Word Count: 1594
Written/Posted: 05/22/2015 - 05/26/2015
Characters: Taehyun
Group: Winner

Taehyun stood in the main foyer of his workplace, staring into the rain as it poured down in sheets to drench the city. He couldn't help but to feel that the rain was an echo of what he was feeling inside, the dull pain just lingering and weighing his soul down. Work had been hell that day, though he couldn't honestly say that the day had differed from any other. Once again, his supervisor had chosen to make him the of her jokes, and once again, his coworkers had gotten a laugh out of his quiet fumbling way of defending himself. He wasn't sure it mattered, anymore; she was probably right with everything she said, anyway.

Drawing in a long breath, he shook his head slightly before stepping out into the downpour. He had brought an umbrella, but in typical Taehyun fashion, he'd accidentally left it leaning against his workdesk. He wasn't about to go back upstairs to get it, when he knew that several of his coworkers were likely still there, chatting about their intentions for the weekend. They'd surely make yet another joke at his expense as he retrieved his forgotten umbrella, and he would honestly rather be drenched that deal with them for even a moment longer.

Hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, he kept his head ducked as he moved down the sidewalk for the bus stop. He tried to keep his thoughts away from the day's events, but like a moth to flame he kept going back to the cutting words. It seemed that no matter what he did, it wasn't enough; his supervisor was always making him the scapegoat for anything and everything. He had been confused over it at first, especially when he knew that he was the one who logged the most work done in the shortest amount of time, but instead of praising him, the spiteful woman seemed to take his work as a personal affront. It had now been almost two years of working there and listening to her call him stupid and all sorts of other names, and while he tried to remind himself that her opinion didn't matter, he couldn't help but feel the words cut at him.

The bus arrived just as he reached the stop, and he gratefully stepped on and out of the rain. The bus driver cast him an odd glance, the man's eyes concerned as his gaze swept over Taehyun's face, but he kept to his manners and didn't say anything as the young man scanned his pass. Taehyun moved to take a seat and the bus was off, leaving him a chance to space out over the sights they passed in the city. 

When he arrived at the stop near his home, he moved to step off and only barely registered the bus driver's concerned voice bidding him a good evening. The return to solitude only allowed his depression to settle around him like a heavy blanket once more, and he plodded on through the rain to his house. His arrival was unheralded, with no one and nothing to greet him as he stepped inside his apartment and locked the door behind him. He stripped of his sodden clothing and carried it to the bathroom, where he tossed it into the hamper before turning on the shower. The hot water warmed his body but not his thoughts, and as he exited the confines of the bathroom, his eyes fell on the bottle of painkiller sitting on the edge of the sink.

He paused for a long moment, his eyes drawn to the bottle while his thoughts ran back through the sequence of events for the last few years. He couldn't understand what he had done to deserve such cruelty from his supervisor, and why his coworkers would either turn their eyes away or join in on the laughter. Maybe he ought to just end this pathetic life he lived; it wasn't like anyone would miss him. 

His fingers felt numb as he reached for the bottle, but at the last moment he shook his head and turned away, hands gripped into fists at his side as he exited the room. He crawled into his bed, despite the early evening, and took solace in his sleep that he could never find in his waking life.

***

It was a strange room, this one Taehyun found himself standing in. The edges were obscured in curling silver mists and he couldn't make out any shapes beyond. He turned nearly a full circle before he saw it, and the sight made him stumble backward in surprise. 

A large mirror, encased in ornate silver moulding, stood in front of him, his reflection staring back at him from its surface. He was surprised to find himself in a sleek black suit, looking for all the world like he was getting ready to attend a formal gathering... or a funeral, his mind supplied, and he flinched at the thought. He hadn't taken those pills, so this couldn't be the afterlife... or could it?

Stepping closer to his reflection, he noticed strings wrapped about his person, so thin that he should be able to break them with a twist of his wrist. A glance down told him that they were not really there, but when he looked back up, they shone ever more obvious in the reflection. His brow wrinkled in curiousity and he moved closer, his eyes noting the way the strings seemed to disappear somewhere inside of his body. They then wrapped around him, some even around his neck and threatening to strangle him, only to disappear unseen into the mists on each side. The longer he looked, the more strings he saw, until one caught his interest more than the others.

Unlike the white strings disappearing inside of him, a thin, frayed red line came out of his chest to float, broken, in the air in front of him. Several of the white strands wrapped tightly around this red one, as if they were parasites striving to kill the vibrantly colored string, and with a sudden shock of knowing he realized that it represented his heart. He looked around desperately to see where his heart string led, but the other end of it was nowhere to be seen, the torn piece protruding from his chest ending about two feet in front of him. 

His eyes narrowed in thought as he looked back to the white strings, to the way that they seemed to attack his heart strand, and suddenly he knew what they were.

People. They represented outside forces that he allowed to have a hold on him, people that he allowed to attack his heart and fray it until it tore. Tears came unbidden to his eyes as he considered his reflection, the sadness in his dark eyes catching his attention. Why had he allowed himself to come to this? Why did he let these people hurt him, so much so that he had, albeit vaguely, considered taking his own life? He reached out to one of the strings to tear it off of him, but to his dismay found that even in his reflection, his hand simply passed through them. Realization dawned and his jaw firmed, knowing that he had to be awake to get rid of those strings attaching themselves to him.

He took a step back, the knowledge firm in his mind, and the dream began to fade around him...

Sitting up in his bed, it took a moment for him to realize he had returned to the waking world. The dream still seemed so strong in his mind that he stood to inspect himself in his bedroom mirror, more than half expecting to see the strings still extending from his body. Of course, they were gone, but it almost felt as if he could still feel them, tugging on his body and attacking his heart.

Taehyun shoved a hand through his long hair, letting loose a sigh as he did so. He knew that the strings were pulled by the hands of others, and he was pretty sure he knew who held the other ends. What he wasn't sure of, though, was if he should do something about that or not. He had to work to support himself, and though he would much rather be playing his music, his job was a necessity. Could he really afford to lose it? Stumbling back to bed, he wrapped up firmly in his blanket to try and return to sleep, but it never came; instead, his head was filled with thoughts of doubt and worry, the feel of the unseen strings still tight on his limbs.

***

Morning dawned bright and early, and Taehyun pulled himself from his bed with a grumble. As he dressed, his mind kept returning to his dream, and he wondered if he could truly have the courage to do as it suggested. He could never be free when wrapped in other's hands... yet could he step outside of his comfort zone and do what he should?

Could he take the step for himself, the one that everyone would ridicule as crazy, all because of a dream? But in his heart, he knew it was more than just a dream... it was a true reflection of his life, and if he couldn't take the courage to cut those strings, he would never be happy. 

As he stepped out of his apartment into the early morning sunshine, he knew what he had to do.

THE END

Yeah.... I had lots of ideas of where this could/should go and I even had an outline and everything... and lost steam. Maybe one day I will return to it, but this is it for now. GAH this is becoming a bad habit. >.<