Work Text:
This place is nothing without him.
Minho had moved into his new apartment a week ago, since he broke up with his ex, yet he still couldn't find it in himself to throw out his belongings, which lingered with him, all in one neatly put-together box. It sat tucked away in the back corner of his wardrobe, and he'd stare at it from time to time, feeling more lonely as the days passed. All he could remember was the fragments of their end, of the ex sobbing, his heart completely shattered, whilst he himself was cold and detached. Every day just felt like he was increasingly going insane from the lack of noise in the empty rooms that were left undecorated and bare. They felt cold and lifeless. Minho found it hard to breathe when staring down at the box of memories he never wished to unravel. How could he have been so stupid?
Two weeks, and it remained gathering dust. Secondary rooms were still left to be decorated, the personality of the owner completely hidden from sight. During the relationship, Minho had thought he had already lost all hope, but he could see it was much worse now. Everything of his brought sad memories that intruded their way into his present thoughts. He couldn't even look in the mirror without seeing the other lingering behind him, and without staring at himself with hatred. If he knew how hard it was to even breathe without him, maybe he wouldn't have done it.
Maybe the other had already moved on from the heartbreak. Minho walked past him in the street. He was laughing with his group of friends, whilst Minho was alone, hood up, listening to music. The dull ache in his heart, seeing him, said everything. If his former lover could even just look at him with hatred, he would still be happy meeting his eyes once more. Look at me with hatred if it means you can let everything out. Please.
The third week dragged by, and some more furniture was up in the otherwise bare rooms. It still couldn't hide the disruption that hit his life. He caused it.
If Minho ended the relationship because his feelings disappeared, why was it so excruciating to live now? Thoughts of how he went through with it were hard to bear, and the guilt weighed down on his chest. It was suffocating. He said he was sorry, but was he ever when he disregarded the other's feelings so horrendously? Thinking of his name would tear his soul apart. He'd been through this before; it's nothing new.
The next week was him clearing things out. He couldn't handle getting ready for the day, tears rolling down his cheeks at the mere thought of the box sitting there as an eternal reminder of his actions. It was hard to think whilst going through everything. The pounding of his heart rang through to his ears when the panic of losing everything he had then was brought up all over again. It couldn't all go to waste, the clothes, the other's favourite book, the stuffed animal his ex spent his first real paycheque on. Minho flipped through all the apps he was blocked on, not a single one available to vent at the very least. He regrets everything.
He threw the whole box away, chucking it into the tip, soon to be lost in a landfill. He did it to feel clean, but nothing ever worked out; his guilt could never be scrubbed away.
In his last week, Minho couldn't even leave his bed; everything of his was removed, a clean slate, but he felt disgusted by himself. Looking at his own reflection only made him hate himself further. If it's only about love, he was only for him.
Jisung saw what happened that day, but how could Minho have known? It was finally peaceful, and the weight was lifted from him. Minho could finally breathe properly again before he could no longer. Is it because you weren't here to hold my hand?
If it's only our end, it's only the end.