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It was the much too bright fluorescent lighting in the mall. It was the complexity of all the voices overlapping with other voices and other voices and sounds and more voices. It was the overwhelming smells from the food court and the Bath & Body Works and Yankee Candle stores, the way the different scents clouded in his head and made it pound. It was how crowded the mall was that day, the way people kept brushing against Jungkook as they walked by him, his clothes rubbing unbearably against his skin. There were strangers so close to him, he could practically feel their breath on his neck and their germs seeping through the fabric of his shirt and it made his skin crawl.
It was awful timing on his part. The mall was apparently busiest at noon on the weekend, packed with families and friend groups on shopping expeditions. It was terrible planning. Jungkook had forgotten everything he needed to survive this trip; he could picture the exact place he’d left his sensory kit hanging by the door with the coats. No sensory kit meant no tinted glasses, no ear defenders, and no fidgets.
It was supposed to be a quick trip. All he needed to do was return the sweater Seokjin gifted him in the wrong size (read: technically Jungkook’s correct size, but he liked clothes that were loose and roomy) and exchange it for one that fit better. Hoseok offered to come with him, but Jungkook told him he could manage it by himself, no problem. Except he left in a hurry, eager to get done with the task and come back home to a lazy Saturday afternoon spent drowning in Hoseok cuddles and watching documentaries on musk oxen and penguins and lynxes. So yeah, Jungkook had other very important things on his mind when he left and the sensory kit was forgotten.
The trip was supposed to be quick. Jungkook had planned to be in and out of the mall in 15 minutes tops. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that the store he needed to go into would be packed and the employees would be swamped. He didn’t account for there being a long line to stand in for returns, a line where the person who stood behind him had no concept of personal space and stood with the fronts of their shoes touching the heels of his own so he was forced to scoot closer and closer to the person in front of him. And when it was finally his turn to return his sweater, he most certainly didn’t account for one in his size to be ‘somewhere in the back’ and for the employee to get sidetracked and take forever looking for it because they were also looking for ten other items for different customers.
So now, Jungkook was standing here in a crowded store with people darting back and forth around him, brushing against him, bumping into him and he was trying very hard to take up as little space as possible by drawing in on himself so they wouldn’t touch him. He was listening to their chittering voices melt together into an indiscernible mass of incomprehensible conversation, everyone feeling the need to talk louder than the person next to them to be heard over each other. He tried really hard to just focus on the music that was playing through the store speakers, but his brain couldn’t separate it from every other sound and the radio cut to static too often for it to be helpful so he resorted instead to covering his ears with his hands. He was still tightly holding his receipt in his left one so he didn’t lose it and the crinkle of it against his ear made him want to scream.
His eyes hurt. He blinked by squeezing them shut hard and then opening them. He did this a few times before settling on squinting to block out the harsh fluorescents. His nose was still being assaulted by the many different mall smells, including now the perfume of the woman waiting beside him. She had applied way too much of it and he felt it with the ache of his head up between his eyes every time he took a breath, could practically taste it on his tongue too.
Usually when he got this overwhelmed, he completely zoned out. It was impossible to dissociate now when he had a task he really needed to complete.
But it was all too much. He couldn’t handle it. He was trying so hard not to cry because it was always beyond embarrassing to cry in public, but he couldn’t help it. He felt a lot like a volcano, erupting and exploding with all that built up tension. He was way too overwhelmed to hold back his tears and the humiliation of people starting to look at him only made it worse. Crying did nothing to help the squeeze of his brain like it sometimes did though. There was too much pressure. Instinctively, one of his hands came away from his ear and he brought it forcefully back against the side of his head, again and again and now more people were looking at him, just watching in disbelief and curiosity and whispering to each other about him like he was some freak show exhibit.
Except for Perfume Lady. She got closer, too close and reached out to grab his shoulder. He tried to dodge her hand, but wasn’t able to and now she had a firm grip on him.
Jungkook dropped himself onto the floor just to get away from the touch. Sitting on the dirty store tile was a last resort, but here he was. He tried not to think about how many people had walked with filthy shoes over the very spot he had collapsed.
He pulled his knees up by his chest so he could bury his face in them. This at least blocked out the lights and hid his red eyes and wet cheeks from the people staring. Then Jungkook made himself rock while he continued crying and hitting himself, back and forth. It was soothing, but not nearly soothing enough and there was still that awful built up pressure. He still felt too many eyes on him which was more distressing to him than his initial sensory situation.
Perfume Lady followed him to the ground. Apparently, she didn’t get the hint that he didn’t want to be touched and needed space. She was on her knees in front of him asking him what the matter was and why he was acting out this way. “Calm down! You need to calm down!” She told him over and over, but it wasn’t that easy. Her hands wrapped around his wrists as she tried to hold his arms still so he couldn’t hurt himself anymore and Jungkook squirmed and pulled back, attempting to escape from her constraint.
GetoffofmeGetoffofmeGetoffofme-
He meant to say this, but the words came out as nothing but a shout, which startled the woman if the way she jumped was any indication, but she didn’t budge. It felt impossible to speak through the tightness of his throat, impossible to muster up the bit of energy it would take to form a sentence. Great. Fucking perfect. He was nonverbal. Not having his sensory kit also meant not having his communication cards. Not that he’d even think to use them in this state if he did have them.
He really needed to leave, but he didn’t have his sweater yet. He needed to get home, wash his hands and strip out of his icky Outside Clothes with the germs of strangers and the store floor on them. He needed Hoseok, who would know exactly what to do to help him. Who would silently close the bedroom blinds, hand him his headphones, and wrap him in the safety of his weighted comforter. Who would get Jungkook cold water in one of those bottles with the chewy straws, leave it on the nightstand, and then give him the space he needed to meltdown. Who would care for him when it was all over and then cuddle up with him and Bam in bed. He needed to get rid of this pressure in his head. He needed to stim.
What Jungkook did not need was this stranger restraining him, this woman handling him like she would a child throwing a temper tantrum. This was not a tantrum. He couldn’t just ‘calm down’ and stop a meltdown. It wouldn’t stop until he was no longer overwhelmed by his environment. How was he supposed to communicate any of this though? He did the only thing he really could do at that moment and cried harder, screamed, shook his arms violently hoping she would just let him fucking go. She was holding him tighter though, still asking him questions, still trying to talk and reason with him. None of it registered anymore.
In the moment, it did not matter to Jungkook that she was likely doing what she thought would be most helpful because she didn’t know any better. It did not matter that she was the only one who cared enough to even try to help, however misguided and unwanted her ‘help’ was. He couldn’t focus on that, or anything really, other than the sensory overload he was experiencing. All that mattered to him was that she wasn’t letting him stim the way he felt he needed to. All that mattered was the anxiety swelling in his chest and the nerves under his skin buzzing with overwhelm and the intolerable strain on his brain. He needed somewhere to go with it all. He needed an outlet and she was denying him of it, wasn’t releasing him no matter how much he jerked and pulled away from her.
“Yah! Leave him alone! Can’t you see he doesn’t want you touching him?”
“Excuse me, that’s our friend. We’ll help him.”
Those were voices Jungkook recognized. He didn’t have to pick his head up to see Yoongi and Namjoon. It was a coincidence, just them being at the right place at the right time. Or rather, the wrong place at one of the worst times, but either way, Jungkook was grateful for them showing up, was grateful that the woman had released him and let them take over.
They didn’t lay a finger on him, not even as he began knocking his fists against his head again without the woman’s obstruction. They’d seen this before, only a few times, but still, they knew better than to try to directly intervene with the stim.
They were on the floor too, kneeling far enough away that Jungkook at least finally had the space to breathe. “Jungkook? Honey? Can you talk to us? What’s going on?” Yoongi’s voice was low and smooth, the way he’d witnessed Hoseok talk to Jungkook when he got like this.
Jungkook wanted to tell him. Really he did. But words were still very difficult to form so he ended up wailing instead. When they didn’t get more of a response than that, Namjoon, maybe rhetorically, asked, “Are you verbal?”
Jungkook signed no by tapping his thumb to his first and middle fingers - he could manage that; simple yes or no questions were good, - and shook his head. He found that shaking his head, if he did it violently enough, felt like relief so he kept doing it.
“Can we help you get somewhere more private, Kook?” Namjoon asked, knowing that Jungkook hated melting down in public, or melting down in front of anyone for that matter. These moments were very vulnerable for him, made him feel helpless and he didn’t want others to see him that way.
Jungkook sobbed again because, his sweater! He signed no again. And again. And a few more times. As much as he did want to be anywhere but in the crowded mall store where strangers were still making a spectacle out of him, he couldn’t just leave. The employee hadn’t come back with a sweater in the size he asked for yet. Jungkook had one job and he didn’t want to return home empty handed, didn’t want all of this to be for nothing. He didn’t like being as incapable as he felt most times.
He cried harder at the thought that he really was that incapable that he couldn’t just go to the mall by himself and do what should have been an easy return and exchange for a single item without getting overloaded and breaking down. He wanted to be independent.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi was frowning at the reaction, Jungkook could hear it in his voice. He looked up, only to train his bleary eyes on Yoongi’s mouth to confirm that he was worrying his hyungs and he hated himself for not being able to stop crying and just calmly tell them why he couldn’t leave yet. “Do you still need something from the store?”
He knocked one of his fists for yes followed with the signed pull down of an imaginary sweater and then made the signal for the letter F with both hands, held one out and one towards his chest and switched them for trade, but Namjoon and Yoongi only looked at each other, confused.
“Ah, I don’t know that one,” Namjoon said apologetically.
Jungkook choked in his frustration, kept signing trade in hopes that one of them would put it together. They didn’t.
Namjoon seemed to notice something though. He leaned towards Jungkook and he leaned away instinctively, thinking that the other was going to try to comfort him with physical touch which he really couldn’t handle any more of right now. But to his surprise, Namjoon reached for something on the ground next to him.
He held up Jungkook’s receipt (Jungkook wondered at what point he had dropped it) and read over it.
“Hm, medium. You probably wanted this in a large though, right?” Namjoon assumed, knowing Jungkook preferred his clothing to be loose. He got it. Thank God.
Jungkook knocked, relieved, and made a sound in the back of his throat. They understood why he needed to stay.
“I can stay and do the exchange for you, Kook,” Yoongi offered kindly. “You probably took the train here... Joon can take you to our car so you can get away from all of this. I’ll be out as soon as I have it and we can take you home, okay?”
They didn’t get it after all. Jungkook cried exasperatedly. He wanted to do this by himself.
“Please let us help you,” Yoongi said. There was still worry in the turn of his lips. “The sooner you get out of the mall, the sooner you’ll feel better. Can I do the exchange for you?”
Yoongi was right. Of course he was. The sooner Jungkook got out of here, the sooner his meltdown would be over and the sooner he could go home and the sooner he could cuddle with Hoseok and Bam. He did need to get out of here. That didn’t make it any less crushing for him to have failed his task. It didn’t make Jungkook any less upset and disappointed with himself. He knocked his fist though, let Namjoon lead him out of the mall and take him to Yoongi’s car and left the thing he should have been capable enough to do on his own to his hyung.
Namjoon was playing a podcast for him about thick-billed murres and Jungkook was laying in the back seat, still crying, still stimming, but he was feeling a lot better than he was in the mall. Sensory wise. He bit at the peeling skin of his cuticles. Hoseok would tell him he needed to drink more water. He finally allowed himself to dissociate though, let himself float uselessly on the monotonous words of the biologist speaking through Namjoon’s podcast. Useless. Yeah, that’s what he was. He signed it to himself with two okay gestures that flick away to open hands and Jungkook liked the way the flick felt so he flicked useless more.
“Jungkook,” Namjoon tried to get his attention and Jungkook looked lazily up at the rearview mirror the man was looking at him through, focused on the pinch of his eyebrows. “You’re not useless. You know that, right?”
Oh, so that sign Namjoon knew. Jungkook signed it again spitefully.
“Everyone needs help sometimes and that’s what friends are for. There’s no shame in needing a little help either. Remember when Yoongi and I needed your help taking care of Monie and Holly so we could go on vacation for a week? You did an amazing job and you dusted and watered our plants too which was going above and beyond what we asked of you. You’re not useless.”
Jungkook let that sink in. Everyone needed help sometimes. No shame. Sometimes, Jungkook was the one helping others. Maybe he wasn’t completely useless.
Jungkook wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Yoongi came back, but eventually, he had a large sweater and they were pulling out of the mall’s parking lot.
When Yoongi and Namjoon dropped him off at home, he signed thank you and I’m sorry to them. He felt horrible about inconveniencing them on their outing. He ruined their day.
“You don’t have to apologize, Kook. We love you and we were happy to be there for you.” Yoongi assured him and there wasn't any worry on his lips anymore, but a soft smile that told Jungkook he meant what he said. He really loved his friends too, appreciated them more than he’d ever be able to tell them, even when he was verbal again.
Jungkook was exhausted after the emotional and overwhelming day he’d had. Hoseok immediately noticed this, noticed that Jungkook was not the bubbly self he’d left their apartment as. Later, he would probably ask Jungkook what happened and Jungkook would be able to tell him.
For now though, Hoseok gave him the space he knew he’d need. Jungkook took a very quick shower to rid any trace of mall from his skin, changed into comfy pajamas, crawled into bed, and promptly fell asleep.
Jungkook woke up hours later, in the middle of the night, with Hoseok sleeping soundly next to him and Bam curled up at the foot of their bed. He leaned closer into Hoseok’s side, pressed right up against him and moved the older’s arm so it would drape over him. He felt Hoseok’s hold tighten slightly, perhaps subconsciously because when Jungkook checked, his boyfriend was still sleeping, but the pressure of it across his chest felt nice.
He laid there, reflecting on the day, on the things Namjoon had said to him earlier. It was good, knowing that even on the days he felt most useless, there were people who still loved him and cared about him. He didn’t have to be totally capable every second of every day in order to earn that love and care. He could need help sometimes, just like everyone else needed help sometimes. And that was okay. There wasn’t shame in asking for or accepting help.
He let himself drift back off to sleep, nuzzling close into Hoseok’s warmth and feeling better about himself.