[ how pleased minsu looks is overshadowed by his answer. almost a year. junsu thinks he'd rather die than spend a year in this place. he's trembling a little, biting the inside of his cheek so he doesn't start screaming or crying or wailing like a baby. being magic was supposed to be something he could pretend to feel better about himself, to feel more, not something that would land him stuck. trapped.
junsu closes his eyes, bruising eye stinging and swollen, the light touch too much and not enough. ]
What kind of nice? [ he whispers, weak and trembling, wanting to think and talk about anything but what's actually happening. ]
no subject
junsu closes his eyes, bruising eye stinging and swollen, the light touch too much and not enough. ]
What kind of nice? [ he whispers, weak and trembling, wanting to think and talk about anything but what's actually happening. ]