fallin flower, yoon jeonghan

02

tw: attempting suicide

song:
not alone - nct 127

STRENGTH AND INTUITION

A convenience store, open 24/7, people pass or enter and grab something, but no one stayed forever, they were only passersby's, and Chiasa liked that.

Nothing was forever.

Resting her head in her hand, she sat on the stool behind the counter, it was four in the morning almost five and that meant her shift would soon be over.

Honestly, she liked the night shift because most of the time it was quiet, of course, she would have an occasional swarm of drunk young adults come in but other than that it was peaceful.

Her alarm went off as it did daily, she reached to turn it off and then into her bag which held an assortment of pills that she dropped into her mouth, swallowing them with a gulp of water.

The reason for her assortment of medications? Well, it's complicated.

Complicated in the sense that she has been taking the assortment since she was young, so young that only her parent's replay of her sickly childhood self was all she knew.

They told her from a young age that she had a weak immune system, one weaker than most, and her body attacks itself. So only medication can create a barrier between her cells and every fiber of herself.

Chiasa didn't think much of it. The medicine was now one with her, and honestly, from the story her parents told her she didn't want to find out what life would be like without it.

But she expected it to hurt like Hell if she ever did.

Eventually, the convenience store's door rang and her replacement, Kyung, appeared sluggishly, a hoodie under his work vest.

"You look more tired than usual." She paid attention to him swiping in even as she packed her stuff.

"Studying, I have a test coming up." He replied, swiftly sitting on the stool she sat on moments before.

Studying, something Chiasa hadn't done since high school. To say she never wanted to attend a university would be a lie. Money was tight though, and her tentative appointments and a long list of medications were an ever-growing burden that she so desperately tries to pay off.

So pursuing higher education wasn't an option.

"I'm sure you'll do great. I restocked earlier and everything so you can just relax," She rests her hand on his shoulder, "Mkay?"

He nodded gratefully, his eye bags as deep as restless as her own. "Thanks, Chiasa."

"Of course," She walks out the front door, slinging her bag onto her shoulder, and briskly walks home.

The town she lived in was small, everyone whether she liked it or not knew her face, but sadly they only knew her as the sick girl and pitied her because of it.

Chiasa liked to believe she was more than her illness, the illness she had that doesn't even have a name. But sometimes, as she lay in bed awake she only felt as if her life was an overbearing cycle of working to pay for medication to survive. And she hated it.

She felt like she had no purpose, she has no friends, only talking to the coworkers she would switch shifts with, or the customers who wanted to buy goods. Chiasa was lost, but no more than many others.

But it still simply sucked.

Her destination was the studio above a bookstore that she called home. It was quaint and quite outdated but it was her own and the biggest benefit was working in the daytime in the bookstore.