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🔞¹⁸⁺ | ᴺᵉʷ ᴬᵈᵘˡᵗ | ᴿᵒᵐᵃⁿᶜᵉ | ᴰʳᵃᵐᵃ
In the dark world of virtual horror, Choi Beomgyu, a well-known Twitch streamer, has his own battle to fight. But it's not a world of pixels and codes that haunt his nights - it's the real shadows t...
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In all the time I had been here in Beomgyu's apartment, he had only looked at me a few times. It seemed like he was afraid of my face, but I knew he watched my streams more often. He kept turning his back to me, which made it difficult to understand what he was saying. He had spoken quite harshly to me, perhaps out of hatred for Soojin.
But when I told him that I had broken up with her, he had mutated into a statue. He looked tense and weak, hadn't said anything for several minutes and just stared at the wall.
"P-please..." he whispered in a shaky voice, still not lifting his eyes, "please, take that back."
I looked at him in confusion. His dark blond hair hung down his forehead, his lips trembled and his fingers were pressed so tightly into his knees that you could see how skinny his legs were. "Why?" I asked, because I would have thought he would have been happy. "I've decided it's better this way. I can't stay with someone like that."
Beomgyu pressed his lips together and finally raised both hands to press them against his ears. It was so quiet in the apartment that I could hear and count his every shaky breath. I could see how watery his eyes became and he finally stood up. Mechanically and almost lifelessly, his hands dropped down as if they had no strength left, then he went into the next room, presumably his bedroom. The sounds made me suspect he was looking for something and confirmation came with his return. He held his bedside lamp in his hand and placed it on the coffee table in front of me. Before I could say or ask anything, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and I was completely speechless.
It wasn't just that he was so skinny I could count his ribs. His entire upper body was covered in old, scarred wounds. Thin scars, some just long and across his chest. Others even yielded swear words like 'son of a bitch', 'scum' or 'slut'. Some of these wounds were as thick and bulging as if his skin had been cut out. Dark spots as if bruises had never healed and round burn marks, presumably from cigarettes. But it didn't stop there, because Beomgyu also took off his pants and knelt on the floor, bowing so low in front of me and stretching out his arms.
As if he was waiting to be punished.
And I realized that it was probably the pose he had assumed every day in high school. For two years.
