Kihyun sneaks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him slowly and he bends in front of the toilet bowl, slipping his fingers into his mouth. Although Sehyuk is on a liquid diet due to his throat, he forced fed the other, knowing little of the turmoil that food creates in his stomach when he's anxious. The moment he finished his dinner and the murder of his father monopolized his thoughts, he has been restless, his body too heavy to balance out his head. He needed it. The control of puking when he wants to. So, he's here after Sehyuk bid him farewell and left for his room two hours ago.
The hospital discharged the boy after giving him some medicines and booking his speech therapy appointment.
Kihyun presses the wall of his throat, choking as his fingers feel slimy with the coat of his saliva. He coughs, eyes searing and tears collecting at the corners. It hurts whenever the stomach acid rushes through his esophagus, charring the walls, but he cannot seem to stop. He feels nauseous, and with a bit more he would finally puke, so he curls his fingers inside, breathing raggedly as soon the awaited half-digested food rivers from his mouth into the toiled bowl. Kihyun coughs, removing his vomit-laden fingers and spilling some of the content on his shirt.
His chest burns, not only due to puking but the pain lodged in his heart and mind. It brings along dizziness and facilitates his nausea, causing the boy to fall on his knees and support his hands on his thighs. "Urgh," Kihyun groans, rubbing soothing circles over his stomach as the last wave of liquid exits his body. He breathes heavily, his body moving in an irregular rhythm as the images of his dead father flash in his mind, the booming sound of the bullet ringing in his ears. He slaps his hands over his ears, curling into himself with trembling hands and clamping his teeth shut to stop the sobs from escaping.
The boy drags himself to one of the walls of the bathroom and sits under the shower, turning it on. The water drenches his clothes and washes the vomit spilled on them but that isn't clean enough for Kihyun. He looks at his hands and rubs them together to get rid of his father's blood it's of no use. He chokes, letting his tears finally fall free, hoping his cries are muffled due to the running shower. He wails, banging his head slowly on the wall behind him, uncaring for the water entering his mouth and body feeling cold.
It isn't his fault he was born in a broken family or with how messed up he is. He has been living in fear since he was a child, depending on others to continue his life. His brother was a cornerstone until he moved out of their hell home with his wife and now he's been depending on Sehyuk in the past months. He is a weakling, a deadweight for those around him. Even death does not want to embrace a coward like him. Kihyun pushes his hand over his mouth when his thoughts elicit louder cries, his eyes blurring with all his tears. The bane of his existence is gone but here he is, crying in someone's bathroom.
Kihyun isn't sure how long he stays under the shower but as the warm water turns cold and his body shivers, he decides to leave the washroom or he may die of hypothermia, which honestly does not seem like a bad idea. But he couldn't die in Sehyuk's apartment and be a burden to him even after death. So he collects himself after the catharsis, turning the shower off and leaving the bathroom in dripping wet clothes and hair. He is tired to the bones and it wouldn't have been hard to sleep at all if it wasn't for his clothes. He wraps his hands around himself, teeth chattering the moment he steps out into the living room.
"I got no choice but to sleep in this," Kihyun whispers and runs his hands through his wet hair, shaking his head like an animal to get rid of as much as water he can. He walks to the sofa but stops in his tracks, swollen eyes widening at the sight. "What in the world...?"
On the couch lay a set of black hoodie and joggers, along with a towel and hairdryer. Not only that, on the coffee table, there's a glass of water and a flask of tea. Kihyun sucks in a breath, eyes once again tearing at the gesture because he is sure the things haven't brought themselves here. It's Min Sehyuk's silent way of lending him a shoulder.
"Thank you...th-thank you so much..." Kihyun sniffs as the shock mellows down. He strips out of his clothes and wipes his body with the towel, then puts on the hoodie and joggers. He dries his hair feeling lighter than he had been before. The small action from Sehyuk hits him like a truck, only it doesn't kill him but makes him feel alive. If he's being honest, he isn't sure why the boy keeps being kind to him, he does not deserve it. He's a bully and a murderer.
Kihyun sits on the sofa and covers himself with a blanket, eyes darting at the mobile phone screen lighting up with a game notification. The boy picks up the device and unlocks it, going to his Twitter account. He has around a thousand followers, from his university and online gaming community. As a token of gratitude to Sehyuk, he types out a tweet even if it may bore strict consequences later.
@Kkihyunplays
Anyone who DMs me dirt on Professor Choi Jaeyeol from the general studies department with proof will receive 100 USD each. Of course, the sender will stay anonymous. @HanhwaGossips @JournalistHanhwaUni it's your time to shine <3
Kihyun licks his lips and posts the tweet. It's the least he can do for Sehyuk right now. The suspension must be lifted. Just in case, he private messages Im Mina, requesting her to come forward and help Sehyuk.
Kihyun slumps onto the sofa, praying he finds a way for the blond. He raises his mobile phone, finding a message Sehyuk sent him around fifteen minutes ago. Kihyun glances at the closed bedroom door and then taps on the message.
'I'm sorry, I couldn't bring myself to stop you from the self-induced vomiting because I don't know the depth of your scars.'
'I wasn't even sure if my involvement would make things better or worsen them.'
'All I can do is provide you with physical comfort.'
'There's chamomile tea in the flask. It will help you sleep better.'
'Don't forget to dry your hair.'
'If you need anything else, you can knock on my door or call me.'
Kihyun cracks a smile at the messages, chuckling endearingly. "How will I ever be able to pay you back for everything, Sehyuk? I don't think that's even possible." He takes the flask and drinks the tea from it, his smile growing wider at the warmth that spreads inside, a sense of comfort enveloping him.
And unexpectedly, Kihyun sleeps without hoping he'll never wake up again once the rays of the sun strike.
●━━━━━━✦✦━━━━━━●
"Min Sehyuk!" Kihyun yells, jumping from his makeshift bed and barging into the blond's bedroom, the said boy jolting up in shock, eyes saucer-like big. "Choi Jaeyeol is going to rot down the drains!" He jumps on the younger in glee, shaking his shoulders with an enormous grin. He takes his mobile phone, the Twitter application on display. "These are messages from the students." Kihyun scrolls through his direct messages with a grin. "All pieces of evidence, videos, voice notes, and texts from Choi to the girls with lower grades. He is— what? Why are you glaring at me?" The boy asks, studying Sehyuk's face.
The blond has his hand placed on his heart, eyebrows squinted into a hiss. "I...thought you were dying..." he murmurs, tilting his head to the side.
Kihyun stares at the boy, his lips slowly curling, letting out a full-blown cackle, head thrown in the back, and hair moving in waves. "That's not a serious matter." He swats the other's shoulder in dismissal. "But Choi Jaeyeol ruining his name is. I'm going to publicly tag him and the official accounts of the university so they can't ignore the matter."
"Don't..." Sehyuk shakes his head, lips sitting flat on each other.
"Why?"
"You'll be...in trouble."
"Yeah, I don't care." Kihyun shrugs nonchalantly, tapping on the messages and saving the images.
"Just like...you ignored what happened?"
The older boy whips his head to look up in surprise, his features then slumping into a sad one. Eyes dimming and lips falling. One sentence was enough to bring him back to his crappy reality. "Right..." He gets up from the bed and is about to walk away when Sehyuk grabs his wrist.
"I...I didn't mean it lik—"
"No, you're not wrong at all. Don't worry, I didn't take your words in the wrong way." He smiles but this time it doesn't reach his eyes. He shrugs and exits the room.
"I don't care what you say, I'm going to do this," Kihyun mumbles to himself, plopping on the sofa and opening his Twitter to appeal for the justice Sehyuk deserves for protecting a student. He snorts, remembering how the first time they met was because Sehyuk butted in to save Jaemin from being bullied.
And two weeks pass, painstakingly slow, as Kihyun holes himself in Sehyuk's apartment, avoiding the whole world altogether by switching off his mobile phone and never sitting in front of the television with any news channel running. He spends his days buried under a blanket, missing his university classes.
"Get up."
Kihyun snuggles into the pillow, ignoring the raspy voice. Along with medication, Sehyuk has been going to speech therapy for his larynx, being able to utter a few syllables without straining his throat. The boy's voice has changed into gravely and a few octaves deeper, bestowing him with puberty a second time.
"Kang Kihyun," Sehyuk warns, kicking the sofa lightly.
"Two more minutes," the older whines like a child, swinging his legs. "I am g—" Rough fingers grab his ankle and yank him off the couch, his head crashing into the floor with a crack. "You are the world's worst guy I know!" He yells, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at the towering figure.
Sehyuk raises a sharp brow in a challenge, the tip of his tongue peeking from between his teeth. "Then leave and go home."
The said boy scrambles to a respectful position, his feet tucked under his hips and hand poisedly placed on his knees. "Oh great, Min Sehyuk! There is none as generous and benevolent as you. Forgive my insolence and accept shin ramyeon as a token of my gratitude."
"With egg," the blond replies, folding his lips together to stifle a laugh.
"Of course, how could I not?" With a dramatic bow, Kihyun gets up and walks to the kitchen.
The new form of banter has become a cue for dodging anything that may lead to conversations regarding Kihyun's situation. The only good thing that happened in the past weeks was Sehyuk's suspension being lifted and Choi Jaeyeol being kicked out of the university for harassment. The accomplishment of the collective efforts of him and the university journalism community had brought a sense of pride in Kihyun.
But now apparently, Sehyuk has had enough of him moping around because he stops him, a hand clutching his shoulder.
"Call her." He says, turning Kihyun to him.
"Later. Af-After we eat..."
"You keep saying that."
Kihyun licks his lips as the younger takes his hand and puts his mobile phone in his palm. It's a clear indication of now or never. Sehyuk must be tired of housing a murderer in his house. And if he's being honest, the boy has been far more kinder than anyone he has ever known. In recent months, the events that occurred have been an anomaly he never expected even in his wildest dreams to manifest. And through it all, Sehyuk has been there, offering him a haven. He owes it to the boy to sort out his mess and let them go back to their individual lives.
"Alright..." Kihyun sighs, switching on his mobile phone and tapping on the contacts icon. He calls the head maid and puts it on speaker. As soon as the call connects, heavy breathing greets Kihyun.
"Hello," the boy says, clutching the phone in his hand. "You called me."
The other side of the line is silent and Kihyun waits, licking his lips and taking in a deep breath to keep him grounded. He isn't sure what the woman wants to talk about. Or he's just in denial. She is going to talk about his mother's arrest and how his father's death is all over the news. Kihyun hates to put his mother in a tight spot but he's a coward, he cannot bring himself to admit his actions. Surprisingly, the police haven't come to him yet, either to arrest him or at least call him in for questioning regarding the incident. He isn't sure if he'll be able to lie with how tense he is. His father is dead because he shot him and his mother is covering up for him. But all his assumptions die with the words he hears next.
"Your father is alive."