ENHYPEN

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | HEESEUNG

ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈

Heeseung stood in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at a stranger's face. He traced a finger along the bridge of his nose, feeling the subtle differences. The surgery had removed the implant, restoring his natural look, but it had also taken something from him—his confidence.

"Impatient," he muttered, echoing the words that had become his silent mantra. "Just say it."

The public had not been kind. Comments flooded his social media, criticizing the change. He wasn't handsome anymore, they said. He didn't look the same. The words stung, each a tiny dagger chipping away at his self-esteem.

He was still waiting, he thought, for another round of harsh words, of critical eyes. He wasn't ready for the new faces and places he had to face every day. Photoshoots and filming sessions had become a battleground, each a reminder of his perceived shortcomings.

"I'm fine," he whispered, but the words felt hollow. He knew he'd never make it home—to the confident and carefree person he once was.

Sixth street stood before him, a place of solace amid the chaos. He'd come here often, seeking comfort in the familiar sights and sounds. But tonight, even this place felt foreign—the occasion marked by his solitude, a reminder of the changes he couldn't take.

The blue moon hung high, its phases mirroring his turmoil. Three hours, three months away—time blurred into a continuous struggle. He was going back, but he wasn't the same. He didn't want anyone to see him like this when he didn't even recognize himself.

"Do we say what we mean?" Heeseung wondered aloud, the question lost in the night. The numb fight within his bloodline was all he knew now. He was dressing up for the date night, playing the part, but inside, he was breaking.

His phone buzzed with another unknown number. "Don't hit my cell," he thought. I don't need your help. He just wanted to lie on the floor to escape the pressure and scrutiny. He didn't know himself anymore, not like before.

Impatient, say it. The words repeated in his mind. He was still waiting, always waiting, for another round of judgment. New faces, new places, but the same old insecurity. He was fine, but he'd never make it home.

Heeseung's steps led him to Sixth street, the occasion marked by his presence alone. The blue moon watched over him, a silent witness to his pain. He couldn't take all the changes but couldn't stop moving either.

"Tear me to pieces," he thought. "I won't even feel it." The numbness had become his shield, the only thing that made sense. He knew what he needed, but it was always out of reach. Moving on with the seasons, constantly changing, never the same.

He was impatient, say it. He was still waiting for another round. New faces, new places, but the same old feeling. He was fine, but he'd never make it home.

Sixth street stretched out before him, the occasion marked by his solitude. He couldn't take all of the changes but couldn't stop moving either. The blue moon watched over him, silently witnessing his restless journey.

As the night wore on, Heeseung knew he'd be back. The cycle would continue, the phases and places changing, but the feeling would remain. I am impatient; I am just saying it: I am still waiting for another round. I am always moving, never home.

ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈

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