Prompt: “I brought you your coffee.”
The lab is cold when he enters, harsh fluorescent lighting turned off so that the only source of illumination comes from the table at the far end and the various tanks lined up along the edges of the room, strange specimens floating in them. He’s never understood the doctor’s fascination with the creatures.
The doctor in question is hunched over the table — bench — on the other side of the lab, a tiny lamp lighting up the smattering of papers that seem to cover every inch of its surface. Even from this distance he can make out the faint scratchings of chart lines and graph bars, numbers and figures that could only ever make sense to the doctor and the team of scientists that work with him.
He walks towards the desk, the drink in his hand still warm behind the vacuum seal most takeaway cups come with nowadays — a portable thermos of a sort.
Stopping just before the edge of the bench, he places the cup on it. “You’re going to ruin your eyes if you keep working in this light.” The doctor looks up, shadows line the fine curves of his face, hug the space beneath his eyes. His hair sticks up one side like he’d only run his hands through it that part specifically, it would be a lot more endearing if he didn’t look about as dead as the specimens he studies.
The doctor pulls his glasses off his face and waves them around, a tired smile making its way onto his face. “It’s too late for that. What are you doing here this late?”
“I could ask you the same thing. But I won’t,” he says, just as the doctor opens his mouth to retort. “I know the review for the bio labs is just about due.” He nudges the cup towards the doctor. “I brought you your coffee. I know you’re going to need it.”
The doctors eyes widen as he looks between him and the little thermos mug, a faint stream of steam issuing from the mouthpiece. “You. You’re asking me to drink caffeine?” He narrows his eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with the health-conscious nag I know?”
He grins and reaches across the space between them to pinch the doctor’s cheek lightly, which earns him a disgruntled noise from the doctor that he knows is all for show. “He’s letting it go this one time. Just,” he holds up a finger. “Promise me you’ll actually get some sleep tonight?”
“Normally I wouldn’t make promises I can’t keep but since you’re being nice to me, I figured I could make an exception too.”
“Good.”
resfeber- the thrill felt before an adventure
He seals the last box, fingers sticky with the residue after taping up somewhere close to ten boxes. The tape tears with a crackle that echoes loud in the overwhelming silence of the apartment — hisapartment. This is it. The final step before he sets out on the greatest journey of his life.
He takes one last look around the room, the tiny shoebox space that he’d lived in for a good three years after college. Cracks in the paint line the walls, there are cobwebs in the corners because he’s never been tall enough to reach them. And he could never be bothered with a stepladder.
There is a patch on the carpet that is a slight shade darker than the rest, a physical reminder of the people the house has seen. He wonders if the next tenant will see it and wonder who exactly he was, this person who also once called it a home.
His chest tightens at the thought, at the realisation that this place is no longer his home, hasn’t been for a while. His home is on the other side of the continent, thousands of miles away, forced to be there a day earlier than him because they had been too excited to double check the dates the movers were going to come. A silly mistake but one he isn’t too upset about because it’s given him this last goodbye.
He toys with the ring around his finger, the metal cool against his skin, tries not to think about the way his heart feels like it’s about to force its way out of his mouth. It’s stupid getting sentimental over something he’d been ready to leave behind for months now, and yet, it still feels like he’s letting go some part of himself. The part that’s been moulded and shaped by this city and all the years he’s spent on its streets.
He takes a deep breath and sets the roll of tape down on the box, turns off the lights and walks around the room one last time. His body traces the path between where the furniture used to sit, memory carved into his body. Moonlight filters in from outside and dances across his skin when he steps into it, can feel it thrum in his veins.
Snow falls on the other side of the glass and it brings a smile to his lips. Slowly, he lifts a palm, presses his skin to the cold surfaces, and says goodbye.
Seoul’s city center lies in ruins. The way had been brutal, the clash of Seoul’s bureau with the Ghouls had been more devastating than anything they could have imagined. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, it was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab, one ghoul, in and out.
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luvisms post, sorry hui but thank you!)
He wanders the street, aimless, more lost in his head than he is on these familiar car-lined streets. There’s been no change since it happened, the sky is still cold and grey, overcast with clouds that look far too heavy to be that high in the sky.
This isn't what he thought would happen when he left his home with nothing but whatever he could fit into the tiny suitcase he used to take on his day trips to the countryside.
The music starts, like clockwork.
Every day it is the same thing, the clock strikes five in the evening and the sound of strings will fill the air. And every day it is the same song, the same melancholic tune that inspires nothing but a strange, sad longing in him whenever he hears it.
