- [COMPLETED]
hongjoong is an extremely enigmatic character, so much so that no one around here really knows him or what he does.
but that won't stop seonghwa.
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( disclaimer: this story is purely fictional and has nothing to do with the members i...
tw: mentions of suicide, child exploitation and abuse
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It was Friday evening and Seonghwa's house was currently empty, which did nothing to quench the flurry of thoughts that had swarmed his head. Most of them were negative, urging him to back out of it as soon as he could, and maybe Seonghwa should have. After all, it'd been years since he'd gone to the attic for this particular reason.
But, something in him kept him in place and prevented him from going back down and shutting his plans for tonight out of his mind entirely. As he stood by the attic's opening, all that could replay in his head were memories of the past. It made his chest and heart hurt, the nostalgia he felt bordering on bitter.
You can go back now. You don't need to do this, he told himself, but for the first time in a while, he wasn't keen on abiding by his mind's words. He wanted to do this, even when his emotions were threatening to spiral out of control.
Seonghwa exhaled a deep breath as soon as he finally entered the attic. The week had been tasking one so far with him trying to rid the thoughts about his mother and his supposed powers, as well as trying his best to not make Mingi any more suspicious of him. And surprisingly, convincing his best friend turned out to be the easiest of the three to accomplish. In fact, Mingi took his excuse in stride, not seeming all too bothered by his disappearance on Tuesday, which made Seonghwa a little more relieved than before.
But now, here he was in the heart of it all, inside a room that held everything that'd belonged to his mother. Despite the fact that he and his dad had moved places after his mother's death, his dad couldn't find it in his heart to give out, or throw away, the things she owned. So the man had put them in the small attic, neatly stacked and nearly spotless.
Seonghwa's feet felt like they'd sunk into the floor. It was like his body just refused to take a step further, and for a second the urge to listen to it was stronger than ever. But, Seonghwa pushed through; forced himself to keep moving.
One...two...three... Seonghwa mentally counted every step he made as he fought his hardest to remain composed. His eyes ran all over the dark room, noticing the many books and drawings tucked into the corners. His mother had always loved art.
Deciding against switching on the lights, Seonghwa inhaled yet another deep breath and knelt down beside the first set of closed boxes he spotted. His hands lightly trembled as he opened the first one, careful not to exert too much force because the last thing he wanted was to damage anything. Even with him being surrounded by things that had belonged to the woman who'd raised him once upon a time, he still felt like a stranger here.
It'd been so long...
A lump settled in Seonghwa's throat as soon as the first box was fully opened. It was the one with the pictures, all sorts of them depicting their early lives they'd all had together as a family of three. Of course. Something harsh twisted inside Seonghwa's chest at the mere sight of them.
