#lucky:meme

[wymcrw-archive]

NIGHTMARE

Source: Drabble Prompts        Status: Accepting!

Over the course of five dreams Lucky is visited by the ghosts of the past, the present and the future. It’s like A Christmas Carol if all of the ghosts were Kang Jin and Scrooge went through some serious life altering trauma. Fun times all around!

TW: Dissociation, Traffic accident, blood, alcohol, hospitals, needles, guns

i.                    Park Jihun fears nothing.

He fears nothing because he has experienced nothing. Twoshort years ago he cheated the reaper and against all odds lived to tell thetale. Few things are more terrifying than the end, and after conquering deaththere is little else to be afraid of.

And so when he closes his eyes at night he sees nothing.That same tranquil darkness that had engulfed him before. Silent. Cold. Empty. Tonightthough, it’s different. Tiny whispers carry through the void to torment him,the black seeming to ebb and flow with each hushed syllable. “This secondchance is wasted on you” It hisses. “Liar.” A familiar voice. “You should neverhave woken up”

It isn’t loud. In fat it’s barely audible. But in theinfinite blackness with nothing else to focus on it’s louder than breaking thunder.“You will never be a good man” It comes again, harsher now. He can feel hisskin prickle with cold, his mind racing. “It should have been you” He’s aprisoner in his own body unable to run or hide, tormented by the darkest partof his own consciousness. “Useless. All you do is hurt people”

Silence comes as quickly as it had departed, and he is leftreeling. He can feel himself taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself butthe sound doesn’t come. Instead, a few parting words ring out.

“Nobody missed you last time. They won’t miss you next timeeither.”

With a loud gasp he wakes, eyes shooting open. He doesn’treturn to sleep that night, or even the night after It isn’t the first timethat he’s had that dream, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. Some fear death.But Jihun fears what comes after. The emptiness, and an eternity stuck withnothing but his own thoughts.

ii.                  Park Jihun fears no evil.

He fears no evil because morality is nothing but aconstruct. He has to tell himself that to get through his days. Not everythingin this world is black or white; in fact most everything is a shade of grey.

These thoughts occupy his mind as lets his eyes driftclosed, opening them again to find himself on one of the fittingly grey streetsof New York. Rain lashes his skin as he takes in the scene, the hum of traffic hangingthick in the air and the faint amber glow of nearby streetlamps illuminatingthe city that he once called home. A wave of nostalgia washes over him as hedrinks it in. As much as he has learned to like Wonyang, he truly misses this place.

Hearty and full bellied laughter catches his attention, andit’s only then that he notices the figure stumbling towards him from a baracross the street. Throwing an arm around him, the stranger looks up at Jihunwith a dopey grin before dragging him off down the street. Clearly his new companionis intoxicated. He once again finds himself a passenger in his own body, unableto move or make it co-operate in any way. The pair stumble down the street,sound of splashing puddle ringing out with each uneven step. The scene seemsfamiliar though he can’t quite place it.

The faint jingling of a man fishing around in his pocket givesit away, and it is only then that he realizes exactly what is about to happen.His nostalgic yearning morphs into panic as they approach a nearby car, but no matterhow hard he tries, there is no denying his vessel. He catches sight of areflection in the glass. It’s him. But younger. Two years younger. He fightswith all his will to call out, to get them to turn around and leave, but thewords get stuck. Instead he simply laughs at whatever the other says, the resoundingclick of the door locking behind him seeming to seal his fate.

You know how this story ends. The driver swerves to avoid ahazard that isn’t there, his hazard perception thrown by the alcohol in hissystem. Jihun tries to stop him but can’t. The car ends up wrapped around a streetlamp,and by all rights they should both be dead. Jihun is unconscious, and wakes updays later in hospital to find himself an amputee and his friend wheelchairbound.

Except this time he isn’t unconscious. Instead his vision isstained red from the deep gashes on his face and a thick smell of burning lingersin the air. Shards of glass litter their bodies and bent wreckage pins themboth in place. A searing pain rips through him as he struggles against thebonds, but he still can’t make a sound. No matter how much he tries, he can’tscream. The driver seems to be in an even worse state, but he can’t bare tolook. The best he can do is cough up blood. It’s only a few seconds more beforehe passes out, but it’s enough time to see the cold stare of something unmovingthrough the shattered windshield.

A figure. A man. A reaper. A dragon.

iii.                Park Jihun fears no man.

He fears no man because men are easily manipulated. Personalexperience tells him that they are even easier broken. The best stories alwaysrequire manipulation to some degree, whether it be the facts or the angle. Overthe years he’s learned just how pliable the human will is, and he has noproblem using that to his advantage. He always ensures that he has the strongerhand, no matter the cost.

In these dreams this is not the case. There’s no stackingthe deck, or counting cards. The twisted ghosts of the past bend the rules totheir advantage, baring the darkest parts of his mind and soul. He dreads sleepnow. Works through the night on his articles just to keep himself from driftinginto unconsciousness. He has lived through them once already, is that notenough?

But whilst the human spirit is malleable, the needs of thehuman body are not. And so when he inevitably falls asleep once more, he prepareshimself for the worst.

His head throbs as he fades back into reality, eyesfluttering as they adjust to the blinding white light of the room. It takes meremoments for him to register his surroundings, a sinking feeling taking over assoon as he glances down to the iv in his arm. Where his first nightmare hadbeen nothing but blackness, this was nothing but white. White walls, while floor,white ceiling, white door, white window, white linens, white light. White.

Last time he had found himself in this room, laying on thisbed, it had felt like a prison. An overwhelming sadness overtakes him as helays there, eyes fixed on the space above his pillow. That was how he had spentmost of his days: In silences, stewing in his own self-loathing and staring atthe ceiling. This place held nothing but the most terrible memories, from therealization that he had lost his leg to the moment his marriage truly fellapart.

At the foot of his bed he hears murmuring. One voice belongsto his ex wife, the woman who had effused t leave his side throughout hisrecovery and the other… didn’t belong. Another chill sent shivers down hisspine, and he slowly manages to glance down towards them.

Jin. Truly this was a nightmare. Or at least he hoped so.The two had never met to his knowledge, and knowing what he knew about Jin he’dhoped to keep it that way. He can’t make out the words but they seem intense.His wife seems distraught and Jin has that same malicious glint in his eye asalways. Their tones are hushed and they keep shooting their eyes towards himand then back to each other. “He’s no better than me. All he does is destroy.”He thinks he hears.

The scene fades, as if he’s been hit with some sort ftranquilizer, and when he returns his wife is stepping standing, slowly walkingaway. He reaches out a hand, tries to force himself to call out but the wordsswell and get caught once more. It’s only once the door slams shut behind herthat he manages to sob out a simple “Please… don’t leave me alone again.”

“You think that I trust you enough to leave you alone?” Itcatches him off guard and he flinches slightly at the question. Jin. Sat nextto his bed, cigarette hanging lazily from his lips and glare boring into Jihun.

iv.                Park Jihun fears no beast

He fears no beast, because no matter how feral they can betrained and bought to heel. Or put down. When he’d found himself cornered likea wild animal by his own family, he’d chosen the former. Work under theirthumb, tow the family line and pretend to like it or go back to languishing inobscurity with no support and tens of thousands of dollars of medical bills.

He finds himself at some formal dinner, mixing with an assortmentof deplorables and trying to keep the peace. The contempt on his face is evidentthroughout and he makes no secret of his distaste for such gatherings, but forthe most part he remains civil. ❝ i don’tsuppose you’ve been to the united states before, have you? ❞Jin asks at one point far too casually for his liking. It’s easier to justanswer the questions than to resist them.

There’s something about this that seems more real than the precedingdreams. He knows it isn’t real, but it’s almost disconcertingly convincing.Every movement, every line of speech is identical to the party just a few weeksprior. He has more control this time around, able to move and speak, though helargely chooses not to.

The night passes without incident, and it’s almost relieving.Compared to the visions that had come before this was nothing. But then, itwasn’t over yet. It began to diverge from reality as he began to make his waytowards the exit. A voice called him back, asked him to remain on the premisesuntil the other guests had departed. Apparently Mr Kang had requested a privateaudience. He hadn’t bothered to ask which.

And in this dream, he never finds out. Instead, afterwaiting for the building to empty, he finds himself on the receiving end of a bullet.“It’s nothing personal” Says the person who fires it, the only warning that isgiven before the tremendous boom sets his ears ringing. He doesn’t see a face.Doesn’t bother looking. He’s too busy writhing in agony on floor, desperatelyapplying pressure to wound. He doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but inthe moment it’s all he can think of.

The awakening isviolent, Jihun thrashing to life in his covers with a startled shout. He sitsup in his beg, clutching at the space where the impact point had been. Hisheart was racing and breaths ragged as he sat there. That had seemed real,because it could have been. For the first time in a long time, something clawedat him: fear. He was in over his head in shark infested waters, and if they wereto get the scent of blood….

v.                  Park Jihun fears Kang Jin.

He fears him because he is no man; he’s a dragon. He fearshim because no matter what cards he holds, the house always wins. He fears himbecause morality is seemingly without meaning. And he fears him because hecould return him to the cold nothingness without so much as breaking a sweat.

Jin makes one more visit in Jihuns dreams before vanishinginto the ether once more. Once again he finds himself confined to a bed in a hospitalroom, the other sat beside him with that familiar cold and steely glare. Hegoes to sit up, wincing at the pain in his chest from the bullet wound of theprevious night.

A hand pushes down on it, forcing him back into the mattresswith a pained yelp. “This is your only warning. Don’t cross me, or next timeyou don’t wake up.”

#lucky #lucky:dev #lucky:meme #tw:dissociation #tw: traffic accident #tw: blood #tw: hospitals #tw: needles #wykj #tw: guns #( this is long and probably pretty bad but I really enjoyed writing it? so there might be more dream sequences in the future ) #( i already have ideas for jaebeom tbh )