𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙮'𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙠 ᵃᵗᵉᵉᶻ

3. red lines

━━━━━━━━

༄ 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴

━━━━━━━━

san stood by the kitchen's door frame, close enough not to appear too suspicious of his parents who were by the stove prepping breakfast, but far enough away that they couldn't hear the conversation he shared the with dead.

"have my parents ever seen you? actually no, can they see you? i want to make sure i'm not the only one going crazy in this house."

yeosang shook his head and poured. "they can't see me, no one other than you has ever been able to see me. only you can." the ghost huffed. "it's actually lonely. i've been here alone for while with no body to talk to."

"why not?" the boy whispered back.

"i honestly don't know. i've been here about a year and never have they once noticed me. even if i've done things to get their attention." the last part was mumbled, but that still didn't prevent san from hearing.

mrs. choi looked up from her cup of tea and smiled softly at her son. "san who are you talking too?" she giggled, watching as her son's face contorted into one of pure confusion.

"no one," he mumbled to his mother, eyes still trained on the boy in front of him.

yeosang's eyes went from warm pools of honey to stone-cold hickory; his large toothy smile melted into a deep frown and he stomped his foot. just as the sound of skin hit the wooden floors sounded in the air, the chairs that sat neatly in line with the dinner table rumbled viciously. three of them even tumbling over onto the floor with a loud thud. the picture frames that decorated the kitchen walls flipped and fell from their nails, their glass shattering along the floor.

san's eyes snapped over to the display with a look of utter disbelief, his jaw hung low. his mother made a soft squeak in surprise while his father flinched.

"i'm not no one," yeosang hissed, the chairs flipped once again in sync with his words, the broken glass seemingly breaking into even smaller pieces, "i'm your best friend."

san's body came over run with chills, a cold feeling slithering up and down his spine like a slimy snake. he looked back to yeosang only to find nothing before him—the air cold and stale.

━━

fire.

the pain had gotten too much for wooyoung. he couldn't sleep through it anymore, not when it crept up every limb and burned at his lungs. his ears rang with screams of internal agony -the sound so loud it cancelled out the bangs of chairs and shattering glass coming from downstairs- and he cried.

he waited until the pain had dulled before he went to the bathroom to get ready.

wooyoung went through he regularly morning routine: brushing his teeth and hair, doing his basic skincare and prepped his shower.

he turned on the faucet and began to strip. first his bottoms and then his shirt. and that's when he saw them: red coated his skin, making it a rich pink.

"what the fuck are these?" he gasped out.

he turned his body, angled it through the mirror so he could see his back and shoulders; they were there too. it was all over.

with hesitance he ran his fingers over them, wincing when they hissed under his touch. blood seeped through his skin and coated his hands thickly.

"oh god, shit," he hissed.

hurried footsteps could be heard through the bathroom door and wooyoung paused his inspection.

"sannie, is that you?" he asked.