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ғᴀɴᴛᴀsʏ - ʙ.ᴄʜ✞︎✔︎

ғᴇᴍ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴᴇʀ × ʙᴀɴɢ ᴄʜᴀɴ (ᴄʜʀɪs)
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1368 ᴡᴏʀᴅs
ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ?: ✔️

ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀs ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ KOTIKTV8, ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ!! <3

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It was cold. You could feel the dark of the room pressing against your bare skin, even through the clothes you have now been wearing for weeks. Or.. has it even been weeks? Maybe it's been years, you couldn't tell. You couldn't care to tell. Why did it matter? A deep sigh left your chapped lips as your eyes refused to close, slightly red and puffy due to your crying fits from hours before. The clothes felt heavy on your body, almost uncomfortable.

The felling of something cold around your wrist became a reoccuring feeling, and it brang you a sense of mortality as it constantly reminded you of your limited existence. You huffed a laugh at the painfully delicious irony of the thought, your voice cracked and dry from overuse.

Deciding sleeping was useless, you sat up, groaning softly at the stiffness of your limbs. You rubbed at them, trying to relieve the ache of your joints. The room you were in had many band posters on it's walls, the paint slightly chipping off the bottom. Infront of you was a desk, topped with a pot of pens and pencils, most of them almost shorter than the rim of the pot, their points dull and used. The other remaining were pens that were either devoid of ink, or full of ink yet their plastic casing was cracked and splintered around the point of the pen.

Oh, and he's here too.

He's slouched infront of a laptop, chunky-looking black headphones ontop of the mess of navy blue hair crowning his head. He hummed to a tune softly, tapping at his laptop keyboard rapidly, another hand tapping against the table to a slow yet bubbly rhythm. He hasn't noticed you're awake. Yet. Once he does you'll never be left alone. You breathe a sigh of relief as you realise he can't hear you, his headphones probably louder than any background noise for full concentration on his music.

Solitude, even if for a few minutes. It was all you had now.

You laid back against the plush pillows of the bed, staring up at the ceiling, then almost immeadiatly regretting it. On the ceiling of Chris' room, above his bed, was a huge poster of you in a cafe, the camera angle coming from a good distance away. You looked away, your stomach flipping with anxiety. Your eyes landed on the bedside table, the 3 drawers inside it painted a blinding black. Curiosity tapped at the back of your consience, urging you to rumage through the table. But, considering his obsessive antics, you could find anything in there. Your hair, teeth, pieces of bubblegum you've chewed and spat out, old toothbrushes, anything.

A shiver of disgust physically ran down your spine, making the chains connecting your wrist to the bed rattle, ableit only a small amount. But it was enough. How could it not be? You couldn't enjoy being left alone forever, now could you?

"..Y/N?" he whispered, his dark brown eyes wide and deep, staring at you with fond suprise. You stared at the chains around your wrist, glaring into them so hard they could've broken. You hear him take off his headphones, the squeak of his chair signalling his rise from it. "You're awake.."

"Did.. did you sleep well?" he asks timidly, sitting next to you on the bed, a small smile on his face, his dimples cutting into his soft, honey skin. You slowly nodded, all energy draining from you from just a nod of your head. 'Where did all the energy you had before wander off to?', you wonder, your eyes now focused on the bedside table. Curiosity bothered you yet again, it's onslaught of questions making your head spin.

"Good.. that's good. I slept well, if you were going to ask! It's all because of you." he says, his voice lively and clear, even though your pretty sure it's almost 7:15 am. Early morning.

"What's in the drawers?" you ask, your voice hoarse and quiet. Chris' cheeks seem to gain colour, a rose petal red painted across them. He clears his throat, an airy yet nervous laugh leaving his lips. You look at him this time, your (e/c) eyes dull yet attentive, taking interest in his answer.

"The drawers? Oh, uhm.. j-just some- just some souveniers from trips we've been on together. You know, like the cafe and stuff.." he says, rubbing the side of his bicep with another nervous laugh. You hide your horror well, your expression stoic and uncaring as you panic inside your mind. The picture above you speaks volumes on your trips ''together'', and you feel your stomach churn with discomfort. You muster up the courage to ask another question, your hands clenching beside your head.

"...what souveniers?" you ask, seeing how Chris' face lights up. He smiles, stroking your calf lovingly. "Here, I'll show you my favourite one." he says, getting up and kneeling infront of the set of drawers, pulling the middle drawer out fully. You look into the drawer, your heart pounding.

In the drawer was a lock of hair, a hairbrush that you recognise as yours, a disposable coffee cup, a bandaid and many other things that related to and belonged to you. You and only you. No one else.

You couldn't hide your emotions anymore, your emotionless, unforgiving facade slipping to show a face of confusion before it finally gave way to a show of disgust and unbridled fear. Your hands shook, your eyes wide with pure shock. Chris looked up at you, like a puppy at it's owner, his eyes asking you if he had done a good job. Although, your expression gave him his answer, and his eyes darkened, and his jaw flexed as he clenched it.

"What's.. with that face?" he mumbles, closing the drawer with a click. You realised what you had done, and put on a smile to try and throw him off. Sweat dripped from your forehead as you realised the dire mistake you made. You ruined his perfect fantasy, how both your lives were going to go. He stood up, noticing how your breathing quickened drastically as he towered over you.

He was ominously quiet, his expression blank. You couldn't tell if he was angry or hurt, happy or upset. That was what scared you most. How unpredictable he was.

Suddenly, he sat down again, although in a different place. He was by your feet now, his eyes never leaving yours. You shook your head frantically, words failling you as panic rose in your chest. He smiled fondly at you, yet his eyes remained as blank as yours once were. Now, your eyes were filled to the brim with unushered tears and fear; that fresh, sweet, maliciously savoury look of fear.

"You were doing.. so.. so well." he strained, his voice airy with deep, hurried breaths. He suddenly grabbed your ankle, placing another hand on the base of your foot. He seemed to sniffle, his eyes red, although there were no tears behind his eyes. You screamed and thrashed around the bed, trying to get him to let you go, to regain the solitude you already missed so. But in the end it all ended the same way.

There was a loud snap, then a blood-curdling scream, then a cry of agony from Chris as he heard your pain, acting as if he was in pain as well. Your eyes let your tears fall across your cheeks, your hands shaking in pain and anger. You knew you shouldn't move, unless you want it to hurt more. Chris soon joined you at the top of the bed, his eyes red and rimmed with tears. "You forced this on me.. please.. don't think of me any different." he whispered, kissing your salty red cheeks feverently, not caring about the hand which begged of him to stop. Or of your relentless yet futile attempts to push him away.

"This fantasy is ours, okay? We both want this.. so don't... don't ruin this for us..."

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