[Fanfic - Meanie] jouska

(one.)

Let's just assume that consciousness is a tangible space.

When he was in High School, Mingyu opened his essay like that. Humans existed in the form of independent individuals but possessed many connections with the world around them, their memories naturally could not be the same. Maybe the same scene, the same view and the same tree at the same corner. But one time was an alone trip and the other time was a journey in a back seat of a friend's car, obviously different emotions were provoked. Therefore, the existence of consciousness could not simply be like hundreds sheets of paper looking like peas in pot.

For Mingyu, it was a white room.

A monotone of white covered it completely, not leaving out a space to make room for other colors. Wall painted white. White curtains swing in the bright white light. Sheets and pillow cases were as white as the beds in the hospital. On the wall, except for a photo frame and an antique watch (also cold color tone), there was nothing more. A cold silent white. A sterile emotionless white. A cold white color, like the color of the skeleton, was left behind after the whole body had decomposed.

If there was something that was not white, maybe it was an apple with crimson colour skin lying motionless on the window sill.

Every day, Mingyu spent many hours there, for whatever reason he could think of. In this empty white space, the day would never end, causing the concept of time to blur as a blurred image. Sometimes, he sat on a clean, clean napkin, pointing his eyes to the open gray space, wondering if the sky and earth intersected at the extreme. Or at some point, he would wander around the room, looking at his silhouette in the mirror, occasionally glimpsing some doubt as if it was not himself. But, the locus of that gaze, in the end, was the red apple on the white window.

Eat it. Take it, and eat it.

A familiar voice resounded in Mingyu's head, his voice carried an unpredictably seducing flavor. It was like Troye Sivan was siging in his head, telling him about do and don'ts in a particularly drunken voice. An instinct of narcotic.

__________

Kiss me on the mouth and set me free

Sing me like a choir

I can be the subject of your dreams

Your sickening desire

__________

All of a suddent, a breeze rushed into the room, carrying a leisurely aroma. It was certainly not from the window as it remained closed after all.

"Do not eat the apple." A sharp voice suddenly came from behind, making Mingyu startled back. A serious guy, well-dressed in a black suit that fits snugly with the body (as a designer item), has the masculine nostalgia of the past decade. It could have been raining heavily as his suit was wet, dripping like tons of water. He put down his black umbrella at the corner of the room, creating an illusion that this could be a Kingsmen agent. It could possibly be, couldn't it?

"Who are you?"

Avoid the unnecessary curious gaze from the young man, the newcomer took off his hat to say hello, and then sat down on the couch in the corner as if he had mastered it. "Am I important to you?"

"I've heard the strange madness long growing in your soul, in your isolation but you fortunate in your ignorance. Does that sound, hmmm, familiar to you?" He continued speaking the things which was somehow totally strange and thus Mingyu didn't know what to do other than standing right in the center of the room trying to hide his anxiety.

"What to say... Kim Mingyu, have it ever occurred to you that instinct and intellect parallelly coexist in a living organism? "The muffled voice was soft and calm, but the timbre inside it was cold like Artic ice. Together with the pale white color of his skin and the wall behind him, his words soared like the East wind, rushed to engulf Mingyu in a vague panic.

Who was this person exactly? How was it related to his appearance here? Mingyu couldn't not nod or shake, he just stood there, slowly repeating the old question. "Who are you?"

The man in the black suit laughed. Slowly getting up from his seat, he walked up to him. "You're no stranger to a drunk voice in your head, are you? But have you ever heard any other voice, louder, colder and more rational? Like ... mine, for instance?"

Quietly, the stranger continued, "Have not thought about that right? Well then... hello, I'm Jeon Wonwoo, your intellect. Now we know each other. "

-

Kim Mingyu did not understand - or to be more precise, he did not want to understand what was going on. A stranger, wrapped up in the elegant cover, claiming to be his somewhat 'reason'. This was not a joke, right? What kind of joke was this? It was not even funny. Not at all.

"So ... exactly, what brought you here?" Mingyu sat on the cushioned mattress, facing the gentleman in front of him. Jeon Wonwoo, in a symbolic way of artistic writers, was "like a lustful pastor imprisoned in his own faith," thought for a long time, then turned his gaze toward the apple. Red. It had been more than a week but time seemed to leave no mark on that dark red crust. It still looked like a sweet lips immersed in poison.

"Probably because of the apple. Look at it, can't you see that it is weird?" Wonwoo stood up, his heel and boots striked the marble floor. He walked towards the white window covered in a pale, artificial light, reaching out to pick up the apple from its place. A shudder glinted through Mingyu's back, causing his vision to be blurrily disturbed.

-

During the process of creating the living world, God actually created more than one forbidden fruit. He hide them everywhere, creating another similar form of Pandora's box, hidden in it the most dangerous, the darkest germs. And when I mentioned "everywhere", it was literally everywhere, including the human mind. Except in the room of Mingyu's memory, not present but at least a place created by the mind.

"Do not either take it out ore bite even one piece." Wonwoo sums it up, before moving on to something else that seemed to be easier to understand and worthy of note, "I should not have come here to do anything. But that drunk guy is always annoying me. Sometimes, I think, how can he be so dump. He even tempted you..." Wonwoo grinned his teeth when he came here" ... almost eat the damn thing ... "

Mingyu frowned, feeling so tired that he wanted to sit down. His brain refused to receive information, "You mean ... my instincts?"

Suddenly, Wonwoo turned to look at him, his hands resting on his shoulders, who were half-kneeling on the frozen floor – Wonwoo's focus was on him. Jeon, like a noble earl standing on high, spared half his eyes watching the kneeling on the ground. Cold knuckles. The smell of familiar incense. But in the end, looking closely, apart from the distant appearance, he was now much easier to understand. "Listen, no matter what happens, listen to me, okay?"

No matter what happens.

Mingyu still did not really understand what was going on. He felt like he was just trying to wander in an empty space, trying to pretend that he knew all the white walls he was seeing was only paint overlapping a dark universe behind.

Wonwoo was silent for a moment, rolling his eyes, as if he was considering the appropriate and understandable words, "Because I see my appearance as necessary and the best for you. There will be hundreds of thousands of temptations to steer you towards the apple, distract you from me, make you forget all the words I tell you. Once you bite on that sweet crust, this room will collapse. "

"Andwe will all die."