Summary:
seulgi has fallen in love with irene, and plans to confess her feelings in a most unusual way.
—
Seulgi took a cautious step into Irene's room, closing the door behind her as softly as she could.
Dawn was only just beginning to break. The smallest glimmer of sunshine filtered through Irene's pastel pink curtains, painting the room a soft, soothing colour; and the untouched stuffed animals and vibrant throw pillows that were placed around her room glowed serenely in the early morning light.
This was the perfect backdrop for a murder.
In this world of pastel monotony, no one stayed dead. Weapons were ineffective, vehicular manslaughter was as destructive as a playful tickle, and even elaborately engineered traps set for little mice proved to do next to no damage to one's physical form.
Given the non-existent nature of death, murders were instead carried out for an endless number of reasons. They could be ways to say hello, a temporary relief of tension for a long-standing grudge, or even perhaps a passionate confessions of love, to name but a few. It was something everyone did – and every girl in the world felt a deep-seated boiling in their blood to kill, day in and day out.
Seulgi hadn't tried killing Irene yet because she wanted this murder to be perfect; to be beautiful. Her heart had longed to carry it out for the longest time. Seulgi felt as though she had been swallowed up whole by the ever growing ocean that was her love for Irene; utterly consumed by those feelings, they had risen from the darkest, deepest depths, forcibly coiled their way around her being, and continued to drag her downward, consuming her entirely. She couldn't go a moment longer without doing something about it.
Months had been spent fretting and planning the best method to off the girl she had fallen so in love with.
After all, Irene deserved nothing less than the most gorgeous, most intimate death imaginable; and finally, Seulgi came to the most romantic, logical conclusion.
Whatever could be more intimate than one's bare hands?
She only hoped her feelings would be reciprocated.
Seulgi turned her head to stare at Irene's sleeping frame. Her prey was laying perfectly still on her back, a fluffy blue blanket draped over her body rising and falling softly in time with her breathing.
Irene looked beautiful, even while asleep. Even her bed hair was perfect, with the way her light pink locks were splayed out against the pillow with a seemingly careful precision taking Seulgi's breath away. There wasn't a moment of the day where she didn't look beautiful, and that was one of the many things Seulgi loved about her.
She made her way to the bed, taking extra care in climbing on top of the soft mattress. It silently sunk beneath her weight as she leaned over her target, and as she looked down at Irene from this angle, it made her heart race. Irene's ruby red lips had parted slightly, and for a moment, Seulgi wondered what it was she was dreaming about.
Were Irene's dreams anything like hers? A realistic reflection of their reality, where everyone was monotone and rarely smiled, but always held a knife behind their backs? Did she satiate her bloodlust through dream, mowing down everyone in sight to alleviate the pressure of doing so in reality?
