The Car Crash Club • Monsta X

iv.

The weekend passed in another haze. In his first few weeks home from the hospital, Hyungwon had gone through a somewhat rebellious phase. He'd done everything he hadn't been allowed to do - stayed up late playing video games, ate food in the living room, rented movies from streaming services. The metaphorical of throwing a middle finger to the universe. To God, maybe. But it had been empty. Meaningless. There was no fun to be had. Everything he had done was saddled with the uncomfortable reminder that, for the first time in his whole life, he was truly alone.

There had been a few calls from family in the beginning. A concerned aunt from somewhere who hadn't seen him since he'd only been as tall as her waist.

So he just unplugged the phone.

***

Hyungwon skipped his Monday classes, partially because he didn't feel like going, and also because he'd turned off his cell phone (and hence, his alarm) immediately after meeting his attorney.

Tuesday he went to class, also somewhat incidentally because he woke up naturally on time  and decided that he wanted to get out of the house for a bit. He got up, showered, and dressed. He turned his phone back on for the first time in several days and didn't bother checking his messages. 

He paused by the door, considering whether or not to turn off the goldfish night light, but he left it on and exited the apartment.

***

He had to check his schedule again and found out that he had a writing class today. As with before, he took the seat furthest from the door, but unlike last time, he actually paid (some) attention.

The class was writing, and the expectations were high, the professor explained to the class. Their first paper would be a narrative. They couldn't write the same cliche essays everyone before them had written - the "Big Game" paper about their grand athletic victory, why student athletes should be paid, why alcohol is actually healthy for you, etc. She wanted more from them. She wanted them to dig deeper, to scoop out their beating hearts and shove the visceral organs into a word editor of their choice. And out with it, five to eight pages of unique intimacy.

That's about when Hyungwon stopped paying attention.

***

His next class was another gen ed requirement on the history of somewhere, he didn't remember. He started for his usual seat but realized that it was occupied by a group of athletes, so he claimed the corner opposite them instead, keeping to the back of the room. Their conversation filtered over to him, something about rushing a certain fraternity. To be fair, Hyungwon knew absolutely nothing about fraternities, only that television portrayed them as gateways to bad decisions. Apparently, according to the discussion they were having, some fraternities were more selective, and you had to be "tapped" to join.

At one point in their conversation, they paused, and Hyungwon felt like they were looking over at him, like they'd caught him listening in (which, arguably, he had been), and he did his best to stay still and just look down at his desk. He was invisible. He was nobody. He was nothing.

Then the weight lifted off him, and their conversation resumed. He breathed out unsteadily. He hadn't had a normal conversation with a single person - outside of his therapist and his attorney - since he'd left the hospital, and most of the conversations there had just been him asking for more pain medication.

But it seemed like he wouldn't have to make any conversation today. The professor entered the class and announced that they'd be continuing their historical study of Western civilization with an overview of the United States.

***

The overheard conversation was forgotten from his mind, all until a day during the next week where he opened his backpack to find a sheet of paper.

You've been tapped for Tri Chi!