With those sharp lips you bite,and in the broken mirror I change
You, nightmare, When I can’t have you, I’m on fireLike a fistful of sand you keep scattering awayWhy aren’t you saying no
Erase me with that sweet kiss,leaving just questions without answersTempt me like a poisoned applewith that beautiful aroma, help me tonight
If I can’t avoid it thenI close my eyes and dream of you
Her voice arrives first, like it always does, in the dead of night, almost singing to him in the same alluring tones the moonlight casts across his covers. His room is dark, almost pitch black, and yet, somehow, he can see perfectly. He can see that he’s very much alone; his pets are nowhere to be found and the hushed sounds of the night, Byunghun’s light snoring, Fruit Loop’s claws clicking against hardwood floors, cars passing outside periodically, are nothing but a muffled silence, and yet, the air around him feels bright and clean, but heavy. Oh so heavy.
And he knows he should ignore it, should go back to sleep, because her very presence screams danger, but it screams something else too, and for some reason he’s anticipating what he knows comes next without knowing anything at all...
Then she’s before him, at the end of his bed but radiating toward him, piercing the darkness with a darkness of her own, and all at once he’s reaching for her and pushing her away, both terrified and intrigued, and he wants her lying in his arms just as much as he wants her gone forever.
It’ll be a fleeting memory before it disintegrates into the world of forgotten things, like it is every night. Only for a split second will he remember the way her lips feel against his, the way her voice feels against the soft skin of his ear, the way her hand dips below and is on him like ice and fire all at once, the way sharp fangs feel sinking into the delicate skin of his neck--
He wakes with a start, like he always does, with a painful gasp, a dull twinge in his neck, a cold sweat clinging like dew to the hairs on his arms. She’s chuckling, dark and sultry in his ear, but he blinks and she’s gone. All of it is gone. But...who’s gone? What woke him up in such a rose-colored haze of terror and, perhaps, pleasure? His alarm is singing at him in a shrill, artificial tune and he’s still fighting to catch his breath. And yet, he can’t, for the life of him, remember what that awful, awful dream had been about after all.
