hell if i know what genre this is // g
There was something wrong with him. What it was he didn’t know. He wasn’t sick, wasn’t depressed, but he would look in the mirror and notice that something was just off. His complexion was fine. He wasn’t pale or red with fever. He had bags under his eyes but he always had those. He hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in years. He looked as he always did but there was a change somewhere. He knew it. He could feel it.
He knew something was different because his heart would beat out of time for no reason and his palms would begin to sweat. The room would start to feel warm and all of a sudden he would become conscious of every other person in the room as if they would notice his abnormality and point it out. He called plenty of people, visited many doctors, with this question on his tongue. What was wrong with him? Perhaps he was dying of some strange mutation of the flu or cancer or internal parasitic infection. But no one ever offered him an answer. His own mother laughed at him and refused to tell him of whatever ailment he was facing.
And the most peculiar thing was that his symptoms would appear only in the presence of certain people. Or, well, one person.
“Minseok?” Lu Han would call out all soft and concerned. “Are you okay?”
And then, Minseok’s heart would beat like war drums and he’d struggle to piece together syllables just so he could reply with an “I’m fine.”
Lu Han would look at him with beautiful, caring eyes and Minseok would forget how to breathe.
Something was very much so wrong and he really had no idea what it was.