chained

road

his surroundings reassembled in front of him, the once of a blur sharpening into a familiar shape. the road he walked on seemed to stretch for miles, with nothing but flatness and the absence of life in sight. it was quite isolated, but it was peaceful. that's all jong-woo wanted right now. peace and quiet and isolation.
it had been a few days since he had been walking. it was sort of like he was just barely in his own body, his legs just continuing to march forward as his soul dragged farther behind him. but it wasn't the first time he had felt like this. he often saw himself just touching the strings of what he called happiness, existential purpose, the feeling of true fulfillment in life.
just like when he first moved to seoul. what seemed like a new beginning was more of an eternal, livid nightmare that had enveloped him into its own world. and he was beginning to decay from the inside-out, like rotten fruit. once it was exposed to poison, it no longer was pure. it no longer was unblemished.
the very thought of it, that man who had driven him to the very brink of mania, made him sick to his gut. he couldn't even stomach the feeling of how his unsettling yet comforting aura was able to render him powerless, that stripped him of the walls he had built around himself, fortified with every bit of his strength- yet crumbled so easily.
for the first time he felt so naked, exposed for all of that man to see. his mask had been ripped from his face like it was an easy feat. he felt so weak and defenseless against him, as if someone finally saw the real him.

convulsions of pure fear had shot through his arms and legs, his body becoming limp and collapsing on the side of the road. his wrists felt so heavy, like there was the weight of solid iron clasped around them- chains. the connection between him and that excuse of a human: moon-jo. he could not shake off the chains that had quietly crept and wrapped around his mind and emotions, like twisted vines.
and he thought of that sick, twisted feeling that had filled his body with ecstasy, how stupid those tenants had looked under him- withered and lifeless. how moon-jo simply smiled to himself, proud of the creation he had perfected. the blob of clay he had molded into a beautiful pot, the way he wanted.
even after his tragic death, his smirking yet gruesome face had never been etched away from his thoughts.
it festered deep within his mind like a parasite, slowly poisoning his every thought and pulling him deeper into a state of delusion. it controlled the way he thought, diminishing the barrier between the two. they were bound together, like one flesh. and he could no longer feel what it was like to be jong-woo. all that swam in his sea of a conscience was the urge to find moon-jo. it was pathetic that this was what he came to. a sobbing mess, desperate to cling onto that psycho for even a sliver of comfort, to have sugarcoated words muttered so gently into his ear. to feel ok with these thoughts, these thoughts of anger and resentment towards everything. to be embraced by those stone-cold arms and stone-cold heart.

he cried in hysteria, alone on a deserted road leading to nowhere, with only the fading thought of moon-jo cupping his face ever so caring.