You Try (Even when the world doesn't want you to|| WayV Lucas Angst

Understand

He was doing great. Yup, Xuxi was completely fine. There was not a hair out of place, not a thing that could destroy how well he was.

He was fine.

...

Oh, who was he trying to convince? He wanted to fucking die.

A pained sigh escaped his lips as he rolled on his bed. At this point in his "recovery", if anyone could call it that, he had experienced a plethora of bad situations. From horrible stomach cramps to numb legs and arms. From stupid feeding tubes being shoved down his nose to even stupider food being shoved down his throat. From pitying eyes to rage-filled voices. All of that and more and, if he was going to be completely honest, he was two steps away from jumping out the fucking window.

If he could open it, of course, because that's apparently something he couldn't do anymore. Opening windows. What a joke. Xuxi went from being able to train for 10 hours straight to being too weak to open windows on bad days.

What a joke indeed.

The point is, he had experienced a lot of things in the short three months of hell- sorry, recovery, and sure, many would assume that by now he must have gotten used to most of it, and he had. Xuxi had gotten used to the dry skin, the cold feet and hands, to the headaches and the stomach issues, he had gotten used to the weird hair that permeated his body, to the bad things and the worst things.

Or at least he tried to convince himself that he had.

But, something Xuxi knows he'll never get used to - not even with the best convincing skills his brain could conjure - was the bone-deep exhaustion that crawled over his body like a parasite.

He was lying in bed, the blinds closed, covering the small room in darkness. The sun was shining outside, the members were playing something in the living room, birds were singing, and he was tired. No, 'tired' couldn't even begin to describe how he felt.

He was exhausted, fatigued, finished, drained, bone-fucking-tired, and every other synonym Google could provide.

The point was, he was really, really damn tired.

And why? He doesn't know. It was about to be lunchtime and the only time he had stood up from bed was because he was dragged to eat breakfast. A feat that had ended in a mini-mental breakdown and a lot of throwing up...just like a lot of his mornings went, if he was being honest.

If he tried to get past the fog in his brain, he could remember the same feeling covering his body before. Before when he didn't have therapy or the member's support. Before when he didn't have to take medicines and vitamins.

And it scared him.

It scared him to death the idea that he was not getting better, that all this effort and time and money was for absolutely nothing. He was afraid of falling into that endless pit of darkness when he was finally starting to crawl back up.

Because he was supposed to be getting better, right? He was supposed to be able to eat without half of his food returning in the way of splashing toilet water. He was supposed to be able to stand up from bed without feeling like he was about to pass out. Shit, he was supposed to be a lot of things, okay?

Starting with being a decent idol - in which he had obviously failed- or maybe being able to think about food and not breaking down, or not being a complete disappointment.

Yeah, he was supposed to be a lot of things.

Unfortunately, Xuxi was stuck in a perpetual state of depression, anxiety, and a bunch of other shitty stuff he rather not think about unless he wanted to drive himself into the second panic attack of the day.