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Wen Junhui is a walking ball of anxiety. Not only does he have a medical diagnosis of GAD, but he generally comes across as an anxious person. He’s shy and quiet, especially around unfamiliar people, he’s fidgety and shaky, and he’s so clingy that he generally comes across as a five-year-old.
When he was in high school back in China, Junhui had met with a therapist every other week - to learn new techniques for dealing with and living with his anxiety as well as giving him a safe space to express his worries and work through his problems in a healthy way. He’s always had a bad habit of bottling up his burdens, agonising over the smallest of issues on his own until it ate him up inside.
Junhui likes to imagine that his parents went to the trouble of sending him to a therapist because they were worried about him and wanted him to be happy and healthy. Junhui has a bad feeling that they were more concerned about his image. His school were getting concerned with how often he was bursting into tears and his fellow pupils and their parents were beginning to talk.
Jun has always struggled with his self-image, and that whole situation didn’t exactly help with that. Having a therapist was one of the best things to have happened to him, and it’s probably the reason why he’s still able to fight today, but back in high school, therapy was almost used to silence him.
Despite the number of times his therapist tried to convince him that talking to others about his problems is the best way to solve them, or at least lessen his burden, it never quite resonated. He hates making a fuss. His first instinct will always be to keep his troubles to himself.
By the times he moved to Korea, Junhui was reluctant to seek out a new therapist, worried - surprise, surprise - about both the language barrier and the hassle of trying to build up trust in a new and unfamiliar person (it had been hard enough the first time).
Overall, however, it’s been under control. All of the members, as well as their management team, are aware of his condition and are more than flexible when it comes to making him comfortable and keeping him healthy. If he lays awake all night because he can’t tune out his thoughts for long enough for him to fall asleep, he only has to say the word and they will try their best to clear his next mornings’ schedules to allow him to catch up on rest.
Nevertheless, despite all of these considerations and the support system that he’s lucky enough to have, he still has an anxiety disorder. And it still sucks. Sometimes - especially due to hectic and stressful their lives are - things just get to be too much. Or sometimes he just gets suddenly anxious for absolutely no reason, and he falls back into old habits. And sometimes, he deserves a bit of a mental breakdown.
*
Right now, it’s nearing two-am, and all Junhui wants is to go home and sleep. He’s used to late nights at the studio, but today it feels like too much for him to handle. He’s tired and he’s anxious, but it’s his turn to record his parts for their newest title track. Junhui literally only has one and a half lines, it shouldn’t be as hard as he’s finding it. But he’s already been in the recording booth for twenty minutes and he just can’t get it right.
He’s trying his best to mimic the line that Jihoon has been singing at him, perfectly, but his voice just won’t do what he wants it to. On top of that, the severity of his anxiety has been steadily increasing the more he gets it wrong and now his voice won’t stop wavering, which is making it even harder.
It makes him feel so useless. It answers his questions about why he doesn’t get many lines - he just isn’t good enough.
Junhui frowns, forcing in a shaky breath as he watches his fingers jumping about on the sides of the big microphone in front of him, and just seeing them makes him feel more and more anxious. He doesn’t want to have a panic attack. He feels sick.
“Can I take a break?” He suddenly asks, surprising himself. He’s already slipping his headphones off his ears when Jihoon nods his assent, already distracted - he turns towards his computer to sort through some of the half-decent audio files they’d managed to salvage from the ruins of Junhui’s voice.
Jihoon isn’t watching when Junhui sinks backwards until he’s against the padded wall, sliding down it until he’s sat on the floor, his thighs pressed against his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs and buries his face in his knees as he tries his best not to freak out. They don’t have time for him to freak out.
He’s gotten pretty good at this - staving off panic attacks. Sometimes it’s done out of necessity, like when they’re literally about to go on stage and they physically don’t have time for him to have a breakdown, but sometimes it’s just out of preference. He would always prefer to have an anxiety attack at home, surrounded by his members when they have time to take care of him properly.
As Junhui’s silently losing his mind, Jihoon pauses, frowning at his computer screen. When Jun asked for a break, he’d assumed that he would leave for some water or to go to the loo, but he suddenly realises that he hadn’t heard the door open and shut again. He looks away from his computer to peek through the small window to the booth, brow furrowing further when he spots the top of Junhui’s head.
Instead of asking if something’s happened through the microphone, he gets up and walks around to the door of the recording booth. He knocks lightly before he enters, startling a little when he spots Jun on the floor.
Junhui is curled up, looking far too close to an anxiety attack for comfort. Jihoon hasn’t seen many of Jun’s panic attacks, and he’s definitely never been alone with him during one. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. He knows that he isn’t the warmest or most tactile member - he doesn’t want to make Jun feel worse because he’s bad at comforting.
“What’s wrong, Junhui-hyung?” He starts with as he takes a seat beside Jun, laying a hand over his elbow. Jun sniffles, whining a little as he tries to speak but he can’t quite fit the words together right. Jihoon shushes him. “It’s alright. Take your time.”
“I- I’m sorry,” Junhui stutters out, refusing to meet the younger’s eyes, keeping his face hidden. “I’m wasting your time. It shouldn’t be this hard, and it’s so late already, I shouldn’t be-” Jihoon moves his hand to the back of Jun’s neck, squeezing gently whilst subtly feeling for the elder’s pulse - it’s racing. He’s so anxious.
“It’s alright, hyung. We all have our off days. We can do this later if we want to.” Jihoon tries his best not to sound accusing, not wanting Junhui to think that he’s doing anything wrong, or that he’s being an inconvenience.
“But, we need to get it done.” Junhui squeaks out, Jihoon’s eyes widening a little as his shoulders tense up. He’s trying to make the boy feel better, not worse.
“You know, the rest of us always have to come in and record bits and pieces later, you’re just notoriously good at getting it the first time around. You didn’t today, but that’s normal.” Junhui lifts his head at that, tilting it to the side curiously - Jihoon’s heart shatters at the thought that he’s so stunned to have been complimented.
He vows to himself to do it more often.
“I’m good?” He asks, a little breathlessly. Jihoon’s caught between wanting to coo and wanting to cry. Instead, he just nods, ruffling his hyung’s hair fondly. Despite him being older, Jihoon has always felt a little like Junhui is his younger brother, always wanting to look after him and to protect him. He’s reminded of that feeling right now.
“Really good. And I promise that one off day isn’t going to ruin that. Even if we have to record this part five hundred times, we’ll get it eventually, and it’ll sound awesome.” Jun grins at that, ducking his head to rest against Jihoon’s shoulder, nosing at his neck. “Now, go and chill out. You don’t need to finish this today.” Jihoon instructs as he stands up, holding a hand out to help the elder to his feet.
*
Jun makes his way back to the dance studio, where the rest of the members have been making use of the time between recordings by practising some of the unit stages. Jeonghan and Jisoo are currently running through ‘Falling For U,’ so Junhui lets himself fall onto the sofa next to Seungkwan, nestling into his side.
Seungkwan puts his phone to the side when Jun folds himself into the younger’s space, one hand instinctively lacing into his mop of dark hair and scratching lightly at his dark roots. “You alright, gorgeous?” Seungkwan asks, moving his other hand to lay on Jun’s upper arm, wrapping him up just a little. Junhui hums lazily in assent, but Seungkwan can see right through him. “No, you’re not. Tell me what’s up.”
Junhui sighs, tilting his head to look up at Seungkwan. “I’m just, like, on the verge of overwhelmed today.” He relents, his soft voice tapering off a little as he meets Seungkwan’s eyes. Seungkwan coos at him, dragging him closer by the back of his head until Junhui’s face is pressed against his collarbone.
“Then just relax, okay? Lie down and have a nap, if you can. If you’re not feeling great, we’re not going to force you to work.” When Junhui nods, albeit reluctantly - he always feels guilty for skipping out on practice - Seungkwan reaches over the back of the sofa to grab one of the discarded blankets the members use for midday naps.
Like a parent to their child, he wraps it around Junhui’s tired body and tucks him in, right up to his chin, pressing a kiss to the space between his eyebrows once he’s completely swaddled. “There you go, pretty.”
When it’s Seungkwan’s turn to record, he doesn’t move until Hansol is there to shuffle over into his spot, as to not jostle Junhui too much. Although he’s not actually asleep, Jun appreciates the sentiment, melting onto Hansol’s shoulder as a silent thank you. Hansol rests his cheek on the top of Junhui’s head as he messes about on his phone.
Jun’s trying his best to relax, he really is, but he can’t seem to stop himself from falling apart. His head is getting hazier, his head full of muddled thoughts, and he’s still shaking so hard he feels like he’s about to rattle apart. Junhui’s eyes shoot open when his chest suddenly tightens, leaning forwards until he’s on the verge of tumbling off the sofa. He buries his face in one hand, the other pinching at the skin of his neck, trying to regain control of his own body, but he’s all over the place.
And it’s so late now; his head is actually throbbing from exhaustion and his eyes are stinging just from being open. It feels like he hasn’t blinked for hours even though his lashes are wet with unshed tears.
He feels too tired and weak to even try calming himself down. It’s almost like he’s a passenger in his own body, just watching himself crash without any powers to stop it. It hurts because he’s usually so strong when it comes to his anxiety, he can be so good at looking after himself, it almost feels like he’s failing now.
He whines a little as his heavy breaths begin catching in his throat, his chest heaving harder and faster as he begins panicking more. Distantly, he feels an open palm drawing circles on the planes of his back and hears someone calling his name. His brain doesn’t make the connection between hearing and responding, so he keeps quiet - not including the sound of his desperate gasping.
This anxiety has been building up under his skin all day, but it still - somehow - manages to hit him out of nowhere.
He’s only pulled out of his head when Minghao appears directly in front of him, worming his way to kneel in the space between Junhui’s thighs. He places a hand on either side of Jun’s jaw and directs his head to face him, smiling when their eyes meet. “Hey. You don’t look like you’re doing too good?”
It’s framed as a question, but Junhui doesn’t really feel like he can answer it - not in words, anyway. Instead, he whimpers and presses his face into one of Minghao’s hands, turning to nose at his palm. Minghao coos softly, thumbs sweeping along his cheekbones and drifting over his temples. “You’re alright, gē. We’ve got you, me and Hansol have got you. You’re okay.” Minghao reassures him, and Jun vaguely remembers the hand on his back - it’s still making its circles.
It’s when he chokes on a breath, pulling himself away from Minghao to cough into his forearms, that Minghao begins to count in fours. He laces his fingers in Jun’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp as he repeats the numbers over and over again, watching carefully as Junhui attempts to map his breaths to the rhythm.
Junhui tries his best to follow the exercise. He folds in on himself, even if he knows rationally that it only makes breathing harder. It’s one of the first things he does when he’s helping Hansol or Channie through a panic attack - straighten their back, open their chest. But when he’s panicking, his rational side can’t win out over his irrational need to comfort himself, closing off to protect himself from any further damage.
It’s Hansol who does it this time, two hands on the centre of his chest, pushing him back against the back of the sofa. He and Minghao perch on either side of him and hold him up, still counting. “There you go, hyungie. You’re doing so well. Just keep breathing.” Hansol murmurs in a half-whisper and Jun is almost proud that he feels like he’s listening to himself.
No matter how much he may need and enjoy being looked after, Junhui is, first and foremost, a carer and protector for his dongsaengs, and that’s not changing any time soon. Although it’s only two and three years difference between him and Hansol and Chan respectively, Junhui feels such a responsibility to look after them.
Not only is he older than them - he’s been dealing with anxiety for longer than them - but he’s the only one who’s ever had the help of a long-term therapist. Junhui learnt so much from her about living with and dealing with his anxiety, he longs to pass the knowledge onto them if it can help them as well.
As soon as he’d found out that they both suffer from the same ailment as him, he’d instantly become their first port of call whenever they were feeling even only slightly less than amazing. He’s insisted on it. On top of that, he was the first person that the other members turned to when either of them was panicking because they didn’t yet know what to do.
It happened so naturally, how he’d taken on this role. It always feels a little bit weird when their roles are reversed.
It had initially been difficult for Hansol and Chan - especially Hansol - to step up during Junhui’s anxiety attacks. Not only because of the age difference - not wanting to coddle Junhui and treat him as though he were younger - but because they almost saw him as invincible. He always seemed to be in such control of his anxiety, and he understood it so well, it was disorientating to see him suffering under its clutches.
Nevertheless, they’re now so in tune with how he’s feeling, they are instinctively drawn to each other when one of them is feeling unstable or upset, and they are so good at looking after each other. Junhui is so proud, as though he’s been successful in raising these compassionate and caring dongsaengs, even if they haven’t really known each other for that long.
It takes a little while of calm instruction, but Junhui eventually slows down his breathing enough that his vision comes back into focus. He sighs, slumping to the side until he’s cradling in Hansol’s arms. Hansol chuckles, wrapping his arms around Junhui and squeezing him tight, face pushed into his hair. “You feeling better?” He asks, and Jun nods.
Minghao pats his knee to pull his attention, and when Junhui looks up, he’s grinning fondly at the pair of them. “Drink some water, you goofball.” He chastises gently, holding a water bottle out to Junhui, it’s lid already unscrewed. There’s no way that Jun would be able to do it with his shaky hands, at least not without soaking himself in the process. Junhui takes slow sips, not wanting to upset his, still fluttering, stomach.
He keeps an eye on Minghao as he drinks. He likes the way that Minghao is looking at him - like he’s something to be protected.
“You wanna go home?” Minghao asks, shuffling a little closer to steal Jun from Hansol’s arms once he’s pushed away the water. Junhui allows himself to be dragged into Minghao, falling willingly against his chest, breathing in that familiar scent. Jun sighs.
“I don’t want to be on my own. And you’ve all got to stay here.” Junhui replies, only now realising how tired he is. He lets his eyes slip shut, hiding his face in the dip of Minghao’s shoulder. “Hao-hao~” He coos, a little brokenly.
“You can nap here for a bit then, yeah? Until we go home. We’ll keep the music down.” Junhui only now realises that the music’s been turned off, and the rest of the members are huddled together across the room, taking a break and pretending to not be checking on him. Jun smiles.