A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. That was never really my intention. I’ve just been in and out of some bad home circumstances and mental health issues. Plus, I want to plot and write this carefully, and the last thing I want to do is give you guys something that didn’t make sense (unless intentional XD) or wasn’t of the same quality, all for the sake of updating just to update. Well, here we are. Hope it was worth the wait. I’ll keep working hard. Feel free to leave feedback. Thanks for reading ^^

A/N: VIXX comeback soon YES ^o^!!! They were trying to kill us beforehand with that Havana performance though.

Okay VIXX. I see you -_-

…

A fierce wind rocked against the window pane, rattling the frame as raindrops struck the glass incessantly. The wind howled with increased momentum, upsetting the bare camphor tree in the yard and knocking it against the house. Its branches scratched at the glass angrily, threatening and persistent, begging to be let in.

Wonshik’s heart raced, but he willed himself to breathe in deeply, inhaling the soft fragrance of mountain breeze fabric softener, then exhaled calmly, relaxing beneath his blanket, knowing that he was safe in his bed.

The muffled sound of an obnoxious comedian filtered through the floorboards, drowned out a moment later by a cued laugh track. Soon-after, familiar voices rose and clashed above the broadcast. His mother was begging his father to spare Wonshik a few more moments of rest before having to face the rigorous schedule that was reinforced daily. Wonshik knew that if he didn’t get up soon, his father’s pitch would rise and the sound of a firm palm striking his mother’s face would follow.

The thought erupted his newfound calm, and once again Wonshik’s heart started hammering in his chest. It shook him to the core, knowing that his mother suffered on his behalf, and that his father’s rage would turn on him next. The fear threatened him, making his mind tremble far worse than what the storm raging outside his bedroom could ever do.

Without hesitation, he left the refuge of his cozy duvet and reached for his bedroom door. When he ran through the doorway, he was already staring down at his mother sitting on the floor, wiping the corners of her teary eyes with the edge of her apron. The kitchen was in ruin all around, her silhouette surrounded by an inhabitable place coated in thick gray dust, only the floor beneath her quivering body with any tint of warmth or life.

Everything else around them was covered in darkness.

“Wonshik-ah. Wonshik-ah…”

Her mournful sobs echoed all around him, bouncing off thick walls he could not see that seemed to exist only to amplify her sorrow. Wonshik’s eyes stung with tears that quickly pooled at the corners, overflowing and streaming down his face.

“Eomma, don’t cry. I’m right here.”

He took a step towards her and again he could hear dead branches claw at his window and the wind pounding into the glass. It felt like it would shatter, that he would shatter with it. He tried to ignore it, focusing solely on comforting his mother. She too seemed threatened by the storm as she glanced about the darkness frantically, cowering from an attacker she couldn’t see.

When he was only a foot away, their eyes finally met, but instead of hers softening with relief and love, they widened with fear. An aggressive wind filled the darkness, howling as it pushed Wonshik, causing him to stumble a few steps back. He almost fell but managed to stay on his feet. The howl became a roar and suddenly a distinctly familiar voice filled the space.

“Move, boy!” his father shouted fiercely.

Panicked, Wonshik whirled around but was faced with nothing but the cold, vast darkness. The enraged voice of his demanding father, the weak sobs of his defenseless mother, and the roar of the storm synchronized and surrounded him in a cyclone that lifted him off the ground.

Wonshik screamed and shouted, tears burning his eyes as his arms and legs flailed wildly. The current was powerful, pushing him higher and higher, towards an ominous spec of light as the voices melted into one chaotic howl. But the higher he went, the quieter the voices became, turning into soft whispers in his ears. The wind slowly calmed as the light grew, and instead of forcing him up it was now lifting him softly towards it.

The tears on Wonshik’s face dried as he floated and a familiar scent started to fill the air. The sweet fragrance of peaches overwhelmed his senses, and from the growing light a shower of pink petals came tumbling down, falling as Wonshik ascended. Suddenly, all was calm again, and a warmth replaced the cold darkness, filling it with soft pink petals.

Wonshik took a deep breath, allowing the sweetness to overwhelm him, making him feel light-headed as he floated closer to the growing light. He reached up towards it and it became blinding, engulfing everything.

He wanted to stare into it forever. Wanted it to be all that he would ever know or feel again. Even if he lost himself in the process, it was better than falling back down into darkness, back into the eye of the storm.

It would mean he was no longer his father’s puppet. No longer his mother’s burden. No longer a target. No longer living a lie.

Bathed in light. Consumed by light.

Free.

Reluctantly, Wonshik clenched his pained eyes shut and turned away from it.

…

When Wonshik opened them again, he was glancing up at wooden beams layered across a high ceiling. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, quickly realizing that all he experienced was nothing but a dream. He propped himself up on his elbows and they sank into the softness of the cushion beneath him. He was lying on a large futon, his school uniform still on and his blazer gathered where it was grabbed.

That’s right, I was…

Wonshik vaguely recalled being chased after school and getting lost, but the rest of his memory was choppy. Someone found him. Someone exotically beautiful who smelled of peaches. At some point, he almost fell somewhere cold and dark. Was it a ditch? A cliff? He didn’t know. But that beautiful boy yanked him by his jacket, saving him.

Wonshik had landed hard on a rough flat surface after that. He didn’t remember what it was, only the impact when he hit his back. Then there was a soft, warm hand on his cheek, and gentle brown eyes fixed to his own. Then all was calm, quiet and peaceful, just like the end of his dream.

Then nothing.

Wonshik must have fallen asleep after that, tired from running after who knows how long, but he was saved and had that boy to thank. A boy whose name was…

“Jaehwan.”

The name came out as a whisper that disappeared against nothing when no one answered. Wonshik sat up and glanced around the room, concluding that he was indeed alone. He sighed and stretched out his legs, making tiny observations as he looked around.

It was simplistic and traditional, the type of spacious bedroom found in most hanoks. It seemed brand new, like something built in the last few years instead of centuries ago. The blanket covering the futon he sat on was soft and white, like a thick cloud covering the entirety of it. Fresh and clean, as if it was just laid out before Wonshik arrived. A partition stood in a back corner of the room, an intricate pattern across the panels of gold outlined in red. It was positioned diagonally, leaving space to walk behind it to a closet with sliding doors of the same pattern. A light breeze drifted through the room, but the floor radiated with warmth, highlighted in spots where the sunlight beamed in.

However, unlike most modern bedrooms, there was no other furniture. No small chests or dressers for storage. No trinkets on shelves left behind by a resident or visitor. No picture proof that anyone precious like friends, family or even a pet mattered or existed. Just a place for sleep and changing. It was as if the room was meant for a person who had nothing important to hold onto. Either that, or a place where those who visited left just as quickly as they arrived.

A chill crept up Wonshik’s spine, and a sudden feeling of dread descended upon him. Something in his gut was telling him not to let his guard down, that there was definitely something off about the place.

Wonshik quickly climbed to his feet. He had to get back home, if not for his own sake, then for his mother’s. She was probably worried sick and barely holding herself together, and his father...he didn’t even want to speculate. He didn’t belong in this place, wherever it was. He needed to find Jaehwan. He had questions that needed answers.

Wonshik spotted a pair of slippers by the door. He slipped his feet into them, grabbed the edge of the door, and slid it open.   

...