live fast, die young ~ minsung

002.

"I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet,

but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided

like a million stars in the night sky"

;

"........what are you doing with yourself anymore?! when are you going to live your life right?!" Jisung heard his mother's voice pester through his ears. he was drowning himself in his pillows, not an inch in his body aching to step foot outside anymore, or even out of the confort of his room. It was another depressive episode of rotting away in his bed all day for what felt like weeks on end. it happened every now and again. pushing back, pulling back like the endless game of the sea chasing the sand at shore.

he was beyond hungover.

his hum sent vibrations across his body, lazily mumbling antagonising words to his mother who stood between the doorway of his dark room.
"do better with yourself, Han. you haven't been to college for a two days! do you think me and your father are just paying the tuitions for fun, for you to go to stupid parties and get shit faced?! fix yourself up and go tomorrow. if i have to drag you there myself, trust me i will." Jisung knew she would. she was certainly capable of doing so.

he grumbled and shooed her out of his room. stretching his fairly jacked up arms, a yawn escaped his lips. he reached around under his pillow for a cigarette or a vape to ease his mind then groaned once again upon realising they were somewhere on his messed up desk.

to put it somewhat straight, he was miserable.

he had been a mess and his knobby knees could barely carry his own body out of bed. he stumbled to his feet towards his desk, dismissive to the massive headache that felt like a penetration towards his skull, grabbing a fag and his favourite lighter before pushing the glass doors that led to his balcony open. it was not too cold outside, typical spring weather.

he didn't usually smoke— at least that's what he tried to believe. he wasn't "cigarette crazy" like some people would call it, just a casual smoker here and there

he lit his cigarette watching as the quiet street whispered silence to him. his lungs inhaled the hazardous yet relaxing smoke of tobacco.

he thought back to last night with a scoff. the blurry, flashy lights of the party still rung in his eyes. his arse still sore from the daunting mental bench of the bus stop.

he propelled his arms up on the balcony railing, gazing down at the quiet street of his neighbourhood.

the cool fraicheur of the morning air brushed against his face, it felt nice. it gradually brought him back to his shameful senses and brought a sigh out of him as he flicked the burning cigarette into the ash tray that decorated his window cill.

despite the scolding from his mother, he was thankful. thankful that she somehow allowed him to stay home for just one more day. something deep down in jisung hoped that she still understood him and understood why he is the way he is, even though that may not be the case. maybe it was because she was physically able to see that he wasn't doing well, the dark circles that littered his droopy eyes, the way on somedays he was just physically unable to get out of bed or go downstairs, the state his hair was in— overgrown and untamed— it had been weeks since he had last thoroughly brushed his hair right.

curious eyes looked up upon the quiet street once again for one last time before he turned back around.

tomorrow would be a long day.