It was a cold day, not like the average cold day in Seoul, but colder. The ground outside was covered in snow. It did not leave the land looking beautiful like in pictures, but more dreary. The sky was dark and gray making the snow seem lifeless and creating a sad, lonely picture of the world. The weather reflected exactly how No Minwoo felt.

Maybe it was because he was lonely and cold, and he felt what the land felt. One look outside and you knew the land felt depressed, but it was not the land. Maybe the weather just affected the young boy that way, and that is why he was inside like many others who the dreary looking day had put in a downcast mood. Maybe he couldn’t go out to dance, or he didn’t feel like doing anything at all. Despite all these possibilities, none of them were right.

Minwoo was depressed; he had been for a while. It would be easy for anyone to see if they took the time to notice him. Being forgotten and overlooked was really starting to take a toll on him. He had given up trying. Maybe he just wasn't real. He wasn't like the others. He knew it well. It used to bug him, but now he didn't seem to care.

He didn't care about anything anymore. He let himself sink into the depression that was long coming. It felt like he was living in a bubble watching the world pass around him. He could hear everyone talking to each other. He could see how they all acted, but everything seemed muffled slightly as if he was wearing big headphones without any music playing.

The world moved around him. They had complex relationships with each other. They fought, they made up, and they shared things with each other that they would later regret, or that would only bring them closer. He learned much by watching quietly, and couldn't help but wish that for himself. Even if they were bad feelings that some people seemed to carry towards each other or created sad memories, he wouldn't care. It would be better than how he lived now.

He was on the sidelines always. It was his perpetual job in the world, the observer, the one far off watching. He wished for more, but knew it would never be. He had tried for years for something different to happen, to be noticed in any way, but it never happened, and now he had stopped trying.

He told himself he didn't care, but he still did.

He stopped caring about many things. He didn't care about how his depression was affecting his health, nor did he notice the toll it was taking on how he saw the world. The weather was bad and the sun shone less and less, but he took no notice. He stopped caring about preserving his nature. He stopped caring about dancing to his favourite hits. He only cared about making sure he was real. It was something he had to constantly remind himself.

It had started snowing outside, but Minwoo took no notice. He was inside his small apartment sitting on the bathroom toilet. Even if there was a window in his small bathroom he would not see the snow because his eyes were buried in the palms of his hands. He was losing himself.

His back held a slight tremble as his palms became damp with small salty tears from his eyes. The tremble was hard to spot because of the baggy red hoodie he wore that hid his slender frame. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows revealing his pale arms that were covered in fresh bandages that were put on only minutes before. If you looked closely you could see a pale spot of red appearing through the bandage on his left arm from where one of the cuts had bled through.

On the counter next to him was the cause of his physical injuries, a small razorblade. It wasn't the blade's fault for the cuts that lined the young boy's arms. He had done it to himself. He didn't like it, but he needed to feel. Every time he did the deed he promised himself he would never do it again, but he never kept the promise.

Minwoo lifted his head from his hands revealing his deep chocolate eyes, a beautiful color. Despite the breathtaking color of his eyes, they were empty and dulled. There was a veil of depression hiding the true beauty his eyes, eyes that were always overlooked.

Minwoo put his square rimmed glasses on that were sitting on the counter and looked at the blade that gave him relief along with pain. He had mixed emotions about the object. He knew what he did with it was wrong. It was not something anyone should do. Hell, some people would even be sickened by the fact he does it. He didn't care about those people though.

They were like the other bluffers, the ones he once called family. They didn't know of the feelings he felt. He would always be slightly envious of that fact. They didn't know what it was like to think they're not real. They didn't know what it was like to be convinced you were a ghost stuck in the world of the living.

That is why he had started doing it. He needed to make sure. He needed to know he was real. He needed to be reminded that he was a person and that he was alive. Overtime it became a comfort to him. After another practice session of being ignored, it gave him comfort to keep going. He liked how it made him feel, but it didn't make him like the act any better. He and the blade had a love hate relationship, and they always would.

He stood up slowly almost robotically, grabbed the blade, and went to the sink to clean it off. He may have convinced himself that he stopped caring, but old habits do die hard, right? He always cleaned to blade to make sure there was no dried blood and to prevent infection. He may be suffering, but his bandmates didn't need to because of him.

That was why he was still here living every day. He wasn't sure if an idol, more importantly, maknae, could die by suicide. No one had tried it before, so no one really knew. If he tried, what would happen to Boyfriend? He may hate his life, but he still cared deeply about the band. He wouldn't try because he didn't want anything to happen to them.

He put the razor back and sighed to himself. What to do now? He supposed he could get ahead in work since he didn't have much else to do. A growl from his stomach made his decision to make some food to pass the time.

He walked from the bathroom to the kitchen to make some bulgogi. His house was eerily clean. He had so much time on his hands, he cleaned, a side effect of not having friends.

He past the living room, and stopped by the couch. His pet dog was sleeping soundly against the arm of the couch. Matthew could help, but smile at the cute sight his furry companion had made. He pet his dog slowly.

"You are so cute sometimes, Haru." The dog nuzzled his master's arm in his sleep causing him to giggle. Haru could always cheer him up.

Minwoo walked into the kitchen to get started on the bulgogi. He would have to make extras for his dog. Recently Haru had been sleeping more and had been less clingy.

It was probably Minwoo's mood as of late. The dog had an odd way of sensing how he was feeling, and it just rubbed off on him. It worked the other way around too, but the most Minwoo usually felt from the dog was hunger or worry for his master. The latter always made Minwoo smile. It was nice to know someone was worried for you even if they were just a dog.

Minwoo grabbed soy sauce and seasonings from the cabinet and poured it in with the beef. He was in the mood for something different, and more seasoned flavored bulgogi was the answer.

He felt better than before, and he tried not to think about why. The maknae wasn't stupid; he knew it was because he had just "relieved" himself and got rid of all those feelings. He put the thought to the back of his head and let himself believe it was because he was making bulgogi to eat. Though, that didn't stop his mind from wandering.

I won't do it again. This was the last time; I just know it.

He was always reassuring himself that it would come to hurting himself again, but he knew better. It never got easier. If anything it got harder. Haru or fans were great companions, but he needed something more. Everyone needed the genuine company of others, even idols.

They will notice me next time, I just know they will. Last practice Jeongmin hyung didn't sit on me so I must be becoming visible. It's just starting slow, one thing at a time, right?

He was always being positive about things. He tried to look on the bright side, and convinced himself that it would get better. That was his downfall, though.

He always convinced himself it would get better, and he truly believed it. That just made it more of a letdown to be unnoticed. It made him yearn more to be seen, and made him feel worse to be ignored.

He was so deep in his thoughts he ran into the counter almost causing him to drop the plates he was carrying to the table, one for him and one for Haru.

His arm stung from where it hit the counter. He put the plates down and winced as he inspected his arm. The cuts had broken open and were now bleeding through the bandages on his right arm. He would have to change the bandages. He had used the last of the ones he kept in the bathroom, but he usually kept some in the kitchen.

He took off his hoodie and laid it on the chair so he was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt. It was his favorite hoodie complete with his name stitched on the sleeve, and he didn't want to get any blood on it.

He sat on the counter next to the sink with the paper towels next to him. He knew what he needed to do to clean off the wound, he had done it before.

He slowly unwrapped the soiled bandage cringing slightly. He bit his lip at the pain. It was different than when he afflicted it on himself. He didn't need it now, didn't want it. Even if it was still him causing the pain technically, it didn't have the same effect.

He tossed the bandage aside and got a wet paper towel to wipe off his arm. After that he grabbed a handful of dry ones, and held it too the wound. He pressed down to try to stop the bleeding.

When the bleeding slowed, he threw the bandages and wet paper towels away while still holding the dry to his bleeding arm.

He opened the cabinet under the sink in search of his clean bandages. He grabbed the first aid kit he kept there. He undid the clasp, and peered inside.

"."

It was all out. That meant he didn't have any more bandages.

One look out the window and he knew he would have to just let it go. There was no way he was traveling to the store like this in that weather. He sighed and headed into the living room.

He sat down on the couch next to the half-asleep Haru. The bleeding had slowed down a lot, but it was still bleeding slightly.

He inspected the cuts under the now soiled paper towels. They weren't too bad. They would take a while to heal and might leave a scar for a while, but it would heal fine. Something soft on his leg distracted him from the image of his bleeding arm.

Haru had his head on his lap looking up at him with sad questioning eyes.

"It's okay Haru. I'll be fine." The retriever looked at him some more, but seemed to accept it.

Minwoo leaned his head back and got comfortable. He was tired and worn out. He decided a short nap wouldn't hurt not knowing that he would be having a visitor soon.