loud noises were bothersome.
perhaps yejun’s ears were a little too sensitive, or maybe being in such environments just made him nervous, anxious.. even so, he tried to avoid crowds, clubs, any place where a lot of people could gather and talk, talk, talk.
that’s what humans were good at only: talking.
yelling was yet another thing that upset him. yejun would recall a long time ago, that white door, chipped paint.. the noises behind it were terrifying most of the time. he’d come back from school then stare at the door until his parents decided that it was enough, that they fought enough. mother would be the first to leave, then he’d see his father between a small crack: many times he’d be in tears, other times his nose would be bleeding, or yejun could notice a forming bruise at the corner of his eye.
yelling reminded him of violence and nothing more. getting yelled at made his stomach turn, he’d feel sick, he’d want to disappear.
he winces. that day’s order were roses, beautiful red roses, with their big petals and thorns he was trying to cut off-- but the yelling made his hand tremble, just slightly, and the tip of his finger got a small cut.
it’s not painful, but the sight of blood makes him cringe, and soon he’s pressing said finger against his lips, licking the blood away [ let me kiss it better, sehun, his father’s voice played in his head ] as the other says his apology. “it’s okay.” he says, attention back into decorating the bouquet, cutting off the remaining thorns.
his gaze lifts up for a moment. yejun isn’t smiling, but neither is he frowning. it didn’t bother much, the other’s impatience, but that day he was slacking, he couldn’t work properly. “i said it was fine, it’s my fault. i’ll finish this quick. don’t stress over stupid things.” though a free meal or so, that didn’t sound bad.
