Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's a subtle shift.

It always starts that way — something so small, so discrete, barely noticeable.

Yet Donghyuck can sense it creeping in, just small things lurking in the back of his mind and a heaviness settling in his stomach that gives it away.

He finds himself lingering on negative thoughts, finds himself giving them ground and a foundation to build on. Holding onto them without meaning to, letting them grow and grow until eventually they'll start to take over, until those small fleeting thoughts become very large and all-consuming.

This time, he’s managed to catch those thoughts before they grow any larger, any harder to deal with. It's been coming on for a couple of days now, too many restless nights and difficulty sleeping that have him a little more on edge, a little more tired than he should be.

It's easier when it's just those kinds of nights, when his tiredness stems mostly from lack of sleep. It's easier to catch, and a lot easier to deal with.

He reaches out to Chenle, because he thinks getting out of his own dorm might do him some good this afternoon. It's been a while since he's seen Daegal anyway, and he needs to reinstate his position as the favourite uncle.

hey, are you at home?

no

when will you be back?

in an hour

Donghyuck is all too used to Chenle's blunt answers, grinning at the usual tone he gets. Chenle prefers to eat dinner later and at home, so Donghyuck figures he can organise it while he heads over to Chenle's apartment.

anything you feel like for dinner?

just order whatever, thanks

It's the confirmation and approval that Donghyuck is welcome over, though it's not like Chenle ever refuses. There's usually always a member over anyway, as Chenle has made it clear he enjoys the company and that anyone is welcome over at any time.

Donghyuck waits for a bit of time to pass before he gets changed into something a little warmer, pulling the hood up from his jumper as he walks out of his bedroom. Johnny isn't home, but he runs into Doyoung in the kitchen.

"Hey Haechannie," Doyoung greets, and Donghyuck gives him a small wave. “Did you want to get dinner together later?”

"Ah no, I can’t, sorry hyung. Going to Chenle's," Donghyuck explains, and Doyoung nods with a smile.

“That’s alright, another night then,” Doyoung says, and Donghyuck gives him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"Have fun," Doyoung calls out as Donghyuck walks out of their dorm, Donghyuck humming back and giving a wave as confirmation. He orders a taxi as he heads down the elevator, scrolling through his options for dinner as he waits for the taxi to pull up.

He manages to make a decision and order the food right as the taxi comes, and he might have ordered a little too much but he knows Chenle will eat it for another meal tomorrow anyway.

Chenle's apartment isn't too far away, just enough for him to listen to a couple of songs as he puts in his earphones. Usually he’d keep his head down and keep his focus on his phone, but he finds himself looking out the window, noticing that the sky is getting darker a lot quicker these days.

This type of weather should make him drowsier, he thinks. It should be easier to fall asleep when he's bundled up warmly and comfortably under his blankets, the sky having settled into night earlier than most of the year. Instead, sleep has been a fleeting, stubborn thing.

He doesn’t linger on these thoughts for too long, as the ride is short enough that he doesn’t need to sit with them. After paying, he makes his way up to Chenle's apartment, grinning as he hears Daegal's familiar whining and barking once he reaches the door.

He inputs Chenle's code, careful to keep Daegal away from the crack in the door as he opens it up. She's getting better at not running out the moment the door opens, but she’s still quick and will try and run the second anyone thinks it’s safe.

She jumps up excitedly, front paws scratching at his legs. Donghyuck lets the door shut properly behind him, then sits down to properly greet her, cooing as he rubs at her head and ears.

He manages to slip off his shoes, relieved that Daegal has never really been one to chew on them. She doesn't notice anyway, too busy attempting to lick every little bit of Donghyuck's face.

"Hey," Chenle greets, and Donghyuck looks up to see him standing in the middle of the room. Donghyuck smiles back in greeting, already feeling the weight that was settling down on his shoulders starting to lift.

It's hard to hold onto any frustration when he's in the comfort and presence of one of his closest friends — and, without any argument that Donghyuck will give merit to, has the cutest dog lapping for his attention.

"Food is about half an hour away," Donghyuck mentions as he finally gets up from the ground. Chenle hums in reply, squatting down to pet Daegal as she runs over to him.

Chenle's changed into something casual, and his hair is sticking up at strange angles which means it’s still got a fair amount of product in it, it’s just that he’s not afraid of messing it up now.

"When'd you get back?" Donghyuck asks him, settling down on the couch.

"Five minutes ago," Chenle replies, walking over to join him. He lets out a groan as he flops onto the couch, stretching out his arms with a yawn.

"I feel old," Chenle groans, and Donghyuck huffs in amusement.

"When I was your age-" He starts, and Chenle barks out a laugh and rolls over to slap lightly at Donghyuck's arm.

Daegal jumps up onto the couch between them, apparently sensing the beginning of a playful fight that she wants to be part of. She attempts to wrestle with their arms, paws wrapping around their skin like that'll stop them.

She playfully nips at their hands, and Donghyuck continues to delightedly play with her as Chenle moves to stand up. He comes back just a moment later with two controllers, placing one in reach of Donghyuck, but not close enough for Daegal to think it's a toy for her.

Chenle starts up his console, gesturing at Donghyuck's given controller. "Want to play?"

Donghyuck reaches out, though keeps some of his attention on keeping Daegal entertained. "What're we playing?"

Chenle shrugs, turning on his TV. "Whatever disc is currently in there. If you want to play something in particular though, go ahead."

Donghyuck waits for the screen to show the game currently in the console, settling back once it's confirmed to be a game that can provide multiplayer.

Daegal keeps up with her disruptions throughout the game. They both die more than once due to it, and Donghyuck is sent into hysterics as Chenle is sent falling off a cliff in the game, character rag-dolling and basically flying into the abyss.

The game is one that thrives off chaos, and Chenle and Donghyuck are the perfect combination for it. They send each other to their deaths more often than not, but it just makes for louder laughter and more ridiculous antics and arguments.

“I told you to go right-”

“I went right! That’s left-”

By the time the food arrives, Daegal has at least finally settled down, though Donghyuck is wiping away tears from laughter, and Chenle is basically doubled over and whining about his stomach hurting as he goes to answer the door.

Donghyuck manages to pause the game, a smile and the ghost of a laugh still lingering on his lips. Chenle looks over at him, food acquired and in his hands — and for this moment, they both revel together in happiness, in the easy joy of being with each other and having such easy fun. Chenle sets the food down, away from Daegal's reach. Unfortunately for Donghyuck, he isn't out of reach of Daegal's wide, pleading eyes.

"I fed you dinner already," Chenle reminds her, though she purposely turns away from him and stares only at Donghyuck. "Like, the premium stuff! The good stuff! The expensive stuff that you scoffed down in two seconds!"

"She looks really hungry," Donghyuck points out, feeling guilty for his own mouthful of food. He knows Daegal is a little liar though, and knows very well that she is playing him for a fool. And Donghyuck will not lose out to a dog, no matter how much he loves her.

"She's a rascal," Chenle replies, a proud grin on his face. "I've raised her well."

"Sure," Donghyuck replies sarcastically, even though he is impressed at just how well Chenle has managed with her.

And really, he only gives her a little bit of the chicken. A tiny, tiny piece. Just enough to establish himself as the current favourite behind Chenle's back.

Donghyuck cleans up the rubbish, and Chenle goes to wash his face in the meantime. He comes back, patting his face dry, and gestures to the couch.

"Are you crashing here?" He asks, and Donghyuck knows he's already thinking of where he's put away the spare pillows and blankets from the last person that’s slept over.

Donghyuck shakes his head. He doesn't think he will be, not tonight — there's still a possibility, still a chance, that his brain and body might not let him sleep well tonight. And he doesn't think he'd be able to hide it from Chenle, especially not when he's sleeping on his couch, with Chenle likely very aware of his movements.

He’s already caught Chenle looking at him tonight, head tilted and eyes narrowed in a way that means he’s figuring something out. Donghyuck doesn’t want him to worry, especially when he isn’t doing that badly — he’s just not sleeping that well lately, but it’s something that’ll get better soon. It’s not something he wants to cause concern over.

"I'll head back to the dorm," Donghyuck answers, gesturing a hand to the door. Chenle nods, walking over to the table to pick up a remote.

"Okay," Chenle accepts easily, not one to question Donghyuck's decision. But there's some reluctance there, some hesitance to have Donghyuck leave, because he passes over a controller. "But one more game?"

Donghyuck takes the controller with a smile. "Yeah, let's go."

That night, in his own bed, he's not left with his own thoughts in a messy whirlwind and with a body unwilling to relax.

He's left with an echo of laughter on his lips and happy memories with Chenle, and they send him easily into a comfortable sleep.

When he finds himself getting tired like this, it’s not only Chenle he seeks out.

He finds that laughter, that just being able to have fun, is something that helps. At worst, it'll just subdue the feeling for a little while. At best, it'll eliminate it.

It's easy to find laughter with his members at least. There's always someone up for a bit of playing around, always someone up to create laughter with him. There's always someone for anything, really — they know each other well now, and they know what to look for and find in each other.

He doesn't go to Jisung out of hopes for laughter, though. It's just that he scans the room, all of them wrapping up after practice, and he finds himself lingering on Jisung.

It's staggering, sometimes. The realisation of how lucky he is to love his members, how lucky he is that he gets to love his friends.

That's the feeling that propels him over to Jisung, wrapping his arms around Jisung's shoulders. Jisung, ever accommodating, bends down a little so that Donghyuck can properly hug him as tightly as he wants to.

Jisung's hands pat at his back, almost like he's using the surface of Donghyuck’s skin to practice some drumming.

"Hey, Jisungie," Donghyuck says, sickeningly sweet. He didn't come over to tease Jisung, not really, but he can't quite resist the temptation.

"Yeah?" Jisung responds, hands not even pausing at the way he's now just kind of slapping Donghyuck's back.

"Love you," Donghyuck croons, and that's what gets a reaction.

It's too sudden, and Jisung flusters easily when he's not prepared for something — especially for moments of affection that aren't quite joking. Jisung groans, shuddering with exaggeration like he's trying to dislodge Donghyuck's grip.

"Hyung," Jisung draws out with a whine. "Why."

Donghyuck laughs with delight, because Jisung is just cute. So, so endearingly cute, his lower lip jutted out in a pout as he whines.

Still, Jisung has not properly straightened his legs, and hasn't actually put in the effort to get Donghyuck off him. So Donghyuck remains solid, pressed against Jisung, swaying them side to side.

The others have started to surround them, drawn to Jisung's fake-whining and Donghyuck's laughter. Jisung, despite being taller, does his best to duck into Donghyuck and hide from the rest of them.

It's just... cute, and Donghyuck loves him so. The feeling bubbles up in his chest, rising up and overflowing until all he can do is just laugh, still swaying with him.

There's a point that he needs to let go of Jisung, because they're both tired and sweaty and their bodies on the verge of exhaustion after an intense practice.

But this moment — this is something he won't let go of.

Some days aren't as easy.

Some days, it takes more than a bit of laughter, more than a bit of joking around. When that feeling is only subdued for a certain amount of time, and when it comes back — it's grittier, more determined to outlast this time, so much harder for him to overcome.

Sometimes there's no real reason for it.

Like today.

It's meant to be a good day, by all means. He had a good slot for his recordings; not too late into the night, and even early enough to get dinner afterwards. He'd done well, finishing up fast and to the praise of the producers.

But something is pressing down on him, making him doubtful of his own ability, doubtful of everything he usually takes assurance in. It's disorientating, to have that confidence swept away by doubt. Knocked down by just a few simple thoughts, stemming from seemingly nowhere.

As he's leaving the recording session, head swimming and all too aware of his heart beating a little too rapidly in his chest, he comes across Renjun in the hallway.

"Oh! You're finished," Renjun greets him with a wide smile. "That was quick. Did you do well?"

Donghyuck hums in non-committance. He did, by all means. The producers told him he exceeded their expectations, that he's done impressively well and they're thankful for that. But the problem is Donghyuck's own expectations, his own belief, which isn't letting him agree.

Renjun will press for a proper answer if Donghyuck doesn’t avert Renjun’s attention from his lackluster answer — he knows Donghyuck too well, and Donghyuck knows him. Renjun will call him out if Donghyuck is dissatisfied, just because he rarely ever is.

And Donghyuck has every reason to be pleased about his session. But the praising words of the producers are overshadowed by his own tired and doubtful thoughts, and there’s no satisfaction in thinking about his recordings.

"You did really well," he praises honestly in turn, because Renjun has. He'd heard Renjun's recording, impressed and proud with Renjun's improvement, the way he'd easily overcome a part he had admitted he'd been worried about earlier.

A year ago, Renjun might have flustered, might have waved Donghyuck's compliment away with disbelief, with a hm, I think I could've done a lot better. I have a long way to go. But now it's a testament to Renjun's growth in confidence, as his grin just gets wider, and his eyes shine with pride.

"Thanks!" Renjun replies, slinging an arm around Donghyuck's shoulders. "I'm really happy with it."

And Donghyuck hates, absolutely despises the way that jealousy starts to storm up inside of him. He hates the feeling of it, something he really ever experiences, something that he rarely ever allows enough space to ever feel.

Embarrassment and guilt quickly rises up to take over the jealousy at least, but it makes for a terrible combination inside of him.

He's proud of Renjun. He's so ridiculously happy for him, and is so pleased to see the way Renjun's confidence is finally starting to match his ability, that the belief in himself is finally starting to match the belief they've always had in him.

He knows he's happy for Renjun. Knows that's all he should be.

And he hates that it's being tainted by jealousy, by the frustration that Donghyuck's own confidence has wavered in himself to the point that he's now envious.

"Good," he remembers to reply, thankful that at least his tone is pleasant. He knows he's happy for Renjun, that the envy inside of him isn't something he'd ever let slip because it's — it's not something he ever wants to show. It's not something he usually has reason to. "You should be."

"Yeah," Renjun answers, tone easy and light. And then it shifts as he presses closer, eyes wide and hopeful. "Hey, what're you up to now?"

Donghyuck laughs, because he knows all too well Renjun's tone. It wasn't a direct request, but he knows by now that Renjun is asking him to hang out together.

"Going back to the dorm," Donghyuck answers, because he doesn't really have the energy for much else. He'll order in, forgoing the opportunity to go out and get dinner even with his convenient time slot.

It likely doesn't escape Renjun's notice, as usually anyone with his kind of time-slot uses the opportunity to go out and eat. It's an unspoken kind of standard, no matter which group they're in.

Renjun's lips pull down a little, confirming Donghyuck's suspicion. He can basically see Renjun's mind whirring, figuring out that Donghyuck is either doing something or is too tired to go out, and that Renjun isn’t invited regardless.

Donghyuck knows where Renjun's thoughts are headed, because Renjun pulls back a little, giving Donghyuck a warm but kind of disappointed smile.

And the thought of Renjun leaving, of being alone, makes his stomach twist. He doesn't want to be alone — and he doesn't want Renjun to leave, even if the feeling of guilt is still lingering.

Maybe he wants to amend his earlier envy, he thinks distantly. Maybe it'll help him sleep better if he does.

The thought of it makes him feel a little worse. It feels selfish, but still Donghyuck opens his mouth and asks Renjun: "Did you want to come over?"

Renjun grins, relief lowering his shoulders and pressing himself close to Donghyuck again. It eases up some of the guilt inside of Donghyuck, because Renjun had obviously wanted to be asked.

"Yeah," Renjun replies, starting to walk with Donghyuck still in his grip. "Order for me too?"

"Mhm," Donghyuck agrees, managing to manoeuvre and pull out his phone to pull up the menu. Renjun just hums and doesn't make a decision when Donghyuck asks him what he feels like, waving off Donghyuck's groan.

"Whatever you were ordering! Just order that," Renjun says as they head back to the dorm together. Donghyuck sighs, because he doesn't know what he feels like.

It's a little disarming, the realisation that his thoughts have been so wound up around his doubts that he hasn't even spared a thought to what he was going to eat. His plans really just involved lying in bed and maybe moping around, maybe anxiously pacing in his room and singing all his lines again.

He picks out a random restaurant that he usually orders from, ordering a couple of meals that he knows Renjun is favourable to as well. His plans of moping or practicing have been disrupted, but he can't bring himself to mind.

This is better, he thinks. It's easier not to wallow in negative thoughts when he has someone or something else to focus on.

When they get back to the dorm, Taeyong just smiles comfortably at Renjun when he wanders in beside Donghyuck, all too used to his presence in the dorms.

"How did your recordings go?" Taeyong asks them, and Renjun remains quiet as he waits for Donghyuck to take the lead in replying.

"Renjun-ah did really well," Donghyuck answers, and is relieved to find that the envy is again outmatched by his pride when he says it.

Renjun, though comfortable in the dorms and with most of the members, and though his confidence in himself has grown, flusters the moment Taeyong's proud grin is directed towards him. Donghyuck laughs at the reaction, heading alone into his room.

Renjun follows after talking with Taeyong for a few moments longer, stretching himself comfortably on Donghyuck's bed.

"Did you want to watch anything?" Donghyuck asks him as he flicks on his television, aimlessly scrolling through the channels. Renjun looks up to watch the screen for a few moments before he shakes his head.

Donghyuck leaves it playing on a variety show, because he's unwilling to scroll through Netflix to try and find something he wants to watch. He feels restless, like he should be doing something — practicing, going over his lines until his throat is hoarse, until he can be satisfied that he did his best.

Renjun purposely moves over, a gesture for Donghyuck to sit beside him on the bed. Donghyuck's feet hesitate for a moment, as the restless and burning desire to do something still makes him uneasy, but he takes a deep breath and makes his body move.

They don't really have a plan together, but it's usually enough for Renjun to just have company, even if it’s just lying beside each other and scrolling through their socials. Renjun's attention remains on his phone, occasionally playing a video aloud with a language that's familiar, but not one Donghyuck understands.

There's a bit of discussion between them, about the new album and the tracks. Renjun tells him a bit about what's been happening at the dorms, and Donghyuck manages to pull out a couple of his own stories in return.

They're interrupted by the food arriving, and Donghyuck comes back into the room to see Renjun properly sitting up, the small table already placed across Donghyuck's bed.

Though his eyes light up as Donghyuck places down the food, Donghyuck can also place that he's considering a more serious topic. It makes him wary, though he has a feeling he knows what Renjun wants to discuss.

"You're doing so much," Renjun says — which isn't too strange or out of left field, considering the topic they have been on. But Donghyuck's heart speeds up, and he forces himself not to give anything away in his expression as he unwraps the delivery.

"It's not that bad," Donghyuck replies, because he's done worse before. He's gotten through those times, and he'll do so again. He always gets through them in the end.

Renjun hums, and though he picks up a set of chopsticks, he doesn't yet make a move to get any food.

"You worry us sometimes," Renjun says. His tone is light, just a simple statement. Just a fact, an easy admittance.

Donghyuck's heart sinks with it. He doesn't look at Renjun, even though he knows Renjun is looking purposely at him.

"You do really well," Renjun continues once he realises Donghyuck isn't about to reply. "And you rarely ever show if you're tired, even though you have every reason to be."

Donghyuck's starting to push his food around with his chopsticks, trying to expel some of the nervous energy suddenly building. He doesn't like the direction of the conversation, but he knows that Renjun won't let it drop either.

"Stop that," Renjun huffs, tapping Donghyuck's chopsticks with his own. "I'm just saying. It's because you hide it so well that we worry. You can rest and rely on us, you know? We want to help you."

Though his mouth feels dry, he puts some food past his lips so he can bide his time and think over Renjun's words. Renjun eats a mouthful too, but swallows it down quicker than Donghyuck.

"I know you might... Go to Jaemin, with these things. But you can talk to us and rely on us too," Renjun says, and Donghyuck places down his chopsticks.

There's an edge of a smile on his lips — because though he hates causing worry, hates making anyone concerned over him, Renjun's care and consideration are a startling but welcome reminder that he's surrounded by some very good friends.

"I rely on you a lot," Donghyuck replies, properly looking at Renjun since the start of this conversation. "More than you realise."

Renjun's head tilts, quietly waiting for Donghyuck to expand on his own point.

"I get my energy from all of you," Donghyuck explains. "You all make it a lot easier when I'm tired. I'm able to get through everything because you guys are with me too."

"It's not good to bottle up or push away your feelings though," Renjun says, and Donghyuck can't fight the fond smile at Renjun's tone — never one to let Donghyuck get away with something.

"I suppose not," Donghyuck replies, picking up his chopsticks again. His heart feels a lot lighter, mouth no longer as dry as it had been.

They eat in relative, comfortable quiet. They're both half paying attention to the show on Donghyuck's television, and also both wrapped up in their own thoughts.

"I don't think I liked my recording session today," Donghyuck admits between mouthfuls of food. Renjun hums in empathy — it's not strange to hear between them all, it's something they've all gone through, something they all can relate to.

"Were the producers happy?" Renjun asks, and Donghyuck nods.

"Yeah," Donghyuck replies, their words coming back into mind. It'd been a successful recording session by all means, it's just Donghyuck's own satisfaction and expectations not letting him see it that way.

"You can always ask them to re-record," Renjun suggests. They usually do anyway, once their first session is completed and the producers have played around with the audio, making adjustments on anything they feel might be missing.

"I don't know if it'd be any different," Donghyuck answers, because though he knows he wants the recording to sound different, to be better, he doesn't actually know how to get there.

Renjun moves a piece of meat from his own dish onto Donghyuck's. "Then maybe we can work out how to make it different. After eating, though. Things are always better after a good meal, as you always say."

Donghyuck laughs, gratefully taking the piece of meat that Renjun had given.

Later, when they’ve finished their meals and thrown out their rubbish, they go over Donghyuck's lines. Renjun laughs nervously at one point, right at the start, admitting it feels strange to try and help Donghyuck with something he usually seems to handle so easily on his own.

But Renjun takes it in stride, offering different opinions and unique suggestions that helps Donghyuck take things apart in his mind and figure them out.

And by the time Renjun leaves, heading back to his own dorms, he leaves Donghyuck with a lot more confidence for his next recording session.

Sometimes, Donghyuck isn't tired just because he's lacking sleep.

There's other reasons, or a series of incidents, stacking up on top of each other. Uneven building blocks built on a shaky foundation, and sometimes all he can do is grit his teeth and try and keep it all from tumbling over.

Donghyuck just wakes up tired, even after a full night of rest — rare to get with his schedules, and made harder with a mind that doesn’t usually let him rest easily. Despite the amount of sleep, his mind and body feel heavy, weighed down, both seeming like they're moving through molasses.

It's been something building for a couple of days: schedules on top of each other, practices that bleed into each other, needing to be switched on and presentable for so many endless hours.

He feels like he's barely hanging on, barely keeping everything together. He will, because he has to. Donghyuck will get through it, and will hold it all together, because there's currently no other option.

The exhaustion has settled in though, dragging him down, slowing his movements. His mind feels sluggish, thoughts he can barely string together, and it feels like trying to remember movements is taking him twice as long as usual.

It's frustrating, because Donghyuck should know these movements, and should easily be able to adjust to any changes. But he's fighting against the weight in his bones, the way he feels like he's been pulled apart and clunkily put back together again.

"Haechan-ah," the dance instructor teases, having caught Donghyuck's moment of hesitance in his movements as they practice.

I know, I know, he thinks, frustrated. He's all too aware of the mistakes he's making, the things he's letting slip. He doesn't want anything to lack, but his body is sacrificing smaller movements in an attempt to keep the overall picture looking decent.

Usually it'd be a kind of moment that Donghyuck would play off on, a cheeky smile on his lips with the determination and confidence knowing he'll do it better the next time.

But he grits his teeth, looking at himself in the mirror, trying desperately to get his thoughts and body to focus. To just hold it together for just this, to just make it through the practice.

He catches Jaemin's eyes, once. Right as they move into the designated wings of the floor, waiting opposite each other to move back into formation. Jaemin's attention is usually watching those dancing, counting himself in, but this time Donghyuck looks across the room and finds Jaemin's gaze staring right back at him.

Donghyuck’s breathing is too heavy, and he can’t hide it even as Jaemin looks at him — his lungs are burning, and it feels like he can't get enough air in, and this is the only point he has to recover or to build up strength. They only have one verse to go, but Donghyuck is just focused on making it through each and every single count now.

Jaemin's mouth twists, and Donghyuck gives a little shake of his head, quickly covering it by running a hand through his hair. Jaemin is still staring, but he gives a nod in response as they pass each other in the choreography, meaning he's understood.

Donghyuck won't fall apart today, and he does not want to. He'll be okay, he just — he just has to get through this practice. He will get through it. He just has to make sure that no one's efforts are slowed down by his own lacking ability today.

They hold their final pose until the choreographer claps his hands together, signalling the end of their run.

It feels like whatever energy Donghyuck has left drains entirely, the fumes he'd been running on disappearing completely. He holds on to make it one, two, three steps, before his knees buckle as he reaches the mirror, slowly going down in an ungraceful heap as he sits down.

He draws one knee up, ducking his head down as he does his best to take in some deep breaths. There's a faint swirling of nausea, sitting low in his stomach. A warning that he's pushed it too far today, that he's gone over his physical limits.

Inhale, he recites to himself, trying to take a deep breath through his nose. Exhale. But it feels like he's not getting enough air in, and what he knows should be long, measured deep breaths are just short, almost desperate puffs of air.

Fingers faintly press down on the back of his neck just for a moment, soon replaced by a chilled water bottle. The cold of it surprises him, jerking him out of his slight panic.

When Donghyuck looks up and meets Jeno’s eyes, the bottle falls away from Donghyuck's neck and Jeno crouches down beside him. He uncaps the water bottle for Donghyuck, passing it over.

Donghyuck would grimace at the sight of his shaking fingers reaching out for the bottle, but he doesn't have the energy to spare for it. Jeno keeps the bottle steady, only letting go once he's certain Donghyuck isn't going to drop it.

The feeling of nausea hasn't quite subsided, so Donghyuck doesn't make a move to drink from it. He keeps it resting on his knee, though he isn’t entirely confident it won’t slip from his grasp.

Jeno moves so that he's sitting beside Donghyuck, back also against the mirror and legs stretched out in front of him. He looks a lot more composed than Donghyuck, chest barely rising with his breaths, obviously not feeling the same desperate need for oxygen like Donghyuck currently is.

But his hair is dishevelled, glasses a little askew in a give-away that he's actually rather worn out. Despite that, he's still beside Donghyuck, silently making sure Donghyuck is alright and looking out for him.

Now that Donghyuck's head is up, he can see the rest of the room. He's not the only one that's taken to falling to the ground — Chenle's lying on his stomach in the middle of the room, playing dead as the choreographer teases him.

Jisung's taking a drink, talking with Jaemin in one corner of the room. But Jaemin's attention is half on Donghyuck, their eyes meeting.

Jaemin gives him a small smile, but his eyes move to the water bottle in Donghyuck's hand and the figure beside him, and Jaemin seems reassured. He turns his attention properly to Jisung, giving Donghyuck the space to recover.

Jaemin's not the only one checking on him — he can tell Mark's looking over at him too. A quick glance over shows Mark's contemplation, giving away that he's trying to decide to come over or not.

Jeno's eyes follow, and Mark's eyes meet his. They seem to have a silent conversation, because Mark's decision is giving them a thumbs-up before turning away.

"You'll get it," Jeno quietly tells him, head tilting back until it hits the mirror, turning a little so that he's looking at Donghyuck. "You always do."

The nausea has subsided, so Donghyuck takes the chance to take a small sip of water. It's almost too cold, too sharp as it sits in his mouth and goes down his throat, but he welcomes the feeling of it.

Donghyuck knows that Jeno is right — that it might not be today, or tomorrow, but he'll be able to overcome this. His body will be sharper, his movements cleaner, lines clearer, until he's almost satisfied with it.

But today's practice is nothing short of frustrating, showing all the things he's lacking in, all the things he's behind in, all the things he has to work to improve.

"Just not today," Donghyuck finally replies, his bitterness seeping through. Jeno gives him a small smile.

"No, maybe not today," he answers. "But you can't keep expecting yourself to be perfect every single day of the year."

"I don't need it to be perfect," Donghyuck grits out, frustrated with himself. It's never been about perfect — it's just about being better, about a gradual increase with every practice, with every session. If Donghyuck doesn't improve, if he doesn't go up, then there's only one other direction to go.

"Donghyuck-ah," Jeno says, a little breathless with something like laughter. The use of his name startles Donghyuck, pulling him back from his thoughts. "You're the biggest perfectionist I've ever met. You might not want it perfect today, but you'll want it eventually. And you'll get there."

"Not if practice keeps going like this," Donghyuck retaliates, and Jeno's smile drops as he rolls his eyes. He shoves at Donghyuck, and Donghyuck almost topples over without the energy to keep himself upright.

He manages to stay up, mostly thanks to Jeno pulling him back.

"Haechannie. You're tired. Your body is exhausted, and everyone has a limit. You always push yours," Jeno's tone is still light, but there's almost something like a scolding laced in it. "It's okay that you didn't do extraordinary today. We all know you will when it matters."

"What if I don't," Donghyuck bites back, because it's all too easy for his worries to start arising when he feels like this.

"You're being stupid," Jeno settles on saying, shaking his head with a smile. "Lee Donghyuck, you're not stupid. You'll come back to the next practice and show us all up, I'm sure."

Donghyuck pulls a face, taking another sip from his bottle. Jeno passes over the cap he's been holding onto, and Donghyuck picks it up only to throw it back at Jeno.

"I can't believe you called me stupid," Donghyuck sulks, and Jeno laughs as he picks up the cap that's spinning on the floor.

"Then don't be stupid," Jeno replies, throwing the cap back. "Take a break, Haechan-ah. Stretch out your muscles, look after your body, and come back healthier. We all believe in you, and we all know you can do this."

The sincerity in Jeno's words make Donghyuck want to squirm, all too aware of the fact they're surrounded by the others. Donghyuck just raises the water bottle to his forehead, pressing it there to chill him for a moment before taking another drink.

The thought of — of admitting that he can't do any better today, that he won't be able to practice until he's better, sits uncomfortably at the front of his mind. If he starts stretching, cooling down, then he's given up on the chance for improvement. He’s calling it quits, and he’s walking away, when he should be doing so much better.

Jeno stands up after a moment, taking a moment before he leans over and flicks Donghyuck on the temple. Donghyuck whines, hand coming up to press against the spot Jeno had flicked at.

"Lee Jen-" he starts to complain, but Jeno cuts him off.

"Stop overthinking. You're smart, but right now you're obviously going in circles. Let's take a break now, okay? If you're free tomorrow, I'll meet up with you and we can go over things."

The offer brings relief, as Donghyuck always trusts Jeno's word. Jeno is a quick learner and also a great teacher, someone that can critique Donghyuck's dancing and help him on it when he needs.

"I'm free at night, probably around 8," Donghyuck replies, and Jeno doesn't even hesitate before he agrees.

"Alright, I'll check if any practice rooms are free and I'll let you know," Jeno says. “And if not, we can always find another space.”

Jeno holds out a hand, and Donghyuck reaches out to clasp it. Jeno pulls him up steadily, then rests an arm across Donghyuck's shoulders.

It should be gross considering Donghyuck feels sweaty and in need of a shower, maybe it should feel oppressive to have Jeno's weight pressing down on him, but Jeno is careful to keep his weight off. He's just pressed close to Donghyuck, a reassuring presence beside him.

Mark picks up Donghyuck's bag for him, acting like he can't hear Donghyuck saying he can carry it himself.

"See you tomorrow?" Jeno asks as they part, Donghyuck stepping up beside Mark to head home together.

"See you tomorrow," Donghyuck reassures with a smile. He lowers his voice, his next words only for Jeno to hear. "Thanks, Jeno-yah."

Jeno smiles back, then gives him a wave as he makes his way to the other car. "Make sure to stretch!"

"Yeah yeah!" Donghyuck calls out flippantly.

Jeno's laughter echoes throughout the street, and Donghyuck grins, taking a deep breath in and squaring his shoulders back. The weight has been lifted off them, and though he's still exhausted, he no longer feels despondent about it.

He'll do better tomorrow, and he knows it.

A couple of years ago, Mark might have gotten fed up with Donghyuck's insistence and affection, might have pushed Donghyuck off his bed by now.

He has, many times before.

He still does, actually.

But he only does it now when Donghyuck has come over, pressing closely to Mark, with the intent just to annoy him.

Now, though, Mark sits and waits. He's still trying to gauge the reason behind Donghyuck's visit to his room, but he's not going to push Donghyuck away until he's certain of Donghyuck's reasoning.

They understand each other now. Mark's patience has grown, understanding that Donghyuck's affection isn't always rooted from the intent just to fluster or rile him up. And Donghyuck is... Well, working on expressing himself better.

It's better than it was a couple of years ago, at least. Before, Donghyuck would've just seeked out Mark and though he wanted comfort, or returned affection, he wouldn't have known how to ask for it without purposely annoying Mark.

Donghyuck would've just let Mark push him off the bed, and then get upset about it. Would've instigated a fight, because he was tired and angry and hurt, and wanted Mark to know it.

It's definitely better now. Now, Mark just lets Donghyuck take up his bed. He takes a seat on the manager's bed — made up, and a sign that it probably hasn't been slept in for a couple of days.

Mark will sleep in it tonight, if Donghyuck stays over. Mark will give up his own bed so that Donghyuck can wrap himself up with the comfort of Mark's belongings, and Mark won't raise a single complaint about it.

There's a quiet stream of songs playing from Mark's phone, trying to fill the silent atmosphere between them. Mark hums along, playing around on his phone, waiting for Donghyuck to possibly work up to whatever he wants to say.

It's rare that he's here like this — it's so very rare that Donghyuck is here in this state. He knows he's caught Mark a little off-guard, that Mark still doesn't quite know what to do with this scenario.

Mark's always asking him to express himself more, to open up, and Donghyuck laughs silently now that he's here and Mark doesn't actually know how to behave.

"You're being weird," Donghyuck tells him, rolling onto his side so that he can properly look at Mark. He's got one of Mark's pillows pressed tightly against his chest, and he buries his chin into it as Mark looks over at him.

Mark just blinks, then raises his eyebrows pointedly. The type of attitude he'd rarely give to anyone but Donghyuck.

Donghyuck laughs aloud this time. Yeah, he thinks. This whole thing is weird.

It's late. It's really late, and still Donghyuck had followed Mark home from practice and followed him up to his room. He'd been quiet, just a silent presence clinging to Mark, which he knows is what gave away that this time is different.

Mark waits a couple of moments, waiting to see if Donghyuck will elaborate why he's here. But the courage dies in Donghyuck's chest, and he hugs the pillow a little closer to himself like that'll help soften the way his chest feels like it's going to crumble into pieces.

No disappointment shows on Mark's face, even though Donghyuck knows there must be the feeling of it lingering under Mark's skin. He just turns his attention back to his phone, giving Donghyuck the time and patience to figure things out.

There's so many thoughts swirling around in his mind — too many, rising until they create a storm inside of him, a mess that tears through any type of protection he's built up.

"Mark hyung," he says softly, which has Mark's head snap up to attention, eyes carefully studying Donghyuck. Looking, now that Donghyuck will let him find it.

"Yeah, Donghyuck-ah?" Mark prompts, voice matching Donghyuck's own tone.

"I'm doing well, right hyung?" He asks, met by a sharp inhale.

Donghyuck should maybe be impressed with himself for taking Mark by surprise. It's been a while since he's been able to, after all. But he finds that there's no triumph in this — just a heavy reminder that Donghyuck doesn't like getting to this point, and he really doesn't like other people seeing it.

Mark does manage to recover quickly. His surprise is washed out by a careful consideration, placing his phone down onto his thigh.

"You don't think you are?" Mark asks, doing his best to hide the disbelief masked throughout his voice.

Donghyuck folds himself closer to the pillow, words almost muffled into it. "I don't know."

He is, he thinks, by other people's measures. He's in a successful group, in one of the top companies of the country, and has achieved a lot at a young age. He's doing very well, and he knows that.

But his own measurements, his own expectations, seem to be pressing down on him. There's questions looming over him, as his muscles ache and his joints hurt and sometimes it's not just his body that's falling apart. How long can he keep going like this?

"I just..." he starts, trailing off in frustration. "I don't know if I'm improving."

"You are," Mark says quickly, tone so bright with conviction it's almost blinding. "Donghyuck-ah. Honestly."

Mark's not one to talk about progress and improvement lightly — he's always strict with these measurements, always has been. Donghyuck knew that, even before he'd ever seen Mark Lee in person.

There's always room to improve, he'd say, when someone praised his work ethic, when they praised how perfectly he'd done something. Always something he implies in practice, when he encourages just one more run through, guys, I promise.

But Donghyuck doesn't know if he can take up that room anymore. Doesn't know if he can expand, can push past the boundaries he's limited by, to get any better.

He's always just so tired. He's always so tired, and everything feels exhausting.

"It's easier to see improvement over longer periods," Mark reminds him, looking at Donghyuck in a way that Donghyuck recognises as the way he's thinking back, seeing someone different to the person in front of him. Seeing darker hair, rounder cheeks, a boy glowing with confidence.

Donghyuck's hair is lighter, a little bit longer, cheeks that have dropped the baby fat and been sculpted by diets and exercise.

He doesn't think he's lost what he's always tried to hold onto — his happiness, his pride at being able to do what he loves, knowing he's good at it. But he wonders if that confidence, that unfaltering self-assurance, has started to crack and splinter around him.

He wonders how different he looks. Wonders how differently Mark sees him now.

"You might not see an improvement from yesterday, or from last week, or even a month ago. But if you look back a year ago, you'll see it. If you look back in a year from now, you'll see it then too," Mark continues, leaning forward on his chair.

The phone dislodges slightly from Mark's thigh, and for a precarious moment Donghyuck thinks it'll clatter to the floor. But Mark's fingers deftly close around it, not once breaking his gaze with Donghyuck.

Mark is so full of conviction, and it's like he's trying to push that feeling onto Donghyuck too. Donghyuck doesn't look up from his sight on the phone, watching as Mark's fingers smooth over the case before he lets it balance freely on his thigh again.

"What if there's no improvement?" Donghyuck wants it to be a challenge — to make the words barbed, to make Mark falter.

Mark doesn't. There's no hesitance, no rise in his tone that indicates he's lying. "There will be."

"What if there's not enough?"

Mark pauses. It's not in hesitation, like he's finally faltering in the face of Donghyuck's tired frustration and insecurities. It's just thoughtful, carefully thinking over his next words.

There's all kinds of thoughts in Donghyuck's head — he's been a favourite as a trainee, always promised he'd debut. But now he's here, and he doesn't want to be the same. He doesn't want to stagnate. He wants to get better, to prove that everyone who believes in him is right.

And if Donghyuck doesn't improve, doesn't keep up, then he'll find himself at the back. Pushed aside, because there's someone better, someone worthy of the opportunities provided.

It's something they all know, are all too aware of. There's other factors, all kinds of things that come into these things, but Donghyuck doesn't want to be left behind.

Donghyuck expects maybe that kind of reassurance. That Donghyuck must be improving, because they keep giving him longer lines, harder verses. He must be doing well.

It's Mark's turn to surprise him, however.

"Whatever you can do is enough, Donghyuck-ah," Mark reassures, voice quiet but no less strong with conviction.

Donghyuck takes in a heavy breath, pressing his lips together as he finds a hitch in his throat, a warning that he's going to cry into Mark's pillow if he lets this hang over them.

Mark doesn't let him go so easily.

"Honestly," Mark says, a little closer this time — he's gotten up, and he's now sitting at the foot of his own bed. He isn't touching Donghyuck, but his hands are tapping at the bedsheets like he's thinking about it. "If all you can do is just get up each day and do what you need to do, then that's enough. It's enough even if you can't. You're doing just fine, Donghyuck-ah. You're doing amazing, really. I'm lucky to have you beside me, you know? We all are."

"Oh my god," Donghyuck whispers, cheeks burning as he realises his eyes are watering.

Mark gives a little laugh, because he is cruel and evil and also maybe one of the best things in Donghyuck's life.

"Go. Get up, go away," Donghyuck harshly whispers, one of his hands letting go of the death grip on Mark's pillow to try and shove Mark away. "Come back in five minutes."

"Only five?" Mark asks, and Donghyuck grumbles and attempts to kick him off his own bed.

"Only if you have food with you," Donghyuck grumbles. "Ten if you don't."

"This is my room, in case you forgot," Mark points out, but they both know he doesn't mind. He gets up, waking his screen for a moment to check the time.

"I didn't," Donghyuck replies, kicking out his leg once more for good measure. "Now get out of your room."

Mark groans, but does actually give Donghyuck the space he's asked for. Just enough time to try and let Mark's words sink in, as much as he's able to let them without allowing them to shatter whatever is the only thing keeping him upright tonight.

By the time Mark comes back — ten minutes later, with cup noodles for both of them, Donghyuck is comforted, content with the words, letting them sit warmly in his chest.

"You can stay tonight," Mark says later, uncannily right at the moment Donghyuck considers that Mark might just want the room to himself tonight. "Johnny's not staying in the dorms tonight, right?"

Donghyuck shakes his head. Johnny rarely does anymore — their room has basically become just Donghyuck's, and Johnny's when he needs to stay in the dorms for one reason or another. "I don't think so."

"Okay, then stay here. You haven't been sleeping well, have you? You can sleep here."

Donghyuck's a little surprised, but he figures he's never really hidden that he sleeps better around other people — being on his own just gives his thoughts too much space to take up.

So he stays, wrapped up in Mark's blanket and still holding one of his pillows.

How long can he keep going like this?

As long as he's able to, is the answer. As long as he can, with Mark right beside him. With everyone else there too.

They've both been waiting for it.

For the fall. When Donghyuck can no longer keep pushing down his emotions, functioning out of sheer desperation because he has to get through this. He just has to get through this, and then just one more thing, and then another—

Days after days. Weeks of just hanging on, keeping it together, just enough to make it through. Tired, exhausted, but not letting himself fall apart for it.

But the exhaustion builds beneath the surface. Clinging to his bones, seeping into his skin, into his chest and into his lungs.

Jaemin has been watching him, supporting him as best as he can. Helping Donghyuck get through every minute, every second — and though Donghyuck knows that he hates Donghyuck ending up like this, they know there's no way around it right now.

There's no way to stop the way Donghyuck just needs to let go. To shatter entirely into pieces. To break down to nothing, to let go of everything that has been building and weighing down on him. They can only delay it; push it back, until Donghyuck has enough time to let himself fall apart entirely.

Donghyuck's been holding on for so long. Pushing that weight down, hiding it, making sure he makes it through what he has to. Holds on until there's finally just one more schedule, one more performance, one more hour.

And then that performance ends, that final hour ticks closer into the next. Donghyuck stumbles into the waiting room, Jaemin right behind him as he keeps a hand resting on Donghyuck's back. Reminding him to stay upright, but ready to pull him back if Donghyuck tethers forward.

"Wait here," Jaemin mutters to him, the hand sliding around from Donghyuck's back to his side, squeezing Donghyuck's waist before his fingers slip away entirely.

They both know that if Donghyuck sits down now, it's going to be harder to get him upright again. So Jaemin keeps him standing, and Jisung comes up beside Donghyuck, like a pillar to lean against.

Jaemin moves around the room quickly, packing up Donghyuck's things in a hurry. They're all moving quickly, moving faster than usual to get out of the room.

Jeno takes Donghyuck's bag from Jaemin's fingers, shouldering it with ease. Jaemin could too, but Jaemin's arms are already full with taking care of Donghyuck.

The thought of it almost startles a bitter laugh from his chest. He hates this — he does, but there's no other option right now. Donghyuck has nothing left to give, nothing to put up in terms of defence. Jisung quietly wraps his fingers around Donghyuck's wrist, keeping him grounded.

It's not just Jaemin that knows how close Donghyuck is to shattering everything he has left.

But Jaemin knows how to handle this the best.

It's taken a lot of time to get to this point. A lot of Donghyuck lashing out while closing up, and a lot of frustrated prodding by Jaemin. It's taken months — years, really, to let Jaemin just take control, to let him take over and look after Donghyuck.

It's been the hardest thing Donghyuck has had to do — to give up control in its entirety, because he's simply too exhausted to keep a hold of it. To voluntarily give it to someone else, to let them see him at his absolute worst and collect all the pieces.

Donghyuck has trusted Jaemin for years, loved him for just a few months less than that, but it's something else to be so vulnerable, to let Jaemin see everything. A state he's never shown anyone, and had never wanted to.

But Jaemin hadn't given up, had pushed until he'd gotten his way — until Donghyuck had finally gone to Jaemin, just so fucking tired that he couldn't function, couldn't even explain what he'd needed because he didn't know himself.

He just didn't feel like he was in his own body. He didn't want to be.

Jaemin had figured it out, though. It had taken him some time is all. A couple of times for Donghyuck to fall apart before Jaemin figured out how it was best to put Donghyuck back together again.

Faintly, Donghyuck notices Mark quietly talking to their managers. Likely explaining that Donghyuck is going to head back to the dorms with Dream,

One of their managers looks over, one Donghyuck has noticed worriedly watching out for him over the past couple of days, always sneaking him extra caffeine or snacks.

"You're not?" he can see the way their manager's lips form around the words. Mark just shakes his head, looking over to Jaemin.

"It's handled," Mark answers. "He'll be alright."

It's a testament to Mark Lee's words, because their manager just nods without needing further conviction. All their managers hurry in clearing out the room, everyone bustling around Donghyuck.

Jisung stays by his side, only stepping away to take his bag from Chenle's hands once Jaemin steps up beside them.

"We're going to dinner," Jeno quietly says, looking between Jaemin and Donghyuck as he gestures to the rest of them. "Did you want to join?"

It's a polite invitation — making sure Donghyuck isn't left out, even though he's the reason that Jeno, Renjun and Jisung are giving their dorm some space.

Donghyuck shakes his head, giving a smile that he's certain isn't convincing. He feels terrible, knowing he's the reason that they're deciding to go out.

"We could... We should go back to my dorm," Donghyuck says to Jaemin, once Jeno has stepped away, the guilt festering inside of him.

"Johnny's there tonight, isn't he?" Jaemin reminds him, because this is something they've actually talked about. They both knew Donghyuck was hurtling towards falling apart, and they had to figure out a time for it to happen.

"But the others..."

"Are happy to go to dinner. They were going anyway," Jaemin cuts in. "They organised it last week."

Donghyuck feels a little lighter with the explanation, though guilt still churns inside of him. But he's too tired to think about how to fix that feeling, and he's too tired to call out Jeno and ask if it's true.

So he just lets his shoulders sag a little, dropping into Jaemin's hold once again.

"Let's go," Jaemin quietly encourages, and Donghyuck does something that might be a nod. He's not entirely sure — his body feels disconnected, like his limbs aren't his own.

It's a good thing, maybe. Because otherwise, if he takes notice of them, of the way that his body is actually attached and moving and somehow functioning, then his limbs might just crumble to the floor with exhaustion.

"Just a little longer," Jaemin says once they're in the car. Donghyuck's eyes flicker to Renjun, sitting diagonally in front of him, catching sight of the time on his phone.

Twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes, and then Donghyuck can properly fall apart. Can tip over from the way he's on the edge.

Jaemin does his best to keep Donghyuck engaged throughout the car ride, scrolling through his Instagram feed and letting Donghyuck see it all. Switching between apps, trying to keep Donghyuck focused on anything but the way time is passing so slowly.

Jisung makes over-enthusiastic conversation during the ride, obviously doing his best to accomodate for the fact Donghyuck is basically disconnected from his body. Jeno, Renjun and Chenle also do their best to join in, grabbing onto the mundane conversation points like a lifeline.

The restaurant the others are dropped off at is on the way — just a quick detour, all of them scrambling out of the car as they're dropped on the sidewalk. Donghyuck catches a quick, worried glance that Jisung sends his way.

But Jeno takes his arm and tugs him onto the sidewalk with a shake of his head. Donghyuck knows that they're all concerned, but they're giving Donghyuck as much space as they can provide, giving Donghyuck the illusion like they're not seeing him fall apart.

Jaemin mentioned it, Donghyuck figures. He's mentioned that Donghyuck needs space, that he hates other people seeing him like this. And they all trust Jaemin enough to handle it.

Donghyuck manages a wave before Jeno shuts the door, giving his own in return as the car drives off again. It's only a couple of minutes away from the dorm building, and Jaemin does his best to keep his mind off it all.

When the car pulls up, Jaemin unbuckles his seatbelt for him. He takes Donghyuck's hand, tugging him up without giving Donghyuck the chance to lament about how much his body aches, how much he wants to just stay sitting down and maybe meld into one with the car seat.

Their manager doesn't follow them up. Jaemin tugs Donghyuck along, keeping his feet moving one after the other until they reach the elevator.

Just a little longer, Donghyuck recites to himself. He just has to wait until they're down the hallway, into Jaemin's dorm, the door shut behind them.

It's roughly only twenty steps. But after everything, Donghyuck isn't too sure he can handle that.

He stumbles once, right at the doorway. His legs are starting to give up on him, he thinks. His knees are going to buckle under the weight of holding him up, and he’s going to tumble to the floor and never be able to get up.

Jaemin tuts at him, and Donghyuck is so beyond the point of exhaustion that he thinks he's almost delirious. He goes to laugh at the sound, but it gets clogged in his chest, and a horrible mix of a laugh and some kind of sob blend together and choke past his lips.

Once Jaemin puts in the code and opens the door, Donghyuck forces his body to move forward.

Donghyuck has been in worse states than this. He's been in one in front of Jaemin before too. It makes this less daunting, at least. Last time, he hadn't even been able to walk properly. His basic functions had escaped him, slipping through shaking limbs and a distant mind, and Jaemin had helped him through that.

Donghyuck is on auto-pilot, slipping off his shoes at the door. He's able to do this much, at least. He's been worse.

But then he stops, because a realisation slams into him: if he takes another step, he might just collapse.

Jaemin is in front of him, hands gripping Donghyuck's arms.

Donghyuck's control is slipping away, and Jaemin is right there to take it from him.

"Make-up," Jaemin says decisively. "Let's wash up now, so you don't have to worry tomorrow."

No, Donghyuck wants to say. But the word clogs his throat, an ugly mutilation that turns into a quiet whimper. I can't.

One of Jaemin's hands come up, fingers brushing away Donghyuck's hair — it's stiff, still full of product that he knows he should wash out. The thought of having to stay standing for that long, to deal with something else, almost has him drop.

Jaemin leans forward, pressing a light kiss to Donghyuck's forehead.

"Come on," he mutters, pulling away to give Donghyuck a gentle tug in the direction of his bathroom. "It'll be quick."

But any minute longer, any second longer, that Donghyuck has to stay present in his body and feel the exhaustion that's clawing at his bones, feels too long.

There's something like a sob clawing its way up from the deepest part of his chest, where he's stored all the emotions and exhaustion that he’s pushed down in order to cope with everything. Something dredged up from the worst of everything, something that threatens to crack and spill open and take over.

Jaemin pulls him along, and Donghyuck's feet follow. There's no other option, even though Donghyuck is so tired. He's so tired of there needing to be an option.

Jaemin's keeping up a running commentary, providing something for Donghyuck's senses to grab onto in an attempt to hold on. "Okay, and now just through here, there we go! Alright here we go, pants off-"

Every movement feels like a monumental effort, every single stretch of his limbs sapping up his energy entirely. He bites down on his lip with every harsh breath, trying to keep the mess of buried emotions from rising up any further.

Jaemin helps him out of his clothes, and Donghyuck is just too tired to think about the usual awareness of being naked in front of Jaemin.

They've seen it all before, in many different contexts. But this is the hardest — to be bare in front of Jaemin, in a way so entirely vulnerable.

Jaemin, though, doesn't falter at the sight of all of Donghyuck's skin. He turns the water on, letting it warm up as he reaches into a bathroom cabinet, pulling out his balm cleanser.

He spreads it on Donghyuck's cheeks and temple, fingers gently smoothing it into Donghyuck's skin. His thumbs brush over Donghyuck's eyes, getting them to close before he properly tries to work the balm into the makeup on Donghyuck's eyes.

"Okay, let's get you under the water," Jaemin says, and Donghyuck doesn't bother opening his eyes. He just lets Jaemin guide him into the shower blindly, head tilting back once he feels the water hit his hair.

Jaemin's fingers are still on his skin, moving up again to rub the balm in a bit more before properly letting it wash off, the makeup melting and disappearing with it. Jaemin's fingers brush over Donghyuck's eyelashes, wiping the water away from them.

Donghyuck slowly blinks his eyes open, though he wants nothing more than to sink down further into the darkness and let himself rest.

It's hitting him, now. With Jaemin here, ready to help. It's okay to rest with Jaemin here.

"Jaem..." He trails off, and Jaemin hums, hands reaching out to steady Donghyuck as he starts to waver.

"Sit down," Jaemin suggests, though it's something more of a command as he starts to move down himself, pulling Donghyuck's weight with him. Donghyuck's knees are shaking, and he fears they'll give out before he can safely lower himself down.

Jaemin keeps him at an even pace though, making sure he doesn't drop down too fast. "Easy, easy. There we go."

Donghyuck tilts to the shower wall, letting it keep the weight of his head up. Jaemin's frowning, fingers reaching out there like he's about to cushion Donghyuck's temple against the tile.

His hand drops though, looking at Donghyuck and studying him for a moment before giving a smile.

"Baby," he says softly. "My baby."

Donghyuck hums a reply, though it's dangerous with everything swirling in his chest.

Jaemin detaches the shower head, pulling it down so that it's closer to Donghyuck's level. His fingers come up to guide Donghyuck's head back a little, still leaning against the wall.

The water runs through Donghyuck's hair, mixing with all the products in the strands. Jaemin does his best to keep the water out of Donghyuck's eyes, and Donghyuck does his best to help by tilting his head back a little more.

Jaemin's fingers come around to support his head, guiding him away from the wall so that he can get to the spot Donghyuck has been resting on. Donghyuck keeps his eyes closed, pliable in whichever way Jaemin moves him. Jaemin's fingers run through his hair, making sure it's properly washed before he sets the shower head down.

He keeps the water running against Donghyuck's back, letting the warmth of it loosen up the tense muscles, giving Donghyuck's usual ache in his back a bit of relief.

Donghyuck feels exhausted, but like he's too tired to even rest. Even now, where the warmth of the shower and the touch of Jaemin's comfort should be enough to easily lull him into a peaceful sleep, it remains elusive.

He blinks his eyes open to see Jaemin standing, reaching up for the washcloth he's left hanging. Donghyuck notices that he's slipped off his shirt, leaving it in the corner of the bathroom to try and avoid it getting wet.

"You should shower too," Donghyuck mutters, and Jaemin gives him an easy smile.

"I will later," he promises, putting body wash on the cloth. He works quickly, raising Donghyuck's limbs and getting to as many places as he can while Donghyuck is sitting.

He stretches out one of Donghyuck's arms, pulling his hand a little closer. Donghyuck can see him looking over his nails, and he grimaces. He knows they're bad — awful, honestly. The habit gets worse when he's too tired to try and stop himself from doing it.

Jaemin doesn't bring it up though, just carefully washes around the red-bitten skin. The whole wash is quick — the purpose is mostly just to wash off the sweat from today's performance, to get rid of all the products that have accumulated on his skin. It's not the greatest, and there's spots that Jaemin is too far to reach and Donghyuck is too tired to move, but it's better than nothing at all.

Jaemin works confidently and quickly, knowing how to deal with Donghyuck and how much he can take. It's a very different picture from the first time this had happened — before Donghyuck had come to Jaemin's door, falling apart at the seams and unable to even describe what he needed.

A time before that, when Donghyuck had lashed out, and Jaemin had closed off. Donghyuck wasn't communicating, and Jaemin wasn't able to understand.

An echo of a conversation echoes in Donghyuck's ears, a memory that won't slip easily from his mind. A time where exhaustion clung to Donghyuck, making his tone quick and sharp, his tongue harsh.

"Stop trying to pick fights with me, Donghyuck-ah," Jaemin's tone hadn't given much away, carefully void of emotion, but Donghyuck had seen the cold gaze Jaemin levelled at him. "I just want to help."

Defending himself, hiding the hurt that Donghyuck knew he'd been the cause of.

"I don't need help," Donghyuck had gritted out, because he'd been upset that Jaemin could see that he needed it.

They'd been on the cusp of dating at that time. Exclusive to each other, just without any official labels, both of them just waiting for a time where their schedules could settle down and they could figure it all out.

And Donghyuck didn't want Jaemin to see the way he'd get when he was tired, the way he'd shut down on his own. He didn't want Jaemin to have any doubts about their relationship, about the person he'd chosen to work towards dating.

Jaemin's expression had eased at the words though, something in Donghyuck's tone obviously slipping. The coldness in Jaemin's expression softened, tone opening up with other careful cadences.

"It's okay to need help, Donghyuck-ah," Jaemin had told him. "Everyone does sometimes."

He'd been right — and now here he is, helping to give Donghyuck the space so that he can shatter, and then the time to help him rebuild.

Jaemin picks up the showerhead again, letting the water wash the lather of soap down the drain.

"How're you going?" Jaemin asks — a certain prompt to pull Donghyuck back into the present, not yet letting him go too far.

It's just meant to be a little nudge, just a check-in.

"I'm just so fucking tired."

His voice breaks.

This is the moment where he shatters.

Everything he's buried trudges up all at once, his chest caving open and letting everything go. Admitting it aloud is the final defence falling; there's no stopping it all from coming forth now.

His breathing is ragged, torn up from everything rising up in his throat like glass. He's shaking, maybe, body trembling with the effort of everything overcoming him.

"I know, I know," Jaemin is quietly saying, words a soothing reassurance. He's keeping the water running, letting it fall from Donghyuck's shoulders and down his chest.

The warmth of it just feels like it's opening up whatever is left in his chest, dislodging everything that he's been holding onto. Jaemin's fingers rub over Donghyuck's heart gently, a weighted comfort in the midst of everything.

Jaemin lets him sit in the shower for a bit more time than either of them likely intended. Donghyuck is just on the shower floor, curled up and pressed against the wall, chest shuddering with every exhausted breath.

Jaemin's thumbs swipe at Donghyuck's cheeks, and Donghyuck realises there's tears falling, mixing in with the water.

He didn't think he'd even have the energy for tears, but it seems like his body is truly just letting everything out. He's not properly crying, but it's something close — heaving sobs, tears falling, it almost may as well be.

Jaemin shuts off the water, hands reaching out to grasp Donghyuck's arms. Donghyuck just shakes his head, almost curling further away from Jaemin.

He doesn't think his weight will support him. He doesn't want to get up — he just wants to lie here, even though the warmth of the water is quickly leaving, even though he knows he should stand.

It'll just be easier, if he just lies here and never stands up. If he just lets himself fall apart and crumble into nothing, like he'll disappear down the drain as well if he breaks apart into small enough pieces.

"I'm going to get you up," Jaemin says, and it isn't a suggestion. The tone of it is a little easier to sink in though — Donghyuck doesn't have to do this on his own.

Jaemin takes most of his weight, careful on the slippery tiles. He lets out a relieved breath once Donghyuck is standing, then is quick to swaddle him in a towel, wrapping it around his shoulders like a blanket.

He manages to get Donghyuck standing on the bathroom mat, quickly patting him dry. Donghyuck almost does start properly crying at the sight of his underwear that Jaemin has laid out.

Just something else to do, just another task that requires too much energy, and something so mundane that Donghyuck can't even bear to think about doing right now.

"I know baby," Jaemin soothes, towel running through Donghyuck's hair. "Just a little bit more."

Donghyuck bites down on his lip, eyes squeezing shut to try and stop the frustrated tears. Jaemin does move quickly, at least. Donghyuck is unsteady as he lifts his legs for Jaemin to guide his boxer shorts into, but Jaemin makes sure he doesn't stumble.

They don't bother with any more clothes, even though Jaemin has also brought in an oversized shirt of his. But he seems to sense that Donghyuck is unable to handle the thought of it, so he leaves it on the counter as he directs Donghyuck out.

He's basically holding up most of Donghyuck's weight, the only thing keeping him upright as they walk from the bathroom. Jaemin eases him down onto the bed, grabbing pillows and stacking them against the headrest, propping most of Donghyuck's upper body up.

Jaemin presses a kiss to his forehead, then quickly makes his way back into the bathroom. Donghyuck still feels like his insides are being torn up, in a body that's both too heavy and all too light. Detached, and yet all too grounded.

Jaemin comes back into the room with a hairdryer in his hands, which Donghyuck doesn't take half as badly as seeing the clothes on the counter. It's better, now, off his feet and propped up without his own effort.

Plugging the hairdryer in at the side of his bed, Jaemin sits on the edge of it, right near Donghyuck's side. Jaemin's fingers come up through Donghyuck's hair again. He keeps the setting low, more gentle with Donghyuck's hair than he himself usually ever is.

Jaemin leans forward, pressing another kiss to Donghyuck's forehead. He settles back for a moment, carefully watching for Donghyuck's reaction, before he leans forward again and starts to press kisses on his cheeks, nose, at the corner of his lips.

The hairdryer is still going, Jaemin's fingers still moving through his hair to judge how dry it is before moving to the next section. He's still kissing Donghyuck's face, even though he'd usually be fretting about Donghyuck's skincare.

But he must know that Donghyuck needs the comfort, because he doesn't stop doing it. Donghyuck melts back into the pillows, letting everything wash over him.

The break has happened — everything has spilled out, and now he feels hollow. Empty. Like he's broken into pieces, and now he does not have the energy to put them back together.

He's more exhausted than he's felt all week. But there's weight that's come off his shoulders, the swirling pit that's been inside of him has emptied out.

It's not a bad thing, now that it's gone, now there's nothing left. It means he can rebuild again, means he'll be able to move forward without that feeling weighing him down.

"You've done so well," Jaemin says, right into the ear that isn't as close to the hairdryer. "You always do so well. You're okay, you'll be alright."

There's another shaky inhale, but Donghyuck holds onto that breath, letting it fill and expand his lungs before he exhales it. It's steadier, just a little. Just enough.

"Thank you," he manages to say quietly. Jaemin ducks his head a little to hear it.

Jaemin presses a kiss to his lips this time — just a quick one of his own, with no need for Donghyuck to kiss back.

Donghyuck has been told before by Jaemin. That there's nothing to thank him for, that Jaemin doesn't need those words.

But Donghyuck needs to say them, and Jaemin needs to hear them.

"I love you," Jaemin says, right after he switches off the hairdryer.

Jaemin has always had a way of disarming him with those words. When it's like this, dripping in affection and so heavily saturated with sincerity.

Donghyuck swallows down a knot in his throat. "I love you too."

Jaemin smiles at him, attempting to place the hairdryer down onto the headboard. It doesn't quite balance though, rocking forward and at risk of falling. Jaemin huffs, voice rising in pitch as he complains at the hairdryer like it can hear him.

"I'll be back in a moment," Jaemin finally relents, unplugging it and wrapping up the cord. He gives Donghyuck another quick kiss on the forehead before he walks to the bathroom, and Donghyuck listens out for the clattering of it being put away.

He doesn't think he'll be able to sink any further into the pillows he's braced against, but something that's been tight in his chest finally relaxes, finally lets go, as Jaemin walks back into the room and gives Donghyuck a warm smile.

"How's my baby?" Jaemin asks, gently getting Donghyuck to shuffle over to be closer to the wall.

Donghyuck tries to lean forward as Jaemin goes to move the pillows, but Jaemin stops him from having to hold up his own weight, keeping him up with a supportive hand on his back before slowly lowering him back.

"Just wan' sleep," Donghyuck mumbles, and Jaemin hums sympathetically.

"Then let's go to sleep," Jaemin replies gently.

Donghyuck wants to agree — he should agree. But Jaemin’s promise comes to mind, and he knows that Jaemin hates climbing into bed without having showered.

It’s considerate of Jaemin to forgo his usual shower just to be beside Donghyuck, but Donghyuck doesn’t like the idea of Jaemin sacrificing something else for him.

“Go shower,” Donghyuck says quietly. Jaemin has walked over to the lightswitch, ready to turn it off, but stops.

He can tell there’s a question burning on Jaemin’s tongue, a certain dip in his eyebrows — are you sure?

Jaemin doesn’t ask, and Donghyuck doesn’t need to answer. Jaemin presses his lips together for a moment, then hurries over to his drawer to pull out some clothes for himself.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises Donghyuck, hurrying into the bathroom. He leaves the door open as he showers, and Donghyuck can hear the way Jaemin is practically flinging bottles around with his frantic pace.

He’d laugh, if he had the energy. Instead he just curls up a little more, eyelids slowly blinking. Even they feel sore, a weighted type of bruise pressing down on them, making every single movement hard.

Jaemin showers and dries his hair in record time. Donghyuck’s pretty sure he’s missed some steps from his skincare in his hurry, but he doesn’t have the energy to bring it up.

Jaemin walks out, dressed in his sleepwear and his hair looking a little ridiculous, cheeks red with either the way he’d frantically rubbed in his skincare or from the heat of the water. He rubs in the last of his moisturiser as he goes over to flick off the main bedroom light. The lights on the headboard remain on, which Donghyuck is thankful for.

Jaemin lifts up the blanket, making sure it covers Donghyuck properly before he slips under it as well. Donghyuck manages to roll onto his side, Jaemin carefully watching him.

Donghyuck blinks at Jaemin, and Jaemin only takes a moment to figure out Donghyuck's silent request. Jaemin shuffles closer, lifting up one of Donghyuck's arms and slipping under it.

He moves a little higher, so that Donghyuck's head rests against his chest. Jaemin slips his arm underneath under Donghyuck's pillow, then brings the other over Donghyuck, hand resting back so his fingers can lightly comb through Donghyuck's hair.

It's a little different to how they usually end up sleeping — usually Jaemin has his back to Donghyuck, letting Donghyuck just hold him while they sleep to satisfy Donghyuck's urge to cuddle something. Facing each other is different, a lot more intimate, their breaths almost mingling together.

He's also pretty sure Jaemin is going to lose the feeling in the arm lying underneath Donghyuck's pillow, but he figures Jaemin knows that, so he doesn't bother pointing it out.

Donghyuck's exhausted, but still he does not fall into sleep. Even when in Jaemin's hold, even after Jaemin has so carefully and safely let him fall apart tonight.

Jaemin's fingers are still working through Donghyuck's hair, meaning he's still awake as well. Donghyuck breathes in a ragged breath, thinking he's already shattered so entirely, has already broken apart.

But he still might have something to give, if he's caught up in the whirlwind of his thoughts any longer, if he isn't able to sleep. Donghyuck is being slowly put back together again, under Jaemin's tender and careful fingers, but he might have just built himself up only to fall again.

"My parents want us to visit again soon," Jaemin whispers, voice cutting through Donghyuck's thoughts, cutting down all the tension that had been building again.

They've only been able to visit Jaemin's family once, after they started dating.

Neither of their parents had flinched, thankfully, when they had introduced each other as their boyfriend. Jaemin's parents had just welcomed Donghyuck into their family as they always have, but they've hardly been able to visit either of their families lately.

"My mum's such a big fan of you," Jaemin sighs playfully. "She was going to call you, actually, to compliment you on the new album. I told her you'd like that, but she got nervous."

Donghyuck feels a smile settle on his lips. He takes a deep breath, feeling himself settle a little more into the comfort of Jaemin and his words.

"She can't be any prouder of you than I am though," Jaemin adds, and Donghyuck feels another kiss being pressed to the top of his head. "I've known you for so many years, have always watched you practice, but you amaze me every time."

Donghyuck doesn't have any energy to commit to anything more than a light grunt. Jaemin shakes a little with laughter, but then presses Donghyuck closer.

"Really," Jaemin insists, words sincere.

It's different, Donghyuck thinks. Usually Jaemin pieces Donghyuck back together again with his hands, with all his care and love shown through his actions.

Usually, the words are light between them in these scenarios. Maybe a little affectionate teasing, if the mood is alright for it. Jaemin and Donghyuck have just always shown their love through words with bickering and banter.

But tonight Jaemin is telling him all these things, words as soft and gentle as his fingers, and Donghyuck thinks it's strange, but it's also what he needs tonight.

Jaemin knows him best, after all. How to help him fall apart, and then how to build him back up again.

"We're doing so well, Donghyuckie. You're doing so well. And we'll continue to do well, and we'll be alright. We'll move out together, though Jisung will likely sleep on our couch anyway, and Renjun will knock every other day with Doyoung. And we'll have a dog or two, and we'll go on walks with Chenle around the neighbourhood."

Donghyuck feels like he's holding his breath, trying to hold onto everything about this moment — the way the image of Jaemin's words play at the front of his mind, the possibility of their future. Together.

"And of course Mark will follow you wherever you go," Jaemin continues. "And Jeno will miss us if he doesn't see us every week. We'll be together, but we'll have everyone else too. And we'll all be fine, and you'll be alright, and everything will be okay."

Everything will be okay.

Donghyuck slowly releases the breath he's been holding. The type of hollowing exhale that leaves nothing behind, just an emptiness that needs to be filled.

And so Donghyuck takes a deep breath, lets it expand his lungs and fill his chest.

Jaemin is here, and piece by piece, Donghyuck will rebuild.