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A cherry blossom petal. Pink in its nature, surface softer than a baby’s cheeks, and comes and goes for a season.
People miss it when it’s gone. People fly to take pictures with it if they come from places where it does not exist.
Jisung hums a song as he walks along the dark street.
Heart pounding, his hands are shaking from the cold even though it was hidden inside his coat already, despite the summer being around the corner. His heartbeat rings in his ears, his breath shallow as he continues the tune. In the pocket of his jeans, his phone lies forgotten on purpose. He dreads the amount of messages and missed calls that will bombard him once he opens it again.
His head is a bit fuzzy, and everything in sight is hazy. There’s a lump on his throat, and the sensation is familiar for him. He gets it when he watches the movie about the golden retriever that dies at the end. He feels it when they win an award, no matter how many trophies they have won already. He feels it when he’s with the members, laughing with them as they celebrate, the night young and long and he’s pleasingly drunk, his Minho hyung petting his hair so delicately.
But it’s a bit silly to let the lump take over him when he’s alone, when it’s about himself. His eyes sting from the cold, or maybe it’s the lump already about to present itself with saltiness on its tracks.
Jisung never lets go when it’s about himself.
He doesn’t deserve to.
The streets are unfamiliar. He must have been out for more than twelve hours now, judging from where the moon is hanging overhead. He remembers the sun on the same spot the last time he looked up.
He feels himself pick at the skin by his fingernails, and doesn't stop himself when he notices it.
He doesn’t really know where he is and just trusts his feet to not trip him as they trudge along the rocky path. With his tune, the waves beside him seem to hum along, harmonising with him. It was not hard to find a vacant spot as the area seemed forlorn of people.
There’s sand in his coat when he lays down, tickling the side of his neck. He lays down, stares up at the stars winking at him. His toes wiggle inside his dance shoes intensely, his humming gets louder as he struggles to drown out everything other than the waves and his tune.
It’s so loud. Why is it always, always so loud?
Jisung closes his eyes, breath shaky, feels his heart beating inside his closed eyelids. He pats beside him, throws what seems like a rock on the ocean ahead. It’s still so loud.
His humming isn’t working much. His voice is not loud enough, so he focuses on everything all at once. He hears the rock hit the water somewhere, a satisfying splash and he feels his heart do the same. Jisung scratches his scalp.
It's static, no matter how hard he tries to drown it out. His mind an old video film, a strip taken away and cut out. Everything paused, returned to black and white, and then like an old television, the static rings out. Getting louder and louder and so fucking loud.
He feels it clawing out. He feels it in the way his breaths shake, his lips tremble, his nose and eyes stinging. He felt it when it clawed on its chest before it gripped his heart, squeezing and squeezing.
A cherry blossom petal blows past. The wind carrying it further and further, ahead from the noise of the waves. Away from the thousands of little glasses beneath Jisung’s shoes.
Cheeks pink, the melody of his humming becomes softer. The sands fell on his skin and piled on the hem of his shirt as he stood up. His phone falls as he stands up, Jisung pausing to look at it for a moment.
He looks at it for a second, before he sticks his hands inside his pockets again. Turning around, his footsteps befriend the shadow of the cherry blossom petal as he walks behind it.
The phone rings behind him.
He hums louder again. Bends down to pick up a rock. He wiggles his toes more before launching it on the ocean. Watches, and his scalp feels on fire.
The tip of his pointer finger bleeds as he walks.