A Love Like No Other | jihan au

1.

There really was nothing to admire on the gray, cement walls for hours with no end.

Not even a window, restricted from being able to watch the sunrise, the sunset, or even admire the sun at all. Once he thinks about it, the man questions if it's even daytime, imagining that the moon may possibly be the one occupying the space of the giant ball of gas in the sky.

Who knows. He certainly doesn't.

Every now and then, the man inhales deeply, shifting his cold stone eyes to another part of the wall just to spend another hour formulating what figures he's able to pin-point within the cement dents and crevices, ignoring the glances he receives by the walking figures wearing crisp uniforms, combat boots, and a gun clipped to their belts.

He's all used to it, honestly. Not only has he excelled at ignoring them, but he has also excelled at determining who exactly the heavy footsteps belong to that strut up and down the echoey hall, a new set of feet arriving every couple of hours. Because of this, lacking not only a clock, and permission to ask any questions at all, this helps him determine the hour.

Kyungsoo, steps long and heavy, 12:00 PM.

Jiwon, steps light and fast, 7:30 PM

Yeeun, steps slow and squeaky, 9:00 PM

Doojin, steps loud and squeaky, 3:00 AM

Etcetera, etcetera.

Blinking, the man's lips quirk up just a smidge, releasing out a long breath.

Minjun. 6:30 PM. It's dinner time.

"Hey!" The called man nods once, remotely stiff, not even flinching at the heavy metal making contact with another metal, "Get your table ready! Dinner is coming! And do it now!" The hoarse voice announces, deeply, as if it had some powerful effect to put the one being spoken to, to action.

Much to the uniformed man's knowledge, the other decides to feed his foolish ego by doing as told, mutely standing and dusting off his hands, "Yes, sir."

With a cocky smirk, Minjun slyly turns, continuing his journey to announce the same information to the other rowdy men in the next hall. He's so special that he has his own personal patrol.

It wasn't long before the man's ears turned focus at the sound of not just a new set of feet, but the rattle and clanking of a cart being pushed not too far off. At that, more sounds of voices and cheers corrupt down a few halls as nostrils are filled with the smell of what seems to be meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and other steamed vegetables.

It's the same bland shit we eat every Wednesday. The man scoffs silently, crossing his arms over his built chest, leaning against the wall.

"Hello~" A voice speaks, a new one, one that has the man sit up immediately, "I have brought your dinner."

A flash of excitement courses through the man's veins as he steadily watches the familiar person, with a mole on his cheek, place the large plate of food on the small table surface a foot or so away from his stance, no more words needed to be spoken. And not because of the food.

Hey, here's what you asked for that I was able to finally get a hold of.

"Along with the extra mashed potatoes, as requested." Plucking the lid off the plate, the sight revealed, the man carefully examines a certain portion of the yellow fluff that he just so requested.

"Thank you."

"No problem," The new kitchen helper grins, full of innocent sunshine. "Careful with the potatoes, you never know what you might bite into."