angst [bts]

We ||V

Red. That's all he can see.

He desperately wipes his hands on his shirt, staining the material with a dark crimson color. Tears fill his eyes as stifled cries leave him. As he sits in the corner of an alley, he can feel the regret and guilt surging inside of him, drowning his heart and pushing his emotions into his throat. He brings his red hands up to his head and covers his ears in attempts to drown out the screaming that rings within them. He closes his eyes in attempts to forget about the image of the lifeless body that is now burned into his mind. I deserve this, he thinks as he lets out a harsh scream, tears flowing down his cheeks. I didn't save him.

A light spring breeze blows by, carrying the scent of newly bloomed cherry blossoms to his nose. Sitting in one of the trees, the scent is stronger, but it doesn't bother him as he's always loved the smell of the pink blossoms. In his hand is a white lily, a flower he's always loved but has recently come to hate. He jumps down from the tree, careful not to crush its delicate petals. He slowly walks towards the vase, gently twirling the flower between his fingers. He's come to hate not the flower itself, but what it represents: Death. He leans down and places his lily in a vase with four others.

I'm sorry.