[A/N: You guys know the drill by now, right? Consider every chapter as potentially dangerous from this point onward. TRIGGER WARNING: Mental illness, medication use.]

Eun Mi woke up feeling terrible. Her limbs weighted her down. It took her several tries to sit up. Her mind felt hazy, clouded and unfocused. The worst part was the nauseating feeling in her stomach. Eun Mi had just enough energy to make it to the bathroom in time.

Slumped against the bathtub, one arm hugging her stomach, it took her a good while to get her breathing back to normal. Everything hurt. Her stomach, her back, her eyes, her mind. Somewhere, hidden in the spider webs of her brain, a dark creature lurked, its bright yellow eyes glaring at her.

With a sputtering breath, Eun Mi started to pull herself to her feet only to fall back on her knees. The cold tiles on the floor made her nauseous. She squeezed her eyes shut. Eun Mi couldn’t remember anything. It must have been bad if she’d somehow ended up heavily sedated. She wondered if Tae Jun had something to do with it.

Fear still clutched , the residual grip of a night terror she would never be able to remember making her saliva thick and painful to swallow. She wouldn’t have a full-blown panic attack, not with the sedative still so heavily concentrated in her body, but she could still be nervous and jittery.

She could still cry.

Eun Mi wound her arms around herself, laying on the floor. Her tears came hard and fast, cold and hot. She could hear the sound of them breaking against the tiles until her sobs became loud enough that she had to bite down on her knuckles.

She was so afraid.

A knock on the door made her jump. It took Eun Mi several seconds to hiccup her sobs into nothing. She gulped a lungful of air. Someone was speaking from the other side. Someone could hear her. As quickly as she could, Eun Mi swallowed her fear and tears, sealing her sobs away in the depths of her chest.

Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, echoing around her. “Yes?”

Another knock, a man’s voice. She couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Eun Mi sat up, wiping her eyes with her forearm. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Jiho.”

A pause. Eun Mi swallowed thickly.

“Listen, uh, I’m going to church. Do you want to come?”

When she didn’t reply, Zico knocked once more. “Ma Ri? Are you okay?”

Eun Mi wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been okay for a long time. She needed a sanctuary. “Y-yeah. Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Give me twenty minutes?”

Zico’s voice was soft and gentle. “Take as much time as you need.”

Zico didn’t tell Eun Mi anything. It probably had something to do with the fact that she didn’t ask. She didn’t have to; she knew that she had a breakdown, the magnitude of it enough to call Manager Jo in to do damage control. She didn’t want to think of the cameras. She didn’t want to start biting her nails from the thought that there might be evidence that proved how unstable she was, how crazy she could be.

Eun Mi didn’t have to say anything. Zico suspected that she felt something had happened despite being unaware of how huge it had been. It made him uncomfortable to bring it up, mainly because he didn’t feel like it was his place to do so.

After driving in silence for a couple of minutes, Eun Mi cautiously asked him if they could turn on the radio. Zico allowed her to choose the station and Eun Mi selected one at random, keeping the volume low enough that it wouldn’t bother them but loud enough to drown out the thoughts in her head.

From his peripheral vision, Zico watched her struggle to keep her thumbnail away from her teeth. She tried to sit still, but she would end up shifting in her seat several times a minute.

“They were off,” Zico said as he parked.

Eun Mi turned to look at him. Zico looked at her evenly, his eyes tired. His lips and eyes looked swollen, as if he’d slept too much during the day.

“The cameras,” he said, “they were off.”

They sat staring at each other for a while until Eun Mi finally nodded.

Taewoon sneezed into the crook of his arm, sniffling as he drew the mask back over his mouth and nose. The scent of cleaning supplies always made his nose itch. Sister Hope knelt beside him, her eyebrows drawn with concern. The years seemed to finally have caught up with her; a deep set of wrinkles had settled around her eyes, making her look tired.

“Are you alright, child?”

“Yes, Sister, I’m fine.” Taewoon patted her arm, helping her to stand back up. He guided her away from the open refrigerator door. She shouldn’t be exposed to sudden shifts in temperature, she had always been so prone to catching colds.

She took his hand in hers. Her fingers had started to bow and bend. Taewoon patted her hand, feeling suddenly aware of her mortality. Sister Hope smiled up at him. “Do you need anything?”

Answers. Taewoon needed a million answers to his million questions. The old nun couldn’t give them to him, so he sent her on her way, assuring her that he could handle cleaning the kitchen on his own.

Taewoon had emptied out the fridge, scooping out the small bits of food that tended to accumulate at the bottom of the drawers and in the corners. The contents rested on the counter, awaiting further inspection. He had a feeling he would end up washing containers that had long ago been empty. The nuns were usually very meticulous, but with the events the small church had hosted, chores had piled up.

He crouched low and started wiping the white interior.

The day had not started off well. Since he received Zico’s call, Taewoon had not been able to shake the feeling of foreboding in his heart. He figured that as the day progressed and Zico remained in HQ, the feeling would subside, but he had been wrong. Jungwoo’s call had unsettled him all the more. The things he had to say, the name he had cautiously given him—Taewoon didn’t want to think about what it all meant.

Taewoon sneezed again. He placed everything that was still good back inside, including the large Tupperware with kimchi his mother had sent over. He moved on to washing dishes.

Blood Rose was bad news.

She had started out ordinarily enough, a fan that evolved into one of Zico’s best and favorite fansite masters. They’d been almost friends, in fact. She had put in so much effort in providing BBC with good photos of Zico, had organized so many fan events and even supported him and the rest of Block B during their unexpected hiatus. No one really knew what had caused her downward spiral into obsession.

The shift from fansite master to stalker had been so drastically quick that Zico hadn’t even had a chance to process the shocking change before she was blacklisted at a fansign. BBC boycotted her, especially when photographs of Zico’s private studio and their family home were posted online.

It had been a mess, a frightening invasion of their privacy. Their family had been forced to move and Zico had done all he could to prevent Blood Rose from following him around. And, after a long year of torment, Blood Rose had vanished.

Taewoon had hoped that they would never hear from her again. Or if they did, that it would be as an anti-fan. Zico could handle anti-fans better than he could handle stalkers.

Taewoon finished with the dishes and started sweeping the floor.

After so many months of radio silence, why had she turned up now? Did Zico know that she was back? Had he spotted her following him around? Had she approached him already?

Taewoon hated thinking that she had been the one outside his place at dawn.

No. It couldn’t have been Blood Rose. Zico had so many stalkers. They came and went with the years, their numbers peeking when he was active as Block B or on his own. Only the most extreme remained while he was on hiatus. Zico hardly ever went on hiatus.

Taewoon finished sweeping and mopping the floor, moving on to organizing the cabinets. He moved the oldest of the canned food up front, checking expiration dates. He made room for the boxes of instant noodles he had stopped by to get on his way over.

Zico was one thing. Eun Mi was another.

Taewoon missed her. Miserably. He missed her so much he felt as if he were slowly dying. They hadn’t seen each other since CELESTIAL’s comeback. They talked on the phone, texted, even managed to have a video call here and there. Taewoon missed the feeling of her hand in his, the weight of her head resting on his shoulder, and the warmth of her body safely tucked away against his.

The situation with DAEE and Ryouta had them under rigid management. The members had to be extra careful so as to not create any further misunderstandings or rumors. They cut back on their personal schedules and lived within the confines of their dorms and company. Not only that, Ryouta’s hiatus had incriminated him all the more while DAEE’s continuous activities had her under fire for being shameless.

Taewoon could relate and understand the feeling that overpowered idols when a scandal broke out. Today had been the first time he’d seen Eun Mi in months. She had looked so worn. He’d suspected that the stress had interfered with her sleep, but he’d never imagined how thin she would look. He didn’t like it one bit.

With the kitchen clean, Taewoon found himself at a loss. His worries and thoughts continued to plague him. He leaned against the counter exhaling. Taewoon knew there was no point in thinking himself stupid. After staring at the wall for a couple of minutes, he took the trash out.

Mary Immaculate was a small church. The gardens were not nearly as spectacular as the ones in St. John’s or even as well-organized as the one in St. Cecilia’s. The grass had lost most of its color, a tattletale sign of the oncoming winter.

Taewoon walked over to the statue of the holding an infant Jesus in her arms. It was a large thing, taller than him even at ground level. The vegetation around it remained green, though some leaves had started to turn yellow. Taewoon tucked his hands inside his pockets, contemplating the statue before him.

“You’re back.”

A young man in a cassock was standing behind him. He had his hands clasped behind his back and a playful glint in his eyes. Taewoon had never seen him before. He bowed out of respect, but he felt strange doing so to someone so close to him in age.

“Please don’t do that,” the priest said, reaching out to pull him upright. “I feel weird seeing you do that when I’m younger.”

“W-what?”

The priest laughed. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” He patted Taewoon’s arm. “I may look like this, but I’m actually almost forty.”

Taewoon’s eyes widened. The priest laughed again. “I know, I know! God has truly blessed me. Some of the kids tell me I could have been an idol. What do you think?”

Taewoon didn’t know what to think. The priest’s appearance and playful attitude had him at a loss for words. He tried to nod, to speak, to do anything, but he could only gawk at the man standing before him. Somehow, he had made his brain short-circuit.

The priest smiled. “I’m Father Soo Hyun. I’m a visiting priest, at least for the time being.” He held out his hand; Taewoon shook it. “Walk with me.”

Taewoon blinked, staring after him before rushing to catch up. Father Soo Hyun walked leisurely around the garden, his hands clasped behind his back.

“The sisters tell me you come here to clean when you have too much on your mind. From the sound and looks of it, you come here quite often. Yet, I’ve never once seen you in Mass.”

“I usually have to leave by then.”

Father Soo Hyun nodded. “You’re an idol, correct?”

“I used to be.”

He nodded again. “I’ve heard a thing or two. You and your brother are both in the entertainment industry.”

Taewoon wondered if he also knew how half the time he wasn’t in any industry at all.

“I’ve also heart that although you’re somewhat temperamental, you’re a very good older brother.”

Taewoon didn’t know what to say. His family had been a part of the parish since they were children; anyone old enough could have told the priest as much. How was he supposed to react? What did Father Soo Hyun want from him?

“I’m just a brother.”

Father Soo Hyun’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Just a brother?”

“Yeah. Just a brother.”

The priest laughed. He seemed like the kind that like to laugh from how often he reacted with a chuckle. “Cain was also just a brother to Abel, and look how that turned out.”

“Cain was an idiot.” Taewoon grumbled. “He was jealous and a moron. Instead of being happy for Abel or working harder, he did something stupid. He should have just quietly supported Abel if he had nothing better to offer.”

Father Soo Hyun laughed again.

“I like you, Taewoon. You may not think people notice what you’ve given up, but they do. The best part about it is that you never try to make it seem like you’re making a sacrifice.”

A sour taste settled in Taewoon’s mouth. He’d never thought of his decisions being seen as a sacrifice. If anything, they almost always seemed like giving up. As if he were moving aside because of how frightened and aware he was that his kid brother had more and better talent than he.

“You’re just a visiting priest,” Taewoon said, feeling as if the wind were being out of him. As if someone had somehow disclosed the deepest feelings within his heart.

Father Soo Hyun did not laugh this time. He smiled, stopping before the entrance to the church. He turned to face Taewoon, placing a hand on his arm. He looked at him as if he understood everything he had left unsaid, as if his words were nothing compared to his silence.

“You have a very big heart, Woo Taewoon. Anyone with a good head on their shoulders can see that, but only those with honesty in their hearts could ever come to appreciate and love your own.”

Taewoon’s expression told him that he didn’t quite believe him. Father Soo Hyun squeezed his arm.

“You’re worth more than you think, Taewoon.”

Taewoon’s brow furrowed and his lip turned down in response. The whole exchange was starting to creep him out a little bit. It seemed surreal and uncanny, as if someone had suddenly added an NPC that he had inadvertently activated somehow.

“Stay for evening Mass,” the priest said. “You won’t regret it.”

The furrow in Taewoon’s brow deepened as the clergyman retreated into the church. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the experience. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to stay for Mass.

Sighing, Taewoon turned away from the large, old wooden doors. He took a step, unsure of where he would head next.

“Woon-ah!”

He looked up.

Eun Mi was running towards him, face bright. Taewoon thought she might be crying, but he had no opportunity to check. She flew at him, jumping into his arms. Taewoon reacted instantly, holding her steady as she wound her arms and legs around him.

She hugged him tight. “I’ve missed you.”

Taewoon’s eyes were wide, shocked and bewildered. He pressed a hand to the top of her head; her hair was damp. He pulled the hood of her jacket over her head. Eun Mi squeezed him tighter.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“Hey! Get off my hyung you flying monkey!”

“No!” Eun Mi held on.

Zico had made his way up to them. He wore an annoyed expression on his face, but his eyes betrayed the worry in them. The quiver in them informed Taewoon that something had happened.

He patted Eun Mi’s head, happy, though extremely confused, as to how she had made it to him with Jiho in tow.

“Are you staying for Mass?”

Taewoon nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

The sun had set by the time Mass concluded. The Woo brothers had bickered for a while before Zico had to dance out of Taewoon’s hitting range. Taewoon chased him around until Father Soo Hyun called out to Zico.

“You know him?” Taewoon whispered.

“Yeah. He’s usually at St. John’s.”

Zico jogged over to the priest, genuinely happy to see him. Taewoon watched him with a furrow on his brow. Eun Mi slipped her hand into Taewoon’s, her smile small and pretty.

Taewoon pressed his hand against her cheek. Eun Mi leaned into it.

Her eyes were glazed over, seeming almost vacant, distant. Her complexion lacked its usual vivacity; the dark circles were so large and deep they seemed as if they would never disappear. There was a green tinge to her skin that worried him, a tattletale sign of what had transpired.

“Did they sedate you?” The question came out in a strained whisper, cold and almost dangerous.

Eun Mi’s smile was faint.

Taewoon’s jaw clenched. Eun Mi closed her eyes, placing her hand over his. He understood her meaning.

Later. They would talk about it later.

He pulled Eun Mi into an embrace, kissing the top of her head. She buried her face in his chest, holding tight.

Zico made a great show of announcing his return, stomping his feet and coughing loudly. He stood with his shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets.

“Hyung, I’m hungry.”

“Congratulations.”

“Hey! Don’t you care about me? I could starve!”

Taewoon scoffed. Zico took him by the arm, shaking him.

“Ah, hyuuuuuung! Feed me! I’m hungry!”

Eun Mi’s eyes widened in horror. Taewoon shook him off, fighting off both the urge to smile and punch him in the face for trying to act cute.

“Shut up! Okay, fine! Just stop doing that already. It’s gross.”

Zico grinned, hugging his arm. He puckered up and received a hard flick on the forehead for his trouble.

He was still rubbing the pain away when they made it to the car. “Hyung, how did you get here?”

“Bus.”

“Eey.”

“I’m serious. I took the bus.”

Zico tossed him the keys. “You drive.”

Taewoon rolled his eyes. Eun Mi opted for the backseat and Zico rode shotgun.

She didn’t think much of riding in the same care with the Woo brothers. She didn’t feel any more anxious than she had been feeling earlier. In fact, Eun Mi seemed to feel a bit better as the side effects of the sedatives started to wane.

She didn’t think much of it because she couldn’t remember what had terrified her so much in her sleep. She didn’t remember the image of La Muerte. If she did, she would have never gotten in the car. Not this one or any other.