In honor of my latte run, here’s a tiny sliver of poy ch 8 for my lovely followers
. . .
Jisung fell to the ground, forearms catching his weight. No effort was made to get up, no, he would wait there hoping the floor would cave in and take him. His arms rested horizontally in front of him and he pressed his forehead into them. Instinctively, he tucked his knees under him too. It wasn't comfortable. He was never comfortable.
He giggled again, ugly and crazed. He would spend hours in this position, tears soaking his skin, gasping laughter filling the air. Still alone. He was still him. Bowed in reverence he mumbled, "it's just you."
Please. It's just you.
. . .
hope everyone’s having a wonderful day, i’ll be writing as much as my brain capacity can handle in one session