Work Text:
At some point in all this, Minghao’s stopped really functioning,
He just… exists, and keeps going, as well as he can.
He sticks to the routine, things that are- not easy, never easy, but familiar- practice, choreographing, writing, eating, sleeping as much as he can.
He checks up on his family a lot- calls his parents, makes sure they’re okay, constantly reminds them to protect themselves and take care of themselves and to never go out unless they absolutely have to.
(But this is all just habit, simple routine and repetition again and again until something is almost unfathomable. Usually, though, there is joy, and frustration, and love, and so much feeling and wonder he knows that he would never wish for anything else, never give this up. But now- now, he’s just tired. Exhausted. Empty.)
But as much as he makes sure everyone else is taking care of themselves, he’s not doing it so well himself. Eats at odd times in odd amounts, stays up too late doing things he can never remember and wakes up the same time as ever next morning, more drained than ever. He’s ashamed to admit, he doesn’t shower until it gets unbearable, the break in routine itching at him until he does. He’s stopped wearing his contacts completely, barely has the will to brush his teeth most days, and even then, sometimes he doesn’t. It takes all he has to get through the day, and the night doesn’t give back enough,
He sees his members from a distance, sees them suffering in their own ways and trying to cope and is vaguely guilty that he isn’t comforting them, and doesn’t have anything in him to do so.
He sees Joshua so homesick and worried he’s breathless as he cries, Jihoon’s insomniac tendencies worsening as he works and works in the hours he can’t sleep, Seungcheol and Chan running around keeping everyone from falling apart entirely even as they themselves are fracturing. Soonyoung dances himself into exhaustion, Wonwoo is either distant or spilling over, and even Mingyu and Seungkwan’s energy is failing.
He worries and tries but can’t, just can’t, somehow stuck inside himself as if frozen in time. He sees them trying to thaw him out: Hansol rapping the fastest, most ridiculous lyrics he can come up with trying to cheer him up, Jeonghan fussing more than usual trying to make him comfortable, Seokmin clinging to him and giving him warm, warm hugs that he tries to return even as he feels colder and colder, even as all of them are breaking down more with every day.
It’s Junhui who first notices. The deep crescents imprinted in Minghao’s palms, how he always seems to be scratching, itchy, the way he lets no one near his left side and is always wearing a hooded sweatshirt and shrinks in on himself, afraid- ashamed.
Junhui pulls him aside in the dorm after dance practice one night, when everyone is showering and changing and going to sleep. “Stay a minute,” he says, fingers on his left wrist heartbreakingly gentle. “Come sit with me.”
Minghao feels clearly for the first time in months, panic, sharp and sudden, but he follows Junhui along. He doesn’t know what else he would do.
Junhui leads them into Minghao’s room, closing the door silently behind them. He leaves the lights off, pulls Minghao into his closet, and they sit there in the quiet darkness. Minghao is gasping quietly by then, the haze creeping back in but laced with fear and shame, poisonous and quick and suffocating and soon he is shaking and sobbing and hyperventilating and Jun, where is Jun, where is he oh god did you leave please don’t go please stay stay with me please where are you don’t leave me-
“Shhh, you’ll be okay, I’m here, I’m here, I’ll never leave you, I promise. Breathe for me, Hao baby, breathe.”
Jun holds Minghao close in his lap and keeps murmuring to him, soft and quietly comforting as he sobs into his chest, trying to breathe through it as he cries himself out. Jun rocks back and forth, stroking his hair, his back, his neck, steady as the morning sun.
When he can finally breathe again, Jun says gently, “Wanna talk about it?”
Minghao draws in a long, shuddering breath, then releases it. He’s still curled up close on Jun’s lap, and tucks himself in closer. Shakes his head no, looks up to watch Jun’s face.
Jun only looks back at him, empathetic and knowing, understanding to the deepest level what Minghao is feeling, what Minghao can’t say- he knows the same feeling, after all, just doesn’t have the kind of past that amplifies it.
He hugs Minghao tighter, whispers into his hair, at least we have each other, meaning himself and Minghao and the rest of the seventeens, and Minghao gets it, lets the thought settle in like the warmth of Jun’s embrace. It’s okay, as long as we have each other.