MVV | YG [✔]

Prologue: Beomgyu

Blood pooled around my unlaced sneakers. The potent, iron-like scent was a fist around my throat, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until I choked on the density of it. I reached for oxygen as though it was something I could capture inside my fist and punch through my chest.

A scream formed low in my gut, wild and feral, and when it finally burst past my lips, the force of it was enough to stop time. I got lost in its echo, bones quivering and heart still. My kneecaps bobbed fiercely beneath the jeans I wore, and I collapsed against the pavement. My palms found purchase in a puddle of his blood, and I watched the thick liquid race past my wrists and dribble down my forearms.

The sight made my stomach heave, and I felt the telltale burn of vomit as it thrummed violently in my chest and burst from my throat. My hand shook as it shot into the night air, fingers aching as they searched for someone, anyone, to anchor themselves to.

Felix. The only pillar I'd ever known.

I linked my warm fingers with his cold ones, lifting his lifeless hand to my chest. I pressed his palm to my heart as though the unsteady force would be enough to make his beat again.

His arm remained limp in my grasp, his veins prominent and blue as they rose to the surface of his grimly painted skin. Blood flowed from both of his nostrils, over the curve of his lips, and down the slope of his chin. The color in his eyes had vanished alongside his soul, and I stared into their unfamiliar darkness, my conscious screaming at them to brighten again.

Each of his legs was crooked, bent at unnatural angles, and I possessed this sudden, painful urge to straighten them—to put him back together. His right hand was frozen in a tight fist at his side, drowning in the ripples of his own blood. Once blond hair was now stained red with the last of the blood that flowed from it.

Sweat surged down my neck as quickly as tears stained my cheeks, and I felt my heart jump in my chest as I collapsed against his body and scooped his blood into my palms. My movements were frantic, and breath burst from my chest in uneven exhales as I desperately tried to shove his blood back into the wound that pierced his head.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

I felt the sound of that clock low in my gut. Each thrum got stronger than the last, cracking the earth that surrounded us. I was racing against that sound, and my moves became more hectic and determined as I willed my efforts to be enough.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick...

...tock.