Red Chrysanthemum - Minsung

Chapter 5

The group decided to stay over, deeming it an unnecessary danger to leave the party drunk and high off their arses. Of course, this lead to some compromises, as there weren't enough beds for everyone one to sleep separately. The boys divided themselves up into groups, unanimously agreeing on who would sleep with who.

Changbin and Jisung slipped under the covers together, having done this many times before when they couldn't afford hotel rooms for all of them. Chan, ever the gentleman, volunteered to sleep on the sofa, although his bandmates knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at all. Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin shared a room, the latter two sharing the bed, whilst the former settled down onto a mattress on the floor. The two brothers took up a mattress on the floor of the living room, their situation bringing them back to their childhood, something they often tried to forget.

The long school nights spent wide awake in the insufferable cold of their dad's living room, the sound of water dripping from the ceiling into a metal bucket, a metronome for their insomnia. He wished to erase those endless hours spent begging for sleep to transport them into the morning, he tried to forget the fear that lined his stomach anytime his father would take even the tiniest of steps towards him.

Not a single soul knew about Minho and Felix's past, apart from their adoptive parents : Hwasa and Moonbyul.

But that's a story for another day.

Felix's soft snores slowly put Minho to sleep, he floated into slumber's warm embrace as his little brother rested his head on his shoulder.

The blond's presence did absolutely nothing to dispel his nightmares, and he was violently plunged into a living hellscape borne of his imagination and horrifyingly accurate memory. No amount of sleeping pills and other alternative medicine could dispel the resurfacing horrors he faces on an almost nightly basis.

His heart began to race as flashing images of death and illness pulsed through his brain. The memories were too much, he wanted to move, but he couldn't, his body was frozen in place. He wanted to scream, but his throat was congested with a thick, metallic tasting substance. He recognised it instantly.

Blood.

A substance he was all too familiar with.

He felt his lungs fill up with the crimson liquid, making his breathing grow more increasingly shallow, he tried to cough it out, but he couldn't. He couldn't breathe, for the life of him he just could. Not. Breathe.

He felt himself die agonisingly slowly from asphyxiation, the process sped up his thoughts, as his heart slowed down. The pain of choking on your own blood, paired with the frustration of being powerless and immobile, made him scream internally as he was defenceless to the changing of his fate. The feeling of helplessness was not something he enjoyed, especially in these moments where the only thing he desired to do was fight against what was happening to him.

He closed his eyes from the pain, squeezing them shut, he began begging for the sweet release of death to free him from the endless, excruciating agony emanating from his deep within his body, burning through every nerve ending, setting himself aflame with a kind of fire he had only experienced once before.

One lonely, depressing thought rang out above the rest.

So this is how mum must've felt.

And then it all stopped.

He shot up, waking up underneath warm covers yet again, body breaking out into an uncomfortable cold sweat. He was shaking uncontrollably, his breathing ragged as the last remnants of his nightmare slowly faded.

"All just a dream." He exhaled, running a hand through his now damp hair, a drop of cold sweat trickling down his spine.

He lifted himself from the covers gently, trying to not wake his brother. He padded over to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air, refreshing his overheating body.