~Ticket

3. Yesung & Ryeowook

One hand was clutching the straps of an old gym bag, the other holding the ticket he had at last purchased. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, determined to keep his hand from trembling... to make the persisting tightness of unshed tears disappear from his throat. Ryeowook had to calm down. He couldn't afford sobbing and people asking him what was wrong. He couldn't simply shrug them off or dismiss his distress as nothing. 

The young man closed his eyes for a brief moment, finding it strangely soothing to be among a sea of unfamiliar faces. Where the constant sounds of trolley bags across white tiles, and discussions in a dozen different languages reminded him nothing of all he was about to leave behind. What was he but a numeric code in the airport's system? No face, no memories, no shattered hopes. Only a couple of characters and a few numbers.

The ever shifting digits on the huge boards above his head were glowing angrily, as if hurrying to show every destination and be done with it. Ryeowook tore his eyes from the screen - the dark brown orbs sensitive after a long night of crying, fighting, yelling... - and shook his head, covering his sight with his tangled locks. He checked in, barely murmuring the answers to whatever he was being asked. And once at the sitting area in front of the gate he would leave through, Ryeowook pulled his hoodie over his head and connected his headphones to their device. Not that music was his top priority, but these simple movements were keeping his mind busy for a few seconds, tricking it into thinking there wasn't anything important to dwell on. He his hands in his pockets and bit his lip, anger building up in him, directed to everyone: himself, the president, his cat, his neighbor's wife, the whole world!

To him...

A choked whimper left his lips, and Ryeowook sunk more in the uncomfortable seat, extremely conscious about the burning bruises around his neck, given to him last night. By someone he had been watching losing himself during the past months. Jongwoon had changed. He wasn't the kid that enjoyed playing the guitar and writing songs more than anything in the world anymore. He had turned into an adult struggling to pay off debts, struggling to find a steady income, struggling to convince a producer that his songs were worth their time... Always struggling. And at some point, Ryeowook stopped being the one he had wanted to share his dreams with. Now, his sole companion was a bottle of alcohol and instead of kisses and gentle caresses, he was showering Ryeowook with crude words and hits.

The younger had tried - really tried - to make things better, to excuse Jongwoon's fits as stress. Until they reached the breaking point. And Ryeowook could take no more.

His flight was announced through the speakers, loud and clear above every noise. Rushing first to the line, he gave the inspector his one-way ticket, his head always hanging low and fingers gripping the straps of his old bag.

broken yewook :( I haven't written anything sad for quite some time...

on a sidenote, I'll go to KBS Music Bank Istanbul next week!! 8D 

I'LL SEE SUJU LIVE FOR THE FIRST TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *FLIPS TABLE*