#096 writes

[gameover-wink]

Gay deities give me strength to finish this one shot

Gi-hun twisted his hand into the front of Myung-gi’s shirt, yanked him closer and then shoved him off with a heave of his hips. “Why, Myung-gi – !” he groaned, rolled onto his side as Myung-gi clung to him and still clutched onto his injured arm. “Why can’t you just – just leave me!”

Myung-gi was on his knees, grabbing Gi-hun’s shoulder before he realized Gi-hun wasn’t fighting back anymore. The man’s eyes were wrenched shut, mouth screwed in pain, his fatigued and burdensome body rocking in a listless attempt to roll away.

Myung-gi immediately let go of that dreadful wound, teeth hesitating over words, the fetid odor of cigarettes resembling blood on his tongue. The heat of regret scorched behind his eyes, and his pulse spread that burning disease to every part of him.

[gameover-wink]

Go words gooooo

“You need to change into something clean. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve got spit up and other stuff on it,” Myung-gi said matter-of-factly, maybe slightly impatiently, and if he ignored the thickness to his voice then maybe it would cease to exist. Before he could start getting to his feet and urge Gi-hun to take care of himself, a hand was on his cheek, a thumb tracing a curve under his eye, and the air following it pricked disparagingly at the wetness smeared into his skin.

Bleakly and with resignation, Myung-gi locked horns with Gi-hun’s gaze, mouth pressed into a flat and begrudging smile, and all the while his hands itched to move, to touch, to give, to that hollow man staring back at him. To take the inch he was given and claim a mile more.

Was there a script he was meant to read, a pattern he was supposed to follow, because apathy sank deeper into the lines on Gi-hun’s face and he looked away, hand dropping to push himself to his feet.