I sprawl out on the bed and take in slow, deep breaths, knowing I need to take the time to relax and unwind too. I know this is way more stressful for you, but it doesn't mean it's easy for me and I know I need to take care of myself in order to be helpful to you in any way. I inhale deeply and hold the breath for a few seconds before exhaling slowly, and I repeat the action until I feel a sense of calm. We'll get through this.

I wash myself and then proceed to wash my hair. To rinse my hair, I sink down into the water, closing my eyes and wishing for a second I could just stop holding my breath and just let myself go. Force myself under as the water fills my lungs and smothers the life out of me. For a moment I consider it. I seriously, truly consider it. Though the second before I run out of breath and am ready to let myself drown, I flashback to yesterday. I see you holding me. I see you crying. I hear you tell me you love me, and I remember praying I'd pull through just as I was dragged away from you by the doctors and lost sight of you. That delicate feeling that maybe, just maybe, that would be the last time I would ever see you again. That all of it would end there. The fear I felt then made no sense to me. I wanted death, craved the closure, and I tasted it. I was so close I could feel my fingertips touching it, but I never got to grasp it. You pulled me away before I could. And in those moments in the hospital as they put me under, I prayed I would wake up. I needed to see you smile again. I couldn't have my last memory of you be your crying face. Just as my lungs are about to give out, I snap back to reality and hurl myself upwards, breaking the surface of the water and gasping for air as I fall back against the back of the tub and lean the back of my head against the tile and close my eyes as I desperately try to catch my fleeting breath. I don't know what I want anymore. I want it all to stop, I know that, but there's something - or someone, rather - that's keeping me here. That person is you. For that, I don't know if I love you or hate you. I guess I'll find out...

I close my eyes and lay back and just let myself think. I know we can't be together, but I can hardly stop myself from imaging how things would be if you returned my feelings. I could tell you I love you freely and hold you close at night without having to worry about boundaries. You could hold me too, if you wanted. When you got sad, I'd hold you close and tell you it'd be okay, and maybe you'd believe me. I could kiss you, and you could kiss me too. I'd love you until you loved yourself, and then we could love you together without fear or pain or sadness. That would be my goal for us, and for you.

As my breath returns to me, I slowly open my eyes and glance up at the bathroom ceiling. I don't know why your love means so much to me...maybe I just don't want to hurt your feelings. You mean a lot to me too, but I'm not...I know that I would do almost anything to make you happy - I'm still here, aren't I? If not for you, I would have left a long time ago. But...that doesn't mean anything, right? Because of the way my last relationship ended, I'm having trouble finding a baseline for what it feels like when I love someone. I know I do love you, but like a friend. That's it, right? You are handsome, but so is everyone in Infinite. Besides, a relationship for us wouldn't be a good thing. I'd probably just end up hurting you like I did before to Sungyeol.

My imagination shifts though, and I picture you bringing home a girl and telling us all that you really like her. My heart aches, but I smile for you and introduce myself to her. I'd make sure to talk you up so she could know how wonderful you are, and I'd also warn her to be kind to your heart, it's been through a lot. I'd sleep in my own bed then, except on the nights you'd have her over. If you loved someone else, I'd practice telling you that I didn't love you like that anymore so I could say it without stuttering when I told you, just so you wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. I still would though, I know I would, but at least you'd be happy and that's the most important thing.

As I lose myself in thought, I almost fade out of consciousness - likely from sleep deprivation. I'm jolted by the falling sensation of my head bobbing forward and I hit my elbow against the side of the tub and let out a cry of pain and mutter a few curses under my breath. The water is getting a little cold anyway...I should probably get out of the bath and dry myself off. The last thing I'd want is to be miserable and sick.

I sigh and shake my thoughts before sitting up. I'm hungry again, so I figure I can check on you while I go get something to eat. I stand up and walk down the hall and stand at the bathroom door for a moment just to check if I can hear movement.

I slowly pull myself up out of the tub and grab a towel to dry myself off with. I tie it around my waist and take a second one and use it to dry my hair as I walk over towards the sink and look at myself in the fog-clouded mirror. I can see now how red and swollen my eyes are from all the crying. What I don't see is how thin and frail my face and body look. My ribs poke out and my chest bone is prominent. My face has thinned out considerably and my arms and legs are skeleton thin. The longer I stare at my form in the mirror, the more my rage begins to grow. I can barely stand to look at myself. I don't see someone who is broken, I see someone who is weak. I don't see someone who is deathly thin, I see someone who is fat. I don't see an attractive face, I see an ugly one. I don't see a good person with problems, I see a sick, disgusting, unfaithful failure. I can't stand to see myself. As I start to cry, maybe out of frustration, maybe out of exhaustion, or maybe just out of suffering, I snap. I clench my fist and before I can realise what I'm about to do, I hurl my fist forward and hit the mirror as hard as I can. It shatters upon impact, cutting up my hand badly and scraping me in a few other places as shards of glass go flying everwhere. For a few seconds I don't even react until it dawns on me what I just did. I stand there - paralysed - before it hits me. I take a few steps back and I stumble back against the wall and slide down it as I sink down onto the floor. My chest and throat tighten and I suddenly feel a shortness of breath that I didn't before. I hug my knees close to me with my uninjured hand and stare at the broken glass as tears stream down my face. I glace back at my palm, bloody and shaking. When I see a few small pieces of glass in my skin, I panic and cry out; the sound I make is just short of a scream. Although the sound weakens as I lose my breath and it turns into something weaker and more raspy. I feel like I can't breathe.

I hear the shatter and freeze, and the second your cry reaches my ears I open the door as quickly as I can. I fall to my knees next to you, not noticing as a few of the glass shards dig into my knees. I place my hand on your knee and gently shake it, "Myungsoo-yah, look at me-" I say quickly, recognizing the ragged way you breathe.

My eyes widen in fear as I look at you, breathing erratically. I reach out and hold your forearm with my uninjured hand and hold the other one close to me. "I-I-...I'm s-sorry..." I choke out repeatedly between quick, short breaths. With each breath I take, my lungs push out twice as much air as I take in and I feel myself growing fainter. I'm not getting enough air.

"Shh, no it's okay - it's alright Myungsoo just breathe, don't worry about anything else," I say, only noticing the blood dropping from your hand now. My stomach turns at the sight of the red pouring from your injuries, and I swallow hard, fighting off the uneasiness. My priority is you here.

"I-I...I..c-can't," I wheeze, my voice desperate and stained. The more I try to catch my breath the more unsteady my breathing becomes and it doesn't help that I'm crying.

"Slowly - come on, in and out-" I say, trying to keep my voice calm. I remember what helped a few times before and I take your hand and place it on my chest, "Try to match me." I urge, taking in a deep, slow breath.

I nod slowly, and try to do what you do, though I struggle to slow my breaths down enough to match yours. I keep reverting back to my hyperventilation and getting more panicky. For a second I almost manage one full breath, but then I lose it at the last minute. "H-help.."

"Shh it's okay, it's okay I'm here - just go slowly, you can do this," I say gently, taking more slow, deep breaths and keeping my hand over yours on my chest.

I nod again to let you know I'm still hearing you, and I try once more to match my breaths with yours. It's hard at first, but after a few minutes, I slowly start to feel my breathing normalise and the air returning to my lungs. Once I feel like I can do it without your help, I turn my hand from your chest and take hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly as I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall. I continue breathing deeply until I no longer feel out of breath. Some breaths are still interrupted by the occasional hiccup since I'm still crying, but I can breathe now. "M-my hand...it hurts," I murmur once I'm aware enough to feel the rush of pain. "I...I don't know why I-...shit. I-I'll clean this up..." I say once I realise there is glass all over the bathroom. It wouldn't be fair for you to let you clean it.

"No, I can clean it. Let's get your hand wrapped up and then I'll clean the bathroom, okay?" I say, trying not to focus on the blood. I half want to clean the bathroom because I want you to relax, and half because I don't want you around broken glass in case you're tempted to hurt yourself.

I nod, opting not to argue with you. You would win anyway.

I reach for your injured hand carefully and take a deep breath, preparing myself to see the blood. My stomach turns when I see the messy wound and blood, but I bite my lip and carefully reach in it pick some of the glass out.

I hiss in pain and wince as you touch the wound, but I can't help but notice your expression despite my pain. "Stop," I command before I look at you. "H-hyung...are you okay..? You look like you're going to be sick..." I say, biting my lip in worry. I'm still very uneasy from the panic attack that I'm recovering from, so I bite my lip to keep myself calm.

"I- ah...I don't like blood so much.." I admit, taking slow, deep breaths to steady myself, "but it's okay, I'll be alright. I'm fine." I say, telling myself more than you.

"Hyung..it's okay...I...I can clean it. I just need you to wrap it with something.." I say, not wanting you to feel sick. I feel bad enough as it is.

"No, no it's alright," I smile, reaching for your hand again, "I can handle this...I can do it."

"O-okay...only if you're sure..." I say, watching you tentatively.

"I am," I smile, taking a deep, steadying breath before returning to your wound and gently removing the remainder of the glass. I swallow thickly as your blood coats my fingertips.

I bite my lip and watch you carefully. I'm a little worried you're just going to lose it, but you insisted. I wince again as you resume work on my hand, flinching in pain and almost pulling my hand away.

"Sorry," I murmur as I know this probably hurts, but it's better than leaving it and so I carefully work - focusing on the task, not the blood - until I can't see any more glass. "Is that all of it?" I ask, admittedly feeling queasy.

I pull my hand away gently and examine it for myself momentarily. "Yeah...it looks like you got most of it out. I'm going to rinse this off with warm water and soap...why don't you step outside and get some air..?" I suggest, admittedly feeling worried that you're going to throw up. "When you come back in, bring something to wrap it with and some antibiotic cream..."