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Still ignoring Miyoung's desperate messages, I fall asleep with a full stomach. Just to wake up not long after.
It's midnight, should be the sixth of August, and the sky is filled with dark, ominous clouds.
Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder breaks the silence, shaking the windows and rattling my very core. The rain pours down in torrents, creating a symphony of pitter-patter on the roof.
Flashes of lightning illuminate the room, casting eerie silhouettes on the walls. The air is charged with electricity, and the storm's raw power fills the night with an intense, exhilarating energy.
Why are storms so frequent nowadays? I don't get it. I sigh to myself.
Since I'm well aware of Jisung's trouble handling this type of weather, I tiredly sit up and rub my eyes in order to wake up.
Once I feel awake enough to move, I slowly walk towards the stairs.
There's no light other than the flashlight of my phone, and I must admit it's a bit scary. It always is.
It can't be scarier than how my 'soulmess' is feeling right now, right?
By the time I'm halfway through the entrance of my bedroom, I hear silent sobs.
They're not very silent, actually.
"Jisung?" I murmur in a deep, sleepy voice, walking towards the noise.
There's no answer, only cries becoming louder as so do thunders. He's gripping the sheets tightly, rocking himself in bed in a sitting position, hugging what my eyes can make out to be our cat.
All lights are off, so I get nearer and nearer until I'm able to sit on my knees on the bed with ease.
I look over at him, my heart beating a little bit faster, not knowing what to do in this situation.
This happened before. I stare into his closed eyes, taking in how messy he looks right now. There's, probably, snot under his nose— which is completely normal— and the dried tears are being replaced by new ones.
Said mess is trying oh so hard to wipe everything away, any evidence there is that he cried.
His lips are bitten, as always, but now blood's gushing out of them without any mercy.
I place my hands around his wrists to stop him, pulling them away to get a clearer look of his pretty face. "look at me."
Gradually, he lifts his head. I bring my thumb up to his lip and brush it, smearing blood all over my nail.
Although it should've made him feel better, or at least that's what I thought, he starts crying harder. To the point he's hyperventilating.
