#I might post two tmrw👀

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

ooo for the one word prompt thingy: choleric !

Choleric: hot-tempered, irate | Suit Saeran

(this one screamed angy manbaby to me lol)

Why?

Why weren't you breaking?

He grit his teeth a little harder, gripping the flowerpots and shoving them sideways off their shelves with far too much force, sending them crashing to the ground.

He tore flowers from their stems, yanking plants up by their roots. Crushed the fragile things in his dirt-covered hands and beneath his feet with a vicious series of ruthless stomps.

Petals, soil and jagged ceramic fragments littered the floor like a warzone, the relentless attacker destroying everything in his path like an indignant child throwing a violent, rampaging tantrum.

His breathing was heavy and ragged, the tension in his fingers turning his knuckles white, eyebrows furrowed.

'You're weak. Why can't you just give in and break like these useless flowers?!' he screamed at no one in particular. It was aimed at you, but the stained corpses of Ray's "friends" were his only audience.

He felt as if every fibre of his being was brimming with long-burried fury, tearing at his insides.

Ray had tried to repress it. Repress him. That idiot didn't want his precious prince/ss to catch a hint of anything that might disappoint or upset them. He wanted them to think he was perfect and squeaky clean until he couldn't hide his patheticness anymore. What an airhead.

He wanted to destroy everything Ray had touched. Everything.

Would he feel better, then?

When he'd destroyed everything the way the world had tried to erase him?

When he held no cards, but the tattered proof that no one would dare hurt him again?

When everything had been torn apart at the seams by his own bruised, numb hands?

Even you…?

In his angry daze, Saeran grabbed at the roses, only realising his mistake and untensing his grasp when he felt a sudden sharp pain as a couple of thorns pierced his pale skin.

He took a sharp intake of breath, wincing slightly. Hot, angry tears burned at the back of his eyes.

Finally pausing, he examined his surroundings, allowing his breathing to slow.

There was nothing left to break.

Only you.

And yet… why did the thought of throwing you away not sit right with him? More than that, it made his head hurt and his chest knot and there was still that sick feeling in his stomach.

It was endlessly frustrating.

But most of all, he felt empty.

Empty as he dropped to his knees, in the middle of the mess he'd made, the pain sinking in and the tears stinging. Empty as the exhaustion kicked in and he sunk further to the floor.

He let out a tiny sob before choking it back.

'What are you doing to me?'

He was so tired of being angry all the time. But it was all he knew. All he could do,

… to keep us alive.