Aubade | J.J.K FF ✔

0.4

"fuck," the man swears, the word effortlessly passing through his lips, as he looks slightly uncomfortable at your bowed, shaking figure on the ground of your balcony. "hey." he reaches out a hand from across to shake you. "hey. get up."

you're still sobbing, shoulders heaving as gasps tear through your body. you know why you're crying and you hate the reason for it, feeling like a big crybaby who just can't keep your shit together.

"yo crybaby, this isn't the time for you to go all emo." his words, while murmured softly, have a negative effect on you.

you sit up, glaring at him and read to give him hell, hair covering almost all of your face and iridescent tears still leaking out of your eyes, and he lets out a humorless chuckle. "you look like shit."

"thanks for the compliment, dickhead," you mutter, swaying to your feet, roughly swiping away your tears with the back of your hand. "you really know how to make people feel better."

"of course i do." his voice is full of sarcasm and your glassy eyes stare daggers at his figure, annoyance seeping into every pore of your body from his words.

"you're such a fucking dick, y'know that?" the words slip out of your mouth without your realization, but, unlike other times, you wish for it to stay out in the open, thirsting for his hurt with your own.

"takes one to know one, darling," he winks, an audacious move that sends color rushing to your cheeks, and your mouth purses, tasting the bitterness that fills you to the brim. you're no longer 50 percent water, but 50 percent acrimonious.

"do fuck off," you snarl, dropping any pretense of tolerance that you hold.

his eyes become hooded as his face darkens-the look enough to make your heart grow skittish. "only if you do, bitch," he snaps, voice sharp enough to cut into you like a knife; it's as if he cut into your heart, a gash gushing out blood. you're meant to hurt him, but he somehow wound up hurting you.

it shouldn't hurt, he's only a neighbor after all, a practical no one to you. yet, you had grown fond of his voice, his singing, in you half drunk state. so much so that it makes you want to apologize. the feeling just makes your anger worse.

it's painfully obvious that he isn't up for a fight, not like you are, as he storms back into his apartment, the sliding door slamming shut. you're left in silence-a silence that presses into you and the surrounding night-and your lungs expand to a point where it hurts as you gulp in air, feeling suffocated.

the suffocation is unbearable, the feeling not disappearing with the cold night air. so you head back inside, sliding the door shut with enough force to rattle a frame on the wall. pissed off at everything now but too lazy to clean up a mess, you slam your bottle of soju onto the table, the harsh clanging sound music to your ears.

the sound only feeds into your anger and you take it out on everything: the couch, the pillows, the plates, even the harmless ramen that you angrily shovel down your throat. it burns going down, not the pleasant burn of sharp alcohol but a blistering one-one that matches your slowly fading anger.

you wash it down with water.

your head pounds from the effects of the soju and you stare at the bottle, the attractiveness of drinking until dropping becoming lost. the sight of the bottles covering your fridge shelves is enough to make you sick and you hurl into the toilet, the soju from hours ago coming up and setting fire to you throat. the burn is no longer pleasurable and it takes great effort to lift your head.

your head pounds, your heart hurts, your stomach roils, and you just want it all to end. the miserableness has to have a stopping point, you think bleakly to yourself as you make it to your single bed, hugging a pillow.

the moon shines through the window onto your curled up figure under fluffy blankets, an impulsive buy that you don't regret. you had propped the window open earlier and the wind lethargically blows in and out of the room, bringing in the smell of outside- a mix of cigarettes and moonlight and pure darkness.

it's silent as you lay there, no birds chirping and no honks from annoyed drivers behind steering wheels of cars they're too small to drive in.

the sun rises a couple of hours later, the rays creeping into your room and gently shining on your sleeping form, peace coming to you at last. a song reaches your ears as slumber overtakes you, your mind filling with the sound of an angel, but not quite registering it; the notes twining into a morning lullaby that huddles in your subconscious. 

an angel lulls you to sleep, and a soft smile shines on your resting features, the sun warm on your figure.

you rest in peace.

851 words