For Jaehan, some mornings are harder than others. On the regular days, he wakes up with the sun in his hair and the familiar twinge of midnight melancholy in his chest, the lukewarm leftovers of the dagger between his ribs. On the good days, he is pleasantly numb, able to breeze through his daily life without the hindrance of emotions tugging at his heart.

It's the bad days that he fears.

The days when thorns bloom in Jaehan's throat and strangle him alive. The days when every thought is a scream and every tear is a prayer. The days when everything's wrong, nothing's right, and it takes every ounce of Jaehan's energy to drag himself out of bed instead of breaking down right then and there.

It's a good day.

The sun slits through the pale pink of Soojin's curtains (it's funny how even after so long, Jaehan's never come to think of them as his own---he'd never have picked out pink curtains, but he can't bear to take them down), dappling rose-tinted warmth over his face. Jaehan reaches one hand to the light, feeling the little slashes of coral-gold melt over his fingers like liquid glass.

Today is a good day. It should be. Good days are what Jaehan makes them, after all. He should let it stay a good day---should get out of bed, brush his teeth, put on something that wouldn't make his mother cry in social suicide, and head to work. The same routine, over and over again. Go to work. Come home. Go to work. Come home. Go to work. Come home. No time for feelings or the useless thing in his chest, still spraying fountains of blood every time he moves like a brutal reminder that he's still alive. That only he's still alive.

But for some reason, Jaehan stays in bed for another five minutes. Even though he knows all the emotions come back if he steps out of his daily routine for even a second. Even though he knows he'll regret this tiny bit of extra rest later, when he's plagued by nightmares too vivid to even close his eyes. Even though he knows he'll start seeing her again.

Sure enough, when Jaehan opens his eyes again, Soojin is there.

She perches in the deconstructed wicker basket Eunwoo had managed to fashion into an armchair for them (Jaehan had suggested an office swivel, Soojin had wanted a beanbag, buying the apartment had left them too broke to afford either, so they'd compromised), legs crossed over each other. Even from where he's lying, he doesn't miss the way her knees pulse from beneath her paper-thin skin, sharp as a knife. She sits the same way every time he sees her, so fragile and dainty and delicate, just like she's always been. Like she'd always been. Her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders in a mess of curls, a bright violet ribbon tugging her wavy locks away from her beautiful face.

Soojin's in her pyjamas now (fitting, Jaehan supposes, given how he's still in bed), loose pink pants and a matching top. When she lifts a thin hand to her plump, rosy lips, Jaehan's relieved to find that her limbs are completely whole today. Sometimes, when he sees her, her skin is flaking off in thick droves, shredded until he can't tell where her arms are through all the red. Other times, she's painfully skinny, almost skeletal, nothing but clothes and bones. The worst are the days when she's completely intact until she raises what should be her hand and Jaehan sees nothing but blood, ivory peeking from the ravages of what had once been her shoulder.

He sits up reluctantly, rubbing the last clutches of slumber from his eyes. "Hey, Soojin," he rasps, straightening his crumpled t-shirt a little self-consciously. He knows she can't see him---knows she's not really there---but old habits die hard. And adjusting his clothes has always been a habit when he's around her, futile efforts to match the angelic beauty of the prettiest girl in school so the other boys won't tell him she's too good for him. Even though he knows Soojin doesn't mind. That she loves---loved---him for who he is. And suddenly, nothing the other boys had said had mattered anymore, because all that had mattered was that he'd been the one with Soojin's heart firmly embedded in his hands.

Watching Soojin is like listening to a broken record. Maybe it's because she doesn't really exist, not anymore, but her facial expressions are confined to occasional giggling and the same wide smile she's probably worn every since the day she was born, brighter than the sun. She doesn't talk, at least not anywhere besides in his head---Jaehan's learned that the hard way, when all his attempts at conversation with her lead to nothing but him bawling his eyes out in the corner while the mirage of his girlfriend sits in that worn-out wicker-basket in amused silence, vapid eyes staring straight at nothing. Still, even though he knows what will happen, Jaehan keeps putting that shattered record on, letting it freeze in time as he drowns in the emptiness of what had once been a home.

"How are you?" he asks, voice grating and hoarse in his throat.

She can't respond. (And even if she could, she'd probably say, "Dead.")

Jaehan doesn't know why he does this to himself. Some part of him views it as retribution---self-inflicted revenge for being the only one to escape without any lasting damage while Bae Minji remains paralysed from the waist down, Lee Eunwoo can't look at his legs without seeing metal where his foot had once been, and Soojin's corpse rots away in the cold, hard ground.

It's not his fault. He knows that. He hadn't even been the one driving, as Eunwoo (who is the only one coherent---and alive---enough to hold a full conversation with him) frequently reminds him. But Jaehan can't help the guilt that yanks at his stomach each time he remembers the way the van had smashed into the side of Eunwoo's car, leaving Eunwoo with his heel completely crushed against the accelerator, Minji impaled against her seat, and Soojin without an arm or a need to use said arm anymore. Dead on impact. And Jaehan, sequestered in the backseat, had walked away with a sprained wrist and a nasty bruise on his forehead from where he'd been flung against Eunwoo's seat.

It seems almost cruel.

But he supposes his own punishment is the nightmares.

Jaehan finally manages to drag himself out of the sheets, rumpled from yet another night of tossing and turning. The familiar jolt of pain from sleeping the wrong way crawls up his back, shredding his spine until ivory ribbons bloom through his skin like the world's most macabre vineyard. He tries not to look at Soojin, but because he's weak, he does anyway. Her slender fingers curl around her waist---he used to be able to cover that waist with just two hands---as she rocks herself back and forth (she'd always wanted a rocking chair, and Jaehan had always promised to get one for her, which is a promise he'll never be able to fulfill now), humming a tune that Jaehan can't quite hear. Dark hair slips free from behind her ears, cascading over her face. She's giggling again.

(The one comfort about seeing your dead girlfriend everywhere you go is that she seems even happier than she had when she was alive.)

Long day ahead? her large eyes almost seem to ask. Or at least, he's sure that's what they would ask if they weren't so dead---blank, ebony-spotted pearls in a face too pale to be real.

"Yeah," Jaehan mumbles aloud. It had been weird at first, talking to what he's pretty sure is just hallucinations, thin air, and the demons in his own mind, but now, it's weirdly...comforting. As if Soojin's actually there instead of being a figment of his imagination, all his daydreams and nightmares brought to life. "I hope. You can never really tell until you get out on the road."

His feet hit the ground, ice-cold beneath his toes. Something in his head screams beneath his skin, flaying the blood in his veins into ruby ribbons like the ones fluttering in Soojin's dark hair. Soojin follows, rising to slender legs so graceful compared to Jaehan's own shaky ones, trembling like they'll dissolve from beneath him any second.

The soft pad of her footsteps rings through his mind as Soojin nods, stepping aside so Jaehan can lumber his way into a bathroom that's really too small for his shoulders. Thump, thump, thump, barely audible enough to be real. She's---she'd---always been light on her feet, sneaking up on Jaehan with a cheerful "Boo!" before he'd even sensed her coming. Once, that had been his favourite part of the day, hearing her adorable voice in his ear right before her slender arms had wrapped themselves around him.

Now, his favourite part of the day is when it ends.

He slips a toothbrush into his mouth and gets to work on the buttons of his yellow polo, hardly bothering to do anything with his dark hair save for running a few fingers through it. Clothes have been simpler ever since he'd become single (not by his own choice, and definitely not by Soojin's choice either), a far cry from the pressed trousers and button-ups Soojin used to say he looked good in. Nowadays, it's all jeans and polos, maybe a t-shirt if he's feeling particularly sloppy.

Come back to bed, Jae. Soojin---or whatever's left of her---slinks over the scratched-up floors, following him through two of the three shitty rooms their even shittier apartment has (and one of them is a bathroom). I'm tired.

"I know, Soojin. I'm tired too." And because Jaehan knows there's nothing left for him in the bed except empty sheets and the ice-cold clutches of loneliness, scratching at his skin until it's stained blue, he snatches his phone off the sofa and steps out of the house he'd once called a home.

It's a regular day.

I SWEAR I TRIED TO EDIT Y'ALLS it's just that. well. long story short i am Very Drunk atm (like. literally couldn't even find which direction the exit of the restaurant i was in was kind of drunk) so. please forgive me for any errors i promise i will edit in the morning when i am like...slightly less drunk

anygays good morning hi hello welcome back to another episode of 'alex has no clue what he's doing', season 69. i hope you're enjoying the show so far, because i am trying my best and it's the thought that counts ✨ hope you're enjoying this book so far! i haven't posted anything new on wattpad since like, february 2023, so let's hope this goes well!

what did you think of the opening chapter? lemme know whether it was good, bad, awful, trash, dumpster fire, etc etc. please 🥺 i need feedback to improve :D constructive criticism is always welcome! (also, please point out any mistakes you see! i do all my own editing, and even though i have potentially professional-editor-level skills, my eyesight sucks. also. not very sober rn so i don't really trust myself if ykwim)

please do leave some comments if you can (i reply to almost all comments) because i am a SLUT for comments, and don't forget to turn the star orange because it helps wattpad senpai notice me <333

again, thank you so much for giving this a try! i really hope you'll stick around for the ride. thank you so much, and i love y'alls <333 make sure to take care of yourselves and stay hydrated, and i'll see you in next Saturday's update!

xoxo, Alex