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Taemin’s hands are shaking. Jinki knows this because the way he’s tapping him out of his sleep seems faster than usual. Quick little pats on his shoulder, like he can’t keep his hands still enough for full, regular, slower ones. As he paps Jinki more out of his sleep, his voice fades in too, soft murmurs of his name.
“Jinki, please,” he’s whispering. “Jinki? Jinki I’m sorry, just, come on, Jinki--”
“What?” Jinki doesn’t open his eyes, but he does shift to his back in bed so he can speak clearly. He notes that Taemin isn’t on his left side of the bed like usual. From the position of his hands on his elbow, Jinki assumes he’s crouching on the right. Taemin’s fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater; his breaths sound way too quick.
“Jinki, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I know it’s late, a-and it’s probably nothing, and it’s tmi, but I just--”
“What is it?” Jinki sighs, lifting his hand to cover Taemin’s on his elbow and lace their fingers. Taemin’s hand shakes in his, grips him hard, his other still twisting in his sweater.
“I just,” Taemin starts. “I got up, to, you know, take a three in the morning pee, and like. But like. It wasn’t--my pee is normally like, almost clear, you know, because I’ve--been drinking water, a lot, but, it--it was dark, like, really dark, like really really yellow, and like--” He stops short, shakes in a breath. Jinki takes a deeper one and wiggles to his side. He cracks his eyes open just enough to see Taemin in the near darkness, the blue nightlight by their bed illuminating his mussed hair and bitten lips. Jinki technically has the time for this, but he doesn’t exactly want to spend it. He rubs his thumb over Taemin’s knuckles soothingly anyway, figuring that doing this the long way will be faster than when trying to speed through it inevitably fails.
“Besides cancer, because you know it’s not,” he says. “What do you think it is?”
“Um, well,” Taemin says almost immediately. “I was looking--or--I mean--” he hesitates when Jinki’s mouth curves more into a stern frown. “I wasn’t looking, up, anything, I still have the medical sites blocked on my phone, but.” He takes another shaky breath. “I was thinking, like. I--I didn’t drink much, today, so It could be dehydration, but--”
“You had one water bottle and a cup of orange juice,” Jinki mumbles. “That’s enough.”
“I know, I know,” Taemin hisses. “So I was thinking then, like--”
“Was there blood?”
“No, but--”
“Skip all of those ones right now.”
“I--ngh--okay, then, like, gallst--”
“You don’t have the diet or any of the predisposing factors for gallstones.”
“Or nephritis--”
“That’s a blood one.”
“But--”
Next.”
“Maybe rhabdomyolysis, but that’s--”
“Caused by m--”
“Muscle injury, which hasn’t happened, I know.” Taemin rubs his hand over his face, slides it through his hair, grips the strands and tugs. Jinki slides his hand up Taemin’s arm to his head to gently untangle his fingers before he hurts himself like last time. He links their fingers together and wiggles his other hand to take Taemin’s other so he can have both. Taemin puts his forehead against the edge of the mattress and takes several deep breaths; when he looks back up, he’s only a tiny bit calmer. “It could be malaria,” he says weakly. “Like, I have that little bump on my elbow. It could be a mosquito bite.”
“It’s December,” Jinki sighs. “There are no mosquitos. That was just an elbow pimple.” He knows. Taemin made him look at it the other day.
“Okay, okay,” Taemin says quickly. “What about--what if it’s, like, chlamydia, or--”
“Neither of us have any STDs, Taemin.”
“Or, or, hepatitis, or anemia, or--”
“We both had our blood tested last month.”
“Yeah, but, sometimes the hepatitis virus can take up to three weeks to show, and if we haven’t been tested in four weeks--”
“Tae,” Jinki says heavily. He shifts closer to the edge of the bed, slides his arm around Taemin’s shoulders, and nuzzles his neck. Taemin wraps around him quicker than usual, shaky fingers pressing into his shoulders, breath hot against his skin, arms squeezing him tight. He opens his mouth to apologize, or maybe to list off more diseases, but Jinki shakes his head.
“Your pee is dark,” he says, murmuring soothingly but clearly next to Taemin’s ear. “because we had asparagus for dinner. That recipe Jonghyun gave us.”
“But--”
“That is literally it,” Jinki says slowly. He pulls back so he can look Taemin in the eyes in the darkness. They’re watery and he sighs, offering up his sweater sleeve for Taemin to use to wipe them with. “Asparagus makes your pee dark,” he says. “And smell kind of funky.”
“Yeah, but Jinki--”
“Did your pee smell kind of funky?”
“Yeah, but--”
“But what, Taemin?”
“My hands, are also, um, shaky,” he says. He pulls himself out of Jinki’s hold and lifts his hands to show Jinki how badly they’re trembling. Jinki sighs slowly. “And--and shaky hands and dark pee together are symptoms of cirrhosis, and my head feels really hot, and together with a fever could be mono or pancreatitis or an obstruct--”
“Taemin, your hands are shaking and you feel hot because you are having an anxiety attack,” Jinki says, not loudly, but loud enough. Taemin’s words falter and he looks down, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Jinki presses on gently. “Because of your hypochondria. And your anxiety.” He takes Taemin’s hands again and presses a little kiss to the back of each one. Taemin doesn’t reply, but Jinki hears him swallow and the little breath that follows. He holds Taemin’s hands together in his. “Were you shaky or hot before you went pee?” he asks. Taemin hesitates, then shakes his head.
“No,” he whispers.
“No,” Jinki repeats calmly. He kisses Taemin’s hands again. “You’re fine.”
“I’m--” Taemin starts. He cuts himself off with a deep, shaky breath. “You’re right,” he says. “You’re right. You’re right. I'm fine. You’re right.” He puts his head back down and repeats both of those to himself a few times each, squeezing Jinki’s hands gently. After that, he’s silent for a long time besides the audible attempts at slowing his breathing. Jinki counts the seconds in and out in his head, tracking Taemin’s progress, but letting him do it himself. After another few slow minutes, Taemin lets a breath out in a whoosh. “I’m sorry,” he says to the floor, voice tiny.
“It’s fine,” Jinki mumbles. He doesn’t mind being woken up to soothe a panic attack every once in a while. He’s not gonna make Taemin feel like shit for things he can’t control. “It’s what I’m here for,” he says, smiling just slightly through his sleepiness. Taemin gives him a tiny, tiny chuckle in return and looks up, propping his chin on the mattress.
“My doctor babe,” he hums, tapping his fingers on the back of Jinki’s hands. “With your big doctor brain.” Jinki’s smile quirks up even more.
“Sometimes I think the only reason you’re with me is because of my job,” he says slyly. Taemin laughs again; that’s good. He's feeling better.
“The doctor’s salary doesn’t hurt,” he says, and oh. That is. Not good. Jinki is the one that started it, but as soon as the words leave Taemin’s lips he feels his cheer dropping. He closes his eyes, squeezes Taemin’s hand, takes a deep breath for himself. It was just a joke, he tells himself, Taemin doesn’t only care about him for his job. He didn’t mean it. The words sound fake in his head and he scrunches his nose, turning his face more into his pillow. Fuck.
“Jinki,” Taemin says softly. Jinki feels Taemin’s hand leave his, but feels it gently petting through his hair a second later. “Jinki, I didn’t… mean that,” he says. “You know I didn’t… Jinki?” His voice gets closer, but even softer still, and Jinki takes in a steadying breath before he curls his knees up just a bit.
“I know you didn’t,” he mumbles. “But just. I was joking, but, you….”
“It’s not my thing to joke about, I know,” Taemin says quickly. “Jinki, I’m sorry, I just--”
“It’s fine,” Jinki mumbles.
“No it’s not,” Taemin mumbles back. Jinki sighs, rubs his cheek against his pillows.
“It’s not,” he agrees, and the hand Taemin still has tangled with his tightens a fraction. “But, Tae. I’m really tired.” Having his eyes closed again has brought all the sleepiness he was slowly getting out of right back. He doesn’t want to deal with this right now. “We can talk about it in the morning.”
“I--are you sure?” Taemin asks, and then, immediately after, “of course you are, sorry, just. I’m sorry.” He sighs again and puts his head back down on the mattress. “We’re a mess,” he mumbles. Jinki exhales shortly in amusement. That’s not wrong. “But, we’re a hot mess, so. That’s something.” The bravado in Taemin’s voice like he’s trying to turn this night around is enough to bring an actual small smile back to Jinki’s lips. He nods, wiggles his hands from Taemin’s curls them under his pillow. He’s about to tell Taemin to come back into bed so they can sleep, but then Taemin sucks in a sharp breath and Jinki feels the blankets twitch as he grips them tightly.
“Fuck, Jinki, what if it actually is hepatitis?” he whines. “Like, the pee and the fever and I’m so tired and I’m feeling kind of nauseous and those are all symptoms of--”
“Of having an anxiety attack in the middle of the night,” Jinki says firmly. “Come sleep.”
“I don’t think I can sleep, Jinki, I can’t--and sleep deprivation can fuck up my brain and my memory and it’ll make my immune system even worse and it’s winter and--”
“Tae,” Jinki sighs. He just wants to sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Taemin groans, and Jinki shakes his head as best he can with his face half in the pillow. He reaches out to run his fingers through Taemin’s hair soothingly.
“Look,” he mumbles. “What time is it?”
“Like, almost four in the morning,” Taemin says. “Sorry.”
“So it should be…. In Korea… um.” Jinki frowns into the pillow. It’s too late for time zone conversions. “Jonghyun should be awake, right now,” is what he settles on saying. It’s daytime there. If Taemin’s going to stay awake so late, Jinki would rather he do it with a boyfriend that won’t lose sleep over it. “Why don’t you just go skype him?” he asks. “Practise your Korean. That usually puts you to sleep.” He slides his hand back under the covers but not before rubbing his thumb soothingly over Taemin’s cheek once. Taemin pouts again (Jinki can tell because he makes his tiny pouting noise) and rubs Jinki’s shoulder.
“Are you sure?” He asks. “Like, really sure? I can worry in silence if you want me to spoon you.”
“No,” Jinki mumbles. “Jonghyun is good at calming you down. I don’t mind. Tell him I say hi. In Korean.” He pushes Taemin’s hand gently away and tugs the blankets up so Taemin can’t try to wiggle in there with him. Taemin hums uncertainly for a moment before he sighs.
“Okay,” he says. Jinki hears him stand up, feels him lean down and press a soft kiss to his cheek, listens to him shuffling back to his side of the bed to get his laptop. “You know practising the language only puts me to sleep because I keep calling him ‘jagiya’ and it gets him all flustered and we just wind up jerking off to each other,” he mumbles as he’s struggling to yank the charger out of the outlet. Jinki snorts. He knows. Jonghyun is a sucker for pet names in English also.
“Study hard,” he says, grinning when Taemin stops his movement to muffle a snort into his shoulder.
“Good night, Jinki,” he says a minute later. From the direction of his voice Jinki can tell he’s at the door. “And um. I’m sorry. Again. Still. About, like, both things, and, just--I’ll make breakfast tomorrow, and, like. Just. Good night.” He leaves quickly after that, without giving Jinki time to reply. Jinki sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t think he wants to deal with it tomorrow. But, whatever. He’ll deal with not dealing it with it in the morning. For now, he listens until he can just barely hear Taemin getting settled on the couch in the living room. A few minutes after that, if he really tries, he can hear Taemin’s soft “annyeong, Jonghyunnie,” and a few more minutes after that, he’s finally fallen back asleep.