Your world within me (Chapter 2)
Author: onthetwack
Pairing: Dongseob, Kiseob
Rating: R
Genre: Mystery
Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only. Beast belongs to Cube Ent. and the boys hopefully belong to themselves. This is a work of fiction.
Warnings: Angst, Violence, Abuse
Summary: Son Dongwoon is a writer who hardly ever goes outside, but even within the safety of his own home Dongwoon witnesses horrible happenings through the thin walls of his apartment. When he starts writing down his thoughts, they feel like they're someone else's. This is a story about a windowsill, a black paperweight and horrors that can only happen in fiction...or not?
Author's Notes: I wrote this story for the gameofbeast's summer bigbang but decided to post it here as well and in much shorter bits. Comments are warmly welcomed! <3 Also check out the wonderful art that sypherus_xiii drew for me!
“No…that’s not…that’s not it,” he whispered, rubbing his hands over his eyes, shaking his head and starting anew.
The pile of crumpled up stories, never to be finished, never to be read again grew larger at the feet of his desk and the soft clicking of the keys of the typewriter barely ever stopped that night only when at about two a.m. loud steps sounded at the staircase leading up towards the apartments and a key was inserted into the keyhole next door.
Dongwoon held his breath, fingers ready to type and he felt so horrible for what he was doing. His eyes flickered towards the phone standing at the dresser next to the door. He couldn’t recall the last time he had called someone. And somehow he didn’t dare to call the police. Actually he didn’t even know what was happening, what was he supposed to tell the police?
The voice was more distant now as if they were inside a different room but still Dongwoon could hear that drunken voice. That scenario, too, wasn’t anything new to him. He let the air escape his lungs in relief, not really knowing when he had started to hold his breath when it stayed silent.
I hope the silence brings you the same peace as it does to me, Dongwoon wrote. One day, this silence, this peace will continue and…
Dongwoon stopped because he had heard something again. It wasn’t long until he sat like frozen at his table listening to the noises he had always blocked out with his pillow against his ears in the past. The sounds were unmistakable and they made Dongwoon sick to his very core. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as the grating of the bed frame grew faster, accompanied by the strained cries of that thin voice and the raspy grunts drowning them out.
He pressed his hand against his mouth and shook his head. What could he do? Did he even know the other didn’t want this? But his voice sounded so pained.
The cries stopped, maybe replaced by a much quieter sound Dongwoon couldn’t hear anymore but the grunts grew louder, choppier and then they stopped in a loud groan. Dongwoon stood up and dashed into the bathroom to empty his stomach over the toilet.
When he returned to his desk fifteen minutes later, his face damp with cool water, there was complete silence filling his apartment but for the deafening ticking of his clock.
Dongwoon hesitantly dropped onto his chair, pushed the carriage of the typewriter to the left and started writing. He didn’t feel like he could do anything about his fingers moving across the letters. He didn’t even think about what he was writing.
His eyes were bloodshot, his hair ruffled and his cheeks red from pressing his knuckles against them. But he didn’t rest. He stayed awake the whole night until the sheet of paper hanging from the typewriter was fully covered with words and writing. By that time the day was already dawning. And then he felt empty. There was nothing left to do but to wait until a plan formed inside his head.
He looked out of the window and saw the sun rising behind the surrounding buildings. In the streets cars were honking busily.
--
Yoseob opened his eyes to the sunlight shining into his face and saw the mattress being empty next to him. His body hurt. His mind felt numb. Chest trembling with a heavy sigh he closed his eyes again, squeezed them shut and concentrated until he felt them taking over.
He opens his eyes again. The curtains are closed and only allow the sunlight to stream dimly into the large room. The bedcovers are beautifully, pearly white like fresh snow and they are slung around a beautiful frame.
Kikwang is still asleep and Yoseob lets his eyes travel across his body. From what Yoseob can see of him, Kikwang isn’t wearing any shirt. He is lying on his stomach, using his arms as a makeshift pillow. His lips look plump and rosy. His muscled back moves up and down softly with each of his breaths. Yoseob’s eyes move through the large, open room.
The bed is standing in the middle. The walls are filled with shelves and dressers and cupboards and racks for clothing and other pieces of furniture. One wall consists of curtains covering a large row of windows. When Yoseob looks at them the dark-blue curtains suddenly move aside, revealing a large, blackish lake stretched out in front of a narrow, wooden jetty that’s running along the glass wall like a balcony.
Kikwang stirs and Yoseob looks at him once again.
“You are awake,” Kikwang mutters without opening his eyes. “Sorry…fell asleep again.”
Yoseob sighs and snuggles against him, slipping under the covers next to him and waiting for Kikwang to open his arms and pull him against his bare chest. Of course Kikwang doesn’t make him wait.
Yoseob closes his eyes. “You weren’t there,” Yoseob says and strokes Kikwang’s chest deep in thought. He can still feel his body aching, even here.
“You weren’t there tonight. You said you’d always be there.”
Only now Kikwang opens his eyes and after a moment of eyeing Yoseob carefully and looking all serious he stretches his neck to kiss Yoseob’s forehead. “You didn’t let me”, he whispers.
“It hurts, Kikwang,” Yoseob whimpers and Kikwang grimaces unhappily and full of compassion. He rolls onto his back and pulls Yoseob on top of his chest. “Shh,” he makes, stroking Yoseob’s back.
“Shh, relax. He is gone now. We have the whole day.”
Yoseob shudders and presses his face against Kikwang’s chest to suffocate the tears. He took him again tonight. He came and didn’t even bother to wait until he was awake. He didn’t care about anything, especially not Yoseob.
“Are you hungry? Let’s see if there is something in the kitchen for you. Just go ahead,” Kikwang whispers and Yoseob hums in appreciation but takes his time until he pushes himself into a sitting position and leaves the bed. Walking doesn’t hurt as much as he would have expected.
He just opens the single door leading out of the room and enters the one lying behind. The door falls shut behind him. The bedroom being all big and filled with light, this room now is darker and smaller and only a small window lets in white sunlight, milky from the clouds covering the sky.
There is a small, old-fashioned stove and a dusty wooden table. Brass pots and ladles are hanging on the grey walls. There are sheets of paper and photos spread on the table. At the stove stands a man, stirring in a small pot where some liquid is boiling silently.
“Good morning, Yoseob. What are you doing here?” the man says and Yoseob is surprised to meet him now. He could ask him the same question.
“What are you doing here?” he mutters and walks closer towards the man, peeking into the pot where vegetables are eagerly turning and trembling in a boiling soup.
“I’m cooking…” the man answers and his words are really unnecessary since he is wearing a grey apron and is holding a spoon in his hand.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Doojoon,” Yoseob murmurs shyly when the man looks at him in anticipation.
“Well, there might be a reason why I’m here,” Doojoon says and starts stirring again. His hair is a little messy but he still looks handsome.
“But there is nothing to…” Yoseob begins but is cut off by Doojoon who raises his spoon as if threatening him.
“Nothing to protect you from, you mean? Maybe I want to protect you from yourself,” Doojoon says and puffs his cheeks to emphasize his words.
“What do you…” Yoseob tries again but Doojoon won’t have any of this.
“Why are you here already? You just woke up. Just go and eat some breakfast,” Doojoon says and fills a bowl with the soup.
“I could eat with y-” This time it’s simply Doojoon’s stare that silences him. Doojoon shrugs, picks up the bowl and turns around.
“Despite that…the soup is for Hyunseung.”
Yoseob frowns in confusion and only then sees the second man inside the room, sitting at the table with the notes and the photos - Doojoon’s work for sure - staring at the wall wordlessly. He wears a cherry red hat and a striped tie around his neck.
“Hi, Hyunseung,” Yoseob tries but Hyunseung doesn’t react at all. Yoseob’s starting smile disappears immediately.
“Seung?” he asks. Doojoon places the bowl of soup on top of some photos of something that looks like a giant serpent.
Hyunseung’s face is blank and he doesn’t move as if he is indeed a marble statue. His lips form a thin line and his cheeks seem paler than Yoseob remembers them. Usually Hyunseung laughs and chatters with him. But Hyunseung has folded his hands in his lap and is totally paralyzed. He seems to be deep in thought.
Yoseob wants to walk towards him and ask him what’s wrong.
Doojoon snaps his head upwards and stares at Yoseob in alarm when suddenly the walls start trembling and the dishes all over the room start clattering like a warning bell.
Yoseob screams when the wall to his right bursts and a giant pair of poison-dripping fangs dart for him.
“Yoseob, leave now!” Doojoon yells and throws Yoseob to the floor and out of harm’s way. Yoseob hits the stone painfully hard.
Yoseob gasped and opened his eyes wide. He hadn’t wanted to fall asleep or his nightmares to interfere. He rubbed his eyes and sat up with a groan. There was the expected pain. He barely made it into the kitchen.
--
The white of Dongwoon’s eyes was barely visible through the red that restless hours of waking and unwanted tears had produced. Dongwoon wanted to call the police, he really wanted to. He just didn’t know what to tell them. And he was afraid it would make everything worse.
But of course there was something else holding him back. Dongwoon barely left his apartment. He had given up on the world. All he had where his books, his stories. He was afraid of the world outside somehow. It wasn’t panic. It was just…something.
Dongwoon frowned, rubbing his temples and hoping the throbbing pain inside his brain would finally stop. On top of the desk lay a freshly finished work of fiction but to Dongwoon it was more than this, it had felt like more than this. This was a piece of his heart or maybe even a piece of the heart of the boy next door.
Dongwoon cringed and blinked when he heard the window of his neighbor being opened. The building he lived in was old and narrow. If Dongwoon wanted to, if he dared to he could just walk towards his window, open it, lean outside, turn his head and look into the face of the young man he had heard cry and shout and whimper. But Dongwoon was too much of a coward to even move all the while until he heard the distinct sound of a window being closed.
Only then he stood up from his seat at the edge of his bed and walked towards his desk, placing his hand on top of the sheet of paper that was his story. He had forgotten to give it a title. Dongwoon licked his lips and grabbed a pen, scribbling the words on top of the story.
He then stroked the cool metal of his typewriter. He could just write his stories on his computer like everyone else did but to Dongwoon the sound of a typewriter, the need to always start anew when he didn’t like something, the force he needed to press the keys down, the little moment of meditation when a line was finished and he had to push the carrier to the side was what made writing real to him. It created the atmosphere he needed to think of stories, of characters…but not this time. This time everything had come from so much deeper.
Dongwoon picked up his story and folded it neatly. He wondered…
Dongwoon turned around and looked out of the window. What if…
--
With tremulous eyes he stared at the clock. It was getting late and Yoseob dreaded the moment when he would open the door again. Dinner was prepared but Yoseob was nervous nevertheless. Had he forgotten something? The place was tidy, he was tidy, there was nothing to upset his lover. But Yoseob could never know. Maybe something bad had happened at work and he was angry.
Yoseob clenched his fists to stop his fingers from shaking.
He came and Yoseob jumped to his feet.
“I’m not staying for long,” he immediately told Yoseob, ignoring the lovingly set table, heading for the bathroom without really looking at Yoseob.
“Where are you going?” Yoseob murmured softly, not daring to go after him in case his question was inappropriate.
“I’m meeting a few friends for dinner.”
Yoseob’s eyes shifted towards the food he had cooked all by himself but he immediately tore his eyes away from the dishes when his lover reappeared from the bathroom. Yoseob gathered all the courage he possessed and looked into his eyes.
“Can I come with you?” He hadn’t been out for so long.
Two cold hands were placed against his cheeks. “This isn’t the right thing for you. You would get bored”, he muttered and Yoseob lowered his gaze. He just wanted to get out so much, see something else than this apartment. Or run away. But he knew he wouldn’t leave him, because where would he be without him?
“You better stay at home where it’s nice and cozy, right?”
Yoseob nodded. “Alright,” he whispered and received a kiss for his good behavior. Minutes later he was alone again, strolling towards the table. He would have to eat dinner alone. But he wasn’t hungry at all.
Like there was a magnet attached to it, Yoseob’s feet carried him towards the window almost automatically. He just wanted to talk to someone. And there was only one who would listen to him. He opened the window, barely taking the time to notice the sun was setting. Yoseob was about to close his eyes when he noticed something else than the red sun.
On the windowsill lay a little black paperweight shaped like a cowering bunny. Its surface was plain and shimmering beautifully in the light of the dying sun. Yoseob frowned. There was a folded piece of paper attached to it by a thin string.
Yoseob hesitantly picked it up, wondering how the lovely figure even got there. For some reason it made him smile in confusion. What was that supposed to mean?
Carefully he untied the piece of paper and unfolded it.
Bars of Iron, stood there in a neat but slightly hurried handwriting.
Yoseob frowned and read on. His frown deepened and he looked up in a mild state of shock. He turned his head to the side, looking at the window next to him with a confused expression. Then he lowered his eyes again to read what was written there.
‘My name is Son Dongwoon. I don’t know who you are. I just know your voice. Yesterday night your story began to capture me and I began to wonder what you are like.
I don’t know anything about you. But if it would be for me to decide, your story would go like this:
You find yourself standing in the rain. You have lost your way and you don’t really know how you got there. The storm that shakes the surrounding trees scares you but you don’t know where to go. You wrap your arms around your body to warm yourself. Your bare feet stumble along the road, soaked and softened by the merciless rain. You go on, hoping luck is on your side this time when suddenly…’
Yoseob gasps at the cold water pouring down on him, running down his face and causing his hair to stick to his face in damp strands. His bare toes sink into the muddy ground as he hesitantly stumbles further.
“Hello?” he calls in fear but all he hears is the loud roaring of the rain and the storm. Neither the trees nor the path he is walking on seem familiar. Yoseob only hears them when he already sees their dark shadows darting towards him.
To be continued...
A/N: Chapter three is up already. I hope you liked it so far. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think or just to say hello. ;D Thanks for reading. If it's still confusing, feel free to ask me anything you'd like to know or wait until the next chapters will make it clearer for you. :D <33
Pairing: Dongseob, Kiseob
Rating: R
Genre: Mystery
Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only. Beast belongs to Cube Ent. and the boys hopefully belong to themselves. This is a work of fiction.
Warnings: Angst, Violence, Abuse
Summary: Son Dongwoon is a writer who hardly ever goes outside, but even within the safety of his own home Dongwoon witnesses horrible happenings through the thin walls of his apartment. When he starts writing down his thoughts, they feel like they're someone else's. This is a story about a windowsill, a black paperweight and horrors that can only happen in fiction...or not?
Author's Notes: I wrote this story for the gameofbeast's summer bigbang but decided to post it here as well and in much shorter bits. Comments are warmly welcomed! <3 Also check out the wonderful art that sypherus_xiii drew for me!
“No…that’s not…that’s not it,” he whispered, rubbing his hands over his eyes, shaking his head and starting anew.
The pile of crumpled up stories, never to be finished, never to be read again grew larger at the feet of his desk and the soft clicking of the keys of the typewriter barely ever stopped that night only when at about two a.m. loud steps sounded at the staircase leading up towards the apartments and a key was inserted into the keyhole next door.
Dongwoon held his breath, fingers ready to type and he felt so horrible for what he was doing. His eyes flickered towards the phone standing at the dresser next to the door. He couldn’t recall the last time he had called someone. And somehow he didn’t dare to call the police. Actually he didn’t even know what was happening, what was he supposed to tell the police?
The voice was more distant now as if they were inside a different room but still Dongwoon could hear that drunken voice. That scenario, too, wasn’t anything new to him. He let the air escape his lungs in relief, not really knowing when he had started to hold his breath when it stayed silent.
I hope the silence brings you the same peace as it does to me, Dongwoon wrote. One day, this silence, this peace will continue and…
Dongwoon stopped because he had heard something again. It wasn’t long until he sat like frozen at his table listening to the noises he had always blocked out with his pillow against his ears in the past. The sounds were unmistakable and they made Dongwoon sick to his very core. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as the grating of the bed frame grew faster, accompanied by the strained cries of that thin voice and the raspy grunts drowning them out.
He pressed his hand against his mouth and shook his head. What could he do? Did he even know the other didn’t want this? But his voice sounded so pained.
The cries stopped, maybe replaced by a much quieter sound Dongwoon couldn’t hear anymore but the grunts grew louder, choppier and then they stopped in a loud groan. Dongwoon stood up and dashed into the bathroom to empty his stomach over the toilet.
When he returned to his desk fifteen minutes later, his face damp with cool water, there was complete silence filling his apartment but for the deafening ticking of his clock.
Dongwoon hesitantly dropped onto his chair, pushed the carriage of the typewriter to the left and started writing. He didn’t feel like he could do anything about his fingers moving across the letters. He didn’t even think about what he was writing.
His eyes were bloodshot, his hair ruffled and his cheeks red from pressing his knuckles against them. But he didn’t rest. He stayed awake the whole night until the sheet of paper hanging from the typewriter was fully covered with words and writing. By that time the day was already dawning. And then he felt empty. There was nothing left to do but to wait until a plan formed inside his head.
He looked out of the window and saw the sun rising behind the surrounding buildings. In the streets cars were honking busily.
--
Yoseob opened his eyes to the sunlight shining into his face and saw the mattress being empty next to him. His body hurt. His mind felt numb. Chest trembling with a heavy sigh he closed his eyes again, squeezed them shut and concentrated until he felt them taking over.
He opens his eyes again. The curtains are closed and only allow the sunlight to stream dimly into the large room. The bedcovers are beautifully, pearly white like fresh snow and they are slung around a beautiful frame.
Kikwang is still asleep and Yoseob lets his eyes travel across his body. From what Yoseob can see of him, Kikwang isn’t wearing any shirt. He is lying on his stomach, using his arms as a makeshift pillow. His lips look plump and rosy. His muscled back moves up and down softly with each of his breaths. Yoseob’s eyes move through the large, open room.
The bed is standing in the middle. The walls are filled with shelves and dressers and cupboards and racks for clothing and other pieces of furniture. One wall consists of curtains covering a large row of windows. When Yoseob looks at them the dark-blue curtains suddenly move aside, revealing a large, blackish lake stretched out in front of a narrow, wooden jetty that’s running along the glass wall like a balcony.
Kikwang stirs and Yoseob looks at him once again.
“You are awake,” Kikwang mutters without opening his eyes. “Sorry…fell asleep again.”
Yoseob sighs and snuggles against him, slipping under the covers next to him and waiting for Kikwang to open his arms and pull him against his bare chest. Of course Kikwang doesn’t make him wait.
Yoseob closes his eyes. “You weren’t there,” Yoseob says and strokes Kikwang’s chest deep in thought. He can still feel his body aching, even here.
“You weren’t there tonight. You said you’d always be there.”
Only now Kikwang opens his eyes and after a moment of eyeing Yoseob carefully and looking all serious he stretches his neck to kiss Yoseob’s forehead. “You didn’t let me”, he whispers.
“It hurts, Kikwang,” Yoseob whimpers and Kikwang grimaces unhappily and full of compassion. He rolls onto his back and pulls Yoseob on top of his chest. “Shh,” he makes, stroking Yoseob’s back.
“Shh, relax. He is gone now. We have the whole day.”
Yoseob shudders and presses his face against Kikwang’s chest to suffocate the tears. He took him again tonight. He came and didn’t even bother to wait until he was awake. He didn’t care about anything, especially not Yoseob.
“Are you hungry? Let’s see if there is something in the kitchen for you. Just go ahead,” Kikwang whispers and Yoseob hums in appreciation but takes his time until he pushes himself into a sitting position and leaves the bed. Walking doesn’t hurt as much as he would have expected.
He just opens the single door leading out of the room and enters the one lying behind. The door falls shut behind him. The bedroom being all big and filled with light, this room now is darker and smaller and only a small window lets in white sunlight, milky from the clouds covering the sky.
There is a small, old-fashioned stove and a dusty wooden table. Brass pots and ladles are hanging on the grey walls. There are sheets of paper and photos spread on the table. At the stove stands a man, stirring in a small pot where some liquid is boiling silently.
“Good morning, Yoseob. What are you doing here?” the man says and Yoseob is surprised to meet him now. He could ask him the same question.
“What are you doing here?” he mutters and walks closer towards the man, peeking into the pot where vegetables are eagerly turning and trembling in a boiling soup.
“I’m cooking…” the man answers and his words are really unnecessary since he is wearing a grey apron and is holding a spoon in his hand.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Doojoon,” Yoseob murmurs shyly when the man looks at him in anticipation.
“Well, there might be a reason why I’m here,” Doojoon says and starts stirring again. His hair is a little messy but he still looks handsome.
“But there is nothing to…” Yoseob begins but is cut off by Doojoon who raises his spoon as if threatening him.
“Nothing to protect you from, you mean? Maybe I want to protect you from yourself,” Doojoon says and puffs his cheeks to emphasize his words.
“What do you…” Yoseob tries again but Doojoon won’t have any of this.
“Why are you here already? You just woke up. Just go and eat some breakfast,” Doojoon says and fills a bowl with the soup.
“I could eat with y-” This time it’s simply Doojoon’s stare that silences him. Doojoon shrugs, picks up the bowl and turns around.
“Despite that…the soup is for Hyunseung.”
Yoseob frowns in confusion and only then sees the second man inside the room, sitting at the table with the notes and the photos - Doojoon’s work for sure - staring at the wall wordlessly. He wears a cherry red hat and a striped tie around his neck.
“Hi, Hyunseung,” Yoseob tries but Hyunseung doesn’t react at all. Yoseob’s starting smile disappears immediately.
“Seung?” he asks. Doojoon places the bowl of soup on top of some photos of something that looks like a giant serpent.
Hyunseung’s face is blank and he doesn’t move as if he is indeed a marble statue. His lips form a thin line and his cheeks seem paler than Yoseob remembers them. Usually Hyunseung laughs and chatters with him. But Hyunseung has folded his hands in his lap and is totally paralyzed. He seems to be deep in thought.
Yoseob wants to walk towards him and ask him what’s wrong.
Doojoon snaps his head upwards and stares at Yoseob in alarm when suddenly the walls start trembling and the dishes all over the room start clattering like a warning bell.
Yoseob screams when the wall to his right bursts and a giant pair of poison-dripping fangs dart for him.
“Yoseob, leave now!” Doojoon yells and throws Yoseob to the floor and out of harm’s way. Yoseob hits the stone painfully hard.
Yoseob gasped and opened his eyes wide. He hadn’t wanted to fall asleep or his nightmares to interfere. He rubbed his eyes and sat up with a groan. There was the expected pain. He barely made it into the kitchen.
--
The white of Dongwoon’s eyes was barely visible through the red that restless hours of waking and unwanted tears had produced. Dongwoon wanted to call the police, he really wanted to. He just didn’t know what to tell them. And he was afraid it would make everything worse.
But of course there was something else holding him back. Dongwoon barely left his apartment. He had given up on the world. All he had where his books, his stories. He was afraid of the world outside somehow. It wasn’t panic. It was just…something.
Dongwoon frowned, rubbing his temples and hoping the throbbing pain inside his brain would finally stop. On top of the desk lay a freshly finished work of fiction but to Dongwoon it was more than this, it had felt like more than this. This was a piece of his heart or maybe even a piece of the heart of the boy next door.
Dongwoon cringed and blinked when he heard the window of his neighbor being opened. The building he lived in was old and narrow. If Dongwoon wanted to, if he dared to he could just walk towards his window, open it, lean outside, turn his head and look into the face of the young man he had heard cry and shout and whimper. But Dongwoon was too much of a coward to even move all the while until he heard the distinct sound of a window being closed.
Only then he stood up from his seat at the edge of his bed and walked towards his desk, placing his hand on top of the sheet of paper that was his story. He had forgotten to give it a title. Dongwoon licked his lips and grabbed a pen, scribbling the words on top of the story.
He then stroked the cool metal of his typewriter. He could just write his stories on his computer like everyone else did but to Dongwoon the sound of a typewriter, the need to always start anew when he didn’t like something, the force he needed to press the keys down, the little moment of meditation when a line was finished and he had to push the carrier to the side was what made writing real to him. It created the atmosphere he needed to think of stories, of characters…but not this time. This time everything had come from so much deeper.
Dongwoon picked up his story and folded it neatly. He wondered…
Dongwoon turned around and looked out of the window. What if…
--
With tremulous eyes he stared at the clock. It was getting late and Yoseob dreaded the moment when he would open the door again. Dinner was prepared but Yoseob was nervous nevertheless. Had he forgotten something? The place was tidy, he was tidy, there was nothing to upset his lover. But Yoseob could never know. Maybe something bad had happened at work and he was angry.
Yoseob clenched his fists to stop his fingers from shaking.
He came and Yoseob jumped to his feet.
“I’m not staying for long,” he immediately told Yoseob, ignoring the lovingly set table, heading for the bathroom without really looking at Yoseob.
“Where are you going?” Yoseob murmured softly, not daring to go after him in case his question was inappropriate.
“I’m meeting a few friends for dinner.”
Yoseob’s eyes shifted towards the food he had cooked all by himself but he immediately tore his eyes away from the dishes when his lover reappeared from the bathroom. Yoseob gathered all the courage he possessed and looked into his eyes.
“Can I come with you?” He hadn’t been out for so long.
Two cold hands were placed against his cheeks. “This isn’t the right thing for you. You would get bored”, he muttered and Yoseob lowered his gaze. He just wanted to get out so much, see something else than this apartment. Or run away. But he knew he wouldn’t leave him, because where would he be without him?
“You better stay at home where it’s nice and cozy, right?”
Yoseob nodded. “Alright,” he whispered and received a kiss for his good behavior. Minutes later he was alone again, strolling towards the table. He would have to eat dinner alone. But he wasn’t hungry at all.
Like there was a magnet attached to it, Yoseob’s feet carried him towards the window almost automatically. He just wanted to talk to someone. And there was only one who would listen to him. He opened the window, barely taking the time to notice the sun was setting. Yoseob was about to close his eyes when he noticed something else than the red sun.
On the windowsill lay a little black paperweight shaped like a cowering bunny. Its surface was plain and shimmering beautifully in the light of the dying sun. Yoseob frowned. There was a folded piece of paper attached to it by a thin string.
Yoseob hesitantly picked it up, wondering how the lovely figure even got there. For some reason it made him smile in confusion. What was that supposed to mean?
Carefully he untied the piece of paper and unfolded it.
Bars of Iron, stood there in a neat but slightly hurried handwriting.
Yoseob frowned and read on. His frown deepened and he looked up in a mild state of shock. He turned his head to the side, looking at the window next to him with a confused expression. Then he lowered his eyes again to read what was written there.
‘My name is Son Dongwoon. I don’t know who you are. I just know your voice. Yesterday night your story began to capture me and I began to wonder what you are like.
I don’t know anything about you. But if it would be for me to decide, your story would go like this:
You find yourself standing in the rain. You have lost your way and you don’t really know how you got there. The storm that shakes the surrounding trees scares you but you don’t know where to go. You wrap your arms around your body to warm yourself. Your bare feet stumble along the road, soaked and softened by the merciless rain. You go on, hoping luck is on your side this time when suddenly…’
Yoseob gasps at the cold water pouring down on him, running down his face and causing his hair to stick to his face in damp strands. His bare toes sink into the muddy ground as he hesitantly stumbles further.
“Hello?” he calls in fear but all he hears is the loud roaring of the rain and the storm. Neither the trees nor the path he is walking on seem familiar. Yoseob only hears them when he already sees their dark shadows darting towards him.
To be continued...
A/N: Chapter three is up already. I hope you liked it so far. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think or just to say hello. ;D Thanks for reading. If it's still confusing, feel free to ask me anything you'd like to know or wait until the next chapters will make it clearer for you. :D <33