Save Me; A Seokjin Centric

xiv

*edited*

'tear'

2:03 AM

It was dark and quiet in the room he was residing in and not a sound was to be heard at this time of the night except for the rising and falling of his breathing. His room was set to the right temperature and he found himself getting sucked into the comfort of the warmth. His bedding smelled of fresh, clean laundry and he took another intake of the sweetness of vanilla and lavender hoping it would bring him at least a little closer to sleep. His head melted against the soft and plushiness of the pillow and he found his body molding into the comfy sheets atop his mattress. Everything felt so comfortable... everything felt so perfect.

It didn't feel right.

He heaved a distressed sigh before shifting over once again underneath the warm covers; it must have been at least the 50th time he's done so in the past hour. As much as everything around him felt so amazing, he still felt like garbage inside. He feels like he should know exactly what it is that's bothering himself, but he doesn't and it's messing with his head.

He should be happy and he knows it.

He should be happy with where he is in life. He should be grateful for everything he's been given. He should be grateful for all the people he's met, and he should be grateful for the journey he's been living. He should be feeling gratitude that his members aren't angry with him. And he should feel joy that he woke up from his accident.

He should be happy that he survived.

... but he's not, and it's killing him.

He's to go back to the dorms in less than twelve hours and he's dreading it so much. He's been using the few hours he's been laying in bed to think about every wrong with himself and why he's been feeling the way he is, and luckily enough, he's managed to get a few answers.

Ever since he joined Bighit as a trainee, the one thing he truly strived for was to show people that he was strong, to show people that he had no weaknesses that could hold him back from being successful. To him, it didn't matter how many different faces he had to show, or the number of facades he had to portray, as long as he could get people to see that even though he was a weak singer and a pathetic dancer, he was still a strong and humble humanbeing. So even though he's been through hell it isn't going to stop him from showing everyone around him that he's strong... even if he's faking it.

But being around those six boys at home has been testing him and with every passing second he reaches closer and closer to his limit. He can only pretend to be "fine" for so long... however long it'll be. Everytime he's met with one of those six faces, he feels himself becoming weaker. He feels each and every facade he's ever built trying to break through his body. And little by little, the small chips will begin to grow into cracks and those cracks will soon litter his entire body, weakening him. Then, a day will come where those cracks will break and shatter like a fine glass and the water he's been keeping at bay for all these years will soon come pouring out. Only will that be his breaking point.