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Jaemin was blank. He knew he should probably be doing something, but he couldn’t. The world was silent around him. Almost like it knew. You wouldn’t think he would be so conscious of the things around him. You wouldn’t think he could. But here he was. Hearing the sound of the bugs crawling around, and the wet squelching of the...thing in front of him.
Because he didn’t think that was a thing he knew anymore.
Gone was the shiny skin. The bright eyes. High cheekbones and glossy hair. Now it was rotten, and sunken in, and covered in dirt and dust. It stunk. In a way he couldn’t describe. Almost sweet, if he thought about it. Rancid, but sweet. Like when fruit becomes far too rotten, for even the bugs to eat. He couldn’t describe it, but he could tell anybody exactly what it was, should he smell this again.
It wasn’t a high traffic area, but he couldn’t hear anything. Not over the sounds of something with too many legs crawling through goop. Munching away on sagging flesh that peeled away from the bone like a well cooked roast. Leave it to Jaemin to compare a rotting corpse to food.
For some reason, his mind gave him an image. The defiant look in his eyes fading, losing hope. Cracked lips begging for help. For someone to find him in time. It won’t happen. His mind supplied. He wouldn’t be found in time. He was going to be left here to rot, after God only knows what happened to him. If they had gotten the tip maybe a week earlier.
Under the stairs in the old train station. He’s been there a while. Might wanna bring a mask.
Jaemin had insisted he go with them. Had begged and pleaded, and eventually threatened that he would go alone, if not with them. He had rushed in, no mask, pushing past overgrown weeds and holding onto the one shred of hope that he would uncover his entire world. And pull him into his arms, and take him to the hospital and things would be okay. Things won't be okay.
What the fuck is he supposed to do? Suddenly the sound around him had been turned up to ten. Like when you suddenly breach to the surface after being underwater for too long. The bugs were louder. The trickle of a stream nearby, sounded forty feet closer.
He gasped. The muscles in his stomach clenched and he hunched over. He didn’t know how long he was vomiting for, just that by the time he was done, the bugs had accepted it as their own. The sight of it made him gag again. Tears started burning in his eyes. He sank to the floor, knees pulling up to his chest, and he started sobbing. Gut wrenching.
He didn’t know when the rest of the station showed up behind him. Just that he screamed bloody murder when they tried to put the body in a bag. They were pulling Jaemin up gently, despite the fit he was throwing. Thrashing and screaming in between hiccups. He should have turned. Should have allowed himself to be pulled away, because if he had, he wouldn’t have had to see the way the body's arm twisted out of socket, and the way the pretty golden band fell to the floor. The way it’s head lolled back and a section of it’s jugular threatened to pop out.
Jaemin stopped. He stopped struggling. He stopped crying too. Nothing but absent hiccups wracking his chest as he watched the rest of the body get stuffed in a heavy duty trash bag. Not even solid enough for a genuine body bag. Nothing but hazardous material.
He allowed himself to be pulled away and into the back of a car. Some lady was comforting him, but he couldn’t even hear her. All that was left in his brain were flashes of life. Those same bright eyes and shimmering puppy smile. He curled up into the window, and went to sleep. But he should have known that the same thing would haunt him in his dreams. He should have.
“Jaem. Nana. Did you do the math homework?” Crescent eyes gleamed up at him.
“You’re so lazyyy. C’mere. You can copy off of me.”
“Babe? Have you made dinner yet? I kinda just want pizza tonight.” His eyes were tired, but still bright. Still shining just as much.
“That’s fine. We can get pizza.”
There were tears in his eyes. Happy. His hands were on his mouth and he was looking down at Jaemin, smiling. All of the emotions going through him, splayed out on his face.
“Yes. Always yes. I love you.”
But of course it cracked. The dream behind his eyes crumbled, and when Jaemin slid the ring on his finger, he jumped back when a rotting stub fell off in his hands. He looked up, and staring into his soul were two lifeless eyes. There was no life in them, there wasn’t even hope in them anymore. Just the depth of the realization that there was nothing he could do, and this was going to be how he died.
He woke up. He doesn’t know how many times he has woken up so far, from this exact dream. He doesn’t know why he still jumps when that finger falls off in his hand. Part of him wants to just hold on. Who knows, maybe they could be happy that way. Jaemin would never have to wake up.
He doesn’t know where he got them from. Remembering some dealer in a back alley. Didn’t even try to tell him that that much is deadly. He could probably see it in his eyes, that deadly was the point. He just handed him the bag and a sad pat on his back. He might have said get help soon, but Jaemin doesn’t remember.
He went to the graves. Not like it was his actual body down there. That was probably in some dumpster fire ashes. But this was the closest he could get. It was dark outside, and nobody was here. Just dewy grass climbing up around forgotten headstones.
He sat down next to one of them. It was perfect. Not a blade of grass out of place.
He tied a band around his arm. Heated it up till it was liquid. Couldn’t even find it in himself to cringe at the dinghy needle. He didn’t even feel it going in. He felt the burn in his veins and the way his eyes seemed to sink into their sockets. He felt the way his toes curled around nothing and the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, when he sagged against the stone.
This is how he goes. He never took the needle out. Didn’t get the chance. But eventually the spinning became too much, and he let go. Next to the headstone of his beloved.
Jeno