Nyctophilia // A Taekook Story

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The boy didn't know when his mind escaped unconsciousness. But as he fluttered his heavy eyelids open, he wished he'd never left. 

A taunting, radiant white blinded his eyes as soon as he could see. Everything around him was white. The distant walls were white, the wooden chair was white, the fluorescent lights were white, the smooth floor was white, the narrow door was white.

Everything was white. 

The boy squinted his eyes and frowned, his plump, soft lips turning down. He glanced down, his frown deepening when he noticed the bed, blanket, and pillow were the same mocking color. A lanky, thin gown hung gloomily on his frail shoulders, stopping right above his knees.

As his trembling feet kissed the floor, he let out a sharp gasp at the tingling cold. Goosebumps erupted on his creamy skin, and the boy shivered. 

Where am I? He thought. Why is there so much white? The boy scrunched his nose up in distaste. He faltered as he walked forward like a baby deer, but his lean hands gripped the snow-colored curtains before his bum could hit the ground. 

Panting gently, the boy threw open the curtains. What's the point of the curtains if there are no windows? he gritted his teeth in frustration. I want to see colors. No white. No more white. Anxiety crept into his delicate body like a bear who had found a den to slumber in. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, before the boy could panic, the door was opened with a click, and voices slithered into the room.

"His condition doesn't seem to be getting better. He hasn't opened his eyes in the past..." the voice froze. 

The boy narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't seem to get words out of his mouth. A man and a woman were both staring at him with their stunned eyes and jaws wide open like they had just seen a ghost.

Maybe they did see a ghost. Everything in this damn room is white anyway. The boy opened his mouth but his voice was hidden in his throat, holding on for dear life like a child to his parent. 

"You-you're awake. And-and you're walking," the man stuttered. His cinnamon brown hair was swept back, accenting his handsome face. 

"How is that possible?" The women breathed. 

The boy blinked at them like they had just grown a set of heads. But his blank expression became a scowl when he observed that both of them were wearing all white. 

"Should we tell Dr. Choi?" The man walked closer to the boy hesitantly like he was afraid to scare him away, but he looked more terrified than the boy. "Say Kim Taehyung has woken up," he murmured to the women. The woman nodded fearfully and ran out of the room. 

Kim Taehyung. Is that my name? The boy—Kim Taehyung—looked down at his long hands. I don't...remember anything. What am I doing here? What is this place?

"Taehyung?" The man whispered. His sky blue eyes gleamed with sympathy. "Do know where you are?"

Taehyung shook his head, and suddenly, his vision became blurry. My eyes feel wet. Am I crying? Are these... tears? Water lined his gray eyes, making them appear like storm clouds before rain. I don't know anything. Why can't I remember anything?

The man paused before touching Taehyung's arm. "It's okay. You're in a hospital. Do you remember anything?"

Tears began to flow down his cheeks like a waterfall, curving at his defined jaws before trickling down his bare neck. Taehyung shook his head agin, more fervently this time. 

The blue-eyed man grabbed Taehyung's other arm with utmost care before saying, "Don't cry. It'll be okay. I'm Chanwoo, and I'm gonna help you, okay?" Chanwoo wrapped Taehyung into a hug, holding him close to his chest before stroking the boy's rich, ebony hair. 

Why can't I remember anything? were the only words that echoed in Taehyung's head. They seemed to pound at the hideously white walls that were so empty and bare, Taehyung felt like throwing up. The words ripped and shredded but there was absolutely nothing except white.

"Why don't you sit on the bed, and I'll get you a glass of water, alright?" Chanwoo muttered into Taehyung's ear before letting him go. When Taehyung looked at him with desperate eyes he said, "I'll be back quick. Don't worry."

As soon as Chanwoo walked out the door, though, panic ignited inside Taehyung. I'm trapped? In this room? So much white.

Taehyung leapt off the bed, tears staining his ivory face. His knees jolted at the sudden pressure, and he landed sideways on his left foot. 

Pain ruptured through his ankle, stinging and burning like hot acid. Taehyung whimpered and clutched his foot, his dark eyes no longer raining, but pouring water. Nevertheless, the boy gripped onto the handles of the bed and brought himself up, wincing at the agony gnawing at his ankle. 

I need to get out of here. No more white. I need to get out, became Taehyung's mantra as he limped towards the door. Almost there. His hands clutched the door knob, saving him before he could fall. Regaining his strength, Taehyung creaked open the door and stepped out with quivering legs.

The rest of the hospital was fairly quiet. Faint murmurs, loud enough to hear but too soft to understand, pulsed through the halls like fifteen different heartbeats all at once. White or shades of white were all that Taehyung could see. Why is there so much white? His stomach churned threateningly like spoiled milk, but Taehyung couldn't remember the last time he ate, so what could he possibly throw up? 

He had no idea where he was going, but he let his feet—well, one foot and a dragging weight—take him wherever. 

Taehyung felt heavy like he was an anchor drowning in the water, and he was terrified because he hadn't even known his name until Chanwoo had said it. Part of him thought his weak legs would give out any second, and dread swam through his body like a sea serpent. 

A glass door was a few feet away, and relief flooded through Taehyung, knowing he was so, so close. But the joy shriveled away as soon as he heard voices. 

"Taehyung! What are you doing!" Chanwoo's voice called from behind. 

He's gonna take me back to that room. No, I can't go back. I want to see colors. No more white. Taehyung's gentle brows creased with desperation. I have to run for it. He glanced down at his throbbing ankle, which was swollen as big as a tennis ball. 

I don't have time. I'll cry about my problems later. I have to get out of here first. Taehyung's breathing wavered nervously as he heard Chanwoo's footsteps. "Taehyung, wait! Please!"

Run like a serial killer dipped in white paint is chasing after you, Taehyung. Serial killer dipped in white paint. 

And so he did. Taehyung pushed against the tile floor, his footsteps almost as loud as his heartbeat, and he ran as fast as his broken soul could take him. His wound screamed and scratched like a crying, bratty child, but he didn't stop.

He kept running until he couldn't hear Chanwoo's pleas, until the skin under his feet became bloody and torn, until he couldn't see anymore white.

Wow. I just wrote all that. What do ya'll think? 

I was really thinking about it, and I felt like Taehyung was right to feel the way he did. The poor kid, didn't even know his name till later. Tbh I would've thrown a tantrum and sobbed until my memories came back. :p