This oneshot requested by mochamocha (again)

Hi guise. Yes... another one in the depressing Jong Up series. This one not so subtle as the other two, but much more dramatic and straightfoward, I think...

How do you like these series anyways? 

Any thoughts? Or personal advice you'd give to Jong Up? :)

The Request A Jong Up Solo Piece

"Hello?"

"Hi Mom."

"Jongup-ah."

"How are you holding up?"

"Slowly getting better. It's okay though, since I don't expect to get better overnight."

Jongup paused, biting down on his lips.

"Jongup-ah, how are you doing?"

"I'm..."

He took in a sharp inhale of breath, feeling the sting of his tears at his eyes.

"I'm... Okay..."

"...What's wrong, honey?"

Where did he begin?

It was an illness of the heart, an illness Jongup couldn't seem to heal from. Some time ago, somewhere deep within, a seed of fear planted itself in him. The world presented more than enough replenishment for the seed to root itself, basking the growing monster in rain and sunlight. 

A barely passed exam here. An alone dorm room there. A lecture hall full of people with no one he knew. A professor's words lost on him. Scrambling to finish homework. Falling behind. Desperately trying to catch up, only to become overbearingly overwhelmed with the amount of work. Feeble attempts to make friends, only to realize the bond would never exceed small talk and kind jokes. Heavy pressures from professors and TA's about the price of education and what was needed to succeed in life.

He didn't even see it coming and by the time he knew of the plant, it had become too large and too powerful for him to face alone. 

Tears that brimmed at his eyes when he heard the lecture but couldn't comprehend its meaning. Eating dinner alone among a sea of students chattering. His legs weighing down as he walked to school, threatening to give out completely. Even television was no longer a distraction. Dread filled him. 

So it only grew and grew.

He went to sleep each night, his heart pounding as it anticipated the next day to come. Waking up at four in the morning. Forcing himself to fall asleep again and barely managing so only to wake up to two hours later. He woke up in the morning with the same inconsistent thumping of his heart against his chest. Tears came then. When he got up to get ready for the day, they overflowed. He sobbed as he brushed his teeth, washed his face, got dressed. He sobbed as he opened his book to study, salty tears leaving marks on his paper as they dropped from his face. Giving up, he would try to distract himself with television, music, anything but neither could really take his mind off that tomorrow he would have to face school again. And that he was unprepared.

Again, Jongup blinked back his tears as he tried to answer his mother.

"It's a little hard..." he muttered.

Then everything broke loose.

He started sobbing again, heaving to even out his breath as he vented out to his mother all the tiny leaves on his plant of fear. He was eighteen; he was much too old to be crying to his mother over the phone but nonetheless, here he was. He didn't have anyone else to turn to.

It's not that he hadn't tried. He tried to talk to the floor dean, who was there for these specific purposes, but she had always been busy. He tried talking to his professor from his seminar class - a kind lady - but that had landed with him dropping a course and considering going on medications to smooth out his moods. He tried talking to his high school friend, but that had ended up with awkward cuddling and the realization that his ex wasn't exactly over him.

No matter where he went, there wasn't a solution. How could there be, when the problem was right within him?

"Oh Jongup-ah..." his mother said, her voice full of worry and pity and sorrow.

"I don't know what to do, mom," he admitted, "When I left high school, I felt like I could do anything I wanted. I could be a doctor, or a nurse, or a teacher, or I could go into arts. Or even visual arts. I felt like I could do it all. But now I don't feel like I can do anything. I can't accomplish anything. I lack the brains. The skill. The talent. The determination."

His body shook as he let out another sob.

"There are people that are so great in this world and all I see are people above me, so high up on the ladder of achievements that I can't even step a foot on the first rung. I can't help but compare. How can I ever reach them, mom, how?"

His mom was silent.

"How did I get here? How did I end up so lost and broken? How did I get in this pit? How do I ever go out? How come I don't see that light at the end up of a dark tunnel? I'm stuck here."

Jongup tightened his fists around his chest.

"I want to be good too. I want to be the best. I need to be the best. But it seems so impossible..."

His mother took a quivering breath as she was crying along with her song. "I'm so sorry... I should be there for you. I should be beside you right now..."

Was that the sound of his heart ripping?

"Mom... Mom... I'm more sorry. I'm more sorry I couldn't be a better son."

He should have been there for his parents when the house burned down. He should have looked after them and treated them with care, instead he tried his best to turn away. He should have finished his second year in school. He should have been more understanding of his parents, instead of throwing them away in his mind.

Guilt drilled into him. Guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt. He felt guilty for all the choices he made, and how he couldn't follow through with them.

"You deserve better than me. You provided so much for me and all I have to repay you for that is the mess I am now. I'm so sorry to disappoint you... You should be able to brag about your son, graduating from a prestigious university... Instead you have me, lost and even more lost now. A spoiled brat. I'm so sorry..."

Jongup hung up the phone, curling in a ball on the ground as he watched the shadows of the sunset dance in the empty room. His tears followed the pull of gravity down his face.

There was no answer for him.