CHOCOLATES IN MONSOON | HRK

13 | stickers and smileys

He remembered the feeling of his smile suddenly being wiped from his face. He remembered his eyes falling on the drawn white curtains and the closed windows. He might have gone down crying to his parents asking for an explanation later. He might even have wet himself in the bathroom minutes after when they told him.

Haruto was dead wasn't he ?

He might have bled some time that day too. He wasn't really sure. He was remembering weird things. Haruto's steadily colorless face glowing bluer and bluer. His white lips. His lifeless hands. He remembered realizing that for the last five minutes of his lover's life and for the five minutes after that, he had been talking about himself. He had been clinging on to a lifeless corpse and hugging it and talking about himself. His first kiss. How he had felt. He remembered tying a noose in his room and standing upon a stool - staring at it.

Staring and getting hypnotised by the way it moved in the light breeze. It was raining outside - as always. But he didn't think he really liked the rain anymore. The sound was soothing, the smell was earthy but the water wasn't good. He cringed away from it and cried for no reason of late. He remembered reaching out for the noose and touching it with a soft pink hand. He remembered feeling the roughness of the rope dangling from the ceiling. He remembered thinking about the smoothness of Haruto's skin - Haruto's hand against his - his lips against his.

He remembered slowly standing on his toes, grasping the noose tightly in his small, beautiful, pink hands - the way Haruto always said they should be. He remembered the cool feeling of a tear sliding down his eyes, dripping from his ears and falling - as he looked up at the rope. He remembered pulling the noose over his head and taking a deep breath. He remembered closing his eyes and biting down on his tongue as he edged to the end of the stool - in a pair of glitter shoes. He remembered the feeling of happiness and freedom as he took the last step.

He remembered letting go.

The pressure. The shortage of breath. The ballooning of blood behind his lips. The sickeningly loud fall of the stool as it fell. The tightening of the noose as he dangled. He remembered his parents barging in not a moment too late. He remembered his mother's screech. His father's arms around his torso. He remembered blacking out again.

He didn't want to remember.

But he remembered everything.

"Junkyu...? I am coming in ", his mother said, knocking twice on his glittery door and stepping inside softly. She wore a long black dress, matched with a pair of gloves and shining heels. It was a pretty thing to wear but shone too brightly for the occasion. Her eyes were swollen and red - just like him - but he knew it wasn't Haruto she had been crying for. It was for him. It was because he hadn't come out of his room since the day-

Since the day the thing had happened.

He had just come home from the hospital and locked himself up. There wasn't much to do. His school year was over. The summer vacations were on and he didn't paint anything anymore. He couldn't. His art supplies lay bundled up in a basket, his books had become dusty and his blank canvases seemed to shine whiter and brighter every day. He ignored their presence even when he felt the urge to do something and just lay on his bed - staring out at the drawn blinds of the window opposite. Sometimes hoping they would be pulled apart, and Haruto would be standing there, laughing and beaming up at him. Sometimes just breaking down into loud, miserable tears and ignoring the pleading voices of his parents.

But then, he was so close to dying himself and they really had saved him and now he was so scared, he could barely stay in his room for long. What if - what if he did it again ? He didn't think he had enough self restraint left to stop himself. Neither the will to live. While that sounded ever so selfish and depressing - he couldn't help it. What would he ever live for ? There wasn't anything he could think of that could make him stop. Nothing strong enough.