[ ✓ ] 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 , taewin .

NINETEEN

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NINETEEN.

❝ i just want to stay,
i just want to keep this dream in me. ❞
— LOSING YOUR MEMORY ; RYAN STAR.

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The tile sits cold beneath my feet as Taeyong helps clean my palms and my face. He rubs some clear liquid over the cuts on my hands with a towel, the brownish-red wearing off on the cloth. The feeling stings, but he quickly places an ice pack over the wounds to numb it.

He rolls up my pants past my knees to check on the scrapes. Nothing but what would look like a rug burn.

He checks the cut on my forehead. It's dried up now, but it still hurts. Taeyong brushes back my hair before rubbing a cotton-swab over the laceration. I wince, and he stops. He's looking at me. But he won't talk. The queasy feeling in my stomach only grows more and more intense the more time passes. My body aches, and my eyes can't seem to stay open. I start to fall forward, but Taeyong grabs my shoulders.

"How much did you drink?" he asks with that quiet voice of his. The voice he uses when he's scared.

I fall onto the floor. He quickly grabs my torso to help me sit up again. I push him away as I feel my stomach grumbling. Then, I just throw up right there in the toilet. I hear Taeyong curse under his breath. My lungs struggle to catch air as I dry heave. Coughs come out faster than I can bear. A sharp pain shoots through my chest, I can't keep myself up anymore. I lean against the sink, closing my eyes as I slowly slide down onto the ground. Taeyong grabs another cloth, wetting it under the sink before placing it over my forehead. I feel the sweat form all over me—my face, neck, back, legs, arms.

"Let me get you into bed, okay?" Taeyong whispers as he brushes a hand over my forehead. I try to nod, but my head is too heavy.

He picks me up in a secure position, struggling to carry me over across the hallway to his room. He does it anyway, though, dropping me at the end of his bed. I let myself fall onto my back, rolling over onto my side. I take deep and quick breaths.

"Sicheng, can you get under the sheets?"

I swallow hard, the taste of bile causing me to grimace. I attempt to move my body to where the duvet begins, but my arms are too tingly and my legs feel too heavy. Taeyong eventually helps. He covers my legs with the blanket and adjusts the pillows.

"You're sweating a lot," he comments as he moves his hands to the hem of my t-shirt. He moves my arms in order to get the clothing off my body. Once the shirt is off and my back is exposed, Taeyong takes the cold washcloth, wiping down my spine. The coldness of the fabric feels good against my skin, but more-so his hand that grazes over me along with it.

Once my torso is clear of sweat, I lay down against the pillows. Taeyong covers me with the comforter. I turn over onto my side as I keep my gaze on Taeyong. He slowly grabs onto my hand, holding my fingers tight. I want him to kiss my knuckles, but he doesn't. He just kneels there next to me, not speaking, not moving.

"Do you still love me?" I ask him. The silence only becomes more intense once the words leave my mouth. I can't really tell where Taeyong is looking, for there's still a slight blur to my vision, but I know he hates me for asking something like that.

"I don't know."

My eyes sting again. I roll over onto the other side, just so I don't have to look at him anymore. I hear him sigh as he lets go of my hand.

I take in a shaky breath.

"Sicheng," he speaks. "Please look at me."

I shut my eyes tighter. Taeyong rests his head on the mattress.

"I do love you. A lot," he starts. I hear him let out a stifled sigh. He sniffles, and I know he's crying. "I just need time, Sicheng. I think you do too. What we had, it just all blew up at the wrong time. It's nothing on you. I just want you to get better."

My heart sinks to my stomach. Taeyong grabs my shoulder, gently pulling me back to his direction. I bite on my lip, avoiding his eyes. I know if I look into them once more, I'd break down again.

"Please say something," he begs with a shaky voice. I swallow hard.

"I just don't know how I can get better," I begin, my words barely audible, "when I lost you. And Jinhyuck. And Yuta. My dad, my fucking dad, who would be here if I weren't such a fucking coward."

Taeyong takes my hand again.

"You haven't lost me. I just need to find myself before I can get back to you. I can't help you breathe if I can't do it myself, okay?" he reassures. I move my eyes. He looks at me, for the first time in a while. The way he did long ago. The way he did all those nights at the park and in this very spot on his bed. Only those times, he didn't look so scarred.

My eyelids start to fall heavier and heavier the more the seconds pass. Taeyong notices, and he turns on another lamp that sits on his nightstand. When he turns out the main light, the constellations light up the ceiling.

"Goodnight, Sicheng."

He leaves, and I look up. I wonder if I'll ever be able to see the stars, with or without Taeyong.