My Killer | (YeonBin)

ten

• One by One  •

(BEOMGYU)

   Today is an unlucky day for me. From forgetting a homework and getting scolded by the teacher, soon then prevented to consume proper lunch in the cafeteria because it was so damn crowded, clumsily getting flour on my uniform while performing Arts, to almost getting beaten up to a pulp after trying to go home from school. Now, I’m watching my best friend’s new close companion get a panic attack in front of me, along with my crush fight off muscular dudes using magic.

   I’m dumbstruck. My heart is beating rapidly against my chest, and I’m sure Soobin’s is, too. Everybody around me has powers, and I don’t. But nevermind that, there was a lot to comprehend in mind right now. I’m seriously starting to get a headache.

   I softly gasp for air, a difficult attempt to regain my composure. I’m kneeling beside Soobin, who is trying to gently shake the fazed Yeonjun out of his limbo. It certainly hasn’t been a while doing this, but every second matters in this moment. My chest is starting to tighten a little bit, probably from anxiety, but I try my best to hide and overcome it.

   “Hyung!” Soobin calls out with a desperate voice, slightly strained and raspy. I whip my head towards him, trying to carefully scrutinize his worried expression. There’s mainly trepidation overpowering most of his emotions, considering how his orbs would frantically shake a little bit if you observe. His bottom lip is quivering, and tears are outlining his eyes.

   I watch in silence as Yeonjun constantly shakes his head like as if he was trying hard to push his pessimistic thoughts off. My chest tightens even more at the painful sight. It hurts me at the way they’re struggling to outlive this tragedy by independent subsistence. Their unspoken torment, hidden backstory.

   You don’t have the power to help.

   An echoing voice spoke from the back of my head. I suddenly hear a buzzing sound, practically blocking the agonized grunts and loud noises that rang through my surroundings. This surely isn’t the usual vocalization I would indulge myself into listening. But it sounds like.. me.

   You’re useless, Beomgyu.

   My headache worsens from the growing distress, causing for me to instinctively grab onto the soft strands of my hair. Whispers of rude comments began to fill my head, becoming louder each passing second. It was like when the whole campus has found something to gossip about, except the topic is bad, and not interesting.

   Despite the blaring yet inaudible mumbling, a certain voice is defeaning among it all. My head involuntarily twitches, like some guy that’s slowly getting possessed.

   Can’t you see?

  Everybody is suffering around you.

  And you can’t do anything.

   The fingers of mine that was entangled into my hair tightens, just like my chest, a pain in my scalp widening and another difficulty breathing squeezes itself into my problems. This isn’t my voice. This isn’t me. No way, no, no. I’m not useless at all.

   Then what are you doing?

   My breath hitches as it unexpectedly began to speak to me. Like as if another version of myself, the ruined and messed up one, is undertaking to slowly choke the enthusiasm and optimism out of me.