Lie to the Touch | Y.M

+Prologue

  |Change setting to BLACK (up 2 u)

A man stiffly strolled through the lively pathways of Seoul city. His hands pocketed in the pouch of his old navy hoodie. His gaze hadn't lingered even for a second on any being that swarmed the pathways. The world around him was seen to him as a lie in itself, every turn, any angle, all he could feel were lies bouncing off of every surface.

The man made sure to quickly make his way, dodging and turning from any human contact. His safe place was waiting for him, reaching out to comfort the lost soul. He was finally done composing yet another song for his boss, making him drained. On a bad note, he almost had gotten himself into yet another difficult situation, had he not ran away before it got out of hand.

With his heartbeat racing and his sweaty palms, he pulled out his eroding silver keys, from the right pocket of his sweatpants, shoving it harshly into the keyhole. Not so discreetly, he pushed past the wooden door, into the peacefulness of his apartment.

He stumbled over the floorboards pushing off his shoes in the process, instinctively, closing the front door behind him. His apartment was an open layout which included a small kitchen, washroom and enough space to place a small mattress. There wasn't much to it, but it was enough for the man; who was he trying to impress?

The male trudged over to the mattress which was lying in the corner of the room, he threw himself on top, groaning in content. He closed his eyes, falling back into the nightmares that lurked in the back of his head, waiting to ambush him in the worst way possible. Tears started to form in his tear ducts, slowly building up until they released without his consent. Those tears were the only evidence that indicated the man still had emotions.

He stared up at the ceiling, emotionless with his tears staining his cheeks. The darkness ended up being his only friend, his only companion in this world. He was used to all this, it was basically routine now. He was living life, waiting for death to finally consume him. 

At a young age, the boy had suffered the loss of his parents to a horrible car accident. He then ended up being taken into an orphanage, hence nobody wanted to take him in.

He was abused by his orphanage caretakers and bullied at the schools he had attended. No one heard his cries, no one cared enough to even look his way.

If only someone had given him a hand to pull him up, or just generally showed some human decency; he would have been okay.

Even though this boy was born into an average family, he wasn't so average himself. He had a unique ability to be able to know right away if someone is lying to him, by simply making eye contact. But he rather hide that ability. Just like everyone else, he had his reasons in doing so.

When he was younger he never knew how to react with others, instead he stood to the side watching how others' lies played out, only for it to end horribly. Even when he tried to step in he was pushed aside, harshly. This is why he doesn't like interacting with the world beyond his apartment walls.

The man tried many times to get close with others, but every time they left. Even the ones he loved or could have learned to love, they all turned their back on him.

He hated them, he hated them for leaving him behind like he was nothing, it made him feel like an empty shell. He started hating this blessing his mother used to call it, now he just thinks he was cursed.

All he wanted was someone next to him, someone to embrace, someone to trust when he couldn't trust himself.

He just wanted his mother back, the one that cared and loved him, she was the only one that his ability didn't work on. And now sadly, he couldn't find that warmth in his life again, it all seemed unachievable at his age.

He started to believe he was better alone in this world, and should live life how it is. Why should he part-take in human affairs? It was best for him to bathe in his own misery, living off some false hope of a better future.

The man, having enough of his overwhelming thoughts, shot up off the mattress, charging for the front door. He was done with this. He tried. He tried so hard to bear with it and hold in all the pain, but he just couldn't now, he broke.

Making his way out his apartment into the busy road of the evening rush, he stood to the side. Staring at the oncoming vehicles. They were rather intriguing to his mind, the speed, the tough exterior, everything about it screamed danger. That's exactly what he was looking for.

Without a second thought he took a step forward, then another and another. Before he knew it he was thrown to the ground by a heavy weight of some sort. Pain coursed throughout his body, but it didn't hurt as much as he thought. Was this it? Did the grim reaper finally come to claim his soul?   

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