He slips in and out of conscience through the night, dozing off from time to time but failing to actually fall asleep. He manages to gain a little energy though, enough for him to start moving little by little. Around three a.m. he succeeds in turning on his back. He keeps his eyes closed, still hoping that sleep will pay him a visit. Eventually he gives up. When he opens his eyes the clock on his wall shows a few minutes past five. Not that he cares, time seems as abstract as something can get at the moment.

His mind is still a little absent as he raises himself from the bed at around six. His steps follow the road to the fridge instinctively, hand grasping around the almost freezing water bottle. He sits in his desk chair and takes a big gulp even if it makes his throat and teeth ache. It’s a habit, performed with perfect robotic moves. His after nightmares healing process. There was no nightmare to trigger it though. Maybe it’s the fact that he is awake at this ungodly hour. Maybe it’s the hollowness nipping at his soul. Maybe he didn’t need to fall asleep to have a nightmare. Or maybe he’s actually still asleep. Maybe this is all a big ing dream and he’ll wake up tomorrow morning with Seungcheol’s arms around his waist and everything will be fine. Everything would be fine. He presses the bottle onto his forehead, letting out a shaking sigh. Everything will be okay, everything will be okay…

“Everything will be okay, everything will be okay…” when did he start giving voice to his thoughts? He presses his lips tightly together. The frost on the bottle melts quickly against his forehead, leaving behind goosebumps. The silence is so heavy, so deafening he moves the palms of his hand to cover his ears for a minute, pressing again and again, basking in the loud pops that resonate in his eardrums. It helps him clear his thoughts a little. Just a little bit. He lets his head fall back, until it’s resting on the chair’s backrest. What should he do now? A night without sleep can be a blessing when you have too many thoughts. Being trapped between sleep and awake just with the merciless voices in your head as companions can do wonders in solving your problems. Or at least sort them out.

Sighing heavily, he takes another mouthful of water before dragging the chair closer to the desk. He abandons the bottle on the table in favor of the closest notebook and pen. It may seem exaggerated, but he needs to note down his plan, step by step. He needs to pull himself together. He already lost too many days in this pitiful state. Writing everything won’t only make everything seem more real, but it will also give him something to do, to keep his mind busy at least for the moment.

Firstly, he needs to find his phone. He bets it’s thrown somewhere around his room. Some names to connect with he faces in his head would be great. His contact list should help with that. Last night he didn’t notice one thing: there were two names he remembered without any help: Park Jihoon and Lee Jihye. Maybe those names are craved so deep into his soul, no amnesia will ever delete them. But if he doesn’t want to go back to that hospital bed, he needs more names.

Secondly, he needs to talk to the headmaster. Too much time has already passed and he did nothing regarding the plagiarism incident. He needs to tell him about the lost key. He should find a way to prove that the song was stolen from him. And god help the culprit when he finds him. There’s also the problem about how many songs were actually stolen. Since he lost his key he didn’t post anything from his old works. The only other song he made public after that was the one he submitted to the contest and thankfully there were no traces of it in his home computer at that moment.  Even if he finds the thief how can he trust that they only copied one song?

Sighing, he writes ‘deleted all old works’ next to the number 3. It’ll be hard, he has years of hard work in those folders. But he can start again. He can do this. He did it the past, he’ll do it again. He won’t let the name Lee Woozi die just because of some jerk’s pettiness or jealousy. And if everything will fail, then he’ll be the one to kill Lee Woozi. Just like he killed Lee Jihoon. He’ll do it again if he needs to, then he’ll start from zero once more. “I can do this.” he shakily whispers to himself. The pen in his hand trembles ghosts above the paper. Under it he reads Seungcheol’s name. He wasn’t aware he wrote it down. He furiously crosses it out. He needs to focus.

He notes down a small 4. The hospital. He should visit Chan today. What the others told him last night got him worried. Remembering how he met the boy, he can’t exclude bullying from this. Maybe there’s another topic to talk about with the headmaster. He should also bring his ID this time. No matter how much he hates it, he won’t be able to get it off his mind if he doesn’t know his mother’s condition. Seems like his grandma was right after all, no matter how much of a horrible parent she was, that woman is still his mother.

Seems like every number on his list is followed by another sigh. Five brings along Park Jihoon’s name. He is not a superstitious person, but maybe the kid appeared in his dream with a reason. A few question marks follow that name. What can he do about this? Make sure he is not disqualified from the contest? He draws an arrow to number two. Maybe visit the boy’s grave? No, that won’t do. One, he doesn’t know how to find that, and two, he won’t be able to stand there, in front of a cold stone that would look nothing at the bright, full of life child. No, he won’t be able to bear that, not alone. This time he catches himself halfway through scribbling Seungcheol’s name. He angrily covers it with more dark ink.

Taking in a deep breath, he moves on to number six. Even if food is the last thing he wants to think right now, he can’t end in hospital again. To be able to go along with his plans, he’ll need to take care of his body better. Giving his current situation, that shouldn’t be too hard. A few hours of sleep would also be great, but that’ll have to wait. He should also call Joshua to get his pills even if he is already cringing when he thinks of the lecture that waits for him. Maybe the others were right, he should have waited for Jisoo last night. Not like he did anything productive when he got home.

Seven is the most dread number. Next to it he writes the name he crossed more times that he remembers on the white page. He is tempted to do it again, but he can’t keep covering his problems. At some point he’ll have to face Seungcheol. But he was right to leave him for the last. After he’ll solve everything else he can worry about Seungcheol too. Until then he needs to concentrate.

Yet, his eyes remain stuck on the name. The hollowness inside him twitches with a spark of emotion. His chest constricts when he remembers the last time he saw the other. It’s been only four days, but it feels like years have passed. Is there anything left for them though? Is there even a reason for his name to be on this list? Maybe Jihoon should just move on, like he promised himself to do. What is he doing thinking about the man he intentionally drove away?

There’s a soft knock on the door and he snaps out of his thoughts. He quickly grips the paper between his fingers, folding it in four and slipping it into his pants pocket as he walks to the door. The clock on his wall informs him it's twenty past seven. His hand freezes around the lock just as his heart skips a beat. There’s only one person who ever knocked on his door this early in the morning. His thoughts fly to the last name on his list, fingers clumsily turning the key.

It’s stupid really. The way his heart refuses to accept the reality, clinging onto the last string of hope, jumping at the first spark of light just to let him fall deeper into the darkness. Of course, it’s not Seungcheol. After all, what reason would he have to be at Jihoon’s door at the crack of dawn, or ever actually. That does nothing to comfort the clench in Jihoon’s chest when he meets Jisoo’s stern face. Somewhere deep inside, he still hopes one day Seungcheol will appear at his door, ask him to go get coffee together, give him a chance to explain himself. It’s pure fantasy and he knows it too well, but his heart seems to ignore that fact.

“Glad to see you’re actually home.” Joshua says instead of a salute. Jihoon just nods, knowing nothing he’ll say can’t excuse his behavior from last night. He steps aside, silently allowing the elder to enter as he makes a last attempt to calm his dejected heart. ‘You’re stupid!’ he scolds it internally. The idiotic thing keeps on wallowing silently.

“Here.” Joshua grabs his attention, handing a white paper bag. He casts him a strange glance when he sees that Jihoon is still keeping the door open. The boy coughs once, eyes averting to the floor as he closes the door with one hand and grabs the bag with the other.  

“You’re pills. They’re mostly vitamins, but you also have some pain killers for your headache. How’s that going, by the way?” Joshua continues, thankfully without mentioning Jihoon’s absent state.

“Slightly better.” The pink haired boy answers, voice cracking at the end from not being used. He coughs once more, to warm up his throat. Maybe the cold water wasn’t such a good idea. “Thanks.” He murmurs, going to place the bag on his desk. The older follows him with a sigh, grabbing the bag from where he placed it and emptying its contents on the table.

“I knew you’ll be like this.” He grumbles under his breath, more to himself than to the other. He separates the packages into two piles, one box left aside, probably the pain killers. “You take these, ” he points to the left pile, three colorful boxes “after breakfast and lunch. The others after dinner. One of each.” On the right there are only two boxes, one plain white, while the other a dark blue with glowing points on it. He moves his fingers along its surface, noticing the little dots in high relief are forming constellations. It’s beautiful in its simplicity.

“Those should help you sleep.” Jisoo explains, voice a little grim, like he already knows Jihoon couldn’t get a wink of sleep last night. The smaller boy runs a hand over his face. Is it that visible?  “They are just supplements, though, so even if you take too many the only side effect will be a stomach ache.”

Maybe Jihoon would have let the remark pass, maybe he wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the accusatory tone at the end of the sentence. He turns wide-eyed to the elder.

“Hyung! I wouldn’t try to…”

“What? Kill yourself?” Joshua’s voice sounds angry, resentful, but Jihoon can see pain swimming in his orbs. He doesn’t know which affects him more. “Like it would be the first time.”

And it hurts. Being doubted by somebody who always trusted you hurts more than Jihoon would have imagined, especially coming from Jisoo, the one who believed him even when his lies were obvious. The jab at his heart it’s unexpected and sharp and seriously, how much more can he endure? You can’t really blame him when tears burst on his cheeks. He lifts his hands to cover them, but it’s already too late. The shock on Jisoo’s face gets covered by his sweater’s sleeves a second too late, already engraved in his mind.

“I wouldn’t.” he sobs out. Really, how humiliating can this get? He rubs his eyes furiously, but they don’t stop spilling… what? Sadness? Pain? Desperation? At this point he couldn’t tell.

“God! Jihoon…” Jisoo’s voice trails off as the man comes closer, until his arms circle around Jihoon’s shoulders, bringing him to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He whispers in the pink locks. It only makes the younger sob more loudly.

“I swear I wouldn’t.” his voice breaks as he buries his face deeper into Joshua’s chest. He really wishes he could actually bury himself there and never have to face the world. Without enough alcohol in his blood crying in front of somebody is more embarrassing than he would have thought.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Jisoo keep repeating near his ear, but for some reason that doesn’t comfort the crying boy. Does Jisoo really know that? How can he be so sure when Jihoon himself can’t seem to convince himself? Suddenly, the string of ‘I wouldn’t’ is not directed to Joshua anymore.

“I’m really sorry, Jihoon. It’s just that…” a hand comes up to gently pet Jihoon’s hair. “How come that you are in this state every time I find you?” There’s a soft sigh following the rhetorical question. “I know it’s different this time around, though. You’re stronger this time.” Joshua continues. In a strange way it slowly helps Jihoon calm down. Not because of the words, but because of the way they are spoken, in soft, hushed whispers. 

“And you are not alone this time. You have no idea how much I regretted leaving you two years ago. But you’ve made so many friends and they do care a lot about you. And then you have Seungcheol…”

One word and Jihoon’s body jerks suddenly, a broken sob interrupts Jisoo’s speech, taking both of them by surprise. Jihoon makes a quick job in covering his mouth with a trembling hand, but the sobs keep shaking his body.

“Hey… shh…” the older tries to calm him down, bending a little to make eye contact, on hand still caressing the boy’s pink locks while the other tries to remove the hand Jihoon uses to unconsciously cover both his mouth and nose. “Jihoon, it’s okay, breathe.” He instructs when the boy’s face starts turning alarming red. He lowers the hand he kept in Jihoon’s hair to his back, massaging between his shoulders. “Breathe.” He orders again, finally taking Jihoon’s hand away. He guides the boy’s face towards him, still searching for his eyes, while he softly continues to guide him into proper inhales and exhales.

There’s a snap when their eyes finally meet and Jihoon wrenches his body back, away from the older’s touch, as his breath speeds up, chest heaving and knees buckling under his weight. His vision turns into a blur of colors and his breath shallow as he falls on his . His left foot hits the desk chair and for a second the pain makes him focus back to the real world. He hears Jisoo’s panicked voice, but he refuses to acknowledge it, focusing on the chair’s leg, wrapping a hand around it and holding tight because he’s sure as hell he’s going to faint soon. He could swear the top of his head is in flames, but at the same time it feels distant, as emerged under water, blocking his nostrils, forcing him to breathe loudly through his mouth. It’s inefficient, the air stopping somewhere between his lips and lungs, leaving him gasping for it desperately while dizziness colors his vision with small black dots.

He feels like he’s drifting, the control of his own body weakening with every useless grasp for air. He grabs on the chair’s leg desperately, using it as an anchor. His other hand grasps into something warm and he tightens his fingers so hard he feels them go numb so he fastens the hold more, until his own nails are digging into his hand. The pain helps him gather himself enough to drag in a long inhale and he sincerely feels like an ex-drug addict who just relapsed. The moment is short but feels glorious, his chest muscles pushing to the front and then finally relaxing. The burn in his throat decreases considerably, but doesn’t disappear completely, every inhale of air scraping harshly against its insides. But even so, his lungs responding to his commands bring a huge relief. Slowly, he lifts one finger from around the chair before putting it back around it. He continues doing so, one finger at time, forming a pattern, a basic rhythm that he counts in his head until his mind clears up enough for him to open his eyes.

He realises they were closed so tight his vision blurs, spectra of light reflecting in the drops of water in his eyes, tears, he realizes. He hasn’t stopped crying yet. The floor is stable under him, his left knee is stinging badly, he probably scratched it when he fell, but in spite of all these solid realisations he can still feel himself drifting, almost like his mind of floating. It’s uncomfortable, making him dizzy and unable to focus properly on something, mind present but not exactly. His throat feels dry, almost itchy and he knows he should drink something. He remembers the water bottle he left on his desk, just above his head. He just needs to get up and take it, but his legs suddenly turn into jelly, unresponsive when he tries to move them. A frustrated groan leaves his lips.

“What do you need?” the voice scares him enough to jump a little back, his head hitting the desk behind him. He completely forgot he’s not alone. Joshua’s blurred face appears in front of him, or maybe it was always there and he just didn’t notice, blending with the rest of the swirled colors and forms of the room. He tries to focus on it, but the pain in his head makes him even more distracted than before.

His mouth opens to voice his request, but he fails to pronounce even a basic word as ‘water’, the only sound he manages being another groan and a loud puff of air. Strangely, it seems to be enough because a few second later, there’s a bottle in front of him, its round shape melting with the surroundings. He wants to reach for it, just to notice that his hands are still anchoring him to the ground and for some reasons he doesn’t want, can’t, let go yet. He’s scarred he may actually drift away if he does. He almost wants to laugh at his own stupidity, maybe he would if he wasn’t actually believing it.

Thankfully, Jisoo seems to have discovered his telepathic skills today, because he feels the water bottle being placed on his lips, a hand gently guiding his neck so he can drink. It’s messy at first. He slightly chokes on the first gulp of water due to the wrong angle, most of it is dripping past his lips, on his shirt, but he doesn’t complain. The coldness against his chest is quite welcomed actually. When Joshua removes the bottle after a few draughts the world finally stops spinning, the colors reduce their brightness, and while the blur doesn’t completely disappear, the things start to regain their forms, even if the ends remains slightly ragged. The nausea also stays, making him want to bend over and empty his stomach, but the still slightly cold water helped enough for his belly to keep its contains.

“Better?” Jisoo asks and Jihoon’s eyes finally focus on the other’s face. The worry is creased deeply on Jisoo’s forehead, dragging at the corners of his lips and filling his orbs. The guilt twists his stomach and Jihoon forces himself to gulp the acid back down as he nods minimally. The deep sigh Joshua lets out does nothing to soothe his guilt.

“Can you stand? Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods again, the motion just as small, and he finally lets his fingers untangle from their anchors. The sudden release it’s scary, his body almost feeling too light, but he forces the thought away. That’s all that it is, after all, a thought. Just then he realizes what he was holding in his right hand and the guilt immediately duplicates. Jisoo’s hand is almost purple, his veins a little swollen. Right above his wrist Jihoon’s fingers left behind white marks, the contrast between them and he rest of the skin almost sickening.

“It’s fine.” Jisoo says when he notices his gaze. “Come on, you really should lay down.”

He circles on arm, the one that’s not purple, under Jihoon’s armpits and helps him sit up. In reality, Jisoo single handle lifts all his weight, Jihoon struggling to control his legs enough to maintain his body up. It takes them a full minute to reach the bed, even if it’s just a few steps away, and then another minute for the younger boy to finally lay himself properly down. If not for his state, Jihoon would have found the whole struggle more than embarrassing. But at the moment, he is infinitely thankful that it was Jisoo the one that had to witness all this.

“How are you?” Jisoo asks, and really, it’s a stupid question and Jihoon would have normally scoffed at it, but now he knows that the other’s just so worried that he had to ask in spite of the obvious answer.

“Tired.” He manages to croak, his throat still sore. Jisoo nods shortly, bringing a hand to press lightly against Jihoon’s forehead. It's the right one, the one Jihoon squeezed, and while the skin’s color started to return to normal, the finger marks begun to turn an alarming shade of blue.

“It’s really fine.” Jisoo assures him once again, but Jihoon knows it’s not.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers regretfully. The other shakes his head to deny the apology, massaging his wrist softly.

“It’ll pass in a few days. That’s not important.” The tone Joshua uses is careful enough for Jihoon to know that what it’s ‘important’ and that he can choose to avoid the subject if he wants to. However, he knows that he can delay it, but not forever. He lets out a resigned sigh, eyes focusing on the ceiling.

“Do you have this sort of panic attack often?” Jisoo takes his cue and asks. The question is quite simple, playing around the real subject.

“It was never this bad.” The answer it’s true, but it also vague enough. Jisoo signs heavily.

“What triggers them?”

“Usually my nightmares.” It’s easy to answer while staring at the ceiling. If he concentrates enough, he can pretend Jisoo is not even there, that he answers his own questions.

“I’m pretty sure you were awake this time.” Jisoo mumbles more to himself. The next question comes in such a low voice Jihoon barely catches it.

“Was it me?” Jisoo sounds pained and for a second Jihoon wants to say that yes, it was his fault, that his words hurt him, but he couldn’t do that to his friend even if it was true.  And yes, the lack of trust hurt him, it still does, twisting his heart in the most painful ways, but he knows that not Jisoo triggered his attack. So he shakes his head to deny and silence falls between them for a short while. It’s long enough for Jihoon’s eyelids to fall close, the fatigue dragging them down, but his mind remains awake. He knows the discussion it’s not over, that Jisoo just needs time to process everything.

“Jihoon?” the tension between them grows with the soft whisper of his name. He hums just as quietly, to show that he is still awake, while trying to prepare himself for the next question.

“Where is Seungcheol?”

He expected it really, but it still knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels the tears gather behind his eyelids, but he squeezes them closer, refusing to let them fall.

“I… I don’t know.” He says, ignoring the way his voice cracks at the end of the sentence, focusing more on pushing the acid back to his stomach.

“You don’t know?” Jisoo sound even more confused now and Jihoon really wants this to stop, but he knows the other won’t give up until he gets his answers.

“We broke up.” He whispers and he likes to believe that he sounded more sure of himself than it seems. “A few days ago.” He adds, frowning to stop the new wave of tears. The only answer he gets is a soft ‘Oh’, more like an exhale than an exclamation. He feels the rest of the questions in the air, he doesn’t need to open his eyes to see the curiosity in Jisoo’s orbs.

“It was right before this whole fiasco started. We fought and I told him to leave.” He uses all his self-control not to break down, putting all his force in his voice. It doesn’t help in the end. The “So he left.” comes out in broken pieces, just as Jihoon’s heart. He tries not to let his mind dwell into it, just as he’d been doing the past days, focusing on his breath, on Jisoo’s, on the way his fingers twist weakly in bedsheets. It’s futile though, white pain slashing his chest open. The only consolation comes in the form of his exhaustion, his soul already too drained. When Jisoo’s voice reaches him, he is already half slipping into slumber.

“Take a nap. I’ll go find you something to eat so you can take your pills.”

He nods weakly, body twisting to gather around one of his pillows, fingers digging in it out of habit.

Surprisingly, he actually falls asleep. Maybe it’s the exhaustion of the last days, maybe it’s the panic attack, but when he opens his eyes the headache has subsided considerably and he can finally think clear after days of confusion and twisted thoughts. Even his limbs feel lighter, not in their best shape, but there is a huge difference from when he went to sleep.

“You’re awake?” a soft voice asks. When he turns his head to face him, he finds Jisoo siting on the floor, with his back leaning on the edge of the bed, phone between his palms, a random game open. Jihoon nods shortly.

“I slept for too long?” he asks quietly, a little afraid to break the silence surrounding them. The light that creeps from under his dark curtain is far more powerful than it was when he went to sleep so he guesses it must be around noon.

“Not really. It’s only eleven, you’ve slept for less than three hours. Are you feeling better?” the question is rushed, like it was a last minute thought, started with hesitation and ended in almost fear. Jihoon sighs, but hums softly in approval, raising his upper body to rest on the headboard.

“A lot better.” He murmurs. It’s unnecessary, but the warm smile that tugs at Jisoo’s lips makes it worth the effort.

“That’s great.” The words are filled with so much relief that even Jihoon’s heart feels lighter. The guilt in his stomach only grows. Thankfully, Jisoo doesn’t notice this, too busy saying something about food while he gets up to retrieve a packed sandwich from the desk.

“It was the best I found at the vending machine downstairs. I didn’t want to go too far.”

“It’s fine, hyung.” Jihoon assures him, taking the sandwich from the other’s hand. “I actually really like those.” He adds, ripping the plastic around the food. He’s telling the truth, he practically lived with those chicken sandwiches for the past two years. But when he takes a bite he realises that the food, in spite of looking perfectly normal, it’s tasteless. Maybe it’s just him since Jisoo has also started nipping at his own sandwich and doesn’t complain. He chews and then swallows mechanically, taking another bite and repeating. He feels no hunger, no desire to eat the sandwich or anything else. The nap seems to have failed to  bring back his appetite. He still eats though, mostly to quench his friend’s worry, but also because he needs to. He doesn’t wish to be admitted to the hospital again.

“So…” Jisoo speaks when they finish eating and after he makes sure Jihoon swallows down the pills he need to take in the mornings. “What’s the plan?”

The question stops Jihoon from playing with the plastic foil, throwing a fugitive look at his sweatpants’ pocket where he's still feeling the rigid paper he hid this morning.

“The plan?” he asks, more testing the waters. It doesn’t look like Jisoo saw his plan, but he can’t be sure. The other boy nods, hand coming out to gesticulate in a large circle.

“Yeah. You always have a plan in stressing situations.” He stops, throwing the plastic from his sandwich towards the trash can near the desk and failing with a tsk. “I still remember how you stayed up for days to perfect the plan to your ‘new life’” he quotes with his fingers “back then. So don’t tell me you don’t have one already.”

Jihoon nods thoughtfully, throwing his plastic foil directly into the trash can and responding with a small smile to Joshua’s indignant noise.

“I need my phone first.” He announces the first point on his list.

“Where’s your phone?” Jisoo asks confused. The younger boy just shrugs.

“Somewhere in this room, I assume. I don’t remember when I used it last time.”

Joshua sighs heavily, bringing his own phone up and playing with it for a bit before a loud noise makes Jihoon jump a little. It’s his phone’s ringtone, coming from somewhere below him.

“It’s under the bed, you idiot.” Jisoo scold him, ending the call and bending down to retrieve the device. It requests a little struggle, and Jihoon moves to get off the bed to help.

“I’ve got it.” Jisoo announces before he can do so. The phone is placed next to him on the mattress, screen lit and a few notification on it. He sees a dozen of missed calls, but deletes the notification before his mind could really dwell on it. He needs to concentrate now.

“Next?” Joshua asks from beside him. Jihoon tries to recall the order of the list he made this morning.

“Next…” he drags the world, fingers playing around his phone. “I need to talk to the headmaster. I realized how my song was stolen and I need to see the security videos of this dorm from a few months ago.”

“From when your key was stolen?” Jisoo interrupts him, making Jihoon’s turn his head so fast he can feel his neck ache.

“How do you know that?” he asks bewildered, hand automatically pressing on the paper in his pocket. Did he actually see it?

“Seungkwan said so yesterday at the hospital.” While the answer clears some of his worries, Jihoon’s mind still swirls in confusion.

“He said that he remembered you lost your key, and since your songs are saved in this computer” Jisoo points towards Jihoon’s desk “it was probably stolen and not lost. He also said that he is almost sure he knows who did it, but until they don’t get the evidence he doesn’t want to reveal any names. Just in case he is wrong.”

“They?” Jihoon murmurs as an afterthought, still busy processing everything.

“I assumed he was talking about your other friends. They are really smart, you know?” Joshua asks with a small smile Jihoon finds himself reciprocating because yes, his friends are pretty smart.

“So, assuming that they can handle this, what’s the next step?”

Jihoon nods absently, still a little in shock. “Um... I think the hospital? Visiting Chan?”

“Oh, yes Chan. I heard what happened to the poor kid.” Joshua’s voice turns dark again, face darkening. “I think this is another issue to discuss with the headmaster, but after everything is made clear. I saw the boy and those bruises weren’t caused by a fall for sure.”

It leaves Jihoon nodding again, mind tormented with a hundred thoughts. Why is this so easy? Half of his list is almost checked and he is still sitting in his bed, doing nothing. Should it be so easy? A warm hand on his knee puts a temporary pause on his inner turmoil.

“You are not alone this time, Jihoon.” Joshua speaks softly. “We are all here to help you, so don’t worry too much. Everything is going to be okay, I promise.”

And for now he believes it. He can actually see a small light of hope that promises that everything would actually be alright, that he doesn’t have to fight all of this alone. Not anymore. His lips part to let out a long exhale, an infinitesimal smile on his lips.  

A/N

Guess who's still alive? :DDDDDD