cedar avenue (book 2) -got7

one

light bounced across the room, though the rays were dim in an eerie sort of way. like the room could hold no light. the darkness was unsettling, and mark found himself running his eyes anxiously across every wall, checking for something, wondering if the shadows held secrets. the walls were awash with red, dried blood, more like brown in some spots where the blood had crusted with time. mark shivered as he entered, wrapping his arms across his chest in an attempt to warm himself. the coldness was unlike anything he had ever experienced, more intense, enough to shock the breath from his lungs. it plumed in front of him, whispering away into the cold, heavy air as though it had never even been there. like life had never existed.

the room did feel lifeless, it ebbed with the feeling of death. it hung from the ceiling, dripped down the walls, squashed into the ratty carpet.

a gag. mark had hardly noticed the smell it was so cold. but it hit him all at once. putrid, it made him cough. there was no possible way to describe it, but he knew at once that he was smelling rotting flesh, that he was smelling death itself. it was an innate feeling, and he was sure that nothing else could smell like that, like muddy death, a mixture of old blood and decomposition. the smell seeped into his skin, he could almost feel it nestling inside him. it made him want a shower, and he coughed again, disgusted.

with squinted eyes, mark searched the darkness for any indication of life, or of whatever was conjuring the awful smell. heavy, brown curtains hung at the back of the room, and mark knew that what he was looking for would be behind there. he wasn't sure if he even wanted to see it anymore. in fact, he knew he didn't want to see it anymore. judging from the smell, he could guess what he would find, and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. his heart clenched just thinking about it. but no, he had looked for so long, he had given up so much. he needed the closure.

the people he had met on his journey to this room only spurred him on to take furtive steps towards the curtains. even though his head was telling him to turn around and leave. behind the curtains, he was told, would be a room. and behind there, well.... hopefully he'd find what he had been searching for.

yugyeom would want to know, yugyeom would never forgive him if he didn't go through those curtains- the curtains that up close looked like they would disintergrate upon contact. they looked like they were decades old, flooded with small holes, tearing apart at the seams. mark shivered again, he really didn't like it. but he was doing this for yugyeom.... he could do it, for him.

the smell only got worse as he drew closer to the curtains. it was becoming unbearable. mark took a shaky breath in through his mouth, and he swore he could taste the smell. it tore at the back of his throat and he spluttered, swallowing quickly to try to rid the taste from his mouth. it lingered uncomfortably as he at last pushed aside the curtains.

behind the fabric was a complete darkness, even when he squinted mark couldn't see a single thing in the room. but judging by the way the smell amplified the minute the curtains were lifted, he had a sinking feeling that what he was looking for was somewhere in there. he stood at the edge of the new room, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the pitch black. a nagging feeling hung at the back of his mind, a feeling that there was someone in the room in front of him. unsure if it was paranoia or the weird sense humans get sometimes, he stuck his hands out in front of him and slowly walked into the room, feeling for any signs of life.

quickly, his hands made contact with a soggy wall, and he traced along it, feeling for the length of the room. it was small, and seemed to be circular. he made it back to the curtains, meaning he had done a full lap of the room, meaning that whatever he wanted was in the dead centre as he hadn't encountered it on his lap. the taste of vomit travelled up his throat as he thought about it. and then, slowly, he felt his way along the floor.

when his hand became wet with a cold, slippery liquid, he knew he had found what he was looking for. that's when the vomit really did come, as he realised exactly what that was on his palm.

blood. his blood.

mark hadn't eaten in a while, so he felt the suffocating burn of stomach acid as he vomited it up. there was his blood on his hand. there was his dead body in front of him.

it had been so long since he had seen him. 5 months. he hadn't seen bambam in 5 months, and now there he was. all that research, all that desperate looking, all those conversations with dodgy looking people had led him here, to an abandonded basement in the middle of seoul. and there was bambam. right in front of him....

mark's eyes were beginning to adjust to the light, and he could just about make out bambam's figure. he was collpased on his side, arms wrapped up around his head protectively. blood pooled around his head, so thick it looked black. mark gagged. it looked like he had been killed recently, only hours before.

bambam was held captive. for five months. and just as mark was about to find him, when he was only hours, maybe minutes away...  he had been brutally murdered.

mark's hands shook as he reached up to place one on bambam's shoulder. as mark felt the fleeting warmth from bambam's shoulder, he slowly began to feel watched. he almost expected that someone would emerge from the shadows, that someone, perhaps bambam's killer, had been there the whole time.

bambam really was dead. it was only beginning to sink in, that it was bambam's shoulder he was holding, that it was bambam's corpse in front of him.

mark had failed to save him.

if only he had told yugyeom the truth about the blood from the beginning.
if only they had searched for him from that very first day.
if only mark hadn't been selfish enough to assume everything would be fine...

they probably could've saved bambam, he wouldn't be a body on the floor, he'd be alive.

but no, mark had been selfish. and bambam's death was his fault. he allowed himself to release a quiet sob as he ran his fingers through bambam's hair. bambam was dead.

bambam was really dead.
and he had really failed.

and he still felt like he was being watched. it was uncomfortable, and he found himself looking over his shoulder every few seconds.

emptiness flooded through him, as he stared at the shadow of bambam's body, sad, disappointed, guilty. so guilty it hurt.

his eyes didn't leave bambam, not once. so of course he didn't notice the person standing in the doorway. the person he knew all too well. lim jaebeom.

watching, waiting.

patient.

and when the time was right, when mark finally glanced over to the curtains and saw the figure blocking the way out, jaebeom pounced. he had known mark would be down there, he had known to kill bambam just before mark arrived, he had known everything.

and now he held a rope in his hand, and then he charged at mark.

and then the rope was around mark's neck, and he couldn't breathe and everything was black.

and jaebeom's gripped tightened and mark choked and-

mark's eyes flew open.
he had had the nightmare again.