Woohyun fidgets. His eyes flicker to the wall clock every now and then, staring with increasing worry at the constant ticking of the seconds hand.

The seconds turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into hours. Woohyun doesn’t even know why, but tonight he’s especially awake, and to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep, he’s pulling out all his lecture notes and his bright, colourful pens, markers and highlighters and actually /istudying.

Something at the back of his mind reminds him that Sunggyu never returns until way after the campus curfew ends, but tonight he’s feeling extremely fidgety and worried.

So he rings up Sungjong, who picks up with an extremely annoyed, “hello?” 

“Do you happen to know where Sunggyu is?” 

A groan. “Just go and sleep, hyung.” 

“Who was the one so worried about his precious Sunggyu hyung and got me worried, too?” 

A pause. “Oh, so now you’re worried. Just go to sleep, hyung. Sunggyu hyung never returns until like three or four in the morning.” 

“But why?” Woohyun’s curious now. Damn Lee Sungjong and his words.

Sungjong sighs. “Look, you should be asking Sunggyu hyung this, not me.” 

Woohyun’s about to cut right in but his overworked dense block of brain somehow tells him that Sungjong still has more to say.

“Anyway, if you really need to know,” his voice is resigned and sounding a little defeated by now, “Sunggyu visits little children at night, okay? And don’t ask me why. I’m not telling you.” 

And then, all of a sudden, Dongwoo’s words come back to Woohyun. Drinks almost every night.

Though now, with what he knows about Dongwoo, Woohyun’s almost sure that most, if not all of the rumours, are fake. And now, he’s got Sungjong’s backing on one of them.

“Hyung?” 

Once again Sungjong shakes Woohyun out of his train of thoughts, and Woohyun hums absentmindedly in reply.

He hears a half stifled yawn over the other side of the phone. “Nights hyung. Go to sleep, ‘kay?” 

Sungjong hangs up before Woohyun has a chance to even bide the younger guy goodnight. He sits there, in the same position, for some moments, holding his phone close to his ear, and taking in the slight, despairing monotonous tone that his phone is emitting. 

He sighs, feeling his eyelids get heavy.

Okay, maybe he shall listen to Sungjong for once and go to sleep. As Woohyun trudges back to his own bed, he passes by Sunggyu’s bedside table. For a moment, Woohyun thinks that he’s seeing things. But he walks closer to the table, before picking an object off it, smiling gently.

A bright pink pad of post-its.

__________________

The only evidence of sorts that Sunggyu actually returned back to the dorm that night is how the blanket is suprisingly (or rather not) still over Woohyun and that one, abandoned cup in the sink.

Woohyun’s eyes flicker over to the empty bed next to his— it’s empty, as usual. But this morning, the sheets are not ruffled or crumpled at all— it looks exactly how Sunggyu left it like the last morning.

But there is one more evidence that Sunggyu came back last night.

The pretty pink post-it that Woohyun stuck to the side of Sunggyu’s bedside table is gone.

Woohyun feels accomplished.

__________________

The week passes by slowly, with Woohyun seeing none of that familiar, red hair.

He thinks that he has seen glimpses of red hair, but Woohyun doesn’t want to assume after what happened— almost happened— with that Jin-something-guy-with-the-red-hair. He notices, that red hair is becoming a trend nowadays.

The usual group that Woohyun hangs out with during lunch breaks is starting to shrink. Sometimes he hangs out with Sungjong, but that kid does not talk much nowadays. Woohyun notices that Sungjong has this scarily dark aura around him, so when Sungjong asks him if he ‘wanna hang at the library?’, Woohyun politely refuses.

He goes to his backup plan— Myungsoo and Sungyeol. And boy, people are right when they say one only goes to one’s backup plans when one is truly desperate.

He feels extremely awkward sitting in the middle of the two of them. Firstly, Woohyun has no idea why he’s in the middle of the two of them— it makes him look like he’s the er, but he did not do it on purpose! It just happens that Woohyun sits down at the table first and Sungyeol and Myungsoo both sit beside him. Myungsoo briefly explains that this position is to prevent any fierce or violent arguments.

Yet the both of them spit fiery words at each other at such a speed that Woohyun can’t even catch what they’re saying. Maybe Woohyun can actually understand something that they are saying. Maybe some fragments of it.

“— if I like kids? What has that got to do with you?”

“You fall sick too often! And you keep going there and I hardly even see you that much anymore!”

“Aren’t you seeing me now?”

“But!”

Myungsoo sighs. “I need to take care of hyung’s kid, okay. He hardly even goes there anymore!”

A moment’s silence.

“Who is that hyung?” Sungyeol asks suspiciously.

Myungsoo purses his lips. “Hyung,” he replies, stiffly.

And with that, the argument ends, leaving Sungyeol and Woohyun both in a confused state of mind.

Myungsoo stands, as though he’s about to leave the seat. He turns back, facing Woohyun, a look of sudden comprehension dawning on his face.

And then Myungsoo suddenly grins at him. “Hyung, remember our date tomorrow.”

__________________

In Sunggyu’s case, the week speeds by. It’s almost a routine for him to stop by his bedside table almost every morning just to peel off the bright pink post-its stuck there for the past few days. Fine, he’s irked that his roommate takes his post-it and uses it; but Sunggyu doesn’t really mind, it’s bright pink, he’ll never use it anyway.

When he peels off the post-its, he doesn’t bother reading— okay, maybe he just takes a glance at it— fine, he reads it. He reads it, and even though he knows it’s probably rude or something, Sunggyu doesn’t want to reply. He has too many things to worry about already— his stupid roommate isn’t going to be the next one on the list.

But somehow, Sunggyu’s worries are building up.

And somehow, his roommate’s notes doesn’t seem to lessen it any further.

Sunggyu bites down on the bottom of his lip, preventing himself from sighing. You’ve been sighing too much, he somehow remembers Sungjong chiding him, so he’s been trying to stop. But some things are just like old habits, you can’t just say hey, I want to stop and it stops.

Some things can’t be stopped, no matter how hard one tries.

He picks up the bottle on his table, opens it, and spills out the pills onto his palm. He doesn’t even bother seeing how much he takes everyday— as long as it is enough, it’s fine for him. Sunggyu picks up the bottle of mineral water beside where his pill bottle originally was, unscrewing it, and downing half of the bottle in one go. The pills wash down his throat, and just like the past few times, doesn’t choke him half to death.

For a few seconds, there is the slightly bitter aftertaste that all pills leave in his throat. Then, it feels as though he has never taken any of those pills.

Sunggyu leans back on the hard, wooden chair in their room as certain memories come back to him; he shouldn’t be thinking so much, Sungjong keeps telling him, overthinking ruins his brain.

 “I’m not eating those pills.” 

“Hyung, you have to do it,” Sungjong’s voice is a mix between desperation and exasperation. “How else do you think you can get better?” 

“I’ll get better on my own.” Sunggyu says plainly, stubbornly.

“Don’t you want to get her back? Don’t you want to show them that you’re capable of taking care of her?” 

Sunggyu keeps silent. As much as he hates it, Sungjong has a point there. And Sungjong’s many points may also very well be one of the reasons why Sunggyu allows the kid to treat him, as part of his psychologist training or something.

Though, Sunggyu vaguely thinks that Sungjong will make a lousy psychologist. The latter pushes the bottle into Sunggyu’s closed fingers, a prescription from the real psychologist. 

“You need this,” Sungjong insists. And maybe, that is the reason why Sunggyu, instead of wallowing in deep self pity, explodes instead.

“I’m not ing mental! I don’t have to take mental pills!” 

Sungjong doesn’t reply, but his cold gaze tells Sunggyu everything that he wouldn’t be able to tell him through plain words, that yes, he is ing mental, and he needs those pills.

“You have to control yourself. You need those. You need those to get her back.” 

Sunggyu doesn’t reply, and Sungjong continues his merciless words.

“You won’t regret taking them.” 

The hell he won’t.

Right now, Sunggyu has no idea if he wants to hate Sungjong, or thank him. 

But the memories, they keep coming in.

Sunggyu cannot, even for his life, swallow anything that has a radius larger than 0.5cm.

He stares at those offending pills on his palm; his palm is getting sweaty, and by some sort of knowledge Sunggyu knows that the pills may start to get fluffy if he lets it rest in his palms any further.

He puts them into his mouth awkwardly, and for a moment, tries his very best to swallow it down. 

But it’s almost as though his throat is constricting; the pills just won’t go down. They stay at the very back of his mouth, but they just won’t go down. Sunggyu grabs a water bottle, draining half its contents in one go; but the pills are still there. It’s almost as though there’s a gateway at his throat that won’t allow those goddamned pills to go down.

He spits them out, in the toilet bowl. And then he stares, shuddering a little, at the bottle of pills waiting for him on the sink.

He picks it up, pours some out, and tries again.

That day, Sunggyu spends his first night, and his first bottle of pills learning how to swallow.

Sungjong tells him it’s a good start.

Sunggyu’s consciousness returns back to the real world by a growing itch; pain on his wrist.

He looks down. He’s been scratching at his cuts again. Though now he’s indirectly scratching at them; the Pororo plaster on his wrist is nothing but a thin screen of protection from him mutilating his wrist any further.

He needs to sleep, yet it is a miracle how his eyes aren’t even tired at all, given that he probably slept an average of three hours for the past few days. Sunggyu’s gaze falls on the other bottle on his table.

Time to sleep.

__________________

Woohyun finds it surprising how Sunggyu’s already in bed by the time he returns back to the dorm at eight.

Eight. That’s pretty early to go to bed. And then, for the first time, Woohyun notices that Sunggyu isn’t wrapped around in blankets; he notices that for the first time, he can actually see Sunggyu’s face other than his hair—

His hair.

And then, Woohyun notices that it’s no longer a bright red, but a dull black, save for some equally dull streaks of red down the middle. Woohyun walks towards the sleeping figure, and somehow, instinct brings his hands to pull the blankets up till they cover up to the top of the sleeping man’s chest.

Sunggyu shifts, and Woohyun gets a clearer view of his face.

And then he realises why Sunggyu’s face always seems to be glistening every time he glances at him.

His cheeks are glistening with tears.

Woohyun wants to wake Sunggyu up, wake him up and tell him it is okay, but decides better against him.

But seeing those silent tears leaving their glistening mark on Sunggyu’s cheeks, Woohyun can’t help but wonder what, really, is he going through.

And he can’t really help, but he wants to help Sunggyu get through whatever that is.

__________________

 “The court rules that Kim Sunggyu is deemed unfit for...”

Sunggyu doesn’t even pay attention anymore, his eyes are on her, his girl, and she is being taken away—

The scene changes.

Rain, rain and more rain. 

Rain.

The screeching of cars.

Blood. Lost.

Rain.

“No!” 

Sunggyu finds himself sitting upright in bed, beads of sweats running in rivulets down his forehead, mixing with his endless tears. 

“Sunggyu?” His roommate’s voice. Woohyun’s voice. Sunggyu doesn’t even see him clearly anymore; the tears are blurring his vision; he only sees a certain figure coming near him.

“No! Go away!” Sunggyu thinks it’s himself who says that.

“No I won’t,” the figure replies calmly, and Sunggyu feels the weight on his bed shift. “This is my dorm as much as it is yours. Nightmare?” 

Sunggyu finds himself nodding. His tears are clearing up already. 

The figure— Woohyun doesn’t reply. Sunggyu senses a change in movement from the other man; he hastily wipes at the never ending tears that seem to be streaming down his face mercilessly. 

“Do you want a hug?” 

This time, Sunggyu doesn’t reply. He bites back tightly on his bottom lip, stopping himself from talking, but the words escape from his lips anyway.

“Don’t give me a hug when I need it the most,” he hears himself whispering softly; it’s almost as though he’s hearing someone else speak, it’s not his voice. “I will lose.” 

“Lose to what? Lose to what, exactly?” 

“The voices.” 

He hears Woohyun let out an exasperated sigh; Sunggyu is hearing all of this almost as though he’s no longer in possession in his own body; this freaks him out, but he hears—

“I don’t know why, and we’ve only just met, but I feel like I need to protect you.” 

And then Sunggyu feels that indescribable warmth again. Woohyun hugs him tighter, saying, “I won’t let you lose to the voices.” 

Sunggyu closes his eyes.

Is this part of my nightmare?