oblivion ; minsung

"paper boats"

Minho stands at the edge of the creek, eyes cast downward. Across from him is the patch of lifeless dirt where he had opened his eyes surrounded by crows, voices screaming in his ears, another creature in his body. Behind him is the dying cradle of daisies and ferns where Jisung first looked at Minho with hate in his eyes.

He's been thinking. About everything. About when he was young, and he and his sisters would sail paper boats in the creek. It was so simple. Creasing the paper, tucking a few rocks into the folds. Running along the bank, trying not to trip over his own feet. There was no wondering where the boat would end up after the chainlink fence stopped him from following any farther, after it disappeared around the bend and ceased to exist.

He can never go back to that place.

He isn't sure what time it is. He's been hiding out in the forest as if he'll be able to stay forever. He went back to the house only once, for a jacket and something to eat. The maids and cooks weren't there, probably visiting his family at the hospital. Worry and guilt are eating him up inside, slowly-consuming parasites. But he knows Hara is alive. He knows it. If he let himself question, he might not have the strength of will to stay away.

His goal now is to stay as far as he can from the house, from Hara, from Jisung. It's his only goal. He has no idea what he'll do beyond today, beyond wandering in the safety of the trees. He feels like he's stalling at the edge of something terrifying.

He has one goal. But the goosebumps prickling across his skin are leaving cracks in his resolve. He stares back toward the house though he can't see it through the dense rabble of trees. He can't help feeling like his body is telling him something. Like it's giving him a warning.

He walks till the house comes into view, crosses the lawn and rose garden. The door to the conservatory echoes as it opens. He calls his sisters' names into the house. No reply.

Something is different. The air is no longer stagnant. He can see dust motes floating in the sunset light, but they aren't moving with the draft or sinking to the floor.

They're moving upward.

He walks through the foyer and takes the stairs. His lungs are buoys in his chest, climbing altitudes with every step. He follows the hallway on the third floor, approaching the nursery.

He stops dead. Goosebumps scream across his skin, claws digging in.

Jisung is kneeling, hands tented against the floor. The veins in his arms and neck are blackened, like his blood has turned to tar. His eyes are open, unblinking, all pupil and no white.

Minho says his name without thinking.

Jisung's eyes squeeze closed — once they open, the Dark has bled away. He takes his fingers off the ground and his veins fade into his skin. He doesn't seem surprised to see Minho, but his mouth stays shut like he's afraid to speak.

"What are you doing here?" Minho murmurs.

"I'm trying... to fix this."

"Fix what? What the fuck, you're in my house — I told you not to come here."

He rises to his feet, avoiding Minho's eyes. "Get out of my way."

Minho stands his ground for a moment, then takes a wary few steps back, like a dog, eyes trained on a fox. Jisung walks past, out of the nursery. The pull in the air follows him, and so does Minho.

"What were you doing in there?" he asks.

"You said it yourself. You're poisoning Hara, and so is the house. It's too full of you. It's of you."