winter falls ━ hyunsung. ✓

xx › i'm okay now. yeah, i'll be okay.

the air was heavy with the sighs of a broken heart. hyunjin sat at the dinner table in his parents' house, fiddling with a piece of charcoal. his fingertips were stained a dark gray, testament to his frustration.

his mom was seated at the other end of the table, typing away at her laptop, engrossed in a world of her own. and his father was busy in the kitchen, rattling pots and pans around and singing loudly to himself.

hyunjin hardly noticed anything else but his own torment. he smudged the lines on his paper even more, forgetting what the image was even supposed to be of.

going to jisung's place after his rejection had been just as bad as hyunjin thought it would be. even now, he could still feel the heat of minho's hateful stare unwavering from its designated position on his face. hyunjin had not even gone past the doorway of jisung's apartment. but every time he had looked over at the purple-haired menace, minho had been glaring at him with fire dancing in his aura.

at the time, hyunjin had nearly choked on a giggle. somehow, jisung's new boyfriend was so intimidating to the point where it was funny.

but he hadn't left the apartment fast enough. a fatal mistake.

he clenched his hands into tight fists, staring at his knuckles as they turned white under the pressure. the image of jisung standing in front of minho, whose facial features immediately warmed as soon as his eyes set sight on him, his eyes becoming kind. hyunjin found himself unable to look away as they exchanged their sickening show of affection.

they stared into each others' eyes and hyunjin had stumbled backward, back into the cold and snow, leaving the warm and loving atmosphere that permeated the stuffy and insufferable apartment.

he had tripped over the doormat and landed on his back in the slush and snow, short puffs of mist appearing in front of his face with each of his quick breaths.

hyunjin clenched his fists even tighter as he recalled how jisung had called his name, staring at him with concern. but he had pushed himself up as fast as he could and hurried away, as fast as he could.

he ran away.

and now he was here.

hyunjin relaxed his fists as pinpricks of pain started up on his palms.

he turned them over and stared at the crescent marks from his nails nearly carved into his skin. a heaviness filled his chest. was this it, then?

his chapter in jisung's life had come to a close. it was hard to put the pen down, to give up and let the work continue on. he was an artist after all - at least, that was what he considered himself to be - it was impossible for him to admit things were finished. he tirelessly, hopelessly, continuously tried and tried again, adding things in, running the situation over and over in his mind. how could things have gone so wrong? what could he change?

there had to be something he could change.

why couldn't he give up?

perhaps this was his way of clinging to the last few moments he had of jisung's warmth, his smile, his expressional face. hyunjin's last few moments gazing at jisung with wonder and adoring eyes, before he was cursed to the lonely future of seeing him only through the hazy and dim flashback memories trapped in his heart.

he was forever doomed to remain in jisung's past; a cold, black and white sprite of a love that used to be. a relationship he'd ruined with his careless and selfish actions.

hyunjin stared forlornly at the sketchpad on the surface of the table. he rested a hand on it, eyes skimming over the deliberate shapes and smudges.

no.

he had to pull himself together. if not for himself, for jisung.

in their situation, hyunjin was now the intruder, the one who crashed back into the picture and attempted to ruin what seemed like a good relationship, something jisung so desperately needed. how dare hyunjin say he loved him when he'd nearly ruined the life jisung had carefully recreated for himself, from the pieces of what used to be, shattered by the torture of neglect?

so now. . . couldn't he at least. . . pretend to be okay?

perhaps, it would help him move on, in a way. speaking those lines into truth.

i'm okay.

i'm okay?

i will be okay.

right?

hyunjin had sketched with smooth and soft lines, a pair of hands holding onto each other in an act of despicable intimacy.

he had drawn minho and jisung's hands, entwined.

unfortunately, i no longer have any prewritten chapters for this book, so updates will most likely slow considerably. i'll try to keep the time between uploads as short as possible.