Nothing I Can Do

01

June 1, 2014

Hyojong tosses and turns in his sleep, like a toddler who can't find peace without his pacifier. But he has good reason to; his muse is coming. More specifically, his death muse. They tell him how he dies, always leaving more questions than answers. The first time you'll ever meet your muse will be in a dream-like state, where they look ethereal, like demented gods and goddesses.

Long ago, around the 80's, a man reported seeing a fire demon in his dream on his twentieth birthday. He went on and on about she told him how he would die, but no one believed him. They chalked him up to insane and placed him in the psychiatric ward, the one that caught fire after a bad lightning storm, the exact one the female "demon" told him he would perish in. As soon as the flames were out, they found him among the carnage with a note attached to his hospital gown: "Inferno knows. She knows your death."

Soon, everyone had a death muse as soon as they turned twenty years of age. It's a scary idea to think about, your new knowledge of how your friends will find you one day. Kind of depressing to dwell your entire life based on an outcome you're destined to follow.

Hyojong groans softly, the thin sheet he keeps over him tangled tightly around his bare legs. He never wore pants to bed; he always got too hot. His impending insomnia tonight, caused by the anxiety that his death muse would arrive any second, kept him uptight and frustrated. It was a good birthday party Kang Hyunggu, his best friend in this entire world, had thrown for him. Lots of alcohol, some of his closest friends, including me, and hot, sexy girls. Hyojong was quite the player, each girl practically mesmerized by his existence to the point there were lipstick stains on almost every part of his skin. He was sure to have a hangover in the morning, being it was shot after shot, a keg stand contest, and vomit... Lots and lots of stomach soup that spewed out of most of us. It was an amazing night.

The angry grumbles of his stomach jolted him bolt upright against his king mattress, the instinct of the morning headache already in overdrive. This was going to be a long night for Hyo. As he flung the fabric away from his thighs, clutching his aching abdomen tightly in his arms, he makes a break to the bathroom. He throws the seat open, bent over and releases his breakfast, lunch, and dinner right into his toilet, the burps and gags honestly too much to take.

A giggling, female voice echoes throughout his bedroom, his ears practically ringing from the incoherent whispers. He stands up, pushing down the handle and watching the chunks swirl until they disappeared, wiped the back of his hand against his lips and made it back to his bed.

"Hyunggu! Are you fucking with me?" Hyo yells from his room, his entire body spread eagle against the plush mattress. He blows a strand of artificial blonde from his soft, brown eyes. He waits patiently for a response but is returned with a slightly disturbing silence. At that, he can feel his heart start to do double time in his chest, his anxiety definitely beginning to kick in right about now. Soon, the silence fills with a soft crackle, like a fireplace in the winter time. Except, Hyojong and Hyunggu don't own a fireplace.

Despite what he learned watching horror movies with me and Changgu, he gets up to investigate, his brain practically doing back flips in his skull. Each step he takes from the safety and comfort of his master bedroom feels like another time his heart would skip a beat, No one has ever seem Kim Hyojong, the brave and mighty heartthrob, so terrified and out of his mind. The dreamy crackle of the nonexistent flames intensified into a roar of inferno, his eardrums aching from the constant ring of female voices laughing and inaudible whispers, and that growl of flames. The air began to smell of smoke which crawled down his throat, causing him to cough quite violently.