CRUSHED
@yfxjaebum
this isn’t something new, he’s done this before:
tip-toeing out of his dorm room at an ungodly hour, stumbling down the corridors with the anticipation of the night prickling at his rosed cheeks the moment black chucks set foot on dewy lawn. he’s not sure what time it was; last he checked the digital clock had been screaming 3:04 AM in blazing red along with the thoughts in his head. there was no way he could get any sleep; he’d spent the hours between twelve and two laying like a plank in his bed, periodically twisting his head to check to see if his roommate had gone to sleep yet (he had half a mind to chastise kim bobby for his terrible sleeping habits, but he was too busy pretending to be asleep).
petrichor emanates from the blades of grass with every step, settling a small smile on the edge of ji yong’s lips. at an hour where everything seemed so dead, he’s never felt more a l i v e. there’s a jolt to his step, every time his heel plants to the earth he feels a vibration dance up and down his spine, smile widening. sneaking out of his dorm room wasn’t something new, but this was: this direction he’s taking-- when he should be turning left he’s going right, right down the path to cheong ryong.
he’s done it before but the intent had been different the last time. last time, he had a spray can in one hand and a hell-bent thirst for some petty vengeance permeating his mind (now, the only thing that permeates is the pleasant smell from the grass after the first rain of june, and the warmth he feels spreading across his cheeks albeit the chilly air).
this he’s not used to:
this unknown beating in his chest that won’t quit; it causes kang ji yong to walk across the grounds with his hand clutching his sweater on his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. it was the same feeling he had earlier that day when the words “meet me later” had slipped from nam jaebum’s lips– they were barely a whisper, muffled by his cheek on ji yong’s shoulder. and the adrenaline is only pumping faster when he halts in his tracks, right in front of the aforementioned nam jaebum’s bedroom window.
steadying himself, ji yong scoops up a few rocks from the shrubbery below, rattling them between his palms before tossing them to tap tap tap on the window pane. expectantly, he’s on his toes: peering over to make a shadow through the glass, and his heart races.
the digital bright red is shouting 3:26 AM.
