Chapter Text
The world didn’t end. Seungmin didn’t have it in him today, doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to make it happen.
But the world didn’t end and now Seungmin has to live with it. He has to live with everything he told his friends, with the fact that the parts of him that he used to keep hidden are now out in the open. He has to live with the fact that he reopened his scars and stopped eating, and now recovering will be harder.
Seungmin should have taken the easy way out, saved himself and everyone else the trouble of patching him up. Because that is what everyone will be trying to do. What Chan has been doing since Seungmin showed up at this doorstep two nights ago.
He’s still trying to do it now, in a literal way.
Chan is holding Seungmin in his arms, like he’s scraping all the broken pieces together, trying to glue them back together, but failing miserably because he doesn’t know what piece goes where. Because the pieces refuse to stick. Because Seungmin doesn’t really want it.
Seungmin, like Changbin had said, wants to live miserably, just to prove to himself and everyone else that he’s made the wrong decision. Part of him still believes that it would’ve been a good thing, the world ending.
And that same part of him, the worst part of him, wants to make it everyone’s problem. That part of Seungmin won’t let Chan fix him up, and he’s sure the older boy is noticing it. Maybe he can smell the bitterness that is radiating off him or maybe the guilt overpowers everything else. Seungmin isn’t quite sure.
“Seungmin-ah,” Chan calls quietly.
Seungmin hums in return. Chan pulls back, looks at Seungmin with a frown on his face. He looks like he’s regretting speaking, like he hasn’t really planned out his words the way he usually does.
“Can I be mean for a second?” is what he settles on. “Because I want to be. I want to be honest and mean right now, because the thought is haunting me and I need you to tell me I’m wrong. So, I need to be mean and ask it, if that’s okay.”
Seungmin nods. He doesn’t know what to expect— Chan is never mean, least of all to Seungmin.
“Are you thinking about doing it anyway?” He asks. “I mean, it was cruel the first time — constantly worrying about when you were going to kill yourself — but it’d be worse now. And now it’d feel too much like you’re doing it on purpose. Like you were doing it to worry us. Or even to torture us.”
Chan winces when he speaks, like the words hurt him on the way out. And he looks like he wants to take it back— but for once, he holds his ground.
“I’m not— I don’t do this for attention, hyung,” Seungmin says through a clenched jaw.
Chan said he’d be mean, but this stings harder than anything ever has before. Even worse than all the insults his mother used to throw at him.
He scoots back, widens the space between them, even stands up like he’s about to leave, but Chan stops him.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know that, Kim Seungmin.”
Chan’s voice is stern when he speaks, but his eyes give him away. He gets up, too, and when their eyes meet, Seungmin can see the desperation and fear in them.
“I’m just scared, alright. I’ve been watching you all day, and it looks like you’re planning your escape. It feels like you regret staying.”
“Can I be mean as well, hyung?”
Seungmin looks away after Chan nods. He doesn’t need to see the damage his words will cause.
“I do regret staying.”
Out of the corners of his eyes, Seungmin still catches the way Chan flinches. He feels the way Chan pulls his hand back like he’s been burned.
“Part of me does, at least,” Seungmin continues. “And I don’t think that feeling will ever go. But I came here— I came to you —because a bigger part of me wanted to stay. Because Changbin told me to live miserably and the worst part of me wants to prove that to him, to Felix, to you, and to everyone else. It wants to prove that I’ll be miserable if I stay.”
“Seungmin—“
“But I’ll keep my distance, okay? I won’t get too close to any of you, so once it feels like I’ve proven myself enough, I can do it without torturing you.”
Chan doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he stares at Seungmin’s face long and hard, with everything he’s feeling evident on his own. Seungmin wishes he could look away again, wishes he could find the strength to walk away.
He doesn’t even have the strength to stand anymore, though. So he sinks back onto the couch and resits the urge to curl in on himself.
“You don’t have to prove to me that you’re hurting, Seungmin-ah,” Chan finally says, crouching in front of Seungmin. “You don’t have to prove your misery or your survival.”
Seungmin has trouble meeting his eyes, but Chan cradles the younger’s face in his gentle hands and holds his gaze, until looking away becomes impossible.
“It’d be so exceptionally cruel if all I ever thought about was the possibility of you leaving,” Chan says. “But it’d be even crueller if you make us and yourself suffer just to prove a point.”
He smiles, small and sad. “Changbin was right. Live miserably. I’ll make your misery my own, if that’s what you need. We’d all do that, if it’d make you stay. Please know that, Minnie. Please stay.”
Seungmin, if it’s even possible, deflates further, sinking even deeper into the sofa. His cheeks burn where Chan’s hands cradle them, his eyes sting from the unshed tears, and his throat aches from the lump stuck in it.
He nods because he doesn’t have the strength for anything else. Both of them know this isn’t the end of it. Seungmin isn’t suddenly cured and Chan isn’t any less scared, but this is enough for now.
They let it be enough.
**
Chan and Jisung have the subtlety of a brick through a window.
They try not to make it obvious, but Seungmin knows what’s happening. Chan has to go to work, so he’s invited Jisung over to “keep Seungmin company.” Or, more accurately, to make sure Seungmin doesn’t do anything stupid, like killing himself.
Seungmin doesn’t need them to tell him that directly. He can see it in the way they act. Too careful and too attentive. Jisung tries to keep the energy up and the mood light when Chan’s still there and Seungmin figures that’s more for Chan than it is for him, so he doesn’t let it bother him. The moment the older boy leaves though, Jisung goes silent.
He plops down onto the sofa next to Seungmin, lays his head on Seungmin’s shoulder and tangles their hands together.
“Channie told us a watered down version of these past couple days,” he says.
Seungmin had figured as much. Their group is a grapevine, honestly.
“I’m glad you decided to stay, even if it’s just to prove a point or out of spite.”
Jisung squeezes Seungmin’s hand and doesn’t say anything after that. They stay like that for a while, intertwined like they’re one being, quiet, matching each other’s breathing.
“Would it have mattered? If I had done it?” Seungmin asks, breaking the silence.
He thinks that Jisung’s the best person to ask. He’ll be straightforward and honest about it, but never in a way that will hurt. He doesn’t have it in him to be cruel, not the way Seungmin does.
“When Binnie-hyung told me, it felt like he’d just told me that the world was ending, without telling me when.”
Seungmin startles at the response. Hearing the metaphor he’d been using to make it sound less personal, coming out of Jisung’s mouth is jarring.
The world ending is impersonal and inevitable. It’s not something that Seungmin could stop, so he used it as a metaphor to make his own plan sound less scary. Jisung using it makes all the feelings Seungmin should have felt the first time slam into him. For a second, it’s like he can’t breath.
“I know you have a hard time seeing it, Minnie, but you mean so much to us. to me. And I don’t think I’d have survived losing you. I think I would have gone insane, maybe even offed myself, too.” Jisung smiles slightly and nudges Seungmin’s knee with his own. “It would have mattered, Seungmin. So much.”
“I… don’t know how to make myself believe that,” Seungmin admits quietly.
“You don’t have to. Not right now at least. I believe it enough for the both of us. Until you do believe it, just live out of the same spite that made you stay.”
“And if I never believe it, then what?”
“I don’t know,” Jisung says. “I wish I knew, or that, at the very least, I knew the right thing to say, but I don’t.”
Jisung sounds as defeated as Seungmin feels. He looks burdened by Seungmin’s sorrows, it’s exactly what the younger boy didn’t want. They’re all trying to patch him up and all failing miserably, and it’s hurting them more than it’s healing Seungmin.
“I’m sorry,” Seungmin apologises.
He can’t put into words how sorry he feels or even for what, but Jisung looks like he gets it anyway.
“You don’t have to be,” he says.
And that’s that.
They don’t speak about it any further, but Jisung doesn’t let Seungmin wallow, either. They tidy up the place, Jisung makes them lunch and they even go on a small walk.
Seungmin knows he’s being babysat, but it doesn’t feel all that bad. Jisung doesn’t let it feel bad. He jokes, pushes and pulls, pokes Seungmin until they fall into their usual banter, and time passes without dragging on the way it usually does.
It’s the first time in weeks that Seungmin feels a flicker of hope. It’s the first time since he changed his mind that he thinks he’s made the right decision.
Seungmin doesn’t voice it out loud, though. He can’t risk to jinx it already.
**
The first time Seungmin had hurt himself he hadn’t meant to.
He was angry after a fight with his mother; angry at her for the way she treated him, angry at his father for leaving him, and angry at himself for being the cause of everything.
So he just exploded, punched a fist-hole shape in the wall. And it had felt great. Euphoric in a way that he couldn’t quite explain.
Then his mother walked in, holding the first-aid kit with a knowing look on her face. She had grabbed his hand, inspected it with disapproving eyes, then said,
“You’re just like your father, Seungmin-ah. Angry and reckless. I was stupid for thinking you were my son, you’re not. you’re his, you always have been.”
It had hurt worse than his hand. The fight and anger drained out of him that same moment, and all he could think was how his anger can’t be loud. He couldn’t make it known how he feels. He couldn’t be his father and take out his anger on other things.
The next time he got angry, he took it out on himself. His mother didn’t find out. He didn’t feel like his father at all, more like his mother. But that was good. Back then he wanted to be his mother’s son.
He didn’t really know it’d make him a monster.
But contrary to what Seungmin told Changbin, he doesn’t do it on purpose. He doesn’t scratch his cuts open because he wants someone to see, he doesn’t do it to be mean or prove a point.
It’s just that his arm itches, his bones feel heavy, and his mind is a mess. So he scratches, and scratches, and scratches. He sees his arm bleeding, but he doesn’t feel it. It doesn’t feel like enough, it doesn’t stop the itching.
Seungmin needs it to stop so badly, he can feel himself go insane with it.
It’s just his luck, though, that Hyunjin walks in, right as Seungmin goes to grab his box. The older boy mirrors Seungmin’s shock, but doesn’t freeze. Not even for a moment.
Hyunjin reaches for Seungmin the same way he’d reach for a wounded dog, slow and attentive. Like he’s not sure that Seungmin won’t lash out and bite him instead, or like he doesn’t want to worsen the situation.
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin mumbles, unsure but steady. “You’re okay.”
Seungmin is not okay. He’s far from it. He’s losing whatever grip he had on his sanity and everyone is watching him unravel in ways they haven’t before. In ways Seungmin would never have wanted them to know.
“Seungmin.”
Hyunjin crouches down and wraps his fingers around Seungmin’s wrist. It’s too much and Seungmin really can’t help it when he snaps.
“Don’t touch me,” he hisses, snatching his wrist away with much more strength than needed.
Hyunjin stumbles right onto his knees and, for a second, his expression crumbles. It’s gone as quickly as it came, but it was obvious.
He’s hurt. Seungmin hurt him.
He’s right where he started — hurting the people around him. Too much like his father. Too much like his mother. Every worst part, every sharp edge, cutting into anyone who dares to stay. Seungmin’s mother was right, he is reckless.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t— I didn’t mean to do that.”
Hyunjin just stares at Seungmin for a few moments, like he’s still processing everything that’s happening. His face is expressionless, but his eyes are flitting from Seungmin’s left eye to his right.
He sighs then, shakes his head and relaxes his body. He shifts onto his butt and crosses his legs, nodding like he’s figured something out.
“I know you didn’t, Minnie,” Hyunjin says, easy and sure.
“But I did,” Seungmin states what Hyunjin would never dare to. “I did hurt you and it’s what I always do. To you and everyone else. Consciously or subconsciously, it doesn’t matter.”
He rubs his face, then his arm, then his wrist, like he’s trying to erase the moment. His voice cracks when he speaks again.
“I keep doing that. Hurting people. Hurting you.”
Hyunjin’s face cracks. His eyes water and he looks so incredibly sad when he shakes his head.
“No, you’re hurting yourself, Seungmin-ah. We’re just… collateral damage,” he says. “And obviously, it’s not great. We don’t enjoy it. But at the end of the day, this, what you’re doing to yourself, is worse. You can’t cut the pain out, Minnie. It’s not how this works.”
Seungmin looks away. He knows that, he’s always been so painfully aware of that fact.
Silence, once again, washes over them. Hyunjin stares at Seungmin, while he stares at the wall. It feels like hours, but it’s probably only a few minutes, when Seungmin finds the courage to look back at Hyunjin.
“I’m so tired, Hyunjin,” he quietly admits. “I feel like I’ve made the wrong decision and left you all with the worst version of myself. You’d have remembered me better if I had done it then.”
“Staying would never be the wrong decision,” Hyunjin firmly says. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it now, even if you feel miserable and tired, and a bit like you hate us right now. It’s still the best thing you could have done— for us and for yourself.”
He holds out his hand for Seungmin and waits until the younger takes it before continuing.
“This version of you is still worth saving, Minnie. Every version is, because it’s you. I love you regardless of how you feel. I’ll love you in ten years even with memories of now, and I’ll love you in sixty years with no memories at all.”
Seungmin’s lips tremble when he parts them to speak, but no words come out. He stares at Hyunjin trying to process his words. There’s a lump forming in his throat and he can’t keep his breathing steady.
Hyunjin, without a word, squeezes his hand and scoots closer, wrapping his other arm Seungmin. He holds Seungmin tightly while the younger cries.
Seungmin can’t really believe he ever doubted their love for him. It isn’t finite like his mind makes him believe. It goes beyond what he can comprehend, and Hyunjin, for one, isn’t afraid to put it into words. Seungmin knows that now.
—
Seungmin dreams of the end. It’s cruel in every way possible; he slits his wrists, Felix finds him, and then he survives.
There’s a lot of anger, Seungmin feels the remnants of it even after he wakes. His skin burns with it and his heart races. He can’t even out his breathing, gasping for the air that was punched out of him.
They hated him for it, in his dream they did. Chan had yelled at him, it was so unlike the conversation they’d had, but the gist of it was the same. He screamed how Seungmin should’ve done it right if he was going to do it anyway, saved them all the trouble.
And the rational part of Seungmin knew Chan wouldn’t say that, but it had felt so real. He felt the way his stomach had dropped with those words and the nausea that came with it still hasn’t left him.
Seungmin had tried to tell them that he didn’t mean to. That he believed them, he was trying to be better, and he didn’t know what washed over him. But the words wouldn’t come out, or was it that they wouldn’t listen? He couldn’t remember that anymore.
The ending of his dream was starting to get blurry and then all there was left was the climax of it. The hurtful words, the anger, the sadness, even the pain he felt when he did it was there. His skin still burns from where the cuts had been, it feels like he should see the scars, but when he looks they aren’t there.
It’s a cruel joke when Felix chooses that exact moment to walk in.
“I could hear you through the wall,” he announces as he makes his way to Seungmin’s bed. “I was giving you a moment, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Was it a nightmare?”
Even though Felix speaks casually, his demeanour is anything but. Seungmin can feel the worry radiating off him and it only worsens the guilt for a crime he didn’t even commit. He nods in answer, not yet having the words to speak.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not yet.”
“Can I— can I confess something then?”
Seungmin hums in return. He braces himself and hopes Felix pulls his punch.
“I have nightmares… about you,” Felix quietly admits.
Seungmin had expected it, but he can’t help the wince that escapes him. Felix grimaces and grabs his hand. The blond opens his mouth like he’s about to change the subject for Seungmin’s sake, but Seungmin interrupts him.
“Tell me about them. Please.”
Part of Seungmin wants to know if Felix’s nightmares were anything like his; he needs to know about the cruelty he’d unknowingly haunted Felix with. The other part of him wants to torture himself, pick at scabs that’ll make him hurt everywhere for making his roommate feel like this.
“They started when Binnie-hyung told us what you had said. I had them sometimes before, but not like this. Not this bad,” Felix says, squeezing Seungmin’s hand softly.
“Sometimes I walk into the bathroom and you’re in the tub with your arms sliced open, I try to stop the bleeding, but it doesn’t. Sometimes— sometimes you call me, I come to your room, and you’re standing there with pills or a gun in your hand, and I beg you, but you do it anyways. Sometimes, somehow you survive and you resent me for it.”
Seungmin bites the inside of his cheek as he tries not to cry. It’s crueler than he expected. Felix looks pained while speaking, looks like he’s still in one of those nightmares.
“Sometimes I’m at your funeral, they’re lowering you into the ground, you’re standing behind me, haunting me, and— and you tell me it’s my fault. The worst one I had, you weren’t there at all. I was in your bed, holding your letter, I even remember the words. I was alone, grieving you, and it felt so real, Seungmin-ah. I could still feel the grief when I woke up and for a moment I thought you’d done it. That I’d go into your room and it’d be empty, I’d call your number and it’d say that it was no longer in use. I was so scared.”
Felix hesitates before adding, “Channie texted us right around then. It wouldn’t have been a nightmare if you hadn’t gone to him that night. It would’ve been the rest of my life.”
Seungmin doesn’t have any words to comfort Felix with. He doesn’t know what to say or do. He doesn’t know how to beg for forgiveness he knows he doesn’t deserve.
The heaviness hovers over them, Seungmin’s fingers twitch from it. He wants to hold Felix properly, at the same time he wants to run away and never show his face again.
It was better when he didn’t know how they cared. When he conveniently forgot about it and their love didn’t feel like chains around his ankles, keeping him from floating away. It was better when he was so stuck inside his head, that he didn’t care for any of their words.
Now that it isn’t like that anymore, now that his mind feels a bit clearer and his soul a bit lighter, it’s worse; the guilt, the fear of leaving them behind. He doesn’t want them to mourn him, to grief him. They shouldn’t have to, not now at least.
“I killed myself. In my nightmare,” he confesses. The least he can give them is his honesty. After everything he held back and lied about, they deserve at least that.
Felix frowns at him, eyes filled with worry. Seungmin squeezes his hand before continuing,
“I failed and everyone hated me for it. I wanted to explain that I didn’t mean to, that I was doing better and I knew you guys cared, but I couldn’t. Chan-hyung said I should’ve done it right if I was going to do it. And he’d— he’d never say anything like that, I know. But it felt real. My— it still burns where the cuts were.”
Seungmin takes a deep breath. He grabs Felix’s other hand as well.
“I don’t want to you to mourn me. I don’t want you to be worried, Lixie. I want to be better. I’m trying to be. I promise.”
“I know. Just, sometimes it’s hard to believe.”
“Yeah.” Another confession that slips out his throat before he has the chance to punch it down. “Sometimes I don’t believe it either, but I want to. I want to believe that I’ll get better and be better to you.”
—
Jeongin goes to church sometimes. Not every Sunday, but regularly enough that Seungmin’s stomach used to bubble with guilt. There had been a time when Seungmin went, when he prayed and followed the bible’s rules religiously. The guilt grew smaller as time passed, but it never went away completely.
Seungmin sometimes wonders if it would’ve gotten this bad if he had kept going, kept praying. He wonders if his patience would’ve been rewarded had he not strayed.
It’s useless to think about it now, but he can’t help himself when Jeongin comes back with a serene smile on his face, and Seungmin knows where he went.
The younger boy seems weightless when he plops down next to Seungmin. He even throws his legs over Seungmin’s and lays his head on his shoulder. It’s unusual in the sense that Jeongin normally dislikes touch like this. The most he’ll do is let his knees touch with the other, and maybe if he’s feeling really generous he’ll hold their hand. But that’s about it.
With his cheek smushed against Seungmin’s shoulder, Jeongin mumbles out a greeting. Seungmin hums in response and braces himself for whatever will come next.
Except nothing comes.
They sit in silence for a few moments, until Jeongin grabs his phone. He doesn’t move away though, just scrolls mindlessly through it, and Seungmin tracks his fingers instead of the screen.
“Y’right?” Seungmin asks. The words come out as a mumble, anything louder than that would pop the bubble around them.
“Alright,” Jeongin easily confirms. “I feel good.” There’s a pause that Seungmin can’t really interpret as anything, but Jeongin doesn’t let him fret it too long. “I know it’s, like, been a while and you’ve probably talked about it with the hyungs, but, like, how are you?”
‘I’m fine,’ is an automatism to Seungmin, the words are always ready to leave his mouth, it doesn’t matter if he means it or not. He refrains himself from saying it though, really giving him time to think about his answer. Jeongin doesn’t rush him, he watches Seungmin contemplate in silence.
“I’m better than I was,” Seungmin settles on. “Sometimes I still get lost in my head and I feel like shit, but it’s not the way it was then.”
“What do you get in your head about?”
“Like a few moments ago I couldn’t stop thinking about whether everything was my own fault. Whether I was being punished for straying from God,” Seungmin admits.
Jeongin hums softly in return. He doesn’t try to correct him or offer any wise words, instead he just leans a little heavier against Seungmin. His hair tickles against Seungmin’s neck, it’s such a simple thing, but it’s steadying.
Outside, the sun is starting to set, golden light filtering through their blinds. It settles on Jeongin’s face and covers the room, making everything look softer than it is. Seungmin lets himself breathe in the warmth, lets it settle into the parts of him that still feel cold.
Maybe, he thinks, this is what grace feels like. Maybe it was never supposed to be thunderous or miraculous. Maybe the grace in Seungmin’s life had always destined to be a quiet company and a moment where it doesn’t hurt to be alive.
He finds himself speaking before he can think about it too hard.
“If…” Seungmin trails off, trying to find the right words. “If, by any chance, there is a god out there, do you think he’d forgive me?”
Jeongin’s face softens even more, Seungmin didn’t think he’d ever see a look like that on the younger’s face. not for him, at least.
“I know he will. And if, for some fucked up reason, he doesn’t, then I’ll make him. I’ll force him to forgive you if I have to, hyung. I won’t ever let you be punished for how you treated the wounds that God wrote into you. it wouldn’t be fair.”
The younger boy deflates slightly. The frustration that had covered his every feature by the end of his speech bleeds out, leaving behind that same soft look, but a bit more defeated now.
“It wouldn’t be fair,” he repeats, softer this time. It sounds like he’s already trying to convince god or, maybe, Seungmin. Like the very thought of Seungmin being punished for his hurt burns Jeongin, too.
Seungmin thinks that he was right. This is his grace. The people around him who love him, who’d declare to argue against God on his behalf. Jeongin turns away again, as they let the words settle, but he shifts closer, until it feels like they’re melting into each other.
The seriousness of the moment disappears when Jeongin’s stomach loudly rumbles, causing him to turn bright red, and mumble about being hungry. Seungmin can’t help the laugh that escapes him, a small, startled sound, but real.
It feels like being alive.
—
The door to Seungmin’s room bursts open and for a moment, both he and the intruder freeze. An unnerving feeling of deja vu washes over Seungmin and he knows Changbin feels it, too.
Changbin recovers faster than Seungmin does, plastering a smile on his face and he steps inside. There’s a glint in his eyes, and if Seungmin knows Changbin at all, it’s not going to end well for him.
“So I had an idea,” Changbin announces. He’s trying not the act it, but Seungmin can tell he’s been thrown off guard.
“I don’t like your ideas.”
If Minho and Seungmin are a cat and dog, then Changbin and he are Tom and Jerry. And for Seungmin, falling into his role of Jerry is as easy as breathing. It never takes much effort to get Changbin back into his role as Tom either.
“I don’t care if you like my ideas or not, we’re doing it anyway,” Changbin says, crossing the room to Seungmin’s bed. “You and I, Seungminnie, are going a run!”
“I don’t run,” Seungmin grumbles, tugging the blanket over his head.
Changbin tugs it off with ease, smirking triumphantly when Seungmin groans. “I know you don’t, which is exactly why we’re going to. You’re the only one on my level.”
Which is to say they’re both not on any level at all. Changbin has enough strength to carry two of their friends at the same time, but he can’t run a mile without walking in between. And Seungmin gave up on his stamina when he quit baseball.
“I’m not running, hyung,” Seungmin declares stubbornly.
Not even an hour later, they’re in the park, stretching before they start their run. Changbin pointedly ignores Seungmin’s glare and whining, he probably knows it’s mostly for show. He always seems to know everything about Seungmin.
Like he seems to know that it’s better not to speak of what happened, of what he saw.
So they run three miles, which is already three more than Seungmin wanted to run. He sits down in the next bench and tries to get his breathing under control. When did his lung capacity turn into that of an 80-year old smoker?
His embarrassment goes quickly when he realises Changbin isn’t better off. He’s hunched over, trying to catch his breath.
“Enough now, hyung. I’m tired,” Seungmin says.
Changbin doesn’t answer with words, but he sits down next to Seungmin and that’s confirmation enough.
“Why are we even doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
Changbin bit his lip right before he answered, a tell he’s lying. Seungmin nudges his knee and that’s all it takes for him to tell the truth.
“Alright, so like, I know that physical activity is like good for serotonin and stuff, and I wanted to, y’know, help you in other ways than just talk about. Initially, I was going to invite you to, like, come to the gym with me, but then I thought it’d be unfair ‘cause I’m at a way different level than you, and that might make it less fun for you. So I thought we both have the stamina of an elderly person, and this might be more fun. We could it get better at it together and—“
“You’re rambling, hyung.”
“I know,” Changbin sighs. “You get my point, though. Right?”
Seungmin does get it, and it makes him a bit nauseous. Changbin cares so much.
It used to scare Seungmin how much everyone cared, so much that he started ignoring it. But with all of them being as unwavering as they are, it’s gotten impossible to ignore it.
It’s not the same as it was though, acknowledging their love doesn’t feel like being cornered anymore. It doesn’t feel like setting himself up for failure.
It feels warm.
Seungmin looks at Changbin, at his flushed cheeks and bashful grin. He gets reminded of the other day, when the end of the world was still imminent, and Changbin had witnessed a part of him that he’d worked so hard to keep hidden.
Changbin’s hands were shaking then, but they’re strong and steady now. He’d rambled that day, but it was so unlike his ramble today. And Seungmin prays, to whatever God is out there listening, that it won’t ever come to that point again.
“Thank you, hyung,” Seungmin says. He hopes Changbin can hear everything he doesn’t say, like how he’s sorry for the damage he caused.
“You don’t have to thank me, Minnie, just keep working on getting better, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Alright! Now, let’s run back home!” Changbin exclaims, getting up and running before Seungmin can start complaining.
Seungmin groans as loud as he can, but still gets up to follow his hyung, hiding his smile behind his hand.
—
There’s a familiar heaviness in Seungmin’s bones. It creeped in sometime between him going to sleep and waking up. It didn’t bring any sadness with it, but it still makes it hard to get out of bed.
At first Seungmin lets it hold him down. It’s easy and comfortable to drown in his misery. It feels like welcoming an old friend, the dent in his bed moulds around him like a hug, his pillow cradles his head, and he wonders if anything has even been worth it at all.
He wonders if he dreamt these past few weeks. If he made them up to feel better, but now reality is dawning on him and gone is all the warmth. He remembers everything a bit colder now. His friends, their words, their actions, his mind makes it all seem so twisted. Overthinking everything.
The clock slowly ticks 11 am and a thought pops up in Seungmin’s head. He can’t do this again. Not to himself, not to his friends. He can’t spiral again after all the effort everyone put into patching him up. It’d be unfair and cruel, and that’s not the type of person he wants to be anymore.
He doesn’t have any energy to, but still forces himself to get out of bed. He brushes his teeth, but doesn’t have the energy to wash his face or hair, so he doesn’t. He changes his clothes, but just to the ones he wore yesterday.
Seungmin has to remind himself that baby steps are still steps when it all starts to feel stupidly useless. But he has to do more. Freshening up isn’t the limit of Seungmin’s energy, he refuses to let it be.
That’s when a memory pops up in his head, from a few months ago, when it was the most he could do. How Minho had forced him out of bed to go grocery shopping, but in the end all he had done was take a shower. Seungmin can do it now. He can fight his misery and make himself do better.
Seungmin makes his way to Minho’s room and knocks on the door before he can chicken out. He opens the door without waiting for permission and he can hear Minho grumble about it already.
“Yah, how many times do I have to tell you to— hey, what’s up with that face?” Minho softens when he takes Seungmin in.
“Groceries,” the younger blurts. “We should go get them.”
Minho looks confused for a second, but doesn’t question it. He shrugs his shoulders, then tugs on the hoodie that was lying on his bed. The two of them don’t waste any time more time, leaving immediately after.
Seungmin thinks that Minho might know he’s a flight risk, maybe his hyung can see the shadow hovering over him, it’s why he’s being extra gentle.
Minho makes a list on his phone of groceries, contemplating about this and that out loud. He brushes his fingers against Seungmin’s while they walk. It’s on purpose, Seungmin knows that, he just can’t prove it.
It works though. By the end of the short walk to the shop, Seungmin feels a little better. A little less like his bones were replaced by lead.
“Seungminnie,” Minho calls out. His voice is soft and gentle, and Seungmin sort of wants to cry. “Is everything alright?”
“It wasn’t before,” Seungmin admits, “but it’ll be.”
Minho hums in quiet understanding. He doesn’t press further, doesn’t ask what’s wrong or how he can help. They just let the words linger, letting the noise around them fill the silence.
Inside the store, Minho keeps up his quiet commentary. He debates brands of rice, but chooses the one they always buy. He asks Seungmin to pick between two flavours of yoghurt, then gets them both anyway. He silently sneaks in Seungmin’s favourite snacks when he thinks the younger isn’t looking.
It’s all so normal. The simplicity of it all makes Seungmin’s throat tighten.
When they step back outside, the sunlight hits him right in the face. It feels too bright for someone who spent the morning buried in darkness, but Seungmin doesn’t shy away from it. He closes his eyes as they walk, soaking in the heat.
“You did well today,” Minho suddenly says.
It’s so sudden that Seungmin stops in his tracks, blinking stupidly at the words. “We just got groceries.”
Minho smiles softly. “Exactly,” he says, “you got groceries.”
Seungmin looks down at the bags swinging from his hands. It’s light, he’s only carrying half the weight. Minho has the other half, and in a way it feels like a metaphor.
He doesn’t reply, just starts walking again. He thinks about Minho’s words though and about the past few weeks.
He did so well. He got up and he got groceries, something he couldn’t do last time. He didn’t isolate himself when he felt bad, instead he sought out Minho’s company. He’s making progress. Even if it doesn’t feel like it, even if he has bad days, he’s still getting better.
Minho bumps his shoulder against Seungmin’s when they reach their street.
“I’m glad you came to me today. You don’t have to do this alone, y’know, we’re all here to help in whatever way you need. Really, I’ll get groceries with you every day if that helps.”
Seungmin exhales a shaky laugh. “I think I finally believe it now.”
For a moment the world feels soft again. The sunlight casts a golden hue over them, and the warmth of it is enough to hold onto.
They turn the corner, and Minho glances at him, mischief flickering back into his eyes. “Race you home?”
Seungmin scoffs, lips twitching upwards. “You’ll lose.”
“You wish!”
Minho runs off before Seungmin can protest, laughing manically while the bag in his hand swings wildly. Seungmin curses under his breath as he starts chasing after his hyung.
The world isn’t ending.
Not now at least. But when the time comes, Seungmin thinks, he’ll know whose arms to hide in.