After consulting the experts I did some teeny tiny changes to the first chapter. But they won’t affect the rest of the story in any way.

Thanks to cglcb1 and kaiyobi for all the help =) and thanks to everyone who supported this  =]

And MMM123 =)  don’t feel sad.  Hope this’ll cheer you up... (…if angst is your cup of tea I mean…) =D

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The world had grown dark and still around him- the hubbub of the busy streets below not managing to penetrate the dreary ambiance of the apartment. The occasional whimper or the shaky inhale of breath was the only thing that broke the stillness of it all.

He’d long since made up his mind.

The pain, the suffering, that indescribable sense of hopelessness, he wanted it to stop; he wanted it to go away.

He wanted out.

           ~~~~~~

Gathering the last ounce of strength within him he stood up, leaning against the wall for support as his legs threatened to give way under him. Sparing a few moments to gather his thoughts again he stumbled through the apartment. His feet carried him to his destination despite him not being able to see more than a couple of feet ahead of him. He’d lived here long enough to know the layout like the back of his hand. 

In no time he was in his room, standing in front of the closet. The dark shadows cast across the room felt strangely threatening and for the first time in years he felt like he’d just been thrown back in time; to back where he was just a little boy who wanted to hide in the closet to get away from the scary monsters. Only this time the positions were reversed. The ‘monster’ was actually inside the closet, waiting to get out and do some proper damage.

His fingers curled around the metal handles, the coldness biting into his skin in an uncomfortable way. Without much thought he flung the doors open.

His hands shot inside immediately, fumbling through the clothes. His skin brushed against various textures of different materials; some rough, some silky and some soft, until the tips of his fingers came into contact with the smooth, unyielding material of plastic.

He closed his fingers around it and dragged it out of the dark confines of the cupboard. There in his hand lay the pills he’d never been able to take nor throw out.

Maybe the real reason he never made any actual attempt to throw away the pills was he’d known this day would come; this day where he grew tired of everything. Exhausted and fed up with fighting a battle that was so out of his depths.

Maybe the thought of wanting to end it, to put a stop to all the suffering had always been there, lurking in the deep dark recesses of his mind. Or maybe he was just weak; waiting for that first sign of failure to throw down the flag and give up.

With his fingers wrapped tightly around the small bag he made his way to his next destination; the bathroom.

He flicked on the lights, an audible gasp leaving his lips as he came face to face with himself in the floor length mirror.

He looked like hell.

Tear tracks stained his face; eyes red rimmed and puffy. Dark bags under his eyes told a story of their own about all the sleepless nights he had to endure. His face looked swollen, his hair overgrown and messy. The couple of days’ worth of stubble was not something he would’ve tolerated were he in a different situation. But lately he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He barely spared any time to look into a mirror or clean himself up.

He simply wasn’t bothered.

And now here he was, the shell of the man who once used to be so full of life, so full of energy, so exuberant. He was now the perfect portrayal of a loser who was not even worth the space he was occupying.

With a shake of the head he turned away, unable to stand his own image in the mirror. He was so tired, so fed up with himself and all he needed was an out.

The small medical cabinet sat harmlessly on the end of the counter waiting to be opened, waiting to be in use for him in some kind of a way. There were hundreds of bottles of pills inside, prescribed to him at one time or another- small dark bottles bearing names he could barely pronounce. They were all meant to do one thing; to heal him, to bring him back to normal. He couldn’t find any use for them before; he didn’t want to find any use for them. But now he did. They will help him end everything for good.

He quickly stuffed the bag of pills into his pocket and scooped up the small bottles with his palms and made his way back to the living room. Once reaching the kitchen island he discarded everything onto it. The loud ringing sound as the glass met the marble countertop echoed through the apartment breaking the silence of the night.

Cold sweat started to break out as the sudden realization of what he was about to do hit him.

He was really going to do this.

He was really going to kill himself.

He body started to shake so badly that he had to grab the counter for support. It was all he could do to not to crumple to the floor. He in a breath, trying to gather his courage that was being blasted in to smithereens with every passing second. Then with trembling hands he started to open the bottles one by one, emptying the contents onto the island- the gentle rustle of the pills colliding and bouncing off each other only managing to accelerate his growing agitation.

The flashing neon lights of the busy city of Seoul filled the high rising apartment with a soft glow. It didn’t manage to brighten up the entire room but it did manage to show him the staggering end his short life was reaching.

Once he’d emptied the final bottle, he filled a glass full of water. After a moment’s pause he emptied the water back into the sink before searching through the kitchen cupboards until he found what he wanted.

Alcohol combined with the pills would do more harm than water or at least that’s what he’d heard.

With everything set up, now all he had to do was to go through with it.

End it, once and for all.

He stared at the pills laid in front of him; colourful, small and delicate, yet with the potential to be deadly when combined together. The dull colours of the pills were so tempting, beckoning for him to take them- to end his suffering.   

But he was hesitating.

What if he failed in this too? What will happen if he didn’t end up dead?

The humiliation, the embarrassment he’d be not only causing himself but both his family and friends would be so overwhelming. He’d never be able to live through the shame.

He could almost see the headlines in the newspapers flashing before his eyes.

“Lee Minwoo’s Suicide Attempt Gone Wrong.”

Tears started to gather in his eyes again.

He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to kill himself. He wanted to be with his friends, he needed to be with his family. He needed to see them one last time, to tell them how much he loved them and that he was more than grateful for the help and support they’ve shown him over the years. He wanted to apologize for being such a coward, for not getting the help he needed, for deceiving them. And more than anything he wanted to beg for forgiveness for putting them through this nightmare.

He didn’t want to leave any of them. He didn’t want to leave his life behind. He had so much left to do, so much of his life yet to live.

Yes, he was terrified of dying.

But even more so he was terrified of living.