nepenthe [jin centric]

ch. 1

nepenthe
ch.1

"다 마음에 물고기가 살어 걔 이름 selfish selfish"

fish live in all our hearts
their names are selfish selfish

-am i wrong

Sitting in the kitchen eating peanuts.

Everything on the outside of Seokjin's skins was calm, serene. There was no sign of any disturbance. No suggestion of any inner turmoil.

Just the silence.

And a suppressed insanity hidden in the crunching of peanuts.

His thumb twitched as another tasteless peanut was placed on his tongue, the dull saltiness was stale from being left out.

He felt stale himself.

Stale yet simultaneously raw.

[RAW?]

He was dully chewing on stale peanuts in a silent room, a contrast to his insides, that were red and stretched. His throat was not carved sore from the dryness of the (distasteful) snack, but from the amount of strained screams emitted from his own dreams whenever he slept.

It was silent.

He was stress eating on peanuts, for no particular reason except for the hurried beating in his chest.

He wanted to tear it apart, god.

Why did it seem that the world around him moved with ease as it left him behind in its dust...? The question had lost all metaphorical meaning once he could visualize it clearly in his mind. He was standing in a taciturn desert, with nothing but tan-gold sand dunes with small dipped grooves dotting the plain. It freely stretched for miles and miles, but the sand itself was the dust left behind.

He was surrounded. The kitchen feels tight.

He swallowed the heavy lump forming in his throat with the help of another peanut.

Seokjin felt disgustingly fat when he looked down to find the box nearly empty.

Even though he had crammed himself up to fill the metaphorical whole in his stomach, his heart would still beat faster than the second hand on the still clock above the door frame. The room is too still. Like iron prison bars under a halcyon interrogation light.

His lips quivered. They wouldn't allow the lumpy sob to release. It was to quiet for that, he'd surely be heard.

-what an overwhelming urge to cry-

The kitchen was silent, with a now dominant aura of something he assumed was insanity.

But in all honesty, there was no true insanity to be found, just a confusing sadness and an inability to cope.

That's what he needed. A way to cope.

Maybe then, these stupid laments would leave him for good.

Just a stupid way to cope.

That's all.

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