#0300hr

[pyrrhickid]

“my mind is a dark place. you don’t want to be there.”

「 ISEUL | HURT MEME : ACCEPTING。」

granted, they weren’t in the best situation to be having a lighthearted conversation.

so, how did they end up on a rooftop?

daehwan had been staring at the sky since the sun had been setting, his elbows leaning on the concrete border, cold wind scratching his cheeks as he ignored all of his duties for the day. responsibilities took him too far out of his own skin, he didn’t quite feel himself.

so obviously, he headed to the roof of his university. other people go here for other reasons like dates, or clarity and soul seeking. he’s known iseul only for a few weeks now. he became a familiar face, a familiar type. this guy felt familiar, at least — in a strange way. yet another human goes to remind daehwan of what he wanted to forget.

“ likewise, pal. ”

he emphasized a tone of slight hostility, not really taking this conversation as seriously as he should.

“ but when i asked you what your thoughts were, i meant about things in general. ” daehwan turned his head to face iseul, raising a brow and shrugging slightly — his expression nothing short of bored. “ i meant your thoughts about all that. ” 

he nodded towards the horizon, the stars hiding behind the smog, and the city seducing anyone who sees it’s twinkling lights. the thousands upon hundreds of people that live different lives just as complicated as their own.

[glitseun]

stay .

carried on from — here . x

. . .

he wakes up in the oddities that sigh deja vu: he isn’t in his own bed. someone’s sofa. he tries recalling the night, and he reminds himself of junho. injured, bandaged. his own hands, the undersides of his nails collared with junho’s blood. dreams from nights ago were blurred, but their revenants woke him up in time for a friend in needs. he’d scurried off towards junho’s apartment, and the truth came in pieces, but one fragment of his dreams was true: the haemorrhage, and everything in-between. 06:17am. he sighs and gets to his feet, disorientation still thick in his head as he makes his way towards junho’s room to check on him.

theres an ache in his body, the origin unknown. or perhaps it is known. no — actually it is known he would just rather forget about it and sleep. god all he wants to do is lay down and sleep, but theres a lingering feeling in his stomach that he may not wake up again. at least not until he finally feels fully restored and back to functioning normally. eyes teetering on fluttering shut and staring up at the god awful ceiling thats cracked and chipped, its almost unbearable staring at the dazzling white ( note that its not quite white, its just his eyes playing tricks. )

a harsh sigh exhales out, a brash inhale following closely behind. paying no mind whatsoever to the noises coming from the other side of his bedroom door. he wasnt sure if he was dreaming or wide awake, his mind far too hazy from the ringing in his head. the white noise that seems to consume not only his mind but his body too, giving him that constant buzzing feeling. it makes him feel sick. he tries to roll onto his side but winces, letting out a splutter and the splatter of red droplets onto the wooden floor.

[spoiledsovls]

@0300hr.

...

it was too late (or was it too early?) for human interaction. at lest, it was too late to those that she only casually talked to. so she decided to go buy herself some cigarettes (or get one of her older friends to buy them.) and spend the night wandering the streets of seoul. the vendors were all closer, but the convenience stores would still be open. she takes her time, walking into one to grab a pack of banana milk and waiting patiently fr the cashier to ring her up, leaving and walking round with milk in her arms (and that pack of cigarettes in her back pocket.)

hyejung heads toward their usual spot, climbing a few flights of stairs before sitting down next to iseul, one of the few people who she fought alongside while he was still into underground fighting. he told her that his health was deteriorating, she could believe him or she didn’t have to but it was a 50-50. she couldn’t question it, he never questioned her motives. maybe one day, in the near future, as their conversations deepen and their stone walls break down.

in the middle of a story about her last match, her peripheral view shows that he had trouble lighting his own cigarette. she lights her own before offering him a hand, but his arms laid to his side so she was unable to light it. taking a drag, there’s a small kind of noise tht spills out from him, causing her to be by his side in a matter of seconds. “you good?”