[ It's not a vacation, not even for him. Everything is stifled and silent, but just because they've put Han-seok out of sight doesn't mean that Han-seo forgets. He's beholden to his brother to guide the energy of every day; the safety or menace. What is he supposed to do on his own? ]
He doesn't want to see you. But I did.
[ He wanted to know what he'd see in here. If it changed anything. He's not certain at the moment, but knows he feels queasy and detached. He looks down at the yarn in his fingers and murmurs again, ]
I wanted to come.
[ Because it's what brothers would do. Except not for them, and Han-seo still has the gall to sound tragically nostalgic for something that never was. ]
[ It's something of a balm. Fuck, what does that say about him, that he's so fucking desperate that he's almost happy to see the spineless result of Dad's affair? It's probably not even the drugs. But he's too strong to crack in a place like this; he's not fucking insane like his lunatic prisonmates. He's just been cut off from all normal human contact, and while he doesn't like Hanseo's presence, at least the guy's not jacking off in public or talking to himself. ]
You shouldn't have come. We're just going to sit here for an hour and then you can spend thirty minutes on the bus to go home and break the news to Dad that I haven't hanged myself with the bedsheets yet.
[ Not like the nurses would let him. Poor Dad. ]
Don't come back again.
[ He's not sure why he says that, or if he means it. ]
[ His face is stricken at the suggestion. Is that what their father actually wants? Or is his brother just being spiteful because he's very good at it? ]
Hyung.
[ His hand lifts like he's going to reach for him, but hesitates. ]
He's going to send you away.
[ He's supposed to be happy about it, and he supposes maybe he is. But it's also tearing something out of his life by its roots and expecting him not to wince. ]
[ Hanseok doesn't react to the lifted hand, not outwardly. He doesn't know if he wants to be touched or not (although he leans towards not) because nobody's given him the fucking luxury of deciding that for himself - or the time to come to an answer at all - since they put him here. How he feels about the manhandling, even as these idiots are going on and on about "emotional state", is completely irrelevant.
And of course there's his coming exile. He knew already; it crosses his mind to fuck with Hanseo and act as though he didn't to give himself something to do, but he ultimately decides against. Rage still boils up at the prospect, but the Clozapine is making him too damn tired to express it much. At least not as much as he'd like to. ]
Let him. I'll embarrass him there too.
[ The long, somewhat-healed ravine slashed through his arm twinges at its edges, itching around one of the stitches. Hanseok pushes up the sleeve of his pajamas, revealing the lower half of it, and carefully, lightly scratches at the itch with one fingernail. He has no doubt Hanseo will react with surprise, though probably not the level of hysteria he got in the rec room. Gift that keeps giving. ]
[ Shameless is the word their father uses. It's what separates the two of them, despite both being less than desirable. One of them shows his shame all over his face, and the other is still ready to bite.
His eyes drift down with melancholy, only to widen with his most earnest concern. Why his natural inclination is still to be concerned, he couldn't explain. ]
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no subject
He doesn't want to see you. But I did.
[ He wanted to know what he'd see in here. If it changed anything. He's not certain at the moment, but knows he feels queasy and detached. He looks down at the yarn in his fingers and murmurs again, ]
I wanted to come.
[ Because it's what brothers would do. Except not for them, and Han-seo still has the gall to sound tragically nostalgic for something that never was. ]
cw heavy ableism, suicide mention
You shouldn't have come. We're just going to sit here for an hour and then you can spend thirty minutes on the bus to go home and break the news to Dad that I haven't hanged myself with the bedsheets yet.
[ Not like the nurses would let him. Poor Dad. ]
Don't come back again.
[ He's not sure why he says that, or if he means it. ]
no subject
Hyung.
[ His hand lifts like he's going to reach for him, but hesitates. ]
He's going to send you away.
[ He's supposed to be happy about it, and he supposes maybe he is. But it's also tearing something out of his life by its roots and expecting him not to wince. ]
no subject
And of course there's his coming exile. He knew already; it crosses his mind to fuck with Hanseo and act as though he didn't to give himself something to do, but he ultimately decides against. Rage still boils up at the prospect, but the Clozapine is making him too damn tired to express it much. At least not as much as he'd like to. ]
Let him. I'll embarrass him there too.
[ The long, somewhat-healed ravine slashed through his arm twinges at its edges, itching around one of the stitches. Hanseok pushes up the sleeve of his pajamas, revealing the lower half of it, and carefully, lightly scratches at the itch with one fingernail. He has no doubt Hanseo will react with surprise, though probably not the level of hysteria he got in the rec room. Gift that keeps giving. ]
no subject
His eyes drift down with melancholy, only to widen with his most earnest concern. Why his natural inclination is still to be concerned, he couldn't explain. ]
What happened?!