Chapter Text
Hanahaki Disease;
A disease in which the victim affected by it coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love, or in other words—unrequited love. It's a painful, slow disease that often develops over months, if not years, and causes flowers to bloom and spread within the victim's lungs. It begins with coughing up a few petals, growing in intensity and pain until the victim is coughing up entire flowers, which eventually block central parts of their airway resulting in breathing problems and a decrease in oxygen intake. At that point, the disease has reached its final stage, and if it's not treated, it can be fatal. The disease can only end when the victim's beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, however, when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear, and that said, they're left empty, and in rare cases—They lose all memory of that person.
Hwang Hyun-Jin was twenty-two when he got diagnosed with Hanahaki disease.
Surprisingly enough, he'd actually been on tour when the whole thing had begun. It had been one eventful day of concerts and fan-signs with Stay, whereas he was happy, and energetic, and booming with the energy to please them with everything and anything he had. He could say it was a splendid day, a good experience, and something he'd remember for as long as he lives—until it wasn't. Several hours after the concert had ended everyone was sitting in the break room; eating, telling jokes, and getting ready to leave as the vans were getting ready for them. To pass the time, Hyun-Jin sat on the couch sketching on his iPad, all while eyeing the other members who sat in a circle on the floor in front of him.
They were engaged in a heartfelt conversation about seeing Stay today, recalling all their moments. Min-ho had brought up one Stay who was dressed in a blow-up bunny costume, holding a giant pudding prop—meanwhile, Chan couldn't stop laughing over the fact that Jeong-In tripped over one of the mic wires and fell on top of Seung-min during a performance. Felix had laughed about it too when Chan brought it up again, and Hyun-Jin couldn't help but look up from his work as the blonde's deep, yet soft laugh rang out; melodic and just beautiful. His shoulders shook with the force of it, and his eyes crinkled into crescents like they always did and Hyun-jin just...melted, really, completely enamored by him.
He felt something familiar flutter inside him, then, resurfaced with a sense of longing and want, a yearning that overwhelmed him from head-to-toe—love. That's what it was, yes, pure, unconditional love that has blossomed since the very moment Felix returned from elimination. Felix, who's pretty and sweet; who's always kind to everyone and makes them smile, with his deep voice and sunshine-like personality; who's strong regardless of anything and tries his best in learning their choreographies. Hyun-Jin just couldn't help but love the other when he was always there for him, offering him support and comfort whenever he needs it—and his little quirks and habits make it all the more so.
He's fond of Felix, and he adores everything about him so dearly, especially his beautiful freckles.)
The feeling dimmed, however, as soon as he saw Felix draping himself over Chang-bin's chest dramatically, giving himself a rest from his laughter. He took hold of Chang-bin's arms then—his biceps specifically, which were bulging and defined from years of hard lifting—beginning to squeeze and knead at the muscle. In response to this, Chang-bin snorted, wrapping his arms loosely around Felix's waist. He said something of the sort about, "You really can't get enough, can you?", and Felix laughed again, grinning to himself.
He really couldn't, and everyone knew that too because Felix was seemingly addicted to the feel of Chang-bin's muscles—or anyone for that matter who had them—always seizing the chance whenever he could to touch them. At the sight, Hyun-Jin felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Not so much with jealousy, though, because he knows it's just one of the many forms of platonic affection that Felix shows to all of them, and also because Chang-bin wasn't the type of guy for whom Hyun-Jin would hold something against over this, not at all—But rather, because he had the desire to be in his situation, to have what they have himself too.
Nonetheless, he pushed aside those thoughts and averted his gaze back down, staring resolutely at the picture on his iPad he'd been drawing; a rose that he had taken a picture of for reference the day earlier. He was almost finished with it, and he'd give it to Felix when he was done because he's been wanting another drawing from Hyun-Jin for weeks now. In the heat of the moment, Ji-sung had changed the topic of their conversation, turning over to Felix while wiggling his eyebrows smugly. He earned confused looks all around the circle, which prompted him to ask: "Is Chang-bin still your ideal type?"
Felix grinned wider when the question came across. "Of course Binnie is." He answered, confirming it for the second time, waving his hand around as though there was no doubt in his mind. "He's handsome, smart, athletic, buff, charismatic, talented—But he won't give me the chance since he doesn't give up on Minnie."
Ji-sung chuckled. "That's true." He said, and there was a silent agreement that it in fact was. Chang-bin was always pestering their puppy-like member, bothering him, holding him against him
during their movie nights while he squirms, playfully messing up his hair, or kicking his knees under the table when they eat dinner—-despite his wishes and such, but it's all affection for the other, still. "Now, what about Hyun-Jin?" Ji-sung said next, and that has the said person lifting their head in an instant—a little too fast, perhaps. "Do you think he's your type too? Would you date him if you got the chance?"
"What?" Felix blinked. It takes a second for him to register what was asked, and when he does, however, heat gathers at the tips of his ears, across his freckled cheeks in a light flush, and thankfully—saving him from the endless teasing—it goes unnoticed by the others due to the dim lighting in the room. He looks at Ji-sung for a moment longer, with narrowed eyes that leave a heavy glare of suspicion, a seemingly irritated look screaming; "Why'd you say that?", that only fades when he looks at Hyun-Jin next.
He finds the dancer staring back at him equally the same, his attention on them yet again—this time undivided and unbridled. His expression is undeniably blank, yet curious with some kind of expectation—some kind of hope burning bright in his boba eyes—hope that maybe, just maybe, Felix will give an answer Hyun-Jin will be satisfied by.
The other members recognize this too, judging by the eager anticipation of their faces and the slight smile that twitches at the corners of Ji-sung, Chan, and Seung-min's mouths. Felix continues staring at him through it all, gears turning and rotating in his head all the while. He stares, and stares and stares; the anticipation, anxiousness, and hope building up each second—then—
"Of course not," He ultimately said, biting his lip, and Hyun-Jin felt a tinge of disappointment curling within his stomach. "It's—it's a different case. Jinnie is my best friend, he's cute...handsome...and talented, sure, but—but everything is...platonic between us. Right, Hyunnie?" He asked, his voice slightly high pitched and wavering with uncertainty himself of whatever he was spouting. It's all nonsense really, they all know that as well, but still.) Everyone looks at Hyun-Jin then, their eyes boring into him, digging beneath the layers of his skin and piercing into the softest parts of his quickly-becoming vulnerable figure—and he swallows.
Subconsciously, he squeezes his apple pencil in his hand, the squishy blue grip around it folding with the force. "Right," He replied at some point, playing into it all—and despite himself, he forces a small smile on his face. He should've stopped talking there too, let the matter drop or tried to change the subject from this particular one—or at least, something, anything, else. But he didn't. Instead, he continued with a mouth that was suddenly dry, his lips trembling out: "I couldn't imagine anything more with you,"
It was a murmur to himself more than anything, a convincing delusion—but they heard nevertheless—Felix heard, clearly and distinctly and he seemed hurt by it almost, from how he winced and falters.
Hyun-jin feels guilt and remorse seeing his reaction, wants to say he didn't mean it, that he's so sorry for hurting him, for lying—but he doesn't get the chance as Chang-bin's the one to do it through comforting actions. He presses Felix more against him—cradling him close, and begins talking about another part of their concert to distract him while ruffling his hair and feeding him jellies, which makes Felix smile again. And as quick as it surfaced—the guilt he had felt disappeared. In its place is a subtle wave of bitterness, hot and insistent and overwhelming, pulsating through his veins in a rapid, powerful beat.
Hyun-Jin glances back at his iPad. He bites the bottom of his lip—tries to focus on his drawing again; tries to ignore the way his hands are clammy and the way tears prick his eyes; tries to pretend he isn't being scrutinized by the entirety of the band and that he doesn't feel like there are a million questions swimming behind their eyes. He tries, really, truly he does. Felix is hurt, he's affected, (and he deserves to be consoled), but Hyun-Jin is even more.
—
When Hyun-Jin looks up again it's when he's in the car—outside the window, where the bland, night sky, with no stars or clouds in sight, is visible. He rests his head against the glass, and it's pounding and wrong and the window makes his mind hurt even more, but he can't bring himself to pull away from the chilling relief it brings. Under any other circumstances, though, he would have leaned towards his opposite side, where Jeong-In was sat, and rested his head against the maknae's shoulder to enjoy the warmth and comfort he always brought—But Hyun-jin just doesn't feel deserving of that sort of warm affection, at least not at the moment.
He's hurt, he's upset, he's frustrated, and he wants to wallow in his room, pull his legs up to his chest, and cry about the fact that Felix doesn't reciprocate his feelings seemingly with how he responded. (But he won't cry. He's not weak—he doesn't need to—he does cry, eventually.) Amidst it all, he wonders how the freckled blonde is. He hopes that he's okay now. He hopes that he hasn't completely ruined the other’s mood or hurt him. He hopes, as cruel and selfish and wrong as it is, that Felix doesn't avoid him after that, or hold anything against him for that matter either. So, he just closes his eyes, relaxes somewhat, and tries to ignore the growing ache that sits in his chest and the lump that rises in his throat.
It's another turn, then another straight away around three blocks—past a convenience store and a park—till Hyun-Jin feels a gentle nudge on his shoulder, and hears a voice. "Hyun-jin?" It's Min-ho this time, and when he blinks he notices they're in front of the dorm complexes. The car doors are open and everyone is grabbing their bags and belongings from the trunk, all ready to head into the building. "We're here." He says, and in his hand, he holds Hyun-Jin's own luggage; his backpack and his camera. He doesn't move for a moment or two, merely blinking, his gaze distant and mind still lost somewhere else until he finally nods slightly—getting up to grab his things from the other.
Even as they begin walking to the entrance, Hyun-Jin feels detached from everything. He feels as if he's floating, a mere atom in a world muted by TV static, everything feeling slightly out of place. He drags his feet behind everyone, purposely trying to get himself together before he walks inside and sees Felix—but of course, there's always Chan who notices and walks with him slowly. "Are you alright?" He says, and the words hang in the air between a heavy silence; a tension. Hyun-Jin remains quiet, and the only response he offers is a simple shrug—not to be rude, but because he doesn't think he can talk at the moment as the lump in his throat seems to have doubled the dryness tenfold, making words difficult. He doesn't know if he's fine, or if he's okay, really. Nonetheless, Chan understands, partially, and pats him on the back.
Inside, the dorm looks like a long-awaited, melodic freedom to Hyun-jin's tired, glossy, eyes. He feels as if he's been engulfed in relief and set free with thankfulness that the ride had been quick, even more so that everyone has decided to just go to bed, meaning no late stay-ups or takeout, no having to see Felix for the meantime. And Hyun-Jin doesn't register it, doesn't really think about it, but just—one moment he's packing away his things; showering, feeling cold regardless and so, so bitter—and then the next he's in his room, laying against the sheets with his face pushed into the pillows.
There's stuttering breaths here and there, a few stray sniffles, and a few whimpers that slip past his lips, but overall, he's quiet, and as much as he wishes it wasn't happening, his cheeks grow wet as he cries. His bleak facade has broken, his neutrality has slipped away like it'd never been present in the first place, and now it's replaced with a of his throat—and he wants to scream, almost, (and maybe he should, he thinks) but he doesn't. There is a multitude of emotions churning through his body, and they all gather at his chest—all revolving around Felix, their sweet Angel.
"..but everything is...platonic between us."
The words ring in his ears, and he wishes he could forget them. It's a constant reminder; a restriction put on blast that their relationship is purely platonic, that Felix only sees him as a friend—nothing more and nothing less. Felix has made it known that he doesn't love him. And yet he finds himself desperately wishing the freckled blonde did, still, that perhaps, it may have been a joke, or maybe something forced out of fear and panic and expectation, so he said that. But deep down, or at least what Hyun-Jin's mind tells him, he knows it's not false. It's not a joke, nor a slip of the tongue either.
He meant it and it hurts and isn't Hyun-Jin just a lovesick fool? The dancer has gotten his answer, seems to know Felix would never love him back—he knows, god, he knows all too well—Yet, he doesn't think he can stop loving Felix. He also knows that it might seem childish, and maybe it is, (he recognizes that at least). But he doesn't care, as long as he gets to see Felix smiling; to hear Felix laugh; to hear him call his name; to be with him every single day, he'll take whatever happiness offers to him; whatever he can. Even if it means he has to control his feelings for years to come, bury them deep, and seal them away under thick layers of dirt—along with the fact that he'll never be able to tell the freckled blonde how much he means to him.
When Hyun-Jin first feels an itch at the walls of his throat, he blames it on the weather because, after all, it's a chilly night in March. It could be a cold, (or because he's been sobbing so much). When he feels the second itch, however, he realizes that it may not be as he begins feeling constricted. He sits up immediately, tries to clear his throat but then a string of coughs breaks free. They're harsh and sharp, accompanied by choked-gasping noises. It was almost like something was wedged in his throat, appearing from nowhere when he felt just fine minutes ago.
Within moments he started hacking up what felt like something plush, soft, yet leafy?—and despite the texture—when it came out it left his throat raw and scratchy. Hyun-Jin stared down at his palms; splattered with dark splotches of blood, then at the strange thing he'd just coughed up, which was definitely not anything he'd eaten earlier—and it stared back. It was something velvety, glossy, and red, containing toothed edges; a flower petal. A fucking flower petal, and that of a rose it was. And roses—they're not just the flower, aren't they? They contain thorns; Thorns that prick and dig and pinch.)
Hyun-Jin swore his eyes became wider than owls, completely shocked and mortified; just flat-out—scared. That's exactly what it was, yes. He was scared that he coughed up something such as a flower petal—something that comes from the dirt and grows from the earth; scared for the fact that it came from his throat, from inside of him. And he's sure he didn't go outside to eat flowers, although the only logical reason is that he might've eaten some in a salad he had days ago. But even that's wrong, the human digestive system takes about six hours for food to process, meaning it's long in the past.
Still, what's most frightening, other than the gorgeous petal, is why was there blood in his palms? Hyun-Jin stares at the crimson liquid for a while—for a full five minutes, actually, as he attempts to wrap his thoughts around what had happened and what his next move should be. Soon enough he sat up, almost stumbling out of Orthostatic hypotension—and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. While he was in there too, he gargled salt water, thinking it was just a mishap, a glitch in the system kind of thing. But it wasn't, it was so much more and he realized that quickly. Just a little over seven minutes from wiping his mouth, he'd coughed up another bloody petal.
—-
"Are you sure you want me to drive you to the hospital?" Is what the band manager asked the next day, Mr. Kim, with concern evident in both his tone and expression as he looked over at the pale dancer sitting beside him in the passenger seat of the van. "I mean...you have another tour in two hours with the others, so you'll be missing it."
"I understand that," Hyun-Jin replies, nodding slightly, though he's unsure himself about the whole situation. He doesn't want to miss the concert or be unable to see STAY, but this is something he has to do. It really is. He needs to make sure he's all right; he needs to be tested; he needs to know about whatever is going on with his body, his throat, and why it's happening now, in particular. Because, honestly, he's worried, and this is one of those times when it really matters, when Hyun-jin needs help, whether it be physical therapy, medication, or even an operation of the sort. "I just really think I need to go. I haven't been feeling well lately, and I already have an appointment set."
"Well, okay...if you really need to." Mr. Kim sighs, furrowing his eyebrows. He begins driving, finally. "I would never prevent you from seeing a doctor or anyone of the sort, so I'll drive you. And I'll remove you from the remaining schedules today. The others will also know—"
"Don't tell them." Hyun-Jin pushes out before he could stop himself, eyes widening. "Just say it's a family matter, please. I don't need them to worry." He pleads, desperate. The least he needs is to come back with concerned questions and overwhelming talks from Chan, Min-ho, or Felix at most.
"Alright, but can I at least know what's going on? You're worrying me here, Jin." At the question Hyun-Jin's stomach churns. He bites at his lip, and averts his gaze towards his lap, holding his bag tightly to his chest. "It's nothing too bad, don't worry. It's just a minor throat condition that I think I need to go see someone about, that's all." He says, shaking his head—trying to convince the manager, but also himself that it is in fact, not "too bad" at all.
Oh but it is, and that much is clear after last night; After he'd coughed up not one, but seven petals in between intervals of less than ten minutes. And amidst it, he tasted the coppery-iron tanginess of blood from it—his clothes stained and fingers clammy with the fluid pooled behind his nails. There's no denying how much it hurt, each reel causing his throat to close up; his voice to come out raspy and rough, not nearly as smooth and pleasant sounding as it usually is. Even now, his throat throbs, stings, burns, but it's less...prominent than then, which is good, but not quite the relief he'd been looking for.
"Okay," Mr. Kim says, and he's not exactly convinced. Deep down Hyun-Jin knows what he's thinking, what he wants to say: "If it's not too bad, why would you need to make an official appointment instead of seeing our personal doctors?" but he doesn't, and Hyun-Jin is glad he doesn't push it.
"Thank you,"
"It's not a problem, although I hope you'll tell me if you think it's anything serious, or if it's diagnosed that way—and I'll do everything I can to help, okay?"
Hyun-Jin nods once more, and this is where another venomous lie begins, forcing itself into existence between his lips. He feels guilty. "Of course, sir."
When they arrive at the hospital, it takes Hyun-jin a few minutes to actually get out of the car. He sits there at first, trembling hands folded as neatly as he can manage within his lap, mind whirring through endless scenarios of what is to happen when he tells the doctor what's been going on:
"Hi I'm Hwang Hyun-Jin, and I've been throwing up roses,"
The sentence sounds so unrealistic when he voices it in his head, and if he does utter it aloud who would believe him? He sounds crazy, and he sounds insane, and surely people would think he's mentally unstable—looking for some type of attention. He really didn't think this through, and at the same time, that's something that makes him not want to go in. But he has to. He needs to know what this condition he's going through is, yet he doesn't want to at the same time because what if it is something serious? Damaging? Life-threatening? Hyun-Jin's stomach churns at the possibilities. It's certainly abnormal, and unusual, and he doesn't think he can—
"Hyun-Jin?" It's his manager's soft voice breaking through his thoughts, shielding him from the internal panic that threatens to consume him whole. Hyun-Jin flinches from the sound nonetheless, lifting his head to meet his eyes slowly. A small smile makes its way onto Mr. Kim's face, and he places his hand on the dancer's shoulder, squeezing in a comforting motion. It calms Hyun-Jin somewhat. "Are you okay?" He asks. "We're here, and your appointment is soon. Are you going to go in?"
Ah. Hyun-Jin blinks. "Yeah, thank you for reminding me."
"No problem." Mr. Kim laughs. "Do you want me to wait out here till you're done?"
"If that's alright," Hyun-Jin murmurs, unfastening his seatbelt. "But if you're busy with the others I think you should go to them."
"No, no I'm not. The other staff is there and they'll be fine. It's completely fine with me to wait. Text me when you're done, okay?"
The dancer only nods, giving a genuine smile at how nice and thoughtful their manager is, before heading inside. The interior of the hospital is bland, to say the least, but that's expected of course. There are white walls, tiled floors, and metal doors everywhere and anywhere he looks. Everything looks clean, however, pristine, and clinical, and it gives off a scent of bitter antiseptic and cleaning solution. There are no splashes of color, just monotones, nor any plants anywhere to lighten the atmosphere. And if there was one he could count, it would be at the check-in desk, where a Crayon Shin figure sat by the laptop.
What makes it so much of a hospital is the constant on-and-off beeping noise every three seconds of a monitor nearby. There are nurses and sick elderly patients all around the place; seated on the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, coughing into their arms; others being wheeled down hallways, and others just—here, looking exhausted and bored beyond belief. It's a very sterile and depressing area indeed, well, at least this type of hospital.
He had to pick it because it was the only one that would accept appointments for the following day, regardless of the poor rank and rating it had. (that was entirely out of Hyun-jin's comfort zone, too. But he was desperate for help, okay?) The sooner this is over with, the sooner he can leave this place and forget all about it. You see, Hyun-Jin isn't entirely fond of hospitals, despite knowing their functions mean good. It's just the sharp smell of medicine, the needles, the sounds of crying, moaning, and gritty coughs—all of those things that he never liked much, make him uncomfortable. They remind him of the symptoms of death.
"Mr. Hwang?"
Hyun-jin glances up from where he'd been pretty intensely staring at the ground, hands stuffed in his pockets and legs bouncing. His eyes focus on a lady slightly older-looking than him, about in her thirties but nonetheless with gray hair and wrinkles from stress and tiredness. "Yes, that's me." He confirms. "Please, follow me then." She says grimly, and before he could even get up she's already walking off, leaving him to follow her with hurried steps. She leads him a room or three down the hallway, stopping just outside of a—blue door this time. (Some color, finally.) On the outside of it there was a small silver label pasted to the handle, and Hyun-Jin squints at the words:
Dr. Hoon
Hyun-Jin's nerves flow with anxiety after reading. He seems to stand there too, idly, filled with an overwhelming sense of regret and fear—and that has the nurse raising her eyebrow. She began to tap her feet out of impatience. "Is there something wrong?" She asks him, tilts her head.
"No," Hyun-Jin answers quietly, confused.
"Well, this is your room. Are you not going in?" She says, pointing towards the door. He blinks, licks across his lips, and oh.
Oh.
"Right, yes, yeah—thank you." Hyun-Jin nods when the realization kicks in, his ears burning. The nurse only narrows her eyes before walking away. Hyun-Jin winced, feeling slightly embarrassed as he stood there dumbly, waiting for something that wouldn't happen, seemingly. For him, it's usually the doctor themself who comes to fetch you, otherwise, you wait outside until they open the door and call you in. Although in this case, the door was closed and he had to walk in himself. (Which was..fine. Mistakes and misunderstandings happen.)
So, hesitantly, he turns the knob and walks inside. The interior is fairly the same as the exterior, except that now there was more furniture. The walls were lined with cabinets and racks of equipment, holding medical concoctions and whatnot. Alongside that was a patient bed, a scale, and various other equipment and devices that occupied the room. It looked fairly standard like everything else in the building, as expected, and the only thing in it that drew his attention was the bouquet of roses on the doctor's desk.
Roses.
Pink, orange, and yellow ones at that. Not the crimson, garnet, and scarlet-red roses; not the bloody kind that comes out of him either. Hyun-Jin's stomach churns at the sight of them. Is this a blatant sign for him to turn back and give up? A sign that tells him this will be a useless visit, that the understaffed employees about and around aren't "reliable", and that even the doctor won't be of much help? He isn't sure, and maybe this is a little delusion of false doubt his mind has made up. The doctor behind said desk seemed to notice him staring at them, and cleared his throat. Hyun-Jin swallowed and took a seat across from him.
"My wife just brought those in for me. Do you like roses?" Dr. Hoon inquires after getting the dancer's attention, looking at him expectantly. He was a middle-aged man with round glasses and thin, oily, brown hair, sporting a large bald spot in the middle—the few hairs around it seemingly holding onto his scalp desperately. (He thinks he needs to shave the rest of it off, needs to let it go.) The man looked tired too, just like the others, and Hyun-Jin couldn't help but wonder if none of the employees here got any sleep, or were overworked to the point they didn't put much effort into providing good service.
"No, I don't like them, not now at least," Hyun-Jin answered, digging his nails into his thighs.
"I see," Dr. Hoon chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "And it makes sense that you don't, based on the report I received. Hwang Hyun-Jin, correct?"
"Yes, that's me," Hyun-Jin confirmed once again, and the doctor hummed, marking down something on the laptop nearby. "Please follow me over to the scale then. I'd like to take you through some standard tests before we start."
Hyun-Jin was subject to weight and height measurements, blood pressure and body temperature, and a bunch of other stuff he didn't understand and really didn't want to—Until the X-ray. At that part, the doctor had him take off his jacket, then positioned him to stand in front of the scanner. The machine made loud beeps and high-pitched rings before several radiographs were printed out, showing his xray scan and his stats. The doctor's eyebrows furrowed upon seeing them, and he made a deep rumbling sound—something from shock and surprise. "Let's sit down," He told Hyun-Jin and he did.
"So, Mr. Hwang," The doctor spoke again, looking him up and down, scrutinizing him. Hyun-Jin curled inward and slouched, feeling put on the spot just by his bleak stare. He shuffled through a couple of papers, then slid them over to Hyun-Jin. They were copies and files of what he submitted for his appointment yesterday; a brief overview of the problem. "The information I've gotten from these is that you've started coughing up—flowers." He starts, and Hyun-Jin nods.
"I know it sounds made up, and odd, but I am. I swear I am, and I—-" The doctor slides another set of papers to him, the radiographs from the X-rays, and Hyun-Jin pauses to glance at them. When he does he can't pull his eyes away. It's a series of photos containing X-rays of his chest, his lungs more specifically and there's—There's a bit of inflammation, of course, a tiny bit, but then there's a small object there, holding the shape of a flower bud.
A fucking flower bud.
In an unusual shape, yes, but that's what it is, and there are signs of it unfolding—-blooming—as monotone petals are captured sticking out. Hyun-Jin's breath hitches and his lips are moving before he knows it. "What is this?"
"It's exactly what it looks like, Mr. Hwang." Dr. Hoon states, pointing a wrinkly finger at the picture. "This is a flower bud," He says—and doesn't Hyun-Jin know that already? He just wanted it to be wrong, incorrect, a false error in the X-ray that could've been a mishap. But there aren't any, no mishaps or glitches in the system, again, and he should've expected that by now. "And when this bud blooms fully, it will grow, spread, and invade your diaphragm space. It will continue until it's digging into your lung tissues, limiting your breathing." Mr. Hoon explains, making a pause so that Hyun-Jin can listen closely, can take it all in. (Because he'll certainly need to.)
Hyun-Jin takes in a deep shaky breath, feeling a knot of dread form in his throat as the implications sink in. He takes another one, and he wants to laugh. The idea of having flowers growing inside his chest, pushing their way out, spreading throughout his airspace—he feels lightheaded like he might faint. Like he might collapse.
It's imaginary.
It's absurd.
It's insane.
But it's true, and—
Hyun-Jin thinks he's gonna go crazy. Yet, he's trying to do anything but let these feelings of denial, and the reality of it all overtake him like they always seem to do. "Do you know what it is? Is there a cause?" The dancer manages slowly at some point, attempting to keep the fear of this illness from his voice. It doesn't work though, because it's creeping its way into his skin, seeping into every nerve in his body. He's sure there must be a cause for this because there has to be something; there has to be an explanation and a reason for this abnormality—for the flowers, for the blood, that comes with it too. He wants—no, needs answers.
"There is," Dr. Hoon replies, and Hyun-Jin's heart leaps, beating fast and pounding. "And that cause in fact is one-sided affection." He explains, and Hyun-Jin blinks. Before he could comment on it, however, the doctor stops him. "To inform you," He says, "What you have is Hanahaki Disease. It is a disease in which the person affected coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love."
Disease? One-sided affection? Love? (Those words alone cause such an unpleasant sensation to curl within him. It's so warm, yet so cold at the same time.)
"That sounds..."
"Like something out of a book, yeah? Well, it's not particularly. Other patients have come here claiming the same thing, diagnosed the same by X-ray too. You aren't the only one," Dr. Hoon added, and to Hyun-Jin, at least in the back of his mind, it seemed as if the doctor hardly believed it himself (Which he didn't, really, but the evidence was there). Nonetheless, Hyun-Jin doesn't question the doctor's "experience" in the matter, because what the doctor said made sense to him somewhat. After all, the unrequited love, the pretty flowers?—It's all a reminder how Hyun-Jin has been in love with Felix for a very long time, since debut and till the present, and red roses are always the epitome of romantic love. Not to mention they're plants of great admiration, often symbolizing affection, care).
"But how does that happen?" He asks quietly, biting his lip. "How in the world did a flower appear in my chest?"
"We'll...sometimes germs and lung tissues can cause things to happen—but I'm not entirely sure. It's unsolved and a mystery to us just as it is to you. But, what we've got out of it is that it comes from loving someone. Each previous report stated that, and I know it may sound...odd, yet that's just what it is." He says, taking his glasses off and blowing on the lenses before replacing them. "For the effects, The disease involves complex symptoms to develop such as fevers, soreness, blood loss, lung tightness, constraint...etc, etc. They're all" the doctor lists them off lazily, and uncaringly, and Hyun-Jin winces. He doesn't know if he should be angry or worried at his tone and his take on this all. The doctor is acting like it's not a serious matter, that this is a simple condition.
"Complex? Those symptoms can all lead to...." Hyun-Jin swallows, trailing off.
"Death." Dr. Hoon continues his sentence due to Hyun-Jin's reluctance. "That's correct," He confirms, and suddenly the dancer feels like he's gonna be sick. His stomach is twisting in knots and everything feels so, so, wrong. He's going to throw up. There are black spots swarming his vision, and tears threaten to spill out of the corners of his foggy eyes. The thought of him dying from this disease, at a time so early in age—where he still has things to do, like being there for his family, STAY, the band—and Felix.
He just couldn't. Not yet.
"Are there...any treatments?" Hyun-jin's voice is barely above a whisper, but it doesn't go unnoticed by the doctor who immediately shakes his head. "Of course there are." Dr. Hoon answers, somewhat assuring him, and he reaches out to place a hand over the dancer's trembling one. He smiles. "All you need to do is get the person you love to return your feelings. If you can't however, you may need to get surgery."
Get the person you love to return your feelings?
The way the doctor says it sounds forceful—like he'd have to push Felix to—and if possible, guilt trip the freckled boy to start loving him regardless of anything. It's wrong, and Hyun-Jin would never do that. Felix has already confirmed he doesn't love him, and that he never will because their relationship is purely platonic. The surgery, however, he could try to do. If it saves his life, perhaps it'll help. Perhaps it will give him the chance to recover, to be here for the others. And it would surely be painful; having medical tools cut open his chest to reach his lungs and the flowers—but he could handle it and the healing process. Hyun-Jin is strong, and he's determined, and he's willing to do anything—
"Something you should be informed of if you decide to do the surgery is that there's a high chance of it causing you to lose all memory of the person you loved." Dr. Hoon adds shortly, and Hyun-Jin's stomach twists more, if possible. (He's already feeling nauseous, and It's always one thing after another, Isn't it?)
What the doctor is saying is that the memories of him and Felix together; their happy times, and their bad times; their smiles and their tears—most of all how they met—would all be gone? Everything and anything they've done together? That new piece of information hurts more than anything, and the thought of it stings and stabs into his chest, leaving behind an ache that spreads and spreads and spreads. He almost coughs up a flower then, really, as he feels his throat close up and his breath goes stiff—but only almost. Although, he does feel the blood come up, a small amount mixing in with his spit, and it makes his mouth taste bitter again.
Hyun-Jin takes a deep breath, and forces himself to swallow it back down. "I think..." He pushes out after a careful, short, deliberation. "I'm not going to try to go through any of the cures." He says, and he knows it's selfish, of course he does, but it can't be helped when both of the treatment choices are too much for him. He can't bear forcing Felix to return his feelings, and he doesn't think he'd be able to live with himself if he lost his memory of him either. I'd hurt him far worse than the flowers do. And this way—doing nothing about it—seems like the better choice. Even if it's selfish, and insensitive to those who would want him to go through the surgery despite the consequences—Even if it means he'll die within a few months, maybe a year or two.
That said, Hyun-Jin will hide his disease for the time being—for as long as he can, really, and he'll pretend as though everything is fine and everything is normal, that he hasn't started coughing up pretty roses which lead to a fatal disease, that he isn't losing blood, and that he won't get a cure for it all. Through lies, and a copacetic facade—he'll manage his feelings, he'll endure it, and he'll persist till the end.
After telling Dr. Hoon that he wouldn't do any of the cure processes, he only shook his head disappointingly, albeit surprised he didn't go with either method—but nonetheless accepted it. Before he dismissed Hyun-Jin, he prescribed him a bottle of tablets that would reduce the pain and growth of the disease; "deflower suppressants", they were called. When Hyun-Jin got back to the car, Mr. Kim immediately asked him how it was. He told him it was alright, that it was nothing too serious for his health with a straight face, yet a heavy heart.
To make it all the more believable, he received an edited note from the doctor after requesting (begging) that his diagnosis of having Hanahaki was off the record, and instead be replaced by a lesser-worrying type of cause, like a respiratory infection. On the note, it was also recommended that he be given permission to take a short break from his idol duties and rest at his old apartment for the time being, because moving around too much while dancing and wasting energy singing would worsen the disease quickly this early on. Furthermore, if he was caught throwing up flowers while in the dorm. it would all be bad.)
Mr. Kim was understanding, and as a result, he agreed without hesitation. He's too good like that, and he'll always put his group's safety first. If it means Hyun-Jin will miss the upcoming tours, so be it. The problem with that, though, is that he'll have to make an official announcement to STAY, the company, and the members that something suddenly came up—unrelated to his hospital visit—and Hyun-Jin is required to step aside for a short hiatus.
Even after the brief announcement, however, it was still enough for his family and the group to worry that he'd be going away for the weekend, and maybe a little longer depending on unknown...things, but all is well. Hyun-Jin had explained it simply as a small vacation for something urgent, a bit of time away where he could sort his thoughts out and try to figure out things alone, like what he'd do with himself in the future. (If he'd even be alive then, that is, and how he'd deal with containing the condition of his lungs and chest when he returned.) Hyun-Jin hadn't wanted them to waste their time worrying about him more, after all, so he'd assured them all with false information.
Hyun-Jin learned a lot about the disease during his hiatus. Although, his break wasn't necessarily a "break" to get better, because constantly Hyun-Jin had to worry about his breathing and keeping food down, rather than relaxing and being on orders to rest. Each night in his old, reserved apartment he took refuge—he found himself crying more often than usual. Sometimes it was hot tears that pricked his eyes after he'd begun coughing again, other times it was droplets that overflowed and leaked onto his cheeks after he'd pushed out another sharp batch of petals.
And if he didn't sob enough over the petals, the sharp thorns that came up occasionally made him. They'd pick and scratch at his esophagus, inflaming the tissue there and making it hard for him to swallow. Sometimes they'd even get stuck in the dry parts of his throat, and Hyun-Jin would have to make himself purge to get them all out—stick his fingers down his throat and force them out along with the food he tried to eat beforehand.
If that wasn't bad already, his mind was too restless to allow itself a moment's peace, and if he did manage to fall asleep through it, he'd always be woken up within an hour or so by another round of gritty coughing. The pain was always followed by an ache that wouldn't go away, too, a permanently deep pain that dug into his lungs and ate away at his flesh, carrying no remorse from the neverending agony. (Not even when he prayed to god, or some being out there that could help him.) So, he curled inward, he cried, and he let himself grow numb to the sharp, sharp, hurt and sorrow that filled him every time it happened—All the while accepting that he was struggling to do something that had never been an issue before; breathe.
The only things that gave him temporary relief were the deflower suppressants and the warm fluids of tea he managed to drink every so often; a concoction of honey, lemon, and ginger that made everything soothingly bearable. The tea was truly so helpful as Hyun-Jin could rarely eat most of the time, and it kept him full somewhat, even if it was just water. Those remedies were his savior, his comfort, and his salvation. They were a reprieve for the hurting inside of his chest and his broken heart, and they ebbed the sickly flower production, keeping it from overwhelming him completely. Nevertheless, the disease was still hard to deal with, of course, miserably difficult at that—but Hyun-Jin found himself getting used to it by the time his break was over, and in the months following.
That said, sometimes he knows when it's coming, and has a premonition. At the start he'd feel a small twinge, a slight sting—or a tickle in his throat, then his trachea would tighten, causing his breath to hitch for a second. Next, his lungs would constrict with that painful ache. He'd begin coughing, and within thirty seconds the flowers would come up. With this, it enables him to prepare somewhat—giving him the chance to run to the nearest "safe zone", (An area without anyone he knows or recognizes) before releasing it all. Something he's noticed is that it mostly happens when he's around Felix, when he thinks about the boy, or when something happens with them that reminds Hyun-Jin they're only friends.
Although, there are some times when it happens unprovoked, uncontrollable to him, really. Even so, it's not Felix's fault for this happening. Nothing of it is. He's innocent, and instead, it's his own. Hyun-Jin's the one who expected more and misunderstood their relationship. It's his fault for liking him, too—for getting everything wrong and developing feelings when things were just supposed to be platonic between them. You're not supposed to fall for your best friend after all, and therefore he realizes his fault, and it's fine. It's completely fine. Hyun-Jin can live with loving him from afar, he can live with burying his feelings or want. It's all fine with him as long as they stay close friends; as long as he gets to see Felix happy and healthy and smiling, he's satisfied.
And upon accepting that, Hyun-Jin couldn't find room in himself to hate the single thing that was slowly killing him. Even two years later he couldn't, where now, he's gained the skill of becoming quite the good liar; quite good at concealing his vulnerability and hiding things relating to the disease. He doesn't feel that much guilt now when he tells the members nothing is wrong and everything is right—that he's only a tad sick and that he hasn't just excused himself to throw up life-threatening flowers, too. Hyun-Jin is well aware that it's wrong, but if it prevents them from worrying about him it's all worth it.
—
"Jinnie, how far are you guys in preparing for your Five-STAR comeback?" Hyun-Jin reads a YouTube comment aloud from his phone in somewhat-slow English. It's messy, and it takes him a while to pronounce some things properly, but—but nonetheless, he's fluent, and he's able to be understood. The time displays 4:00 am on his phone that's prompted on a tripod, high enough for everyone to see the pigtails in his hair and far enough to view the small sketchbook he has open. In addition, there are a few watercolors spread about and a dirty jar of mixed paint-water (that he's spilled several times by bumping his knee against the table excitedly).
To the side of those he's got several different brushes in front of him—a blue that's a bit stale for texture, a green one that has black paint already on it, and a bunch of colored pencils. On the night-shift lit screen, there are a hundred, maybe a thousand, or even twelve thousand comments flying across the screen, and even more are coming as people are still joining in. Some STAY's type 'morning' to him, and others type 'goodnight' along with 'I'm staying up just for your live!', which makes him hope (and pray) that none of them have exams or day shifts soon. Nonetheless, he likes the comfort and company they all bring.
"Well," Hyun-Jin starts again, his tone coming across as somewhat mysterious and what he hopes is contemplative. "I'm not necessarily allowed to give details or spoilers about the comeback, but—"
But he does anyway.
"We have recorded a few MV's, and I have to admit the choreo for our main song is tough. Chan has especially been working hard on organizing the tracks. Just...think about the sky, too. That's all I can spoil." He says. There's a small, lopsided smirk spreading across his lips as the comments fly faster across his screen after he'd spoken. There were things like, "The Sky???", and "Chan best leader." and then the occasional "That sounds like it will be better than Maxident..." essay-type comments that mean so much to him. They're always filled with positivity, proudness of how far they've come, and affirmations that make him want to melt. (In the case that, sometimes, he finds himself screenshotting them to send to the group chat.)
He reads, and reads some more then—
'Love from —-!'
'Ne zaman baglicak'
'If the comeback has to do with the sky, what about stars?'
'HOLAAA'
'Will you guys be traveling to Japan again?'
'Ugh I have to go to class soon'
"That's right," Hyun-Jin replies to some of them, giving the camera a twinkling, shining sort of look, all the while leaning on his elbow with his sweater paw resting on his cheek. What comes next are emoticons; sweet, and endearing emoticons of hearts of all types, mushy-love-eyed emojis, and he surely sees his name being brought up in caps alongside white ones. His lips fill into a smile at that, and he looks down at his sketchbook shyly—slightly surprised and having unintentionally caused that. On the watercolor page there are brownish-red brick buildings and magenta anemones. There are gray sidewalks, and yellowish-green bits of grass here and there protruding from the cracks he detailed also.
It's a beautiful scene, at least in Hyun-Jin's opinion, where he finds himself momentarily distracted by the colors before he glances back at the screen. He continues to read again shortly, and he scans and squints over more thrilled, fast-paced comments responding to the comeback or random things he said beforehand. He's able to spot some that joke my threaten to tell one of the members he spoiled something (mainly Min-ho), which is funny and he laughs at them for a bit and—
Except every so often, as he's looking through the comments, one of them will stand out to him a little more than those do, like:
'Nobody gives a shit about you guy's comeback 🤮🤮🤮🤮'
Or even—
'You're nothing more than a pretty face. That's why your popular.'
'Have you seen the rumors about you yet? You'll bring down the group'
'I wish you stayed on hiatus'
'You're a bully that got away with it'
'One of StrayFlops are live again'
And it's not just on YouTube, too. He's seen them in Bubble messages, the TikTok comments, and the Instagram messages as well. They're there and they're prominent most to him amongst all the warm-hearted ones. (You could say he's learned to have an eye for them). He doesn't get bothered by them too much, however, and tries to ignore them—because he knows that those aren't stays, and the real reason why they're appearing in the comments. It's a new comeback period after all, and every time that happens they receive hate and scandals to try and prevent it, especially now recently, because their comeback is something big. More so because there have been leaks of videos of them filming, and maybe a few—a lot, of Seung-min being mischievous and spoiling the choreo.
Hyun-Jin takes a small breath and closes his eyes, giving himself a moment to refresh from the comments. When he opens them again, he starts reading once more. The chat hasn't stopped moving quickly, and he's sure it never will, which isn't a problem—really, but he's trying to zone in on at least one that he can read aloud in time. Therefore he takes it as a challenge. What he's noticed is that they've changed from the comeback to asking about their promotions and reminding him and the group not to overwork themselves during it.
His lips open occasionally, ready to say something, anything, and then they close as soon as he's lost the comment he was tracking.
Again. Again—
'Hyun-Jin," He repeats, and finally—Finally he's found one. As he begins reading it out, he doesn't think to double-check it, if it's something he shouldn't be reading, which isn't the case, or if it's something that can affect him. (And it does to a degree.) "You've been looking pale lately in the recent posts, have you gotten sleep lately? Are you taking care of yourself?" When it sinks in, he feels a pinch in his heart, freezes up in the comfy chair he's sat in like he's been put on the spot, and it's all his fault for that being so. A part of him wants the end the live stream there, wants to make up an excuse and sink into the floor or anywhere that'll take him.
He looks pale? Pale??
Hyun-Jin decides that he needs to take a breath before continuing - a deep one that fills his stuttering lungs and cools the wetness that's beginning to gather behind his eyes. "Sleep?" He manages, looking down at his drawing once again and its unique colors that bring about a nice scenery. Yet, after he stares, and he stares, they're all starting to mix into red. After another moment he clears his throat, shifts uncomfortably, and his eyes return to his phone once again. "Of course...I have." He answers carefully. "As much as I'm able to, really. The comebacks and remaining concerts are a month away, so we've been practicing hard for you all."
There are even more comments flying by now. Lots and lots of questions, most of them asking why, and it's all a mess that he can only catch a view: What's wrong? What do you mean as much as you're able to? Are you guys being overworked? Is everyone okay? Why aren't you sleeping? Do you have insomnia? Get some sleep! Is this why you're pale?
Hyun-Jin digs his fingers into his palms to the point deep dents were forming from his nails. He's not sleeping because of the disease, although it's not like he can mention that to the world. He does try to answer the majority of them despite himself without that detail. "Nothing is wrong, Stay, everything is fine." He says softly. "I'm just saying that we're working hard to provide you all the best comeback, therefore we don't get the recommended sleep sometimes. But it's—it's getting better now, we are getting more sleep. I've just stayed up today painting."
Now the comments are understanding, and all 'that's better to hear,' or 'thank god', and so on. The change is good, the change is nice, it helps him feel less worried and pressured, it helps ease some tension that continues to grow within him. But it also makes him worry more about his appearance to others. If they think he's pale, how does he look to the members? The staff? And everyone else he sees on a daily basis? He doesn't know, and that's the thing that overtakes that relief in a flash, filling it with nothing but worry and fear that makes him end the live stream with a quick goodbye as soon as those feelings occur.
He knows what comes after them, he always does, and that's why Hyun-Jin doesn't make an effort to leave his room for the next few hours. He doesn't make an effort to leave, when he seems to wallow in his own self-hatred, losing himself amidst depressive thoughts, and awful feelings, and sluggish movements that send shockwaves of pain rocketing underneath his skin alongside the flowers that make their appearance anytime he feels 'off'.
The roses come out slowly this time, pushing up from his chest, then his throat, and into his palms - the thorns attached leaving scars and puffy scratches on the tissue as they do so.
They leave him trembling, and gasping, and all that much more in pain - and it's nothing but pain, pain, pain for him, isn't it? His fingers are covered in blood by now - red under his nails, in the cracks in his skin, along the folds of his thin wrists, and he can't stop it at all until it decides to end. Can't stop coughing, retching, and when he finally can stop, he slowly leans back in his chair, where the blood has somewhat stained. The camera view is still on in front of him, and all he sees is himself on the screen. Blood is dripping from his chin, his eyes are blurry with hot tears, his nose is running, his body is shaking, and yet there's no expression on his face. No feeling in his heart. Just a numbness.
And a dullness, that shows he's used to it by now.
Hyun-Jin lets his eyes fall shut from the sight, and lets his thoughts shut off for even a moment. He takes a deep breath, and it's less hiccupy than his other ones have been but he's okay - that's what he tells himself as he breathes, and he breathes, and he breathes, as his chest rises and falls, and his heart rate settles back into something that's somewhat normal. He's okay, it was something small today, a little fit that got contained within ten minutes - just another day. But currently, in the present, Hyun-Jin is really, really okay, and he'll focus on the now. Not the later, that might have more to come.
—-
When he finally does pick himself up; cleaned his room, and the blood on his clothes, desk, chair, and the petals, and then takes a graciously long shower - he decides to make himself something warm for his throat, something that can soothe the growing ache in his chest. In the kitchen, he's careful grabbing a mug from the cabinet and rummaging around for a specific tea he reserves for himself - honey and ginger mixed with fresh milk, that soothing remedy for his condition. He sets everything onto the counter, and when the microwave beeps for the water he's quick to turn it off before it continues and wakes someone up.
But it still does, it seems, because as soon as he turns around from getting it he sees a figure standing in the entrance of the kitchen, followed by a low call of his name,
"Jin?"
It's Felix, standing there in a soft hoodie, baggy shorts, and Pokémon slippers. He looks a little ruffled from sleep, but happy nonetheless if the bright smile on his face is anything to go off of. Hyun-Jin tries to return the expression and prays that it actually looks like a smile instead of an uncertain frown. "Hey," He greets, deeply-soft, warm, and so, so lovely despite the tired rasp to his voice that makes Hyun-Jin's stomach twist with butterflies. "What're you up to?"
"Me? Oh..." Hyun-Jin glances to the cup of water in his hands, and then back to Felix again. His eyes, not his freckles, or his beautifully puffy lips that he wants to rub with his thumb and lightly feel against his.) He swallows. "...Nothing? I'm—I'm not doing anything."
"Ah, I see," Felix says slowly, his eyes narrowing on the specific tools set out for making tea at five am. Five. "You're not thirsty?"
"Yeah," Hyun-Jin automatically answers, and it's almost a throwaway comment, because he doesn't even believe his own lie. They become silent for a moment, before Hyun-jin purses his lips, plays with the bracelets on his wrist. "Sorry. Did you...need something?"
Felix perks up. "Oh! I was actually wondering if you wanted to uh," He scratches the back of his neck, and his fingers come up to feel his pulse, a habit he has that Hyun-Jin knows all too well. He doesn't think about what it means too much. "Come and play games with me?"
"This early?" Now he sounds like a hypocrite, because he's up at this time too.
"Yeah, I know it is but—please?" Felix frowns slightly. "Jeong-in and Seung-min are asleep, and I don't want to be alone right now. Even if you don't wanna play you can keep me company, you know? Some support when I die and lose a game, if you want, of course, or you can sleep."
—
Hyun-Jin ends up agreeing.
Not because he doesn't have to play, but because he couldn't take the frown on Felix's face anymore, and it would break his heart a little if he rejected his offer. He knows he's supposed to be limiting their interaction and avoiding him - but one hang-out won't hurt and make him throw up flowers, right? He'll be careful, and that said he's settled himself on Felix's plushie-covered bed, having his legs pulled up to his chest with a fluffy blanket over his body. Meanwhile, Felix is across the bed on his pc, a controller between his hands, and the sound of a game-opening being accepted plays quietly in the background. He automatically assumed Hyun-Jin would want to go lay down, so he didn't necessarily protest when he was given the blanket.
The thing is Hyun-Jin can't sleep.
Not when - after twelve minutes of gaming - he hears frustrated grunts, groans, and whines leaving Felix's lips every time he loses or fails in some hard quest - including the hard yet soft bangs of his controller or keyboard. So, after about seven losses made known by the 'you died' sound, Hyun-Jin chooses to pick himself up and pull a chair next to Felix's. He doesn't hesitate when he lays his head on the other man's shoulder, and nor does Felix with pulling him close so they're practically pressed side to side, two peas in a pod.
"Is this my support?" The freckled blonde asks teasingly, and Hyun-Jin nods against him, looking at the screen to see what game is making him lose it. It's call of duty modern warfare, it seems, and he finds that understandable because he's played it a few times and deemed it not for him. "Hyun-Jin," Felix calls shortly, and Hyun-Jin's eyes fly over to see him wearing a smile, lip caught slightly between his teeth - just enough for his adorable little bunny teeth to peek out, and Hyun-Jin has never wished so badly to have his camera this moment so he could capture his beauty. "What do you think of my character?" Felix says next, breaking him out of wherever he's been lost to.
"Ah," Hyun-Jin quickly glances away then, and back at the screen where a man wearing a heavy vest and skull mask appears. He feels his face grow hot when Felix starts chuckling beside him. "Uhm, It looks cool, is that a new one?"