I enter my apartment again. The crushing feeling returns, smothering me.
The house was the same as I left. Including the orange haired boy who sat on the couch, looking anxious.
"What are you still doing here," I ask annoyed.
"Waiting on you," he replies quietly.
"Well I don't want you here. Leave," my voice comes out more stern than I thought it would.
"You weren't this mean when I was alive," he says even quieter.
"Yeah, things were different when you were alive. Why? Because you were alive! Not just a figment of my imagination created by grief and some alcohol," I yell.
"I'm real Mark! I'm real and I'm here," Donghyuck shouts standing up. His fists are clenched.
"Why are you even here?!"
"Because I feel like an asshole! It's my fault you're hurting! All I ever did was hurt you and all I want is one last night here where we can be happy!"
"I think we are far away from happy," I say coldly. My gaze returns to the ground.
He sits back down on the couch. A few moments later I force my body to move and sit on the other end of the couch.
"We don't have to talk," he says, looking over at me.
"Good, cause I don't want to," I say meeting his warm gaze with cold eyes.
He jumps at my stare and turns away, keeping his eyes on his knees.
I turn back towards the tv, which I hadn't used for weeks. I huff in a sigh. This is going to be a long night.
