Work Text:
He was doing fine. Really.
He had just started to just look at a few old papers and books. Something they had acquired after their visit to the last city they went to. It wasn't a long stay, but Yeonjun managed to find new and useful stuff on the streets, grabbing a few books about the sea and travel guides. Of course he already had a great knowledge of most of the general contents of the sea, but it never hurt to learn more, so he sat down on his chair and began flipping through the pages mindlessly.
It was starting to get late, most of the crew already making their way to the dorms, so it was fairly quiet and pacific. The waves were fine and the weather was also good, so far they didn't have any bad surprises.
As he keeps reading, Yeonjun realizes it also mentions a few older and famous crews. Some of them he doesn't recognize because they're too old, but he knows some names. He bets a few of them are still alive and kicking, since once you've been a pirate, you're always a pirate.
But that's when he sees something familiar. Or rather, a symbol.
Yeonjun felt his stomach sink. Cold spreading through his chest and neck, something gripping his heart so hard he was feeling through his ribcage.
That symbol. His hand. The sword. Blood. Sick laugh. Slash. A scream.
It all came in sudden flashes, leaving him disoriented.
A thud startled him into getting up, he looked around, not realizing that the sound was the book falling from his hands. Yeonjun kept looking around, dagger in hand. He doesn't even know where he got that, but years of experience left him with a strong muscle memory.
He heard hard breathing, almost like someone was choking, and he wanted to know where the sound was coming from. The object, clutched in his left hand felt heavy but a silent comfort in the back of his mind.
Yeonjun tried to walk, only to stumble on the fallen book and fall to his knees.
His hands were shaking, legs wobbling and vision unfocusing.
"I-i can't-" He wheezed, dagger falling from his hands when he finally realized that the sound was coming from himself.
Yeonjun touched his own throat, as if that would help him breathe better, and he felt it.
The rope.
The rope was preventing him from breathing. He tried to put his fingers under it, to no success. It was too tight. It was too tight. He couldn't breathe.
He started to get frantic. Since his hands weren't supporting his body weight anymore, his head was now on the ground, curled on himself while he tried to pull the rope out of his neck. It was choking him.
"S-stop… you're…you- I can't-" He whined, twisting and turning on the floor as he scratched his throat, wanting to breathe. He needed air.
He was going to die.
To his own shame, he felt the tears coming. 'No they can't see me like this. I'm strong, but they are killing me' He thought to no avail, since the tears fell anyways, silent and cold as they always did.
His blurry eyes could see the dagger a few centimeters ahead of him, but in his mind it seemed so far away.
He needed to cut the rope. He was dying.
He can't die.
He can't die.
He can't die.
Yeonjun finally got a weak hold of it, slowly bringing it closer to his neck. What he didn't realize was that he grabbed the dagger by the blade, and when he gripped it, he barely felt anything, his mind dead focused on cutting the fucking rope.
When his hand came into view, he saw red.
And then he passed out.