CRASH TEST DUMMIES
Wordcount: 3521

The light was so sharp, so brilliant, so completely and utterly blinding as it pierced through his soul, his everything like laser beams, scorching his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. It stung, burned, the pain so sharp it made him gasp for air with every breath he took, but no matter the effort, no matter how hard he tried, he was not able to close them—nor did he want to. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall any minute as time passed by, but they stayed in place. Strangely enough, it did not bother him the slightest bit. Despite the burning pain, the blazing hot fire that threatened to burn him from the inside out and the overwhelming desire to close his eyes, to shut the light out, he kept them open. It was all too mesmerising. He was spellbound, too preoccupied with the thoughts swirling around to take notice of anything. He did not even blink; not once.

It was a strange feeling. Peculiar, really, like he was swimming and flying at the same time. He could not decipher whether he was standing, lying down, sitting, walking, running, flying around—nothing. He did not know whether it was night or it was day, whether it was raining or it was snowing, whether he was dead or he was alive. Time was an unknown subject for him, something foreign, but nothing really bothered him. He felt light, like the feather of a bird, but at the same time strong, like some sort of superhero. He felt invincible, unyielding, like a tsunami ready to hit the shore—like nothing in the world could stop him, not even the bony fingers of Death himself in all his glory. It was strange indeed.

A lazy sort of smile spread on his face as he felt warmth engulf him and drag him towards its source of heat as it held him in a vice-like grip. He was not scared of it; he embraced it with open arms, open mind and open soul, the warmth seeping through his body. Heat enveloped from the inside out, covering him within a cocoon of hot, fiery flames. It felt like he could feel, see, hear, touch everything and it felt good...no, it felt great, and so he wandered towards the light, towards the warmth, towards home. It was time for him to return. He finally closed his eyes as he felt an inner calm wash over him. Finally, peace.

And then everything changed. In the blink of an eye, before he could even utter a single syllable, everything disappeared as it morphed into something else, something terrifying. The feeling of peace and serenity was replaced by chaos and destruction; the soothing warmth replaced by freezing cold. Panic seized his body and made him unable to move as he felt something hard pushing against this chest, one time, two times, three times, crushing his ribs in the process of doing so and everything shook. Whatever pressed down his chest felt heavy, like lead, and he struggled to catch his breath. Energy left his body in waves and it left him feeling breathless and weak. He felt empty. The strange feeling disappeared for a moment and he felt relief wash over him, before it reappeared again, this time much stronger and more painful. It felt...different, like someone was pushing him down under water and oh god he is drowning, is he not, this is it, he is going to drown alive and no one will be able to hear his screams this is going to be the end—

— – -

The first time he wakes up, he wakes up to complete mayhem. His eyes are heavy, lids barely drooping open before he closes them again, exhausted with the effort. He feels oddly disoriented, like he is swimming underwater, but everything is too dark.

Turn on the light, please.

There is something strange about his surroundings, something unknown and eerie, but he can’t pinpoint what. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

After a moment (or perhaps several moments), he starts regaining his senses. He is unaware of his surroundings, has no idea where he is, but he knows something is wrong. There are people screaming their lungs out as they cry for help and he can not seem to fathom why, and the smell of something metallic lingers in the air. It is a nauseating smell, sickly sweet and he feels strangely uncomfortable. Somewhere in the distance, sirens are blaring. There is a ringing in his ears he can not seem to get rid off and nausea is lurking just around the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, just like a ticking time bomb.

A shrill cry pierces through the chaos, and it is so loud. It is too loud, maddening, and he wishes he could turn everything off. Where is the off button to this madness? He needs the off button, or some sort of device that can mute everything. If not, he is sure to lose his mind.

Someone is crying but he has no idea where it is coming from—the sound is too hollow, too far away to determine its whereabouts—and the sound is overpowering everything. They are calling his name but he can not find the strenght to answer. He can not even find the strenght to blink; everything is just too heavy.

Something akin to tears roll down his cheek, but he is not crying. He never cries. It is warm...he is warm, burning up from the inside like an erupting volcano and panic seizes his body. It takes him less than three seconds to realise he is unable to move, unable to feel anything at all and he screams—but nothing comes out, just a wheezing sound. Something is weighing his body down, like he is covered in lead and stuck at the bottom of the ocean, drowning in a pool of fear and anxiety.

He tries to breathe normally, but his breath comes in short ragged gasps, and he feels the waves crashing over him. They are cold and merciless, wanting to bring his body back to the ocean, but he refuses to give up—he knows how to swim after all.

All at once, as he thinks of home, of his warm bed and his little puppy, he feels warmth returning to his body. It muffles every sound as it cover him and everything feels much safer, much calmer. A content sigh escapes his lips as he slowly drifts away, towards the light. He smiles, then, a smile only barely gracing his lips, before he closes his eyes one final time.

Finally, silence.

— – -

“—Jongin!”

He woke with a start, beads of cold sweat running down the side of his face and his back. His breathing was heavy, coming in ragged gasps as he greedily gulped down huge amounts of air, the aftermath of the nightmare still ingrained deep in his body.

.

He visibly shuddered as he forced his eyes shut, but he quickly opened them again when he was met with the disturbingly vivid images from the dream. He swallowed thickly as dread soaked his body, washing over him like ocean waves on a stormy night. The panic still had a hold over him and he could still feel the lingering feeling hiding somewhere deep inside him. Tears clouded his vision, but he quickly blinked them away because a real man do not cry like a wimp. He was not a weakling; it was just a nightmare.

Calm the down.

As he continued with his inner ramblings, he spotted something shiny in the corner of his eye. Curious, he turned his head towards the object. The sight that met him confused him to the core, because what the hell?

On his bedside table lay his favourite toy car from when he was a little kid, twinkling in the sunlight—smashed and completely destroyed, its little windows shattered into tiny pieces. t was an odd sight, really, because he was ninety nine percent sure he threw it away somewhere along the transition between child- and adulthood. It baffled him that it was lying there all crashed and beaten up, because he knew for a fact that he always took good care of his toys—always.

He should probably stop drinking before going to bed—it obviously was not good for him. He was probably hallucinating.

A slight movement on his chest knocked him out of his reverie and he looked down to see Kyungsoo lying there, looking up at him with sparkles in his eyes.

(They strangely looked like unshed tears, but that would be weird, because Kyungsoo never cried.)

“Hi,” he whispered, voice laced with something unknown, something...gloomy and dejected. Whatever it was, Jongin did not like how he sounded; how faint and utterly broken he sounded. “Nightmare?”

And just like that, just by hearing the comforting voice of his boyfriend, all the earlier dread and the lifelike images of drowning alive went away, washed down in the drain. He swallowed past the clump stuck in his throat and forced a smile. “Yeah,” he mumbled as another violent shudder racked through his body.

As he looked down on his petite boyfriend, he quickly realised why he had felt something heavy pressing against his chest and nearly choking him in his dream, and why it had felt so real. Of course; he should have noticed it earlier. “Ugh,” he groaned as he pushed Kyungsoo none too gently off him. “You’re so god damn heavy. I’m sure you could have killed me.”

Kyungsoo merely laughed, the sound a calming lullaby, and patted his stomach in an comforting manner. His laughter sounded distant and far-off, like he was someplace else than him...but he quickly pushed the thoughts away, blaming it on fatigue and stress.

“You’ll live.”

“Pffft,” Jongin grumbled, but a smile tugged on his lips.

Kyungsoo smiled up at him and he looked like an angel with his heart-shaped smile directed at him, sunlight framing his face and it gave him a somewhat ethereal glow, Jongin realised. “So beautiful,” he mumbled absentmindedly, softly his chin with the back of his hand. Kyungsoo leaned into the touch and smiled affectionately.

“Dummy,” Kyungsoo whispered, but there was no real bite in his words, just love and adoration. Somewhere in the background, a faint but constant beeping sound could be heard, but he paid it no mind. A crooked smile graced Jongin’s lips before it disappeared again. Something didn’t feel quite right. The sunlight felt... unnatural, like the artificial light coming from a desk lamp, not at all like the warm and soothing rays of sunshine. A thin layer of mist covered the room, too, but he was pretty sure it was just a trick of the eye. He was tired; fatigue could to the most amazing wonders to a tired body.

He definitely should stop drinking before going to bed.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he sat up and stretched his limbs. His muscles were sore and aching and he felt a stinging pain in his left arm. A long-stretched yawn left his lips as he got up from bed and walked over to the bathroom. He needed to wash up and get ready. It was probably time to leave by now.

As he entered the bathroom, he realised that something was very, very wrong. Bits and pieces of shattered glass covered the entirety of the tiled floor, but as he glanced over at the bathroom-mirror... nothing. It was in perfect shape, not a single glass shard missing. He frowned, before turning towards the window. The same sight met him—the window was perfectly fine. Where the hell did those come from?

He shook his head—he was probably hallucinating as a result of the mixture between the nightmare and the too many tequila-shots he had downed the night before. That was it. Nothing to worry about. It would pass in a moment. He just needed to wake up some more and then everything would be back to normal, he would stop hallucinating about the silliest things and he and Kyungsoo would be on their way. Everything would be okay.

Everything should be okay.

But as he turned to look at his reflection in the mirror, his blood ran cold and he was not so sure about anything any longer. The skinny jeans and v-neck t-shirt he had been wearing at the party was replaced by white, breezy clothes, which reminded him of a hospital gown. The change of clothes was not the worst part, though; what made his blood run cold and body turn frigid, was his face.

His fringe was sticky, matted with dried blood and his eyes were bloodshot, as if he had not slept for days—no, years. There was a weird sort of dent in his nose, like he had broken it at some point and never gotten it fixed, and there were cuts and bruises marring his face. He looked like a train wreck and it scared him.

The worst of it all, what frightened him the most, though, was the deep gash by the side of his face, where blood slowly oozed out, trickling down his cheek in an agonizingly slow manner. Fear settled in his guts and he found himself hyperventilating. As he touched his face with the back of his hand, he realised he could not feel a thing. His hand was numb and all that met him was a tingling feeling. He did not feel a thing, not even pain.

“Kyungsoo...” he whispered; he did not dare to speak any louder, terrified of what would happen if he did. He was afraid he did not hear him but a moment later, his boyfriend popped up beside him. Kyungsoo frowned as he looked at him, before brushing away his sticky bangs from his forehead. “You don’t look too well,” he mumbled almost inaudibly, but Jongin heard him, voice clear like a starry night one cold winter night. He almost sobbed.

Didn’t look too well? He was bleeding, for Christ sake!

He seemed to notice Jongin’s inner ramblings, because a small, warm hand settled on the small of his back, and suddenly all of his worries dissipated like smog.

“Are you okay?” he whispered quietly. His eyes were back to being sad, filled with fear and trepidation. Jongin hated seeing him sad, so he forced a small smile. “Yeah,” he replied, and Jongin applauded himself for being able to cover the shake in his voice, “I’m fine. I’m just... yeah. I’m alright. Don’t worry, love.”

At this, Kyungsoo smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. “Okay.”

Jongin turned to face him as Kyungsoo continued to look at him with those doe-like eyes. His boyfriend looked so small, so fragile and delicate, and he was afraid he would break any moment. He cupped his cheeks, a genuine smile on his face, before he leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Really,” he whispered. “I’m alright. We should probably leave now. Are you ready?”

Kyungsoo pulled back to look at him, frowned slightly, before shaking his head. “No, Jongin. I... I can’t.”

Confusion flowed through his body. “Uh, what?” he repeated, slightly dumbfounded. When did he change their plans? He frowned down on his boyfriend, which only made him sigh silently. “Jongin,” he mumbled slowly as he looked up on him through his long lashes. Drops of water were gathered there and he looked unbelievably heartbroken. “Please. Don’t make this any harder for me.”

His nostrils flared, panic seizing his body in a vice-like grip as his breathing got heavier, like something was blocking his airways. “Kyungsoo,” he whispered, and the fear must have been evident in his voice, because Kyungsoo gathered him in his arms, his back in a slow manner. “Shhh,” he whispered as Jongin held on to Kyungsoo for his dear life. He was afraid, so utterly confused and small and something was wrong.

“You’re scaring me.” The words were muffled against Kyungsoo’s hair, and he breathed out a laugh before he pulled away again. Jongin would have missed the warmth of his embrace if he had felt it, but everything was cold.

Too cold.

The look on Kyungsoo’s face was something Jongin would never forget. An array of emotions painted his face in yellows, blues and reds—from fear, to pain, to longing, to love, to regret. It was dizzying, really, seeing how he struggled with keeping his emotions in check. Kyungsoo never wavered.

“This...” He shook his head as he struggled with his words, and Jongin felt nauseous. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. “I’m sorry,” he eventually whispered, “you have to go alone.” And then he pushed him backwards.

The last thing he heard before his eyes closed and his body fell backwards with a soft thud, was

“I’m sorry. I love you, Kim Jongin. Please forgive me.”

And then, nothing.

— – -

The second time he wakes up, he wakes up to complete silence. His eyes are heavy, lids barely drooping open before he closes them again, exhausted with the effort. He feels oddly disoriented, like he is soaring above the sky, but everything is too light.

Turn off the light, please.

There is something strange about his surroundings, something unknown and eerie, but he can’t pinpoint what. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

After a moment (or perhaps several moments), he starts regaining his senses. He is unaware of his surroundings, has no idea where he is, but he knows something is wrong. It is too silent, the silence almost deafening and he panics. The only thing he hears is the sound of his laboured breathing and the soft ruffling of curtains.

It is too quiet, maddening, and he wishes he could turn everything on. Where is the on button to this madness? He needs the on button, or some sort of device that can turn on some sort of noise. If not, he is sure to lose his mind.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He frowns. There it is again, the beeping he heard earlier on—except this time it isn’t faint. He hears it loud and clear, so he opens his eyes again. They flutter open slowly and he blinks a couple of times to adjust to the sharp light. The first thing that greets him is the pristine white roof and matching white walls. This sure was a far cry from his room, so he is pretty sure he is not at home—or anywhere he knows, really. Curiosity killed the cat, and as he turns his head to check out the source of the annoying beeping sound, he wishes he was a cat.

It was an ECG-monitor.

A frown settles on his face as he scans his surroundings. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

It smells... clean. Too clean, almost. The familiar smell of disinfection lingers in the air and it sickens him, the smell too strong and disgustingly sterile. It takes him a moment, but then it registers in his mind where he is at.

The hospital.

Fear settles deep in his gut and lodges his throat, making him unable to utter any word. Not a sound escapes his lips as he stares up at the roof, disbelief and anxiety marring his face.

Somewhere in the background, he hears a door opening and closing softly, but in his state of near panic, he can not seem to care. He hears someone humming a song under their breath as they approach him, before the humming suddenly stops. The room seems awfully quiet for a millisecond before the person gasps.

“Mr. Kim? Mr. Kim? Are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Jongin does not move an inch, but before he knows it, an unfamiliar face pops up in his peripheral vision. The man’s face is twinkling and there is a grin on his face. A white lab coat hangs from his broad shoulders. Jongin studies him intently, trying to figure out who this stranger is, when his gaze lands on a nameplate. Dr. Jung, it reads. Dr. Jung. His name is Jung. And he is a doctor.

Doctor... Oh my god.

“Hey,” he says, the grin never leaving his face, “you’re quite a fighter, aren’t you, kid? You sure is stubborn.” He pats the side of his bed, before he turns to the door. “Nurse!” he shouts and Jongin winces. It was too loud for his sensitive ears.  “Come over here. Our Jonginnie has finally woken up.”

The man turns back to him and grins before giving him a thumbs up. Jongin feels sick to the core as he wishes he never woke up. He wishes he was back home, with Kyungsoo sleeping safe and sound in his arms, and not... here.

Kyungsoo’s words ring through his head as realisation dawns upon him.

I’m sorry. I love you Kim Jongin. Please forgive me.

Jongin closes his eyes, and for the first time in years, he weeps.

---

happy birthday jongin :)
(hahhahahha no but really happy birthday bb and happy belated birthday kyungsoobb ;;;)
idk what i feel about this any longer;;; feel free to ask questions!
will edit this later now i want sleep orz