Pairing: BomSoo
Word Count: 515

Baby Don't Cry

Sickly swaying figures swathed in shadows - prominent features shrouded in mist and the blues and blacks of the darkest night - came to him. Slender, gnarled wisps of needles, possibly grotesque substitutes for joints, reached towards him, tore at his deflated locks, exposed neck, loose clothes, anything they could manage to touch, taste. 

Within their mangled grasp they carried a shiny, silver apparatus, the structure almost boxlike, except for the lengthy cylinder in the center. In the recesses of his conscience he fully understood what the object was, but they swarmed him, prevented further dwelling on the piece of information.

Increasingly prodded, jabbed, he frantically thrashed, flailed his arms and legs in a desperate laced attempt to free himself of their enclosing circle. His struggles amounted to naught, the throng of harbingers drowning him in their dark world - he would die for their peace of mind. 

Horrific orotund screams pierced through the hazy forms and shapes, thick veins bulging across his throat in wake of his fear. He refused to succumb to this ill-wrought death by these wretched hands futilely mimicking the soft, gracious palms of his endearing fans. 

In the guise of human flesh, these monsters would ruin him with their needless harassment and suffocation, their perception of love twisted. 

And they would stop at nothing until they successfully crushed him-

Eyelids clenched shut, a painful sting to his cheek boggled the senses momentarily and his mind flushed of the deranged, pressed images. Faint whispers of his name shattered his concentration.  

"...Soo..."

Mutely turning his head to the source, he found a bright, light, the tremulous cries unusually broadcasted from the sheen of white. 

"Soo!"

Everything clicked - his desolate form awash with recognition and reality. 

Tender hands repeatedly smacked into his rapidly bruising cheek, the skin a red pigment, the owner of such a bold arm spewing tears and worry. Distressed irises crinkled, lips strained, curved in an anxious frown, and shifted gears when he stared towards her. Curdled pants crashed into his outer ear, arms briskly tangling about his drooping neck, fine nails cradling his idle head.

Haggard gruffs assured him, "It's okay, baby. It's okay."

Recalling the unique, wheezy tone in the innermost corner of his thoughts, he practically clawed onto her, his fingers deeply dug into the her quivering arms. Fresh tears hotly trailed his jawline, his chin, a wave of savage sobs racking his sweat-slicked body. 

"They can't hurt you, I won't let them hurt you, I promise. I promise, Soo."

Amidst sorrow and terror, he fleetingly spared a moment to her remark, his heart in want of accepting her protection, and yet, he knew too well he could never escape the life he had earned as an idol. 

Mindful of her grip secured on his petrified figure, her warmth and care oozing from her pores, he supposed he could humor the idea. 

"It's okay, you're okay. Just another bad dream. Don't worry, I'm here for you." Words grew sloppy with the intrusion of her lips, decorating his head with gentle kisses. 

“I’m here, Soo. You’re not alone. You’re not alone…”

A/N: I'm not too sure if I made it evident enough, but 'Soo was having a nightmare about saesangs, and it wasn't the first time. ;n; im pretty sure bommie would be comforting him for sometime, cause he's been awfully traumatized. i hate that idols have saesangs, like the hate they get from regular ppl isn't enough. 

on a happier note, i got my sister to like bomsoo after she read the few snippets i wrote on themmm. yasss.