Catboy | Minsung

Nine

When it's these 3 speaking in dialogue:
Jisung, Changbin, Miss. Park (Joy of Red Velvet)

TW//: This chapter contains mild description of mutilation and gore. It's really very mild but just to be sure, I'm trigger warning it

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Nothing is more despicable than respect based on fear

12:35

"SHIT!" Jisung's legs dragged the rest of his body over the edge of the bed, his head narrowly missing the pointed corner of his bedside table, but his hand being not so fortunate as it sent his phone flying. The alarm that had been going off since 7:20 was whirring angrily, and after rolling over to hit stop, Jisung went back to staring up at the ceiling.

It was 12:35. Once more the brunette had experienced the most queer dream, that lasted longer than it should've since he'd slept through his alarm for over 5 hours. This one was vastly different to the previous two.

It was set in a bathroom; a slimy, dirty, mold-infested bathroom that was floored with tiles turned murky green from the grime. Jisung was standing before a mirror, cracked and with the same personality as the rest of the room. Though the glass may have distorted his reflection, as broken and smeared as it was, what little Jisung could make of himself was not exactly that. The reflection had lighter hair, paler skin, and palled hued eyes. Jisung had gone closer to get a better look, and had tried to wipe away some of the smudge on the mirror. But as he drew his sleeve over the surface, he left a trail of vivid, rich, sticky blood. It coated his hands and ran down his arms, and as he turned back to the mirror he saw the bleached white hair of the reflection was now soaked in red. Two bloody stumps sat in between the locks, like something was once there but had been mutilated to now be replaced with litres more of blood.

These dreams were puzzling to Jisung, because they always involved someone else. Or rather, a recreation of someone else that was replacing him. Due to them being dreams, they often came with a significant amnesia, so though the events were clear in his mind, Jisung had trouble recalling the specific imagery.

Nonetheless he was awake, and the troubles of the night were to be forgotten. Instead, the boy worried his mind with the task of apologising to his parents. The family didn't argue often. On the rare occasions that they did, Jisung had quickly come to realise if anything was going to be solved, it would be him to say the first sorry. Actually, it was usually only him to say sorry at all. He'd grown accustomed to it over the years, so it bothered him little.

Something on his immediate to-do list that he was looking forward to more was to give another thanks to Minho for the late night food. But, "come to think of it," Jisung said, speaking aloud, "if i oversleep, he always makes a point to wake me up.." There was no new food on his desk, nor were the plates from the previous night removed from his room. Strange -- Minho was incredulously punctual.

Hopping into the shower to give himself a freshen up, then pulling on a fairly casual fit, Jisung tripped out of his room and headed for the library. This was the place his parents could most often be found during the day, if in the house at all, what with his father's pastime being reading up on great historic tales of ancient asia and beyond, and his mother's office being directly connected to the business section of books. The only other room they liked to inhabit was their ensuite lobby.