The door opened and its sound woke up a black cat lying on the doormat.

“I'll be back soon, don't worry,” said a male voice, incredibly calming and warm.

“I’ll get us some food, I'm not going to work today...”

“Meow” the cat reacted to its lord words.
It ran home and sat on the couch, staring at the closing door.

“Taemin?”
 

The man turned back and saw a small posture of a very beautiful woman.
She smelled like a lavender. The scent was familiar. And so was the girl.
 

“Jisoo. It's very nice to see you. How was your journey to London?”

“Please don't act as if you didn't know anything,” she frowned.
“I came back to see you. I've heard you had some...”

“Listen,” he interrupted and his voice changed into a very cold one.
“If I needed any help I'd tell you. You didn't have to come here. You should live your life and just leave me alone. I'm perfectly fine.”

“Don't act like an indifferent bastard. Did you think I'd buy it? I know you for too long...”

Taemin wanted to say something, to defend himself, to make her know she wasn't right...
But he couldn't find any proper arguments, he was just too tired.

“I'll be working at our company again. The boss said I could come back to my old office. I hope we'll meet soon. Tomorrow, you have no day off,” she was speaking very fast and didn't look at Taemin. She was staring at her own shoes, pretending not to notice that her friend was trying to interrupt her again.

“The boss said you shouldn't take so many days off, because it could be too bad for your future career. He wanted me to remind you to bring the papers you were supposed to finish last week. I hope you understand.”

Jisoo didn't wait for Taemin to respond, she turned back and got into the car.
 

Taemin looked at her as she was driving away.

“I'm tired.”

He decided to come back home and order some food online. Before the deliveryman arrived, he washed the dishes. When he was finished he kept staring at the dripping tap.

Drip drop.

 Drip drop.

 His mind was somewhere else.

 “She wouldn't understand. Nobody could. This problem is only between me and...”

In  the evening, Taemin started to feel it again. The pain in his chest wouldn't let go for hours.  He laid on the couch with his eyes closed. Trying to calm down, trying to clear the mind.
He knew he had to finish the project that night. He couldn’t postpone it forever, or else he would get fired.

Taemin didn't want to go back to his hometown. He was finally an adult, he wanted to live by himself and not bother his parents anymore. Most importantly, he didn't want them to see him suffer. Thanks to the distance between them, it was easier to act as if everything was alright. Most often, he would talk to his mom and dad only by phone. He trained to calm down his voice, even during the worst panic attacks. His older brother was studying abroad. Taemin would correspond him by emails. Nowadays, their contact was a little complicated. They had an argument and now meet only during family gatherings.

“Again, I feel paralized. I can't move. My body just feels too heavy,” he thought.
“They say it’s okay to have an anxiety. To feel uneasy. And, the only way to make it stop is to wait for it to stop itself. There is nothing to do about it... But why does it always happen when
I have something really important to do. I feel guilty.”

Taemin let his mind flow freely and didn't try to pretend nothing was happening.

It was 9pm when Taemin felt able to sit down. He felt dizzy and had to go to the bathroom.
He washed his face and when was reaching the towel, he noticed the bottle of perfume. It was half empty. He opened it and smelled its scent. It woke up the longing, sleeping in his heart during a day.

Taemin sat down with the bottle in his right hand. He put the left one on the floor to keep himself still. His head was still heavy, as if he was drunk.

Drip drop.

He started to pour the perfume on the floor.
Diffusion worked and filled the air with a fresh fragrance.
It reached Taemin's clothes, lungs and mind.

Drip drop.

The tears were streaming down his face, one by one. They were big like pearls. He looked like a beautiful prince sharing his most precious treasure to the world. Nobody knew how heavy was the treasure, how much pain to his chest it would bring every day. But he was undoubtedly not a prince. He was not beautiful and neither was his soul. There is nothing poetic about suffering, there never was.
 

He managed to finish the project and sent it to his boss by email.
He wasn't sure whether he'd get to work in the morning.