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Jae wakes up alone.
It takes a moment before his eyes adjust to the dark, and he lifts his head off the ground to peer at his surroundings. He’s back in his old room at the dorm, the walls empty and space void except for a single clothing rack next to the door, presumably Sungjin’s.
The floor is cold.
Gingerly, Jae picks himself up, his bones aching from sleeping in an uncomfortable position, and he stumbles, quickly stabilizing himself on the wall.
His hand comes back wet.
Recoiling, Jae yanks his hand to his chest, his breathing picking up in pace. He squints at his fingers. Nothing. His hand is dry. Not being one to easily freak out, Jae takes a moment to steady himself, closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath. Inhale. Hold. Release. He opens his eyes. There’s nothing. He’s being paranoid.
Logically, he has no idea how he got back here, having last recalled logging out of Tarkov from sheer anger and immediately passing out on his bed after losing a 3v1 in labs. The idea of sleepwalking briefly occurs to him, but he quickly dismisses it. Carefully, he makes his way out of his room, trying not to wake the other boys by making too much noise. Despite it being nighttime, the dorms seem darker than usual, the corners so shrouded with shadows that Jae can’t even make out where the walls meet. Hoping to check the time, Jae shuffles his way over to the kitchen, glancing at the microwave, only to see that the digital display surface isn’t functioning.
Jae realizes far too late that the dorm is quiet. Too quiet. Frowning, Jae makes his way to Dowoon’s room, the closest one to the kitchen. He knocks gently, growing concerned when he gets no response. Opening the door, he flicks on the light switch. The room remains dark. Jae flicks the light switch several more times, uncertainty filling him when the lights fail to turn on.
“Dowoon?” Jae remains hovering by the door, not wanting to intrude.
Silence. The room is empty.
Something is wrong.
Hands beginning to shake, he thinks of texting the others to see if they’re out, only to find that he doesn’t have his phone. Panic starts to sink in, and he quickly moves on to Wonpil’s room, not even bothering to knock this time before swinging the door open.
Silence.
Jae’s running now. Trembling, he rushes to Younghyun’s room, flinging the door open with so much force that he nearly falls inside, barely catching himself against the door frame.
Silence.
Desperate, Jae launches himself towards Sungjin’s room. He knows that there’s going to be nothing on the other side of the door. Sungjin left for his military service months ago, and the sinking feeling in his stomach doesn’t bode well. Despite this, adrenaline causes him to throw open the door, a small part of him still hoping to see Sungjin staring back at him, bewildered.
Silence.
Overwhelmed, Jae feels his throat tighten. In his state, his eyes begin to play tricks on him, the shadows in the room elongating, stretching, twisting, reaching out as if to grab at him. Jae scrambles backwards, turning and bolting for the front door, only to be faced with a wall. The door is gone. Suddenly, Jae can’t move. He’s rooted to the spot, his heart beating loud in his chest. Out of his peripherals, he can see the shadows flickering around him, and he shuts his eyes in futile hope that when he opens them again, the room will look normal once more.
When he opens his eyes, there’s still no door. Feeling sick, Jae slumps against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated on the floor. Over the pounding of his heart, he can distinctly hear a faint tapping sound. Curiosity wins him over, and he turns, his gaze settling on a small puddle. He watches in silence as another droplet falls from the ceiling and plops delicately into the puddle causing the liquid to ripple outwards. In morbid fascination, Jae can’t help but watch as the droplets continue to fall, the puddle trickling outwards at a rapid pace until it touches the edges of his shoes.
Jae can’t breathe. The walls are condensing, caving in on him. His throat feels tight. Clawing at his arms, Jae wraps his hands around himself, drawing his knees up close to his chest. He’s not even aware that he’s crying until he sees his tears fall, mixing with the liquid on the ground, disappearing into the fluid without a trace. The tapping is getting louder. The droplets are falling faster. Jae feels like he’s suffocating.
Unable to focus on anything else, Jae watches in horror as the liquid begins to climb up his legs, the fluid viscous. It’s startlingly cold.
Jae can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can barely feel as his limbs go numb.
The liquid has reached his chest.
Blood is rushing in his ears, and Jae opens his mouth in one last pathetic attempt to call out for help. No sound comes out.
The liquid curls around his throat.
Jae can feel it as it moves up his neck, the consistency velvety soft as it forces his mouth open, slithering past his lips and into his veins.
One last tear falls, and Jae closes his eyes.
The last thing that he sees is himself, terrified, reflected back at him from the surface of the liquid.