The sound of the wind, crashing againsts the closed window of his room, woke him from his light slumber. The young korean man rolled in his bed, so he was now facing the source of that incessant, hollow noise. The window kept shaking under the influence of the wind, which tried in vain to get through the cracks in the wooden frame, and invade the little place Jinyoung made his own prison.

Knowing he would not be able to sleep again, the young man embraced himself, hugging his legs and pulling them close to his chest. He inspected his room, the blankets he used to cover himself were laying forgotten on the floor, but except that everything else was in its place.

It has already been four months and three days since he decided to lock himself up. It was not like he couldn't or didn't ever get out, but he almost never did.

He liked it better that way.

The screen of the white clock on his bedside table showed a glowing 02:15 AM. It was too early to start a new day, so he just laid there staring at the white ceiling of his room.

It has been four months and one day since he changed all of the furniture on his bedroom for white ones. That color calmed him. And it contrasted with all the pictures and photographs he had hung, glued and stuck to the walls.

It has been four months and four days since he last saw his face. The face that keeps smiling towards him from every picture, the eyes that looked at him from every corner of his tiny piece of paradise.

It was both solace and torture, a constant reminder of what he had lost. But he hasn't much left to hold onto.

He looked at the clock again. 02:37 AM.

It was still too early to get up, but sleeping was not an option anymore.

Jinyoung stretched his numb limbs and sat at the edge of his bed. He tried to think of something to do until he had to start working.

His room was immaculate, he cleaned everyday, keeping everything where it was supossed to be, everything always clean and tidy. It was the only way he could keep something in order in his life.

Knowing there was nothing he could do to keep his mind busy, The korean boy reached for his phone. He checked, as usual, how many missed calls and unanswered texts he had. 78 Missed calls, 179 unanswered texts. The numbers just kept on rising since the first day he decided the outside world was not worthy enough for him. However, the numbers hadn't changed for three days.

He only answered some of the texts, mainly from the people who even after all that time has not given up on him. But he never returned a call, he just couldn't speak anymore.

He checked the last message. It was from his friend Jaebum, the only one who has ever enter his little sanctuary, the only one he still talked to almost on a daily basis.

He had been avoiding him for three days.

“Have you registered yet?”

Just four words, a simple question.

Bu