Chapter SixteenShriveled Raisin
The moment he reached home Yunho immediately entered a stage of fuming madness. The first second he stepped inside the small living room he had started throwing things. The once neat and tidy space was now completely littered by various items that he had trashed. Random mugs had been hurled against the concrete wall shredded into sharp pieces on the floor. The sofa and table were kicked out of their original positions. Assorted decorations like small potted fake plants were crashed on the floor as well, along with the papers of old hoarded magazines. The ear-splitting noise of glasses shattering spread across Yunho’s entire apartment room, and it most likely reached to his tenants as well.
When he left the wedding venue earlier Yunho stepped on his car pedal and began dashing his car on the highway, not taking a single care of potential risks and danger lurking around due to his reckless driving. Several cars had honked at him whenever he speedily drove past them, changing lanes without signals and more. Jaejoong inside the car even tried to calm him down but eventually the angel ended up shouting at Yunho, telling the man to get back to his senses. But Yunho couldn’t. Not after he was being shamed and insulted by people who he considered as families, not when his blood relatives treated him as nothing but rubbish.
His heart right now was an empty space of void immediately conquered by the desperate urge to unleash the concealed wrath within. His mind could no longer think wise, clouded by temper.
“Yunho! Stop this now!” Jaejoong, who had teleported inside the apartment since the front door was firmly locked, shouted once he witnessed Yunho started to destroy things.
As if the death angel was non-existent, Yunho ignored Jaejoong’s yelling as he instead darted to the storeroom where he placed all of his artistic belongings, especially his old canvases, empty paint cans and finished but ‘not satisfactory’ art pieces. The art pieces that reminded him how of a failed artist he was.
Pulling the storage room door wide open, Yunho didn’t waste any seconds as he instantly picked up the wooden canvases and broke them into half before throwing them onto the floor, as if they were never once the treasured items he valued before. He didn’t stop there as he proceeded to tearing the papers of his finished paintings and sketches into tiny, wrecked pieces that no longer resembled art. All of the paintings he used to spend months finishing, he used to be proud of, were now ceased from existence and were nothing but wasted materials to be tossed into the garbage disposals.
“I am perfect, I am perfect, I am perfect, I am perfect,” Yunho desperately repeated these exact words again and again, yearning to remind no one else but himself over his own imperfection.
“Why did I take art degree? Why am I a failure? Why didn’t I listen to mother? Why? Why? Why?” Yunho eventually collapsed on his knees as his eyes began to let out uncontrollable tears forming a rapid waterfall upon his bare face. “Why can’t I draw better? Why am I not good enough?”
His whole body began to shake and weakened, his vision was blemished, and his breathing was defective. It wasn’t sadness, it was rage and anger full in the colour of blood crimson. Yet Yunho couldn’t seem to stop his tears from flowing down creating a visible puddle on the floor beneath him. He was like a child crying loudly, desperate to be saved and to be embraced. Suddenly, his world was shrouded in mayhem and Yunho wanted nothing than just simply… evaporated.
“Why do they hate me so much? What did I do wrong? Am I a sinner?” Yunho sobbed out loud.
His fists clenched as his mind riddled in absolute confusion. Then he punched the floor, angry at his family yet also angry at himself for being a ‘failure’ and for him unable to stop crying. He didn’t want to be seen weak. He believed he was vulnerable for crying. And the more he thought like that, the stronger his punches hit the floor.
“Yunho, enough!” Jaejoong shouted as he stepped inside the room.
“I am not perfect, I am not perfect, I am not perfect,” Yunho continued weeping and his fist punching the floor. “I just want to draw… I just want to paint… But they hate me, they hate me, they hate me…”
“I said enough!” Jaejoong demanded as he quickly kneeled in front of Yunho.
Upon seeing the man wouldn’t even react to him, the angel swiftly grabbed Yunho’s hand, specifically the one that