[ He's angry, and he doesn't know what to do. So he's lashing out like a bratty teen while he paces the length of his small apartment almost obsessively. His mind is reeling, and he doesn't know what to do with himself as he loses it over this new revelation.
It shouldn't be though, should it? There was never any particular reason he became so wrapped up in the idea that he couldn't change people's fates, except...
Except he didn't want that responsibility. He didn't want it to be on him. He was just a kid when they started happening. How the hell was twelve when he had his first vision.
He couldn't do anything! He couldn't save anyone!
Except he wasn't twelve anymore, and even if he really couldn't save anyone still, he hadn't even tried.
Enma can make those arrangements all he wants, because right now for the first time in over two years Muyoung is coming to a dead stop in the middle of his living room, and staring blankly at the floor in front of his feet before he starts to cry. It starts off light, water pooling at the bottom of his eye until it spills over and rolls down his cheek, but within minutes ugly sobs are wracking through his body as he sinks to the floor, and hugs his knees to himself.
He's not twelve anymore, but he feels like he is again. He's barely an adult despite the fact that he's been taking care of himself for the past couple of years, managing his own business, and swallowing emotions like a hardened man. He's only nineteen, and the only support pillar he had, the faulty belief that he had no way to help the people he had visions of, has been shattered, and he's collapsing under the weight of the responsibility he never wanted. ]
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[ He's angry, and he doesn't know what to do. So he's lashing out like a bratty teen while he paces the length of his small apartment almost obsessively. His mind is reeling, and he doesn't know what to do with himself as he loses it over this new revelation.
It shouldn't be though, should it? There was never any particular reason he became so wrapped up in the idea that he couldn't change people's fates, except...
Except he didn't want that responsibility. He didn't want it to be on him. He was just a kid when they started happening. How the hell was twelve when he had his first vision.
He couldn't do anything! He couldn't save anyone!
Except he wasn't twelve anymore, and even if he really couldn't save anyone still, he hadn't even tried.
Enma can make those arrangements all he wants, because right now for the first time in over two years Muyoung is coming to a dead stop in the middle of his living room, and staring blankly at the floor in front of his feet before he starts to cry. It starts off light, water pooling at the bottom of his eye until it spills over and rolls down his cheek, but within minutes ugly sobs are wracking through his body as he sinks to the floor, and hugs his knees to himself.
He's not twelve anymore, but he feels like he is again. He's barely an adult despite the fact that he's been taking care of himself for the past couple of years, managing his own business, and swallowing emotions like a hardened man. He's only nineteen, and the only support pillar he had, the faulty belief that he had no way to help the people he had visions of, has been shattered, and he's collapsing under the weight of the responsibility he never wanted. ]