WEAK SPOT [YEONBIN]

✃9✁

Soobin squeezes his eyes shut, he's in pain as he attempts to push the weight with his aching shoulder.

I hate this.

He pushes.

I hate this.

He stops, slouching.

I hate this.

I hate this.

I- just get it done, Soobin.

Get it done.

Soobin tries again, his jaw clenches and he faintly hears his own scream through his teeth.

It doesn't budge.

Soobin plops down on the floor beside his closet, already dressed in a soft red pajama top and matching pajama shorts.

Now looking at it, Soobin managed to move it a tiny bit but it's too heavy.

He leans his back against the wardrobe and looks out his bedroom window. It's night time now, that's all he can literally see. It's around eleven, a few street lamps illuminate the road.

Soobin is already in his pajamas but can't sleep. Not yet.

Soobin groans, cradling his face in his hands, I wish Dad allowed me to have a lock on my door, I hate this.

Soobin hears a buzz from his bed.

He gets up quickly and walks toward the phone. He opens it, it's a text from his father.

We'll be home in twenty.

Oh, wow.

Soobin tries to swallow it down, he really does, but panic inescapably bubbles up in his tummy all the way up to his throat.

Think, Soobin! Think!

He scans his room until his eyes land on his desk... I mean... that'll work, right?

Soobin walks up to his desk. He crouches in front of it and unplugs any cables that may be connected. He stands up, adrenaline coursing through him now, and quickly moves all items on top of the desk to the floor beside him. Soobin also pushes the spinny chair away, it hits the other side of the room hard enough to sound.

He takes a deep breath, concentrate, concentrate, concentrate now, panic later.

Soobin grips the sides of his desk and starts to pull it across the room, an unpleasant noise fills his ears as he continues to drag it against the dark wood of his floor.

Live! Live!

Soobin pushes and pushes until the desk is pressed against the door, a useless barricade. Soobin tugs a bit at the doorknob, the desk easily slides across the floor.

Soobin huffs and stomps his foot, eyes already burning, this is so useless.

Useless.

I give up.

He glares at his desk, fighting the urge to destroy it. He wants to try, with all his might until his knuckles turn bloody. He can see them now in his head.

Soobin stands for a minute, deep in thought. So deep he almost feels numb, and a little absent from the current reality he's faced this.

I can't.

Soobin takes in a deep breath and digs his fingernails into his palms.

1,2,3...

Soobin, relax, 4,5,6,7...