Loving you was my crime.

You punished me for life.

On the other line, Song Mingi laid in bed, completely at ease, for once. A fresh blunt hung from his still fingers, wafting the disgustingly amazing aroma through his dim bedroom, the only sounds being heard were the occasional inhale and the traffic outside.

Every time he breathed in, he could practically feel the stresses and sorrows leaving his body. That’s one thing he liked about it. It made all his problems go away– or at least slightly more moderate than they’d usually be.

Reaching to his left, he fumbled the painkillers off of his cluttered nightstand.
Setting the blunt between his lips, he twisted the cap off, shaking one out onto his hand before knocking it back into his mouth. He crunched it between his back teeth, before downing it with a glass of lukewarm water.

This is how it always went. Smoke a blunt, headache, knock back prescription pills every four hours until he couldn’t feel anything at all. That’s the beauty of synthetic satisfaction.

Never lets you down.

People ask him why. Well, just imagine losing everything, and then throwing away the best thing you had. You would force yourself into bitter evenings in the clouds, too, if you had nothing better to do.

It’s the idea of always feeling like you’re never enough even when you’re still doing too much. It’s overwhelming, and to Mingi, there was only one thing that could wash away the miserable shame and anxiety. He’d rather be disgusted with himself than let other people be disgusted with him.

So he inhales. And he doesn’t exhale, because he’s not so sure he deserves to.

Picking the bottle of pills back up from his lap, he places it back down on his nightstand. As he does, his phone goes off four more ******* times. ‘If you’re not dying, then why are you texting me repeatedly ?’ He snatches up his phone, tapping it to be met with the glowing lockscreen.

Jeong Yunho. Jeong Yunho, Jeong Yunho, Jeong-*******-Yunho.

Even seeing his name on his screen sets off a whole new bundle of triggers in his mind. It’s like cutting open a wound that took so long to heal and letting dirt air settle on it. He scrolls through the messages, letting out little laughs before his heart falls.

“I want us back.”

Mingi choked out a sob. “Oh, Yunho…”


Song Mingi: are you drunk ?
Song Mingi: yunho ???

so, so, so insufferable.
why don't you experience it and tell me how it feels ?
can't put yourself in someone else's shoes,
because empathy is just
so hard to understand.

unless you're a psychopath.