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. . . My dream slices me to pieces . . .
***
Wang Yibo's POV
I flopped down on the bed, spreading my arms as I sunk into the comfortable cover that smelled like laundry detergent, making a small smile bloom onto my face.
Thinking back about the dinner, it surprised me; I mean, perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind, I should have known Zhan could cook, but that he was able to cook so well?
That was something I did not expect; sadly, he had a not so good tolerance for pity stuff; I giggled softly, remembering how Zhan gulped down bottles of milk because I accidentally switched our bords.
After that experience, I made a mental note to myself to never let Zhan eat spicy stuff again, and unconsciously I started giggling about the silly event.
I quickly slid under my blanket, letting the warmth cover me as I looked through the ajar to the moon that shone bright and high on the sky, a full moon it was tonight.
Closing my eyes, I almost imagined the crying of wolves somewhere far inside the back of my mind, and I smiled warily; maybe those wolves cry because they can not touch their love.
After some times, I turned to my other side, trying to fall asleep, only to catch the time on the clock; it was 2 am.
The ghost hour.
I sighed, sitting straight up as I ruffled a hand through my hair; yawning, I let my feet touch the cold ground, shooting my feet into the warm slippers.
When I stood up, it was quiet, but yet, I heard footsteps; above me, and when I listened, carefully it was gone, so I shook my head.
As I was about to exit the room, I glanced at the mirror, looking like a ghost; I grinned to myself, closing the door behind me.
I wanted to walk to the kitchen when a cold gust of wind touched my skin, sending shivers down my spine; I looked around the hallway, the corridor had lights on, but no living soul nor shadow was visible except my own.
My brain told me to knock on Zhan's door, but my heart, it whispered, it ached to find out where the wind came from, and as I stood in front of Zhan's door, my hand against the door, I realized a thing.
What was I going to tell?
Yeah, I felt a cold gust of wind in the house when I wanted to drink some milk because I couldn't sleep?
I groaned, feeling stupid, wanting to get back into my room and slip under those blankets, but before I could even move a step, the cold breeze of wind hit my skin again.
My hand worked on its own as I started to slam on Zhan's door; something felt wrong but Zhan didn't react, and when I tried to pull his door open, I came to know he locked it.
