Oddinary// Hyunlix & Minsung FF// Editing

Chapter One: Surviving Death

(A/N this story is gonna be heavy. But then again... It's kind what I live for. Welcome to my new angst outlet. ILY thank you for choosing my book.)

I sat at the scratched up wooden table and stared at Jisung. Neither of us had spoken in days. The funeral had come and gone, and it felt like there would never be anything important to discuss ever again. Long gone were the fun family chats that were shared around this very table. Now, all that occurred in this room was crying, and the bitter sadness of the hole my father had left in our lives.

"Hello my babies, how are you today?" Mom asked as she shakily entered the small kitchen. Her rudolph red nose, dull puffy eyes, and tear stained round cheeks, told us she hadn't slept again. I opened my mouth and closed it again. My vocal chords were frozen in my throat and I couldn't make a sound, no matter how hard I tried.

"OK. I see you're still at this stage. It's ok. I'll fix us some breakfast." She said quietly. Mom was doing her best to stay strong, and it killed me that I couldn't find my voice. It had abandoned me completely and I knew Jisung felt the same way. I stood and began helping Mom.

Distraction was my coping mechanism. Jisung sat at the table and messed with his own, red angry fingers. He picked at them until they bled most days and I tried to stop him, but it was futile. His anxiety was in overdrive and I couldn't offer any comfort.

"Felix, you're bleeding!" Mom took my hand and I blinked down at my sliced finger. I didn't even feel it. She tutted and ran my hand under icy water as she rummaged through the messy cupboards loudly.

"Here they are!" She pulled out a box of band aids and carefully dried my hand with tissue before wrapping my finger up.

"Thanks" I mouthed at her. No sound came out again. It was so frustrating for me. I felt like a bird who'd had its wings clipped. She placed her hand on my cheek, lovingly.

"Don't worry my boy. It will get better I promise." She reassured me sweetly. I wasn't sure how she could say that when she clearly wasn't coping either.

She turned and looked at Jisung. He was crying silently as he often did and biting his nails ferociously.

"Baby!" She quickly ran to him and wrapped him up in the warmest embrace. I grabbed his hands and held them. He was shaking as usual and a silent panic attack would probably creep up soon. His tears, dripping loudly against the wooden table top, and my Mother's comforting words were the only noises that could be heard.

Losing our Father had ripped the heart out of the family. He was always the one who held us together. The truth was, the three of us only had our father in common. We didn't often sit and talk when he wasn't around. Jisung and I shared a room and would sometimes laugh and joke, but it was strained.

Of course we loved each other, in our own weird ways, but it wasn't the same as when Dad brought us all together. Conversation flowed freely, laughter rang through the house, and even the darkest days felt bright with him around. But we had lost that.

Now the whole house was feeling it. None of us knew what to say, or what to do to make this better. Dad wouldn't come back, and I didn't want to live with these relative strangers.

I slammed my chair back into the cupboard behind me as I stood. Mom turned to look at me as she held the silently hyperventilating boy in her arms. As soon as I released his hands he began picking at them again.

"Felix, where are you going?!" She called as I stormed out of the ever shrinking, gloomy household. I needed room to breathe, and the suffocation of my father's death meant I couldn't do it at home.

Everything was ruined, including me and I couldn't escape the feeling that my life would never be normal again.

That deep dark feeling of despair led me to my usual abandoned hangout. The only place I could get my fix of happiness. I stared up at the gray, graffiti riddled, building. Most of the windows were smashed or barely hanging on, and brown streaks of general filth streaked downwards like long fingers, reaching for the ground.