@yoonws
the practice room was closing in on him, he could feel himself begin to spiral, begin to lose all sense of self. it was inevitable, he guesses. he lets the smirk peel back at his features, the facade falling and for a second he lets himself to falter to the weakness he had tried to hard to suppress. so hard to hide and so hard to guise under the anger fists and sour words, crafted so carefully by the guilt and confusion he felt. he falls back, shoulders pressed and spread across the floor, only come to rest atop his chest as he finds the sudden freedom all too overwhelming.
what do i tell the phoenix manager? what do i tell my best gaming bud? what do i tell yoon? hues closing, the thoughts drowning him out, feeling his feet begin to lift from his own subconscious and he feels a strong sense of guilt. panic lacing his reverie and he lets the exhale flatten the chest that rises too eagerly. how does he explain kiha’s arm bruise? how does he explain the way he lashed out to kiha? how does he explain any of this? i’m flinging myself off of the yuseong building. he settles, a chuckle leaving his lips as his eyes flicker open. the chuckle only grows, gradually becoming the audible laughter that softly fills the empty practice room.
the door pushes open, and in a panic he pushes himself up, hands coming to hide his face for a moment. fingers grappling at his strands, attempting to make it seem like all was fine. fixing the stray strands that fell oddly against his clearly distraught features, the mirror did well to betray the emotions he was trying hard to hide. compose yourself, you fucking idiot. he tells himself, gaze stuck to the mirror only drifting to the silhouette that enters the room, a sense of dread immediately falling over him. yoon. and he feels a twitch tugging at his right brow.
