Boulevard of Broken Dreams - JongKey

I Walk Alone [FINAL]

Word count : 3,735

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So I ran. And ran. As fast as I could. I just ran.

I couldn't remember why I had stopped, nor when. It must had been because of a wall, I guessed, because I was leaning against one. I must had fallen too during my run, multiple times, because my whole body was hurting.

But I couldn't care less about the loud thumping of my heart against my ribcage, about the way the oxygen was entering and leaving my lungs way too quickly to be normal or about the crimson liquid pouring out of my knuckles, my knees, my elbows. I couldn't even tell where did the physical pain come from. I briefly remembered tripping at the corner of the dark street, ripping open the fabric of my jeans and tainting them red -the expensive ones that my mother bought me for the special occasions. I briefly remembered the sting of roses' thorns digging into the skin of my palm like needles, the flowers probably transfigured because of the pressure my hand had applied on them. Running, falling, and running again, because I needed to get away, so bad. Hurting myself had just been a logical part of the process.

But the pain wasn't only physical; my mind was also aching in a whole new way, something I'd never felt before -heartbreak. The physical pain was nothing, almost laughable, compared to this one. What would I do of a brand new body if I had no healthy soul to put in it anyway? And at the moment mine was everything but healthy.

My mind was fussing and screaming, billions of thoughts coming from every parts of my brain at the same time. It was all too much. Heartbreak heartbreak heatbreak, you need to help this poor guy before he drowns in his own sadness. I couldn't register them all; it was like my inner self was purposely pushing some away in order to make important things stand out. Some memories stood out. Some voices too. But his voice was definitely the loudest. The voice of that guy who had nothing more than me, apart from the luck of having caught you before I could, across one of the long corridors of our high-school.

"I love you, Kibum."

I couldn't remember his name. But I could still remember the way he'd pronounced yours.

"I love you so much."

I couldn't remember his face. But I could still remember the tone of his voice, clearly, too clearly, like I was still there. Hidden. He had sounded lovestruck . I knew it because my voice sounded the same each time I was talking to you.

"So please, give me a chance. Please..."

His begging. Almost the worst part. It had made me cringe so hard, even through my fear -I could still hear myself think about why I would even be scared, because I'd trusted you so much, always had. I guessed that even by then I had noticed that something was off.

"Please, I-I don't think I could handle rejection..."

He'd sounded ridiculous, trying to convince you, but I was no one to judge, after all I was the same. A beggar for your attention. A beggar for your love. I would probably be in the same posture, if I'd had half the mind to look for you just after my last class ended; if I hadn't been so slow. I should have thought that I probably wouldn't be the only one after you; you were always so stunning after all, so flawless and lovable. I should have listened to you when you had told me how short my legs were and that I should learn to run faster, on our first encounter. You had said it would be useful one day, you weren't mistaken.

"I..."

I had put so much hope in this moment, this special moment, l'instant T. When you would finally let me hear that beautifully harmonized voice of yours. Soft like cotton candy, I had told you once, but sharp like the wind and deep like the ocean. I had always loved listening to it, feeling calm but warm waves coming out of these gorgeous heart-shaped lips, caressing my skin in the sweetest way. Oh yes, how much I had once loved this sound. I remembered the lullabies, when we were younger and I used to be afraid of everything, my fear being washed away by the simple sound of your singing voice. And I also remembered me wanting to catch it in my hands and put it in a little warm and heart-shaped box so as to listen to it forever -the first steps of me falling for you, when I tought about it. I wanted to cherish these memories. But with me sitting on the cold asphalt, back against a hard wall and lips and hands trembling, I couldn't help but want to erase them out of my mind. Because I could only remember the way my hope had turned into ashes when I had heard the next words you pronounced.