so the conclusion was that our life was a lie, and you couldn't help but feed on the false statements that i couldn't help but speak.
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fl or al
jimin unlocked the pale green door to his motel room, liking the floral wallpaper plastered to the old walls and dulled down tones. it must've been brighter, harsher colours back when it first opened. now paint was peeling and shades were muted, giving off a sad worn vibe.
he flopped backwards onto the bed, feeling the need to scream but to also laugh hysterically.
his life was such a mess and he didn't even know how to solve the complicated puzzle that reality was. now he was stuck in some motel in the middle of the city, his father probably getting his hand sorted by the maids and getting pampered by his wife.
jimin's mother didn't know a single thing about the shit her son got up to while she was having her tea parties with friends; she was having the time of her life all the while jimin felt his own slowly drain down the plug hole named death.
needing fresh air, he stood on the balcony. sounds of cars beeping and being stolen was heard in the distance, clubs and bars still buzzing with drunks.
"you look stressed as fuck."
the voice surprised him, coming from the balcony next to his. jimin looked rapidly over to meet eyes with the most fascinating yet attractive man he had ever seen.
