🖤His soul tainted by the devil 🖤was my angel call🤍 KIMCHAY AU 🤍

9. Who Am I? 💔

(Hi💗✨️ sending you the warmest hug 🫂 thank you for reading, take care 💗 love you so much 💗)

The suffocating emotions was really hard to swallow for Kim. He was in front of those innocent and cutely in love characters, but it felt like the most deadly promise of love. It looked like a curse and spreading on his veins, his body was on high pressure. He felt a weight, a fear on his chest and those words meant so much more.

"I love you." A lie.

"I miss you." A trick.

A hand in hand or hugs part, a trap.

Everything had a double and darker side in Kim's mind. Even if he knew that it was a serie, even if he knew that the main chatacters were really in love, even if it was clear and even if there was no signs of any menace, the other boy was always an assassin. He was a killer, a violent and powerful reality, strangling Kim right on the sofa.

He kept his calm. He ignored, he tried to just act as always, as if he didn't know what happened, but against his will, the door was opened. The door was smashed suddenly and exploded all of the boldness, fearless and confidence Kim had fakely played all of those years. He couldn't be on stage anymore, he couldn't say in text perfectly, he couldn't hide the monster which created a cave in his brain which only grew up, silence being his favorite food.

The cave was too big. The food not enough and the monster was out. Kim's chest was feeling so heavy that he decided to go back in his room before the end. His bed, in a way, made him feel better. It was his childhood one. It was not the one he did his crisis in, and yet he was in the middle of a new one.

Looking at the ceiling, his eyes full of tears, he felt crushed against the mastress, he felt that he wasn't able to move or to make any sound. The heaviness becoming unbearable. And he remembered those moments, he could link what he was now feeling to that identical crisis he had years ago. It was coming back and he couldn't control it, just shaking and tearing up uncontrolably and guessing that it was the end. He would never be able again to close that door. He already had the sensation that the thing was eating him alive, turning upside down his life, understanding in the most shocking and terrifying way that what he thought tamed was ready for a battle.

"What do you want ?" Kim asked to Chan who walked to him, hid voice really unwelcoming.

"Did you wake up...grumpy?" He asked surprised by those harsh words.

"Sorry...I am just tired." He smiled, and he really looked tired. It was that the fragility of his strength was slowly scattered all over his identity, breaking little piece of his skin and his words. He was rejecting what was in front of him and by this rejecting who he was. Uncontrollably, he would always have it in him, he would always crawl under that experience, he would alwayw need to keep himself far away from it. However, he needed to embrace those darkness to know them enough, to overcome the lack of light and kick them out of his way. It would walk next to him, sometimes ahead or behind him, but it would never be erased. He just didn't get it yet. He was just run away, putting in shambles his behaviour with others.

"It's okay...we saw that you were kinda...out these days." Chan said, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. "Do you want one?"

"No, thank you. But what did you need?"

"Not me. Porchay was just looking for you."

Kim loved to hear that. He nodded silently, ready to find the boy immediately. He didn't know why but they became really close friends. In fact, Kim felt safe, so safe with him, that it was reassuring to have him close. Chan and Yok weren't the same, if they were the hand keeping his own steady and not making him fall down, Porchay was the one moving that same hand back and forth, giving a delighting feeling of lightness. It was different but both were important.

Kim found him at his desk, and when Porchay saw him coming, his smile was spreading the warmth Kim had needed and his eyes were just full of tenderness. The older boy already had crazy moments. He thought about them like this, it was just unconscious moments were he wanted to talk about what he felt or lived. It was a sudden nightmare about it making him want to tell it to Porchay. And then he was reminding himself that it was in the past and it meant nothing. He was reminding himself that he just didn't have to give attention to what was in the past, to what was his mistake.

"Look P'Kim! We got another reaction." He said with Joy painted on his face. Kim smiled, it was contagious and put his hands on the boy's chair to take a look at those comments.

"A wonderful work made by attentive and open minded people. I will recommend you whenever I can." Was written.

"That's...great." Kim said, gulping down the fog which wanted its way out.

"Right! I am so happy they are satisfied." Porchay added, energetic, young, full of passion. Kim didn't lost it, he was just a little less concentrated, as if something else was an obstacle in his mind. He was just a little more focusing on work, not because he liked it, because it was a great distraction from what he didn't want to face.

Kim was happy too. Their work was made well. They gave to someone the exact service they asked. He just wanted to share all of his part with Porchay. He mentally needed to associate those words with his friend. Kim had developed a complicated skinship with compliments which never seemed to match with his own body. He could be this or that, he could be so good, he wouldn't be able to choose what was.

 Kim was kind, understanding. He was stubborn and not always warm and he wanted to only remember the second part. He needed to only acknowledge the worse parts, so it could explain. It could be logical. It happened because he was him, he was at the middle of the tragedy because he made something which angered the god. He only had this explanation and he wouldn't want to let it go because keeping himsef as guilty was way more easier than recognizing how much of a victim he was. He wasn't one. He wasn't this one.

Kim somehow ended by feeling out of all he was. He wasn't kind, he couldn't. And if someone was saying something good about it, a blank appeared in his chest reminding him that finally it made no sense, it made no sense because he couldn't absorb those words, they should be fake. He didn't doubt the intention of those people, he didn't doubt their sincerity, he was just feeling that they were blinded by something.They should have just been blinded by something for them to dig from his deadly disgusting being such pretty and good looking words.

The mug fell on the ground. The tasks were done at a speed which wasn't the one everyone knew. Kim was foggy, the temperature of his behavior was cold. A cold they never experienced from him, a really frozen and unliking type of look which was just his desperate attempt to keep everyone away from him.

Kim didn't want to go outside. He didn't want to meet people. He didn't want to be himself, to feel himself. And he couldn't play the fool anymore, he couldn't play himself and everyone else. He couldn't just go on with those lies of being alright but it was too powerful and he didn't want at the same time to let anyone witness the reality. He never ever spoke to anyone more than what Porchay knew. He kept everything under control but when his own control just got lost into the river of fear, Kim finally took the one step which obligated him sooner to just let out his reality. His everydays struggles, his hateful roller coaster was discovered the moment it was pulled against Porchay.

The boy asked how Kim was.

Kim was worried about letting something slide, or more like he was hesitating between the two options, keeping his silence or talking. But inevitably, he needed to speak an answer, motivated by his scared and panicked mind, his mouth just formed the words, heard easily thanks to his voice.

"Just leave me alone." He harshly said, walking away, already regretting, and as much as violence wasn't present in those simple sounds, it was the first time that Kim talked like this to Porchay. The young man thought immediately that he did something wrong, and began to worry, because there was only someone like Porchay to feel guilty even when deep inside he couldn't find anything he would have clearly done wrongly.