[EDITING] TOUCH | Nakamoto Yuta

02 |

I live for your guys' comments <3

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:*･*:.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

   It's been three weeks.

   Three weeks since, as some of the members call it , "the accidental orgy", and Yuta was getting anxious. He was paranoid, every morning or night he'd go into the bathroom alone, looking at himself in the mirror, afraid he'll see some change in his body. He thought about buying a test or two, but found himself straying away from the aisle at the convenient and drug stores.

   "Oi, Yuta-ssi! Concentrate, you missed a step!" The choreographer yelled at him.

   Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked to the choreographer apologetic, "I'm sorry—"

   "Start over, again, from the start to the end!"

   Sighing, the group got back in position for their repackage album's title, Punch. He found him getting tired quicker during practices, he blames it on the three day break making him lose shape.

   After practice, he was sitting on the ground, taking large sips of water, when Taeyong walked up to him, "Yuta, are you okay? Are you ill?"

   Yuta shook his head, quickly saying in a unexpectedly hissy tone, "What? No? I'm fine." He looked at him strangely, "Why?"

"You're just," Taeyong started, making awkward gestures, not expecting the younger to be defensive, and neither did Yuta expect himself to be defensive. "Out of it? You're not very focused recently..."

He was quiet, and Taeyong leaned closer, not wanting the choreographers or managers to hear, "Are you still thinking about what happened a few weeks ago?" Am I that obvious? Anyone could tell the first week after that it had affected the japanese's pride and ego— whose wouldn't after finding out you all had an orgy and there's a more than likely chance that you were most likely screw by more than one person?

"Yuta..." his silence was the answer to the leader's question. "It's fine, let me tell you something," Yuta lifted his head, curious, "I hired a private investigator, because I talked with all the managers, ours, WayV's, Dream's, none of them have sent us anything." His eyes widened. "Those drinks were definitely drugged, and it made us do things we wouldn't normally do–" Taeyong paused, "it made us do something on a grander scale without our knowledge, and I want whoever did it, behind bars." He admitted.

"What... when..." Yuta stuttered, seeing how far their leader would go for their safety.

"Two weeks ago, I... I noticed how anxious you were getting, as well as a few of the others, when someone would hand us drinks after practices or shows."

He nodded, "I see... thank you Taeyongie." He gave him a smile, not as bright as his usual smiles, but a smile nonetheless.

🎭

The investigation concluded a month later with no suspect or any lead.

🎭

He gasped for air as he gripped the edge of the counter, hair falling over his eyes. He went to stand up only to lean back down, gripping the sides of the toilet as regurgitated last night's dinner, his throat burning from the acid. Tears emerged effortlessly from the corner of his eyes as he took deep breaths, this was the third morning he's woken up like this, all he could think was that; Once is by chance, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern.

   Washing his mouth with cold water, he looked at himself in the mirror, he could see the dread in his tired eyes and pale skin. He placed a hand over his stomach, it was still flat, and it's been around three and a half months since the accident, Surely if I was.... I'd start showing right? Or at least a small bump. The flatness reassured him, maybe it just a coincidence that he's puking for three morning in a row, and maybe he's just sick. Yeah, that's it, just sick. Just sick.

   A quiet knock sounded on the door, "Yuta? You alright in there?" Mark's voice sounded loud in the sleeping dorm and quiet bathroom. "Can I come in?"

   He nodded before realizing the younger couldn't see him, "Y-Yeah, you can." He stepped back from the door as it opened, Mark and his multi-coloured hair slid in the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

"Are— god Yuta, you look awful..." the canadian commented, worried as he looked at the older; eyebags dark beneath his eyes, messy hair and some stuck to his forehead by sweat, pale skin, and eyes tired.

"Geez, thanks." He grumbled, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"I didn't mean it like that," Mark started gently, "Are you sick? You were in here yesterday and the day before in the morning as well, I woke up both times but I didn't want to say anything."

"Well," he rubbed his eyes, "I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep. I probably just caught a cold or something, I'll be fine soon." In a week, I'll be fine, no sickness, nothing.

Mark gave him a look that said he doesn't believe him, but sighed after a minute after he didn't say anything else, "Fine, just— take some medicine or else I'm calling Taeyong and we'll take you to the doctors."

The younger came closer, wrapping his arms around him, embracing him in a warm hug that Yuta gladly returned, feeling like he needed a hug right about now, and he really does. He whispered as he felt the other play with his long hair at the base of his neck, "Thank you Mark... I'll be okay, don't worry."

He really hopes so, he hopes this was just the flu or a bad cold, and not what he thinks. He doesn't know what will happen if it is; what would happen to it? To him? What about whose it is? The thoughts were giving him headaches, I should stop thinking about that, it probably isn't the case, I'm just sick. No one has talked or thought about that orgy ever since, so I shouldn't think about it too.

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:*･*:.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

Thoughts?