SBB 2016 ENTRY #16: AFTERLIFE (3/8)
Title: Afterlife (3/8)
Pairing: Minjung/bigender!Jonghyun
Rating: R--NC-17
Genre: Angst / Horror / Sci-Fi
Warnings: Character death, gore, body horror, prescription drug abuse, suicide attempt, mention of self-harm, mentions of food
Final Word Count: 74,000~
Saturday mornings were usually a cozy lazy affair. Minjung would return from her run, and shower just so she could climb back in bed with her partner and nuzzle them as they woke up. They would cuddle and talk in low fragmented murmurs about a muscle ache they had, or the task that was weighing on their mind, and then, inevitably, one of them would complain about the other’s bad morning breath, and after tussling a little in bed, they would both end up in front of the bathroom mirror, hair mussed, grinning at each other in the mirror around a mouthful of toothpaste froth, as they alternated who spat in the sink.
But when Minjung woke up that morning, the bed next to her was empty, and the clock read 8:45. She rolled over, frowning at her headache and the vague sense of unease that filled her, and then she remembered.
She listened intently, but the house was utterly silent. Her partner must have already left, she thought. However, when she left the bedroom, she found them sitting at the kitchen table, hands clutching a large mug of coffee. They regarded her with bloodshot eyes.
“Good morning,” she croaked.
They said nothing, and she bit her lip and moved to the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, and took her morning handful of vitamins and medications, taking comfort in the small ritual. She carried her glass to the table.
“Would you like anything?” she asked meekly.
They focused on their coffee instead of meeting her eyes. “I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure--” she began, but they rose abruptly, and carried their coffee into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
She finished the rest of her orange juice before her hands started shaking so badly they could no longer hold the glass.
The next few hours were a waiting game, as Minjung cleaned the entire house, her nervous eyes darting to the closed bedroom door every so often. Lunch time came and went, and she ate leftovers out of a tupperware dish, not even bothering to sit down as she gulped down as much as she could manage before putting the rest back into the refrigerator.
At last she could wait no longer, and she went to the bedroom door and knocked softly on it, and then, after hearing no reply, slowly turned the handle. It gave easily, and she pushed it open, holding her breath as she stepped into the room, her socked feet making no sound against the smooth tiles.
Her partner was curled up on their side, facing Minjung’s side of the bed. Their face was turned away from her, and she could see one of their hands, palm open and up, as it rested just a few inches below her pillow.
“Babe,” she whispered, but they didn’t respond or move. She moved further into the room.
They were asleep, she saw, as she crossed to her side of the room. They were wearing one of their favorite over-sized shirts, a bright pink that made their skin glow and brought out the color in their lips. Their long eyelashes rested innocently against their cheeks, and their mouth was parted a little, and they would have looked utterly at peace, were it not for the tiny furrow between their eyebrows, and the redness at the tip of their nose.
The sight made the wound inside Minjung start oozing freshly again, and, on impulse, she lay down facing them, the width of her body just fitting in the narrow space between their fingertips and the edge of the bed. She ached to hold them, to draw them into her arms and soothe their hair, but it felt wrong somehow, so instead she took their hand and clasped it in both of hers, drawing it up to her cheek.
They stirred, their mouth working, and the frown deepening in their forehead, and she froze, but then they settled back into sleep, the furrow smoothing itself and their breath evening out once more.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, and kissed their knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”
The tranquility was shattered a few minutes later by the loud shrill of her partner’s phone from the next room. Minjung jumped, and let go of their hand, and they groaned, grumbling incoherently as the phone kept ringing. They rolled onto their back and pressed their palms against their eyes.
“I’ll get it,” Minjung offered, but they threw out one arm to stop her. “Leave it,” they commanded.
They turned away from her, curling up on their side as the phone stopped ringing. But a moment later, it rang again, and they cursed, and got up.
Minjung heard their low sleepy voice speak into the phone, and then they reappeared in the doorway and tossed the phone onto the bed. “It’s for you,” they said curtly, and disappeared.
The call was still live, Taemin’s picture centered in the screen. She sighed but picked it up. “This is Minjung.”
“Minjung, hi,” Taemin’s voice came through the speaker. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I really need your help.”
“It’s Kibum,” he continued, when she didn’t respond. “I--well, somebody found him along the Strip this morning. He had just collapsed on the street outside Mandalay Bay. They think it’s heatstroke. He’s in the emergency room, but they’re discharging him now, and he needs a ride home, and I was wondering if I could, uh…”
He trailed off, and she gritted her teeth. “Yes?”
“Borrow your car?” he asked. “Or like, if you could drive me or something, I’m sorry, I just have no one else to call.”
She closed her eyes in annoyance. “Isn’t he like, loaded? Why can’t he just call himself a cab or something?”
“They found him without his phone or wallet,” he replied. “He remembered my number, that’s the only reason they knew to call me.”
“Please,” he begged, when she went silent again. “He’s in really bad shape, Minjung. I just want to get him back to my place.”
“If he’s in such bad shape, why are they discharging him?”
“Not enough beds,” he replied. “They gave him plenty of fluids, but he’s not as high priority as someone with chest pain, you know? So they’re trying to get him out of there.”
Minjung pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright,” she said at last. “I’ll come pick you up and we’ll go get him.”
She hung up the phone before he could finish stammering through a thank you.
“They found Kibum,” she said, as she left the bedroom. She set the phone down on the table. “He’s getting discharged from the ER. I’m driving Taemin over to pick him up.”
“What?”
“He got heatstroke or something, and someone found him.” Minjung shrugged. “I don’t know much more than you do.” She headed back into the bedroom, already stripping off her nightshirt. “I don’t know how long I’ll be out.”
“I’m coming with you,” they said behind her.
She turned with her sports bra in her hand. They stood in the doorway, arms folded. “I wanna make sure he’s okay.”
Her head ached. “Okay,” she said wearily. “Sure.” She pulled her bra over her head. “Just let Taemin know you’re coming too?”
The sun was painfully bright as they set off towards Taemin’s house, and Minjung squinted as she drove; she had forgotten her sunglasses again and the light and the heat were only making her headache worse. Her partner sat in silence in the passenger seat, not looking at her once along the way, their gaze trained on the mountains in the distance.
Taemin must have been waiting for their arrival, for he rushed out of his house and down the drive before they even had the chance to park. He fumbled with the back door for a moment, using his shirt to protect his hand from the heat as he grabbed the handle and pulled it open.
“Thanks guys,” he said, a little breathlessly. He settled himself in the back seat. “He’s at Valley. Do you guys need me to pull it up on my phone?”
“I think I remember--” Minjung started, but her partner interrupted her. “I got it.”
They found Kibum sitting on a bench outside the hospital complex, clutching his discharge slip in one hand. Gone was the suave sophisticated Kibum of last night; the man on the bench was disheveled and unkempt, his hair standing up at odd angles, his white shirt wrinkled and stained with sweat. He was missing his watch, and instead of his shoes, he wore a pair of pastel pink tread socks from the hospital. He did not look up when they pulled up next to him, and when Taemin rolled down his window, he had to call Kibum’s name a few times before Kibum glanced their way, and his eyes focused in recognition. He staggered toward the car, a lopsided smile on his face, and Taemin pushed open his door and scooted over to make room for him.
He reeked. The smell was potent and immediate when he entered the car: a rank sour smell, of alcohol, and stale sweat, laced with a sickly sweet note that reminded Minjung of garbage rotting in the sun. She almost gagged, and then rested the knuckles of her left hand against her nose as she drove away, hoping it looked discreet.
“Hey, what happened?” Taemin asked Kibum softly. “Hey. Look at me. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Kibum mumbled. “I don’t really remember. I was with you guys--right? And then--I don’t know. I remember feeling really confused and upset and I ended up outside, and then I woke up this morning to someone shouting in my face about how many fingers they were holding up.” He laughed. “I haven’t had a night like that since college. I hope I didn’t make too big of a fool of myself.”
The car was silent. Minjung stole a glance at her partner, but their eyes were fixed resolutely out the window.
Kibum laughed again, but it sounded nervous this time. “That bad, huh?”
“You really don’t remember anything?” Taemin prodded.
Kibum shook his head. “I just remember we--” he gestured at Taemin “--were dancing and then...then I don’t know.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Minjung heard her partner mutter.
Kibum’s eyes darted between all three of them. “Okay. I feel like I’m missing something. What’s going on?”
“We’re just glad you’re safe,” Taemin tried to assure him.
“No, come on, tell me,” he said. “Minjung? Junghee? What happened?”
Minjung saw her partner’s shoulders tense, and then they whipped around to face Kibum. “First of all, it’s Jonghyun,” he said. “Second, can we just--can we not do this charade?”
Kibum’s eyes widened. “Jonghyun, what are you talking about?”
“Christ,” Jonghyun hissed, throwing up his hands. “Kibum, who the fuck do you think you’re fooling? We all know! All three of us know! It’s not a secret!”
“Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” Kibum said desperately. “But I honestly don’t know what it is, so can someone please tell me? Did I break the law? Did I hurt somebody?”
“Unbelievable,” Jonghyun said.
“Let’s take this down a notch,” Taemin hastened to say. “Kibum, you didn’t break the law. You’re good. Let’s just focus on you getting some rest and we can iron all the other stuff out lat--”
“You lied to me!” Jonghyun’s voice was shaking.
“Or, sure, we could do this now, I guess,” Taemin grumbled, slouching back in his seat and rubbing his hands over his temples.
Kibum looked utterly lost. “Babe, I wouldn’t lie to you, what are you--”
“Don’t babe me,” Jonghyun said, laughing bitterly. “You told me we had to break it off because you were with Jinki now, and it was monogamous. And it hurt, but I accepted it, because you know, you had principles, right? And boundaries. And I could respect that. But then! You come back here and what do you do? You start screwing my best friend. Because apparently you can’t do the poly thing for me, but you’ll cheat on your boyfriend like that!--” he snapped his fingers “--if it gets you some ass when you get the craving. So no, you don’t get to call me babe after all that, you lying piece of shit.”
His words hung in the air between them. Kibum was silent for several moments. “Shit,” he said finally.
“...That’s all you have to say to me?” Jonghyun said.
“I don’t know, I don’t remember,” Kibum stammered. “Nothing makes sense, I didn’t...babe--Jonghyun, I’m sorry, I didn’t--I wouldn’t--”
“Just...stop.” Jonghyun cut off Kibum’s increasing incoherence. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuses you come up with. And I don’t want to see you anymore. So just go back home, or keep fucking Taemin, I don’t even care, just--I’m done, okay? We’re done.”
He turned back around and went back to staring out the window in stony silence, as Minjung chewed on her nails, and the other two slumped in the back seat, Taemin with his head back and his eyes closed, Kibum slouched forward with his head in his hands.
He did not stir until they reached Taemin’s house, at which point he simply said, “Thanks for the ride,” and lurched out of the car. He walked swiftly toward the house, his head down and his shoulders hunched, looking oddly young and small in his pale pink socks.
Taemin sighed and opened his door. “Thanks again, guys. I owe you.”
“It’s fine,” Minjung said.
“No, really,” he repeated. “Thanks.” He looked toward Kibum’s retreating form. “I’m gonna go make sure he stays out of trouble.”
He gave them each one last apologetic smile and then slipped out.
“Fuck,” Jonghyun whispered as they pulled away.
“Are you okay?” Minjung asked.
He snorted. “Not even a little bit.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked timidly.
“Not to you.”
The remark stung, and she blinked back tears. “Okay,” she said.
---
She held it together for the rest of the drive home, and throughout the afternoon. They made dinner separately, dancing gingerly around each other in the small kitchen as Jonghyun ate a sandwich, and Minjung pulled more leftovers from the fridge. She stole several furtive glances at him, but his face was cold and unreadable. At last she could take it no longer, and she caught his arm as he passed her on the way out of the kitchen.
“Please,” she said softly. “Can we talk?”
He shook her free. “I really don’t want to do this right now.”
“I know, but--” she reached out for him, longingly, and then withdrew her hand. “Please talk to me, babe. I can’t do this. I feel like I’m dying.” The last few words came out with a sob. “I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything, just talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” His voice was flat with exhaustion.
“I don’t know, anything,” she said. “Yell at me if you need to. Just-- something.”
He pressed his lips into a flat line and looked away. “I’m not going to yell at you,” he said. “I don’t want to yell at you.”
“I just want us to be okay,” she pleaded. “I want us to be good again.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I want that too.”
“Then talk to me, baby,” she said. “Please talk to me.”
He was silent for a long time. “You know, one of the reasons I fell in love with Kibum was because of how honest he was,” he said. “Honest, and blunt to the point where some people found him rude. And it hurt sometimes, how blunt he was. It felt like he had no tact. But he also told the truth even when it hurt him. And I thought, here is someone I can trust, someone who will tell me the truth even if it’s inconvenient, even if it hurts one or both of us.” He paused, and Minjung could see tears gathering in his eyes, before he looked down. “When we broke up, I thought it was that kind of hurt,” he said quietly. “The necessary, honest kind. It’s the kind of wound that heals cleanly, you know? I thought, I can respect this. We can still be friends.” He took a deep breath. “But then...he goes and does this.”
He looked at her. “It’s not that he fucked someone else that bothers me. It’s not even that it was Taemin. That’s not what makes me so upset. It’s because I always trusted him to be honest, and now I can’t anymore. It makes me question our entire relationship, our entire friendship. Like, what else was he lying to me about?”
“I still love him,” he continued, “but I don’t know how to move forward after this.” He smiled sadly. “What’s wild is that as soon as he started saying all that ridiculous stuff about how he just conveniently ‘forgot’ everything he did with Taemin, I wanted so badly to believe him that I started thinking, you know, Jonghyun, maybe you’re just crazy. Maybe you’re just overreacting. Maybe you made this entire thing up. And it’s fucking me up, how slippery reality is in my brain, and how easy it is for someone like Kibum to make me distrust myself, just because I want so badly for everything to be fine, and I want to go back to the way things were.” He ran one hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just as well I told him to fuck off.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, in the ensuing silence. She didn’t know what else to say.
“Me too.” He let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m not Kibum, though,” she said. “We can still fix this.”
“You’re definitely not Kibum,” he agreed. “And neither am I. But don’t you get it, Minjung? It’s the same damn thing. You don’t trust me anymore. And nothing I say will do any good as long as you don’t trust me. We’re never going to be okay if we can’t trust each other.”
“I’m trying,” she whispered. Her chin quivered as she started to cry. “But it feels unfair. It feels like you’re saying that it’s all my fault. Like I’m wrecking our relationship by being scared. But I’m not trying to be scared on purpose. It just happens. Because you’re the most important person in the entire world to me, and I’m always terrified I’m going to lose you.” She sobbed openly. “When I sleep, I have nightmares about you dying, and when I’m awake, I think it’s inevitable that at some point you’ll just...leave. That I’ll bore you and annoy you until you can’t take it anymore, and you’ll go off with someone else.”
“Babe,” he said. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”
“I know you say that, but--” she swallowed, trying to find the words. “It’s hard for me to believe it. It’s hard for me to look at you and feel like you’re the center of my entire world and feel like you don’t look at me the same way. It’s hard for me to watch you around other people, because sometimes it feels like you love everyone else a little bit more than you love me. And now I just feel like you’re telling me that none of my feelings matter, that I just need to keep everything down and pretend I feel fine when I watch you hanging all over Kibum, or whoever else, because otherwise, I’m wrecking our relationship. And it’s not fair,” she repeated, “because you get to be mad and hurt about Kibum breaking up with you and sleeping with someone else, but I’m not allowed to have my own anxious feelings.”
“I don’t think you realize,” she continued, “how many times I’ve said yes to you because I was afraid that if I ever said no to you, on anything, that you would get mad and leave me.”
There was a brief silence, as Minjung sniffled, embarrassed, against her hand, and Jonghyun chewed his lip.
“So what you’re saying is,” he said slowly. “You weren’t--you aren’t actually okay with me being poly.”
“No, I am,” she said. “I mean,” she amended, “I’m trying to be. I want to be.”
“But you’re not.”
At Minjung’s silence, Jonghyun groaned. “Babe, it's been two years. You should have told me sooner that you were feeling like this. You should have told me right from the start.”
“I didn't know at the beginning how I would feel!”
“But you were uncomfortable with it.”
“I don't know, I just--” Minjung wiped her eyes with the hem of her tank top. “I thought maybe you were right, that I was just uncomfortable because the idea was new and I needed time to adjust.”
“But if I'd known you were so uncomfortable, we could have talked through it,” Jonghyun pressed.
Something in Minjung snapped. “See, that's exactly it, isn't it? We could have talked through it. Because you weren't going to be happy until you got a yes from me.” She laughed bitterly. “So I just took out that step, you know? I gave you the answer you wanted and then I just had to deal with it.”
“That's not what I meant!” Jonghyun protested. “You make me sound like such an asshole, like I was going to just steamroll your feelings until I got my way.”
“Can you really honestly tell me that if I had told you no, that you would have been fine with it, that you would have stayed with me anyway?”
“Babe, I would never leave you,” Jonghyun said earnestly. “As long as you want me to stay, I'm here.”
“But do you actually want to stay or are you just staying because you feel obligated?” The tears that gathered in Minjung’s eyes were hot and angry.
“I'm staying because I love you and I want to be with you,” he said, his chin set stubbornly. “I'm happy with you.”
“But you’d be happier if you were with me and someone else. Like Kibum.”
“I don’t want to be with Kibum right now,” he said angrily. “Since he literally treated me like shit.”
“But if he made things right. Or you met someone else that you liked just as much. Would you really be happy enough with just me?”
He opened and then closed his mouth, like a fish. “I don't know how I would feel. I can't predict that.”
“But you were with someone else!” she said. “Weren't you happier then?”
“I was happy because I thought you were okay with it!” He spread his hands. “What do you want me to say?”
“You’re still in love with him,” she whispered. “You’re gonna go right back to him if he gives you the chance. I just want you to tell me who you would rather be with: me or Kibum. In an ideal world. Just tell me. I have to know.”
Jonghyun looked a little sick. “Babe…”
“Just tell me!” she said.
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wild, like a cornered animal. “I can't choose like that, you know I can’t,” he said, shaking his head violently. “I love you both. I can't choose.”
“But if you had to,” she persisted.
“Please don't do this,” he pleaded. “The point is moot anyway. I'm not even with Kibum right now. I'm with you.”
“But you would be with Kibum, if you could be,” she said spitefully. “You're just with me because it's convenient--because I pay for your food and your meds, because I have a house and a car, and everything you wouldn't be able to afford on part-time dog groomer wages.”
It felt good, for a moment, to watch Jonghyun’s face crumple and know that her words had hit home. But the perverse pleasure passed quickly, as Jonghyun sobbed.
“Why are you saying all this?” he cried. “Do you really think this about me?”
“I just think you should remember who has actually been there for you for the last eight years,” Minjung said. “Because it wasn't Kibum.”
Jonghyun wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. “I feel like you'll never be happy until I tell you that I don't love Kibum anymore.”
“I just hate that after everything I've done, and all the years I've been there for you, that I'm still on the same level as a guy who broke your heart and then slept with your best friend,” Minjung said coldly.
“I'm not saying you guys are the same at all.” His voice was shaking. “But there isn't a magic switch, you know? I can't just suddenly stop loving someone.” He slumped. “Even though sometimes I really wish I could.”
He rubbed at his eyes. “I think I need to lie down,” he said, in a small voice. “I don't feel very good.”
He turned and shuffled into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
---
The rest of the evening was uncomfortably quiet. Minjung decided to clean out the refrigerator, hoping to lose herself in the mundane chore of hunting for expired food and wiping down all the shelves and drawers. Anything to distract herself from the thought of Jonghyun curled up in bed, alone.
She already regretted everything she had said. She’d regretted it the moment she heard the click of the door latching behind him. Yet she also felt a small flicker of pride in finally voicing the things she had felt for years. But then she remembered the way Jonghyun’s voice had quavered when he spoke to her, and the soft wounded look in his eyes, and whatever sense of victory she had fell a little flat.
She finished with the refrigerator, made herself a cup of tea, and flipped through the documentary section on Netflix, pausing to read the descriptive blurb under a documentary on submarines. But her guilt nagged her, and after fidgeting with the remote for a few more moments, she set it and her mug of tea back on the table, and went to the bedroom.
It was nearly pitch black and utterly silent, and for a moment, she wondered if Jonghyun was even there. But then she heard the soft snuffle of his breath through his nose, no doubt stopped up from crying, and she sighed and shut the door behind her, stripping off her clothes and climbing into bed.
She faced him in the dark, her head still swirling with doubt and guilt and anger. But then he shifted, and let out a small whimper in his sleep, and she softened, and reached out to touch his shoulder.
Her fingertips met bare skin, and he startled. “What is it?” he said, as he jerked awake, his words slurring in his alarm.
“I came to say sorry,” she said simply.
He sighed. “I don't wanna talk anymore right now. About things.”
“Me neither.” She smoothed her palm over his shoulder. “I just wanted to be with you.”
She felt him hesitate, and then he pulled her into his arms. “You know I love you...right?” he murmured worriedly.
“Right now I do,” she said honestly. It was easier to believe it with his arms around her, and nothing separating their bodies, just his warm skin against hers.
“Then let’s forget about everything else and just be here right now for a little bit,” he said gently, “so I can show you.” His hand skated across her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
He sounded almost shy as he asked the question. Minjung nodded. “Yes,” she added, realizing he couldn’t see her nod in the dark.
His lips were feather light against hers at first, just a soft peck, and then he nuzzled her nose. “Your turn,” he whispered.
She snuggled closer. “Can I kiss you, baby?”
“Yes,” he said, and she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
It was a game they had come up with, years ago, back when they were still getting to know each other, when every moment of intimacy risked bringing up a host of flashbacks from their previous relationships. The first time they made out, Junghee panicked underneath her, on the narrow dorm bed, her body going lifeless as her eyes stared off into the distance. Minjung stopped immediately, but it was too late; Junghee curled up into a ball and couldn’t talk for the rest of the evening.
“It wasn’t you,” Jonghyun said the next day. “I just suddenly felt like I was back underneath him, and I just remembered it so vividly, the weight of his body, and I just--” he buried his face in his hands. “I just think we need to take it really slowly.”
They stuck to snuggling for several weeks after that, and then, one day, while watching a movie at his apartment, Jonghyun leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder. “Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly. She nodded, and he sat up and turned to face her, kissing her once on the mouth before retreating again.
She tapped his knee a minute later. “Can I kiss you?” she asked in turn, and he nodded happily, his eyelids fluttering shut as she kissed him. Like him, she also kept it brief, and then withdrew, and they spent the rest of the movie cuddling each other and holding hands, and asking each other for kisses every few minutes.
It took a few more months before they made it much beyond kissing, the game getting progressively longer as they began to ask each other for more and more. But some days, they still stuck to short little pecks on the cheek, and some days, even that was too much, and they simply snuggled instead.
But tonight Jonghyun asked for another kiss, and it was a little longer this time, and a little deeper, and Minjung’s kiss in return was even longer, and soon their hands were stealing all over each other, each one still asking permission in whispers.
“Can I kiss you here?” Jonghyun said, his mouth hovering just above her chest. She could feel his breath ghosting along the slight dip between her small breasts.
“Yes,” she gasped, and he did.
“And here?” he said, moving a little lower.
“Mmhmm.”
He continued down the length of her stomach, until his mouth was just above the waistband of her underwear.
“Can I take these--” he began, but she was already reaching down to tug them off and over her knees.
---
“Oh my god,” she said, half an hour and two orgasms later, her head flopping back against the pillow as she threw one arm over her eyes. She felt entirely limp, her skin flushed with warmth as he crept back up her body and drew the sheet over both of them. He pulled her close, nuzzling against her breasts and running his fingers along her back and over the curve of her ass.
She combed through his hair with her fingers, and kissed his scalp tenderly. “I’m sorry I said...all those things earlier.”
He sighed and kissed the skin between her breasts. “Let’s have that conversation sometime when you haven’t just had an orgasm.” He cupped one breast in his hand and kissed at the nipple. “I think we both have a lot to talk about, none of which really fits the mood right now.”
She laughed ruefully. “True.”
“The important thing,” he said gently, “is that we love each other, and we’re going to make it work.”
She felt an assuring warmth spread through her chest. “Yeah.”
They were silent together for a few moments, their hands moving over each other, and then Minjung slid down to face him. “How do you feel about me taking a turn with you?”
“My feeling is very yes,” he said, laughing.
She kissed his nose and then rolled over and flipped on the light.
“Ugh, babe,” he protested, turning over to bury his face in the pillow. “So bright.”
“I gotta find my shit,” she said briskly, yanking open the drawer in the bedside table to pull out the lube and a condom. “Which one do you want?” she said, as she bent further to pull the box of dildos from under the bed.
“The big one,” he said shyly. She sat back up with it, and he wriggled a little in excitement. “My pussy is hungry.”
She laughed. “Isn’t it always?”
“Yeah, but,” he whined, reaching down towards his hole. She batted his hands away. “It’s just always extra hungry after I eat you out.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” she said, as she drizzled lube onto her fingertips. “I’ll fill you up.”
He didn’t take much prep, and she soon had three fingers inside him. She watched with delight as he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. He stuck two fingers into his mouth, sucking hungrily on them, before he reached down to play with his own clit.
They were interrupted by the loud buzz of Jonghyun’s phone vibrating against the end table on his side, creeping slowly towards the edge with each ring, like a beetle skittering in slow motion.
“Who is it?” Jonghyun panted. He turned his head, but the phone was just out of reach.
Minjung pulled her fingers out, bracing her hand against his stomach as she leaned over him and flipped the phone over to look at the screen. “It’s Taemin.” She tapped the power button to turn off the ringer and set it back down.
“No, pick it up, pick it up,” he insisted, craning his head up and off the pillow.
“I’m sure it can wait,” she said, her tone wheedling. “We were just getting started.”
“I know, but--” Jonghyun groaned as she slid her fingers back into his stretched hole. “Babe, it might be important.”
“What could either of those two have to say that we would wanna hear right now?”
“You make a fair point,” he sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. His eyes had just fluttered shut once more when the phone rang again.
“Goddammit,” Minjung muttered, as Taemin’s name flashed onto the screen.
“It’s Taemin again, isn’t it,” Jonghyun said. He reached toward the phone, his fingers just shy of his target. “Minjung, please, I’m not gonna be able to relax if I don’t know what’s going on.”
She pressed her lips together in frustration, but then nodded and pulled out, reaching across him to grab the phone and hand it to him.
“What’s up?” he said without preamble into the phone when he picked up.
Minjung could hear the indistinct mumble of Taemin’s voice.
“You’re talking too fast, I can’t keep up,” Jonghyun said. “Hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker so Minjung can hear too.”
He fumbled with the phone, and then set it between them on the bed so they could both listen.
“Okay, I have you on speakerphone,” he said.
“Hi,” Minjung offered.
“Minjung, hi.” Taemin’s voice trembled audibly even through the phone. “There’s something really wrong with Kibum. I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s going on?” Minjung asked.
She stretched out next to Jonghyun, adjusting the phone between them.
“Like...I don’t know,” Taemin said. “We were eating dinner and he looked sorta dazed, you know? But I just figured it was the heatstroke. I kept telling him to drink water, since that’s what the doctor had said. And then he said he was tired, and wanted to go to bed, so he got up and carried his dishes to the sink and then, I don’t know, I guess he fell or something? And I ran over and he was just lying on the ground, and shaking all over--”
“What kind of shaking?” Minjung asked sharply.
“Like, jerking, like his arms and legs just kept jerking, like he wasn’t in control, and his eyes were open but it was like he couldn’t see anything.”
Jonghyun looked at her, his eyes wide.
“It sounds like a seizure of some kind,” she said. “Did you call an ambulance?”
“I was going to but then it suddenly stopped, and he just kinda lay there for a second, looking confused, and then he sat up. I asked him if I should call an ambulance, but he said not to, he said he was fine.”
“Well,” Minjung said, “he’s clearly not. You should call one anyway.”
“He really wanted me not to,” Taemin said. “He kept saying it wasn’t safe for him to go to a hospital. That something bad would happen to him if he did. He seemed really scared. He kept trying to take my phone away so--so I had to promise I wouldn’t call.”
“Where is he now?”
Taemin sighed. “He’s asleep, I think. In my bed. He smells really bad--I think he shat himself, or something, but I don’t have the energy to try to make him take a shower. I think I’d have to literally fight him.”
Minjung looked at Jonghyun, who grimaced, nostrils flaring in disgust.
“I think you should really just call an ambulance,” she repeated.
“Yeah, but I just--I promised him I wouldn’t,” Taemin said.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Taemin,” she said. “I’m not a doctor, and I can’t cure Kibum over the phone. He needs to go to a hospital.”
“Ask him if he wants us to call,” Jonghyun murmured.
Minjung nodded. “Do you want us to call an ambulance for you?” she asked into the speaker.
“Do you mind?” came Taemin’s reply.
She sighed. “No, I don’t mind. I’ll call right after I hang up.” She looked at the clock. 11:47 p.m. This was not how she had wanted to spend her evening. “Just--try to make sure he stays in bed, resting. If he wakes up, try to get him to drink more water, or something. Just try to keep him calm until they arrive.”
“You got it,” Taemin said, and hung up.
They both lay there silently for a while, and then Jonghyun stirred. “I’ll call 911.”
“Knock yourself out,” Minjung grumbled. She massaged her forehead with one hand while he made the call.
When he was finished, he set the phone back on the nightstand and then rolled over on top of her. “Babe.”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“Can you drive me over to the ER? I just wanna make sure he’s okay.”
Minjung could feel a headache building in the center of her scalp, and radiating over her head.
“I thought you didn’t want to see him anymore,” she said petulantly.
He smiled a little sadly. “That was the plan. But I still love him, even when he’s an asshole, and it doesn’t feel right to just leave him in the emergency room without going to see him.”
She avoided his gaze as he looked down at her. “Fine,” she said at last. She pushed at his shoulder. “Get off me. Let’s go.”
---
They beat the ambulance by a few minutes, and hovered awkwardly in the waiting room, stealing glances out the big double sliding glass doors as they waited for the flashing of lights or the sound of a siren. But the ambulance arrived without fanfare, just a text from Taemin -- we’re here-- and ten minutes later he poked his head from behind the door that led to the emergency department. He beckoned rapidly at them, and after a hasty glance at the nurse busy with the printer at the front desk, they followed him.
“I don’t think we’re all supposed to be back here at once,” he whispered. He pointed down the hall. “His room is around the last corner to the right, and then the first door on the left. I’m gonna go...raid the fridge or something. I don’t know.” He gave them both a thumbs up. “Good luck.”
“Does he think we’re in a bad spy movie or something?” Minjung said as they moved away. “I guarantee you no one cares that much about enforcing the rules on who is back here.”
Jonghyun laughed softly. “He’s always like this. You’d think he’d made off with a nuclear warhead every time he pilfers a tiny vanilla ice cream cup from the nurse’s fridge.”
They were both still giggling at the mental image when they rounded the corner and slipped into Kibum’s room, but their laughter died away as soon as they saw him.
His face looked drained--his eyes closed, and hollow in their sockets. Saliva ran from one corner of his pale slack lips, which were dry and chapped. His arms were limp at his sides, and spasmed every few seconds. He was already hooked up to an IV on a rapid drip that fed into his left arm.
Taemin was right: he reeked. He smelled downright foul, a stench that Kibum would normally never tolerate within fifty yards of himself, let alone allow to saturate his body. He smelled like death. Minjung coughed as she tried not to gag; Jonghyun, too, looked sickened.
Kibum’s eyes blinked open, and his bleary gaze fixed on them both. He shook his head violently, his arms jerking as he tried to sit up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t do it. I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t sit up for more than a few seconds before he collapsed back against the bed. “Don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.
“Kibum.” Jonghyun moved forward, stopping when Kibum flinched. “Don’t worry. It’s just me. It’s just Jonghyun.”
“Jonghyun?” Kibum said, in a small voice. His spasms eased a little, his fingers simply twitching against the bed. Jonghyun stepped closer, and pulled up the small stool next to the bed. “It’s me, Kibum,” he said again, as he sat down. “It’s me. Jonghyun.” He took Kibum’s shaking hand in his, tracing over the backs of Kibum’s knuckles with his other hand. “Don’t be scared.”
“I don’t like being here,” Kibum fretted. “Something’s wrong. I wanna go home. Take me back home.”
“Of course,” Jonghyun soothed. “As soon as you get better, we’ll take you right back home.”
“No, now,” Kibum insisted, his voice cracking. “It’s not safe here, we have to go.”
“They’re going to help you get better here,” Jonghyun spoke gently, as if to a young child. “Don’t you want to get better?”
“No, they’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, his eyes staring off at a spot beyond the other two. “I’m gonna die.” The tremor in his voice was matched by the trembling of his hands. He looked at them again. “I gotta get out of here,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “You gotta help me.” He tried to pull himself to a sitting position, but his arms gave out. “Please,” he whispered desperately. “We gotta go quickly, before they get back.”
“No one’s going to kill you,” Jonghyun assured him. “This is a hospital. It’s their job to help you get better.” He continued caressing Kibum’s hand as he turned to Minjung. “He’s burning up,” he said in a low voice. “His skin is so hot and dry.”
But Kibum shook his head again. “Gotta get out of here,” he repeated, his voice breaking into a dry sob of frustration when he couldn’t sit up. He became increasingly unstrung, until his head thrashed about on the pillow, his hands flapping impotently against the sheets.
Minjung reached for the call button, but Jonghyun held out a hand. “Just...give him a second,” he said. He leaned over Kibum, stroking his hair back from his forehead. “It’s okay, babe,” Minjung heard him murmur. “You’re gonna be okay.”
But Kibum’s eyes had lost their focus, and he stared blankly, his limbs spasming again. The line to his IV was shaking wildly next to him, the needle in danger of getting jerked out. Jonghyun grabbed his upper arms and held him down.
“Okay, call the nurse,” he threw over his shoulder to Minjung. “Quick, he’s gonna hurt himself.”
He kept talking in the same quiet soothing voice to Kibum, but the other man kept shaking his head, sobbing incoherently in his dry, cracked voice.
Minjung pressed the call button, and, after what seemed an eternity, a nurse appeared.
“Oh!” they said. “And you are…?”
“Family,” Jonghyun grunted, still trying to hold Kibum down.
“He started panicking,” Minjung said, nodding to Kibum as he thrashed on the bed.
“Right, well,” the nurse moved to the bed and strapped down Kibum’s arms with a pair of thick velcro straps. Jonghyun stepped back, and Kibum glared warily at him, his eyes reddened with unshed tears.
“Don’t worry, we’ll have you feeling much better in just a couple of minutes,” the nurse said, a little too loudly, as they briskly prepared a syringe. They flicked it a few times, until the air bubbles floated up to the tip, and then they injected it slowly into the IV line. Kibum’s struggling soon weakened, and his eyes fluttered shut as he slipped into a drugged sleep.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jonghyun said, staring at his motionless form.
“Let’s see, he was brought in for--” the nurse glanced at Kibum’s chart. “Seizures, fever, and general dehydration. Looks like he was diagnosed with heatstroke earlier today, so they’re probably just complications from that.” They waved one hand dismissively. “He just needs fluids and rest. Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse.”
They smiled politely. “Unfortunately, visiting hours ended several hours ago, and we can only allow one person in the room at a time, so I’m going to need one of you to leave.”
Minjung looked at Jonghyun, but he nodded. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Taemin was slouched in a chair in the corner of the waiting room when they exited, his gaze trained on the floor as he clutched a small white styrofoam cup in one hand.
“Oh hey guys,” he said, managing a half-hearted smile when they approached. He waved the empty cup at them, and Minjung could see a tiny spoon rattling against the side. “Got my ice cream.”
Jonghyun snorted. “As always, Taemin, your priorities are in impeccable order.”
His smile wavered and then fell. “Hey, don’t be like that, dude,” he said quietly. “I rode over with him in the ambulance, okay? I’m not abandoning him.” He twirled the spoon around the cup with the tip of his forefinger. “It just really scared me, the way his face looked, and the way he was talking. I’ve never seen him like that before. I thought I could walk back in and join you guys, and then--I don’t know, man. I just. Panicked, I guess.”
He stood up. “Anyway.” He began picking at the edge of his cup. “Can I hitch a ride back with you guys?”
---
They brought Taemin back to their own house for the night after he made a joke about how he was going to make himself into a refried shit burrito when he got back and wrapped himself in his sheets and inhaled Kibum’s scent. A joke that, when Minjung looked over at him, she realized wasn’t much of a joke at all. He looked more tightly wound than she had ever seen him, his short fingers making quick work of the cup he was still holding, until it was completely shredded, nesting like a heap of soft eggshells in the palms of his hands.
“Do you have another set of sheets?” she asked.
She knew the answer before he gave it: an abashed shrug and a shake of his head.
“Come back and stay with us,” she said, on impulse.
He blinked as he looked at her. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You can sleep on our couch. It doesn’t smell like shit, for one thing, and it’ll be more convenient when we head back to the ER tomorrow morning if we don’t have to stop and pick you up first.”
He hesitated, and she thought he might say no, but then he nodded slowly. “That’d be nice,” he said, and some of the tension left his shoulders.
He remained subdued for the rest of the ride, and went straight to the couch once he got inside, stretching his lanky form along it and burying his head into the cushions. His hand crept up and felt along the back of the sofa for the fleece blanket that Minjung kept handy; he pulled it down with one swift tug, and then awkwardly wriggled under it until it covered most of his body. He covered his face with a throw pillow, and lay there, motionless.
“He’s out already,” Minjung said. “Wish I had that gift.”
They washed up quickly, Minjung insisting on showers for both of them after being in close proximity to so many patients. It was almost 3:30 by the time they both lay back down in bed.
“We gotta stop with these late nights,” Minjung groaned. “We’re too old for this.”
“Tell me about it,” Jonghyun replied. He turned on his side and scooted back toward her, and she pulled him into her arms, spooning him, burying her nose in his soft damp hair as she curled her hand around his stomach. He stroked her knuckles gently, and she was reminded of the way he had held Kibum’s hand in the emergency room, the way he had called him “babe,” the way, no matter what Kibum did, Jonghyun always returned to him.
She wanted to ask Jonghyun about it, to hear again that he loved her, to have a fresh reminder to hold onto, but he was already dozing peacefully in her arms, and she didn’t want to lose her tenuous grasp on the truce between them.
Nevertheless, the tiny shard of doubt lodged inside her, pricking at the same old raw spot, until she curled even more tightly around Jonghyun, so she could feel him resting against her heart as she fell asleep.
---
The heat wave broke temporarily the next day as a storm rolled in over the valley, rain and hail bursting from the swollen underbelly of the clouds.
“Maybe Kibum will be feeling better this morning and we can take him home,” Taemin said brightly, drying his hair with a towel as he walked into the kitchen, wearing one of Minjung’s borrowed robes as his own clothes went through the wash.
“We’re not going anywhere for a bit,” Minjung said, watching the water rush by on the street as she measured out the rice and rinsed it in a sieve. The light above her flickered, and she gave it a wary glance. But after a moment, it shone brightly on.
Jonghyun soon joined her in the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“I already have the veggies and tofu ready in the fridge,” she said, and he nodded, and pulled the small containers out, and set a pot on the stove.
Taemin hopped up on the stool on the other side of the counter and watched them with interest. “No mushrooms please?” he said hopefully.
“They’re good for you,” Minjung scolded.
“Yeah, but they’re slimy,” he said.
“You can just set them aside, and I’ll eat them for you,” Jonghyun interjected, as he measured out the doenjang.
Taemin smiled triumphantly at Minjung, and she rolled her eyes. Her phone beeped from the table, with the special alert noise reserved for weather emergencies. She looked at Taemin and nodded at the phone. “Can you check that please?”
“Flash flood warning,” he read off the screen. “Until noon. Yeah, we’re not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t need a weather alert to tell me that,” Minjung grumbled. The street outside resembled a shallow river, the water coursing off the slope of the empty lot to their east, and down the street to the intersection, swirling in large eddies around the storm drains as it went. They had a large barrel under the gutter outside to catch rainwater; their best hope of saving water that would otherwise run off the unwelcoming ground, which was as hard and unyielding as cement.
They ate a late breakfast in silence at the table, the only noise the drumming of hail upon the clay roof tiles. Jonghyun barely touched his food. He had his chin propped in his hand, and his eyes fixed on the rain outside. Taemin ate greedily, stuffing his mouth until it was overfull, and then gulping down his water to wash it down. He refilled his bowl twice before his pace slowed down, and he began to dart nervous little glances at Jonghyun, whose face was still turned away. His bites became smaller, and more polite, as he chewed slowly and quietly, and then at last set his chopsticks down.
He cleared his throat and then nudged Jonghyun’s elbow with his pinky. “Hey dude.”
Jonghyun turned to him, his eyes blinking slowly, as if coming out of a trance. “Hmm?”
Taemin swallowed. “I’m really sorry about the other night, and uh--yeah. Everything.”
“I’m not really ready to talk about it,” Jonghyun said, his voice guarded.
Taemin waved his hand. “Yeah, I totally get that, I just wanted to, you know. Put it out there, I guess.”
Jonghyun’s smile was faint but sincere. “I appreciate that.”
Taemin moved to refill his bowl, but Jonghyun put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t really blame you, you know,” he said softly. “You didn’t know, and Kibum is...pretty irresistible.”
Taemin laughed, a little nervously, and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s definitely true.”
“Still,” he added. “I’m sorry.”
“We’re good,” Jonghyun said. “Don’t worry about it.” He glanced back out the window. “Oh hey, I think the rain is slowing down.”
---
Kibum looked even worse than the previous day, if that was possible, his limbs still twitching intermittently, his skin dry and cracking around the corners of his mouth. His IV had remained on a rapid drip, but his cheeks still looked sunken and hollow, and the skin of his arms looked loose and papery.
“He still feels so dry,” Jonghyun said in alarm, as he ran his hand over Kibum’s forehead.
“Is this normal?” Taemin said. “For heatstroke, I mean.”
They both looked at Minjung, but she shrugged. “I don’t know what you expect me to say,” she said. “I’m a pharmacy technician, not a nurse. I know the basics, but in this case, I don’t know any more than what you could read on WebMD.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Jonghyun said, tracing Kibum’s arm with his fingers. “He should be getting better by now. He’s had plenty of fluids.”
Taemin began wandering aimlessly around the room, looking at the equipment, and opening various cabinets and drawers.
“Stop it,” Minjung said, as he pulled open a drawer full of clean syringes.
“I’m not touching, I’m just looking,” he said. He closed the drawer, and wandered over to the opposite wall, where he drew a tiny smiley face in the corner of the whiteboard. The nurse’s name was written at the top in faded green dry erase marker. “Shawna,” he read out loud.
Another reprimand rose to Minjung’s lips, but then she remembered the fear in Taemin’s eyes the previous night, as he fidgeted with his ice cream cup, and she let it go.
He turned and dropped to his hands and knees at the foot of the bed.
“Taemin, what are you doing?” Jonghyun asked.
“His sock fell off,” Taemin’s voice came from under the bed. He reappeared a moment later, triumphantly waving the pastel blue tread sock, like a small flag.
“You don’t need to pick it up from the floor,” Minjung said. “I’m sure we could just ask them for a new one.”
But Taemin had already turned back the sheets at the foot of the bed. He reached for Kibum’s foot, and then froze. “Guys?” he said uncertainly. He stepped back. “What is that?”
Minjung stepped around to have a look, and then recoiled in spite of herself. The sole of Kibum’s foot was covered in red blistering skin, shiny with oozing pus.
“Is that some kind of ...rash?” Jonghyun said next to her. He bent to examine it more closely, and then moved to the other foot.
“Don’t touch it!” Minjung said sharply, as Jonghyun’s fingers inched toward the cuff of the sock. “I think we should call the nurse.”
But Jonghyun grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the box on the counter, and put them on, before rolling the sock off Kibum’s heel. “It’s here too,” he said, pointing at the blistering mass of skin on Kibum’s other foot. He stripped off the gloves and threw them away, shaking his head angrily. “I can’t believe they don’t even have this shit bandaged up. Are they even treating this?” He pressed the nurse call button. “I bet they haven’t done anything for him besides keep him doped up and change out his saline bags.”
“Something’s wrong,” Taemin said quietly, with conviction.
“You think?” Jonghyun’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“No, I mean--” Taemin shook his head. “I don’t think that’s heatstroke.”
The nurse bustled in, and Jonghyun showed them the rash. “Oh,” they said, their head jerking back slightly, in surprise. “That’s new.” They frowned as they pulled on a pair of gloves, the latex snapping around their wrists. “Is he allergic to anything? Any meds?”
“Not that I know of,” Jonghyun said.
The nurse took one of Kibum’s heels and held it gingerly as they inspected the rash. “Hmm,” was all they said.
The other three hovered, trying to peer around the nurse. “What is it?” Taemin asked.
The nurse straightened back up. “Why don’t you all just...hang tight here, okay? I’ll be back in a second.” They whipped their gloves off, throwing them in the garbage as they left.
They returned a few minutes later with the emergency room doctor in tow, who took one look at the rash, and then asked Taemin and Jonghyun and Minjung to step out for a minute. They hung around the entrance to the room, straining to hear the muttered words between the doctor and the nurse, and then the doctor stepped out.
“So, here’s the deal,” they said, clapping their hands together and then cracking each knuckle. “Normally with heatstroke patients, it’s pretty simple: just rest and fluids, and then they go home, right? A few hours in the emergency room if it’s bad enough, but nothing too complicated. But your friend here--he’s presenting somewhat atypically at this point. Not really recovering at the rate he should. Nothing to worry about, but I’m not comfortable discharging him until I see more significant improvement.”
“More significant?” Jonghyun broke in. “He hasn’t improved at all. He’s gotten worse.”
The doctor smiled patiently. “As I said, I’m not comfortable discharging him, but we also can’t keep him in the emergency room, because we need that space, so we’ll be transferring him to one of the in-patient wards in the hospital, where we can keep an eye on him. Run some more tests, that kind of thing. The localized rash is--” they paused briefly. “Not typical for heatstroke, so we need to make sure he’s not having an allergic reaction, or some other complication.”
“Don’t worry though,” they added. “Your friend is young, and seems relatively healthy, and his blood and urine samples tested pretty clear. Elevated white blood cell count, but that’s common in patients with heatstroke. Just a natural immune response. He’s in good hands here, so I’m sure he’ll be out of here in the next day or so.” They smiled again at them, reassuringly, and moved to the large nurses’ station at the hub of the emergency room, leaning over the counter as they ordered the transfer.
Return to Part Two
Part Four
Pairing: Minjung/bigender!Jonghyun
Rating: R--NC-17
Genre: Angst / Horror / Sci-Fi
Warnings: Character death, gore, body horror, prescription drug abuse, suicide attempt, mention of self-harm, mentions of food
Final Word Count: 74,000~
Saturday mornings were usually a cozy lazy affair. Minjung would return from her run, and shower just so she could climb back in bed with her partner and nuzzle them as they woke up. They would cuddle and talk in low fragmented murmurs about a muscle ache they had, or the task that was weighing on their mind, and then, inevitably, one of them would complain about the other’s bad morning breath, and after tussling a little in bed, they would both end up in front of the bathroom mirror, hair mussed, grinning at each other in the mirror around a mouthful of toothpaste froth, as they alternated who spat in the sink.
But when Minjung woke up that morning, the bed next to her was empty, and the clock read 8:45. She rolled over, frowning at her headache and the vague sense of unease that filled her, and then she remembered.
She listened intently, but the house was utterly silent. Her partner must have already left, she thought. However, when she left the bedroom, she found them sitting at the kitchen table, hands clutching a large mug of coffee. They regarded her with bloodshot eyes.
“Good morning,” she croaked.
They said nothing, and she bit her lip and moved to the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, and took her morning handful of vitamins and medications, taking comfort in the small ritual. She carried her glass to the table.
“Would you like anything?” she asked meekly.
They focused on their coffee instead of meeting her eyes. “I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure--” she began, but they rose abruptly, and carried their coffee into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
She finished the rest of her orange juice before her hands started shaking so badly they could no longer hold the glass.
The next few hours were a waiting game, as Minjung cleaned the entire house, her nervous eyes darting to the closed bedroom door every so often. Lunch time came and went, and she ate leftovers out of a tupperware dish, not even bothering to sit down as she gulped down as much as she could manage before putting the rest back into the refrigerator.
At last she could wait no longer, and she went to the bedroom door and knocked softly on it, and then, after hearing no reply, slowly turned the handle. It gave easily, and she pushed it open, holding her breath as she stepped into the room, her socked feet making no sound against the smooth tiles.
Her partner was curled up on their side, facing Minjung’s side of the bed. Their face was turned away from her, and she could see one of their hands, palm open and up, as it rested just a few inches below her pillow.
“Babe,” she whispered, but they didn’t respond or move. She moved further into the room.
They were asleep, she saw, as she crossed to her side of the room. They were wearing one of their favorite over-sized shirts, a bright pink that made their skin glow and brought out the color in their lips. Their long eyelashes rested innocently against their cheeks, and their mouth was parted a little, and they would have looked utterly at peace, were it not for the tiny furrow between their eyebrows, and the redness at the tip of their nose.
The sight made the wound inside Minjung start oozing freshly again, and, on impulse, she lay down facing them, the width of her body just fitting in the narrow space between their fingertips and the edge of the bed. She ached to hold them, to draw them into her arms and soothe their hair, but it felt wrong somehow, so instead she took their hand and clasped it in both of hers, drawing it up to her cheek.
They stirred, their mouth working, and the frown deepening in their forehead, and she froze, but then they settled back into sleep, the furrow smoothing itself and their breath evening out once more.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, and kissed their knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”
The tranquility was shattered a few minutes later by the loud shrill of her partner’s phone from the next room. Minjung jumped, and let go of their hand, and they groaned, grumbling incoherently as the phone kept ringing. They rolled onto their back and pressed their palms against their eyes.
“I’ll get it,” Minjung offered, but they threw out one arm to stop her. “Leave it,” they commanded.
They turned away from her, curling up on their side as the phone stopped ringing. But a moment later, it rang again, and they cursed, and got up.
Minjung heard their low sleepy voice speak into the phone, and then they reappeared in the doorway and tossed the phone onto the bed. “It’s for you,” they said curtly, and disappeared.
The call was still live, Taemin’s picture centered in the screen. She sighed but picked it up. “This is Minjung.”
“Minjung, hi,” Taemin’s voice came through the speaker. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I really need your help.”
“It’s Kibum,” he continued, when she didn’t respond. “I--well, somebody found him along the Strip this morning. He had just collapsed on the street outside Mandalay Bay. They think it’s heatstroke. He’s in the emergency room, but they’re discharging him now, and he needs a ride home, and I was wondering if I could, uh…”
He trailed off, and she gritted her teeth. “Yes?”
“Borrow your car?” he asked. “Or like, if you could drive me or something, I’m sorry, I just have no one else to call.”
She closed her eyes in annoyance. “Isn’t he like, loaded? Why can’t he just call himself a cab or something?”
“They found him without his phone or wallet,” he replied. “He remembered my number, that’s the only reason they knew to call me.”
“Please,” he begged, when she went silent again. “He’s in really bad shape, Minjung. I just want to get him back to my place.”
“If he’s in such bad shape, why are they discharging him?”
“Not enough beds,” he replied. “They gave him plenty of fluids, but he’s not as high priority as someone with chest pain, you know? So they’re trying to get him out of there.”
Minjung pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright,” she said at last. “I’ll come pick you up and we’ll go get him.”
She hung up the phone before he could finish stammering through a thank you.
“They found Kibum,” she said, as she left the bedroom. She set the phone down on the table. “He’s getting discharged from the ER. I’m driving Taemin over to pick him up.”
“What?”
“He got heatstroke or something, and someone found him.” Minjung shrugged. “I don’t know much more than you do.” She headed back into the bedroom, already stripping off her nightshirt. “I don’t know how long I’ll be out.”
“I’m coming with you,” they said behind her.
She turned with her sports bra in her hand. They stood in the doorway, arms folded. “I wanna make sure he’s okay.”
Her head ached. “Okay,” she said wearily. “Sure.” She pulled her bra over her head. “Just let Taemin know you’re coming too?”
The sun was painfully bright as they set off towards Taemin’s house, and Minjung squinted as she drove; she had forgotten her sunglasses again and the light and the heat were only making her headache worse. Her partner sat in silence in the passenger seat, not looking at her once along the way, their gaze trained on the mountains in the distance.
Taemin must have been waiting for their arrival, for he rushed out of his house and down the drive before they even had the chance to park. He fumbled with the back door for a moment, using his shirt to protect his hand from the heat as he grabbed the handle and pulled it open.
“Thanks guys,” he said, a little breathlessly. He settled himself in the back seat. “He’s at Valley. Do you guys need me to pull it up on my phone?”
“I think I remember--” Minjung started, but her partner interrupted her. “I got it.”
They found Kibum sitting on a bench outside the hospital complex, clutching his discharge slip in one hand. Gone was the suave sophisticated Kibum of last night; the man on the bench was disheveled and unkempt, his hair standing up at odd angles, his white shirt wrinkled and stained with sweat. He was missing his watch, and instead of his shoes, he wore a pair of pastel pink tread socks from the hospital. He did not look up when they pulled up next to him, and when Taemin rolled down his window, he had to call Kibum’s name a few times before Kibum glanced their way, and his eyes focused in recognition. He staggered toward the car, a lopsided smile on his face, and Taemin pushed open his door and scooted over to make room for him.
He reeked. The smell was potent and immediate when he entered the car: a rank sour smell, of alcohol, and stale sweat, laced with a sickly sweet note that reminded Minjung of garbage rotting in the sun. She almost gagged, and then rested the knuckles of her left hand against her nose as she drove away, hoping it looked discreet.
“Hey, what happened?” Taemin asked Kibum softly. “Hey. Look at me. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Kibum mumbled. “I don’t really remember. I was with you guys--right? And then--I don’t know. I remember feeling really confused and upset and I ended up outside, and then I woke up this morning to someone shouting in my face about how many fingers they were holding up.” He laughed. “I haven’t had a night like that since college. I hope I didn’t make too big of a fool of myself.”
The car was silent. Minjung stole a glance at her partner, but their eyes were fixed resolutely out the window.
Kibum laughed again, but it sounded nervous this time. “That bad, huh?”
“You really don’t remember anything?” Taemin prodded.
Kibum shook his head. “I just remember we--” he gestured at Taemin “--were dancing and then...then I don’t know.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Minjung heard her partner mutter.
Kibum’s eyes darted between all three of them. “Okay. I feel like I’m missing something. What’s going on?”
“We’re just glad you’re safe,” Taemin tried to assure him.
“No, come on, tell me,” he said. “Minjung? Junghee? What happened?”
Minjung saw her partner’s shoulders tense, and then they whipped around to face Kibum. “First of all, it’s Jonghyun,” he said. “Second, can we just--can we not do this charade?”
Kibum’s eyes widened. “Jonghyun, what are you talking about?”
“Christ,” Jonghyun hissed, throwing up his hands. “Kibum, who the fuck do you think you’re fooling? We all know! All three of us know! It’s not a secret!”
“Whatever I did, I’m sorry,” Kibum said desperately. “But I honestly don’t know what it is, so can someone please tell me? Did I break the law? Did I hurt somebody?”
“Unbelievable,” Jonghyun said.
“Let’s take this down a notch,” Taemin hastened to say. “Kibum, you didn’t break the law. You’re good. Let’s just focus on you getting some rest and we can iron all the other stuff out lat--”
“You lied to me!” Jonghyun’s voice was shaking.
“Or, sure, we could do this now, I guess,” Taemin grumbled, slouching back in his seat and rubbing his hands over his temples.
Kibum looked utterly lost. “Babe, I wouldn’t lie to you, what are you--”
“Don’t babe me,” Jonghyun said, laughing bitterly. “You told me we had to break it off because you were with Jinki now, and it was monogamous. And it hurt, but I accepted it, because you know, you had principles, right? And boundaries. And I could respect that. But then! You come back here and what do you do? You start screwing my best friend. Because apparently you can’t do the poly thing for me, but you’ll cheat on your boyfriend like that!--” he snapped his fingers “--if it gets you some ass when you get the craving. So no, you don’t get to call me babe after all that, you lying piece of shit.”
His words hung in the air between them. Kibum was silent for several moments. “Shit,” he said finally.
“...That’s all you have to say to me?” Jonghyun said.
“I don’t know, I don’t remember,” Kibum stammered. “Nothing makes sense, I didn’t...babe--Jonghyun, I’m sorry, I didn’t--I wouldn’t--”
“Just...stop.” Jonghyun cut off Kibum’s increasing incoherence. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuses you come up with. And I don’t want to see you anymore. So just go back home, or keep fucking Taemin, I don’t even care, just--I’m done, okay? We’re done.”
He turned back around and went back to staring out the window in stony silence, as Minjung chewed on her nails, and the other two slumped in the back seat, Taemin with his head back and his eyes closed, Kibum slouched forward with his head in his hands.
He did not stir until they reached Taemin’s house, at which point he simply said, “Thanks for the ride,” and lurched out of the car. He walked swiftly toward the house, his head down and his shoulders hunched, looking oddly young and small in his pale pink socks.
Taemin sighed and opened his door. “Thanks again, guys. I owe you.”
“It’s fine,” Minjung said.
“No, really,” he repeated. “Thanks.” He looked toward Kibum’s retreating form. “I’m gonna go make sure he stays out of trouble.”
He gave them each one last apologetic smile and then slipped out.
“Fuck,” Jonghyun whispered as they pulled away.
“Are you okay?” Minjung asked.
He snorted. “Not even a little bit.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked timidly.
“Not to you.”
The remark stung, and she blinked back tears. “Okay,” she said.
---
She held it together for the rest of the drive home, and throughout the afternoon. They made dinner separately, dancing gingerly around each other in the small kitchen as Jonghyun ate a sandwich, and Minjung pulled more leftovers from the fridge. She stole several furtive glances at him, but his face was cold and unreadable. At last she could take it no longer, and she caught his arm as he passed her on the way out of the kitchen.
“Please,” she said softly. “Can we talk?”
He shook her free. “I really don’t want to do this right now.”
“I know, but--” she reached out for him, longingly, and then withdrew her hand. “Please talk to me, babe. I can’t do this. I feel like I’m dying.” The last few words came out with a sob. “I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything, just talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” His voice was flat with exhaustion.
“I don’t know, anything,” she said. “Yell at me if you need to. Just-- something.”
He pressed his lips into a flat line and looked away. “I’m not going to yell at you,” he said. “I don’t want to yell at you.”
“I just want us to be okay,” she pleaded. “I want us to be good again.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I want that too.”
“Then talk to me, baby,” she said. “Please talk to me.”
He was silent for a long time. “You know, one of the reasons I fell in love with Kibum was because of how honest he was,” he said. “Honest, and blunt to the point where some people found him rude. And it hurt sometimes, how blunt he was. It felt like he had no tact. But he also told the truth even when it hurt him. And I thought, here is someone I can trust, someone who will tell me the truth even if it’s inconvenient, even if it hurts one or both of us.” He paused, and Minjung could see tears gathering in his eyes, before he looked down. “When we broke up, I thought it was that kind of hurt,” he said quietly. “The necessary, honest kind. It’s the kind of wound that heals cleanly, you know? I thought, I can respect this. We can still be friends.” He took a deep breath. “But then...he goes and does this.”
He looked at her. “It’s not that he fucked someone else that bothers me. It’s not even that it was Taemin. That’s not what makes me so upset. It’s because I always trusted him to be honest, and now I can’t anymore. It makes me question our entire relationship, our entire friendship. Like, what else was he lying to me about?”
“I still love him,” he continued, “but I don’t know how to move forward after this.” He smiled sadly. “What’s wild is that as soon as he started saying all that ridiculous stuff about how he just conveniently ‘forgot’ everything he did with Taemin, I wanted so badly to believe him that I started thinking, you know, Jonghyun, maybe you’re just crazy. Maybe you’re just overreacting. Maybe you made this entire thing up. And it’s fucking me up, how slippery reality is in my brain, and how easy it is for someone like Kibum to make me distrust myself, just because I want so badly for everything to be fine, and I want to go back to the way things were.” He ran one hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just as well I told him to fuck off.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, in the ensuing silence. She didn’t know what else to say.
“Me too.” He let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m not Kibum, though,” she said. “We can still fix this.”
“You’re definitely not Kibum,” he agreed. “And neither am I. But don’t you get it, Minjung? It’s the same damn thing. You don’t trust me anymore. And nothing I say will do any good as long as you don’t trust me. We’re never going to be okay if we can’t trust each other.”
“I’m trying,” she whispered. Her chin quivered as she started to cry. “But it feels unfair. It feels like you’re saying that it’s all my fault. Like I’m wrecking our relationship by being scared. But I’m not trying to be scared on purpose. It just happens. Because you’re the most important person in the entire world to me, and I’m always terrified I’m going to lose you.” She sobbed openly. “When I sleep, I have nightmares about you dying, and when I’m awake, I think it’s inevitable that at some point you’ll just...leave. That I’ll bore you and annoy you until you can’t take it anymore, and you’ll go off with someone else.”
“Babe,” he said. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”
“I know you say that, but--” she swallowed, trying to find the words. “It’s hard for me to believe it. It’s hard for me to look at you and feel like you’re the center of my entire world and feel like you don’t look at me the same way. It’s hard for me to watch you around other people, because sometimes it feels like you love everyone else a little bit more than you love me. And now I just feel like you’re telling me that none of my feelings matter, that I just need to keep everything down and pretend I feel fine when I watch you hanging all over Kibum, or whoever else, because otherwise, I’m wrecking our relationship. And it’s not fair,” she repeated, “because you get to be mad and hurt about Kibum breaking up with you and sleeping with someone else, but I’m not allowed to have my own anxious feelings.”
“I don’t think you realize,” she continued, “how many times I’ve said yes to you because I was afraid that if I ever said no to you, on anything, that you would get mad and leave me.”
There was a brief silence, as Minjung sniffled, embarrassed, against her hand, and Jonghyun chewed his lip.
“So what you’re saying is,” he said slowly. “You weren’t--you aren’t actually okay with me being poly.”
“No, I am,” she said. “I mean,” she amended, “I’m trying to be. I want to be.”
“But you’re not.”
At Minjung’s silence, Jonghyun groaned. “Babe, it's been two years. You should have told me sooner that you were feeling like this. You should have told me right from the start.”
“I didn't know at the beginning how I would feel!”
“But you were uncomfortable with it.”
“I don't know, I just--” Minjung wiped her eyes with the hem of her tank top. “I thought maybe you were right, that I was just uncomfortable because the idea was new and I needed time to adjust.”
“But if I'd known you were so uncomfortable, we could have talked through it,” Jonghyun pressed.
Something in Minjung snapped. “See, that's exactly it, isn't it? We could have talked through it. Because you weren't going to be happy until you got a yes from me.” She laughed bitterly. “So I just took out that step, you know? I gave you the answer you wanted and then I just had to deal with it.”
“That's not what I meant!” Jonghyun protested. “You make me sound like such an asshole, like I was going to just steamroll your feelings until I got my way.”
“Can you really honestly tell me that if I had told you no, that you would have been fine with it, that you would have stayed with me anyway?”
“Babe, I would never leave you,” Jonghyun said earnestly. “As long as you want me to stay, I'm here.”
“But do you actually want to stay or are you just staying because you feel obligated?” The tears that gathered in Minjung’s eyes were hot and angry.
“I'm staying because I love you and I want to be with you,” he said, his chin set stubbornly. “I'm happy with you.”
“But you’d be happier if you were with me and someone else. Like Kibum.”
“I don’t want to be with Kibum right now,” he said angrily. “Since he literally treated me like shit.”
“But if he made things right. Or you met someone else that you liked just as much. Would you really be happy enough with just me?”
He opened and then closed his mouth, like a fish. “I don't know how I would feel. I can't predict that.”
“But you were with someone else!” she said. “Weren't you happier then?”
“I was happy because I thought you were okay with it!” He spread his hands. “What do you want me to say?”
“You’re still in love with him,” she whispered. “You’re gonna go right back to him if he gives you the chance. I just want you to tell me who you would rather be with: me or Kibum. In an ideal world. Just tell me. I have to know.”
Jonghyun looked a little sick. “Babe…”
“Just tell me!” she said.
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wild, like a cornered animal. “I can't choose like that, you know I can’t,” he said, shaking his head violently. “I love you both. I can't choose.”
“But if you had to,” she persisted.
“Please don't do this,” he pleaded. “The point is moot anyway. I'm not even with Kibum right now. I'm with you.”
“But you would be with Kibum, if you could be,” she said spitefully. “You're just with me because it's convenient--because I pay for your food and your meds, because I have a house and a car, and everything you wouldn't be able to afford on part-time dog groomer wages.”
It felt good, for a moment, to watch Jonghyun’s face crumple and know that her words had hit home. But the perverse pleasure passed quickly, as Jonghyun sobbed.
“Why are you saying all this?” he cried. “Do you really think this about me?”
“I just think you should remember who has actually been there for you for the last eight years,” Minjung said. “Because it wasn't Kibum.”
Jonghyun wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. “I feel like you'll never be happy until I tell you that I don't love Kibum anymore.”
“I just hate that after everything I've done, and all the years I've been there for you, that I'm still on the same level as a guy who broke your heart and then slept with your best friend,” Minjung said coldly.
“I'm not saying you guys are the same at all.” His voice was shaking. “But there isn't a magic switch, you know? I can't just suddenly stop loving someone.” He slumped. “Even though sometimes I really wish I could.”
He rubbed at his eyes. “I think I need to lie down,” he said, in a small voice. “I don't feel very good.”
He turned and shuffled into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
---
The rest of the evening was uncomfortably quiet. Minjung decided to clean out the refrigerator, hoping to lose herself in the mundane chore of hunting for expired food and wiping down all the shelves and drawers. Anything to distract herself from the thought of Jonghyun curled up in bed, alone.
She already regretted everything she had said. She’d regretted it the moment she heard the click of the door latching behind him. Yet she also felt a small flicker of pride in finally voicing the things she had felt for years. But then she remembered the way Jonghyun’s voice had quavered when he spoke to her, and the soft wounded look in his eyes, and whatever sense of victory she had fell a little flat.
She finished with the refrigerator, made herself a cup of tea, and flipped through the documentary section on Netflix, pausing to read the descriptive blurb under a documentary on submarines. But her guilt nagged her, and after fidgeting with the remote for a few more moments, she set it and her mug of tea back on the table, and went to the bedroom.
It was nearly pitch black and utterly silent, and for a moment, she wondered if Jonghyun was even there. But then she heard the soft snuffle of his breath through his nose, no doubt stopped up from crying, and she sighed and shut the door behind her, stripping off her clothes and climbing into bed.
She faced him in the dark, her head still swirling with doubt and guilt and anger. But then he shifted, and let out a small whimper in his sleep, and she softened, and reached out to touch his shoulder.
Her fingertips met bare skin, and he startled. “What is it?” he said, as he jerked awake, his words slurring in his alarm.
“I came to say sorry,” she said simply.
He sighed. “I don't wanna talk anymore right now. About things.”
“Me neither.” She smoothed her palm over his shoulder. “I just wanted to be with you.”
She felt him hesitate, and then he pulled her into his arms. “You know I love you...right?” he murmured worriedly.
“Right now I do,” she said honestly. It was easier to believe it with his arms around her, and nothing separating their bodies, just his warm skin against hers.
“Then let’s forget about everything else and just be here right now for a little bit,” he said gently, “so I can show you.” His hand skated across her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
He sounded almost shy as he asked the question. Minjung nodded. “Yes,” she added, realizing he couldn’t see her nod in the dark.
His lips were feather light against hers at first, just a soft peck, and then he nuzzled her nose. “Your turn,” he whispered.
She snuggled closer. “Can I kiss you, baby?”
“Yes,” he said, and she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
It was a game they had come up with, years ago, back when they were still getting to know each other, when every moment of intimacy risked bringing up a host of flashbacks from their previous relationships. The first time they made out, Junghee panicked underneath her, on the narrow dorm bed, her body going lifeless as her eyes stared off into the distance. Minjung stopped immediately, but it was too late; Junghee curled up into a ball and couldn’t talk for the rest of the evening.
“It wasn’t you,” Jonghyun said the next day. “I just suddenly felt like I was back underneath him, and I just remembered it so vividly, the weight of his body, and I just--” he buried his face in his hands. “I just think we need to take it really slowly.”
They stuck to snuggling for several weeks after that, and then, one day, while watching a movie at his apartment, Jonghyun leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder. “Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly. She nodded, and he sat up and turned to face her, kissing her once on the mouth before retreating again.
She tapped his knee a minute later. “Can I kiss you?” she asked in turn, and he nodded happily, his eyelids fluttering shut as she kissed him. Like him, she also kept it brief, and then withdrew, and they spent the rest of the movie cuddling each other and holding hands, and asking each other for kisses every few minutes.
It took a few more months before they made it much beyond kissing, the game getting progressively longer as they began to ask each other for more and more. But some days, they still stuck to short little pecks on the cheek, and some days, even that was too much, and they simply snuggled instead.
But tonight Jonghyun asked for another kiss, and it was a little longer this time, and a little deeper, and Minjung’s kiss in return was even longer, and soon their hands were stealing all over each other, each one still asking permission in whispers.
“Can I kiss you here?” Jonghyun said, his mouth hovering just above her chest. She could feel his breath ghosting along the slight dip between her small breasts.
“Yes,” she gasped, and he did.
“And here?” he said, moving a little lower.
“Mmhmm.”
He continued down the length of her stomach, until his mouth was just above the waistband of her underwear.
“Can I take these--” he began, but she was already reaching down to tug them off and over her knees.
---
“Oh my god,” she said, half an hour and two orgasms later, her head flopping back against the pillow as she threw one arm over her eyes. She felt entirely limp, her skin flushed with warmth as he crept back up her body and drew the sheet over both of them. He pulled her close, nuzzling against her breasts and running his fingers along her back and over the curve of her ass.
She combed through his hair with her fingers, and kissed his scalp tenderly. “I’m sorry I said...all those things earlier.”
He sighed and kissed the skin between her breasts. “Let’s have that conversation sometime when you haven’t just had an orgasm.” He cupped one breast in his hand and kissed at the nipple. “I think we both have a lot to talk about, none of which really fits the mood right now.”
She laughed ruefully. “True.”
“The important thing,” he said gently, “is that we love each other, and we’re going to make it work.”
She felt an assuring warmth spread through her chest. “Yeah.”
They were silent together for a few moments, their hands moving over each other, and then Minjung slid down to face him. “How do you feel about me taking a turn with you?”
“My feeling is very yes,” he said, laughing.
She kissed his nose and then rolled over and flipped on the light.
“Ugh, babe,” he protested, turning over to bury his face in the pillow. “So bright.”
“I gotta find my shit,” she said briskly, yanking open the drawer in the bedside table to pull out the lube and a condom. “Which one do you want?” she said, as she bent further to pull the box of dildos from under the bed.
“The big one,” he said shyly. She sat back up with it, and he wriggled a little in excitement. “My pussy is hungry.”
She laughed. “Isn’t it always?”
“Yeah, but,” he whined, reaching down towards his hole. She batted his hands away. “It’s just always extra hungry after I eat you out.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” she said, as she drizzled lube onto her fingertips. “I’ll fill you up.”
He didn’t take much prep, and she soon had three fingers inside him. She watched with delight as he moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. He stuck two fingers into his mouth, sucking hungrily on them, before he reached down to play with his own clit.
They were interrupted by the loud buzz of Jonghyun’s phone vibrating against the end table on his side, creeping slowly towards the edge with each ring, like a beetle skittering in slow motion.
“Who is it?” Jonghyun panted. He turned his head, but the phone was just out of reach.
Minjung pulled her fingers out, bracing her hand against his stomach as she leaned over him and flipped the phone over to look at the screen. “It’s Taemin.” She tapped the power button to turn off the ringer and set it back down.
“No, pick it up, pick it up,” he insisted, craning his head up and off the pillow.
“I’m sure it can wait,” she said, her tone wheedling. “We were just getting started.”
“I know, but--” Jonghyun groaned as she slid her fingers back into his stretched hole. “Babe, it might be important.”
“What could either of those two have to say that we would wanna hear right now?”
“You make a fair point,” he sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. His eyes had just fluttered shut once more when the phone rang again.
“Goddammit,” Minjung muttered, as Taemin’s name flashed onto the screen.
“It’s Taemin again, isn’t it,” Jonghyun said. He reached toward the phone, his fingers just shy of his target. “Minjung, please, I’m not gonna be able to relax if I don’t know what’s going on.”
She pressed her lips together in frustration, but then nodded and pulled out, reaching across him to grab the phone and hand it to him.
“What’s up?” he said without preamble into the phone when he picked up.
Minjung could hear the indistinct mumble of Taemin’s voice.
“You’re talking too fast, I can’t keep up,” Jonghyun said. “Hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker so Minjung can hear too.”
He fumbled with the phone, and then set it between them on the bed so they could both listen.
“Okay, I have you on speakerphone,” he said.
“Hi,” Minjung offered.
“Minjung, hi.” Taemin’s voice trembled audibly even through the phone. “There’s something really wrong with Kibum. I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s going on?” Minjung asked.
She stretched out next to Jonghyun, adjusting the phone between them.
“Like...I don’t know,” Taemin said. “We were eating dinner and he looked sorta dazed, you know? But I just figured it was the heatstroke. I kept telling him to drink water, since that’s what the doctor had said. And then he said he was tired, and wanted to go to bed, so he got up and carried his dishes to the sink and then, I don’t know, I guess he fell or something? And I ran over and he was just lying on the ground, and shaking all over--”
“What kind of shaking?” Minjung asked sharply.
“Like, jerking, like his arms and legs just kept jerking, like he wasn’t in control, and his eyes were open but it was like he couldn’t see anything.”
Jonghyun looked at her, his eyes wide.
“It sounds like a seizure of some kind,” she said. “Did you call an ambulance?”
“I was going to but then it suddenly stopped, and he just kinda lay there for a second, looking confused, and then he sat up. I asked him if I should call an ambulance, but he said not to, he said he was fine.”
“Well,” Minjung said, “he’s clearly not. You should call one anyway.”
“He really wanted me not to,” Taemin said. “He kept saying it wasn’t safe for him to go to a hospital. That something bad would happen to him if he did. He seemed really scared. He kept trying to take my phone away so--so I had to promise I wouldn’t call.”
“Where is he now?”
Taemin sighed. “He’s asleep, I think. In my bed. He smells really bad--I think he shat himself, or something, but I don’t have the energy to try to make him take a shower. I think I’d have to literally fight him.”
Minjung looked at Jonghyun, who grimaced, nostrils flaring in disgust.
“I think you should really just call an ambulance,” she repeated.
“Yeah, but I just--I promised him I wouldn’t,” Taemin said.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Taemin,” she said. “I’m not a doctor, and I can’t cure Kibum over the phone. He needs to go to a hospital.”
“Ask him if he wants us to call,” Jonghyun murmured.
Minjung nodded. “Do you want us to call an ambulance for you?” she asked into the speaker.
“Do you mind?” came Taemin’s reply.
She sighed. “No, I don’t mind. I’ll call right after I hang up.” She looked at the clock. 11:47 p.m. This was not how she had wanted to spend her evening. “Just--try to make sure he stays in bed, resting. If he wakes up, try to get him to drink more water, or something. Just try to keep him calm until they arrive.”
“You got it,” Taemin said, and hung up.
They both lay there silently for a while, and then Jonghyun stirred. “I’ll call 911.”
“Knock yourself out,” Minjung grumbled. She massaged her forehead with one hand while he made the call.
When he was finished, he set the phone back on the nightstand and then rolled over on top of her. “Babe.”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“Can you drive me over to the ER? I just wanna make sure he’s okay.”
Minjung could feel a headache building in the center of her scalp, and radiating over her head.
“I thought you didn’t want to see him anymore,” she said petulantly.
He smiled a little sadly. “That was the plan. But I still love him, even when he’s an asshole, and it doesn’t feel right to just leave him in the emergency room without going to see him.”
She avoided his gaze as he looked down at her. “Fine,” she said at last. She pushed at his shoulder. “Get off me. Let’s go.”
---
They beat the ambulance by a few minutes, and hovered awkwardly in the waiting room, stealing glances out the big double sliding glass doors as they waited for the flashing of lights or the sound of a siren. But the ambulance arrived without fanfare, just a text from Taemin -- we’re here-- and ten minutes later he poked his head from behind the door that led to the emergency department. He beckoned rapidly at them, and after a hasty glance at the nurse busy with the printer at the front desk, they followed him.
“I don’t think we’re all supposed to be back here at once,” he whispered. He pointed down the hall. “His room is around the last corner to the right, and then the first door on the left. I’m gonna go...raid the fridge or something. I don’t know.” He gave them both a thumbs up. “Good luck.”
“Does he think we’re in a bad spy movie or something?” Minjung said as they moved away. “I guarantee you no one cares that much about enforcing the rules on who is back here.”
Jonghyun laughed softly. “He’s always like this. You’d think he’d made off with a nuclear warhead every time he pilfers a tiny vanilla ice cream cup from the nurse’s fridge.”
They were both still giggling at the mental image when they rounded the corner and slipped into Kibum’s room, but their laughter died away as soon as they saw him.
His face looked drained--his eyes closed, and hollow in their sockets. Saliva ran from one corner of his pale slack lips, which were dry and chapped. His arms were limp at his sides, and spasmed every few seconds. He was already hooked up to an IV on a rapid drip that fed into his left arm.
Taemin was right: he reeked. He smelled downright foul, a stench that Kibum would normally never tolerate within fifty yards of himself, let alone allow to saturate his body. He smelled like death. Minjung coughed as she tried not to gag; Jonghyun, too, looked sickened.
Kibum’s eyes blinked open, and his bleary gaze fixed on them both. He shook his head violently, his arms jerking as he tried to sit up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t do it. I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t sit up for more than a few seconds before he collapsed back against the bed. “Don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.
“Kibum.” Jonghyun moved forward, stopping when Kibum flinched. “Don’t worry. It’s just me. It’s just Jonghyun.”
“Jonghyun?” Kibum said, in a small voice. His spasms eased a little, his fingers simply twitching against the bed. Jonghyun stepped closer, and pulled up the small stool next to the bed. “It’s me, Kibum,” he said again, as he sat down. “It’s me. Jonghyun.” He took Kibum’s shaking hand in his, tracing over the backs of Kibum’s knuckles with his other hand. “Don’t be scared.”
“I don’t like being here,” Kibum fretted. “Something’s wrong. I wanna go home. Take me back home.”
“Of course,” Jonghyun soothed. “As soon as you get better, we’ll take you right back home.”
“No, now,” Kibum insisted, his voice cracking. “It’s not safe here, we have to go.”
“They’re going to help you get better here,” Jonghyun spoke gently, as if to a young child. “Don’t you want to get better?”
“No, they’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, his eyes staring off at a spot beyond the other two. “I’m gonna die.” The tremor in his voice was matched by the trembling of his hands. He looked at them again. “I gotta get out of here,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “You gotta help me.” He tried to pull himself to a sitting position, but his arms gave out. “Please,” he whispered desperately. “We gotta go quickly, before they get back.”
“No one’s going to kill you,” Jonghyun assured him. “This is a hospital. It’s their job to help you get better.” He continued caressing Kibum’s hand as he turned to Minjung. “He’s burning up,” he said in a low voice. “His skin is so hot and dry.”
But Kibum shook his head again. “Gotta get out of here,” he repeated, his voice breaking into a dry sob of frustration when he couldn’t sit up. He became increasingly unstrung, until his head thrashed about on the pillow, his hands flapping impotently against the sheets.
Minjung reached for the call button, but Jonghyun held out a hand. “Just...give him a second,” he said. He leaned over Kibum, stroking his hair back from his forehead. “It’s okay, babe,” Minjung heard him murmur. “You’re gonna be okay.”
But Kibum’s eyes had lost their focus, and he stared blankly, his limbs spasming again. The line to his IV was shaking wildly next to him, the needle in danger of getting jerked out. Jonghyun grabbed his upper arms and held him down.
“Okay, call the nurse,” he threw over his shoulder to Minjung. “Quick, he’s gonna hurt himself.”
He kept talking in the same quiet soothing voice to Kibum, but the other man kept shaking his head, sobbing incoherently in his dry, cracked voice.
Minjung pressed the call button, and, after what seemed an eternity, a nurse appeared.
“Oh!” they said. “And you are…?”
“Family,” Jonghyun grunted, still trying to hold Kibum down.
“He started panicking,” Minjung said, nodding to Kibum as he thrashed on the bed.
“Right, well,” the nurse moved to the bed and strapped down Kibum’s arms with a pair of thick velcro straps. Jonghyun stepped back, and Kibum glared warily at him, his eyes reddened with unshed tears.
“Don’t worry, we’ll have you feeling much better in just a couple of minutes,” the nurse said, a little too loudly, as they briskly prepared a syringe. They flicked it a few times, until the air bubbles floated up to the tip, and then they injected it slowly into the IV line. Kibum’s struggling soon weakened, and his eyes fluttered shut as he slipped into a drugged sleep.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jonghyun said, staring at his motionless form.
“Let’s see, he was brought in for--” the nurse glanced at Kibum’s chart. “Seizures, fever, and general dehydration. Looks like he was diagnosed with heatstroke earlier today, so they’re probably just complications from that.” They waved one hand dismissively. “He just needs fluids and rest. Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse.”
They smiled politely. “Unfortunately, visiting hours ended several hours ago, and we can only allow one person in the room at a time, so I’m going to need one of you to leave.”
Minjung looked at Jonghyun, but he nodded. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”
Taemin was slouched in a chair in the corner of the waiting room when they exited, his gaze trained on the floor as he clutched a small white styrofoam cup in one hand.
“Oh hey guys,” he said, managing a half-hearted smile when they approached. He waved the empty cup at them, and Minjung could see a tiny spoon rattling against the side. “Got my ice cream.”
Jonghyun snorted. “As always, Taemin, your priorities are in impeccable order.”
His smile wavered and then fell. “Hey, don’t be like that, dude,” he said quietly. “I rode over with him in the ambulance, okay? I’m not abandoning him.” He twirled the spoon around the cup with the tip of his forefinger. “It just really scared me, the way his face looked, and the way he was talking. I’ve never seen him like that before. I thought I could walk back in and join you guys, and then--I don’t know, man. I just. Panicked, I guess.”
He stood up. “Anyway.” He began picking at the edge of his cup. “Can I hitch a ride back with you guys?”
---
They brought Taemin back to their own house for the night after he made a joke about how he was going to make himself into a refried shit burrito when he got back and wrapped himself in his sheets and inhaled Kibum’s scent. A joke that, when Minjung looked over at him, she realized wasn’t much of a joke at all. He looked more tightly wound than she had ever seen him, his short fingers making quick work of the cup he was still holding, until it was completely shredded, nesting like a heap of soft eggshells in the palms of his hands.
“Do you have another set of sheets?” she asked.
She knew the answer before he gave it: an abashed shrug and a shake of his head.
“Come back and stay with us,” she said, on impulse.
He blinked as he looked at her. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You can sleep on our couch. It doesn’t smell like shit, for one thing, and it’ll be more convenient when we head back to the ER tomorrow morning if we don’t have to stop and pick you up first.”
He hesitated, and she thought he might say no, but then he nodded slowly. “That’d be nice,” he said, and some of the tension left his shoulders.
He remained subdued for the rest of the ride, and went straight to the couch once he got inside, stretching his lanky form along it and burying his head into the cushions. His hand crept up and felt along the back of the sofa for the fleece blanket that Minjung kept handy; he pulled it down with one swift tug, and then awkwardly wriggled under it until it covered most of his body. He covered his face with a throw pillow, and lay there, motionless.
“He’s out already,” Minjung said. “Wish I had that gift.”
They washed up quickly, Minjung insisting on showers for both of them after being in close proximity to so many patients. It was almost 3:30 by the time they both lay back down in bed.
“We gotta stop with these late nights,” Minjung groaned. “We’re too old for this.”
“Tell me about it,” Jonghyun replied. He turned on his side and scooted back toward her, and she pulled him into her arms, spooning him, burying her nose in his soft damp hair as she curled her hand around his stomach. He stroked her knuckles gently, and she was reminded of the way he had held Kibum’s hand in the emergency room, the way he had called him “babe,” the way, no matter what Kibum did, Jonghyun always returned to him.
She wanted to ask Jonghyun about it, to hear again that he loved her, to have a fresh reminder to hold onto, but he was already dozing peacefully in her arms, and she didn’t want to lose her tenuous grasp on the truce between them.
Nevertheless, the tiny shard of doubt lodged inside her, pricking at the same old raw spot, until she curled even more tightly around Jonghyun, so she could feel him resting against her heart as she fell asleep.
---
The heat wave broke temporarily the next day as a storm rolled in over the valley, rain and hail bursting from the swollen underbelly of the clouds.
“Maybe Kibum will be feeling better this morning and we can take him home,” Taemin said brightly, drying his hair with a towel as he walked into the kitchen, wearing one of Minjung’s borrowed robes as his own clothes went through the wash.
“We’re not going anywhere for a bit,” Minjung said, watching the water rush by on the street as she measured out the rice and rinsed it in a sieve. The light above her flickered, and she gave it a wary glance. But after a moment, it shone brightly on.
Jonghyun soon joined her in the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“I already have the veggies and tofu ready in the fridge,” she said, and he nodded, and pulled the small containers out, and set a pot on the stove.
Taemin hopped up on the stool on the other side of the counter and watched them with interest. “No mushrooms please?” he said hopefully.
“They’re good for you,” Minjung scolded.
“Yeah, but they’re slimy,” he said.
“You can just set them aside, and I’ll eat them for you,” Jonghyun interjected, as he measured out the doenjang.
Taemin smiled triumphantly at Minjung, and she rolled her eyes. Her phone beeped from the table, with the special alert noise reserved for weather emergencies. She looked at Taemin and nodded at the phone. “Can you check that please?”
“Flash flood warning,” he read off the screen. “Until noon. Yeah, we’re not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t need a weather alert to tell me that,” Minjung grumbled. The street outside resembled a shallow river, the water coursing off the slope of the empty lot to their east, and down the street to the intersection, swirling in large eddies around the storm drains as it went. They had a large barrel under the gutter outside to catch rainwater; their best hope of saving water that would otherwise run off the unwelcoming ground, which was as hard and unyielding as cement.
They ate a late breakfast in silence at the table, the only noise the drumming of hail upon the clay roof tiles. Jonghyun barely touched his food. He had his chin propped in his hand, and his eyes fixed on the rain outside. Taemin ate greedily, stuffing his mouth until it was overfull, and then gulping down his water to wash it down. He refilled his bowl twice before his pace slowed down, and he began to dart nervous little glances at Jonghyun, whose face was still turned away. His bites became smaller, and more polite, as he chewed slowly and quietly, and then at last set his chopsticks down.
He cleared his throat and then nudged Jonghyun’s elbow with his pinky. “Hey dude.”
Jonghyun turned to him, his eyes blinking slowly, as if coming out of a trance. “Hmm?”
Taemin swallowed. “I’m really sorry about the other night, and uh--yeah. Everything.”
“I’m not really ready to talk about it,” Jonghyun said, his voice guarded.
Taemin waved his hand. “Yeah, I totally get that, I just wanted to, you know. Put it out there, I guess.”
Jonghyun’s smile was faint but sincere. “I appreciate that.”
Taemin moved to refill his bowl, but Jonghyun put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t really blame you, you know,” he said softly. “You didn’t know, and Kibum is...pretty irresistible.”
Taemin laughed, a little nervously, and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s definitely true.”
“Still,” he added. “I’m sorry.”
“We’re good,” Jonghyun said. “Don’t worry about it.” He glanced back out the window. “Oh hey, I think the rain is slowing down.”
---
Kibum looked even worse than the previous day, if that was possible, his limbs still twitching intermittently, his skin dry and cracking around the corners of his mouth. His IV had remained on a rapid drip, but his cheeks still looked sunken and hollow, and the skin of his arms looked loose and papery.
“He still feels so dry,” Jonghyun said in alarm, as he ran his hand over Kibum’s forehead.
“Is this normal?” Taemin said. “For heatstroke, I mean.”
They both looked at Minjung, but she shrugged. “I don’t know what you expect me to say,” she said. “I’m a pharmacy technician, not a nurse. I know the basics, but in this case, I don’t know any more than what you could read on WebMD.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Jonghyun said, tracing Kibum’s arm with his fingers. “He should be getting better by now. He’s had plenty of fluids.”
Taemin began wandering aimlessly around the room, looking at the equipment, and opening various cabinets and drawers.
“Stop it,” Minjung said, as he pulled open a drawer full of clean syringes.
“I’m not touching, I’m just looking,” he said. He closed the drawer, and wandered over to the opposite wall, where he drew a tiny smiley face in the corner of the whiteboard. The nurse’s name was written at the top in faded green dry erase marker. “Shawna,” he read out loud.
Another reprimand rose to Minjung’s lips, but then she remembered the fear in Taemin’s eyes the previous night, as he fidgeted with his ice cream cup, and she let it go.
He turned and dropped to his hands and knees at the foot of the bed.
“Taemin, what are you doing?” Jonghyun asked.
“His sock fell off,” Taemin’s voice came from under the bed. He reappeared a moment later, triumphantly waving the pastel blue tread sock, like a small flag.
“You don’t need to pick it up from the floor,” Minjung said. “I’m sure we could just ask them for a new one.”
But Taemin had already turned back the sheets at the foot of the bed. He reached for Kibum’s foot, and then froze. “Guys?” he said uncertainly. He stepped back. “What is that?”
Minjung stepped around to have a look, and then recoiled in spite of herself. The sole of Kibum’s foot was covered in red blistering skin, shiny with oozing pus.
“Is that some kind of ...rash?” Jonghyun said next to her. He bent to examine it more closely, and then moved to the other foot.
“Don’t touch it!” Minjung said sharply, as Jonghyun’s fingers inched toward the cuff of the sock. “I think we should call the nurse.”
But Jonghyun grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the box on the counter, and put them on, before rolling the sock off Kibum’s heel. “It’s here too,” he said, pointing at the blistering mass of skin on Kibum’s other foot. He stripped off the gloves and threw them away, shaking his head angrily. “I can’t believe they don’t even have this shit bandaged up. Are they even treating this?” He pressed the nurse call button. “I bet they haven’t done anything for him besides keep him doped up and change out his saline bags.”
“Something’s wrong,” Taemin said quietly, with conviction.
“You think?” Jonghyun’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“No, I mean--” Taemin shook his head. “I don’t think that’s heatstroke.”
The nurse bustled in, and Jonghyun showed them the rash. “Oh,” they said, their head jerking back slightly, in surprise. “That’s new.” They frowned as they pulled on a pair of gloves, the latex snapping around their wrists. “Is he allergic to anything? Any meds?”
“Not that I know of,” Jonghyun said.
The nurse took one of Kibum’s heels and held it gingerly as they inspected the rash. “Hmm,” was all they said.
The other three hovered, trying to peer around the nurse. “What is it?” Taemin asked.
The nurse straightened back up. “Why don’t you all just...hang tight here, okay? I’ll be back in a second.” They whipped their gloves off, throwing them in the garbage as they left.
They returned a few minutes later with the emergency room doctor in tow, who took one look at the rash, and then asked Taemin and Jonghyun and Minjung to step out for a minute. They hung around the entrance to the room, straining to hear the muttered words between the doctor and the nurse, and then the doctor stepped out.
“So, here’s the deal,” they said, clapping their hands together and then cracking each knuckle. “Normally with heatstroke patients, it’s pretty simple: just rest and fluids, and then they go home, right? A few hours in the emergency room if it’s bad enough, but nothing too complicated. But your friend here--he’s presenting somewhat atypically at this point. Not really recovering at the rate he should. Nothing to worry about, but I’m not comfortable discharging him until I see more significant improvement.”
“More significant?” Jonghyun broke in. “He hasn’t improved at all. He’s gotten worse.”
The doctor smiled patiently. “As I said, I’m not comfortable discharging him, but we also can’t keep him in the emergency room, because we need that space, so we’ll be transferring him to one of the in-patient wards in the hospital, where we can keep an eye on him. Run some more tests, that kind of thing. The localized rash is--” they paused briefly. “Not typical for heatstroke, so we need to make sure he’s not having an allergic reaction, or some other complication.”
“Don’t worry though,” they added. “Your friend is young, and seems relatively healthy, and his blood and urine samples tested pretty clear. Elevated white blood cell count, but that’s common in patients with heatstroke. Just a natural immune response. He’s in good hands here, so I’m sure he’ll be out of here in the next day or so.” They smiled again at them, reassuringly, and moved to the large nurses’ station at the hub of the emergency room, leaning over the counter as they ordered the transfer.
Return to Part Two
Part Four