imperfectly perfect ҉ ✎ᴶᴬᴱᵞᴼᴺᴳ

┈∞ᴏɴᴇ∞┈

HE looked out of place, just like the way his home was being left behind as the car drove off, slowly and deliberately till he could no longer see it. He took in a shuddering breath. A drag of fog eliciting his lips. The atmosphere felt hazy, cold and heavy. It wasn't like this before.

Nothing was till that day...

"Why did it had to turn out like this, you weren't supposed to be an omega" the women's petite body kneeled down, her hands covering her face and pressing against mouth, making her wanton sobs muffled and getting clogged in her throat. Everyone around him paused, watching the women break out in pure agony. Her whole body trembled, shaking from crying hard.

He stood there still and rigid, his heart thumping fast in his chest. He saw how his mother was crying so much and it was all his fault. He shouldn't had turned out like this. Trembling hands clutched itself harder in a fist.  Never in his life, he had seen people around look so disappointed in him. He didn't realized that a tear slipped through his eyes. His breathing becoming ragged as seconds went. Then whispers became loud. He could hear how every one of them was saying something about him.

His lower lip trembled and he sniffed. He gazed up at his father and brother with expectant eyes, but in return, all he got was the look of pure confusion and pity. He swiftly tilted his gaze down at the tiled floor again, sobbing quietly while he could hear everyone in the room talk about him being damaged.

If there were a possibility, he could've just killed himself without any second thought—right then and there—in front of everyone. It would've been what they want right? After all, the way society preferred keeping standards in a way that he couldn't fit in any route now. So, maybe it's better to just die instead. But were his memories ever going to fade away with it? What if something turns out right in the end? He was scared. Scared and torn between choosing rather to keep living or give up and end everything.

Jaehyun sighed once again, a huff of fog leaving his mouth as he rubbed his cold hands together, evoking heat from the friction created. He again turns his gaze out the window, taking in the beautiful view of yellowish red covering the blue hues of the dawn. He presses down the button near lockpad on the door. A thrust of fresh morning breeze knocking against his warm skins the window shriveled open. Jaehyun plops an arm over the window silhouette, resting his chin over his arm and still keeping his gaze out. Soon enough the rays came onto full display, reaching out to his skin and concealing him in it's warmth.

It felt safe, as if the warmth was bracing unsaid promises to keep him safe, to keep everything dreadful away from him, to keep him in a tight hold so he won't ever fall. He wanted to fall deep in that sensation. But in the end, it was just him starting out of the window, the rising sun, it's warmth and sky, nothing else.

There were this thoughts he always wondered about then and now, whenever he used to sit alone by himself, that—what would've been of him if he were the way people wanted him to exist—what if continuing his life won't matter anymore. But it won't be what he is made of, so was it worth pondering on about all these?

People like him were rare, almost non existing. Society lashes out on them, threatening them to be perfect. It took all kinds of dynamic processes to get that perfect outcome and people were stubborn enough to grasp it without any further thought. Jaehyun felt it was stupid how people would do anything to stand in that perfect spot, really anything, that they are willing to lose themselves on the way.

He sighed for the third time that morning, tightening the coat around himself more as the temperature seemed to be unknowingly falling and it was really cold. It was deadly silent inside the car. It felt empty and in fact it was empty. The way yunho and his father bickered over nothing, during trips and all, it replayed inside his mind. And there had been nothing of it for years long, since his thirteenth birthday.