𝒐𝒐𝒐. "I didn't write this to forget who I am as a person nor did I write it for money out of desperation. I wrote this because I know, one day, someone will find this story in the corner of a library, squeezed between forgotten stories with a dus...
Choi San. November 25th, 1980. | Tuesday, 1:50 AM.
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The night sky is decorated with winking stars and delicate clouds. Puddles of rain coat the dead streets and black alleys as the crisp breeze of the ending autumn tickles the tip of San's nose. His slightly crinkled eyes were fixated on the sky as the gentle pitter-patter of rain dripped from his rosy cheeks. Perhaps the water on his cheeks was mixed with tears, but San didn't care enough to figure it out, merely lying on his back on top of a rocky roof, aimlessly gazing at the stars.
"God," He whispers, raising his arm to the sky, palms facing upwards at those blinking stars as if he reached any further he could grasp one into his hands. "Why must you hate me the most? I've been loyal, I've looked up to you, yet..."
The words were stuck in his throat, hanging loosely at the back of his mind but afraid he may hurt His feelings. He places his arm over his chest, his spoiled shirt tainted from sin while feeling the gentle beats of his heart that he tends to forget exists. His hazy gaze blurs from a small squint, lips pushed up into a pout in thought whether he should continue.
"Why must you punish me and not her? She abandoned you for her guilty pleasure while I suffered from the consequences," San says, his soaked blue jeans grew tight under his tense muscle as his bare feet formed cuts from the pebbles. "You created me into a family with no love, surrounded me with people with ill intentions, and cast your back against me when I tried to reach out. You created... This. So, why must I suffer the most?"
The hazy clouds covered the full moon like a blanket, wrapping itself around and leaving the blonde boy cold with nothing but the droplets of rain. A bitter scoff, quick and settle, leaves the boy's mouth with a gradual turn of his head. "You must have your favorites," He mutters, scowling at the dirtied rocks in his view. "I was made for your entertainment? Or to prove a point?"
The stars laugh, twinkling in the blanket of eternity, growing dimmer by the minute. He raises from his back, now sitting upright with his forearms lying limp on his thighs.
"You birthed me in a world with no love," San whispers, blinking once, shedding one tear combined with a drop of rain from the tip of his rosy nose. "Why must I keep living in it?" He raises onto his feet, winching from the glittering rocks, burying themselves into his flesh. He trudges towards the edge of the building, bruised hands clasping onto the high wall dividing San from the bottomless pit below.
The wind only made his face colder, cheeks tinting redder as he looks below. "I love him," San says, inspecting the lined up car parked on the street and glowing street lights that flicker every so often. "You created him with sweetness. You were careful with each greatness, of every aspect that I envy; buttered up with the prettiest smile and kindest eyes, yet... you didn't make him for me."
He places a foot in the crack of the wall, barely enough to lift bringing pain into his toes as he lifts himself. Shaky hands grip the edge of the rooftop, swinging a leg over then he sits up, straddling the wall like a horse. He flattens his palms on his thighs then huffs a laugh. "God," He turns his head up at the sky, bitterly smiling at the laughing stars and the cozied moon. "Do you love me?"
