Beomgyu and Yeonjun have been friends since childhood. Beomgyu, the son of a CEO of a luxury car company. Yeonjun, an orphan on a scholarship for their arts school. The feelings have always been there, but neither brave enough to voice them.
When Be...
The nurse stares at Yeonjun with skeptical eyes. Her pen and notepad seem like weapons, her blue scrubs like ancient robes that have the mystical power of seeing through frauds.
"Um." Now is not the time for a dad joke, even though about a dozen of them rise in his mind. "I feel very depressed. And anxious."
The nurse raises her brow. "And when did these feelings begin for you?"
Yeonjun looks around at the intake room, a stark, tiny space past the emergency station, no windows—just a dark slippery chair that can lie all the way back. Harsh lights. And a single stool for the nurse.
"About a week ago," Yeonjun lies. He's holding his breath, wondering what beast has taken over him to come up with this idea.
He's too worried. Beomgyu has never been alone—away from his parents, and from him. He knows the boy is scared—taken unexpectedly with no discharge day to look forward to.
Beomgyu needs him. At this moment. And he'll get to him, no matter what it takes.
"I see." The nurse, a woman in her thirties with a bad perm, scribbles something onto her notes. "Do you feel like you're a danger to yourself or others?"
"Oh, yes." Yeonjun gulps. "I feel like I'll do something drastic if I don't get admitted right now."
"Drastic?" The nurse's eyes narrow. "Can you describe this in a bit more detail?"
More lies spew out, almost like he's a natural—faking his way through for a living. He can't believe the things he is making up. How he's thought of death almost every day this past week. That he is tempted to jump when looking out from the balcony.
He doesn't even have a balcony!
And he swallows down the guilt. He knows mental health is a serious subject, not to be toyed with, but even that knowledge won't stop him from being a total fool for Choi Beomgyu.
After more scribbling from the nurse, and more of Yeonjun's panic, she finally lets out a heavy sigh. "Okay, Choi Yeonjun. We have a space for you. Follow me."
He doesn't have any time to celebrate. He's much too afraid of what he's gotten himself into. Beomgyu will kill him. And he barely had time to text his foster parents—that he's staying with Beomgyu for an extended period. He doesn't know how they'll take it—they've been his guardians for almost a year now, after he jumped across families for a while. He's so close to becoming an adult. Then he'll find his own place, one that Beomgyu would be proud to come over to.
But first thing's first.
"You're in room 553," The nurse says as they ascend in a specially-secured elevator—a guard stationed below and on the fifth floor as they exit. "You have a roommate."
The nurse opens the door while Yeonjun holds his breath. All of his things have been taken away, and he's dressed in greenish scrubs. He's really betting everything on the hope he'll be close enough to Beomgyu. To be with him in this dark point of his life.
Beomgyu's eyes widen as he enters the room. The boy sits up, speechless.
Yeonjun matches Beomgyu's expression. He can't believe that out of all the rooms in the ward, he'd be placed in this one. Like fate has wrapped around them in red ribbon.
"Dinner is in one hour," the nurse says. "We usually lock the room for your safety, letting you out for meals, therapy sessions and activities, exercise and free time."
"Thank you...." But Yeonjun's words are barely a whisper. He's too preoccupied with watching his best friend.
Not just noticing the scrubs that match his, but scanning everything for signs—is he struggling? Is this life weighing too hard on his shoulders?
The nurse shuts the door.
"Hyung?" Beomgyu's voice is small at first, but soon it grows deeper, and a whole lot angrier. "What are you doing?"
He already knows. Beomgyu's been with him for too long—he can guess that Yeonjun faked his way in the ward. "I came to see you," Yeonjun says. "I thought you might be scared. And lonely."
"I can handle myself," Beomgyu says.
He's too weak to sit up for long. He collapses backwards, almost hitting his skull against the headboard. Yeonjun rushes to his side.
"Beomgyu." Then Yeonjun notices the shadows under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks and the pallor of his skin. He's so stupid for not noticing sooner. His best friend was suffering, and he was unaware. Taking for granted that Beomgyu would always be joyous and unaffected, he became blind to the signs.
"Go away," Beomgyu says, weakly.
"Brat," Yeonjun whispers, but there's not a drop of vitriol behind it.
"You're the stupidest person in the world for faking your way into a psych ward," Beomgyu says, wiping a palm over his feverish forehead. "I can't believe you."
"Aren't you happy to see me?" Yeonjun says, putting on a cheeky smile that would hopefully cheer the smaller boy up.
"I am." Beomgyu sighs, his whole body deflating. He pulls his blanket up to his chin, closing his eyes.
Yeonjun is more than relieved. Beomgyu looks sick. But he's still with him, still alive and willing to fight.
Beomgyu will get better. Even if Yeonjun has no real control over that, he must believe it to be true.
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What is your favorite track from TXT? It gets harder and harder to choose each year. Right now, I think I have to go with "Trust Fund Baby," "Anti-Romantic," and "Quarter Life."
