NOT MY TYPE | YEONGYU

14. Fever

In a distance, in the other side of the room, the bathroom door opened with a soft click. There was very much of a vivid sound caught in his mind but he stayed still.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun, on the other side of the room, his eyes once again diverted on laying posture of the guy on the bed as always. His brows frowned as soon as he saw Beomgyu still in the same way as he was earlier.

Something bad clung to him. No way, the room should be this quiet. Even his own breath feels louder in the presence of Beomgyu as if he is never there. Like he was just a feather, a forgotten part, a ghost who doesn’t know how to sound, how to breath, doesn’t know how to live.

His mind puzzled as his foot moves soon. He walked towards the bed, to beomgyu. He was not intended to touch. He thought maybe Beomgyu will acknowledged his presence if he moves closer but in vain. It didn’t happen, instead what he saw made a vein in his body rippled. He breathed hard— nearly sucking on it.

Beomgyu looked... disheveled, devastated. He looked different. The instinct sharpness along with the untouched softness of him had all gone.

He looked broken.

Out of character.

Broke— just the way Yeonjun wanted to see him but now—

Now —he felt kind of off. Even worse ; he felt unpleasant, disagreeable. Even kind of broke himself.

His throat felt heavy as he tries to call for the other one.

“Beomgyu?” his voice came out softer than he intended. Fragile than he hoped, tender than he imagined. The crackled at the end was very much notable. Some unknown emotion wrapped around him that he couldn’t acknowledge.

What was it?

Fear?
Hurt?
Anger?
Frustration?
Exhaustion?
Anxiety?

Or just emotion?— pure and raw human emotion that he was having difficulty to acknowledge after suppressing for too long?

Whatever it was, it was ugly, untidy, irrevocable and most significantly— pathetic. His emotions were humiliating him. These were something he couldn’t name, couldn’t understand. Failed to think of. Too much for him —too much for someone like him. 

His hands hovered over the other man’s body. The end of his fingers quivered in its own. He touched, reached out ; hold into the younger’s forearm as he tried to turn him towards himself.

He had no idea what was happening. Every second he felt like he was losing himself, losing his sanity, losing his mind and losing his own self.

He didn’t know what to expect.

Should he be afraid?— but why?
Because Beomgyu isn’t usually this quiet? —but he is. With Yeonjun; he is.

Should he be panic?— why?
Because, Beomgyu is not aware of his presence and responding to him?
But he never does. He shouldn’t even. Why would he? He doesn’t have any reason to. He's not bound to give response —when it’s Yeonjun.

Ouch?— it hurts.

Did it?

A little.
Just a little sting.

But again Yeonjun had always liked to punish himself, hurt himself in his own way.

His biggest enemy was him— his rivals come later.

His biggest punisher is he himself— his parents come later.

His biggest tormentor was he, himself and his way of thinking —his emotions come later.