dissolve. ✓

ELEVEN

jeongguk must have dozed off or something because he didn't remember anything the chemistry teacher had said so far. it wasn't surprising, considering how fucked up his sleep schedule was lately, and honestly he had been falling asleep in class long before his nightmares started. he sat back in his seat, shaking his head to clear the fuzz from it, and turned around to find namjoon on his right like usual.

"hey, buddy," jeongguk whispered. "what'd i miss?"

namjoon didn't answer, didn't turn around, didn't even glance at him.

jeongguk huffed and turned back around to the front of the class, slouching low and tapping both feet against the floor in a way that was sure to get him reprimanded soon. he felt weird, restless and twitchy, and his eyes kept skating over his classmates. was it his imagination or were they usually this quiet and well-behaved? and on second look he could swear they were different, far more boys with light hair than there had been a minute ago, but the teacher droned on unconcerned.

the teacher. something wasn't right about that either, but jeongguk couldn't put his finger on why, just bit his lip and set his pencil to tapping on the desktop. another glance around and all he could see were the heads of mint hair, all identical. that definitely wasn't right and jeongguk reached up to scratch at the itch on the back of his neck.

"namjoon," he said, dread creeping to strangle him. "namjoon, i think i'm-"

namjoon turned to face him. there was blood dripping from his mouth.

"why did you let him do it, jeongguk?" he asked, and his voice came out raspy and grating, not his voice at all.

jeongguk scrambled out of his seat, crashing into a half dozen other desks on his way, but he couldn't take his eyes off the knife imbedded in namjoon's gut. the grip was ribbed leather, coated in red, and jeongguk could see it in hands that weren't his, slick and hot.

"problem, mr. jeon?"

he spun toward the teacher—dead, he remembered, had been dead for almost a year due to the whole incident with taehyung and this wasn't real, couldn't possibly be—and the blackboard behind him was gibberish, a mass of incomprehensible letters and symbols in white chalk that shimmered and swam before his eyes.

"not real," jeongguk whispered, wiping clammy hands on his jeans to try and shake the persistent feeling of blood that wasn't there, not now. "this isn't real. you know it isn't real, jeongguk, wake up. wake up."

it felt real, every bit of it. it was vivid and sharp and close, looming over him until he couldn't breathe. he felt like there was an iron band around his chest, tight and unmoving.

"everyone has it..."

he turned again, cold sweat on his brow as that fucking voice, the one he could never manage to escape, sounded so close it was practically purring his ear.

yoongi was everywhere. a hundred of him, filling every desk in the classroom, all of them glassy-eyed and bloody as they stared up at him and spoke with his voice.

"...but no one can lose it."

"no, no, no, no, no," jeongguk muttered, backing up until he hit the wall. "not real, wake up. wake up, jeongguk, come on, wake up, wake up!"

there were so many of him, and there was namjoon still, watching him with the empty, damning eyes of the grieving, surrounded by his dead best friend and soul mate. jeongguk shook his head, squeezed his eyes closed against the sight, but he couldn't block out the sounds. the chant rose up, louder and louder, drilling the riddle into his head until he couldn't even hear the pounding of his own heart or his own desperate pleas to just wake up.