“that’s enough for today, woohyun.”

but he knows it’s not, not now, not ever; because his life, here, like this, it’s pure suffering, it’s death. and if anything, it’s far away from being quick and painless.

it’s a mixture of vivid colours and deafening sounds, endless, overwhelming sensations, the ones so strong that his brain feels like it could explode any moment, like the amount of thoughts was going to physically damage it, shatter. (and it would be a splash of burning crimson against the white normally spotless wall, fragments of brain tissue scattered all over it, grotesque art, painting of life and death, of madness and what’s beyond it, of woohyun and not-woohyun sunggyu and his bloodstained fingers threading through the soft hair reaped hearts dim eyes)

woohyun’s life is breathlessness, it’s fire in the lungs and ocean in mind; when he perceives, he does so with a force that can create worlds and destroy galaxies. and one day, he’s sure of it, it will destroy him as well.

four letters, as simple as that, four innocent letters that have already turned his life into hell. (it tastes like rotten flesh and chocolate in the corners of sunggyu’s mouth is so sweet the sun is shining so blindingly he hasn’t finished the book yesterday—today—tomorrow will it come?)

(hell always does)

(burn)

he has tried many times to just close his eyes and be, simply exist, not even think or breathe. every time, though, there’s something more, there’s something he feels, not matter how hard he wants not to. (air kissing his skin salty tears on his lips he was supposed to kiss sunggyu goodbye the wind is too loud the book it fell out of his hands it’s dark again)

(i’m sorry)

pills disappear in his mouth, first, second, third, twenty-fifth, it’s all just a nunmber. it helps, it’s the only thing that still does, the only thing beside sunggyu’s eyes focused on his, so sad and full of pain he wants to never stop apologizing, even when he doesn’t know what for anymore.

“i’m sorry.”

when he finds woohyun, so unnaturally still and peaceful, sunggyu thinks it’s a lie. it can’t be true, the cold skin and cold bed, and the terrifying lack of life, negation of existence that fills the room.

it’s bathed in all kinds of oranges and reds from the setting sun; woohyun’s favourite colours, the ones he always could focus on for enough time to appreciate their beauty, the ones that he’s not going to see anymore.

even when the ambulance arrives, the high-pitched sound filling the silence of the dying afternoon, he is still holding woohyun close to his chest, chapped dry lips leaving butterfly kisses all over the younger’s face. as they take him away, he continues to sing him lullabies, happy children’s songs that once used to help him fall asleep. (once feels like months, years, eons before, like never or like all the time in the history of the universe.)

before he fully comprehends what’s happening, woohyun is gone. he disappeared.

(died)

without him, sunggyu can’t feel anymore. he’s lost all of his five senses, his sight and touch and hearing. it’s almost like woohyun was feeling enough for the both of them, enough to keep him alive, too.

for the last time, he cries and hopes it’s a lie.

(deep down his heart, he knows it’s true)

when he wakes up, his eyes are empty.

(he’s still alive and woohyun is still dead)

;rewind

they meet  when their hearts are still young, minds filled with dreams so pure and hopes so big, the whole world seemingly at their feet.

sunggyu’s 23 and a promising medicine student. woohyun is one year younger and majoring in music; in normal circumstances, they probably wouldn’t have even met.

but they do, when woohyun’s mind is broken and he’s lying unconscious, his pale skin looking even more sick, his body even more fragile against the unnaturally sterile, white hospital sheets. right then, he’s not an exceptional student, he’s not singing with his whole heart, he’s not laughing—fighting—living.

he’s a patient with an advanced stadium of adhd and a bedside table full of pills that help him survive through his life.

(or end it)

and sunggyu can’t help but fall in love with him.

a/n: what is this, i can't even.