Void
Title: Void
Pairing: No pairing; Junyung-centric
Rating: R
Warning: Blood & hints of rape.
Summary: He'd wasted his years feeling pity for himself.
The face that stared back at him in the mirror was horrid. Horrid in a perfect kind of way. He hated it, he hated the dirty blond, oily, shaggy locks. Loathed the plump, yet dry and cracked lips. Despised the curve in his cheek bones. Detested the chubby skin that his friends used to squeeze and harass, cooing how cute he was.
In a strange way, though, he loved it.
It represented every drop of innocence he'd never had. Never gotten the privilege of having. The years he'd spent, wasting himself away. Wasting away what he could have been, rather than fighting to be that person. Years of being a fool, a delinquent - reckless.
Years of fighting for survival, whilst deliberately killing himself in the process.
His eyes ran over his body. Over the collarbones that his sickly, pale skin practically stretched to fit over. Along his ribcage that showed, telling him how malnourished and deathly sick he really looked. Brown orbs stopped at the protruding hip bones, looking them over a few times.
A heavy sigh escaped his dry lips.
He wanted to be pure. To be a child again. Without any worries other than where his tyrannosaurus toy was hiding. Or maybe just worries like who ate the last slice of chocolate cake. He would have taken worries like that, if he could have.
Cracked lips curled into a bitter smile, splitting in places.
Scarlet liquid rose from his lips, trailing down his chin in little rivulets. Dripping onto the sink edge. Cascading down the basin and into the drain.
The handle to the cold-water tap was turned, washing away the fluid tracks for none to see. None but he, who leaned towards the sink, his hands cupped under the running water. He brought the calloused hands to his lips, slurping the liquid in, washing the scarlet off of his lips. Then it was spat back out. Almost in the way the world had spat him back out when he'd given up hope. Hope of being someone.
It had been such a long time ago. He could now only recall that being the day his pureness was ripped away from him. At such a young age, too. Months before he'd turned fourteen. Images of hands grasping at his thighs, bruising the sensitive skin almost immediately. Two rows of yellow, decaying teeth behind a crooked smile. The cries for help he'd let out that had gone unanswered.
Now it was a mere memory he deemed unimportant. Something that hadn't even happened. Something he'd made up completely. A sick, reoccurring nightmare, maybe.
He was too far gone to help.
Water stopped running when the tap was shut off as he straightened out, staring at the mirror. Into his own, lifeless eyes. The muddy brown orbs that had once had a special light in them.
There really was no fixing the broken, after all.
"To be, or not to be, Yong Junhyung," he whispered to the face in the mirror as he lifted a fist, lips curving into a fake smile. "That is the question, right?"
A fist slammed into the mirror, shattering the glass around his hand. The sound echoed through the small bathroom; mirror shards falling to the sink counter and breaking on impact.
To exist, or not to exist. Junhyung thought resentfully, pulling his hand back to his side, ignoring the stinging pain in his knuckles.
Because the cuts in his hand would never compare to the void in his chest.