Like a blackhole that sucked in everything in whole, Jungkook's inner self had swallowed him wholly. He was residing in his thoughts, drowning in them and at the same time, he was completely detached from them.

It was a spiral down here and Jungkook felt himself falling in it for a while, and at the end as he reached the bottom of the whirlpool deep down below, which turned out to be an oblivion— never ending, he was stuck there.

The first day the truth crashed down onto him, it him hard and tough, but it wasn't an avalanche that had fallen, but a blizzard. The storm kept brewing within him.

He couldn't remember what his reactions were after the glimpses of the memories showed up, he knew he threw up, sobbed and cried, and screamed, perhaps. Now it was going exactly the same way, he couldn't tell properly if it was yesterday when he had found himself confined in a spacious bedroom with a king sized bed, a kind of bed he had never laid on before, an AC that worked properly, a yellow lamp on the bedside table, and the grey coated walls. A woman with long black hair, Diana, he couldn't even look at her properly.

Every time she'd enter he would feel the shivers in his hands, his stomach reeling inwards, and his gut wanting to be overflowed and his head dizzy. Panic would rise and it would be so evident that Diana would back away.

She would give him food, which he didn't touch the first times, he didn't know how many meals that was but then he grew too weak and he ate a little anyway.

She also gave him medicine that he didn't take at first, but there was a very very panicked state, when he felt like crying and screaming until his throat would give in, but he couldn't shed a single tear and he felt so devastated that he wanted to drown himself in something. The thought terrified him. He then took the white rounded pill and after a while it made him dizzy. He slept like a log, didn't awoke for many hours. At least the memories didn't snap out of him in the blackout.

Diana tried to talk to him, touch him, in a friendly way, but didn't he go through this before as well? Friendly touches, soothing words and actions of affection, it terrorized him. He would start to breath rapidly again and Diana would leave.

She did tell him that the first time he cried for hours, he was uncontrollable and raging, in that state he got up and started looking for something. Diana didn't know what but Jungkook managed to run towards the kitchen, he found a knife and Diana was afraid for her life, but he tried to cut himself with that.

Something would've definitely happened if Diana didn't struggle to stop him. The boy didn't know if this was true, but it could be, because when his memory would start to dig up by themselves, or he'd realize he really lived all his life with that scar, or by nothing, simply sometimes none of that would come up, he would feel angsty for no reason and it would feel like his head would combust, and he would die to strangle himself, drown, or do something.

He would take the pills then.

It killed him even more inside. Because no matter what, he still ate, he still went to the toilet by the bedroom when he needed to, he took the pills when the apprehensions grew too big. Though he would live through all that in a daze.

Jungkook had found himself stuck in a maze and he didn't care and cared a lot at the same time.

The room's door would be locked most of the time when Diana would go out. She most possibly had a mediocre job of nine to five, it definitely paid well to rent this apartment in Gangnam.

Gangnam, Jungkook remembered where he was. His head had started to hurt again, he felt tired and exhausted.

How long had he been here? There wasn't a clock in the room, it was poorly furnished but was it always like that?

Did Diana lock the door because in a frenzy Jungkook could try to harm himself again? Did she take away all the furniture on that same thought?

Or was it all to keep him in? Was it so he wouldn't escape?

Panic started to rise again.

His hands were clammy with sweat. The door wasn't lock now, it was probably night and Diana was probably at home. The thoughts started to churn inside of him but rather than the ruminations involving Mrs Noh, his profession as a camboy, or what Diana did to him that day, something else was occuring. Rather than feeling ashamed, revolted, repulsed at himself, Jungkook thought and thought,

How long had he really been in here?

Why did he never get up to go out the door anyway? It was within his reach.

But if he tried to, he'd see Diana and even a glimpse of her, or her voice would reach down to his other side of the brain and the other thoughts would start clawing at him. Sometimes he really cried so hard he couldn't remember anything. It might have been scary because even she was avoiding him.

Jungkook looked at the bedside table and saw two of those round pills lying there, meant that he hadn't touched them in the morning, the evening one too, yet.

How long had he been here?

He could barely incline his head from the bed but for the first time, he turned his head around to take it in clearly. He was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, he didn't know if this was the attire he arrived wearing at first. A closet at one corner of the room laid with its doors gaping, and he noticed men's clothing hanging there.

That was merely it. But he must've stayed here for longer.

How come he couldn't properly remember what he did in this room? Snippets of him sleeping, eating, Diana trying to visit arose, nothing else.

It was the same all over again.

He couldn't remember his past and lived all his twenty one year of life like that, and he thought, once he had thought, that someday he would grow old and wouldn't be able to recall one single thing.

Because rather than being a participant in his own life, he was always observing.

He had that thought in the dorm. The dorm, shouldn't he be there?

His throat was parched, the inside of his mouth dry, and he could feel sweats in form of beads showing up on his forehead under his bangs, even though the AC was working fine, and he could hear a faint voice of Diana from the living room, probably speaking on a phone.

God, why was he like that? Why was he living like that?

His breathing pattern started to be haphazard again.

Why did he keep forgetting bits of his life? Why did time always went by so fast yet so slow to him?

Why was everyone so cruel to him?

Why he was so cruel to himself?

Then, it occured to him.

That all his life he was running, running from the past, running from everything. Indulging himself in game-plays at home, practicing hard until sweat dropped off from his forehead to toe when at university, serving his clients when it was time for the job and when he needed money.

Even though he lived in solitude, there was no time for himself. He made sure there was no scope where he could sit with himself and make amends with his past or present.

He couldn't bring a closure to it because he didn't even open his wounds.

He was a busybody, and he was a nobody. He didn't even know himself. All his life felt like a terrible lie.

Jungkook could barely see the grey coats of painting on the colossal walls of the room, dots appeared in his vision. The thoughts were killing him, yet again, but they were different this time.

He looked at his side and the pills and a clear glass of water stared back at him.

Jungkook was tired of living in a trance, all his life.

With all his willpower and might he sat up instead, his coarse fingers brushed off the luster of sweat on his forehead and hair sticking on its surface. He grabbed on the edge of the king-sized bed next and closed his leaden eyes, for a moment, and he tried to listen to Diana's voice from the living room.

Though it was almost inaudible, and came in murmurs, he could hear bits and pieces of it.

"I still haven't received all the money from the alimony," her voice rose, spoken through gritting teeth, or so Jungkook could imagine. And he flinched a little.

His head felt too heavy on his shoulders, he sat hunched and listened closely.

"Yeah, yes. I'm over you!" The words came closer now, reverberating through the walls.

"I have a boyfriend, god damn it! We live together."

Jungkook's back straightened up, he almost shot up from his position.

"He's sick a bit, at this moment. So you can't-"

It was inaudible again, as if she was moving around the room. Murmurs and whispers filled in. Jungkook asked himself where his own phone was, then he remembered that he didn't take it with him when going outside, but when was that anyway.

"Yeah, I'm going to the shower now. I better receive a message from the bank when I get back," she said. More sounds of footsteps and shuffling around filled in. Jungkook didn't know if he should pretend to sleep or fall on the bed again.

The door to his room was half closed, thankfully it didn't open up. After a few seconds, the sounds died down. Jungkook stood up on his bare feet and almost toppled down again with the crushing weight on his shoulder.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he was really there at that moment. He wasn't in a dream. But it scared him to leave the room, he didn't know why. Nerves started jangling inside of him, a cacophony of white noises banging around his ears. He felt like throwing up, again.

What was he supposed to do now anyway?

The living room was carpeted, and it didn't make one sound when he slowly meandered across it. He saw the red couches and the gigantic TV, he remembered those. At least, there were some things he could remember.

The apartment was big and he already felt lost here, as if he was too small to be in this place. His heart was thumping inside his ribcage, the sound so loud that he could hear it. The sound of the shower on from the other bathroom also brushed against his ear.

In his panicked vision he saw a landline telephone stuck to one of the walls of the living room, probably worked as an intercom for the apartment but could it make other calls too? Suddenly he felt like he could finally breath oxygen as he ran toward it and picked up the phone to his ear. A distant sound started humming and he stood there, the three sounds in the room loud.

Who was he going to call?

Did anyone care?

Would anyone know if disappeared forever? If he died in a ditch somewhere.

Jungkook was starting to feel suffocated. The black dots again appearing before his eyes, the sounds of his beating heart, the shower, and the sound of the landline were too loud for him to adapt. His mouth was bitter, and his brain was slowly reaching a delirium.

Perhaps it was better if he didn't try anymore.

Try breathing, eating, running away, anything. Perhaps he could store those white pills and take them all together, maybe then, it would all stop for good. Because all this running was getting him nowhere.

Maybe it was time to quit the show he was watching.

There wasn't one situation he felt was memorable in his life, not one valuable lesson, or anything. He put the phone back to its place, almost calmly, though his hands were trembling a little.

No one would remember him.

Maybe the boys, for once he would steal their clothes, that was fun at least. He didn't have much back then. He hadn't properly started the cam business back then yet, and was only growing. He wished he could go back there and restart somewhere, but with a different approach. It was all a big, cluttering, mess now.

Wait, the boys. The dorm.

He picked up the phone in a rush. Taehyung, maybe at least he would wonder about Jungkook's whereabouts.

There were also Jimin, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jin and Yoongi. Maybe they'd have a thought about him, maybe they'd wonder a little.

His fingers hovered around the dialpad, his heartbeat so harsh that it was overlapping all the other sounds. He remembered Taehyung's number. Because at first he didn't have it saved on his contacts, and that number would keep showing up on his screen because that blue haired prick would call him from the social science cafeteria almost everyday, just so he'd join him and Jimin.

Tears welled up in his vision, suddenly Jungkook was missing him, missing everything. Even Jin's nagging, or Namjoon taking too much time in the toilet, or Hoseok talking too loudly, Jimin talking too quietly, and Yoongi almost dozing off in the engineering cafeteria with a book in front of him in every lunch hour.

He missed his small room, his messy little bed, the thin white walls and the smell of the kitchen, the sound of the rain outside and the landlord's occasional old songs, the lawn across the dorm, and everything.

What else did he remember? He tried to smother his cries and think, 7th floor, Dogok dong building, Gangnam. What was the apartment name? 35-B or, 35-C.

The other end picked up the call. "Hello." The sound was distorted, the network connection was bad. Jungkook clung to the phone for his dear life, he knew the deep voice had to belong to Taehyung.

He finally let out a choked up sob. "Hyung! Please don't hang up, i-it's me. I'm Jungkook, please save me."