SEVEN

It took Zitao a while, but he finally managed to climb up the ladder with Luhan in his arms, and lay the elder back in bed, wiping his wet cheeks caringly.

“It’s okay. Don’t cry, Luhan, it’s okay. I’ll clean it up for you, alright?”

Luhan clung onto Zitao’s shoulders, crying and staring up at him, eyes begging for him not to leave. He was too emotionally rattled, everything had happened too fast. He was too sick to fathom anything properly, and the emotional trauma of recalling the words that had changed him so fast was just too much.

Zitao stared down at him, distressed.

“You’re really sick,” he mumbled, thumbing away the tears that continued to fall, “do you want me to finish up the soup for you? Do you want tea? A shower?”

Luhan sobbed and shook his head, pulling Zitao back down when he tried to sit up.

“Please,” he whispered, “please, don’t leave me.”

He sighed. “Okay. I’m not leaving, Luhan. I’ll stay with you.”

Luhan finally loosened his grip around Zitao, and mustered whatever strength he had left to move over as far to the side as he could, leaving a narrow space beside him for the younger to lie in.

However, Zitao sat up almost immediately when he lay down, frowning and placing a hand on the mattress.

“Luhan, why are the sheets wet?”

The fresh memories of Kyungsoo’s disturbing confrontation came crashing back down on Luhan, and he curled up into himself, gasping and crying harder than before.

Zitao placed a hand on his forehead. He knew Luhan hadn’t wet the bed – the moist patch was too close to his pillow, anyway – so he’d obviously just spilled something. Hoping it was only water and nothing that would make his hair sticky, Zitao lay back down again, gathering the crying other in his arms and his hair affectionately.

“It’s okay,” Zitao whispered, “everything will be fine. I’m right here. You’ll get better soon, okay? I promise you will. You’ll be fine. Everything’s fine.”

Luhan’s fingers found their way to Zitao’s shirt, clutching onto the fabric tightly and pulling himself towards the younger desperately. His assurance only made him feel worse, though – because he wasn’t crying due to his physical illness. He was crying because of his mental instability, his eating disorder, the anguish and suffering of simply knowing that Kyungsoo knew it himself.

And Zitao’s words meant nothing to him, because he knew it wasn’t going to be okay. He could recover from a fever in days. But there was nothing assuring that he’d ever recover from his disorder. Kyungsoo hadn’t – what made him any different?

“Please stop crying, Luhan,” Zitao whispered, “everything’s going to be fine.”

He buried his cheeks into the soft cotton t-shirt and cried everything out, knowing that Zitao was wrong. It wasn’t going to be fine.

Nothing would ever be fine.

Luhan woke up dizzily when evening was falling, dorm too loud to only contain Zitao and Kyungsoo. He frowned and rolled over, patting his blankets, but Zitao was gone. He was alone.

He felt a bit better after gaining rest, but still felt weak, and hungry. He was still upset over the soup incident, and like a tiny bell, Junmyeon’s words rung in his mind. But he hadn’t eaten all day, and he was sure just a little bit of food wouldn’t hurt.

Grunting and groaning, Luhan sat up and slowly climbed down the ladder, slipping out of his bedroom and walking into the living room. The first person that saw him was Yixing, and the younger gasped when he saw his pale skin, dishevelled hair and sickly expression.

“Luhan, you look terrible!”

He raced over to the elder and cupped his cheeks, turning his head left and right.

“Luhan, are you okay? What happened? Did you vomit? Did you fall out of bed? Do you need anything? Are you going to faint?”

Luhan shook his head and took Yixing’s hands from his face. “I’m fine, Yixing.”

“You look worse than you did this morning!”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, “I needed that.”

Yixing looked uncertain, but seeing Luhan smiling, he stepped back.

“How was practice?”

“Fine. Tiring. Not the same without you.”

Yixing hooked his arm in Luhan’s and gently lead him over to the sofa, sitting him down beside Junmyeon, before collapsing down next to him.

“Do you think you’ll be better tomorrow?”

Luhan sighed. “I can’t say anything. Let’s hope I can recover as suddenly as I got sick, hey?”

He felt Junmyeon place a hand on his thigh, and he turned slowly, facing the too-bright teeth of Junmyeon’s smile.

“Are you hungry, Luhan?” he asked, “Kyungsoo told me you haven’t eaten all day. Zitao still has his soup in the pot, and it might make you feel—”

“No.”

Junmyeon looked taken aback, and Luhan gulped and spoke a little quieter. “No. No, I’m not hungry.”

The small sounds from his tummy said otherwise, and Junmyeon cocked an eyebrow. “Luhan, if you’re scared of vomiting or anything, you won’t become sick from light soup. Especially if you eat it slowly. You haven’t been eating a lot lately, anyway. It’ll do you good.”

He stood up and walked over to the kitchen, announcing he’d warm up a bowl of soup for Luhan, despite the elder’s protests.

He sighed. He knew he needed the food, but—

“Luhan.”

Luhan’s heartbeat accelerated, and all thoughts about eating fell from his mind.

Oh, no.

He raised his chin, and looked up to face Kyungsoo. And to his horror, he was smiling.

Kyungsoo sat down in Junmyeon’s place, and slung an arm around him. “You were scaring me today. Are you feeling any better?”

Luhan was speechless. Not only was Kyungsoo speaking to him as if he totally hadn’t disturbed him and sent him into mental turmoil, he was smiling. He was touching him.

And then Luhan realised – everything was all an act. From the beginning, right when his disorder started, up until now – nobody knew his secret, except him. The happy smiles, the hugs, the cheerful talks, everything was fake. It was all just one big lie.

Oh, my God.

He stayed frozen in place while Yixing shook his shoulders. “Luhan, what’s the matter? Luhan? Are you going to vomit?”

“N-No,” he gasped, “no…no, I’m…I’m okay.”

“You look…hungry,” Kyungsoo drawled, with a hint of amusement in his voice that only Luhan could trace. “Maybe Junmyeon’s right. You should eat.”

Yixing nodded enthusiastically, but Luhan only shook his head and shuffled backwards into Yixing’s chest, away from Kyungsoo. “No. No, I…I really—”

Kyungsoo moved closer, and Luhan moved away.

“What’s wrong with you, Luhan?” Yixing asked.

“I…I’m going to go shower.”

“No, you’re not!” Junmyeon yelled from the kitchen, “you’ve got food to eat!”

Kyungsoo smiled again, but Luhan could only see bared teeth and hollow eyes. “I’ll help you to the table?”

“No!”

“Luhan, don’t be so rude. Kyungsoo’s been helping you out all day, at least show some gratitude—”

Junmyeon silenced Yixing and pulled Luhan off the sofa, waving away the others. “Leave Luhan alone. He’s had a hard day.”

He was about to thank Junmyeon, until he was pushed into a seat in front the promised bowl of food.

Junmyeon beamed.

“I…”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll feed it to you!” Junmyeon chirped, sliding into a chair beside him.

“I’ll eat it if you don’t want it!”

“There’s more in the kitchen, Chanyeol.”

“He can eat it,” Luhan agreed, “I want to shower, anyway.”

He was lying – the last thing he wanted was to be locked up, alone, in a tiny cubicle filled with stuffy air and hot steam – but he’d choose anything over eating, really.

“But, Luhan, it’s only six o’clock. You’ve got plenty of time to shower,” Junmyeon protested.

“I want to go to bed after, though.”

“You’ve been sleeping all day!”

Luhan shook his head, with pleading eyes. His head was starting to throb, and he was desperate to get away. “Please, Junmyeon?”

Junmyeon leaned back in his seat and folded his arms, contemplating, and then sighed. “Alright. Fine.”

Luhan breathed out in relief, and stood up quickly, but fell over the moment his feet took the support of his weight. His legs felt like they’d turned to water, and he collapsed onto the floor, gasping at the sudden burning hot pain shooting through his head.

“Luhan!”

Chairs scraped back, and multiple pairs of arms latched onto him, heaving him up off the floor, ceiling spiralling apart in blackening hues. He felt someone strong push off the grabbing hands, and he was pulled into someone else’s chest protectively.

“Luhan-hyung!”

“Look, he’s blanching, get him into bed, quickly—”                                                      

“Quiet! All of you!” Yifan barked. “Who’s in the kitchen? Minseok, bring some water, now. I’m taking him to bed. Junmyeon, call the manager.”

Luhan tried to open his eyes, but only saw spinning blurs of colours and faces. He felt himself becoming weightless, and he wasn’t sure if it was his slipping consciousness or the fact that Yifan had lifted him up off his feet. He could feel himself moving, hear dull, thudding footsteps that echoed for much longer than they should, and laughter in his mind that sounded far too much like Kyungsoo’s to be real. His arms lost strength and his hold on Yifan was weakening, until he was drifting away, blackening, falling, falling…

✏ [ a/n ] here's to a week for me!!!!!!!!!!!! another crap update. i hope you guys aren't hating this as much as i am ighghughugdhasjhjg again thank you so much to everyone leaving lovely comments because honestly they mean so much to me! and welcome to my new subscribers, i hope you'll enjoy this as much as everyone else (assuming people are actually enjoying this???) and do feel free to drop a comment too o/ if you guys are interested i posted this random stupid taoris oneshot here that i did in like 10 minutes so yeah don't judge just in case you're interested when i'm not updating this fast enough <3 enjoy guys i love you~ ^^

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