Chapter Text
It started with a black hole in his chest.
Hyunjin could feel it starting to ooze around him, a pervasive sense of despondency settling heavy onto his chest. The darkness had once been comforting but now it seemed to be gradually tightening around him, like a slow, encroaching fog. It was as though he could feel its presence turning his bones black, a chilling current that left him feeling utterly immobilised.
His heart was pounding; every beat echoed in his ears relentlessly. He attempted on many occasions to muffle the sound with his slender hands, a feeble attempt to quiet the noise that felt as if it were unravelling his composure thread by thread. Yet, despite his efforts, the beat persisted and he had long given up trying to fight against it. Hyunjin let it swallow him whole.
Second turned into minutes turned into hours, an increasing emptiness settling within him. Each moment that slipped away seemed to carve out a little more space, a small void that expanded with each breath. The silence that followed these moments felt heavy, an absence that echoed louder than any noise he could imagine.
The sheets that covered him, once a source of comfort, now felt like a flimsy barrier against the growing sense of isolation. His body no longer felt like his own, it was alien and distant, slowly poisoning him against himself. The melancholy that settled was becoming all too real, a tangible presence that he couldn't simply wish away.
It was going to be one of those nights.
-
His alarm wouldn’t stop. Or maybe he couldn’t make it stop. All Hyunjin could do was stare at it with bleary eyes that hadn’t closed all night. The glowing red numbers on his clock stared back at him, 6:04am. It had only been 4 minutes since it had started but he couldn’t tell if it had been 4 seconds or 4 hours. Nothing felt the same anymore.
He hadn’t closed his curtains properly. He could see streams of light reflecting off the glass of the digital display. Not that he remembered what it was like to be outside, nothing filled his head other than the hollowness that had settled the previous night.
The world outside his window was hazy, everything covered in a soft foggy filter. Even the sunlight that usually spilled in so cheerfully seemed dim and distant. The world was increasingly grey and lonely, muffling his final threads of optimism and making everything seem distant and surreal. Nothing was making sense; it was like he was reliving the same nightmare.
The creak of the door, footsteps approaching maybe, didn't provoke him to lift his head. He didn't have the energy for that kind of investigation. His brain was being held hostage by the relentless noise of the alarm and the ticking of the clock.
Whoever it was that entered didn't warrant more than a blank glance from him. He was ensnared in his own thoughts, where only those grating echoes and the insistent numbers held any significance. The world beyond could wait – right now, he was too entrenched in his own disorienting realm to care.
“Hyunjin, are you even listening to me?”
The words caught the attention of the tall boy, causing him to turn his head slowly and look at Chan. If he had been trying to talk to him earlier, Hyunjin wouldn't have noticed anyway. A slow realisation crept up on him, the alarm had stopped. How long had it been silent for? Time was playing tricks on him; he didn’t have the energy to fight against it as well.
“Hyunjin! I asked why you didn’t turn your alarm off? It’s been going off for ages and it’s all I could hear next door.”
Chan's voice carried a certain weight, neither angry nor particularly pleased. It was that tone he reserved for moments when he was taking charge, like when he was giving the other members a piece of his mind for being late to training or disregarding their bedtime. Lately, Hyunjin had found himself increasingly on the receiving end of this version of Chan. Part of him wanted to respond, to muster up the words or the energy to engage, but he felt strangely drained, incapable of mustering the resolve to challenge him.
The leader's expression remained unreadable as Hyunjin failed to offer a response. Chan's eyes lingered on his teammate for a moment, a mix of concern and something else flickering across his features. With a small shake of his head, he turned away from the scene and started to move back toward the door, his voice soft yet directive, "Breakfast will be ready in 30 minutes." There was nothing more said as he departed, leaving behind the same silence Hyunjin was becoming familiar with.
The mention of "breakfast" triggered an immediate response in the younger boy. His stomach betrayed him, a low, impatient growl that prompted his arms to instinctively wrap around his middle. If he could stifle the sound enough, then maybe it wouldn’t be real to him. He couldn’t even remove himself from his bed. How was he going to eat? How could he sit across from all his fellow members, it was an ordeal he wasn't sure he could face. His tired eyes blinked rapidly, attempting to push back the tears that threatened to surface. The once tranquil silence slowly began to trickle away, replaced only by an onslaught of intrusive thoughts.
Six weeks had passed since he had resumed his promotional activities, but it felt like an eternity. The aftermath of the scandal still lingered in the form of cutting comments and judgmental whispers that proved nearly impossible to escape. Hurtful words hung in the air, haunting him like an unwanted shadow, casting doubt on his every action and decision. The weight of it all was suffocating, slowly drowning him in a void of emotion.
His face looks so round now.
How is he a visual? If he can’t even do that, why is he still here?
He’s always saying ew but that’s what we all think about him.
The onslaught of thoughts continued, each one vying for attention, swirling around in a chaotic dance.
In the dimly lit room, Hyunjin lay sprawled across his bed, surrounded by a haunting stillness that mirrored the depths of his desolation. The world outside his window seemed distant and indifferent, a place where laughter and joy thrived, while he remained ensnared in his suffocating cocoon of sadness.
Every breath felt like a laborious effort, each inhalation an arduous battle against the relentless heaviness that crushed his chest. His thoughts were a storm of torment, crashing and swirling like turbulent waves, threatening to pull him into their unforgiving depths.
Restless fingers found solace in the tousled locks of his hair, gripping and pulling as if to anchor himself to some semblance of reality. It was a futile attempt, a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil that threatened to consume him. But the pain provided a fleeting escape from the relentless sadness that clung to him like a second skin.
His nails, ragged and untrimmed, scraped across his skin, desperate to feel something, anything, aside from the unending ache of sorrow. The sting of each scratch was a harsh reminder that he was still capable of sensation, even if it was pain.
The room bore witness to his silent battle, the walls echoing with the muffled cries of his soul. He wished for release, an escape from the relentless weight of his despair. But there was no refuge to be found, no sanctuary from the unrelenting sadness that gripped him.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each moment an eternity of torment. He longed for a reprieve, a moment of respite from the ceaseless drowning in his own emotions. Yet, in that solitary room, there was no lifeline to grasp, no salvation from the abyss that held him captive.
Amid the chaos, three words emerged, their insistence growing louder and louder until they dominated his consciousness. They scream at him, a mantra that plays on repeat, hammering against the walls of his mind. Three words had etched themselves so profoundly into his soul, searing their presence onto his very being. In some twisted way, they became both a torment and a lifeline, a reminder that he clung to, anchoring him in a sea of tumult. Those three words were his secret, the only thing that stood between him and the edge of a hysterical breakdown.
Ugly. Fat. Die.
Sometimes, Hyunjin found himself mouthing the words endlessly as they rattled in his head but today wasn’t one of those days. He let them take over as the tears started to drop out of his narrowed eyes, silently falling on his pillow until he had nothing left in him.
-
They didn’t call for Hyunjin when breakfast was ready. Chan had recognised the vacant look in his friend's eyes and decided it might be best to let him be. Instead, he placed a plate of food beside Hyunjin without saying a word, not that he would get a reply if he tried anyway.
A faint smile played on Chan's lips as he saw Hyunjin's dark hair framing his face. With a gentle and wordless gesture, he ran his fingers through the tousled strands. He went back to his own meal, giving Hyunjin the space he seemed to need.
The unspoken words that Hyunjin grappled with felt like a heavy weight on his tongue.
Help me.
But those words remained locked within him. He had established a new routine, he didn’t want to disturb the others in the dorm. Slowly but deliberately, he pushed himself into a sitting position, nausea and fatigue threatening to unbalance him. His attention eventually settled on the gift brought by the elder Australian. It almost seemed as if Chan had an uncanny sense of what he needed. Resting on the plate were pancakes, something that had always been a favourite, adorned with chocolate smiley faces that brought a hint of warmth to the moment.
Delicate fingers lifted the plate closer to his face. The scent engulfed, slowly tempting him closer and closer to the treat. Yet, as he inhaled, his breath caught in his throat. Intrusive thoughts slithered back into his mind, uninvited guests that twisted his emotions into knots. Unwelcome panic unfurled within him, suffocating, as he involuntarily tallied up what he was lusting for. The butter, the oil, the grease, the sugar—the thought of these components intensified his unease. Each item was a number, and numbers were increasing rapidly, a battlefield of obsessions. His hands trembled as he gripped the plate, anxiety intertwining with each movement.
Hyunjin's throat tightened as he swallowed back the panic. Clutching the plate, he made his way to the bathroom. There, in the private sanctuary of that space, he settled into the rhythm that had been slowly overtaking his morning routine. Piece by piece, he lowered the once-enticing meal into the toilet bowl, a cascade of muted splashes accompanying each release.
He watched as the food disappeared, swallowed by the swirling water, this was him taking back control. This routine, done countless times before, had become a ritualistic response to the fear and anxiety that gripped him. He didn't hesitate, his movements stiff and automatic, like a script he had committed to memory.
Even the dim bathroom light remained untouched as he went about his task. The shadows seemed to provide a cover for his actions, it was easier to hide in the dark than admit to what he was doing. Hyunjin's journey to the bathroom had been practised, his actions deliberate, but the entire process unfolded in a manner that felt almost detached from the reality he existed in. Once again, he found himself crouched in the dark, ashamed and alone.
-
Hyunjin's mind had carried him away again, the passing of time almost forgotten as he sat there on the floor, his thoughts a realm of their own. He roused himself from his mental prison and slowly made his way back to the main bedroom. A swift glance at the clock revealed how much more time he had wasted being selfish and pathetic, 35 minutes. Fuck, he was going to be late. He was supposed to be leaving to practise in 10 minutes. How did he only have 10 minutes? More time was slipping away every day.
He quietly hoped that he had been responsible enough to plug in his phone before this moment. It was a simple task he needed to accomplish so he could send a quick text to the manager, explaining that he wasn't up for practice due to feeling under the weather. The idea of using the same tired excuses he'd resorted to last week or even the week before held no appeal for him anymore but there was nothing else he could do.
There was a certain detachment in his eyes as they landed on his samsung, resting untouched on the desk in the corner. It wasn't so much about the guilt of letting the team down; he couldn’t bring himself to care about them today. He was grappling with a hollowness that seemed to render any emotions irrelevant. The phone was just an object, a piece of technology waiting for his command, while he navigated a world that felt strangely numb and distant.
Group: SKZ everywhere around the world!!
(07:06)
Hyunnie: I think I’m coming down with something, leave without me.
After a quick glance to make sure the screen was locked, he returned the phone to its spot and shrugged off the steady buzz of incoming replies. When he'd first leaned on this excuse, the text responses instead of personal visits might have stung, but these days, he welcomed the solitude it brought. They had all embraced him warmly upon his return, their open arms an expression of genuine care, but now, it all felt oddly hollow, like a beautifully wrapped package with nothing inside.
Breath, heavy with both tension and weariness, escaped Hyunjin's lips. It felt like that familiar chasm in his chest was widening once more, the weight of his emotions threatening to pull him down. His joints pleaded for some respite, the lack of sleep looming over him, yet duty called. His routine was a constant, a lifeline he clung to amid the chaos of his thoughts.
With a tired sigh, he lowered himself onto the floor. The room seemed to envelop him in its quiet, nothing outside of his four walls mattered anymore. The only sounds that resonated were the soft whisper of numbers, each counting echoing the rhythm of his heartbeat. The muffled creak of the bed accompanied him, a steady presence as he anchored himself to its support while engaging in the monotonous rhythm of sit-ups.
106 … 107 … 108 …
Black dots rippled in and out of his vision. Sweat started to slide off his dull skin and nothing looked like it had solid edges. He didn’t make it to 109. Instead his head hit the floor as it all faded away around him.
-
It was the ringing in his ears that roused Hyunjin first. He blinked, struggling to reorient himself, only to find himself sprawled on the floor. His limbs felt like dead weight, as if the world had decided to play a cruel joke on his coordination. The room danced around him, and his breathing felt strained, his chest constricting with an odd tightness. The realisation was slow but not unfamiliar — he had blacked out again.
A hollow emptiness, a vacuum sucking away any semblance of vitality, chewed at his core. He lay there, his vision fixed on a point on the ceiling, his throat tightening as unshed tears pricked at his eyes. The burden of it all, the unending exhaustion, the incessant pressures, had finally reached its boiling point. The dam holding his emotions started to collapse, and he was drowning in the flood. His eyes clenched shut, the moisture a blurry canvas for dancing lights. It hit him with a visceral force — he had been pushing himself so hard and he still wasn’t good enough.
With shaky determination, he pulled himself up from the floor. The room still swayed slightly around him, he closed his eyes until the movement stopped. Hyunjin slowly opened them, focusing on the clock once more. His heart sank as he registered the time, it was now 11 AM. He had lost even more of the day than he'd realised. His blackout had led to much needed rest but having unfurled himself from the floor, his joints hurt more than ever.
Turning slowly towards the full-length mirror positioned next to his bed, Hyunjin's heart sank at the reflection staring back at him. The clothes that once fit snugly now hung loosely from his frame but all he could see was that they were massive and that meant he was too. Despite the evidence of his shrinking body, an overwhelming feeling of disgust and ugliness lingered, an echo of the relentless criticism that had become a constant companion.
His tired eyes, marked by shadows that betrayed countless sleepless nights, stared back at him. He could barely look at himself anymore. Dark circles underscored his fatigue, evidence of nights spent grappling with thoughts that never seemed to subside. His attention lowered to his hands, the knuckles marred by faint, telltale bruises. It was a hidden confession, a silent admission of the desperate measures he had resorted to when confronted with food. The shame of it weighed heavily on him, they were getting harder and harder to hide.
His reflection was mocking him. The image in the mirror stared and provoked and taunted. A visceral reaction crept from Hyunjin, a raw surge of emotions that bubbled up from deep within. A rare, choked sob escaped his lips, the sound echoing in the room, a manifestation of the torment he held back so often. His hand balled into a fist, and before he could even think, he smashed his hand into the mirror. The glass shattered on impact, fragments of his own reflection cascading to the floor.
In the aftermath of the shattered mirror, an eerie silence hung in the air, the shards reflecting the fragmented state of his emotions. He stood there, stunned by his own actions, by the sudden and violent rupture of something he had relied on—a distorted sense of self-loathing that had fueled the intrusive thoughts he battled daily. He needed that mirror as much as he hated it, a tangible reminder of his self-criticism, and now, that reminder was gone.
Staring at his injured hand, the remnants of the mirror's destruction still glinting in the pale light, Hyunjin found himself strangely entranced by the sight. The jagged cuts adorned his skin like abstract art, it was like something he wanted to paint. The crimson droplets seemed to shimmer in an almost ethereal way, an unexpected beauty emerging from the chaos he had created. He was lost in this moment of destruction, the pain of the physical injury taking a backseat to the mesmerising tableau before him.
His reverie was abruptly interrupted by a soft, tentative knock on the door. The sound pierced through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. With a jolt, he shifted his gaze from his injured hand to the door, his heart rate quickening. He was supposed to be in the dorm alone.
“Hyunnie, I’m coming in.”
What was Chan still doing here?
In a rush of panic, Hyunjin's trembling hand reached for the nearest t-shirt strewn across his bed. He hastily tore off a piece, the fabric soft against his skin as he wrapped it around his injured hand. The makeshift bandage felt oddly comforting, a shield against the vulnerability he had inadvertently exposed. With his hand concealed, he moved towards the safety of his bed, his wide eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and apprehension.
The door creaked open, and Chan's presence entered the room like a sudden breeze. Hyunjin's gaze snapped towards the entrance, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched as Chan's eyes darted between the shattered mirror and him on the bed, a confusion evident in his expression. For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked, and then recognition dawned in Chan's features. It was as if the pieces fell into place, and the lines of worry etched themselves onto Chan's brow.
“You’re supposed to be at practice.” The words felt like sandpaper in Hyunjin’s mouth, they came out hazy and unfamiliar.
“I never leave anyone behind.”