Seungyoon realised when push comes to shove, he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy at all.

He hated the world for being unfair, he hated the people in it that judged him no matter what he did, and he hated himself purely for being himself and no one else.

Yet he figured he’d fake the smiles, if it stopped the questions, and he figured he’d stop talking about himself, if no one cared anyway.

He hated himself the most when other people shone, simply because it were times he didn’t. He wasn’t envious. Not one bit. It just made him think about how little he actually contributed to the world.

Seungyoon didn’t help people in need, he didn’t cure the world of cancer, and he didn’t make world peace a thing. He didn’t do anything other than sing, make his mother cry, and be in the way.

After a while, people started asking questions again, though different kinds of questions this time. They asked him about school, about life, about himself. But even to the most standard questions, he couldn’t find an answer.

They asked him where his motivation went, and after a while he heard them gossiping about him becoming lazy and ungrateful.

But it wasn’t that Seungyoon had become lazy, and it wasn’t that he’d become ungrateful. It was just that he was so freaking tired and he didn’t understand at all how this life had happened to him.

He didn’t understand why he was there, and what his purpose was in life, and if he even had one at all.

He wanted to die, and he figured it would solve so many things all at once.

Seungyoon often found himself on the edge, ready to jump, ready to end it all. It occurred to him how funny it was how little time would in fact be needed to become nothing more than a fleeting memory.

One.

Two.

Three.

Jump.

Fall.

Panic.

Hit.

Die.

He also wondered if it would hurt, and if it would matter.

Seungyoon had tried to stop over-thinking, just like everyone had told him. But it didn’t work. If anything, it made him think even more, and even harder about things he’d so much rather forget.

He had lost count of the days he’d done his utmost best to keep up appearances only to break down at night. Afraid of being heard, the cries were silent, and hidden.

As his mother was asleep, he’d clutch to his stomach and keep quiet as he held onto his breath. Hold it in, hold it in, those words repeatedly floating through his head as a mantra while pressing his eyes shut in desperate hope it would keep the tears in.

It never worked, and he always felt like screaming more than his heart out.

He withdrew himself from the world, and even then he received criticism.

It shocked him. He didn’t know people could criticise him more severely than he could ever viciously criticise himself.

In time, Seungyoon realised being left alone with his thoughts had actually become quite dangerous.

It dawned upon him when he subtly started asking people to forget about him. They didn’t understand, but he wanted them to do so nevertheless. Partly because he knew it wasn’t such a hard thing to do, and partly because he wasn’t really worth to be remembered anyway.

He wanted to be forgotten.

He wanted to disappear.

Desperately so.

It had been a night like any other; he was roaming the streets at night, dreading to go home. He had a bruise forming on his left cheek, a split lip, and a pounding headache.

Wherever his feet were guiding him; he would go.

Most of the time, they led him to the park. He’d listen to the silence, with an occasional car passing by in the distance. On other times, he’d go to convenience stores, buy a cup of ramen and write. He’s been to coffee shops, too, but he was quick to realise coffee costs more than ramen does, so he quickly gave up on that.

That night, however, his feet had guided him all the way up to the roof of his apartment building. There was a short moment where he thought about how lax the architecture of the building had been in terms of safety, since there were no railings at all. But that had only been a fleeting thought. Other than that, there hadn’t been much playing through his mind.

There had been a strange sense of serenity. He felt at peace with himself, which was a first.

He’d been calm when he approached the ledge, and he had been calm when he got on top of it. Seungyoon stared off into the distance, and he figured it was okay.

It was all okay.

Even if it wasn’t now, it was going to be soon.

But then there were words, pulling him out of whatever he was thinking of doing—or rather, wasn’t thinking at all; just doing.

“Don’t move! Stay there!”

Seungyoon raised an annoyed brow at the interruption.

“Seriously, don’t move!”

Slowly, Seungyoon casted his eyes downwards.

“No! I said don’t move!”

There was a man standing right below him. He was holding up his hands in a cautious way, as if Seungyoon was some kind of wild animal he needed to be careful with not to spook.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Seungyoon muttered as he cocked his head to the side.

The man below’s eyes kept shifting up, to Seungyoon, and to the door of the building.

“If you’re planning on coming up, don’t bother,” Seungyoon yelled back at the man. It didn’t really sound like a yell, though. He sounded surprisingly—even surprising himself—calm. He took a step to the right.

“Just do—don’t move!” His voice went up and it made Seungyoon chuckle.

“You look like you’re dancing,” Seungyoon replied. “Make a choice already!”

He stilled, his hands still in the air. Seungyoon could almost hear him huff. “I’m coming up, don’t—”

“Move. Yeah, I heard you.” Seungyoon rolled his eyes. He waited for the man to enter the building before stepping off the ledge.

He was up in no time, and noting his heavy breathing, it was obvious he’d run all the way up the stairs.

“I could have easily jumped off the second you entered, you know?” Seungyoon eyed him suspiciously.<