ㅤᴅᴏᴏʀ ⋮ A23

after the uneventful visit to the lounge for the arrival of his food, baek retreats back to his apartment. sullen and tired, he can’t even begin to fathom how he would make it to work tomorrow— all he wants to do is collapse into his bed and, if possible, fill more of his veins with alcohol. it would do him better to stay in his own lane, and not interact with any people for a few days. at least for the good of his sanity. he was so dumb, so dumb; every time he thought back on it he realized how foolish he truly was for believing that what they had could go anywhere. it wouldn’t— she was gone, and as he collapses into his bed he realizes that all he has to remind him of her is the inevitable scent of hers, buried in between the wrinkles of his bedsheets.

@❛ yein jung。 head turning sharply to face the door at the mysterious and sudden knock, baekhyun's eyebrows furrow even deeper; he was a generally friendly person but on a day like this, when his thoughts were disturbed by the worries of the whereabouts of his secrets, it was likely he could snap toward anyone unlucky enough to find themselves in his way. shaking to loosen his tense body a bit, the gray haired male made his way over to the door which awaited his aid. slim fingers wrapping around the doorknob, baekhyun pulled the door open with a deep breath; he was pleasantly surprised at the appearance of his own friend looking almost nervous.

he had learned to expect one of two things upon seeing yein's visage outside his apartment: she would either enter and fill his apartment with laughter, or she would come in screaming her head off in a rant about her lovely situation. however, before he could greet her a tired hello, she had already begun speaking. as she spoke, he realized with terror the reason for her appearance— his eyes traced downward until they reached the target, his own worn journal resting in her arms. with widened eyes, baekhyun tucked his hands tightly into the pockets of his hoodie in order to prevent himself from giving into his urges to reach out and snatch the book of secrets from her arms. what was he going to do? his past, all his secrets that he had struggled to keep hidden from everyone but himself and his therapist were going to be revealed to the entirety of the complex- until, words that he never would have expected to hear in this situation left her lips. a... story? she thought that it was a story? of course, he knew that she was a writer herself but was it not painstakingly obvious that it was his story? in this situation, all baekhyun could do was thank the world's creators for yein's blatant naivety as it has saved him in this situation. "a-ah.. really? you think it's a good story." yes, it was a story but it was not a pleasant one to live. he tried to fake nonchalantness, wondering if she could so easily see through his exterior facade. he was shaking on the inside- his sensitive past almost slipped through his fingers.

in his wilderness, he desperately searches for something to say, to continue the act. "the lead character is kind of a drag, right..? always feeling sorry for himself," he manages, wanting to slap himself for his stupidity.

he's all over the walls of the apartment hallways, his palms upon them, being dragged along- a substantial proportion of his body's weight leaned and transferred onto it. chanyeol struggled to maintain his balance, stupor and posture- basically be able to walk normally- to make it back to his apartment in one piece without crashing; into walls, doors, the elevator, the floor.. somehow in some dumb way of sheer luck and formed miracle, he felt and thought like he had made it to his door. on second thought, he didn't know. he couldn't tell. all the floors and all the doors looked pretty much the same to him by this point. chanyeol could care less. he was just so, so exhausted- completely worn out from the flight back from thailand, to binging down shots- from carrying the heavy weight of baggage; every piece of shattered, broken emotional fragment there, existing, as a dark and debilitating deterrent.

chanyeol just wants to sleep. sleep- just lay resting in tranquility for as long as he could, because he's sick of himself- sick of feeling in such demoralizing ways, jaded by the multitude of chagrins that run deep- etched underneath his skin. layers past his arrogant facade, behind the deception of his smiling visage. the dystopia he desperately tries to hide over and over again, doing anything he can in his power to prevent it from ever reaching the windows to his soul, even in the slightest. it's not his best effort, submerging and drowning himself in such amounts of intoxication, and he knows it too, but anything- just anything to keep it hidden. anything, to forget. everything, to obscure- to stop the recollection from welling up and pouring out through his eyes. everything, he's tried, to reincarnate it into something more delicate, promising- beautiful.

physically, chanyeol's body gives out, unable to carry himself home. collapsing to his knees just before the door, chanyeol crawls over to the wall to at least, leaning his back against it. straightening his legs out before him, he hangs his head heavily, both in shame and defeat.