Felix's life was anything but vibrant-cursed, he'd argue. To him, it was nothing short of horrendous, marked by relationships rife with daily disrespect and parents who prioritized alcohol above all else. As Felix's mental health reached a breaking...
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Stepping out of the house, the finality of closing the door behind me resonated deeply, marking an irrevocable step into a new chapter of my life. With each step down the stairs, the bags in my hands felt like the tangible weight of my decision, while the relentless rain mirrored my tumultuous emotions—dark, gloomy, and uncertain about the future. The sudden flash of lightning across the sky seemed to punctuate my resolve, a stark reminder of the unpredictability of life as I took a shaky breath and walked away from what had once been a refuge of sorts.
The ache in my stomach intensified with every step, a physical manifestation of the fear of solitude that gripped me. Memories of fleeing from my parents' house, the site of untold torment and abuse, surged within me, a maelstrom of physical and mental pain that had pushed me to the brink. The anxiety it stirred was a constant companion, a shadow that lengthened with the setting sun.
Approaching the hotel, I took a moment to steady myself, my gaze briefly catching the sign that promised a temporary haven from the storm, both literal and metaphorical. Stepping inside, the contrast between the chaos of my inner world and the calm, orderly environment of the hotel lobby was jarring. I approached the reception, where a young guy greeted me with a smile, a normalcy that felt alien.
"Could I have a room? I don't know for how long just yet, maybe for the first two weeks," I said, my voice quiet, betraying none of the turmoil that churned beneath the surface.
He observed me for a moment, perhaps sensing the undercurrents of distress, before nodding empathetically. "We have a beautiful room, the only one left with a nice view. You'll enjoy it," he assured me, his kindness a small beacon of light in the overwhelming darkness.
As he clicked away on the computer, finalizing the arrangements, I swiped my card, the action feeling both mundane and momentous. The transaction was more than just a financial exchange; it was the purchase of solitude, of space to heal, to reflect, and perhaps, to start rebuilding the shattered pieces of my existence.
The room with a view, as promised, would become my sanctuary, a place to gaze out at the world from a safe distance, to witness the storm from behind the protective glass. It was a beginning, tentative and fraught with uncertainty, but a beginning nonetheless. In the solitude of that room, I would confront my demons, wrestle with my fears, and perhaps, in time, find the strength to face a new day.
Taking the keys with a curt nod, I made my way toward the elevator, a heavy sigh escaping me as I pulled my hoodie over my head, an attempt to shield myself from the world. My hands gripped the bags tightly, a physical anchor to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside me. My stomach churned with a mix of dread and anticipation during the wait, but when the elevator doors slid open with a soft melody, signaling an escape from the lobby's prying eyes, I stepped inside, eager for the solitude of my room.
It was then, in the confined space of the elevator, that I realized I wasn't alone. A side glance revealed a profile all too familiar, causing my heart to skip a beat in shock and recognition. Hyunjin was there, sharing the space with me in a twist of fate I hadn't anticipated. My immediate reaction was to retreat further into the corner, my grip on the bags tightening as if they could offer some semblance of protection or make me invisible to his gaze.
