behind the front lines (ch. 1)
title: behind the front lines
length: [1/5]
author: yoosu_ftw
rating: pg 16 (for violence and swearing later)
genre: drama/angst
pairing: later yoosu, yunjae, and hints at ot5
summary: Behind the fronts lines, where live and yet live is the motto, there are no enemies, there are only allies. We are all victims, and we all understand.
---
I was a young doctor, straight out of collage before I volunteered to help out in the war effort. It sounded like fun at first, it promised to never be boring and I would get to see our heroes in action.
When I got here, however, I saw what the press failed to report, what the government conveniently left out of our hands.
The war was not this great scene of our men smiling, laughing, taking over the enemy’s fronts like they had done it a million times.
No. These men were mostly volunteers from our homeland. Bright young men with a lot of life before them, until they stared down the enemies barrels. The fact was, the government got them to sign up as friends and promised to keep them together.
‘Fight with your buds.’
No doubt a lure for these males.
As teams, sometimes up to twenty or thirty, they would all die together, or watch a pal die right beside them. A traumatic experience for many.
Yes, I had seen these horrors with my own eyes, dealt with the aftermath. Thank god I wasn’t a soldier, I always think.
Dear Mum,
The wars going well. Seems like we deal with less and less casualties everyday. I hope you’re doing well, I do rather miss your cooking though. I can’t wait to come home and eat it every day. Can’t wait until I come home to you. With Love, your son. P.S. I’m sure you’ll be getting a letter from my brother soon.
Lies. All lies.
It made me sick that this was the only way to tell my mother I was alive.
‘The war is awful. Please let me come home.’
‘People are dying everywhere. I’m afraid the ground might permanently be dyed red.’
She would never hear it, I did not want to die for treason after all.
Sudden yelling pulled me out of my thoughts. It was the soldier from earlier, still in hysteria, still shouting in his native tongue. I walked up to him and stared him down.
“Do you speak English sir?” it was a long shot. Not many of the enemies knew our language unless they were from the upper class, and this man looked far from that. Not that you could tell after years of trekking in mud.
“Fuck you Englishman!” was the first thing out of his mouth. Lovely, just what I wanted to deal with after eleven casualties this morning.
“Sir, can you please calm down?” my voice was completely deadpanned. I think this war sucked the emotions right out of people after a while. It wouldn’t surprise me if that was a scientific fact.
He thrashed around some, despite his injury that had split his side open and his head cracked. Maybe he had injured something else in there. “I don’t want any of your fucking help!”
I sighed openly. I wish they taught you patience at collage. I wasn’t nearly experience enough to know how to deal with this professionally, so I dealt it as myself.
“Sir, please calm down. We mean you no harm, and as long as you don’t resist you wont be hurt,” I was told the second he healed he was going to be thrown in a slammer, a prisoner of war. He had been lucky to be alive. One soldier had felt sorry for him, the sight of this young man lying face down half dead and spluttering must have been quite a sight, and brought him back, saying we could keep him prisoner.
That soldier had been punished for being soft. In fact, I’d bet he would be dead in four hours.
“You fucking Englishmen! You really are sadistic bastards! If you don’t kill us right away you bring us back help us get better and then kill us? Is that how you work!?” he had some how managed to pull himself and stood before me, just a few centimetres taller.
“I told you sir, we mean no-” but a quick punch to my right cheek sent me sprawling against the close wall. Well I be damned, that guy still packed quite a wallop. My awe was short lived when he stumbled over to me and tried to get another punch off. An injured guy’s punch wasn’t that hard to dodge however as I danced out of his way.
“You killed him!” I was close enough now to see his cheeks drenched in tears, his eyes red and swollen.
“Who?”
Another dodged punch before he collapsed on the ground, tears racking his body, his pain seemed to have been temporarily forgotten. “My.. my brother… you fucking killed him!”
I put myself in the danger zone by crouching down to his level, giving him a sombre smile. “I know how you feel.”
“Huh?”
“My twin brother was killed two weeks ago by your lot. He had run forward to help his injured comrade when one of the Germans shot him in the head,” I had long since gotten over it. A week of crying, praying, shouting that life wasn’t fair I was called back to duty. There were others hurting much more than I, and at least these people had a chance. I didn’t want their parents, friends, or lovers to feel the same pain I did. It was inevitable though.
The soldier stopped sniffling for a moment before looking up at me.
“Really?”
“Yeah, his name was Junho. A royal pain in the ass. He was always the one for the action. I was the pretty one,” I explained, a soft smile on my face. The thought of mum and dad at home, sitting at the table saying grace-
“Andy… he’s gone. He’s really gone…” he had stopped crying, it just seemed like it had sunk in and he had gone into shock. He surprised me by looking up at me, something tugging at the end of his lips. “I’m.. sorry for your brother.”
“I am too. I’m sure your brother is in a better place.”
“Yours too. Can’t be any worse than here.” We both sat there, on the floor in the medical room. The smell of blood and death rampant in the air, people dying, moaning, all around.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I? As soon as I’m healthy enough to go to hearing to hear that I’m going to get killed,” his voice was sad, but his tears had stopped. Honestly I had no idea how this worked, it just seemed that we tried to kill as many of the enemy as possible for any reason we could find.
“Probably,” there was no use lying to him. “But with that wound you can hide in here for a good few weeks,” to me, there really was no allies or enemies. Just injured men who needed healing. We shot them down because we were ordered to, they shot us down for the same reason. It was all the business of war.
“Park Yoochun,” the soldier stuck out his grimy, calloused hand.
“Doctor Kim. But you can call me Kim Junsu,” I caught his hand in a firm grip, both of us reflecting the same smile. It was by far a full out grin, but the circumstances hardly called for that.
It was then we realised
enemies or allies
we were all losing
---
A/N. So now you all know who's who! =]
Doctor Kim and soldier Park!
I planned out the whole story now, and I know this is the frist chapter out of 5 (not including the prologue or possible epilogue), and hopefully I'll have it completed in the next two weeks.
Comments inspire me to write faster~ haha~!
length: [1/5]
author: yoosu_ftw
rating: pg 16 (for violence and swearing later)
genre: drama/angst
pairing: later yoosu, yunjae, and hints at ot5
summary: Behind the fronts lines, where live and yet live is the motto, there are no enemies, there are only allies. We are all victims, and we all understand.
---
I was a young doctor, straight out of collage before I volunteered to help out in the war effort. It sounded like fun at first, it promised to never be boring and I would get to see our heroes in action.
When I got here, however, I saw what the press failed to report, what the government conveniently left out of our hands.
The war was not this great scene of our men smiling, laughing, taking over the enemy’s fronts like they had done it a million times.
No. These men were mostly volunteers from our homeland. Bright young men with a lot of life before them, until they stared down the enemies barrels. The fact was, the government got them to sign up as friends and promised to keep them together.
‘Fight with your buds.’
No doubt a lure for these males.
As teams, sometimes up to twenty or thirty, they would all die together, or watch a pal die right beside them. A traumatic experience for many.
Yes, I had seen these horrors with my own eyes, dealt with the aftermath. Thank god I wasn’t a soldier, I always think.
Dear Mum,
The wars going well. Seems like we deal with less and less casualties everyday. I hope you’re doing well, I do rather miss your cooking though. I can’t wait to come home and eat it every day. Can’t wait until I come home to you. With Love, your son. P.S. I’m sure you’ll be getting a letter from my brother soon.
Lies. All lies.
It made me sick that this was the only way to tell my mother I was alive.
‘The war is awful. Please let me come home.’
‘People are dying everywhere. I’m afraid the ground might permanently be dyed red.’
She would never hear it, I did not want to die for treason after all.
Sudden yelling pulled me out of my thoughts. It was the soldier from earlier, still in hysteria, still shouting in his native tongue. I walked up to him and stared him down.
“Do you speak English sir?” it was a long shot. Not many of the enemies knew our language unless they were from the upper class, and this man looked far from that. Not that you could tell after years of trekking in mud.
“Fuck you Englishman!” was the first thing out of his mouth. Lovely, just what I wanted to deal with after eleven casualties this morning.
“Sir, can you please calm down?” my voice was completely deadpanned. I think this war sucked the emotions right out of people after a while. It wouldn’t surprise me if that was a scientific fact.
He thrashed around some, despite his injury that had split his side open and his head cracked. Maybe he had injured something else in there. “I don’t want any of your fucking help!”
I sighed openly. I wish they taught you patience at collage. I wasn’t nearly experience enough to know how to deal with this professionally, so I dealt it as myself.
“Sir, please calm down. We mean you no harm, and as long as you don’t resist you wont be hurt,” I was told the second he healed he was going to be thrown in a slammer, a prisoner of war. He had been lucky to be alive. One soldier had felt sorry for him, the sight of this young man lying face down half dead and spluttering must have been quite a sight, and brought him back, saying we could keep him prisoner.
That soldier had been punished for being soft. In fact, I’d bet he would be dead in four hours.
“You fucking Englishmen! You really are sadistic bastards! If you don’t kill us right away you bring us back help us get better and then kill us? Is that how you work!?” he had some how managed to pull himself and stood before me, just a few centimetres taller.
“I told you sir, we mean no-” but a quick punch to my right cheek sent me sprawling against the close wall. Well I be damned, that guy still packed quite a wallop. My awe was short lived when he stumbled over to me and tried to get another punch off. An injured guy’s punch wasn’t that hard to dodge however as I danced out of his way.
“You killed him!” I was close enough now to see his cheeks drenched in tears, his eyes red and swollen.
“Who?”
Another dodged punch before he collapsed on the ground, tears racking his body, his pain seemed to have been temporarily forgotten. “My.. my brother… you fucking killed him!”
I put myself in the danger zone by crouching down to his level, giving him a sombre smile. “I know how you feel.”
“Huh?”
“My twin brother was killed two weeks ago by your lot. He had run forward to help his injured comrade when one of the Germans shot him in the head,” I had long since gotten over it. A week of crying, praying, shouting that life wasn’t fair I was called back to duty. There were others hurting much more than I, and at least these people had a chance. I didn’t want their parents, friends, or lovers to feel the same pain I did. It was inevitable though.
The soldier stopped sniffling for a moment before looking up at me.
“Really?”
“Yeah, his name was Junho. A royal pain in the ass. He was always the one for the action. I was the pretty one,” I explained, a soft smile on my face. The thought of mum and dad at home, sitting at the table saying grace-
“Andy… he’s gone. He’s really gone…” he had stopped crying, it just seemed like it had sunk in and he had gone into shock. He surprised me by looking up at me, something tugging at the end of his lips. “I’m.. sorry for your brother.”
“I am too. I’m sure your brother is in a better place.”
“Yours too. Can’t be any worse than here.” We both sat there, on the floor in the medical room. The smell of blood and death rampant in the air, people dying, moaning, all around.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I? As soon as I’m healthy enough to go to hearing to hear that I’m going to get killed,” his voice was sad, but his tears had stopped. Honestly I had no idea how this worked, it just seemed that we tried to kill as many of the enemy as possible for any reason we could find.
“Probably,” there was no use lying to him. “But with that wound you can hide in here for a good few weeks,” to me, there really was no allies or enemies. Just injured men who needed healing. We shot them down because we were ordered to, they shot us down for the same reason. It was all the business of war.
“Park Yoochun,” the soldier stuck out his grimy, calloused hand.
“Doctor Kim. But you can call me Kim Junsu,” I caught his hand in a firm grip, both of us reflecting the same smile. It was by far a full out grin, but the circumstances hardly called for that.
It was then we realised
enemies or allies
we were all losing
---
A/N. So now you all know who's who! =]
Doctor Kim and soldier Park!
I planned out the whole story now, and I know this is the frist chapter out of 5 (not including the prologue or possible epilogue), and hopefully I'll have it completed in the next two weeks.
Comments inspire me to write faster~ haha~!