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𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤

{ "> !!! HOVER !!! } self-para mentioning: @mdpvrk, @zaarcasm, @consilian, @pastelism, @ximpvlsive word count: 2.701

He was a genius of sadness. A pathetic man with nothing less but sorrow left in his life. Those emotions so deep and piercing it left him breathless every single night. He’d never thought Hell had such plans to punish him for falling in love. It was too much to handle at some point. The constant feeling of longing, emptiness replacing the only discovered happiness. Hapiness disguised as a lover who was a friend. Once barely a stranger. The cold figure, just like many. A human Jay claimed as an Angel. And he was defeated. Runaway was the only way. Jay was a bad person-- no... he was a very sick person. In need of a treatment, that’s for sure. Then again, choosing to live between humans who did no harm to him and deciding to poison their mere existence with his own presence is bad, isn’t it? Every ounce of his body and mind wanted to release this stress, fingers itching to harm yet another human for his own pleasure and the long-lasting peace coming straight after staining himself with blood. A crime nourished his senses, teased them with temporary exilirating experience. But it unfortunately never lasted long. Sometimes, he was convinced that his sorrow, his loneliness are the only things that keep him alive. This is his destiny and he must embrace it. And for all this time before, hed’d been simply betraying his kind, his life, pretending to be happy.

Indifference was his strongest power against the past. Even with the most relevant events and people in his life, Jay developed a sense of carelessness to these, acting as if they never existed, never happened. Even the confrontation with his father, as physically and mentally exhausting it was, after a short period, left no mark on him. Some days were just bad days, that’s all. And this way, a whole year has passed. When in despair, Jay sticked to the rule, it never happened, don’t rely on it too much. Surprisingly, it worked just fine. But every man has his secret sorrow, a hidden mystery his heart only holds. Jay wanted to be asleep with it, instead of waking up, coming back to being alive. Was it life, either way? Maybe another task? Yes. He can try to continue on like that. To turn his yearning, his past into a revere nightmare.... something soon to become irrelevant event that truly never mattered.

He left his current lover without a word, the decision being made without consultation, making Jay realize that he was indeed very selfish. And nothing seemed important enough to make him stay. Very rude, to put it nicely. And he knows the other is going to wait, even if it takes a whole eternity and he’s going to cry, scream and hate Jay for that and yet, be able to forgive him everything for another kiss, for a promise of him coming back one day... maybe. A love that knows no limits Jay treats like a headache, trying to get rid of. Sometimes he wonders if there will ever be something to make him regretful.

Strolling down the Southern district, Jay rejects another phone call, not even bothering to check his inbox that reached about 23 new messages. Surprising, coming to a man who claimed he has no real friends. He’d wondered once or twice if one of those could have come from Hanbyul. Jay frowns briefly upon this thought, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. The last time the two talked ended up with a rather huge misunderstanding, followed by an argument Jay left without an explanation. It doesn’t matter now, hm? Something feels heavy in his chest.... the ache of love for his long-lost brother. He flicks ash off the cigarette, staring ahead. The tall skycrapers remind him of his childhood spent in Shanghai. It’s almost the same if not the constant talks in Cantonese that can be heard everywhere. For some reason yet, Hong Kong feels like freedom. A gate to a different world, aready marked with a taste of West. Fresh breeze brushes his cheeks as he exhales, a pair of maroon hues reflecting the sunlight as pads of fingers touch the water. The sea is already warm, announcing a soon arriving summer. He bites back a hiss as he stands up, the pain in his arm still as a reminder of fresh wounds he covers with a long-sleeved shirt.

He would love it, too, Jay thinks staring into the pure waters of South China Sea. Him. His. With him. Why even after over 7 months, the feeling’s the same. Why do so many people, places remind him of this one man?

A hand hurriedly reaches to wipe his cheek, a short drip, drip, drip sound echoing the little space as few tears fall into the water. Every single one like a word whispering “I miss you” louder than every sense would be able to express. And he swears this is the last time he’s ever going to cry. Ever.

May, 18th. Hong Kong -> Seoul

Blending into the crowd of Koreans in the capital, constantly in a hurry was an easy task to perform, though Jay put a mask of an “I’m Chinese.” attitude for over a month, not speaking a word in Korean for long weeks. Why? For the sake of his own peace, the solitude he decided to stick to. And he looks the same. Like the first time he entered this foreign land to escape his childhood memories, the people claiming themselves as his family members, Jay comes back to the same place as if to face his demons. To find tomething to compensate for his lost identity, lost life. And despite the appearance, he feels 20 years older than before, as if memories and wounds are wrinkles on his body and mind. He holds no regret, however because for the first time in his life he breathes an atmosphere of hope. And he’s not hostile anymore. His stare holds no curse against the world anymore and his stare is different, filled up with curiostity. There’s just untarnished sense of wonder, indifference to people’s existence in his steps, in every gesture. And his lips twitch but he doesn’t smile anymore. Like a fallen angel, crying for his creator, knowing that he has to stand up on his own this time and learn to live again in a much different world, alone. He’d soon discovered that sorrow was better than fear. Because fear is a terrible journey without a destination. His sorrow had its arrival. In Sincheon, just where he used to almost a year before, his apartment empty but soon to be furnished. Just as his life empty, soon to be nourished with something new. Maybe this time, it was going to be a better chapter. Drinking to drown his sorrows had never felt more real. But he has to overcome it, to spread the roots of hope in his heart, or just...an acceptance. He’d never been an optimist after all.

A habit drags him down the alley, to the nearest convenience store, an empty pack of cigarettes soon replaced with a full one. And he’s glad that his voice echoes unrecognized, though Jay tracks at least three familiar faces in the store. And the worker once always trying to sneak away from Jay’s sight whenever he was around, now flashes a smile to him, handing him some crisps and drinks. How funny.

Shutting the door behind, holding few bills and some letters, Jay enters his entirely empty apartment. Just few boxes are cornered in the bedroom and his old couch remains left in the living room. He was meant to sell the place and rent a smaller apartment in Gyyeongi-do instead. Seoul was both exciting and tiring all together and he grew to cherish silence more than anything else recently. He doesn’t want to explain himself in front of anybody and be reminded of anything he regrets. Resting a plastic bag on the floor in the hall, the male reaches to pull the box closer to the couch. It’s sealed, a big handwritten “rubbish” painted with a black marker on both, this, and the other box. He honestly can’t remember much about its content. Sitting down on the floor, he leans against the couch, slowly fiddling with the box, cutting the tape in few places and finally getting to open the damn thing. But it’s content is much more unexpected than Jay is ready to admit. Jay’s a great liar. Great at pretending nothing truly matters to him. Maybe this is why he lost so many people before. Because he’d never shown he tries… he wants his life to be different.

Scrunching up his nose, Jay holds up a thin bracelet and a black elastic, a complete confusion spreading over his features at first as he has no idea from where those came from. But soon he pictures a young female throwing her legs over his bed after he offered her a shelter that one night. And he remembers how she was tying up her hair with this thin elastic, walking towards the counter to make the breakfast for the two. Zaara. And it was out of question for Jay to refuse her, even if they fought so many times over such irrelevant things. And she would call him repulsive if he claimed himself as handsome once again. Jay simply shakes his head briefly upon this memory, dropping the elastic back to the box. It doesn’t matter anymore, right? A freaking year has passed. A frown yet ghosts over his features as he dips his hand further in the box, many weird objects of seemingly uknown origin filling it. Why the hell he didn’t get to throw those awa before? A sudden recollection of the last night spent in Seoul came to his mind with many object flying from one side of the room to the other, the numerous attempts to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey-- no, he never liked it, it was vodka or tequilla, he can’t remember anymore. And the floor was stained with red wine and his own blood dripping from his fingers. Old times. And yet he holds up some old picture of him and Hana when they were out for sushi and Jay truly thinks they both look gross and silly but at this very moment it doesn’t matter. Suddenly he recalls all those times he didn’t have time for the female or brushed her off because of his work. For a moment he wonders if she’s doing fine, if she’s in love with some other jerk Jay wants to break into two or just single and independent, jumping over every single obstacle on her way. Father and daughter. They really were alike back then. And then he finds some letter to his daughter, full of self-hatred, the one he was meant to send the day he decided to go back to China but he never sent. He frowns at the content, realizing that no words would make up for this lost time, honestly. And then he finds some old phone covered in all kind of cute stickers which must have belonged to Amalie. Probably from the times she used to play Candy Crush or something. Jay honestly never paid attention much, always claiming this game is just for kids. Well, he also pretended he can’t understand her broken Korean, even though she was better than he himself. Well then. Amalie, or Ami like Jay used to call the girl, was this crazy type of the woman Jay will always consider a child, a little sister to protect at all cost. Or at least, it was like that ages ago. Probably one of very few females who were able to respond with a bigger dose of sarcasm to his mean remarks. He loved it and yet, can’t bring himself to a single smile right now. So much has changed. And his expression changes, the sudden feeling of nostalgia pitting him as he recalls much more risky moments, those tainted with danger, unknown destiny as they were trapped In a burning building. Jay remember holding the petite female in his arms, balancing on the line between life and death as he was trying to escape. 11th floor.

If sensitiveness had its place, it would be filling this box. This, was probably everything Jay wished to get rid of back in the day. After all, he’s here now, in an empty apartment, with no job, no friends. Alone, on his own. And it’s fine this way? This is what people call a second chance.

But his second chance is long-gone the moment he catches a sight of a familiar visage, his acute senses catching a glimpse of a well-known smile. He presses his whole soul to the single memory of the male he loved once. The sudden recollection of his oh-so-non-existing past striking his heart all at once with a single picture he accidentally finds in a box. And thin fingers instantly release thier grip as he throws the picture back to the mentioned box. But the destiny is inevitable, is it? Something’s scribbled on the back of the picture and Jay squints upon recognizing his own handwriting. Ah, yes. Jay loved books and in the deepest corners of his mind, he’d alwas held in his memory quotes worth remembering. He would be able to note a page, an author immediately Reading was his little pleasure and something he was taught to enjoy when he was still a child by his mom.

“And I had always loved him, hadn't I, no matter what happened, and how strong could love grow if you had eternity to nourish it, and it took only these few moments in time to renew its momentum, its heat?”

Jisoo. The name always sounded intimate on his tongue. Was it desperation making Jay love Jisoo so much? To bind him closer and closer till there was no space left between them, their hips, their lips, till the male’s breath was his own? An impulsive, desperate act of selfishness to carve himself in the younger’s mind like the sweetest memory, despite the pain shaking his fragile frame when Jay was… himself, when his grip was tight, words silent but audible. Would Jisoo trust every “I miss you” and “I love you” if there was another one to be spoken out? And it all comes back to him. The warmth beneath his cruel fingers he was addicted to. Everything he’d ever desired. Everything he’d truly craved for.

But there was no love left in him. It was all taken from him, with every human ounce able to feel this sort of emotion, the moment Jisoo left without a trace, like a silly dream a child would believe was real once. A dream of lovers escaping the darkness, who knew nothing about life without one another. Overcome with love. How much in love he was with this ethereal thought. That’s nonsense.

“...what a stupid fairytale.” The man murmurs as a deep sorrow penetrates the corners of his mind. He may try to supress the feeling but it’s there... deep in his chest. Despair. It had its deadly grip around Jay’s throat as if reassuring that this is the only thing that’s going to replace the velvet touch of the one who left. His despair is the only thing left now. He quickly seals the box back, kicking to the side before holding out one energy drink he bought that night. He’s going to throw them away tonight. Standing up, the young male approaches the balcony, leaning against the railing. He still holds the picture in hand, staring ahead beofre he casually ripped it into small pieces, throwing through the balcony, watching how the pieces are falling down. Inevitable end. Game over. Seoul shines bright again with thousands of neons and flashy colors. Just like every night he went out to smoke after a long walk in Gangnam. The air smells like summer again with the familiar songs echoing the district from the nearest club. But it doesn’t feel like home anymore.

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