︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Honestly
Throughout my life
Deep inside
I never felt alive

I'm sinking in the deep end
I'll just try to cry myself to sleep
Please stop this pain

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

No One's POV:

She took out fresh clothes, something simple, something that covered her completely. Her black zip up hoodie with sweats and plain white t-shirt inside. She stumbled into the bathroom, the heavy thud of the door slamming shut behind her echoing her inner turmoil. In the dim, confined space, she felt the walls closing in, a prison of her own making. She slid down the cold wall, trying to drown out the cacophony of her thoughts. The world outside faded to a distant roar, but inside, the chaos only grew louder, relentless and consuming.

She couldn't stand it any longer. The clean streak she'd fought so hard to maintain shattered as she reached for the solace she'd sworn off. Her weakness and vulnerability felt like a raw, exposed nerve, and she was acutely aware of every jagged edge. She needed something—anything—to help her breathe, to cut through the suffocating pressure that gripped her. Desperation overpowered her resolve, and she surrendered to the need for relief, however fleeting or flawed it might be.

She yanked open the bathroom cabinet, her hands scrambling beneath the towels until they found that all-too-familiar box. The box of blades.

She'd come across it countless times before, sometimes managing to push it away, to fight against it. 

But not today. 

The crushing weight of her vulnerability had broken through her resolve, because she'd already dragged it through her skin. She felt the sting of her own weakness and the blade, but there was no turning back so she kept going, letting he pain and desperation consume her.

Before she even realized, her thighs were littered with cuts, all fresh and actively bleeding. But she did nothing, just stared at the oozing blood. It calmed her down. The pain from the cuts was nothing compared to the anguish caused by her mother and her own feelings of inadequacy. 

"It doesn't hurt anymore"
She thought to herself.
It didn't hurt because her thighs were numb, but the dizziness was unmistakable. She was losing blood—little, but enough to make her head spin and her vision blur. As the world around her swayed, she struggled to focus. 

She decided to stop the bleeding before anything else went wrong. Despite her decision, a part of her remained detached, almost indifferent. Deep down, she wouldn't have minded if this was the end. The numbness, the dizziness, and the sense of impending darkness were almost a relief compared to the turmoil she felt inside. 

She wiped the blood from the floor, tears streaming down her face as the gravity of her situation settled in. The thoughts and problems she had been avoiding, the truths she wasn't ready to face, became all too clear. She realized she was ready to confront them now, ready to let go of everything she had been clinging to. The weight of it all felt unbearable—she was at the end of her rope, no longer willing to fight against the darkness that surrounded her.

"I don't want to do this anymore. I'll never be enough, so what's the use?"
She whispered to herself.

She tossed the bloody tissues into the trash bin and stepped into the bathtub. She turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run until it warmed up. As the hot water streamed over her thighs, the fresh wounds stung, but the sensation felt distant and muted. It was as though the physical pain had been swallowed by a deeper, more pervasive numbness.

She put on her clothes and emerged from the bathroom, only to feel even worse than she had before. The fabric clung uncomfortably to her skin, amplifying her discomfort. The brief moment of distraction and solace had given way to a deeper, more crushing sense of despair. The numbness in her mind had only grown more profound, making the weight of her emotions feel heavier and more insurmountable than ever.

She emerged from her restless state, her eyes darting to her phone as it flickered briefly before going dark again. Her gaze then settled on a bag of medicine on her bedside. She reached for the bag, but left the phone untouched. After quickly swallowing the medicine and fever reducer, she sank onto her bed, a hollow sense of relief washing over her.

At least she could keep her promise to Minho: she would rest.

As she lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the white paint seemed to blur into an endless expanse. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, each one echoing louder than the last, yet none of them truly penetrated the numb fog enveloping her mind. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of the city outside. Her body felt heavy, almost as if gravity had increased its grip. She shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the effort was futile. The physical discomfort was a minor distraction compared to the emotional storm raging inside her.

She'd been laying in there for quite a while, but she felt cold and was shivering despite being fully clothed. She fumbled with the covers, pulling them around herself in an attempt to find warmth, but the cold seemed to seep through them. Her head throbbed with a persistent ache, making it hard to keep her eyes open. Every muscle in her body felt heavy and drained.

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Minho POV: 

It had been at least five hours since I last saw her. I spent the time hanging around, eating, feeding my cats, and scrolling through my phone. With nothing else pressing to do, I decided to check in on Hana myself, because I knew she wouldn't tell me if she was feeling worse.

I knock on her door, 
"Hana, you asleep?"

I didn't get an immediate response, so I knocked again. This time, I heard a faint,
"Come in."

As I walked inside, I saw her curled up in a blanket. She looked like she was shaking, though I might have been mistaken.

"How do you feel, Hana? Better?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just need some more time in bed," she murmured.

I stepped closer, trying to gauge her condition more clearly. The blanket was pulled tightly around her, but I could still see her shoulders trembling slightly.

"You don't look so great," I said, keeping my voice soft but concerned.

"Yeah, no kidding, I'm sick,"
she said with a sarcastic but lighthearted tone.

"Humor is still intact, that's a good sign. Turn to me for a second, please."

She complied without hesitation. I pointed the thermometer at her forehead and waited for the reading. Suddenly, the thermometer flashed a frantic red light. Her fever had spiked to 39.6°C.

"Hana, even I know that's not okay. Just listen to me and let me drive you to the hospital."
I said, flipping the thermometer's screen to her face.

"If it doesn't come down in the next 5 hours, then we can go. Until then, I'll just eat another pill."

"And then what? The pill wears off, and your temperature goes back up. Stop being so stubborn, Hana."

"I promise you, I'll even let you put a wet towel, even though I hate it."
she said, her voice softening.

"Why do you want to stall when you can get better now?"
I asked, trying to keep my tone as gentle as possible.

Hana sighed, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of frustration and resignation.
"It's not that I don't want to get better. I just... I don't want to make a big deal out of this."

"This isn't about making a big deal," I said firmly.
"It's about taking care of yourself. You're clearly not well, so let me help you."

"Minho, please. I'm too tired to argue and give reasons. Just listen to me, okay?"

I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, and it made my heart ache.
"Fine," I said softly.
"But I still think we should go to the hospital, so if things don't improve, we're going to the hospital."

She gave a weary nod, clearly too drained to argue further.
"Okay."

"What time is it?"

"Around 7pm. I know, you slept for a while, I was getting bored."

I exit the room, grabbing a bowl of water, a little colder than room temperature. I come back to her room and place it on her bedside.

"Where do you keep your towels?"
 I asked, looking around.

Hana pointed toward a cabinet across the room with a tired gesture.
 "In the cabinet in the washroom," she said quietly.

I walked toward the washroom, but she stopped me with a sudden, urgent voice.
"No! Wait! I'll get it."

She startled me as she got up from the bed, wincing slightly as she moved but quickly masking it.

"Really, Hana, you don't need to—" I began, but she cut me off.

"No, it's okay," she insisted, though her voice was faint.
"I can manage."

I followed Hana as she slowly made her way to the washroom. As she rummaged through the cabinet for a towel, my gaze wandered and I noticed something in the dustbin that stopped me cold. Blood-soaked tissues.

My heart pounded, a cold wave of dread crashing over me. It hit me like a sledgehammer.
 I felt a sickening weight in my chest.

I called out to her, my voice betraying my rising panic.

"Hana, why are these tissues bloody?"

She flinched and froze, her hand gripping the cabinet door. Her eyes, which had looked so tired and frail, now reflected something even more troubling— Something I couldn't put a finger on.

"It's nothing," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She took a deep breath and forced a fragile smile, but it did little to conceal the pain.
"I just had a small nosebleed. It happens sometimes."

"Hana, I didn't realize it was so bad. Please, just go back to bed."

She pulled out two small handkerchiefs and walked out of the restroom, her steps steady but her shoulders still slightly hunched. As she passed me, she handed one of the handkerchiefs with a small, almost apologetic smile.

"Here, use this," she said softly. "And don't worry.... It's not so bad."

"Don't ever say that again when I clearly see the state you're in,"
I replied, my voice firm but filled with concern.

"Sorry that I worry you"

"Why do you apologize so much, it's not that deep."

"It's a habit,"
She replied as she slumped down on the bed.

Her fragility was undeniable, a stark contrast to the resilient facade she was desperately trying to uphold. The way she attempted to mask her pain only made it more apparent. Her tired eyes and the slight tremor in her hands betrayed the effort to appear composed. Each breath seemed labored, and the forced smile she wore did little to disguise the depth of her discomfort. I pulled a chair in front of her, picking up the bowl of water.

"I know why I have a fever," she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the bowl of water.
"And that's why I refuse to go to the hospital."

"You do? I mean, it makes sense since you're a med student. Why is it then?"

"It's not about being a med student. I know because this has happened before."

"Alright, everyone gets a fever at some point, but there's usually a trigger. What do you think caused it?"
I asked, my focus solely on her.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching for the right words. "It's probably stress," she finally said. "I cried too hard, and already being sick doesn't help."

"That's even more concerning if you didn't realize. But if you're sure it's not an infection or something more serious, then I guess we can skip the hospital for now."

"And I'm sorry you had to spend your weekend like this. I wante—"

I cut her off and said,
"It doesn't matter. I don't mind spending my weekend like this, so don't apologize."

She doesn't reply, just stares at her hand and back at me. It's clear she doesn't know how to reply to that.

"Lie down. I'm going to put a wet towel on your head,"
I said gently.

She nodded slowly and settled back onto the bed, her movements weary but grateful. I carefully placed the damp towel on her forehead, hoping it would help ease her discomfort.

"Try to relax,"
 I said, sitting on the chair beside her bed. 

"It's cold"

"The wet towel?"

"No, I feel cold."
Her voice trembled as she shivered.

"Of course you do, I'll tuck you in again."
I quickly noticed and reached for the blanket.

As I draped the blanket over her, I saw a few spots of blood on her sweats.

"Hana, did you drop blood on you pants too?"

"Yeah, I probably did when my nose bled."

"Why do I feel like your nose isn't the only thing that bled and you might be hiding something?"

"Well, I should be asking you that. I'm telling you, my nose just bled,"
she replied weakly, avoiding my gaze.

I let the topic drop and offered an apology.
"Sorry, I believe you. But you know I need you to be honest with me, right? If there's something else, you need to tell me."

"Yeah, I know,"
she said quietly.

I watched her, my mind racing with questions I wasn't sure I should ask. What caused the nosebleed? Even though I told her I believed her, the blood on her pants and the tissues in the bathroom made me doubt her story.

"You're staring"
Hana said, her eyes barely open, interrupting my thoughts.

"I know, I was just thinking-"

"I know you want to ask questions,"
she interrupted, as if reading my mind.

I hesitated, searching for the right words.
"Yeah, I do. But I don't want to push you if you're not ready to talk."

She took a deep breath, her gaze steady.
"It's not that I'm not ready. I'm just... not sure how to explain it."

"I don't understand what you want, what you need. I want to help you, but I can't understand you."
I said softly.

 "It's hard to put into words."
Her eyes softened as she spoke.
"But try asking me."

"All I want to know right now is what happened on the phone," I said gently.
"I know you started crying right after that call. You were fine and asleep when I left for my run. What changed?

"Right,"
She sighed
"My mom called, as you already know."

"I know, you told that much."

"She just—" Hana's voice wavered.
"It's been, what, three months since I moved out, and she hasn't called me at all. Neither has my dad. And then today, out of nowhere, she calls and starts nagging me because I'm sick."

"But who told her you're sick?"

"I made a stupid mistake, Remember my insurance card?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the hospital sent an email to them about the charges."

I could see the frustration and hurt in her eyes.
"So your mom found out from that email, and instead of asking if you're doing okay, she's been nagging at you?"

"Exactly," Hana said, her voice trembling. "I felt so caught off guard. It's like she's more concerned with criticizing me for being sick than actually being there for me."

I reached out, placing a comforting hand on hers.
"I'm sorry, Hana. That must have been really overwhelming."

She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall.
"It was. And it just made everything worse. I was already feeling awful, and then getting that call, hearing her disappointment—it made me feel like I was failing in every way."

"But you know I'm proud of you, right?"
 I said, trying to reassure her.

She smiled, but remained silent.

I wondered if she truly understood or if she was struggling to accept it.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

a/n: I have exams from 19th and this was the last pre written chapter T_T

Please wait for me, Ill be back really soon

 I love you guys <3333

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNIE<333

MY FAVE RAPPER, SINGER, ALL-ROUNDER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH