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06. SAVING SUGA
THE BEATING OF MY HEART was at its highest speed, the shakiness within my hands was increasing as the seconds passed by. I was still hesitating, still standing in front of his apartment, scared of opening the doors in front of me.
My mind will never be at peace, not when hidden secrets have taken a hold of my hand, leading me into the unknown. I was terrified at that point; terrified of knowing the real meaning behind Eric's actions and shaken up by the crazy reality still lurking around me, like a hungry wolf ready to attack its prey.
After a deep breath was taken, I had finally found the courage to open the door and step inside Eric's apartment.
It wasn't a big apartment, nor was it small. It was just enough to make you feel as if you had a place you belong to; a home. However, people had different perspectives on home, and so did Eric. Despite the fact that he was a male, and that the male population might seem a little bit untidy when it comes to houses and rooms, his perspective on having a home was quiet unique.
He wasn't untidy, and he didn't have a lot of furniture scattered around, or family photos glued to the wall. It was much more than that.
His apartment was always filled with people, with loud laughs and at times, serious talks. Those simple, yet meaningful things were defining his apartment and his type of home. I still remember him saying that sometimes home isn't a place. It's the people you're surrounded with.
But this time, something was different.
It was too quiet and the only thing that was audible enough for my ears to hear was the harsh beating of my heart. There were no loud voices coming from the living room, there were no dirty jokes escaping one's lips and the familiar smell of junk food wasn't floating in the air anymore. The only thing that managed to attach itself against the walls was emptiness, and a sort of inevitable sadness.
It felt like nobody was living here anymore, it seemed to be nothing but an abandoned apartment. According to the empty bottles scattered around and a few broken pieces of glass cracking underneath my footsteps, somebody must've been in here recently.
''Eric?'' I called out, carefully avoiding the shards of glass. My fingers trailed against the walls, and the old wooden table, wiping away the dust that was currently the only thing living in here.
''Hello? Is anyone in here?'' My voice cracked, but the only thing I've gotten as an answer were the walls throwing back my echo.
Just as I was approaching the living room, a muffled sound of movement could've been heard from the living room. I stopped walking, my eyes widened and my heart was swallowed by the familiar eeriness.
''E-eric?'' I called again, stuttering unintentionally. ''Is that you?''
But nobody answered.
After the quiet has gotten louder, I almost convinced myself that my mind is playing tricks on me. It was one of those moments when your brain is capable of imagining even the worst scenarios when your soul is scared.
