── ❝ they told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential. ❞
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A copy of Murder on the Orient Express rested idly on Dohwa's desk.
Obviously, a recommendation, because he wasn't very fond of reading.
Obviously, a recommendation from someone who mattered to him, because he wouldn't have taken it into consideration otherwise.
Obviously, a recommendation from a certain girl who he couldn't stop thinking about.
Tiny branches of red highlighted themselves against the whites of his swollen eyes as he darted his gaze across the class, searching for something mildly entertaining. Something distracting. Something not Y/N.
Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.
He'd look at a bottle and see her face. He'd look at the ceiling and find her staring back at him. He'd look at his friends and mistake them for her. She was everywhere, in everything, and Dohwa was starting to get irritated. He wanted to rule this out as a bad case of 'curiosity'. A mere desire to know her better. Wasn't that what normal people felt while initiating friendships? Then again, there was the dream.
