wc: 787 (sorry it's short, we're nearing the end.)
I left in the morning once I heard one of them out in the living room. Sehun was up first and was in the kitchen making breakfast when I came out. I said a quick goodbye and thanked him for letting me stay, leaving before he'd think to offer me anything else.
It was early, not many people were out in the city.
Skipping the bus, I decided to stroll through the city for the few miles to my apartment. I tried to silence my mind, but nothing was working. All I could hear was a voice in the back of my mind telling me to off myself. Maybe I will. It'd end all of this. There might have been a small bit of my conscience pleading with me not to, but at this point, I tuned it out. I pulled out my phone to see that there were no notifications and that it was almost noon.
My feet dragged on the ground as I walked. I found myself at the graveyard, on my knees in front of his tombstone. I couldn't even cry anymore. The tears wouldn't come out, but the sobs still racked my frail body. Normally when I came here, I'd have something to say, but the words weren't with me today. Shame and a minute amount of guilt filled my being at the fact that I was planning on ending my life so easily when his had been taken from him so early, against his will. I couldn't stay though, I couldn't live without him. I was weak.
Those times when I'd come so close and he'd pay me a visit, or more recently when he'd come around unexpected, they helped more than I'd thought. Ethereal, nagging Chanyeol was better than no Chanyeol at all.
I laid down in front of it, this being the closest I'd get to laying with him again. My eyes closed and I involuntarily drifted into a light slumber. My dream brought me to a time when he was still around; it seemed real. A memory from our fifth anniversary played in my head, from when I tried to cook American food for dinner, but it all went wrong. I couldn't read English and mistook parsley for mint, and pesto for pepper paste. What was supposed to be perfectly seasoned baked chicken, turned into a minty, spicy mess. It tasted foul, but Chanyeol ate it regardless, saying it was delicious simply because of the effort I put into it. Something went odd in my dream though, my fork was attacking my hand - my eyes opened slowly and blinked a few times to adjust to the light. The dream was happy, and it felt so real that I almost forgot where I was. A bird pecked at my hand and flew off as I instinctively swung at it.
I forced myself to get up from the cold ground and walk back to the apartment. The whole way there, my mind wandered off to how I'd do it. Would I overdose? Would I use my gun? Would I cut a vein? Would I leave a note? Surely I didn't need one. If I offed myself in general, it'd be obvious that it was out of sorrow.
By the time I got back to the apartment, it was around 4 or 5. I decided that if tonight was going to be my last night, that I should at least try to have fun. I'd take a bus to Hongdae and try to party away the sadness.
I waved the ends of my hair a bit to get them to flow, and smoked out the edges of my eyes with dark shadow and liner. Ripped light wash jeans, and a black tee (both of which I'm pretty sure were Yeol's and not mine) completed the outfit. I threw on a pair of combat boots and left.
To be honest, the only things I remember of the night was that I danced a bit too much and drank a bit too much. I ended up leaving when some guy started hitting on me. He walked up and put his arm around me. I threw the rest of my drink in his face and left for the apartment. I got back to the apartment around 2 in the morning, and between the usual exhaustion, the drink, and what tomorrow would entail, I was ready to knock out. I set my gun on the dining room table as a reminder to buy ammunition in the morning, before I went to bed, still fully clothed.