( @jihios )
The tang of iron seeped into his taste buds, another lonely and glistening trail of red detailing his cheekbone. A soft grunt passed through his chapped and bruised lips, slender fingers working their way against the oozing slit. His senses were slowly immobilizing, pupils dilating and constricting with each heavy step against the steel stairway. With every single breath he took his ribcage punctured the protective skin, leaving its own train of crimson against his grimy button up. His free hand reached out to grip a random banister, inaudible mewls filling the air of the isolated staircase.
He couldn’t remember the last time his senses left him like this, paralyzed and unaware. The evening before him was a complete blur, the only recollection that had some type of coherency was his marked fist landing against the mouth of some scumbag who tried to threaten him in his own villa. A messy battle, one of which no one was willing to break up. Joohyuk remembered his father’s face when he saw the abrupt change in aura, his brows tinging with pride. It was like he wanted his son to finally accept the fact that this was what he was born to do. This was his calling. But he couldn’t fucking stand it. Nor did he accept it whatsoever.
Joohyuk didn’t know how he ended up against his girlfriend’s doorframe, his hands struggling to tap in the passcode. It was self defense. And like that, the blurry vision was back, and with each blink he could see fragments of the mess he made an hour prior. I did nothing wrong. He shook off the horror playing in his mind, dragging himself inside towards Jiho’s bedroom. Joohyuk’s voice shook as he called out for her, legs inevitably giving up on him leading to a ‘thud’ to sound from the corridor.
His limp body laid flat against the wood paneling, some wounds exposed and open yet again. Then it hit him. How his hands wrapped around the man’s throat, clenching the plump skin until his veins were black and blue and ready to burst. Fingers meeting a steak knife, grazing the tan skin of his opponent, blade slicing against the crook agonizingly slow, so he could feel every crevice puncture through his discolored skin. Even if he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about the lifeless body, surrounded by a stream of scarlet, and how he caused it. Not his father, not his allies. Joohyuk.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, I didn’t... It was... a mistake... I didn’t...”