Jaemin sniffed and wiped his nose against his sleeve as he entered the bathroom just down the hallway from Jungwoo's hospital room. He walked into a cubicle, quickly did his business and then flushed the toilet, dropped the lid down and sat down to gather his thoughts.

He ripped off several sheets of toilet paper and blew his nose and wiped the tears from his puffy face. He noticed his hands were shaking and balled them into fists.

Breathe Jaemin, just breathe. Do what Jeno taught you.

He practised the breathing techniques while he stared at the cubicle door. He couldn't stay here for much longer or else jeno would start to worry.

He was trying to be strong for Jeno, and for Doyoung too but it was so hard.

Jaemin hated the hospital. He hated the sterile smell of it; he hated the grandiosity of it and how small it made him feel when he walked in through its mazework of hallways and corridors; he also hated the fact that he kept coming here to visit his injured friends and the terrifying feeling that he was going to end up in here next.

Jaemin's anxiety had threatened to consume him as soon as he had stepped inside this big ominous building. He didn't want to be here; honestly, he hadn't wanted to see Jungwoo. Visiting Doyoung had been hard enough, and Jaemin had had this sick feeling in his stomach that Jungwoo was worse off than Doyoung.

He had been right.

The mere thought of Mark hurting Jungwoo and doing horrific things to him terrified Jaemin and when he had seen Jungwoo, comatose and absolutely covered in bandaging so he couldn't even see his face many dreadful thoughts began to surface in his mind.

Mark had practically beaten Jungwoo to death.

Jaemin felt terrible, because along with the sadness and pain he felt for knowing his friend had suffered at the hands of Mark, the fear for himself came with it.

Stop thinking only about yourself! Jungwoo is lying there in a coma and all you can think about is your worthless self!

Jaemin shook his head and thumped his fists against his knees. He could feel his finger starting to throb again as guilt and hate bubbled within him. He stretched his hand out in front of him and gazed at his injured finger covered in the plasters Jeno had so carefully covered his wounds with.

Wounds that he had purposely made himself.

He had pretended to act like he hadn't realised what he had done but it was a lie. He had lied to Jeno and Jeno had believed it, thankfully. Jaemin would never confess that to Jeno though; his kind, loving soul wouldn't be able to bear it, not when Jaemin could see how hard Jeno was trying to help him.

It was pointless, Jaemin thought bitterly. He felt like he was a lost cause, yet Jeno would never give up on him.

Why isn't it me?

Mark was hurting all of his friends, terribly and brutally, so why isn't it me instead of them?

Jaemin tried to picture himself getting beaten by Mark.

Mark standing over him doing those heinous things he did to his friends to him instead and he flinched and clutched at his heart, which was now beating madly in his chest.

It was useless. No matter how much he wished he could be that strong friend who wanted to transfer all their painful experiences onto himself, he was too scared, too afraid.

Fear itself was what he feared most, and in his eyes Mark was the human embodiment of that fear.

Move yourself, Jeno is waiting.

Jaemin stood, his legs feeling a little shaky beneath him and opened the cubicle door. He walked over to the sink and washed his hands under the cold water. He then splashed some of it onto his face and dragged his hands down his face. He opened his eyes to look at his reflection and he froze.

There, standing behind his scared reflection was Mark.

Mark's lips formed into a wicked smile and Jaemin was helpless as Mark grabbed the back of his neck and smashed his face against the mirror in front of him.

Pain lanced across the side of his forehead and he screamed. Mark then threw him onto the floor and straddled him, covering his mouth with one hand and keeping the other wrapped around his throat. Jaemin's terrified cries were muffled against Mark's hand and he was soon hushed into silence as Mark spoke.

“Shut the fuck up Na Jaemin,” He sneered, bringing his mouth to Jaemin's ear. “If this weren't such a well populated place I would end you here. For now it's a warning. I'm coming for you faggot and no matter where you run to and no matter where you hide, I'll find you.”

Mark's words struck so much terror through Jaemin he stopped breathing. He stared, unable to look away from Mark's dark eyes and knew he was done for. Mark had said it himself; he was going to kill him.

A cruel smile painted Mark's face and he dropped his hands and slowly stood up, keeping his eyes locked on Jaemin's the entire time. Jaemin didn't move a muscle and Mark chuckled darkly.

Without another word Mark left the bathroom, leaving Jaemin alone on the bathroom floor.