No warning.
No siren.
No announcement.
No sign.
Should I have predicted this gruesome of an end?
Could I see the future? Was it all written down somewhere? Was it projected with bolded, capitalised text? No. No warning, no siren, no announcement, no sign. Nothing. There was nothing.
I tried. I tried my damnedest. I scanned, I locked, unlocked, followed, yelled, whispered, cried, apologised. I drew sweat, drew blood, drew tears.
It was stone-still and yet too swift to see. It was frozen then gone in a blink. It screeched and whimpered, then hissed, growled, preyed. I should have known.
"Hope, are you there?"
"Hope?"
It's loose. It's in the vents, it's in the hallways. I hear the screeches. They haunt me here. It's in the ceiling, it's in the floor, in the cellar, in the storage, the bedrooms…
"Hyung, snap out of it, damn it!"
It growled from the right seconds ago, how is it already on the left? Did I not see it pass behind me? Fuck, I can't think. I need the control panel, need to stop this. If I can just press that button, I'd—
"I swear, man, you're getting more irritating with that shit every day," snapped Yoongi after he'd deliberately smacked Hoseok between the shoulders with remnant stings all over his sore, aching body. "You start writing and we lose you completely."
Hoseok's furiously flushed, red as fresh cherries cheeks had freckled from heat, and his prematurely wrinkled forehead glistened from the sun rays that snaked through the potent leaves of the ageless oaks and reflected off his dripping beads of sweat. Children's high-pitched screams and naively-tinted laughs echoed through his eardrums for a while, then the unnecessary shouting of parents became painfully audible, and he realised he was outside. He released the crushing grip he had on the ebony pen, let it drop against the wrinkled papers of his notebook, and carefully closed it in with the heavy leather cover. He stared blankly at the rusted metal of the table for a moment longer, inhaled, exhaled, glanced at the massive building across the shaded field, and sighed.
"You alright, hyung? Your face is flushed."
Hoseok blinked and placed a pale, shaky hand on his numb chest. His heart could outrace a newly built train. "Yeah, I'm alright, Jimin-ah. Just not used to the warm weather yet." His cheeky smile offered Jimin the temporary consolation he needed.
The table fell into friendly chatter again. Hoseok sat at the outer edge of the crowd, his sloppy lunch cold and untouched in front of his scattered notes and textbooks. His neck cracked as he turned his head to the side and scanned over the doll-like faces of his company.
Yoongi sat silently next to him and ate his simple, boring lunch. He never showed much interest in every day routine things, and lunchtime was no exception. His whole complexion spelled out "dull" smack-dab in the centre of his general being; he wore cool black, grey, and white clothing such as loose hoodies, oversized shirts, comfortable home sweatpants, not-so-slim-on-him jeans; hipster style articles usually considered the reason for his low popularity. He had also bleached his hair white. A papery, dead-looking white.
By Yoongi fidgeted the restless maknae of the group. The rest of the six boys never argued with him, no matter the reason. Jungkook, or Kookie as they all ironically called him, was the quickest runner of the school, the popular kid preppy and beautiful but dumb girls stalked on social media, but he wasn't the brightest little pupil. As a mere sophomore, he was already in scandalous danger of failing half his classes. Except arts and athletics, of course. He balanced out the group with his likeable immaturity and perennial teasing of what he was expected to address with respect.
Jungkook was fortunate enough that Kim Namjoon, national teachers' sweetheart, always helped him with the copious amounts of work he nudged aside. He always sat on Kook's other side with a curved spine, pulled the maknae's homework from his massive black backpack and, against advice, did the work himself. Namjoon received top grades in every class, was every ordinary teacher's favourite, wrote all his homework a week before the assigned due dates, listened carefully and contributed actively in class, did public and in-school service, was part of the school-wide adored track team, and was constantly exhausted to the brink of unconsciousness. No one held it over him when he'd snap at Jungkook for his eternal carelessness, at Hoseok for zoning out every so often, or at Yoongi for being too quiet for his own wellbeing. He was tired.
"What's our next class?" Jimin asked over the incoherent side conversations. He sat across from Hoseok, his brilliant golden-blonde hair unruly yet strangely stylish, cream checkered coat neatly unbuttoned and pulled in to protect his sensitive neck, and his already thin, divinely-sculpted face more slender than the day before. The poor boy had a tendency to restlessly chase perfection in everything he did. Hoseok used to find it admirable, before he realised just to what extent Jimin would go for the slightest bit of short-term satisfaction. "I hope it isn't history, I haven't finished that presentation yet."
Taehyung scoffed in disbelief and muttered just barely audibly under a heavy breath, "Please, you were up until three thirty in the morning finishing that damn presentation." Taehyung often called Jimin out on his late nights. He was inconsiderably blunt and knew it well, so he apologised to his best friend daily. He knew, too, that Jimin hated to be worried for.
Hoseok's startle scream echoed throughout the empty courtyard. He jumped suddenly to his feet, tripped over himself in a blind panic and fell heavily from the bench. Something had pinched sharply at both his sides and growled lowly in his ear. The hair on his arms stood on end, his already heavy breaths adopted the speed of prey on the run, and he was sure his weak heart had stopped beating for a tad too long. Unfazed at all by Hoseok's petrified screech, all boys turned curiously, interested to see who or what it was that had scared the wits out of Hoseok that time. Not seconds later, the rest of the boys screamed, too, but rather joyfully. Almost like the children Hoseok's brain had refused to process just a few minutes back. They vaulted from the metal bench, all but the lost hipster of the group, and tackled the grinning frame that towered over Hoseok's now vacant spot by Yoongi.
"Jin-hyung!" Jimin cheered as he desperately clung onto the man's door-sized shoulders. Had Hoseok been even half-conscious, he would've heard the ongoing praises that flew at Seokjin from every side. Granted, the senior had just returned from a week-long, dreadfully distant trip to the other side of the country, and everyone had missed him furiously. His white Hollywood smile seized no rest as he breathlessly greeted and thanked his four attackers, but only after he'd exclaimed they were suffocating him did they actually apologise and retreat back to their places. It was funny how giddy they got around the senior.
As Seokjin's tall frame circled the table in an attempt to get to his usual spot, Namjoon roughly grabbed onto the madnae's denim jacket and snatched his whole frame down. He almost dropped the tray he held. Hoseok's thin, trembling frame finally crawled its way back to the steel bench and he witnessed their lips collide. No matter how many times Namjoon and Seokjin had kissed in front of the boys, the reaction remained the same; cheers, whoops, oohs, and grins too large for their faces. Even ill-minded Hoseok and Yoongi unsuccessfully prevented the pain in their cheeks.
It seemed, now that Seokjin had returned, the natural balance between all the boys was magically restored. The gap that had opened ever-so-slowly before, without the presence of merely one of them, stitched itself up and let life go as it was. A peaceful, filled with boisterous laughter, day-to-day survival game.
One thing's for sure, Hoseok thought as he watched the painting-like scene unfold in front of him. Jungkook purposely ignored Namjoon's constant nagging, Taehyung mothered Jimin for his unhealthy ways while Yoongi backed him up, Seokjin altogether whined about everyone's ridiculously irritating voices, and it wanted them. It wanted them, and it would have them.