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「I will not die in the night but in the light of the sun and the ashes of this world in my lungs」
♫hollywood undead; city
✩ h o n g j o o n g ✩
The roar of a wild tiger - deafening, angry.
It thundered through the hallways and caused everyone to stop whatever they were doing, and look around in confusion and distress.
Hongjoong let his hands fall from his face, uncovering his red eyes and the tears that streamed down his flushed cheeks.
Whoever, or whatever, he had become was tearing up a war in his mind. His old self was fighting to get out, but the new side created by the hands of evil was stronger - holding him down, drowning him.
But when the sound of the loud scream echoing outside his door, he looked up and as he got up he heard how things were being tossed around aggressively, thrown against the wall, breaking and shattering.
He stumbled into the hallway, and saw others peeking out from their rooms, but staying behind the little safety of their doors. Whenever his eyes met others', they quickly disappeared again. Hongjoong followed the sound, but with every step he took he felt how the entire atmosphere was changing around him.
It was in the air. Something terrible had happened.
Then he saw it, and his eyes widened up in shock and horror, while his face went pale. His heart was beating so fast it hurt, as he stared into the only single room in the mansion.
Yeosang's room.
Blood on the walls, running down in helpless lines from the words written with it, on the white wallpaper, 'do not squander time'.
Hongjoong's eyes unwilling moved downwards, his stomach turning and the air felt like thick and heavy in his lungs.
Two masked guards dressed in black were standing in the middle of the room, while Seonghwa was sitting on his knees, bent down with his black hair covering his face, and frustrated sounds kept falling from his lips. His hands were shaking, something Hongjoong had never seen happen before, when they carefully reached out and touched the pale skin under him.
The grey eyes were half-closed, as life was half-way gone as well. Yeosang didn't move, he was just lying there, flat on the floor, bleeding out from the open wounds on his body, and with his hand clenched around something.
One step closer, and Hongjoong knew what it was, or what it had been. A small plastic bag, with a little leftover of white powder inside, looking like a thin layer of fairy dust. Whatever amount had been there to begin with was gone, serving as Yeosang's only way out of hell.
