Golden eyes, watching our every move
Loosing time, without the sun or moon
Shadows they can't even touch the ground
The staircase is spiraling deeper down
Here we are in the heart of the darkness

---

5 years ago

Opening his eyes to the unfamiliar surrounding makes him wish he was anywhere but here, alive or not. Maybe it would be much better if he were to be dead, because the affliction that follows after he lifts up his eyelids knows no mercy, giving him pain that he never thought was possible to be felt by someone alive. Having one tormentor should be more than enough, but the devil had the audacity to bring his two friends together with him, although one looks unwilling - afraid, even - to be involved in the predicament.

He is supposed to be the kindest out of the three; San had known him throughout their course together, even been in the same group for a project and he is always known for sticking out like a sore thumb among the three. He rarely gets involved with the group's questionable activities, and people have always asked him, what is a nice guy like you hanging out with those two misfits? He never answered them, merely giving them a smile, as if that could stop the questions people had for him.

That is why right now, as he lies down on the floor with no strength left in his body after being beaten up badly by the other two, he is only pleading the name of the one sitting idly by the side, not involved with the infliction of torture towards him: Park Seongjin, please help me. You're the only one who can stop this and bring these devils back to their right minds. The one being summoned merely stands there, looking like a statue who serves no purpose other than some wicked symbol, a reminder that San was the one who brought it upon himself.

Wooyoung had warned him about what Yoochan is capable of, but he refused to listen. He had wanted his project back, and he told himself that he would do that no matter what it takes. His 'no matter what it takes' seemed to be limited to only trying to bluff himself through, trying to put himself as a much more intimidating person that he actually is in front of Yoochan, but it backfired. It was only for a few moments, but it was enough to make him scared of his own being, refusing to believe his hands had tried to wrap themselves around the older guy's neck, crushing his windpipe and forcing the life out of him. That made him frightened, but it was less of the action and more of what he felt when he did it.

It felt so good. Reaching out my hands to wrap them around his neck, watching as his breath shortens and the veins on his face popping out as he tries to suck in the air that would keep him from dying. It wouldn't be wrong, trying to kill someone who had wronged me, wouldn it? His thoughts then were flowing freely, justifying his action as he gripped tighter. Then he snapped out of it, looked back in horror and crumbled. I had almost become like him; I thought what I did was the right one. I thought the right thing to do was to kill him. Me... who would never even hurt an ant. A timid person I am, Wooyoung had told me. So who was it at the meeting room, feeling pleasure rushing over him as he tried to suffocate him? No, no, no. That wasn't me. I'm not like them.

Yoochan's cooing resonates in his frail body: We're all crazy in this world. It's just a matter of how much you let it show.

I'm not crazy; they are. I won't let them have the pleasure of turning me-

The final blow to his spine he feels as if he could become paralyzed, earning satisfied grunts from the two, while Seongjin, much too late, pulls them away from his figure. He lies still, funnily thinking about Wooyoung and Yunho, the only two people he could probably call as his family right now. He thinks about whether they are eating well and whether they are keeping themselves warm in the weather.

What is he doing, thinking about his friends when he should be worried about the bruises and wounds he had acquired from the merciless kicking and punching by the two? What is he doing, sucking in his stomach as he tries to subdue the vomit that is about to come out, thinking that he should die cleanly rather than leaving his perpetrators to clean up after him, even long after he had left the world? What is he doing, being beaten to death because he had wanted to claim the rights to his own project back, when he should have just made his way back and come up with another topic? What is he doing, insisting on having it back when Wooyoung had thrown at him warnings about Yoochan, the urgency in his voice apparent but ignored?

What am I doing, being alive to perceive this pain when death is a much better choice?

"Hey, that's enough. He was unconscious for half the day and both of you are going to kill him," Seongjin finally speaks up, the cue for him to do so way beyond its expiration limit. His voice tells that he's not the least pitiful towards San's state, but more of the dread of being caught in the act, even when he doesn't have his hands in the beating.

San curls up his body on the cemented floor, willing he could just disappear if that means no more suffering. How did things change so fast, from him being so adamant to him being pitiful on the floor, being beaten to a pulp. Yet, his tormentors are not done with him as he is dragged up the stairs by his hair, clasped firmly in Yoochan's calloused hands. Not giving him a chance to walk properly on his two legs, he is left sliding across the floor limply, picking up dust and grime in his wake. Yoochan throws him onto the muddied ground outside just past the huge doors, dusting his hands against his pants as if his victim is a piece of trash, scheduled to be picked up the morning after.

Yoochan is simply enjoying the sight in front of him; breathing heavily, eyes wide and lips twitching as he sees San trembling. Not from the cold but from pure fear, to what he had demonstrated what he could do to him in less than a few minutes. Waiting the silver-haired man to wake up was a bore, and he and his friends had lounged around the villa, sitting by the beach while they waited. When he did, it only took less than a few minutes to reduce him to a piteous state, and that left him wanting more. Throwing kicks and punches didn't satisfy his bloodlust; he's thirsty for more torture.

This is years of dissatisfaction piled up towards the top student of their course; the orphaned student breezing through the course like it was nothing. It was the slight tilt of the head, probably, or maybe the hidden smirk he had caught on San as they traced their results on the board, as Yoochan scored yet another F on the paper he had sat for more than twice.

The younger one was mocking him. He was never insecure about anything else because he was perfect in every sense, except for one thing: his grades. San was never close to perfect, but he was perfect in what he was insecure of: his grades. It's satisfying to see San fumbling to get back his project, the one that he had gotten easily. Had San never thought about how he actually got the project? He's too proud to even think about that, he guesses.

That's why he keeps on saying; oh, how many people would love to see Choi San fall.

He's only being the first one to act upon it, apparently. He could probably be merciful and let him go, with a warning that he should just keep quiet about what happened, but where is the fun in that? He doesn't know the word merciful, so now he's toying with him further.

"Let's play a game, shall we? I will count to 20 and you can run away from me, but if I ever catch up to you, I will kill you. Sounds simple, right? I'm giving you a chance, so now...run."

He lowers himself down to meet his victim's eyes, taking in the fear shown through his trembling pupils. He laughs into the approaching night before ripping off the thin jacket San is wearing, throwing it far away so it will be unreachable. He won't be needing that jacket, now that he's about to brave the cold and snowy night through the forest. His victim scrambles to get up, his bare feet already digging into the thick snow by the time he starts counting up. He will stay true to his promise of giving him a count to 20, and after that he will start chasing him. He's curious on how far he will get, considering the conditions of his body and mind are no longer good. The silver-haired man gets swallowed by the forest, his shout and footsteps gradually getting fainter.

"What do you plan on doing?" Seongjin's voice materializes beside him, a light hand on his shoulder. He doesn't shrug him off, despite feeling slightly annoyed his friend is refusing to take part in his plan; he even went as far as inviting them to his villa. Maybe he shouldn't have invited him over, going over the plan with only Jinhan. But if Seongjin wasn't the least bit involved, he would risk the chance of blabbing about what they did in the villa to others. Now that Seongjin is a part of this plan, at least the guy wouldn't open his mouth to anyone else, for he would fear to get caught together with them. They're friends after all; they live and die together. If one falls, then the others should follow. Isn't it?

"A game," Yoochan deadpans. "I'm playing a game, didn't you hear what I said? We'll see if any of his friends are willing to help him."

By the time he finishes talking to Seongjin he has already counted to 20, and he instructs for Jinhan to grab a baseball bat from the closet beside the entrance. His friend gladly complies, the bat shoved into his hands and him marching into the forest, taking his own sweet time and whistling a tune that could serve as a warning to his victim that he is coming for him. It doesn't take too long for him to find the victim, taking in too many attempts to climb up the hill, thinking that he would be safe once he touches the asphalt. He stands back a fair distance, amusement coming over him watching the desperation trailing behind San. He follows him when his victim has finally lied down on the asphalt, looking tired. San stands up, waving like a madman and his eyes follow to the end of the road.

A car is approaching.

Gritting his teeth, he charges towards him, completely catching him by surprise as he swings down the bat towards the back of his head, causing him to fall violently to the ground. He grabs a fistful of his hair, crouching near him and holding up his head so that he will see a part of his face. The car rumbles past and there is a second of eye contact with the driver, and he smirks.

Go on, there is nothing to see here.

The car does, sputtering as if embodying the emotions of its driver; scared and wants nothing to do with the situation. That's good enough for him as he stands up, kicking San until he rolls down the hill he had desperately climbed. He slides down the hill like he was a surfer catching a wave, swinging around the bat gleefully as he is jumping into another game.

San stops moving, his expression showing that he has no intentions of fighting back, or running away. He is starting to accept the fact that he will no longer be able to live. But that isn't true, because Yoochan has a lot of things planned for him... and his friends. He raises the bat as San's eyes flick to the night sky above.

"I told you to get out of my sight, didn't I? I told you that I will kill you if I find you. Is 20 not enough for you?"

He sees that San's blood is seeping onto the ground, ending in swirls that would otherwise look beautiful against the white backdrop. He approaches him and San closes his eyes, already saying his last goodbyes to the few people he knows mentally. He lowers down his bat, uttering the words as he does so.

"Open... your eyes."

San does slowly, to be met with a smiling Yoochan, the bat on his side, already lowered down. He bends down to kneel beside him, drinking in his victim's appearance, gratification passing through his eyes knowing that he took part in doing that to him.

The high and mighty Choi San is now on the dirty ground, looking less like a human, like what he deserved to be.

His jersey t-shirt is torn at the shoulder, revealing wounds that litter across like ants making their way to a food source. A gash has opened on his face, narrowly missing tearing his lips by a few centimetres, a result of him face-planting onto the asphalt road. His bare feet look purple and swollen, the veins appearing at the surface of his skin like slithering snakes. He is gasping for air, much like fish out of water, the wheezing sound that follows rattling in his throat. The blood from his head has stopped flowing, almost reaching to the spot where Yoochan has his feet planted. Dry leaves stick to him with his blood acting as glue and his arms are lying on either side, palms down. His eyes are soulless, empty, broken.

As Yoochan squeezes his face to make San turn to look at him, he knows; the Choi San that they all know is long gone.

He sucks in a sharp breath before releasing it in one go, using the time he has to think of what he should do next. "How about we invite your friends to come here? The more the merrier," he says in a singsong voice.

San weakly shakes his head, tears forming at the corner of his eyes as he struggles to object, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as the words leave his cracked lips. Helplessly he tugs on the bottom hem of Yoochan's pants. "Please... leave Wooyoung and.... Yunho out of... this. They don't... have... have... anything to do with this."

He sighs, "Are you sure? It would be really fun though, and you'd be able to see which one of your friends would actually sacrifice themselves from you. Brings about a tear-jerking story, don't you think? A friend trying to save another while they are being held back by a maniac. Sounds good, eh?" With a disgusted face he jerks his foot away, ripping himself off San's weak grip and uttering, "You're making my pants dirty with your blood. Tch, these are expensive slacks don't you know?" He stands up only to shift his foot on top of his victim's stomach, with San crying out in pain and vomiting not long after. "Aish, that's gross, you fuck."

The silver-haired man brings a palm to his lips, wiping away the evidence of his emesis. "Please don't drag them into this. Just... kill me or do whatever you... want to me but please don't... touch... them."

Yoochan narrows his eyes before laughing mirthlessly, "I decide the rules here, okay? You won't die unless I say so. I won't let you die until it's time. If you think you'd do anything to protect your friends," his eyes light up with pity for a fraction of a second before turning into their devilish form again, "do you think they'd do the same for you?"

With that he takes a hold of the hair at the back of San's head, matted with sweat and blood, becoming crusty as it dries up. He drags him all the way to the villa like he was nothing but a sack of fresh goods at the market before dumping him in front of Jinhan and Seongjin. By the time they arrive there, San's body has acquired new wounds and bruises, a result of the careless dragging of his frail body across the forest floor. He could have struggled to be set free and run when they were alone together, but he had no strength left. He could have shouted and thrashed about to bring attention to his current situation, but his mind felt like it was brought away by the night breeze. He crouches over in front of his captors, submitting himself to the plan they had in mind for him.

They lock him up again in the basement, no words exchanged as to what they are waiting for, but he knows nonetheless: they are calling over Wooyoung and Yunho, possibly with the message of them having San locked up. Being held hostage by someone you know feels a thousand times worse than strangers locking you up, you know their names yet calling them out will cause nothing. But then again, it's not like he knows them as much as he knows his friends.

I don't even know myself.

With a loud bang the metal door to the basement flies open, creaking and wheezing before it stops and looming shadows cover him, four figures filing into the area one after another. He remains in his current position, knowing that the night is getting thicker and his breath is getting shallower. It would be a miracle for him to survive through the night - that is, if he doesn't decide to take his own life first.

"San," a gasp fills in the silence, prompting him to return the gesture with a silent plead through his eyes.

Wooyoung, he wants to say and ask him, why did you come here, you idiot?

"What the hell did you guys do to him?" Wooyoung says angrily, lunging forward to go to San's side, but he is pulled back by Jinhan and this time, Seongjin. He is dragged backwards, body pinned against the wall, a motion done to stop him from even getting close.

Yoochan lets out a heavy breath, "I won't do that if I were you. It's three against two and one is too out of his mind to even lift a finger. But won't you look at that?" he gestures towards the helpless heap of meat on the cold floor, "Your friend wanted to protect you because he didn't want you to get involved. Don't you think that's sweet?"

"Why are you going this far? Enough is enough." He struggles against the restraint, the power of him against two being no match at all. "Let him go this instant. I will-"

"What will you do?" he roars, driving a punch to the wall beside Wooyoung's cheek that the latter flinches immediately. He takes away his hand, the knuckles scraped against the rough wall and bleeding. "Whatever you think you can do to me, I can do much worse. How's your family doing by the way? Your parents, younger sister?"

"You better leave them out of this!" he shouts, "I won't let you live in peace if you ever touch them."

He snorts, "Not if I do it first." He jabs a finger to Wooyoung's chest, drilling it deeper until he feels his sternum and he trails his finger upwards until he touches his chin. He slaps his cheeks lightly before uttering, "It's too bad, isn't it? You're smart but not as quite as smart as that thing over there." He tilts his head towards San. "Didn't your parents teach you not to play with fire? Once a fire rages it will burn everything in its way, and that is what I am. Once you nudge me, I won't stop. Once I start, I will destroy everything that comes in my way. You are no exception," he utters, full of malice. "Don't ignite something that you can't extinguish."

---

Quiet it swallows us
What's waiting around the corner
Senses we cannot trust
Hunted by unseen horror
Shadows they can't even reach us now
There's no spark of light that can lead us now
You feel your body shake, feel like a phantom wait
Hold fast we must be brave
In the heart of the darkness
I can almost see the light
I can almost see the light then it's gone
Gone