park jinyoung was no more than a robot.

only doing what he was supposed to do, park jinyoung's everyday life seemed to be no more than a programme chip inserted into a machine on auto-run. that's all it was to him, a programmed robot.

a man of routines and filled schedules. life was routine constantly on repeat. jinyoung was a person that ran on such practiced routine, avoiding people also became part of it. no one attempted to hit the shuffle button.

mornings were waking up at six thirty sharp to the sound of his alarm, then dragging the tired body to the bathroom to wash up. by seven sharp he would be fully awake, standing in the kitchen making breakfast. he would finish breakfast by seven fifteen, and wash the dishes by seven twenty. by seven thirty, he would have dressed and worn his shoes. at seven thirty he would scan himself through the mirror by the door and say "good morning jinyoung", plaster a well practiced smile on his handsome face and left the apartment by seven thirty five sharp. the smile never reached his eyes.

afternoons were a tornado of cheerful greetings by his employees, saying no to well intentioned lunch dates, and scanning and signing whatever papers his assistant yugyeom handed to him. occasionally, he would go to meetings and that was the end of the afternoon routine.

at nights, he would come home to a hot dinner, prepared by the housekeeper, which he would finish by eight and would clean up by eight ten. at eight fifteen he would open his kitchen cupboard and pop one pill from the each small container into his mouth and down it with water. he would watch and read news reports until nine thirty and at ten sharp he would fall into listless sleep. everything was planned and calculated to the very second. and when he awoke, the cycle would repeat again.

park jinyoung was empty.

a human was what he looked like but a shell, that was all he was. park jinyoung had dazzling visuals but his eyes were full of emptiness, not a single trace of emotion in sight. park jinyoung was a porcelain doll, beautiful, but cold, hard and empty.

like a porcelain doll, he was also fragile, but strong and hard. hammer the nail in the right angle and he would break. just like that. it wasn't as if he