His plea was met by the silence he had expected. He took a deep breath and murmured, “You’re going to be okay.”

Hoya couldn’t tell who he was trying to convince anymore.

Sunggyu stared at the pills in the palm of his hand, admiring the beautifully shiny, white exterior. Glancing at the bottle on the sink, his eyes flashed over the bright red words telling him to only take one every ten hours. He counted the pills he had tipped out slowly, deliberately, one… two… three… four… five… six… seven… That should do it.

He picked one of them up with his other hand and rolled the small, unassuming tablet between his fingers. The smooth surface glinted up at him, daring him to follow through with his plan. With barely any hesitation, he placed it in his mouth, followed quickly by the others. One for every responsibility I’m throwing away. One for each of the members. One for me.

Turning on the faucet in a single, decisive movement, he cupped his hands under the cool stream of water and brought the liquid to his mouth. Before swallowing the pills in his mouth, he turned off the water. I have to keep things neat for the kids. I don’t want to create more work for them.

The tablets slid down his throat easily as he leaned against the white wall of the bathroom, waiting for the effects to set in. He felt strangely at peace; everything would be okay after this. Right? He, the burdensome leader, would be gone and somebody more suited to lead such a wonderful group of idols would replace him. Howon, maybe. He had gone through so many hardships with that kid in order to rise to the top and prove to the people who had laughed at them before that yes, they could be singers; in fact, they could be whatever they wanted.

He’ll take care of the kids well. Right? Fear set in. Not for himself, but for Infinite’s image, for the fans, for the kids… no. For his kids. God, what have I done? He hunched his shoulders in as pain ripped through his chest. Convulsing, he began to retch violently, emptying the meager contents of his stomach onto the floor at his feet. He gathered his waning strength and staggered towards the door, knowing that Jungryeol was out there. Their manager could help.

But he never made it. A bolt of agony brought him crashing down onto the tiled floor, head slamming against the sink on the way down. His collapse was followed by another bout of retching as his dark spots exploded on the periphery of his vision, creeping towards the center until everything was obscured by black. He felt strangely distant from himself. He heard himself coughing, trying to breathe, but it is as if it were happening to someone else.

All he felt was the icy ceramic under his fingers and a warm wetness on the back and side of his head. Through the small bathroom window, he saw flurries of white falling from the sky.

The first snow in Seoul...