The room was eerily lit by a flickering fluorescent light. The stench of blood was really thick but the giggling male wouldn’t stop his current activity. Perspiration ran down his temples, the tip of his tongue poked out a bit from his lips. He had a mop of brown hair, flawless pale skin, ragged clothes, the last-but-not-least beautiful sharp features of his face, completed with a smudge of blood just above his cheekbone.

The look in his eyes was wild, distant, hollow, and void of any life, but his expression shouted otherwise; happy, hurt, sad, angry, anything other than an exact consistent emotion. He was crying on one second, laughing on the other – he’d giggle too at times – and would repeat at the same sequence. It wasn’t that the laugh was expressing his happiness. He was going insane, and he knew it himself.

The brunette was on his knees with a very wide grin stamped on his face while he was carefully sewing his favorite doll. The doll he had been falling in love all over again, but he only could examine that doll from afar. The doll he had dreamed of making. The doll he really loved to see. The doll he wanted to live with.

But that was the past.

Wiping his sweaty forehead, he grinned even more (it wasn’t even possible if humans could smile like that) at the artwork he just made. Of course, like how the maker looked (from the outside), the doll was beautiful. Perfect, even.

He traced the contour of the doll’s jaw line with a blood caked finger, admiring how perfect the doll’s face was. The juicy red lips he always wanted to kiss was now all his, his, and no one else’s except the one and only Lee Hongbin’s. They were perfectly sealed with the stitches he had worked hard about, so they wouldn’t part and scream a rejection to him.

Again.

He shouldn’t have to worry anymore. The eyes that mirrored his pained look wouldn’t have to open again for the next few years. Or maybe forever. Oh yes, he somehow did the stitching just as perfect.

He ran a hand to the doll’s drenched shirt – no, not with water, but with none other substance than blood – and popped open the first button before letting out an inaudible ‘oops’.

He wanted the doll. He had been waiting and he had enough of it.

He leaned his head down, just enough to get closer to the doll’s delicate ear.

“Sanghyuk,” the brunette whispered lowly, voice slurred and also very sultry, “you’re my doll now. No more hurt feelings.”

He laughed in a victorious manner as he continued the button-popping party.