- [COMPLETED]
choi san, cursed to live a lonely life of forceful giving and taking, really doesn't like it when popular student jung wooyoung suddenly takes an interest in him.
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( disclaimer: this story is purely fictional and has nothing to do w...
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San woke up. Woke up to mild darkness and this flickering lightbulb slightly swinging over his head. For a while, he just stared at it, at the small moth crudely deciding to find solace on its gleaming surface.
And then, he blinked, trying to regain his momentum and the strength in his limbs. For a while, he felt stagnant. His body was numb, his chest empty and his lips chapped with dried blood.
San felt like heaving, but he couldn't. Not when he felt like he was seconds away from fainting. You should've been used to it by now. But he wasn't, and he didn't think he ever would.
He fisted his hand, wincing at the sticky feel to it. The smell of blood in the air was sickening and made him nauseous. He forced himself to sit up, the bones in his body cracking at the action. He screwed his eyes shut as he tried to calm his wayward heartbeat, licking his dried lips only to recoil at the metallic taste decorating the inside of his mouth.
San's pulse raced as soon as the door to the room creaked open, only for it to slow down when a familiar face stepped in.
The blond haired male let out a barely there smile, but his dark eyes remained cautious and tinged with worry. He took several steps closer to him whilst wiping his hands with a grey rag, the several piercings adorning his ears glinting through the dark.
"You okay?" The older male asked, casting the rag on one of the metal tables surrounding them. His voice was low and sort of raspy, but the familiarity of it helped calm San's nerves down.
San shook his head. "What do you think?" He replied, hating how hoarse his voice sounded. It only reminded him of how dead he once was.
Seonghwa nodded, understanding what he meant. After all, he'd been around ever since San's second death took place.
"I know..." He answered, and his careful tone of voice made San want to feel annoyed even when he knew he shouldn't. I'm not a baby. "That's why I waited for you to fully wake up first. The water's warm, so you can go take a shower. I already have dinner prepared."
San slowly swung his feet over the springy bed he was seated on, the soles pressing against the cold, tiled floors. He glared down at himself. His favourite shirt was now stained with dark blood, and there was nothing he could do to save it. Looking around, he spotted crumpled rags and old clothes at the corners soaked with even more blood. Seonghwa hadn't cleaned them up yet, and San knew it was a result of the older not being too fond of its smell in the first place.
Seonghwa must've noticed his stare, because he decided to add: "I'll clean it up later. Just get washed up, okay?"
He placed a hand on San's shoulder, and his touch made San flinch. He removed it, his expression betraying nothing as he already understood, but San immediately felt apologetic.
