from a boy with onyx eyes that were hidden behind shadows and long strands of dark brown hair.
he was no older than 19, neither any younger. he laid upon his bathroom floor with the door locked and keys sitting next to his feet.
the beats of his heart were short and fast and loud even, washing away the silence with echos that resonated between the bathroom walls and reflected on the mirror.
his long fingers were wrapped around a knife desperately, as if his life depended on it, although it was exactly what he planned to cast it away with.
his eyes were fixed on the ceiling above, far away and lost. his head ached with fear yet excitement filled his heart.
he'd finally leave this place.
he had planned this for so so long.
for four years he constantly wished death upon himself, praying to God to take him away because he carried a burden which he called himself and dragged it around for so long and now he just couldn't anymore.
for four fucking years he had felt so lost and lonely, without a single soul to help him, not even his soul felt like his own anymore.
he lived with constant fear that he'd be a burden to those around him if he lived.
but if he died he'd still be a burden.
"where do i go?"
he asked himself, desperately, with tears trailing down his face, pain evident on his lips and blood stained on his fingertips.
those he loved, he believed were sincere and there for him, they'd turned around and left him long ago.
he had felt so lonely. so fucking lonely.
he would always feel too much and then never enough.
life was too overwhelming.
so after years of agony, he decided he would leave.
he'd go find happiness, something that had never existed in the world he lived in.
a letter neatly folded was placed besides him on the white tiles, a bottle of pills laid near by.
he sat up, resting his back against the wall.
a whisper of air from his lips.
the pills laid on his cold shaking palms a second or two before he brought his hand up to his mouth and pushed five in.
quickly getting up, he ran the tap and gathered as much water in his hands as he could and swallowed the pills with it.
desperate but suddenly unwinded, he swallowed the five remaining pills dry, one by one.
his mind felt clouded and far away, misty and blurry like a windstorm, he believed the pills already began to smitten.
he held the knife in his hands, taking one last glance at it before bringing it up to his wrist.
this was it.
happiness. the road to happiness.
he slide it across his wrist with force, immediately drawing out blood. he repeated the same action with a bit more force this time. he did it again, and again. and again.
his fingers trembled as he dropped the knife on the floor with a small clink. blood smeared all across the white tiles and his arm, and he let it drop by his side.
these were his last breaths.
they felt meaningful.
his phone rang, ripping the silence and slipping through the cracks of the walls and grasping the last breaths he had left, he glanced at it.
it was his mother, she had read the mail he had sent.
"baby, please hold on! the ambulance is coming!" she shouted into the phone, but the words were barely above a soft murmur to him, and he let his eyes shut.
why would you care only when I'm leaving?
please don't stop me.
just a few more minutes.
despite the constantly ringing in his ears and constant whirling of his mind, he could hear the ambulance stop right outside the apartment complex.
one last breath.
the rest was blurry but complete and utter chaos and when the paramedics rushed in, it was too late.
yet this still didn't feel like happiness to him.
a week later .
black gowns and suits, buttons cuffed.
tears and red roses, because those were his favourite flowers.
a casket placed in the middle of the ground, people circled it all around.
all came together in the memory of an innocent boy no older than 19, neither any younger.
with pretty onyx eyes and dark brown hair, he had lost himself to the cracks of the world.
too far gone to be saved now, too far gone.
why hadn't they seen it before?
why do they shed tears now?
what remained of the boy was now memories and a corpse.
their tears wouldn't tear the veil of his death.
so, don't cry.
he wouldn't like it.
his mother stood in the front, but she had cried the least. she had greeted all the guests at the funeral, a letter was clasped in her hands, said to be left behind by the boy.
she glanced around until her eyes discerned a young boy seemingly around the age of her own son.
she slowly approached him, she shook his hand and gently asked, "i haven't seen you around before. a friend of my son, perhaps?"
the boy shook his head, "i went to the same college," he muttered.
"we never spoke but i admired him from far away." soft, sad eyes casted downwards. "i had planned to confess on monday morning, today."
an end of a beautiful beginning.
if only you would've stayed a bit longer.
happiness was on your way.
she nodded, a sad smile graced her lips.
"what's your name?"
"Jeon Jungkook." he mumbled.
"thank you, jungkook for attending kim taehyung's funeral."
by the time you open this letter, I believe I'll be far away from your reach,
breathing in a happier, blithe place.
so do not worry, do not blame yourself.
do not cry.
thank you for everything."
you are not alone in this world. it may seem like it, but you are not, you will never be. somewhere out there, someone is waiting for you, so please do not leave. beautiful things will come to you, you are here for a reason.