BECAUSE WE WERE YOUNG | NIKI

25 - Twisted Constellation of Pain

The silence barely had been so painful. It barely manages to mock those it swallows as often people claim to find peace in it. Yet, when it's blended with the hospital's scent lingering in the air, silence just becomes a sly poison to those who walk into it. No one dares to talk, no one dares to complain; we all become slaves of silence. That is until a brave soul breaks through the invisible chains and allows his voice to be heard. 

"Why did he do it?" It's Heeseung, the oldest of us, who breaks the silence we held for the last few hours. Neither his courage to talk nor his question actually surprised us as we expected to hear it sooner or later. However, just because we expected it does not mean any of us has a proper answer for it. Why did he do it? 

I squeeze my eyes shut, the sound of the ocean replacing the sterile hospital sounds, transporting me back to the beach. Back to the carefree laughter, the playful splashes, the camaraderie that had felt so fragile yet so precious. And then, the sickening thud of his Jake's body hitting the water, the sudden, terrifying silence that followed. The frantic scramble to reach him, the desperate attempts at CPR, all proving futile against the cruel hand of fate.

It isn't fair. We were supposed to be having fun, escaping our troubles. Instead, we're left with this suffocating silence, a suffocating weight of unanswered questions. Why did he do it? The answer, if there ever is one, remains buried beneath the waves, taking a piece of each of them with it.

He will wake up, is what the doctors said. What they didn't say was how. Would he wake up the same Jake, the one with the easy smile and the playful spirit? Or would the ocean have taken a part of him, leaving behind a stranger in a familiar body? No one knows. No one dares voice the fear that coils in their gut, a fear as vast and unknowable as the ocean that swallowed Jake. Each stolen glance at his still figure on the bed is a silent question mark.

I glance at him, his chest rising and falling faintly. His face is pale, devoid of color, and a tangle of wires snakes across his chest, tethering him to the machines that keep him breathing. 

I ended my pain with my own hands. His words replay in my mind like a broken record, scratching against the memory of the raw vulnerability I saw in his eyes. 

"He'll be okay, right?" Sunghoon speaks from behind me, making me turn to him with a blank stare. He's staring at Jake, eyes pleading, though he doesn't cry nor crumble or yell. His voice, when he speaks, is a mere whisper, barely audible above the sterile hum of the machines. I don't know if any of us will be okay again. I don't know if any of us was ever okay. "He has to be."

My fingers tighten around the worn leather strap of my oxygen tank as I look away and back at Jake whose frame seems impossibly small beneath the crisp white sheets. "He had to be." I echo the words and it's such a hollow and desperate plea it almost makes me laugh, a dry, humorless sound that escapes my lips before I can stifle it. Sunghoon flinches at the sound, his gaze flickering to me before returning to Jake. Shame burns in my throat, hot and acrid. Grief has a way of twisting even the most basic human connection. "He better does. He has a lot to say to you." 

I watch as Sunghoon approaches Jake, squeezes his hand once, twice, and pulls out the sleeve of his hospital gown to reveal the scars and burns that snake around his forearm. He traces the lines with his fingertips, a silent conversation passing between him and Jake, a language only they understand. My breath hitches. "A lot to say to me?" He simply mutters, making me swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing larger with each passing moment. 

"Yeah," I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "A lot."

"More than the pain he silently carries and the scars that mar his skin and..." The last part of Sunghoon's sentence hangs in the air, unfinished and raw. More than the pain. More than the abuse. My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating silence of the room.

"He loved her," There's so much I want to say, so much I want to express, but the words stick in my throat like a lump of lead. When Sunhoon turns to me, eyebrow slightly raised and eyes two pools of confusion, those same words finally spill from my lips, hesitant and raw. "He loved her, didn't he?"

"Yeah," He winces, his gaze flickering back to Jake's still form on the bed. "I know he did." The admission settles upon me like a cold weight, sinking into the depths of my soul. I had suspected as much, but hearing it spoken aloud makes it painfully real. "I always knew he loved Narae, perhaps more than I did. But I could never bring myself to admit it out loud. Until now." His eyes are glued to Jake's motionless figure and his hands clench into fists, knuckles turning white. "I knew it when she left the world and he acted as if it didn't faze him. But I could see it in his eyes, the way they would light up at the mere mention of her name, only to dim again as the reality of her absence settled in."

I listen intently, realization dawning on me like a cruel sunrise. If my life is hard and my own lungs are betraying me over and over, Jake's pain runs even deeper, rooted in a love that was both a blessing and a curse and a man who burns his skin like some twisted constellation of pain. 

"I met his mother's boyfriend." I blurt out, only to make Sunghoon's eyes darken and for his expression to turn from confusion to utter worry. "I... I saw the iron he used on him. Upon other things. I know about it but the more I think about it, the more it feels like a lump is forming in my throat, not letting me breathe or even speak properly. Everyone and everything just keeps on... failing him. Me too." 

"Because you're lying about your health?" He finishes my sentence and shame burns bright in my cheeks. In my ribcage and in my lungs. "I happened to overhear what the doctor told you earlier when you were examined. I..." I watch as he runs his fingers through his hair and buries his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping with the weight of my secret. "Y/N, when were you planning on telling us?" 

"I wasn't planning on telling anyone," I choke out, laughing humorlessly because there are no tears left. My laughter echoes hollowly in the sterile hospital room, bouncing off the walls like a cruel reminder of my own deception. "I'm scared. Terrified, really. I could stop breathing in a matter of days, hours even, and I can't do anything about it so how am I supposed to tell you? You're not able to do anything so why would I burden you-"

"You will never be a burden," The way his voice breaks and the way he looks up at the ceiling as if praying for a miracle cuts through the last remnants of my self-pity. And then a single tear falls down his cheek, slowly, alone, the way one might watch a shooting star streak across the vast emptiness of space. Like a leaf might fall from a barren tree in the dead of winter. My self-pity evaporates, replaced by a crushing realization of the pain I'd inflicted. "Don't be like Narae. I'm begging you. Don't hurt us like she did because this time... Y/N, this time we won't survive it." 

Shame burns so hot in my chest it feels like it might consume me whole. I look away and at the door, hoping no one has heard us. Niki and Jay are outside waiting, not able to see Jake in such a state. They're outside waiting, unaware of the weight of my deception. 

"When Jake wakes up," If Jake wakes up. "I'll them everything," I whisper, the words sandpaper rough against my throat. We're so young but we're on the road of ruin and the worst part is, we're dragging each other with us. Yet, all we want is to rewrite the ending of this story that had gone so terribly wrong.