l o v e / h a t e: 2013

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Monday, May 27, 2013

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Saturday, May 11, 2013

choi minho opens his eyes, body stiffened and sight blurred. he feels numb, he can't feel anything, he can't even think straight - the thing that filled his mind was only the steady beep of something. the blinding white light floods his sight, making him feel dizzy, hazed, making him feel that he doesn't belong there.

he could hear the steady clicking of people's footsteps, the sound of a door being pushed open, and sighs of relief wafting through his ears.

he was too tired to care.

"choi minho, can you hear me?"

struggling, he nods weakly, his eyes drooping low, the beeping sound becoming slower. he could hear gasps and muffled shrieks, but he was bound to his position, and he cannot respond to anything.

his consciousness was slipping.

"choi minho, can you remember what happened?"

he shakes his head weakly, until finally his eyes drop shut again.

3 weeks

minho can hear voices.

whispers of he's weak, traumatized, too many shock passes through his ears, his eyes shut and breathing relaxed. he still can't think that well, but he wants to desperately know why they were talking as if he was weak. he wasn't weak, minho knows and believes that strongly, but he couldn't help but to think that they were maybe true.

his heartbeat was now erratically growing strong, shocking the people near him. he could know that by their shocked gasps and the desperate foootsteps they make, a sharp screech echoing in his mind.

he feels his consciousness slipping again - he gasps, eye opening wide, as he fists his knuckles, seeing them for the first time, their faces unfamiliar, as something was put down - something, he can't remember, and he feels like he can't breathe again, the beeping sound slowing down, only their breathing was heard, until he was limp, he can't move, as he feels someone's warm fingers clutching his own.

"minho. sleep."

and so he does exactly that.

1 month

the sound was clearer and sharper now.

beep. beep. beep.

he slowly opens his eyes, just like a person from their deep slumber - the light momentarily blinding him, until he can see clearly. he could see the surrounding. it was a hospital's room. flowers were everywhere - some almost wilted, some fresh, and the smell overwhelmed him. he quickly moves his arms to cover his nose, as a small grunt was heard -

his arms was casted.

so was his legs, they were casted, making him unable to move. he freezes again, blinking his eyes. he tries to scream and shout for help - but his voice was caught in his throat, rendering him speechless. how - how?

a screeching sound resounded in the air as he shrieks, the blood, the limbs, the shards - all of them comes tumbling down, his skin felt that it was being pierced for real, he feels like coughing blood -

he can remember those people rushing through his room, someone's face familiar, as he felt a sharp jab in his arm, him sucking a deep breath, until he feels woozy, sleepy - he falls back with a big thud, some of them breaking down in sobs.

2 months

his fingers are twitching.

he groans, squinting his eyes, pushing himself upright with his elbows. he steadies for a moment, and then he opens his eyes. he was greeted by pairs of eyes staring at him, some of them in shock, some of them spilling tears, some not looking at him. the smell of antiseptic sickens him, but he tries to hold it. he can't afford to lose another moment of his consciousness again.

he only has one question now.

"what happened?"

the atmosphere in the room tensed, as one of them shifts uncomfortably, minho raising his eyebrows, knuckling his fists. he can see his mother and father shifting uncomfortably, as he gulps.

"mother, father, what happened?"

his mother breaks down in tears, as he widens his eyes - why, why, why?

he feels his head pounding, glimpses of something terrible and demented crashing through his sense, as he yelps, as they all stand up, as he shrieks, as they rush down to his side, someone grabbing a syringe from the bedside, as he remembers jinki's voice screaming, as he can hear taemin's scream, as the needle punctures deep inside his skin, as he feels everything turn black.

he can remember his own pleads.

4 months

"minho, shinee was involved in a car crash. you were the only one that survived."

a sob and a scream could be heard throughout the whole corridor.

"please tell me this is only a dream, it's only a nightmare, please, please, i beg you - please - "

minho could remember someone's body draping over his own, as he weakly struggles to stand up.

crimson red painted the scene, full of body limbs and fire, metals and shards sticking on their bodies, a long piece of glass sticking out from jinki's body, taemin's eyes hazed and back cracked, and kibum's own arm snapped off from his body.

he could remember himself vomiting bile and blood, as a metal from the car crashes on his back, melted from the fire that was caused.

all he could see was black and blood.

7 months

"choi minho, the only remaining shinee member that was caught in a terrible car crash 7 months ago, decided to retire from the entertainment scene and settled down somewhere unknown, leaving fans questioning and grieving."

minho could only snort as empty bottles of alcohol lay sprawled inside his room, shaking his head and gulping another shot of the wicked liquid, his throat feeling like it was being burned. he didn't care. the media could mock at him for being so selfish, leaving shinee's name, but he didn't care. he was tired, weak, depressed, clausthrophobic, all of that, and he knows people doesn't care.

he's sick of living up to people's expectation.

he's sick of it.

and he misses them.

he sips the liquid again, trying to erase his thoughts of that, the whole thing.

11 months

he was still in denial.

1 year

it was one year since jonghyun's, taemin's, jinki's, and kibum's death. the whole television channel that exists in this world was broadcasting their story, about how they were the one of the best idols that appeared in this century, how they sing so beautifully live, about the tragedy of their death, about the disappearance of the one remaining member, choi minho.

minho could only laugh at them.

he could only laugh, tears painting his face.

16 months

minho found a stable job, became fluent in english, making sure that people doesn't recognize him - he was living his dream life after he was an idol - quiet, peaceful, had a few friends, and free.

he cut-off any contacts with sm entertainment and his parents, his past friends, his past sunbaenims, his past hoobaes, his fellow idol fans, and all of his fans. he wants nothing of them, he wants to be alone.

to be free.

but yet those nightmares never seem to stop.

18 months

it was the smtown concert in england.

he visited the concert.

he couldn't help but to cry.

20 months

minho feels numb.

numbed from all the pain, all of the exhaustion, all the remorse, all the guilt, all the hurt. he can't believe that it was already months from when they left him, because he feels like it was forever, and the fact that he was actually breathing now confuses him.

he tries to calm down his breathing, to stop his tears, but it got no results. memories thudded off in his mind (both good and bad), making him feel dizzy, hazed from all of the hugs and warm embraces, of the little scolds and praises he always get from them, all of the screams and cries of pain.

minho shudders.

getting up to his feet, he makes his way to the cabinet, grabbing a glass and the coffee powder jar. he dumps 2 handful scoops of the powder inside his glass and stalks off to the water dispenser, pouring the hot water inside. he grabs a random spoon and stirs the coffee, focusing his gaze at the swirls it formed. his gaze lazily following the patterns the swirls makes.

he takes the cup in his calloused hands, blinking. he needs the bitter taste (it calms him). minho takes an apprehensive sip, closing his eyes when the bitter taste clouds his mind. he sips it again, and again, and again - drowning in the taste, numbing it all.

finishing it all, he slams the cup down to the table, breathing raggedly.

"god," he breathes again, gripping the handle of the cup with such force (he feels like it would shatter in any moment).

"damn it."

"NO!" onew shrieked, as the driver turns the steer harshly, but it was too late, too late -

suddenly -

glass shattered, everyone shrieked, jinki screamed on top of his lungs, taemin's cries resounding, crimson flowing out, the slipping consciousness -

everything went wrong, everything needs to be rewound, everything needs to be fixed, this couldn't happen - the shrieks and painful groans and blood and cracked backs and shattered ribs were everywhere -

minho could feel his tears slipping as jonghyun weakly leaped on him, protecting him from the glass of shard that pierced jonghyun's neck, red splattering everywhere, cutting his artery, his voice blocked, and eyes glazed.

minho could only weakly clutch on jonghyun's lifeless body, hoping that it wasn't real.

2 years

he wakes up.

minho doesn't notice the tears that began to spill. he doesn't notice that he was shaking, shaking from rage, from guilt, from sadness, from everything. the curtains were closed, with only a speck of sunlight passing through the slit that was opened. the room was cramped (it makes him feel claustrophobic). the room was messy, because minho hardly can ever care about that right now.

memories of that day comes tumbling down again, the loud screech and the screams and the whole cries echoing in his mind. he remembers the pain, the shrieks, the pleads of no, the crash, everything - everything (it's not that he wants to remember). he shivers, gritting his teeth.

"oh god," he breathes out loud.

he forcibly pushed himself out from the bed, standing upright and walking to the kitchen. he needs coffee - pure, plain black coffee - it always helps to calm down himself (a certain someone told him so).

yah, minho-hyung, what are you doing? are you seriously considering to leave your maknae alone?

his eyes widens as that voice resonates through his head, legs wobbling. that melodious voice, that squeaky, little voice - he takes deep breaths, supporting himself in the dining table (he was shaking because of that painful realization).

get your life together, choi minho. you've gotten over this.

gulping, he tries to take timid steps -

his eyes darted to the picture frame on the corner -

in that second, he gave up.

he collapses, tears streaming freely now. he was crouching down, screaming, cursing at the world for being so cruel, for being so insane. he screams for them, he screams because they were so cold-hearted, for being so uncaring, so remorseless. how can they leave him alone, how could they? how could they?

"please," he croaks. "i don't want to believe this."

he was in denial (again).

"why," he murmurs, face contorted from pain, sadness, anger, and remorse, tears still streaking his cheeks, breathing raggedly. he punches the tiles on the floor, his knuckles cracking, hissing from the pain.

"how could you."

3 years

"so i'm finally with you guys," minho laughs dryly, kicking the dirt beside their graves. there were only wilted flowers left. fans apparently doesn't care about them four anymore - so much for being fans.

minho snorts.

"i hate you four for leaving me," he continues, tears escaping his eyelids, against his own will. "how could you - how could you even leave me like this? you left me alone, here, do you know how i'm so mad at you guys? i can consider about killing you all now," he sobs.

"but you're all dead."

he groans again, gritting his teeth, tears flowing freely, choked, his vision blurred - he could remember the blood again, the screams, the lifeless eyes, even though he tried so hard to forget them, they still were there, making him confused, dizzy - he could only scream again, agony ripping throughout his own body, but minho can't hate them - they were the only one that he really loves.

"please don't go," he pleads.

"please. please, please tell me this is all a dream."

(but of course, they were already gone, long ago.)

(this was all, but a dream.)