Chapter Text
it starts small, the way most things do. a friday evening, while ten is getting ready to go out dancing with all his hot, exciting friends and johnny is gearing up for a ten pm bedtime.
“fuck,” johnny curses, hands gripping his waist. “why does my back hurt so much?”
“bad posture?” ten suggests without looking up from where he’s putting on eyeshadow in their bathroom. “you’re always hunched over when you’re working on your laptop.”
johnny shoots him a glare, even though he knows ten can’t see it. “okay, mom. but no. i know what that feels like, and it’s not this. this is…” he struggles to find the words to describe it. he presses his hand into right where it hurts the most, all the way down at the bottom of his lower back. “sharper? it’s tender, kind of.”
“tender?” this has ten turning around. he looks good, smokey eyes and a glossy lip. a thin chain rests on his collarbones and disappears under the silky silver button up that matches ten’s hair. johnny swallows. “let me see if you managed to bruise yourself or something.”
johnny turns around.
“shirt,” ten instructs, tugging at the oversized tee. obedient, johnny pulls it up.
cool fingers trace johnny’s back, a little too high.
“lower,” johnny says. “why are your hands always so cold?”
“cold hands, warm heart,” ten mumbles, nearly automatically. it’s an exchange they’ve had many times in their years of being roommates. “here?” he asks, pressing his fingers a little harder.
johnny practically yelps. “ouch, shit, yes, there. can you see anything?”
ten hums. “not really. maybe it’s a bit red? it doesn’t look like anything.”
“damn,” johnny says, letting his shirt drop.
“take some painkillers,” ten suggests. “i’ve got some in the top drawer.”
johnny sighs, but obliges.
“i’m gonna head,” ten tells him. “hendery just texted me, he’s downstairs.”
“okay. have a good night, stay safe. text me if you’re not coming home tonight.”
ten’s at the door and johnny’s about to take his pill, but he’s surprised by ten running back and giving johnny a quick hug. tight.
“get some rest, hyung,” ten says. “love you, bye.”
johnny stares at the pill in his hand and swears he isn’t in love with his best friend. “love you,” he responds, but he’s too late. ten’s already out the door.
over the weekend, it just gets worse. it’s impacting johnny’s concentration. he has a world literature essay due tuesday and he’s written exactly forty five words out of the required three thousand.
“maybe you should go to a doctor,” ten suggests from where he’s sat on the floor occupying the whole space between their two beds with the giant embroidery piece he’s doing for one of his art classes. “wait, we’re broke college students. how about mark lee?”
“mark is a first year nursing student,” johnny says, skeptical.
“i was just suggesting,” ten huffs.
saturday has johnny sleeping on his front because his back is so tender. it’s a weird pattern of swelling and redness on his back that he sees when he tries to examine himself once he comes out the shower, like six circles getting more and more swollen by the hour, right at the base of his back, but nothing really useful comes up when he googles it. by sunday evening, johnny has already applied for an extension on his essay. ten is sympathetic, but for the most part absorbed in his art project, and he really can’t do anything but give johnny more of his paracetamol.
somehow, johnny manages to sleep deeply on sunday night. in fact, he sleeps more deeply than he has in a really, really, long time, and he wakes up feeling heavy and warm in an uncomfortable way.
it takes him a while to notice it, with his brain so thoroughly doused in sleep, but as soon as he does, johnny’s eyes shoot open.
his back doesn’t hurt anymore. or at least, nowhere nearly as bad as it was last night. when he notices it now, it’s simply dulled to more of a background ache.
but then he tries to get up, and realises something. the weird sensation of heaviness isn’t just because of his sleep. there is something weighing him down.
“ten?” he asks, automatically, but when he turns his head to face ten’s bed, he’s there, asleep.
struggling, johnny sits up. his sheets are damp. why are they damp? it feels like someone’s in bed beside him.
and then johnny sees it.
and he screams.
because he’s surrounded - oh my god, oh my god, he’s surrounded by -
tentacles. thick, dark like ink, curling around his body. tentacles.
he keeps screaming.
“johnny, what the fuck,” ten moans from his bed, burying his face in his pillow.
“ten, ten, oh my god,” johnny’s moved from screaming to crying, he’s sobbing what the fuck is this, what the fuck, what the fuck is this, he’s got tentacles, what the fuck.
ten wakes up, lifts his sleepy head from his bed and stares at johnny.
and he screams.
“johnny, what the fuck,” he shouts, voice nearly cracking. “what the fuck!”
there’s a knocking on their door.
“don’t open it,” johnny hisses through his hysteria. “oh my god, ten, don’t open the fucking door.”
“i wasn't going to!” ten yells.
“dude, is everything okay in there?” it’s seungyeon from down the hall. “it’s seven thirty on a monday.”
“everything’s fine,” ten calls out, high pitched, definitely not sounding fine. “sorry for the commotion.”
ten looks insane with his bedhead and his huge wide eyes. johnny is certain he does not look any better because he has tentacles, oh my god he has tentacles.
“we need to keep quiet,” johnny says, trying his best to maintain a normal volume. “or people will want to know what - what’s going on, and i can’t - oh my god, ten, what’s happening to me?”
“you’ve got tentacles,” ten says, entirely unhelpful, extremely high pitched. “your - your back pain, the weird bruise things.”
“yeah,” johnny spits. “i figured that part out.”
“okay. okay, we need to calm down. i’m calm, are you calm? i’m calm, i’m totally calm, it’s just some - it’s some tentacles.” ten’s voice breaks on the last syllable.
johnny has ascended past the stage of panic and has convinced himself that he’s dreaming, because there’s no way this is real, right? this shit doesn’t happen in real life.
“pinch me,” he tells ten. “then i’ll wake up.”
so ten, trying his best to stay at arm’s length, pinches him, hard.
he doesn’t wake up.
“this isn't a nightmare, right? is this real?” johnny whispers.
“i think so,” ten whispers back.
“holy shit,” johnny says.
ten swallows. “holy shit.”