‘And behind the window, he saw himself.’

Sungmin had never seen the guy before; never even knew he existed until shrieks from down the hallway made his name known.

Cho Kyuhyun.

The funny thing was that he did not know the guy, yet the name sounded nice. No; it sounded right.

The screams had turned deafening from then on, with more people attracted and more screams sounded. It was too much to bear for him. The feeling of skin brushing against his, the feeling of a person standing too close to him, it all became too much. He fled the scene.

But his eyes, in their frantic shifting, caught sight of a boy. Sungmin stopped, even as his head screamed at him to leave. Instead, he turned, pushed past the crowd and inclining his head to get a closer look. He wondered what happened to his fear.

A grunt here, a shove there and after squeezing through the dozens of people, he was able to see the boy again. This time it allowed him a face to put to Cho Kyuhyun’s name.

People were bustling; panicking and shouting over each other’s voices and it was then that Sungmin noticed the blood. Crimson red liquid tinged with a hue of purple. The small puddle rippled with each drop of fresh blood and Sungmin’s gaze followed the droplets of red up.

What he saw should have scared him; made him shiver, made him nauseous. But it did not. His eyes never left the streaks of red across the forearm, so engrossed he was in tracing the long gashes on torn skin and raw flesh and entranced at how the blood would flow; endlessly, never stopping.

A hand came into his vision and he was suddenly pulled back from his trance and to reality. His heart was pumping and he could hear his own breathing, his own heartbeat. Suddenly, his arm had a strange itch to them. He did not have to guess why.

He shoved the imposing hand away, only to frown in disappointment when he saw Cho Kyuhyun being escorted away by some lady. He wanted to stop them, maybe even try calling Cho Kyuhyun’s name, just to feel how the name would taste on his tongue. But then he remembered he did not know the boy; they were complete strangers, and bit back the call.

As the boy walked away, drops of red dripping behind him, leaving a bloody trail, Sungmin felt his legs move on their own. He was following them.

His legs moved faster and faster and his eyes widened. He was chasing them. But what for, he wondered.

He came to a stop behind them, slightly out of breath by the chase and slightly because of having realized he was doing something he would never usually do. His hand raised, and gently clapped the boy on the shoulder.

The stiffening of the muscle, the tensing off his posture, the way the boy stopped breathing; it was not new. A slight shrug and his hand fell back to his side. Sungmin can hear the lady beside the boy saying something to him, but all he could hear was a hum.

He wanted something, but he did not know what. That was, until Cho Kyuhyun turned his head around. He was not looking at him, and that was what made Sungmin’s mind click.

He wanted to know. Wait, no. He wanted to confirm.

A finger reached out and the next second he was tilting the boy’s chin. The lady shouted at him, at least that was what Sungmin guessed when the humming grew louder. He must have said something, for the boy flinched and slowly, hesitantly, raised his gaze to meet his.

Sungmin stopped breathing. A weird feeling bloomed in the pit of his stomach. He tilted the head higher, forced Cho Kyuhyun’s gaze higher and Sungmin did what he wanted to do and searched. But he did not have to search much.

People said that the eyes were windows to your soul, and right at that moment, Sungmin was gazing through a window with no glass panels and no metal railings. The boy bared to him with his soul served on a silver platter for him to read.

Sungmin received the platter, but did not even have to glance at it to know. The windows were without glass panels and railings but before it was a bulletproof glass.

Trying so hard to keep others out but alas, it was glass and completely transparent. Sungmin felt an ache somewhere, like a clenching fist over him, and had to gasp when he realized it was his heart aching.

So familiar.

The bulletproof glass, the bared window; open, unguarded, somehow he felt a bittersweet tug at his chest. Because he knew that when there is a window, there is a view.

And behind the window, he saw himself.

-idanhobak

Hello readers! ^^ This is my very first prompt so I hope you guys will like it. I had to do it within a day so it's not much, but I still hope you enjoy it!

-oye