LOST AND — @cr4shc0urse & @draed ROOM 316 (NOT FOR LONG) - BORDERING ON NIGHT WONSHIK'S BED LOOKS LIKE A BURIAL MOUND AND SUNHEE'S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT DOOR, (JUST LIKE HEESUNG WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF HIS DOOR)
He’d come here to run away. Kiyong’s always been good a that. It just turns out that Heesung is hard to run away from, even if he doesn’t even have any legs left to chase him with. Not working ones, at least. That’s what everyone thinks. That he must be somewhere gone and dead, littered on the ocean floor with all those old soda bottles and chipped seashell. Kiyong can’t imagine a worse grave. He’d thought a floor down and maybe Heesung’s memory would’ve gotten all turned around and left him alone. But it didn’t. He just keeps thinking about him. It. The situation. That’s what someone had called it, one of the PD’s, maybe. It all came down too fast and too hard, like a concussion. It left him just as disoriented. The situation. Which really just means ‘shut up about it, because this is a real horror and not the kind of make believe noise marketing we actually wanted to film.’ This is worse than letting them mop up his grief with a camera lens, the being forced to pretend that Heesung’s either fine or that he never existed in the first place, when he very much did. Right on the other side of Kiyong's bathroom door, actually. He’s taken over Wonshik’s bed for the past, well. Hours. Some amount of them. But he can’t bring himself to actually care, because of the situation. Was it just the PD, or had the cop told him that too, when they were interviewing him? Kiyong can’t even remember how he’d answered them. If he did. Part of the problem could be that Kiyong’s never actually experienced a death like this. Sure, older relatives have gone, but those are expected deaths. Life worn out from the spine until they're stooped down and reaching toward that grave, calling it a comfort. There were a couple of younger ones, two maybe, people he sort of knew from back home. But that was said to him second hand and after the fact, so it felt like an echo. Heesung’s was a scream. Not a Wilhelm scream, from all those horror movies. The kind of scream that forces it’s way up and out of you, choking and guttural. An animal scream, where it sounds all wrong and unnatural. Because that’s what this is, wrong and unnatural. Heesung shouldn’t be dead. Kiyong knows this like he knows his bones. An innate understanding that he doesn’t have to see to know is real. “I give up on sleeping.” Kiyong pulls himself up from the wadded mess he’s made of Wonshik’s sheets. He’s close enough that Kiyong can throw an arm around his shoulder. He tucks his chin in against the other side of his neck, can feel the sharp angle of his collarbone against his jaw and ignores it. Ignores that he hasn’t actually made an effort to sleep in the first place, he’s still got his jeans on and the grime of an energy drink sits stale on his tongue. Maybe the caffeine is still sitting inside of him too, because he’s up, climbing over the heap of Wonshik and bypassing him into the bathroom. He leaves the door open and clatters around inside, one foot kicking at the other door of that bathroom as he sits up against the counter. Was it premeditated and louder than it needed to be? Maybe. “You don’t have an extra toothbrush?” He calls that out too loud, too, even if he’s pretty sure he can hear Wonshik following in after him. It's for more than just Wonshik's ears. From his experience, Sunhee's easier to talk into things than Wonshik is.