#bae sumi & bang sooah —— 001.

[13elmst]

there’s always something in the dark. sumi knows this in the way a child knows things, a silent observer amidst the busy adults. in this way, children and canines are not so different— both left to their own devices until they’re of some practical use, and so they idle, stare at a wall long enough until they realise the shadow doesn’t behave the way it should. a shattering mirror, a slowing clock. in the dark of the night, a bark and a wail are not so different.

she’d grown up like this, knowing the monsters that lurked in the dark and calling them by name. and it’s in this way that she’s always begging, always tempting one or another to spend the night, if only so she doesn’t have to be alone in the room with them— just her and her ghost.

and here is her ghost now, in this room, in this dark. there is a weight on her chest, and sumi’s heard of it before— the way one’s mind can stay active, though their body is weighed down. she’s never experienced it herself, and yet she knows this to be… different. like how her vision seems to work fine, eyelids fluttering open to meet hovering yellow orbs in front of her. a gripping pause, and sumi’s screaming, shooting up to her feet and clutching the closest wall. the eyes disappear, and she reaches for the back of her neck, sighing in relief when she feels the polyethylene material of the patch. and it’s here that she suddenly comes to her senses, remembers that sooah had promised to stay the night amidst of their gossiping and cups of hot tea. sumi whispers in the dark, “sooah…? are you there?”

ft. bae sumi & @eilouros's bang sooah

[13elmst]

sooah:

( … ) she's still crouched low, fur bristled when she hears sumi timidly calling out for her. "i'm here." she responds back. she's yet to identify the source of danger so she looks back over to her friend. "what the fuck was that?" she whispers back, tone biting as she attempts to make sense of the last minute.

there are ways in which people can scare you more than the ghost. how sometimes, an errant shriek in a large theatre can be more effective than the menacing killer on the big screen, peeking from the closet. sumi knows this best, sees the ways in which her friends jump around her. and she doesn’t mean to be this way, but she doesn’t know how else to be. a bead of sweat gathering at her temple, that ice-cold gnawing at the tips of the fingers— sumi doesn’t remember a time when there wasn’t a gun pointed at her head. she’s talking about the way she lives in a constant state of fear. the way she’s always sitting at that desk, playing it cool while she’s screaming inside. how she’s always darting her eyes to the corner, looking for an exit.

still, she’s sorry. a light wince to betray her sheepishness, and she takes her hands off the steadying wall. she skulks towards the light switch, turns the light on but stays put, inspecting the room from the safety of her corner for her feline friend. a whispered “sorry!” leaves with the laboured exhale. “i thought you were a ghost.”

and now that the tension’s died down, sumi assesses the damage. notes the fallen vanity mirror by the table, the brushes and makeup sponges scattered on the floor. a giggle bubbles from her chest, so she sinks towards the clutter to set them upright, like it’ll somehow hide her laughs. “…did you see the way you jumped, though?” she teases after a beat, places the last of the sponges on the table then stands and picks up the fallen mirror. “that was kinda funny.” she rubs the sleep out of her eyes, fixes her hair in the mirror, then sets it back on the table. a sigh, “i’m kinda awake now… are you?”