Oasis (A KaiSoo Fanfic)

Chapter 28 | Angry

It's difficult to be mad at someone you love. You try so hard to because they did something so terrible that you snapped, something you couldn't possibly forgive them for. But at the same time, you can't hate them or hold a grudge against them because you love them. And how could you hate someone you love so much?

As you can already imagine, his departure from the hospital hit me hard. It was almost as if it hit me right back into the times when I was 17 and alone and Depression's best friend. Food was as unappealing as ever, maybe even more so, in the passing days, and my bed had become my new home. I would just lay under the covers and gaze miserably over at his side of the room, hoping that if I closed my eyes to sleep and then opened them in the morning he would be there, hoping that when my vision cleared he would be right there in his bed smiling at me. But he never was. 

I would only cry at night and never in daylight. The sun made things more bearable, but the moon and its accompanying darkness only ceased to remind me of how alone I felt. Sounds pathetic, right? The typical post-loss, sob-worthy grieving story. But what else was I to do? Fake a smile and go on with life as if it was a field of bright yellow daisies? Hell no. Even now that sounds entirely too unrealistic.

Any time I spent in the art room after that was short-lived. Without my inspiration, I could only sit and stare at a blank, white canvas. There were some days, too, when I hated everything I tried to do. Without proper rationale, I went into these fits of anger and destroyed whatever I tried to paint because I couldn't stand the sight of it. 

One time, I went over to that gallery and just stood there observing all the pictures of him with miserable eyes. I had the overwhelming urge to rip them off the walls, put them in a pile, and take a match to them, but I couldn't bring myself to do that either. Damning them all to the ashes because of something their subject did, well, it seemed too cruel to me.

It all felt like a bad dream, a terrible one that I couldn't wake from. I couldn't bring myself to believe that he was gone. I couldn't. 

Every morning when I woke up, I expected him to be there all ready to get his first daily dose of Chemo, but his bed would always be empty when I looked over at it. 

Every time I tried to paint something, I expected to see him sitting across from me and scribbling away in his journal, but that stool just stood there with only gravity atop it. 

At every meal, I expected to hear him tell me to finish my food, but all the excess would just end up right in the trash can without anyone noticing. 

Every night when I got in bed, I expected to hear his voice whisper to me, asking me if I would come to snuggle with him. But it never whispered and it never asked.

My parents, naturally, became worried for me and my well-being. They knew of my cutting habits now and with his absence hanging over my head like a dark cloud, they were keeping a closer eye on me than they ever had. They tried to visit whenever they could to check up on me and make sure that I was still alive. When they couldn't come, though, they told my therapist and the staff to watch me as often as they could. I'd say they were ridiculous for thinking that I would cut or even kill myself, but if I did, I would be lying to you.

Ms. Choi, who had apparently just gotten engaged, altered my appointment schedule so that I would see her twice a day for a total of four hours as if that was supposed to help me open more. Most of the time, she'd just sit there and preach to me about how he would have wanted me to be happy, but I thought she was speaking out of her ass. No shit he would have wanted me to be happy, but how could he honestly think I would be? Unless he seriously took my love for granted, he would have known better than to think that I would be happy without him.

I sat in her office quietly, sitting in my chair in the corner and staring at a random spot on her carpet. "Jongin," she said with an accompanying sigh, "you can't just sit there like that. You have to talk to me. Tell me how you're feeling."

"I'm feeling tired," I said plainly, still keeping my eyes fixated on that spot. "I want to go to sleep."

"You've been doing that ever since your chemo this morning," she said. I didn't say anything to her. I only kept staring. She sighed again, this time more heavily. "Look, Kyungsoo's death hurt us all, but, at the same time, we can't let it hinder us from living our lives. All he ever wanted was to see other people smile, Jongin, and you should know that better than anyone."

I looked at her with squinted, scrutinizing eyes. "Who are you?" I asked angrily. "Who are you to say you know what he wanted? Do you know what he wanted? He wanted to fly. Yeah, he told me that he wanted to fly away with the birds and you know what, I guess he did. He got exactly what he wanted, so don't you ever try to act like you know him. Because you don't." Speechlessly, she looked at me. "And while I'm at it, I'll tell you exactly how I feel," I continued, leaning forward to rest my arms on my thighs. "I feel like absolute shit. I don't want to leave my room, the sight of food makes me want to vomit, and I can't paint...I'm awful. The only person I actually cared about leaves and I feel like shit. I that such a crime?"

"No," she said slowly. "No, of course not, but-"

"So, then why don't you and all your petty staff friends get off my back, okay?" I said, now standing on my feet. "I am so fed up with everyone trying to tell me that I should cheer up and move on. I can't do that, so either you deal with it or I stop getting chemo and learn how to fly, too." She didn't say anything in response to that, but I didn't give her enough time to by the time I started for the door.

"Jongin, stop," she said, her voice surprisingly calm.

"What?" I asked sharply, whipping around toward her. She exhaled and stood up from her seat before going over to her desk and pulling something out of one of her drawers.

"Here," she said, directing the medium-sized book toward me. "Take this before you leave."

I grabbed it from her and quickly examined its front and back. "What the hell is this?" I said with eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and anger.

"It was Kyungsoo's journal," she answered. This made my face soften but not completely as I made eye contact with her. "He came to me before he died and asked me to give it to you when the time was right. He said it would give you some closure. I guess he felt bad because he never got to say the things you wanted to hear from him but wanted you to know that he did say them, just not out loud." I continued to stare at the journal, both of my hands now gripping it. "Read it," she said, catching my attention again. "It might help more than you know." She dismissed me after that and I went back to my room.

As I sat in bed and gazed at his journal, I found myself feeling hesitant, or scared even, to open it. What if he said things I didn't want to hear? I know it was unlike him, but my mind was making up any excuse for me to put it down and never spare it a glance again. But my heart was telling me otherwise.

A/N

Sort of another boring chapter as far as plot development goes, but I thought it would be too early to put his breakdown in here since Kyungsoo literally just died one chapter ago. (I'm sorry about that by the way.)

Please leave a vote and a comment if you liked this and I will update again soon! Bye-bye! :)