A Crazy Little Thing Called Imagination // Hyunlix

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Hyunjin didn't get much sleep, about an hour or two after he'd finally succumbed to the gradual closing of his eyes and tilt of his head.

He didn't want to fall asleep, not after he had gotten the fright of his life, not after he began to see shadows merge together to form beings that'll no doubt jump out at him the moment he stopped looking.

It wasn't his choice, to fall asleep.

It wasn't his choice, to have a nightmare.

Sat upwards in his bed, he gasped for air, as he flicked his eyes to every dark corner of the room, scanning over every small divot he could find, searching for the same something that cursed his dream, filled it with long claws that could rip a person apart in seconds, filled it with blades that should only remain in their secured spot in the kitchen, instead hovering over his sleeping form.

His dream had been haunted by red sludge pouring over the side of his own dead body, a knife stuck directly into his chest. The blood beginning to fill up the room, as he hammered on an invisible barrier, watching himself die.

When he woke up, his throat was dry, nose blocked, and face stained wet. He felt as if he was drowning, suffocating in a body of crimson acid.

The light on his beside table remained on throughout the night, illuminating the room, but only creating more shadows where there shouldn't have been any.

Now, even as he sat upright, wiping a few remaining tears from his face as he squinted because of the light infiltrating through the window, he still felt his heart beat faster.

He reached over to the table, picking up his phone and clicking it on.

06:53.

Way too early.

Without a second thought, he reached over to grab his headphones, placing them in his ears and connecting them to his phone.

His playlist began, starting on one of his favourites, "Amnesia".

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he flung the duvet off him and slowly stood up, moving his left leg around as he balanced on his right.

It didn't hurt as much, obviously, especially when he was sitting still, but when he tried to walk without limping, aches starting shooting through his body.

It didn't help that anything that touched it still caused it to burn, either, and with the bandage wrapped tightly around the wound, everytime he moved his leg, specifically his thigh, it'd sting.

But alas, it's nothing he can't handle.

It's nothing he's not used to.

He told himself to suck it up, deal with it. If he didn't want to get caught, if he didn't want the others to worry about him, he has to deal with it.

However, he was still stuck on the path of an excuse, he'll tell them he twisted his ankle getting ready that morning, and it hurt to walk.

If they catch on, and notice his ankle seems fine, then his leg hurts from sleeping at a weird angle during the night, and that was what caused the twisted ankle in the first place.

He thought it through, meticulously scouting details and filling any missing points in with another excuse, a solid plan that involved the same level as detail as a police investigation, for the purpose of hiding an injury.

Time passed quickly whilst he was creating his excuse, the music almost going in one ear and out the other as he was focused on something else, only the faint noise of it showing up in the background when it registered. He was creating something so detailed for a problem so little, he knew that very well, but he hated becoming a burden, he hated worrying his friends, he hated it so much that he refused to spill anything to them, and unfortunately Jisung had noticed.