Samhain

chapter twenty one: when he's found

Windows don't usually break at 4 a.m.

Wooyoung untangles himself from under the covers, hair still wet from his shower.

His head hit the pillow a little over ten minutes ago when his anxiety turned into exhaustion. He barely managed to shower before being overcome with the urge to hibernate under his warm, fluffy comforter.

As cozy as he was, the memory of the bar's windows shattering and shadow creatures lunging at him jolted him out of his sleepy haze.

Wooyoung's chest hits the ground and he braces himself against the floor.

Silence.

He lifts his head, wet bangs dripping onto the carpet. His heart is racing out of his chest and every fiber of his being is alight with adrenaline.

The sound of water drops falling onto the floor is punctuated by the loud beating of his heart. Wooyoung forces himself to still his breathing, ears straining for any further signs of danger.

The silence continues.

Did he dream it? Is he still dreaming?

Wooyoung breathes out a sigh after a minute passes, trying to remember the loud shattering that pulled him out of his sleep. It sounded like something catapulted into his window and tore out his wall, which should be impossible.

He lives on the third story - nothing should be able to reach him up here, right?

Thump. Thump.

Two faint, dull footfalls echo from his living room so quietly that he almost misses it.

Wooyoung traces over a bruise on his forearm, his fingertips cautiously pinching the sore skin. He flinches at the sudden pain, covering his mouth until the throbbing subsides.

Shit. This isn't a dream. He can't deny it anymore.

If he isn't dreaming, he could be hallucinating. He wouldn't put it past himself after the unimaginable amount of stress he's been under these past few days.

Regardless, Wooyoung can't go back to sleep until he makes sure that sound isn't just his imagination. After a long stretch of continued silence and debating whether or not he wants to go investigate, he finally pushes himself onto his feet.

His breath hitches in his throat as he blindly grasps at his bedside table until he finds his wand. Clutching it tightly in his hands, he begins to walk silently, moving slowly enough to avoid the creaky spots on his floor.

The cold feeling of selenite under his fingers calms him slightly. He has his magic, at least. Wooyoung may have specialized in healing magic, but his professors have always praised him for how well he cast defensive spells.

Wooyoung stalks across the carpet, pressing his free hand to the wall to guide him through the dark. Silence is loud in his ears as he waits for any more noise to come from the living room.

Nothing.

The early morning wind picks up, and the corners of the apartment building moan like the voice of a banshee. He shivers involuntarily, becoming increasingly convinced that he heard words accompany the wailing wind.

He blinks away the memory of the churning, black tornado and violent winds that ripped the roof off of the bar.

Silence stretches on long enough to convince him that he's probably hearing things.