Boss||SOPE/Yoonseok

logical explanation

   Hoseok woke up. The moon was still looming, and unfortunately, he was still exhausted. Groaning, he grabbed his phone from under his pillow. Wondering what time, it was before he would have to get his lazy ass up for work. He turned his phone on, instantly regretting it as the bright screen temporarily blinded him. He quickly checked the time: 4:17 a.m. sighing dejectedly he placed his phone on his nightstand and strained to force his overactive mind back to sleep.

***

Hoseok arrived at a three-story-building, it towered over him as he exited his red BMW. He adjusted his dark-blue tie and patted down a stray hair before grabbing his briefcase. He sighed, slamming the car door shut. His morning hadn't been exactly ideal, considering his alarm decided to dick him over as soon as his brain finally shut up. Which meant he barely made it to the subway on time.

He speed-walked his way into the building. The smartwatch on his wrist beeped, reminding him he only had 20 minutes to get to the "very important" meeting, which had translated to him as your day is about to get a thousand times shittier. And that reminded him he forgot to ask what the meeting was about, his thoughts took a one-eighty as he remembered he forgot to feed his newly adopted puppy, the growing anxiety threatening to eat him alive was now gnawing at his last shards of determination. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he bumped into something. He blinked in confusion, quickly apologizing as he saw what-who he had bumped into. 

A mop of raven hair, black cat-like eyes, and an icy stare instantly froze him in place. He was transfixed, their gazes locked in a strange waltz as Hoseok struggled to look away. His heart quickened, fear, it was something he hadn't felt in forever and he certainly didn't miss it. His brain flashed red flags as the stranger took a small step forward. 

He couldn't shake the feeling that if he ran something worse would come, so he stood rigid. He guessed the man could sense his unease, and their unnerving staring contest ceased but not before the stranger stepped back and grinned, deceivingly innocent, pink gums and all and sauntered past Hoseok down the plant infested hallway; his gold-laced dress shoes clacking, on the wooden flooring.

Hoseok kept his gaze fixed on the strange man until he turned a corner and vanished into a dimly lit hallway that was up for maintenance, a sharp chill went up his spine. His vision was suddenly hazy, he couldn't shake the feeling of wrong echoing in his ears.

Everything was so wrong. A black fog eerily crept its way around his ankles, the wispy tendrils formed a claw digging its jagged nails into his tender flesh. He opened his mouth to scream, instead, he couldn't breathe. The suddenly empty lobby flooded with the black fog, it twisted and consumed until Hoseok could see only darkness.

His lungs burned. He could merely watch in agony as more talons ripped into him, tears flooded his bloodied cheeks as his knees buckled. He crumbled to the floor in a bloody heap. His sight slowly slipped out of focus, the torture of his being became distant as he welcomed the cold embrace of nothingness.

A tiny sound pulled him back, so small it was barely a noise. "...I'm so sorry...Please, don't leave me, Please Jaime" The small whisper kept pleading, begging, crying out for him.

A rage he had never felt before roared at the sound of the voice how dare it speak his name, his mouth moved, but it didn't feel like his. 

The pain ebbed away completely disappearing. A warmth spread through him before his eyes opened to take in the stream of sunlight that had managed to bypass his blackout curtains and was irritating his retinas. He winced, as he sat up, his head pounding.

He touched his cheeks and felt a familiar wetness on his finger, "no, not again," he jumped out of bed and ran into his master bathroom. He stood in front of his vanity, at a glimpse of himself his jaw dropped. 

Blood. So much blood, he checked himself over, he found the culprit. A nickel-sized gash on his scalp coated his light brown strands in deep red. But that didn't make any sense. His shirt was soaked in crimson red, he looked like he had bathed in it.

He peaked his head out of the bathroom to check his probably blood-soaked sheets, but instead found nothing but clean pillows and blankets, apart from a few drops of blood and food stain everything was as "normal" as ever. He checked himself over again. Not a scratch except for the head wound.

If it wasn't his blood, then...he shoved the thought deep into the darkest depths of his brain. There had to be a logical explanation. There always was.