You're the Reason the Sun Sets and the Moon Rises - Seongjoong

🇪 🇮 🇬 🇭 🇹

The sun didn't bother to peek out from behind the clouds that day. All the day brought was a slow-building mist that persisted on the grounds and rose ever so slowly. That's how Seonghwa described his mental state today.

He felt foggy, with an unwanted sensation prodding at his heart.

Another one. He thought as he rose from his sweat-drenched sheets.

Having nightmares was common to him by now, but it reminded him too much of the past, which he dreaded the most.

His heart pounded in his chest so painfully that he needed to clutch onto it to soothe the ache. His breathing became unsteady, sounding more hoarse by the minute as all color was drained from his world.

The objects around him dulled out, but still, they judged him. The butterfly painting on his wall stared back at him with hateful eyes, commenting on his self-worth. The lamp on his bedside table questioned his existence. His unfinished novel on his desk laughed at him, calling him incompetent. The bird who lived on his balcony questioned his ability to be free and not trapped in a cage of hatred and anguish.

He too questioned himself, building a sinister aura of hate, hate, hate.

When was it?

When was it that he felt the burn of his anxiety pooling in his stomach and rising higher and higher like the mist outside?

The burning, the itching, the paranoia. His eyes twitched as he rapidly swiped them all over the room to spot the intruder. His paranoia rose as he sensed his impending danger.

His heart accelerated.

"No." He whimpered, trying his best to climb out of bed, instead meeting the ground with his entire body.

"No," he repeated.

Be a good boy for me.

What are you?

Are you supposed to be alive right now?

It's your fault.

You're always the problem.

You should just stay in your cage.

You're an incomplete freak.

The voices spiraled around him. The laughter kicked him in the gut. He brought his arms up to his ears and held them in place tightly.

"No!" He sobbed desperately.

His body began to convulse as the incoming attack rose far enough up his body. All his attempts to keep it at bay were futile. It was bound to happen and bunch up unhealthily in his body, like now.

Life has been getting so good lately that he nearly forgot he was a complete nobody with a devastating past. This was out of his control, but he needed something. No, he needed someone.

Hongjoong.

With newfound hope, he moved his trembling body to his bedside table and reached. The tears flowed out endlessly as his fingers barely touched the device. He hadn't realized he was crying until he hiccuped and forced back a tiny sob.

In that moment, his hand dropped heavily to the ground as he lost the last remaining strength in his body. Fortunately, but not so fortunately, his phone fell along with it. The downside was that the phone fell on his face and bounced somewhere on the floor.

Releasing a pained whimper, he slowly slid his shaky hand to reach for the device once more. His shoulders and upper back felt excruciatingly taut, and his vision was peculiarly hazy. If this is what death felt like, he didn't want it.