In His Arms - Wonheon ( Wonho x Jooheon )

Chapter 29 : Left Behind

From inside the house, Jooheon watches through the windows as the sun rises higher and higher into the sky with hues of yellow and orange. Days are passing, slowly, yet also strangely fast at the same time, like a blur of motions that string together and make it almost impossible for him to register and comprehend.

The last he remembered, it had been the end of May. The trees were green and flowers had bloomed in the park and there had been the faintest breeze in the air that kept things fresh, kept the concept of spring alive and flourishing within Brooklyn.

But now... now Jooheon can tell by the way the trees stay motionless, how the sun constantly beats down overhead and if he looks carefully enough, he can see the heat waves dancing through the branches.

There's no doubt in his mind that it's summer time.

He's supposed to be out there . Rosé and Hyungwon had wanted to go hiking at one of the state parks. Jisoo and his ma had wanted to come down and visit Coney Island, even go to the beach and feed the seagulls. He was supposed to go visit his family, had made plans to start discussing vacation once the book was done and yeah Jisoo wanted to travel to Cabo but hell, he would've been fine renting out a lake house in bumfuck Montana and maybe ride some horses along the way because what else did people from Montana do?

The point , is that there were things that he was supposed to be doing but he wasn't-- he couldn't . Jooheon is stuck here and no matter how hard he tries, he can't get out.

He feels exhausted, mentally and physically drained of any energy he could ever possess. It's like he's a hollow vessel of himself, going through the motions of life but not really feeling any of it, almost as if he's gone numb to it all.

And perhaps he has. Perhaps going numb is the only way his mind can begin to try and cope with what has happened to him. The tragic reality of what has become his life isn't something that can be handled as easily as someone would think. His freedom has been robbed and he has been shoved into a box with no opening, being taken care of like he's a fucking pet. He's mortified at what he has become-- a tembeling mess of a man who can't even throw a punch hard enough to overpower Wonho even if only for a moment.

He hates himself for not fighting enough, hates that he can't get out and get to his family and friends who need him. He hates that all he does is sit here and stare out of a fucking window like he's some lost soul.

Then again, that's... that's what he is. He's lost.

Jooheon presses his palm against the glass and relishes in the heated warmth that kisses his exposed skin. It feels good . It's a beautiful day out too, and he knows that if he were anywhere else but here, he would have spent the day outdoors, maybe go to the park, buy some frozen yogurt on the way there. He would've gone to that shop on the corner of Pine street, the one that gives out the plastic spoons that change colors with the temperature. His favorite.

He lets out a huff of air, shaking his head and scolding himself for diverging into such pointless things. Jooheon can't say what he would be doing because he can't be doing it. It's a waste of time and it's just-- it's tearing a fucking hole straight through his chest the longer he dwells. The misery is almost unbearable. The dread that rattles in his bones keeps him on edge at all hours and all he wants is to just let go, take a deep breath and open his eyes and find himself back in his apartment. He wants to wake up from this fucking nightmare that never ends.

It's wishful thinking that's killing him. It's his prayers that have gone unanswered. It's his silent cries of help that go unheard. Slowly, they each take pieces out of him, bit by bit.

Jooheon pulls his hand away from the window but continues to hold it up. The curtains are drawn apart just enough that the rays of sunlight peak through the cracks and light up the room. He lets his fingers dance through the beams of light, slowly bending each of his digits and watching in silent fascination as his fingers break the unending ray only for it to return once he moves his next finger.

Outside he can hear the birds chirping. Every few minutes he can see the faint flutter of a shadow dart across the carpet as one of the avians fly by. He wishes he could be one, spread his wings and fly, fly, fly away. Far from here.

Jooheon can't bring himself to look at them. It hurts enough as it is to look outside the window and see the world moving forward while he's being left behind.