ATEEZ ONESHOTS [BXB]

-" Do You Hear That?"3-

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3ʀᴅ ᴘᴏᴠ
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✎...

Pretty doll...

Open your pretty eyes for me....

The dark voice whispered as the darkness slowly retreats, Yeosang drifts back to consciousness, a blurred boundary between dreams and reality. He feels like he's floating in a thick, suffocating fog, where sounds are distorted and distant. His senses strain to break through the haze, each breath a struggle as his mind fights to reorient itself.

In this murky half-world, a voice penetrates the gloom, insidiously weaving through his thoughts. It's a low, rasping sound, sending shivers cascading down his spine. The words it speaks carry an almost tangible weight, each syllable heavy with malice, as if the air itself were conspiring against him. The voice is a venomous whisper, laced with cold intent, clinging to his consciousness and refusing to release its grip.

A sharp, stinging sensation begins to spread across his skin, jolting him further out of the fog. His mind, still clouded, is drawn to the pain, curling inward as if seeking refuge. The burning intensifies, piercing through the layers of confusion, each touch a cruel reminder of his vulnerable state. As the pain clears his mind, the voice grows clearer, merging with the fiery torment against his skin. Yet, the eerie presence beside him lingers, a dark energy pressing down on him, compelling him to wake fully.

With a monumental effort, he forces his eyes open, the world around him slowly coming into focus. Terror seizes him as he locks eyes with a crazed smirk that distorts the familiar face before him.

"S-San?" he stammers, disbelief and fear coiling in his gut.

"Dollface, I'm so happy you're awake!" The voice responds, dripping with a disturbing eagerness.

The tone strikes Yeosang to the core, amplifying his unease. The face is unmistakably that of his catlike friend, but as he looks closer, the differences become glaringly apparent. The usually slender frame is now robust and muscular, a disconcerting shift that only adds to Yeosang's mounting dread. Most unsettling are the eyes that meet his—a pair of dark, unblinking orbs that seem to swallow all light, reflecting a malevolence that chills him to the bone.

Yeosang's chest heaved as he struggled to lift himself from the cold, unforgiving floor. His limbs felt heavy, as if they were shackled by invisible weights. Tears welled up, blurring his vision, and he clenched his teeth in a futile attempt to suppress the terror that clawed at his insides. He desperately tried to avert his gaze, anything to avoid those chilling, piercing eyes fixed upon him.

"Hey doll... it's okay, relax... Sannie would never hurt you," a voice cooed, the tone sickeningly sweet yet dripping with malice.

"You're not San... Where is he? Where are my friends?" Yeosang's voice trembled, barely above a whisper. Panic surged through him, his heart pounding as he felt a rough hand clamp down on his jaw. He winced, a sharp pain shooting through his face, the grip unyielding and merciless. Those eyes, glowing with a sinister light, bore into him, reflecting the same intensity as the hand that held him captive. It was as if his very bones were being crushed, each breath a laborious task. His vision wavered, a dizzying darkness creeping at the edges.

"S-so sorry!" Yeosang gasped, his fingers clutching at the rope that suspended him from the ceiling. A sob escaped his lips, his face throbbing with each pulse, each beat of his heart sending a wave of agony through his skull. He hadn't even realized he'd collapsed to his knees, his tears falling in a steady stream, splashing onto the icy floor below.

"Look, it's clear that I'm not him... but I'm just trying to make you feel things you've never thought of... but I won't tolerate that rude mouth of yours. Maybe your San would, but not me," the figure sneered, his voice a cruel mockery of comfort.