Taemin almost choked on his own tears as he heavily collapsed to the ground, knuckles bloody from repeatedly punching the wall, unable to move his hands as the harsh throbbing resonated throughout his nerves. His fingers were unmoving, crooked and bent, as if clutching an invisible cellphone he could use to call the devil as an escape route. His eyes seemed twice as big as normal, rimmed red and stinging with the constant barrage of tears. Even his lips trembled, the taste of salt lingering atop the chapped flesh.
Glancing at the ceiling, he spluttered, shaking so heavily he assumed the tiles beneath him would fracture. He wrapped his arms around himself frailly, in one last desperate attempt to remind himself of the only close contact he'd had with another in months. And he'd been so close.
As his feet trailed from beneath the door of the empty bathroom cubicle, he sniffed loudly, trying to subdue his breathing with little effect. The cold light of the cubicle didn't help, as he leant his head against the grimy wall, as far from the toilet seat as possible.
The breaths that escaped from his tattered lips were ragged and harsh against his throat, as if each exhalation was being grated finely, and his muscles seemed to spontaneously seize and spasm, granting him great pain and discomfort.
His small mobile rested beside him, one name highlighted in the contact list. Before he'd attempted to smash the wall to pieces, he'd almost relented, almost dialled t