#saeran x reader ansgst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pochipop · 2 years

Text

＃ MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — HEALING IS HARD (SAERAN X READER).

#. synopsis! — saeran is free, but healing isn't easy (for anyone) .

#. characters! — saeran .

#. warnings! — references to past trauma/past traumatic events (canon compliant) , non-graphic depictions of trauma responses .

#. word count! — 2.3k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

It’s been four days since Saeran escaped from Mint Eye. Jihyun and Saeyoung have worked tirelessly to preserve the young man’s safety, and in turn, yours as well. You trust them wholeheartedly, and you feel secure in knowing that without Saeran, Mint Eye’s intelligence network lacks the brainpower to do much at all. He was the key to their operations, the pillar that kept everything stabilized, —and now that he’s gone, they likely don’t even stand half a fighting chance. Even so. . . Healing isn’t easy. Moving on isn’t as simple as getting away. You were there for little more than a week, but you were scarred by the things that went down and the incidents you were forced to witness firsthand. It’s impossible to imagine everything Saeran has been through, and you aren’t sure it’s right to ask.

So you don’t.

Jihyun told you early on that it’s best to let Saeran make his own choices and open up that dialogue himself when he’s ready to do so. He said the best thing you could do for Saeran is just be there for him, —let him know that he has a shoulder to lean on, because it’s been far too long since that was an option for him, and Saeran is likely feeling the brunt of it more these days as the drugs continue to wear off and leave his system.

He doesn’t like to be touched unexpectedly, but doesn’t like it when you ask either. It’s tricky territory, but you’ve found a somewhat middle ground. Hover your hand over his before you take it; let him register that it’s going to happen, then lower your fingertips first. Ghost them along his hand, then slowly transition into holding his completely. The same goes for hugs. Don’t go in all at once; give him the opportunity to internalize what’s about to happen, then read his body language to see whether you should back off or go in for the proverbial kill.

It’s simple enough.

But overcoming the past is not.

A younger version of yourself might have thought of Saeran’s insistent silence as attractive and mysterious; secrets just waiting to be uncovered by the bleeding-heart of a main character. But this is real life, and you know far too much to be romanticizing any of this into sweet fantasies now. The current version of you, the one who knows far too much about an organization you never signed up to be a pawn of, thinks of his silence as deafening, —a prolonged state of slow, tortuous, internalized processing.

The same younger self might have thought Saeran’s inability to say “I love you” (to you, to Jihyun, to his own brother) was endearing; just a little obstacle to overcome, to rise above. The present you knows enough to understand that it runs much deeper than humility.

You stay out of the way when Saeyoung visits, —which is often, and understandably so. It was exceptionally rough at first, but it’s slowly improving, as far as you can tell. The first time Saeyoung came over, Saeran snapped at you for letting him inside your shared apartment without his permission. You managed to take it in stride.

“I’m sorry,” Saeyoung had apologized to you in the wake of his brother’s outburst. “I know this must be hard, but please. . . Go easy on him.”

His request did not fall on deaf ears. You apologized, and Saeran took it well. He didn’t explicitly say sorry for yelling at you, but he took care of the dishes after dinner and ate seconds of the food you cooked, even when it was clear he’d been full after the first plate. That was enough.

The second day was better. Though you expected to turn Saeyoung away at the door, Saeran (begrudgingly) accepted him inside and they sat together on the couch. They didn’t say much, —or Saeran didn’t, anyway— but from the small glimpses you saw on your way from the bedroom to the bathroom and from the bedroom to the kitchen, you knew it was far better than nothing. Saeyoung brought popsicles with him: an entire bag that he had you stick in the freezer. It was the twin kind, the ones you can snap in half to share with someone else. You thought it was fitting, to say the least.

Even though Saeran threw his half away uneaten while his brother was still in the apartment, you watched him take one from the freezer right after dinner that evening, and that’s when you figured that everything was going to be okay. If not now, then eventually.

One day.

He slept a little closer to you that night: not touching, but within enough proximity to feel the heat radiating off your body. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t alone, which was different for him. He went so long only truly feeling safe when no one else was around that he figured it’d be difficult to adjust to living in such close quarters to you. That’s why this apartment has another bedroom: just in case. The both of you are yet to use it.

Saeran makes an effort to communicate, even if that means saying just a sentence more than he had the day before. He’s slowly getting used to expressing himself. You’re getting used to silence. He’s been watching you cook with keen eyes, attempting to learn how things are done without having to ask for help or directions. Being locked inside a room, typing away on a computer instead of learning basic skills has put a large portion of his life on hold. You move slower when you cook now, just so he can see the process better.

Things will find a way of working themselves out eventually, you’re sure. Even if that means the thin line between Saeran and his twin snaps, and they’re left to argue it out. You can play both sides well enough to keep everything in order. At least, you think you can.

It’s painfully obvious that Saeyoung is doing his best. This is all new to him as well, and you’re sure he hasn’t quite gotten over the shock of it all. The little brother he loved so dearly had been brainwashed into thinking so little of him, had been manipulated and mistreated for heaven knows how long. . . And bridging that gap is not an easy task. They may well be twins, but as far as Saeran can tell, they couldn’t possibly be more different.

Saeyoung, on the other hand, likes to think they have more in common than Saeran might think. For better or worse.

On the third day, Saeyoung came bearing gifts for the both of you.

“I hope these’ll make this apartment feel a lot more like home!” He said, and you took the bags with a gentle smile and thank yous for both yourself and Saeran, who watched Saeyoung’s hands carefully. Almost investigatively.

You’re not sure that Saeyong’s presents made the apartment feel anymore like home, but they did make it look and smell nicer, so half of the goal was accomplished as far as you were concerned. The scented candles he bought were mild in fragrance, likely to accommodate his younger brother’s easily overwhelmed senses. Maybe Saeran didn’t take notice of that, but you certainly did.

The houseplant he included was worrisome at the start, but Saeran took quite the liking to it, even if it was a silent one. It sits on the window sill in your shared bedroom now, soaking in sunlight; basking in the care of your lover. Maybe it’s just that he sees himself in the little plant that’s yet to blossom with flowers, —or maybe it’s just that Saeyoung was the one who picked it out. Maybe it’s both. You’re not sure one way or another, but you don’t ask either. Some things are definitely better left unsaid.

A framed picture of Saeyoung and Saeran was included amongst the house-warming gifts. A part of you hesitated to show it to Saeran, but eventually chose to in the end because it felt like the right thing to do. He seemed reflexively disgusted by it, placing it on the nightstand face down. . . You understood why. It’s glaringly obvious that he hasn’t forgiven either of the little boys in that image; not the elder who ran off with no warning, and not the younger who wasn’t “strong enough” to survive on his own.

It was perched upright come morning, though. That had to count for something.

The fourth day came, and with it, the expected visit from Saeyoung who’s just trying to make up for all the lost time between himself and his twin. He smiles when he sees the presents he’d given yesterday being put to good use. Saeran bothers to greet him this time; little more than a low “hi,” but it means the world to the elder male who beams in its wake.

There’s an undeniable gap between them, but slowly, slowly, slowly, it’s being filled, —filled with the kind of unconditional love you’re supposed to give your little brother. Filled with new memories to replace all the old ones that were tainted and marred by the outside world. Filled with baby steps until Saeran is comfortable enough to make a leap.

Saeyoung stays for dinner tonight. He compliments your cooking, and you smile as you tell him that there’s plenty to go around so “don’t be shy and take whatever you like!” Saeran is quiet, but in his own way, he involves himself in the conversation you hold with his brother. He listens more than reacts, but it’s clear that he’s interested.

Dark topics are danced around for the time being. Talking about Rika, or Mint Eye, or anything even tangentially related to such subjects at the dinner table would likely spoil everyone’s appetites. Instead, Saeyoung asks how you and Saeran are liking the apartment, —all while he eats your home-cooked meal from plates and silverware he offered up just the day before.

“It’s nice,” you tell him. “The neighborhood is quiet, and everyone we’ve met so far has been kind.”

“I’m glad,” Saeyoung nods. “If anything ever goes wrong, you can call me at any time. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

While his sentiment was supposed to be generalized between both yourself and Saeran, it’s obvious that he meant it more for his sibling. You understand why. Even if he doesn’t put it that way, Saeyoung is overcompensating for everything he wasn’t, but now has the proper ability to be. Saeran says nothing in return, but you know he cares. You know he’s thankful. Even if he doesn't say it, he’s getting used to this; —to having you here, to having Saeyoung here. . . To being safe.

He only flinches a little this time when you gently hold his hand beneath the table.

His palms are sweaty, but his grip is feather-like. He’s a surprisingly gentle man.

Saeran doesn’t eat one of the popsicles while Saeyoung is still hanging around, but the moment he leaves, he’s got one in his hand. He struggles to break it apart for a few moments, uncertain of how much pressure to apply. He’s sick and tired of breaking things, of messing things up over and over again.

You do it for him, and he only takes one side back, leaving the other with you.

It’s sweet.

That night, Saeran lies awake for a while. He feels a little funny, like he’s watching the world spin from somewhere far away. . . You shift a little in your sleep, the bed creaking ever so softly. He breathes out the stress, the worries, the anxiety, staring at the picture on the nightstand. It’s conflicting. One part of him wants to reach up and grab it, slam it to the floor and watch it shatter into little bits: wants it gone forever. Another wants to cherish it like some lost relic from another world entirely.

The boys in that picture were innocent, yet the both of them were contaminated by sin. Even still, Saeran vividly remembers the way he would cling to Saeyoung for warmth and comfort in their youth. The thought of it makes him equal parts sick to his stomach and warm and fuzzy.

It feels like so long ago that he was that little boy. He’s far from weak now. Most of the time, anyway.

Some old habits die hard.

Saeran sighs. Sometimes, when he looks at Saeyoung, he feels jealousy run heavy and hot through his veins. It’s not fair. Saeyoung is everything he’s supposed to be, —everything he’s supposed to look like. It’s like he’s looking into some cruel mirror that only shows what should be. Because Saeran’s hair doesn’t run in vermillion locks that curl ever so slightly at the ends. His eyes aren’t bright and golden anymore. His skin isn’t clear the way Saeyoung’s is; but marred by the mark of the woman who kept him a prisoner to her (and to himself) for far too long.

It’s not that he hates Saeyoung. No, really. . . That’s not it. Saeran doesn’t know that he hates anyone. Or maybe he just hates everyone. That’s another thing he’s yet to figure out thus far.

He just wants to be Saeyoung, sometimes. He wishes he could trade bodies with him, if only for a little while, to know what it’s like to be in the appropriate skin.

He’s definitely thinking too much.

Turning to his other side, Saeran rests his gaze on the line of your shoulders. Your breathing is soft and shallow as you sleep, and for a moment, he feels a flicker of jealousy for the way you can rest so peacefully.

There’s nothing else he would wish for you, though. And he knows that.

In the end, all he really wants is for everyone to be happy. He wants to be happy, and right now, as moonlight filters in through the window, illuminating the houseplant on the sill, he’s not sure what to classify this feeling in his chest as. . . But happiness is the best guess he’s got.

203 notes · View notes