Tattooed Illusions (BxB)

E L E V E N

I feel like Jeong deserves to wear a crown because he's a literal king in this chapter. You're welcome.

Ocean waves pulled Journey under, darkness enveloping him, leaving black blotches dancing across his vision, encasing him in its grasp.

Blazing heat burned his skin, causing his face to flush, as the chilly air he felt from the air conditioning unit faded rapidly. He gasped for air. Around him swirls dark, indigo water, holding him hostage, and denying his lungs air.

Journey's entire body trembled, his bottom lip between his teeth, as the sound of his heart slammed against his ribcage.

With fear waltzing in his blue orbs, he tried to control his breathing. Onto the surface of the bathroom sink his grip tightened, clutching desperately for support. His mouth felt dry, as a pair of hands encircled around his throat, tightening their grip.

Blurring his vision were glassy tears, falling from his face in the form of a broken dam. His hands shake at his sides, slightly digging into his palms, as he desperately tries to blink away the tears.

In the water he flailed, his arms thrashing helplessly. Dizziness overwhelmed him, in an attempt to coax him to the cold, tiled floor below his feet.

"Hey, Journey, breathe," a calm voice echoes in his ears. "You're okay. Just focus on taking deep breaths, okay? I'm right here."

Journey lifts his head, meeting the dark-eyed gaze of Jeong. Slowly, he breathes in, exhaling out through his nose, and focusing on the breathing exercises he was taught. His breathing returns to his normal state after a few moments.

"You're doing an amazing job, Ginger," he flashes him a grin, all teeth, as the nickname rolled off his tongue effortlessly. His dimples popped out at the corners of his mouth. "Just keep your breathing steady."

Journey's eyebrows drew together in confusion. He stares at Jeong, peering at the nearly black irises blinking at him. Jeong's signature leather jacket, decorated with various zippers, hung clad on his shoulders, hiding his pale arms, void of tattoo sleeves. Faded blood lined his knuckles, showing evidence of a recent fight.

Through the tight fabric of his tshirt, his torso, decorated with defined abs, was visible. His familiar scent of cheap cologne and spearmint gum wafted off of him, calming Journey's nerves.

His figure was relaxed rather than tense, the mask painted across his face before he entered the small bathroom replaced with a soft smile.

Jeong rarely smiles, but on the rare occasion when he lets his facade slip, the beam showcased on his face was fucking beautiful and as a result, the redheaded boy found himself purely mesmerized. When he smiled, his eyes shone with excitement like a child on Christmas morning and the hardened gaze he wore fell.

Chipped tiles covered the walls of the small bathroom, fallen debris on the cold ground, the stench of the stale air wafting into Journey's nostrils. Scarlet coated the walls, mirroring the faded crimson liquid smeared across Jeong's knuckles. The smell of smoke engulfed the room. On his way out, Jeong laid his pale hand on Journey's head, his long fingers ruffling his ginger locks.

Journey watched his retreating figure disappear back into the den of wolves, baring their teeth, hungry for another fight. Journey knew Jeong would slip back into their dorm tonight, blood coloring his tshirt, his body aching from the few injuries he'd receive.

"What's bothering you, Jeong?" The woman sitting across from him hums. Her dark hair, nearly black, tumbles down her shoulders, resting above her waist. Due to the sunlight seeping in through the thin curtains, her dark eyes appear golden, almost like pools of honey. She taps her pencil against her bottom lip, softly gazing at him.

"I've been thinking about my mom lately, more so than usual. Her face comes and goes in my mind. At some points, as I'm lying awake, I hear her voice in my head, her laugh floating through the air. In a way, it haunts me, but on the other hand, it's nice to hear her voice when I'm stressed."

Nodding, her pencil waltzes across the lined pages of her notebook, taking notes. As he speaks, rambling on about his day, she listens intently, never inputting her opinion when Jeong doesn't specifically ask for her to.

Her dark colored skin glistens from the streams of sunlight pouring in, courtesy of the open window hanging above. Her red lips morph into a thin line, concentration sewn into the soft features of her face.

"And Journey, my roommate, has started to sit with me and my brother at lunch. I guess, in a way, he became my friend. I almost snapped at him this morning, but oddly, my voice failed me. It wouldn't let me hurt him. Fuck, what's happening to me, Rhea?"
He pulls at the strands of his black hair in frustration, narrowing his eyes.

"Maybe, you've started to care for him. Maybe, you've found a reason to let him in your heart. Maybe, the walls you've built are starting to crumble," she replies hesitantly. By listing possible reasons, she gave him the ability to choose for himself, to decide why Journey matters to him.

Jeong averts his stare to the floor, focusing on the cracks imprinted into the dark wood. His mind drifts to the redhead. His small frame and fearless blue eyes. His lopsided smile. His specs of amber barely visible in his irises. His oversized sweaters. His washed-out, blue jeans. His scarlet colored cheeks. His breathtaking smile.

During the night of the thunderstorm, Jeong desperately wanted to cradle the small redhead in his arms, his fingers tracing circles on his back, coaxing his fears away. But he pulls on a facade of indifference. He forces himself to appear irritated, as if his presence was bothering him.

Because Jeong can't allow himself to let Journey in. Because Jeong can't allow himself to let anyone in.

"Have you been sleeping lately?" The tone of her voice is soft, floating in the air like a spring breeze.

"No," he says.

She hums as a response. "I suggest you try taking the medication prescribed to you." Jeong opens his mouth to offer a snappy reply, but she glances at him. "I know you're not taking them, Jeong. Listen. I know you refuse to take pills to help you fall asleep because of what happened to your mom, but you can't blame yourself. Carrying the blame isn't healthy. It weighs you down. I know you think you're to blame, but it wasn't your fault in any way. At least, try to take the medication. It will help, I promise."