have you ever felt like you have no reason to live? no purpose of existence? 

like you're easily replaceable and that somehow, you'll never be able to create anything significant or to reach a notable goal in your life no matter how hard you try.

no matter how hard you trudge through nights where you wish you couldn't fill your lungs with air again, days where you wish your wounds wont stop bleeding, afternoons where you simply cant help but wish to disperse into your cigar smoke and somehow vanish without a trace, evenings where it seems amazing to just punch a window on the eight floor and chase after the shards falling down, down, down.

kibum didn't.

he felt that sensation magnified by a tenfold.

the air was jinki, the wounds were minho, the cigars were jonghyun, and the shards were taemin.

a particular caramel haired boy always, always, always, make kibum feel live. he made him snort out pepsi out of his nose, laughing even harder at the mess. he make him smile till his cheeks ached. he caused butterflies in his stomach and made him feel like roses and daises and tulips and sunflowers and all of those pretty, pretty wild flowers were blossoming, peeking through shyly in between his ribs, and he made him feel like his heart radiated sunlight with each beat and pumped happiness through each vein. he made him feel alive, just like the flowers and butterflies and what not- he made him feel like life was worth living, even if it might be without legitimate sunlight, even if it might be in the dark.

but butterflies and flowers and sunlight are not supposed to be caged in dark prison cells. eventually, the flowers withered. the butterflies bat their wings for the last few times. and the sunlight slowly, but surely, dulled away into nothingness.

and before kibum was aware of that, jinki left as he breathed out the last scent of daises and tulips on a soft summer day.

minho was like a wound. also the cause of the one that kibum has on his left eyebrow. he pierced into kibums life- quite literally. you see, minho, as an athletic model and actor, has strict schedules to live by. and rainy days with foggy roads that don't let you see who's walking on them don't stop him from attending his photo shoot for etude or adidas or whatever he had on his plate for that day. wounds always leave a scar once they're healed, and thats what made kibum remember minho as a wound.

he went deep in kibums life, his heart, his existence, and vanished. leaving scars so evident that the boy keeps himself secluded from any interaction.

but then again, his will power wasn't that strong to begin with.

one might know that cigars are always labeled as addictive, harmful, and always linked to words of the like, yes? kibum admits, the words do justice to what a cigar is like- actually, to what jonghyun was like.

enthralling, dangerous, beguiling, and above all, life-threatening. killing the smoker in the slowest way possible, in a manner that's hidden to the point its unnoticeable. and when the cigar is burnt, exhausted, all that remain are ashes. mere memoirs of what used to be so entrancing, addictive- just plain.. brilliant, indescribable, even.

and that's how he came, and that's just how he left. with only a polaroid picture of the two caught in a friendly embrace, arms linked, kibums hand throwing up a peace sign, while jonghyun snapped a picture of the two. kibum recalls that particular day to be especially entertaining, as the two visited an amusement park of some sort and wasted away their evening in laughter and sticky blue cotton candy. that day was perfect- at least in kibums head. but then again, the idea of jonghyun was solidified as the embodiment of perfection in the mind of the smoker, kibum.

ashes remain, decaying. memories remain, scarring. inhale, exhale. relieve the pain from the shards that slash your skin after the large fall, at the point where you just need to bleed out, leave your mark on the earth, before closing your eyes- with the intention to never open them again.

the last step was taemin.

taemin, oh, taemin. he was the personification of enchanting. like crystals, diamonds, and glass. except, they were all smashed into small shards, like glitter. invitingly stunning, but never really getting off of your body without leaving some sort of evidence that they were once present. be it a scar, a wound, or something else. diamonds are the strongest material known to mankind. taemin was the strongest man known to kibum. having bore so many lashes, kibum was sure he was capable of taking at least a dozen more. what he didn't know, was that the glimmering shard could cut through him. and so, he wrapped his arms around him, embracing him close to his heart.

a little too close, possibly, as he lay down, his heart beating for the last few times, his eyes blinking away tears to the best of their abilities, his body slowly losing its ability to feel, his chest finally falling for the last time.

he exhaled a final sigh, his eyes shutting, his breath stopping.

his lungs empty, his last breath diffusing with the smoke of a cigar, vanishing. his wounds spilling his blood endlessly, the edges slowly lacing themselves together in a still-unformed scab, a few glass shards surrounding his pale body, tarnished with dark red and salty tears.

exhale, kibum. for you've lived.