Not Too Late | Choi San

CHAPTER FIVE

i'm sorry for breaking down,
when i should've been fixing myself back up.
-unknow.

•••

panic attacks. they're something that San should've been used to by now, should've been familiar with them from how many encounters he's had with them. but he's not, and each time he experiences one it's even worse than the previous one. more intense, crueler, and much more damaging.

there's hands wrapping around his throat as his heart bounds out of his chest. the string of hope that has wrapped earlier around his heart is now squeezing it, crushing it, making it bleed. his head is a blur of voices, events, names, faces, and nothing. he feels everything and nothing all at once, and in his throat there's a strangled scream begging to be released but he's way too scared to release it. way too scared to be caught, to be handed back to them, he doesn't want to go back to them. he wouldn't be able to handle it.

there's a rippling pain that's belting over his chest, and it stings as if he's been hit with straight chlorine, making his bones ache with the severity of his hyperventilation and intensity of gasping.

he wraps his own hands around his throat, trying to force oxygen in, but no matter how much he tries, he's failing.

because he's a failure.

San whimpers, a gasp following the sound. he just needs oxygen. he needs to open his eyes and focus on his surroundings but he can't, he can't and the world is spinning and his legs are weak, so weak, too weak that they give up on him and he's falling onto the dirty floor of the bathroom stall that he doesn't know when he got in. his legs bend beneath him as he hunches forward, wincing and whimpering as he hits his chest with his hands, struggling.

it's always like this, and with the voices inside his head, San thinks that it'd be better to just choke and die. free the world from his burden and free himself from all the pain.

"we should throw him in the nearest dumpster. just where he belongs."

"no! please— 'm so-sorry!"

"shush you piece of shit. get the car, we're giving him back."

"please n-no! anywhere but there!"

"it's not up to you, trash. get in the car!"

San slumps against the wall, heart beating ten times faster than it should as everything starts to fade into darkness. his body screams for air but he's so tired, too tired to even try. he's like a fish caught out of the water, mouth opened and eyes drooping. sweat is trickling down his forehead, sticking his hair to the damp skin. his arms lay flat next to him, and his legs spread out.

he can feel his body give up, and he wishes that unlike other times, this time he won't wake up.

he loses sight of where he is and who he is. he loses sight of everything and let darkness consume every inch of him as his lungs give up on him.

Voices mingle inside his head, building into a terrible headache as his heavy eyes slowly pry open. everything around him is blurry and white, the light from somewhere above him glaring back at him as he gains back his senses, the headache he feels inside his head only becoming more intense as time passes.

the static voices then stop, and when his vision finally clears, he finds himself somewhere he's never been in before. he's lying on a dark uncomfortable sofa, which is placed in the corner of the suffocatingly small room, and on the other side there's a small table with an opened laptop and a piano keyboard and a few other instrumental stuff that he doesn't recognise sitting on it. everything is dark, and the room has this black and white vibe to it. it's somewhat comforting.

as San scans his surroundings, he sees Hongjoong sitting on an office chair in the middle of the room, locking his phone after saying goodbye to someone on the other side of the line and then looking at him with concerned eyes. San feels his heart stop.

he doesn't remember falling asleep on this sofa, and if he really thinks about it, he doesn't remember falling asleep at all.

the last thing he remembers is his panic sparking up, his chest tightening and his run to get away. he remembers finding a stall and falling apart in it, but everything that he remembers is a mix of blur and noises.

he feels panic seep into his heart as he thinks about how he had possibly gotten here.

"San, hey," Hongjoong's voice is soft, a sweet melody amongst the rough screams that swim in San's mind. a beautiful contrast, a soothing presence. "how are you feeling now?"

San swallows, feeling his throat so dry, almost matching the dryness of a desert. "i'm fine," he straightens up, sitting up slowly as he feels the headache he's experiencing intensify with every move. "how did i get here?"

"i followed you," Hongjoong answers, wheeling his chair closer to the other as his eyes swim with so much kindness and warmth that San almost lets his guard down, but he catches himself, and stops his mind from wandering to such thoughts. he doesn't know him well, hasn't known the guy for more than 24 hours as it is. "but i lost you in the middle and when i found where you were, you had already fainted. i almost had a heart attack."

San's head cranes up to look at the other, and it takes him a while to reply. "sorry."

"no, don't be," he shakes him off, standing up and walking towards something in the corner. he opens a small box which San thinks is a small fridge and gets a water bottle out, throwing it over to San who immediately catches it. he gulps down half the bottle in one go, making a few droplet fall over the side of his chin in his hurried state of thirst. "we should be the ones saying sorry. i really don't know what overcame Mingi, but please don't think of him badly, he's just overly stressed these days, and he has random bursts out from time to time. he'll eventually warm up to you, i promise."

San nods, although he doesn't really believe him. he already hates that Mingi guy, is even scared of him to some extent. it's just something about his booming voice and tall stance, or about his sharp and fierce eyes, that make san want to dig a hole and bury himself inside. he reminds him of someone buried deep inside his heart that he doesn't want to even think about anymore, someone who shattered him to small tiny pieces before throwing him into the garbage.

"anyways, are you really okay?" Hongjoon sits down again, his eyes softening and voice lacing with a honey-like tone. "i know we haven't known each other for a long time or whatever but we're going to be stuck together for a very long time, and i want you to trust me. so if there's anything wrong, please tell me. you didn't look very good when i found you."

San feels something warm inside his heart and tastes something sweet at the tip of his tongue. he doesn't like the feeling, wants it to stop, but also wants to drown on it forever; the feeling of someone showing that they care for him.

"i— thank you," he says quietly, "i'm fine, don't worry about me."

Hongjoong shrugs, "if you say so, but if you ever feel troubled, come find me," he spins his chair around and wheels it closer to the laptop, clicking on a few keys. "oh, and about your dancing, don't worry about it. i talked to Gyuk-nim and he said they'll give you extra private classes until you get better. you'll also attend vocal classes with Yunho every two days."

"ok—" he swallows, weighs the word he's going to say next on his tongue before deciding to say it at last.

"—hyung."