SEQUEL TO HOLD ME
"it's only human."
those are words that stick in the minds of eight boys who have found themselves closer than ever because of a year spent at the same college.
minsung, seungin, changhyunlix... and chan :')
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
[
Chan came slowly into consciousness, with quiet, homely sounds filling his ears; an accidental clatter of pans or plates or silverware (followed by urgent, hurried shushing), a calm, continuous sizzle, a low, gentle voice whose words were to quiet to make out, and an assortment of varied footsteps in neighboring rooms. His body ached all the more today, but he refused to spend any longer on the couch. Not only was he stiff from staying in one position for so long, it ached more to sit there, motionless; the shame and utter discomfort of laziness, of inactivity, permeating his bruised body.
He rubbed bleary eyes and forced himself into an upright position on the couch, swinging his head toward the kitchen, wincing at the pain in his neck, which hadn't gotten any better. (Same went for the headache he'd been sporting since last night.) At least the ice packs had eased some of the pain in his back, and it didn't feel so much like death just to move from lying down to sitting up as it had last night.
They'd moved the kitchen table back into the living room. They did it last night for dinner, so that everyone could eat around a table with Chan without the oldest having to move, but had to clear the space again for everyone to spread out bedding on the carpet for another sleepover. (Because when tragedy struck, those guys would always be there making the best of things by moving furniture. Or something.) Evidently, during the hour or two of dozing off Chan managed this morning, they'd cleaned it all up and put the table right back. So much extra hassle they didn't have to go through.
And right now, everyone seemed to be buzzing around the kitchen (though they did it with an urgent sense of quiet), some cooking, some gathering up things for setting the table, some pulling things out of the fridge. Everyone working while he slept.
Chan couldn't afford to make these kinds of comparisons anymore.
Jisung, a part of the setting-the-table-crew, heading to the living room, looked over when he saw Chan stand slowly, stiffly, beginning to make his pitiful way to the kitchen. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
"Morning, Jisung. Standing up, that's what." As Jisung set down the plates he'd been carrying, heading toward him (likely to either take on his weight or force him gently back to the couch), Chan continued, "I'm alright, Ji; my back is doing better, so I'm fine to walk alone. I'm not supposed to be on bed rest, and my body can't take sitting on the couch any longer."
"Yeah," Jisung hummed, or perhaps grumbled, in disapproving acknowledgement, as he halted in front of Chan. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be annoying and overbearing..."
"I know you're not," Chan sighed, a forgiving and sympathetic hand briefly patting Jisung's back. "And I'm not trying to worry you. But I do need to get up and stretch." Jisung nodded, resuming his plate carrying.
