hate everything // markhyuck

𝙞

he was in the dance studio overdoing it again.

he knows taeyong would come drag him out in about an hour's time but he might as well make the best of it.

he had been dancing for about
two hours
ever since practice
had ended
and the rest of the day was free
for them to do whatever
they wanted to do.

and his demons said that
he slipped way too many times
and how his right leg
should curve in more
when his arms were folded
or how he had messed up
so badly during practice
that everyone seemed
to be irritated with
him.

he didn't like the way
he skidded across the floor
because it looked awkward
even though
the cherographer had praised him
for looking like a pro.

and taeyong ended up finding him
fainting on the ground
for the first time
that day.

which was a total miracle
because he usually never lasted
that long.

he felt like a psycho
for loving
the feeling of an empty,
squirming stomach
and
the dizziness from the lack of food in his system.

even sometimes
his demons would scold him
for being
this weak.

they scolded him many terrible, mean things.

and he felt so bad.

they laughed at him
for being such a weak boy and that no girl likes a weak boy.

but who was he kidding?

he liked boys better.

coupled with multiple occasions
where he also fainted,
they contributed to
the current masterpiece of bruises
swashed at every part of his body.

and possibly with those times
he got mad with himself
for being such a failure,
he made a barcode
on his wrist to keep it
there as a reminder.

or those times he couldn't feel.

he was just addicted to pain.

sometimes,
even he himself would laugh
at himself for his strange addiction
to his esctasy.

"you're a real psychopath,"

but at the end, even as the pain stopped. wounds healed,

he felt numb.

so he did it again. and again and again.

hence,
the red lines on his wrists
that eventually climbed up his arms
and some a plentiful bunch
on his fat stomach.

and that all flooded into donghyuck's head at that moment.

"hyuck? "

mark's voice is mild and worried.

it's the only voice that
pulls him out of his thoughts.

it grabs him
away from his thoughts.

and he realises that
he's warm in mark's arms.

(something in his brain yells how toxic these arms are. but yet that same thing in him suppresses all logical reasoning available with a word. addiction. )

"let's head back, okay?"
mark whispers into his ears.
a soft kiss on his temple.

in his head, he realises it's the same pair of lips that kissed another man, used against him.

haechan doesn't do anything but
nods as mark carries him
back to 5th floor.