Minho laid in his bed staring at the ceiling in grief. He hated how he could never move beyond his bedroom, ever. Tragedy and dread were still in his system, even if it had been years. You came by to visit daily as usual. Knocking on his door left a quiet echo, showing how quiet he was daily.

“Com en..”

Minho mumbles before the door opens wide. His room was a bit messy, with clothes piling inside a basket, empty water bottles stacking on the floor, and blankets thrown around. It was sad to see him every day like this. Minho was suffering from some form of level of paranoia, hallucinations, and some more conditions. Minho glances up at you with dull and empty eyes before raising a brow.

“W-who are you again? J-Jisung?”

He would say this all the time, you weren’t Jisung. That was his hallucination.