❛ 𝒕𝒘𝒔: 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒇, 𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔,
𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕
❛ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 3931
***
"Hey Sungie" he hears a soft voice coming from the couch as he walks into the livingroom. He doesn't lift his gaze nor stop his steps completely. He only forces a quick, bland smile as he passes.
He goes straight to his room and as soon as he steps inside the dimly lit room with stuffy air, the door closes with a click.
He stands there for a minute. He feels heavy. His mind feels heavy. His heart feels heavy. Gravity feels strangely intense today and has been having this power over him for days.
Eyelids drooping and corners of his mouth weighing down, he sighs deeply. He doesn't have any strength to stay upright.
He falls onto his bed on top of the covers. He lays on his back, eyes staring at the white ceiling, unfocused.
His mind is blank. He's too worn out to think. His heart though... God, his heart is being strangled by all these unnamed emotions. He should set them free, untangle the knot so his heart could beat with ease and in peace again. However, then again, he's far too worn out to feel anything either.
His chest feels uncomfortably tight, squeezing and aching.
It's possible to get killed by heartache. It would be beautiful. It would feel beautiful.
His eyes close on their own as his breathing evens out and he sinks into a darkness. Then, there's someone pulling him back to consciousness, to the world or living
There's someone behind his door.
"Sungie? Is everything alright?"
He doesn't respond. He isn't sure how. He isn't sure what to say. He hopes silence answers for him.
It doesn't, really.
"How did the funeral go?"
Please, don't remind me of that.
The bitterness on his tounge, the guilt in his guts; everything is so overwhelming, so draining.
He doesn't want to be reminded of the truth, of the real world.
"Sungie... Are you okay? Can I come in?"
Something spikes inside him.
"No!" he says loudly, wincing at the tone of his own voice. He takes in a breath. "Please, I mean- no, no, you can't come in"
There's a pause.
They don't believe you, Jisung.
"Okay... But if you need anything or- or anyone, just... just let us know..." the voice says. "Okay?"
"Yeah, yeah"
Footsteps fade away and he's left in total silence, all by himself. This is not the first time. This is nothing new.
He feels like he has been left alone completely. Left behind, abandoned. Like a deserted house left in the woods to moulder away.
Why did mom had to leave? Why didn't she stay?
He feels like he has nothing, no one. Even himself sounds like a stranger to him.
Suddenly, there's a little sound coming from the bedside table. His phone's screen lights up.
He grabs the device and looks at the messages.
It's Minho.
Maybe a little chat wouldn't harm him or tire him out. At least he doesn't have to be face to face with anyone.
