[✔] lightbulb » lee taeyong & na jaemin

ch. 32

philocaly: the love of beauty

» author's pov // present »

ara puked and puked and puked. she wiped her mouth, and lifted her hands to tie her hair back, but not before a wave of nausea washed over her, making her lean over and puke again. nothing came up except for stomach acid, which burned at her throat and made her eyes tear up. she hissed.

her phone, which was on the bathroom floor to her right, lit up: a reminder for her to eat. her stomach flipped, and the nausea came back. she couldn't even bother tying or holding her hair up—she just leaned over and let her body do the rest. of course, the little amount of food she had eaten this morning was long gone.

the thought of having to consume actual solids made her throat pinch and her eyes burn. she didn't want to throw up anymore; she wanted to be normal. she wanted to be fixed. not broken. she wrapped her arms around her stomach and squeezed, trying to hold back the acid. 

three deep breaths... she told herself

one...

two...

the sudden slap of nausea made her lose count. she clenched her jaw, breathing in quick gasps of air, but after a few minutes of letting the feeling of dizziness and nausea overwhelm her, she leaned over and puked. her throat for scratched up and burned like it was bleeding.

"help...me..." she cried, pounding the side of the toilet. "somebody, oh god, somebody please help me," she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. she could no longer think properly, she needed help, she needed somebody. "someone, please, somebody make the pain stop!"

she pulled at her hair, trying to ignore her rolling stomach. she pinched herself and scratched and bit, but she couldn't ignore the sensations.

"jaemin..." she whispered. "i need you now." thoughts of his warmth and comfort and kindness wrapped around her heart like a mental hug, and her racing heart was beginning to slow. she smiled. so she found something that worked against her...disorder.

but her stomach felt like it had been ripped out of her body, stomped on, and ran over.

"jaemin, please, come help me, please..." she cried. "i need you right here. where are you when i need you? i'm dying, please..."

a hand started to tie her hair and rub her back. "ara, i'm here," a male voice whispered. "i'm here for you, love."

she lifted her face from the toilet seat and looked up into a pair of wide, boba eyes. his worried but kind eyes stared back at her.

"taeyong," she sobbed. as if he were her medicine, she felt immediately better. "taeyong, you're here."

"of course, i'd be here." he hugged her, letting her crawl into his lap and curl up. the moment felt intimate, despite the situation. "you feeling better?"

"i'm sorry,," she whimpered. "not really."

"why should you be sorry?" a few moments passed before he asked, "should i take you to your room?"

"not yet," she mumbled, with her head against chest. "can we just stay like this for a little longer?" she weakly lifted up her chin and looked at him. "please, taeyong? please?"

"darling, you don't even have to say 'please'."

ara smiled and snuggled against his body. "i love you," she murmured. her eyes fluttered shut as she sighed contently. she didn't notice taeyong gazing at her as if she was the only thing left to love in the world.

she fell asleep before she could hear him respond with a quiet, "i love you, too." taeyong didn't worry, though. he knew that the warmth of his words would reach her somehow.

——

jaemin was on his knees, his hands clasped together. he stared down at the floor, not being able to look up, as if he was being controlled by a magical sorcerer.

"please—please don't hurt me!" he begged, trembling. he could see the high heels of somebody in front of him.

"you don't have a choice," the cold, emotionless voice responded. "my so-called best friend made me." instantly, he was slapped. his head got knocked back, and he threw his hands up to protect his face from any further attacks.

"now, you can see how i feel."

he looked up to see miyeon's angry face.

"no!" he shouted, sitting up in his bed. he was sweating, and he used the back of his hand to wipe his face. he shook violently. "no, miyeon, no..."

it was just a nightmare, he thought. he closed his eyes in a prayer, a little unsure since he wasn't religious. he wrapped his blanket around him tighter, still shivering. sighing, he stared out the window—not really focusing on what he was seeing, just needing a place for his eyes to settle.

"oh, miyeon," he whispered into the darkness, "i never forgave myself."

although, she had never laid a finger on him, he sure couldn't say the same.