Bruise (Chanyeol Angst) by peachykaix

BRUISE [ V ]

Bathes were supposed to be relaxing, everyone always said that they would be soothing to your aching muscles and wash away your problems. The water was warm against your freezing skin, the bubbles up to your chin and jostling whenever you moved your legs. The air was faintly filled with the sounds of cars driving by on the streets down below, the tires splashing in the puddles of leftover rain. The room was dimly illuminated, your wet hand glistening on the edge of the tub when the candle on the sink flickered patches of light onto your arm, giving it life when it felt so dull. Everything smelled like oranges and vanilla, your skin, your hair, even the bubbles threatening to spill over the edge of the porcelain. It all seemed relaxing, in theory. It was supposed to feel nice and like a reward after a long day, but in reality it was making you want to rip your hair from your scalp.

Because in the silent solitude all you could think about was Chanyeol.

You hadn't seen him in two weeks since you got back from the cabin, and yet he was still the one thing consistently on your mind. You hated it, hated how everywhere you looked there was a ghost of him. You hated how you'd walk across campus and hear girls giggling about their lust fueled nights with him, and hated even more how jealous and angry thinking about them touching him made you. You hated the hoodie he'd left that sat on top of your dresser and hated how strong the urge was to slip it on whenever you felt the loneliest. You hated how much you missed him because you knew in the bottom of your heart you shouldn't be thinking of him at all, not after everything the both of you had been through.

You were hurt and frustrated from the situation and the more you were left alone to think about it, the more the pent up anger was beginning to boil in your gut. You could feel it beneath your skin, waiting for the moment to burst out of your chest and be heard, waiting to inflict some sort of pain on someone else for a change.

You weren't sure what you expected things to be like after your talk, but it seemed like nothing changed on Chanyeol's end. He hadn't spoken to you again that weekend, not that you were sure you even wanted him to. You knew he was still sleeping around, Jinhee wasn't exactly quiet about their little hook-ups the few days after the trip their fling lasted. She'd spent ample amounts of study time disclosing every detail you didn't want to know. If it weren't for Jongin's conversational butt-ins at your library meetups she'd of probably drawn a diagram for you of all the positions they'd tried.

He'd seemed so desperate when you spoke, so insistently trying to say something to you without actually letting the words form on his lips. You didn't believe half of what he said, not anymore, each passing day and girl like small confirmations that he was full of deceit. He never really missed you, never really thought you meant something to him, never actually cared past how good you could make him feel.

Maybe that was why you couldn't get him out of your head, because he said one thing and physically did the exact opposite. You still had so much self loathing for thinking things meant more than they were but at the same time couldn't figure out how it could all have meant nothing to him. Was it really possible for actions that meant the world to you be so little to someone else? So obsolete that he never spared them a second of his time?

You groaned heavily, leaning your head back to press into the tiled wall, your pile of damp hair in a messy bun that cushioned the contact. All the bottled up tension was laying in your shoulder blades, the warmth of the water doing little to subdue the sensation of a brewing eruption. Your fingers raised up and pressed into the groove near your collar bones, the feeling of his lips on your skin flashing like lightning across your mind, eyes squeezing shut to try and wish it away.

It felt like Chanyeol had your heart on a tightly wound leash, holding you back from moving on but also not letting you get too close. He'd pull at your thoughts when you started to drift too far from him, even when he wasn't there in your line of sight. You hadn't heard his voice in two weeks and yet it plagued you every time you thought of him. You hadn't smelled his cologne for days but you could swear it still lingered on your bedsheets even after being washed four times. He was everywhere, like a virus spreading and multiplying too fast for you to wash away and forget about.