𝐒𝐊𝐙 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

CARVE MY BLOODIED BONES : HYUNCHAN

requested by sweet, sweet saalex_af 

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Discretion : Please read this story. I have poured half of my brain and the whole of my heart into this! This is a tale that may contain rather disturbing / violent descriptions, but I hope it's not too much to stomach! There might be quite a bit of descriptions about the forbidden kool-aid and derealization!

｡:.ﾟஐ⋆*

" Hyunjin-ah, the soup is too cold! "
One of them piped up, voice scratchy and whiny. He lifted his wooden spoon to sift through the broth, poking awkwardly at the herbs. A grumpy look sat on his face as he crossed his arms, white bushy brows furrowed.

Hyunjin sauntered over to the slightly chipped wooden table, resting his weight on his elbow. " It's too cold, indeed! " He exclaimed, his eyes wide yet they were gleamed mean. His honey-like voice was just shy of being dreamy, yet his tone was laced with spiteful excitement. He then lifted up the dwarf's chin with his index finger, painting his cheeks a sudden flush of pink. " See.. the soup may be cold, but do you know what isn't? " His eyes bored into his, so close he could feel it in his skull. How he wished the waters would scream sublime.

Hyunjin seemed to address everyone in the little cottage, even the mice looked up with their small blocks of cheese tightly in the grasp of their lovely little paws.
The man felt Hyunjin's nails pierce into the skin of his neck, transcending into a waltz, prancing to and fro, just as time ticked.
" N-No... " He started to hiccup, tears welling up in his eyes as sickening warmth spread across his puddish face. His once demeaning eyes filled with nothing but rotten desires were begging for clarity amongst the mistiness.

" Blood. " He paused, his voice haunted, yet still sounding of roses and dust. " Your blood, to be more specific." He gasped as the dwarf cried out, balling his fists as he wailed. His face was painted the colour of blue and black,swirling under the delusion mercy of the silver storms.

The sound of skin against the cool metal blade, just like fire on ice. He sliced open the skin carefully, almost like a gentle dove who was unwrapping a present. He relished in the sound made, his anguished horror drowned and quickly faded, like streams of sunlight peeking past the curtains. The feeling of the tip of his blade against the nervous pulse, how he craved sweet relief he was so close to grasping. He felt something so addictive, something akin to adrenaline. It flowed through his being, chest heaving with bottled up anticipation. Yet he was calm, almost like a dove resting amongst the meadows.

The cut was deep. Crimson flowed in a steady pour. With every beat of his desperate heart came red liquid essence that spilled onto the floor. It was like an artist painting his last and final work.

BLOOD...

BLOOD.

BLOOD!

Dancing fire met with jubilant eyes as his breathing became erratic. The grip on the handle of his knife was still tight, the white ribbon that decorated it was now decorated with a slaughtered shade of maroon.

THWACK!

The sound of the man's head hitting the table resounded, like a haunting echo. His eyes were wide open, lifeless. His body soon landed onto the ground with a loud thud, red-skinned. There was blood, blood, blood everywhere. Painting his eyelids every time they blinked. Blood, blood, blood everywhere, the gutted dead. The guttural cry.