They had grown used to Hongjoong's unwelcome presence.
Seonghwa's mornings had started to shift. They found themselves waking up earlier than their usual 11 AM to ensure they met Hongjoong downstairs. They knew Hongjoong was hesitant to venture upstairs without their explicit invitation. Despite this, there were moments when Seonghwa secretly wished Hongjoong would take the initiative to join them upstairs. The idea of journeying down and back up the stairs often felt draining. Yet, they reasoned, some physical activity wouldn't necessarily harm them.
Pushing open the kitchen door, Seonghwa's fingers lightly brushed against the cool wall as they entered. The soft glow of morning light filtered through the windows, casting gentle shadows on the tiled floor.
"Hongjoong?" Seonghwa's voice echoed slightly in the quiet room, their eyes scanning for any sign of their friend.
"Yeah?" Hongjoong's response came, accompanied by an unexpected bang that made Seonghwa's heart skip a beat.
Alarmed, Seonghwa hurriedly made their way towards the source of the noise, finding Hongjoong standing there with a sheepish grin. A knife lay on the floor beside him, its blade glinting ominously in the morning light.
"What happened?" Seonghwa's concern was evident as they approached, eyes darting to the small droplets of blood that stained the pristine floor.
"I just dropped the knife," Hongjoong laughed lightly, bending down to retrieve the fallen object. As he picked it up, a few more drops of blood fell, confirming Seonghwa's fears. "Looks like I've managed to cut my finger as well," he admitted, holding up his injured hand for Seonghwa to see.
Seonghwa's eyes widened with alarm as they noticed the blood trickling down Hongjoong's finger. Quickly but gently, they guided Hongjoong to the counter, wrapping a paper towel snugly around the cut to staunch the bleeding. Their hands were steady but urgent, the worry evident in their eyes.
"It's just a small cut. It will be fine—" Hongjoong began to reassure them, but Seonghwa's voice was firm, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Seonghwa's face contorted with unease at the sight of the blood that splattered across the floor. "No, I can't stand the sight of blood everywhere," they murmured, gently releasing Hongjoong's hand from their grip. Seonghwa ducked under the sink with swift determination, rummaging through the cleaning supplies until their fingers closed around a bottle of bleach.
Be clean.
No blood.
It burns.
It feels like home.
Emerging with the bottle in hand, they unscrewed the cap and poured a generous amount onto the stained wooden floor. Seonghwa began to scrub at the floor with an almost frantic fervor, their motions rapid and forceful. It was as if they were trying to erase not just the physical evidence of the spill but also the haunting memory it represented.
Be clean.
No blood.
It burns.
It feels like home.
The sharp, acrid scent of bleach quickly permeated the air, its strong fumes stinging their eyes and nose. Yet, Seonghwa seemed completely absorbed in their task, their gaze unwavering as they focused intently on the floor. Even as the red stains faded under their relentless scrubbing, Seonghwa showed no signs of slowing down.
Be clean.
No blood.
It burns.
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Living ĐɆ₳Đ Roses || SeongJoong
RomanceSeonghwa was a ghost. Not physically, just mentally. Never leaving their home, never talking, never living. All they did was stare at the blank white screen that screamed for Seonghwa to write something. That was until a little rodent made his w...
