Save Me With A Lullaby [Jackbum]

Lullaby 1

Living alone has its moments of being good and bad. But, for Jackson Wang, it was a living nightmare. Suffering with loneliness, as he copes with his own depression and anxiety - he absolutely hated it. Right when he got home late at night, from work, he have broken down into tears. The humiliation from the early events, have made him feel embarrassed. Honestly, he doesn't want to go to work, tomorrow. 

He publicly had a anxiety attack, and his co-worker - Jinyoung - had to calm him down for the past hour of their own shift, in the bathroom. Jinyoung didn't seem to mind however, but Jackson felt like a burden, as Jinyoung's comforting words passed his ears. He seemed deaf, as he didn't calm down at all, taking the many minutes of sobbing and hiding his own face out of embarrassment.  

Remembering the minutes that Jinyoung wasted on him, Jackson apologized after calming down for an hour. Jinyoung was sweet enough to just shrug it off, and smile. The two have taken break from work, and Jinyoung took him out to an nearby cafe for coffee. Jackson sat by the window, his eyes stinging with exhaustion from the tears, and he rested his head on his arms while staring out the window. He watched the many people pass by, and Jinyoung came back with their ordered drinks. 

"Are you okay?" Jinyoung asks, and Jackson lifted up his head. The blonde took the cup, the ice making his palm and fingers become hold. "I am okay. Thank you for being there," Jackson says quietly, looking down as he sipped his drink. Jinyoung nodded, and Jackson couldn't help but feel the small hint of irritation in his mind, as he hated the question. 

They just seem to ask, and he can't help but feel angry about it. It was an annoying question. Sometimes, he obviously shows he's not okay. People always seem to misunderstand him, in his own view. 

"No problem. Look, Jackson, if you need anyone - You can always talk to me," Jinyoung says, his tone soft and gentle. Jackson nodded, "thank you..." he says quietly. He didn't look at him, mainly because he knew he would never use Jinyoung for any help. He has other plans for himself, and he already planned them during his breakdown. He is getting tired.

Finally, the two went back to work, for an extra hour for their own shift since they 'wasted' their time before. Jackson apologized to the other, feeling guilty, because he should have controlled his emotions better for the sake of Jinyoung's time. Also, for the sake of being judged by his own boss. 

"Don't worry, really. As long as you're okay," Jinyoung smiles and Jackson sighs with a nod. Bidding his goodbye, he arrived at his home late at night, due to traffic. Well, here he is, sitting in his room, and crying into his arms. He remained to be in his work clothes, as he curls up into a ball, trembling with his cries.

He wanted to tell Jinyoung that he wasn't okay, but the tight rope around his neck, have dragged him away from confessing. 

The polluted thoughts that corrupt him, he was tired of all of them. Claws digging into his brain, as his own head pounds in pain, from all the crying and the overthinking. The many things he wants to do to stop it all. 

Jackson have stopped crying after a few minutes, finally calming down. He laid on his bed, as he faced the ceiling, his face wet and stained with red from the tears he have shed. Turning on his side, he faced the wall, and he stared at the wall with empty eyes. The thoughts were getting louder, and the pain within his head is starting to hurt more. He closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep. However, he couldn't. 

Getting up from the bed, he lifelessly went to his bathroom across his room. He walked inside, and undressed himself after turning on the shower. He got in the shower, avoiding his own reflection, he went into the shower. The water was starting to get warm, but the droplets of water crashed against his flesh, and streaked down on his tensed body. Jackson drenched himself, as he rested his head against the tile wall, staring down at his own thighs. 

Scars and recent cuts were printed on his thighs. Some cuts were deep, but some were light as scratches. He couldn't help himself, he needed something to relieve himself. Anything to draw him away from those thoughts. He took the razor sitting by his soap, and dragged the small blade along his flesh, once again. 

New cuts were freshly printed onto his thighs, once again. He winced in pain by the stinging pain, and the shower's water washed away the blood that started to sprout from his own mistakes. Whimpering quietly to himself, he bared the pain, as he felt himself relax against the water. The water washing away the red that haunts him, the red roses that he have grown all by himself. 

The pain would be unbearable, but he have adapted. Using the pain as a release of his own stress, as his own thoughts seem to quiet down, and his head seemed to be lightheaded. He didn't feel the pain within his head, as his own brain only released small chemicals to cope with the stinging pain, that he have caused. He only focused on that pain, he felt like he was away from the corruption of his own mind. 

He washed himself up, and walked back in his room, a towel wrapped around his waist. The cuts have stopped bleeding, as he spared many minutes to calm the bleeding, he have bandaged his thighs as the stinging remained whenever he walked. The muscles in his own legs now stressed with pain, but he didn't mind. He only focused on that pain. 

Getting dressed in comfortable clothes, he dropped onto his bed, and he took his phone. The darkness have surrounded him, but the moonlight cast through his window, as though it was a small seep of light to let him know he was alive. 

'How am I alive?

Why am I alive, still?' 

There was so many times where he would do it, but he just wouldn't. The creeping anxiety takes over, and his own guilt always make him back away from the set up rope and chair below. He always backs away from the pills, as his own coping pools underneath him like red roses. He was afraid of leaving. 

Honestly, he has no one to live for. He was alone.

But, for whatever reason, the regret he always think about whenever he faces the challenge. He always fail, as he breaks down into tears, once again. Of course, it added in another course of fresh cuts. His own flesh of his thighs, torn up and scarred. It was ugly. 

Taking his own phone in hand, he opened his phone's web browser and the browser from before, remained. He remembered a few nights ago, he had a anxiety attack, as he broken down on the floor, while the rope hung from his ceiling and the chair was knocked down by the sudden tantrum. He remembered that he stared at the number for hours, contemplating. 

He didn't want to do it, because he was scared. 

'You're always so fucking scared, Jackson. 

Maybe you should man the fuck up and be happy, get some fucking help.

What the hell are you afraid of?' 

He tries to build up confidence, but he just couldn't. But, here he was, not making any moves, as he stares at his phone's screen. The number waiting to be called, simply waiting for him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his thumb pressing onto the number, and he heard the sound of his own phone dialing. 

He regretted it, already. 

"Hello, thank you for calling. Someone will be right with you," the monotone female voice says. He wanted to end the call, but he just waited. He didn't know what was he waiting for, but he felt himself tremble, anxiously staring at the screen. 

He was already frozen by his own anxiety. 

A beep have sounded in his ears loudly, and he felt his breath hitch. He knew he was in call with someone, and he knew he already fucked up. But, it was too late, as he already connected with someone. Surely, he can end the call, but he felt that was too rude for his own liking.

He didn't want to do this. 

He shouldn't have done this. 

"Hello, this is the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Who am I speaking to, currently?"