SEVENTEEN | SICKFICS - HURTFICS

Wonwoo | Sleep Paralysis

Wonwoo lay tangled in his sheets, the early morning light creeping through the window, casting a soft glow across his room. His heart raced in rhythm with the echoes of his latest nightmare, images fading yet still vivid in his mind. He could feel the remnants of fear clinging to him, a chill that settled deep within.

The past few nights had been restless. Each time he drifted off, darkness engulfed him, pulling him into unsettling landscapes filled with shadows and whispers. He could never remember the details clearly, but the panic remained, a suffocating weight that haunted his waking moments.

As dawn approached, the shadows in his mind grew heavier. With a sharp intake of breath, he jolted awake, sweat coating his skin and his heart pounding wildly. It was always like this-a rush of adrenaline, the taste of dread still lingering on his tongue.

A few moments later, the soft sound of footsteps padded across the floor, and Wonwoo felt the familiar presence of Woozi hovering nearby. His roommate was always attuned to his distress, a silent guardian in the quiet hours. Woozi's brow was furrowed with concern as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, waiting for Wonwoo to steady himself.

"Another one?" Woozi asked gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration wash over him. He hated how these nightmares had begun to seep into his daily life, but having Woozi there somehow eased the edge of his panic.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Woozi offered, stepping further into the room, concern etched in every line of his face.

Wonwoo shook his head, his throat tight. Words felt inadequate, a feeble attempt to convey the turmoil swirling within him. Instead, he focused on his breathing, trying to ground himself as he sought solace in the comforting presence of his roommate.

Woozi remained close, his demeanor calm and steady, a silent promise that he wouldn't leave Wonwoo to face the darkness alone. As the dawn light grew brighter, Wonwoo leaned back against his pillow, grateful for the small moment of peace, even as the weight of his dreams lingered like a shadow in the corners of his mind.

It had been a week since Wonwoo's nightmares began, each night blurring into the next, marked only by his frantic awakenings. With every dawn, Woozi grew more worried. He could see the toll it took on Wonwoo-dark circles under his eyes, a tense set to his shoulders, and the way he flinched at even the softest sounds.

Their routine became almost ritualistic. Midnight terror would strike, and Wonwoo would wake gasping, his mind still trapped in the echoes of his dreams. Woozi would instinctively rise from his bed, moving to Wonwoo's side, his hand resting gently on his shoulder. The warmth of Woozi's touch offered some comfort, yet the shadow of fear never fully receded.

"Wonwoo, you need to sleep," Woozi would urge softly, but his words felt like echoes in a vast canyon, often met with silence. Wonwoo didn't know how to explain the weight of his nightmares, the way they clawed at his thoughts even in the daylight, making everything feel uncertain and heavy.

Woozi tried to coax him into light conversation, reminiscing about the little moments of joy they shared-silly antics from practice, the taste of their favorite snacks-but the laughter felt distant, a fleeting memory that slipped through Wonwoo's fingers like sand.

Each morning, as the sun broke through the horizon, Woozi would watch his roommate closely, concerned about the way Wonwoo seemed to fade more with each passing day. He wanted to help, to chase the shadows away, but he felt powerless against something so insidious, something that lurked in the depths of Wonwoo's mind.

With every night that passed, the bond between them deepened-a silent understanding that they were in this together, even as the nights grew longer and the dreams more haunting. Woozi often wondered how he could protect his brother from the darkness that plagued him, his heart aching with the weight of unspoken fears.