Good Night | Dreamcatcher [COMPLETED]

36 - Jaehwan

this is very angsty and very bloody oops
im sorry jaehwan i love you

An inky blackness hung over his eyes.

Everything around him was silent, except for that rhythmic thumping in his ears. He wasn't moving, nor did he think he could. Fear was paralysing him, and it took him a few seconds to realise he was hyperventilating, the inky blackness being the inside of his own eyelids because his eyes were shut so tightly he thought they might pop out.

What the hell what the hell what the hell?

It was hard to calm a panic attack when he was in the most pain he'd ever been in. And he was completely alone.
Jaehwan had always laughed at Wonsik for believing in the supernatural, but he was starting to wish he'd listened. Because what other explanation was there for this? If he wasn't going completely insane — which at this point, wasn't that unlikely — there were two pointed fangs poking out of his gums, and he'd just materialised in an entirely different room. So naturally, the first thing he'd done was freak out.

Slowly, through his agony, he found his breath and managed to peel his eyelids open. The first thing he saw was white. He blinked, and his eyes adjusted. This room didn't seem to fit in with the horror-film-like aesthetic that the room with the table had transformed into moments before he disappeared. This room was pristine, almost shining with perfection and cleanliness. He felt like he was tainting it just by standing there.

He suddenly realised how dry his mouth and throat were, like they were made of sandpaper. And there was a strong feeling mingling with the pain ricocheting from organ to organ: hunger. He gasped, doubling over as it surged through his body. It was a hunger he'd never felt before.

His eyes were blown wide, and through strained pupils he saw a figure materialise in front of him. He didn't recognise them, but they stared at him with frightened, emotion-filled eyes. He wanted to ask them what was wrong, but the thirst bubbling within him sent waves of agony through his veins, binding his mouth shut.

His vision blurred, and he found himself stumbling towards the figure as if he was drunk. Suddenly the details of them were escaping him. He was blind to the pure, human emotion in their eyes, and he couldn't even tell if they were a girl or a boy. What colour was their hair? He was a few centimetres away now. Did they even have face? His eyes slid towards their exposed neck. What was their blood type? He leaned forward. Would it matter if he drank their blood? Hunger scratched his eyes away, and the only thing in his mind was blood. Instinct was taking over now.

He didn't notice as the fangs protruding from his gums bit into their skin, he didn't notice that he was now sucking at their flesh and a warm liquid was slipping down his throat...

It was over before it had even begun. The figure fell to the floor, but his glassy, wide eyes were already on another figure. He needed more.

The figures kept appearing, and he kept biting and drinking and ripping and hurting and...

A fraction of his sanity suddenly returned, and he found himself screaming as he stared at the pile of lifeless bodies on the floor. They were drowning in a sea of crimson, the white floors splattered with blood, blood, and blood. And yet the insatiable hunger remained, tearing at his gut like a wild animal.

What have I done?

Who am I?

What am I?

There was a small splat, and with no small amount of horror he slowly looked up. The pristine ceiling was turning red, and drops of blood fell to the ground like raindrops. The walls were leaking with the stuff, thick trails of scarlet racing to the floor. His hands shook, and a sob rose in his throat. He tried, damnit, he tried not to succumb, but in a matter of seconds he was clawing at the walls and wailing in agony as blood poured into his mouth. But even as it hit his tongue, there was no taste, no fulfilment, and he felt even emptier than before.

He didn't know much time passed before he was up to his neck in his worst nightmare and his strongest craving. But it kept coming. He choked as the substance flooded his mouth, his lungs losing air. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, but it was so real. He closed his eyes, praying that he'd drown and not have to suffer anymore.

And then he felt it slide away fast, and opened his eyes. A wide-eyed Hakyeon stood at the door, his mouth stained scarlet and his eyes puffy from tears. Jaehwan sobbed, but not from relief.
Hakyeon should have left him to die.

Since that moment, he'd been sickened by the mere sight of blood, and spent nights with an empty, rumbling stomach, cursing the fact that he now had to survive on it.

He'd killed those people. They may have been a trick and a vision, but he couldn't stop thinking: What if they had been real? Would he have torn their throats apart still?

Starving himself was a cruel and perfect punishment. He couldn't bring himself to drink anything more than the bear minimum he needed to survive, despite Hakyeon's pleas for him to drink and stop killing himself. But he couldn't. Even if his pale, sickly skin rotted and his body fell apart, he'd never do it. Every time Hakyeon found more humans to feed from, he felt more and more disgusted. So when he discovered, unbeknownst to Hakyeon, that those four girls had been freed, he was secretly glad.

Now can death take us all peacefully?

But now, as he watched one of his best friends betray them, and saw the misery and hopelessness reflected in everyone's eyes, he thought, maybe he could do the unforgiveable for these people. Maybe he could become a monster and fight for them. If they survived, maybe it would be worth it.

Yeah. Right about now, he'd happily gorge himself on blood if that gave him enough strength to fight for his friends.

'Till the end.'