Chapter Text
Month 1
Tomoya gets the news. He has just finished editing a new episode of Moyalog, and is currently waiting for his manager’s approval so he can go on and edit the others, or work on the other choreography he wants to do. He has a lot of responsibilities, and he’s extremely busy trying to juggle all of them while maintaining a sleep schedule that’s the key to his survival.
So when he sees a new notification from “Manager-nim” pop up on his phone, he automatically assumes that it’s his editing getting approved. He’s currently with the members- he calls them around, excitedly taps on the notification, but what shows up isn’t what he expected.
Instead of the messy typing style his manager likes to indulge in, which includes thousands of thumbs-up emojis and exclamation marks, he doesn’t see any one of those symbols. What he does see, though, is a stern, solemn message, that says, “Tomoya, please come to the JYP building at once.”
The members scrunch their faces up in confusion. Haru raises an eyebrow, smirking, “Did you put something inappropriate in your vlog? You’re going to get punished for that, eh?” and pushes Tomoya lightly. The others all laugh, but Tomoya doesn’t. His face remains stoic, not showing any traces of emotion. He definitely knows something is wrong, and he thinks he has a hunch as to what that “something” is, and why.
In 15 minutes, sweaty-faced Tomoya arrives at the meeting room of the 3rd floor of the agency. He pants, resting at the doorframe. A warm light from the desktop lamp shines on the silhouette of his manager, who has turned away from him and is looking out at the rarely silent Seoul. He knows something is wrong now, he really does. He checks his phone- it’s 2 A.M. now, his manager never tells him to arrive at the building this late. Stepping into the room, listening to the wooden floorboards gently creak below him, he sits across from his manager.
He gets handed a white string closure envelope. He unwinds the white string around the button, not sure what to expect. His hands are shaking- he does know what to expect, why is he lying to himself? It’s unbelievable that he’s so quiet for once, Seita would have joked. Why isn’t he joking with the manager? Tomoya’s hands tremble as he barely looks up and tenses at the sight of his manager dabbing at his eyes with soggy tissues. He needs to get to the bottom of this- he nearly tears the envelope open, his hands now completely soaked with cold sweat. Pulling the paper inside of the envelope out, the sweat forms translucent spots in the shape of his fingerprints onto the thin sheet. He doesn’t care. He scans urgently through the lengthy paragraphs on the paper, fiddling with the corner of it, and finally, finally he sees-
“Primary Mediastinal B-cell Lymphoma: DIAGNOSED”
Finally? Why is he saying “finally”- why is he looking forward to this? But all of this doesn’t matter, the problem at hand is that he DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. He doesn’t know how long he has left, he doesn’t know what everyone’s reactions will be. He doesn’t know what NEXZ will BECOME without him, and he doesn’t know what to do about his unspoken desires. He doesn’t want to just disappear into thin air without truly doing what he wants to do, what he wants to say.
But he tries to calm down for a moment and look at his manager, who currently has tears streaming down his face. The pudgy man across him, always so happy and cheerful, is now in a state Tomoya has never seen him in before.
I’m sorry, I should have told you earlier, he says, voice shaking, slivers of hurt revealing themselves through the cracks in his voice. I didn’t want to discourage you from your comeback, you guys are doing a great job, he mumbles, words incoherent and fragile. The doctor said you have about 4 months left.. make the most of that. I’ll put you on hiatus, and then break the news..
At this point, his Manager-nim is now fully in tears, shoulders heaving up and down as he tries his best to steady himself, to show the boy that has ALWAYS looked up to him the presentable side of himself. But he has failed, he can no longer contain himself. Not only because Tomoya’s situation will bring a serious impact to the company, but also because he will, or should he say already, has lost someone so dear to him.
Tomoya doesn’t cry. He just sits there, repeatedly looking at that sentence. He doesn’t really know what “Primary Mediastinal B-cell Lymphoma” is, but judging from the looks of it, it is really, really bad. He knows he’ll probably get chemotherapy soon, but he knows before that, he has to tell his mother, he has to tell the members, he has to tell Hyui. So he doesn’t say a word. He exits the chair, the soft foam springing back without his weight. He needs to get to work. He needs to finish that Moyalog, he needs to finish everything and provide the members with all that he can before he says goodbye.
With a heavier burden than the one he had on his shoulders when he entered, he turns on his heels and walks into the dark corridor, his silhouette slowly disappearing in the dark haze, just like his life will in the following months.
He thinks to himself, it’s no wonder my situation hasn’t been the best these days. Every day’s been a challenge for him- he had to make it through the nights with drenching night sweats, unexplained fevers, and a hoarse voice which he thought hugely affected his performance. But the fans were OK with it- it seemed like he was the only one that was concerned, so he dismissed it and thought of it as comeback nerves. He’s been feeling dizzy and nauseous for the past 3 months or so, so it was no surprise his manager noticed and took him to the hospital to do some tests. He just didn’t expect his manager to hide the truth from him- well, he could understand, it was all for the best anyways, right?
So Tomoya goes back to the dorm, trying to keep his face as normal as possible to not let the members suspect anything. Faced with their concerns, he shakes them off- he doesn’t want such a heavy burden to cloud their resolves. Seita, ever the observant one, comes up to him and shoots him a meaningful look like he knows what’s up. Tomoya knows he doesn’t, knows he’s just confused, but he can’t help but let that stare linger in the bottom of his heart- with a sigh, he lies back down in bed, stares up at the dark ceiling, and thinks about what’s been going on lately.
And time passes in the blink of an eye.