Chapter Text
It happened this morning, when he woke up from the guest room. The sunlight was already slipping through the thin curtains, painting the pale walls gold. He woke up feeling weird, his head heavy and his body slightly sore. For a moment he just sat there, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to remember where he was and why his tongue tasted like cheap alcohol. Then it slowly came back to him; last night, the bar, laughter echoing between glasses, and the blurred images of Irwin and Sean sitting beside him. They were celebrating their final year in college, a night meant for fun that turned into a test of tolerance.
Since Irwin was the most sober, he had ended up driving both of them to his house. He had brought them in safely, guiding them through the dark and letting them crash out in the guest rooms.
Julian stood up before sitting down again almost immediately, his vision spinning and his stomach twisting. Dizziness hit him like a slow wave. There, on the bedside table, he noticed a glass of water and a small tablet placed neatly beside it. He stared for a moment before realizing Irwin must have left it for him. A small, tired smile crept onto his face. He took them both, feeling the cool water wash away the bitterness on his tongue. Gradually, the pounding in his head dulled.
After he was sure he wouldn’t puke the moment he moved, Julian dragged himself to the toilet to wash up. The cold water against his skin helped more than he expected, and by the time he tidied himself, he looked almost alive again.
When he stepped out from the room and went downstairs, the house was quiet — unusually quiet for a place that doubled as a veterinary clinic. The air was clean and faintly smelled of coffee. Outside, through the open window, he could hear faint barks and rustles; the signs of life from the animals Irwin cared for. Inside, though, everything was still.
In the kitchen, he found Sean hunched over the table, his hand pressed against his temple, a picture of regret and exhaustion.
“Rough night, huh?” Julian said, his voice low and teasing.
The teacher looked up with a groggy expression, his eyes half-lidded and weary. “Julian, good morning.” He rubbed his forehead, grimacing. “I didn’t remember anything last night, but I’m sure I drank the most.”
Julian chuckled as he sat across from his friend. He reached for the plate of toast that had already been served, still warm and crisp, “I guess the internship at the school really messed you up,” he said lightly.
He looked straight at Sean and then froze mid-bite. His eyes widened ever so slightly.
Sean, who didn’t notice, just shook his head and groaned at the movement. “The kids nowadays are devil spawns, I told you. The younger they get, the nerve they have is way beyond the adults I’ve met.” He chuckled, though the sound came out raspy, and looked at the pink-haired guy. “That’s saying something, especially when I’ve met you.”
However, the other didn’t fight back as what Sean expected to. Instead, Julian looked stunned with his eyes widened in surprise, his hand which was about to lift the toast stopped midway. The faint sound of birds outside filled the silence between them, the clock ticking in the background. His expression froze as if his mind couldn’t catch up with what his eyes were seeing.
“Julian?” Sean called, confusion lacing his voice. He looked behind him, scanning the kitchen for anything unusual, but there was nothing. Just the soft hum of the refrigerator. “There is nothing here.”
The man himself did not even hear whatever the man across him was saying. His ears caught the words, but they never reached his brain. He was way too focused on the side of Sean’s head. To be specific; on the vertical pink box that had appeared beside his friend.
The box, faintly glowing and semi-transparent, consisted of ten hearts in total. All of them were grey except for five that pulsed softly in red. It hovered perfectly still beside Sean, like a hologram from some game. Even when the guy shifted his seat, stood up, or leaned in, the box followed — locked onto him as if it was part of his being.
“Hey, Julian. You worried me. Do you have a fever?” Sean’s voice softened as he reached out, pressing his hand onto Julian’s forehead. The warmth of his palm was grounding, yet Julian barely registered it. He frowned, his brows knitting together. “It is not that hot.”
Then, his hand moved down to cup Julian’s cheek gently, tilting his face to meet his gaze. His eyes searched Julian’s face, catching the way the other man’s pupils seemed unfocused — distant, almost dazed. “Julian?”
The pink-haired man blinked, lips parting slightly as if to answer, but before he could, another voice cut through the air.
“What... are you both doing?”
They both startled — even Julian, who had been frozen seconds before. The tension snapped instantly as they turned toward the doorway.
At the kitchen door, Irwin stood with his vet coat half-buttoned and a file in his arm. Morning light from the window framed him, catching the edge of his glasses. His tone was calm, but his eyes betrayed his surprise as they shifted between his friends.
The teacher quickly lowered his hand from Julian’s face but didn’t move too far away. Instead, he rested it on the back of the chair behind Julian, a small, protective gesture that still hovered close.
The other, however, looked even more shocked than before, if that was even possible. His throat tightened, breath caught halfway. Because beside Irwin, another box had appeared.
But unlike Sean’s, this one wasn’t filled with hearts.
Instead, floating beside Irwin was a glowing pink frame filled with eight bombs — dark, round icons flickering faintly like a countdown — filling the dull grey hearts.
“Julian? Are you alright?” The vet, noticing something off with their friend, walked closer to them. His voice was calm, but his brows furrowed in concern. The quiet sound of his shoes against the kitchen floor made Julian flinch slightly, as though the noise itself snapped him back to reality.
“He had been like this out of sudden but he has no fever,” Sean explained, turning to Irwin with the same look of worry. His tone carried a hint of confusion, like he wasn’t sure if Julian was still hungover or losing it.
Seeing the bombs beside Irwin flicker closer toward him, Julian jerked up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Sorry! I need to go home now. I suddenly remembered something.” His words tumbled out too quickly, his voice unsteady. Without waiting for either of them to respond, he grabbed his coat and dashed out of the kitchen, ignoring the calls that followed; Sean’s sharp “Julian!” and Irwin’s low, concerned “Wait—”.
Luckily, they did not chase him down.
Outside, the crisp morning air hit his face, clearing his head just enough for panic to settle in. His heart pounded as he fumbled for his phone and called a taxi, pacing near the gate. The animals from Irwin’s clinic barked faintly in the distance, as if reacting to his sudden exit.
Luckily, it didn’t take long for him to wait. When the taxi arrived, Julian got in quickly, sinking into the seat with a deep exhale. But just as he was about to tell the driver his address, his words caught in his throat. His eyes widened again.
The box was still there.
Hovering right beside the driver’s head, faint and steady. But this time, compared to Irwin and Sean, the box only had grey hearts — all dull and lifeless, perfectly neutral. None of the red hearts or bombs pulsed within.
Julian stared, his stomach twisting as realization dawned. This wasn’t limited to his friends. It was everyone.
The driver glanced through the rearview mirror, clearly growing impatient. “Hey! Are you listening? Where do you want to go?”
The passsenger, startled, snapped out of his trance. “Ah—sorry, to Liu Grocery, near the Sacred Hearts school.”
But the moment his voice broke through, he saw it the moment one of the grey hearts inside the box darkened and morphed into a small, pulsing bomb. He froze. The driver frowned, muttered something under his breath, and looked back to the road. Julian’s pulse wouldn’t slow down after that.
When he finally arrived home, he paid hastily and got out, his steps uneven as he rushed up the driveway. His thoughts were a tangled mess of confusion and fear, and he just needed to be alone.
He reached the front door, ready to slip inside unnoticed, but was stopped by a familiar voice.
“Julian!”
It was Joni, 0his sister standing just outside his room with her phone pressed to her ear. She looked relieved and exasperated at the same time. “Yeah! He is back home now. Alright, I will take care of him!” she said quickly before hanging up. Then she turned fully toward him, stepping closer. “Julian! What happened? Irwin called, saying that you looked a bit off. Did you get here by taxi?”
The box beside Joni, Julian noticed immediately, was nothing like the others. It was full of purple hearts — all ten of them — shining brightly, not a single grey heart or bomb in sight. The hearts flickered wildly, glowing in rhythm with her voice, as if to show the man that the more she spoke, the stronger her affection burned.
The brother shook his head and looked away from his sister, his voice quiet. “I just need rest. My head hurts.” Which was not a lie, not in the slightest.
Joni, noticing how dazed her brother looked, just pressed her lips together. She wanted to ask more, but instead she simply nodded, stepping aside and watching silently as Julian walked past her and disappeared into his room.
The moment the door clicked shut, she sighed softly. Inside, Julian leaned against the door, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the image of those boxes replaying behind his eyelids.
“What…the fuck is happening…”