* IN QUIET ROOMS ,
@slythksoo
when the matron opened up a window in the infirmary ( “some light would serve you well, my boy.” ) and kai got a cut of the unusually bright evening moonlight, he inwardly groaned and buried his ruddy cheek into his pillow, free arm pulling the blanket up over his chest. his other arm, fractured from the fall, lay rather difficultly in a cast, while the cut under his chin healed under adhesive bandage.
the boy had no ire left in him, nor any of that ill humor which had previously afflicted the stretch and compression of his lungs.
but where he relinquished anger he welcomed bitterness; bitterness had stood outside, and in he invited it. there was a certain satisfaction in bitterness, and he knew this. sitting in bed, his arm broken, his bravado bruised, he knew this. and he courted it.
and yet that is a different story, a different matter. kai had to focus on the immediate before him. yeah, maybe he’ll try talking to doyeon again when he’s out, and think up some new plays for quidditch, and buy a new record. in the infirmary, though, there wasn’t much he could do but complete his schoolwork or pretend to be asleep when his friends left bertie bott’s by his bedside.
when he locks eyes with kyungsoo, however, the prospect of resorting to the latter option evaporates. merlin, he really doesn’t want to be in the same room as kyungsoo. where’s that damn wand so he can apparate the hell out of there?
“hey man. what’s up?”
