The Room --- GTOP---Part 3/??
Title: The Room 3/?
Pairing: GTop, others to come later
Genre: AU, Fantasy, Angst, Horror, Suspense
Rating: R overall
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I wish I did.
Summary: There's a room. No one wants to go in, but once you do, there's no coming out.
Notes: UNbetad; you are my lab rats darlings. This is a shorter part, but the next is longer.
First part || Second part
A door to a desolate, obscure room is pushed open promptly. A man with a brown sack over his head is thrown onto the floor, and the door is locked behind him. He rushes to pull off the blinding fabric, his pupils widening despite the poorly lit room.
He’d been in that ‘mask’ for easily three hours.
He looks around the room, seeing nothing but a one-way window-which means he can’t see who brought him here, or for what reason.
He sits down on a chair he finds in the corner of the room, waiting for whatever unreasonable demands they might have. (He assumes it’s more than one person to keep his pride intact.)
He squints, noticing a silhouette of some sort on the other side of the mirror.
A voice comes blaring out of a speaker hidden in the ceiling: “You’ve been accused of slandering the president, as well as adultery with a person of the same sex.”
The man laughs in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?” He scoffs, holding his forehead. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Do you admit to the crimes mentioned?” the voice says, ignoring the previous questions.
He sighs, crossing his arms. “Well, yes, I guess so. But so what?”
The voice doesn’t respond, the sound of a button being pressed is heard instead.
The metal covering the windows, which were hidden on either side of the room, begins to slide upward. The man doesn’t think anything of it until sunlight begins to stream in, like strands of hair at first, but suddenly like bolts of lighting. He screams and bangs against the mirror where he distinctly sees a silhouette still standing there.
“Let me go!” He cries out, hands smashing against the mirror until he’s left with cuts and bruises on either hand.
He turns his back to the mirror, pressing against it as close as he can; the light inches closer as the sun continues to rise in the sky. Before he can cry out again, his skin catches fire, leaving him with only a few more moments of suffering, and life.
In an instance, there’s nothing but ash left on the ground.
The metal shield on each window recovers them, and a man dressed in black from head to toe sweeps up the remains of the man who was there not but five minutes ago.
------------------------------
Jiyong’s back in his apartment-alone unfortunately-when his eyelids decide to crack open despite the sun glaring through the blinds. He sighs, messing up his blond bangs as he rolls off the bed, and walks toward his bathroom. Jiyong stares at his reflection a few moments; he looks like utter hell. Actually, if hell looked this bad, there wouldn’t be so many devil worshippers.
Jiyong grumbles, pulling his lower lids down; his eyes are crimson red, his cheeks are flushed, there are scraps down both his shoulders and, disturbingly, teeth holes-not marks-in his neck. It was either one hell of a night, no pun intended, or a terrible mistake.
He finds it hard to imagine it being the former considering how relaxed his shoulders are, how unraveled and free he feels. It had to have been a good night, he repeats as he walks out of the bathroom. But if that’s the case, why can’t he remember anything?
more to come---
comments are ♥
Pairing: GTop, others to come later
Genre: AU, Fantasy, Angst, Horror, Suspense
Rating: R overall
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I wish I did.
Summary: There's a room. No one wants to go in, but once you do, there's no coming out.
Notes: UNbetad; you are my lab rats darlings. This is a shorter part, but the next is longer.
First part || Second part
A door to a desolate, obscure room is pushed open promptly. A man with a brown sack over his head is thrown onto the floor, and the door is locked behind him. He rushes to pull off the blinding fabric, his pupils widening despite the poorly lit room.
He’d been in that ‘mask’ for easily three hours.
He looks around the room, seeing nothing but a one-way window-which means he can’t see who brought him here, or for what reason.
He sits down on a chair he finds in the corner of the room, waiting for whatever unreasonable demands they might have. (He assumes it’s more than one person to keep his pride intact.)
He squints, noticing a silhouette of some sort on the other side of the mirror.
A voice comes blaring out of a speaker hidden in the ceiling: “You’ve been accused of slandering the president, as well as adultery with a person of the same sex.”
The man laughs in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?” He scoffs, holding his forehead. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Do you admit to the crimes mentioned?” the voice says, ignoring the previous questions.
He sighs, crossing his arms. “Well, yes, I guess so. But so what?”
The voice doesn’t respond, the sound of a button being pressed is heard instead.
The metal covering the windows, which were hidden on either side of the room, begins to slide upward. The man doesn’t think anything of it until sunlight begins to stream in, like strands of hair at first, but suddenly like bolts of lighting. He screams and bangs against the mirror where he distinctly sees a silhouette still standing there.
“Let me go!” He cries out, hands smashing against the mirror until he’s left with cuts and bruises on either hand.
He turns his back to the mirror, pressing against it as close as he can; the light inches closer as the sun continues to rise in the sky. Before he can cry out again, his skin catches fire, leaving him with only a few more moments of suffering, and life.
In an instance, there’s nothing but ash left on the ground.
The metal shield on each window recovers them, and a man dressed in black from head to toe sweeps up the remains of the man who was there not but five minutes ago.
------------------------------
Jiyong’s back in his apartment-alone unfortunately-when his eyelids decide to crack open despite the sun glaring through the blinds. He sighs, messing up his blond bangs as he rolls off the bed, and walks toward his bathroom. Jiyong stares at his reflection a few moments; he looks like utter hell. Actually, if hell looked this bad, there wouldn’t be so many devil worshippers.
Jiyong grumbles, pulling his lower lids down; his eyes are crimson red, his cheeks are flushed, there are scraps down both his shoulders and, disturbingly, teeth holes-not marks-in his neck. It was either one hell of a night, no pun intended, or a terrible mistake.
He finds it hard to imagine it being the former considering how relaxed his shoulders are, how unraveled and free he feels. It had to have been a good night, he repeats as he walks out of the bathroom. But if that’s the case, why can’t he remember anything?
more to come---
comments are ♥