Chapter Text
The next day, Jisung woke up with a throbbing head. His whole body was shaking from the inside, and his stomach was already churning even before he could get something to eat.
He sat on the middle of his bed, looking around. It had been so long since he’s been living here. There were so many memories.
He looked at his desk, remembering his cam boy past, a small smile on his face. Then he looked down at his bed, flashes of his wild nights with Felix making his cheeks burn—was Seungmin even aware of their past?
Finally, he got up and went to the bathroom. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, after splashing cold water on his face, he remembered that time they had a pretty alcoholic night at his place, Changbin throwing up in his toilet with Minho caressing their back and reassuring them that they will be ok. Jisung was also reminded of his own first drunken night, and he smiled at how far he’s gotten in life.
When he got to his kitchen, it was morning breakfasts with Felix that flashes before his eyes, sometimes with Hyunjin or Chan. Jisung sat where his memories had Felix sitting, his bowl of rice in front of him. His stomach churned a bit more; memories from the night before resurfacing.
He turned around, staring at his couch, all their parties, game nights, movie nights, it all mingled and Jisung could do nothing but smile with nostalgia.
He walked to the café, trying to force a smile on his face. Changing into his working clothes, right before putting his phone in his pocket he sent a very simple text.
To: Lix, Jinnie, Changbin, Chan, Minho
From: Jisung
Message: 8pm, my flat?
Quickly, his phone rang with answers to his text, all agreeing to the meeting—some sounded more worried than others.
Minho, in particular, was worried and it looked even more evident when he got to work, hugging Jisung tightly and asking him if he was fine. The boy simply hummed, dodging the question saying they had to work hard today.
There was something really defined in Jisung’s head, a decision that was made and would never be unmade. He didn’t know if it was coming from him, or him. But he knew that it was an already made decision, and no discussion on it was allowed.
He was going to quit his job, leave his flat, and go back to Malaysia and stay next to his mother for as long as it will be needed. There was, literally, nothing else that will be done, and no one would change his mind on that.
Sure, Jisung was worried sick about his mother’s health state, but the decision seemed more taken by him than himself. There was definitely something he wasn’t aware of, and clearly couldn’t be aware of, or he would have been quite nagging about it. Using your brain’s doing you some good. There it was. The nagging. So, it was definitely not his full decision.
Sure, Jisung wanted to go see his mom, and spend some time with her. But there was time, right? His brother said at least a few months. There was time. What was so urgent that he needed to go the very next day? Don’t ask. I deserve to know. Don’t make me say it, please. And for the first time, Jisung realized that the voice inside of his head, was sobbing.
During his entire shift, he ignored Minho, dodged his questions, served clients as well as he could and faked the biggest smile he ever did. It probably was Peter doing his service work. Because that was a fact that Jisung would’ve never been able to be so kind in that mental state.
And then the end of his shift arrived, and it was time to go home and prepare the flat for his friends’ arrival.
They all came at the same time, entered the flat with worried look—probably because Minho made them worry even more. It looked important. It was important. Maybe to them, it would be the end of the world.
They all sat down on the blue couch that had their butts imprinted on it quite well. Jisung sat on his knees, in front of them. It was ceremonial.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said once they had all sat down. A hubbub took place on his friends’ side. “I’m going back to Malaysia, my flight’s already booked, my job resigned, this flat already rented to someone else.” He saw incomprehension in all of his friends’ eyes, he could understand. He was as much lost as they were. “My mom’s really sick, I need to be next to her.” It was not him talking. “It’s really important for me, and my only wish to be at her side right now. I will be back soon, I promise. But right now, that’s the only thing I need to do. Go see my mom and hug her as tight as she hugged me when I was born.” A stray tear ran down his cheek, without him realizing.
In a matter of second, arms were around him and soft voices saying they understood and wished for his mom to get well, to get better, and for them all to meet again soon.
His luggage was down quickly. He took a cab to the airport, checked in and bought a small breakfast. He waited for hours on uncomfortable seats, but it was him piloting his body. He couldn’t stop starring at his flight ticket, trying to remember the number of his seat, the number of his flight, starring at his name, at the company’s name, the destination…
And then he was sitting in the plane, hairy guy on his left, businesswoman on the right. He took at last look at his phone, sending hearts to his friends—even to the two he barely knew.
The flight took off. He fell asleep, but he was wide awake. Starring at the screen on the seat in front of him.
It was the quickest six hours he ever lived, as he barely realized the flight was going on that they were landing on Malaysia soil.
He took a cab, to get him to the village next to the city, where his family was now living. He kept on staring through the window, so the driver asked if it was his first time here, in a broken English. To which Jisung answered, from a perfect Malay he didn’t know he had—It was me—that it had just been a very long time since he’s been there. But I’ve never been to that house.
When he knocked on the door, his brother opened the door and froze on the spot. “Ji—” They both hugged so tightly that they could barely breathe. None of them cared. There was no more joking, no more playing around and being brothers that have a love-hate relationship. It was just pain linking them.
Hearing the door opening and no words, his father came to see. Upon seeing his youngest son’s face, he joined the hugged and kissed the top of his head, caressing the top of his back. Jisung could almost swear he heard him sniffling, keeping his cries for when he would be in private.
The first night in their new house was more of house tour, getting news from the family and what they were up to. It was an avoidance of the reason of his visit. Until dinner was over, that midnight came and Jisung was about to go to his bedroom. His dad told him eleven words that got engraved in his memory, and his too: “We’re going to see her at six in the morning tomorrow.”
Five o’clock, Jisung got up and took the coldest shower of his life. He styled his hair the prettiest way he could. He even dressed in a shirt and a stylish pants—she will love it so much.
He went downstairs, it was half past five. His dad was sitting in the kitchen, dressed up and bended over his breakfast like an old man. Well, he sort of was.
“Can I go see her now?” He wanted to shut him up.
“Wait for your brother to get ready and we’re leaving.”
“I’ll tell him to hurry,” and he left to knock on his brother’s bedroom door.
It was barely six in the morning when they sat down in the car and went to the hospital.
It was bumpy roads, full of rocks and ravines. Mountains on one side, emptiness on the other, with no guardrail—as if the ones who made the road thought it was safe that way.
His father drove carefully, as it was still dark outside.
Still not carefully enough for the other cars.
It was more a truck.
It had driven on a rock, the front part of the truck going sideways, and soon enough it was falling on the side and blocking the road. His father barely had time to realize the situation and hit the brakes, not soon enough for their car not to crash again the truck’s frame. It flung them to the side, his dad turning the wheels as a way to avoid the ravine that was nearing their car. The airbags went out, hitting his brother in the face as his body was going forward from the shock. His forehead started to bleed, and his father panicked more than he should have, hitting the brakes again, turning the wheels and trying desperately to get them away from the ravine, and to keep them on the road.
The front of the car was on the side of the road, the back of it in thin air. Jisung started to get his seatbelt off.
“Don’t move!” His dad yelled, panic evident in his voice, in his eyes, in his shaking body. Jisung looked around. The truck was leaking gas, the driver was getting out from the broken window and running towards their car. His brother had blood running from his forehead down to his chin, he had tears prickling on the corner of his eyes and was shaking. His father had blood on his arm, probably from the impact on his door’s window, which Jisung hadn’t realized was there until he saw the blood.
The truck’s driver was about to arrive near their car, yelling that he will get them out, when the truck’s exploded from the gas leak. It threw the body to their windscreen, bones cracking’s sound mixing with the one of glass breaking. It pushed the car enough for it to fell into the ravine. The windscreen was entirely red, bloody, liquid running through the cracks and falling on his father and brother’s legs. They could see the smoke from the explosion from their fall.
It was somehow really pretty to see, if Jisung forgot that they were falling into an empty pit.
The car hit the rocks of the mountain, making it turn on itself. Their seatbelts kept them from hitting the car’s roof. The truck driver’s body got thrown away in the air, as their car was turning over and over on itself, hitting more and more rocks.
Jisung’s body was getting moved in every way, his head hitting the door’s window, then his father’s seat that was in front of him, his legs hitting each other and there were even moments his arms hit the roof. He could hear bones cracking resonating from the car, screams from each one of them, cries, apologies, some “I love you boys” that was coming from his dad, until there was less noise, followed by more cries. His dad yelling his brother’s name.
It was at that moment that Jisung realized his brother had hit his head too hard and was unconscious—or dead already.
“Dad, I love you,” he said, not even sure he had been heard.
The car kept on falling, turning over and over, hitting the side of the mountain. Windows broke, glass flew into the car and sometimes was sent straight to their limbs.
There was pain everywhere, but he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where it was hurting, from what, at what point. It was just too much.
He felt blood running down his leg, down his face, down his arm, down his stomach, in his shoes and there was even more on the floor coming from everyone.
And finally, after what felt like forever, the car hit the ground.
Right on the side, propelling Jisung up, his seatbelt tugging him back to the sit. It burnt his skin, broke his hipbone. When he fell back against the car door, he hit the side of his head so hard his vision went white.
He coughed, coughed, coughed, and felt blood running down his mouth. He heard muffling noises, unable to recognize neither the voice nor the words. He felt liquid coming from every one of his holes, his lungs having a hard time keeping with the pace he wanted to breathe at.
And then it went white. Bright light. Slightly yellow on the side.
He felt lighter than he ever felt.
And then he felt nothing.
It was just peacefulness, lightness, emptiness, and then nothing.
White room, Jisung stepped a foot inside of it, letting out the biggest sigh he ever let out of all of his lives.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”