AFF Fiction Portal

Fate

By: candiedapple
folder Romance › Slash - Male/Male
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 1
Views: 1,015
Reviews: 3
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

In Yeon

Title: In Yeon
Summary: A young man finally breaks. Will he finally find happiness in death? Or will he be doomed to suffer depression in the afterlife?


A/N: This story...well. It didn't start off as a story. I just needed to get some things out in the open. So..I guess..the first bit, until the actual suicide, is all true. After that though, its all just a flight of fancy. I hope you enjoy it, but even if you don't that's fine.

Oh yes. I apologize for this chapter to be so short. Actually. It's more of a prologue. Yeah. Then the shortness is okay. I can't promise quick updates. I don't know when inspiration to write will happen. Just know that it will. Eventually.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


I can't do this anymore.

I'm not sure when the realization hit. Maybe it was when my boss expected more of me than I ever wanted or could give. Or maybe it was when my mom needed me to be her rock when her relationship with my dad went down the crapper. Or just maybe it was when my brother said For some reason, he adores you. It was said so mean and hateful. Like I wasn't worth anything at all. Maybe I'm not.

I mean, once again I'm painted as the villain. I jokingly say Evil keeps me young. But I don't mean it. I'm only cruel because I have so much pain and despair bottled up inside. I know all this and still can't help the snide remark or two.

But to have family just bust in your room while you're sleeping only to say something so cruel. It hurt.

Deeply.

I don't care if its not considered manly to cry. I really don't, and it showed as I wept as quietly as possible. But I only did so after he left my room. I thought for once I was beginning to get happy again. I was doing little things to improve my mood and lift that all encompassing depression I hated.

Six small words destroyed what little happiness was building. Six small words sent me hurdling back into the darkness.

This time I welcomed it.

Why should I be afraid of the dark? The light held far scarier times. It was the beginning of a bright and beautiful day when I found out my grandmother had passed. The same was true a couple months later when my cousin left this world. The same again two months later when my cousin's sister succumbed to her cancer. And then again as my uncle passed.

So much death and sadness. And it all happened with eight months. Even though that was a couple years ago, I still haven't had time to properly grieve. I couldn't. I had to be strong. So I put on a smile and pretended everything was okay. But it wasn't.

I've thought more about leaving this world behind since they left. Several times a week I eye the Xacto knife by my craft supplies or the half full bottle of Midrin a prescription strength migraine medicine. The bottle says no more than six a day. I wonder what would happen if I took twice that. Would I get sleepy? Nauseous? Or would my stubborn body expel the would be poison so that I could live yet another day..?

I suppose it doesn't matter. I don't have the guts to OD even though that would be the quickest and easiest way to go.

Once, I danced with death and a sharp pair of scissors. I left at least five straight little lines on my inner arm. At the time, I enjoyed the slight pain as thin welts were raised. They hardly bled at all. Yet, in the end I was ashamed of my actions. I tried to hide the marks and ended up wearing those rubber wristbands to cover the marks. Ironically, one said CELEBRATE LIFE.

No one noticed. Well. Not no one. I'm a customer service clerk so I get to deal with annoying customers eight hours a day. One day the bands slipped down and my scabbed over welts were showing. I noticed a customer glancing to them but they didn't say anything. In fact, they kinda left quickly. Just because I hurt myself doesn't mean I'll hurt them. Geez. After that, I let the bands slip on purpose. I wanted to see if anyone would say anything. Would they be concerned? Would they care?

No.

They wouldn't. And why should they? I'm no one to them. Just like how I'm no one with my own family.

I should have known that would be the answer though. A couple years before this..before my closest family left me I tried to cry for help. It was during a particularly bad bout of depression, I expressed my extreme sadness to an adult I trusted. I remember telling her between sniffles as I cried, "A lot of the time, I don't even know why I bother to get out of bed." I wanted to be saved then. I wanted that dark cloud lifted from my life. I wanted help.

She just smiled, and went on about how there was much to live for. Well. For about five minutes she did. Then she went back to reading the messages on her blackberry. I realized then how much I was worth to her. If I was someone else, her child perhaps, would she have done everything in her power to help me out of that funk?

It was time for me to go. I'm nothing but a hindrance to my family. Hey. With me gone, at least my siblings would finally get their own room..! And mom wouldn't have to remind me of how much of a failure I am because I don't have a license. No matter how much I tell her driving induces panic attacks...she doesn't care. I apparently am just being silly and need to grow up.

So I'm going to leave.

Oddly enough, I feel a small amount of happiness and peace from this.

It's November and its cold outside. It doesn't bother me. I probably won't feel the cold for long. I grab the slim Xacto and then leave the house. Across the street is a wooded vacant lot. That seems like a good enough place.

As I walk, I look to moon pale arms. I never could get a tan. With a smile, I cut into both arms. I think maybe I cut really deep into my right wrist because I dropped the craft knife when I switched hands. I think I severed the tendons.

The heat of my blood felt nice against my chilled arms. It was comforting in a way. I blinked slowly as my vision swirled and blacked around the edges. I must be loosing a lot of blood and fast. Breathing slowly, I dropped to the leaf littered ground and only barely managed to lean against a tree for support.

So this is what its like to die. This comforting numbness feels wonderful. Why didn't I do this sooner??

Leaning my head back against the tree, I allowed myself a small smile, my heart stopped beating and my lungs ceased to supply oxygen to my organs. I died and I did it with a true smile on my face.

It's kinda weird what happens after death. No religion really gets it right, but the Christians did better than others I suppose. There is a warm, comforting, loving light. I wanted to get closer. I tried to in fact. Only, it was like my feet were made of lead and I couldn't move. I was confused until realization hit.

That paradise wasn't for me.

The Catholics got it even more right. Once I understood my fate, as I had taken my life before my time was supposed to be over, I began free falling into darkness.

I guess..I should have known even in death I wasn't allowed to be happy or be loved. In a way, I deserve Hell.