Jonghyun

The heart-to-heart with Minho the previous night had granted Jonghyun a good night’s sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well. However, the only disadvantage of a good sleep is that it makes the world look like a better place than it actually is. Leading people to forget their sins and act recklessly into committing more; like Jonghyun had done this morning. The scene and the words kept spinning in his head ever since he entered his house and woke up to reality. 

His house was how he had left it, a mess. The door of his apartment opened into the living space with a side kitchen and a dining area at the back, which also served as his work space. Next to the dining area was the door to his bedroom. It was a simple one bedroom apartment with just the basics like a sofa set, a center table, horseshoe kitchen, a six people dinning table with a bookstand next to it (which also contained music albums of his favorite artists), and some light stands. His bedroom followed the basic style with a king-size bed, bedside tables, night stands, a flatscreen TV mounted opposite his bed, a shelf with drawers below the TV, and a long wardrobe on the side. If there was anything that Jonghyun had added to personalize his bedroom, it was the modern gramophone player on the shelf below the TV.

Despite his house being modest compared to Kibum’s or Minho’s it was still too much for him to manage on his down days, which seemed to be more frequent these days. There were more dirty dishes in the sink then there were dishes in his house and he doesn’t remember how many days it has been since he last cleaned them. There were dust covered milk tea stains on the dining table and crumbled paper lying lazily from the bookshelf to the kitchen. His bedsheet hadn’t been changed in two weeks, his laundry basket had overflown, and his bedside tables had half read, half remembered books. While most mothers would expect this out of a typical bachelor son, Jonghyun’s mom would be devastated. Jonghyun wasn’t very particular about cleanliness but it had never gone this far. He knew he hadn’t been doing well in the past few weeks but it wasn’t until this morning, that it finally struck him. He had passed it off as being heartbroken or sad, after all he still wasn’t over Jinki and if anything he was sure that he wouldn’t ever be. Especially after the way he had acted in the morning. Just because Taemin and Jinki weren’t talking or had broken-up didn’t mean that they had fallen out of love. After the last time Jonghyun messed up he thought he’d have better control on himself. But then again, things never do go as per his planning. 

He had to find supernatural will to vacuum his apartment, clean the dishes, put a third of the clothes in the washing machine, wipe all tables and shelfs, set all the books and take out the trash. Jonghyun knew it wasn’t trash day but these days his will to do anything at all was few and far between so he’d might as well make the full use of it. 

It was almost 4 P.M. by the time he got done with all the chores and finally let the wave of exhaustion wash over him as he sunk into his bed. He was hungry and tired. The last meal he had was the breakfast Minho had left for him in the kitchen with a note saying that he'd had left early for work. Jonghyun knew he should at least have a late lunch but he was too tired to move. The smell of clean sheets further lulled him into a deep sleep.

Jonghyun had no idea how long he’d been asleep for when a distant vibration woke him up. His body felt as heavy as lead and his mind couldn’t make sense of his surrounding so the vibration continued till it finally died down. Just as he was falling back into the comfortable darkness, the vibrations began again. This time it was clear that it was his phone kept atop the bedside table that had been the cause of his irritation. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the name of the screen and he groaned when he saw Kibum’s name flash. He had half a mind to ignore the call but he answered it anyway.

“What time is it?” Jonghyun asked groggily as he rubbed his eyes still lying on the bed. He bolted upright at the sound of suppressed sobs on the other end of the line. “Kibum? Why are you crying? Talk to me!” he demanded.

“It’s…it’s Taemin. He is in the ICU.” Was all Kibum managed in between sobs. 

The call was short but it gave Jonghyun everything he needed to know. Taemin and his friend had gotten into a fire incident at his university and were being operated on right now. Kibum had asked Jonghyun to pick up some clothes from him and Taemin, some food, some water, and anything else Jonghyun thought was important and bring them to the hospital. 

Jonghyun looked at the time on his phone and it showed 16:46. Even though it has been a short nap, Jonghyun had felt as if he had slept for days. He took the spare key to Kibum’s apartment and rushed out with a bag, not bothering to change. He had packed the essentials and decided that he needed to stop at a convenient store to pick up some light food, energy bars, and hydration fluids. He left Kibum’s apartment and walked towards the elevator. That’s when he heard a loud thud. He knew it came from his floor so he rushed down the stairs to find Jinki’s apartment door open. Jonghyun cautiously walked towards it to realize that the door had been broken. A wave of panic shot through his body and he ran the remaining steps entering the apartment to find two masked men in black hats and black clothes dragging an unconscious Jinki out of his bedroom. They stopped the moment they saw him.

“What are you doing? Leave him!” Jonghyun demanded. Anger staining his face red.

One of the men nodded to the other, who left Jinki and took a step towards Jonghyun. Jonghyun was ready to beat the out of the two men, but he didn’t want them to hurt Jinki so he waited by the door to let them make the first move. The man in front raised his hand and pointed his palm towards Jonghyun. A yellow light covered his palm and Jonghyun suddenly started floating in the air. Before he could comprehend this new reality he was swung against the wall and crashed onto the sofa. He tried to find his footing only to be swung against the roof and, this time, landing on the glass table. 

He heard mummers in-between the pounding in his head. His tried to strain his neck to the source of the voices but everything hurt. He felt like needles were shot through his arm and his legs felt like dead weight. His eyes couldn’t focus, his palms felt wet,