Missing You

Chapter 1

CAP(Minsoo) POV

My head is hung low, the dark brown bangs of hair covering my eyes. I'm alone in my apartment. Or what was once my apartment. Now it's just a destroyed- no a completely annihilated - mess. Torn sheets, smashed furniture, cracked and splintered drywall. Bottles of beer litter the floor, some half full, but most half empty. As I sit among the aftermath of my anger, I feel something strange. No- I don't feel it, I hear it.

Something is dripping, like water droplets from a leaking faucet, I look around warily, but then I realized that the sound is coming from myself. I glance down, and see the floor next to me has droplets of a red, shining liquid splayed across it. I trace the droplets source to my hand. As I see the blood dripping slowly from my palm, I vaguely wonder what happened. I notice that I am tightly clutching a large shard of glass. Shakily, I drop the piece and sigh heavily. How did that happen? I look over to the window, which shows the night-time lights of the city through the splintering panel of glass. I remember punching the window, I think.......

Soon the fogginess of intoxication takes over, and I can't help but remember why I'm here, and what happened to lead me to this point .

CAP(Minsoo) POV, Flashback

"You have a rare and terminal condition of your brain. It's purely physical and degenerative. It is quickly deteriorating the condition of your most vital organ." Says the grey haired man in the white coat.

I'm bewildered. I knew that the recent aching headaches that lasted for hours, the sleepless nights filled with pain resonating from my temple to the base of my skull, and the unexplainable swings of depression and sadness, were not normal. But I thought it was just insomnia, or at the very worst I was developing bipolar disorder.

But the man said my brain is physically deteriorating. I know what that means. It means it's literally falling apart.

I look up in to the elderly man's face, meeting his eyes. Instantly it's clear that there is no cure. There is no way to save me from my imminent, looming, demise. I can't help myself, I ask the question that I only thought actors in movies or dramas ever said out loud. I asked the doctor how long I have. How long I have to live.

He looks at me with pity, and holds up a bottle of pills. "If you take these daily, you'll live for a year, maximum. But if you don't, you'll only have one month- give or take a few days."

I take the bottle, barely glancing at it, and I slide it into the pocket of my sweatshirt. I stumble my way out of the room, nodding grudgingly at the man in white.

Before I know it, I'm back in my apartment. I sink to the floor, buried in my own worries.

I only have a year to live. I only have a year to live. I whisper to myself, trying to comprehend the blatant truth. But only if I take the medicine that the doctor gave me. The medicine.... The medicine.....

I pull the bottle out of my bottle, and really look at it for the first time. It's not the long and complicated Latin-based name that catches my eye, but something else entirely. Two small, yet bold words "Side Effects." I scan my eyes over the list and I am appalled. "May cause sudden mood swings, violent actions or tendencies, coupled with anger induced fits towards others near you......" the list goes on, but I stop reading in disgust.

There is no way I am going to take these pills...... the possibility of me getting angry, and... and of hurting someone I love is to hard to think of. The images flash back to me, of the people that I love and care about the most.