𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 ♡ MinSung

Ch. 62

Jisung sat in front of the mirror, his breaths coming and going quickly. He was doing it again.

He was freaking out over the smallest little problem like he always did, his paranoid brain going haywire trying to calm down his trembling hands.

He tried to stop breathing so fast but he couldn't, he felt like there was a rope tied tightly around his lungs stopping him from breathing in any deeper.

He was in his suit with his hair done, ready to go to the formal event with his father, but was he really ready?

He was having a panic attack, knowing that he would probably be forced to make conversation with a bunch of people he had never even met before- the amount of things that could go wrong was too many to count.

What would they think of him? They would hate him. They'd take one look and think he was an ugly pig, they'd outcast him-

Another, even more worrisome thought popped into his head. What if he managed to get his father fired?

He whimpered as he slid down the bathroom wall, longing for someone to hold him. He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready.

How could he tell his father though? He had been so happy to hear that his son was willing to spend time with him on something he cares so much about...

Work.

He gripped tightly at his shins probably digging his nails in slightly too hard, but he barely noticed, he just prayed to God that he would get through this. That he wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Just make it go away.." he murmered under his shaky breath, choking out another suppressed whimper.

"Just make it go away.." he repeated again. He wanted it to go away, why wouldn't it go away?

"Just make it go away.." he said louder now, above a whisper, as if he were trying to tell someone, as if he were asking for help.

It didn't though. It didn't go away. The sharp pain in his heart and the hot feeling on his skin remained. He could feel how his breath never slowed and he felt like no matter how much he pleaded, it only seemed to get worse.

He tilted his head up to the ceiling, his eyes shut tightly with his makeup running down his face. He repeated, "Please, please, please, please, please.." under his breath over and over again.

Maybe it would do something.

"Ple-ease-" he cried out louder than he had expected, his breath hitching partway through, "Please make it go away, please-" he sobbed, not even trying to stay quiet anymore.

His father probably didn't even hear anyway, he was all the way in the basement getting ready and Jisung was on the top floor of the house.

He bit down on his lip, painful cries leaving his mouth. His breath got heavier and more exhausting as time went on, he wondered if he could keep going.

His chest was being squeezed by something, a non-existent force that wanted him to stop breathing, to just die.

He gasped for air and cried out again, knowing he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to die.

Blood trickled down from where his nails were still digging into his shins, the stinging pain barely bothering him.

Slowly, his tears started to slow and he was finally able to breath deeply, taking in as much oxygen as he needed. He let his chest rise and fall at a steady pace now, catching his breath.

He whimpered slightly as the bittersweet feeling if pain finally registered in his mind. In some ways he liked the feeling, but mostly he just let it be.

He felt like in a way, knowing that he had put himself through that experience was nice. It made him feel slightly less guilty, like he had made even with the world.

For a while he just sat there, taking his time to calm down, after all, he still had an hour to fix his makeup before they left.

He let his legs drop to the ground instead of compressing them against his chest. His head tilted up to look at the white ceiling above him.

"Just make it go away.." he breathed out quietly, remember the words that had darting around in his head, now they just floated aimlessly. But they weren't gone.

He picked at his nail for a moment before carefully picking himself up, looking at the mess he had made on his face.

His lips were pink and swollen, his eyes red and his eye makeup running down his face and smudged roughly. He hadn't done any crazy makeup, but he was still upset that it had gotten recked.

He hoped that it would distract from his face.

He heard his father call to him from downstairs, "We're leaving in 45 minutes!"

Jisung called back with a 'yes' and went back to making himself look at least somewhat presentable.

He couldn't show his face in public looking like this- are you crazy?

He was glad that he hadn't done anything stupid however. What if he had actually cut his wrists or some other hurtful thing? What if he had gone absolutely insane and texted Minho or something.

He shivered at the thought. They hadn't sent a single text to one another after Jisung had broken it off.

It was for the best.