Chapter Text
Haneul sighs, staring down at her phone and scrolling through Twitter. She’s been watching Nightmare on Elm Street with Sunyoung for almost an hour, and she’s bored out of her mind. A shrill scream blasts from the TV, making Haneul jump in her seat before bursting into laughter. She rolls her eyes, watching the girl on screen get slashed up by Freddie Kruger’s knives. “These movies are always so unrealistic. I don’t know how you can watch this garbage, Sunnie.”
Sunyoung walks into the living room with a refilled bowl of popcorn in hand. “It’s called suspension of disbelief, babe. It’s not supposed to be realistic.” She plops down next to her friend, throwing a few pieces of popcorn in her mouth.
“I don’t get the appeal. This is why I like regular slasher movies better. How am I supposed to be afraid of some deranged pedophile killing me in my dreams? A home invasion. A revenge plot gone wrong. A psycho serial killer. That’s the kind of shit that’s actually scary,” Haneul argues, crossing her arms as she stares boredly at the TV.
"God, you're such a hater, Haneul." Sunyoung rolls her eyes, still munching on her snack. “Don’t be so esoteric. There’s novelty in the supernatural. It’s stuff that’s totally outside your control and can be literally anything.”
With a scoff, Haneul retorts, "I'm not a hater! I just-" Before she can properly argue, her phone rings, startling the pair. She huffs, irritation in her tone as she picks up the call. “Hello?”
“Hi there, is this Iseul?” The voice on the other line is deep and husky, likely a man, but it doesn’t sound familiar to her.
Haneul raises an eyebrow, pulling the phone away from her face to check the call number. She doesn’t recognize it. “Uh, no, this is Haneul. Who is this?”
“ Oh, I see. That’s okay, Haneul. We can talk instead. I like making new friends, don't you?” There’s a teasing lilt to the stranger’s tone that unsettles Haneul. Sunyoung frowns, gesturing to ask who the person on the phone is. Haneul shrugs, putting it on speakerphone.
Having already had enough of this person’s antics, Haneul answers with sharpness, “Listen, you clearly have the wrong number. I’m hanging up.”
As her finger is about to press the “end call” button, the voice demands angrily, “Don’t hang up, bitch, or I’ll fucking kill you! ”
“You fucking psycho!” Haneul yells, ending the call and throwing the phone down onto the couch. “What a freak. I hate prank calls.”
Sunyoung bites her lip, unsettled. “He sounded serious, Haneul. Maybe we should call the police.”
Ring ring .
Haneul’s phone lights up, signaling another incoming call. The pair stare down at it as it rings. The number seems to be the same as before. Sunyoung fidgets in her seat, “Don’t answer it.”
With a roll of her eyes, Haneul ignores her friend’s plea. “Chill, Sunyoung, I’m just gonna tell this asshole to fuck off, and then we can finish this stupid movie.” She answers the call, putting it on speakerphone again. “What the fuck do you want, dickhead?”
The voice on the other side chuckles darkly. “ Now, now, Haneul. I just want to play a little game with you. ” Haneul is about to hang up again when the voice continues, “ And before you hang up, I think you should reconsider. Wouldn’t it be more fun playing with me than talking about some deranged pedophile who kills you in your dreams ?”
Haneul’s blood runs cold, clutching the phone anxiously. She looks up, wide eyes locking onto her friend’s equally mortified pair. They frantically scan around the room for any sign of an intruder. Haneul gets up, runs toward the window, and closes the curtain. Sunyoung gets up as well, peering into the kitchen. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of sick game you’re playing, but leave me alone!”
The stranger sighs, tsking. “ Such bad manners, Haneul. I think it would be in your best interest to entertain me. Especially because when I get bored, I like to cut up dumb bimbos like your friend Sunyoung. ” The threat is clear, sending a chill down Haneul’s spine.
She looks at her friend across the room, swallowing dryly as fear engulfs her. Unwilling to test the validity of the stranger’s threats, she concedes. “Fine. I’ll play your stupid game.”
“Good. Good. Why don’t I ask you a series of questions? If you get them all right, I’ll hang up and leave you alone. Deal? ”
It feels too good to be true, but she can’t find it in herself to protest. “Deal.”
“First question. What’s your favorite scary movie?”
Haneul huffs, fists clenching with growing ire. “What kind of stupid fucking question is that?! I don’t know. Uhm. The Strangers.”
“Not surprising since you seem to think most slasher horror movies are beneath you. But I think you just haven't found the right one yet.” The voice scoffs before continuing, “ Who is the first person killed in Nightmare on Elm Street?”
With a hand on her hip, Haneul frowns down at the phone. “Uh, that blonde girl. Tina or something.”
“Ding ding ding, correct. I started you off easy. Not so bad, is it? You're already almost there. Next question, what’s the name of the camp in Friday the 13th ?”
Haneul groans, eyes seeking Sunyoung for answers. “Uh-” Sunyoung mouths the words to her, and Haneul is relieved when she picks up on it. “Uhm. Crystal Lake. Camp Crystal Lake.”
“Very good, Haneul. Maybe you know horror better than you think. Last question. What device killed Amanda Young in the first Saw movie?”
Anger courses through Haneul like a riptide. “What the fuck kind of obscure question is that?! Fuck, I haven’t seen that movie since I was like 13.”
“Come on. You can do it, Haneul. No need to get testy. Remember, it’s your friend’s pretty face on the line. I’m sure she’d love it if I sliced it open. ”
Sunyoung gasps, body quivering as she stares desperately at Haneul, silently begging. “Fuck. Okay. Let me think.” Haneul paces back and forth, mind reeling for information. A lightbulb goes off, and she excitedly speaks into the phone. “It was that trap thing! Fuck, what was it? Bear trap? Reverse bear trap! Hah, fuck you , I got it!” The pair both jump in triumph, having bested the stranger at his fucked up game.
The man on the line sighs disappointedly, tone pitying. “Oh, Haneul, no. Unfortunately, that’s wrong. ”
Haneul stops, body freezing. She furrows her brow, furiously yelling into the phone. “No! That’s right, I’m sure it is. You’re a fucking liar!”
The voice laughs, and it’s so sadistic that the sound makes Haneul shiver. “No, Haneul. Amanda Young isn’t killed in the first Saw movie.”
Her heart sinks, mouth agape as she takes in the words. “But. That’s- that’s cheating. You can’t do that!”
“Sorry. Game over.”
Suddenly, a masked figure in a black cloak emerges from behind Sunyoung. Haneul gasps, dropping her phone and yelling out to her friend. “Sunyoung! Behind you!”
Sunyoung turns her head and screams, running in the opposite direction toward Haneul. The masked figure stalks toward them, a long knife in hand. When Sunyoung reaches Haneul, they make a break for it, running toward the stairs. The figure is close behind, and the pair frantically climb each step until they reach the top. Haneul opens the door to her room, ushering Sunyoung inside before locking it behind her.
The pair pant, heart rates soaring from the fear coursing through their veins. Haneul closes her eyes as she leans against the door, a wave of unadulterated terror paralyzing her. Sunyoung lets out a shaky breath, backing away from the door. “Oh my god. That was so close, Haneul; I’m scared.”
Haneul opens her eyes, a gasp catching her throat when she sees another masked figure directly behind Sunyoung. “Sunyoung!”
Before her friend can register the words, the masked figure’s knife slices through Sunyoung’s throat. Her eyes widen, hands reaching up to her neck to feel the deep cut. Blood spews from the wound, covering her and dripping onto the white carpet. It’s silent momentarily, the pair staring at each other with equally terrified eyes. Sunyoung legs wobble, and she falls to her knees, weight giving out. Haneul watches as the light drains from her eyes.
A blood-curdling scream rips through Haneul’s throat, blindly looking for the doorknob to unlock it. She swings the door open, sprinting toward the stairs. Horrified screams and sobs tumble from her lips unbridled as she runs for her life. Just as she reaches the bottom step, the first masked figure runs out, arms wrapping tightly around Haneul to stop her movement.
“No! Fuck you!” Haneul yells, kicking and screaming against her attacker. She lands a blow to the man’s knee, allowing her to escape his clutches. She runs for the door, heart pounding, knowing she’s almost home free. She undoes the top lock, fingers shaking violently. Only one more lock. She twists the lock on the doorknob, relief washing over her when she hears it click.
She’s about to run out the door when a sharp pain shoots up her spine. She shrieks, body slumping against the door. The masked figure chuckles wickedly, pulling the large knife out of Haneul’s lower back. She turns around, facing her attacker, tear streaks running down her face. “No, please, no.” She begs, hand searching for the knob.
The masked figure tsks, shaking his head disapprovingly. He raises the knife, driving it into Haneul’s chest. The girl gasps, hands clutching at the arm that is pushing the weapon further into her body. Blood trickles from the spot and out of her mouth, causing her to choke on it. The figure pulls it out, watching with wrapt attention as Haneul’s body slowly drops to the floor. By the time her legs reach the hardwood, she collapses, eyes wide as she takes her last breath.
With a sardonic laugh, the masked man peers down at her dead body. A delicious thrill courses through him seeing her blood pool around her. He takes the knife, wiping off the blood with his gloved hand, readying it for the next victim.
- - -
Jungkook looks at himself in the mirror, running his hands through his hair to tame the messy flyaways. He woke up a little late this morning after staying up talking to his boyfriend, Taehyung. His roommate, Jimin, interrupts his fussing with a knock on the bathroom door. “JK, you ready? Tae’s here.” All three of them have 10 am classes on Tuesdays, so Taehyung has made it a habit to pick them up.
“Coming!” Jungkook takes one more look at himself before meeting Jimin at the front door. The pair leave their shared apartment, heading down to the first floor. When they finally get outside, Taehyung’s red Chevy Impala starkly contrasts the muted beiges and greys of their apartment building parking lot. Jungkook can’t help but smile when he sees his boyfriend staring back at him.
As usual, Jimin gets in the backseat while Jungkook takes his spot in the passenger seat. Taehyung’s eyes scrutinize over Jungkook’s form, taking him in with a familiar fiery glint. “Hey, baby.”
Leaning over the center console, Jungkook takes his boyfriend’s chin in his hand, guiding their lips together. Despite having been together for two years, Jungkook still got butterflies whenever they kissed. They linger a moment too long, making Jimin groan from the back. “Can you guys save that for when I’m not forced into an enclosed space with you two? I’d like to keep down my breakfast, thank you.”
The couple giggles, Jungkook righting himself into his seat with a pink hue on his cheeks. “Sorry, Chim.” He mumbles—not all that sorry.
With that, Taehyung starts the engine, heading toward campus. Taehyung’s long fingers tap against the steering wheel, other hand resting on the gear shift. His eyes flit over to Jungkook briefly, “You got plans tonight? I found a new sushi spot.”
Before Jungkook has the opportunity to answer, Jimin’s face appears in between the seats. “Sorry, loverboy, tonight is ‘How to Get Away With Murder’ Night. We’re three episodes behind, so Jungkook is being held hostage to hang out with me and Hobi.”
Taehyung tsks, feigning disappointment with an exaggerated sigh. “Damn, that’s too bad.” His hand travels to Jungkook’s leg, squeezing the firm muscle. When he looks at Jungkook, the mischief is evident in his gaze. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over, babe. We could make our own TV show, you know?” His eyebrows wiggle suggestively, eliciting a groan from the pair of roommates.
Jungkook scoffs, swatting Taehyung’s bicep as a light flush creeps up his neck. “Tae, stop, you’re so embarrassing.” His words don’t sound convincing even to his own ears, mirth given away even further by the smile that tugs at his lips.
A dramatic retch comes from the backseat, Jimin’s patience for the lovers’ affections already wearing thin. “You guys are disgusting, I truly hope you know that.” He complains, chuckling with a shake of his head.
It isn’t long before they make it to campus. It’s a sunny spring morning, and many of the students are already hanging out in the quad in small groups. Taehyung spots the rest of their friends lounging under a collection of trees, leaning against stone benches. They were a decent-sized bunch, most of the ten of them having met in high school. Seemingly mismatched in their interests, they all managed to get along, finding common ground in one way or another.
As they approach the group, Hobi meets them halfway, face ashen. “Did you guys hear?”
His words are unnervingly vague, the trio sharing confused glances. Jungkook tilts his head in question. “Hear what?”
They sit down, and their friends gather close. Jin, Sana, Jinsoo, and Namjoon are splayed in the grass, and Yoongi leans his body against a nearby tree. Jungkook sits on a stone bench, leaving room for his boyfriend to take the space to his left. Mingyu flanks his right side, scooting close enough for their legs to brush. His tone is quiet, almost conspiratorial, as he relays, “There was another Ghostface attack last night.”
Jimin lets out a noise of surprise. “Oh my god. It’s been years since the last one happened. A copycat, maybe?”
Sana hums from her place on the grass, body casually leaning against Jin’s as she reaffirms Jimin’s theory. “Gotta be. Last Ghostface was killed by the police, remember?”
“Wait, who’s Ghostface?” Yoongi questions, wholly lost to the topic of conversation. He’s a little newer to their friend group—a transfer student from a different town Taehyung had befriended before incorporating him in with the rest.
Jin interjects with a huff, “Oh shit, I keep forgetting you didn’t go to high school with us.”
Jinsoo takes the opportunity to provide some answers to their friend, tone casual as she shares their town’s unpleasant history. “Some kids in a ghost mask terrorized a bunch of teenagers like fifteen years ago. They killed like eight people before the police caught on and gunned them down outside some party they were slashing through.”
Jungkook fidgets in his seat as they talk about it, mildly unsettled by the nonchalance with which they discuss so much death. Yoongi’s eyes grow wide in horror. “Dude, what the fuck? What kind of psycho would do something like that?”
The group seems mostly unphased, the grim story becoming little more than town folklore after all these years. Jin shrugs his shoulders before laying his head down in Sana’s lap. “Beats me, but it looks like there’s another psycho trying to play the same game.”
With a whine, Namjoon flops against the grass, complaining to no one in particular. “God, I really hope it’s not someone on campus. The band has semi-finals next week, and I’ve got a scholarship to maintain. I can’t die now, man.”
Jimin chuckles, pulling Namjoon up and into his side. He shakes the man’s shoulder in reassurance, amusement laced in his voice. “Don’t worry, Joonie. The quiet nerd type is almost always safe in horror movies.”
The group breaks out into laughter, with Namjoon shoving Jimin’s giggling form to the ground. Jungkook can’t find it in himself to join in on the fun, body on edge. “Who did the new Ghostface kill?”
Their laughter dies down, and Namjoon takes on a serious tone as he responds. “Sunyoung and Haneul.”
Jungkook gasps, covering his mouth in shock. “Holy shit, they’re in my literature class.”
Hobi starts to pace in front of them, hands gesturing wildly. “That’s so scary, I can’t believe it was people we knew. What if the killer is someone on campus?”
Lip caught between his teeth, Jungkook’s leg starts to shake with nerves. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his right thigh. Mingyu’s eyes are warm as he meets Jungkook’s gaze. “It’s okay, Kook, I’ll keep you safe.”
The gesture is sweet, eliciting a small smile from Jungkook, using his own hand to squeeze Mingyu’s. Just as he’s about to speak, Taehyung leans over, arm wrapping around his waist to keep him close. His sharp eyes zero in on Mingyu, and a sardonic smile is plastered on his face. “Don’t worry, Mingyu. I can take care of him.”Mingyu scoffs, mumbling under his breath but not wanting to put up more of a fight.
Taehyung and Mingyu have never been fond of each other. The latter has harbored a crush on Jungkook for years but never got the courage to act on it. He’s always watched from the sidelines, providing Jungkook with a shoulder to cry on as he quietly yearned for more. So when Taehyung did what he couldn’t, tensions were immediately high. Thankfully, despite the unspoken feud for Jungkook’s attention, they’ve managed not to kill each other—issues only arise when Mingyu pushes past friendly territory.
Their conversation continues on, some of them tossing out ideas for who the killer might be. At some point, it devolves into who would be the first in their friend group to die, the bunch laughing absentmindedly as they rib on each other. Jungkook merely listens quietly until Hobi addresses him. “You know, you totally give ‘final girl’ vibes, JK.”
“Oh totally, he’d probably outlast all of us; have you seen him at the gym?” Jin affirms, hands gesturing toward the man’s muscular form.
Jungkook huffs, finally giving in a little to the lighthearted atmosphere. “I guess I did run track. So as long as I can outrun you, I might be safe.” The comment gets him a wave of chuckles from his friends, a smile finally returning to his face.
Taehyung squeezes Jungkook’s waist, planting a wet kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. “Don’t worry, angel, I’d sacrifice any one of these assholes to make sure you make it to the end.” The group erupts in boos, a few of them throwing loose papers and trash at Taehyung as the man cackles maniacally. Jungkook can’t help but join in this time, nose scrunching as he pulls his lover in for a kiss.
The cacophony of boos slowly turns to a mix of whistles and disgusted noises at the public display of affection. Jungkook smiles through the kiss, but Taehyung doesn’t let him pull away, taking the opportunity to bite the man’s lip. Their friend group is used to the couple’s utter lack of decorum, the rest turning their attention to other conversation topics. Only one person watches on, Mingyu exhaling dejectedly at the sight. Hobi comes up, patting the man’s shoulder sympathetically.
- - -
After a stressful day on campus, Jungkook is glad to be back home with Hobi and Jimin. A series marathon is just what he needs to unwind. He takes his seat on the couch, putting his beer on the side table next to him. Hobi takes the spot beside him, leaning his weight against the other. “I ordered the pizza, should be here in 45 minutes,” he notifies Jungkook.
“Nice, you get me half pineapple?”
Hobi rolls his eyes, scrunching his nose in disgust. “Yeah, yeah. You and your nasty pineapple.”
With a huff, Jungkook flicks Hobi on the forehead. “You just don’t have taste, hyung.” He can still hear Jimin rummaging around in the kitchen, so he directs his attention toward his roommate. “Jimin! Get your ass in here, so we can start the show.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t be a bitch.” As soon as Jimin is on the couch, Jungkook blows a raspberry in his direction. Once they’re all settled, Jungkook presses play and the trio sit comfortably while they wait for their dinner.
20 minutes into their first episode of the night, their quietude is disrupted by a phone ringing. Hobi makes a noise of surprise, picking up his phone and thinking it’s the pizza delivery. “That was fast?” But when he looks at the screen, he realizes it’s not ringing. “Oh, it’s not me.”
Jungkook leans over, seeing his phone light up from the floor where he’d placed it earlier. “It’s Tae,” he comments, picking up the device and holding it up to his ear. He cheerfully answers, “Hey baby, what’s up?”
“Hey, cutie, what’re you up to tonight?” Taehyung’s voice sounds different than usual—an equally deep voice but with a strange rasp. It still holds a hint of sultriness common for Taehyung, words seemingly innocent but holding hidden undertones. Jungkook brushes it off for now, just happy to hear from his lover.
He blushes, ducking his head as he responds. “Tae… don’t talk like that, I’m with Hobi and Jimin, remember?”
Jimin peaks his head from behind Hobi, sending Jungkook a questioning glance. Jungkook brushes him off, holding the phone closer to his ear. Taehyung chuckles darkly, that same raspiness still present in his voice. “That’s okay… I just wanna play for a little game with you.”
As his boyfriend keeps talking, he starts to feel unsettled. Each word sounds less and less like the man he knows so well and more like a stranger. “Uhm, Tae? What are you talking about? You’re being kind of weird right now.”
The tone of voice suddenly changes as the caller growls into the phone, “I’m not Taehyung, you stupid bitch!”
Jungkook scoffs in offense, put off and uneasy at the outburst. “If you’re not Taehyung, who the fuck are you then?” He instills as much hostility into his voice as he can muster. He puts the phone on speaker, letting his friends hear the voice, but putting a finger to his lips to signal silence.
The stranger laughs sardonically, sending a chill down Jungkook’s spine. “I’m an admirer. Didn’t you like the token of my affection I left for you at Haneul’s house?”
Immediately, Jungkook’s heart drops, goosebumps pebbling his skin. His friends look on with a mix of concern and confusion. “Wha— what are you saying?”
“I cut up those dumb girls for you, Jungkook. I knew the’d been bothering you, trying to get you to cheat for them in your literature class. Then they had the nerve to give you the cold shoulder when you wouldn’t. Wasn’t that nice of me?” Jimin and Hobi look at each other in horror before Hobi leans in to whisper for him to hang up.
Brow furrowing, Jungkook yells into the phone, “You’re fucking crazy! I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you need to leave me alone.”
The stranger scoffs, “So ungrateful. Don’t worry Jungkook. You’ll see how much I’m willing to do to prove myself to you. This is just the beginning; nothing will get in my way. Keep watching the news. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon.” Before Jungkook can respond, the line goes dead. He exhales deeply, shaken up by the interaction.
Hobi jumps up from the couch, pulling at his hair. “Woah, what the fuck was that?!”
Jungkook shakes his head, looking to his friends with anxiety. “I don’t know. I don’t know who that was.”
Jimin takes the phone from Jungkook’s hand, scrutinizing the call log. “How did they get Tae’s phone?”
Taking the phone back, Jungkook places it in his pocket to get it out of his sight. “I don’t know, Jimin. I’m hoping to god that Taehyung was just playing a horrible prank.”
“That would be a pretty fucked up prank, JK… Maybe you should call the police.” Jimin encourages, putting a gentle hand on Jungkook’s fidgeting leg.
Clutching his knees to stop them from moving, he shakes his head again. “No. No. I’m sure it was just someone messing with me. Tae is picking us up in the morning anyway, so let’s just leave it alone and I can ask him about it tomorrow.”
Hobi sits back down on the couch, pulling Jungkook into a reassuring side-hug. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’ll stay the night, and me and Jimin will be with you the whole time so you don’t have to be alone, okay?”
Smiling fondly at his friend, Jungkook finally nods. “Thanks, Hobi… now let’s go back to watching the episode so we can forget about this for tonight.”
- - -
2 hours later on campus…
“Hey Joon,” Jinsung calls over to Namjoon, the man taking his time to clean his tuba in their university’s band room.
Namjoon looks up, “uh?” He questions casually, mind a little lost in his task.
“I’m headed out, don’t stay too late, okay?” His bandmate chides.
With a small wave, Namjoon sends him off with a smile. “No worries, Jinsung. I’m gonna leave in a little bit.”
Jinsung nods, bidding him farewell. “Cool, see you Thursday!”
Finally left alone, Namjoon returns to his task. He likes the quiet of late night in the band room. He can practice in peace without any distractions, and get in some focus time. It’s a little dark in the room. The main overhead light has been out since last Friday, and maintenance has yet to fix it. Namjoon is left with only the illumination of the smaller lights at the back of the room, and the light pouring in from the hallway. Typically, he feels pretty calm in this space, but tonight feels particularly unsettling. Ever since they found out about the new Ghostface, Namjoon's been a little paranoid.
Namjoon ignores the mild discomfort he feels being in a dark room with shadowy corners in favor of focusing on his tuba. He cleans quietly, whistling to himself as he finishes up. A noise resonates toward the front of the classroom, emitting a quiet thud. Namjoon’s head shoots up, looking around the room with a grimace. “Hello?” He waits for a moment, silence filling the space once more before he calls out again. “Jinsung, is that you?”
When he’s only met with more silence, he decides to brush it off. He decides to try and finish up quickly, the uneasiness of being alone keeping him on edge. When he’s finally done, he puts his tuba away, gathering up his backpack and jacket. Just as he throws on the garment, he hears a much louder bang, like a brass instrument being hit.
His head swings around, scanning the room with alarm. This time, when he calls out, he’s yelling nervously. “Hello?! Who’s there?!” He’s on the other side of the room from the exit, and his heart starts to pound. He shakes his head profusely, and a lump forms in his throat that he swallows dryly. “Hell no, dude, I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, Namjoon walks briskly toward the double doors. Suddenly, a male figure in a ghost mask emerges from the shadows, a knife in hand. The blade is long and serrated, flecks of light glinting over the metal, seemingly to taunt him.
Feeling like a bucket of ice water was poured over his head, Namjoon freezes on the spot, eyes wide. “Holy shit.”
The figure tilts his head, scrutinizing Namjoon. A moment passes without any action, and the tuba player looks past the Ghostface at the door—his only way out. Without wasting another second, Namjoon breaks into a sprint, barreling toward the exit. The assailant follows suit, heading straight for him. Namjoon shoves some of the instruments down on his way, trying to slow the man down.
Unfortunately, the figure dodges them, instruments just barely missing him. Namjoon groans in frustration. Not paying attention to his surroundings, he realizes a moment too late that he’s going too fast, hitting the closed door with his body. He yowls in pain, thrown off kilter by the impact.
Within seconds, the man in the mask catches up, grabbing his arms to try and keep him against the door. Namjoon refuses to give up, gripping Ghostface’s wrists to try and push him away. The man in the mask is strong, but Namjoon fights back. “Get the fuck away from me!” He yells angrily, panting from exertion. So close to his exit, he screams out, “Help! Somebody help!”
Ghostface gets the upper hand in the scuffle, kicking Namjoon in the shin. It makes him flinch, hissing from the pain. Seeing his opportunity, the figure takes the opening, forcing his knife into Namjoon’s gut. The student wails, white spots forming behind his eyelids as he clutches his stomach. Blood spurts from between his fingers, and Namjoon makes a last ditch effort to get away. He shoves his attacker hard, forcing the knife from out of the wound as the man stumbles back.
Recovering quickly, Ghostface lunges forward, pushing Namjoon hard against the door. Namjoon’s head bangs against the wood with the force of it, knocking the breath from his lungs. Before he can collect himself, a barrage of stabs rain down on his torso. He cries out, pain blinding. Blood spews from his wounds in waves, staining his clothes and covering the shaking hands that uselessly try to clutch his body.
The crimson red paints the whole area, splattered against the wood, pooling into the carpet, and dripping down his attacker’s white mask. Namjoon’s mind goes blank, a feeling of shock and defeat coming over him. He and Ghostface just stare at each other. “Why?” He croaks out, coughing. The only response he’s granted is another tilt of the head, looking at Namjoon like he’s little more than a piece of meat.
The end comes quicker than he imagined. As his body grows weaker from blood loss, his legs give out under his weight. He sinks down to the floor, eyes never leaving that of the figure above him. Namjoon crumples over himself, thrown into a coughing fit. He closes his eyes with a shuttering sigh, leaning his head back against the door. His body grows heavy, and within minutes, his breathing stops.
Ghostface observes Namjoon’s dead body quietly. He chuffs, a sick amusement in his tone as he shakes his head. He wipes the dripping blade over his cloak, walking out the other door.