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IIII

Hoseoks insomnia was playing with jim that night. He thought he'd finally get a good night's sleep, until the sleep paralysis kicked in. He woke from his frozen body screaming, gasping for air as he came to the realisation that it was all fake. The vision of his father above his body, his deep laugh echoing into Hoseoks ears, filling the empty room. Hoseok stood up and ran into the bathroom and opens the cabinet door, scrambling through the endless pill bottles looking for the right medication. Im okay, he reassures himself. He wasn't. He knew he wasn't. He walked back into his room and fell onto his bed. Curling his knees to his chest, he grabbed the duvet and held it tightly to his body. His life was unfair. He thought everything was getting better, even though he knew it wasn't. He just wanted to tell himself that his life wasn't as fucked as he thought. But that would be horrible, he didn't want to lie to himself. Tears. Long and hard sobs ran from his mouth as he cuddled against his duvet. His father he once escaped, was haunting him again inside of his dreams. Taking over his mind. A possessive man. Hoseok knew his father would come back. But not when the boy had finally rested. Hoseok cried until he saw the sun beaming off the walls through the tiny gap in his curtains. At this point he was laid on his back, blinking slowly. His body didn't move, his breaths were short. He felt too empty. The blinking was an indication, a reminder he was still there, suffering alone. He wanted to get out of the house, he just didn't know where he would find the strength. An alarm starts blaring in the background of his deep thoughts. Hoseok rolls over and turns it off,slowly pushing himself up off of the bed and back into the bathroom for a shower. He was surprised he didn't sit himself back down, as he still felt empty. Washing his arms, scars. Marks. He had done it to himself again. Dazed out if his head, away from his body, he was at the phase again where he would doubtfully hurt himself, even if he didn't want to. He hates himself for it, but it was an addiction. Once more, he will say, once more to see if I can feel anything today. He doesn't, he weeps as the blood falls slowly down his arms to the floor, where he would then cry and regret doing it. He slowly stepped out of the sowed and pulled on a fresh set of clothes whilst rubbing the towel against his hair. He was weak. His body was weak. Hoseok looked like he had died and risen from the grave. He had never seen himself like this before, it disgusted him. He wiped the mirror on the cabinet door and looked at his blurred reflection, examining all of his features before opening the cabinet door and opening a bottle of pills. He didn't know which ones they were. He didn't care. He hated living, he hated the way he looked and the way he felt. Constantly trying to make himself feel alive, even though he didn't look it. The motivation in him was gone. The hope. The effort. His passion and love for everything small and fragile was gone. His dancing, was gone. His eyes followed the white pills one by one as they filled his palm, giving one another less space to move. Before he knew it, Hoseok threw them all into his mouth and washed it down with running water. He wiped his mouth and looked back up towards his reflection, seeing nothing but a broken man...begging for help.

                                  ^^^^

He decided to go out in his last few moments, see his city one last time. He had no one to look after him, no one to tell jim he's doing great even when he wasn't. All he wanted was moral support, and after giving it out to a lot of people he reckoned the majority would someday give it back. But no one did. Hoseok is walking now, the sunlight blinding him. The bridge felt wider than day, longer, busier, louder. This all went in one ear and out of the other. Hoseok couldn't concentrate, as he physically felt his body slowly shut down. He wondered why he did that, why he swallowed those pills. He didn't care. If no one else cared, why should he? He was the type to tell himself its going to be okay and that things will blow over soon, he would also be the type to tell his once close friends that their arguments would only break the bridge they built to get over it. Get over themselves. Hoseok began to cough. Head pounding and eyes thrombin. He knew he was going to die, any minute now. He didn't want to think of it though, his death. He just wanted it to end. But it didn't. The pain grew thicker and his heavy breathing grew into gasps. He began to choke. Running with his limp body, one foot nearly tipping over the other. He blinked once more and reached his hand out hoping something, someone, would be there. And before he hut the ground, he felt the distant hit of his palm against something solid. Something cold. He knew it wouldn't help him, that's all he told himself before letting his body drop down before he could gather anything else. He let out one more breath and laud still, vision growing darker and darker until it drew to complete emptiness.