Chapter Text
The breeze of an autumn morning crept gently into the room, refreshing the environment in a pleasant way, caressing the pale and stripped skin of the young sleeper, completely exposed to the dim sunlight that tried to pierce the beige curtains. The blankets had become tangled during the night and the boy's flaps found themselves without a shield, with nothing to cover them. It wasn't necessarily cold, refreshing damp could be the right term to describe the pleasant temperature now widespread throughout the cabin. This caused the young man to slowly awaken from his sleep, cautiously opening his eyes to escape the light. Her hazel eyes colored the room, adorning her face in an enchanting way, but they lacked something: they didn't shine as they once did. Previously his eyes shone with their own light, illuminating the place around them or even struck people's souls. The sparkle was so characteristic of his irises that it was almost impossible not to see it all the time. But now it was gone, leaving the eyes to take on a color that is no longer special, albeit a particular one.
Adjusting his view to the natural light that shone in the room, the boy realized that he did not have the strength to move, much less get out of bed. A sigh left his delicate lips, he was used to this feeling. The restlessness that hovered around him had been following him for some years, after discovering his rank in society. He could feel the helplessness that surrounded him, a sense of incompleteness that he couldn't handle. At times, he felt its presence while conversing with someone, or while he was immersed in his books, or again, in the bathroom, while he ate, while studying.
The restlessness had decorated his life, sinking until it touched the roots of his being, of his essence. It has reached the innermost point of his dignity and his interiority, infiltrating its roots and remaining chained for a very long time, and it didn't seem willing to leave him in the near future. He couldn't forget that feeling, he knew it all too well, it was always there. Sometimes he felt it more, sometimes it faded and watched him carefully from afar, ready to intervene at the least opportune moment, but he could still feel it. It was an invisible presence, capable of emanating negative energy that he himself could not explain.
Suddenly the door opened, without giving the boy lying on the bed proper notice to cover his bare skin, revealing the authority figure of his father. The boy didn't turn around, it made no sense now, he was completely exposed to his father. The sense of unease had returned: now he felt uneasy. Nonetheless, he did not have the strength to move, thus he let his dignity disappear and step aside for the umpteenth time.
«Are you still like this? Yesterday you were in the exact same position, son, give yourself a wake up call» the man grumbled looking him up and down, without even taking into consideration the plausible discomfort of his own son in being stretched out in front of him without filters.
«I don't have the strength» the boy answered with difficulty.
«You're pathetic, hurry up, breakfast is ready»
«I'm not hungry,» he reiterated. It was true, in a way, his stomach felt weak, as if he were going to reject at any moment.
«Stop with these excuses and come and eat, you know we don't like to wait»
The tone clearly indicated that the father, and not even the mother, had the right time to ask him how he was and if he needed comfort. "It doesn't matter" was repeated each time before executing the command. Not even this time he could have acted on his own terms. He decided to get over it, it would make no sense to argue when he lacked practically all the strength.
He slowly proceeded to get out of bed, occasionally grunting from fatigue, until he was able to reach the wardrobe. He chose something comfortable, as he expected to stay at home all day, so a pair of shorts, high socks and an oversized shirt were fine.
Walking turned out to be very difficult in those conditions, especially since he was not mentally ready to get up and was not following the pace his own body was suggesting. He could feel his gut bounce incessantly at the very idea of ingesting food. It was too early for him, he had no appetite, and resist would lead to nothing. He didn't know how to talk about it with his parents, he knew that they would still respect their rules, without adapting to new ones. Dejected, the boy approached the dining room, where the two parents were waiting for him smiling, already with half-empty plates. "I knew they wouldn't wait for me."
Finally he took his seat at the table, bowed his head slightly and brought the first bite of food to his mouth. His hand trembled imperceptibly, making it almost impossible to be noticed. With a lot of effort he swallowed the food, helping himself with a glass of water, in the hope of not throwing the contents on the table decorated with precious tablecloths and napkins.
«Where's your binder, Jisung?»