Drinking that liter of water during soccer practice wasn’t such a good idea. Choi Minho thought as he crossed his knees and bounced one leg under his desk.

It had been another typical day and Konkuk University for the soccer player, a couple of classes, then practice followed by another class. Currently in his elective Anthropology class, Minho tried to concentrate on taking notes.

Easier said than done.

His bladder was revolting, demanding he take a hall pass and relieve himself before something embarrassing happened. He raised his hand.

“Choi Minho? Do you have an answer for this translation?” His professor looked surprised, languages weren’t Minho’s strong suit.

“Sorry Sir, but no sir. I need to be excused please.” He tried to smile but the urge to relieve himself made it more of a grimace.

Sighing and shaking his head, “You really need to get a grip on the amount of water you drink at practice. Dehydration or no dehydration. Lee Taemin, you know the drill.”

The sound of chair legs scraping signaled the movement of Minho’s best friend. The younger boy appeared at his side, waiting for him to stand, rolling his eyes as he waited.

Quickly Minho stood, bladder complaining at the shift.

It seemed a bit ridiculous for university students to be using the bathroom buddy system but the school board had deemed it more than necessary. It had been in place since the year before Minho and Taemin started, a student had been found hanging from the ceiling in one of the bathrooms.

A suspected suicide, school officials were determined that it would never happen again.

There had been no note, only an odd black puddle that had pooled on the floor. Black ooze had trailed out of every orifice; eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and left a tar like, sulfur smelling puddle.

The coroner ruled it an effect by overdosing before hanging.

Until it happened once a week, every week for more than two months.

No one could figure it out.

So the buddy system had been adopted.

Bathroom trips, class changes, trips to the office, everything was to be done with at least one other person.

So far the system worked, there hadn’t been a single death in the past 4 years.

“Thank god, I was almost ready to need a pass myself to get away from that lecture.” Taemin complained as they walked through the empty halls. “I’m getting really tired of the dead languages. Honestly they’re probably dead for a reason.”

Minho rolled his eyes at his friend. “Its important that we study them so we know where we came from. Honestly Tae, if you hate it that much why did you take the class?”

Taemin shrugged. “Easy credit and you’re there so instant bathroom buddy.” He chucked.

A sign on the door to the bathroom announced that the urinals were out of order. Grumbling, Minho complained, “Stupid school, can’t they ever fix anything on time.”

“Oh quit your ing, get in there and pick a ing stall.” Taemin said, shoving his taller friend inside the boys room.

Minho glared at his friend as he stumbled in.

Banging open one of the two stalls, Minho wrinkled his nose at the disgusting sight. “Gross.” He moved to the second.

“Stop being a girl and do what you need to do.” Taemin leaned back against the sink.

“Shut up.” Minho snapped at his snickering friend.

“Go piss.” Taemin snarled back. “I’m going to grab a coke from the machine. Meet you back in class.”

Waving his hand behind his back, Minho stepped into his stall.

Taemin grinned and headed out, grabbing a drink from the machine as he strolled back to class.

“Lee Taemin, where is Choi Minho?” The professor gave him a narrowed eye look.

Cursing under his breath he thought fast. “He’s on his way, won’t be much longer. He didn’t want me to miss the lesson.”

He was given a skeptical look, but subsequently ignored at the professor turned back to his lesson. “As I was saying, the Devil’s Tongue appears at first glance to be a fictional language, similar to Tolkin’s Elvish, but other evidence suggests that it was only used in….”

Taemin’s mind drifted off.

Back in the restroom, Minho shook twice and flushed the toilet. Over the sounds of the rushing water he swore he heard an odd hissing noise.

It sounded like steam escaping from pipes with a deep rumbling hiss.

Ignoring the sound, Minho pulled up his pants, his belt buckle clinking as he did it up.

The sound came again, louder as the flushing toilet went silent. This time Minho could almost believe that he heard words in the odd sounds. It reminded him of leather being rubbed against stone.

Rolling his eyes, Minho figured that Taemin had snuck back in to try and scare him. “Serious Tae, not funny. Whatever you’re doing isn’t even scary.”

The strange sound came again as the temperature got cooler.

“Stupid air-conditioner, isn’t it cold enough already.” Minho rubbed his arms trying to warm himself as once again the strange sound began. It seemed to repeat itself over and over now, the same strange sounds looping again and again.

“Dude. Not funny. Knock it off would you?” His voice shook as he spoke, unsure of when fear had begun seeping in. The urge to look up was strong, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to follow through.

Something wet dripped onto the top of his head and Minho bolted from the stall.

Figuring Taemin would laugh at his frightened expression, Minho prepared to yell at his friend, stopping short when he noticed that he was alone. Heart racing he moved to the sink, the now terrifying sound continuing louder over the sound of running water as Minho quickly washed his hands.

Another drop fell on his head, and Minho twitched, eyes rolling upwards but seeing nothing. He wanted ever so badly to turn his head, but a deep sense of foreboding kept him from moving.

Not bothering to dry his hands, the soccer player bolted from the room. He sprinted down the hallway, stopping just outside his class trying to control his breathing. Taking a deep breath he walked into class, sent Taemin the nastiest look he could muster and bowing to his teacher, took his seat.

The rest of the class passed by in a blur, the only thing he could hear was the strange whispering hiss. It wasn’t until the professor made his final point that something clicked in Minho’s head.

It was a terrifyingly horrible thought.

“Alright, don’t forget to read up on our next dead language for next class.” The professor said, packing up his notes.

Waiting until everyone left, except Taemin, Minho stood. The professor gave him a long, studying look as he walked forward and stopped at his desk.

“What can I do for you Choi Minho? You seemed a bit distracted after your return.” The professor leaned on his desk, arms crossed looking at the two students. “Taemin, why don’t you wait outside the door. Don’t wander off though.”

Taemin nodded, giving Minho a questioning look and mouthing at him to fill him in later.

Biting his lip and gathering his courage, Minho asked. “Professor, I was just wondering…. Its something I heard earlier that I thought sounded familiar.”

“Everything in class today was review, it should have all sounded familiar.”

“It wasn’t in class.” He took a deep breath. “It sounded like this…” He made the horrifying sound as best he could, trying to get the deep growling and the soft hissing just right.

The professor’s eyes widened. “That’s not something you should hear everyday son.” He examined Minho’s face for anything telling.

“I didn’t think so.” Minho answered, “It sounded like one of the languages we’ve been studying so I was just curious.”

“You must be mistaken.” The professor said, “Are you sure of what you heard?”

Minho nodded, making the strange noise again.

Looking into Minho’s eyes, the older man stood. He moved closer to his student and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “What you just said, give or take a few elements, is from an ancient Mesopotamian language loosely translated as Devil’s Tongue. It was the key portion of today’s lecture.”

Maybe that was it. Minho thought to himself. Maybe I was imaging things.

But the professor’s next words ruled all thoughts of that out. “The language was said to have died out centuries ago, long before the birth of Christ, but there are people who believe it is still very much alive. Its claimed to be the language of the paranormal. The language from the depths of hell used by only the most notorious witches, monsters and of course demons.”

As he spoke he noticed something on the top of Minho’s head, reaching forward he brushed the wet patch.

His hand came way covered in black, a thick liquid with the consistency of tar and the smell of rotten eggs.

Minho’s heart clenched as he remembered the feeling of something dripping on his head.

“What did I say sir?” Minho asked with terror in his voice. “What did I say?”

Looking into Minho’s dark eyes, the professor spoke again, his words causing Minho’s blood to run cold.

“Look up.”

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Yet another wonderful idea from the wonderful AthleticShawol! Thanks so much for the horrifying idea!

And thanks to everyone else who has taken the time to read, subscribe and comment :) Please continue to do so, *uses aegyo*

Loves you all!!

Kat