Not a single breath (or sound, really; ghosts don’t breathe) could sigh from the punk before the angel showed him his back and bound down the stairs. A moment of peace was nowhere to be found within this brothel, it seemed. For a split second, Jaewoo stopped himself from immediately chasing after the one he could now call Kyle, contemplating over whether it was appropriate. Jumping to immense and horrid conclusions, Jaewoo shrugged off any insecure or unsure thoughts with a few words to himself. ‘He doesn’t know me, I don’t know him. What could he do, kill me?’
Not knowing that yes, in fact there ARE ways to trap a ghost’s soul permanently which would be worse than dying again, Jaewoo unabashedly phased through the floor; gliding through rooms upon rooms and trailing after the sound of tears.
“You didn’t let me talk..,” softly dropping in next to the smaller boy, Jaewoo cupped the other’s chin in one hand. It was hard not to stare and admire the work of art blossoming before him, the streaks of tears like strokes of a watercolor brush on canvas. There were quite obviously deep-rooted fears and insecurities within this boy, and the ghost tried to tread as carefully as possible on this porcelain doll.
“I.. was lonely, and I found you,” Jaewoo started, trying to find his words. He was unsure himself whether what he said was true or just smooth talking, but he prevailed nevertheless. “I think maybe we.. both need each other right now. You stuck out to me.. why else would I stay a week straight?” Although the answer as to WHY couldn’t be answered at this moment, Jaewoo wasn’t lying when he said Kyle stuck out to him. Why is it that he was always drawn to the ones with deep, dark problems inside of them? Perhaps familiarity..
