingly proud of the situation. It had taken Minho months to open up and cry in front of this man and right now he knew this was the right situation but he also knew he would just be exhausted and done for the rest of the day. Whenever he cried he had a hard time stopping and right now the tears were filled with so many emotions, it was hard to deal with them.
“I hate this so much,” Minho sobbed and held onto his sweater, his nails digging into the fabric. “This isn’t fair.”
“No, it is not. It has never been.”
Minho groaned and buried his face in his hands, tears staining his sweater.