EXO-L POV

One of the only sounds of this place is the incessant drip-drip of a broken pipe, somewhere close. I don't know where it comes from exactly but I know it is close; some of it falls on my shoulders and arms, bleeding through my clothes.

I don't know where I am. It's not like things are uncomfortable but they're not that comfortable either. And I don't even know how I got here from home... or where is home, for that matter.

The only thing there is to this room is a round table and a radio. A ray of light from the ceiling falls down on them as if they were in a tube. I, on the other hand, sit crouched in the darkness. I did try to touch the radio and see what happens but the light made me uncomfortable so I decided to stay back.

The other sound is the soft keys of a piano coming from the radio. The melody sounds familiar but I can't really tell why. All I can do is rock my body back and forth, letting the gentle sound soothe my body.

Since I can't really tell how and why I am here, I decided that I must be waiting for something or someone. Surely, after some time, someone will come for me and tell me my purpose. I don't know if I would leave then but I don't know if I would like to either.

I am sitting on marble. Black and white little squares to be precise, arranged just like on the board of a chess game. I've never played chess but I know that it is a game for clever souls. I would not consider myself as clever so I don't think I've ever tried the game.

Where did you go?

I can hear it clearly; the voice. At first, I thought there was someone else in the room with me but since they would not reply back, I decided it must have come from the radio.

It is a nice radio, though I don't think I've ever had one like it. This one looks old and some buttons are missing. I don't think the outside world has any of these now, though I couldn't tell what people are using these days.

I have always liked music, or so I think. Music is a form of art, I believe; used to express one's deepest emotions and connect the people to one another. Some are sad and others are happy, but to either, anyone can easily relate...

Why are you so far away?

I don't know how far away I am but there must be a reason behind it, right? There is always a 'why' behind an event, but not always an answer to it. I have no answer but a lot of questions. But what good does it do to have questions with no one to answer them? It's as futile as having a door without a knob.

But if a question without an answer is futile, why do they come to my mind? And if they come to my mind, how am I to make them go?

I love you.

Love is a natural feeling, made possible due to a lot of factors. There are different types of Love, though the romantic side of it gets often more recognition than the rest. It may sound unfair but so is the human perspective of this emotion. All human beings come to the world with the ability to love, but along the way, some lose part of it. Maybe that's why I am here; because I lost the ability to love.

We ended our time on this night.

Ending things is not easy but neither is restarting them. It is easier to abandon than to repair, for new things last longer than repaired ones. If there is no use in repairing what's broken, then it is better to end it there.

Every memory keeps bringing you back.

Going back is never a good idea. The world is too unstable for them to remain the same, so even if you retrace your steps, you can't fully go back to how things originally were. This is why many people hurt; because they can't let go of what has happened to them. I know that I can't let go of it either-

The radio starts to creak slightly, the sound of the piano completely disappearing. It is surprising how quickly what is not may become. And some things cannot be ignored.

I push myself to my feet, shaking slightly on my noodle like legs. There is nothing wrong with being weak, until being weak is all you have. But since this is exactly who I am, I guess everything is wrong with me.

The button turns smoothly under my fingers, the creak changing tempo from time to time. There is nothing wrong with being broken until all you are is your brokenness.

"EXO-L!"

"Yes?"

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I do."

"I miss you."

"Who are you?"

"I used to be the one for you."

"Now?"

"I'm falling down."

"Oh."

It's sad to be falling because falling often leads to scars. But scars in themselves are not bad. If the pain could be avoided then there would be nothing wrong. However, pain cannot be avoided so scars are bad. Yet if people don't go through pain, they will stay weak. So being weak is worth than being in pain. But what happens when being weak equals to being in pain?

"It's too late to say I love you."

"Why?"

"Because you're already gone."

"It's ironical."

"What is?"

"This night! This is where we started and where we ended."

"I am sorry."

"It's your fault if I'm hurting. Why did you go?"

I don't know so I don't answer, but the guilt is there and I don't want to face it. What use is there in facing things when they will never change?

"This is so like you! Cowardly running away!"

"I am?"

"Yes, you are! You are weak, unworthy of every chance you were given. You never appreciate what you had but always paid attention to what was not right in front of you. You had your friends and your family but, instead, you focused your attention on me."

"I didn't forget them!" I shout back, tears falling uncontrollably as I press my hands against the flat surface of the table. Underneath them, the wood is cold and rough, hungrily eating away my tears.

"You did worse; you ignored them!"

Suddenly I am no longer leaning over the table but rather, standing in a purple colored room. Posters and pictures fill the walls, without one spot of blank space in sight and the same music as earlier plays in the background, though this time accompanied by the voice that was shouting.

The door on my right opens and in walks a middle-aged man. His attire is simple, making him look quite ordinary among all those other men scattered around. He is plain but I feel the connection immediately.

"Sweetie, come on! Your cousins only come once in a while, you should play with them."

"No, they said mean things about EXO."

"It's okay. They just don't understand."

"Then I don't have to understand them either."

I watch the pained look on the man's face, clearly trying his best as three little heads pop from the corner. My conflicting interests and personality had always been a cause of drift between the other members of my family but I remember that ever since becoming an EXO-L, my life with them has been nearly dust.

"You were too weak to face them so you hid away like the coward that you are." a now familiar voice whispers in my ear. Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck as arms wrap themselves over my stomach. It feels warm but I am immediately uncomfortable.

The scene changes and now I see a man passed out on a bed, a bottle of beer in hand. There is a newspaper beside him, with his face on the first page under big bold letters, EXO REJECTED BY HIS OWN FAN. The light snore in the room doesn't hide the smeared makeup on his face. He had obviously been crying.

"You did this to me," he says in my head, pressing me tighter to his chest. I am too surprised to move as I feel feather like kisses moving from my shoulders to the spot right under my ear. The air seems stuck in my lungs. "You ran away again and now I'm broken."

"I didn't mean to!"

"But you did and now I can't even be repaired." His teeth are now scraping my skin as his nails bite into my sides. I winced at the pain but do not struggle. Tears now freely race down my cheeks.

"You deserve to be unhappy." a female voice says, from the other side of the room. Her night like hair and deep gaze have me trembling with slight fear.

"Raina, I-"

"You know exactly what you have to do."