Archive of Our Own ^beta

Changbin is walking down the hallway when it starts. Subtle, just a small thumping in the top of his skull right behind his forehead. Normally such a feeling would be dismissed as something that will pass quickly, or perhaps not even noticed at all, but not with Changbin. Changbin always notices and he always knows it won’t pass any time soon.

He picks up his pace and shoulders his way through the throngs of high schoolers to get to his next class. His desk is near the back of the room so he has to weave around the kids standing in the aisles. He swings his backpack onto his desk, unzips the front pocket, and hisses out a distressed “Fuck.” There is no familiar white Rizatriptan bottle against the dark fabric of the pocket, only pencils and pens and a stray Halloween-themed eraser. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.”

Changbin scrambles for his phone. God damn it, he hates this. He hates being reduced to this and he hates that right now, at this moment, he can’t fight back.

The thumping is growing into a steady pounding, and the lights are already becoming too bright. “Shit,” he murmurs as he fumbles for the speed dial. It rings, then rings again, and then the class bell rings and Changbin curses again. Please, please, please, pick up.

The line stutters, then a confused “Changbin?” comes through.

“Head,” is the first thing that escapes Changbin’s mouth. The other kids in his class are already finding their seats, so he drags his backpack to the floor and slides into his desk. He drops down to a whisper, “My head. I don’t have my medicine―I ran out yesterday, forgot to put in a new bottle―”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says on the other end. His voice is full of concern and Changbin feels like shit for making his friend sound that way. He always does, every damn time this happens. “I’m going to be there as soon as I can, okay? Just close your eyes and I’ll come get you.”

Changbin nods, forgetting Hyunjin can’t see him, but the action only makes the pounding start to throb, like a bad aftertaste in his brain. Fuck. He just groans out a slurred yes and lays his head down on his arms. Hyunjin probably hangs up their call.

Mrs. Ha begins talking up by the board. It’s probably something important, and probably something about biology, but Changbin honestly can’t tell. It sounds like he’s underwater, and opening his eyes feels like staring into the sun and he can feel his heartbeat behind his face. Everything is blurry, like someone took all the thoughts in his head and started swirling them in a slow back and forth, back and forth. There are most likely tears behind Changbin’s eyes and he hates that he has no control over them.

He keeps his head shielded by his arms on the desk. He’s far too out of it to register the urgent knock on the door or how Mrs. Ha continues her class so that attention won’t be focused on the way Hyunjin kneels beside Changbin and rests a soft hand on his back. It’s that feeling that finally clicks in somewhere deep, deep in the unaffected part of Changbin’s brain. Beside him, someone murmurs something, probably just trying to get through to him, and he will always know Hyunjin’s voice no matter how suffocated he feels.

Thankfully when he tries to open his bleary eyes the lights are dimmer, but they in no way lessen the throbbing between his ears. Hyunjin helps haul him to his feet and Changbin can’t even pick up on Hyunjin slinging Changbin’s backpack onto his own shoulders, nodding at Mrs. Ha, and leading Changbin back out into the hallway. He just numbly follows Hyunjin wherever he’s taking them.

Changbin is gently pushed into a soft seat. Dull noises interrupt the steady overwhelming pulse in his head, then it’s the muted rumbling that starts vibrating the seat under him. A groan dislodges from his throat and he distantly thinks there might be a quiet apology that responds to it.

Somewhere underneath the pounding he feels ground, stairs, a mattress. Then a warm body wraps around his and that’s all he’s aware of before he sinks into the rhythmic pulse in his head.

When Changbin wakes up, everything is fuzzy. He squeezes his eyes shut a few times in an attempt to clear the fog from his brain. Then he opens his eyes, closes them again, and buries himself deeper into the warmth around him.

“Hey,” a soft voice says, low and soothing. Changbin blinks.

Hyunjin moves behind him, shifting him tighter against his body and threading gentle fingers through his hair. Changbin sighs and melts back into Hyunjin’s hold.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“It’s already five-thirty,” Hyunjin replies. Damn, he’s been out a long time. “How are you feeling?”

Changbin hums. “Better.”

“Good,” Hyunjin says as he keeps stroking through Changbin’s hair.

Usually, Changbin’s head feels like lead. His eyes close on their own and his head grows too heavy for his neck. As much as he despises it, he has no choice but to surrender to the metal that squeezes around his head. Has to close his eyes, rest his head against something, stay perfectly still until the metal’s melted and gone. Other times it’s like his brain is replaced with a cotton ball, or maybe a marshmallow. Just stuffed through one of his eye sockets and into his skull―it reminds him of Build-A-Bear, of a little girl who overstuffs her teddy bear to the point where stuffing bursts out of the seams. Changbin’s reduced to conceptualizing what fuzzy tastes like in his mouth as the cotton spills into it. And other times, like today, his heartbeat jumps up and reverberates in his skull, a steady rhythm pounding against his bones in an inescapable song Changbin has always hated. And sometimes it’s like a furious lumberjack is hacking at his head with a giant axe and Changbin can only cry out every time it lands, choking out broken sobs until either the pain dulls into blunt blows or he vomits everywhere or he passes out.

At their worst, they don’t hit him full force. They linger, just powerful enough to poison his mind without incapacitating it. They draw out every other kind of pain and leave Changbin to make a disaster of everything in his life. Most of the time, thankfully, they’re too debilitating to let him do that. No matter how awful a head of lead or his heartbeat in his brain may be, Changbin would rather suffer through those any day than a migraine that turns him into a monster.

And Hyunjin, well… Hyunjin’s been there for every kind of them. And somehow, he’s still here.

“Heartbeat?” the younger boy asks after a few long moments of silence. Changbin’s already drifted back into a semi-slumber, lulled into a peaceful semblance of sleep by the even rise and fall of Hyunjin’s chest and the fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yeah,” Changbin replies.

Hyunjin hums. “I thought so. I had to take the curves especially slow on the way home.”

Something in Changbin’s chest (his heart, probably) tightens. He knows how much his stupid migraines inconvenience Hyunjin, and how much Hyunjin doesn’t mind. Hyunjin’s the only one who knows how to help Changbin when he stupidly catches the onset too late or is missing his medicine, like today. Changbin’s teachers know the basics for when they catch onto the signs―dim the lights, don’t disturb him, it’ll probably pass with time. Or, most of the time, Hyunjin will show up and take care of him.

Changbin remembers the first time Hyunjin witnessed one of his migraines. He’s not sure if they were in fourth or fifth grade, but either way Hyunjin had been thrown straight into one of the worst. They’d already been friends for years but Changbin was good at keeping his problems to himself. One day though a migraine had come on too fast and he’d barely been able to flee to the bathroom before the vomiting started racking his body. Concerned, Hyunjin had followed him in, and he sat next to Changbin until it was over. Pet his hair, ran soft hands over his back, murmured empty comforts into the quiet of the bathroom. Later he learned that Changbin needed absolute silence when he had a disabling migraine like that, and he’s never talked since.

“You should put your medicine in your backpack,” Hyunjin finally says to break the silence that’s settled over them again. Changbin resists the urge to play the it still hurts a little card because as much as he wishes they could stay like this, he knows he’ll forget to put the bottle in if he doesn’t do it now.

So with a small huff, Changbin pries himself away from Hyunjin and tries out his feet. He sways slightly and is surprised to feel two hands on his arms keeping him upright. Hyunjin’s already scooted to his edge of the bed, probably anticipating Changbin’s instability. The older boy quickly turns back to his feet so he can hide the blood that floods into his cheeks. The sudden head rush doesn’t help with his imbalance, but Hyunjin really is too touchy. The fact is easier to deal with when Changbin’s using it solely to ground himself in the midst of a migraine, but when he’s not impaired at all―?

Yeah, he’s not good at handling that.

He nearly lunges for the Rizatriptan bottle sitting almost mockingly on his desk. Hyunjin shuffles off the bed and Changbin fumbles around with his backpack a little longer than necessary to buy himself some time to calm down.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

Changbin glances over to where Hyunjin’s standing in the doorway, looking depressingly handsome and soft against the gentle hall lights behind him. “Are my parents not home?”

“They called. They’ll be at a meeting until eight, so I’m in charge of dinner for the night.”

Despite how mediocre Hyunjin’s cooking is, both Changbin and his parents trust him in the kitchen far more than they trust Changbin himself. He even knows how to navigate the Seo cabinets and drawers better than Changbin, so he’s really the only viable option for food.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll eat,” Changbin says. “I need to check my phone, then I’ll be right down.”

Hyunjin shoots him an angelic and far too brief smile before disappearing down the hall.

There’s an email from Mrs. Ha that probably has the notes and worksheets he missed from today. He replies with a sincere thank you and promises to catch up on the work. There’s a couple texts from his parents that verify Hyunjin’s claims and let him know they hope he’s feeling better. Then there’s a Snapchat notification from a kid in the class he missed with the answers to Mrs. Ha’s worksheets, and that’s all Changbin has to busy himself with before he has to face Hyunjin downstairs.

Sitting on a barstool and watching Hyunjin bustle around in the kitchen, it’s easy to remember all the reasons Changbin fell for him. The younger is dressed in a pair of Changbin’s oversized sweatpants that aren’t quite so oversized on his lithe frame as he stands over a pot of soup on the stove. It’s vegetable soup, the kind that soothes him the most after a particularly nasty migraine. Hyunjin didn’t even have to ask; he just knows by this point.

Hyunjin is everything soft. In his angles, his curves, in his subtle gestures that are easy to miss. The only abrasive thing about him is his laugh, but Changbin loves drawing it from him anyway as long as his head is feeling alright. Hyunjin is far too good for him, and as he observes the younger make vegetable soup while simultaneously washing the dirty dishes left in the sink from last night, the inevitable and familiar guilt starts eating away at his stomach. Why can’t he be strong enough to keep the damn migraines away?

Hyunjin, also awfully observant on top of everything else, must catch the expression on Changbin’s face. Because he pauses on the way to the stove and fixes Changbin with a gentle but reprimanding glare. “Stop looking like that, Binnie. You have no reason to feel bad―it was the last period of the day, and I don’t really like chemistry anyway. Besides, I’d always rather spend time with you no matter the circumstances. You know that.”

Changbin does know that. They’re best friends, so of course they should like spending time together, but Hyunjin reminds him constantly and god, the way he says it. Like whatever place has Changbin, that’s truly the only place Hyunjin wants to be. It’s been wearing away at Changbin’s ability to keep everything under control.

“I’m still sorry,” Changbin grumbles.

Hyunjin places a steaming bowl of soup in front of him and slides onto the stool next to him. Doesn’t dignify his apology with a response, just says a quiet “Eat up” before starting on his own bowl.

They eat in silence until Hyunjin starts up a conversation, slow and lulling and Changbin falls into it like he fell for Hyunjin―easily, and entirely without even meaning to.

“...Hyung. Hyung, hyung. Hyung!” The voice finally raises to a volume loud enough to break through the cottony mess behind Changbin’s eyes. He’s already taken a pill, he’s just waiting for it to kick in.

“Hi, Jisung-ah,” Changbin says with a shake of his head. “Sorry.”

Jisung pouts at him. “Is it a migraine?”

Changbin shakes his head again, this time more deliberately. “No, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“Hmm.” Jisung sees right through him―the little squirt has always been able to pick Changbin apart without even chipping a nail. Instead of resuming whatever one-sided conversation he’d been having before, Jisung says, “I thought you weren’t getting those as often anymore.”

Changbin stalls for time by taking a bite from his sandwich. They’re at lunch, sitting across from each other at a small table in the Starbucks down the street from the school. Changbin’s a cool hyung who sneaks his dongsaengs off campus in his car. The act in itself is extremely risky―Changbin could get a migraine while driving, or when he gets to his destination and therefore stranding himself wherever he is. And Jisung doesn’t have his license yet, which means they really would be marooned at a goddamn Starbucks if a migraine hit Changbin too hard. But Jisung had really wanted his mainstream pumpkin spice latte (“’tis the season, hyung”) and Changbin was too soft to say no.

“I’m not. I’ve been okay.”

“You had one on Tuesday, though.”

Changbin frowns. “How’d you know about that?”

“Seungmin saw you and Hyunjin in the hallway.”

“Oh.” He really can’t argue with that. “Yeah, that was just because I forgot my meds.”

Jisung sips on his latte. “I thought Hyunjin carried some on him too?”

“It just doesn’t help so late in the onset.” Somehow lunches with Jisung always end up feeling like interrogations. Yes, Hyunjin always carries some of Changbin’s prescription in case Changbin forgets it, but the damn stuff only helps when Changbin catches it early on. Once he can’t bear to keep his eyes open anymore, it’s easier to just wait it out.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright.” He takes another sip and Changbin can feel another question coming, and he knows it’s one he’s not going to like. “So… how are things with you and Hyunjin?”

Yep, Changbin was right. He really doesn’t like this question. “We’re still best friends.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “No shit, hyung. I mean, have you confessed yet?”

Changbin would rather have the worst migraine of his life than confess to Hyunjin. Everything is too fragile for such a bombshell―university is coming up soon, and they won’t have enough time to regrow all the roots that Changbin’s confession of unrequited love would upheave. Maybe if he’d realized it a few years back and had the guts to spill it then, they’d be okay by now. But at this stage in the game? He can’t.

“I haven’t. Have you confessed to Minho yet?”

The change of subject works like a charm. He knows part of it is Jisung humoring him, but he also knows that once they get onto the topic of Minho, the younger boy can’t resist.

Somewhere amidst Jisung’s rants about the university student who moved into the apartment next to his, the beginnings of Changbin’s migraine thins out and disappears before it can take hold. Then it’s all finally nice, the bad pop music playing through the Starbucks speakers and the smell of Jisung’s latte and the melodic rhythm of his voice. It’s enough to distract him from Hyunjin, even if just for the moment.

This time he misses the early signs because Mr. Kim doesn’t know how to take a fucking breath. The man’s been lecturing rapid-fire for thirty minutes straight and Changbin’s hand is cramping like he’s just played six straight hours of Xbox games. It’s becoming more and more difficult to balance his focus between scribbling down the notes and not dangerously straining something in his hand.

It also suddenly becomes apparent that Changbin is developing a migraine when a dull clanging starts echoing in his ears. Shit. He shoots a despairing glance at his notes before rifling through his backpack to find his medicine. As discreetly as he can, he throws a pill back and then realizes he doesn’t have any fucking water.

He tips back his head and swallows it dry, wincing at the way it burns down his throat. Shit, he hates this. It’s just gross.

It’s also not enough. Changbin’s head solidifies slowly, these kinds of migraines usually developing more gradually. He leans back against the wall behind him. Fucking hell, this is ridiculous. His last migraine was only three days ago―he had only lied a little bit when he told Jisung they weren’t coming on as often anymore. It had seemed true at first―during the summer and even into the beginning of the school year, migraines were only a problem once every few weeks. But in the past month, they’ve been more like every few days. These sudden increases are usually due to stress, but Changbin doesn’t know what the hell is stressing him out. School is fine, his family is fine, everything is fucking fine―why can’t his head just be fine too?

“Mr. Seo,” barely breaks through the thickening shield of Changbin’s skull. He can’t open his eyelids, they’re too heavy. “Mr. Seo, if you’re going to sleep through my class, you might as well leave.”

Despite how understanding and accommodating some teachers are, others refuse to believe that Changbin legitimately has a crippling physical condition and instead prefer the idea that Changbin made it all up so he could half-ass his way through their classes. Most of the time, Changbin wishes it were true. That his migraines were “migraines” and he just used them as excuses to nap in the back of the classroom. At least then he wouldn’t be in so much fucking pain.

“Mr. Seo,” Mr. Kim threatens one more time, voice stern and angry. Changbin knows how this will end if he doesn’t either pay attention or leave, so he tries to push against the heavy bowling ball expanding in his head long enough to gather his things. Shuffles his papers together with a flat palm, probably crumples them when he tries to shove them into his backpack. He just barely makes it out to the empty hallway before he collapses to the ground.

He literally can’t even move his head. It’s a ball of lead balancing precariously on his neck and even the slightest shift will knock it onto the floor. It’s all just thick, impenetrable metal, and the solidification of his brain has managed to paralyze the rest of his body as well. He’s become some sort of suffering statue just leaning his head on his palms and his knees. Like a pitiful, pathetic rendition of the Thinker.

So he waits. Without moving a single muscle, he sits and waits for his skull to thaw. He feels trapped by his own body, and no matter how many times he’s had a migraine like this, it never stops being terrifying. An instinctual, subconscious part of him always wonders if maybe he’ll be stuck this way forever.

And he does remain that way far past the reaches of his sense of time. At some point the bell rings and he can feel the hundreds of student feet pounding by him in the way their steps vibrate the metal sheets in his head. Then there’s a soothing presence that smooths out the ripples. Those familiar hands on the back of his neck, beginning to knead the metal into something malleable.

“Hey,” the owner of the hands says eventually, low and quiet. “Can you hear me?”

Changbin’s head is finally light enough to nod.

“Metal?”

Changbin nods again.

Hyunjin runs a hand from Changbin’s hair down to his back. Rubs small circles between his shoulder blades. Then runs back up, resumes loosening the base of the older’s skull. Changbin can’t really stop himself from leaning into the touch. “Hey, let’s skip last period.”

Changbin at least has enough control over his body to fix Hyunjin with a semi-incredulous stare. The boy in question raises his brows in a request to argue his case. “It’s already halfway through the period. I asked Felix to tell Mrs. Ha you were having another migraine on his way to his class, so that’s taken care of. And again, I don’t like chemistry, so let’s go do something fun.”

Even if Hyunjin’s case wasn’t so solid, Changbin would’ve said yes anyway. He likes to pride himself on his iron will that no dongsaeng, no matter how cute, can hammer through, but Hyunjin has always been the exception to that. Hyunjin’s an exception to everything.

Because it’s Hyunjin’s idea of “something fun” lands them in the park, strolling side by side in the breezy afternoon. Summer was already lost to the changing months but the sun and sky haven’t got the message. The weather is crisp but gentle, perfect for chasing away Changbin’s migraines and settling much-needed peace into his head instead. The rustle of the tree leaves, the ripples in the grass, the other people walking by with hands entwined. Changbin’s eyes stay on a couple’s hands a little longer than he means to, a small hand and a larger one swinging together between a boy and a girl probably not much older than himself.

Then he feels it, fingertips grazing at the back of his hand. He looks over at Hyunjin in surprise, but the younger boy just keeps his eyes ahead, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Changbin diverts his gaze. In every other part of his life, he’s confident about what he feels and what he does. He stands up for his beliefs, puts all his effort into writing things that matter, does his best to succeed in class. He’s a force to be reckoned with, a force of nature. That’s simply the way he is.

But Hyunjin’s always an exception.

With Hyunjin, everything becomes complicated. Changbin has no idea what he’s doing or what he’s supposed to be doing the second anything pushes them across the border of comfortable best friends. Holding hands might not be such a big deal, but to Changbin, it is.

Ignoring the pounding of his heart, he takes the leap. He moves the small distance between them and grabs for Hyunjin’s hand. After some adjustment, they end up with their fingers laced and tangled between them. Changbin takes the thoughts that keep trying to turn this into something more and shoves them deep into the inaccessible compartments of his brain. This is just them, Changbin and Hyunjin, holding hands in the park. He can’t read into it.

But he might as well enjoy it. He gives their hands an experimental swing and quickly glances at Hyunjin to gauge his reaction. The younger is smiling fully at the path in front of them, so Changbin exhales and allows himself to indulge in the feeling for as long as he can. Hyunjin sees it the way it is, Changbin can tell: it’s just them, just friends, that’s all.

He holds on, and he doesn’t let go.

hyunjinnie ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ: changbinnnnnnnnn

hyunjinnie ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ: i will be there in 5 mins, be ready!

binbin: don’t text and drive

hyunjinnie ʕ￫ᴥ￩ʔ: im at a stoplight dont worry!

Changbin pockets his phone and carries his backpack out with him to the front porch. He takes a seat on the steps to wait. After Hyunjin spent dinner last Saturday at the Seo Household and expressed his concern about Changbin’s increasing migraines, Changbin’s parents decided, with their executive power, that Hyunjin should be his personal driver to and from school every day.

“We’re just worried about you,” his dad had said.

“You’ll be safer. This way you definitely won’t get a migraine while you’re driving,” his mom had said.

Because, of course, he wouldn’t even be driving in the first place.

Well, Changbin fucking loves driving. It’s one of the only outlets of control in his whole life. He can’t control how much homework his teachers give him, how often he gets migraine attacks, how high the gas price jacks up because of rocky international trade. But he can always control which way the wheel turns and where he ends up going and as much as he likes Hyunjin, he hates having that power stripped away from him.

His thoughts are interrupted by the man of the hour, who, true his word, pulls up in front of his house five minutes later. He drives his mom’s silver Honda and Changbin’s always thought it fit him perfectly. Somehow the two just seem to be meant for each other.

The window rolls down and Hyunjin sticks his head out the window. “Hurry up and get in, it’s freezing!”

Changbin slings his backpack over a shoulder and circles around to the passenger side of the car. A blast of hot air hits him the second he opens the door. “Jesus, it’s like a sauna in here.”

Hyunjin reaches out and takes Changbin’s hand in his, and Changbin quickly swallows down the surprised yelp that threatens to slip out. “Your hands are icicles, Binnie. It needs to be a sauna in here or else you’re gonna freeze to death.”

“The cold helps my head,” Changbin mumbles.

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, rolling back out onto the road instead. Nothing is said until Hyunjin’s safely merged onto the highway, checking his mirrors before he switches into the fast lane. He’s always been so careful driving when Changbin’s in the passenger seat.

“Do you know why you’re getting them so often now?” Hyunjin asks finally.

Changbin taps his fingers on the windowsill of the car door. The sprawl of city skyline covers the horizon miles and miles away. “No idea. Guess I’m just stressed.”

“School?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Mr. Kim isn’t giving you a hard time anymore?”

Changbin snorts and turns back towards the road. “Mr. Kim’s always giving me a hard time. This is the third history class I’ve taken with him and he still hates me. I’m not even a bad student.”

“Well he’s a douche,” Hyunjin declares. He uses his palm to steer the car onto the exit, and Changbin pretends he doesn’t see the way his forearm flexes in his periphery. “You deserve better, Binnie. I’m not his student anymore so I’ll go in there and knock some sense into him. A good punch right to the jaw ought to make him realize how amazing you are.”

A quick smile flits across the older’s face. “Thanks for the offer, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin tears his eyes away from the road long enough to shoot him a grin. “Of course. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Yeah,” Changbin says, then he sighs. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

They arrive at the school two minutes later. One of Hyunjin’s favorite bands is playing on the radio when he stops the car and smiles at Changbin. “Ready for today?”

Changbin frowns. “Why? What’s today?” he asks as he pulls his backpack onto his lap.

Hyunjin laughs and starts pushing his door open. “Nothing, it’s just a Monday. Mondays suck ass. Oh― fuck, it’s so cold!”

That makes Changbin laugh. Hyunjin’s always been a wimp when it comes to any temperature that requires a long-sleeved shirt.

The younger shivers as he waits for Changbin to round the car before he locks it and they walk down to school together. For a second Changbin flashes back to fourth grade, when their parents organized a carpool and the two kids would make the trek from the car to the school every day. Changbin loved it then, and even if it’s Hyunjin driving him to school now, he still loves it now. Maybe he didn't prefer having the control of driving himself stolen from him, but he certainly doesn’t mind Hyunjin huddling close beside him in the chilling weather and as they watch the white puffs of their breaths disappear into the air. This...

This is alright.

The lumberjack shows up right at the beginning of lunch. Changbin supposes he should be grateful for the timing, but he’s mostly just pissed off because he hates the lumberjack. He also hates the construction worker who joins him and the big ass crane he brings with him. The swinging of the wrecking ball in his head is already starting to throw off his balance.

Changbin can’t quite remember when he began likening the pain of migraines to things or people, like metal or marshmallows or lumberjacks. It was probably back in elementary school when he had to explain what his head felt like in terms his parents could comprehend more fully than hurts and make it stop. Then he had to explain it to the nurse, then to the doctor, and then to anyone who ever asked about his migraines after that. Apparently people can really sympathize with you when you tell them it sometimes feels like blind lumberjacks swinging around axes in your skull.

Those descriptions just stuck. It’s the way Changbin thinks about them now, and maybe it provides a weird sense of understanding with what’s happening in his head. Medical terminology isn’t as easy to comprehend as some sadistic dude in a hardhat going at his brain with a jackhammer.

Hyunjin never liked Changbin’s version of his migraines. He’d read hours’ worth of online articles and medical journals about migraines back when he first learned of his friend’s condition. And even if he he was young and couldn’t understand half the words on the page, Changbin always knew he was smart enough to pick up on the fact that the whole issue was far more serious than Changbin painted it to be. But as far as classifying the different kinds of migraines he gets, it’s just easier to use keywords like heartbeat and metal. Especially when each one requires a different method of care and Hyunjin knows all of them, he just has to know what’s going on in Changbin’s skull.

The two of them planned to meet in the cafeteria today for lunch, but Changbin probably can’t make it all the way there with how messed up his balance already is. He types out a quick text to Hyunjin: lumberjack, second floor breezeway and barely presses send before an axe fucking slams into the back of his forehead. Jesus Christ, sometimes he’s shocked by how hard the migraines can hit him. A more violent one is always an unpleasant surprise after weeks of mainly the slow metal or cotton migraines.

Changbin feels his phone buzz but his vision’s already swimming too much to read whatever text came in. He slides to the ground of the breezeway, puts his head in hands, crushes his temples between his fingers. The sharp cold of fall should help chase the pain away, but it only seems to whistle past the psychopaths locked in his skull. Fucking hell, he deserves better than this.

“Changbin! Binnie! Shit!” Hyunjin is by his side in an instant, the cadence of his voice cutting into the rhythmic chop chop chop against Changbin’s bones. The older is doubled over with his head clenched between his knees in an attempt to squeeze the chopping out of his brain. The fucking construction worker’s been swinging the crane around for what seems like hours and everything is just a jumbled mess. Like someone twirled Changbin’s brain around a chopstick and started poking the end of the stick repeatedly into his skull.

Hyunjin tries to pry Changbin’s knees away from his face. Changbin raises his head, and his eyes nearly close on their own at the force of the wrecking ball that slams into the back of his forehead. It pitches him forward and Hyunjin reaches out to catch him, concern and worry written all over his face. A series of moments flash by on his eyelids―crouching over the toilet that time in fourth or fifth grade with Hyunjin beside him; sixth grade homeroom when Hyunjin told him that migraines were actually very serious; waking up beside Hyunjin in seventh, ninth, twelfth grade; the way Hyunjin held his hand in the park not four days ago; how Hyunjin looked this morning, peering out at him through the rolled-down car window.

Changbin finds the strength to push back, suddenly hating both the slicing in his head and the way Hyunjin’s looking at him now. Hating how much Hyunjin cares when it’s just not the way Changbin wants.

Or, maybe he doesn’t hate it. Maybe, regardless of how much he wishes it was more, he doesn’t hate it and that’s why he’s so fucking stressed.

Then it hits him with as much power and suddenness as an axe falling on wood, the truth of it all.

He looks back up at Hyunjin, who is looking back with patience and worry and something’s that just not quite enough, and the abrupt crack behind his eyes confirms what he already knows. Hwang Hyunjin, his best friend, is what brought his migraines back with such a vengeance.

“I can’t,” Changbin cries. Hyunjin probably has no idea what he’s saying, but there’s another swing, then another, and another, and all he can choke out is “I can’t I can’t I can’tIcan’tIcan’t.”

Then everything goes black.

As Changbin rationalizes later that night at two a.m., after the lumberjack has fucked off and he’s had time to stitch back together the walls of his skull, it’s actually the fact that he likes Hwang Hyunjin that’s messing him up. That he likes his best friend. It’s not Hyunjin’s fault Changbin missed six classes in the last three weeks and has fallen behind on all three weeks’ worth of homework. It’s all on Changbin’s shoulders―Hyunjin’s really only been helping, at least as far as he knows. Changbin can’t blame him at all for not being what Changbin wishes he could be.

And Changbin knows he likes Hyunjin, that’s the real kicker. He just didn’t know he was having such a hard time dealing with it. The puzzle is easier to piece together in the cricket-silence of the night, when the air beyond his windowpanes is thick with darkness and the ceiling fan buzzes quietly above him. He likes Hyunjin, his subconscious is having difficulty sorting through the heavy baggage that accompanies such a truth, and the whole mess results in far more frequent migraines of all four common types.

Understanding what’s happening doesn’t stop his heart from breaking. He wonders if he should text Jisung. Jisung always knows how to help when Hyunjin just can’t. The younger is reliable, trustworthy, and always offers advice that is somehow so far beyond his years.

But he’s also probably asleep right now. Changbin rolls over onto his side and stares at the faint yellow glow his nightlight casts onto the wall. Texting Jisung would be of no use. Chances are, he’ll tell Changbin a bunch of things he really doesn’t want to hear.

Sleep doesn’t come easily, but when it does, it’s fitful. Hyunjin will never love him back, and no part of Changbin is able to accept this peacefully. Hyunjin will always just be his friend. That’s it. And, somehow, Changbin’s going to have to be okay with that.

“Changbin-ah.”

The boy looks up from the book in his lap. He’s been staring at it for at least half an hour now―none of the words make any sense, no matter how many times he reads the same paragraph over and over again. They just add to the cottony blob pressing against his eyes and making the printed words swim in his vision. It’s a vicious cycle that his mother’s voice mercifully breaks.

“Yes?”

“Are you having another migraine right now?” His mom’s sitting in the armchair next to the couch with her own book in her hands. They’re sharing the light of the lamp between them as they read their respective books (or, in Changbin’s case, stare at it blankly) in comfortable silence.

“No?”

“You’ve been reading the same page for nearly an hour now.”

“It’s a headache?”

His mom sighs. “I know you don’t get headaches, Bin-ah.” She tucks her bookmark between the pages and folds her hands over the cover. “Is this the second migraine you’ve had this week?”

Changbin drops his facade―his mom is far too smart to fool and the cotton in his head makes even attempting to lie impossibly hard. “Third, actually.”

She chews at her lip, a sign that she’s working out how to present something in a way that Changbin won’t react badly to. “I think we might need to make another appointment with the doctor. This is really serious. I know Hyunjin is worried too.”

Changbin winces at the boy’s name. “Hyunjin gets worried about everything, Mom.”

“I know, I know. But Bin-ah, three migraines every week? That’s crazy. As much as I hate it, I know you can handle one every month or so. You’re a strong kid. But this is too much for anyone.”

“I don’t want to see the doctor again. I have my medicine, I’ll try to take it sooner.” His head thickens with the weight of this conversation and everything he can’t tell his mom. As soon as he figures out whatever the hell this is with Hyunjin, he’s sure his problem will take care of itself. It’s just a matter of when and how.

“Your grades are suffering because of this. University applications are coming up, and―”

“I know, I’ll try harder.” Changbin squeezes his eyes shut. “Head, Mom.”

She just sighs. “Which kind?”

“Cotton.”

She returns a minute later with a cup of Changbin’s favorite tea and curls her son into her side. He surrenders to her slow, long strokes over his hair and for a little while, lets himself just forget about everything.

“Abbreviated answers,” Mr. Kim says with a punctuating tap of a ruler against the whiteboard. “I want abbreviated answers up here―no more than two sentences. Mr. Lee, number one off the packet. Mr. Seo, number two. Miss Noh, number three…”

Changbin tunes out the rest of Mr. Kim’s assignments. Number two off the packet. He looks down on the question on his own packet and groans. The paper around it is pristine and unmarked, just like the rest of the pages. The ink looks back at him mockingly. 2. Why did the western half of the Roman empire collapse?

His brain is going to fucking collapse if he actually has to go up to the board and write the answer. He can’t even remember why―he must have been absent the day Mr. Kim covered the collapse of western Rome. Go figure.

But his classmates are already up at the board writing, so he braces himself and joins them. He approaches the blank board beside Felix, who is trying to answer his question in rough Korean letters. The kid knows how to speak Korean passably, but his writing is absolutely dismal. Changbin had been meaning to ask him if he wanted help learning to write properly, before everything in Changbin’s life went to hell.

Right now, however, his own problems are far more pressing. He heaves a sigh as he considers the board in front of him. Which would grant him more humiliation―a very incorrect answer, or a smartass one? Or, a better question: does he actually care which would cause Mr. Kim to embarrass him more?

“Don’t know the answer, Mr. Seo?” comes Mr. Kim’s snaky voice from across the room.

“I’m taking a moment to condense my lengthy response into ‘no more than two sentences,’” he shoots back. The history teacher doesn’t even spare him another comment, so he turns back to the board. Smartass answer it is.

He’s already uncapped the expo marker and has his answer at the ready when Felix pipes up beside him. “The Huns,” he murmurs. Changbin looks over at him in surprise. Felix is better friends with Hyunjin, but Changbin’s hung around the younger enough for him to consider the kid a friend too. Casual friend, maybe. On the level of saying hi in the hallway but not quite sending each other edgy memes at three in the morning. “They pushed the Germanic tribes into the northeastern border, Rome pulled forces out of the west, the Celtic tribes conquered the west half.”

“Thanks,” Changbin whispers so Mr. Kim, who’s drifted irritatingly close, won’t hear.

Felix smiles at the board in front of him. Changbin writes out the rough outline of what Felix told him, promising himself that sometime soon he’ll actually offer to tutor the younger in Korean.

He takes his seat again and waits for everyone else to finish. Mr. Kim gets through Felix’s answer rather painlessly―he makes a rude comment about the kid’s writing that makes Changbin bristle, but Felix doesn’t seem to take it too personally. Then Mr. Kim’s continuing on to number two off the packet.

“The Huns,” he says flatly as he reads over the answer. “Why were the Huns pushing west?”

Changbin is going to murder this man. “Because they wanted to.”

“You really should pay attention in class, Mr. Seo, if you want to pass. What year did western Rome collapse?”

“I don’t know,” Changbin says. He can feel it growing behind his eyes, a heavy thump. Thump. Thump.

“You need to know it for the test. A shame you don’t even show up to class―I bet you had no idea the test is this Friday.”

Thump thump thump. “I did,” he grits out. They’d been talking about it yesterday in the groupchat. He just wasn’t looking forward to it.

“So do you know anything besides what Mr. Lee told you?” Mr. Kim sneers, and Changbin snaps.

“I know you’re a dick,” he spits out. The whole class inhales collectively, holding onto a silence so tightly it could be cut with a knife.

Thump thump thump thump.

Mr. Kim stares at him, appalled. “Excuse me?”

Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump.

“It’s not my fault I’ve missed almost two weeks of school. It’s literally not. But your head is stuck so far up your ass you can’t see how unfair you’re being.”

“Mr. Seo!” Changbin doesn’t even care what that douchebag has to say. He’s packing up his things before he can think about what he’s doing. He can’t even think, period―all there is is the steady thumping in his skull. It bounces around, egging him on, and he barely makes it past Mr. Kim without reaching out and punching him clean across the face. Everything in his body is white hot, only drowned out by the heartbeat in his head.

He storms down the hallway, head thumping in tune with each stomp. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of this! He deserves a life of fucking peace where he only has to worry about whether he should spend the afternoon at the park or at his favorite coffee shop. This is all far too much. Stupid fucking Mr. Kim, the whole problem with Hyunjin, his mom and her university applications are coming up! He’s done nothing to piss the universe off this much.

He’s almost made it to the end of the hallway when someone walks out of the boys’ bathroom. Despite everything, Changbin would recognize that head of hair anywhere. He also doesn’t want to see that head of hair right now, so he barrels past it with the hopes it won’t notice him.

“Oh!” he hears, and he feels the thumping grow stronger. “Oh, Changbin?”

Changbin stops, his chest heaving. “Hyunjin,” he says.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you in history right now?”

“Not anymore,” Changbin deadpans. When Hyunjin doesn’t say anything else, he keeps walking.

“Wait!” comes Hyunjin’s voice. He’s following Changbin. “Hold on, Changbin, are you okay―”

Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump. Changbin spins on his heel and spits out, “Oh, fuck off.”

Hyunjin stops mid-step, his mouth dropped open in surprise. “What?”

“Just go away, okay? I don’t need your help.”

“I know you don’t―”

“Let me go! Jesus, I can take care of myself. You’re not my fucking mother.”

“Of course I’m not―”

Changbin huffs. “Of course I’m not,” he mimics, face scrunched up in distaste. Thump thump. “You sure act like you are. Go bother someone else. I’m sure there’s some other charity case you can find to make yourself feel like you’re helping the sad and unfortunate.”

Finally, Hyunjin’s expression breaks. It melts into something close to understanding and it makes Changbin’s stomach churn. Who the fuck does Hyunjin think he is, believing he understands what Changbin’s going through right now? He has no idea. No idea what pain, what torture he’s suffering through. Every single fucking thing that’s wrong in his life.

“Monster,” he exhales. “Okay, I get it―”

“It’s not a migraine.” Changbin almost laughs, the pounding behind his eyes egging him on. Monster? Really? That’s all he has to blame Changbin’s outburst on? He’s too stupid to see the blatant fact that he himself a cruel, heartless bastard? “It’s you, Hyunjin. You’re the problem, not me. You’re fucking blind―you can’t even see when your best friend’s in love with you.”

Hyunjin chokes. “What―”

“You’re so fucking cruel!” Changbin’s yelling now. “I can’t stand being around you. Just looking at you makes me sick. Gives me a fucking migraine. It’s all your damn fault I’m failing history right now. You think this is what I want? That I’d choose to put myself through this absolute hell?”

“Wait a second―”

“I’m done waiting,” Changbin says. He sighs but there’s no stutter in the heartbeat in his head. It stays steady in his temples, thump thump thump. Background noise to his resolve. “I’ve done so much fucking waiting, Hyunjin. I’m done. I’m taking the bus home. Don’t try to see me anymore. I’m so sick of this.”

He turns and marches out of the building, away from Hyunjin, as far away from Hyunjin as he possibly can, and Hyunjin doesn’t follow.

He only stops when he reaches the bus stop. He’s too worked up to sit on the little bench under the awning, so he crosses his arms and taps his foot while he waits. He did the right thing, he knows that much. Hyunjin wasn’t worth all the migraines, all the pain, all the tears. Now that Hyunjin is out of his life, Changbin can recover. The migraines will go away, he can pick up his grades, he can drive himself wherever the fuck he wants to go. Now, Changbin has the freedom to fix his life. He’s always had migraines, is always going to have them―but now at least they will truly be because of things he can’t control.

The bus hisses to a stop in front of him five-odd minutes later. He pays the fare and squeezes back to an empty pair of seats. He falls into the one by the window, drops his backpack into the other, and stares resolutely through the glass. The bus rumbles back to life.

It’s not until three stops later that finally the heartbeat in his head snaps into silence and Changbin breaks into tears.

The weather grows colder. Leaves turn red, orange, yellow, then brown, and then blow to the ground in strong gusts of wind. Every morning the rising sun reveals thin blankets of white frost and sends light cascading through the crystalline air. The whole world seems to sink into hibernation, but Changbin’s life continues bustling along. It’s all just… different, but the same.

He doesn’t see Hyunjin anymore.

And the migraines don’t stop.

“Bin-ah.” It’s his mother again, her voice soft. The house has grown quieter in the last two months. “Again?”

Changbin gulps the pill down with water down before placing the glass in the dishwasher.

She sighs. “Changbin, we’re going to see the doctor. I’m making the appointment. This is out of control.”

Changbin leans back against the counter. He doesn’t offer any comment because there’s no use―she’s obviously already made up her mind.

“Will you say something?” she asks. The frustration building up in her is easy to sense; Changbin knows why, too. He doesn’t say much anymore. He’s lost everything he wants to talk about. He barely squeezed in his applications before university deadlines and all his hope for his grades this year has vanished―the drive he used to have for maintaining high A grades has disappeared with the warmth of the summer. Hyunjin is the only thing he cares about anymore, and he’s lost that too.

“What do you want me to say, Mom?” he sighs.

Before she can answer, the doorbell rings. They both glance toward the front hall. It’s eventually Changbin who moves to get it, taking the opportunity to get away from the conversation.

“Hey, Jisung,” he says.

Jisung stands on the porch with his hands stuffed in his pockets and breath turning to ice the second it leaves his mouth.

“Move over, it’s freezing,” he declares, pushing past Changbin and into the house. His friend closes the door behind him and follows him inside. “There still a stick up your ass?”

Changbin doesn’t dignify the question with a response. Jisung asks him about Hyunjin every single time they see each other, and Changbin never engages in that game. He knows he’ll lose just because Jisung always wins.

“You know,” Jisung goes on, “I’m friends with Hyunjin too―not sure if you remember that―and he’s not doing so well either―”

“Stop, please,” Changbin cuts him off. “Just, come in.”

Jisung settles himself into a chair at the dining room table. Changbin’s mom has disappeared, but Changbin knows her fight with him is far from over. “Alright. Calculus. You’re on what, chapter four?”

“Yeah.” Changbin takes the seat beside his friend. Jisung talks about calculus for a while but Changbin can’t pay attention. The back part of his skull is slowly solidifying and it’s easier to just tune out everything coming from his friend’s mouth. It’s not like any of this will help anyway, no matter how much he or Jisung or his mother wishes it would.

“...bin-hyung. Hyung. Hyung?”

Changbin shakes his head, unsettling some of the metal. “Hi,” he says. It's like that day in the coffee shop all over again. “Sorry.”

Jisung sighs. “Again?”

The older boy shrugs.

“Look,” Jisung says. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Suddenly, Changbin really doesn’t want to be here.

“Hey, no, get that look off your face. You can’t run from this anymore. Hyunjin is giving you space because against my sage advice he insists you need it. But your migraines aren’t getting better―oh, don’t even try that with me―and I’m sick of seeing you both so unhappy. You were a real douche but Hyunjin will forgive you in an instant, you know that.”

“I don’t have anything to apologize for,” Changbin lies straight through his teeth. He just needs time―time will fix everything. Life without Hyunjin is an agonizing one but he knows he won’t be able to face his best friend again. He’s not strong enough for that.

Jisung gapes at him. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“I’m not.” Changbin jumps to the defense, the metal in his head acting as a barrier between his friend and all the things he wishes he could say.

“Fine.” The chair screeches as Jisung stands abruptly. He shuffles all his papers together and throws them into his textbook. “You’re doing this to yourself, and obviously I can’t do anything to stop you.” He’s halfway down the hallway before Changbin even knows what’s going on. “Come talk to me when you’re done being an asshole.”

Then the front door creaks open, slams shut, and a car engine rumbles down the driveway.

Changbin lifts his fists and pounds them into the table. Fuck! Fucking fucking fuck. He needs to fucking get his shit together but everything is just falling apart and he’s not quick enough to catch it all. He can’t do anything, especially not when his consciousness slips through his fingers and he ends up with his cheek against the tabletop and tears smeared on the wood.

Everything feels useless. He’s just going through the motions at this point. Wake up, think about eating breakfast, space out during classes, look up online answer keys to the homework packets, push dinner around, fall asleep. Over and over and over again with migraines sprinkled in once or twice a day. Recovering from each attack saps up all his energy and he’s left a motionless, brainless mess in his bed or his desk or the couch in the living room. Half the time his eyes are open he doesn’t even know what he’s looking at. It’s all just a sad blur and he can’t pull himself out of it.

So when Changbin is sitting at the back of the biology classroom with eyes glazed over, he’s not surprised by the axe that starts hacking away in his head. He focuses on the feeling―how it starts slow, like usual, and builds up to a steady pendulum swing. This time it’s nice and rhythmic, and his last migraine woke him up at five a.m. so he hasn’t even had time to regain his strength to endure this one.

And perhaps that’s why the swinging breaks its pattern. It starts slicing at every piece of muscle and bone it can reach. One particularly strong arc drives straight into the back of his forehead and he lurches forward, ribs crushing against the edge of his desk. He knows these signs―none of the migraines he’s had recently have been this physical, but he could never forget what they feel like. When all that’s hacked out of him is stomach acid and tears and all the pain in his chest.

He runs to the bathroom, hands grasping at various surfaces to keep him on his feet. Mrs. Ha doesn’t try to stop him.

Another vicious swing launches him straight into a stall door, which he pushes open with an elbow. He doesn’t close it when he falls to his knees in front of him because his whole mind is just black with pain. The contents of the half piece of toast he ate this morning make an appearance first, and after that he just heaves into the toilet whatever feels like coming out. His eyes stay squeezed shut but he can feel the tears pressing through his eyelids. Everything hurts and all he wants is Hyunjin.

Suddenly, there are soft hands on his shoulders. His body is turned to the side and hair brushed back from his sweaty forehead. A wet paper towel scrapes over his mouth. He can’t open his eyes and the lumberjack is still going berserk in his brain, but the gentle hands give him something to hold onto. Something he knows and loves and misses.

Then, through all the chaos, he feels soft fluttering sensations against his face. They press through the sweat and tears to his skin below, and seep into his bones underneath that. They’re fleeting but firm; the instant one disappears another lands. All over his forehead, his eyelids, his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. At some point they untangle the pain in skull enough to give his eyes room to squint open.

Hyunjin is knelt in front of him, cramped close in the tiny stall. Balancing on the line between deliberate and frantic, he places kiss after kiss against Changbin’s face. Every inch of exposed skin is covered by Hyunjin’s gentle lips and when a new wave of tears rush from Changbin’s eyes, they’re not because of the migraine.

“Binnie?” Hyunjin breaks away to say when he catches Changbin’s eyes open. The older boy can only groan, long and aching. Through his blurring vision Changbin thinks he can see tears in Hyunjin’s eyes too. He groans again and drops his forehead against his best friend’s. Arms wrap around his shoulders, pull him even closer. Everything below his knees have gone numb and his head still jerks back and forth but his focus is only on the stuttering breath on his face and the fact that his best friend, his Hyunjin, is here.

When his head swims back into consciousness, Changbin first thinks it was a dream. He tries to move his head but the muscles around his skull are so sore from the migraine before he finds he can’t even keep his eyes open too long. So he lets himself melt back into the mattress below him and the arm stretched out under his neck.

Wait.

He attempts to peel his eyelids back again while he reaches out under the blankets with his fingers. They come into contact with flannel material that Changbin knows isn’t his sheets. He presses harder and feels solid but soft flesh beneath it.

“Mm,” the body beside him hums sleepily. “Binnie?”

Changbin nearly sobs in relief. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream. Hyunjin was there, Hyunjin is still here.

“Jinnie,” he mumbles, eyes still closed. Another arm curls around his belly and the tip of a nose nuzzles into his hair.

“God, Changbin.” Hyunjin inhales. “I missed you so much.”

Changbin’s heart aches in his chest. It rips at the seams, frayed ends coming further undone. Low, he whispers, “I missed you too.”

“Listen, I―”

“Wait,” Changbin interrupts. The cuts in his head stitch back together slowly but surely, bringing cohesive thought along with the dulling pain. Here he is in his bed with his best friend whom he’d neglected for months and he doesn’t know how much time he has before it all disappears again. “Hyunjin, I’m so sorry. I was so cruel and unfair and I’m just so sorry, please―”

Hyunjin shushes him softly. He falls silent, intent on following Hyunjin’s every command from now on. He's never going to hurt his best friend again.

“It’s my fault,” Hyunjin says, and suddenly staying quiet is a much more difficult task. How can he even think that? “I’m really sorry, Binnie. That I didn’t see it. I… I didn’t see it because I wasn’t looking for it. I gave up on you a long time ago, and it’s all my fault.” He sighs shakily. “I know it was the migraine talking that day. I’m just… I’m sorry it came to that.”

“It shouldn’t have,” Changbin protests. He rolls over on his side so his cheek is squished against Hyunjin’s bicep and he can look straight into his best friend’s eyes. All the months of being away from Hyunjin crash into his throat, wave after wave. “I’m sorry I let it get so out of control. You’ve always been by my side no matter what, and you deserve far better than that. And there’s no way you could’ve seen it… I’m way too good at hiding the emotions I shouldn't.”

“Frustratingly good,” Hyunjin murmurs. “Makes me wish you weren’t so good at everything. The only thing I know how to read is your migraines. I thought you needed space, so I didn’t show up at your house no matter how many times I wanted to, and please Changbin don’t ever tell me to stay away from you again.”

Changbin’s heart splits cleanly in two. “I won’t,” he promises. “Never again.”

They lay like that in silence. Changbin can’t believe he ever thought that anything in his life could be better without Hyunjin. Hyunjin is… Hyunjin is everything. He is always enough.

“Did…” the younger boy clears his throat. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said my best friend was in love with me. I know it was the migraine, but I just…” he trails off.

Changbin bites his tongue. He’s grateful he just got his best friend back. Could he risk losing him all over again by telling the truth? Suddenly he feels phantom kisses on his skin and he takes the leap, each half of his heart beating nearly out of his ribcage.

“I did.”

Hyunjin melts, his muscles relaxing in a long ripple. “You did,” he breathes. “Oh, thank god.”

Then his head dips forward and Changbin chokes on a gasp. Lips press against his forehead, his eyelids, his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. They draw out a content sigh and then a broken giggle when Hyunjin finds a ticklish spot just underneath his ear. The younger boy pulls back and the look in his eyes sucks any laughter straight out of Changbin’s throat.

His eyes are full of patience and concern and something that’s far, far more than enough.

Slowly, Hyunjin leans down and presses his lips against Changbin’s. It’s feather light, like the sprinkling over Changbin’s face, until the younger presses harder. A small noise breaks off in Changbin’s throat and Hyunjin goes even deeper, leading his best friend in a kiss that steals all his breath away. This… this is more than enough.

When Hyunjin pulls away Changbin’s head is thumping. But it’s nothing like a migraine. This feeling is delicate, like the flutter of wings in his skull. Like all the dormant butterflies in his stomach have finally swirled up his neck and into his brain. He finds he doesn’t mind this so much.

“I love you,” Hyunjin whispers. “I have for a long, long time.”

Changbin breathes in deep, breathes in the flowery smell of Hyunjin and the unlikeliness of this moment. Somehow, against all odds, against all the walls Changbin built up, Hyunjin is still here and he… he loves him.

“I love you too,” he returns whole-heartedly. Hyunjin smiles and kisses him again. And again and again and again.

Jisung is sitting by himself at the end of a cafeteria table, earbuds in and homework splayed out in front of him. He only resorts to the isolated cafeteria life when he has so much homework he can’t enjoy a coffee without stressing out. Changbin keeps this in mind as he approaches, careful to appear as non-threatening as possible.

He stands by the table, kids bustling by him, until Jisung notices his presence.

The younger boy looks up at him and removes an earbud. When he doesn’t say anything, Changbin realizes he’s being given the chance to make things right.

“I’m sorry,” he says over the din of the cafeteria. “You were right. You’re always right. I… I fixed things with Hyunjin.” He blushes as his thoughts slip back to last night when Hyunjin cured all of his pains one by one with kiss after kiss. “We’re… um… dating now.”

Jisung’s face stays blank for half a second longer before it softens into a smile. “I know,” he says. “Hyunjin called me in the middle of the night to tell me. He loves you a lot, you know. I’m happy you figured that out. And I’m happy your head is out of your ass.”

Changbin exhales, relieved. “Thanks, me too.” He’s not sure what else to say and he’s about to leave when Jisung speaks up again.

“What about your migraines?”

“I’m going to see a doctor about it.”

Jisung gives him a look. “But?”

Count on Jisung to always pick up on the slightest note of something else lying beneath words. “Most of my migraines are caused by stress, like they get worse around midterms and finals. But now that Hyunjin knows how I feel and I know how he feels… I don’t think I’m going to get as many migraines anymore.”

Jisung nods, hints of a smile flicking at the corners of his mouth. “Good. But I think seeing the doctor will help too.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” Changbin replies with a genuine smile that spreads freely over his face now that officially, everything is okay. “I’m sorry again. Good luck with your homework.”

“See ya, hyung,” Jisung says before sticking his earbud back into his ear.

When Changbin pushes through one of the cafeteria doors open he turns to see Hyunjin leaning against the building right where he’d left him. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” he breathes out. Hyunjin rubs a soothing hand over his back and dips down to kiss his cheek. Blood rushes up to the print of his lips left against Changbin’s skin.

“I told you,” he grins. “Now come on, I’m hungry. Where do you want to eat? I’ll drive.”

He holds his hand out, and Changbin looks at the outstretched fingers for a moment before he takes them, tangling them between his own. It feels so wonderful and so natural and when Hyunjin pulls their joined hands into his pocket to keep them warm, Changbin bumps into his side and smiles. “Mm, I don’t care,” he says. “Lead the way.”

The doctor’s appointment goes surprisingly well. Changbin sits silently beside his mother while she spews on and on about how awful the past few months have been until the doctor asks him for his opinion on the matter.

He explains that his condition worsened when his life got really stressful―school, university applications, and… other things. But then it got better when everything finally unraveled. In the last month, he’s only had four migraines, and two he stopped before they could take hold. The other two passed with tea and cuddles, but Changbin doesn’t tell the doctor that bit.

They are sent off with a prescription for preventative medication that Changbin isn’t sure he really needs but his mother is positive he does. In the waiting room they’re met by Hyunjin, who immediately pushes onto his feet the second he sees them.

“So?” he asks.

“Fine,” Changbin answers before his mom can. “I’m going to be on preventative meds for a while, see if it helps.”

Hyunjin smiles, relieved. “Hopefully they’ll work.”

“Yeah,” Changbin says. “Hopefully.”

His mom starts off on why they will work and the two boys share a similarly exasperated glance. They part from her on the sidewalk outside the clinic when she heads for her car and Changbin and Hyunjin head for the latter's. “Have fun, boys,” she calls over the car tops between them.

“Thanks Mom,” Changbin says, and he knows she realizes he’s thanking her for everything.

The park is much emptier than the last time they visited. The couples and joggers are gone, and so are the leaves from the trees and most of the color from the world. Even so, the air still clears Changbin’s head and he breathes in deeply, savoring the feeling of clarity.

This time, Changbin slips his gloved hand into Hyunjin’s mittened one. The younger only grins, obviously pleased by Changbin’s initiation. A flush spreads under Changbin’s cold-bitten cheeks as he stares ahead, but―so what? Hyunjin’s his boyfriend―he shouldn’t be afraid to initiate anything anymore. Not now that he knows what it means, both to himself and Hyunjin. Not now that he knows there’s nothing stopping him from swinging their arms between them and giving the younger’s hand a squeeze whenever the hell he feels like it.

“I love you,” Hyunjin says out of the blue. The toe of Changbin’s shoe catches on the ground―he’ll probably never get used to hearing those words coming from Hyunjin's mouth.

“What brought that on?”

Hyunjin looks over at him and smiles, nose scrunched and eyes adorable crescents. “Nothing, I just love you. Why, is that bad?” he teases.

“No not at all,” Changbin assures him. “I… I love you too.”

Hyunjin nods contentedly. “Good. You better.”

This is perfect. His clear head, Hyunjin beside him, the bare branches rustling together in the winter wind. Hyunjin's winter-red cheeks poke out overtop his scarf and under his thick beanie as he looks ahead at their path thoughtfully. Connected by the hand, Changbin is solely focused on the feeling of the boy next to him. There's nothing else on his mind―no heartbeat, no metal, no cotton or marshmallows or axes. Right now, it's just him and Hyunjin.

And he knows it won't be easy. His migraines won't magically vanish, but they've already grown few and far between. Suddenly he sees the time before him―he has months to fix everything else. To make sure Jisung gets together with that hot university kid and Felix learns how to write Korean properly and his grades crawl back out of the abyss. He has months and months and months to show Hyunjin again and again how much he loves him. 

The weather is colder now, sure, sharper with the promise of snow in the air, but it's not so different from when they came here in the beginnings of fall. Except this time, Changbin finally realizes that everything is more than enough.