Blue {DoTae} | complete

Fourteen: I can't stop thinking

At precisely three minutes past one in the morning, Doyoung awakes with a gasp. There's sweat beading on his forehead and his palms are sticky when he clenches his fist, yet he remembers nothing from the nightmare. That's probably just as well, he thinks as he counts through each shaky breath. The blood rushes from his head when he sits up, then his eyes strain to find the empty mug in the darkness, tongue cursing because he has to stumble to the bathroom sink to fill it back up with water to soothe his throat. He doesn't turn the light on - the last thing he wants to see is his dishevelled appearance. Instead, he splashes his face and scrubs around his nose to rid himself of the imaginary grime that clumps over his skin and makes him feel disgusting.

The plate of food is still there on his nightstand. It's nothing extravagant, but the cold chicken, rice and peas is enough to satiate the growling of his stomach even if it all seems to sink like a rock that weighs him down to the floor.

Doyoung regrets applying to college in the first place. All his friends had been going, seeking both the experience and the qualifications to eventually find high-paying jobs with fancy titles. But now he thinks he'd have been better off if he didn't follow them like a lost sheep. They don't pay much attention to him anyway. All he's done is trap himself in a world of stress and loneliness.

They're sat around in the canteen between classes, voices shouting over the top of one another enough to give Doyoung a headache. He got lost in the noise a long time ago, so he has no idea what they're talking about. Yuta is showing off a new tattoo he has on his forearm. Doyoung doesn't lean over to see it, instead scratching at his own skin. Donghyuck pulls himself onto Mark's lap and drapes his arms around his neck, and Doyoung wants to cry. But he doesn't. He never does in these situations. He just stands up and walks off to the library. No one calls him, and no one chases after him. When he looks back just before leaving the canteen, he meets Sicheng's gaze. His eyes are sunken and sad, yet churning with bitterness. Doyoung bites the inside of his cheek and shuts the door behind him, blocking out his friends' laughter.

Sicheng is mad. It's so obvious. Doyoung still wants to cry but just can't find the capacity to release the tears as he pulls the book out of his bag, wincing when the paper sends a shock through his fingers. Not this again. He runs a hand through his knotty hair. Perhaps he should dye it like Taeyong does. Changing something about his appearance could make up for the fact that he can never seem to shift his mindset.

"Why did I push him away?" Doyoung flicks through the book with a long, heavy exhale. The paper is still too rough, too papery for his senses to cope with and he drops it back in his bag, then slings the bag over his shoulder and decides to just go home.

It takes him three tries to get up from the chair in the right way, then he's only able to stutter a farewell to the librarian, which has heat rushing through his cheeks because he's twenty-one and still can't make such simple, mindless conversation. Because for him it's not mindless. Doyoung has to constantly think about everything to the point where he just can't catch a fucking rest from criticism.

You're stepping too heavily on your right foot.

Turn around and open the door again. Now wipe the germs off with your sleeve, but make sure to wash that hoodie when you get home. Can you see the germs crawling around? Can you?

Smile at the teacher. No. You did it wrong, and now she thinks you're a creep. What is wrong with you?

Doyoung finally makes it outside the college gates. He has another class this afternoon but his friends had all planned to stay to hang out as a group over lunch for the first time in a while. Doyoung supposes he won't be missed. He counts three hundred and thirty-nine steps before he loses count, a car honking its horn when he steps out into the round without thinking. His heart leaps into his throat when he makes it to the other side in one piece.