I was worried

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“Pick up dammit,” chaeng muttered into her phone. She’s lost count of how many times she’s dialled the number.

It took a lot of courage for her to even pick up her phone in the first place.

Brown eyes glared worriedly at another dropped called displayed on her screen. At this point, chaeng has chewed her lip raw, and probably ran her hand through her already tousled hair enough times to turn it into a disaster scene.

Chaeyoung knew a lot of things about a certain chocolate-eyed, thai princess. She knew that sometimes, she locked herself away in isolation for up to days because the world around her became a place to fear instead of a place to flourish. She knew that she loved much too easily, and gave her heart away with a beaming, trust-filled smile to anyone who promised to take good care of it, and she knew that a part of her soul died each time she watched her heart be mistreated by someone who was supposed to only love her. She knew that these past few months of the  tour, lisa cried herself to sleep in her bed and then claimed nothing was wrong by morning. She knew that lisa helplessly scrolled through IG, picking apart the pieces of her entire being just like everyone else did, and then casually brush it off by posting some light hearted content. She knew that lisa was practically dying inside because there was this part of her soul that she could never be honest about, because that simply wasn’t allowed.

Chaeyoung spent 7 years getting to know her quirky counterpart, 7 years laughing with her (and sometimes at her, but only when she did something insanely dorky and cute like trip over her own feet during rehearsals, or tell one of her mediocre, but loveable jokes), 7 years caring about her, being a shoulder to cry on and vice versa, but most importantly, 7 years finding sister to  her.


Dialling lis….”

Chaeyoung huffed as she let the device ring in her ears for an unholy amount of times.

Lisa wasn’t picking up, and chaeyoung was scared.

She knew the younger girl may have wanted space right now, but also knew she wouldn’t have ignored her this many times.

Lisa never went this long without returning a call. Or a text. Or a  DM for that matter. Chaeng had sent them all.

Yet, it seemed that tonight she’d only be met with radio silence.

Something didn’t feel right.

Chaeng ran her hand through her black mane once again, and wordlessly picked up her jacket.

############

Lisa eventually came too, in a state of sweaty panic and choppy breaths. Her back was flat against the stiff wall, and her entire bottom half has already gone numb and prickly, but she couldn’t bring herself to move an inch.

A few meters away from her, her cellphone laid facedown on the floor, and her laptop half shut beside it. She couldn’t reach for it to call for help, she couldn’t reach for anything. She was trapped, betrayed by her own body. She wasn’t sure anyone would answer her call for help anyway.

So instead she just sat, shaking in her own bubble of anxiety, letting short breaths of air enter her lungs, and white knuckles grip her knees hard enough to bruise.

Anxiety attacks were something lisa grew used to having these past couple months. She’s always struggled with the disorder, ever since she was a kid. But before recently, it was always something she could manage. Lately though, the persistent hum against her pounding skull was something she couldn’t control anymore. It ate her up entirely, devouring her body into nothingness. All that was left was a lonely soul, trying to scream out for a saviour who couldn’t hear her.

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