Darkness.

What is darkness?

Alone.

You feel alone.

Horribly, horribly alone.

Lost.

Completely and totally unaware of your surroundings.

Cold.

So, so cold.

A sudden light in the distance.

A… light?

Walk towards it.

Yes or no?

Yes.

Slow, unsure steps towards the light. Something bright, seemingly warm and welcoming.

Come home, Chanyeol. Umma and appa are here.

Umma and Appa? But… you,

“Left me!”

Chanyeol shot up from his sleep, almost toppling over the edge of his bed. The blankets were tangled around his frail body, his wifebeater drenched in sweat. His chest rose fast in deep, heavy breaths, his face glistening with the same wetness as his clothing. “You left me…”

His heart clenched. He felt sick. Stumbling out of his bed, he rushed into the bathroom, collapsing onto his knees in front of the toilet.

Again, Chanyeol? You really are a pathetic being.

Chanyeol cringed, his stomach flipping over as he gagged. Nothing came up, as usual, but it made his head spin and pound with the pain in his throat and lower stomach.

Just get over it, boy. You know your parents aren’t coming back.

“Sh-Shut up!” Chanyeol pushed himself away from the toilet, his back crashing against the cold wall of the bathroom. “Just… give me a break, please…”

A break? You give me a break. I always have to deal with your pathetic shit every second of every day.

Chanyeol shook his head fast, his hand reaching up to grip the thin fabric of the wifebeater. “Stop, please…”

What. You can’t take the truth? You don’t want to remember? You don’t want to think about what you could have had?

Nails.

Bite your nails. It keeps you calm, Chanyeol.

Bringing a terribly shaking hand to his mouth, the engineer began gnawing on the nails of his fingers. A habit. A habit most people would call dirty, but he couldn’t help it.

He had been happy. This past week, he had been more than happy, the first time be was happy in his whole life. Of course no one could tell, though. He seemed perfectly normal, happy or not.

Grinning that dumb grin. Bouncing around like a child.

Though he appeared that way, he was not so. His nightmares have been getting worse.

A lot worse.

A subtle kind of worse. Something that only Chanyeol would be able to pick up on. The darkness was him. The light was what he wanted. His umma and appa. His family. He wanted is family back.

Why do you want them back anyway? Look at how they screwed you over.

“Shut up, shut up,” Chanyeol muttered over and over, not even realizing that his thumb had started bleeding due to how aggressively he was biting. He began rocking slowly, his back gently bumping into the wall behind him, his free hand running through his mop of curly hair. The tapered tips of his fingers pulled at the strands, but of course he didn’t realize that pain either.

What about Soyoung? Is she not good enough for you? Must you think about your past? What if she found out that everyday you put on an act, hm? Surely she’d become un-attracted to you.

Stars.

Chanyeol saw stars.

Bright spots across his vision, enough to make him pull himself towards the toilet again.

This time, he did vomit. His eyes welled with tears as he did, the contents burning his throat as it came up. After his wave of nausea passed, he leaned against the counter with a shallow, shaky sigh.

Pathetic.

“I know.”

Images of Soyoung flicked in his mind.

Her smile.

Not only her smile, but the way she smiled at him.

The way she held his hand.

The way she hugged him, kissed him,

cared for him…

Stars. Nausea. And more vomiting. This time his throwing up ended in a choked back sob, his hand clenching onto his stomach as he folded over, his head squeezed between his knees.

What would Soyoung say if she saw him like this? What would she say? What would she say…

She’d definitely call you a pathetic, broken wretch. She’d probably leave you, too. Who would stay with you after this, anyway?

Shaking his head, Chanyeol pushed himself up from the floor, flushing the toilet before stumbling out of the bathroom, making his way towards his bed. Collapsing face first onto the mattress, his hands clenched on the fabric of the blankets, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was gripping.

Why does he even bother?

Pain.

He’s dealt with it for so long.

Too long, he’d say.

This voice was a plague. A plague that fed on Chanyeol’s unhappiness, his depression.

Why does he even bother?

It hurts, he thought over and over. Physical pain, mental pain. Everything hurt him.

His parents were no better.

Constantly popping up in his sleep, reminding him of who he is.

As he was thinking, Chanyeol unconsciously began scratching at his shoulders, his brows furrowing as he contemplated what to do with himself. Slowly, the skin began tearing apart, small beads of blood forming on the broken skin before gradually trickling down his arm.

He felt the warmth dripping down, he did.

He felt the pain now, of the torn flesh of his shoulder, but he didn’t care.

He deserved that pain.

Soyoung. She can never see him like this. She can’t be burdened with his trivial issues when she already has ones of her own.

Keep to yourself.

Put on the act.

Make all suspicions go away.

Sighing, he curled into a ball, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought off tears.

To die, or not to die.

That is indeed the question.

~Kill yourself, see if I care.~

“You wouldn’t be able to care if I did,” Chanyeol replied with a growl, raising a hand to hit himself in the head several times.

Killing yourself… sounded really, really good to him right now.

No, you can’t.

“Why? Why can’t I just end it right now and be done with this sick, twisted game forever?” He asked himself aloud, not even realizing that he had. What did he have to live for? Who would care if he was alive or not?  On reflex, he began thinking that no one cared about him. It had been that way for so long. For too long, he'd say.  But then he remembered. He wasn't alone this time. Or at least... his hopes had told him so.