Thinner

75

Calculations.
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It wasn't uncommon for a thick white layer of frozen particles from the sky to cover the ground beneath his feet at this time of year. It wasn't unusual for people to wear their long brown/black coats with a clashing scarf around their necks for the sole purpose of keeping them nice and warm. But the thing that felt unusual for him was to spend this month alone. It was already February, but it was colder than December, both in temperatures and the lack of light that brought hopes and dreams to the streets, like it did during Christmas time or new years to be exact. Everything was kind of just dead now. People were back to working all day and night to afford a living and walking down the same street as him in an attempt to clock in just on time.

But he felt indifferent from them. Like they had a purpose beyond just healing from the unimaginable pain they had suffered from in their own lives. And he didn't. He had the same form of pain but no purpose. He was walking down the layers of white with only two thoughts in mind. Like it was wrapping him into a cold blanket that seemingly suffocated him more than keeping him warm.

He couldn't remember the last time he was outside like this, on a stroll to clear his head. It's been so long since he last knew of himself since he last knew of them. It's been two months now, and he hasn't yet heard from either of the two men. He figured they might have forgotten about him, moving on with their lives as if he wasn't ever a part of their own chapters. He knew last month when he had that call with Hyunjin that things seemed rather impossible to keep a hold of. He was just drowning again, and he couldn't imagine having to feel like that again if they even cared to make a phone call.

He wanted it to happen. So that he could hear one of their voices, having an excuse to talk to them. But he knew it would just take another month, and then it would be March, and he would probably still be unsure by then, too.

It wasn't easy to regulate his own emotions like this. It wasn't easy for him to accept that perhaps people were just busy and that he had too much time laid out in front of him.

And perhaps in another universe or dimension. Things wouldn't be as hard as they were for him in his lifetime and in his story. And nobody cared who he ended trusting his life and heart with. They just wanted the validation of being friends with as many people as they'd like, too.

He was just an extra for them.

But he never felt that way about Hajun. At this point, Hajun felt like the best friend he never had. Hajun felt like that on person who was the complete opposite of him, while being the exact same person through a different facade.

Yes, Hajun wasn't a gentleman. Hajun wasn't a man who would show a fuck to anyone. Hajun wasn't a man to respect just anyone. Hajun was a man of secrets. A man of fear that no one knew about. A man of underlying respect towards the people who had earned that respect through hard work.

Hajun wasn't just a person.

Hajun was his only reason.

And thinking so deeply about it. It made him wonder what could have gone so wrong, that two almost identical people, turns out vaguely differently.

Hajun was a stoner, an alcoholic, a douchebag and a fuck boy. Hajun was broke and spent all his money on drugs and alcoholic beverages. Hajun was a party animal. Hajun was willing to pay for sex if he was desperate enough.

That's how people saw Hajun. That's was what he used to think of Hajun. People don't know the real Hajun. He didn't know the real Hajun.

But he does now, and he can confidently say that Hajun wasn't the impression he had on people who didn't even know him.

Hajun may be an alcoholic and a stoner. But Hajun wasn't just drowning himself. He was keeping himself alive at the same time. Hajun may be addicted to sex. But Hajun had never experienced what true love is. Hajun wasn't a doucebag, and Hajun wasn't poor. Hajun was understanding but still keeping up his own persona. Hajun never ran out of money, but he didn't brag about it.

Him, on the other hand?

He wondered how others perceived him. He wondered if people thought he was dead since he had never really come back to school since the last incident. He wondered if people still talked about him. He wondered if his old doctor thought of his wellbeing. He wondered..or more so hoped. That his parents loved him all this time, beneath a gross facade.

If he could run the miles he had left, he would run faster than a cheetah hunting their prey. He would run so fast for that deadline, hoping he would meet everyone he has ever wanted by the finish line. Congratulating him for pushing by those obstacles and trying his hardest not to face the slippery floor.

But even in his own imagination, the image of that faded away. Till it was just him ending by a cliff that dropped for an eternity. With no one by his side to even mutter the words "I'm proud of you".

Instead, he would fall down for an eternity. Never hit the harsh ground but never reach the surface again. He wouldn't be able to touch or love. He wouldn't be able to see because he would spend the rest of that eternity clenching his eyes shut out of fear. He would only hopelessly hope that he would get pulled up by a pair of arms.  Even if they couldn't reach that length, even if he couldn't see their attempt. Even if he brought them into the same eternity of nothing but floating.

"Hello?" He picked up the phone that he avoided answering till this very moment. Ready to be taken out of his own thoughts for a few seconds. And without a doubt. It most definitely would bring worse thoughts to the table.