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LEE KNOW ✩ YOUTH

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[ 00:43 ]

PAIRING: lee minho x reader/oc TAGS: angst, no comfort RATING: 18+, mature | WARNINGS: dark themes, depression, additional trigger warnings located under the cut will contain spoilers for the fic!

WORD COUNT: 1,182 | SUMMARY: Take away the well meant words, the songs that don't help and the smiles that aren't real… call it despair if you want, but something fake hurts more than anything.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: please be aware that this fic will contain topics that some may find extremely upsetting or triggering, such as: main character death, suicide, binge drinking, extreme depression, self harm. if i missed any, please let me know.

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I have always loved the flowers and the birds, loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by. I have always loved the way the leaves move in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make, like nature loves to chatter too. Yet the tiredness that began a while ago remains like a veil over my skin, gray and cold. And as I watch the petals and the twigs that sway outside the window, there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy.

Words are worn, paper creased. Folded and unfolded time and time again. The words are all but illegible now but he doesn’t need the letters on the page. He memorized the letter a long time ago. He carries it with him everywhere, tucked inside the fold of his wallet, right behind your photo.

It sits like November rain on my skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. At any other time I would’ve called a friend, asked for the warmth I needed to ward it off, just a little is enough. No longer. Now I just let it come, drop by drop and I feel like it is an ocean falling upon me instead of rain - that the grief of years I carefully suspended has all condensed right above my head into a cloud large enough to block the sun. They say it can't rain forever, that there will come a time when it must cease, that the last drop will have fallen. Thing is, I just don't care.

Funny, he thinks. The same cold November rain drizzles over his shoulders and hunched back. The shivering passed some time ago, about half a bottle ago. Amber liquid swishes as the glass rim meets chapped lips. Glass is all that his lips kiss now, anything else feels too warm and too real. He wonders when you stopped fighting against the cold, when your shivers became the normal and that the calm of a summer day became unbearable.

What I need will never come and no matter how much I look for it, I won’t find it. I wasn't born for great things, nor to find my place in the sun. I could try every day, work for what I want and need, but there are no paths to success, not from here. People talk as if I dream my way out, simply discover a version of me that only sees the opportunities and ignores the noise, the distractions and the people who only say "no" because they don't believe in themselves, so how can they believe in me? So take away the well meant words, the songs that don't help and the smiles that aren't real... call it despair if you want, but something fake hurts more than anything.

The words echo in him, resonate as if striking the last chord alive in his chest. How did he miss this? How did he miss the way your smile stopped sparkling in your eyes and the way your laugh no longer made your head fall back as if one body couldn’t contain it all. How had he missed the way your shine began to dull?

I can't recall the last time I reached out for that child-self I once was, the kid who loved sunshine and rain all the same. I started to see darkness around the lights instead of the other way around, and soon there were no more colors in my world. For so long I was okay with living in a world without color, without warmth, as long as I was with you. It wasn't a color but you brought something. Sometimes I could remember what orange felt like when your hair was that color. I remember it became my favorite color while you had it. I could remember what pink felt like after the first time I kissed you. I thought your cheeks would stay that way forever.

He was such a coward that day. He was a coward every day, he thinks. All he wanted to do was kiss you, looking at your lips everytime you spoke or laughed. Everytime he tried or convinced himself to try, he chickened out the last second. You had noticed at some point, you told him months into dating. Apparently you'd caught on and wanted to see how long it would take for him to finally kiss you and when the night was ending and he was standing very awkwardly on your doorstep you took pity on Lee Minho and kissed him first. However the next day he kissed you in the middle of the courtyard with everyone watching and it was your turn to be pink cheeked and shy.

Please, when you think of me, remember the good things. The great things. Know that you brought just a little color into my gray world. Know that your love spread warmth even when I didn't ask for it and that I will forever love you. My last day was exactly how I wanted it to go and I hope that one day you'll forgive me for using you like that.

The memory is sharp, painful. He didn't know anything you had planned. If he had he would have done everything he could think of to change your mind. To keep you next to him, to keep your hand in his. You two had done all your favorite things together, just the two of you. He should have seen it then, looking back. He should have realized that was your goodbye to him, that was your way of leaving him all your good parts, all your love. You had no idea that leaving him would take all his color too.

But mostly, I hope that you will move on. That you'll do all the things we said we would do, maybe by yourself. But I hope you do them with someone else, someone that deserves all your color and all your warmth. I hope you love again, I hope you smile again. I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to stay, I'm sorry that our love wasn't enough to keep me here. I hope you forgive me for that too. I will love you forever, Minnie.

Before long the paper is soaked through from the light rain. Hand out stretched in front of him, page fluttering in the wind that has picked up as the storm rolls in. He lets the letter go, watching as the rain soaked paper flutters off into the swallowing darkness. He won't need it where he's going.

There’s only the sound of wind whistling past his ears. Rain falls on his face but he barely feels it. He hasn’t felt anything but the pain of missing you, the loss of your smile and your laugh. He wonders if this was the last thing you felt. The pleasant emptiness of nothing, of falling freely without fear of the landing. Eyes close as the darkness swallows him too.

He hopes he gets to ask you but first he’s going to kiss you.

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if his cheeks are not edible then why so bread shaped? 😔💙 cr. namuspromised

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Lee Know according to tumblr tags

Happy Minho day!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

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HAPPY LEE KNOW DAY 😺 OCTOBER 25th, 1998

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MINHO / ATE Stages

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lee know + studio choom

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This is your and my YOUTH

Happy birthday, Lee Know!

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Suddenly having the want to write the fics I’ve had on hiatus

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me: this time i’m writing for fun

also me: agonizes over every word like my life depends on it

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the urge to write never leaves but the motivation to do so is a lover lost at war

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And they called it puppy love

Happy birthday, Seungmin!

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Just slipped on a banana peel, this day couldn't get any fucking worse

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Putting aside how surreal it is to use these stupid ass terms like unalive and grape and SA in modern vernacular it is actually so evil that things that are already stigmatized enough to even talk about are fully becoming bad words to even speak aloud along with how painful it must be to have your experience referred to in an almost comical way because someone is either so adjusted to internet speak they do it instinctually OR worst case scenario they want to be able to cover their ass when it comes to keeping their stupid fucking internet content monetized and uploaded

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“There are two types of people you will meet in your life. One will run a finger down the index of who you are and jump straight to the parts of you that peak their interest. The other will take his or her time reading through every one of your chapters and maybe unfold corners of you that inspired them most. You will meet these two people; it is a given. It is the third that you’ll never see coming. That one person who not only finishes your sentences, but keeps the book.”

— Unknown