WHEN WE WILL MEET,

Part-1: ABYSS AND BLISS

DISCLAIMER: it's kind of suicidal and mentioned k*ll word. If you are sensitive pls skip.

(here HE is referred to JEON JUNGKOOK)

Like the writer struggling to come up with the opening line, he felt the same misery. The same yearning to run and wander around but as if his wandering legs were caught in the rut. Like that one midnight craving for driving on the highway but you can’t find your keys anywhere. 

The blank paper in front of him felt strangely unfamiliar, because before this he never stopped writing. He gulped the lump in his throat, swelling back the sour taste of bile. He looked up here and there and again he found him but he was homeless, someone who doesn't have any home, someone who lost his home. 

What type of homeless he was, he thought, the one who lost his home or the one who had no home to begin with. He scratched his unstained palm, his fingernails dugs through his skin, cutting the route of circulation.

In the round black glass room, everything was dreamy. Everything was what he wanted as a child but now as a man in his late twenties he despised himself. 

The queen size bed was placed beside the large mirror which was covered by the dark red curtains. The curtain was ripped but was still doing the perfect job to make the pretty man in the room oblivious to his own beauty. 

He never wanted to see himself, he hated himself, he was the reason why everything was like this.

 Only if he was dead, only if he never had been born ... they all still would be happy, in a world where he doesn't exist. The world he was never born in was the best, it was his habit to self-loathe himself and berate till he remembers the cause of everyone's misery was him. 

His longer hair poked his eyes, dancing over the head of his owner. He irritatedly scratched his head, still staring at the blank paper. 

It was making him nauseous so he stood up and walked till the synthetic boundary allowed, seizing him in the room. 

The room was eerily dead, darkness lurking everywhere except for fellow candles which were scattered around the room. 

There were no starting no endings just like the circle he lived in,he was all alone, feeling only loneliness among all the living beings that was scattered in his room, the misery just ten fold and came back to him, making him whimper longingly.

 His inner omega howled, the pain and desperation lingered in the voice but the human didn’t even let a single sound out. He just silently cried, the skill he mastered with time. 

His hands trembled, he slid off the same glass, leaning over for support, the tears dropped as his pupil dilated.

Maybe they could find him….. Maybe if he tries hard enough then he could see them…..

The world he is missing out,

His people,

The lover he got separated from even before he got the chance to tell him how much he loved him,

Maybe the sea too,

Stars also,

But he could never. He could never see them, no matter how hard he tried; the only thing he could see was the reflection of his miserable and pathetic self staring back at him.

He knew on the other side of the glass, the sun glows, the moon shines, the winds sing and waves dance. He knows it. 

But he could only know it, never experience it. All he could do is feel the cold lingering on the other side of the wall as if autumn had approached simply with the letter that winter would come soon, be prepared to yearn and cry.