The hospital room was as devoid of beauty as Taekwoon was of hope. It's walls were simply white, not peeling or dirty, just stark, offensively plain, white. There was no decoration at all save the limp curtains that were half-drawn across the window. It was perhaps once the kind of green that reminded people of spring-time and the prospect that things could get better, but it had faded so much that the hue was now insipid. The room had an undertone of bleach and the floor was grey. At the far end were windows in brown metal frames, only acessable from the top. The table was empty; not a single flower, card or photograph. As if hospital wasn't depressing enough. Taekwoon wished it was the first time he had ended up here.

He had woken up initially with blurred vision and ringing ears. He lying on his back and, for a fleeting moment, he thought he was at home. But his walls were not white and his curtains were not green. It didn't, however, take him as long to work out exactly who had brought him here. He turned his head to his right to see Ravi staring at him with wide, sparkling eyes. The other man had Taekwoon's fingers sandwiched between his palms but the writer couldn't feel anything. The warm sensation he usually associated with Ravi's touch wasn't there; he felt almost completely numb. 

"Taekwoonie hyung?"

He frowned. Had Ravi mastered the art of talking without his lips moving?

"Hyung?" No, that wasn't Ravi's voice. It didn't have that husky edge to it; it didn't stand out. This voice was one that could have belonged to millions of other people in the world. He continued to stare at Ravi's face with his eyes half closed, as if it would provide the answers if he stared long enough. Ravi stared back, offering up no response.  

"Is he still unconscious?" A new face itself into his eyeline, masking Ravi's face from his view. It was all pouting lips and large eyes and, as soon as he realised who it was, Taekwoon raised his free hand and batted it away. There was a loud, throaty laugh from somewhere else in the room "I think that answers your question, Jaewhan hyung." 

Jaewhan scowled and rubbed his nose as he straightened up. "Shut up, Sanghyuk," he sulked, slumping back into his chair like a petulant child as Ravi leaned forward "Hey, are you okay?" His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and Taekwoon tried for a nod. But his head only succeeded in lolling uselessly to the side, rolling to the left as he spotted Sanghyuk leaning on the wall, arms folded and a tight smile playing on his lips. He was trying to seem positive- just like he always did. 

But Taekwoon felt too light, like all his bones had been out of his body, leaving him feeling empty and weak. His throat began to burn and Jaewhan nudged Ravi, seeing the way his friend's face had so rapidly paled "Get the bag!"

The rapper scrambled around him and seconds before bile spilled from Taekwoon's mouth, the yellow plastic was shoved under his chin, catching the vile substance before it had the chance to soil the blankets. Sanghyuk and Jaewhan rubbed his back as he continued to vomit. The action seemed robotic, like it was second nature to them. "That's it, get it all out your system, hyung," Sanghyuk murmured, eliciting a groan from Taekwoon as he cl