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Jinu hated the fact that tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes.
He hated that he wasn’t strong enough to hold them back.
He hated that no matter how hard he tried, Rumi would see the state he was in and try to make him feel better.
He hated that she always tried to put him before herself.
He hated that he was about to hurt her.
But most of all, he hated himself for believing that she could ever care enough to be hurt by what he was about to do.
He wasn’t sure how to go about his business in a way that would minimize the impact it would have on the people he cared about. Nothing messy. Nothing illegal. Nothing that could potentially hurt anyone else.
Above all else, it had to work the first time.
He couldn’t stand the thought of failing and becoming an even bigger burden than he already was.
He turned the bottle over in his hands, eyes fixed on the label but refusing to send information to his brain for processing.
How many would he have to take? Would it be unpleasant, or would they just lull him into a sleep he would never wake up from?
What if they didn’t work quickly enough? What if Rumi found him and took him to the hospital and they pumped his stomach?
It was too risky.
He leaned forward and set the bottle on the coffee table, turning it so that the label aligned perfectly with his line of sight, then sat back.
Pills were out. Knives were out. Climbing to the top of the tower and jumping off it was out. Buying a length of rope was out. Stepping into traffic was out.
The crash of thunder outside the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked Seoul didn't startle him, nor did the flash of lightning that pierced through the screen of rain and lit up the night sky.
He liked the rain; he liked water in general.
It was the opposite of fire.
He could touch water, and it wouldn't bite him.
He could be thrown into a pool and not feel like his cells were being torn apart.
Fire tried to purge him. Water cleaned him.
Clean...
Jinu almost smiled.
It was perfect.
He stood and headed for his room, where he'd left his sneakers.
He didn't own what he needed, and he refused to use Rumi's.
That would be cruel.
He headed out of the suite and angled towards the stairs, which he descended at a quick jog. He didn't want to risk running into anyone on the elevator, especially Rumi, and they never took the stairs after a long day of training for their next concert.
He felt a twinge of guilt; he was going to miss the debut of Huntr/x's new song, "Soul."
He'd heard it already, of course, but Rumi was excited for him to see the choreography and special effects they were going to integrate into the performance.
Maybe he should wait. The concert was in a couple of days. He could always do it afterwards...
No. He'd procrastinated long enough.
He was tired of being a burden.
He was tired of them having to pretend he was anything other than a waste of time and space.
Yes, this was the right thing to do.
...
It took him an hour to get to the store and back.
He only bought one item, and the cashier hadn’t batted an eye when he’d presented it for purchase.
He went straight to the bathroom and drew a bath. While the tub filled, he connected an extension cord to the outlet near the sink and ran it over to the tub, then plugged the hair dryer into it.
Once everything was ready, he slipped into the tub, fully dressed minus his shoes.
For a minute, he basked in the warmth, eyes closed, heart rate steady.
Then, he reached for the hair dryer.
His wet fingers wrapped around the handle.
It felt cold despite the warmth in the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
Her tone was flat. Dead.
Shit.
He forgot to close the bathroom door.
Jinu didn’t open his eyes.
“Please leave, Rumi.”
He heard her step forward. “Jinu, can you look at me?”
Jinu couldn’t say no to her. Not now.
He opened his eyes and saw her, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, looking at him like he was a bomb.
“Please leave, Rumi,” he repeated
He should’ve been faster, shouldn’t have wasted all that time just sitting in the water.
Rumi stepped forward, her arms slowly extending as she reached for the hair dryer. “Please give me the hair dryer. Then we can talk.”
Jinu hesitated. He was tempted to just drop it, but he couldn’t do that to her.
He didn’t want to add to her burden by giving her the memory of him killing himself in front of her.
Slowly, he placed the innocuous-looking object in her hands, and she quickly pulled it away from him and unplugged it.
“That’s better,” she said softly.
Setting the hairdryer aside, she sat on the edge of the tub, not looking at him while she fiddled with the strings of her hoodie.
“What’s going on?” she asked, mimicking nonchalance perfectly.
Jinu shrugged, causing the water around his shoulders to slosh a little. “Just taking a bath.”
He saw the way her lips formed a thin, hard line, the way her slender eyebrows met as she frowned. “In your clothes?”
Jinu sighed. He didn’t want to play these games.
“We both know what I’m doing, Rumi. You won’t be able to stop me; I’ve thought about this for a long, long time.”
Rumi finally looked at him, and there was fear in her eyes.
“Jinu, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?” It wasn’t a question, just noise. She wouldn’t let him go while she had the last word.
“Because it’s wrong,” Rumi said flatly.
Jinu almost smiled as he leaned his head against the rim of the tub and closed his eyes. “So’s pretty much everything else I’ve done. What’s one more thing?”
With a frustrated exhale, Rumi stood and paced away from him, then turned back. “Jinu, don’t do this. I don’t want you to die. I won’t let you kill yourself again.”
Surprising himself and Rumi, Jinu launched himself out of the tub. Water splashed all over the floor and Rumi, soaking her jeans and turning the small rug in front of the sink into a soggy mess. “It’s not your decision! If I wanted to live, I wouldn’t have saved your ass from Gwi-Ma!”
"It is my decision!” Rumi yelled. “I saved you after you sacrificed yourself, didn’t I?”
Jinu glared at her. “I never asked you to do that-”
“I went through hell while you were dead!" Rumi bellowed, tears of frustration and fear filling her eyes. "I couldn't sleep! I couldn't eat! I spend every fucking second of my day trying to block out the memory of you killing yourself and knowing that it was my fault, and now you want me to go through it again?”
"You are not responsible for my actions!" Jinu screamed. The dam was about to break, and he was more comfortable yelling than crying.
He’d always been more comfortable hurting other people than letting himself feel the pain.
"Why can’t you understand that? You always put others first, and you refuse to accept the fact that not everything is your fault. For the first time in my life, I did something good for the right reasons, and you went and fucking ruined it because of your damn guilt complex."
Rumi looked like he'd just slapped her. "What?"
He hated how weak her voice was, how the anger in her eyes had turned to hurt.
She looked like he'd betrayed her.
"Yes, Rumi. Yes. I said it, and I meant it," Jinu snapped. "I was at peace, and you couldn't leave me the fuck alone because you couldn't get over your misguided feelings.”
Rumi opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Jinu looked away. If he kept staring into those huge eyes, he was going to shatter, and he had to be strong.
He had to be strong for her.
He was doing this for her.
"Rumi, I was sleeping. I died with the knowledge that the last thing I did would benefit someone else. I was free from the voices and the memories and the guilt. And then you just HAD to bring me back like I'm some kind of mutilated dog you found on the side of the road and felt sorry for."
Rumi shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I love you. You know that.”
Jinu gripped his hair with both hands. He probably looked insane.
Good. Maybe that would do the trick.
“You can’t love a monster, Rumi. You just can’t. That soft feeling you may or may not get whenever you look at me is not love, it’s empathy. You feel bad for me because I have a sad story and a bunch of excuses for the fucking evil things I’ve done, and you want to think the best of people and give them chance after chance after chance, even though they deserve nothing less than the hell they were given.”
“What are you saying?” Rumi demanded as Jinu paused for breath. “Are you saying you’d rather be stuck in hell for all eternity?”
“Yes!” Jinu screamed, and now he could feel the tears spilling onto his face and dropping to the tile floor below. “Yes, I would!”
“Why?” Rumi threw her hands in the air and shook her head, her expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
“Because I deserve it! I’ve stolen people’s souls, Rumi! Why can’t you wrap your thick little head around that? I don’t want to live with the constant guilt that comes from enjoying you and ice cream and petting Derpy and knowing that I robbed a twelve-year-old or a married couple of enjoying the life I literally took from them.”
He felt like his heart was being crushed by a giant fist.
Rumi pinched the bridge of her nose, then sighed. “Jinu, we all-”
“If you say that we all deserve love or second chances or some bullshit, I’m going to run through the living room window right this second,” Jinu snarled.
Rumi glared at him. “Fine, go ahead! Or better yet, why don’t you borrow one of the kitchen knives? Mira sharpened them last night. At least that way we won’t have to replace the window.”
Jinu stared at her, breathing hard. Then-
“All right, I will.”
He strode towards the door, brushing past Rumi without so much as glancing at her.
Something stopped him in his tracks, and he looked over his shoulder to see Rumi holding onto the hem of his shirt, her eyes red and wet but narrowed with determination.
She was strong.
“You know what your problem is?” she seethed.
“Yeah, I’m a tired old man who wants to be free of the constant reminders that I’m an abomination!”
“No,” she growled, still holding onto his soaked shirt as though it were her own lifeline. “You’re a tired old man who’s so fixated on the past and escaping the bad memories that you don’t even realize you’ve been given an opportunity to start replacing them with good ones.”
Jinu gaped at her. “Good ones? Rumi, that’s bullshit. Even if I died for a hundred thousand people, I couldn’t make up for what I’ve done.”
“You’re right, you can’t make up for what you’ve done. You don’t have to!” Rumi yelled, yanking him around and seizing the front of his hoodie as she pulled him close.
He could see the individual teardrops glistening on her eyelashes.
He did that.
He made her cry.
He would always make her cry.
That’s what he did to the people he cared about.
He hurt them.
Rumi shook him hard. “Hey, stop that.”
“Stop what?” Jinu muttered, shifting his gaze away.
To his surprise, Rumi grabbed his chin and twisted it so that he was forced to look at her. “Blaming yourself. I know you are; it's written all over your face.”
Jinu barked out a humorless laugh. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
“Shut up,” Rumi snarled. “Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you stupid jerk!”
Jinu shrugged. Whatever you say.
“Do you know the difference between you and me? You said it yourself; I have people who care about me, and I care about them, and we work through things because peace is worth the pain and love is worth risking loss. You refuse to let anyone in because you’re convinced you don’t deserve to be loved. Well, let me tell you something. We all have things we regret. I asked the woman who raised me to fucking kill me with my own sword. Can you imagine how much that hurt her? I’ve killed and enjoyed doing it. I lied to my best friends for years. But I am not defined by my mistakes. We are not the sum of our vices or the sum of our virtues. We are people who make mistakes and learn from them and move on with our lives and enjoy them while we can. Right now, you have a choice. You can continue with your plan, and the last thing you’ll ever do is hurt people and leave a hole in their lives and a scar on their hearts and questions that will keep them up at night for years. Or you can choose not to let your past define you and take advantage of the gift that you were given. My loved ones gave me a second chance, and you’ve been given a second chance, too, but you’re too wrapped up in your own misery to recognize it. Stop living in the past because you don’t live there; you live in the here and now.”
Rumi released him and took a step back, breathing hard.
“Jinu, I love you, and I know that you love me,” she said. “And you want to take my best friend out of my life because you don’t feel like you deserve to be in it. You say you’re sick of being selfish, so stop being selfish and stop trying to justify killing yourself, because that’s what you’re doing. I didn’t bring you back so I could watch you die again, because that would kill me. It really would. If you kill yourself, you can consider it double homicide because I- I won’t be able to live through that.”
Her voice broke and she looked away, tears welling once more.
Jinu stared down at his bare feet.
He didn’t know what to do.
“Jinu, you say that I’m always putting others before myself. Well, this time, I’m not. If you won't live for you, live for me.”
Jinu looked up and saw tears pouring down Rumi’s face, staining her hoodie a deeper shade of gray.
“Make good memories with me,” she pleaded. “Please, Jinu. Please. I’m begging you…don’t leave me again.”
And she sank to her knees and pressed her forehead against his feet, her body shaking with quiet sobs.
That hurt far more than anything Jinu had ever experienced.
He couldn’t stand seeing her like this.
He dropped to his haunches and grabbed her shoulders, lifting her up so that they were face-to-face.
“Please get up,” he whispered, his vision blurring. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll stay.”
He would, no matter what.
He was tired of being selfish.