Tired, So much tired.

A heavy echo of footsteps resounded through the street. Yet everyone walking beside him seemed oblivious to his existence—or no, that wasn't quite it. They simply ignored him, for he held no value to them. And that was just normal. Why would it be odd?

That's what he thought as he continued to walk under the rainy night.

Tired, So much tired.

He felt cold, cold within his own skin. The sensation of rain droplets on his face was his only proof of existence. Though he had an umbrella, he didn't use it; he feared it might break in such harsh weather. It was one of his few valuable possessions, a gift from his younger siblings. Though their financial situation wasn't the best back then, he remembered their smiles as they handed him the umbrella. It was the first gift he'd ever received.

Tired, So much tired.

Yet he smiled, smiled as he remembered them. He was proud of them; they'd grown into splendid young adults. Though their contact had dwindled as they grew independent, he cherished every memory.

Today was his birthday, and his siblings had invited him to a nice restaurant. He wasn't even interested in food since he'd lost his ability to taste long ago. He just wanted to see them again, to feel a moment of warmth. He missed them dearly.

Tired, So much tired.

Yet he desired sleep. To sleep, to sleep... to sleep and never wake up

To sleep and finally find rest.

Tired, So much tired.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.

He struggled to open his eyes, only to be met with a sea of red.

A thousand pieces, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and that was the pain he felt. His body was unable to follow his will as he tried reaching his hand.

Tired, So much tired.

But finally, he was about to rest. Yet… his heart hurt.

What he desired would soon be fulfilled, so why did his heart ache this much?

He didn't know the answer.

No—that was a lie, and he knew it.

In the sea of red, he could vaguely see it: a broken umbrella, a small black boxe and a book unrecognizable in their previous state. Droplets slid down his cheeks—was it the rain? Or were they his tears?

He didn't know, yet he understood something: he would depart, leaving behind a final gift—his death. Till the end, he remained as pathetic as ever, wishing he could give his siblings a true gift. Yet he felt no regret, for his final gift would free them from the burden of having him, a "pathetic" brother.

Tired, No longer tired.

Darkness encroached, the cold intensified, and in the icy grip of blood, he couldn't feel the warmth of life.

And so, the beginning of the end had begun.