jeon jeongguk has a headache.

that's the only thing on his mind.

only thing that can be on his mind, he can't think. tries to. fails, because there's voices all around him, surrounding, suffocating, and when he tries to focus on one, they all fade out, leaving him in silence. his eyes are closed. lids heavy, dead weight, like anger. like red.

that's all he sees. paints his surroundings, overloads his senses, until the color starts bleeding, and he's sure at this point his brain is red too. very well may be. because he can't move. because the voices have disappeared, and he knows he's alone, but where is he alone. why is the silence ten times more disorienting, why can't he move, why won't his eyes open.

his stomach grumbles. the cookie is a brick now, but it's also long gone, yet the residue coats his stomach, crawling up his throat and into his mouth. a terrible aftertaste. not like nutmeg, not even like a cookie. just pain, just something that makes him feel like he's not really within his own body. like he's not really awake.

like what could be, what could've been, a reminder that no matter who's wrong or right the one with the upper hand in any situation will emerge victorious. he wonders if that's how his mother feels right now. giddy, triumphant, any word his red brain can come up with in this empty room he can't see.

he needs to focus, needs it bad, so he tries, wills his brain to start, begs for coherence. the more he thinks the less he feels dead, the more he tries the less he feels like he isn't there, the more he realizes he is his own body, he's the only one who can control it, it is him.

his finger twitches, and he almost smiles but he doesn't think that'd be right. smiling. he doesn't know where he is, doesn't even know if he is. he steadies himself, breathes in deep. he can open his eyes. a simple motion really, not much exertion, easy even.

he does it, realizes it's a bad idea too late, and everything's white now. bright white, searing, pain clawing from the back of his eye sockets into the back of his head, down his spine, touching the fingertips he'd just been wiggling, and now he's awake.

it comes too quickly, his senses. they flood back into his consciousness, overwhelming everything, because before all he felt was numb, all he felt was dulled out blissful darkness, but now he feels everything. now he sees his surroundings, smells artificial cleaner, the cold air as it touches his skin.

all he sees is white. blinding, almost sickening, almost painful. he blinks a couple times to try and filter out the brightness, but it doesn't do much. he lays there for what feels like eternity, eyes rapidly opening and closing, body unmoving. vision unmoving. just staring at white, at nothing, and it's maddening in every sense of the word.

now that he's more aware at least, within his own brain, thoughts, even though he's not within his eyes, if that makes sense, he notices it. the effects of whatever his mom gave him, whatever runs through his veins. whatever it is, it's strong, and it's really a wonder he didn't overdose.

"hello jeongguk!"

a robotic voice, female. comes out of nowhere. jeongguk is nowhere.

his soul leaves his body, forces itself back in through his ribcage and he feels like he's going to throw up. he remains still, blinking at the ceiling, but now his eyes are wider, hands aching to push himself forward, let him see whoever said that. whatever said that.

he knows it isn't a good idea, but when he sits, blinking at the ceiling, another minute passing, he doesn't care whats good or bad. he thinks a more appropriate term would be do or die.

ketamine numbs his senses, a guess, probably an accurate one, and he slowly puts his hands beneath himself, applying pressure as he does so. he's able to raise himself up, still blinking, and his head is pounding nonstop, he can feel the blood in his ears, the noise ringing. making it all the more confusing, mind melting.

when his blinking slows down, he expects his vision to focus, but the bright white never fades. then he realizes. everything's white. he doesn't just see white, it is white, the floors, the hospital gown he notices he's wearing that falls to his knees, the bed he's laying on, the walls closing him in.

no doors, no windows. the front of the room has a different wall, this one looking sleeker, almost mechanical. in the middle sits a screen.

there's a fucking face on it.

suddenly the face's mouth is moving, and he hears the voice again. it repeats itself, "hello jeongguk!" filling his head, making the pounding even worse, unbearable. it makes him feel so unstable, off balance, and he's not even sure what he's looking at, what he's hearing.

all he can think about other than how scary this is, is that it's weird. that he's not only terrified, an unchanging amount of fear lingering in the back of his brain, the pit of his stomach, but he's dangerously confused too.

he doesn't answer, isn't sure if he's supposed to, what he would say. he wants to leave, wants to get out of here, because that overwhelming sense of dread mollifies his entire body, and it's terrible. he sits up more, and the urge to throw up is back, stronger than earlier. stronger than ever.

he stops. his tattoos are gone.

he notices when his knee is exposed beneath the hospital gown, the skin bare, perfect. untainted. he wonders how he got into the hospital gown, but that's in the back of his mind, a subconscious thing. he's fully conscious about the absence of the numbers that used to sit along the inside of his knee, a reminder, of a person, a time.

he's not 18 for three more months but he got the tattoo done two years prior, the date that usually brought him a feeling of equal parts nostalgia and sadness, gone. erased. it's importance gone with it, the significance. how valuable it was to jeongguk.

he wonders if he'll remember it now. he wonders so many things, where he is, why he's here, when he'll leave, what day it currently is. no windows, no perception of time. instead of worrying about those things he flips over his wrist, looking for the familiar bird, the one that-

gone.

now he wonders if the one behind his ear is gone too. the one on the inside of his thigh.

his guess is they're all gone, without a trace. he's not sure how that's physically possible. also isn't sure if he wants to speculate. maybe it's a don't ask don't tell situation. doesn't know who there'd be to ask anyways.

the voice comes again. "jeon jeongguk?"

his head still aches, but he's more awake now, more alert. the voice is chilling, and it's precisely everything that bothers him. the voice, what it stands for. automated responses, impacting jeongguk negatively yet robbing him of any form of interaction at the same time. making it so one sided it hurts. so one sided it makes jeongguk angry.

"where am i?" his voice is rough, hoarse. he knows it's a robot talking to him, he's gathered that, but he needs answers. interaction. even if it's one sided. even if it hurts.

the voice is silent for fifteen seconds. jeongguk counts them, all the while staring at the tablet screen. he can think of no word to describe it other than creepy, a small face engraved onto what looks similar to an ipad, imbedded in the wall. the face is simple, eyes, nose, mouth, and is currently expressionless, almost like it's thinking. jeongguk doesn't like the implications of that.

"st. augustine's men's academy for the troubled youth." the response is automated, and doesn't give jeongguk an ounce of clarity.

"where?"

the tablet pauses, and only five seconds pass this time.

"st. augustine's men's academy for the troubled youth."

he almost scoffs, the feeling involuntary, of wanting to mock. he wants to mock this machine, wants to shove its mechanical responses back in it's mechanical face, but he knows it's pointless. it's a fucking machine, and jeongguk's in a random place, freshly drugged, not certain of his surroundings, but jeongguk is also human.

he wants to walk over and tear the tablet out of it's place, safely tucked within a wall, and throw it as far as he can, until the screen shatters and the voice disappears. but he doesn't. he doesn't mock the voice either, nor does he scoff. he's human, but he's not a child. he does however, feel anger. the anger blends in with the fear, and he's not a child, but he is human, and he's afraid.

"where?" he repeats again, voice soft, cracking.

the machine says it again, the same response, the same name that means nothing to jeongguk. he's never heard of a st. augustine's academy, and he's also never heard of a school that accepts their students after being injected with tranquilizers and borderline kidnapped. by his own mother. is this a school? is his mother here too? is she watching him? mocking?

he has too many questions, not a single answer, and his brain jumbles up so he asks the first thing that comes to mind.

"who are you?"

the tablet's face is still unmoving. twenty seconds.

"i'm not sure i understand the question."

he tries again. "what are you?" he starts to pull back the covers of the bed he's laying in, white hospital gown immediately riding up and exposing the lower portion of his thighs. bare. he guesses his tattoos are all gone.

three seconds. "i am a.n.n.a, your personal guide through st. augustine men's academy for the troubled youth."

he stares blankly at the wall, head still pounding, heart beat picking up by the second, it's rate increasingly alarming.

"what the fuck?"

once the vulgarity is out there, a shock hits the nape of his neck. the moment the words have left his lips it's like they're suspended in the air, floating in front of him, because for a moment it's like his brain leaves his body.

his ears ring and there's a searing sensation at the nape of his neck, a pressure point, and it soothes down his back, spreading heat along his shoulder blades. a strangled cry makes it's way up his throat, but his mouth is closed so he ends up sounding more like a kicked puppy than a human.

with the pain comes a low humming sound, and he realizes something must have shocked him, but the pain still lingers so he doesn't let his mind wander, instead presses a firm hand against his mouth to conceal his cries.

he's crying? his neck still burns, and it makes his headache a million times worse, and he feels the tears hit the hand over his mouth. his breathing is ragged, in and out without a constant rhythm, heavy, and his body shakes, eyes trained on his legs, splayed open in partial shock and partial pain.

"inappropriate language will not be tolerated." the voice rings through his ears once again, and it feels like this robot is screaming at him. the pain is still there, fading, but his heart beat is rising, and he thinks he might faint. he wonders what they'd do to him if he were to faint, where he'd wake up, if he'd be back here where he started or somewhere else. possibly his room.

maybe this is all some extended nightmare, and he's just sleeping, lucid dreaming, brain conquering new depths he's not sure he knew existed. it seems unlikely when the voice repeats itself, another chill settling in his bones, and it's not from the cold, and jeongguk knows this isn't a dream.

he removes his hand from his mouth, breathing filling the silent room, wide eyes staring at the wall, not moving, not blinking. he's thinking, his brain is whirring, and his eyes are still crying but he's not sad. he's not in pain.

the pain is nearly gone and it would feel like a distant memory if it weren't for the way his body still feels overheated, but that's bearable. all he knows is that he can't stay here.

"i-i," he's not sure who or what he's talking to, maybe this a.i, maybe himself, but the words come out anyways, "what," another deep inhale, and his hands move to tangle in his hair, frantically tugging at the locks, "w-what is this?"

his voice sounds manic, and he feels manic, is manic, tears streaming and hands pulling so hard at his hair his scalp starts to burn, but it's nothing like the pain in his neck so he tugs harder, not sure what else to do.

he needs something to ground himself, but nothing in this place feels like it's on the ground, he feels like he's been dropped off in the middle of the stratosphere, but he's not falling, just floating in place, watching the world below him move while he's forced to stay still.

"jeon jeongguk, please calm down."

his hands loosen in his hair, and he's definitely manic now, breath catching in his throat, stopping. for a moment he doesn't breathe, just stares at the tablet, the source of the voice.

she must be taunting him. is it a she? the voice is female, but it's not human. whatever it may be, it's making fun of him, he knows it is, it must be. he probably looks crazy, hair mussed up, lips slightly parted, breath held, eyes widened so much his eyelashes almost brush his eyebrows.

the pain in his neck has disappeared by now, and he wonders if it was ever really that bad. his fingers still shake which give him an answer, but if he tenses his hands enough they still. all he needs.

"jeon jeongguk, please calm down. your vitals are reaching alarming rates."

that's it.

jeongguk fucking loses it.

a scream rips through his vocal chords, the vibrations sending slight pain all the way to his adam's apple, down to his core. he screams so loud he can hardly hear himself screaming, just the intensity of his headache, just the way the robot seems to be trying to talk over him.

his screams are incoherent, words jumbling together but all pleas, please let me out, please tell me why i'm here, please, i need to leave, please-

and then his body flies from the bed, the red feeling creeping up his aching limbs. he stood up too quickly, knees feeling wooden and arms stiff, pain from earlier returning in his lower back muscles, but he doesn't care as he starts throwing things, the pillow on the surface of the bed, the blanket, both too soft to release any real feelings.

a.n.n.a is still talking through his screams, but he drowns her out, limbs aching for something to hit, to release his frustrations. it's a bad habit. wanting to lash out when you're angry, hit something.

he's never felt the need to hit a person, but a wall, a punching bag, anything inanimate, he has. he supposes it's more of an aspect of human nature than it is a reflection of his character, but he also chalks it up to self control. the ability to keep one's own human nature in check.

he thinks about self control as his screams die down, and he thinks about self control as his gaze fixates on the tablet, the voice finally distinguishable within the room.

"patient out of control, an attendant has been alerted."

the words are rushed, repeated over and over, and he stops thinking about self control as he approaches the tablet, jaw hardening, pupils dialating. he's in nothing but a white hospital gown, bare legs exposed, and he should feel vulnerable and scared but now all he feels is angry. maybe he takes after his mom after all, maybe his emotions have changed so many times since waking up due to the curse of genetics.

or, maybe it's because he was drugged by his own mother and woke up in a random room. yeah. that makes more sense. he's thinking about sense as another sound rips his vocal chords apart from the inside out, and it makes perfect sense for him to take his anger out on this particular inanimate object. the inanimate object with a voice. a voice that mocks.

"patient out of control, an attendant has been-"

jeongguk wraps a hand around the edge of the tablet as best as he can, and he pulls, he pulls with every muscle in his left arm, triceps straining, back muscles rippling, and the same spot on his neck hurts again but he doesn't care.

the voice of the tablet is repeating itself faster and faster, and the screen is flashing a bright red, and jeongguk doesn't think he likes red anymore. it represents too many things, like the unknown feeling that had his insides turning to jelly when his nape was shocked, like what's going on inside his head right now. like how he feels when he looks at his mother.

and it makes him even angrier. that even now, when all he should be thinking about is himself, how to save him, how to get out, how to figure out what's going on, his mother still comes to his mind. she's like a plague, one that never leaves, one that's always hanging over his head and threatening him with disease. the disease that is his mother.

he's not sure what this will accomplish. not sure if it'll accomplish anything at all, he just knows that he's mad and this voice spilling nonsense into his ears isn't helping.

when the tablet stays rooted he pulls even harder, his right hand reaching to grip at the other edge. slowly the tablet begins to pull out from the wall, and his face is twisted up in exertion, veins protruding from his arms.

he sticks his left foot against the wall and uses that to push too, but the tablet won't budge any further, and his frustration is building up steadily, settling at a boiling point and then rising impossibly further when a.n.n.a says, "an attendant is on the way."

it's almost involuntary when he screams, "fuck," almost like his lips moved on their own without consulting his brain, without letting him give the go ahead. he knows what's coming before it comes, his grip loosens and his muscles release their tension.

almost automatically a deep humming sound rings in his ears, and suddenly the red he's seeing is replaced by white. his knees buckle and he breaks in half, crumpling, fingers slipping from the tablet mindlessly and body hitting the floor without much of a noise.

the humming sound disappears but the pain stays, and it's like his brain is on fire, the back of his neck, and slowly the feeling spreads, occupying every nerve in his body with an indescribable heat.

it's a different heat than jeongguk's used to, not the same one that comes when you're angry at someone or something, not the same one that comes when someone kisses you just right, when you kiss them the same way. this heat isn't like anger or lust, this heat is pure pain, and he's sure he must be on fire because there's no way he can feel this scaldingly hot without the presence of flames.

he doesn't notice he isn't breathing until his lungs catch on fire too, and he finally inhales, the sound wretched and breaking halfway through, and he doesn't breathe out, doesn't feel like he could if he tried.

his body is curled into a ball, limbs folded uncomfortably on top of each other, and he doesn't think he can move either, only shaking hands and heaving shoulders, and pain. it hurts so bad, he can't think, doesn't want to think either, because the only thing on his mind would be the pain.

the exhale comes and with it jeongguk unravels. he finally breaks, soul cracking and tear ducts fully opening, like a dam collapsing, and the tears are covering his face before he knows it, entire body heaving now. his breaths break more, and he's hyperventilating, and anna is still spewing nonsense about an attendant being on the way.

he wonders what'll happen when the attendant does arrive, if he'll get to leave this small room, see where he is fully. he wonders what continent he's in, wonders if there's windows anywhere. he wonders if this is really a building, or if he's just trapped in a room somewhere, isolated, alone.

he wonders if it's strange to wish so badly for escape it burns, despite that he isn't even sure what he'd be escaping from. he wonders if he's really trapped anywhere at all, if he was right, and this is a dream, a hallucination maybe, because maybe he's just as crazy as his mother.

he wonders where she is right now. if she feels guilty.

he doesn't dwell on it. instead he dwells on other things, eyes zoned out and filled with water, staring at the white of the wall. his entire body aches, and he curls further into himself as he cries, knees touching his chest. a breeze wafts up his hospital gown and he shivers, but he doesn't mind. there are worse things. he's currently experiencing them.

the walls are so bare. jeongguk feels like he's losing his mind slowly, descending into insanity. he isn't cut out for this. he's been awake for 15 minutes tops. feels like it's been an eternity.

his lungs ache, his hands ache, and he brings them in front of his face and see his fingers trembling, thin lines in his palms encapturing as he tries to distract himself any way he-

there's a light, even brighter than before shining into his eyes, and he drops his hands to the ground, looking up to see the wall has slid back halfway, opening into a hallway. there's someone standing in the middle of the doorway, casting a shadow over him.

jeongguk's chest tightens up, and he can't see the persons face. his hands shake worse, and his head starts to shake too, back and forth as he uses every muscle and ounce of energy in his body to inch across the floor, sliding backwards while the person steps forwards.

jeongguk's still crying, and he's still confused, but now fear is the most predominant thing on his mind, climbing up his throat and seizing the air from his lungs. the person just slowly approaches, and he sees it's a man. the closer he gets the more he can make out his face. he's korean, and his face is thin, cheeks hollow, under eye bags sticking out.

there's silver stubble lining his chin, and he looks older, but he also looks devoid of emotion, and he's approaching jeongguk with arms stretched out and jeongguk is fucking scared.

suddenly the arms are wrapping around him, lifting him off the ground, and he tries to kick himself free but jeongguk is also tired. he's exhausted, and a part of him just wants to sleep to accept his fate, but he keeps kicking because accepting this feels wrong.

his kicking doesn't change anything. he's still pulled out of the room, into the hallway, and everything's a bright white, even brighter than before, flourescents blocking his vision while he thrashes within the man's arms.

he's screaming something incoherent, and it only gets louder when he sees another man further in front of them, a hospital stretcher in tow. as he's pulled even closer he spots another person further down the hallway. his screaming stops in his throat, and it's like time stops too, only for a moment as his eyes lock with a stranger.

the boy has green poking out from under his dark brown hair, bangs hanging over his forehead, concealing his eyebrows. jeongguk doesn't have much time to take in his features, but he's wearing an all white outfit, shirt and pants matching in their blandness.

he's walking forward, but his head keeps turning back to look at jeongguk, eyes wide and shoulders hunched, looking like he's trying to ignore what's going on 15 feet away from him and failing miserably.

jeongguk's desperate, and as time resumes, picks back up again, he sees opportunity.

"help," he shrieks, the other man immediately walking over to him with something behind his back, something he can't see, and, "help, please!"

the boy's shoulders immediately hunch even further, and he halts in his steps. the grip on his arms tighten, and it's painful so he yells again, this time less of a plea and more of just a sound. a sound of distress.

the yell echoes throughout the hallway, and the man holding him and the man approaching him are both completely silent, faces mum, eyes emotionless. the other man is almost there, and he's still struggling, but his arms are behind his back and his legs are raised off the ground. the boy turns around again, and this time makes eye contact with jeongguk, as if to ask, me?

his eyes are dark but he can see them from here, and they look tired. they look like an apology. nonetheless, jeongguk nods frantically, yelling getting louder when the man releases one of his arms and the other grabs it swiftly, flipping it over so his wrist is facing the ceiling. jeongguk thrashes harder.

"you," he tries one more time, "please, please help me," and then he figures out what was behind the mans back. a syringe.

he figures it out as it goes into his arm, and his struggling stops, his yelling stops, everything stops, and the last thing he sees is the boy with green in his hair's pained face disappearing from his vision as he turns around, and keeps walking. ignores.

it all goes dark.

-