Fanfiction [MASHIKYU]

3 - 8

Mashiho

Junkyu is taken to the hospital and we're sent back to our dorms. I fully expected for us to still have to do that performance, but we were let off the hook with an explanatory and very apologetic letter uploaded to social media for our fans. I wonder if we were only taken home because of me... I was crying and shaking and much more of a mess than anyone else. But they didn't see him when he was unconscious. They didn't have that moment of terror not knowing whether or not he would open his eyes. We think he just fainted from exhaustion and maybe hunger, because we're not sure if he slept or ate, but we don't know for certain because the staff won't tell us anything besides the news that he broke his leg. I expect there'll be a meeting soon about what that means for the group. But for now, I couldn't care less what happens with the comeback or anything. I just want to see Junkyu and talk to him and get that horrific image of him in agony out of my mind, because his gritted teeth and paper white skin have been haunting me since the last time I saw him. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet, but I miss him. I missed him the most in bed last night— I couldn't stop shivering without his body warmth next to me. I slept in the bottom bunk even though he wasn't there.

At seven a.m. the next morning, when no one else is awake (or at least, no one else is out of their rooms), I call the agency asking if I'd be allowed to get a car to take me to the hospital to see Junkyu, and I actually jump for joy when they say yes. I scratch out a note saying where I've gone, leave it on the kitchen counter, throw on the first clothes I find and rush down to the car at lightning speed as soon as I get notified that it's there. The car ride and entrance to the hospital is all a blur, but everything is crystal clear when I open the door to his room and see his face, still lacking its usual colour but much better than yesterday, burst into a smile upon seeing me.

"Mashi! What are you doing here?"

I'm shining gold inside as I giddily walk to his side and hug him somewhat awkwardly, since he can only lean up from the hospital bed so far due to his leg being in a splint and raised in the air. His eyes aren't the confused or pained eyes I saw yesterday, but the sweet and engaged Junkyu eyes I'm used to.

"I've been so worried, I wanted to come see you," I tell him breathlessly, pulling the chair that's available as close to his bed as I can get.

He grimaces. "I'm sorry I made you worried. You don't need to stress, I'm fine." This comment is laughable. I pointedly look at his leg and then back at him, eyebrows raised, and he gets a bashful look. "Okay, maybe not completely fine, but fine enough."

Shaking my head at him, I begin to properly take in my surroundings. That unnatural sterility of everything that, logically, should make everything feel clean and pleasant but does the exact opposite, making me feel icky all over. It's also overwhelmingly white here. Uncomfortably white. It didn't bother me in the halls or entrance, but it bothers me now, because this is Junkyu's room. Junkyu, who is so colourful, trapped in all this white. He doesn't fit in here.

"Mashi?" Junkyu asks tentatively, and I realise I'm frowning at the white wall in front of me.

I quickly snap out of it and turn my focus back to him. "Sorry. So, what's been happening? We haven't really been told much."

He sighs. "Well, they were kind of freaked out that I fainted because they wondered if I knocked my head and went unconscious, but I remember passing out before I hit the ground, and I remember not sleeping or eating anything that day, and when I told them that they relaxed, but the staff were still really mad at me for not taking better care of myself."

"As they should be," I huff, folding my arms and staring him down. "You should be taking care of yourself better."

This makes him smile a little before continuing. "Anyway, I didn't have to have surgery, which was good. I just need to wear a plaster cast for six to eight weeks and be on crutches, and I'm not going to be able to dance for a few months." I wince involuntarily, which he notices. "I know, the agency isn't very pleased at all with that. They're mostly angry at the music show crew, I think they're trying to sue them." His cheeks tinge pink. Knowing Junkyu, he's probably embarrassed that he's the root of such a fuss. "I heard you didn't perform? I'm so sorry. The fans must have been so disappointed."