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Jeon Jeongguk is sad.
Jeon Jeongguk is crying like the madonna but his tears are not holy, his tears are burning and tearing his skin apart like paper - like it's nothing. He stands, legs steady and strong, in front of a mirror and looks at himself through the tears - everything's blurred, his face, his body, his emotions. The apple of his cheeks are flushed red, hues of warm colors curling up his skin like pretty roots.
He doesn't like his face, covered in layers and layers of make up - he doesn't need that, he's fake, he looks like a doll and his brain hurts and his arms too but he can't tell why, could it be his own self beating up his insides just to escape ? It could be. The beautiful caramel color of his honeysuckle hide is hidden behind those cold layers of foundation.
He doesn't like the expensive armani suit he's wearing, it's red and makes him look paler than he already is and he feels sick, he needs to throw up - what could he throw up when he has nothing in his stomach apart from that disgusting sensation like acid and bile that does nothing but eat his liver and make him suffer as if it is funny ( maybe he's torturing himself, he likes it or that's what he keeps telling himself ).
He's starving, but not for food ( how could he ), he's starving for life - is that even possible ? he thinks and thinks and thinks, then he closes his eyes and it's dark, his surroundings are swallowed by darkness, the one that's taking over him, the one that's cutting through his chest with a butter knife so it hurts more ( he wanna feel them raw, the emotions, he likes it like that ).
Jeon Jeongguk is corroding from the inside out, like a diamond carving his throat, the smell of fresh flesh and blood running down his jugular and it doesn't hurt the way it's supposed to, Jeongguk doesn't mind.
The sun died hours ago and the moon has taken its place and Jeongguk feels safe, kind of, and the tears are now dry and pull at his skin, - it doesn't hurt - he opens his eyes and he can now see clearly and he doesn't like the boy staring back at him in the mirror cause that's not him, it can't be him.
He sighs, he's giving up so he wipes the tears from his pretty cherry cheeks and smiles - the sudden stretch of muscles cracks his flesh but it isn't as loud as it's supposed to be and there's gold seeping through the cuts, he's a star and he glows.
The kid is not alright.
But he still smiles cause he knows what he's about to do and suddenly he isn't sad anymore - but there's still that kinda expression on his face that resembles melancholy, but a happy kind of melancholy, the one that makes him hype and has electricity shake his veins ( he's wild like the wind ).
And Jeongguk is ready, he can feel his heartbeat thumping and fucking kicking like drums and it's loud, so so loud it's echoing in his extremely big bedroom and it echoes in his mind too – it's contagious and it won't stop increasing and growing louder by the second and he's walking but he doesn't seem to realize it til he has his hand wrapped around the golden handle of his door.
