nyctophilia
[ nĭk′tə-fĭl′ē-ə ]
n.
a preference for the night or darkness
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"Oh we're definitely killing them then, I need to pad my stats anyway."
"You sound like a serial killer."
"I know, I still wonder why...
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It had been two days since San and I argued. Honestly, I felt terrible about not believing him. The guilt weighed heavier each time I thought about it. After replaying the conversation in my head countless times, I started to wonder—maybe he really was telling the truth. The problem was that so many other stories I’d heard about my parents’ murder weren’t. It left me lost, unsure of what to believe anymore.
When I spoke to Eden, he had no doubts about San’s account. He confirmed that Jung Sunwoo was the type to hold grudges over even the smallest things. Eden didn’t hesitate to say that Sunwoo was capable of something as sinister as orchestrating my parents’ deaths. That only made my guilt worse.
Maybe I should’ve trusted San. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell me, just like Eden had said. Maybe he really thought I already knew. The thought of how I’d doubted him, despite knowing him for almost four years, gnawed at me. San wasn’t someone who’d make up a story, especially not about something so sensitive. That realization made my regret even harder to bear.
Sleep had eluded me for the past two days. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind replayed the argument and spiraled into a web of questions. Tossing and turning, I’d end up staring at the ceiling until the sunlight streamed through my window, mocking my exhaustion.
Today was no different. I lay on my side, ready to turn over again, when the bright sunlight hit my face. Groaning, I raised a hand to shield my eyes, peeking one open to glance at the digital clock on my bedside table.
10:12 AM.
I sighed, kicking the covers off my body and sitting up slowly. My limbs felt heavy, like they were weighed down by my restless thoughts. Stretching and yawning, I rubbed my tired eyes before dragging myself to the bathroom.
After splashing cold water on my face and brushing my teeth, I stepped out of my room, hoping some fresh air and movement would wake me up. Just as I opened the door, I spotted a familiar blonde strolling down the hallway with his trademark grin.
“Good morning, Yuri!” Wooyoung called cheerfully.
I managed a small smile, waving half-heartedly, “Mornin’, Woo.”
His brows furrowed as he stopped in front of me, “You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”
“Is it that obvious?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
He nodded emphatically, “Don’t worry, I’m sure breakfast will cheer you up!” Without waiting for a reply, he patted my shoulder and grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the dining room.
