Turning Point

Words: 3174

Chanyeol has been stared at since ever, but the stares he was receiving now were making their way into his mind, turning him into a sweaty mess. He despised all those hard, judging stares which reduced the oxygen in his lungs and made him feel like absolute trash. "Park Chanyeol." He blinked, the voice of his teacher echoing in his ears in a constant mantra. His sight crossed her eyes, looking at her nervously, while all students were staring at him with amused expressions on their faces.

"Can you read it now, please? We're waiting." The brunette gulped, looking at the paper in front of him while sweat drops were painting stains on it. R-Read? I can't- "Chanyeol! Read or you have to go out." I- can't. Chanyeol bit his lips, closing his eyes tightly while his teacher suddenly grabbed his arm. "Pack your stuff and leave the classroom, now!" His teachers voice echoed in his ear as he grabbed his pack and his camera, making his way out of the room while his eyes were fixed on the ground.

The door was closed behind him, leaving him all alone in the school hallways. Alone. You're alone again. He slid down the wall, closing his eyes as he leaned his head on the wall, rethinking the boy's feature he had seen today. This soft skin, his brown orbs and his chocolate brown hair. He was just perfection and made Chanyeol's thump faster than he had ever imagined. It almost felt like he was flying on clouds, oxygen stuck in his lungs while on the other hand his heart was about to explode out of his chest.

I have to see him again. He opened his eyes, noticing that he didn't even know his name, or in which class he was, which dramatically reduced the chance to see the boy again since the school was pretty big. Idiot. He sighed deeply, glancing at the blue, dirty lockers in front of him, watching how the blue butterfly from this morning made its way on one of them again.

A smile made its way on Chanyeol as he stood up in light-speed, grabbing his camera to finally take a shoot of this beautiful creature and capture its beauty in his camera roll. Click, and the shoot was done, looking dazzling and perfect as he imagined it would look like. His eyes started to shine, the wide smile still present on his lips. Is that coincidence? Like how usual was it to see the same butterfly for the second time the day? Maybe, maybe it was a sign that he would the boy again as well. Maybe this way his fate.

Could he be the one who was going to save Chanyeol from the nightmare he was chained in?

***

The rain was slowly soaking Chanyeol's hair as he sat on the bench, his eyes fixed on the with dirt captured ground while a thousand of thoughts were rushing through his crowded mind. He needs to be saved. His entire body felt like it was being ripped in pieces but there was no pain. Why?

Why wasn't he able to feel pain? What was even pain? His sight was pinned on the ground as his breath became harder and harder, his inside becoming dizzy all sudden but he just didn't care. He wanted to blend out everything, totally soaking into his troubled thoughts which only consisted of one thing. Him. Rain touched his upper lip, gliding down of his chin and plopping on the ground as a smile made its way on his lips. I will find you.

While he was chained in his thoughts and all the feelings rushing through his body, a hand suddenly tapped him on his shoulder, pulling his attention in an instance. He glanced at the right side in confusion, taking in the face of an old, rusty man who was holding a bottle of beer in his hand while his clothes were stained with dirt, making them look fusty.

"You should go home or you'll get sick." The man sat on the ground as Chanyeol realized how the rain had already soaked him to his socks. He grabbed his bag instantly, checking on his still dry camera with relief. Nothing happened to it.

"Kid," Chanyeol glanced at the man, who was sipping out of his beer. "Go home and don't make your parents worry about you." Parents. He bit his lip, cringing when hearing that word. He doesn't have any parents. He's alone. "Is something burdening you? I'm maybe a stranger a good listener." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the man who was probably homeless. I can't talk. A silence followed as Chanyeol listened to the raindrops, slowly touching the ground and splashing on his hair. He grabbed his glasses, trying to whip the rain from them but made it even worse in the process.

It's not like he can't see without glasses, but it's difficult. "You're lonely as well, right? You resemble my old self." Chanyeol furrowed his face as he glanced at man's blurry face. Does that mean I'm going to end up like him?

"You have the chance to make better decision than myself and fight for the things you want." He blinked a few times as he grabbed his bag, putting it on in a fast pace. Fight. But I'm too weak, I can't figh-

"Have a control of your life, and take your life in your own hands." In my own hands. He drifted his sight to his hands before he stood up, glancing back at the man who was suddenly gone, faded into thin air. His eyes grew wider, looking at all sides but the man was just nowhere to be found. Where is he? He closed his eyes which suddenly started to ache, providing him with needling headache behind his right ear. He opened his eyes again, wherefore the pain in his head flashed hard and hot.

A figure was staring at him from the distance but all he could capture was her long, black hair before she disappeared from his blurry sight, running into the woods. Who was that? He blinked again before moving forward, stepping on puddles as they filled his shoes, soaking his socks completely wet while the rain was dripping from his hair. 
 

***

"Oh my god, Chanyeol! You will get sick. You have to shower immediately!" Yoora's voice echoed in Chanyeol's ears as the other one shrugged, cleaning his glasses with a cloth before putting them on his nose again.

"Chanyeol, listen to your sister!" He sighed, nodding slowly as he passed his sister, entering the bathroom, undressing himself out of his in rain soaked clothes until he was standing in front of the immense mirror, glancing at his reflection with troubled thoughts. Cuts and bruises were covering his upper body and arms, leaving printed memories, exactly like pictures. Memories, he'll never forget. Memories, which will follow him to his very last breath, and will stay printed on his body when there is nothing more left than his empty corpse.

His eyes crossed the big cut on his stomach, the memories returning with just one sight. It was after his mother left him, 6 years ago when he was 12 and dived into a massive depression phase in which he sat in his room the whole day, watching how his blood covered the floor in a slow pace, trying to feel pain without any success.

He didn't know why he wasn't able to feel any pain, and that was a secret which he has been keeping for himself since now.

When he was young