Wooyoung lay awake on the old spring mattress; his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he tossed and turned. Beside him, Yeosang slept peacefully, his steady breaths a stark contrast to the creaks and groans of the worn-out bed. Mingi and Yunho took the first watch, their low whispers like mice as they guarded the front door.
As Wooyoung lay there, the weight of everything that was happening bore down on him like a heavy blanket. Every decision he had made, every action he had taken, replayed in his mind like a broken record. He couldn't escape the reality of it all, no matter how hard he tried.
The guilt of his past actions was suffocating, and he felt like he was drowning in it. He didn't want to face the consequences of his choices, but he knew deep down that he had no choice but to confront them. The thought of it made his heart race and his palms sweat.
Wooyoung knew that he had to find a way to make things right, to make amends for the mistakes he had made. But the road ahead was long and uncertain, and he wasn't sure if he had the strength to see it through. As he lay there in the darkness, he couldn't help but wonder if he was capable of redemption.
As he looked out at the vast expanse of dunes before him, a part of him longed for the simpler times when it was just the three of them out there. Those were the days when the only thing he needed to worry about was coming up with the following joke to make the others laugh. But now, as he stood there with the world's weight on his shoulders, he couldn't help but feel a burning desire to tear it all down.
He wished to bring forth a great fire that would engulf everything in its path, leaving nothing but ash and smoke in its wake. He longed to see the world burn, to watch as the flames rose high into the sky, casting an orange glow across the desolate landscape.
In his mind's eye, he envisioned a fire so vast and all-consuming that it would give the universe itself a firework show. He imagined the stars above twinkling with delight as they watched the spectacle below. And he couldn't help but wonder what God would think of it all. The same God who had allowed the world to become the wasteland it was now.
As he laid there, lost in thought, he couldn't help but feel satisfied at the idea of it all. After all, what did it matter if the world burned? It was already dead inside.
"Hey," Wooyoung felt a warm hand cup his cheek. "You all right in that head of yours?" Yeosang asked, his voice slurred and his eyes sleepy.
"Yeah," Wooyoung put his hand over Yeosang's and gave him a fake smile. "Just thinking."
"Ah," Yeosang nodded, moving his hand to bring Wooyooung into a hug. "Don't do that too much, now. It's dangerous."
As Yeosang wrapped his arms around Wooyoung, the latter felt a wave of warmth and comfort wash over him. He leaned into the embrace, snuggling his head against Yeosang's chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall as his best friend breathed. The sound of Yeosang's heartbeat was a soothing melody, lulling Wooyoung into a sense of peacefulness. Yeosang hummed softly, his fingers running through Wooyoung's hair, eliciting a contented sigh from the younger boy. With every pat on his back, Wooyoung felt a sense of safety and security envelop him as if nothing could harm him in Yeosang's arms. It was a moment of pure bliss, a reminder of the unbreakable bond they shared, a moment that Wooyoung would cherish forever.
"Yeah," the Oreo-haired man chuckled. "I guess you are right."
"I am always right."
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The Walls || WOOSAN
Fantasy3000s, the world was filled with fear, diseases, dishonesty, backstabbing, and fitness survival. Due to an incurable disease called 1117, which eats away at the brain, leaving people braindead and filling them with unmerciful rage, people have come...