It wasn't fair. Daehyun had asked himself the same question over and over again, spent late nights pondering over it and beating himself up on two words. Why me? Why had he, out of millions and millions, ended up with the special gene that rendered him different, gave him special powers that seemed more like a curse than anything? And out of those millions, why did he end up with necromancy? Why had his genes suddenly coded and mutated to the point where no one else in the world had the power that he did? Out of six billion people, Daehyun had gotten necromancy. He was the one that was stuck with the voices and the ghosts and the pain and the constant torture of being alive. It didn't make sense. It wasn't fair. Why me?
And now, lying in the hospital with his lovers arms around him and a broken shoulder, Daehyun was plagued by the very odds that had given him the worst luck in the world. They knew him well, they knew when to hit him, when he was down and unable to fight. That was when they began to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind, shove little plants in the cracks of his walls that would grow and become stronger and eventually cause his defence to come crashing down.
The worst part was that he was so close to giving up. It would be so easy. A simple request, let the demons take over, the pain would be older. He wouldn't need to listen to the voices any more. The demons would make it quick - they wanted to leave as fast as possible - and he wouldn't feel a thing. So easy. A single sentence could end it all.
Yongguk-not-Yongguk sensed that, because he could hear the tense, excited edge on the demons voice when he spoke next. Do it and make it easier for all of us. I would be happier without you. Can't you see that you're holding me back? Its your fault that I broke up with Woori. Another weak point of his, one that was not voiced to anyone, especially not Yongguk. Would the elder have been happier if he did not arrive, if he could remain blissfully unaware of the fact that he was still alive? Daehyun did not know, and the unknown was what killed him.
There was another voice, but it was faint and distant, like listening through cotton. This voice was different from the one that was still talking, but Daehyun clung to it and strained his ears to hear those words. Yongguk, the real Yongguk, was out there somewhere past the darkness and he was waiting for him. Daehyun could not give up because he had just found his lover again and giving up would mean that he would leave. All those false words. You actually think I love you? You're so easy to play with. Nothing but a good fuck. It's nice that you're so attached, really. But why should I love you? I could do so much better than you. The not-Yongguk was back, louder than ever, demanding his attention. It growled in his ears, that deep, husky tone that never failed to send shivers down his spine.
The pain increased as well, fire burning through his veins and boiling his blood. He couldn't think past the pain, muscles locking as invisible flames licked up his limbs and scorched his skin. They held him down, keeping him from flailing. Daehyun stopped moving to the point where the nurse could continue her treatment, but why couldn't they see that he was being burned alive? Cruel hands grabbed his ankles and wrists and torso and neck, preventing him from trying to desperately put out the fire. In the medieval times, people were put to death for speaking to the dead. Daehyun was being burned on an invisible stake.
Tears seeped from his eyes, the only part of his body that responded to the pain. His eyes struggled to focus on Yongguk, the real one who was in front of him, not the one that whispered poisonous things into his ears. 'Find the north star'. How was he supposed to search for it when everything was a blur of blackness and crackling red? Couldn't Yongguk see the fire? Why wasn't he trying to put it out? Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Eyes rolling back, Daehyun took a shuddering breath that burned through his lungs and fell limp, head lolling to the side.
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