MY SUNSHINE stray kids

6 - empty box

FLASHBACK

Kyosun's fingers gripped the edges of his hoodie, knuckles turning white as he pulled it tighter around his head. The fabric was worn, and the seams stretched under the pressure of his anxious hands. His heart pounded in his chest, a drumbeat of fear and dread that echoed in his ears as he walked into the classroom. The eyes of his classmates bore into him, but he kept his head down, avoiding their gazes. He knew what they were thinking, could almost hear the whispers that would start the moment he turned his back.

The classroom was noisy, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the space. But it all felt distant, like a muffled background noise, as Kyosun made his way to his seat at the back of the room. His footsteps were heavy, his legs feeling like lead as he dragged them forward. The hoodie was his shield, a barrier between him and the world, but it was a thin one. He knew it wouldn't take much for it to be ripped away.

His head hurt from where pieces of his head had been raggedly cut and torn from his scalp. His ribs and arms hurt, his legs were shaking. He really wanted to go home.

He slid into his chair, his body sinking into it as if trying to disappear. The jumper's hood was pulled low over his face, casting shadows over his features. He kept his eyes on the desk, the faded wood grain a familiar sight that he could focus on to keep himself grounded. His hands rested in his lap, hidden under the oversized sleeves, fingers curled into fists.

The teacher, Ms. Hydeson, was a kind woman in her late thirties, known for her patience and understanding. But today, Kyosun was praying that she wouldn't notice him. He just wanted to get through the day, to blend into the background like he always did.

But fate had other plans.

"Theo," Ms. Hydeson's voice cut through the chatter, instantly quieting the room, "Please take off your jumper."

Kyosun stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He didn't look up, didn't respond, hoping she would just let it go.

"Theodore," she repeated, more firmly this time, "You know the school rules. No jumpers inside the classroom."

"I... I can't," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me?"

"I can't take it off," he said again, a little louder this time. His voice shook, betraying the turmoil inside him.

The room was dead silent now, all eyes on him. He could feel the weight of their stares, the judgment in their gazes. His heart raced even faster, the fear clawing at his insides.

"Theo, you need to take off your jumper," Ms. Hydeson insisted, her tone softening as she noticed his distress, "If there's something wrong, we can talk about it after class."

"No," he said, a little too sharply, and then immediately regretted it. He could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but he forced them back, "Please, just... just let me keep it on."

Ms. Hydeson hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. She could see that something was wrong, something more than just a rebellious streak. After a moment, she sighed.

"Fine," she relented, though there was concern in her voice, "But we will talk after class."

Kyosun nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. Relief washed over him, though it was short-lived. The rest of the class was a blur. He couldn't focus on the lessons, couldn't even bring himself to lift his head. He just wanted it to be over, to get out of there as quickly as possible.

The rehearsal room was alive with the thudding rhythm of music, echoing off the mirrored walls as the group practiced their choreography for Levanter. Each movement was sharp, precise, yet fluid, as the boys pushed themselves to perfect every step. The air was thick with determination, but also a hint of worry that lingered just below the surface.

Kyo could feel their eyes on him. He knew they were watching, their concern barely hidden behind their focus on the routine. He tried to ignore it, to push through the fatigue that clung to his limbs like a heavy weight. His muscles ached, his breath came in shallow gasps, and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. But he kept moving, kept dancing, willing his body to obey.

Each step felt like a battle. His vision wavered slightly, and the room seemed to tilt for a moment before righting itself. The memory of the last time he had fainted during rehearsal flashed through his mind—how he had crumpled to the floor, how they had all rushed to his side, panic written on their faces. He couldn't let that happen again. He wouldn't.

But as the rehearsal dragged on, it became harder to ignore the growing weakness in his legs, the tremor in his hands. He hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before, and now, the toll it was taking on his body was impossible to dismiss. Yet, he didn't say a word. He didn't want to be a burden, didn't want to worry them more than they already were.

As the final notes of the song faded, and the choreography came to an end, Kyo forced himself to stand tall, to keep the exhaustion from showing on his face. The others were catching their breath, but he could see the way they glanced at him, concern etched in their features.

"Good job, everyone," Chan called out, his voice steady but tinged with the same worry that had been shadowing him all day, "Let's take a break."

Kyo nodded along with the others, but as they moved to grab water and towels, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He steadied himself against the mirrored wall, his hand gripping the cool surface until the moment passed. He hoped no one noticed.

When they finally left the studio and piled into the van, Kyo's body felt like it was barely holding together. He slumped into his seat, his hands trembling uncontrollably in his lap. The exhaustion was overwhelming now, every part of him screaming for rest, for nourishment that he hadn't given it.

Felix, who had taken the seat beside him, noticed. His eyes flicked down to Kyo's hands, which shook so much they could barely stay still. Without a word, Felix reached over and took Kyo's hands in his own, squeezing gently as if to transfer some of his own warmth and strength.

Kyo felt the warmth of Felix's hand, the gentle pressure grounding him, and he leaned his head on Felix's shoulder. The simple act of leaning into someone else, of letting Felix bear some of his weight, brought a small measure of relief. He closed his eyes, letting the hum of the van and the steady presence of Felix lull him into a state of half-consciousness.

He could feel Felix's heart beating steadily beneath his cheek, a soothing rhythm that contrasted with the erratic pounding of his own. The worry was still there, simmering in the background, but for now, Kyo let himself be held, let himself be cared for, even if he couldn't bring himself to ask for it.

As the van carried them back to the dorms, the other members kept their distance, giving Kyo and Felix the space they needed. But Kyo knew they were still watching, still worried. And as much as he wanted to tell them he was fine, that they didn't need to worry, the truth was that he wasn't sure he believed it himself.

[mindonuts]