attempt at horror

 

And when the walls are closing
And when you’re crawling, choking
Tumbling deeper down into the mind

-

A giggle, still echoing in the room as Myungsoo woke up with a start. With his chest heaving and hands shaking, he frantically looked around.

No one. Yet Myungsoo knew he wasn't alone, hadn’t been for months. Every night he would wake up, feeling cold hands on his skin or hear a sinister laughter.

None of his friends believed him, and had expressed concern for his well being.

But Myungsoo knew.

There was something in his room every night, something torturing him.

Grasping the sheets, he looked around the room again and nearly screamed when he saw a slender figure in a corner. One blink, and he was gone.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Myungsoo choked out, burying his face in his hands; he was so tired. So extremely tired.

A short laugh, close to his ear. Myungsoo jumped up, his back shivering from the feeling of breath hitting his ear.

But no one was there, of course.

No more sleep came to him after the events of the night, being too afraid to close his eyes.

-

“Still having those nightmares? You look like ,” his best friend noted as soon as they met up for their morning coffee.

“Yeah,” Myungsoo grumbled, his hands shaking slightly from exhaustion. He wasn't sure he would be able to pay attention to the lecture, but he hoped the coffee would have the desired effect.

Sungyeol began talking about the topic of today's lecture, but an all too familiar giggle broke through the warm atmosphere of the cafe and Myungsoo swiftly turned.

There, under the soft lights of the cafe, stood a gorgeous boy, no older than twenty, with deathly pale skin and the blackest eyes Myungsoo had ever seen; there were no white nor pupils, just pitch blackness. The boy smiled, seemingly amused, and stared straight at Myungsoo.

It caused a chill to run down his back, and exhaustion had been replaced by pure fear.

“Myungsoo? Are you okay?”

Myungsoo turned to his best friend and pointed to where he had seen the boy. “Do you see him?” He turned back, but the boy was gone. “He was just right there.”

“Who was?” Sungyeol's voice had softened, a look of pain crossing over his face.

“The boy. He was-“ Myungsoo lost all words, unable to describe who he had seen.

“I think you need to get some real help. Maybe sleeping pills?” Sungyeol still used the soft tone.

Of course he wouldn't believe him. Myungsoo wouldn't have believed it either.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Maybe I should.”

-

He had taken Sungyeol's advice, gotten his hands on sleeping pills. And they had worked, making him sleep through the entire night for the first time in months.

Waking up refreshed had been the most amazing feeling, and for a moment it felt as if he had won. The boy couldn't torture him if he didn't wake up.

Yet, just as the thought passed over his mind he felt stinging pain shooting from his forearms.

Confused, he lifted them; there were deep scratch marks down both of his arms.

Immediately the relief washed out of his body and he got overwhelmed with panic and nausea; whatever was after him, it was real. And it wasn't happy.

He refused to go to the lecture, fear gripping him and paralysing him.

Come night, Myungsoo sat in the bed, unable to sleep. He waited. There was no point in fighting when he couldn't win. He didn't understand what it was, but he knew it was dangerous. And he could not sleep, did not see the point.

“Myungsoo,” a soft whisper, a puff of breath hitting his ear.

Myungsoo whipped his head around, nearly falling back as came face to face with the boy. Black eyes stared into his own.

“Who are you?” He croaked out, body stiff.

The boy tilted his head to the side, his lips stretched into a wicked smile. “We used to be so close, Myungsoo.” His voice was soft and pleasant to the ears. “We used to play all the time.”

The boy leaned closer, grin growing wider. “And then you forgot all about me,” he spoke with a theatrical sadness. “How could you forget me?”

There was a blank in Myungsoo's mind, when it came to most of his childhood. “What is it you want?”

The boy crawled onto the bed and reached out a hand, touching Myungsoo's face with cold fingers. “For you to come with me. For us to play like we did.”

The words did not terrify him, but the underlying meaning did.

“And if I refuse?”

The boy pulled away. “You'll just prolong the inevitable.” He giggled. “But this game is fun. I don't mind playing it more.”

He disappeared, leaving Myungsoo's head spinning.

He knew the boy would come back next night.

He sighed, despair gripping at his every fibre as his mind tumbled further down into the abyss.

He knew he could not win.