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3. MIA

Hi everyone, I'm sorry this chapter is a bit of a downer, I'm going through some things right now and I felt like writing this helped somehow. Don't worry, its just temporary and I'll be back to full speed soon!

Thank you for your support, it really means a lot.

tw// depressive thoughts

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Hyunjin had forgotten that it was raining outside. Clouds hung heavy above his head, and the drizzle of rain tapped his shoulders and the hood he was lucky he had today. He had no umbrella, but that was fine. He didn't mind the rain, it distracted him from his racing thoughts.

His phone buzzed with urgency in his pocket as different members and the managers tried to call him. Jeongin had sent him at least 50 texts. He turned the machine off, partly to save battery, but also to stop them from tracking him. He wanted to be alone.

He'd really messed up this time. Chan would never forgive him. The rest of the boys would never forgive him.

He just couldn't stop himself. He'd been so angry, and he didn't even know why. Was it jealousy? The other members all had at least one tattoo, and was that really something to be jealous of?

Why did the tattoos mean so much to him? He'd spent so much time convincing himself he didn't need them, that they were nothing but markers and that they would fade with time anyways. So why, in the end, was he so hurt by the absence of his own? It wasn't like he thought they were particularly fascinating to look at, and often times he completely forgot where the other members had them, like rediscovering Minho's light grey sneaker tattoo that to this day continued to cover the skin just above the boy's ankle bone. Most of the tattoos the others had were faded and almost invisible, and if he didn't tell anyone, no one would question him if he'd said he'd had one and it had faded away. That wasn't uncommon, if the other person completely stopped loving you, the tattoo would just cease to exist.

He pondered that for a moment. He could have just lied to everyone. But in reality, he didn't like lying, and it wouldn't have fixed the real problem. It wasn't so much that others would know that he was a blank slate, it was that he knew that no one had ever loved him enough to mark him.

Or maybe it was just his dissatisfaction with himself that made all the other members' smiles feel like something he could never achieve for himself.

That was what hurt the most, he concluded as he entered a small park somewhere in the middle of Seoul. The trees were slick and shiny with the rain, and a small pond took up a lot of the space. The drops falling from the sky marred its mirrored surface, and Hyunjin found himself going to sit on a wet bench close to the water's edge.

The park was deserted save for a man walking with his dog, hurriedly trying to get the animal to do its business so he could go back inside, and someone crouched by the water's edge, their back to him. Their loud yellow raincoat stuck out against the grey tone the world had put on today.

God, why did the opinions of others matter so much to him? He could have never met the person and their words would mean more than the ones he uttered only in his own mind. His moods depended so much on other people that he was surprised he could even feel anything at this point.

Even the smallest of things hurt him now. When had he become so fragile? Anything negative he found about himself drowned out the positives, like he would explode any moment and the whispers of his shortcomings would spew out of him like oil.

Sometimes, he really just wanted to put himself into a glass box. That way, no one's words would ever reach him. He could be content with just the thoughts he had about himself. And he could watch from the inside, all his friends be happy and live on. And he could be sure he wasn't causing them any trouble, just in his own little glass cube of solitude.

But he also knew that if he saw them struggle, if he saw the people he cared about in pain, he would break apart his self-made prison to help them, even if it meant he'd return to this state of volatility.

He wondered for a moment what his life would be like if he wasn't a part of Stray Kids, and it hurt to even imagine. He couldn't even fathom what he'd be like if he hadn't even met all of them. They'd changed him so much.

He missed them, his fellow members. Even though he'd left of his own accord, he felt badly. Did they even miss him? Or had he become so insignificant in their lives that his absence was irrelevant. Perhaps even worse, he thought, was if they were glad that he was gone, rejoicing together over a nice dinner together, finally not having to tiptoe around his mental state.

Things were bad enough without him being a downer all the time, he thought. They had every right to want him gone. They couldn't talk about their relationships around him, and even when they had he'd thrown it back in their face.

He'd noticed how the members avoided him when they knew he was in a bad mood. In the early days, they had all come together to help him out of his sulking, and he had gone to help each of them in turn. Now though, he couldn't remember exactly the last time any of them had come to him for comfort, and although they tried to reassure him that everything was fine most of the time, they had become adept at knowing when his bad moods could turn sharp and would leave him be.

Only Chan had disregarded that knowledge to talk to him today, and he'd done exactly what they'd all expected him to do. He blew up. How could he even go back to them after that? Would they still want him?

He wondered if perhaps anger was his only way of keeping the numbness at bay. If that was all that kept him together. When had he last felt joy? When had he last woken up excited to start the day? It seemed that, the longer he was alive the more the days seemed to blend together like watercolors mixing into a muddy brown. Indistinguishable were the reds from the blues, the pinks from the greens. Everything was just the same, a large mess of nothing.

The rain had started to soak through his skin and into his bones, and although he felt pretty numb mentally, he knew he should probably get under some cover. He stood up to leave, taking one last glance at the scenery around him.

And, just his luck, stepped on a slippery rock. His feet went out from under him, and he fell headfirst into the pond.