inkbloom
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- ATEEZ (Band) (1)
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Yeosang’s always been a bit sentimental. Wet, his uncle used to call him. The remains of his friends are impossible to get rid of. Unlike the aforementioned uncle, who when dead, was promptly thrown in the river. But Yeosang’s dearest friends—he carries them with him. In his heart, and in his memory, and in his garden. And San’s skull is in the house, holding open the door to his and Jongho’s bedroom.
Jongho had been squeamish about the skull door-stopper initially. Which, fair. Alive-San never would’ve stayed still for so long. But the sun shone, and the snow fell, and Jongho acclimatised, and the white-shine of San became a comfort of sorts. Yeosang is sentimental.
Yeosang, Jongho, and the aftermath of the end of the world.
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His attention drifts to the daylilies, their yellow sallow where they sit up against the golden waves of wheat. The contrast of the green of their yard and the farmland that stretches out behind it had been jarring, at first. San could not remember being in a place with so much space, so many crops. The city was all he had been used to, and when the nervousness had taken him, Yunho had suggested they move out here. It would be nice, he’d said. That it would be good for them both in the long run. That they could do with some fresh air. And San had listened.
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San was willing to overlook almost anything. After all, he was desperate to find a new place, and the bedroom he was offered once he passed the potential housemate interview looked like somewhere he'd be comfortable calling home. It was small but cozy, still big enough to fit most of what he had in storage, and it was freshly painted a pretty, soft lilac. It wasn't perfect, but it would definitely suffice.
Things took a downhill turn almost from the moment he moved in.