By The Way, Danplan Oneshots

Lines of Fortune

Schizophrenic! Hosuh AU

The white walls were surrounding him. He didn't know how long he had been here, lying on the hard floor under the bed, staring at his hand.

His grandmother always told him about palm reading, and how he shouldn't relay and what she said when she read his. It always changes, she had said to him on that darkening day. He was eight years old, sitting cross legged under the dying tree. She had said that lines change with age. Don't trust them for long. Of course Gwisin laughed at that, but he ignored him.

He traced the lines on his palm, smiling faintly as his nails dug into his skin. He followed the longest line that travelled across his hand. His grandmother said it was his lifeline. Funny. He expected it to be smaller.

Gwisin was back.

"That's childish." Gwisin crouched low next to him, his big eyes glowing softly. He didn't answer, just frowned. He heard Gwisin sigh. "You could come out of that hidey-hole, and we could play a better game."

"Too old for games." He mumbled. He rolled out from under the bed, however, flipping onto his back. All he saw was a white ceiling, but he tried to imagine it was a sky. Or a sunset; he always liked those.

"You're boring." Gwisin whispered.

"You're not real." He replied. He held up his palm again. "Not real. Not real. Not real." He finished with a small sing, flexing his fingers. Gwisin giggled.

"Real to you."

"Where did you go?" He asked, ignoring the statement. He turned his head, watching as Gwisin scurried up the walls. He had always wished he could climb like Gwisin as a child, but he never could match up.

"Mmm..come and go...come when you aren't so happy." Gwisin replied. He giggled.

"I guessed as much." He smiled, watching as the white ceiling morphed into a sunset – the orange and red ones, just the way he liked them. Gwisin lay next to him, eyes flashing green.

He sighed, getting up from where he lay, clenching his fist. So much for fortune. Slowly, he moved to the corner of the room, letting out a low moan.

"I wanna go home." He moaned, letting his head fall onto the white, white wall. He heard Gwisin chuckle behind him.

"Say that louder and they might hear." He suggested.

The walls were closing in on him, forcing him to retreat further into the corner. He let out a low wail, hammering his fists onto the white surface.

"I wanna go home!" He screamed. He kept pounding, watching with satisfaction as his knuckles began to bleed. The bangs were like a beat, quick and repetitive. He chanted in rhythm. "I wanna go home! I wanna go home! I wanna go home!"

Gwisin joined in, chanting louder.

"Home! Home with my friends!" He shrieked until his voice was raw. He heard a snap as a finger broke, bone splitting through the skin. He didn't feel it, but paused as the blood seeped down his wrist.

With a small groan, he slid down against the wall, closing his eyes.

"They aren't your friends." Gwisin hissed, his eyes flashing red. He shook his head.

"They are."

"No no no! Stop lying!" Gwisin gripped his shoulders, trying to shake him. He ignored the movement, opening up his bloody hand again.

"Tell me what to do." He presses his lips against his palm. The taste of blood seeped into his parted lips.

"It can't."