ย ย ย ย ยฐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐:ย @sgnsungwoo / high school, summer of 2014
ย ย ย ย โin my defence, he started it.โ
ย ย ย ย the only overhead light in the room hangs from the ceiling, covered in a layer of dust, flickering the moment heโs seated on his bed. he has half a mind to leave it, but the shortening intervals of brightness is blindingly white, and he almost punches the switch when he reaches it. a wince, grimacing from the bruises that sting. painful reminders. the head of disciplineโs voice sounds in his subconscious, fresh in memory, preaching moral theories and how the trick to success is the sole, conventional way of getting through education unscathed. clean. or be doomed for life. spoiler alert:ย itโs not that serious.ย
ย ย ย ย heโs back on the edge of his bed, adjusting the table lamp that uses a different bulb โโ a warm glow thatโs not as functional. the first aid kit is open and sitting on top of their warning letters, unopened and scrunched against the mattress. disinfectant wipes at the ready, heโs reaching for sungwooโs face, cleaning the edges of any visible wounds.ย
ย ย ย ย โdid you see the look on his face when you were reaching for that tennis ball โโ i swear, if iโd recorded it, he couldโve gone viral.โ the chuckle that follows triggers the ache on the side of his ribcage, resulting in a distorted expression. โugh. maybe then heโll get the attention heโs so desperately after.โ a small pile of bloodied wipes is now stacked next to his feet, and he uncaps the cream next.ย โlook up.โ
