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“A sudden trip, you say?” Jimin repeats, surprised.
“Yeah!” Taehyung answers. Jungkook, beside him, just yawns.
“It was my idea, Jimin-ssi. Yoongi-hyung went there with the other hyungs before, and they said it’s a great place for clearing our minds. Forgetting about our reality, or something like that.” Jungkook says between some more yawns. He’s been sleepier than usual these past two weeks, mumbling, dragging himself through the halls, his eyes closing on their own sometimes during the day.
“Yeah, and clearing our minds would be good, right, Jiminie?” Taehyung presses his shoulders against him with a light smile. Jimin rolls his eyes but twists his lips in hesitation. He feels a little bothered by the place the others chose without considering his opinion first.
“Ok, but isn’t that where Hobi-hyung came back complaining about darkness, and voices, and stuff like that?”
“Hobi-hyung is scared of flies, hyung,” Jungkook reminds him. Taehyung laughs, nodding.
“He ran all over the house because a bee was flying around just the other day.”
“Right, you do have a point, but still, I think we should try somewhere else. Just because if you don’t remember, tomorrow is a friday 13th,” Jimin argues, gesturinh a little. He never considered himself a superstitious person or anything like that, but for obvious reasons, avoiding adverse situations on adverse dates isn’t about superstition. It’s about prevention.
Taehyung looks at him completely unbothered anyway. “Isn’t 13 your lucky number?”
Jimin blinks. “I mean, it is, but not when it’s on a friday.”
“Ok, what if we call the hyungs to come too?” Jungkook insists. His grape-like eyes open wider, even with the deep dark circles under them. “Please, Jimin-ssi.”
“The three of us can share a room,” Taehyung’s raspy, suggestive voice offers.
And with one pleading request and another insinuating one, Jimin couldn’t refuse.
“Okay. Fine. But call the hyungs. And I’ll be the one packing our bags.”
The smiles from the two youngest make Jimin smile too.
The “mind-clearing” trip (or whatever Taehyung and Jungkook decided to call it) starts in some… weird way, to say the least.
The bags of seven people, with clothes and hygiene items packed together, are mixed and shared into three large suitcases, rattling in the trunk. Hoseok, who’s driving, is occasionally glancing at the others to check on the organization. Seokjin, in the passenger seat, cracks a joke (which Jimin would never admit is funny) every five minutes. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung are in the three middle seats. Taehyung has headphones on, humming some jazz symphony, while Yoongi sleeps and Namjoon writes something in the notes app on his phone.
And in the back of the seven seats car are Jungkook and Jimin.
Jimin has been humming along to Hoseok’s playlist for a while now, and Jungkook remains surprisingly still.
This is pretty normal for him. There’s often a period of time where Jungkook just...
Disappears.
He vanishes for a few moments into himself, lost, waiting to be found. His gaze loses focus, his mouth slightly opens, and his features soften. It’s like a void. Truly a disappearance of his own self.
Jimin, used to this, waits for him to snap out of his trance. He distracts himself with the change of the music and watches the scenery outside their car. The trees move along with the gentle notes of a guitar, narrating the nature in motion as if telling a story, whose ending they’ll only know when the song comes to an end.
When the music reaches its final chords, Jimin turns to make a joke to Jungkook about Hoseok’s playlist always being the same, but Jungkook is still unmoving. His eyes still unfocused. His mouth still slightly open, almost letting saliva escape from between his small lips, his head tilted to the side as if it might lose its support at any moment, his skin pale as snow.
The only color on Jungkook’s face is the dark purple bags under his sleepy eyes.
Alarmed, Jimin furrows his brows. “Jungkookie?”
Jungkook doesn’t answer him. He doesn’t even move. A deep, low guitar note begins in the new song. Low chords, slowly rising. Slowly. Slowly. Getting high and high, and increasing, increasing, until it makes the car vibrate and the hairs on Jimin’s arms stand up with goosebumps. Carefully, he leans over and pokes Jungkook. Twice. Three times. Until Jungkook finally blinks and stares back at him.
“What?!” Jungkook startles, his naturally wide eyes finally widening normally again.
“Jungkook, you’re feeling okay?” The cold feeling in Jimin’s stomach makes him uncomfortable. He really doesn’t like this sensation. This feeling of fear. Of strangeness. Of insecurity. “Are you sick? Is something wrong? Nausea, exhaustion, or–or, I don’t know, anything like that?”
“No! Why? I just zoned out, hyung,” he explains, blinking a few times. His eyes almost closing with each blink.
“How many hours of sleep you’re having lately?” Jimin asks, genuinely concerned.
Jungkook’s lips twitch. “Two, I think?”
“Jungkook! Are you insanse?!” Jimin scolds him. “No wonder you’re so tired! You’re literally sleeping with your eyes open, just like Taehyung does.”
“I’m listening,” Taehyung interjects. He turns to look at them, taking his headphones off. “Why aren’t you sleeping, Jungkookie?”
Jungkook shakes his head, lowering his head to avoiding eye contact. “Nightmares.”
“Everything alright back there?” Hoseok asks, his hands steady on the wheel and his sunglasses covering his bright eyes.
Jungkook shakes his head at Jimin and Taehyung. They both sigh.
“Everything’s fine, Jungkook's just hungry,” Taehyung says, and Jimin agrees with his statement. They exchange glances. Taehyung turns back to the front, wearing his headphones again, and Jungkook thanks Jimin with a small, tired smile.
“I’ll sleep better when we get there, hyung,” Jungkook promises. “We’ll all be together.”
Jimin nods at him and holds the youngest’s hands between his own, squeezing gently.
“Hoseok, you just took the wrong turn,” Seokjin complains suddenly. “It was the next one.”
“Really, hyung?” Hoseok takes off his sunglasses and furrows his brows, his eyes barely straying from the road. “I’m sure it was this one. The next one would take us to another town, I think.”
“Namjoon-ah, which turn was the right one?” Seokjin calls for him hurriedly. Namjoon lifts his head, momentarily stopping his writing.
“Aren’t you guys using GPS?”
Seokjin and Hoseok fall silent. The rest, except for Yoongi, who’s still sleeping, snort at the silent response.
“I swear I memorized the route,” Hoseok says, holding back a nervous laugh. “Look! now we’ll turn here and– maybe go straight, and we’ll be right in front of the house in a couple minutes.”
“Hoba, I swear we’re going to let you starve if you really took the wrong turn,” Yoongi murmurs, hoarse, still with his eyes closed.
“That’s okay, hyung, you won’t need to,” Hoseok smiles through the rearview mirror. He points to the dirt road. “We’re almost there.”
Jimin watches as the streetlights gradually fade away. They take the dark, bumpy road, illuminated only by some headlights, and arrive at the large house that will shelter them for the next two days.
He can’t help but notice the weird and cold feeling returning for a tiny moment as he walks through the door. His phone shows 6:25, and there’s no internet signal.
📍
All the rooms are cozy, Jimin soon notices.
There are four large, well placed rooms, all with easy access to the kitchen and the living room.
Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook take the last room upstairs down the hallway for themselves. It has a single medium bed, but the three of them are truly used to staying and sleeping together most of the time. Even if there were seven rooms, they’d still sneak off to sleep together. It’s not new or weird to the others, as physical closeness is normal for the three youngest.
“I wanna cook something,” Jungkook says, sprawled on the bed. He looks like someone about to sleep for five days straight.
“You can’t even hold your phone properly, let alone chop vegetables,” Taehyung laughs at him but slowly approaches. Like a tiger circling its prey. He leans down and bites Jungkook’s earlobe hard, until the youngest whines in pain. “Stay here, we’ll bring you food. Yoongi-hyung is probably already cooking with Jin-hyung.”
“Okay,” Jungkook sighs.
“Sleep a little, Jungkookie,” Jimin tells him softly. “No nightmares today, I promise you.”
Jungkook smiles slightly. “Okay, Jimin-ssi.”
As if he’d been waiting for this opportunity, Jungkook immediately falls asleep. His body goes limp in seconds. His breathing becomes light and calm, taking over his chest. Taehyung and Jimin smile at each other.
“Miracles of friday 13th, apparently?” Taehyung jokes, whispering, moving closer to Jimin.
“It’s still a few hours until midnight, so I actually consider it a thursday 12th miracle,” Jimin counters, smiling as Taehyung holds his waist. In response, he stretches to leave a chaste kiss on the other’s cheek. “Let’s go get our food?”
“Boo, boring. Always running away from me,” Taehyung slowly lets him go. Jimin chuckles softly and lets him kiss him properly for a few seconds this time, slow and innocent, just in a usual and common exchange of affection between them.
Until someone knocks on the door. Hard. Non stopping. Incessant, abrupt knocks that make them jump away from each other. Jungkook, on the bed, opens his eyes wide, startled, dark circles under them.
Jimin blinks, uncomfortable again, his heart beating too fast, but he hears Jin's laughter when the knocking finally stops. Jungkook's eyes slowly close again, and Jimin notices his own held breath releasing. Taehyung is almost hyperventilating.
"Scared?" Jin asks, pushing the door open and sticking only his head inside.
"Aish," Taehyung laughs with his deep voice, his hand going to his chest.
"The food is ready, come eat." Jin says and leaves immediately after. Taehyung nods, winks at Jimin, and leaves too. Jimin is about to follow right behind, but something stops him.
Jungkook. Sitting on the bed, holding his wrist, a fearful look apparent in his eyes.
"Jimin."
"Dear God, Jungkook, what’s wrong?!" Jimin frowns, trying to pull his arm back.
"Promise me you won't leave the room after eating." Jungkook says, serious.
"Why?!"
"Promise me, hyung." Jungkook insists, his voice wavering into a hoarse and deep tone.
"Okay! Okay, I promise, let me go!" Jimin pulls his hand back, taking two steps away from him. Jungkook, immediately calmer, lies back down on the bed and falls asleep like nothing happened.
Jimin is really, truly worried, but decides to just ignore it. Jungkook must’ve had another nightmare. It's fine, he thinks several times, looking at the youngest sleeping deeply.
Jimin swallows dryly and leaves the room.
🕊️
The smell of food hits Jimin's senses, and he smiles, his stomach growling with hunger.
Everyone’s already seated with their respective plates, eating. When Jimin arrives in the kitchen, Yoongi automatically sets a new plate for him, who thanks him and also sits down to eat with them.
The atmosphere is light there. As they’re used to. There’s nothing new, weird, or unusual.
So Jimin wonders why his stomach feels so twisted with such a bad feeling.
"Jungkook’s not coming down to eat?" Namjoon asks, always attentive to the absence of one of the other six.
"He's sleeping," Taehyung replies with his mouth full, earning a disgusted look from Hoseok. "It seems he hasn't slept in, like, ages."
"Why?" Yoongi asks, reaching for more meat in the center of the table. "I have some insomnia medication. He could’ve asked me."
"We don't know, hyung," Jimin explains after swallowing his food, avoiding a scolding from Hoseok. "He said something about having nightmares."
"He sleeps in the same dorm as you, how did you not notice?" Seokjin scolds, pushing his plate away.
"Taehyung won’t wake up even if a tractor runs over him," Hoseok reminds them, now laughing. "When we shared the dorm, Yoongi-hyung and I would literally produce music while he was sleeping."
"With his eyes open," Yoongi adds.
"Yeah! It was really scary!" Hoseok exclaims, laughing heartily.
Taehyung roll his eyes, but ends up chuckling a little. "Let’s stop talking about my sleeping habits. We're about to take food to our dear Jungkookie."
"Take a lot," Namjoon says, smiling. "He always wakes up hungry. We forgot to buy his precious banana milk, so tomorrow he'll probably wake up in a bad mood."
"Good luck to those who will be alive to deal with him," Taehyung says in a joking tone, his deep voice becoming even deeper as he changes his expression to add: "Because tonight, we will be at the mercy of the worst terrors in this world."
Namjoon laughs, and Yoongi smiles a little, while Hoseok and Seokjin complain and scold Taehyung for saying such things. But Taehyung meets Jimin's gaze, and his eyes are far too dark.
Far too much dark.
Jimin holds his breath.
Taehyung simply stands up the very next second without saying anything else, going to get a new plate, probably for Jungkook.
The others also get up, one by one, and begin to retire to their respective rooms.
Jimin remains in place, not moving. His mind racing a mile a minute.
Taehyung finishes piling food onto the plate, so full that the rice almost spills over the edges, and then looks at Jimin.
"Shall we sleep?" He asks calmly.
Jimin nods, regains control of his body, and follows him to the room.
Jungkook wakes up as soon as the smell of food fills their room.
Sure enough, he always wakes up hungry.
Jungkook quickly takes the plate with eager hands and thanks the two of them, immediately starting to eat. He and Taehyung chat a bit, while Jimin remains silent.
He hates the feeling prickling his skin, crawling through his bones, gripping his chest, scratching at his mind, disorienting his senses. He–He's probably just tired. And scared. And in desperate need of sleep.
"I think I'm going to sleep now," Jimin says to them, interrupting whatever topic the other two are on. Jungkook looks at him and nods, making space for Jimin to lie down with them. He does, relieved, and sprawls out on the bed with a much lighter heart.
The warmth of Jungkook beside him and Taehyung nearby makes everything calm down, and the worries suddenly die, forgotten in the depths of his chest.
Jimin never had such bad fears and premonitions before. And he doesn't need to, since he's with the people he trusts and loves most in the world; there’s really nothing to fear.
"Good night, Jimin-ssi," Jungkook wishes him, his mouth full and dirty with food crumbs. Jimin smiles at him.
"Sleep well, tomorrow we can wake up earlier and vandalize Namjoon-hyung's room," Taehyung suggests excitedly. Jungkook promptly agrees. Jimin laughs a little and surrenders to the sleep pulling him toward darkness.
He closes his eyes and sleeps.
And the knife comes down.
The knife comes down and plunges, violently invading the pale skin and splattering blood everywhere. It plunges, tears, lacerates, and rips out a sharp, dry, hoarse scream of pure, raw pain, amidst the cruel sound of the body being torn apart once, twice, three, four, five, six, seven times.
With each stab, the blood sprays more and spreads in a terrible mixture of bodily fluids. The deep, abrupt stabs to the stomach and intestine were perhaps the worst. It stinks. It reveals the reality of the human interior: foul, filthy, reduced to nothing more than a handful of organs and remains.
The one to the skull is the second to last. And the ugliest. The sharp, bloodied tip of the knife enters through the left eye, splitting it in half and tearing it apart with a disgusting sound. He’s already motionless. Already unrecognizable. The handsome face disfigured and bloodied. Reactions cease. The pain probably takes him to the end before it even truly happens.
The last one is right through his heart. A merciless thrust that pierces through and takes with it his final breath. The right eye, still intact, loses focus on the world, but lets escape a thick tear. The mouth with its full lips, slightly open and dripping blood and saliva, remains and will remain forever that way.
The cruelly violated body drops as soon as he lets go of the other's hair. With no strength left to hold it up, it just falls with a dull thud, flooding the surroundings with blood. So much, so much blood. The metallic smell makes him dizzy, and his hands are sticky, dripping, trickling, as crimson as the floor, the sheets, and his clothes.
In a hurry, he tears off his t-shirt, wipes his hands, and drops the knife beside the dead body.
And Jimin falls down.
He falls, his eyes so wide they hurt, his breathing so fast it makes his chest tight, heart feeling like it might explode. Jimin runs to the bathroom as fast as he can in his trembling state, stumbling over the sheets. But before he can even reach the toilet, acidic vomit soils the entire bathroom. The food from earlier floods the surroundings, and his body refuses to stop until everything’s out of him. Out, out, out.
Trembling, fearful, and insecure, he stares at his own hands. They're clean. Theres no trace of any blood. He wipes the vomit with the back of his hand and gathers strength to stand up and wash his face in the sink. Jimin forces himself to brush his teeth until the sour taste is replaced by the freshness of mint. Then, he raises his head and stares at his reflection in the mirror.
The reflection would be perfectly normal, if not for the pair of red eyes staring back at him.
Every hair on his arms stands on end as he turns around so fast his back hurts. There’s no sign of the pair of red eyes behind him; there’s only a laugh. Short, low, and deep, but it's there, and it echoes in his ears for the minutes that Jimin remains frozen at the bathroom sink.
"Jungkook?" he tries, after a long moment. "Jungkook, this really isn’t funny. Taehyung!"
Neither of them answer him. Jimin practically drags himself back to the bedroom, expecting to see the two youngest laughing at their unfunny prank, but all he finds is messy sheets and the silent void of their absence.
There’s no one there.
"Jungkook, stop it, I'm serious!" Jimin exclaims, his trembling voice doing nothing to make the words sound like any real threat. Jungkook doesn't answer, and Jimin is sure he's not in the room.
Jimin is alone, and he doesn't know for how long. He had a horrible nightmare, far too real, and woke up alone, and something is behind him, if the feeling crawling under his skin is correct, and he feels like he’s gone insane.
Swallowing hard and taking a few deep breaths, Jimin holds his head in his hands.
"It was just a dream. Just a dream. It–It might already be morning. They woke up before me. It was just a dream."
Jimin repeats the words at least seven times, like a prayer, like a mantra. His mind is confused, stunned by the nightmare, unsettled by its events.
"Jimin?" a voice calls him.
Jimin turns his whole body towards the voice. It’s very similar to Taehyung's. "Tae?"
The short laugh returns. It grows deeper and deeper. "Don't you wanna know what else happened while you were sleeping?"
"What?" Jimin chokes out, blinking hard. Those red eyes stare at him, appearing from the shadows of the bedroom furniture.
Jimin blinks as hard as he can, taking a single and careful step forward. The red eyes vanish.
And the small body thrashes beneath him.
The confused screams are silenced by the pillow, slowly suffocating the man who was once sleeping peacefully.
He fights. He kicks, his nails try to grab and scratch the strong arms that hold the pillow mercilessly against his face. The struggle is in vain. Gradually the war ceases. The body goes limp. The sounds of asphyxiation join the spasms of his limbs, fighting for air, desperate, trying to fight using a body already useless. Already unconscious.
"What’s wrong, hyung–“ the second voice cuts off immediately after seeing the scene. Calmly, he gets off the other's body to face the intruder. In turn, the intruder's eyes widen and he drops the bottle of alcohol he was holding in his hands.
He doesn't give him time to process the facts before grabbing him by the waist and throwing him harshly toward the pieces of the recently broken bottle. The smell of alcohol mixes with the smell of blood that flows after the aggressive piercing of the other's body.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" he screams, in pain, disbelieving, confused, terrified.
He doesn't answer. His answer is in the acts that follow right after, dragging the alcohol-soaked body toward the white sheets of the bed. The blood and glass pieces stain the soft whiteness as he throws him onto the mattress.
"Stop! Let me go!" The screams don't stop, and now tears stream from eyes that are so joyful at other times.
Another tear falls as one of the larger glass pieces stabs his chest. A sob escapes from his heart shaped lips, and a trickle of blood runs down his chin. "Why?!" he whispers with the strength he has left.
This time, the answer comes from the sound of the spark ignited by the lighter.
He throws the lit flame onto the sheets. And counts.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5 seconds is all it takes for the fire to spread across the entire bed. The alcohol makes the process easier, and the sheets spread the flames even faster. The scream end up much quicker this time. Perhaps the vocal cords burned quickly. Or maybe the pain, the betrayal, and the unfortunate surprise made him die quietly.
In any case, he waits, standing, watching from afar, until the flames melt the fragile flesh of the two bodies thrown on the bed. The strands of hair and the dental arches will remain, leaving the last mark of recognition of the two;
But the breath of life is burned away by the fire.
Jimin screams, desperate, and falls so abruptly to the floor that he feels his skin tearing above his eyebrow.
There's nothing left to get out from his stomach, but his body still tries. Nothing comes out, despite the constant trying that leaves his throat sore and his entire body tense from the effort. Jimin drags himself across the floor. His legs have lost all their strength. His arms struggle to get him out of the room and away from that situation. To find help.
He needs to understand.
What is happening? What is a dream? What is real? What isn't?
The laugh echoes in his ears and Jimin screams again, hurrying to drag himself faster, pulling his body forcefully with his palms and supporting himself on his elbows.
"Please," he pleads, to someone and to no one. Maybe to himself, to find strength, to gather courage. Maybe it's to one of the others, to save him, to get him out of this uncertain situation. Maybe it's to some god, to send him an answer. Maybe it's to the red eyes, to leave him alone. "Please," he repeats.
Jimin manages to leave the room and reaches the first hallway. The flight of stairs leading to the kitchen is dark, which confirms that no time has passed. It's still night, and the moonlight illuminating the last few steps does nothing to help him see anything beyond small details.
He hastily wipes the tears from his face and, with difficulty, reaches for the handrail, trying to stand up to descend the stairs carefully. His left arm pulls the weight of his body, but his legs give way, and in the next second, Jimin falls and tumbles down the steps. The pain of the impact hits his ribs, his head, and the limbs of his body that try to protect him from the fall. Jimin cries and tries to get up when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. The adrenaline from the fall allows for greater steadiness in his movements.
When he manages to steady his legs again, he moves forward.
Jimin hurries to the first room in the house, assigned the previous night to Seokjin, who cherished his peaceful and lonely nights of sleep. Limping, Jimin reaches the doorknob and opens the door.
The scream his vocal cords produce sounds almost inhuman. Seokjin, or what remains of him, is sprawled on the bed, practically in pieces. Deep cuts everywhere, leaving the once handsome face unfamiliar even to Jimin, who has lived with him for so long he can almost hear his voice repeatedly affirming his own beauty.
He’s dead.
Jimin stumbles out of the room, crying loudly, screaming what he can. He doesn't understand, has no idea what is happening.
"Who did this?!" he screams. Was he foreseeing deaths? Are they all in the hands of a killer, or some demonic creature that made Jimin watch the deaths of the people he loves most in the world?
He refuses to believe it. He runs, as fast he can in his conditions, to the second room on that floor. Yoongi and Hoseok always insist on sleeping together, and this time was no different. They chose the second room on this floor to sleep in. Jimin cries, silently begging that no, he won't find them in the same way as Seokjin.
But just getting close enough, the smell of fire invades his senses. The smoke escaping from the cracks under the door is all too obvious; it shows what lies inside that room. Fire. Flames. Two bodies, dead, melted, turning to ashes.
The deep, cruel laugh reverberates through the walls of the house, so loud that Jimin's ears ring.
"Do you think you've seen everything already?" the voice says to him.
"No! Don’t, please!" Jimin screams as loud as he can. He tries to prevent whatever is about to happen, turning in the opposite direction, because the next room–
The hit makes the large body fall.
The heavy, thick book, used for the strong hit to the other's head, also falls. Its spine breaks from the force of the impact against the floor, just like the fallen man's arm, who groans in pain.
"I heard their screams," the man reveals through clenched teeth. "You locked me here, didn’t you? Did you lock the others too?"
As usual, there’s no answer. The cutter always used for small art projects, previously forgotten on the small nightstand, pierces the broken arm. The man presses his lips together, refuses to scream.
"I tried to call the police, but there's no signal. You already noticed that too, right?" he speaks again, panting, as if he's running a long marathon.
This enrages the other a little, and makes him strike with the cutter once more. The man again expresses his pain with nothing but a small gasp and an involuntary spasm.
"That’s not you," he screams. "It's not you! Wake up! Please! Stop this madness!"
Another strike. And another. One more. The man shows no emotion, and doesn't fight back either. He doesn't try to escape the situation, doesn't even defend himself. He just accepts his fate, contemplates his last moments of life in silence, staring at the cause of his end with tears in his eyes that never quite fall.
The cutter reaches his neck, but doesn't pierce it yet. The dark eyes stare at him, and his own reflection in them for a moment makes the attacker hesitate.
"Jungkookie–" the full lips whisper. The utterance of the name startles him. Before another word is spoken, the cutter sinks harshly into the other's jugular.
Jimin gasps loudly.
He falls backward, and his hands barely cushion the impact, making his hip crack uncomfortably. Maybe it's dislocated. Maybe not. He doesn't think about that, focusing on repeating that name.
Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.
"Jungkook!" Jimin screams.
His head spins. He remembers small details he hadn't paid attention to before. Jungkook suggesting the trip. Jungkook not sleeping for days, acting strange, having nightmares. Jungkook gloomy, distant, insecure, suspicious. Jungkook asking Jimin to not leave the room that night.
Jimin starts crying again, not understanding a single thing. Why would he do this? Why?!
"Jungkook," he screams again. "Where the fuck are you?!"
Jimin starts dragging himself again, his entire body numb, aching, almost useless against all those events. But he persists. He resists. He pushes himself, using all his strength until he hears hurried noises in the kitchen.
Jimin quickly turns toward the sound. There, under the moonlight, is Jungkook. Staring at Jimin. His big eyes wide, still tired, with huge purple bags under them.
"Jimin," he whispers, and his voice is hoarse and frightened. "You shouldn't have left the room."
"What did you do?!" Jimin immediately vociferates. "What the fuck did you do?!"
"What did I do?!" Jungkook shouts back. "You promised you wouldn't leave the fucking room!"
"To the hell with my promise! Where's Taehyung? What did you do to him?!" Jimin stands up with all the strength he can muster, punching Jungkook in the chest, going after him as he backs away in hurried steps.
"I didn't do anything to him, Jimin!" Jungkook shouts louder, and now up close, Jimin sees tears streaming from his big eyes.
"And what about the others? You killed them! You–" Jimin isn't able to finish the sentence. He chokes on a violent sob. "Jin-hyung, Hoseok and Yoongi-hyungs and Namjoon-hyung. They–They’re– How could you?!"
Jungkook cries too, both of them overflowing together. He stays silent for a while, sobbing loudly, shaking his head repeatedly. Jimin almost remembers him as a teenager, shy and quiet, crying from homesickness and begging for attention without saying a word.
"Why?" Jimin whispers, and sobs again.
"Kill him," the voice says to him.
Jimin breathes. He blinks. "What?"
"Kill him. Kill him. Kill him."
Jimin freezes. Inside his mind, the mantra continues. On and on. Confused, scattered whispers, saying many things at once, but always affirming and reaffirming: kill him.
"It was easier when you were asleep," the voice continues, whispers, whispers, whispers. "Sleep. Give in. Kill him."
Jimin's mind spins like a ferris wheel. He feels dizzy, foggy, being pulled little by little toward the darkness.
"Hyung! Don't give in, hyung! Don't sleep, please," Jungkook shakes him by the shoulders, between sobs.
Jimin blinks slowly and yawns, his senses on alert, but his body limp like never before.
"Don't listen to him. He killed your friends. You’re alone now. Just sleep again," the voice insists.
"Look at me, Jimin!" Jungkook shouts, louder than the voices. "He tried–He tried to make me sleep too. That's why I haven't been sleeping. The nightmares–It's because of that!"
"He?" Jimin repeats, more self-aware. "Who’s he?"
Jungkook swallows dryly. "It's a friday 13th. Who do you think?"
The laugh sounds louder in his mind, clouding his thoughts. "Close your eyes, and you'lll find out."
Jimin tries. He swears, swears he tries. Swears he tries to focus on Jungkook's soft hands gripping his arms, on the words he repeats nonstop. But his body hurts so much. His eyes are so heavy. His heart so wounded. His mind confused. He doesn't think about sleeping, nor even giving in to anything, just–
He just closes his eyes for two seconds.
And it's enough.
Jimin feels as if he's become lighter; as if, for a moment, feather blankets had nestled under his body. His mind hummed some calm song, and he remembers feeling exactly this the last time he slept. Peace. Comfort. Safety. The two longest and most comforting seconds of his life.
When Jimin opens his eyes again, Jungkook’s on the floor.
Spitting blood.
Jimin is on top of him. Fists clenched and sore. Blood dripping from them. And, in the middle of his stomach, a knife plunged deep. He looks back.
Taehyung, with red eyes, holding the knife.
Jimin also spits blood.
"Tae?" His voice comes out weak.
"I'm sorry," Taehyung cries, and sinks the knife even deeper into Jimin, who gags from the pain and coughs out more blood. "You wouldn't listen to me, wouldn’t stop, I-I had no choice. I'm so sorry, Jimin-ah."
"It's okay," Jimin assures. He looks at Jungkook groaning in pain beneath him. He seems to be in his final moments. His arm clearly broken, left leg at an angle that suggests the same, face completely bloodied. With every breath, he complains of pain. Broken ribs? Jimin doesn't know.
"I wanted–“Jungkook gags. "Wanted us–t-to come rest. Wanted to escape–escape my nightmares. It's my fault. M'Sorry."
"Your fault?!" Taehyung denies, shaking his head aggressively.
"I thought–if we went far away for a little, maybe–maybe he would leave me alone, and–"
"It's not your fault," Jimin interrupts and assures him, glancing at the knife impaled in himself. "It was me. I get it now."
Jimin gets; and his own mind confirms it.
He slept. And as soon as he did, everything happened.
The red eyes invaded his sleep, the light feeling made him yield to the whispers in the middle of the night, the spirit possessed him at the first opportunity it got. Jimin doesn't remember, not exactly, he just feels. Feels that he got up as soon as Taehyung and Jungkook fell asleep. Walked slowly, went down the stairs and locked Namjoon's room and Hoseok and Yoongi's room. Reached Seokjin's.
The first attack happened.
Cleaned himself as best he could and headed for the next. Yoongi was sleeping, Hoseok in the bathroom. The second attack.
Namjoon was the last. The one who most enraged the creature that had taken over his mind, since it knew the trigger to bring Jimin back, a word that made him remember who he was, who he loved.
Jungkook.
The name made Jimin's consciousness fight for control, he realizes now. Namjoon said the name of the person Jimin was most worried about that night, the person he had made a promise to, one of the people he loves.
The spirit returned to the room of the three, where Taehyung and Jungkook were, but Jimin regained consciousness the minute he approached the bed. They weren't there. They probably fled the minute they heard the first scream.
"Why didn't you stop me?" Jimin whispered, his body shaking with pain, his clothes soaked in blood.
"I thought–" Jungkook sobs. His voice is nothing more than a trembling whisper. "I thought it was– a-another nightmare."
"He couldn't tell what was a dream and what was real," Taehyung added, also crying, "It took me a while to believe you were doing something, or–or that you were responsible for the screams. When we came down, it was too late, and–
He can't finish speaking, and lets go of the knife buried in Jimin's abdomen to hide his face in his hands.
"I couldnt hurt you," Taehyung finishes, in between more sobs. "I just–now, I had to. I had to because–"
"Taehyung," Jimin raises his trembling hands and holds his face. "You’re a half of my soul. I know you, I understand you, and you also know that I could never live knowing what happened here. What I did."
"I know," Taehyung agrees, holding Jimin's hands and rubbing his face against them like a kitten. His tears wet them both. "But you didn’t do it, Jimin, you wouldn’t, it wasn't you."
"It was with my body. With my own hands," Jimin counters. "It might not have been me, consciously, but I did it"
He finds it difficult to breathe and shakes his head. He gets as close to Taehyung as he can and seals his lips with all care and affection. Presses their foreheads together for a few seconds, feeling their breaths mingle, and Taehyung's tears against his face.
"I love you," Jimin whispers. Taehyung chokes on another sob.
Jimin turns to Jungkook, whose eyes are closed, breathing so weakly it's barely noticeable, if not for the sound of small gags with blood. With all his effort, he drags himself in that direction and also kisses Jungkook with the same care, the same affection, not minding the metallic taste of blood shared between them.
"And I love you too," he whispers to Jungkook, resting his forehead on his cheek as one of his hands reaches for the knife and pulls it out. His body immediately collapses against Jungkook's and the two lie there, together.
Jimin's eyes see beyond the pain for a few more seconds. Unable to do anything but watch, he sees Taehyung reaching for the knife again.
"You’re half of my soul and you also know me well enough to know that I could never live without either of you," Taehyung whispers, and smiles, with the tip of the knife positioned exactly at his jugular, on his neck. "I hope Yoongi-hyung is cooking an amazing dinner up there for all of us."
Jimin's vision darkens, and the last sound he hears is a gurgle, blood flowing, and a loud thud, followed by a deep laugh coming from the depths of the earth.
That night, they were blood, fear, and pain; the perfect meal for another 7 years.