Lend You Broken Parts {A Woosan Fic}

one in the chamber

Out of focus. The white ceiling above San's head straightens itself out as his eyelids flutter open and the conscious world welcomes him to another day. Silently begging sleep to overcome him again, he forces his eyes closed.

Slowing his breathing, he feebly attempted to release the tension that had held his limbs captive through the night.

Although, no matter how reluctant, his mind had become too aware.

His ears sensitive to the sound of the fan rotating above him. To the small hand of the clock ticking its way around the miniature facade decorating his night stand.

He peered at the figure, a cat dressed as an astronaut adorning a glowing moon, a gift from Yeo.

It read 5:19.

His body begin to adjust and stretch under the sweat dampened sheets. He unclenched his fingers as realization set that he had been holding his duvet rather aggressively during his slumber.

Taking one last deep breath, he urged himself straight up, body folding upright the way Dracula rises from his coffin at the start of a new night.

Catching his reflection in the mirror of his vanity, he smirked as he noted his hair.

The soft black strands, touched gently with burgundy highlights, were plastered wildly across his forehead and stiffly swept up in the back.

Almost resembling fox ears, it topped off his 'undead' fashion statement.

He winced at the onslaught of pain gripping his torso, shoulders, and back as he clambered out of bed. Making his way to the bathroom that was in the corner of his room.

Flicking on the lights and stepping in front of his body length reflection, a sharp inhale invaded the silence as he reviewed the damage.

San has always gotten out of hand with his fights. There aren't many that he remembers when he isn't in training and faced with an unfamiliar adversary.

He sort of... loses control.

Yeosang, San's best friend since the age of eight, tells him all the time that watching him in the pit is almost satanic.

A shadow shrouds his figure when he gets captivated by the thrill of the fight and he resembles an entity of another world.

Eyes darkened and feral.

It has almost become sadistic the way he admires his battle scars, as if he is welcoming the pain, greeting an old friend.

Maybe the idea of him barreling forward, unstoppable in his violent charades being kept a secret from his dad fuels his desire.

San squared his shoulders, standing taller and surveyed his image further. He shuffled closer to the mirror as he noticed the tiny split in his lip and red and purple mark resting on his cheek bone.

That would be harder to hide but he would just pass it off to his father as an accident.

Preparing for the day entailed only a few things, but San took his time.

Leisurely showering, letting the hot water run over his coloring skin and soothing the gradual aches. He pulled on a pair of olive colored trainers that hugged his waist and fell loose around his legs.

He opted for a long sleeve black shirt to cover his arms, not really much he could do about anything else.

As he left his room and wandered down the hall, the sun began to peek just barely through the shades, kissing the walls and submerging the (not so humble) abode in a lazy golden haze.