BOSS | NCT

oo9

The smell of iron travels into my nostrils.

I wake up.

My eyes squint and I blame my body for being so weak and badly in shape that I didn't realize I fell asleep.

I still smell iron. It smells of rusts in moist air.

My nose twitch.

My eyes twitch, too, from something so bright. I look at the source of that sickening brightness.

Someone turned on the television.

The brightness from that damn box device in this pitch-black room is making my eyes squeeze in pain. The light illuminated the darkness and when I raised my head, I watch pictures moving.

A news channel is flashing pictures of the catastrophe occuring in different areas. 'November 27. Twelve children dead from the virus.' The newscaster's voice dictated, while heartbreakimg pictures continues flashing one by one. 'Citizens suspect why most of the infected are teenagers, with the range from ages 13 to 19. Meanwhile, adults with the age 20 and higher remain uninfected and unharmed by the virus. Scientists are now putting immediate action to this case and study why---"

I was so focused. So focused that I didn't wince when I heard a click.

The television blinks. The pictures disappeared, the voice of the narrator stops speaking. The screen displays nothing but a black rectangle.

Someone turned it off.

I don't need to look around the room to find out who.

"I hate the media. They tell shitloads of trash."

Chills rose to my body when I heard that voice, although I should already be expecting his presence because this room belongs to him anyway.

Laying on his bed, at least five meters away from me, is Lucas.

The lights remained shut. But Lucas is showered by the glow of the moonlight, making the outline of his face visible to my eyes.

"What time is it?"

A pointless question, because I still looked at my own watch anyway.

But Lucas still responded to me, "Eleven in the night." he states.

"When did you arrive?"

"Ten."

"Oh," I blink.

Somehow I am thankful he only arrived an hour before. Which means that he only witnessed me asleep for an hour. Oh god. The thought of Lucas catching me asleep in his couch inside his bloody room is making my cheeks grow hot. Could he have seen my sleeping face? Watch it? Laugh at it?

I should stop thinking about it. Why do I need to worry like this? Lucas is just Lucas. Nothing special. Nothing different. Nothing worth worrying for.

I look at him once more, but he seems to be busy doing something with his hands. My eyes refocused on his actions until I finally got the whole picture.

He's tying a bandage around his arm . . .

Lucas' arm is injured.

The thing that I smelled a while ago was not iron, but blood.

"Oh, god," I gasp. "Are you hurt?"

"A little," he tells me. I didn't buy that.

A 'little' smell of blood won't diffuse to the air.

"You should've turned the lights on," I say, rising from the couch to walk towards the light switch. "You can't see properly in the dark."

"But you're sleeping," he gulps. "And I don't want to wake you . . . "