[discontinued] 100% self indulgent wattpad-esque fic.
DO HANEUL had always seen these weirdly solemn men and women clad in black suits, staring fixedly as the world continued to revolve cluelessly. As the only one who could see them, she had been co...
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°°°
How long had it been since I last set foot in a place like this? Haneul wondered as she ran to the nearest hospital.
The poor girl hated the pristine white walls and the blindingly white lights. She hated their contrast with the jet black suits of the figures she kept imagining : it made it that harder to act as if they weren't there.
She had become more agile, more precise, in the way she would cautiously let her eyes roam to them, acting as if she was lost in thought.
And to be quite honest, she was.
Her thoughts roared inside her mind, edging her to talk to them, begging her to touch them, to confirm she wasn't hallucinating.
But she was, and no matter how many times they would walk through her, unaffected, she still couldn't wrap her head around it.
Her therapist had suggested she draw them, those she remembered, those she saw more often. She seemed to think the figments were trying to tell her something about her fears surrounding death, but no matter how many times Haneul tried to explain that she wasn't afraid of death, her therapist seemed convinced otherwise.
The most familiar figure was a young woman, with bangs and beady black eyes, clad in all black. She would always carry around a tablet of sorts and, once, Haneul had managed to take a peak at it. Upon it was the file of an elderly woman standing in front of them, her birth date as well as her death date clearly indicated. She then uttered something along the line of, "the soul has been collected", and disappeared into thin air.
Haneul clenched her teeth. She would surely see them again today—the hospital was infested with them—but she didn't care, Junwoong came first.
As she reached the hospital doors, Haneul bit back her bubbling shame. How long ago had he fell off a bridge? Since when had he been stuck in time? What kind of friend doesn't even know such a thing?
She walked in.
It still smelled like antiseptic,
and blood,
and pain.
To her left, she immediately noticed three figures standing next to a bloody woman's bed. The familiar girl with bangs held a tablet. Haneul shuddered knowing what it meant and scurried to the front desk.
"I'm looking for Choi Junwoong's room," she mumbled, eyes still riveted on the hallucinations warily.
"Of course, one second."
It was more than one second. Long enough for Haneul to grow restless, for the ominous phrase to be spoken—"the soul has been collected"—and for the leader of the triad to leave.
"Room 707."
She didn't thank the desk lady, simply left.
She needed to be sure the figure wasn't heading for Junwoong. He wouldn't collect his soul. She wouldn't let him.
She wouldn't. Not again.
And so she ran.
She could hear the beeping noises from the corridor.
Junwoong's body was convulsing.
She heard Jaesoo's pleading voice.
The doctor's frantic pacing.
But there was no suited figure inside the room, no tablet.
Junwoong would live,
He would.
So why was he crumpled on the hallway's floor, wearing a suit?
