Echoes of the Alley

22 - Fragments

The morning light crept into Jisung's room, muted by the thick curtains that hung over the window. His body felt heavy, pinned to the bed by the weight of his thoughts. The events of the previous night were a blur—a chaotic mess of emotions he had yet to untangle. His eyes were swollen and tender from crying, his throat dry and scratchy. But worse than the physical discomfort was the emptiness. A hollow ache sat in his chest, deep and unyielding.

He stared at the ceiling, unblinking, as the minutes passed. There was no urgency to move, no motivation to face the day. He wanted to stay in this cocoon of stillness forever, where the world couldn't touch him.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence. Jisung flinched, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

"Jisung?" Felix's voice was gentle, almost hesitant. "Can I come in?"

Jisung didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat felt tight, his mind racing with excuses to keep Felix out. But Felix didn't push. After a few seconds, he spoke again, his tone even softer.

"I made some tea. I'll leave it outside your door, okay?"

There was a faint clink of a mug being set down, followed by the quiet shuffle of footsteps retreating down the hall. Jisung exhaled shakily, his grip on the blanket loosening. He didn't want the tea, but the gesture tugged at something inside him. It was a reminder that Felix cared, even if Jisung didn't feel deserving of it.

—
The rest of the apartment was unusually quiet. Felix had convinced Seungmin and Jeongin to give Jisung some space, though it hadn't been easy. Seungmin, in particular, had been reluctant, his worry manifesting in clipped sentences and frustrated sighs.

"We can't just leave him like this," Seungmin had argued the night before.

"I know," Felix had replied, his voice calm but firm. "But pushing him won't help either. He needs time."

Now, Felix sat alone at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around his own mug of tea. The tension in his shoulders hadn't eased since Jisung's breakdown. He kept replaying the moment Jisung had come home, the hollow look in his eyes, the way he'd retreated to his room without so much as a proper word. It wasn't the first time Jisung had shut down, but it had never felt this severe before.

Jeongin entered the kitchen, his steps tentative. He glanced at Felix, then at the door to Jisung's room, before sitting down across from Felix.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Jeongin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I hope so. But it's going to take time."

Jeongin nodded, though the worry in his eyes didn't fade. None of them really knew how to help Jisung, and that helplessness was almost as painful as seeing him in pain.

—
By mid-afternoon, Jisung had managed to pull himself out of bed. He hadn't touched the tea Felix had left for him, but he felt a twinge of guilt as he opened the door and saw the untouched mug. He picked it up, carrying it to the kitchen where Felix and Jeongin sat in a subdued conversation.

Felix's face lit up slightly when he saw Jisung. "Hey," he said, his tone careful. "How are you feeling?"

Jisung shrugged, placing the mug in the sink. "Fine," he mumbled, though the word felt hollow even to him. He avoided their eyes, focusing instead on rinsing the mug.

Jeongin glanced at Felix, as if waiting for him to take the lead. Felix cleared his throat. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jisung's grip on the mug tightened. "Not really."