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It hurt. He wasn't going to lie about that. It fucking hurt.
He felt like there were thousands of knives thrust deep into his flesh and were all left there to rot with his body. Staying there, spread out on the cold, hard floor with the carcass of a steaming monster on top of him suddenly sounded like the most appealing thing to do in the world. Perhaps it would be better. Maybe he could pull off acting dead and everyone else would leave him to die in peace because they'd all be finally rid of him, and perhaps that would put them at a slight disadvantage since they'll lose their 'greatest weapon' but they'd probably manage because of that guy in red and hecanfinallysurrendertowhatthevoicewastellinghim--
No, he won't.
He'd die. Someday. But not this way. Not with him losing his grip on the last thread that's holding what's left of his humanity together. He couldn't do that.
And like a flame losing its spark, the slowly growing tempest inside his head began to lighten up. His hands found purchase on the gap between two of the spider monster's long legs, and with a breathy grunt he pushed it up from his body. The monster wasn't as heavy as it had been when it was alive, but it hadn't grown much lighter either. Mustering what's left of his strength, he lifted the decaying corpse and threw it sideways with a loud thud. The monster lay there in a heap of steam and rotten flesh. It was dead. He was sure of it.
That might be you soon.
He pulled himself up, using his spear as leverage because he honestly doesn't trust his own body to not fall back again. His wounds felt like they were on fire, countless punctures and slices that seemingly burned his cold skin. He'd noticed long ago that his body was no longer warm, most probably because of the infection. That's why it felt weird somehow that his injuries were still capable of making him feel like he was set ablaze.
When his legs refused to move even when he told them to, he grabbed the nearest pole he could see and practically forced himself to his feet, gasping at the immediate onslaught of protesting screams from his limbs. He took two seconds to gather himself while having his erratic pants as the only sound in his ears. His lungs felt constricted from exhaustion. Fighting against the pull to crumble back to the floor took Herculean might. For a moment there, it slipped from his mind that he hadn't been the only one in the room. He was so used to the common situation where he was sent upstairs to fight monsters on a daily basis. On his own.
Once his eyes landed on them, however, that's when he finally understood why it was strangely so quiet.
They stood there, frozen to their spots, and were all looking at him with varying degrees of shock, worry, and cautiousness. Some openly expressed their relief at seeing him up and in one piece, while the others were staring at him as if he were a time bomb only seconds away from detonating. The silence gave room for his breathing to be amplified, with every breath intake sounding like they were echoing throughout every hallway of the first floor.
And for one fraction of a second, he saw it.
Their fear.
Breathing suddenly felt like a tedious task he wouldn't mind not doing.
They're scared of you.
Of course. When were they not?
The tell-tale signs of another storm kicked off inside of him, like a trigger being pulled to ignition. His right arm tingled with the blatantly pale red scar on his skin. He wanted out. They need to leave. He felt himself treading on the thin line of what was left of his sanity, ready to be knocked over by a mere gust of wind or a single thrust of a wrist. He needs to get out before he could start hurting anyone. He wanted them to go far away before--
Before...
Before...
Something strange seemed to twist inside him with delight. Strange, sick, sweet delight.
He wanted them.
A noise of amusement resonated inside the walls of his mind. If the devil was capable of laughing, he imagined it would sound just like that.
It would be fun to give them something to be even more terrified of, you know? All you need to do is tell me.
He wan...
The twist was suddenly pulled straight, making it stretched taut.
Tell me what you de--
And it snapped.
He won't.
The voice cut off like a recording that was abruptly stopped. His arm stopped tingling. The storm finally cleared. Inhaling didn't feel like an inconvenience anymore. Once he was sure that he was calm, he willed the infection to recede to the depths of his mind, stilling the water-like ripples in his consciousness and turning his eyes back to normal.
He took one last look at the remaining survivors before making his way out, refusing to mull over it more than he should otherwise he'd escalate into another episode of barely gripping his control. He wanted to avoid that from happening at all costs because by next time, he feared that he wouldn't be able to keep holding on much longer. One glance at his injuries was all it took to remind him that his regeneration process was getting slower and slower, and he wagered that this occurrence was far from good news at all.
Using his spear as a makeshift crutch to keep him from falling, he headed straight toward his cell. In truth, he wasn't confident that this roughly constructed cage would manage to hold him when worse comes to worst. He couldn't afford that risk. Not to the other survivors, most especially the kids. Heck, not even the Lee siblings and that firefighter lady. His conscience wouldn't be able to take that. Maybe he could prevent himself from raising hell if he died before he could even begin to transform. That way, he'd be the only casualty at their expense.
He was vaguely aware of how his knees were trembling. Every limb was practically wailing at him to stop because they ache so much. When he felt himself starting to keel, his hand instinctively flew to grasp at the iron pole closest to him. Just a few more steps and he'd be there, locked in and hopefully far away enough from the others.
He hadn't been conscious enough to sense the presence behind him. He was one breath away from collapsing into oblivion, and all it would take was two swings of a metal door. One for opening, and one for shutting it close.
But when his hand felt the familiar coldness of the door's handle and was in the motion of stepping in back to the darkness of his cell, a voice made him pause.
"Uhm..."
That surprised him. He hadn't been expecting one of them to follow him. When he looked back to find almost all of them behind him though, he couldn't hold back the anxiety from coiling in his gut. Most of them, he noticed, were pointedly avoiding eye contact, choosing to focus their eyes elsewhere instead. What were they doing here?
"Hyun-soo," Ji-eun spoke up louder, successfully getting his attention this time. He noticed Jae-heon, Ji-su, and Eun-yoo watching him intently in his peripheral vision, but he chose to pay them little to no mind.
He'd be named a liar if he claimed that what she said next hadn't caught him off-guard.
"Sorry," she said, in a manner so soft that it almost sounded like a whisper. "Sorry that we made things more difficult for you."
His grip on the knob went completely slack. He stood there, frozen as if he were encased in ice, as he stared at her with a mixed expression of conflict and surprise because he hadn't expected that. The words bounced off his ears almost mockingly, as if they knew that he was still finding it difficult to register what had come out of her mouth. He momentarily realized that he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for one of them to pull out a new list of items to be retrieved upstairs because it had all been a show to get him to their side more. To get him to sympathize with them, so that they wouldn't feel too guilty about ordering him around and would soon learn to not care too much when the need to execute him arises.
"You can choose this time," Eun-hyuk announced as he entered, effectively putting a halt to the downward spiral of his thoughts.
To go inside or to stay with us. was left unsaid, but heard nonetheless.
His first automatic answer was to return to the arcade, where he was locked away from everyone else. But then as he moved to step inside, the prospect of being no longer considered an outcast made him pause. If he stayed with them, maybe he wouldn't feel too much like he was expendable. Socializing was out of the question, but the thought of staying outside instead of being left in the silence of his cage and thus at the mercy of his mind sparked a tiny light of hope inside him. He could visit Du-sik, get accustomed to the area more, and perhaps even see the kids. Maybe if he stayed with them, he'd feel more like a human being.
He gripped the handle tight to pull the door back and seal his decision because he--
They're scared of you.
And just like that, the tiny spark died from existence as if it was never even there before.
Of course. He was dangerous. On multiple occasions he never bothered to mention it to others, he often found himself unable to rein in the infection. There was even that one time when he was so close to fully transforming when he faced off with that impossibly fast monster. Everything had its limits. He couldn't risk the lives of these people as he waited for himself to reach the extent of his restraints. Staying with them might make him feel better, but at the same time it would heighten the chances of him losing control while he's out in the open. He wouldn't take that wager. For the survivors, Du-Sik, the children...
He couldn't.
In one heavy swing, he closed the door shut behind him with a moderately loud and rusty bang. And at last, he collapsed. His shaking legs finally surrendered on him as he was once again shrouded in the familiar silence of the arcade.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he reopened his eyes again, beams of moonlight were already seeping through the holes and cracks of the bolted windows, and everything else was dark.
The realization dawned on him next that he was still on the floor, so he quickly moved to pull himself up. The ache in his limbs was still there, accompanied by the lingering numbness on his arms and legs. He held onto a nearby counter so that he could get on his feet and head to the crates in the far corner of the room which he'd officially claimed as his.
It was when he'd finally sat himself down that he noticed how his hip and neck were still stinging in pain.
Bringing a curious hand to his neck where one of the monster's legs had scraped him, he was surprised to find his hand caked in blood when he pulled it away. He was supposed to be healed by now. Why was it...
He opened his jacket and lifted his shirt to find that the puncture wounds on his chest and torso had partially healed. What were once literal holes in his body were now reddish scars that littered across his skin. But after further observation, he discovered that the injuries on his right hip and neck were still strangely bleeding. The gash on his hip, just right below his ribs, had been from when he was captured in the basement. One of the spider monster's legs had scraped on his side while he was being encased in its web. As to whether it was intentional or accidental, he didn't know. But the fact remained that these wounds were acquired hours ago, and yet they remained unhealed.
His regeneration was getting even slower than ever.
He bunched up the hood in his jacket and pressed it up against the wound on his neck to soothe the sting. He knew that the piece of clothing was very far from clean but he frankly couldn't care less. He's grown too used to being fully healed after a good nap that experiencing pain this long-term was starting to make him worry over something else entirely instead of his injuries. He's running out of time.
Just as he was starting to contemplate whether or not it would be a good idea to strip his shirt and use it as a makeshift bandage to dress his wound until it heals, the door to the arcade suddenly rattled open, revealing a certain man in red standing at the doorway. In his hand was a lit lamp emitting a soft yellow glow that cast shadows on the man's face.
He couldn't help but feel dread settle in his stomach at the sight of Eun-hyuk. The elder Lee sibling coming to his cell usually meant one thing: he needed Hyunsoo for a dangerous task. Again.
Perhaps he should mention something about his regeneration process that's slowing down rapidly. He was ordered to report any further anomalies or new odd things about his situation, after all. Yet he immediately dismissed the thought when he stood up with his spear at the ready beside him, as if on cue. He could deal with those things later. It's not like anything he'll say now would delay the command the other had for him. Better get things done first and fast. He could still fight, even with his current state. Maybe.
"Sit down."
That made him stop.
Surprised eyes watched Eun-hyuk as he closed the door shut behind him, going further into the threshold and making a beeline towards Hyunsoo. "You're not going upstairs tonight. I need you here." he declared as he stopped in front of him.
At those words, Hyun-soo immediately fell back to his seat, his expression openly showing his surprise and evident confusion as his gaze never left Eun-hyuk when the man followed suit and seated himself beside him on the crates. Hyun-soo only now noticed that he was holding a suspicious-looking white box in his hands, which he placed between them beside the lamp before he looked straight back at Hyun-soo with that monotonous face of his.
And with the most downright serious voice, he said, "Strip."
His brain instantly short-circuited. "I- what?" he stuttered out. If Hyun-soo hadn't been sitting down, he's pretty sure he would've toppled over to the floor by now.
Eun-hyuk's face remained blank, as if he were simply discussing how good the weather was today. "Take off your jacket. Let me see your wounds."
Oh.
Had he subconsciously said something about his injuries out loud? He was pretty certain that he didn't. So how did Eun-hyuk know?
When he realized that Eun-hyuk was just sitting there, staring in wait for him, he immediately shrugged his already zipped-down jacket off, revealing his torn-up shirt and the still bleeding gashes on his hip and neck. Eun-hyuk's eyes automatically zeroed in on the one on his hip, before trailing up to assess the one on his neck. His eyebrows furrowed, showing his evident confusion at the sight of them.
"They're not scabbing or closing up like how they were supposed to," he thought aloud, unceremoniously lifting a hand to grab hold of Hyun-soo's jaw between his fingers and move it sideways to give him a better view of the neck wound. "What about your other injuries?"
Hyun-soo looked back at him once his jaw was released. "Healed. The only ones that didn't are these two."
Eun-hyuk's expression became even more perplexed. "So the oldest injury didn't heal, but most of the new ones did."
"How'd you know that I injured my hip first?" Now it was Hyun-soo's turn to be confused.
If he didn't know any better, he'd say that the look Eun-hyuk gave him was almost a deadpan. "You were bleeding on me when we carried you out of the basement. I thought it had been my blood at first," he gestured to the prominent stain at the side of his flannel that was even a darker shade of red. "but then I realized I didn't get any serious injuries. So it had to be yours."
Eun-hyuk turned to the white box sitting between them and opened it, revealing sets of bandages, disinfectant, cotton, and a variety of other first-aid products. "Lift your shirt. I'll patch you up."
Now that's . . . unusual. Hyun-soo didn't dare look away when he obediently showed the entirety of the damage to his hip. He watched almost in wonder as Eun-hyuk poured disinfectant into a ball of cotton, seeming like he was moving completely on autopilot as he leaned in closer proximity to dab the cotton to his injury.
The sting that followed, however, was something he hadn't been expecting.
Instinctively, he recoiled with a small hiss. But Eun-hyuk didn't even look phased, only mumbling a small apology Hyun-soo could barely hear before resuming his task more gently. Hyun-soo forced himself to stay still, wincing now and then when the sting got too much, and when he finally felt a sheet of gauze being secured to his skin, he slowly released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"Hold this up." Eun-hyuk handed him the lamp, prompting him to raise it to his face so that light could be cast on his neck. The elder shifted closer, ultimately disregarding the concept of comfort zone as he leaned his face closer. Their breaths would've intermingled if Hyun-soo's didn't make a full stop in his throat. He angled his face away, giving Eun-hyuk wider access to the injury he's set his eyes on. The dab of disinfectant felt more bearable this time, since he's begun to grow used to it. But it didn't change the fact that the level of awkward discomfort he's feeling now had skyrocketed automatically.
If he'd only been looking, he would've noticed Eun-hyuk throwing him a glance.
Silence settled into the room. But it wasn't the silence Hyun-soo was accustomed to. Usually, whenever he's left to his own devices, he didn't have anyone else save for himself. That's why there wouldn't be a need for a façade. He could stay curled up in the corner for hours without being disturbed. He could reminisce about the better days without being judged. He could cry in his sleep without being heard. No, this was a silence he didn't know if he was comfortable with. Why was Eun-hyuk even bothering to tend to him? His regeneration might have slowed down greatly but he was still healing, albeit not as fast as before.
Time was of the essence here. Soon, the golden hour wouldn't be enough to save him or bring him back to his senses. It was an inevitable occurrence that would come no matter how much they try to disregard it. Before that could happen, Hyun-soo needed to be disposed of. And he was certain that Eun-hyuk knew that too.
Perhaps he was helping him because he wanted Hyun-soo to recover faster so that he could be of use once again. Yes, that's it. It's the only plausible explanation Hyun-soo could think of. Despite barely knowing the guy, he knew that Eun-hyuk was someone who does everything with an objective in mind. He was meticulously resourceful and strategic. Hyun-soo didn't peg him as someone who would waste his time doing something as mundane as patching someone up when there were tons of other tasks necessary for everyone's survival that needed more attending to. And some jobs were equally important but greatly dangerous; particularly the jobs that only Hyun-soo could do. So long as they were willing to risk using someone who was most likely on the brink of transforming, he needed to be in top shape as soon as he could.
"You're just being used." Those were the words of the shopkeeper, frequently materializing in his thoughts like a broken record. He knew that. He wasn't exactly an idiot. He was expendable. The minute he decided to step out of the door when Eun-hyuk first opened it for him, he already knew what he was getting himself into.
He swore he knew.
"Cha Hyun-soo."
He looked back at Eun-hyuk without moving his head. The other didn't follow suit like he expected him to, focusing instead on the wound he was still treating.
"Why did you choose to come back inside?" he asked without looking at him.
Hyun-soo internally contemplated for a few seconds. Should he tell him about his gradual loss of control? Or how he nearly launched himself at them back then?
They're scared of you.
"I'm not safe," He said, directing his gaze back to the far wall across the room. "For all of you, I'm not safe."
"Do you feel it?" Eun-hyuk asked.
"Feel what?"
"Your monsterization." He finally looked at him this time. "Do you feel it coming close?"
The almost unnoticeable movement in his shoulders was all Hyun-soo could manage at a shrug. "I can't really tell for sure. But he's growing restless."
Eun-hyuk blinked. "He?"
The monster. The entity inside him. The voice in his head. "The me with black eyes. He's always whispering to me about giving in, to tell him about my desire and surrender control."
"And would you?"
When Hyun-soo turned to cast him a questioning look, he added. "Surrender your control?"
Should he?
Can he?
Will he?
Frankly, Hyun-soo didn't know.
The almost familiar feeling of another patch of gauze being plastered to his neck indicated that Eun-hyuk was done. When the other shuffled back, Hyun-soo could finally let his breath even out. The gauze felt slightly uncomfortable. It made him stiff. But having his wounds dressed and covered was a new yet welcomed sensation. It was admittedly a hundred times better than having his soiled hoodie act as a sorry excuse for a bandage to wrap around his injuries.
As Eun-hyuk stood to gather the materials back into the kit, Hyun-soo turned to thank him.
"Cha Hyun-soo."
The words died in his throat, replaced immediately by confusion. "Yes?"
To the naked eye, the look on Eun-hyuk's face would seem similar to the monotonous façade that he always wore. But to Hyun-soo, who had been subjected to that infamous blank expression way too many times to be able to detect it a mile away, he immediately noticed that this one's quite different. Instead of the usual look where it's void of anything at all, the one Eun-hyuk was giving him now projected a bare hint of resolve and something else that he couldn't put a finger on.
"You're not expendable," Eun-hyuk stated in a tone of finality and a dash of reassurance. "You're one of us. And when push comes to shove, that fact will remain, regardless of what needs to be done."
Hyun-soo spent five solid seconds in wonder and surprise as the words sunk in. And then it clicked.
He must've said that out loud.
Eun-hyuk was already on his way out before Hyun-soo could even muster a reply. He paused when he reached the doorway, as if a thought just came to him right there. At the exact moment when he turned to look back at him, it dawned on Hyun-soo that the elder wasn't wearing his red flannel; first aid kit in hand, but no lamp. Eun-hyuk gestured to the crate he was sitting on with a jut of his chin, and to Hyun-soo's surprise, the items he found missing in Eun-hyuk's possession were actually left here beside him.
"You can use that while I search for your change of clothes. It's stained with your blood, but it's still better than your torn-up ones." He swung the door open with one firm pull, consequently producing a loud metallic creak as he stepped out. "Cover up. The nights aren't getting any warmer."
He swung the door closed. But it didn't click shut, nor was it locked.