The room was silent, and my mind was hazy, filled with too many thoughts rushing at once, overwhelming me and causing my heart to ache. I isolated myself from the world, I shut myself in, closed the curtains, locked the door, and sat in a corner. Hours and hours was all that passed and the only thing that changed, was my eyes growing heavier, and my body sinking in more against the cold ground in a corner of my broken down room. Every now and then I would glance around, desperately trying to look for anything that'd remind me of his smiling face; the lyrics that we had messily painted together on the walls, the picture frame that was upside down on the ground, broken and smashed-- nothing reminded me of that smile of his. It only all broke my heart even more, it only reminded me of that feeling, that one feeling that I hate describing. 

My heart being ripped apart. 

The reminder of that feeling only makes me inhale sharply, as if a knife was cutting through me at a painfully slow pace. I am too weak, to stand, to fight, to keep my eyes open. Hell, I can barely breathe. Who would have thought that he was the one that kept me alive and running, I wouldn't have ever realized that he was my oxygen, a dear person in my life. A best friend. I can only scoff at myself, for how stupid I am, to have not realized how important he was, and still is. Youngjae--

The memory is like a poison that runs through my veins, only killing me more as each second passes by, the memory of him with that smile of his, the one that would even make my own cold heart melt, as he opened his arms for me to embrace me in a hug that I had been desperately yearning for; his warmth. 

Warmth, warmth, warmth.

I didn't get it in the end. I didn't get to wrap my arms around his frail body and pull him close. I couldn't brush my thumb gently against his cheek that was bruised and bleeding, and I didn't get the chance to ruffle his messy hair, to make it worse with a loud laugh before punching his arm and loosely throwing my own arm around his shoulder. I didn't ing get anything, and the thought of this only makes my heart sink deeper than the depths of the ocean, making me want to throw up, and cry. 

I practically dragged my body across the room with my arms shaking and my fingers trembling as I reached out to get a hold of the broken picture frame, pushing the small pieces of glass off the photo to pull it out and stare down at it while rolling onto my back and lying on the ground. The pace of my breathing had only gotten slower, longer and heavier as I tried to constrain myself from crying, only allowing my low lip to quiver violently as I suddenly ripped the photo into pieces, throwing the shreds aggressively at the wall with a loud scream that filled up the room and shook the walls. My own voice felt unusual, as if I had lost myself, and I was a stranger. A person that couldn't even save his own friend, no-- more than a friend, his own brother. We were like that, all six of us, we're like brothers. A family.

The rest of my day consisted of me staring at the dull coloured ceiling, with only the thought of Youngjae in my head, and how pathetic I am, to not have been able to save him. 

"Yongguk," a voice spoke faintly in my head, and I immediately knew that I was going crazy, because all I heard was Youngjae, all I saw was Youngjae and all I only wanted to feel was the warmth of my friend, Youngjae. But the only thing I remembered, was the split second that his smile broke and his eyes grew wide, and we both knew as we stared at each other with shock, that it was over. It was as if time had slowed down when he had fallen into my arms, coughing and tearing up, and I was doing no less, in fact I was doing more, and compared to me, he seemed calm as I broke into tears and squeezed his hand while my other hand pushed his hair back and held him tightly, crying and screaming his name, and begging him not to die. It was bloody as hell; I was in hell. 

His voice was still in my mind, throughout the day and for the rest of the night, in fact, I was probably lying in my room for days, without eating or moving. 

"Yongguk," his voice sounded different, and of course, I didn't reply, because I was sure that it was in my mind, until it spoke again, much louder along with a few knocks on the door, "Hyung, open the door, you've been in here for days, please come out, just-- hyung, please," the voice desperately pleaded, the voice of our maknae. I didn't bother to move or reply, and I only continued what I seemed I was best at; staring at the wall. After a few moments, another voice took over, knocking much harsher than Zelo, even kicking the door a few times to wake me up, "Yongguk, get your up and open the door before I break it down," a pause, before he suddenly banged the door with his whole body, "Yongguk, man, get out," Himchan called out, sighing heavily immediately afterwards. I mouthed a "no" that was obviously not audible at all, but it was a sort of wake up call, for myself at least. 

No, I won't wake up, I won't move, I won't do anything, I shouldn't be allowed to do anything. He's dead. Youngjae's dead and I can't figure out what's worse, the fact that he died in my own arms, or that he flashed a weak smile before getting shot. I could barely even try to paint out the thought of how Daehyun must be feeling, and it was quite a shock when I heard his voice barely whisper from behind the door, as if he was trying to hold back tears, and not show how weak he had become, "Yongguk, hyung, I know you can't stand the thought of him dead, as much as I can't, but deciding not to see the light of the sun for days isn't the best idea," he croaks, his voice raspy and tired. 

Please leave, I begged in my mind. Leave me alone to drown in my pain. I don't care if you feel pain as well, I don't care, I don't know. I'm lost. I could feel the emotion welling up inside of me as I slowly lost rhythm of my breath and my vision blurred causing me to quickly close my eyes, letting tears trickle down my cheeks. At this point I don't even want to shout or scream for him to return, because I can only cry.

I am a failure, as a leader, and as a friend. I lost Youngjae, and now I'm losing myself. 

"Goodbye," I whispered softly to the ceiling, picking up a piece of the ripped up photo, only to realize that it was his face, with his warm smile. Goodbye, Youngjae. 

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If you have any requests, you can always comment and ask, I hope you liked the oneshot.