Not Too Late | Choi San

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Clouds of thunder, pouring rain,
The hurt I feel, the throbbing pain.
Droplets trickling down my face.
Shall rain give me this one embrace?
- Justin Raphael.

•••

        days bled into a mess of blurry memories. everyday felt the same, everything felt meaningless. San swallowed the pain, and he lived through the darkness he was drowning into every passing day. it felt like entering hell, only that this hell is quiet and scary and so damn dark.

searching for a job and making a living wasn't concerning him much as for right now, he didn't feel like doing anything, let alone working. it felt meaningless, anyways. come to think of it, he's always been working hard to save up some money to rent a flat with enough money to stay in there for a few months until he saves more to last him some more, but now it just feels like he has been working for nothing. he's a hopeless case, a lost cause.

because San knows that whatever he does and however hard he tries, it's all in vain. he's living in fear, in a life full of terror and misery, and it's just about time he gives up completely. though, he has already given up to some extent, he hasn't done fully, and he hates that, he hates how he still feels a sparkle of hope in the bit of his stomach, though dull, it's still there, very much prominent and clear, and he hates it with his whole entire heart.

since he left, San has came back to his crappy alley. he didn't mean to go there, it was as if his feet were programmed to walk him there every time he felt miserable. he stayed there alone, not even the junki was there anymore, and all he did was wonder.

did they miss him back in the dorm? did they even notice his absence?

the first day he spent drowning in his misery, and the second he visited a bridge and thought about jumping, only to end up walking back with tremors taking over his body and collapsing under a tree, numbly staring at the flowing water and hating how weak he is. the third he spent roaming the streets, stumbling and almost falling a few times, feeling the pain in his stomach intensify with how long he has spent without food. and now it's the fifth day and San doesn't even have the energy to stand up.

he feels weak, so damn fragile and vulnerable in such a dangerous district. he knows it's dangerous, anyone can take advantage of him in this state, and yet he doesn't care. if anything, it feels like he's living only to find a reason to die, hoping for anyone to give him the last push into ending it all, because now that he has tasted what happiness felt like, he can't live deprived of it.

tonight has been particularly dark, the sky devoid of any stars, and there's a fight somewhere near San's alley. he hides behind the dumpster, as he usually does, and forms his body into a small ball as he hides his head in his knees and waits for the fight to be over, his hands slightly shaking.

but it doesn't end, only does it intensify, and the voices near him.

"are you saying i let that brat go because i couldn't beat him up enough?!" one voice says, and San tries to blend into the wall. he fails.

"yes! you're so goddamn stupid and fucking weak! you can't even beat a little boy!" the second voice says somewhere really near to San.

"guys!" a third voice, low and cautious. "someone is listening to us."

and then San's hauled up and pushed to the other side of the alley, back colliding with the wall harshly and he yelps as he falls to the floor.