cursed⭐︎ᵐⁱⁿˢᵘⁿᵍ

forty seven

I wore the gift from Minho everywhere. I slept with it, showered with it and cried with it. It was like a lucky charm and the letter he had written me was like a captivating novel you reread million times.

And each time I opened it, tears slipped out and wet it again and again.

I couldn't properly function without Minho. He was an angel before yet his wings were invisible, now his wings grew and took over his body. I was waiting for my turn.

Some of Minhos last words were 'stay alive'. He spoke it as if he had already known what would've happened after his death, he anticipated it.

I didn't have an appetite anymore. I didn't want to do basic human things such as being hygienic, although I bullied myself into taking care of myself because of the disgust.

Three more days and I'll meet you, Min. 

As much as I hated the idea of him watching me hurt myself I had to keep my promise.

The horrible events plagued me, especially in my dreams. It kept repeating in my head, over and over again.

His chilly hand holding onto mine, his bleeding body helplessly laying in my arms. His blood painted my white flannel shirt red, staining my blue wide-leg jeans as it oozed out of him.

How horror that scene was.

I turned the television in my living room on while listening to the news.

It drove me insane whenever somebody mentioned 'The Death Of Lee Minho, A Nineteen-Year-Old Dancer'.

The train tracks were now working and the same train passed by, every day, at the same time once again. I wanted to have a peaceful and romantic death, such as dying in the arms of my beloved— but I didn't have one so in this case Minho.

But that wasn't possible anymore.

Why didn't someone just shoot me when they saw the bleeding boy in my arms? Why didn't they end my suffering?

Questions like that followed me everywhere.

I had no idea what souls were made of but I knew mine and his were intertwined. A familiar connection tangled in the universe and written in the skies.

All my hopes died when he perished.

Why couldn't she run me over just like she had planned?

My night terrors might have been frightening lately but they showed me who caused the real problem.

It was her.

She was the person who should've supported me. The woman tried to run me over and failed horribly which led her to kill an innocent man.

A phone rang, snapping me out of daydreaming. It was Felix who had called me in the morning too but I figured it was probably unimportant so I ignored it.

This time, I decide to answer.

"Jisung, finally!"

"Hello?" I answered, in a quiet voice.

"I missed you a lot! Could we hang out, the other boys will come as well, please?!" Felix asked as his deep voice echoed.

I wasn't sure of what to do. I wanted to protect them by letting them go but at the same time, I needed an escape from myself.

This depressing atmosphere was going to ruin me anytime now.

I stood on the couch with my eyes fixated on a single thing— the closet with alcohol situated by the TV. It wasn't necessary because I wanted to get drunk, no, I just zoned out and happened to be looking there.