LOST AND â @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)
Heâd come here to run away. Kiyongâs always been good a that. It just turns out that Heesung is hard to run away from, even if he doesnât even have any legs left to chase him with. Not working ones, at least. Thatâs 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 canât imagine a worse grave. Heâd thought a floor down and maybe Heesungâs memory wouldâve gotten all turned around and left him alone. But it didnât. He just keeps thinking about him. It. The situation. Thatâs what someone had called it, one of the PDâs, 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 âshut up about it, because this is a real horror and not the kind of make believe noise marketing we actually wanted to film.â This is worse than letting them mop up his grief with a camera lens, the being forced to pretend that Heesungâs 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. Heâs taken over Wonshikâs bed for the past, well. Hours. Some amount of them. But he canât 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 canât even remember how heâd answered them. If he did. Part of the problem could be that Kiyongâs 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. Heesungâs was a scream. Not a Wilhelm scream, from all those horror movies. The kind of scream that forces itâs way up and out of you, choking and guttural. An animal scream, where it sounds all wrong and unnatural. Because thatâs what this is, wrong and unnatural. Heesung shouldnât be dead. Kiyong knows this like he knows his bones. An innate understanding that he doesnât have to see to know is real. âI give up on sleeping.â Kiyong pulls himself up from the wadded mess heâs made of Wonshikâs sheets. Heâs 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 hasnât actually made an effort to sleep in the first place, heâs 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 heâs 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. âYou donât have an extra toothbrush?â He calls that out too loud, too, even if heâs 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.