THE ORB(L)||Seongjoong

9: THE TRUTH

mentions of vaping

“I can’t believe you agreed to having one room for us two.” Hongjoong complains. He stands at the doorway, leaning against the door while he shoots glares at Seonghwa who stayed insouciant, unpacking his bags and adjusting books on the tables.

“If you are having such a hassle, why don’t you just go and share a room with Commander choi? It will be much easier for you.” Seonghwa shrugs nonchalantly.

When he turned his head back to his unpacked bag, the lambent light of the bedside lamp accentuated his sharp features, making him look alluring to Hongjoong. But who could know? This guy was a complete piece of-

“If you think I am going to unpack yours too, get it out of your mind. I will just sleep, I am tired and there are a lot of things I have to work on tomorrow.” yeah, this was what Hongjoong was thinking about. A complete idiot who presumes things by himself.

“Shut it, I never said that.” Hongjoong remonstrates back, getting on his feet sturdily before stomping towards his untouched bag to push it aside. “I will just do mine later, I need to sleep as well. At least they have two separate beds so I won’t have to sleep with your addicted ass.” 

He intentionally mumbles the last part, in hopes that Seonghwa won’t hear it. Or even if he does, he would be unbothered. However, he was quite wrong here. “I told you to stop calling me addicted, you princess.” he mocks back with a scoff.

“Addicted is a good word to describe you! You are a stoner, Wrath, what is going to happen when you crave for your aerosoles? In the middle of a battle?” he had no intention of bickering, but now that it has started, Hongjoong wasn’t the one to back off. 

Seonghwa went quiescent, the cimmerian room making him no different from Hades; the god of death according to Greek mythology. Hongjoong went pale, aphotic like a dead tree in a nemorous forest when Seonghwa went back to work on what he was doing.

Hongjoong stayed silent, unmoving as he stole glances at Seonghwa before he ambled towards his bed to sit on the edge. He was no one to be afraid of someone he detests more than anything, someone he had loathed on sight. 

He hadn’t paled, and hadn't been afraid of Seonghwa because he couldn't. Seonghwa looked cranky, and dispiteous words were lucid in his eyes, as if on his tongue scarcely waiting to be permitted to slip and devor Hongjoong at once. Or had Seonghwa submitted? His eyes didn’t say so.

Hongjoong was sure he was the one who almost gave in with an alamort squirm under the grim eyes. He was sure he was nearly going to coil into himself and his knees went weak. He breathed heavily to calm himself, his hands were suddenly shaking. 

And it was not trepidation. His turmoil was highlighted once he felt sweat trickle down the side of his face as he sub-consciously tried to wipe it away. Doused in sweat and shivers, Hongjoong laid on his back to prevent attracting attention from Seonghwa.

Although the guy hasn’t ragged about Hongjoong, not even once, Hongjoong still can not let his guards down and succumb to his mulish fever which happened to hound him at such a moment. No one knows what goes in Wrath’s mind, no one can trust him, at least not Hongjoong.

Something shuffled and moved as Seonghwa stood up, done with unloading his things and organizing them. Hongjoong stays still, he doesn’t want to underline Seonghwa’s suspicion, wanting him to be in complete oblivion so he doesn’t see Hongjoong in a marcid state again.

“Do not call me a stoner, stupid Pride, or I might not give up on the word princess.” Seonghwa mumbled, but it was enough for Hongjoong to decipher the words. At this point, his tone was completely melancholy, but Hongjoong was too soaked in his fever to even discern.