nightlight | minsung

01

Has the city always been this dark? As he walked through the streets in the heart of town, he couldn't help but wonder. It was as if all the light had been sucked away, swallowed by the ominous darkness that lingered.

At that very moment, Minho failed to realize that the darkness was merely a product of his own imagination, the misery he felt reflecting on the world around him. Dark shadows clouded his mind, and claws of gloom held the pit of his stomach in a tight grip. It felt so real, and it was all-consuming. The lights of the city around him had lost their significance completely.

He ambled over the pavement, his eyes solely on the tiles that passed by underneath his feet. Where was he going? He had no idea. He just wanted to go out, to flee from his mind that had imprisoned him. Minho's head was in turmoil, one poisonous thought following right after another. But there was nowhere to run when you ran from yourself.

And the worst part of all? The thoughts inside his head weren't the nicest, and yet, Minho believed every word they said. They made him feel like shit, but he didn't have it in him to fight against it.

His light wasn't strong enough to fend off the immense darkness that lurked around him. It was dragging him down and the thick black fog was slowly winning.

Minho gazed around, unbeknownst to the way his tired eyes caught the lights that shone brightly everywhere around him. There was no one to witness the way his eyes held the galaxy within, for no one cared enough to approach the visibly broken young adult.

Some people were looking at him, mild concern flashing behind their eyes as they caught sight of the tears that brimmed in the corners of the male's eyes, threatening to spill any moment. But they kept walking, passing him by as they deftly decided not to care.

Why was he so miserable?

And why did no one care?

Even at the place he was supposed to call home no one bothered to be there for him, only calling him names such as weak and crybaby. Was he really all that? Was he just being dramatic over nothing? But the gloom he felt seemed so real... Surely he wasn't making it all up, was he?

As if matters weren't bad enough already, the deck of clouds that hid the moon and stars finally broke, and thick raindrops started to drizzle down from the sky. Pursing his lips, Minho pulled up the hood of his winter coat to shield himself from the rain, but a swift tug of the wind instantly blew it down to his shoulders again. He sighed.

So be it then.

He kept walking, and soon his hair was completely soaked, his bangs sticking to his forehead annoyingly. Minho didn't care, even though he would probably end up sick tomorrow or the day after. He felt some stray drops of rain invading the collar of his coat, dripping down his back. The male shuddered, as the first few droplets of rain soon found their cadence in a steady downpour.

The crowd dispersed as the people around him sought shelter, and soon it was just Minho. He was alone in the darkness, cold and miserable. Finally, the first tear slipped free, but there was no one around to notice.

Or so he thought.