Ghost In My Head ◆ JungHoseok ✔

6- Sugar In My Wound

The bell over the door rang softly when we entered the coffee shop.

I watched him, as Hoseok ordered a hot chocolate for me like he promised, and I couldn't help but to note how off he looked in this cozy, quite normal environment, with his dark coat and mysterious aura.

"Here you go." He said, when he sat down in the seat across mine, placing the cup in front of me.

"Thanks." I mumbled, wrapping my freezing hands around the hot item, "You don't want anything?"

He smiled, "No, I'm good."

It was quiet for a while, as I peacefully sipped my drink, watching Hoseok whose attention was averted to the passengers outside of the shop.

My eyes took in his features, which were so serious yet so pretty, the fine silver piercings dangling from his ear and the dark, slightly curled hair. He was handsome, no doubt, and he had this lightness, this positivity on him, yet he seemed so mysterious in everything he did, which was a charming mixture in a way I couldn't say why.

He had his chin resting in his hand while watching the ongoings outside on the street, lips parted the slightest.

"You're staring." He interrupted my little swooning session, without even turning his face in my direction and I promptly looked down at my half empty cup, a small grin tugging on my lips.

I lifted my head again and closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply while letting the false feeling of peace wash over me.

It was a dangerous thing, yet incredibly refreshing; how I could rest in Hoseok's presence, because I knew that, if anything was to happen, he could safe me with ease and elegance, like he did every time we met, so far.

But this very fact was bugging me somehow- "Hoseok?"

"Hm?" He tore his eyes away from the street, eyeing me with this charming smile of his.

"How.. eh, this'll sound weird but how did you stay alive? I mean, if you hadn't found me I'd be dead meat by now, so how did you survive?"

"Well" He leaned back in his seat, "Firstly I have to say that for me - or anyone else I met who's like us - it hadn't ever been this bad as it is for you. These things never talked to me, never searched especially me, like they seem to search you."

I nodded, feeling uneasiness creeping up my bones at his words.

"But let's just say, a few, more or less lucky, incidents led to who I am today." He grinned, almost smug, "Someone who doesn't need to be scared."

"They..." I recalled the incident from earlier and how these shadows had reacted to him, "They seem to be scared of you."

"What do you mean?" He asked, though his knowing grin told me that I was right.

"They curled away from you as if they would burn if they touched you."

He lifted his eyebrows, secretive expression on his face, "Maybe they would. Who knows?"

I scoffed, realizing that I wouldn't get a real answer out of him. But okay, it was his choice wether he wanted to talk about it.

Hoseok's eyes fell onto the now empty cup and he clapped into his hands, standing up enthusiastically, "Aight, let's get you home, shall we?"

I wasn't that happy about going back to Chungha, but I didn't have the nerve to tell Hoseok that I'd rather go back to my drug dealing friend - or whatever Yoongi was to me - than home to my host mom.

"I suppose you don't really fancy me knowing where you live?" The dark haired asked, while pushing open the door, a fresh breeze embracing us as we walked down the street.

"Nope" I confirmed, happy that I didn't have to say it out loud, not having wanted to sound rude or ungrateful for what he did for me today - I just didn't feel safe with telling a sword carrying stranger where I lived.

"I'm just gonna drop you off at the bus station then?" Hoseok asked, earning a nod from my part.

I supposed he'd just leave when we reached the station but he grabbed me by the shoulder, making me look at him, "One more thing."

I looked up at him questioningly.

"You don't strike me as the weak one, but you need to know that... it won't kill you to ask for help okay? It's not my place to tell you what you should do and I don't know what your situation is like but... don't make the same fault as me and think you are alone, okay?"

I nodded, feeling annoyance bubbling up in me, what I knew was completely irrational since he just wanted to be nice.

He let go of me and stepped backwards, waving at me as a goodbye.

weird

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"You look like shit." Was the first thing Chungha said when I entered the house, barely looking up from her phone.

I brushed it off with a scoff, but when I threw a glance at the dusty mirror hanging in the corridor I almost choked.

Even paler than usual, I had bruises forming on my arms and wrists where the shadows had been holding me and my hair was sticking to my face messily.

I looked like a god damn ghost.

When I met eyes with my reflection I shuddered involuntarily.

Did these glassy, empty eyes really belong to me?

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A thing I always struggle with as a Wattpad writer, is that I feel like I'n not a 'real' writer per se, because, well, fan fiction is a bit silly, right? At least that's what I feel like when I look at my own stories.

And that's really upsetting me, when I look at how much time and thought I spent in my stories, how happy it makes me when I chat with readers, or how important this whole thing is for me in general, because I can't really be happy about the outcome of my stories cause there's this small voice in the back of my head always telling me that what I'm doing is silly and not really 'real' writing.

yeah nvm just wanted to share this

xx