"𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛,
𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑙𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝"
❛ 𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏
❛ 𝒕𝒘𝒔: 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎; 𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍
❛ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 971
***
Sometimes Chan thinks what people may have done in their previous lives to deserve such a fate in this, current life. He wonders if there is a previous life. Or a next one. Is that cycle endless? If so, that's just mad; repetitious days circling around one person whose soul won't change but body does between deaths and births.
If not, that makes the idea of life... hopeful. Interesting.
It's sort of dumb to waste precious time thinking about ultimate questions like that, digging deeper into the delimited reality and end up with empty hands.
Even after hours.
Times goes by with its own speed. It doesn't wait or chase. It doesn't stand still or change.
Nothing is eternal. Is time here forever? Does it have its own world where it runs either straight forward or a circle?
In the end just a little amount of things actually do matter.
Chan really wants to know what Hyunjin has done to the universe to deserve this.
Chan sits up from where he has been zoning out on the couch. There's a familiar sound coming from Hyunjin's room, from behind the closed door.
Chan is beside his struggling friend in a blink of an eye, in one exhale.
Hyunjin sits up slowly, groaning, from where he has been hunching over a bucket next to his bed.
Nothing, not even a cup of ginger tea, stays in his system.
Chan thinks this may not be the common cold anymore.
He sits beside Hyunjin who has his eyes closed and dry tear stains on his cheeks. He looks so physically sick it's truly a sickening sight to witness.
Chan feels sympathy and stress, everything all at once, as he watches his friend trying to breathe through pain.
He brushes a few strands of matted black hair behind out of Hyunjin's face and moves his hand on his forehead.
It's clammy and warm.
He maneuvers the other to lay down again, leaving the blanket cover only Hyunjin's legs.
"I'll be right back"
He takes the bucket with him as he makes his way out, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Hyunjin is 23 years old. He has always been gorgeous in every way, Chan has always has his fond, proud eyes on him.
He basically raised Hyunjin. From the arrogant, hormonal and emotional teen to an independent, bright amd beautiful young adult.
Hyunjin deserves all the good things that come to him. Chan wants to grant him all of them.
Not this.
Chan took him in when Hyunjin's parents died when he was 15. He was an only child, an awkward and a lanky kid Chan took under his wing. Chan saw, even back then, that Hyunjin would have a lot of potential, a lot of talent.
He would have a lot of inspiration and desire to explore not only the world around him but himself as a person as well.
Chan was right.
It feels unjust that the lovely, once so healthy and clever boy, has been bed ridden for weeks now. Sick from both inside and outside.
Yes, from the inside as well.
Chan knew the signs when Hyunjin turned into an emotional mess, when his moods swings turned radical. It wasn't normal. It wasn't right.
He saw the marks on Hyunjin's body. Violets and reds. Blood and ruined skin.
Hyunjin was doing that to himself, intentionally but not on purpose.
Hyunjin's mind is a dangerous place that turns against him sometimes, tells him ugly things and beats him to the ground.
Hyunjin would go totally mad about some things. All the Versace sweaters and the Lancome perfumes and all the other crazily and stupidly expensive things from the luxury brands have been Hyunjin's maddest purchases.
They have been a want. A need.
The other extremity is as severe and eye opening.
There have been days that have been nightmares. Hyunjin wouldn't get out of bed. He would cry, listen to depressing music and wallow in his bed, in self pity and in gloomy thoughts.
He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't leave the apartment. He wouldn't listen to Chan trying to speak some sense into him, some reassuring words and sweet nothings. He would blame himself until the violence turned physical; bleeding cuts and deep bruises.
Hyunjin was bipolar. Chan knew that even before the diagnosis and the professionals.
It was too late.
Hyunjin has always and is still refusing to see professionals. "Enemies," he says. People who mean to harm him, who are against him.
Chan understands but at the same time he doesn't.
There is nothing he can do.
And then Hyunjin fell sick physically. His body betrayed him once and has been failing him ever since.
Chan is his only support, an unsteady but a certain support.
Chan looks outside the kitchen window. It's a beautiful summer day. Hyunjin loves summer.
He might not even know now is a summer time, the middle of june. He has his blinds drawn and curtains shut.
Chan isn't angry at anyone. No one is at fault but Hyunjin is the victim. A victim of something. None of this has been earned.
Chan wonders if karma is real. If yes, this might be bad karma tht has decided to take a full toll on Hyunjin.
If not, this is just how life works. It's unjust and unpredictable.
Chan wonders if he could try a new kind of tea for Hyunjin. Maybe something that has lemon in it? Ginger tea namely wasn't the right one.
He leaves the empty bucket next to Hyunjin's bed. The man is sleeping. At least he isn't conscious while in pain.
Chan leaves for the convenience store.
