All I remembered was everything being white, the room, the walls, my skin. I seemed dead and I felt it too, but that was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to die and to never have existed, to have been a figment of imagination so I wouldn't have to deal with these problems. I wasn't a normal boy, teenager, person, ever since I was little. Something was always wrong with me and everyone knew, noticed, and they treated me differently and I hated it. So much.

I didn't like being the out cast as a kid or being the slowest in class but it happened, regretfully. Other kids would ask the teacher why I was so slow with the most simple things but they what they didn't know is that I knew. I could hear them and what they had to say, the teachers always tried and were nice to me, telling the other kids that we all worked at our own paste and it made me feel almost confident with myself before fading back to that kid that everyone stared at. Disliked.

I understood but it took me time. I was smart but it was hard to show. I was able to do things but not like others.

Why didn't any of them understand that? I wasn't some clueless freak, I had- have feelings!

I'm real.

   Blood was on the wall, somewhat exploding outwards like a firework, and it was so unreal, like a painting. He was on the edge of reality, stumbling backwards before falling all together, shivering. Small gasps had escaped his lips as he brought his hand up, pressing it ever so lightly against his forehead, only to wince at the rush of pain, eyes low and blank with wonder. He knew he was hurt but at this time he didn't care, he did this on purpose, and he knew what would come along with it. This could never take away from the pain inside of him, inside his head, the reason why he was trying to get rid of them and delete everything. For that, himself, parents, people.

Everything was slowly fading to black but for now turning into a mere blur, a far off dream that was coming to a saddening end.

Just as the grip of reality was lost, the sound of his name being called and yelling was heard, and then silence fell upon his ears.

 The room was white and blank and it was chill as if death were lurking in every shadow of the room, besides the slow but steady beat of the heart monitor. The IV connected to his arm dripped slowly, the bag was half empty, and everything just seemed so unworthy, like it was just a useless thing to be doing.

He thought in his mind that was barely there, why don't they just let me go? Let me leave this world that obviously doesn't want me.

He couldn't open his eyes, he didn't want to, but he could hear his surroundings. The clanking of the nurses heels, the tick of a clock, his heart monitor, the sound of someone shifting in their seat.

Who's there? He thought in his head, not wanting it to be his mother or father, hoping.

“Oh Taemin, why? Why'd you do this to yourself?” The hurt audible in his exhausted voice, probably from crying and yelling... the yelling from earlier, it was Key who had found him.

He grabbed Taemin's pale hand, running the pad of his thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the below warm flesh underneath his hand. He felt as if he were going to lose Taemin, the boy he loved so much, the boy that would always be his baby brother, a bond stronger than blood even though they weren't related.

“I know why you did this but you shouldn't have, you should've come to me. Let me help you Taeminnie... You told me that you'd come to first, not resort to that.”

Tears fell from the corner of the younger's eyes, he was crying in his coma, Whatever you wanted to call it, but besides that... He felt horrible. He was putting the one person that did care for him through hell, again.

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