I Hope You Never Sleep Again | DRAKE | (tmf/the music freaks)

Not even in sleep am i allowed to escape reality

A/N: In leu of finally starting to write chapter fifteen, here's chapter nine 4 all my silly 'lil wattpad readers 🤭🤭  ALSO WHY DID I ONLY JUST REALISE NONE OF MY FORMATTING GOES ONTO WATTPAD?? RAHHH. All my italics, GONE😭 

..we vibe. STILL. Damn you guys are getting like the worst of the worst LOL. No fixing errors or nothing 😪
WELP. Womp womp I guess.

But hey on nice terms I finally managed to access an old-ish wattpad account of mine!! Well. It's the same age as this one, but I hadn't been able to get into it for yeaaars. Ugh. I wrote the beginnings of a crazy angsty shin soukoku fic that was only akutagawas introduction and i almost cried because of it. 2023 me was just as fucked up as present me I guess LOL.

But yk. We vibe.

TRIGGER WARNINGS
-child abuse
-description of violence
-panic attacks
-strangulation
____

"We meet again."

Drew blinked drowsily, stretching like a cat. It was only when his vision cleared that he realised he was no longer in his bedroom but instead surrounded wholly by darkness.

The familiarity was instantaneous.

His eyes widened as forgotten memories surged forth, gripping his head in an attempt to subdue the way it felt like someone was pulling a metal rod through his brain. His ears rang. Walking. The dreary experience of growth. A diminishing light; it once shined bright as the sun himself. The images were fragmented—torn to bits and pieces—only a few lonely shards glimmering and loosing their invisibility under his searching gaze.

"Do you remember?" The voice asked, strikingly as wistful as it was frigid. Drew almost grimaced at the uncanny blend. But, there it was again, the sense he'd heard that voice before.

His surveyed the area, looking for the one speaking, but he didn't find anyone. He couldn't help the 'what the fuck?' swirling around his brain, utter confusion that quickly turned into defensiveness.

If Drew didn't know where he was, that meant he could be anywhere. He cursed himself. Had he been kidnapped?

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

Drew backed up, a sheen of sweat coating his back. His pupils flitted around anxiously, and his breathing grew faster. He tugged at his shirt, trying to (unsuccessfully) cool himself down. Shakily, and with as much assertiveness as he could manage, he yelled out: "Who are you and what do you want from me? If you want money, then fucking take it!"

He swallowed nervously, taking the lack of response as a guise to continue.

Drew couldn't keep the stutter from his voice. He felt fear. Intense and unnerving.

Not surprising, when you were surrounded by darkness and a voice you did not know where was coming from, everywhere and nowhere at once. But..was he afraid because of that? No..no..it was something more, he could sense it.

"H-how much do you want? I..If you let me go I can get it, i won't call the cops," he said, nails scratching his wrists as he held back the urge to run a hand through his hair. He craved the nicotine of a cigarette and the burn of alcohol, so he could repudiate his anxiety and instead savour in the twisted relief five bottles of fine red wine seemed to bring his mother. Five too many.

He really didn't like this. He wanted to go home.

The voice made a short, soft noise resembling a chuckle. It sounded cold, malice so quiet you could easily miss it.

"It's okay. Run your hands through your hair, just like him," it assured. Drew's brows furrowed: He took a subconscious step backwards.

This time, the voice let out a crisp laugh. Drew found no comfort in it. It sounded soulless: Devoid of warmth. Cruel. "Do you know where you got that habit from?" It asked languidly, profound nobleness in their voice, like some rich nepo-baby reclining on their thousand-dollar sun chair. Drew's eyebrows furrowed even further, the crease of his nose, scrunched up slightly in a mix of distaste and defiance, now visible.