#seo.t

a mantle of eerie darkness encompasses every nook moonlight doesn’t dare to touch, penumbra cast over rotten wood floors. an odd thickness permeates the air, heavy and suffocating, and the mildew odor worsens the neurosis of being enclosed in the putrid room. nigh translucent,wafer-thin paper doors billow in the wind, torn and ruined by unforgiving decades. there’s a vase with decayed flowers on a windowsill, casting long shadows over a quivering teenager. he huffs and shakes, nestled against a tall dresser. he whimpers, eyes wide open and darting in every direction. his skin crawls when the withered open door closes with a loud bang, with no other soul there to close it, and he shouts deafeningly in the empty room.

that’s a lie, though. one other soul shares the same space, glides over the floor from one side to the other, with low moans of pain. dramatic? yes. cliche? definitely. fun? fuck yeah, it’s fun; to taunt the idiotic schmucks that think they’ll appear cooler to their equally idiotic group of friends with a childish courage test, to scare the living lights out of them. make them scream, and cry out for their mommy like a weak five year old.

“pathetic pussy.” seojoon mumbles, shoulder leaning against the moldy walls. the teenager’s heartbeat is starting to slow once again, breathing steady after a few deep inhales. seojoon frowns. “can’t have that.”

it’s easy to scare young people. the movies have perfected it, and he’s not ashamed to use the same tactics. silence settles, nothing but the slow, heavy exhales of the teenager can be heard. the wind blows through the open windows, rattles the doors and dry petals level down by the teenager’s feet. he breathes; once, twice. one second there’s nothing but dust flecks in the chilly air, and then seojoon appears, sudden and right in front of the kid’s face. 

“fuck this!” the teenager screams, scrambling off the floor and running right through the door, ripping apart the paper even more. seojoon watches from the window as he joins his group of friends outside, urging them all to get the fuck outta there.

it’s only when they all leave that seojoon begins to laugh -- cackling, really, fighting to stand against the windowsill. he laughs and laughs, laying flat on the floor. it dies down only when he figures he should, right about when his stomach would start to hurt. except it doesn’t, and the laughter disappears almost instantaneously, replaced by a rooted scowl.

“pathetic.” seojoon stares up at the faint light streaming through the window right above him. he extends his hand towards the dust grains that dance in the moonlight, half-expecting them to dance around his hand. yet nothing changes, the light refracts right through his hand and the shadows don’t recognize his existence. 

“right.” he sneers at himself, tightly clenching his fist. seojoon materializes by the edge of the roof, legs dangling with a slow swing. seojoon sighs.