𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 \\ 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧

🍬 𝟖 🍬

━━━━━✿━━━━━

COCONUT

• 🥥 •

Wooyoung sat on his bed, his head resting atop his grey pillow. Sighing, his eyes drifted to the red numbers illuminated on the desk adjacent to his still body. His eyes squinted tight  in an attempt to adjust to the contrast of the bright light with the darkness surrounding him. Eyelids fluttering back open, Wooyoung gently raised his hand, one of his dainty fingers tracing over the numbers;

2 : 4 7

It was late, and if he didn't sleep soon, Wooyoung was gonna feel like shit at school tomorrow. He knew he needed to sleep, that he should be somewhere far away in dreamland; and yet, here he was, laying on his bad as he stared at the alarm clock he told his mother he didn't need

For some reason unknown to Wooyoung she insisted he have it. It almost made him mad, how much she cared about a damn alarm clock. How could she think so much about an object when she never thought of her own son

A little pathetic, Wooyoung thought, hating himself for it as soon as the words entered his mind. He didn't want to think of his mother like that. After all, he wasn't mad at her. He was just frustrated due to his sleep deprived state

Which, with those red numbers, the clock was only shoving in his face

It's not like he slept anyways, so what was the use of an alarm. All it did was make Wooyoung more aware of how awake he was

Wooyoung shook his head, hand dropping back onto his sheets

That wasn't entirely true

Wooyoung had slept at a time in his life. In fact, when he was younger Wooyoung's favourite time of day was at night. It was a time where all he had to do was sleep, letting all of the troubles of the day fade away as he let his vivid imagination take over; taking him to places he wanted to be

Wooyoung smiled painfully as he recalled the memories he held onto so dearly. Almost every night when he was a child, Wooyoung's mother would walk him to his room, the two of them then sitting on his bed. Wooyoung could feel her warmth like it was yesterday. It was as if he was right there again, laying on her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair gently

There was something about her touch that lulled him to sleep, feeling safe in her arms. As if nothing bad could ever happen to him, negative thoughts having no power against the songs she would sing to him, the melody flooding into his ears. Wooyoung's mother had long since stopped doing that however, a nine year old boy coming to the harsh reality that he was now too old for that to ever happen again

He was too old to be so childish

Too old to be so loud

Too old for love

Wooyoung felt his chest tighten as he remembered that very day, his brain traveling back in time. Just as he closed his eyes, they opened into a different setting. There he was, back in a moment eight years prior, the memory still as vivid as ever.

 Wooyoung was standing at the end of the hallway. He noted the dark brown wood railing from his old house, all of its cracks and scuffs fresh in his mind. Even though it was a dream, Wooyoung was surprised he had remembered the building so well. Sure, he'd lived there for the first ten years of his life, but it had been so long since they had moved to the apartment. 

So long; or at least it had felt that way

 Wooyoung could barely remember a time where he hadn't lived in the condo, the days spent alone blending into one another. Memories of the warm house he used to call home seemed to drift father away with every passing day. Did time have a factor in that? Wooyoung presumed it did, as if had been seven years