The Taste of Dried-Up Hope || Joongki + Jihyo
Joongki sat quietly in the police station once he was doing being questioned.
The officer had brought him water and left him alone again. Joongki didn’t touch the waxy paper cup even though his head ached and his throat burned. He wasn’t confident in his ability to keep anything down.
Everyone gave him a wide berth. The station was hot, this deep in summer, and the air conditioning wasn’t up to the task of keeping the whole building cool. A few personal fans were buzzing nearby, just loud enough that he couldn’t hear people whispering after they snuck glances at him. After a while, Joongki drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and bowed his head so he couldn’t see anyone else.
It was harder to breathe that way, but that struggle gave him something to focus on. In and out, in and out, in and out.
In. Out.
It seemed like something seeped away with every breath, until Joongki was nothing more than hollowed-out skin and the memory of his own hysterical screaming.
The screaming was fine. The screaming was better than—
In.
Out.
