So yeah here is another draft I had for like 2 years. Also I'm addicted to the answer era hair still- don't come for me.
So I Didn't mean for this to end up being 3k words but here we are. I was thinking about doing two parts but I was too engaged while finishing the second I just wanted to get it to y'all.
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The place was eerie during the day, trails of life from the night before lingered in the air but swiftly faded as the clean up began. Popcorn and stray wrappers clung to the earth in attempt to stay but were quickly wiped away along with the breeze. Steal creaked with every small movement and fabric whipped around. Everything lay dormant within the confinements, waiting to burst to life once the evening arrived. A circus was not a place to be during the day.
Silver hair stood strong against the breeze, the sheer amount of gel present keeping it all in place as he strode along the winding paths. The frayed edges of the coat he wore trailed along the ground behind him, unkept from contempt and a desire for something new. This place had been his home for years, welcoming those who don't belong among the normal world, and yet all he wanted was to leave. He neared the edge of the path and halted, breath hitching in his throat at the sight of a shadow like figure hiding behind a corner in the distance. He wanted to step off the path, go to this person and tell them his name, his life, anything, but his feet made no movement. One to many times he had made the mistake of trying to step outside the ground, and he had the marks to prove it. The binding contract of his life kept him confined within the blinding lights and red and white of his carnival. Invisible cuffs that kept him within the flashing lights and screaming children, the marks of punishment hidden behind a cold sneer. Forever on the move, they never stayed more than a few weeks before packing up in the dead of night and leaving any chance of a life behind.
With a deep sigh he pivoted and began the treck back to his small trailer that stayed hidden from the patrons view. It was his space, and his icy personality kept it that way. Very few of those who made up their little freak show ever tried talking to him, knowing better after watching him over the years. Except one.
He was gifted, sure, but unlike the others, he wanted to rid himself of his power, not cherish it. Mind reading was a taxing task. Thoughts were always in his head, even when he had none at all. Trust was hard to come by for those who can see right though you. He no longer had a sense of self after he was forced to stay around and pawn money off of people with some not so ethical tactics every now and then. It was all made worse by the ring master. The man who ran it all. Just like him, he could read the minds of those around him, making him a formidable agent against anyone who stands in his way. His only power over the man is he could not read his thoughts, but it came with the cost of Hongjoon not knowing what his tyrant was thinking, a truely dangerous dance.
Hongjoon trudged back to his trailer, his mind swirling with thoughts of escape and freedom. As he swung open the metal door of his dimly lit sanctuary, he caught sight of a figure sitting on his worn-out couch, bathed in the faint glow of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Seonghwa.
His presence sent a jolt of surprise through Hongjoon. This new man had arrived a week ago to their god forsaken hell and had an aura of mystery, unlike anyone he had encountered before. Hongjoon's mind raced with curiosity, and for the first time since meeting he realised he heard nothing from the other man's head. Not one thought. Instead of Seonghwa's thoughts, he was met with an unsettling void, a blankness that sent shivers down his spine.
"How did you get in here?" Hongjoon's voice was laced with suspicion, his eyes narrowed as he studied Seonghwa. The man was sitting relaxed on the couch, a coin running along his fingers as he moved to stand.
