Life is a word that sometimes you cannot say And ash is a thing that someday we all should be
...
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Stepping into the shower, Hoseok had done the exact opposite of what he was advised to do. Despite his fever and advice to use lukewarm water, he'd set the knob to the hottest temperature it could reach - unbothered by the heat as the stream of water pounded onto his body in steamy rivulets, making his skin flush a glistening pink.
He'd even lathered his body and hair with some body wash and shampoo he'd found, the fragrance of cherry blossoms and vanilla invading his nostrils in a pleasant but unexpected way. He wasn't complaining... but he was caught off guard and definitely unused to how luscious the perfume of the product was. Why did they even have that in their bathroom anyway?
But that was the least of his concerns now, because, at the moment, Hoseok had been sitting on the chilled floor of the tub for what he could only assume had been at least half an hour.
His hair had dampened long since then since he'd turned the water off and his bottom throbbed from sitting on such a hard surface, but he couldn't figure out what to do. He was somewhat dizzy and agitated.
Again and again, he found himself getting too distracted. He'd made a pact with himself - one that required absolute isolation and withdrawal - yet he found himself too drawn to the jocular interactions of the four boys he'd met and of course, Yoongi and Taehyung, to follow through with his initial strategy.
He needed a new approach and he needed it now. He'd already made the biggest mistake of his life by allowing for Namjoon to get a glimpse of what was behind the masquerade. He couldn't let any sort of additional diversions get in the way anymore.
And luckily, in the time that he'd sat on the floor of the tub in earnest contemplation, he'd conjured up a plan. A great plan.
Deciding it was now time to leave the bathroom, he clenches his jaw and slowly gets up, his muscles protesting from the long-drawn position - though to be honest, he could care less. His mind was too busy racing to worry for the way his body begged him to stop pushing itself past its limit when he was clearly weak and ill.
Water droplets slipping down his frame, he dries himself with a towel and is relieved to see a pair of sweatpants resting on top of the hoodie Namjoon had already given him. He must have opened the door at some point to leave it there.
The pants thankfully fit snugly against his body and the hoodie was baggy enough to comfortably engulf his frame. The sleeves going past his wrists gave him comfort and solace instead of being a nuisance. Not to mention, Namjoon's soothing scent wafted into his nostrils everytime he inhaled, almost serving as a form of support for what he was about to do.
