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"Heart made of paper and soul made of bruise, both were healed by my first kiss on your lips." ________________ | 난기류 |
At that particular moment, Min Yoongi realised that he had fucked up everything completely.
A painful knot formed inside his throat; he tried to swallow it but couldn't shake off the uneasiness. The veins under his nape throbbed, his hands shook as if bolts of electricity were shooting through his fingers. Chest heaving up and down, he looked around him and started gasping for fresh air.
However, his stomach churned in discomfort. The man let go of the piller - rather hastily - and sprinted towards the hospital. The night wind slashed on his face, on his disheveled hair and turned the thin layer of sweat coated on his exposed skin into ice.
In no time, he found himself in the washroom; eyes bloodshot as he stared at the mirror. Dirty pieces of scotch tape were attached around it; patches of ink smeared here and there; small cracks visible under the dim yellow light. The walls were painted in a disgusting shade of green - too much horrible to even look at. The floor was soaked with water and extremely slippery; most of the toilet doors hanging ajar.
He turned on the tap and sprinkled some water on his face. Resisting the urge to vomit, he straightened up his back and inhaled again. His head was spinning crazily, vision still blurry and foggy.
