By The Way, Danplan Oneshots

Lines of Fortune

"I know."

Silence descended, and he thought Gwisin had left again. But it wasn't long before he was back.

"I'm bored." He muttered moodily. He opened his eyes, watching as Gwisin paced around the room.

"Can't do anything." He answered, huddling closer to the wall. Hosuh jumped towards him, tilting his head. He knew that look, and shook his head feverishly.

"That's not allowed." He said, aiming a kick at Gwisin. As it used to, his foot collided with nothing. Gwisin grinned.

"You don't want me to tell on you to him, do you?" He shook his head. "Good. I don't like him either."

"Well there's not much we can do." He mumbled. Sighing, he stared at his hand. He felt Gwisin move next to him, giggling quietly.

He ignored Gwisin again, glaring at the white walls. Everything was white. And he really hated white.

The blood ran steadily down his hand and dropped onto the floor. It steadily made a pool under him and he watched, fascinated.

"Not white." He murmured. He felt himself begin to smile, a laugh in his throat. It had been a long time since he had any fun, with the hospital staff flocking around him, pumping him with drugs that made him sleepy.

He wasn't sleepy now. He made sure that he was good, like his mother and father wanted him to be. And they hadn't came near, only to give him meals through a small flap. It made him laugh each time he saw a rusted tray slide through with some floppy mess they called food.

Excited energy burst through his limbs and he stood up, smiling. He remembered the play he watched when he was six, of the people who painted roses red. He supposed it would be just like that.

He began to hum under his breath as he began, slowly rubbing his splintered hand over the white, white walls. Gwisin was clapping to his tune, and he hummed louder, grinning. It couldn't be white. White was bleak. White was hopeless. White was plain. Red, however, made it at least stand out – all the rooms must look like this; he wanted his to be different.

"They're coming!" Gwisin shrieked a moment too late.

The door burst open and an army of white nurses charged through holding restrains and the clear liquid he really didn't like. He screamed, trying to climb the walls like Gwisin but they seized him. Hands tugged at his cheap uniform wrestling him. He didn't like it.

Gwisin was laughing as they pinned him to the bed. He turned to him, glaring.

"It's funny." Gwisin shrugged.

A bulky nurse stabbed something into his arm and he yelled angrily, biting at a younger nurse's arm. That particular nurse at the time was trying to pin his arms together.

His vision blurred as he moaned, breaths coming in slower. He didn't hear what they were saying, and he didn't care – Gwisin had moved to the roof, and now was laughing at him from up there, his blue eyes widening.

"Don't laugh." His voice slurred. And finally, he drifted to unconsciousness.

—

"Look, me and Stephen have been talking."

He looked away from the strange people in white uniforms around him and back to Daniel. Stephen was by his side, tense – as if he was going to spring at any moment.

"You let loads of people run up to my house uninvited?" He asked sharply. He looked out of the window again, hair blocking one of his eyes (he never bothered to cut it these days). Their uniform was now covered in blood, and he shrunk back.

"You can't take me to those people!" He looked around wildly at his two friends. Stephen made a movement to move towards him but Daniel held him back, murmuring something in his ear.

He didn't focus on what Stephen had to say. Instead he watched as a younger him – much younger – huddled in the corner of his room, shaking and crying. The white people circled around the child him, holding out needles.

He didn't want to go back.

"You're gonna let them take me?" He said quietly. He turned back to Dan and Stephen, feeling his hands tremble under his folded arms. Stephen looked away.

"The medication is clearly not working so –"

"What are you going to say? That's what's best?" He snapped. He looked desperately for an escape but the people in white had already entered his property – for real this time – and blocked each doorway.

"No!" He yelled out. Daniel's eyes brimmed with tears, but he didn't bother asking why, or even wondering why.

A child's wails cut through the room and he covered his ears, sinking to the ground. Stranger's arms were now surrounding him, binding him in place. They began to drag him out of the door.

"Don't let them!" He yelled at Stephen and Daniel as a last plea.

He shouldn't have wasted his breath.

—

The white walls were surrounding him. With a low moan, he rolled off the bed he had been thrown onto, pressing his cheek onto the cold floor.

Gwisin had gone, but he knew he would be back, just like the others always would do.

The ceiling was just as white as it had been for the past few years and he let out a low scream that turned into laughter.

"It always changes."

He smiled and turned on his side so he was facing his grandma. She was just as he remembered: red shawl draped over her loose clothes, a single piercing dangling from her ear. He reached out a hand slowly, grinning. His grandma smiled back, holding out her palm. He did the same.

"Lines change with age, my dear Hosuh, so don't trust them for long." She met his gaze, eyes shining just like they used to. Hosuh smiled.

"I'm not going to, grandma." He promised. "I'm not going to."

Gwisin means ghost in Korean, in case you were wondering.
(I think)
So whoever requested this, I hope you like it (again I don't read over my work so excuse spelling mistakes etc.)