Jareth staggered into his apartment, the lingering effects of alcohol still clouding his senses. He had just come back from a night of drinking with his friends—a so-called celebration of their impending graduation. Then again, those guys never needed much of an excuse to celebrate; any good news was reason enough for a drinking party.
He wasn't supposed to go. His thesis was still unfinished, but he had convinced himself that one night of fun wouldn't hurt. After all, they wouldn't have many chances like this once they stepped into the real world.
As he shut the door behind him, he swayed slightly, catching himself against the wall with a quiet chuckle.
"Guess I drank more than I thought," he muttered under his breath, kicking off his shoes and dragging his sluggish body toward the bedroom.
The moment his body hit the mattress, a wave of dizziness washed over him. But before he could even relax, nausea twisted in his stomach like a vengeful beast. Groaning, he bolted upright and stumbled towards the bathroom, barely making it in time before emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
"Ugh… damn it," he gasped, gripping the cold porcelain as he caught his breath. His head throbbed, and his throat burned from the bile.
After a few moments, he pushed himself up, turned on the faucet, and rinsed his mouth. As he cupped his hands to splash cold water on his face, he finally looked up at the mirror—
And froze.
His breath hitched as a figure stared back at him from the glass. A young man, unfamiliar yet eerily vivid—curly brown hair framing a heart-shaped face, piercing green eyes, and lips so red they looked as if they were dripping blood.
Jareth's heart slammed against his ribs. His entire body went rigid before instinct took over.
"Ahhh—!"
He stumbled back in sheer panic, his heel slipping against the tiled floor as he crashed into the shower door with a loud thud. His pulse roared in his ears as his wide eyes darted around the room, but—nothing. He was alone.
Chest heaving, he turned back to the mirror with cautious hesitation. The strange figure was gone. Instead, his own pale, disheveled reflection stared back at him—messy black hair, dark eye bags, and a face that looked like it hadn't known proper sleep in weeks.
Jareth placed a hand over his chest, feeling the frantic thudding of his heart beneath his palm.
"What the hell…" he whispered, swallowing hard. He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. "Must be the alcohol. Yeah… just a hallucination."
Trying to shake off the unease creeping up his spine, he grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and brushed his teeth. The bitter taste of bile still lingered, but at least he felt a little more human.
With slow, deliberate steps, he returned to his bed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. As he sank into the mattress, he let out a long breath.
I just need sleep.
It had been a week since his insomnia started, an unwelcome companion that tormented him night after night. No matter how exhausted he felt, his body refused to rest. And even when he managed to drift off, nightmares—vague, unsettling, and persistent—would jolt him awake within minutes.
He tried everything. Sleeping pills didn't work. Exhausting himself with exercise only left him sore, not sleepy. Nothing helped.
Tonight, his friends had convinced him that alcohol might do the trick.
"Come on, man! You've been stressing over your insomnia, right? Well, guess what—the best cure is alcohol!" one of his friends declared, throwing an arm around Jareth's shoulder. "I swear, drink enough, and you won't just sleep—you'll embark on the longest, most ridiculous dream of your life.
The others joined in with laughter and enthusiastic nods, eagerly trying to convince him.
It had sounded reasonable at the time.
"Please," he murmured into the darkness, eyes already growing heavy. "Just let me sleep properly tonight…"
His breathing slowed, and the world around him faded into silence.
But in the depths of his mind, something stirred.
This time, his nightmares felt different—darker, more vivid, as if something was terribly wrong.
A sharp, searing pain erupted in Jareth's head, pulsing in waves.
It wasn't the usual discomfort of restless sleep; this was deeper, heavier, like something was clawing at his very mind.