Saturday, April 14 2012, Seoul, Korea xoxo Park Chanyeol “Chanyeol”

Chanyeol awoke to the stench of antiseptic, to brief and harrowing snow blindness … and to a lonely, unforgiving silence. The room he was in was almost all white and just one glimpse of the walls surrounding him, to the door that contained him, to the fresh sheets that covered him made him feel sick. He knew where he was, but he didn't want to be there.

What had happened? He couldn't remember. Not after getting tossed up in the air like a tomato from someone's salad. Hell, if he'd been trampled on by a dozen wild horses or just a really fat guy with a large box of chocolates on his way to romantically invite his right hand to a date (Not saying that fat guys couldn't get laid, this one was just particularly slobbish and didn't give a ), he wouldn't have been surprised.

But yeah, weird analogy aside, he didn't remember half of what happened. He couldn't turn his head; his jaw was being held in place by a neck brace, and the rest of his limbs, while unrestrained, felt slightly numb. That left him to move his eyes, and yeah. That was a load of fun, wasn't it? He got to stare around an empty room all day.

If he'd wanted to do that he would have just stayed in his room.

“Chanye'?”

Chanyeol's eyes flicked left, and the motion felt like it pulled some tightening sinew attaching his eyeballs to his brain. He winced and his chapped lips, swallowing on reflex to find a horrible, filmy taste inhabiting his mouth. Chanyeol swore he felt the bed dip briefly as if someone had sat on it, but it had happened so fast he wasn't sure it had been real.

Then Junmyeon slipped neatly into the picture, and his smile was soft, terrible and saccharine. There was a weight on his shoulders; they sagged, but at the same time hunched in a tense defensiveness. His skin was sallow, his hair ruffled from all the times he'd substituted worried fingers for a comb, and he exhaled a silent laugh like the one usually reserved for when hysteria became hysterical.

Chanyeol presented with a smile of his own as he turned his head into the brace, trying to get a clearer picture of his leader. It reached his eyes, which glowed sickly and bloodshot beneath the artificial light – the eyes of ignorance.

He was dimly aware of a gentle, brotherly touch flitting lightly over his arm before it was gone again.

“Suho?” he whispered.

Junmyeon's smile grew wider. “I'm here.”

“I see that.”

A brief moment of silence passed between them. It was filled with unspoken questions from both sides.

Junmyeon's eyes held some sort of haunted truth. His body language screamed fear. Chanyeol swallowed again, and then once more after that, feeling a lump in the back of his throat. Some sort of odd, swollen ache similar to a blocked nose was heating his mid-back, and it was very slight but Chanyeol felt a wave of dizziness and nausea.

Then the doors opened. Junmyeon looked over, and murmured something to a doctor. Chanyeol didn't hear it in favour if trying to suppress his discomfort.

“They're asking me to leave,” the EXO-K leader informed him gently.

Alarm burst within his chest at the thought of him leaving. “Suho.” No. Don't leave me alone here. Please, you can't!

A warm hand came to cup his cheek. “I don't want to leave but it's not up to me to decide that.” Chanyeol's face started burning. “Be brave. I'll be back as soon as I can. Next time I'll try bringing some of the others.”

Chanyeol remained stonily silent. After a moment he blinked and averted his eyes in acquiescence. “It's okay, Jun'. Go, I'll be fine. I'll talk to you soon, yeah?”

Sunday, April 15 2012, Seoul, Korea xoxo Kim Junmyeon “Suho”

When Junmyeon got back shortly after four in the early morning having taken a taxi home, he supposed he should have expected EXO-M. Simple fact of the matter was that he hadn't, because his mind had been away in Lala Land with the fairies and Squashbucket the magical flying pig – whoever the that was.

God, he'd been up so long his brain itself was starting to hallucinate. Junmyeon paused to make sure he wasn't actually going to cross the room and watch a cow walking on its hind legs towards him or something equally as mind blowing.

He went straight into the kitchen and got himself a glass of warm water straight from the hot tap, drowning the beginning hunger he might have felt before it could begin to nag at him. Hospital food was appetising only to the poor bastards they had starving in the wards. Junmyeon was picky about some of the things he ate so he wouldn't eat hospital food until he reached a point where his brain started failing and telling him that everything tasted delicious.

Walking away from Chanyeol was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Even if Chanyeol seemed unconcerned about it, the machines monitoring him had yipped quicker as the only familiarity within the diseased walls walked away. Junmyeon's footsteps had been echoing hollowly through the room; a slow, damning sound.

What the hell do I do now? I want to go back but I'm just going to get turned away and I'm so tired, I could sleep through a concert. Sipping at a second glass, the EXO leader rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. It erased the heaviness his eyelids seemed to have taken on for a few seconds, but then it returned again.

It felt like his eyebrows were going to start melting down his face or something. He looked at the muddied palm of his left hand, tipping his head as if he'd only just noticed he had it.

Okay, he was definitely hallucinating to some degree. Not completely obvious.

Junmyeon silently seethed.

What right did he have to complain?

One of his best friends – his brother – was lying alone in a hospital bed with a broken back.

And it just hit him like a freight train. Lucky thing he'd put the glass down otherwise he would have thrown the er. He was still very, very tempted. It was within reach. Who knows, maybe it would make him feel better.

He wanted the person who'd run him down. He wanted to find them and find out who they were. He wanted a name and a face to direct his rage, because right now it was ravaging him from within like a fever in his blood, and it was going to throw itself at whoever the hell crossed his path, friend or foe.

But it wasn't just the driver he was angry at, either.

The rational side to him – the screwed up motherer it was – was whispering in his ear that Chanyeol was as much to blame. Maybe it could have been avoided if he'd simply been paying attention. The police said he'd been listening to music at the time. Perhaps he could have moved out of the way. And that was ing ridiculous; Chanyeol was the victim, he had no stake in the blame. He'd been walking on the ing pavement, not the middle of the road.

But if they were looking for irrational blame-fame, hell, maybe it was his fault too. He didn't stop Chanyeol from walking out the door. Maybe it was Baekhyun for waking Chanyeol up that morning, or Kai for suggesting he leave.

Junmyeon shook his head and swayed on his feet. Too much running around, not enough sugar.

I need to lie down before I fall down.

And that was when he noticed Tao asleep on the sofa.

Junmyeon knew his presence meant the rest of the unit would be around somewhere. He didn't feel relieved, just numb and frustrated. Where were you when he got hit? Junmyeon scowled at his temper and sank his proverbial fingers into it like a cat on a curtain, trying to tear some of it down. He would have preferred it if he had privacy, but one glance into his room showed he would simply not get that tonight.

He washed quietly in the bathroom and then returned to the couch, where he threw himself over Tao.

The rapper was stirred into a faint semi-consciousness and he blinked open dark eyes, then wrapped his arms around the leader. It took a few minutes for Junmyeon to clear his mind and physically relax (he was as stiff as board). They settled against each other with a sigh and a mutual feeling of relief, gratitude and exhaustion, and a shared hope: that it was just a nightmare.

It wasn't long before he was asleep, his face resting on Tao's chest and Tao's arms folded over his back.

Update: 08.12.2013
Mood; Slightly anxious
Inspiration; Sleep Walking, Nu'est
Drinking; Black Coffee

Author comments;

Sorry for the long wait between chapter releases! This one is less comedic and more angsty, as you probably noted.
 

Reviewer Responses;

None

“I think it's the duty of the comedian to find out where the line is drawn and cross it deliberately.” - George Carlin