#11 - for yeolcarp, from your secret santa! [part 1]
Title: Purgatory
For: yeolcarp
Pairing/Focus: Sandeul-centric, Baro/Sandeul
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 12k~
Summary: AU. Junghwan and Sunwoo prove a mental institution isn’t just for psychological treatment.
Notes/Warnings: Eating/Mental disorders. bitter!Junghwan. There are a bunch of inaccuracies in this, so before you scrunch up your face indignantly and yell but that’s wrong!, please remember to take this fic with the slightest grain of salt. Anyway, have a jolly Christmas, guys, and don’t forget to leave some milk and cookies for Santa! ♥
-
friday, week zero
Junghwan takes it as a sign.
It's two in the morning and he strolls into a public bathroom that reeks of cheap alcohol and stale sweat. He staggers; waywardly walking without a direction because he believes bad mornings are a sign that he doesn't need to act with sense and reason.
He stumbles into a dirty stall, mouth puffed up and hands sweaty. He clumsily grabs at the toilet bowl, the state of cleanliness of the bowl hardly registering in his head, and he empties his stomach in a single regurgitation that leaves him withered and dry.
It ends with his staring at the previous contents of his stomach swirling in the toilet bowl as he pushes the handle absentmindedly. A feeling of indignation and disgust swells in him, like the way pride does, as he looks at how much of a monster he has become, with the pool of vomit looking back at him resentfully as if saying look at what you have done to yourself.
He coaxes his stomach to rid of what is left in it by gently inserting his finger into the far regions of his mouth. It all comes out in an intermittent flow; and at the end he lies in a pool of his own making and closes his eyes.
It's a bad morning, and he takes it as a sign to prove that he is not what his body tells him, but he does it to no one in particular.
-
monday, week one
Junghwan associates the colour white with purity.
He feels it is largely inappropriate for the insides of a mental institution to be blindingly white, because he feels undeserving and wrong for reasons he is not completely sure of himself.
It is bright, stuffy, and too heavy for Junghwan to digest. He is escorted into a quiet patient lounge, where the patients, no more than fifteen, are wearing the same nondescript grey clothing that mixes well with the white walls.
He feels he should not be here with all of these people, this is not where he belongs and there should be an alternative method-
An image of blonde intrudes his line of sight. A nest of yellow, the hue just in between blending in and standing out, parts the sea of greys and whites and monochromatic tones. Junghwan stops for a second, and is roughly pushed by his escort from behind.
The owner of the blond hair looks in askance at the new patient; eyeing him with intense interest. Junghwan matches his gaze and for a moment it feels strangely concentrated and it gives him an uncanny tingle in the back of his stomach, or mind or both, or maybe neither, because he's not sure of anything anymore.
The blond looks away before Junghwan does.
-
week one → week two
Junghwan avoids the blond for a whole week, like an infectious disease, or the plague. He cautiously edges to the side of the lounge whenever he is near the blond, in attempt to blend in with the wall and hopefully disappear and never come back.
That small voice in the back of his heads reiterates the questions why are you avoiding him? incessantly, but Junghwan pushes the voice away with a mental shove.
(The question gnaws at him for a while.)
The blond approaches Junghwan during the second week, after a furtive glance or two in his direction. He walks with a spring in his step that oddly contrasts with the location. He speaks, asks Junghwan if he’s new, and the baritone that floats out of his mouth doesn’t match his rounded and juvenile face.
(But Junghwan guesses he’s a lot of things that don’t go together.)
Junghwan replies with a gentle yes, almost inaudible but the blond smiles in response to Junghwan’s meekness, and he feels like a terrible burden has been lifted off of his shoulders.
It takes ten seconds for the blond to continue. “What’s your name?” he asks, earnestly and with full interest. Junghwan hesitates, because he wants to be careful with this boy. “I’m Howon,” the blond-Howon- supplies, eyes eager. Junghwan does not reply.
Howon doesn’t hesitate and goes on, “So why are you in here?” he talks with a certain confidence that makes Junghwan envious. He wonders what would be different if he had that kind of self-assurance.
“It’s personal,” Junghwan gulps, pushing his body against the wall, making himself look a little too uneasy and antsy so Howon would get the hint and leave. Unfortunately for Junghwan, Howon doesn’t take the bait.
“It’s okay, I understand,” he replies wistfully. “It’s just, you know,” he stumbles on his words, “I’ve been here a while. Haven’t made any friends yet, so yeah, I don’t know.”
Guilt stirs in Junghwan’s gut at Howon’s strained confession. Howon straightens his body and gets ready to walk away but-
“My name’s Junghwan,” he finally relents. A mischievous glint in Howon’s eyes relight. “I’m here because of,” he stops, takes a deep breath (because after all this time it still unnerves him to say the word), “bulimia.”
Howon lets out a long ah, and laughs a little. “I’m here for anorexia,” he chirps, making strange eye contact with Junghwan. Junghwan involuntarily lets out an astonished Really?
Howon nods in reply. “Yeah. I’ve gotten better here, though. It’s not the full recovery that can get me out of this place, but it’s getting somewhere, and that’s better than nothing right?”
Howon leaves the question hanging, as he abruptly leaves Junghwan with his statement heavy on his thoughts.
Junghwan feels offended, but strangely, he feels glad too.
-
thursday, week two
Junghwan befriends a nurse with blazing red hair named Jinyoung. He’s a year older and can be quite uptight and severe, but he’s nice and Junghwan always appreciates kindness.
Junghwan retells the story of Howon to Jinyoung, with enthusiasm and exuberance that was rare even for pre-disorder Junghwan. At the end of his lively tale, Jinyoung’s brow is creased and his eyebrows are knitted together.
“We don’t have anyone in the wards named Howon,” Jinyoung says, and Junghwan can feel his heart almost dropping. “What do you mean?” Junghwan tries, because it is the truth and there is a Howon and he is someone who understands.
Jinyoung sighs, a long, drawn out sigh that makes Junghwan think the worst. “His name is Sunwoo-Cha Sunwoo,” Jinyoung admits.
Junghwan feels something in his chest tightening, but it feels wrong. The feeling is unidentifiable, and as much as he wants to express his disappointment because the betrayal feels too strong for him to ignore, he puts on a brave front and maintains a cool façade.
"He's in here for extreme pseudologia fantastica," Jinyoung adds after a good five seconds of Junghwan's drowning silence. The scientific name swims in Junghwan's head.
"What's that?" he asks. A grim smile makes its way onto Jinyoung's lips and it startles Junghwan.
"Pathological lying."
Oh.
-
tuesday, week three
Shin Dongwoo is the name of the resident psychiatrist.
He is tall, with pensive eyes and he carries himself with a strange authority that Junghwan can't quite understand. Junghwan thinks he's a little bit slow, but the rest of the institution thinks he's the greatest doctor there is (quoted right from the lips of male nurse Jinyoung himself).
"Have a seat, Lee Junghwan," is the way the psychiatrist greets him when he enters his office. Junghwan slinks into a chair right in front of an old oak desk littered with little trinkets and unorganised papers.
The doctor says they will start of slow; build everything up to the start of the (Junghwan swallows his heart down his throat) bulimia and then they will continue on to his life here at the institution ("Which is one of the finest in the country," Doctor Shin assures) and how he’s coping with it.
Junghwan tells himself to stay calm and collected and go along with everything the doctor says. Don't say too much, don't say too little, is his plan.
"So, how are you feeling today?" the doctor says.
Everything spills out of Junghwan but it's not his fault because he can't help it.
-
tuesday, week four
Junghwan is a man of little bravery.
It's not that he is a coward (he's more than that); he just prefers to turn the other cheek when he feels uncomfortable with intervention. He feels everyone has a reason for each act they commit and by ignoring it, it will (eventually) go away and fix itself and Junghwan would have done the right and moral thing.
But this is an important matter, and he summons all of his bravery and courage because this absolutely has to be rectified.
(At least, that’s the reasoning he gives himself. In all honest truth, Doctor Shin was the one who made him to do this.)
He approaches Howon-no, Sunwoo-with hesitant steps. "Your name is not Howon," he mutters quietly once he's safely five inches from Sunwoo's back, and he does little to hide the disappointment in his tone.
Sunwoo pivots on his heel to face Junghwan. His face is guiltless, and Junghwan's torn between slapping him and bursting into tears at his insensitivity. "Whatever made you think it was?" the blond questions, eyes twinkling. It brings some colour to the whites of the room.
Sunwoo walks away, and while Junghwan regards himself as a dilettante pacifist, he has never felt such a strong impulse to punch someone in the face before.
-
wednesday, week four
Jinyoung laughs when Junghwan flamboyantly retells the story.
"Why are you so worked up over it?" Jinyoung asks, voice tinged with mock brotherly concern. Junghwan lays out his arms on the counter and sighs. "I'm not," he retorts. Neither of them believes it.
"I think he was just trying to make a friend out of you," Jinyoung muses, flipping through patient records behind the counter.
"Well, he's off to a poor start," the younger of the two mumbles, scratching the counter top with his fingernail, in a daze.
Jinyoung laughs again. Junghwan wishes he could laugh like Jinyoung does, but it's easier for him because Jinyoung is normal and, well, happy (unlike Junghwan). Junghwan settles for a cynical laugh to counter Jinyoung's.
"Tread carefully, hyung. Otherwise you'll lose me and you'll be sorry," Junghwan says pointedly, pointing an accusing finger at the redhead.
Jinyoung rolls his eyes, because Junghwan is being childish and he deserves as many eye-rolls as he gets. "Go talk to him," Jinyoung advises, "clear up the air, or something. Just don't drag me into this,"
Junghwan grumbles. He came to Jinyoung with his heart on his sleeve and bearing his concerns openly but all he gets is the same advice he got from the Doctor: have a heart-to-heart with Sunwoo because apparently that's the only way this can be resolved.
Bullshit.
“Too late." Junghwan says under his breath.
-
monday, week five
Junghwan tells Doctor Shin that he does not like his thighs. He does not like the way they are too broad or the way they are too flabby. He especially does not like it when he puts on his favourite jeans and he finds they are a little too snug around the thigh area.
Junghwan tells Doctor Shin that he does not like his face. He does not like that it contorts into unflattering expressions or that the excess baby fat makes him look chubby and therefore, unattractive. It makes him look too unguarded and vulnerable.
Junghwan tells Doctor Shin that he does not like rejection. He does not like it when he pours his heart and feelings and every-fucking-thing out to a girl and her face scrunches up and she says you're nice but you're not my type (which is their way of saying he’s not attractive enough).
Doctor Shin nods along to Junghwan's reasons and makes little notes on his clipboard.
-
sunday, week six
After several intense therapeutic sessions, Doctor Shin pushes him to talk to Sunwoo-again (purely against Junghwan’s will, of course).
Junghwan finds Sunwoo seated and hunched in a corner of the lounge talking to a young boy with black hair and striking features. He approaches slowly, but Sunwoo unexpectedly turns his head quick like whiplash to only look straight into Junghwan’s eyes.
“Jonghan!” he exclaims, a grin widening on his face. “It’s Junghwan, actually,” Junghwan corrects, but Sunwoo pays no attention. He gets to his feet and drags Junghwan by the arm to his and the brunette’s little friendship corner.
The boy with the black hair looks at Junghwan curiously, and his eyes flicker from Junghwan to Sunwoo and it discomforts Junghwan because it feels like the boy is thinking who is this? Why is he here? He doesn’t belong here.
“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Sunwoo states, the stupid grin on his face not faltering.
“I-uh-have been busy,” Junghwan says.
(Which is clearly not true, but Junghwan would rather stab himself in the eye first before admitting something like that to another man.)
Sunwoo, either out of naïveté or slow wit, takes it as a reasonable excuse, and drops the subject.
“Jonghan, this is Chansik,” Sunwoo introduces with a flourish of his hand. “Chansik, this is Jonghan,” Chansik acknowledges Junghwan’s presence with a tentative thin-lipped smile.
(So he does have friends, Junghwan thinks. He makes a mental note to punch Sunwoo twice when he gets the chance.)
“My name is Junghwan!” he cries, flustered. Sunwoo turns his head to Junghwan and tilts it. “Your name is too hard to remember,” he claims, with a thoughtful look on his face.
Junghwan looks at Sunwoo incredulously, but Sunwoo has already moved on from picking on his name.
“Well, Junghwan,” Sunwoo whispers; quietly and ominously; Junghwan barely registers the fact that Sunwoo didn’t butcher his name, “you’re just in time for our favourite game.”
Chansik widens his eyes in alarm and Junghwan feels like he’s just walked into a minefield.
It's a pretend game: a simple game where they play as someone else but not entirely.
(It's unspoken, but Junghwan knows, more than anything, they play to forget the place they’re in and how they’re missing out on everything this big bad blue world has to offer to people like them.)
Chansik does not like it, Junghwan learns. It’s usually a one-sided game, with Sunwoo going on and on about detailed descriptions of this or that and Chansik just goes along with it because Sunwoo is his only friend.
Chansik is a peculiar kid-kid being the keyword because he’s a year younger than Junghwan. He’s quiet, and always looks like he’s sad (which isn’t that hard to believe, given the place).
Sunwoo explains that Chansik feels shy around new people, and the reason he’s comfortable with Sunwoo is that they’ve been friends since Chansik was admitted, two years ago. Chansik lowers his head after Sunwoo’s explanation.
“So, how do you play this?” Junghwan asks, out of curiosity more than interest.
“We pick a theme and a setting first,” Chansik says, voice soft and unsure. Sunwoo starts wriggling in his place in excitement. “As leader of this group-
“Who made you leader?” Junghwan interrupts. Sunwoo shushes him.
“As leader of this group,” Sunwoo restarts, “I get to pick the theme and setting.”
Sunwoo says he wants to pretend to be an emperor in eighteenth century Japan, and since Chansik adamantly refuses to get involved, Junghwan ends up being a dirt-poor street peasant.
-
monday → sunday, week six
Junghwan finds a friend in both Chansik and Sunwoo.
It starts off tame, and relatively docile, with Junghwan and Sunwoo playing the latter’s precious pretend game.
Sunwoo has a histrionic style to playing the game, with his over-the-top descriptions and superfluous details. But when he sews them together, it becomes an outrageous, yet somehow enthralling tale.
Junghwan plays if safe; he mumbles when it’s his turn, and settles for terse and succinct storytelling, as opposed to Sunwoo’s melodramatic approach to it.
As an example:
“Chief,” Junghwan says, through gritted teeth, “There’s been another murder,”
Sunwoo puts on an unsettling expression, and replies, “Is it him?”
Junghwan nods his head, but Sunwoo nudges him with his elbow. “I mean, yes. It is him,” he back-pedals, unsure of where this is going.
“Damn it!” Sunwoo exclaims, punching an imaginary wall in mock anger. “He’s at it again. How many murders have been committed this week? Three? Four? No, don’t answer that, detective. Is the modus operandi the same? Don’t answer that-of course it is; it’s the same perpetrator!” he goes on, and then he makes gesticulations of rapidly going through files on his invisible desk.
“I should have arrested him that night in Sicily! Now he’s gone rampant. I am a fool for letting him go. Oh, what I would give to turn back time and take back all of the vile acts he has committed. Shame on me, detective, shame on me!”
“Let’s go catch him, then?” is all Junghwan can say at the end of Sunwoo’s long-winded and unnecessarily spirited tirade.
Junghwan doesn’t want to admit that he is actually having fun, because he doesn’t want to give Sunwoo the satisfaction. Sunwoo continues being his lively self, and Junghwan remains taciturn for most of the early half of the week, but eventually, Junghwan finds it too tiring to play the uninterested newcomer.
And so they find themselves on their feet, making wild movements in a make-believe world constructed by Sunwoo. And Junghwan thinks he really is having fun.
For instance:
“You’ve come to the wrong neighbourhood, stranger,” Sunwoo says, lightly touching his imaginary gun holster. He commences a deadly eye-contact showdown with his opponent, Junghwan, from five feet away.
Junghwan starts moving sideways, but maintains the eye contact. “Well, you’re about to be run out of your own neighbourhood,” he retorts. He slowly reaches for the imaginary guns on both of his sides. Sunwoo’s gaze steels at Junghwan’s actions.
“Let’s settle this,” the blond growls menacingly, and then they’re at it.
Both of them draw their weapons (which are just their hands fashioned into the shape of a gun). They point it at the other, and quickly pull the trigger. Junghwan dodges left, and a hand flies to Sunwoo’s chest, and his eyes widen fearfully.
“I’ve-I’ve been shot,” he announces, slowly, shocked; speechless. “I’ve been shot,” he repeats, and then he feigns his death by planting his face on the carpeted floor in an exaggerated fall.
Junghwan smugly blows the end of his handgun and Chansik claps from the sidelines.
Chansik joins in, eventually. Expectedly, it’s due to Sunwoo’s very persuasive ways and definitely not due to his actual decision to join.
It gets livelier and much more hectic when there are three people playing the game, and it attracts more attention from the other nondescript patients, but they have too much fun to take notice.
It goes a little something like this:
“I’m an idol!” Sunwoo shouts. He starts dancing awkwardly, and Junghwan quickly joins him.
“I’m an idol too!” he exclaims, turning the heads of the other patients. He does an old disco move, jutting out his butt in the process. Sunwoo laughs and pushes him playfully, before imitating the same move.
Sunwoo starts singing one of Junghwan’s favourite songs. He puts his own twist to it by singing it with a deep voice that would have probably scared the crap out of Junghwan if he weren’t singing along to it.
“You have a nice voice,” Sunwoo compliments, laughing and moving around to non-existent background music. Some of the other patients watch prudently, but some have a hard time hiding the smile on their faces.
“Thanks,” Junghwan says, feeling something bubbling in his body. He sings a jolly eighties number he once heard from the radio in his father’s study, and Sunwoo, surprisingly, beatboxes the tune of the song.
“What are you guys doing?” asks Chansik, slowly approaching the two. Sunwoo’s beatboxing dies down, but Junghwan keeps going, hitting all the notes perfectly. “We’re idols!” Sunwoo answers, jumping up and down all the while looking giddy.
“Join us,” Junghwan urges, momentarily breaking his solo. Chansik vigorously shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he stutters, slowly backing off, but Sunwoo grabs his elbow just in time.
Chansik is pulled by Sunwoo into the fray. He shuffles his feet on the carpeted floor awkwardly.
“Sing, Chansik,” Junghwan calls out, jumping up and down in unison with Sunwoo. “What?” Chansik responds, uncertain.
“Sing!” laughs Sunwoo, grabbing Chansik’s arms and moving them around. Sunwoo starts beatboxing again. The multiple faces staring at them unnerve Chansik.
He starts out soft.
“Louder!” Junghwan says, dancing clumsily. Sunwoo claps his hands excitedly, and circles around Chansik.
And so Chansik sings louder.
Junghwan smiles at Chansik, and the younger boy blushes. He gains confidence, starts to move his feet, arms, hands, and sings and sings and sings and sings-
Suddenly all of them are jumping around, singing, screaming, yelling, until their feet hurt and their throats are raw and their limbs are sore. People are watching; laughing and shaking their heads but it’s okay because it’s fun, and it’s the most fun any of them have had in a while.
“I’m an idol!” Chansik shouts, laughing.
-
monday, week seven
And then;
“I had a relapse,”
Doctor Shin looks up from his laptop, and the furious and vigorous typing comes to an abrupt halt. “You-what?” he expresses his disbelief with an incredulous tone that climbs two octaves and sounds strangely like Junghwan’s mother.
Junghwan nods gravely. His face is gaunt and pallid, and the bottoms of his eyes are lined with prominent dark circles; like he hadn’t slept or eaten for a few days now.
“But you were doing so well,” Doctor Shin states, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. “Apparently not well enough,” Junghwan says flatly.
“Take a seat,” Doctor Shin says, despite it not being their regular session hour. Junghwan abides. The Doctor notes that he looks worse close up that he did when he was two feet away.
“What happened?” Doctor Shin inquires, closing his laptop and bringing out his clipboard.
“I-I don’t know,” Junghwan manages to say, voice cracking and trailing off at the end. He is trembling in his seat, cold sweat is breaking on his forehead and the corners of his mouth are quivering with anxiety.
“Was it intentional or impulsive?” Doctor Shin asks, his forehead creased in worry.
“It felt wonderful, though,” Junghwan continues enthusiastically, ignoring the Doctor’s question. His eyes twinkle under the white light of the office. “I felt like-like I was me again. Like nothing had changed. Like I was the same kid I was when I passed out in that dirty bathroom stall back then-
“Like you weren’t in a mental institution,” Doctor Shin adds.
Junghwan squirms in his seat, as if the Doctor’s words were a sharp knife jabbing him mercilessly in the side. “Yes,” he says, after a few seconds of tense silence.
“What happened?” Doctor Shin asks again, determined to worm out an explanation out of Junghwan.
"Sunwoo," Junghwan says his name like it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "Sunwoo happened," he adds hesitantly, wary about how it would sound. Doctor Shin nods, like he had expected it, but Junghwan finds it hard to believe he had.
"Care to elaborate?"
(That's it, that’s the problem: Junghwan doesn't care. He tells himself he doesn't care, but he actually does so he goes along with it anyway.)
“Are you insane?” Jinyoung bursts in, with a look so sharp it could puncture a hole in a concrete wall. Junghwan peeks from under his blanket at his seething friend.
“What?” is Junghwan’s intelligent and muffled response. Jinyoung switches on the lights of the room and Junghwan blinks feebly as the bright lights of the room drivel into his eyes. “What time is it?” he questions groggily, ignoring Jinyoung’s roar of rage.
“It’s ten,” Jinyoung provides helpfully, but his voice is strained. Junghwan pushes the blanket off his person and sits up straight. “What are you doing here at this time of night? I thought nurses had curfews,” Junghwan says, rubbing his eyes.
“I know what you did,” Jinyoung says ominously, followed by an exasperated sigh. He has that look on his face again; the look of disappointment. Junghwan has seen that look on his face a few times now, and none of the occasions that it has appeared in have ever been good.
Junghwan’s shoulders slump. “How much did the Doctor tell you?” Junghwan asks, voice cracking.
The bed creaks as Jinyoung takes a seat on it. “Everything,” he answers, eyes softening. “So much for doctor-patient confidentiality,” Junghwan murmurs, lips pursing. Jinyoung laughs, just a bit, and replies, “He was worried,”
“Yeah, well, if he didn’t already tell you, I’m sorry,” Junghwan says, averting Jinyoung’s gaze. “I really am,”
The redhead shakes his head kindly. “He also told me you left without explaining what happened,” Jinyoung says.
“I choked, okay? I wanted to tell him but the words got caught in my throat,” Junghwan explains. “What, did he get you to extract information from me? Isn’t that his job, anyway?” Junghwan can’t help the bitterness in his voice. His throat still feels raw.
Jinyoung’s eyes narrow dangerously.
“Okay, fine,” Junghwan gives in. Jinyoung’s lips spread into a gracious smile. “So what did Sunwoo do?”
“He called me fat,” a look of surprise makes its way onto Jinyoung’s face. Jinyoung’s gains a mien of curiosity, and so Junghwan explains, in a thick Busan accent.
(Junghwan says it’s fairly simple:
Sunwoo has an unhealthy obsession with that pretend game of his. They play it constantly, day in and day out for a week, enacting different scenarios, portraying different characters.
Junghwan had fun. It was the most fun he’s had in a long time.
Sunwoo can work miracles, Junghwan says to Jinyoung. Jinyoung doesn’t understand, though, because he doesn’t know what it’s like to play with Chansik, and especially not Sunwoo.
And then Sunwoo suggested portraying models in the competitive fashion world. It was a strange idea, Junghwan says, but they didn’t care.
And so they played; Sunwoo played the renowned fashion designer, Chansik played the world-famous model, and Junghwan played the struggling rookie.
They played by doing the catwalk and idiotic poses while Sunwoo watched to “pick” the face for his new “line”.
And then Sunwoo looks straight into Junghwan’s eye and says, no, no, no, you won’t do. So Junghwan asks, why not? because he thought he was doing a fairly good job at parodying stick thin models.
You’re not skinny enough, Sunwoo had said, after a few seconds of hesitation.
Junghwan didn’t mind, at first. He had been called worse (pudgy, fat, obese, ugly); not skinny enough was mild.
But Sunwoo didn’t apologise. At the end of their game, he patted Junghwan on the head and asked if he enjoyed it and walked away like nothing had happened.
And then Junghwan starts thinking maybe he meant it when he said I’m not skinny enough, and then he thinks I’m fat and eventually,
I am fat.)
“That’s when you-
“Purged,” Junghwan finishes for him. Jinyoung shifts uncomfortably at the word. “How did you even get pass Kibum? He always patrols the corridors. Didn’t he catch you?” Jinyoung asks.
Junghwan laughs, a hollow and acrimonious laugh. “It was easy. I did what I always did back home-I turned on all the taps and the running water hid the retching,” he says, with a masochistic glint in his eyes. Jinyoung refrains from mentioning it.
Jinyoung releases the breath he had been restraining. “Did you talk to him?” Junghwan doesn’t need a name to know whom he’s talking about.
“No,” Junghwan replies huffily, like a petulant child. He pulls the blanket from under Jinyoung to nudge him. Jinyoung stands up, and Junghwan draws the blanket up to his knees.
“Has he talked to you?” Jinyoung continues, and Junghwan reiterates his answer, a little more annoyed this time.
“Hyung, would you-could you leave? I’m tired,” Junghwan says, lying on his back. It’s a lie, because Jinyoung can tell from his eyes that Junghwan is wide awake and very much not-tired. But he obliges anyway, and turns off the lights.
He stops at the doorframe, and turns to face a bedded Junghwan. “For what it’s worth, you’re not fat.” he murmurs softly, before he pulls the door close and leaves.
(That’s easy for you to say, Junghwan thinks, because Jinyoung isn’t anywhere near to being considered fat.)
-
friday, week seven
“Junghwan,” that strong baritone is too hard to ignore (or forget). Junghwan turns to the doorway, and sees Sunwoo standing there, slightly fidgeting.
“Go away,” Junghwan deadpans, not even looking up at the blond. Sunwoo groans ungracefully. “This is the third time you’ve come to my room in a row. I said no the first time and I’ll say it again: no,” Junghwan declares.
“You don’t even know why I’m here!” Sunwoo counters. “You’ve turned me away twice already. At least hear what I’ve got to say?” he requests, making cute eyes at Junghwan in attempt to sway him, but it only makes him want to gag.
Junghwan stops fixing his bed, and thinks for a second.
“Fine,” he says, pulling Sunwoo into his room. He peeks out into the hallway, and releases a sigh of relief after witnessing that none of the nurses are around. He clicks the door close, and turns to Sunwoo.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Junghwan hisses, continuing the process of making his bed, which Sunwoo had so rudely interrupted with his unbidden arrival.
Sunwoo grins, as if he’s proud of his feat. “I here to invite you to play with us,” he explains, and Junghwan’s back stiffens. “I’m letting Channie pick the theme and setting today,” Sunwoo announces excitedly.
Junghwan smooths out the creases on his blanket. “Not interested,” he states. He turns to fluff his pillows, hoping that Sunwoo would leave, but like a particularly stubborn insect, Sunwoo stays put.
“Come on, Junghwan,” Sunwoo tries, poking Junghwan’s back. Junghwan rolls his shoulder and distances himself from Sunwoo. “I’m not interested,” he repeats, placing the pillows at the head of the bed.
Sunwoo doesn’t back down. “I risked my ass three times to invite you. The least you could do is join us and stop acting like such a hermit,” the tone of his voice is deeper; meaner. Junghwan steadies himself.
“No,” is Junghwan’s rigid response. “The least I can do is hear you out. And now that I have, you may leave,” Junghwan opens the door, and makes a gesture of showing Sunwoo out the door.
“Fine,” Sunwoo gives in, but something in his voice tells Junghwan that he’s not entirely caving in. “But I’ll just keep coming tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and after that and-
Junghwan places his hands on his face and rubs them violently. He knows what’s coming. “Unless?” he asks, defeated. He pushes the door close gently, and turns back to face the very giddy Sunwoo.
“Unless we play one last game tonight,” Sunwoo whispers furiously, like it’s a secret, but one he wants others to know about. Junghwan releases a noncommittal sigh.
“Fine,” Junghwan agrees, after some mental deliberation in which he weighed the pros and cons of the situation.
(Cons: it involves playing that stupid game of his. Pros: he’ll leave me alone once we’re done.)
“Great!” Sunwoo excitedly exclaims, his mouth stretching into an impossibly wide and bright grin. “I’ll come pick you up, later,” he announces, ruffling Junghwan’s hair and subsequently skipping out of the door.
It takes Junghwan five seconds to comprehend what Sunwoo had just said. “Wait-pick me up? What do you mean?” he frantically asks, running to the door to call Sunwoo back, but he’s already gone.
-
Part 2.
For: yeolcarp
Pairing/Focus: Sandeul-centric, Baro/Sandeul
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 12k~
Summary: AU. Junghwan and Sunwoo prove a mental institution isn’t just for psychological treatment.
Notes/Warnings: Eating/Mental disorders. bitter!Junghwan. There are a bunch of inaccuracies in this, so before you scrunch up your face indignantly and yell but that’s wrong!, please remember to take this fic with the slightest grain of salt. Anyway, have a jolly Christmas, guys, and don’t forget to leave some milk and cookies for Santa! ♥
-
friday, week zero
Junghwan takes it as a sign.
It's two in the morning and he strolls into a public bathroom that reeks of cheap alcohol and stale sweat. He staggers; waywardly walking without a direction because he believes bad mornings are a sign that he doesn't need to act with sense and reason.
He stumbles into a dirty stall, mouth puffed up and hands sweaty. He clumsily grabs at the toilet bowl, the state of cleanliness of the bowl hardly registering in his head, and he empties his stomach in a single regurgitation that leaves him withered and dry.
It ends with his staring at the previous contents of his stomach swirling in the toilet bowl as he pushes the handle absentmindedly. A feeling of indignation and disgust swells in him, like the way pride does, as he looks at how much of a monster he has become, with the pool of vomit looking back at him resentfully as if saying look at what you have done to yourself.
He coaxes his stomach to rid of what is left in it by gently inserting his finger into the far regions of his mouth. It all comes out in an intermittent flow; and at the end he lies in a pool of his own making and closes his eyes.
It's a bad morning, and he takes it as a sign to prove that he is not what his body tells him, but he does it to no one in particular.
-
monday, week one
Junghwan associates the colour white with purity.
He feels it is largely inappropriate for the insides of a mental institution to be blindingly white, because he feels undeserving and wrong for reasons he is not completely sure of himself.
It is bright, stuffy, and too heavy for Junghwan to digest. He is escorted into a quiet patient lounge, where the patients, no more than fifteen, are wearing the same nondescript grey clothing that mixes well with the white walls.
He feels he should not be here with all of these people, this is not where he belongs and there should be an alternative method-
An image of blonde intrudes his line of sight. A nest of yellow, the hue just in between blending in and standing out, parts the sea of greys and whites and monochromatic tones. Junghwan stops for a second, and is roughly pushed by his escort from behind.
The owner of the blond hair looks in askance at the new patient; eyeing him with intense interest. Junghwan matches his gaze and for a moment it feels strangely concentrated and it gives him an uncanny tingle in the back of his stomach, or mind or both, or maybe neither, because he's not sure of anything anymore.
The blond looks away before Junghwan does.
-
week one → week two
Junghwan avoids the blond for a whole week, like an infectious disease, or the plague. He cautiously edges to the side of the lounge whenever he is near the blond, in attempt to blend in with the wall and hopefully disappear and never come back.
That small voice in the back of his heads reiterates the questions why are you avoiding him? incessantly, but Junghwan pushes the voice away with a mental shove.
(The question gnaws at him for a while.)
The blond approaches Junghwan during the second week, after a furtive glance or two in his direction. He walks with a spring in his step that oddly contrasts with the location. He speaks, asks Junghwan if he’s new, and the baritone that floats out of his mouth doesn’t match his rounded and juvenile face.
(But Junghwan guesses he’s a lot of things that don’t go together.)
Junghwan replies with a gentle yes, almost inaudible but the blond smiles in response to Junghwan’s meekness, and he feels like a terrible burden has been lifted off of his shoulders.
It takes ten seconds for the blond to continue. “What’s your name?” he asks, earnestly and with full interest. Junghwan hesitates, because he wants to be careful with this boy. “I’m Howon,” the blond-Howon- supplies, eyes eager. Junghwan does not reply.
Howon doesn’t hesitate and goes on, “So why are you in here?” he talks with a certain confidence that makes Junghwan envious. He wonders what would be different if he had that kind of self-assurance.
“It’s personal,” Junghwan gulps, pushing his body against the wall, making himself look a little too uneasy and antsy so Howon would get the hint and leave. Unfortunately for Junghwan, Howon doesn’t take the bait.
“It’s okay, I understand,” he replies wistfully. “It’s just, you know,” he stumbles on his words, “I’ve been here a while. Haven’t made any friends yet, so yeah, I don’t know.”
Guilt stirs in Junghwan’s gut at Howon’s strained confession. Howon straightens his body and gets ready to walk away but-
“My name’s Junghwan,” he finally relents. A mischievous glint in Howon’s eyes relight. “I’m here because of,” he stops, takes a deep breath (because after all this time it still unnerves him to say the word), “bulimia.”
Howon lets out a long ah, and laughs a little. “I’m here for anorexia,” he chirps, making strange eye contact with Junghwan. Junghwan involuntarily lets out an astonished Really?
Howon nods in reply. “Yeah. I’ve gotten better here, though. It’s not the full recovery that can get me out of this place, but it’s getting somewhere, and that’s better than nothing right?”
Howon leaves the question hanging, as he abruptly leaves Junghwan with his statement heavy on his thoughts.
Junghwan feels offended, but strangely, he feels glad too.
-
thursday, week two
Junghwan befriends a nurse with blazing red hair named Jinyoung. He’s a year older and can be quite uptight and severe, but he’s nice and Junghwan always appreciates kindness.
Junghwan retells the story of Howon to Jinyoung, with enthusiasm and exuberance that was rare even for pre-disorder Junghwan. At the end of his lively tale, Jinyoung’s brow is creased and his eyebrows are knitted together.
“We don’t have anyone in the wards named Howon,” Jinyoung says, and Junghwan can feel his heart almost dropping. “What do you mean?” Junghwan tries, because it is the truth and there is a Howon and he is someone who understands.
Jinyoung sighs, a long, drawn out sigh that makes Junghwan think the worst. “His name is Sunwoo-Cha Sunwoo,” Jinyoung admits.
Junghwan feels something in his chest tightening, but it feels wrong. The feeling is unidentifiable, and as much as he wants to express his disappointment because the betrayal feels too strong for him to ignore, he puts on a brave front and maintains a cool façade.
"He's in here for extreme pseudologia fantastica," Jinyoung adds after a good five seconds of Junghwan's drowning silence. The scientific name swims in Junghwan's head.
"What's that?" he asks. A grim smile makes its way onto Jinyoung's lips and it startles Junghwan.
"Pathological lying."
Oh.
-
tuesday, week three
Shin Dongwoo is the name of the resident psychiatrist.
He is tall, with pensive eyes and he carries himself with a strange authority that Junghwan can't quite understand. Junghwan thinks he's a little bit slow, but the rest of the institution thinks he's the greatest doctor there is (quoted right from the lips of male nurse Jinyoung himself).
"Have a seat, Lee Junghwan," is the way the psychiatrist greets him when he enters his office. Junghwan slinks into a chair right in front of an old oak desk littered with little trinkets and unorganised papers.
The doctor says they will start of slow; build everything up to the start of the (Junghwan swallows his heart down his throat) bulimia and then they will continue on to his life here at the institution ("Which is one of the finest in the country," Doctor Shin assures) and how he’s coping with it.
Junghwan tells himself to stay calm and collected and go along with everything the doctor says. Don't say too much, don't say too little, is his plan.
"So, how are you feeling today?" the doctor says.
Everything spills out of Junghwan but it's not his fault because he can't help it.
-
tuesday, week four
Junghwan is a man of little bravery.
It's not that he is a coward (he's more than that); he just prefers to turn the other cheek when he feels uncomfortable with intervention. He feels everyone has a reason for each act they commit and by ignoring it, it will (eventually) go away and fix itself and Junghwan would have done the right and moral thing.
But this is an important matter, and he summons all of his bravery and courage because this absolutely has to be rectified.
(At least, that’s the reasoning he gives himself. In all honest truth, Doctor Shin was the one who made him to do this.)
He approaches Howon-no, Sunwoo-with hesitant steps. "Your name is not Howon," he mutters quietly once he's safely five inches from Sunwoo's back, and he does little to hide the disappointment in his tone.
Sunwoo pivots on his heel to face Junghwan. His face is guiltless, and Junghwan's torn between slapping him and bursting into tears at his insensitivity. "Whatever made you think it was?" the blond questions, eyes twinkling. It brings some colour to the whites of the room.
Sunwoo walks away, and while Junghwan regards himself as a dilettante pacifist, he has never felt such a strong impulse to punch someone in the face before.
-
wednesday, week four
Jinyoung laughs when Junghwan flamboyantly retells the story.
"Why are you so worked up over it?" Jinyoung asks, voice tinged with mock brotherly concern. Junghwan lays out his arms on the counter and sighs. "I'm not," he retorts. Neither of them believes it.
"I think he was just trying to make a friend out of you," Jinyoung muses, flipping through patient records behind the counter.
"Well, he's off to a poor start," the younger of the two mumbles, scratching the counter top with his fingernail, in a daze.
Jinyoung laughs again. Junghwan wishes he could laugh like Jinyoung does, but it's easier for him because Jinyoung is normal and, well, happy (unlike Junghwan). Junghwan settles for a cynical laugh to counter Jinyoung's.
"Tread carefully, hyung. Otherwise you'll lose me and you'll be sorry," Junghwan says pointedly, pointing an accusing finger at the redhead.
Jinyoung rolls his eyes, because Junghwan is being childish and he deserves as many eye-rolls as he gets. "Go talk to him," Jinyoung advises, "clear up the air, or something. Just don't drag me into this,"
Junghwan grumbles. He came to Jinyoung with his heart on his sleeve and bearing his concerns openly but all he gets is the same advice he got from the Doctor: have a heart-to-heart with Sunwoo because apparently that's the only way this can be resolved.
Bullshit.
“Too late." Junghwan says under his breath.
-
monday, week five
Junghwan tells Doctor Shin that he does not like his thighs. He does not like the way they are too broad or the way they are too flabby. He especially does not like it when he puts on his favourite jeans and he finds they are a little too snug around the thigh area.
Junghwan tells Doctor Shin that he does not like his face. He does not like that it contorts into unflattering expressions or that the excess baby fat makes him look chubby and therefore, unattractive. It makes him look too unguarded and vulnerable.
Junghwan tells Doctor Shin that he does not like rejection. He does not like it when he pours his heart and feelings and every-fucking-thing out to a girl and her face scrunches up and she says you're nice but you're not my type (which is their way of saying he’s not attractive enough).
Doctor Shin nods along to Junghwan's reasons and makes little notes on his clipboard.
-
sunday, week six
After several intense therapeutic sessions, Doctor Shin pushes him to talk to Sunwoo-again (purely against Junghwan’s will, of course).
Junghwan finds Sunwoo seated and hunched in a corner of the lounge talking to a young boy with black hair and striking features. He approaches slowly, but Sunwoo unexpectedly turns his head quick like whiplash to only look straight into Junghwan’s eyes.
“Jonghan!” he exclaims, a grin widening on his face. “It’s Junghwan, actually,” Junghwan corrects, but Sunwoo pays no attention. He gets to his feet and drags Junghwan by the arm to his and the brunette’s little friendship corner.
The boy with the black hair looks at Junghwan curiously, and his eyes flicker from Junghwan to Sunwoo and it discomforts Junghwan because it feels like the boy is thinking who is this? Why is he here? He doesn’t belong here.
“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Sunwoo states, the stupid grin on his face not faltering.
“I-uh-have been busy,” Junghwan says.
(Which is clearly not true, but Junghwan would rather stab himself in the eye first before admitting something like that to another man.)
Sunwoo, either out of naïveté or slow wit, takes it as a reasonable excuse, and drops the subject.
“Jonghan, this is Chansik,” Sunwoo introduces with a flourish of his hand. “Chansik, this is Jonghan,” Chansik acknowledges Junghwan’s presence with a tentative thin-lipped smile.
(So he does have friends, Junghwan thinks. He makes a mental note to punch Sunwoo twice when he gets the chance.)
“My name is Junghwan!” he cries, flustered. Sunwoo turns his head to Junghwan and tilts it. “Your name is too hard to remember,” he claims, with a thoughtful look on his face.
Junghwan looks at Sunwoo incredulously, but Sunwoo has already moved on from picking on his name.
“Well, Junghwan,” Sunwoo whispers; quietly and ominously; Junghwan barely registers the fact that Sunwoo didn’t butcher his name, “you’re just in time for our favourite game.”
Chansik widens his eyes in alarm and Junghwan feels like he’s just walked into a minefield.
It's a pretend game: a simple game where they play as someone else but not entirely.
(It's unspoken, but Junghwan knows, more than anything, they play to forget the place they’re in and how they’re missing out on everything this big bad blue world has to offer to people like them.)
Chansik does not like it, Junghwan learns. It’s usually a one-sided game, with Sunwoo going on and on about detailed descriptions of this or that and Chansik just goes along with it because Sunwoo is his only friend.
Chansik is a peculiar kid-kid being the keyword because he’s a year younger than Junghwan. He’s quiet, and always looks like he’s sad (which isn’t that hard to believe, given the place).
Sunwoo explains that Chansik feels shy around new people, and the reason he’s comfortable with Sunwoo is that they’ve been friends since Chansik was admitted, two years ago. Chansik lowers his head after Sunwoo’s explanation.
“So, how do you play this?” Junghwan asks, out of curiosity more than interest.
“We pick a theme and a setting first,” Chansik says, voice soft and unsure. Sunwoo starts wriggling in his place in excitement. “As leader of this group-
“Who made you leader?” Junghwan interrupts. Sunwoo shushes him.
“As leader of this group,” Sunwoo restarts, “I get to pick the theme and setting.”
Sunwoo says he wants to pretend to be an emperor in eighteenth century Japan, and since Chansik adamantly refuses to get involved, Junghwan ends up being a dirt-poor street peasant.
-
monday → sunday, week six
Junghwan finds a friend in both Chansik and Sunwoo.
It starts off tame, and relatively docile, with Junghwan and Sunwoo playing the latter’s precious pretend game.
Sunwoo has a histrionic style to playing the game, with his over-the-top descriptions and superfluous details. But when he sews them together, it becomes an outrageous, yet somehow enthralling tale.
Junghwan plays if safe; he mumbles when it’s his turn, and settles for terse and succinct storytelling, as opposed to Sunwoo’s melodramatic approach to it.
As an example:
“Chief,” Junghwan says, through gritted teeth, “There’s been another murder,”
Sunwoo puts on an unsettling expression, and replies, “Is it him?”
Junghwan nods his head, but Sunwoo nudges him with his elbow. “I mean, yes. It is him,” he back-pedals, unsure of where this is going.
“Damn it!” Sunwoo exclaims, punching an imaginary wall in mock anger. “He’s at it again. How many murders have been committed this week? Three? Four? No, don’t answer that, detective. Is the modus operandi the same? Don’t answer that-of course it is; it’s the same perpetrator!” he goes on, and then he makes gesticulations of rapidly going through files on his invisible desk.
“I should have arrested him that night in Sicily! Now he’s gone rampant. I am a fool for letting him go. Oh, what I would give to turn back time and take back all of the vile acts he has committed. Shame on me, detective, shame on me!”
“Let’s go catch him, then?” is all Junghwan can say at the end of Sunwoo’s long-winded and unnecessarily spirited tirade.
Junghwan doesn’t want to admit that he is actually having fun, because he doesn’t want to give Sunwoo the satisfaction. Sunwoo continues being his lively self, and Junghwan remains taciturn for most of the early half of the week, but eventually, Junghwan finds it too tiring to play the uninterested newcomer.
And so they find themselves on their feet, making wild movements in a make-believe world constructed by Sunwoo. And Junghwan thinks he really is having fun.
For instance:
“You’ve come to the wrong neighbourhood, stranger,” Sunwoo says, lightly touching his imaginary gun holster. He commences a deadly eye-contact showdown with his opponent, Junghwan, from five feet away.
Junghwan starts moving sideways, but maintains the eye contact. “Well, you’re about to be run out of your own neighbourhood,” he retorts. He slowly reaches for the imaginary guns on both of his sides. Sunwoo’s gaze steels at Junghwan’s actions.
“Let’s settle this,” the blond growls menacingly, and then they’re at it.
Both of them draw their weapons (which are just their hands fashioned into the shape of a gun). They point it at the other, and quickly pull the trigger. Junghwan dodges left, and a hand flies to Sunwoo’s chest, and his eyes widen fearfully.
“I’ve-I’ve been shot,” he announces, slowly, shocked; speechless. “I’ve been shot,” he repeats, and then he feigns his death by planting his face on the carpeted floor in an exaggerated fall.
Junghwan smugly blows the end of his handgun and Chansik claps from the sidelines.
Chansik joins in, eventually. Expectedly, it’s due to Sunwoo’s very persuasive ways and definitely not due to his actual decision to join.
It gets livelier and much more hectic when there are three people playing the game, and it attracts more attention from the other nondescript patients, but they have too much fun to take notice.
It goes a little something like this:
“I’m an idol!” Sunwoo shouts. He starts dancing awkwardly, and Junghwan quickly joins him.
“I’m an idol too!” he exclaims, turning the heads of the other patients. He does an old disco move, jutting out his butt in the process. Sunwoo laughs and pushes him playfully, before imitating the same move.
Sunwoo starts singing one of Junghwan’s favourite songs. He puts his own twist to it by singing it with a deep voice that would have probably scared the crap out of Junghwan if he weren’t singing along to it.
“You have a nice voice,” Sunwoo compliments, laughing and moving around to non-existent background music. Some of the other patients watch prudently, but some have a hard time hiding the smile on their faces.
“Thanks,” Junghwan says, feeling something bubbling in his body. He sings a jolly eighties number he once heard from the radio in his father’s study, and Sunwoo, surprisingly, beatboxes the tune of the song.
“What are you guys doing?” asks Chansik, slowly approaching the two. Sunwoo’s beatboxing dies down, but Junghwan keeps going, hitting all the notes perfectly. “We’re idols!” Sunwoo answers, jumping up and down all the while looking giddy.
“Join us,” Junghwan urges, momentarily breaking his solo. Chansik vigorously shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he stutters, slowly backing off, but Sunwoo grabs his elbow just in time.
Chansik is pulled by Sunwoo into the fray. He shuffles his feet on the carpeted floor awkwardly.
“Sing, Chansik,” Junghwan calls out, jumping up and down in unison with Sunwoo. “What?” Chansik responds, uncertain.
“Sing!” laughs Sunwoo, grabbing Chansik’s arms and moving them around. Sunwoo starts beatboxing again. The multiple faces staring at them unnerve Chansik.
He starts out soft.
“Louder!” Junghwan says, dancing clumsily. Sunwoo claps his hands excitedly, and circles around Chansik.
And so Chansik sings louder.
Junghwan smiles at Chansik, and the younger boy blushes. He gains confidence, starts to move his feet, arms, hands, and sings and sings and sings and sings-
Suddenly all of them are jumping around, singing, screaming, yelling, until their feet hurt and their throats are raw and their limbs are sore. People are watching; laughing and shaking their heads but it’s okay because it’s fun, and it’s the most fun any of them have had in a while.
“I’m an idol!” Chansik shouts, laughing.
-
monday, week seven
And then;
“I had a relapse,”
Doctor Shin looks up from his laptop, and the furious and vigorous typing comes to an abrupt halt. “You-what?” he expresses his disbelief with an incredulous tone that climbs two octaves and sounds strangely like Junghwan’s mother.
Junghwan nods gravely. His face is gaunt and pallid, and the bottoms of his eyes are lined with prominent dark circles; like he hadn’t slept or eaten for a few days now.
“But you were doing so well,” Doctor Shin states, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. “Apparently not well enough,” Junghwan says flatly.
“Take a seat,” Doctor Shin says, despite it not being their regular session hour. Junghwan abides. The Doctor notes that he looks worse close up that he did when he was two feet away.
“What happened?” Doctor Shin inquires, closing his laptop and bringing out his clipboard.
“I-I don’t know,” Junghwan manages to say, voice cracking and trailing off at the end. He is trembling in his seat, cold sweat is breaking on his forehead and the corners of his mouth are quivering with anxiety.
“Was it intentional or impulsive?” Doctor Shin asks, his forehead creased in worry.
“It felt wonderful, though,” Junghwan continues enthusiastically, ignoring the Doctor’s question. His eyes twinkle under the white light of the office. “I felt like-like I was me again. Like nothing had changed. Like I was the same kid I was when I passed out in that dirty bathroom stall back then-
“Like you weren’t in a mental institution,” Doctor Shin adds.
Junghwan squirms in his seat, as if the Doctor’s words were a sharp knife jabbing him mercilessly in the side. “Yes,” he says, after a few seconds of tense silence.
“What happened?” Doctor Shin asks again, determined to worm out an explanation out of Junghwan.
"Sunwoo," Junghwan says his name like it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "Sunwoo happened," he adds hesitantly, wary about how it would sound. Doctor Shin nods, like he had expected it, but Junghwan finds it hard to believe he had.
"Care to elaborate?"
(That's it, that’s the problem: Junghwan doesn't care. He tells himself he doesn't care, but he actually does so he goes along with it anyway.)
“Are you insane?” Jinyoung bursts in, with a look so sharp it could puncture a hole in a concrete wall. Junghwan peeks from under his blanket at his seething friend.
“What?” is Junghwan’s intelligent and muffled response. Jinyoung switches on the lights of the room and Junghwan blinks feebly as the bright lights of the room drivel into his eyes. “What time is it?” he questions groggily, ignoring Jinyoung’s roar of rage.
“It’s ten,” Jinyoung provides helpfully, but his voice is strained. Junghwan pushes the blanket off his person and sits up straight. “What are you doing here at this time of night? I thought nurses had curfews,” Junghwan says, rubbing his eyes.
“I know what you did,” Jinyoung says ominously, followed by an exasperated sigh. He has that look on his face again; the look of disappointment. Junghwan has seen that look on his face a few times now, and none of the occasions that it has appeared in have ever been good.
Junghwan’s shoulders slump. “How much did the Doctor tell you?” Junghwan asks, voice cracking.
The bed creaks as Jinyoung takes a seat on it. “Everything,” he answers, eyes softening. “So much for doctor-patient confidentiality,” Junghwan murmurs, lips pursing. Jinyoung laughs, just a bit, and replies, “He was worried,”
“Yeah, well, if he didn’t already tell you, I’m sorry,” Junghwan says, averting Jinyoung’s gaze. “I really am,”
The redhead shakes his head kindly. “He also told me you left without explaining what happened,” Jinyoung says.
“I choked, okay? I wanted to tell him but the words got caught in my throat,” Junghwan explains. “What, did he get you to extract information from me? Isn’t that his job, anyway?” Junghwan can’t help the bitterness in his voice. His throat still feels raw.
Jinyoung’s eyes narrow dangerously.
“Okay, fine,” Junghwan gives in. Jinyoung’s lips spread into a gracious smile. “So what did Sunwoo do?”
“He called me fat,” a look of surprise makes its way onto Jinyoung’s face. Jinyoung’s gains a mien of curiosity, and so Junghwan explains, in a thick Busan accent.
(Junghwan says it’s fairly simple:
Sunwoo has an unhealthy obsession with that pretend game of his. They play it constantly, day in and day out for a week, enacting different scenarios, portraying different characters.
Junghwan had fun. It was the most fun he’s had in a long time.
Sunwoo can work miracles, Junghwan says to Jinyoung. Jinyoung doesn’t understand, though, because he doesn’t know what it’s like to play with Chansik, and especially not Sunwoo.
And then Sunwoo suggested portraying models in the competitive fashion world. It was a strange idea, Junghwan says, but they didn’t care.
And so they played; Sunwoo played the renowned fashion designer, Chansik played the world-famous model, and Junghwan played the struggling rookie.
They played by doing the catwalk and idiotic poses while Sunwoo watched to “pick” the face for his new “line”.
And then Sunwoo looks straight into Junghwan’s eye and says, no, no, no, you won’t do. So Junghwan asks, why not? because he thought he was doing a fairly good job at parodying stick thin models.
You’re not skinny enough, Sunwoo had said, after a few seconds of hesitation.
Junghwan didn’t mind, at first. He had been called worse (pudgy, fat, obese, ugly); not skinny enough was mild.
But Sunwoo didn’t apologise. At the end of their game, he patted Junghwan on the head and asked if he enjoyed it and walked away like nothing had happened.
And then Junghwan starts thinking maybe he meant it when he said I’m not skinny enough, and then he thinks I’m fat and eventually,
I am fat.)
“That’s when you-
“Purged,” Junghwan finishes for him. Jinyoung shifts uncomfortably at the word. “How did you even get pass Kibum? He always patrols the corridors. Didn’t he catch you?” Jinyoung asks.
Junghwan laughs, a hollow and acrimonious laugh. “It was easy. I did what I always did back home-I turned on all the taps and the running water hid the retching,” he says, with a masochistic glint in his eyes. Jinyoung refrains from mentioning it.
Jinyoung releases the breath he had been restraining. “Did you talk to him?” Junghwan doesn’t need a name to know whom he’s talking about.
“No,” Junghwan replies huffily, like a petulant child. He pulls the blanket from under Jinyoung to nudge him. Jinyoung stands up, and Junghwan draws the blanket up to his knees.
“Has he talked to you?” Jinyoung continues, and Junghwan reiterates his answer, a little more annoyed this time.
“Hyung, would you-could you leave? I’m tired,” Junghwan says, lying on his back. It’s a lie, because Jinyoung can tell from his eyes that Junghwan is wide awake and very much not-tired. But he obliges anyway, and turns off the lights.
He stops at the doorframe, and turns to face a bedded Junghwan. “For what it’s worth, you’re not fat.” he murmurs softly, before he pulls the door close and leaves.
(That’s easy for you to say, Junghwan thinks, because Jinyoung isn’t anywhere near to being considered fat.)
-
friday, week seven
“Junghwan,” that strong baritone is too hard to ignore (or forget). Junghwan turns to the doorway, and sees Sunwoo standing there, slightly fidgeting.
“Go away,” Junghwan deadpans, not even looking up at the blond. Sunwoo groans ungracefully. “This is the third time you’ve come to my room in a row. I said no the first time and I’ll say it again: no,” Junghwan declares.
“You don’t even know why I’m here!” Sunwoo counters. “You’ve turned me away twice already. At least hear what I’ve got to say?” he requests, making cute eyes at Junghwan in attempt to sway him, but it only makes him want to gag.
Junghwan stops fixing his bed, and thinks for a second.
“Fine,” he says, pulling Sunwoo into his room. He peeks out into the hallway, and releases a sigh of relief after witnessing that none of the nurses are around. He clicks the door close, and turns to Sunwoo.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Junghwan hisses, continuing the process of making his bed, which Sunwoo had so rudely interrupted with his unbidden arrival.
Sunwoo grins, as if he’s proud of his feat. “I here to invite you to play with us,” he explains, and Junghwan’s back stiffens. “I’m letting Channie pick the theme and setting today,” Sunwoo announces excitedly.
Junghwan smooths out the creases on his blanket. “Not interested,” he states. He turns to fluff his pillows, hoping that Sunwoo would leave, but like a particularly stubborn insect, Sunwoo stays put.
“Come on, Junghwan,” Sunwoo tries, poking Junghwan’s back. Junghwan rolls his shoulder and distances himself from Sunwoo. “I’m not interested,” he repeats, placing the pillows at the head of the bed.
Sunwoo doesn’t back down. “I risked my ass three times to invite you. The least you could do is join us and stop acting like such a hermit,” the tone of his voice is deeper; meaner. Junghwan steadies himself.
“No,” is Junghwan’s rigid response. “The least I can do is hear you out. And now that I have, you may leave,” Junghwan opens the door, and makes a gesture of showing Sunwoo out the door.
“Fine,” Sunwoo gives in, but something in his voice tells Junghwan that he’s not entirely caving in. “But I’ll just keep coming tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and after that and-
Junghwan places his hands on his face and rubs them violently. He knows what’s coming. “Unless?” he asks, defeated. He pushes the door close gently, and turns back to face the very giddy Sunwoo.
“Unless we play one last game tonight,” Sunwoo whispers furiously, like it’s a secret, but one he wants others to know about. Junghwan releases a noncommittal sigh.
“Fine,” Junghwan agrees, after some mental deliberation in which he weighed the pros and cons of the situation.
(Cons: it involves playing that stupid game of his. Pros: he’ll leave me alone once we’re done.)
“Great!” Sunwoo excitedly exclaims, his mouth stretching into an impossibly wide and bright grin. “I’ll come pick you up, later,” he announces, ruffling Junghwan’s hair and subsequently skipping out of the door.
It takes Junghwan five seconds to comprehend what Sunwoo had just said. “Wait-pick me up? What do you mean?” he frantically asks, running to the door to call Sunwoo back, but he’s already gone.
-
Part 2.