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Soft Crash

It was Friday evening. The campus was almost empty; people their age used Fridays as means to let some steam off, numerous parties happening at the same time.

Seonghwa, however, was still in the library, surrounded by half-finished presentations, grading rubrics, and a stack of readings he's doing not for class. But because a professor asked for 'just a summary if you can'.

It was past 8 again. He felt his heart dropping because he couldn't keep his promise to Hongjoong that he won't skip meals again.

Hongjoong, who was supposed to meet someone for some music stuff noticed too. The time. The dead silence from a certain someone's room.

He still hadn't come back.

This time though, he didn't panic. Just thought, determined.

He headed to the only place he'd expect Seonghwa to be when not in class or his room. The library. Bingo.

Seonghwa was tucked in a study cubicle, bent over his laptop like he's a part of the architecture. Shoulders already tense, face pale from not moving for so long.

His laptop glows against skin that's too hollow-looking. Eyes bruised by more than just sleep.

He hasn't noticed Hongjoong yet. He's too focused.

Or maybe too empty.

He keeps tapping the same sentence. Over and over. Then deletes it. Then retypes it again.

There are two empty coffee cups beside him.
A third one, untouched.

Next to it, a protein bar — unopened. The wrapper slightly crumpled, like he considered it. Then didn't. Or found no time to.

Hongjoong watches from the next aisle for a second. Heart low in his chest. Because this isn't just exhaustion.

It's self-erasure.

And the worst part?

Someone's standing beside him. A professor. Piling on more work.

"Just if you have time tonight, Seonghwa. It won't take long."

"You're so reliable."

"No one else gets it done quite like you."

And Seonghwa nods. Of course he does.
Because he always does.

But his hand shakes when he clicks open a new tab.

Only slightly. Just enough for Hongjoong to see it.

But there isn't any sorts of tolerance in Hongjoong's books. So he steps in. Subtly, but intentionally.

Nearing them, he dropped a small paper bag on the table. The warm and tasty smell coming from it letting the older know that it was a meal bag.

Then, he speaks with false wonder as if he's innocently making a normal conversation.

"Oh, Seonghwa— I thought that you had that thing where you're supposed to rest after 8? You said you shouldn't work past that again."

The taller's eyes bulged the slightest bit; eyes pining on Hongjoong as if the shorter had gotten completely out of his mind.

The latter ignored him, looking straight at the professor with a just enough polite smile.

"He's not on shift, right? You didn't assign him this, did you?" He could physically feel the way Seonghwa stiffened, horror in his eyes. He'd never dare talk to a professor like that.

The old man stammered, pushing his glasses on his nose as he mumbled something about "He's just so helpful." His fat face flushing by the seconds.

It made Hongjoong's eyes loose the warmth, although the smile remained; tighter now. He proceeded with gently tapping the edge of Seonghwa's screen shut; shrugging.