𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕟-𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟 | ᴇɴ-

𝟒

I spend the morning helping in the infirmary. The head nurse comes for me every day after breakfast, where Jake-hyung, Jungwon and Niki stay to help with the dishes, and I follow her here. Sunoo helps in the afternoons or after dinner to help the other nurse, who is usually somewhere else when I come. I help clean some utensils and organise the medications. All of us receive vitamins with our meals, and I've learned that some boys require special pills for their different conditions.

Today I'm disinfecting syringes while the nurse scribbles something in her notepad. It's quiet as usual and I appreciate it. I like the infirmary because it's dark. The blinds covering the scarce windows keep the sun from shining into the room and damaging the medicine. But it also prevents it from getting to me.

It has been a while since I found it bothersome. Before we left the castle I had begun to feel more attracted to the moon than the sun, though now I don't see the former as often as I would want to. At night, after the order of lights out is given, we are not allowed to leave our rooms and there is only one small window in our shared room. It's barely enough to glimpse at the diamond moon.

I tell myself it's for the best. The less I indulge my new instincts, the farther away they become and the more normal I do. In here we are human boys like everyone else.

Sometimes I actually believe that.

We have been adapting well, or so I tell myself. No one mentions the fever and its after effects. I suppose it's because they don't have any and maybe I'm the only odd one. For that same reason, I try to conceal it. We promised each other we would start over and heal. I don't want to be the one that breaks that vow.

Still, I can't ignore the symptoms. They're still there. I still hear things I shouldn't, like the minuscule sound of the wind through the curtains or the conversation two tables away. I'm still restless at night, forcing my eyes shut rather actually than sleeping. The food isn't as appealing as it should be. I crave meat and something else I can't bring myself to accept, not oatmeal or fish.

Every day that goes by it gets harder to pretend. I'm tired because of my lack of sleep, but I need to act energised and restless. And I'm hungry. I have two or three servings every meal, but I still feel ravenous. Maybe it's because I keep throwing everything up.

I haven't told anyone. Just Niki and not because I wanted to. He walked in on me the other day I emptied my breakfast on the bathroom.

"Hyung," he said from the doorway. "Are you okay?"

I wiped my mouth and attempted a smile. "Must've been something in the food."

"Are you sure? We can go to the infirmary."

"Maybe."

He sat down next to me. I was holding onto the toilet in a cubicle. "Have you been throwing up since we got here?"

"No. Just since yesterday," I lied.

I didn't want to lie to him again, but I absolutely hated making him worry. He already knew I'd lost my appetite since the first day in the orphanage. That's something that hadn't gone unnoticed.

"You should ask the nurse for medication when you go help her out," he told me.

"I will." And I did. She checked me, asked some questions, and gave me some pills additional to the vitamins we take.

I didn't tell Niki how I ended up throwing up the pills as well. I didn't tell him I think I saw some blood in it as well. I haven't found the right time to tell him. 

Now, in the infirmary, I feel my stomach complaining about the oats I had but it stays in place. It begs me to eat something else. Something raw. I ignore it, focusing on the syringes in my hands instead. Just two more to go.

"Ah!"

I turn around at the sound. The nurse is still in her desk but she's holding her hand carefully. A sweet smell reaches my nose.

"Silly me," she says, noticing my gaze. "I cut myself with the paper. It's fine. Finish the syringes and you can go out to play."

I'm frozen in place. She cleans the wound and covers it carefully. I command myself to finish the syringes, trying to ignore how my stomach rumbles with hunger.

Just focus on the syringes.

Little does she know, the last thing I want right now is to go out and play.