Stray Kids Oneshots • SKZ

★ props & mayhem - angst

Warning: very angsty, mafia!au, depression and feelings of emptiness and guilt, lotsss of flashbacks, heavy language, husband!chan, slighttt mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts, tears, mentions of violence (killing) and blood.

Word count: 2463

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

chris sat alone in his apartment, the city lights sprawling beneath him as he lost himself in deep thought on the his empty balcony, decorated with nothing but a bean bag that he didn't even feel like sitting on; he sat on the cool marble floor instead, the cool near-winter breeze gently blowing at his face.

his reflection stared back at him in the protective glass of a railing, his eyes hollow, shadows clinging to the sharp lines of his face and the circles under his restless eyes.

the paining silence of his penthouse pressed down on him, fucking suffocating him, like an infinite water filling his lungs.

he pulled his phone from his pocket, already knowing what he'd find. six more missed calls from a few hours prior and four long messages, all from you.

he'd listened to your voicemails so many times he'd memorized the rhythm of your voice, each note of your tone laced with an emotion he couldn't bear to face. devastation and desperation.

he opened his photos app, staring endlessly at the last photo you'd taken together, memories flooding his mind.

3 months ago, where you'd been out for dinner together and wore matching outfits that you picked out. he hugged you from behind in front of a large mirror, the both of you giggling like idiots.

that was about he last time he felt happy. maybe the last time he ever smiled too, but he was too exhausted to remember.

he watches as his phone vibrates for the seventh time today.

Wifey💗 is calling. his phone read, with the options to decline or accept your call. but he doesn't press either button, instead watching it ring for about two minutes until his screen goes back to normal, sending him a notification that showed you sent another voice mail.

he doesn't even know how he let himself get to this point. he felt like the worst person in the world, pure disgust and guilt buried deep inside his fucked-up mind.

chris remembers the first time he took you on a date after getting married. he remembers the way you were constantly in fits of laughter with smiles plastered across your faces.

that was way before he started to spiral into the constant need of having to kill someone to feel something. before he started to keep everything to himself. before his depression came eating back at him like he was prey. before he started to feel nothing at all besides guilt. 'before' was when he used to think he had a genuine purpose, a reason to stay alive.

and he still does, — you. except now he doubts you'll ever accept him for the person he thinks he truly is.

a killer, an addict, an insomniac, an uncommunicative person, but worst of all — a shitty husband.

with a sigh, he brought his knees to his chest as he unlocked his phone.

"channie, please. just come home. you don't have to say anything, just... be here."
you pause, a soft breath being heard. he could almost feel you on the other end, pleading silently for him to give you something — anything.

"i know you think you're protecting me, but... i need you here, right now. please" his heart shatters into a million hearing your voice break.

the voicemail ends.