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It was ten in the morning and the girl could not get some shut-eye ever since Yeonjun had exited— both from endlessly letting her mind wander and the flaring pain in her shoulder and neck collectively.
The girl heaved herself to sit upright on the bed and peeled the duvet off her body as she got to her feet, making her way to the bathroom. Switching the lights on with her alive-and-well hand, she took her stance in front of the mirror.
Her honey brown eyes trailed over her reflection and she was an absolute mess— her long brown hair messily flowing down her shoulders, eyelids lined with a tint of red and the white shirt she wore was stuck to her bandage, staining the material deep red around the injury.
"This looks bad.." She mumbled, delicately touching the clothing with her fingertips and a knock on her room door made her step back to take a glance at it.
"Who is it?" She asked, yelling loud enough for her voice to reach the person on the other side but the response was barely audible making her click her tongue, "The door is open, come in!"
A twist of the knob and footsteps nearing the bathroom was heard, "What is it?" She asked, not sparing a glance as she washed her blood stained fingers.
"Uh, it's me." The voice made her halt her actions midway, her body tensed, feet rooted to the spot, and for a brief second she felt as though time stopped and the world around her froze.
Mark.
She could recognize his voice in an instant and her heart blundered in her chest, so loud and fast paced that all she could hear at the moment was her own heart beat, everything else drowning out into the background.
Blood rushed to her head, her ears and cheekbones dotting a shade red against her melanin skin and she pulled her hands from the running tap water that flood down her fingers and drained into the sink.
Soyoung's heart lurched in her chest upon hearing his voice. It had been so long since she heard him that she almost forgot the sound of his voice. But the memories gradually surfaced her mind- his rough voice that sometimes held a slight scratch to it every time he smoked. She instinctively noticed how his voice got a little deep, lower than his usual tone but she forcefully distracted herself from mulling over him.
Mark stared at her for a few seconds, gaze piercing into her figure as though he could not get enough of her— her wavy brown hair was disheveled, contrasting the white shirt that was bigger than her frame, loose black pants flowing down the length of her legs and dusting her ankles.
She looked beautiful than ever- her honey brown swirls that allured him with just one glance at her eyes, rosy cheekbones high, pink lips that appeared velvety, soft dimples dipping onto her melanin skin even without having to smile; so breathtaking like a piece of art drawn from his memories that sunk to the back of his mind. He simply stared at her without any word being said.
