Chapter Text
Oh, hide this fear deep inside
Who I used to be, I'll forget, take a breath, become someone new
I keep my head up high
Through all this pain I'm letting it out
BACK TO LIFE
-
"Are you ready!"
The crowd erupted into a chorus of excited screams, noise carrying past the delicate barrier of Jisung's poorly-timed earpiece. He didn't care. The atmosphere was electric, red and blue stage lights burning across the concert hall and music blaring mercilessly through the speakers, only slightly overbearing for Jisung's already overwhelmed mind. Despite the annoying trickling of sweat dripping down his forehead, Jisung's face broke into a wide grin.
The feeling was indescribable.
Beside him, Changbin gripped the neck of his guitar with one hand - lopsided smirk unmistakable behind the microphone as he roused the audience. Behind him, sticks blurred and cymbals hissed as Chan slammed the sticks down against the drums, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.
Jisung, with his guitar strap biting annoyingly into his shoulder, stepped forward towards the microphone. First note of the song already leaving his lips, he dug the deep red pick into the low strings, unleashing a thick, distorted growl as he began the opening of their most recent release - Back To Life.
His red, sleeveless leather jacket clung uncomfortably to his skin, only bearable thanks to the tactical black tank top underneath. Thank God for his own foresight. Across his waist lined numerous belts, all varying in colour and design. Naturally, being that Jisung never attended a concert without them, he wore a pair of black fingerless gloves - decorated with stickers that he'd bought from every venue his band had performed at, a pleasant reminder of how far they'd come.
On the drums, Chan proudly sported a pair of black sunglasses - the phrase, 'Expect the unexpected’ written tightly across both lenses. He wore his usual baggy jeans, tank top, and checkered flannel T-shirt combo, knowingly letting a slither of skin reveal itself from beneath the loosely fitting shirt - unapologetically soaking in the attention it inevitably received from the crowd.
Changbin, too, wore a black tank top - not even slightly bashful after shamelessly showing off the insane amount of muscle he had gained over the last 2 years. Jisung was only slightly jealous. The man was undoubtedly covered in piercings- his lips, his ears, his eyebrows, perhaps even his belly button - Jisung certainly didn't know, he could hardly keep count of his own. But there was little competition for Changbin, whose piercings were his pride and joy.
He pulled his eyes back to the crowd.
Jisung progressed through the song easily, it was second nature to him by this point. After who-knows-how-many rehearsals in the band's own, respectful practice room (read, the history classroom), the words and notes had long since been engrained into his brain.
They weren’t famous by any means. The band played at the occasional gig or, more frequently, random bar. However, Jisung, in his not-so-humble opinion, would argue that over the last year-or-so of being an established rock band, they had accumulated a decently sized fanbase.
At every gig, Jisung would recognise the odd person or so - and he would be grateful every single time. Performing on stage had been a dream in itself, never would the Jisung of two years ago think that he'd be here, singing, playing the electric guitar, with an audience, with bandmates.
Tonight, Chan had managed to weave 3RACHA into a last minute performance at a venue that specialised in all things rock, a vacancy suddenly opened after the previous band had unexpectedly cancelled. Initially, Jisung had been frustrated that his evening of gaming and chugging down monster energy drinks had been disturbed, but now, glancing at the crowd, Jisung couldn't be more thankful for Chan's attentiveness.
Jisung, suddenly aware of his own distraction, focused his attention to his vocals. Digging the pick further into the strings, he made sure to put all of his energy back into his performance - their final song of the night. Secretly, Jisung would admit that he was only slightly excited to run home afterwards, shower, and jump into a game of Fortnite. Priorities, am I right? Victory Royals don't just happen by themselves.
As the song came to its final verse, the energy lifted even more - if that was even possible. The crowd echoed the lyrics back to Jisung, and he felt himself getting lost in the rhythm and melody, mind solely occupied by creating a lasting impression on their audience.
So lost, that only sharp, knife-like teeth that belonged to- something could snap his focus back to reality. The pain radiated through his hand immediately, causing himself to instinctively yank it away from his guitar, missing the next strum that was supposed to follow his last.
He only just managed to hold back the screech that threatened to leave his lips.
Thankfully, the adrenaline was enough to keep him going for the final few moments of the song - minus the accompaniment of his electric guitar. He would have to explain that one to his band mates later - but he was sure that they would only have to take one look at his pitiful face to forgive him for his mishap.
Pain still pulsed throughout his arm, and Jisung was certain that whatever had bitten him, owned some powerful venom. Perhaps a mosquito - they were harmless, though, weren't they?
Fortunately for Jisung's veins, the song drew to an end - and he silently hoped that his voice remained stable on his last high note, he couldn't exactly hear himself, which, most likely, wasn't a great sign.
"Thank you for tonight, you've been an amazing audience!" Chan shouted into the microphone attached to his drums, "We were 3RACHA!"
Changbin winked, "Tell your friends."
Knowing he should say something, Jisung steeled himself before taking a step closer to the microphone, "We hope to see all of you again!"
Suddenly, a sense of dread washed over him.
The pain wasn't fading, not even slightly.
Shit.
-
"We fucking did it!" Changbin exclaimed, collapsing onto their faded, peeling leather sofa, earning a sharp glare from Chan - who was, for some reason, oddly protective over this particular piece of furniture.
Jisung rolled his eyes, sitting down next to him with a sigh of relief. God, he was grateful to be back home.
Chan, who was currently in the kitchen, snorted, shoving a slice of bread into his mouth before shuffling back into the living room, "Better than working out at the gym for 5 hours?" He teased.
Changbin hummed, mockingly raising his hands, "Forgive me for my reluctance, o' mighty one."
"Enough of that." Chan grumbled, throwing himself onto one of the love seats, "Anyway, I'm curious. What happened at the end of Back To Life, Sung-ah?"
"Oh yeah," Changbin sat up slightly, leaning forwards in favour of analysing Jisung's, currently shameful, expression, "Did something happen to your guitar?"
It had been roughly 2 hours since he was- bitten? He wasn't too sure. The pain had, miraculously, subsided, and the ache in his arm was, for the most part, gone. Jisung was very willing to forget it ever happened - yet, he did feel as though he still owed his band mates an explanation.
Slightly embarrassed, he muttered, "I was stung, or bitten by something. It caught me off guard so I accidentally forgot to keep playing the guitar."
Reactions varied. Chan instantly looked concerned, where Changbin looked like he was struggling to hold back a laugh.
"Surprised you didn't wail into the microphone." Changbin smirked, throwing an arm teasingly over Jisung's shoulders, "Aren't you like- deathly afraid of bugs and insects?"
"Wail?" Jisung repeated incredulously, raising a fist, "Are you crazy?"
Changbin grinned devilishly, "Am I wrong?"
Yes- he was. Mostly. Jisung was, admittedly, only slightly, reasonably afraid of bugs. But he was 17 years old - he was old enough to not be frightened at the sight of awfully fast, agile, crawly, disgraceful beasts-
- was what he liked to tell himself.
However, before Jisung could retaliate and remind Changbin of his fear of wind turbines- of all things, Chan swiftly interrupted, "Does the bite hurt? Do you have any unusual symptoms?" He reached into his pocket to grab his phone, "Need me to grab you some cream from the pharmacy?"
Chan, their sweet, lovable, kind, attentive, worrisome- leader? Jisung supposed it wasn't official- but he'd be damned if Changbin had that position. Did they even need a leader?
He digressed.
The eldest of the three lived in a constant state of concern. Only a few months older than the other two, yet Jisung was certain he would develop wrinkles forty years too soon from the amount of stress he faced daily.
Partially, that was Jisung's own fault.
However, as much as Chan's freakishly parental-like concern was appreciated, Jisung yearned for the comfort of his bed sheets, cool and soft against his skin - dreaming of his electric guitar and Victory Royals. So, despite some numbness still thrumming beneath his skin, and an unrelenting itch spreading on the back of his neck, Jisung still very much hoped Chan would put his worrisome nature to bed for just one night, and let him crawl into his own, unfairly comfortable duvet instead of a suspiciously clean, antibacterial-swept one inside the hospital.
Jisung was a notoriously bad liar.
Therefore, in order to deter Chan from an impromptu trip to an emergency room because of a mere, pathetic bite, Jisung planned to school his expression to the best of his very minimal abilities.
"I'm fine, it doesn't hurt anymore- I mean it did initially, but its worn off now, I swear."
Neither of his band mates said anything for a solid minute. Changbin was still reading his face, and Jisung tried his hardest to avoid meeting his gaze. As the silence stretched, Jisung foolishly began thinking he'd actually managed to fool them, perhaps he'd finally managed to master the art of lying. Maybe-
Changbin squinted, "Yeah, he's definitely lying."
"Definitely."
"Oh, come on!" Jisung groaned and felt annoyance bubble in his stomach, "It's a bite. I am fine. I am going to wake up tomorrow and still be fine. There is no need to be so concerned-"
Woah- okay.
Jisung wasn't someone who got angry often. Not anymore, anyway. There was a time, before 3RACHA had formed and before he'd even met Chan and Changbin, that Jisung was angry - so angry. But ever since he found a healthy outlet, the raging fire within him flickered and dimmed into a quiet simmer.
So his sudden outburst of unbridled frustration took him by surprise, too.
Although, all Jisung wanted to do was sleep- exhaustion clung tightly to his bones, and his eyes, even now, fought to be pulled closed - and his band mates were not helping. His muscles ached, and, for some reason, sweat beaded on his forehead - despite Jisung having cooled down significantly since the concert.
What was happening to him?
"-So could you all just leave me alone? I'm tired."
Chan's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Jisung's reaction. Stumbling, he said, "Woah- calm down, Jisung. We didn't mean-"
Jisung, despite his anger taking the forefront of his uncontrolled emotions, recognised the embarrassment and shame brewing in the back of his mind. He knew they weren't trying to be condescending or rude. But- his feelings had long since gone haywire, and Jisung had lost most of his reason along the way.
Not wanting to make the already awkward situation even worse, Jisung stood up from the sofa, guilt already drowning his every thought.
"I'm going to bed, goodnight."
-
To say his sleep was completely, and utterly dreadful would be the understatement of the century.
Which was a shame, considering he'd been so excited to sleep earlier in the evening that he'd argued with his band mates. Was it even an argument? It felt very one-sided on Jisung's part.
He had been restless, to say the least. Throughout what was left of his night, Jisung couldn't stop tossing and turning - it had almost driven him insane. He couldn't tell whether it was because of the increasingly concerning whatever-the-fuck on his hand, or the guilt from shouting at the only two people in this country who could tolerate him.
The cover on his pillow was doused in a thin layer of sweat, and his duvet had found its way to the other side of the room- somehow. Jisung was scrambling to get out of his distorted bed immediately after his barely veiled eyes had flung open, before his mind even fully caught up with his body.
Energy coursed dangerously through his veins, and Jisung felt as though he'd been injected with adrenaline.
Maybe a trip to the hospital would've been useful.
Jisung stood uselessly in the middle of his room, eyes wide and scanning the room frantically for something, what was he even doing? His hands hovered aimlessly in front of him, and his stance made it seem as though he was bracing for some sort of impact.
His eyes landed on his alarm clock, '5:47AM'
Christ, he was never up this early. Not even for school, which, thankfully, was not today - and, well, thank god for his unemployment because he wouldn't have to try and be a normal, functioning member of society whilst in such a miserable, disgusting state.
Was it the bite?
Aware of his sudden burst of agility, Jisung waddled carefully to the bathroom, his ears suddenly conscious of every creak in his seemingly thousand-year-old floorboards. In his peripheral, Jisung felt as though he could see every speck of dust creeping slowly in the air, and it damn nearly set him off.
He felt sick.
Jisung wasn't unfamiliar with the term, 'sensory overload'. He was well aware of his own triggers- and sometimes, when in crowded places, he could get overwhelmed and panic.
But he was at home. In his room. In the apartment he shared with his band mates. Not to mention how he'd been taking medicine for his anxiety, and hadn't had a panic attack in months.
Was he dying?
Was the sudden burst of adrenaline his body's final attempt at survival? If so, Jisung was certainly wasting it.
Whatever. Jisung thought, dismissing the growing fear that burned fiercely inside him. If he was going to die, let it not be with bad breath.
Taking a steadying breath, that was, without a doubt, unsuccessful, Jisung reached delicately for the door handle to his bathroom. Perhaps he was just having a bad day, Jisung thought comfortingly to himself, the nerves and the all-consuming sense of dread would dissipate by the end of the day. He twisted the handle. He'd work hard to create new melodies for a new release - now pull - and the overwhelming, drowning, seizing, all-round shitty feeling in his chest would-
The door handle wasn't on the door.
The door handle.
Wasn't.
On.
The.
Door.
What.
Jisung glanced, oddly calmly, at the piece of metal that sat coolly in his palm, then back to the gaping hole in the door where a handle should've been.
Okay.
That wasn't normal, was it?
As if he'd been caught red handed, Jisung raised his hands and dropped the handle, which, unfortunately, landed directly on his bare foot.
"Ow!" Jisung exclaimed, pulling his leg up to his chest, hopping weakly in an, albeit very poor, attempt to ease the throbbing pain. His hands wrapped around the middle of his foot, and his face scrunched up in agony.
Unfortunately, Jisung was, too, notorious for his extremely poor balance. And, whilst his eyes were glued shut, his body went tumbling into the handle-less door in front of him, knocking said door off its hinges and sending Jisung flying to the tiles on his bathroom floor.
Jisung cried out in pain, a quiet, pathetic plea.
Trembling, Jisung used his elbows to lift himself to his knees, mouth open in a silent scream as the burning rush of pain shot through his body. A shaking hand reached towards the counter, and he gently gripped the marble, using it as an anchor to raise himself to his feet.
In the mirror, Jisung noticed a cut carved across his eyebrow, blood oozing lazily from the wound. The stray pieces of wood that now scattered across his bathroom floor must've been the perpetrator, then.
Gritting his teeth, Jisung reached for the towel that was neatly folded on the counter, ignoring the strain it caused in his evidently injured arm. Once in his grasp, he gently dabbed it against his forehead, wiping away the blood that now framed the left side of his face.
However, when he tried to put the towel down, he quickly found that he couldn't.
What the hell? Could this get any weirder?
Frantically, Jisung shook his hand, desperately trying to free his fingertips of the material, but it wouldn't budge. Even when he used his free hand to pull the towel, he found that not only did it not work, but his other hand got stuck, too.
Fantastic.
If his body was dying, this was a weird way of doing it.
Tears of frustration began forming in the corners of his eyes, a combination of fear and pain causing his breaths to come out in quick concession - this was not good.
Recognising the beginning of a poorly-timed panic attack, Jisung dashed through the, conveniently, bare door frame and came to an abrupt stop at his bedroom door.
With all the care and patience he could muster, Jisung took his wrists and placed them on either side of the door handle, aware of the towel that still clung to his fingers, and slowly twisted it.
Thankfully, he would only have to replace one door, as a resounding gust of air announced that Jisung had managed to open a door without breaking it. He almost cried in relief.
Now in the living room, Jisung was oblivious as to what he should do next, the adrenaline from the very second he opened his eyes still not gone from his system, leaving him defenceless next to one of Chan's cardboard cutouts of some K-Pop idol. God, he looked ridiculous.
And- Jisung wasn't stupid. He knew that he should probably let his band mates know about his little adventure down door-handle-and-hinge breaking lane. But God, this was embarrassing.
However, pain continued to thrum evilly beneath his skin - as if coercing Jisung into losing what remained of his dignity. He stood his ground, seriously considering whether or not to call out for his band mates.
Jisung hesitated for a moment. What was wrong with him?
Another wave of panic hit his brain, a reminder of his possible death successfully awaking him from his moment of distraction.
God he really was dying, wasn't he?
What should he even say?
He couldn't exactly walk into Chan's room and casually say, "Good morning, Hyung. Sorry for shouting at you last night. I think I'm dying."
Quick. He thought, fingers still fighting a losing battle against the towel.
Hurry up, Jisung!
"Uh." Jisung began, his voice holding a noticeable waver, "Help?"
Good one, Jisung- could you be any quieter?
"Help!"
Okay- he did it. But now what does he do? Awkwardly, he moved from one foot to another, trying to release some of the built up pressure in his foot.
Fortunately, much to Jisung's relief, his scream worked, as, immediately, Jisung's ears picked up on the sound of intense ruffling as his two band mates scrambled out of bed. Soon after, the doors to their bedroom doors swung open- thankfully remaining on their hinges, much to Jisung's envy - with two very disgruntled, 'I-shouldn't-be-up-at-this-hour' men tumbling out of their rooms.
If Jisung wasn't in so much pain, he'd laugh at their appearance. Chan's blonde hair stuck up in all directions, tussled from sleep, and, evidently, a good one, at that - another thing Jisung felt envious about. Changbin wasn't much better, his limbs almost flimsy as the remanence of sleep clung tightly to his bones, nearly falling over in his haste to get to the living room.
No one said anything for a few seconds. A tense silence hung in the air as the now sleep-ridden men took in Jisung's poor state.
"I think I might be dying."
Changbin's jaw dropped comically, and Jisung felt tempted to tease him for it. However, he wasn't in much of a condition to do so. Unfortunate, really.
"What the fuck."
Yes, thank you, Changbin. Exceptionally useful.
"What the fuck!" Changbin repeated, only his pitch exceptionally higher.
Exactly!
In the eldest's eyes, Jisung witnessed something click, and his reaction was instant. Jisung questioned if Chan, too, was injected with adrenaline, as the speed at which he reached Jisung could rival that of a professional athlete's.
Jisung felt a hand on his shoulder, gentle yet firm, guiding him slowly towards the sofa. Tears brimmed at his eyes once again, and Jisung silently cursed himself for his sudden show of weakness. The pain was everywhere. Unforgettable, unforgiving. Jisung bit his lip in order to stop a sob leaving his throat.
"God, why is he sweating so much? And he looks so pale- Chan, is he dying? Oh Christ, he's-"
"Not helpful, Changbin." Chan scolded, "Get me the first aid kit from the cupboard."
Changbin hesitated, worried eyes unable to leave Jisung's vulnerable form.
"Now."
He scurried off into the kitchen immediately. Distantly, Jisung could hear plastic containers flying across the room, and Changbin's pleas for the first aid kit to, "Show up. God, where the hell is it?". A few minutes, and many profanities, later, a loud, 'Aha!' announced that Changbin had found what he was searching for. Soon, he was back in the living room and dropping the first aid kit at Chan's feet.
Chan was straight to work at cleaning the cuts that littered Jisung's body.
"Hyung," Changbin started, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, "Shouldn't I call an ambulance?"
With Chan's wordless encouragement, Jisung began timing his breathing with Chan's own, eternally grateful when the towel then finally released its grip on his fingers. He noticed Chan's eyebrows furrow in confusion, but in his haste to regulate the rest of his blaring emotions, he chose, however, to ignore it.
"Too slow." Chan muttered, squinting his eyes at the cut on Jisung's face, "I'll clean up these cuts and we'll take him to the hosp-"
Only this morning, Jisung had already felt more emotions than he had across his entire 17 years of life, and, somehow, he was already getting used to his random outbursts of even more random emotions.
So, when panic seized in his chest at the mention of going to the hospital, eyes widening in fear and his breath ceasing - he wasn't entirely surprised.
"No," Jisung said, suddenly forgetting about the pain burning fiercely in his blood, fear even hotter in his veins, "No hospital."
He didn't know why he felt so strongly about not going to the hospital, when only a few minutes prior he had found himself regretting that choice. But, in this moment, his mind screamed at him to- stop, no hospital. Danger, Danger-
Jisung wasn't sure whether to trust his troubling mind after finding himself in this uncomfortable, terrifying situation.
But he'd be damned if he didn't trust his gut.
Chan frowned, "But-"
"No." Jisung rose to his feet, ignoring the pain that came with the movement. He backed away from the hands trying to pull him back down to the sofa.
"Jisung," Changbin scoffed, "You've just said you think you're dying, and you expect us to not take you to the hospital? Are you insane?"
Every muscle in his body protested, but Jisung stood his ground, "I'm fine."
"You said that last night- but look at you! You're clearly not fine, don't try to bullshit me."
"I'll finish cleaning the cuts-"
"Have you even seen yourself? You're shaking, you're as white as a fucking ghost, and you're covered in enough sweat you could form a second skin! For God's sake, Jisung- you're not fine."
The anger he felt last night returned, only ten times worse. Jisung clenched his fist, his jaw tense.
Changbin tutted, slightly patronising, "We're going to the hospital." He took a step towards Jisung, reaching to grab his arm.
Jisung couldn't exactly recall what happened after that.
He remembered pushing Changbin away from him. He remembered the thud of Changbin's body as he collided with the floor. He remembered Chan intervening, placing two firm hands on Jisung's tense shoulders and forcing him down onto the sofa.
He didn't remember losing consciousness.
When he came to, daylight poured through his bedroom window, a harsh contrast to the previous time he awoke. Jisung carefully sat up, involuntarily letting out a noise of confusion as he faced no resistance from his body for doing so. He twisted his neck to glance once again at the clock, '4:12PM'.
11 hours.
He lost consciousness for 11 hours?
Okay. Not concerning- like, at all.
Remembering the cut he'd obtained from an unfortunate incident involving a door handle, Jisung raised a hand to press against his forehead, recoiling slightly when he realised that said cut was gone.
Had he been imagining the entire thing?
He glanced upwards.
Nope. He thought, staring blankly at the still demolished door inside his bathroom. Definitely happened.
Carefully, he climbed out of bed, still hyper-aware of the possible injuries that might remain on his body. But, after a few tested stretches and awkward positioning, Jisung came to the baffling conclusion that, for real this time, he was fine. Perfect, even - if you didn't count the thin veil of sweat that still clung to his body.
Huh.
Jisung stood, once more, in silence. Eyebrows scrunched in confusion, mouth slightly aghast.
He began recalling the memories of this morning to himself.
He woke up sweaty, clambered to the bathroom- where he broke a door handle, and then the door, became bound to a towel, cried, panicked, ran into the living room, called pathetically for Chan and Changbin-
Changbin.
Changbin!
Suddenly wide awake, Jisung rushed to his bedroom door, bravely wrapping a hand around the handle before, very anti-climatically, turning it with the agonising pace of a dying snail. Once the door was open, he crashed into the living room, wide eyes scanning the room for the bassist.
There he was, lying flat on his stomach on the leather sofa - frozen peas covering the expanse of his back. Chan was sat on the floor next to him, scrolling intently on his phone.
Jisung let out a breath of relief - he'd been doing that a lot, recently. Still, guilt crawled uncomfortably up his spine at seeing Changbin's condition. He did that. He hurt one of his best friends again-
For a few, horrible seconds, he stood, motionless, outside of his bedroom door, he'd been doing that a lot, too - he really was a man of unbreakable habits, trying not to send himself into a self-pitying spiral, it wasn't what Changbin needed.
Thankfully, he didn't need to say anything, as Chan's head turned towards where he stood, expression hardening, then scrunching in confusion, mirroring Jisung's earlier reaction completely.
"I know." Jisung whispered in matching disbelief, arms wide in front of him, "I'm fine."
Changbin spoke up from where he laid on the sofa, not facing Jisung, not even moving an inch, "If you've come in here to bullshit-"
"Wait," Chan hit Changbin's arm, earning him a grumble as Changbin reminded him about his sore muscles, "He is fine."
Murmuring under his breath, Changbin shuffled awkwardly, turning his head to look at Jisung. When his eyes landed on him, Changbin's eyes widened, "What the fuck!" he screeched, and Jisung almost flinched at his tone.
Sore muscles forgotten, apparently, he leaped up from the sofa, the frozen peas falling miserably to the floor, "How is that possible? We didn't all go insane and break down Jisung's door together with our heads, did we?"
Chan rolled his eyes in amusement, "Pretty sure that was all Jisung."
Jisung was grateful to see that he definitely wasn't imagining the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, that meant he wasn't imagining the whole ordeal and he had, in fact, injured Changbin.
"Changbin." He started, taking a step closer to the other man, "I'm sorry, for both last night and especially this morning. I don't know why I got so defensive about the hospital, and I definitely shouldn't have pushed you for being concerned about me-"
"Have you been secretly working out?"
Jisung blinked, surprise evident in the way his eyes widened and mouth turned downwards into a small frown, "What do you mean?" He asked.
"You sent me flying to the floor, and I mean flying. I swear my back has never been in this much pain. You didn't even push me that hard, yet muscles I didn't even know I had are sore. This can't be natural, so either you've been working out or you're on drugs. So, I ask you: have you been secretly working out?"
Jisung spluttered, "I really did that? I promise- I haven't been to the gym since that time I almost broke my leg on the leg press."
"Then how on Earth is this possible?"
To be perfectly honest, Jisung would like to know the same. He wasn't strong by any means, and he had long since accepted that sad, embarrassing fact. Jisung had been in his fair share of fights with classmates, and not once had he ever been close to sending someone flying. It was actually quite the opposite - with Jisung being the one flung half-way across whatever street he'd found himself on.
“You were bitten, weren’t you?” Chan said, his tone fairly ominous, the other two immediately turned to look at him, “I was just looking through websites to see if I could match your symptoms to any bug bite - but none of them matched what I saw from you this morning.”
Jisung raised an eyebrow, "What does that mean, then? This just came out of nowhere?" He seriously doubted that. Like he said to Changbin earlier, he hadn't been hitting the gym, he hadn't changed his diet - he was the same old Jisung with the same old habits from two days ago. If it wasn't some rare, unusual side effect of an insect bite, where had these abilities - to put them frankly, come from?
Chan sighed and rose from the floor to stare directly into Jisung's eyes, “What I mean is, there was something in that bug bite, something that is causing this reaction. You know my friend, Felix - the one who has an internship at J.Y.P?”
Jisung nodded. He'd heard a lot about Felix, Chan's childhood friend from Australia, who, conveniently, moved to Korea around the same time Chan did. He recalled him mentioning how Felix was exceptionally bright, so terribly smart that he'd landed himself an internship at one of the most prestigious science labs in South Korea - something others could only dream of, and for Jisung - something that was so incredibly impossible that he'd have a better chance leaping off the Empire State building and landing on the Eiffel Tower.
"He once told me about this meeting he was allowed to sit in on. It had freaked him out, and he said he needed to tell someone about it or else he'd drive himself insane. I don't exactly remember the specifics, partially because at the time I thought he'd been exaggerating or just pranking me, but he'd mentioned something about a project. According to Felix, they planned to genetically adapt bugs and insects, make them radioactive, and then experiment how a bite could effect the human body. Something about a transfer- and the actual changing of someones genetic information."
Not exactly what he had planned for his Sunday afternoon, but what had Jisung expected- really, could his life ever be normal? One second he was playing at a concert, hypnotised by the crowd. The next, his genetic information has - possibly - been altered. This would only happen to him. The situation was, frankly, unbelievable and something straight out of some shitty movie - but Jisung was willing to to try and find out what was wrong with him, anyway.
"And you think one of those radioactive insects escaped and bit Jisung?" Changbin asked, arms folded and expression uncharacteristically serious.
"I'm saying it's possible." Chan huffed, ”I wish that we still had the bug that bit you. We could've brought it to Felix to examine.”
Jisung contemplated for a moment.
"How about we go find it?"
Changbin whipped his head around, "I know what you're thinking-"
Jisung stared at him, smirk growing dangerously.
"-And I love it."
They shared looks of mischief, earning an exasperated sigh from Chan - who was already forming contingency plans in his notes app, "You know they've probably cleared and swept the stage already? What are the chances that the insect is still on the stage?"
Jisung shrugged, "I'm willing to take those chances," he raised his fist comically in the air, "For science!"
"Whatever," Chan murmured, "If we get arrested, I'm blaming you."
"Watch them try and contain me. Don't you know I have powers now?"
Changbin giggled, "Calm down, Batman. The bite hasn't given you huge biceps, you know?"
"Definitely has given me a huge ego, though." He smirked, "Jealous?"
"Your T-shirt is drenched in sweat, absolutely not."
Jisung looked down at himself, and- well, he was right about that.
"Whatever." He folded, not wishing to provoke Changbin anymore than he already had today, "Anyway, do you forgive me yet?"
Changbin hummed, thinking for a moment, "Only if you actually are part insect now. That would be hilarious, and ironic."
"Shut up."
Without thinking, he hit Changbin on his arm. A playful, teasing smack on a sleeve that Jisung did not expect to get stuck to.
He yanked, and yanked.
All in vain.
"Oh, come on!" Changbin exclaimed, trying desperately to pull away from his hand, “We definitely need to figure this out.”
Jisung couldn’t agree more.
Mission: ‘Why is Jisung stronger than Changbin?’ Underway, people!