the dead ≃ ks; ( open )
he couldn’t remember why he started running.
jin, for one, didn’t run away -- not physically, at least, although metaphorically was another matter -- from trouble.
but light was coming at him from the end of the hallway, and all too sharply he turned a corner and hoped it did not catch him then. his heart, fragile and unused, hammered now against his rib cage, and he didn’t quite know which one would break first. his knees ached; how long had he been running for?
light, however, cast shadows, and he only ever caught a glimpse of it: a slender female, whose name hung at seokjin’s tongue but could not be uttered, as if someone (something?) had stolen it from him.
he knew, however, that he could not stop moving, and once he caught sight of a room he knew that perhaps it was too big to enter into small doorways. the door was promptly shut cautiously and silently behind him, and upon spotting another, he lunged at them without thought, aiming to have his hand over their mouth and drag them against the wall of the room, under the windows and into a corner where he hoped they could not be seen.
“don’t,” he whispered, “say. a word.”