It Follows {Book One}

14

Wednesday, August 15
16 days

•Doyoung•
 

Already, Doyoung feels his limbs starting to go numb.

He rolls his head to the side, pressing his cheek against the hard metal grating of the shelf he had been laid across. It reminded him of a morgue.

Jeno stood across the aisle, blocking his view of Jaemin laying on the shelf across from him. Jeno had been standing there all day, not saying a word. Aside from the few times Jaemin was actually conscious, and even fewer times he wasn't hacking up a lung, they whispered to each other in hushed tones.

Doyoung didn't wonder at all what they were talking about.

It didn't matter.

He found it difficult to think about anything other than the fact that he couldn't move most of his body, and he wasn't sure that he could even talk anymore. He hadn't tried. 

He'd been lying there for what felt like weeks, though he knew it was only a few days, silent and unmoving, aside from turning his head from side to side. 

Taeyong had come over a few times to try and get him to eat, but Doyoung would never take anything. He didn't want it. He didn't feel hungry at all, which he thought was odd since he hadn't eaten anything since the night before he was put out here. Back when he could actually stand up.

Doyoung stared at the hand that hung over the shelf above him. Long, bony fingers that twitched every few minutes, but otherwise, lay still. 

Part of him wanted to reach up and hold it, and maybe he would have if he could move his own arm. But another part of him was scared that when he decided to touch it the hand would be cold and lifeless.

He didn't see who it was. He wasn't awake when he was brought in, but he didn't need to be. The way Donghyuck always hung around told him everything. He even woke up to him crying, tugging on the dangling arm a few times.

Mark would groan, but that was all he could do. Doyoung wondered what it was like for Donghyuck, having to watch the person he loved, the only person he was living for, slowly, painfully die in front of him without being able to do anything about it.

Of course, he didn't want to know.

Doyoung felt guilty that not once had he wondered how his girlfriend was doing, or if she was still alive. The fact that she was probably dead didn't even bother him. Maybe it was the fact that he was dying, and everyone around him was as well, that seemed to take away from everything else. Everything that was once important to him.

Instead, he was upset. He had his mind set on Taeyong for a couple weeks now, ever since he noticed how similar his body was to his girlfriend's and wow, Doyoung was really deprived. But it was too late now, and Doyoung was kicking himself for not trying anything sooner.

Even Kun would have sufficed, but Doyoung didn't think he would be up for it. Of course, Kun was the better option anyways, because then Doyoung wouldn't have to worry about Jaehyun absolutely obliterating him.

"There's no more room." Kun's voice sounded from a few feet away. He heard a loud groan and heavy, rushed footsteps circle the room. Yukhei paused in front of Doyoung, their eyes meeting briefly before he continued on.

"Where am I supposed to put him?" Yukhei made an attempt to whisper, something he had never been good at. "I'm not going to leave him out there."

"I don't know, Yukhei. Just bring him back to wherever it is that you've been sleeping, okay? You have a bed?"

"Yeah, I mean . . . a mattress on the ground counts, right?"

"That's all any of us have, so yeah. Just put him there, okay? Then you two can have some privacy. If you need anything, come get me. Or Taeyong, but try for me. Taeyong has Jisung most of the time."

There was a long pause before anyone spoke again, and Doyoung felt his eyelids growing heavy. "Thank you."

His chest begins to tighten.

"Do you need help carrying Jungwoo back?"

"Not unless he throws up on me."

Doyoung's eyes slowly opened again, but something was blocking his view.

Kun stood directly in front of him, his face contorted in concern. Or was it fear? Doyoung didn't care. All he could think  was, I'm mad. I'm so mad.

Voices grew louder around him, and soon, more people ran to his side. But his vision was already going fuzzy, and he couldn't understand anything they were saying. It was like he was underwater. He couldn't hear, or see . . . or breathe.

Left frontal lobe.

I . . . I . . . I don't feel good.

Left occipital lobe. Doyoung tried to gasp.

I . . . I . . . don't remember where . . .

Left parietal lobe. Nothing went in.

I . . . I . . . I can't remember my name, but . . . but . . .

Right temporal. His heart hammered against his chest.

. . . but I'm still here.

Right frontal. Air.

I'm still here . . .

Right occipital. Nothing.

I'm still . . .

Right parietal. Nothing.

I'm . . .

Cerebellum. Nothing.

I'm . . .

Thalamus. Nothing.

I . . .

Hypothalamus.

I . . .

Hippocampus.

. . .

Medulla.

. . .

. . .

..