(sungjong-centric) a long day’s journey into the morning
Title: a long day's journey into the morning
Rating: G
Sungjong-centric
a long day’s journey into the morning
“Um,” Myungsoo says, and this is enough to pull everyone’s attention back to the center of the room, towards Myungsoo who is sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out.
It’s a familiar sight, because they could be in the middle of their living room, before or after a schedule and everyone has a sliver of free time and not enough to do anything substantial so they just lounge around in the warm silence. But this is a separate world away from the dorm, and the silence fizzes with weary fear.
“What? Did you find something?” Dongwoo asks, craning his neck to the ceiling and Sungjong follows, but all he sees is a plain, white surface. Four identical walls surround them and Myungsoo is now lying down on an equally white floor. He squeezes his eyes shut, and exhales loudly.
It’s been hours since they’ve been stuck here; Sungjong has lost count, but this is what they know: the walls are eight steps to an edge (Hoya’s shoe size), the ceiling is about two-and-a-half Woohyuns high and there is absolutely no way out.
And then the thudding starts again. Sungjong doesn’t need to open his eyes to walk over towards the noise - he allows his ears to lead him towards the left corner and he only stops when someone stills him with two hands on his shoulders. He opens his eyes, and Hoya stares back at him quietly.
Sungjong breaks the gaze as quickly as possible, and Hoya shifts from his vision only to be replaced by Woohyun and Sungyeol. They are back trying to break through the wall, and Sunggyu is on his knees, face pressed almost directly against the smooth surface as he tries to find the hint of the faintest crack, the tiniest split in what must be a façade.
Hoya grips his shoulder tightly, once, and Sungjong draws his attention back to him. Sungjong chooses to focus on Hoya’s hands and the nails biting bluntly through his shirt, not his eyes. He’s using his uninjured hand, his left one. The knuckles on Hoya’s right hand are still red and raw, back when they first found themselves in this room and he had rammed his fist straight into the wall, the very same spot Woohyun and Sungyeol are trying to break through now. It’s the weakest point in the entire room, Sungjong had pointed out. It has to be.
“Sungjong,” Hoya says but Sungjong understands. Look at me. Sungjong does.
“Uh,” Myungsoo starts up again, breaking the moment.
“Myungsoo, would you kindly shut up if you’re not going to be helpful,” Sungyeol says over the thumping. His voice is the only thing that cracks; the wall is immaculate.
“No,” Dongwoo says. “Guys, the writing’s on the wall.”
“No, it isn’t,” Sunggyu replies, his voice a forced calm and he’s speaking to them like they’re confused toddlers. “We’re trying our best to get out of here.”
“No, I mean literally. Look behind you!”
Hoya’s grip slacks around his shoulders and when Sungjong spins around, there it is, in huge letters sprawled across the wall. They’re written in your favourite colour.
Hello
“What the fu-”
Sorry for keeping you here
The words appear over the old word, just as the previous word melts back into the wall. Sungjong thinks it could be beautiful, if it wasn't so obviously ridiculous and creepy.
A whisper. “Do you think we talk back to it? Can it hear us?”
Yes, I can hear you
An “Oh god,” is intercepted by a “Wow,” both more breath than anything else. “Tell us where we are!”
In my mind
“I think someone’s been watching too much Inception,” Hoya whispers into his ear, and Sungjong smiles in spite of the gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He juts his elbow out and Hoya exhales lightly against his ear. It feels like a laugh.
“Right,” Sunggyu replies this time, because Sungyeol looks livid now and Sunggyu glances at him before continuing. “Okay. Who are you? And what are we doing here?” Sunggyu is speaking with that same voice of forced-calm, but now Sungjong is thankful. He would make a great hostage negotiator.
I’m a writer. This is my blank slate but in your case, a blank room
“…A writer?”
I’m a fan
“Oh,” Woohyun says loudly. Everyone turns to him and he tilts his chin towards the words. “Fanfiction.”
Exactly
“So you can turn this room into anything you want?”
Yes
“Tell it-her-it? Whatever, tell whoever or whatever this is to get us out of here!”
It’s not that easy. There will be rules
“What are you playing by?”
The first: you must be split up into two groups
“No. No way.” Myungsoo is the one who says this, but it is Woohyun’s forehead that is coated with a fine sheen of sweat, and it glints in the stark light. Behind him, Hoya’s breath races against his neck.
“Wait,” Dongwoo says, and it’s the first time he’s spoken since he pointed out the writing. “Wait,” he repeats, this time to the rest of the members, eyes glazed over in astonishment. “What else must we do?”
Find your way out of the maze
“No tricks - there will definitely be a way out?”
I hope I don’t sound too cryptic, but there is always a way out
“Just give us a straight answer,” Sunggyu snaps.
Okay, let me put it this way. There are countless ways out
“An infinite way out?”
Sungjong elbows Hoya this time, hard, even though he wants to laugh and laugh until he wakes up laughing in bed and everything will be over before it even begins. Sungyeol actually chuckles, albeit a little weakly, but Sunggyu’s complexion remains just as pale. Silence tides them over.
Yes
“What happens if we choose to do nothing?”
Nothing will happen. But I mean this literally
Sunggyu brings a hand to face, thumb and middle finger pressing deeply against his temples. Myungsoo is hugging his knees, and Sungyeol is doing that thing with his face where he’s trying to keep all emotion inside but it’s coming apart: first in his eyes and then his lips will quiver and when he fails to choke back that sob, that’s when the tears will begin.
So Sungjong makes the decision: he takes several rapid steps forward, and speaks clearly to the wall. “Deal. How are you going to spilt us up?”
Like this
There’s a quiet sound, like a whisper, and Sungjong turns behind him to watch the ground beneath Dongwoo warp and tilt. It sends him hurling backwards, sliding to the back of the room on a plane that defies all the laws of physics. In tandem, Sungyeol starts moving towards them and it’s like they are two magnets playing off opposite force fields. Sungyeol slides to a stop between Myungsoo and Sungjong and a section of the wall rises up to divide the room cleanly into half. Sungjong’s stomach doesn’t even have time to twist and drop when it’s over.
“Sungjong!” This is Sunggyu, voice blended into equal parts of anger and concern.
He can’t seem to think at the moment, let alone move or speak. Sungjong looks down too see Sungyeol, who appears to have been shocked out of tears. His cheeks are dry and his eyes are almost distantly calm.
Next to him, Myungsoo shakes him lightly, and Sungyeol just shakes his head and gulps in a huge breath. He whispers something that makes Myungsoo smile wetly, but Sungjong can’t catch.
“Sungjong!” It is Hoya this time.
“We’re going to find a way out,” Sungyeol says, louder this time. He repeats it one last time, voice bouncing off the walls, so loud it borders on hysterical because suddenly there’s a door in front of them and Sungjong can feel his feet again. There’s something else in the air, thick and cloying but at least it’s no longer fear. This feels strange, but a lot like anticipation, like that bundle of emotions that come prepackaged before performing in a new country or a foreign stage.
“I’m going to kill you once we get back to the dorm, Lee Sungjong!” This time it’s Woohyun who speaks, but it is not hard to detect the mirth in it-it never is with Woohyun.
“We’ll meet you guys on the other side,” Myungsoo shouts back as he circles his hand around Sungjong’s wrist and as Sungjong tears his gaze from the divider, he sees Myungsoo staring at him and beyond him, Sungyeol holding open the door with nothing but pale, peach light in the void.
This is the last thing Sungjong sees on the wall before the door slams shut and Myungsoo pulls him along:
Maknae line
“Hello? Creepy person who trapped us in your head, can you talk to us?”
Silence.
“This is good, right?” Myungsoo asks.
Sungyeol shrugs and Sungjong decides to lead the way even though Myungsoo thinks it will help all of them by anchoring him to his side by clamping a hand around Sungjong’s wrist.
The hallway they are making their way through is bathed in the same bright, white light as before and without warning, the lights disappear and they are cloaked in darkness. Myungsoo’s grip loosens around his wrist, before disappearing completely.
“Hyung!”
“I’m still here-wait. Hold on,” he says distractedly, and just as abruptly, the lights flood back.
“Wow,” Myungsoo says, because there’s a bulky camera hanging around his neck now and all three of them stare at it. It is familiar, because it the exact model he has back at the dorm.
Myungsoo lifts it, and presses down on the shutter. The flash blinks, temporarily blinding Sungjong. “It works,” he simply says, and Sungjong tries to blink the white away from his vision. He hears someone make their way forward and someone else takes his hand and leads him forward.
“Hyung,” Sungjong whines, but it’s not like he has much of a choice. The straight hallway feels seemingly endless, and when Sungjong can finally see and he wiggles his hand out of Myungsoo’s grip, the lights go out again.
“Okay this is getting really annoying,” Sungyeol says darkly, and when the lights flicker back on, Sungyeol stops talking.
The first thing Sungjong notices is the noise. It’s everywhere: chattering all around him, a disembodied voice coming from over his head and someone speaking directly into his ear.
“I said, let’s go look for Sungyeollie.”
“What are you talking about, hyung,” Sungjong asks exasperatedly, “Sungyeol is right here.” Sungjong reaches out and pokes a passing stranger in the side.
“Of course he’s not,” Myungsoo says, camera slung around his neck like a shield. “Now come on, before our lunch break is over.”
Lunch break-Sungjong blinks and it hits him: they’re in a hallway. In a noisy school hallway to be exact, fitted with lockers (since when did high schools come fitted with lockers that line the hallways?) and Sungyeol has to be the new student. Of course.
Myungsoo leads the way, and he makes his way through the crowd fluidly, because girls stop to stare at the edges and boys don’t bother stopping to say hello. They pass empty classrooms and not so empty ones, because the first occupied one is where Sungjong catches sight of a boy with flat, reddish hair, standing in front of a stand holding sheets of paper dotted with black: music scores. Kim Sunggyu, hopeful candidate for the end-of-the-year school musical. Somehow Sungjong just knows, like it’s been programmed into his memory.
“Yo, Lee Sungjong!”
Sungjong stops and finds himself in front of Hoya, holding a basketball under his arm. Myungsoo is trudging on ahead, but this is Hoya is standing right in front of him. They’re all back in the same world; at least, Hoya is.
“Hyung, are you stuck here too? In this maze?”
Hoya gives him a look. “Why are you being so philosophical during lunch?”
“You…don't know what I’m talking about?”
“Of course I do. High school is but a maze we all have to live through. I might be a basketball jock, but there is a reason I can maintain my grades and dance at the side.”
“Because you’re deep and philosophical?”
Hoya grins. “Of course.”
You never started high school, Sungjong wants to say but this is not reality and it’s not his story-not his own, nor Hoya’s. It is Sungyeol’s, and every second he stands here with Hoya is a moment behind Myungsoo and Sungyeol and ultimately, a way out.
“Hey hyung, look, it’s your best friend,” he says, pointing to the figure moving towards them and Sungjong makes his way forward quickly, brushing past Dongwoo in flashy high top sneakers.
Sungjong rushes forward and he almost crashes into Myungsoo’s back when he catches up to him. He stops just in time, and the person in the pristine school uniform, deep in conversation with Myungsoo, smiles at him. His eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Hey, Sungjong,” Woohyun starts but Sungjong grabs at Myungsoo’s wrist and tugs him along.
“We need to find Sungyeol-hyung,” he says to Myungsoo before nodding a hello to Woohyun and waving a goodbye behind Myungsoo. “How do you know him?” Sungjong asks, when they are out of earshot.
“Who doesn’t know Nam Woohyun?” Myungsoo asks him, puzzled.
Sungjong feels his lips curl into a smile and finally, they’re at the end of the hallway and there’s a boy standing there, hair neat but his is shirt untucked.
“Hello,” Myungsoo breathes. It could be from the long walk through the crowded hallway, but Sungjong knows better. “I’m Kim Myungsoo.”
“I’m Lee Sungyeol, exchange student,” he replies. It’s hard not to notice the camera around Myungsoo’s neck, and it is only natural Sungyeol asks about it. “Is this yours?”
Myungsoo nods. “I’m in the photography club.”
“I’m Lee Sungjong,” Sungjong introduces himself. He reaches into his pockets to pull out several pieces of candy. “Here, a welcome gift.”
Sungyeol accepts it gratefully. “What flavour is th-”
“Do you even need to ask?” Sungjong interjects, cutting him off.
Sungyeol responds with a glare before popping the unwrapped sweet into his mouth as Myungsoo alternates between staring at his shoes and Sungyeol’s mouth. Sungjong decides to eat one himself.
“So, if I’m the new kid and Myungsoo is the strange photography dude with the face of a model, what is your place in the school hierarchy?”
“The pretty bad boy, of course,” Sungjong says, the candy crunching loudly as he bites down on it. “Come on, it’s time to find a way out of this school.”
And as soon as Sungjong says it he can sees it in bright green lights. It is an emergency exit sign, gleaming right behind Sungyeol’s head.
They find themselves in a stairwell.
“Let me guess - you have cigarettes in your other pocket?”
Sungjong pats his left pocket and he can feel the outline of a rectangle box. “Yup. If we weren’t looking for a way out, I bet we’ll be sitting here smoking and basking in the UST.”
“Fun,” Myungsoo says calmly, choosing to go up instead of down and Sungyeol follows . Sungjong trails behind, and he stops behind the two as they find half a dozen closed doors staring back at them. There is a piece of paper stuck to each of the doors. It reminds Sungjong of their names on doors in music shows, and he feels sudden a wave of nostalgia.
“I think we’re supposed to pick one,” Sungyeol says, and Myungsoo draws a cross with his finger over the door directly in front of him. “We’re definitely not going to college.”
“NC-17…” Sungjong says, walking to the side and reading from one of the doors. He quickly scans the rest of the words on the doors, but there is nothing remotely similar to their past lives and out of this maze. He tries the door, but surprisingly, it’s catches and no matter how hard he turns, it would not open.
“That’s the one you want, huh?” Myungsoo says, looking over to Sungjong who jolts back from the door and scowls at him.
“I was just curious.”
“Time travel,” Sungyeol says, passing one. “Okay, maybe not. How about this one? It seems harmless enough.”
“You just want your coffee,” Myungsoo mumbles with a sigh but Sungjong nods and Myungsoo hesitates before pulling the door open with a swift tug.
The smell of roasting coffee fills his senses before he can register the hiss of the coffee machine. Steam obscures his vision as the cup before him fills with hot milk and when it subsides, his vision clears to reveal a cozy coffee shop, walls a light pastel color, and a handful of customers sipping their coffee with books in front of them or absorbed in quiet conversation.
“You’re making a cup of coffee, not working on the next Mona Lisa, Lee Sungjong,” a voice says next to him and Sungjong turns to find Sungyeol staring at him.
“It’s called coffee art for a reason,” Sungjong replies curtly, moving the hot milk over to the other side of the counter top and he starts pouring it into a cup half-filled with dark coffee.
“Hey, look at the girl. Three o’clock. She looks like my type.”
Sungjong finishes the foam leaf a twist of his wrist, before placing the cup on Sungyeol’s awaiting tray. “Every girl that comes here is your type, isn’t she?”
“Shut up,” Sungyeol says merrily, before going off to deliver the coffee over at her table. He fades into the background.
There are no more orders, and Sungjong wipes his hands with a cloth before running it over the counter and then the machine. It is sleek and clean, and as he wipes down the machine aimlessly, he looks up and watches Sungyeol talk animatedly to the girl with long, wavy hair. She has a pretty laugh.
The bell on the door chimes and Sungjong turns to look straight ahead. “Welcome to Plate 630-”
And he stops speaking, because something is wrong; everything in the air has changed. The chattering has stopped, the machine has stopped humming; his heart ceases to beat. All that is moving is the boy, who is walking into the café in slow motion with his dark jacket and darker boots and Sungjong swears he can hear violins and trumpets in the background, steadily building before reaching a crescendo that crashes down on him when the boy stops in front of the cash register. The world bursts back into life.
“Hey,” Myungsoo says, like they’re acquaintances and Sungjong opens his mouth but Sungyeol intercepts the conversation by appearing out of nowhere and slipping behind the cash register.
“Hey, Myungsoo. You here to order something?”
“My usual please,” he says, shrugging off his heavy jacket and Sungjong closes his mouth. Swallows. Breathe. He disappears off to the corner, and Sungyeol turns to him.
“You heard him. His usual.”
“How do we know him?” Sungjong asks, going straight to the machine to busy himself with it.
“Earth to Sungjong, he’s the owner’s son. I have to admit he’s good looking but not amnesia-inflicting good looking. Anyway just make him his coffee so we can find ourselves out of this place.”
This place. The maze. Right, Sungjong thinks, trying to focus as he works the machine automatically. Myungsoo’s usual is a vanilla latte and Sungjong finishes it off with a heart in the foam (“Of course,” Sungyeol mutters) and when Sungyeol places it on top of his tray, he beckons Sungjong to follow.
Myungsoo is fiddling with his camera and Sungjong feels his face heat up involuntarily. He fights the urge to clasp his hands over his cheeks to hide the colour, but it would be way too obvious and Myungsoo isn’t paying him any attention. He smiles in thanks when Sungyeol sets the coffee in front of him and Sungjong crushes the top of the chair opposite him to stop himself from falling over. He feels seasick. “I really hate you for picking this door,” Sungjong says under his breath and Sungyeol kicks at him.
“All I wanted was some coffee,” he whispers back.
“My dad told me you said the door to the storage room is jammed?”
Sungyeol stares pointedly at Sungjong, waiting for him to speak but Sungjong just shakes his head and shrugs. He seems to be afflicted with this strange muteness, in addition to the seasickness. Falling in love in coffeeshops is definitely a hazard, he thinks bitterly. “I think the lock rusted,” Sungyeol explains.
“Let’s take a look at it,” Myungsoo says. Of course he would be polite and helpful, on top of being ridiculously pretty and shy.
They make their way to the back of the café, and Myungsoo fiddles with the lock while Sungjong tries not to look at Myungsoo’s ass. It’s not easy at all, with him bent over like that and Sungyeol’s incessantly obvious coughing.
“Got it,” he says, the door swinging open and Sungjong practically throws himself into the room when he sees what’s inside.
“Pick something so we can get out of here,” Sungjong says, panting, because they’re not in a storeroom but a strange, circular area lined with unmarked doors. The churning in his gut has disappeared, and walking into this place is like crossing a boundary or an interlude from fiction where he knows he’s nothing but an idol, not anyone else’s version of himself.
“There are no hints to what world we could fall into,” Sungyeol replies and Myungsoo picks the door furthest away from them.
“This one?”
“Let’s just go,” Sungjong says, tugging Sungyeol along with him, Myungsoo’s touch around his wrist is a brand.
“Cool,” Myungsoo says once he stops coughing and Sungyeol is hanging off him as they both try to breathe without inhaling all the ash. There’s a weight around his body, and Sungjong looks down to find a machine gun slung around him. There is a smaller gun in Myungsoo’s hand, and he turns it over and over in his hands.
“Where do you think we are,” Sungyeol asks, finally, when they are all accustomed to the thick air. They’re standing in the middle of what had to be a road, because the asphalt is riddled with potholes and the sides are overgrown with grey, curling plants.
Everything is tinged red, and Sungjong looks into the distance and finds that the sun is glowing the colour of a sunrise but it hangs directly over them, high up in the sky.
“Where is everyone,” Myungsoo says, and Sungyeol takes a step forward, only for something clipped to his side to start spitting noisily, the noise louder than anything Sungjong has ever heard.
“What the hell!” Sungyeol yelps, almost toppling from the shock and Sungjong reaches to unhook the device emitting the sound from Sungyeol’s belt. He clicks the only button on the top.
“Hello?”
The voice that returns breaks with static, but it’s enough to make out the words. “Sunggyu-hyung!”
“We got through!” the voice says, and different voices start talking back all at once, as both Myungsoo and Sungyeol crowd around him. “Where are you guys?”
“We have no idea,” Sungjong replies, and Myungsoo continues.
“It looks like Seoul at least, but something went wrong…the sun is the wrong colour and we all have guns and the air smells like ash.”
“I think we’re in an alternate universe,” Sungyeol adds.
“This feels like what the world would look like if it ended,” Sungjong says.
“That sounds interesting,” Woohyun’s voice comes back, distracted. “You don’t know what we’ve been through-”
“Oh god don’t repeat the last scenario I think I might die-”
“At least you weren’t the one watching-”
“We’ve just been in stuck in love with each other,” Dongwoo says, speaking over all the commotion.
“Dongwoo-”
“DONGWOO-”
“Stuck in love?” Myungsoo says, frowning.
“It’s mainly Sunggyu-hyung, Dongwoo-hyung and Woohyun-hyung. They’re…always all over each other,” Hoya sighs.
“…Physically?” Sungjong asks.
There is no reply, but all three of them can read the silence and Sungyeol blinks. “Um, wow. Being stuck in high school or watching Sungjong shoot hearts from his eyes at Myungsoo makes what you’ve been through sound like fun.”
“All I wanted to do is sing when I debuted. Why do I have to be stuck in these strange fantasies,” Sunggyu says, voice a pitch higher from the agitation, and Myungsoo makes sympathetic noises into the walkie-talkie. “My knees ache.”
“At least it’s only your knees,” Woohyun says darkly and Dongwoo coughs.
“Okay, moving on,” Hoya says. “We’re stuck in college now. There is a lot of alcohol and clubbing and uh, sleepovers.”
“Moving further along, I think our way back in labeled ‘Dorm’. That’s the end of the maze, so if you ever come across the next world, pick that one,” Sunggyu says. He continues speaking, but his voice steadily deteriorates until nothing but sharp, disjointed noises.
“Hyung?” Sungyeol says, and Sungjong thumps the device against his palm.
The light blinking on the top of the walkie-talkie dulls and then, silence.
“Oh no,” Myungsoo says. “I think we made too much noise.”
There is a different type of scratching in the air now, and it’s coming from the distance. It sounds like rusted iron running over asphalt, and Sungjong can see tiny figures moving towards them.
“We should go,” Sungyeol says grimly, dropping the device in his hands and pulling out a worn gun out from the gun strap around his calf.
Sungjong takes a step forward, and his right knee gives way. Myungsoo catches his fall in time, and they land in a heap behind Sungyeol. The sound behind them starts growing louder, and it rings in Sungjong’s blood.
“What’s wrong?” Sungyeol hisses, dropping down next to Sungjong as Myungsoo lifts the machine gun off from around his body.
He looks down to find a murky purple-blue mark the size of his palm blooming across his knee and Sungyeol pulls him up before stabilizing him by drawing his arm around his neck. “Can you walk like this?”
“Yeah,” Sungjong says, but he has to shout. The sound is beginning to drown them out.
“Let’s get moving,” Myungsoo says, looping Sungjong’s other arm around his neck and finally, they start moving.
Sungjong grits his teeth, and focuses on the crumbling buildings. This is not real, he whispers under his breath, even though the pain is making his eyes water. This is not real, this is not real.
And then the first shot is fired and Sungjong realises only Sungyeol is supporting him now. Myungsoo has broken away, and he’s standing there with both hands on a gun as he fires at the mass of bodies behind him.
“Myungsoo! Come back this is no time to act like a hero-”
“Just get Sungjong to safety,” he shouts above the continuous firing.
Sungjong struggles against Sungyeol, because Myungsoo is being stupid. “Hyung,” he rasps, “Don’t be an idiot-”
“No, he’s right,” Sungyeol says, moving them forward and Sungjong has to tear his gaze away from Myungsoo. “Don’t look,” Sungyeol tells him, even as he keeps stealing glances behind and his face ashen, even in the watery red light of this sun.
“Maybe,” Sungjong says, “maybe I’m supposed to die here.”
“What?” Sungyeol exhales, loudly. “Don't say stupid things like this, don’t you dare-”
“No, not die for real, but die in this story. Maybe I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t my story.”
“Shut up, it’s just a bruise. We’ve gotten worse ones in the practice room.”
The firing continues, and Sungjong forces himself not to look behind. “I see a hospital,” Sungjong says, when a looming building too far away appears within sight.
“Good,” Sungyeol says distantly, but he doesn’t look back now; Myungsoo is too far behind to keep within sight. They continue moving forward, each step accentuated by the sound of gunfire.
“What are they?” Sungjong asks, voice soft.
“People, but they all have unhinged jaws and iron chains around their feet and they’re…they’re not normal.”
As they approach the hospital slowly, it looks worse than the other buildings around it. Huge, gaping holes decorate the higher stories, and there are unmoving bodies scattered around the front. People who never made it in, Sungjong thinks and abruptly, Sungyeol stops.
“I need you to make your way inside. Try to break open the door so we can join you inside.”
“What-”
“I need to go after Myungsoo,” Sungyeol says. He pushes his handheld gun into Sungjong’s grip, and nods at him. “We're going to make it out alive, all three of us.”
There is only about nine feet to the entrance of the hospital, and Sungjong nods swiftly. Sungyeol shrugs Sungjong’s arm off him and he’s wobbly for a moment as he tries to stabilize all his weight on his left leg. Sungyeol watches him struggle, torn between staying and going and Sungjong waves him off. Go. Sungyeol starts to run.
By the time Sungjong makes his way to the door, he can hear two different guns firing and Sungjong thinks at as long as they are both still firing, they are both still alive.
The door is rusted iron, dented in many different places and Sungjong has to step over several bodies, breath catching from the pain, until he can steady the gun. He squeezes the trigger. The sound deafens him for several seconds and when he opens his eyes, there is a jagged hole in the door. He can see inside the hospital, and it’s nothing but darkness.
When Sungjong realises he can hear again, there is only one steady stream of gunfire in the background and he pulls his own trigger, again and again. He might be screaming. The noise echoes in his ears, and it sounds a lot like defeat.
Sungjong chokes on dust inside the building, after he blasts a hole large enough to crawl through, the rusted metal catching on his clothes but nothing breaks skin. He yanks at the handles, until they give way and the doors scream open, flooding the place with red sunlight.
He looks around and the floor is streaked with dark patches and it is deathly quiet. Good. Sungjong pulls himself into the corner, cradles the gun to his chest, and starts to whisper, lest he is not alone.
“Please don’t let anything happen to Sungyeol-hyung and Myungsoo-hyung. If I’m not supposed to be here, then get rid of me. Don’t let them lose each other. Are you listening to me?”
A shape appears on the wall across him, and soon it grows into wet words that drip at their corners. I can’t tell you what will happen, but I can show you
He knows it’s dramatic and impulsive, but Sungjong fires his final bullets into the wall, and starts counting instead.
When he’s up to five thousand three hundred and twenty nine, he hears harsh breathing approaching and he steadies the gun superficially in front of him only to find Sungyeol and Myungsoo limping in, clinging onto each other. Their faces are darkened with ash and blood but they’re both alive.
“Recoil,” he explains, pointing to his hand, and Myungsoo moves over to pulls Sungjong to his feet gingerly. He wraps his arms around Myungsoo and exhales for the first time when he feels Myungsoo relax against him.
“We need to move.”
“We should barricade the doors first,” Sungjong says, pulling away to point towards the medical trolleys he had gathered next to the entrance. Both Sungyeol and Myungsoo walk over to push them in front of the door.
“Did you notice this, Sungjong? The wards,” Myungsoo asks as he moves to wander deeper into the darkness, just as Sungyeol kicks at the final trolley into the hole to seal it.
Sungjong shakes his head and he squints at the words slotted in the holders in the walls. “Outer space,” he reads, “Mafia gangs, dystopian societies, superheroes, artificial intelligence, Jeju island apocalypse…”
“I thought these words are supposed to be created by our fans. Why do they want to kill us off so badly,” Sungyeol says, an edge to his voice as he stops next to Myungsoo and touches the deep cut on his cheek. Myungsoo hesitates, before catching his hand and pulling it down. He doesn’t let go.
“We’re not dead,” Myungsoo points out, and Sungjong continues walking forward.
“College, disbandment, divergent realities,” he reads, and then he sees it, just as Sunggyu had said. The end: “Dorm.”
“Dorm?” Myungsoo says, incredulous, and Sungyeol walks over to them, eyes clouded with disbelief.
“That’s all? We walk through this divider and we’ll be home?”
“It sounds too simple, I know.”
They stand around noiselessly, and that’s when Myungsoo starts to laugh.
“What?” Sungyeol almost yells, and he would sound infuriated if Sungjong couldn’t detect the fear in his voice.
“If this is a trap and we end up in another place with zombies or aliens, I’m just glad that at least we’d be together.”
“You’re disgustingly sentimental, Myungsoo,” Sungyeol says and there is nothing except anger in his words, except his voice is thick with tears.
“Ready?” Sungjong asks, licking his lips and tasting salt. He reaches out and winds his fingers in between Myungsoo’s and Sungyeol chooses this moment to crush both of them into a quick hug. He lets go quickly to pull them towards the ward.
He yanks back the dirty pink fabric, and Sungjong lets out a shallow breath just as Myungsoo inhales deeply and it is a soft, swift sound.
Sungjong jolts up and he feels his teddy bear roll off his stomach. The air smells clear, and outside the small window in front of him, the sun is rising. It’s blood red, but when he looks down at his knees, there is nothing but an expanse of milky skin.
He climbs down his bed cautiously and he sits on the floor, knees tucked into his chest as he watches Hoya sleep. When he’s sure there is nothing strange with this image, Sungjong makes his way out of his room and into the neighboring one.
Sungyeol is snoring softly and Sungjong climbs halfway up both bunks to make sure Myungsoo and Dongwoo are both asleep. He even pokes at Dongwoo’s foot, and just as he remembers, absolutely nothing happens.
Sungjong almost skips to Sunggyu and Woohyun’s room, and when he climbs the ladder to Woohyun’s bed, he leans over him and shakes him awake. By the time Woohyun stirs, the room is starting to fill with weak light and Sungjong beckons him down.
And this is not the first time something like this has happened, because sometimes Sungjong can’t sleep and he can’t spend the rest of the morning punching his bears so he wakes Woohyun up and they both go into the living room. Woohyun is someone he can talk to without saying anything at all, and sometimes he just lies against Woohyun’s side and falls asleep, right there on the living room couch.
“What’s wrong?” Woohyun asks when they’re outside, catching a yawn with his hand.
“Nightmare,” Sungjong says, shrugging. He takes a deep breath and gives the room a once over, just to be sure. The magazine Sunggyu was reading last night and his empty glass is still on the table, and he settles against Woohyun and feels him, warm and solid, against his side.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“A lot of things happened,” Sungjong replies and Woohyun nods.
“I had a nightmare too.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No way,” Woohyun replies, and Sungjong feels himself smile as he closes his eyes.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows, someone is shaking him awake and it’s Dongwoo with his sleepy eyes and familiar smile.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
Woohyun stirs beneath him, and Sungjong realises he had made a pillow out of Woohyun’s lap. Woohyun is still asleep, his mouth open unattractively and Sungjong contemplates reaching under Woohyun’s shirt with his cold hands to wake him.
He settles with climbing into his lap and shaking him awake.
The dorm is starting to bustle with the usual morning activities, like the water running and the gurgling of the kettle and the sleepy footsteps padding around the dorm. Sunggyu bursts out of his room, hair messy.
“Guys, I have something to announce.”
Sungjong moves off Woohyun and rubs at his eyes as Hoya wanders out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth and a spot of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth.
“For the next few performances, we’re going to switch our habits around. That means Myungsoo, no more hanging off Sungyeol whenever you feel like it.”
“Huh?” Myungsoo mumbles, cradling a cup of hot water in his hands. He looks half-awake.
“We’re not going to do fanservice in our usual pairs any more, okay?”
“Why-actually, I don't think I want to know why,” Sungyeol says, shuffling past Hoya to shut the bathroom door. “Sorry Hoya,” his muffled voice comes back, “I really need to pee.”
“I’ll stick with Woohyun-hyung,” Sungjong says and Woohyun grins at him and tries to tickle him. Sungjong leans away and kicks at Woohyun.
“Sungyeol, you’re with me!” Sunggyu says, rapping against the bathroom door before disappearing into the kitchen.
The bathroom door opens, and Sungyeol slips out and settles himself on the living room floor, because both Woohyun and Sungjong have taken over the entire couch.
Woohyun notices the dark circles under Sungyeol’s eyes. “Bad dream?”
“How did you know? Oh right, it’s because we have matching eyebags.”
He moves to kick at Sungyeol. “I bet my nightmare was worse than yours.”
Sungjong decides to leave before they start playing rough and pushes himself to his feet for a drink of water. He walks past the entrance to their apartment, and he doesn’t notice the way the edge of the wallpaper at the corner of the hallway peels to reveal a brilliantly white wall. And if he would only double back to look carefully, he would see a sentence marked onto the wall:
The end (of this story)
+ concrit is welcomed!
a/n: this has been 6.4k of (mostly) gen fic because i've always wanted to try my hand at metafiction because ian mcewan's atonement is my favourite book, so i hope it's more metafiction-y than messy! if you've read until here, thank you ♡ happy new year!
Rating: G
Sungjong-centric
a long day’s journey into the morning
“Um,” Myungsoo says, and this is enough to pull everyone’s attention back to the center of the room, towards Myungsoo who is sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out.
It’s a familiar sight, because they could be in the middle of their living room, before or after a schedule and everyone has a sliver of free time and not enough to do anything substantial so they just lounge around in the warm silence. But this is a separate world away from the dorm, and the silence fizzes with weary fear.
“What? Did you find something?” Dongwoo asks, craning his neck to the ceiling and Sungjong follows, but all he sees is a plain, white surface. Four identical walls surround them and Myungsoo is now lying down on an equally white floor. He squeezes his eyes shut, and exhales loudly.
It’s been hours since they’ve been stuck here; Sungjong has lost count, but this is what they know: the walls are eight steps to an edge (Hoya’s shoe size), the ceiling is about two-and-a-half Woohyuns high and there is absolutely no way out.
And then the thudding starts again. Sungjong doesn’t need to open his eyes to walk over towards the noise - he allows his ears to lead him towards the left corner and he only stops when someone stills him with two hands on his shoulders. He opens his eyes, and Hoya stares back at him quietly.
Sungjong breaks the gaze as quickly as possible, and Hoya shifts from his vision only to be replaced by Woohyun and Sungyeol. They are back trying to break through the wall, and Sunggyu is on his knees, face pressed almost directly against the smooth surface as he tries to find the hint of the faintest crack, the tiniest split in what must be a façade.
Hoya grips his shoulder tightly, once, and Sungjong draws his attention back to him. Sungjong chooses to focus on Hoya’s hands and the nails biting bluntly through his shirt, not his eyes. He’s using his uninjured hand, his left one. The knuckles on Hoya’s right hand are still red and raw, back when they first found themselves in this room and he had rammed his fist straight into the wall, the very same spot Woohyun and Sungyeol are trying to break through now. It’s the weakest point in the entire room, Sungjong had pointed out. It has to be.
“Sungjong,” Hoya says but Sungjong understands. Look at me. Sungjong does.
“Uh,” Myungsoo starts up again, breaking the moment.
“Myungsoo, would you kindly shut up if you’re not going to be helpful,” Sungyeol says over the thumping. His voice is the only thing that cracks; the wall is immaculate.
“No,” Dongwoo says. “Guys, the writing’s on the wall.”
“No, it isn’t,” Sunggyu replies, his voice a forced calm and he’s speaking to them like they’re confused toddlers. “We’re trying our best to get out of here.”
“No, I mean literally. Look behind you!”
Hoya’s grip slacks around his shoulders and when Sungjong spins around, there it is, in huge letters sprawled across the wall. They’re written in your favourite colour.
Hello
“What the fu-”
Sorry for keeping you here
The words appear over the old word, just as the previous word melts back into the wall. Sungjong thinks it could be beautiful, if it wasn't so obviously ridiculous and creepy.
A whisper. “Do you think we talk back to it? Can it hear us?”
Yes, I can hear you
An “Oh god,” is intercepted by a “Wow,” both more breath than anything else. “Tell us where we are!”
In my mind
“I think someone’s been watching too much Inception,” Hoya whispers into his ear, and Sungjong smiles in spite of the gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He juts his elbow out and Hoya exhales lightly against his ear. It feels like a laugh.
“Right,” Sunggyu replies this time, because Sungyeol looks livid now and Sunggyu glances at him before continuing. “Okay. Who are you? And what are we doing here?” Sunggyu is speaking with that same voice of forced-calm, but now Sungjong is thankful. He would make a great hostage negotiator.
I’m a writer. This is my blank slate but in your case, a blank room
“…A writer?”
I’m a fan
“Oh,” Woohyun says loudly. Everyone turns to him and he tilts his chin towards the words. “Fanfiction.”
Exactly
“So you can turn this room into anything you want?”
Yes
“Tell it-her-it? Whatever, tell whoever or whatever this is to get us out of here!”
It’s not that easy. There will be rules
“What are you playing by?”
The first: you must be split up into two groups
“No. No way.” Myungsoo is the one who says this, but it is Woohyun’s forehead that is coated with a fine sheen of sweat, and it glints in the stark light. Behind him, Hoya’s breath races against his neck.
“Wait,” Dongwoo says, and it’s the first time he’s spoken since he pointed out the writing. “Wait,” he repeats, this time to the rest of the members, eyes glazed over in astonishment. “What else must we do?”
Find your way out of the maze
“No tricks - there will definitely be a way out?”
I hope I don’t sound too cryptic, but there is always a way out
“Just give us a straight answer,” Sunggyu snaps.
Okay, let me put it this way. There are countless ways out
“An infinite way out?”
Sungjong elbows Hoya this time, hard, even though he wants to laugh and laugh until he wakes up laughing in bed and everything will be over before it even begins. Sungyeol actually chuckles, albeit a little weakly, but Sunggyu’s complexion remains just as pale. Silence tides them over.
Yes
“What happens if we choose to do nothing?”
Nothing will happen. But I mean this literally
Sunggyu brings a hand to face, thumb and middle finger pressing deeply against his temples. Myungsoo is hugging his knees, and Sungyeol is doing that thing with his face where he’s trying to keep all emotion inside but it’s coming apart: first in his eyes and then his lips will quiver and when he fails to choke back that sob, that’s when the tears will begin.
So Sungjong makes the decision: he takes several rapid steps forward, and speaks clearly to the wall. “Deal. How are you going to spilt us up?”
Like this
There’s a quiet sound, like a whisper, and Sungjong turns behind him to watch the ground beneath Dongwoo warp and tilt. It sends him hurling backwards, sliding to the back of the room on a plane that defies all the laws of physics. In tandem, Sungyeol starts moving towards them and it’s like they are two magnets playing off opposite force fields. Sungyeol slides to a stop between Myungsoo and Sungjong and a section of the wall rises up to divide the room cleanly into half. Sungjong’s stomach doesn’t even have time to twist and drop when it’s over.
“Sungjong!” This is Sunggyu, voice blended into equal parts of anger and concern.
He can’t seem to think at the moment, let alone move or speak. Sungjong looks down too see Sungyeol, who appears to have been shocked out of tears. His cheeks are dry and his eyes are almost distantly calm.
Next to him, Myungsoo shakes him lightly, and Sungyeol just shakes his head and gulps in a huge breath. He whispers something that makes Myungsoo smile wetly, but Sungjong can’t catch.
“Sungjong!” It is Hoya this time.
“We’re going to find a way out,” Sungyeol says, louder this time. He repeats it one last time, voice bouncing off the walls, so loud it borders on hysterical because suddenly there’s a door in front of them and Sungjong can feel his feet again. There’s something else in the air, thick and cloying but at least it’s no longer fear. This feels strange, but a lot like anticipation, like that bundle of emotions that come prepackaged before performing in a new country or a foreign stage.
“I’m going to kill you once we get back to the dorm, Lee Sungjong!” This time it’s Woohyun who speaks, but it is not hard to detect the mirth in it-it never is with Woohyun.
“We’ll meet you guys on the other side,” Myungsoo shouts back as he circles his hand around Sungjong’s wrist and as Sungjong tears his gaze from the divider, he sees Myungsoo staring at him and beyond him, Sungyeol holding open the door with nothing but pale, peach light in the void.
This is the last thing Sungjong sees on the wall before the door slams shut and Myungsoo pulls him along:
Maknae line
“Hello? Creepy person who trapped us in your head, can you talk to us?”
Silence.
“This is good, right?” Myungsoo asks.
Sungyeol shrugs and Sungjong decides to lead the way even though Myungsoo thinks it will help all of them by anchoring him to his side by clamping a hand around Sungjong’s wrist.
The hallway they are making their way through is bathed in the same bright, white light as before and without warning, the lights disappear and they are cloaked in darkness. Myungsoo’s grip loosens around his wrist, before disappearing completely.
“Hyung!”
“I’m still here-wait. Hold on,” he says distractedly, and just as abruptly, the lights flood back.
“Wow,” Myungsoo says, because there’s a bulky camera hanging around his neck now and all three of them stare at it. It is familiar, because it the exact model he has back at the dorm.
Myungsoo lifts it, and presses down on the shutter. The flash blinks, temporarily blinding Sungjong. “It works,” he simply says, and Sungjong tries to blink the white away from his vision. He hears someone make their way forward and someone else takes his hand and leads him forward.
“Hyung,” Sungjong whines, but it’s not like he has much of a choice. The straight hallway feels seemingly endless, and when Sungjong can finally see and he wiggles his hand out of Myungsoo’s grip, the lights go out again.
“Okay this is getting really annoying,” Sungyeol says darkly, and when the lights flicker back on, Sungyeol stops talking.
The first thing Sungjong notices is the noise. It’s everywhere: chattering all around him, a disembodied voice coming from over his head and someone speaking directly into his ear.
“I said, let’s go look for Sungyeollie.”
“What are you talking about, hyung,” Sungjong asks exasperatedly, “Sungyeol is right here.” Sungjong reaches out and pokes a passing stranger in the side.
“Of course he’s not,” Myungsoo says, camera slung around his neck like a shield. “Now come on, before our lunch break is over.”
Lunch break-Sungjong blinks and it hits him: they’re in a hallway. In a noisy school hallway to be exact, fitted with lockers (since when did high schools come fitted with lockers that line the hallways?) and Sungyeol has to be the new student. Of course.
Myungsoo leads the way, and he makes his way through the crowd fluidly, because girls stop to stare at the edges and boys don’t bother stopping to say hello. They pass empty classrooms and not so empty ones, because the first occupied one is where Sungjong catches sight of a boy with flat, reddish hair, standing in front of a stand holding sheets of paper dotted with black: music scores. Kim Sunggyu, hopeful candidate for the end-of-the-year school musical. Somehow Sungjong just knows, like it’s been programmed into his memory.
“Yo, Lee Sungjong!”
Sungjong stops and finds himself in front of Hoya, holding a basketball under his arm. Myungsoo is trudging on ahead, but this is Hoya is standing right in front of him. They’re all back in the same world; at least, Hoya is.
“Hyung, are you stuck here too? In this maze?”
Hoya gives him a look. “Why are you being so philosophical during lunch?”
“You…don't know what I’m talking about?”
“Of course I do. High school is but a maze we all have to live through. I might be a basketball jock, but there is a reason I can maintain my grades and dance at the side.”
“Because you’re deep and philosophical?”
Hoya grins. “Of course.”
You never started high school, Sungjong wants to say but this is not reality and it’s not his story-not his own, nor Hoya’s. It is Sungyeol’s, and every second he stands here with Hoya is a moment behind Myungsoo and Sungyeol and ultimately, a way out.
“Hey hyung, look, it’s your best friend,” he says, pointing to the figure moving towards them and Sungjong makes his way forward quickly, brushing past Dongwoo in flashy high top sneakers.
Sungjong rushes forward and he almost crashes into Myungsoo’s back when he catches up to him. He stops just in time, and the person in the pristine school uniform, deep in conversation with Myungsoo, smiles at him. His eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Hey, Sungjong,” Woohyun starts but Sungjong grabs at Myungsoo’s wrist and tugs him along.
“We need to find Sungyeol-hyung,” he says to Myungsoo before nodding a hello to Woohyun and waving a goodbye behind Myungsoo. “How do you know him?” Sungjong asks, when they are out of earshot.
“Who doesn’t know Nam Woohyun?” Myungsoo asks him, puzzled.
Sungjong feels his lips curl into a smile and finally, they’re at the end of the hallway and there’s a boy standing there, hair neat but his is shirt untucked.
“Hello,” Myungsoo breathes. It could be from the long walk through the crowded hallway, but Sungjong knows better. “I’m Kim Myungsoo.”
“I’m Lee Sungyeol, exchange student,” he replies. It’s hard not to notice the camera around Myungsoo’s neck, and it is only natural Sungyeol asks about it. “Is this yours?”
Myungsoo nods. “I’m in the photography club.”
“I’m Lee Sungjong,” Sungjong introduces himself. He reaches into his pockets to pull out several pieces of candy. “Here, a welcome gift.”
Sungyeol accepts it gratefully. “What flavour is th-”
“Do you even need to ask?” Sungjong interjects, cutting him off.
Sungyeol responds with a glare before popping the unwrapped sweet into his mouth as Myungsoo alternates between staring at his shoes and Sungyeol’s mouth. Sungjong decides to eat one himself.
“So, if I’m the new kid and Myungsoo is the strange photography dude with the face of a model, what is your place in the school hierarchy?”
“The pretty bad boy, of course,” Sungjong says, the candy crunching loudly as he bites down on it. “Come on, it’s time to find a way out of this school.”
And as soon as Sungjong says it he can sees it in bright green lights. It is an emergency exit sign, gleaming right behind Sungyeol’s head.
They find themselves in a stairwell.
“Let me guess - you have cigarettes in your other pocket?”
Sungjong pats his left pocket and he can feel the outline of a rectangle box. “Yup. If we weren’t looking for a way out, I bet we’ll be sitting here smoking and basking in the UST.”
“Fun,” Myungsoo says calmly, choosing to go up instead of down and Sungyeol follows . Sungjong trails behind, and he stops behind the two as they find half a dozen closed doors staring back at them. There is a piece of paper stuck to each of the doors. It reminds Sungjong of their names on doors in music shows, and he feels sudden a wave of nostalgia.
“I think we’re supposed to pick one,” Sungyeol says, and Myungsoo draws a cross with his finger over the door directly in front of him. “We’re definitely not going to college.”
“NC-17…” Sungjong says, walking to the side and reading from one of the doors. He quickly scans the rest of the words on the doors, but there is nothing remotely similar to their past lives and out of this maze. He tries the door, but surprisingly, it’s catches and no matter how hard he turns, it would not open.
“That’s the one you want, huh?” Myungsoo says, looking over to Sungjong who jolts back from the door and scowls at him.
“I was just curious.”
“Time travel,” Sungyeol says, passing one. “Okay, maybe not. How about this one? It seems harmless enough.”
“You just want your coffee,” Myungsoo mumbles with a sigh but Sungjong nods and Myungsoo hesitates before pulling the door open with a swift tug.
The smell of roasting coffee fills his senses before he can register the hiss of the coffee machine. Steam obscures his vision as the cup before him fills with hot milk and when it subsides, his vision clears to reveal a cozy coffee shop, walls a light pastel color, and a handful of customers sipping their coffee with books in front of them or absorbed in quiet conversation.
“You’re making a cup of coffee, not working on the next Mona Lisa, Lee Sungjong,” a voice says next to him and Sungjong turns to find Sungyeol staring at him.
“It’s called coffee art for a reason,” Sungjong replies curtly, moving the hot milk over to the other side of the counter top and he starts pouring it into a cup half-filled with dark coffee.
“Hey, look at the girl. Three o’clock. She looks like my type.”
Sungjong finishes the foam leaf a twist of his wrist, before placing the cup on Sungyeol’s awaiting tray. “Every girl that comes here is your type, isn’t she?”
“Shut up,” Sungyeol says merrily, before going off to deliver the coffee over at her table. He fades into the background.
There are no more orders, and Sungjong wipes his hands with a cloth before running it over the counter and then the machine. It is sleek and clean, and as he wipes down the machine aimlessly, he looks up and watches Sungyeol talk animatedly to the girl with long, wavy hair. She has a pretty laugh.
The bell on the door chimes and Sungjong turns to look straight ahead. “Welcome to Plate 630-”
And he stops speaking, because something is wrong; everything in the air has changed. The chattering has stopped, the machine has stopped humming; his heart ceases to beat. All that is moving is the boy, who is walking into the café in slow motion with his dark jacket and darker boots and Sungjong swears he can hear violins and trumpets in the background, steadily building before reaching a crescendo that crashes down on him when the boy stops in front of the cash register. The world bursts back into life.
“Hey,” Myungsoo says, like they’re acquaintances and Sungjong opens his mouth but Sungyeol intercepts the conversation by appearing out of nowhere and slipping behind the cash register.
“Hey, Myungsoo. You here to order something?”
“My usual please,” he says, shrugging off his heavy jacket and Sungjong closes his mouth. Swallows. Breathe. He disappears off to the corner, and Sungyeol turns to him.
“You heard him. His usual.”
“How do we know him?” Sungjong asks, going straight to the machine to busy himself with it.
“Earth to Sungjong, he’s the owner’s son. I have to admit he’s good looking but not amnesia-inflicting good looking. Anyway just make him his coffee so we can find ourselves out of this place.”
This place. The maze. Right, Sungjong thinks, trying to focus as he works the machine automatically. Myungsoo’s usual is a vanilla latte and Sungjong finishes it off with a heart in the foam (“Of course,” Sungyeol mutters) and when Sungyeol places it on top of his tray, he beckons Sungjong to follow.
Myungsoo is fiddling with his camera and Sungjong feels his face heat up involuntarily. He fights the urge to clasp his hands over his cheeks to hide the colour, but it would be way too obvious and Myungsoo isn’t paying him any attention. He smiles in thanks when Sungyeol sets the coffee in front of him and Sungjong crushes the top of the chair opposite him to stop himself from falling over. He feels seasick. “I really hate you for picking this door,” Sungjong says under his breath and Sungyeol kicks at him.
“All I wanted was some coffee,” he whispers back.
“My dad told me you said the door to the storage room is jammed?”
Sungyeol stares pointedly at Sungjong, waiting for him to speak but Sungjong just shakes his head and shrugs. He seems to be afflicted with this strange muteness, in addition to the seasickness. Falling in love in coffeeshops is definitely a hazard, he thinks bitterly. “I think the lock rusted,” Sungyeol explains.
“Let’s take a look at it,” Myungsoo says. Of course he would be polite and helpful, on top of being ridiculously pretty and shy.
They make their way to the back of the café, and Myungsoo fiddles with the lock while Sungjong tries not to look at Myungsoo’s ass. It’s not easy at all, with him bent over like that and Sungyeol’s incessantly obvious coughing.
“Got it,” he says, the door swinging open and Sungjong practically throws himself into the room when he sees what’s inside.
“Pick something so we can get out of here,” Sungjong says, panting, because they’re not in a storeroom but a strange, circular area lined with unmarked doors. The churning in his gut has disappeared, and walking into this place is like crossing a boundary or an interlude from fiction where he knows he’s nothing but an idol, not anyone else’s version of himself.
“There are no hints to what world we could fall into,” Sungyeol replies and Myungsoo picks the door furthest away from them.
“This one?”
“Let’s just go,” Sungjong says, tugging Sungyeol along with him, Myungsoo’s touch around his wrist is a brand.
“Cool,” Myungsoo says once he stops coughing and Sungyeol is hanging off him as they both try to breathe without inhaling all the ash. There’s a weight around his body, and Sungjong looks down to find a machine gun slung around him. There is a smaller gun in Myungsoo’s hand, and he turns it over and over in his hands.
“Where do you think we are,” Sungyeol asks, finally, when they are all accustomed to the thick air. They’re standing in the middle of what had to be a road, because the asphalt is riddled with potholes and the sides are overgrown with grey, curling plants.
Everything is tinged red, and Sungjong looks into the distance and finds that the sun is glowing the colour of a sunrise but it hangs directly over them, high up in the sky.
“Where is everyone,” Myungsoo says, and Sungyeol takes a step forward, only for something clipped to his side to start spitting noisily, the noise louder than anything Sungjong has ever heard.
“What the hell!” Sungyeol yelps, almost toppling from the shock and Sungjong reaches to unhook the device emitting the sound from Sungyeol’s belt. He clicks the only button on the top.
“Hello?”
The voice that returns breaks with static, but it’s enough to make out the words. “Sunggyu-hyung!”
“We got through!” the voice says, and different voices start talking back all at once, as both Myungsoo and Sungyeol crowd around him. “Where are you guys?”
“We have no idea,” Sungjong replies, and Myungsoo continues.
“It looks like Seoul at least, but something went wrong…the sun is the wrong colour and we all have guns and the air smells like ash.”
“I think we’re in an alternate universe,” Sungyeol adds.
“This feels like what the world would look like if it ended,” Sungjong says.
“That sounds interesting,” Woohyun’s voice comes back, distracted. “You don’t know what we’ve been through-”
“Oh god don’t repeat the last scenario I think I might die-”
“At least you weren’t the one watching-”
“We’ve just been in stuck in love with each other,” Dongwoo says, speaking over all the commotion.
“Dongwoo-”
“DONGWOO-”
“Stuck in love?” Myungsoo says, frowning.
“It’s mainly Sunggyu-hyung, Dongwoo-hyung and Woohyun-hyung. They’re…always all over each other,” Hoya sighs.
“…Physically?” Sungjong asks.
There is no reply, but all three of them can read the silence and Sungyeol blinks. “Um, wow. Being stuck in high school or watching Sungjong shoot hearts from his eyes at Myungsoo makes what you’ve been through sound like fun.”
“All I wanted to do is sing when I debuted. Why do I have to be stuck in these strange fantasies,” Sunggyu says, voice a pitch higher from the agitation, and Myungsoo makes sympathetic noises into the walkie-talkie. “My knees ache.”
“At least it’s only your knees,” Woohyun says darkly and Dongwoo coughs.
“Okay, moving on,” Hoya says. “We’re stuck in college now. There is a lot of alcohol and clubbing and uh, sleepovers.”
“Moving further along, I think our way back in labeled ‘Dorm’. That’s the end of the maze, so if you ever come across the next world, pick that one,” Sunggyu says. He continues speaking, but his voice steadily deteriorates until nothing but sharp, disjointed noises.
“Hyung?” Sungyeol says, and Sungjong thumps the device against his palm.
The light blinking on the top of the walkie-talkie dulls and then, silence.
“Oh no,” Myungsoo says. “I think we made too much noise.”
There is a different type of scratching in the air now, and it’s coming from the distance. It sounds like rusted iron running over asphalt, and Sungjong can see tiny figures moving towards them.
“We should go,” Sungyeol says grimly, dropping the device in his hands and pulling out a worn gun out from the gun strap around his calf.
Sungjong takes a step forward, and his right knee gives way. Myungsoo catches his fall in time, and they land in a heap behind Sungyeol. The sound behind them starts growing louder, and it rings in Sungjong’s blood.
“What’s wrong?” Sungyeol hisses, dropping down next to Sungjong as Myungsoo lifts the machine gun off from around his body.
He looks down to find a murky purple-blue mark the size of his palm blooming across his knee and Sungyeol pulls him up before stabilizing him by drawing his arm around his neck. “Can you walk like this?”
“Yeah,” Sungjong says, but he has to shout. The sound is beginning to drown them out.
“Let’s get moving,” Myungsoo says, looping Sungjong’s other arm around his neck and finally, they start moving.
Sungjong grits his teeth, and focuses on the crumbling buildings. This is not real, he whispers under his breath, even though the pain is making his eyes water. This is not real, this is not real.
And then the first shot is fired and Sungjong realises only Sungyeol is supporting him now. Myungsoo has broken away, and he’s standing there with both hands on a gun as he fires at the mass of bodies behind him.
“Myungsoo! Come back this is no time to act like a hero-”
“Just get Sungjong to safety,” he shouts above the continuous firing.
Sungjong struggles against Sungyeol, because Myungsoo is being stupid. “Hyung,” he rasps, “Don’t be an idiot-”
“No, he’s right,” Sungyeol says, moving them forward and Sungjong has to tear his gaze away from Myungsoo. “Don’t look,” Sungyeol tells him, even as he keeps stealing glances behind and his face ashen, even in the watery red light of this sun.
“Maybe,” Sungjong says, “maybe I’m supposed to die here.”
“What?” Sungyeol exhales, loudly. “Don't say stupid things like this, don’t you dare-”
“No, not die for real, but die in this story. Maybe I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t my story.”
“Shut up, it’s just a bruise. We’ve gotten worse ones in the practice room.”
The firing continues, and Sungjong forces himself not to look behind. “I see a hospital,” Sungjong says, when a looming building too far away appears within sight.
“Good,” Sungyeol says distantly, but he doesn’t look back now; Myungsoo is too far behind to keep within sight. They continue moving forward, each step accentuated by the sound of gunfire.
“What are they?” Sungjong asks, voice soft.
“People, but they all have unhinged jaws and iron chains around their feet and they’re…they’re not normal.”
As they approach the hospital slowly, it looks worse than the other buildings around it. Huge, gaping holes decorate the higher stories, and there are unmoving bodies scattered around the front. People who never made it in, Sungjong thinks and abruptly, Sungyeol stops.
“I need you to make your way inside. Try to break open the door so we can join you inside.”
“What-”
“I need to go after Myungsoo,” Sungyeol says. He pushes his handheld gun into Sungjong’s grip, and nods at him. “We're going to make it out alive, all three of us.”
There is only about nine feet to the entrance of the hospital, and Sungjong nods swiftly. Sungyeol shrugs Sungjong’s arm off him and he’s wobbly for a moment as he tries to stabilize all his weight on his left leg. Sungyeol watches him struggle, torn between staying and going and Sungjong waves him off. Go. Sungyeol starts to run.
By the time Sungjong makes his way to the door, he can hear two different guns firing and Sungjong thinks at as long as they are both still firing, they are both still alive.
The door is rusted iron, dented in many different places and Sungjong has to step over several bodies, breath catching from the pain, until he can steady the gun. He squeezes the trigger. The sound deafens him for several seconds and when he opens his eyes, there is a jagged hole in the door. He can see inside the hospital, and it’s nothing but darkness.
When Sungjong realises he can hear again, there is only one steady stream of gunfire in the background and he pulls his own trigger, again and again. He might be screaming. The noise echoes in his ears, and it sounds a lot like defeat.
Sungjong chokes on dust inside the building, after he blasts a hole large enough to crawl through, the rusted metal catching on his clothes but nothing breaks skin. He yanks at the handles, until they give way and the doors scream open, flooding the place with red sunlight.
He looks around and the floor is streaked with dark patches and it is deathly quiet. Good. Sungjong pulls himself into the corner, cradles the gun to his chest, and starts to whisper, lest he is not alone.
“Please don’t let anything happen to Sungyeol-hyung and Myungsoo-hyung. If I’m not supposed to be here, then get rid of me. Don’t let them lose each other. Are you listening to me?”
A shape appears on the wall across him, and soon it grows into wet words that drip at their corners. I can’t tell you what will happen, but I can show you
He knows it’s dramatic and impulsive, but Sungjong fires his final bullets into the wall, and starts counting instead.
When he’s up to five thousand three hundred and twenty nine, he hears harsh breathing approaching and he steadies the gun superficially in front of him only to find Sungyeol and Myungsoo limping in, clinging onto each other. Their faces are darkened with ash and blood but they’re both alive.
“Recoil,” he explains, pointing to his hand, and Myungsoo moves over to pulls Sungjong to his feet gingerly. He wraps his arms around Myungsoo and exhales for the first time when he feels Myungsoo relax against him.
“We need to move.”
“We should barricade the doors first,” Sungjong says, pulling away to point towards the medical trolleys he had gathered next to the entrance. Both Sungyeol and Myungsoo walk over to push them in front of the door.
“Did you notice this, Sungjong? The wards,” Myungsoo asks as he moves to wander deeper into the darkness, just as Sungyeol kicks at the final trolley into the hole to seal it.
Sungjong shakes his head and he squints at the words slotted in the holders in the walls. “Outer space,” he reads, “Mafia gangs, dystopian societies, superheroes, artificial intelligence, Jeju island apocalypse…”
“I thought these words are supposed to be created by our fans. Why do they want to kill us off so badly,” Sungyeol says, an edge to his voice as he stops next to Myungsoo and touches the deep cut on his cheek. Myungsoo hesitates, before catching his hand and pulling it down. He doesn’t let go.
“We’re not dead,” Myungsoo points out, and Sungjong continues walking forward.
“College, disbandment, divergent realities,” he reads, and then he sees it, just as Sunggyu had said. The end: “Dorm.”
“Dorm?” Myungsoo says, incredulous, and Sungyeol walks over to them, eyes clouded with disbelief.
“That’s all? We walk through this divider and we’ll be home?”
“It sounds too simple, I know.”
They stand around noiselessly, and that’s when Myungsoo starts to laugh.
“What?” Sungyeol almost yells, and he would sound infuriated if Sungjong couldn’t detect the fear in his voice.
“If this is a trap and we end up in another place with zombies or aliens, I’m just glad that at least we’d be together.”
“You’re disgustingly sentimental, Myungsoo,” Sungyeol says and there is nothing except anger in his words, except his voice is thick with tears.
“Ready?” Sungjong asks, licking his lips and tasting salt. He reaches out and winds his fingers in between Myungsoo’s and Sungyeol chooses this moment to crush both of them into a quick hug. He lets go quickly to pull them towards the ward.
He yanks back the dirty pink fabric, and Sungjong lets out a shallow breath just as Myungsoo inhales deeply and it is a soft, swift sound.
Sungjong jolts up and he feels his teddy bear roll off his stomach. The air smells clear, and outside the small window in front of him, the sun is rising. It’s blood red, but when he looks down at his knees, there is nothing but an expanse of milky skin.
He climbs down his bed cautiously and he sits on the floor, knees tucked into his chest as he watches Hoya sleep. When he’s sure there is nothing strange with this image, Sungjong makes his way out of his room and into the neighboring one.
Sungyeol is snoring softly and Sungjong climbs halfway up both bunks to make sure Myungsoo and Dongwoo are both asleep. He even pokes at Dongwoo’s foot, and just as he remembers, absolutely nothing happens.
Sungjong almost skips to Sunggyu and Woohyun’s room, and when he climbs the ladder to Woohyun’s bed, he leans over him and shakes him awake. By the time Woohyun stirs, the room is starting to fill with weak light and Sungjong beckons him down.
And this is not the first time something like this has happened, because sometimes Sungjong can’t sleep and he can’t spend the rest of the morning punching his bears so he wakes Woohyun up and they both go into the living room. Woohyun is someone he can talk to without saying anything at all, and sometimes he just lies against Woohyun’s side and falls asleep, right there on the living room couch.
“What’s wrong?” Woohyun asks when they’re outside, catching a yawn with his hand.
“Nightmare,” Sungjong says, shrugging. He takes a deep breath and gives the room a once over, just to be sure. The magazine Sunggyu was reading last night and his empty glass is still on the table, and he settles against Woohyun and feels him, warm and solid, against his side.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“A lot of things happened,” Sungjong replies and Woohyun nods.
“I had a nightmare too.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No way,” Woohyun replies, and Sungjong feels himself smile as he closes his eyes.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows, someone is shaking him awake and it’s Dongwoo with his sleepy eyes and familiar smile.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
Woohyun stirs beneath him, and Sungjong realises he had made a pillow out of Woohyun’s lap. Woohyun is still asleep, his mouth open unattractively and Sungjong contemplates reaching under Woohyun’s shirt with his cold hands to wake him.
He settles with climbing into his lap and shaking him awake.
The dorm is starting to bustle with the usual morning activities, like the water running and the gurgling of the kettle and the sleepy footsteps padding around the dorm. Sunggyu bursts out of his room, hair messy.
“Guys, I have something to announce.”
Sungjong moves off Woohyun and rubs at his eyes as Hoya wanders out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth and a spot of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth.
“For the next few performances, we’re going to switch our habits around. That means Myungsoo, no more hanging off Sungyeol whenever you feel like it.”
“Huh?” Myungsoo mumbles, cradling a cup of hot water in his hands. He looks half-awake.
“We’re not going to do fanservice in our usual pairs any more, okay?”
“Why-actually, I don't think I want to know why,” Sungyeol says, shuffling past Hoya to shut the bathroom door. “Sorry Hoya,” his muffled voice comes back, “I really need to pee.”
“I’ll stick with Woohyun-hyung,” Sungjong says and Woohyun grins at him and tries to tickle him. Sungjong leans away and kicks at Woohyun.
“Sungyeol, you’re with me!” Sunggyu says, rapping against the bathroom door before disappearing into the kitchen.
The bathroom door opens, and Sungyeol slips out and settles himself on the living room floor, because both Woohyun and Sungjong have taken over the entire couch.
Woohyun notices the dark circles under Sungyeol’s eyes. “Bad dream?”
“How did you know? Oh right, it’s because we have matching eyebags.”
He moves to kick at Sungyeol. “I bet my nightmare was worse than yours.”
Sungjong decides to leave before they start playing rough and pushes himself to his feet for a drink of water. He walks past the entrance to their apartment, and he doesn’t notice the way the edge of the wallpaper at the corner of the hallway peels to reveal a brilliantly white wall. And if he would only double back to look carefully, he would see a sentence marked onto the wall:
The end (of this story)
+ concrit is welcomed!
a/n: this has been 6.4k of (mostly) gen fic because i've always wanted to try my hand at metafiction because ian mcewan's atonement is my favourite book, so i hope it's more metafiction-y than messy! if you've read until here, thank you ♡ happy new year!