shoreline

2

When Jeongguk was younger, a boy at the tender age of eight, he learnt that people could fear almost anything, even the most strangest things, because there was a reason to everything. And no one could have a say on it, because what do they know? how would they know what it felt like to be afraid of something when they've never had a traumatic experience with it? This is what Jeongguk believed.

Some people are afraid of snakes. Why? Because my aunt had a near death experience and she only survived because she got taken to the hospital quick enough. Others are afraid of the ocean. Why? Because my dad teasingly tossed me into a wave and I got pulled down by it. I was only six. Jeongguk's afraid of thunderstorms. Why? Because my best friend could've possibly died just now and I have no way to contact him to see if he's even fucking breathing.

Everything is slightly hazy in Jeongguk's mind. There's a heavy fog suspended in the interior of his thoughts, rejecting his subtle motive when he tries to simply think of anything. This makes everything seem muted—and Jeongguk isn't even sure if he's conscious—but his senses are extremely amplified as well and it's throwing him off. His own body won't even allow him to differentiate elements as minor as the fact to whether he's awake or not.

Jeongguk can at least recognize the sensation that his body is experiencing. He feels weightless, almost like he isn't even in a body, and the thought makes him dizzy. He knows all four of his limbs are still attached however, but even then he doesn't have the mental capacity to even spare a thought of how he'd react if he noticed a particular area with an alarming absence. He doesn't even have enough strength to open his eyes, let alone attempt to move any part of his body. It wouldn't listen to him anyways.

Jeongguk's sure that if he wasn't in whatever fucking state he's in right now, he would be at this point.

He's beginning to feel a little more alive though, but barely. After his internal breakdown, the persistent fog that had been violating his mind had lifted and Jeongguk could think now. He was, in fact, awake, but he still felt out of it. He doesn't know what the hell happened after he saw his best friend's face being taken away from him, but he supposes those questions were meant to be saved for the people that had taken him to wherever he was now. They were probably treating him, too; a sudden rush of guilt surges throughout Jeongguk's body.

I wondered what happened to those two guys I met earlier... I hope they're okay.

Jeongguk had a habit for worrying about other people too early on in their interactions. He was well aware of it as well, and it doesn't help when bystanders—may he mention his own "friends"—preferred to watch him slowly devastate potential friendships, all because we didn't want to be up in your business and it's your life, not ours. He knew he could be clingy and bothersome, he was working on it, but again, what help does it make when others are constantly reminding you of your weaknesses?

This is why Jeongguk found a desirable peace in isolation of nothing but himself and his own art. It was much nicer being surrounded by your own creations than existing fucking humans, because your art could never judge you, it would never dare badmouth you behind your back because you were the one who brought it into existence. It was much more bearable for him and he found that others couldn't really care less if he decided to be a loner. At least he wasn't a sociopath, but given a couple more years with Jeongguk's current lifestyle, he wouldn't be surprised if he turned out as one.

His mind kept wandering back to the two people he had met today, though, especially the one with the longer hair... Taehyung, was it? Jeongguk doesn't know why, but that's all he could think about right now. Kim Taehyung and his undeniable weakness of being unable to criticize others and their works.