Rose || 18.12.17

One last warning. I am not to disrespect, I just want to mourn and cope with his death. His name would not be shown in any part of this. I wrote this in less than half an hour and it contains at least 900 words. I'm shocked. I have never wrote so fast at all, but all these details just came flowing into my head. If you can't take it, don't read it. I beg of you.

-p4nd0raSb0x

(Side note: italics is the voice in his head and those in bold are his thoughts)

[PS: this is purely fake. You will see snippets of what has been revealed on the media but the rest is all conjured by me. It is not how he feels and I will never be able to know what he is thinking.]

Rose | 18/12/17

He stared at his surroundings, eyes glistening with tears as he took in the sight of thousands of fans, excitedly waving their lightsticks at him. How he wished he wasn't like that. But it refused to listen, and there was nothing he can do about it.

They're not going to listen to those songs of yours. You need to do better. Better... Better...

No, stop it. He told his inner devil. He knew that his fans were supportive no matter what he did and he already did his best.

No, you can do better, your songs would top the charts if you tried harder, you weakling! Get it rolling, more songs, more lyrics, keep recording, film more shows...

Stop. Stop talking. Shut up. Stop it.

You can do better than that piece of crappy work.

My fans appreciate all that I have done.

Your fans will leave for other groups.

My fans can multi fandom if they want, but they will never leave me.

And how would you know that, when you know they will vote for the other groups when you are on music shows?

You'll never win. I won't let you eat me up.

Watch me.

His eyes snap open. Taking in his surroundings, he realises he is at home, all alone. His phone rings, notifications of fans' direct messages from Instagram pops out, followed by his friends that wish to meet him.

But today is the day. He can no longer take it anymore. He had tried so hard to fight, but he has eventually succumbed to the devil. To the voice in his mind. He steps into the bathroom and washes up. He needs supplies to carry his plan. He has filmed all his schedules and today was a perfect day for him. He can finally be free from the devil, and be praised for doing well. He stares into his reflection in the mirror. He looks horrible. Eye bags cloud below his eyes as if they were smoky eye make up. His eyes are swollen from all the desperate crying. His lips are plump. His face is sharp and his stomach is growling. He splashed water against his face and stepped out of the washroom, grabbing the nearest black hooded jacket, his phone and his wallet. His eyes doesn't miss the fan letters on his table. His eyes start clouding with tears. He has failed them. He can never be perfect. Just like what the black dog had said.

His phone rings again, diverting his attention from the memories. It is his friend.

"Hey, you wanna meet up?"

He wishes to leave her on greytick, but his heart can't bring him to do so.

"I have something on, sorry."

"Oh, never mind then. We can meet up tomorrow?"

He sighs.

"Yeah, sure! ^^"

His face leaves no emotion as he grabs his car keys and leaves the house. He does not bother locking the door. That will be the last time he will be seeing it anyway.

He drives to a convenience store, buying the necessary products that he needs, capturing the patrons shocked faces at the sight of an idol.

He leaves the store after paying and as he stepped into the car, he realise what he was going to do. Frustration gushes  through him as he screamed in annoyance. Why?

Why is he complying?

Why is he not fighting?

Because you have lost. You will never be perfect.

He shakes his head furiously, refusing to believe in the words of the devil.

He starts the engine and tries to get the devil off his head as he speeds across the carpark, ignoring the security guard's gaze as he vents his anger.

Why is he so weak?

Why can't he be perfect?

Why can't he produce songs that are good enough?

Why?

Why?!

WHY?!!

He abruptly stops the car. Panting. He leans back into the car seat, tears streaming down as he accepts his fate.

He has decided on this. He has left a letter. The only thing left is to execute the final plan.

He steps into a house he has rented, and shuts the door. Slowly but surely, he shuts the windows one by one. His face betraying him as tears flow down. He then heads to the kitchen. Lighting the charcoal he leaves it on the stove as he lays right in the middle of the living room. He smiles at last, at the thought of being free. This is what he wants. This is what he is being conned into. But suddenly, he does not feel tricked. He feels euphoric at the thought of being free, even though it was the black dog that dug this hole for him. He feels sorry to his members, his family and his fans. He wonders if they would be shocked if they found out. His phone rings one more time.

His Sister.

"Where are you?! What do you mean this is your last goodbye?! Hey!"

He does not bother opening the message. He takes in deep, fast breaths. It is almost time. He can feel his body struggle for oxygen, his mind is blank.

He stares at the ceiling before he smiles, his eyes eventually closing, his body letting lose.

His phone is still ringing.

But he is free.

I... hope I have done well.