Daybreak [Weak Hero] Alex Go X Reader X Wolf Keum

7. Into the Dark

There were three messages from Alex on your phone for you when you got back home.

One concerned for your wellbeing, one worried for whether you got home, and another apologizing for being brash.

You skimmed all of them and opened none.

Night turned into day, and that day into another night, until eventually a week had gone past.

He hadn't messaged you again. Even though you weren't expecting anything, you still waited for something, anything, to happen.

You knew you had to be the one to reach out again, but whenever you opened your messages and stared at his name, a stone would sit itself in your gut and weigh you down, heavy, burdensome and unrelenting until you put the phone down.

The thought that perhaps allowing yourself to become close to Alex Go wasn't such a good idea, the thought that maybe someone like you, so stuck and still hurting in the past would only serve to anchor him down, ran through your mind.

You tried everything to distract yourself.

Within the week you had been thrust back into loneliness, you were a fish out of water. You tried to grasp at anything to occupy the space in your mind, jogs in the morning, after school, in the middle of the night. It tired you out, but never enough to placate your mind.

Between the bouts of exercise, you tried to understand the situation. You think about Alex Go and his friend Ben in middle school, and you thought about Alex Go and you in the present.
You think about the broken the stoplight, and how it connected to the night everything changed.

He had been the one to destroy the traffic light.

You had many days and nights to ponder about this, alone in your room. He was the reason that on that fateful night, on that sad, dim street corner, the light flashed erratically between "go" and "stop."  He was the reason it was brandished forever in your mind, your mourning heart, and on blood stained hands.

Your chest ached with regret, so deep and harrowing that you wished you could tear it out. It was curious how reckless life was with passion, sincerity and good will. It stung especially painfully seeing indifference and injustice can convene so sharply right before your eyes. One second there, the next gone.

When you closed your eyes, you could still see your hand, bleached with moonlight and stilled, reaching out to him. A whisper on your lips, dying on your breath to fall upon deafened ears.

All bitter memories.

Dampening your eyes and shaking your core, but no matter where you looked, how many reasons you turned over, you could find no spite for Alex Go.
The same Alex Go who, when smiling, parted the clouds and called off the rain.
Alex Go, who could never wish harm on anyone, not intentionally.

In a desperate attempt to salvage peace of mind, you had picked up the pen again despite knowing what would happen.

You'd just write whatever was on your mind. It wasn't a story, or a continuation to a novel, it was just pages and pages of nonsense with no exact order. And though it was indubitably the voice of your mind, you felt nothing while writing it and it frustrated you to no end.
It couldn't be helped, these words had been bouncing around your head so long they had made refuge in your skin, your fingers, controlling your life long before they were on paper. But you didn't need to see your thoughts to understand them. You needed solace. Needed peace. Needed someone to tell you that you would be okay.

But you didn't have these things, so you kept pressing on, like pouring out these words could help you find the ones you wanted to send Alex when the basin was empty. Poised and pen in hand, for as long as you could, like endurance training, until your wrists burned and your body ached.