100 Days DISCONTINUED

13

⚠️ Brief mentions of su*cide ⚠️ 

Two nights had passed since Hongjoong had talked to Chan.

Two nights had passed since Hongjoong had spent the night sobbing and wailing in his car.

Two nights had passed since Hongjoong learned to truth.

The love of his life, the only person he's ever adored, the only person he'd ever yearned to be around, to talk with, to touch, was slowly dying.   

And Hongjoong couldn't grasp onto the unbelievable fact. He didn't talk to anyone for two whole days, staying in his apartment and laying in bed, thoughts of his times with Seonghwa swirling through his mind like a whirlpool of memories and emotions. 

Mostly he laid awake, closing his eyes occasionally but never really falling asleep. He couldn't sleep knowing his boyfriend was out there slowly edging towards his own demise. It unsettled him immensely, scaring him awake whenever he began to drift off. 

Hongjoong would scream daily, sometimes words and sometimes just for the hell of it. For some people, screaming works. It blows off steam and let's you get the sounds of sadness out of your system. For the short blue haired male though, it did nothing. 

Hongjoong, in addition to screaming until his lungs burned, would cry. There wasn't a time for the next two days that Hongjoong's eyes weren't red, that he wasn't gasping for breath, choking on his pathetic mewls of misery, and the salty tears streaming down his flushed cheeks didn't stop falling even once. 

Day three began, exhaustion kicking in as Hongjoong pulled himself out of his warm, comfy bed. Dragging the blankets with him, wrapped tightly, the blue haired boy trudged towards the bathroom. Throwing the fuzzy blankets on the floor, Hongjoong locked the bathroom door and ran a shaky hand through his fluorescent, unwashed hair.  

Hongjoong tried not to grimace at his reflection. His bright red eyes, tear stained checks, and dark circles underneath said tired, reddened orbs made him want to curl up into a ball and begin crying all over again. But no. Today he had to go see Ateez. He'd left them for too long without word of where he was. He had to go see Seonghwa.

Washing his face, the boy's thoughts trailed back to a certain tall, elegant, dark haired male. He couldn't get Seonghwa out of his mind no matter how hard he tried. That would be difficult to manage once he was gone, he concluded. 

But there was no time to waste. Slipping on a jacket and shoving his phone, full of worried, unanswered messages from Ateez, into his pocket, Hongjoong set off at four pm to go to the clubhouse. 

Clearing his mind, Joong hopped on his old bike which was caked in a layer of dust and peddled up the steep hills and down the precipitous streets of San Francisco to get to the clubhouse.

Once he got there, the boy threw his bike down on the small grassy planter in front beside Yeosang's and Mingi's bikes. He took a deep breath, praying that his act would seem natural, hoping to break the news but not wanting to break the hearts of any of his members.

Cautiously, Hongjoong creaked the big, wooden door to the clubhouse open, peeking inside. Sitting on the many cushy armchairs and shabby couch were six of the Ateez members, excluding Seonghwa. Panic rushed through Hongjoong's veins for a moment before he realized Seonghwa was waitering that night. He breathed a small sigh of relief as the members turned to him.

"Hongjoong?" San asked, worry but also reassurance lacing his voice. "Hongjoong, you're....okay." 

As soon as the words left San's mouth, the members sprung up, dashing to the eldest, and engulfing him in a big group hug.