Invasion

Chapter 4: Room

Saturday

    Knock. Knock. Knock.
    I was lying in bed staring at my ceiling. I hadn't been able to do anything since I'd come back from work. My headphones, notebooks and a history textbook were lying next to me, but I hadn't been able to study for an upcoming test or even focus on writing or listening to music. My mind felt like it was in shock, either from the trauma of what had been happening or just from the blood loss.
    The knock at my door surprised me in a dull sort of way. It didn't startle me, just made me vaguely curious. I turned my eyes to stare at the door, lethargically wondering why someone would be knocking on it.
    No one ever spoke to me and no one ever came to my room. Someone must be making a mistake, knocking on the wrong door. Whoever it was would just go away. I gave a little yawn and looked back up at the ceiling, thinking that I might as well take a nap.
    "Open the door or I'll have to break it down."
    I sat up in a flash, staring at my locked door, my heart pounding in my chest. Kim NamJoon was on the other side and I was strangely frozen. My room was my sanctuary, my private space. I didn't want him invading it. It was too real, too raw, too deep into me . I licked my lips nervously. My thoughts had congealed inside my mind. I couldn't think, couldn't reason, couldn't decide. I just held my breath and hoped that he would go away.
    The doorknob clattered as he tested it on the other side. A memory flashed into my mind of the splintered door and frame in the freshman math lab. NamJoon had broken that door in order to get to me. He could break this one too.

    "No! Stop!" I jumped out of bed and rushed across the small room to twist the lock and fling open the door.
    Kim NamJoon stood on the other side, his hair slicked back and a smirk on his mouth. He was wearing black pants and a black and purple sweater, one hand thrust into a pocket, his head tipped arrogantly to the side. He belonged in a magazine, not in the hallway of the boys dorm.
His eyes flicked over me. I'd come back from work and thrown on a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt.
    "This is what you're like when you're not in your uniform," he said in that Kim NamJoon way, always as if he was talking more to himself than me. "I'm getting used to your scent. I could've tracked you from two blocks away, probably. I didn't need to ask where your room was, and I can tell what you're feeling from the way you smell. Which is the same with everyone, but somehow different with you. Stronger or something, probably because I've fed on you a few times."
    I stared at him blankly. I could barely comprehend his words. My mind was actively blocking them, not letting them in, not wanting to hear, not wanting to know, not wanting to understand. I took a step back as he walked past me, uninvited, his eyes scanning my room.
    "You don't have a roommate?"
    "No." I'd had one at the beginning of my freshman year. He'd spent three days looking at me as if I had shit on my face before he convinced someone in charge that he had to be assigned a new room. They'd never tried to give me another roommate. Which was perfect for me. I had more space, more privacy and I didn't have to deal with some stuck up richboy.
    I brushed a hand across my eyes. I felt half asleep. The shock and dismay of having NamJoon in my room was swirling around me, trying to get past my defenses. My brain was moving sluggishly as I tried to cobble together some sort of response.
    The best that I could think of was 'Why? Why are you here?'. The question repeated itself again and again in my head, but I didn't open my mouth. I knew what he wanted. There was only one reason. It was starting an earthquake inside of me, a trembling deep in my stomach that intensified and spread to my entire body.
    "You play the piano?" I looked up to see him watching me. I nodded, not trusting my mouth to form words. He tipped his head in response and went over to stand in front of my synthesizer, battered and so old, bought used from a junk store.
    His long fingers tapped down on a few of the keys, but the machine was off and it only made a dull tapping noise. "There's a piano at my mother's place. I never paid much attention to it." His hand moved to trace a crack in the casing. "Even if it's damaged, you can't get a new one. That's because you're poor."
    Anger and shock flared, tiny flames that were immediately drowned out by a crashing wave of defeat. My tongue came unglued. "Can't you just go?"
    He chuckled under his breath and shrugged one shoulder. "I came all the way here for you. Don't you want to play?"
    I winced, feeling like I was floundering. I wanted him to leave. I did not want him there. But his words, 'do you want to play?', sent a trickle of heat snaking up my spine, a tiny frisson of betrayal, the first breath of surrender.
    "I don't," I managed to spit out. A laugh echoed from another room and I looked out into the hallway. I could leave. I could just walk out and leave him there.
    His fingers circled my wrist and pulled me away from the door, reaching behind me to push it closed. "Stay," he said. "I only need a little."
    His hand slid up my arm, catching above the elbow and pulling me closer. I felt breathless in a panicky sort of way, my mind unable to stitch thoughts together, my eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but at NamJoon. I wanted to disappear. I wanted all of this to go away. I couldn't run and I couldn't hide. I wanted to close my eyes and collapse in on myself until there was nothing left.
    "Stop that." He gave my arm a little shake, his eyes narrowed. A shot of magic zapped into my arm, liquid joy, a drug to transform fear into calm, an incantation to turn me into his plaything.
And it worked. I was so lost and so confused. I couldn't fight off the Vampire's Seduction. I couldn't deny the opportunity to replace strife with contentment. I turned towards the promise of something to ease my pain, something to make me forget, something to hold onto. I held onto him.
    "That's right," he said when I reached out to grab the hem of his sweater and looked up at him, my eyes begging to be rescued. He slid a hand over my cheek to cup the side of my head, his thumb caressing my ear, his fingers lacing into my hair. "Let's play."