Sense in Madness
Title: Sense in Madness
Pairing: Donghae-centric. HyukHae
Rating: PG-13
Genre: drama, friendship, romance, slight!angst
Disclaimer: they own each other
Warnings: mentions of sexual situations
Summary: If one looks closely, sometimes the most confusing things make the most sense.
Donghae was on a staircase that spiraled up or down- he could not tell which. He leaned over the wrought iron handrail, feet finding purchase in the intricate designs of the gilt balusters. Sticking his head precariously out, he turned his gaze first up, then down. The spiral pattern of the stairs was all he could see both ways. Hopping down, he turned slowly. There was someone behind him.
“Leeteuk-hyung,” greeted Donghae uncertainly.
Leeteuk merely nodded, eyes boring holes into Donghae’s. Donghae stared back, waiting for him to speak. Leeteuk shook his head, his blonde hair gently swaying in time with the motion. “Follow your leader,” Leeteuk commanded. Without a backwards glance, he abruptly started walking down the spiral stairs.
Donghae blinked in surprise. Regaining his wits, he hurried after the older man. “Where are we going?” asked Donghae, keeping a few steps behind Leeteuk.
“Do you think we should go left or right?” Leeteuk shot back.
Donghae frowned, looking at the structure of the stairs. “But we can only go left,” he pointed out.
“Right,” said Leeteuk. He picked up his pace until Donghae was jogging to keep up. “Follow your leader.”
Donghae looked at the paintings and various artworks on the wall as he trailed after Leeteuk. There was one of a river filled with what looked like bodies. Another was a depiction of a crying woman sitting in front of a mirror. Donghae thought he even saw a crude drawing in red crayon of a man being chewed up alive.
“Follow your leader.” Leeteuk’s sharp voice cut through Donghae’s thoughts, and the latter realized that he practically could not see the former through the thick fog that was starting to form.
“Hyung, wait!”
Donghae started running. Running, running, running.
“This way.”
Donghae blindly reached out, eyes fighting to see through the haze. His hand touched a cold, brass doorknob. Fumbling to turn it, Donghae pushed the door open and fell into a room.
His first impression was that he was still blinded. He then realized that he wasn’t; the room was simply completely white. The walls were undecorated; the only break in them was a small window in the upper left hand corner. The room was completely bare of everything save for the stacks of white crates in the far corner near the window.
Donghae stepped further into the room, eyes sweeping for any signs of life. The door slammed shut behind him, and Donghae turned around to face a man with an unkempt mane and stubble.
“Kibum?” asked Donghae.
Kibum raised his head slowly, dull eyes staring at Donghae from behind the curtain of hair. “What is the question?” he whispered. Then louder, “What is the question, you ask?” Kibum threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing throughout the empty room.
“I didn’t ask anything,” replied Donghae, tilting his head to the side. “What are you asking?”
“To sleep, to dream, to die, and maybe dream again,” muttered Kibum, eyes fixed on a spot just above Donghae’s left shoulder. “Or is it to dream, to sleep, to die?”
“I think it’s to die, to sleep, to sleep, to dream,” Donghae replied. Kibum did not respond. Donghae reached out. “Kibum?”
Kibum backed up, avoiding Donghae’s hand. His eyes suddenly blazed. “This is the world!” Kibum spread his arms, spinning around and cackling madly. He stopped abruptly mid-spin, turning his empty gaze towards Donghae. “Where’s your costume?” he asked, an almost child-like confusion in his voice.
“I took it off,” Donghae sighed. “It was getting heavy.”
“Three,” snapped Kibum irritably at Donghae’s remark. “You have to be three.”
A note flew through the air, followed by another and another and another. Donghae turned his head towards the sound. “Do you hear that?”
“Do you hear that?” Kibum echoed.
Donghae spun and walked over the far left corner of the room. Using the crates, he hoisted himself up and climbed. He reached the top with no problem. Opening the window, Donghae clambered out.
He was met by a red sun sinking down in the distance. There was a large, sloping hill covered in yellow grass. On top of the hill sat a lone figure, cross-legged. Even with his back towards Donghae, Donghae could see that he was strumming the strings of a broken guitar. The song he sang was not one Donghae recognized, but it still tugged at his consciousness. Donghae opened his mouth to call out to the person.
“Don’t bother him,” said a low, husky voice behind Donghae.
Donghae frowned, itching to make his presence known to the person on the hill. “Why not?”
“He’s singing himself down. It won’t do to disturb him now.”
Donghae’s frown deepened. “What about you, hyung?”
“Me?” There was a throaty chuckle. “I’m already gone.”
Donghae turned around, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the corridor he was in. There were long, metal basins on either side of the passageway, stretching until they converged with the walls in a black dot. Donghae could hear the sound of running water, and he started down the hall to find the source.
One step, two steps, ten steps. Donghae counted all the way up to the thousands until he lost count and had to start over. Left foot in front of right foot, right foot in front of left foot.
Donghae lifted his hand to check his watch. His watch was broken. “How come no one has the time?” he grumbled, continuing on, kicking some stray rocks as he went.
He reached a doorway covered by a thick curtain. As he made to move it, a hand shot out from beneath a sink on the sides and grabbed his right ankle. Donghae started and tried to tug his foot back, but the hand maintained a vice-like grip.
“What are you hiding from?”
“I should be asking you that question, Heechul-hyung,” Donghae replied, stooping down. Heechul’s wild, bloodshot eyes stared back. “Actually, better question: how did you manage to fit yourself under there?”
Heechul laughed, a sound that grated at Donghae’s ears. “Just cut off the parts you don’t need.”
“With what shall I cut it?” mused Donghae, eyes roving the area in which Heechul sat.
“There’s a hole in my bucket,” Heechul informed Donghae, sadly tugging at Donghae’s sleeve.
“I can get you a new one,” Donghae comforted him.
Heechul eyed him beadily. “Who said I wanted one?” he scoffed, letting go of Donghae. Raising his hand, he rapped his knuckles smartly on the rusty pipe next to him, producing a low note that vibrated through the air before dissipating. “I wish I was a fishmonger,” Heechul told Donghae wistfully, crossing his arms over his chest and fisting the sleeves of his shirt. “Then maybe I could give you what you need.”
“It’s alright, hyung,” Donghae replied as Heechul retreated further into his crawl space. “You’ve done a lot already.” Rising from his position, Donghae brushed off his knees. He faced the thick curtain once more and pushed it open, going through.
The corridor he ended up in was an exact replica of the one he had just left, flanked by long metal basins and lit up by dim, orange lights spaced a few feet apart on the walls. The sound of water running was more prominent now, and Donghae picked up his pace to follow it.
“Faster.”
Donghae broke out into a run, occasionally throwing glances over his shoulder to ascertain no one was there. So intent he was on this task that he nearly crashed into a person.
“Hangeng-hyung,” panted Donghae, stopping not a couple of inches from him.
Hangeng did not even look up at Donghae, completely immersed in his task. Donghae peered over his shoulder. Hangeng was up to his elbows in murky, soapy water. He was holding a horrendously stained pot and, with both hands, was currently scrubbing it with obsessive intensity.
“Hangeng-hyung?” repeated Donghae uncertainly, touching the older man’s shoulder. He jerked back almost immediately; the man felt cold and wet, almost clammy. “Hyung, are you okay?”
Hangeng’s eyes widened, but they did not leave the object he was holding. “It won’t come off,” his voice cracked, almost as though he hadn’t drank water in years. “It’s not coming off.”
“Maybe you should use a steel sponge,” Donghae suggested.
“Why won’t it come off?” Hangeng rasped, voice fading out.
“Hyung, drink some water.”
Hangeng paused his frantic scrubbing and laughed out loud, startling Donghae. “Water, water everywhere. Drink it and you’ll die. But don’t drink it and you’ll die faster.”
Donghae stared at Hangeng as he resumed scouring the stained pot with even more ferocity. “What?”
A sheen of sweat covered Hangeng’s face, shiny in the dim, orange lights. A drop slowly slid down his forehead, passed his cheek, and hovered precariously on his sharp chin. After hanging for a couple of seconds, the sweat droplet fell until it merged with the dark water in the basin. Donghae stared at the basin, shock slowly dawning upon him as he realized that the liquid contained was more blood than water.
“It won’t come off, it won’t come off, why won’t it come off.”
Shaking his head to clear it, Donghae started walking down the hall once more. The sinks were a conveyor belt now, and Donghae watched as it carried various gears and broken machine parts in the direction he was going.
After some time walking, Donghae figured that he must be near the end of the hall since the lights had died out. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Donghae’s foot met with air rather than solid ground, and he fell down, down, down.
He landed in a heap on a cold, hard floor. Picking himself up cautiously, he looked around to no avail since it was completely dark wherever he was.
“Hello?” Donghae called. There was a low groan, and Donghae whipped around.
There were bodies everywhere- on the oriental carpets, on the smooth tables, on the plush armchairs. Men. Women. It was hard to distinguish one from the other with the figures so entwined around one another. Lavish clothing hung off the forms, but in various states of undress. The masses writhed together, moans of pleasure or pain filling the air.
Donghae’s eyes widened at the sight, unable to tear his gaze away from the disgusting, fascinating sights. He took a tentative step towards them, swallowing. Before he could go any further, a gloved hand covered his eyes and pulled him backwards against a solid body.
“Don’t look,” a voice breathed into his ear. “They’ll take you if you look.”
“What?” asked Donghae, tugging at the hand obscuring his vision.
The hands assented, and Donghae found himself in an elegant ballroom filled with countless couples in formalwear dancing. Skirts swished, ladies spun, and gentlemen dipped their partners effortlessly. Feeling the presence still behind him, Donghae turned around slowly.
A man dressed in a sophisticated tuxedo stood there. A plain white mask obscured most of his features, but a small smile was visible. The same hand that had held Donghae was now extended towards him in an invitation, palm up.
“Shall we dance?” asked the man, tone amused.
Without any hesitation, Donghae reached out and put his hand on top of the proffered one. The hand turned, allowing their palms to meet and fingers to intertwine. An arm made its way around Donghae’s waist, holding him securely.
“Here we go,” murmured the man, and then they joined all the twosomes twirling on the dance floor.
The man led Donghae all around the floor, easily keeping them in time with the orchestra playing in the corner. The music was uplifting, and Donghae found himself feeling lighter on his feet than he ever had. Then, the tune smoothly transitioned, beat speeding up.
“Hold on,” warned the man playfully. “Don’t let go.”
Donghae tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder and hand, and they started spinning faster and faster and faster. Everything became a colorful blur and all Donghae could see clearly was his partner. Too soon, the music stopped. They slowed their movements until they were at a standstill in each other’s arms, chests heaving from their dance.
The violins were still ringing in Donghae’s ears as he stared at his companion. “Who are you?” he whispered, eyes wide and trying to catch his breath.
The man’s small smile grew, and he lifted a hand to brush Donghae’s cheek gently. Donghae shivered slightly as the soft leather made contact with his bare skin. “Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know,” Donghae admitted, eyes searching the other’s warm orbs.
The corners of the man’s eyes crinkled affectionately. “I am whatever you want me to be, Donghae.”
Tilting his head to the side, Donghae reached out to remove the man’s white mask. A flash of light blinded Donghae, and he squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, the light disappeared, and Donghae gingerly opened his eyes.
He was in a dimly lit bar. The entire place was empty save for himself, the man sitting next to him at the bar counter, and the bartender who was wiping a glass.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Donghae turned and faced his companion. “Kangin-hyung,” he said shakily, recognizing the man’s profile. “Why are you here?”
Kangin shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s a bar. Why wouldn’t I be here? The real question is, why are you here?” At Donghae’s bewildered expression, Kangin pushed a glass towards him. “Here, drink up. You look like you need it.”
Donghae accepted the glass, but did not drink, merely holding the cup between his palms and staring at the amber liquid it contained. “Hyung,” Donghae said slowly. “I’m confused.”
“That’s not uncommon,” Kangin dismissed offhandedly. He didn’t say anything else.
Tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae started as the silence was abruptly broken. He glanced at the bartender, the only person that could’ve said it. “We should hurry,” Donghae whispered to Kangin, tugging at the elder’s sleeve. “I think the bartender wants to close up soon.”
Kangin ignored Donghae’s pulling. “Donghae, sometimes, we have to just take a step backwards and see things from a larger perspective,” said Kangin meditatively. “Sometimes, we can’t see what’s right in front of us because we’re too close.”
“Hyung, this isn’t the time for philosophical musings.” Donghae shook his head. Of all the times Kangin decided to become a thinker. “Come on, we can go somewhere else if there’s any place open. What time is it anyways?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kangin waved off.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae winced at the loud, clearly irritated words. “Hyung-”
“Donghae,” Kangin interrupted. He lifted his nearly full glass up to Donghae’s eye level. “Tell me what you see.”
“I see a glass of alcohol,” replied Donghae, indulging Kangin.
Kangin shook his head. “No, look through the glass. Tell me what you see.”
Donghae obediently looked through the glass, past the colored liquid and the bobbing bits of ice. “I see the bar. And you.”
“Good. What do I look like?”
“Orange-y?”
“Now drink it.”
Donghae stared apprehensively at the glass. “You want me to drink alcohol?”
“Yes.”
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae grabbed the glass from Kangin’s hand and threw back his head, downing the drink in one go. Wincing as the alcohol burned a path down his throat, he looked at Kangin and said, “There, I drank it. Now what?”
“How do I look now?”
Donghae wondered what the purpose of these questions was. “Normal, I guess.”
“I think we all walk through life in a perpetual state of drunkenness. We see everything hazily like the drunken bastards we are. It’s only when we have a drink or two that we really start to see.”
Donghae gave the older man an amused look. “Hyung, are you here just to tout the benefits of drinking to me?”
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Kangin winked at Donghae, eyes turning into half-moons as he grinned brightly. “More or less.”
Ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae glanced at his watch. It was working again, but all the hands were moving at an accelerated speed.
“Goodnight, Donghae,” said Kangin. “Goodnight.”
Before Donghae could question Kangin further, there was a flash of red at the corner of Donghae’s eyes. Turning, Donghae barely managed to glimpse the flash disappearing out the back door of the bar.
“Hyung, I have to…” Donghae trailed off as he realized Kangin was gone. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Donghae slid off the bar stool and went after the red flash.
Pushing the door open, Donghae found himself in a gray city that was barely visible through the thick fog. But Donghae could still see the red flash ahead, weaving through a crowd of people.
“Excuse me, sorry,” murmured Donghae as he bumped into people going the opposite way. “Pardon me.” But the crowd was unyielding. It seemed as though more and more people were gathering and driving him away from the red flash.
“Please,” Donghae said. “Please let me-” Donghae’s breath hitched as he finally took a good look at the people.
Everyone looked exactly the same; there was no telling one person from another, not even the gender. Everyone wore a dark trench coat with a matching dark hat. Everyone carried identical briefcases and wore the same shoes. But worst of all, everyone’s face was covered by an expressionless white mask that showed nothing.
The crowd surged forward, and Donghae felt panic as he was forcefully pulled under. At this rate, he was going to be trampled to death. With all his might, he frantically pushed back against the crowd, but to no avail. There were too many of them.
Just as he was about to go under, a familiar hand reached out and caught his, towing him up out of harm’s way into a sitting position.
Donghae stared incredulously at his savior. “It’s you,” he breathed.
The man’s eyes, very much visible even with the white mask obscuring half of his face, twinkled. “It’s me,” he said.
Donghae gawked, taking in the crowd that seemed to have frozen in time. He looked back at the man kneeling in front of him. “What’s-”
The man brought a finger up to his smiling lips. “Come on.” He got up, brushed off his pants, and extended a gloved hand towards Donghae. Donghae took the hand, and the man pulled him up to his feet. “Here we go.”
Then, they were running, running through the crowd like they had no care in the world. Donghae stared at the back of the man’s head, stumbling slightly when his foot got caught in a crack. The man turned back to smile at him.
“Hold on,” said the man. “Don’t let go.” And they went faster and faster, until the crowd around them was nothing but a blur.
Donghae didn’t mean to, but somewhere between the wind whipping in his eyes and the stumbling over the uneven sidewalk, the man’s hand had slipped out of his grasp. Donghae bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His eyes scanned the empty cityscape guardedly.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Donghae mumbled to himself. “I wonder if…”
Before he could articulate his thoughts, the red flash appeared again. Donghae turned and gave chase as the red flash disappeared behind a building. He skidded to a halt as he rounded the corner.
He was standing at the edge of a crevice, one that went down farther than the eye could see. Donghae gulped, approaching the edge cautiously. Peering warily over, Donghae shuddered as he felt a cold draft. The ground he was standing on abruptly gave an ominous crack.
“No no no, please no,” Donghae muttered, backing away from the ledge. But it was for naught since the ground beneath him soon gave way. Donghae’s stomach clenched, and the air was knocked out of his lungs as his body suddenly plunged down, down down down.
After getting over the initial shock of falling, Donghae realized it wasn’t so bad- a bit relaxing even. He cracked his eyes open, and was surprised to find that the walls of whatever he was falling into were lined with cupboards and shelves of different sizes, shapes, and colors. The strangest assortment of items filled these shelves- a microphone, a white mask, an IV needle, a cross, a military helmet, a golden disk, a silver bracelet, and so many other items that Donghae could not make them all out.
The cupboards and shelves eventually thinned out until there was nothing but bare walls. Donghae let out a startled gasp as he realized he was falling faster now. Twisting his body, Donghae squinted down. He still couldn’t see anything, but instinctively knew that he was going to hit the bottom soon. Squeezing his eyes shut, Donghae braced himself for the impact.
It didn’t come.
Slowly, Donghae opened his eyes again. Another dimly lit room, but this one he knew well. Donghae sat up, allowing the covers to slide off his body. Shakily, Donghae drew in a deep breath to calm himself.
Moving quietly as to not wake the person beside him, Donghae slid out of the bed and padded across the carpet to the window. The night was silent and still, the streetlamp-orange landscape of the city blurred by the slight condensation on the pane. Donghae rested his forehead against the cool glass, focusing on steadying his erratic heartbeat. He watched as his breath gradually fogged up the window, obscuring part of the view. Slowly, he reached out to wipe the glass.
“I hope you don’t plan on staying there all night.”
Donghae turned from the window. “Sorry, did I wake you, Eunhyuk?” he asked apologetically.
Even with the semi-darkness concealing half of the other’s face, Donghae could still make out the small smile on Eunhyuk’s face. “It’s fine,” the older man said, shaking his head slightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nightmare?” offered Donghae, chuckling faintly. “It was terrifying, but at the same time, not. I actually don’t remember much of it, really.”
Eunhyuk sighed. “Come here,” he said, gesturing towards Donghae.
With a slight hesitation, Donghae stepped away from the window and closer to his friend. He was surprised when the normally reserved Eunhyuk wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a warm hug. Closing his eyes, Donghae returned the embrace, taking comfort in the steady beating of Eunhyuk’s heart.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Eunhyuk spoke up, “You should try to get some sleep in. It’s going to be a crazy day tomorrow.”
“Right,” said Donghae, reluctantly breaking his hold. They climbed back into the bed and Eunhyuk pulled the covers over both of them. Shutting his eyes once more, Donghae felt the fatigue from his restless sleep earlier overtake him, pulling him once more into the unconsciousness.
“Don’t worry,” Donghae heard Eunhyuk murmur as he drifted off. “I’ll be here.”
-
Eunhyuk stared contemplatively at the relaxed expression on Donghae’s face. Reaching out, he tenderly traced the blindfold that covered the younger man’s eyes, feeling the almost silky material on his fingertips. He reached behind Donghae’s head with shaky hands and touched the knot that held the blindfold in place, the desire to see and be seen overwhelming him. Resting his fingers there for a moment, he silently weighed the consequences.
With no small amount of regret, Eunhyuk clenched his hand into a fist and pulled away, sense getting the better of him. Eunhyuk reached up and felt the mask that hid half of his own face. Tracing a finger along a crack that ran across the mask, Eunhyuk sighed as a small piece of the ceramic crumpled off. It was getting harder to maintain.
Rolling over on his other side so he could not see Donghae, Eunhyuk stared at the condensation slowly disappearing from the window on the opposite wall.
It wasn’t time yet, but he could wait a little longer.
-
A/N: I started writing this last year while stressing over my Lit AP exam and it shows :'D Kudos to anyone who can spot all of the literary references. Title taken from an Emily Dickinson poem.
Pairing: Donghae-centric. HyukHae
Rating: PG-13
Genre: drama, friendship, romance, slight!angst
Disclaimer: they own each other
Warnings: mentions of sexual situations
Summary: If one looks closely, sometimes the most confusing things make the most sense.
Donghae was on a staircase that spiraled up or down- he could not tell which. He leaned over the wrought iron handrail, feet finding purchase in the intricate designs of the gilt balusters. Sticking his head precariously out, he turned his gaze first up, then down. The spiral pattern of the stairs was all he could see both ways. Hopping down, he turned slowly. There was someone behind him.
“Leeteuk-hyung,” greeted Donghae uncertainly.
Leeteuk merely nodded, eyes boring holes into Donghae’s. Donghae stared back, waiting for him to speak. Leeteuk shook his head, his blonde hair gently swaying in time with the motion. “Follow your leader,” Leeteuk commanded. Without a backwards glance, he abruptly started walking down the spiral stairs.
Donghae blinked in surprise. Regaining his wits, he hurried after the older man. “Where are we going?” asked Donghae, keeping a few steps behind Leeteuk.
“Do you think we should go left or right?” Leeteuk shot back.
Donghae frowned, looking at the structure of the stairs. “But we can only go left,” he pointed out.
“Right,” said Leeteuk. He picked up his pace until Donghae was jogging to keep up. “Follow your leader.”
Donghae looked at the paintings and various artworks on the wall as he trailed after Leeteuk. There was one of a river filled with what looked like bodies. Another was a depiction of a crying woman sitting in front of a mirror. Donghae thought he even saw a crude drawing in red crayon of a man being chewed up alive.
“Follow your leader.” Leeteuk’s sharp voice cut through Donghae’s thoughts, and the latter realized that he practically could not see the former through the thick fog that was starting to form.
“Hyung, wait!”
Donghae started running. Running, running, running.
“This way.”
Donghae blindly reached out, eyes fighting to see through the haze. His hand touched a cold, brass doorknob. Fumbling to turn it, Donghae pushed the door open and fell into a room.
His first impression was that he was still blinded. He then realized that he wasn’t; the room was simply completely white. The walls were undecorated; the only break in them was a small window in the upper left hand corner. The room was completely bare of everything save for the stacks of white crates in the far corner near the window.
Donghae stepped further into the room, eyes sweeping for any signs of life. The door slammed shut behind him, and Donghae turned around to face a man with an unkempt mane and stubble.
“Kibum?” asked Donghae.
Kibum raised his head slowly, dull eyes staring at Donghae from behind the curtain of hair. “What is the question?” he whispered. Then louder, “What is the question, you ask?” Kibum threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing throughout the empty room.
“I didn’t ask anything,” replied Donghae, tilting his head to the side. “What are you asking?”
“To sleep, to dream, to die, and maybe dream again,” muttered Kibum, eyes fixed on a spot just above Donghae’s left shoulder. “Or is it to dream, to sleep, to die?”
“I think it’s to die, to sleep, to sleep, to dream,” Donghae replied. Kibum did not respond. Donghae reached out. “Kibum?”
Kibum backed up, avoiding Donghae’s hand. His eyes suddenly blazed. “This is the world!” Kibum spread his arms, spinning around and cackling madly. He stopped abruptly mid-spin, turning his empty gaze towards Donghae. “Where’s your costume?” he asked, an almost child-like confusion in his voice.
“I took it off,” Donghae sighed. “It was getting heavy.”
“Three,” snapped Kibum irritably at Donghae’s remark. “You have to be three.”
A note flew through the air, followed by another and another and another. Donghae turned his head towards the sound. “Do you hear that?”
“Do you hear that?” Kibum echoed.
Donghae spun and walked over the far left corner of the room. Using the crates, he hoisted himself up and climbed. He reached the top with no problem. Opening the window, Donghae clambered out.
He was met by a red sun sinking down in the distance. There was a large, sloping hill covered in yellow grass. On top of the hill sat a lone figure, cross-legged. Even with his back towards Donghae, Donghae could see that he was strumming the strings of a broken guitar. The song he sang was not one Donghae recognized, but it still tugged at his consciousness. Donghae opened his mouth to call out to the person.
“Don’t bother him,” said a low, husky voice behind Donghae.
Donghae frowned, itching to make his presence known to the person on the hill. “Why not?”
“He’s singing himself down. It won’t do to disturb him now.”
Donghae’s frown deepened. “What about you, hyung?”
“Me?” There was a throaty chuckle. “I’m already gone.”
Donghae turned around, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the corridor he was in. There were long, metal basins on either side of the passageway, stretching until they converged with the walls in a black dot. Donghae could hear the sound of running water, and he started down the hall to find the source.
One step, two steps, ten steps. Donghae counted all the way up to the thousands until he lost count and had to start over. Left foot in front of right foot, right foot in front of left foot.
Donghae lifted his hand to check his watch. His watch was broken. “How come no one has the time?” he grumbled, continuing on, kicking some stray rocks as he went.
He reached a doorway covered by a thick curtain. As he made to move it, a hand shot out from beneath a sink on the sides and grabbed his right ankle. Donghae started and tried to tug his foot back, but the hand maintained a vice-like grip.
“What are you hiding from?”
“I should be asking you that question, Heechul-hyung,” Donghae replied, stooping down. Heechul’s wild, bloodshot eyes stared back. “Actually, better question: how did you manage to fit yourself under there?”
Heechul laughed, a sound that grated at Donghae’s ears. “Just cut off the parts you don’t need.”
“With what shall I cut it?” mused Donghae, eyes roving the area in which Heechul sat.
“There’s a hole in my bucket,” Heechul informed Donghae, sadly tugging at Donghae’s sleeve.
“I can get you a new one,” Donghae comforted him.
Heechul eyed him beadily. “Who said I wanted one?” he scoffed, letting go of Donghae. Raising his hand, he rapped his knuckles smartly on the rusty pipe next to him, producing a low note that vibrated through the air before dissipating. “I wish I was a fishmonger,” Heechul told Donghae wistfully, crossing his arms over his chest and fisting the sleeves of his shirt. “Then maybe I could give you what you need.”
“It’s alright, hyung,” Donghae replied as Heechul retreated further into his crawl space. “You’ve done a lot already.” Rising from his position, Donghae brushed off his knees. He faced the thick curtain once more and pushed it open, going through.
The corridor he ended up in was an exact replica of the one he had just left, flanked by long metal basins and lit up by dim, orange lights spaced a few feet apart on the walls. The sound of water running was more prominent now, and Donghae picked up his pace to follow it.
“Faster.”
Donghae broke out into a run, occasionally throwing glances over his shoulder to ascertain no one was there. So intent he was on this task that he nearly crashed into a person.
“Hangeng-hyung,” panted Donghae, stopping not a couple of inches from him.
Hangeng did not even look up at Donghae, completely immersed in his task. Donghae peered over his shoulder. Hangeng was up to his elbows in murky, soapy water. He was holding a horrendously stained pot and, with both hands, was currently scrubbing it with obsessive intensity.
“Hangeng-hyung?” repeated Donghae uncertainly, touching the older man’s shoulder. He jerked back almost immediately; the man felt cold and wet, almost clammy. “Hyung, are you okay?”
Hangeng’s eyes widened, but they did not leave the object he was holding. “It won’t come off,” his voice cracked, almost as though he hadn’t drank water in years. “It’s not coming off.”
“Maybe you should use a steel sponge,” Donghae suggested.
“Why won’t it come off?” Hangeng rasped, voice fading out.
“Hyung, drink some water.”
Hangeng paused his frantic scrubbing and laughed out loud, startling Donghae. “Water, water everywhere. Drink it and you’ll die. But don’t drink it and you’ll die faster.”
Donghae stared at Hangeng as he resumed scouring the stained pot with even more ferocity. “What?”
A sheen of sweat covered Hangeng’s face, shiny in the dim, orange lights. A drop slowly slid down his forehead, passed his cheek, and hovered precariously on his sharp chin. After hanging for a couple of seconds, the sweat droplet fell until it merged with the dark water in the basin. Donghae stared at the basin, shock slowly dawning upon him as he realized that the liquid contained was more blood than water.
“It won’t come off, it won’t come off, why won’t it come off.”
Shaking his head to clear it, Donghae started walking down the hall once more. The sinks were a conveyor belt now, and Donghae watched as it carried various gears and broken machine parts in the direction he was going.
After some time walking, Donghae figured that he must be near the end of the hall since the lights had died out. Just as the thought crossed his mind, Donghae’s foot met with air rather than solid ground, and he fell down, down, down.
He landed in a heap on a cold, hard floor. Picking himself up cautiously, he looked around to no avail since it was completely dark wherever he was.
“Hello?” Donghae called. There was a low groan, and Donghae whipped around.
There were bodies everywhere- on the oriental carpets, on the smooth tables, on the plush armchairs. Men. Women. It was hard to distinguish one from the other with the figures so entwined around one another. Lavish clothing hung off the forms, but in various states of undress. The masses writhed together, moans of pleasure or pain filling the air.
Donghae’s eyes widened at the sight, unable to tear his gaze away from the disgusting, fascinating sights. He took a tentative step towards them, swallowing. Before he could go any further, a gloved hand covered his eyes and pulled him backwards against a solid body.
“Don’t look,” a voice breathed into his ear. “They’ll take you if you look.”
“What?” asked Donghae, tugging at the hand obscuring his vision.
The hands assented, and Donghae found himself in an elegant ballroom filled with countless couples in formalwear dancing. Skirts swished, ladies spun, and gentlemen dipped their partners effortlessly. Feeling the presence still behind him, Donghae turned around slowly.
A man dressed in a sophisticated tuxedo stood there. A plain white mask obscured most of his features, but a small smile was visible. The same hand that had held Donghae was now extended towards him in an invitation, palm up.
“Shall we dance?” asked the man, tone amused.
Without any hesitation, Donghae reached out and put his hand on top of the proffered one. The hand turned, allowing their palms to meet and fingers to intertwine. An arm made its way around Donghae’s waist, holding him securely.
“Here we go,” murmured the man, and then they joined all the twosomes twirling on the dance floor.
The man led Donghae all around the floor, easily keeping them in time with the orchestra playing in the corner. The music was uplifting, and Donghae found himself feeling lighter on his feet than he ever had. Then, the tune smoothly transitioned, beat speeding up.
“Hold on,” warned the man playfully. “Don’t let go.”
Donghae tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder and hand, and they started spinning faster and faster and faster. Everything became a colorful blur and all Donghae could see clearly was his partner. Too soon, the music stopped. They slowed their movements until they were at a standstill in each other’s arms, chests heaving from their dance.
The violins were still ringing in Donghae’s ears as he stared at his companion. “Who are you?” he whispered, eyes wide and trying to catch his breath.
The man’s small smile grew, and he lifted a hand to brush Donghae’s cheek gently. Donghae shivered slightly as the soft leather made contact with his bare skin. “Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know,” Donghae admitted, eyes searching the other’s warm orbs.
The corners of the man’s eyes crinkled affectionately. “I am whatever you want me to be, Donghae.”
Tilting his head to the side, Donghae reached out to remove the man’s white mask. A flash of light blinded Donghae, and he squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, the light disappeared, and Donghae gingerly opened his eyes.
He was in a dimly lit bar. The entire place was empty save for himself, the man sitting next to him at the bar counter, and the bartender who was wiping a glass.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Donghae turned and faced his companion. “Kangin-hyung,” he said shakily, recognizing the man’s profile. “Why are you here?”
Kangin shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s a bar. Why wouldn’t I be here? The real question is, why are you here?” At Donghae’s bewildered expression, Kangin pushed a glass towards him. “Here, drink up. You look like you need it.”
Donghae accepted the glass, but did not drink, merely holding the cup between his palms and staring at the amber liquid it contained. “Hyung,” Donghae said slowly. “I’m confused.”
“That’s not uncommon,” Kangin dismissed offhandedly. He didn’t say anything else.
Tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae started as the silence was abruptly broken. He glanced at the bartender, the only person that could’ve said it. “We should hurry,” Donghae whispered to Kangin, tugging at the elder’s sleeve. “I think the bartender wants to close up soon.”
Kangin ignored Donghae’s pulling. “Donghae, sometimes, we have to just take a step backwards and see things from a larger perspective,” said Kangin meditatively. “Sometimes, we can’t see what’s right in front of us because we’re too close.”
“Hyung, this isn’t the time for philosophical musings.” Donghae shook his head. Of all the times Kangin decided to become a thinker. “Come on, we can go somewhere else if there’s any place open. What time is it anyways?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Kangin waved off.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae winced at the loud, clearly irritated words. “Hyung-”
“Donghae,” Kangin interrupted. He lifted his nearly full glass up to Donghae’s eye level. “Tell me what you see.”
“I see a glass of alcohol,” replied Donghae, indulging Kangin.
Kangin shook his head. “No, look through the glass. Tell me what you see.”
Donghae obediently looked through the glass, past the colored liquid and the bobbing bits of ice. “I see the bar. And you.”
“Good. What do I look like?”
“Orange-y?”
“Now drink it.”
Donghae stared apprehensively at the glass. “You want me to drink alcohol?”
“Yes.”
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae grabbed the glass from Kangin’s hand and threw back his head, downing the drink in one go. Wincing as the alcohol burned a path down his throat, he looked at Kangin and said, “There, I drank it. Now what?”
“How do I look now?”
Donghae wondered what the purpose of these questions was. “Normal, I guess.”
“I think we all walk through life in a perpetual state of drunkenness. We see everything hazily like the drunken bastards we are. It’s only when we have a drink or two that we really start to see.”
Donghae gave the older man an amused look. “Hyung, are you here just to tout the benefits of drinking to me?”
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Kangin winked at Donghae, eyes turning into half-moons as he grinned brightly. “More or less.”
Ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktock.
“HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.”
Donghae glanced at his watch. It was working again, but all the hands were moving at an accelerated speed.
“Goodnight, Donghae,” said Kangin. “Goodnight.”
Before Donghae could question Kangin further, there was a flash of red at the corner of Donghae’s eyes. Turning, Donghae barely managed to glimpse the flash disappearing out the back door of the bar.
“Hyung, I have to…” Donghae trailed off as he realized Kangin was gone. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Donghae slid off the bar stool and went after the red flash.
Pushing the door open, Donghae found himself in a gray city that was barely visible through the thick fog. But Donghae could still see the red flash ahead, weaving through a crowd of people.
“Excuse me, sorry,” murmured Donghae as he bumped into people going the opposite way. “Pardon me.” But the crowd was unyielding. It seemed as though more and more people were gathering and driving him away from the red flash.
“Please,” Donghae said. “Please let me-” Donghae’s breath hitched as he finally took a good look at the people.
Everyone looked exactly the same; there was no telling one person from another, not even the gender. Everyone wore a dark trench coat with a matching dark hat. Everyone carried identical briefcases and wore the same shoes. But worst of all, everyone’s face was covered by an expressionless white mask that showed nothing.
The crowd surged forward, and Donghae felt panic as he was forcefully pulled under. At this rate, he was going to be trampled to death. With all his might, he frantically pushed back against the crowd, but to no avail. There were too many of them.
Just as he was about to go under, a familiar hand reached out and caught his, towing him up out of harm’s way into a sitting position.
Donghae stared incredulously at his savior. “It’s you,” he breathed.
The man’s eyes, very much visible even with the white mask obscuring half of his face, twinkled. “It’s me,” he said.
Donghae gawked, taking in the crowd that seemed to have frozen in time. He looked back at the man kneeling in front of him. “What’s-”
The man brought a finger up to his smiling lips. “Come on.” He got up, brushed off his pants, and extended a gloved hand towards Donghae. Donghae took the hand, and the man pulled him up to his feet. “Here we go.”
Then, they were running, running through the crowd like they had no care in the world. Donghae stared at the back of the man’s head, stumbling slightly when his foot got caught in a crack. The man turned back to smile at him.
“Hold on,” said the man. “Don’t let go.” And they went faster and faster, until the crowd around them was nothing but a blur.
Donghae didn’t mean to, but somewhere between the wind whipping in his eyes and the stumbling over the uneven sidewalk, the man’s hand had slipped out of his grasp. Donghae bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His eyes scanned the empty cityscape guardedly.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Donghae mumbled to himself. “I wonder if…”
Before he could articulate his thoughts, the red flash appeared again. Donghae turned and gave chase as the red flash disappeared behind a building. He skidded to a halt as he rounded the corner.
He was standing at the edge of a crevice, one that went down farther than the eye could see. Donghae gulped, approaching the edge cautiously. Peering warily over, Donghae shuddered as he felt a cold draft. The ground he was standing on abruptly gave an ominous crack.
“No no no, please no,” Donghae muttered, backing away from the ledge. But it was for naught since the ground beneath him soon gave way. Donghae’s stomach clenched, and the air was knocked out of his lungs as his body suddenly plunged down, down down down.
After getting over the initial shock of falling, Donghae realized it wasn’t so bad- a bit relaxing even. He cracked his eyes open, and was surprised to find that the walls of whatever he was falling into were lined with cupboards and shelves of different sizes, shapes, and colors. The strangest assortment of items filled these shelves- a microphone, a white mask, an IV needle, a cross, a military helmet, a golden disk, a silver bracelet, and so many other items that Donghae could not make them all out.
The cupboards and shelves eventually thinned out until there was nothing but bare walls. Donghae let out a startled gasp as he realized he was falling faster now. Twisting his body, Donghae squinted down. He still couldn’t see anything, but instinctively knew that he was going to hit the bottom soon. Squeezing his eyes shut, Donghae braced himself for the impact.
It didn’t come.
Slowly, Donghae opened his eyes again. Another dimly lit room, but this one he knew well. Donghae sat up, allowing the covers to slide off his body. Shakily, Donghae drew in a deep breath to calm himself.
Moving quietly as to not wake the person beside him, Donghae slid out of the bed and padded across the carpet to the window. The night was silent and still, the streetlamp-orange landscape of the city blurred by the slight condensation on the pane. Donghae rested his forehead against the cool glass, focusing on steadying his erratic heartbeat. He watched as his breath gradually fogged up the window, obscuring part of the view. Slowly, he reached out to wipe the glass.
“I hope you don’t plan on staying there all night.”
Donghae turned from the window. “Sorry, did I wake you, Eunhyuk?” he asked apologetically.
Even with the semi-darkness concealing half of the other’s face, Donghae could still make out the small smile on Eunhyuk’s face. “It’s fine,” the older man said, shaking his head slightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nightmare?” offered Donghae, chuckling faintly. “It was terrifying, but at the same time, not. I actually don’t remember much of it, really.”
Eunhyuk sighed. “Come here,” he said, gesturing towards Donghae.
With a slight hesitation, Donghae stepped away from the window and closer to his friend. He was surprised when the normally reserved Eunhyuk wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a warm hug. Closing his eyes, Donghae returned the embrace, taking comfort in the steady beating of Eunhyuk’s heart.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Eunhyuk spoke up, “You should try to get some sleep in. It’s going to be a crazy day tomorrow.”
“Right,” said Donghae, reluctantly breaking his hold. They climbed back into the bed and Eunhyuk pulled the covers over both of them. Shutting his eyes once more, Donghae felt the fatigue from his restless sleep earlier overtake him, pulling him once more into the unconsciousness.
“Don’t worry,” Donghae heard Eunhyuk murmur as he drifted off. “I’ll be here.”
-
Eunhyuk stared contemplatively at the relaxed expression on Donghae’s face. Reaching out, he tenderly traced the blindfold that covered the younger man’s eyes, feeling the almost silky material on his fingertips. He reached behind Donghae’s head with shaky hands and touched the knot that held the blindfold in place, the desire to see and be seen overwhelming him. Resting his fingers there for a moment, he silently weighed the consequences.
With no small amount of regret, Eunhyuk clenched his hand into a fist and pulled away, sense getting the better of him. Eunhyuk reached up and felt the mask that hid half of his own face. Tracing a finger along a crack that ran across the mask, Eunhyuk sighed as a small piece of the ceramic crumpled off. It was getting harder to maintain.
Rolling over on his other side so he could not see Donghae, Eunhyuk stared at the condensation slowly disappearing from the window on the opposite wall.
It wasn’t time yet, but he could wait a little longer.
-
A/N: I started writing this last year while stressing over my Lit AP exam and it shows :'D Kudos to anyone who can spot all of the literary references. Title taken from an Emily Dickinson poem.