why? // ateez au

the wound.

"Yeosang!?" I pounded on his door, the urgency evident in my voice. "Are you okay? Yeosang?"

The door unlocked and swung open, revealing a smiling Yeosang.

"Hello, San!" he greeted, his tone overly cheerful. I furrowed my brows, confusion etched across my face.

"What the fuck? You called me asking for help? I thought you were in danger!"

Releasing a breath I didn't realize I had been holding, I pushed past him, but he winced, catching my attention. I turned back to him.

"Did you hurt your arm?" I asked, concerned. He vigorously shook his head until I lifted up the sleeve of his left hoodie. There, I saw a large cut, stitched up with care. I let out a sigh.

"How the hell did this happen, Yeosang?" I inquired. He grunted and made his way to the couch, taking a seat.

"Well, I woke up from a nightmare, discovered this gash, panicked, called you, passed out, woke up again, and then stitched myself up. Now, I'm all fine!" he explained with a forced grin. I scoffed and joined him on the couch, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

"You called me, saying the murderer was after you... Care to explain that?" I asked, curiosity tinging my words.

"Well, in the dream..." he began, his voice faltering slightly. "Yunho kept telling me I was there, that I could've helped him or saved him somehow. Then I woke up with this deep wound on my forearm."

I narrowed my eyes at him as I processed his words. Telling him he was there... It was perplexing.

"So you have no idea how that wound ended up there, right?" I asked. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"No shit, San. I don't have a history of sleepwalking or anything like that," he replied sarcastically.

Leaning my arms on my legs, I rested my head in my hands. "So, you think the murderer did this?" His exhaustion was palpable as he nodded, his breathing quickening.

"Where's Wooyoung?" he blurted out, standing up abruptly and hurrying to his room.

He believes... the murderer did it...

I had my doubts, to be honest. Did the murderer manage to sneak in during the night, or was there something else, something that seemed more plausible?

Just then, Yeosang returned, holding a sheet of paper. He practically jumped back onto the couch, tossing the sheet at me.

"We received another damn letter," he grumbled. I started to read the sentences, squinting my eyes at an eight-letter phrase.

"We need to hold another group meeting."

This letter...

It confirmed exactly what I had been thinking.