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Warm puffs of breath on a cold Seoul night, and yet it felt cold to Junseo. It didn't matter that he could see the exhales in front of him, every breath felt icy and uncomfortable to him. His entire body felt cold, and the double layered heavy jackets with the hood pulled snuggly over his head didn't seem to do anything for him.
He wanted to go inside his apartment and get warm, but the password had been changed on his apartment door. He didn't know who did it, if it was Jinseok's orders, or someone else, but all of his meager worldly possessions were inside, and he wanted to grab on to whatever he could for the little bit of comfort it could give him.
Mostly he just wanted to be able to have access to his pills. He was crashing. Badly. He'd manage to wipe away most of the vomit on his chin (most of that ended up in the bushes just below the balcony railing), but the tears still came flooding out every ten minutes or so, which kept the snot flowing freely out of his nose too. It was hard not to cry when his entire body hurt this much. The ache was deep, right to his very bones, and he couldn't stop the tremors that wracked through his body every few seconds.
Junseo was a mess, and he knew it, but he couldn't do anything about it. He'd gone to Jinseok's penthouse, but he wasn't there. Out. On business. On business when Junseo needed him the most. Needed his drugs the most.
It was the second withdrawal Junseo had ever experienced, the first one that was accidental, and not forced on him by someone else. He'd never wanted to feel it again after he'd gone through the first one, but he never paid much attention to how much of a supply he kept. He was too reliant on Jinseok, too certain that if he ran out he could immediately go to Jinseok for a fresh set of pills.
And now he was here, crying all over his own vomit covered face in the middle of the Seoul night, because he couldn't get into his own apartment, and was afraid of going anywhere for help. Afraid that they'd send him home to his parents, and afraid what would happen if they saw their son like this.
Afraid that with this final disappointment there was no way in hell his dad would ever love him again.
The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and a sobbing brought a new wave of pain, which caused him to cry harder. A vicious, endless cycle.
He was so wrapped up in his own misery that he didn't hear the door down the walkway open. Didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching him. Didn't even realize his elderly neighbor hand left her apartment until she was kneeling next to him, her hand resting gently on to top of his head.
"Junseo... what have you done to yourself this time?"
Snot, lots of snot and sobbing, and something that almost sounded almost like an attempt at speaking, but didn't quite make it.
The old woman's voice wavered as she spoke again, her eyes closed as she began to run shaking fingers through his hair.
"Why are you doing this? You're such a good boy. Why did you do this?"
Why did he? Why did he do something like this to himself when it hurt so much? When it made the granny next door, who was always so good and nice to him, sound like she was about to cry? Junseo's shoulder shook as he buried his face against his knees, wailing as his snot and spit soaked into his jeans. He hated this. He didn't want to feel like this anymore, but he didn't know how to stop. When he was feeling good he didn't want to stop, but right now he wanted to never feel like this again.
His body felt so cold, and he ached so badly. Even as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her withered cheek against his face all Junseo could feel was how much he hurt. He might not feel the tremor in her hands as she held him close, but he heard her words, and her words were enough.
"You stupid boy."
The tremor in her voice was impossible to miss. Even Junseo, as out of it as he was, could hear it loud and clear.
"You stupid little boy."
He wanted to go inside his apartment and get warm, but the password had been changed on his apartment door. He didn't know who did it, if it was Jinseok's orders, or someone else, but all of his meager worldly possessions were inside, and he wanted to grab on to whatever he could for the little bit of comfort it could give him.
Mostly he just wanted to be able to have access to his pills. He was crashing. Badly. He'd manage to wipe away most of the vomit on his chin (most of that ended up in the bushes just below the balcony railing), but the tears still came flooding out every ten minutes or so, which kept the snot flowing freely out of his nose too. It was hard not to cry when his entire body hurt this much. The ache was deep, right to his very bones, and he couldn't stop the tremors that wracked through his body every few seconds.
Junseo was a mess, and he knew it, but he couldn't do anything about it. He'd gone to Jinseok's penthouse, but he wasn't there. Out. On business. On business when Junseo needed him the most. Needed his drugs the most.
It was the second withdrawal Junseo had ever experienced, the first one that was accidental, and not forced on him by someone else. He'd never wanted to feel it again after he'd gone through the first one, but he never paid much attention to how much of a supply he kept. He was too reliant on Jinseok, too certain that if he ran out he could immediately go to Jinseok for a fresh set of pills.
And now he was here, crying all over his own vomit covered face in the middle of the Seoul night, because he couldn't get into his own apartment, and was afraid of going anywhere for help. Afraid that they'd send him home to his parents, and afraid what would happen if they saw their son like this.
Afraid that with this final disappointment there was no way in hell his dad would ever love him again.
The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and a sobbing brought a new wave of pain, which caused him to cry harder. A vicious, endless cycle.
He was so wrapped up in his own misery that he didn't hear the door down the walkway open. Didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching him. Didn't even realize his elderly neighbor hand left her apartment until she was kneeling next to him, her hand resting gently on to top of his head.
"Junseo... what have you done to yourself this time?"
Snot, lots of snot and sobbing, and something that almost sounded almost like an attempt at speaking, but didn't quite make it.
The old woman's voice wavered as she spoke again, her eyes closed as she began to run shaking fingers through his hair.
"Why are you doing this? You're such a good boy. Why did you do this?"
Why did he? Why did he do something like this to himself when it hurt so much? When it made the granny next door, who was always so good and nice to him, sound like she was about to cry? Junseo's shoulder shook as he buried his face against his knees, wailing as his snot and spit soaked into his jeans. He hated this. He didn't want to feel like this anymore, but he didn't know how to stop. When he was feeling good he didn't want to stop, but right now he wanted to never feel like this again.
His body felt so cold, and he ached so badly. Even as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her withered cheek against his face all Junseo could feel was how much he hurt. He might not feel the tremor in her hands as she held him close, but he heard her words, and her words were enough.
"You stupid boy."
The tremor in her voice was impossible to miss. Even Junseo, as out of it as he was, could hear it loud and clear.
"You stupid little boy."