Spotlight ☆ | minsung

☆47☆

Minho's room was cold and quiet. He was burried under the covers, trying to get some sleep but it wasn't working at all.

He was so tired. So desperately exhausted.

But still his eyelids wouldn't close, his mind wouldn't allow him to rest. His stupid fucking mind.

Minho's worst enemy was himself. He knew this very well, yet he still was unable to battle it.

He wanted to call Jisung, Felix, someone. To just forget his father's words and call for help. But at the same time he hated being a burden and, in his clouded eyes, that was exactly what he was. A useless, fucked up burden that would ruin everyone's lives.

'You're going to ruin that poor boy's life.'

He got up, feeling hunger consume him, but still he somehow managed to get on his feet and walk towards the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and grabbed an apple, not sure himself of what it was until he took the first bite. Minho felt the hunger subside, that being the only bit of comfort he'd had in two days.

Once he was finished, the red haired boy went to his bathroom, probably to wash his face. He had no control over his body nor his mind, exhaustion taking over his soul and pulling it down. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, flinching with disgust.

A big purple blotch was just starting to fade on his left cheekbone, distracting anyone who looked from the prominent eyebags that ruined his already ugly-looking eyes, puffy and red from all the crying and sleep deprivation he had been through the past couple of days. His face was thinner, paler, to the point where he didn't even look alive anymore, with those dry lips, broken at the center in a thin line of dark red that signaled where the scab rested. He almost gagged at the reflection that stared at him through the mirror with broken eyes.

A sob escaped his lips, giving the tears green light to slip out of his eyes like infuriated oceans.

He looked so wrong.

Loneliness filled his heart, yet he refused to call anyone because he deserved to feel that way. He deserved to be alone. His father was right, he was just a stupid murderer and people like him don't deserve love or comfort.

Oh, god, he just looked so wrong.

An unbearable pain settled in his chest, becoming more hurtful with each tear that fell from his broken eyes.

Why did he looked so wrong?

He fell to the cold tile of the dim bathroom, curling in a ball, his knees pressed to his chest as sobs made him shake fiercely, bringing more pain to his weakend limbs.

Suddenly, only one thought crossed his mind. He didn't deserve to be there. He didn't deserve his friends, his career, Jisung. He didn't deserve anything.

He didn't deserve being alive.

His existence was only proving him right, as he just caused pain to those he loved since the day he was born.

And once again he found the truth in his father's words, feeling them crush his soul like they'd never had before. He should have died in that car accident, not his mother.

Minho's legs moved on it's own, but he wasn't even trying to stop what he was about to do anymore. He didn't have the strength. He had just given up, hiding in the thought that he was doing everyone a favor.

The red haired boy took his phone and texted a hurried 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry' to Jisung, the only person he thought deserved the biggest apology. He then turned on the tap, letting the bathtub fill with cold water and the beauty of the color red fill his bathroom.