Living ĐɆ₳Đ Roses || SeongJoong

Chapter 4: Strawberry jAM

Seonghwa was going to buy a gun.

Every morning, Seonghwa woke up to the soft sounds of their own footsteps echoing through the silent house, half-expecting that Hongjoong had finally ceased his daily invasions. However, their hope was shattered when they discovered a mix of freshly picked roses—some vibrant and alive, others wilted and dead—scattered throughout their home. It was a subtle reminder that Hongjoong had been there again, intruding and caring for their living space.

Upon entering the kitchen, they often found a plate of food set neatly on the table. While the culinary creations were not always gourmet—sometimes overcooked or lacking in seasoning—Seonghwa ate them anyway, partly out of hunger and partly out of a strange sense of obligation. Once they had finished their meal, they would inevitably have to confront Hongjoong and insist that he leave.

This bizarre routine had become a part of Seonghwa's life. It was as if Hongjoong had turned their home into a labyrinthine puzzle, forcing Seonghwa to wander from room to room in search of him. Each corner held the potential surprise of a hidden rose or a newly repaired piece of furniture, all meticulously arranged by Hongjoong during his unauthorized visits.

If the relationship between Seonghwa and Hongjoong had been built on mutual friendship or understanding, perhaps Seonghwa would have welcomed these gestures with open arms. However, Hongjoong was essentially a stranger who had taken it upon himself to intrude into Seonghwa's life, attending to their needs and desires without their consent.

Yet, on this particular day, the routine was disrupted. As Seonghwa entered the kitchen, they were met with an unexpected sight: Hongjoong standing by the stove, stirring a pot with a whisk. The pot was unfamiliar, one Seonghwa was certain they had never owned.

"You seriously need to stop coming here," Seonghwa declared, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. Their arms crossed tightly over their chest, clearly showing their frustration and exhaustion.

Hongjoong giggled softly, turning to face Seonghwa with a playful glint in his eyes. "If I stopped coming here, then who would cook you food and clean the house?" he retorted, tilting his head slightly to the side almost unnaturally.

Seonghwa couldn't help but notice the way Hongjoong moved. His body seemed to sway and shift as if it were hollow, as though there was nothing but air and fabric beneath his skin. It was unsettling, making Seonghwa question the reality of Hongjoong's existence. Was he truly human or a manifestation of Seonghwa's loneliness and longing?

Intrusive thoughts crossed their minds, tempting them to tear into Hongjoong's flesh to see whether he was flesh and blood or a figment of their imagination. Yet, despite the unsettling nature of their encounters, Seonghwa found themselves unable to carry out such a violent act. Instead, they stood there, caught between curiosity and fear, wondering what Hongjoong's true intentions were and whether they would ever discover the truth behind his mysterious visits.

We are lonely, but he is real.

We are lonely, but he is not real.

Only one way to test it.

Don't; we'll have blood on our hands.

We already have blood on our hands.

Seonghwa's voice cut through the air with a monotone that felt as stark and unyielding as a grayscale photograph, contrasting sharply with the kaleidoscope of Hongjoong's animated expressions and gestures.

"If I wanted a maid, I would hire one," Seonghwa remarked coolly, their voice devoid of emotion, making it feel like each word was meticulously chosen and measured.