Lee Felix & Yang Jeongin: Blade-Part Three

Tw: Anorexia, Self Harm & Mentions of Suicide 

~ Yang Jeongin ~

It was happening again.

Little things.

Felix pulling his sleeves down further than usual even when we were indoors. The way he'd tense up slightly when someone brushed past him too closely during practice. The new hoodie he started wearing—oversized, always with the sleeves pulled over his hands. He was always smiling, always laughing, but something about him felt... off.

It wasn't the kind of "off" I knew how to explain. But I knew Felix. I'd seen him when he was really sick before. And something about the way his eyes didn't light up all the way anymore—reminded me too much of then.

At first, I told myself I was imagining it. Maybe he was just tired. We were all exhausted with the upcoming concert. Stress makes people act weird. But then I started noticing more.

He never really ate full meals anymore. Picked at them sometimes, made excuses other times. "I already ate", "I'll grab something later", "I'm not that hungry."

Could I really have been the only one noticing?

I also saw how his hands shook when no one was looking. And how his smile wavered for a second when someone told him he looked different—just a second, like something cracked inside him before he stitched it up again.

I didn't say anything. I didn't want to. Not yet.

Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe I was a coward.

But I didn't realize how much it was affecting me. How much everything lately had taken a toll on my own mental health. I started feeling... detached. Distant. Like I was in the room but not really in it. And every time Felix smiled that fake, tired smile, it made my stomach twist.

And a part of me started thinking: If he's doing it again, maybe he knows something I don't.

Maybe that "relief" was the only way to feel better.

Can't knock it 'till you try it, right?

I didn't even realize how far I was sinking until one night, I couldn't sleep. I just sat there in the bathroom with the door locked, the light off. My heart was pounding and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I remembered what Felix said he'd done during his worst nights. I remembered how Minho had once found a bloody towel under the sink and didn't say anything for two days. I remembered the sound of Felix's sobs behind locked doors. How he disappeared into baggy clothes and silence.

And even though I hated it—I understood it now.

I was angry. At myself. At everything. Angry for being too quiet. For not helping him. For becoming someone who couldn't even recognize their own reflection in the mirror.

I didn't think I'd actually do it.

But the thought came so fast I didn't stop to breathe. My head was spinning. I was shaking, crying, trying to hold it in but it was too much.

I grabbed the first sharp thing I could find. My hands moved before my brain caught up.

And then...

One, two—deeper.

A hiss through my teeth.

I didn't even know if it was from the pain or the strange... relief?

The way the skin opened... like it had been waiting. The warmth that followed felt terrifying and comforting all at once. My vision swam. I didn't care. It's not like anyone would even notice.

I sat there against the cool tile, pressing the nearest towel I could find against my wounds.

Everything was starting to blur at the edges, I didn't even notice the sound of footsteps, or register the door opening.

"Jeongin?"

I didn't have the strength to look up. But I recognized that deep voice all too well.

~ Lee Felix ~

My whole body went numb. Or whatever was left of it.

He was on the floor.

His hoodie pushed up just enough to show the cuts. Fresh. Red. His hands were gripping a towel; but it was already soaked through. I dropped to my knees so fast, my entire body almost collapsed.

Is this what I look like...?

"No—no, no, no..." My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "Jeongin..."

His eyes flickered toward me—barely focused. And then closed again. "Shit—no, stay awake, stay with me." My hands were all over him, pressing the towel tighter. Checking his pulse. My heart was racing, every best loud in my ears. "What did you... why did you—"

But I knew.

I knew because I'd done it first.

I'd been the one hiding my sleeves. The one trembling in dark rooms. The one Chan had found years ago with my body limp on the floor and a fresh cut struck vertically down my forearm. I was the reason this happened.

I was the reason Jeongin even knew how to do this.

Because I'd done it first.

He had watched me fall apart. And I silently told myself back then, if anyone ever picked up on what I did and tried to do it to—I wouldn't survive that kind of guilt.

And here I was. Kneeling in front of him.

Watching our Maknae bleeding out on the floor.

I pressed the towel harder. "Why?" My voice broke. "Why didn't you come to me?"

His lips moved. Barely. "Saw you... thought maybe it helped."

My heart shattered.

Because I did this.

I taught him this. Not with words. But with every bad habit I left behind in plain sight. Every broken moment I let him witness. Every time I laughed it off. Every time I said I was fine when I wasn't.

"This is on me..." I wrapped both arms around him carefully, pulling him against my chest. I didn't care about the blood. I didn't care that I was shaking. All I cared about was keeping him.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Jeongin."

—

~ Yang Jeongin ~

White ceilings. The smell of antiseptic. A dull beep, steady, somewhere behind me. My arm hurt. My head was heavy. Everything felt foggy.

But I was awake.

Barely.

And someone was there sitting beside me. Chan.

He looked like hell. Hair messy, hoodie half-zipped like he'd just thrown it on, eyes red like he hadn't slept, like he'd been crying. His hands were folded between his knees, trembling slightly. But the second I moved—just a twich—he was leaning forward, eyes locked on mine like he couldn't believe I was really there.

"Hey," he whispered, voice cracking.

I blinked. Tried to speak but my throat was dry.

His hand wrapped around mine, careful of the IV. "You're safe."

I wanted to ask what happened. The last thing I remember was blacking out in Felix's arms. "Felix..." My voice barely came out.

Chan nodded, like he'd expect me to ask about him. "He's okay."

I closed my eyes in relief.

"He's not here right now," Chan continued quieter. "He's getting help."

I turned my head slightly. "What kind... of help?"

"Similar to the kind he had gotten last time." Chan said. His voice wavered, just a little. "He's with a doctor right now. Talking."

I didn't respond. My chest ached. Not just from what happened, but from the way his voice sounded. Like he'd been holding everything in for way too long.

"You're going to get help too, Jeongin," Chan added. "I've already talked to management. You don't need to worry about schedules or shows or anything like that. You're not going back until you and Felix are okay. And we're going to make sure you're okay."

Tears burned in my eyes before I could stop them. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking.

Chan's face twisted. He reached forward and pulled me in gently, carefully, like he was afraid I'd break. "You don't have to be sorry. You just have to be here."

—