pink champagne [book 2 - mysmes hanahaki trilogy]

4

Timeskip
Jumin wasn't going to school anymore. He'd dropped out, unbeknownst to his father, and rented an apartment on the other side of town. He ignored messages from his friends, especially V. His house was littered with flower petals in every room. Blood was beginning to come up with them. Jumin spent his time writing, surprisingly. He wrote about what he'd found about his disease, his symptoms, the pain that came with the offender's touch but the relief of someone else's. He wrote about the entire story of his relationship with V, how they'd met as kids and so on.

Jumin hadn't shaved in 2 weeks, and so prickly black hair started poking through the skin of his jaw, matching the color of the bags beneath his eyes. His hands shook sometimes because of how much coffee he drank, so he soothed them with wine. Soon enough, he'd run out of the good kind and relied on cheap reserve. He was mind-numbingly bored yet incredibly busy at the same time and he hardly ever slept for more than a few hours at a time. Without the mindset to be tidy, he ditched his suits and wore only his pajamas.

He knew that Saeyoung was aware of his address because, on the chatroom, the one time he looked, V had demanded him to find Jumin. However, Saeyoung had either disregarded the command or kept the information to himself because V never showed up to check in on Jumin. Jumin appreciated that. The last thing he needed was V's presence, his concerned eyes and soft hands. He needed to write. Assistant Kang, the one person he trusted, brought him groceries. Obviously, she was worried, but it wasn't her job to be his mother, even if he did find comfort in her smile.

Of course, he felt cramped and uncomfortable. Of course, he felt his sanity slip sometimes. Of course, he had breakdowns, heaving on his hands and knees as petals flowed past his teeth until he bit back, snarling at his own body as it destroyed him from the inside out. His eyes lost their gleam, he knew, and he was losing weight fast. His hands and lips were dry and cracked. The dishes in the sink were beginning to stink. But all of it motivated him in a strange, masochistic way. He deleted important documents so his drive would have enough storage. Everything came before himself. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be selfless.

He was three weeks in when he glanced at the chatroom again. The messages that met his eyes sent a wave of shock, then pain through his spine. He ran his hands through his oily hair and bit his lip. He had to go. Enough of this. He forced himself to take a shower but gave up shaving after nicking himself with his unsteady hands. All of his clothes were dirty.

Jumin put on a loose, navy blue sweater that he'd only worn once and sweatpants. He tried to comb his hair. He called Driver Kim and slipped on his shoes. He brought a paper bag with him and vomited a sea of petals into it before stepping outside to his driver's van. He breathed deeply.
...
"Oh... Zen."

Jumin felt emotions rising in his throat that he didn't know he had. He stood in the doorway of the hospital room, hands shaking as he looked over the scene. Zen, casts around his legs, lay on the bed, shirt off with gauze wrapped heavily around his stomach. His eyes were closed, and oxygen mask enclosed his mouth.

Jumin walked over slowly, taking in all the machines and wires. Zen's hair was held back in its usual ponytail. Jumin didn't realize he was awake until Zen turned to face Jumin and his heart rate jumped in surprise. His eyes grew wide. Jumin jumped back and held his hands up in surrender. Zen reached up to take off his mask but Jumin motioned for him to leave it on. Zen leaned back, his heart rate slowing down. Jumin pulled up a chair from the other side of the room and sat down next to Zen's bed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around... at all. There's something wrong with me." Zen's frown said that he knew. "It's not you, it's not anyone," Jumin thought of V, "it's just me." He reaches forward tentatively and put his hand on the sheet of Zen's bed, palm up and open. Zen looked between Jumin's hand and face a few times, then put his hand in Jumin's. They interlocked fingers and Jumin enclosed his other hand around the link. He brought their hands to his lips and closed his eyes. He kept talking.