𝑹𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒂 • yeonbin {BOOK 2} ✓

°•❁𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏❁•°

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°•𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 • blood, depressive thoughts, self-hatred•°

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𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒏 had been locked inside his room all day, feeling sick from being inside his own mind and still not able to want to get out. his thoughts never stopped, whispering things he didn't want to hear, reminding things he wanted to forget and wanting things he couldn't have, but still, he let himself pay attention to it, to every word and every image. it was a sick way of making himself aware that he couldn't have anything because having something meant losing it.

the red haired sat on the edge of his bed, head lowered down as he hugged himself, cold palms against his naked skin as his eyes were kept open even if not paying attention to what he was seeing in front of him. a week. it had been little more than a week. yeonjun started to believe he couldn't feel anything anymore, he wasn't momentarily happy when his people thanked him, he wasn't upset when seeing beomgyu's tired face, nor was he sad when thinking about ruby and taemin.

he could almost hear himself asking for anything, any feeling, any emotion. but he never reached it, not without going to the training room.

the male got up from the bed abruptly, walking to his bathroom and resting both hands on the counter, eyes glued to the mirror. he remembered when soobin talked about his eyes, saying they were the prettiest thing he ever saw. not anymore, he guessed. yeonjun looked dead, his expressionless face staring back at him like a curse, dark eyes void of any shine and naked torso pale under the dim light.

yeonjun tightened his hold on the counter edge, feeling his fingers getting numb while not averting his eyes from himself. he hated it, he hated every single little piece staring back at him. the demon hated himself, he hated how he couldn't love anyone without them dying, he hated he couldn't help his mother, hated how he wasn't able to take care of ruby, hated how he didn't pay attention on taemin enough to see that something was happening, hated how he was a curse.

he wanted to be the little boy asking the meaning of flowers again, to hug his mother and sing her to sleep, to make ruby giggle and roll his eyes when she annoyed him, to kiss taemin's forehead and remind him he was there for him just as much. yeonjun wanted to have things, he wanted to have every single one of them back. he wanted ruby's sly smirk and warm hugs, taemin's words and caring actions, and above all, he wanted to feel. he just wanted to feel, to be, to have and to give.

yeonjun gritted his teeth, watching his crimson eyes shine like rubies when covered in tears he didn't ask for. was it too much? was he asking too much? was he trying too little? was he not doing enough? not trying enough? but didn't he try all his life? didn't he take care of his sister when his mother died? didn't he keep on going after being disposed as trash by his own blood? didn't he insist on waking up every day even after having lost everything? didn't he let himself still love? didn't he take care of what he had even when fearing to lose it either way? didn't he take the throne and saved his people? didn't he hug taemin and loved him?

wasn't it enough? trying and trying and trying when he didn't even have a reason or strength to? losing pieces he already didn't have again and again? how much more was he supposed to try, to give, to lose?

yeonjun wasn't a curse to his blood, nor kingdom, nor loved ones. he was a curse to himself.

the red haired let his lips morph into a smile, that soon turned into a laugh. the sick image staring at him as if mocking him, proving him to be a fool, showing him what he was. nothing. he was nothing and still, he wanted everything. he wanted everything he lost, back.