Murky Water~
A distressed shade of green that hovers around insecurity and criticism. Generally lingers after a tough life change or disappointing realization.
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"Have you been taking care of yourself?"
I nod my affirmation at the lady in front of me.
She's one of the gymnasium's medical staff members, meant to check up on all the athletes both mentally and physically. This is my third checkpoint with her at the ending of three weeks.
The halfway point.
The center of mass on a seesaw.
All gymnasts here have weighed down one side of this camp, climbed towards the center, and now sit on the in-between sector of the tottering device. The safe point. No falling off here, but no flying. The midpoint of achievement. There's no going back now.
No going back to the days when Costa was a mere devil in my mind. He'll never return to that spot again.
"...hey, did you hear me?"
"Hmm?" I lift my eyes from the chair.
This trainer is unlike any other staff member in this gymnasium. More of a therapist than a health-advisor, the first time I met with her she tried to pry into my thoughts. Not in a bad way of course. In a truly worried way. As if she expects the people at the top to be stuffed full of crumbling mental towers and rotting support beams.
Trainer Snowden opens her mouth, staring hard at me. I dislike these sessions as much as she does. But mental health clearances are needed for all athletes.
I wonder what Costa tells this woman.
"I said, your BMI is down from last week's. And the week before." An observant eye paints my features.
"Hard training." I mumble. She doesn't back down.
"Are you eating enough? Drinking enough?"
That's a funny question. The thing is, I haven't really been hungry lately. Whether it's because of the disturbing thought of throwing up again or because my mind is scattered these days, food is far from my mind. At one point, I would've been glad for this change. No weight gain other than muscle is acceptable gain. Even then, muscle can become unfitting and bulky.
"Yes." I lie.
What good would it do tell her about my strict habits? I'd be force-fed, and I don't want that. As long as a leotard can cover up the bony expenditures that Costa frequently comments on, I will continue controlling my weight. I have to.
"Okay..." She sounds hesitant to leave the topic, but eventually bows to my disinterest when I grant her a bored smile.
"So am I done here? I think I have lunch soon."
There, that will get her off my case. What better way for the patient to be set free than to attain the suggested cure of his ailment? Food, Trainer Snowden. Hear the word and disregard the numbers. You can't keep me long from sustenance unless you want to dive into mistreatment.
"Yes. For now." She allows me to get up, writing a few things down in her notes. Like Kan and all other trainers throughout this complex, note-taking is a mandatory function. Annoying, but understandable.
"Enjoy your lunch."
"Thank you."
I slide off of the chair and stand up. As I walk over to the door, a dangerous yet alluring topic pounds at the front of my consciousness. I turn to face the trainer.
"Wait...you wouldn't happen to...um." Should I be doing this? "Be Leonardo Costa's check-up specialist too...?"
Snowden's aura shifts to that of curiosity. "Why yes. I am. Is there something about him I should know?"
Fuck. Fuck. Should I be doing this?
Is it any of my business to report abuse at an institution that might take it all away from Leonardo? I promised to tell no one, and yet...no...that's his father, his coach. If I report the screaming, the physical abuse, the controlling behavior...I could ruin it for him.
I won't tell.
"Uh...no I don't have anything to tell you. I was just worried about him is all. He seems a bit disorganized in his sleep schedule, since we room next to each other, and um..."
Snowden halts my awkward prattling with a hand. "I see. If you want some tips on how to get into a good sleeping schedule or some natural remedies to aid in restfulness, I can help educate you."
For the next four minutes and fifty three seconds, I'm left to hear a lecture on sleep. But I don't mind.
It's not like I want to go in the cafeteria anyway.
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"What took you so long?"
Kohei Fujimoto motions for the Korean to join the lunch table.
Jungkook plops on the bench next to his lunch pal. Throughout these three weeks, Jungkook has spent most of his time eating next to the Japanese male. Costa usually sits alone, eating while scrolling through his phone at a different table. Isolated from everyone, yet entertained by the gifts of his smartphone.
With Kan's harsh restrictions, Jungkook isn't allowed to be seen with the Brazilian gymnast unless it's for practice. If he's in the gymnasium, he shouldn't even look at Leonardo Costa. Kan has been adamant about those things, watching him like a hawk.
So far, Jungkook has done a terrific job. After explaining his coach's rude orders to Costa, they decided to meet regularly in private. Typically, they hang out after practice in room 334—a sanctuary where they can talk about whatever until Jungkook leaves for bed. Costa falls asleep much later than him, usually to whatever movie is playing on the ever-running TV.
"I was in a check up, Kohei. Snowden kept asking questions. Eventually she just lectured me for five minutes. Now I know exactly how to fall asleep. Lights out and eyes closed, no doing late night jumping jacks, and no noodles before bed. And that's not even half of what she told me."
Kohei bursts into light, airy laughter. "Oh...that doesn't sound pleasant."
"It wasn't that bad." Jungkook drags his plastic fork around the measly portion of steamed vegetables on his tray. "Anyway, tonight is the three-week banquet. I missed last week's. Anything to catch up on before this one?"
"Not really...I mean—oh! Yes, there is something." Kohei takes a sip from his thermos. "Um, last week at the banquet...it was...oh, heh. Kinda embarrassing..."
Jungkook furrows his brows, studying the odd squeeze of Kohei's drink cup. It's as if the Japanese man is nervous to share the news with his attentive accomplice. In his aura is an intruding giddiness, a swirling tincture of clear aversion to whatever topic had been discussed at last week's banquet.
"What? What did Mr. Garcia say? My coach didn't tell me he said anything important."
Kohei Fujimoto shifts around in his chair.
"Uh, apparently a man from Team Belize got caught...um...with a girl from Team Italy. Together...like, um." Kohei shakes his head, laughing awkwardly. "The board imposed stricter rules for curfew and curtailed interaction between the two teams. Now we can't even go to the second floor of the apartments. It's off limits for the rest of camp. Same goes for women...they can't go to our floor at all."
"Ah...I see." Jungkook's grin slips off of his face. He was thinking about inviting McKayla to his room later on, but that prospect has disintegrated on the drawing board.
Not for anything close to what Belize and Italy got in trouble for last week. Simply to hang out. He likes hanging out with McKayla's bubbly personality and happy self...and to kiss her when no one is looking.
After many pink thoughts and dumb laughs they came upon the mutual decision to be in a short relationship, terminating when both had to go back to their home countries. This they decided after Jungkook launched himself forward and kissed her until they both couldn't breathe.
'To hell with the standards. Let's just live our life. While we train, I'm yours and you're mine. We both like each other, so why not?'
McKayla had stared at him with a mixture of bewilderment and unharnessed excitement. She couldn't believe that the Jeon Jungkook had spoken so lax, so without reserve and so...romantically.
"I...yes. Sure. Of course!"
McKayla grinned, her fuchsia spiraling towards his throat as she peeked sneakily at the doorway to ascertain they hadn't accumulated any new guests. With a fire in her eye and a cheeky sheen of rebellion on her swollen lips, she closed the gap between the hunk of Korean muscle who had captured her attention since she first saw him.
The remainder of that lunch break they spent stealing kisses and giggling at their infatuated stupidity and lack of stretching. Since then, Jungkook has only spoke with McKayla over the phone or texted her. That was a few days ago.
Did McKayla know of the new curfew and floor restrictions?
Why would she say yes to getting in a relationship with him if she knew the restrictions? Why wouldn't she tell him that they shouldn't be associating? They could get in severe trouble. Right? The thought brought a foreign anger to Jungkook's lips.
"I doubt that the restrictions will keep the guys out. What are they going to do...kick the gymnasts off the Olympic team? That's fucked up. And unfair. The disciplining should be left to the coaches, not the institution. Don't you think?" Jungkook stares imploringly at his lunch mate.
Kohei shrugs at his friend's sudden question. "Um...sure?"
"I mean..." Jungkook tames down his heightened voice, catching the glance of a familiar male gymnast a few tables down. "...don't you think people here should be free to do what they want? It's their training. Their bodies. We aren't in a jail, and although there are suggestions they can make to maximize our training we shouldn't be forced to follow them. It feels like a fucking jail."
Clearly uncomfortable by the Korean's random outburst, Kohei simply goes back to eating his food. Jungkook stares at his tray for a while. A few deep breaths settle his thoughts. Lately he's been getting angry at the stupidest things.
It's very unlike Jungkook to be so swayed by other's energies, but whenever Costa has any inkling of anger, fear, or anxiety, it mirrors itself in Jungkook. And he doesn't know why. Him and Costa have grown close, but to be aura tied?
Jungkook always brushes off the thought when it comes to him. Dual influencing is reserved only for a certain...connection between people. Constantly, he shoves that impossibility away from his mind. There's no point in thinking of insanity.
No point.
Right now, the Brazilian is minding his own business, watching a video on his iPhone while mindlessly sipping carbonated water and popping fruit into his mouth. Jungkook stares at the pulsating aura around Leonardo and searches for the possible cause of his anger. He visualizes the Brazilian's layers, picking apart the sheath of red painting the surface. For some reason he cannot place, Leonardo is writhing on the inside. Extremely anxious.
"How is it?"
Jungkook snaps his head back to face Kohei. The Japanese gymnast is sipping his water, staring at the spot where Costa sits.
"How is what?" Jungkook asks.
Lifting his eyebrows thoughtfully, Kohei motions towards Costa. "Training in a group with him. How is it?"
As his lips begin to part with an answer, Jungkook feels something most unsettling in his guts. Something is wrong. Not just the fiery anger that he felt burrowing in his stomach since the beginning of this morning, but steady anger—laced with historical malice and weathered hatred.
The door to the lunch room opens.
Not many are paying attention to the double doors. Male gymnasts chatting casually and eating the contents of their ample-portioned trays are oblivious to the new guest. Kohei spares a cursory glance at the newcomer, returning his field of vision back to the Brazilian who has now set down his phone upon the table.
Jungkook's stomach squeezes in trepidation.
Before Leonardo stands up from the table, he makes eye contact with Jungkook across the room. In his eyes is a worried tang of one who has been caught doing something wrong but isn't sure what exactly. Jungkook's legs work on their own. He stands from the table.
"Um...where are you going?" Kohei looks between the Brazilian and the Korean who rise at the same time. From across the room, Costa's father tramples from the doorway towards his son, his aura doused with rage.
"T-to the bathroom." Evidently, some of Costa's anxiety is affecting him. "I'll be...b-back."
A half-consumed bottle of carbonated water and tray of fruits gets left on Costa's lunch table as he steps away from it. Jungkook ignores Kohei's suspicious scrutiny as he gets pulled along by a connective, invisible rope.
Leonardo follows his coach out the side door of the cafeteria, walking one pace behind and off to the side of his father. The protective space is hardly enough for what Jungkook can sense is to come.
He picks up his pace, clenching tight fists while succumbing to vicarious fear.
As he exits the cafeteria doors, the other two are out of sight. There are four branching hallways that they could have turned down, and Jungkook doesn't have time to look down each one.
"Leonardo. Costa. Where is he?"
Jungkook whispers, drawing his energy to his eyes. If he concentrates enough on his power, he can pick up aura trails ever so faintly, left behind like the colorful slime of a long-gone snail.
"There!"
Jungkook senses a mounting red glow on the farthest hallway, the one leading to the private training rooms. If he's to stop something bad from happening, he better hurry. As long as Costa's father believes he's not alone, he won't hurt his son in an outlash. It would be too risky for their combined image and ruin Leonardo Costa's gymnastics career.
Jungkook is breathless even before he begins jogging. Whatever horrible fear Leonardo is experiencing right now, it's cascading through him like an evil waterfall, blocking his logical senses with an overwhelming urge to flee.
"COSTA!"
Jungkook yells as he rounds the corner. Still no sign of them. Being loud is his best chance at stopping whatever is going to happen. It might catch Costa's father off guard, hearing another gymnast so close by.
"COSTA!"
No answer. Jungkook races towards the only open door in the hallway, tossing it open and launching himself inside. Bright, pristine lights hang in beams on the ceiling, lighting up the administrative room with startling clarity. A long wooden table takes up a large portion of the room, with blue-cushioned chairs pushed in neatly under the grainy surface. A large swivel-wheeled white board has various messages scrawled in red lettering, denoting the camp's plans for 'Exhibition Day' coming up next week. Normally, Jungkook would be scared by those vague words of show-and-tell. An upcoming exhibition means harsher training.
But nothing could be harsher than the man standing at the end of the table, his arms agitatedly gesturing something troubling to none other than Leonardo Costa.
Upon Jungkook's entrance into the room, both males glance up. Leonardo's father scowls at the intrusion, especially from someone as conflicting for his son's career as Jeon Jungkook. Leonardo, on the other hand, presents wide eyes and a grateful sigh of relief.
"Costa." Jungkook starts, trying to verbally dissipate the loads of red in the air. "You left your...phone back at the lunch table. I wanted to make sure you didn't, um forget it."
The Costas stare at him. It feels like forever before one of them answers, and thankfully it isn't the elder.
"Oh, thank you um, Jeon." Leonardo scratches his neck, but the fear choking his aura doesn't lessen. Silently, Leonardo pleads with Jungkook by blinking heavily and subtly widening his eyes.
'Stay here.' His eyes say. 'Please don't leave me with him.'
"Thank you for telling him." In Costa Sr. there is not a sliver of gratefulness.
The man's aura is wrought with confusion and despair, mounting to form a ball of untamed rage. Frankly, the level of unpredictability wavering around his person makes Jungkook want to run straight up to Costa and drag him by the hand out of there. But doing so might mean he'd get ratted to Coach Kan.
And Kan cannot know about his closeness with Costa.
"You can leave now." Costa Sr. points to the door and lifts his eyebrows in a dangerous aloofness. Even if his venom isn't outwardly visible, Jungkook can taste the poison in the air. Something is wrong, so wrong and Costa's father can't cope with it. He feels he must take it out on his son, to unload some of the pain plaguing his soul. Sacrificing his kin to whatever calamity is happening.
Jungkook hates it. He hates the fact that Leonardo stands it. The fact that Leonardo's loyalty to his father and family holds stronger than his resolve to be treated better. The situation hurts Jungkook on a personal level, not only because Leonardo deals with the pain, but because he exhibits no sign of the abuse on any observational level.
Only Jungkook, who has grown closer to Costa over the last few weeks, can sense the anxiety in the Brazilian's deeper layers. On the outside, he's cool as a cucumber.
"I can't leave." Jungkook speaks all of a sudden, staring at Leonardo as he says the words. "Mr. Garcia, um, the lead coordinator wants to talk with you, Leonardo."
Costa Sr. flinches at the casual name. Unless friends, no gymnast refers to their competition by first names. It's common sense, a necessary formality to speak only in surnames when regarding each other. Especially for the two top men's gymnasts.
"It can wait." Costa Sr. lifts his chin and casts a cold once-over of Jungkook. "Leave now, boy. I'm talking with my son."
Jungkook clenches his jaw. Leonardo glances rapidly between the two arguers, his hard set eyes an emotional shield. Underneath the stoic pretense, Leonardo's aura is anxiously shifting, reaching out for Jungkook like a drowning man seeking a life preserver.
"It can't wait. Garcia is in the cafeteria, awaiting Leonardo's arrival right now."
Costa Sr. squints his eyes. No semblance of belief lingers in his tone. "Is that so?"
"Yes." Jungkook stands his ground despite his lie's inevitable, forthcoming downfall. "So Leonardo, please come here-"
"Well, hi there!
The Costas' faces pinch with shock at whoever just entered the room. Jungkook stares at their perplexity, turning around with the strange, enveloping sensation of deja vu.
When he's met with large understanding brown eyes and an exuberant grin, his knees unconsciously buckle a little.
"Mr. Garcia. Oh, er, hello." Jungkook bows a little, then forgets that people in America don't bow. He straightens, slightly embarrassed that the man he was just lying about has been somehow summoned to the vast administrative room. Mr. Garcia glances casually among them.
"What are you all doing in here?"
Jungkook notices how Garcia speaks namely to Costa Sr., staring at Costa's father with jubilant intensity. The coach rolls his neck calmly, placing the same stunning smile that Leonardo is capable of on his own lips.
"We were just leaving." Costa Sr. reveals, his features now soft and approachable. However good his shell might be, Jungkook can sense the contempt riding in steady waves under the surface.
"Alright. I'll lead the way, then!" Garcia's infinitely agreeable voice puts Jungkook at such ease. How are certain people blessed with such negotiable voices? Jungkook wonders. Garcia's leaderlike aura is substantially upkept by lots of positive flowing energy and commendable altruism.
The three guests in the administration room get pulled into the hallway. Jungkook waits for Garcia to say something, to tell them what to do or where to go, but he does not. He simply turns and walks down the hall.
Jungkook realizes he has to act. Fast.
"Let's go, Leonardo. We have to follow him."
Jungkook tugs the Brazilian by his arm, planting Leonardo to his hip. Then, he starts them off at a fast pace down the hallway, catching up to Garcia before Costa's father can stop them.
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note from authAURA
hello.
I come to you in this note to say please avoid murky water. If someone gives you harsh criticism, know that you can grow beyond it. You can cry, or you can defy. You can prove people wrong and improve yourself. Do not let others snatch your confidence. You are beautiful, important, special! Never forget.
Love,
Izzy