Thinner

105

Kalon.
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He could see the clouds above him move along the breeze of the wind. His hair was damp, slightly drying in the cold, dark, autumn weather. It's been a long time since he had left the comfort of his own home, alone. He wasn't with Chan today or with Hyunjin. It was just himself, wanting fresh air, wanting alone time, yet somehow he urged to be around people. He didn't mind the complicated kindest he carried about the subject. He had, quite frankly, become far too used to his own rambling mindset that he had learned how to put it on hold. As if he taped up a little kid's mouth to force them to stop screaming.

Today really wasn't anything different. Even though today was very different. It was just another complicated thing he had gotten used to not fighting against, and rather accept as is it is. Today, he did everything in his might to distract his own mindset. That really wasn't unusual. But today also was a day, where he found himself preferring to be alone, going outside, getting fresh air, and eating a sandwich as a snack.

None of those things had ever happened before.

He wouldn't ever like to be alone without constantly having something playing in the background or distracting his mind to the point that thinking wasn't a necessity to take advantage of anymore. He went outside, something he had only done once since Hajun's passing, and that was when he visited Hajun's grave with Hyunjin and Chan. And he would never consider a sandwich a snack, but he, for some reason, did so today.

He did a lot of unusual things today.

He didn't exactly complain, though. It felt nice to be out and about, in his own head, to acknowledge the fact that he was still a living, breathing human being who had dealt with too much within just a year and a half.

His past self would probably look at his present self and believe he had lost all control and that everything would continue to fumble down completely.

But Jeongin felt decent. Sure, Hajun's death was chaotic, unexpected, and so sudden he still felt it in his bones. But he had come to accept that what had happened wasn't a delusion like he wished for it to be. Reality was a harsh thing to encounter, but once he did, he felt more at peace with acknowledging the fact that grief couldn't last forever, but love could.

He carried the thought of his loved ones in his heart, so dearly he felt it weight down more at times. But no matter how far out he carried his own mentality, he knew there would be a moment where he would need to make space for tears to spill.

It felt like a life lesson, one he felt so grateful for, one he appreciated. There were so many lengths of laughter, scribbles, and doodles on paper to fulfill his story. It wasn't over yet. He didn't know when it would end. Now, that kept him up at night. The obstacles he had challenged throughout his life have formed the person he was today. But even if he became a better, more wiseful person, he wouldn't ever wish to make his past self experience all that pain and sorrow.

He thought his hardest obstacle would be his origin. The place he originated from, being the same place that shaped his destiny at the hospital. His parents had been out of the picture for so long that he didn't feel a single care in their wellbeing. He rarely thought of them because they really didn't think of him. Their love were loveless, their hearts made out of cold, frozen stones, their words sharper than their kitchen knives. And despite the hits, the punches, the words that pained him the most, he didn't feel like it was the worst he endured.

Despite his hatred for the hospital, in which he gladly expressed with enough passion to make someone else feel his wrath. It wasn't the worst he had endured.

Being homeless wasn't the worst he had endured.

Running away wasn't the worst he had endured.

Tuning his emotions out with alcohol still wasn't the worst thing he had endured.

Anorexia wasn't the worst thing he had endured.

He knew exactly what the worst thing he had ever endured was. He knew that other people knew it, too. It could be seen on him, from a mile or two away. The loss of life from his eyes the moment he witnessed everything.

And despite till this day with him feeling fine with the outcome of the situation, feeling grateful towards the ones he carried in his heart. It will and would always remain the worst thing he had ever endured.

Grief.

He was over it, sure, but the images were still bright enough to flash every once in a while. Especially in his sleep. But it was a part of the experience. He remembered how Chan went in debt explaining the trauma he had witnessed and how it would leave a mark on his body.

Sometimes, when he thought too far, he realized Chan was right. When he let his thoughts go far too deep, he could still hear his own wailing, screaming, and yelling, so clearly like it was happening right in front of him. When he let go, he could feel the way his heart would continuesly sink the same way it continuesly did that day. And despite learning to accept the horrible reality, he learned to eventually see it in its eyes. He learned to smile despite wanting to cry when he thought of Hajun. He learned how to laugh, as he remembered memories with Hajun.

The final goodbye had helped him cross between the line of surreality and reality. He learned how to seek the truth in what was placed in front of him, the truth that seeked its voice within him. He learned to listen, to see, and to feel.

But even with how okay he would feel with what happened. He still knew, for a fact, that it was the worst thing he had ever endured.
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I've been so busy, so I'm glad I could get this one out today♡