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"Hey Baby," Jeno's mother cooed as he came through the door with his medical supplies. "Where were you? I got home a few minutes ago and you were out," she questioned while rushing over to her son and cupping his face to make sure he hadn't gotten beaten up.
"I'm fine mum," he whispered hoarsely, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her cheek to reassure the panicking woman. "My mind was a bit crowded so I went for a walk."
He watched as her eyes drifted to the plastic bag he held, so before she could question him, he patted her back comfortingly before he brushed past her to get to the stairs where he leapt up two at a time.
"I made myself dinner earlier. I'll see you in the morning!" He called down before shutting his bedroom door, not hearing the deflated response of his mother who was clearly worried.
"Where's Kim Miyoung when you need her?" The woman whispered as she trailed back to the kitchen where her husband sat with an equally as sad look. "She could read that boy's mind."
"She could indeed."
He set his gaze upon the dilapidated tree house which had fallen due to neglect. He quietly sighed. Where had those days gone?
Meanwhile, Jeno was carefully treating his self-inflicted wounds from earlier, hissing in pain as the dried blood cracked to create a new flow of the deep red liquid.
"Fuck," he lowly hissed. "I didn't mean to do this."
He always said that, yet still there were countless cuts along his wrist where he had lost control in a mind battle with himself and sought nothing but the sweet relief from all the hurtful things his mind threw at him mercilessly.
Still, he patched up the damage, only hoping that next time he could stop himself from doing this, but he knew that would be untrue. He simply felt too weak to save himself from the spiralling depression he had fallen into.
Many a time had the adolescent considered mending the damage he had caused between him and Miyoung, but the smile that she wore was one so bright that a dark and damaged boy such as himself would only drag her down. For that reason exactly, he had parted with her five years prior, not realising the long-term pain that this had caused her.
All he thought of as he cleaned up his room after finishing with the medical kit was how kind she still was to him, even if he had given her the cold shoulder and monosyllabic responses.
But after five years of fighting his demons, he felt that he couldn't let her back in, for if he lost the battle it would cause her even more pain than the loss of their friendship.
