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It surprisingly felt weird.
Donghyuck had never expected it to be this weird. His usual hollow chest was now filled with something unfamiliar. Something he surely didn’t recognize filling up the hole in his chest, subduing any kind of pain the hole might create. It’s weird not feeling the throbbing pain he usually felt daily; and he knew he should be relieved, but instead, he felt scared. This feeling was similar to that when you took a painkiller, and suddenly, the pain was gone, and you felt numb, but Donghyuck didn’t feel any comfort in that.
He was totally uncomfortable. It’s probably due to the Xanax that was running down his veins, or the fact that his chest was so numb it was unbearable. Or maybe because he got so used to the searing pain in his chest that he forgot just how empty not being in pain was.
Donghyuck actually missed the black dog that used to be by his side. He missed the feeling of his black fur under his fingers; he missed the gloomy maniac look in his eyes, or maybe the way he made Donghyuck fell under false insecurities using the comfort of familiarity.
Donghyuck had grown so fond of the dog he found himself searching for him when he disappeared whenever Xanax visited by.
He also found himself missing the feeling of the cold blade he used to use to relieve himself because he knew Xanax could never relieve himself the way the blade did. He found himself missing the growl his stomach made whenever he didn’t put food on his system for over 2 days. He found himself missing the ache in his muscles whenever he practiced too long, too hard, because he knew it would never be enough.
Donghyuck would never be enough.
He couldn’t remember when his relationship with Xanax started. He only remembered that he had sworn that he would not touch the pills, but here he was gulping down 2 every time he couldn’t find his blades or when the members confiscated his blades.
He couldn’t remember when his off-days had become a daily visit to the therapist. He only remembered that he had sworn he wouldn’t even imagine the idea of going to therapy, but here he was sitting in a therapy session with Mark’s hand on his.
Donghyuck couldn’t remember.
When did he end up here?
Donghyuck remembered when he used to slice the blade onto his arms daily, feeling gleeful whenever he saw the red liquid running down his arms, feeling relieved whenever the pain on his arms numbed the pain in his mind, feeling like he was alright whenever he felt the searing pain made him more alive. He remembered the exhausting night after practices when he made sure all of the members had been in deep slumber before locking the bathroom door; feeling relieved after all the stress that accumulated throughout the day. He remembered lying; so many lies had slipped out of his lips, just to cover up one mistake that was his existence.
They were right. One lie leads to another lie.
When did he end up here?
Donghyuck remembered when everything went wrong; when everything got out of the plan he made; when everything ran off from the routines he fixed.
Donghyuck remembered being too exhausted to even think, his mind was too packed and messed to even think about locking the bathroom door, his body too sore and tired to check around the dorm and made sure the members were asleep. The only thing in his mind was cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut. He remembered the tremor that ran through his body; his hands stumbled around the bathroom cabinet for his trusty razor that used to be used to only cut hairs; not skin. He remembered feeling panicked and anxious for no reason; waiting for the relief the cold blade gave him. He remembered anticipation ran through his vessels, he remembered the curves on his lips when he saw his lovely blade. He remembered painting too many lines on his arms, pressing the blade too deep onto his thighs, and before he realized blood had pooled down his feet.
When did he end up here?
What Donghyuck didn’t remember was Mark barging into the bathroom, his towel on his head and lips curving from the jokes the member (Johnny? Or Jaehyun?) told him. He didn’t remember hearing the gasp that left Mark’s mouth (but sure the frightened look that was reflected on Mark’s eyes would be imprinted on Donghyuck’s memory forever), didn’t remember when Mark had crouched down in front of him to reach him. He didn’t remember when Mark had wrapped his arms around his body; he didn’t remember when the towel on Mark’s head had been wrapped securely around the cuts on Donghyuck’s arms. He didn’t remember when the other 127 members had arrived by the door, didn’t remember when Mark’s body was replaced by Taeyong’s bigger one.
What Donghyuck remembered was Mark frightened look that Donghyuck couldn’t stand (it didn’t suit the happiness and goofiness that was Mark), he remembered Mark whispering by his ears that he would be okay and that he was here with him, he remembered the feeling of warmth that engulfed him when Mark’s arms went around his body, he remembered seeing the blood quickly seeped through the white cotton towel, he remembered Mark screaming for the other members, and he remembered being hugged by Taeyong; the older boy rocking his body back and forth, apologizes fell from his mouth.
Donghyuck remembered only feeling rage.
He remembered being so angry at himself. He remembered the anger that burned his throat and stung his eyes; he remembered the bitter tears that rolled down his cheeks. He remembered being so disappointed in himself because why he couldn’t even do the simplest thing as locking the door and checking around the dorm.
When did he end up here?
Donghyuck remembered hating himself. He remembered begging the hyungs not to call the managers or hospital. He also remembered begging them not to tell the other members. He remembered when the Dreamies’ faces flashed onto his mind, he remembered being so scared at how disappointed they would be at their Donghyuck-ah, at their Donghyuck-hyung for being so fucked up inside. He remembered being scared that he would not be remembered as the full sun that lighted up the mood in the room, but instead as Donghyuck who fucked up so bad he ended up in his own pool of blood.
When did he end up here?
The days that went after was in a blur. Donghyuck didn’t remember much of it. Only fragments of it. He didn’t know if it was because of the rage or the tears. He didn’t want to remember.
He remembered snapping at the hyungs because Donghyuck knew they were walking on their tiptoes around him. He remembered shouting at Taeyong because he hid his blade. He remembered lashing his bottled up anger on Mark that was just trying to help him.
He remembered the hurt that flashed for a second on Mark’s face, before being replaced by a sad smile that Donghyuck hated so much he hated it hated it hated it so much.
He remembered Mark hugging his trashing body that was so full of wrath, he remembered the sweet nothings Mark whispered on his ears, he remembered the angry tears that welled in his eyes, he remembered Mark, he remembered Mark, he remembered Mark.
Donghyuck remembered Mark.
He remembered the way the older boy patched up his cuts. He remembered the way he kissed away his tears. He remembered the way he comforted him during nights when the darkness feasted on his mind. He remembered the way he rocked his body when the nightmare became too strong for him to handle.
Donghyuck remembered Mark
And he remembered why he ended up here.