HYPNOSIS / at ilwoo's place, late enough and outside with @willowhour
it’s hotter outside than it is inside, that’s all ilwoo can keep thinking about as he crouches in the overgrown grass in the side lot right next to where he lives. far enough outside of that one condensed point of town that nobody really cares how many people are rotating their way in and back out again, bottles of beer clenched tight in fists, the kind of grip that makes it seem like they’re scared someone’s going to take it from them. ilwoo doesn’t really care what’s going on, seongmin’s a good enough chaperone. better than ilwoo, anyway. he’s out here hiding instead, lighting the end of a cigarette and taking a drag that he shouldn’t be. he’ll regret it, and maybe soon. he’s at least had enough foresight to bring his inhaler with him, a misshapen plastic bulk he’s shoved int the pocket of a sweatshirt he doesn’t really want to be wearing. not with the way the heat lays over him, sticky-thick and stifling. he’s about halfway though it and muffling a deep-chested cough into his sleeve when he spots yurim. this alone isn’t worth a mention, and he almost turns to spit, to see if chunks of his lungs might come up with the saliva, when he notices the ungainly way she's walking, out of tempo from the murmur of whatever song is playing inside. she might be drunk. might be, but it reminds him of that time he came across her in the woods, half asleep and with bramble scratches raked down her arms. and as he watches her, ilwoo realizes that might just be where she’s headed again. that uneven treeline in the distance. he mutters out a quick “fuck” and drags the half-smoked cigarette out on the bend of his knee, smears a wad of ash against the denim. he pockets the remains of it as he climbs up to his feet and jogs after her. bad idea after that smoke, and he hacks out another cough as he settles at her side, stride shortening to keep pace. he starts to talk, tries to talk, but everything feels strangled on the way up. hands on the inside of his throat winding up his trachea like an old dish rag that needs to be wrung out. ilwoo doesn’t want to keep all that used up oxygen in him, so he fishes out his inhaler one handed and shakes it, tries to make out yurim’s expression as he breathes in a pump. “hey, yurim.” this time the words come out. “you in there?” he nudges her shoulder with his, just hard enough to veer her slightly off her strange path.