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Seungmin sniffles quietly, curling further into himself under his fuzzy blanket as more sobs slip past his trembling lips. His head hurts; it pounds painfully whenever he shifts just the slightest, and he feels so, so exhausted, like all of his energy has been drained, eyes heavy and swollen. After a whole hour of nonstop crying, he doesn't even care about the wetness in his pillow, carelessly pressing his puffy face into it to helplessly muffle his sobs.
He knows it's his fault and no one else's. These insecurities and uncertainties. They're all his fault, and he knows that. He also knows that, mostly, they're not true. He is aware that he is still in this team, and has been since the beginning, for a reason, and he wouldn't still be if he weren't good enough and loved and useful. And he doesn't doubt his members' love, he— no, he could never doubt it when they've been nothing but great to him for all these past five years.
Yet, he still does all the same, wondering from time to time if, perhaps, the others are getting exhausted of him. Deep down, he knows that no, they aren't, but his emotional, insecure side allows him not break from the spiraling he constantly puts himself under. And it's so tiring.
With tiredness washing over him and the tears finally coming to a stop after a long while, Seungmin tries to not think about it anymore, busying himself with hugging his comforter to his chest as if it were a teddy bear, fingers going up to his mouth so he can nibble at his nails, taking shuddering breaths, and staring at the closed door blankly. It does work, in fact, for a few relievingly drawn-out moments, and he doesn't think about it anymore as much as he can.
He tries to think about schedules instead, about yesterday's vocal training, about their new, upcoming songs, softly and faintly humming to Can't Stop, and just lays there, limbs feeling way too heavy with exhaustion when he turns his back to the door.
Seungmin almost thinks he can take a nap, maybe, and recharge his energies. He's cried nearly everything off of his chest, so now maybe—
Then, he hears Minho's giggles, followed by Felix's, then Jeongin's. Sweet, soothing sounds, usually something so lovely to hear, wrapping his heart in fondness and warmth and easing his tension.
This time, though, it does nothing to soothe his anxious pondering, and Seungmin feels so, so disgustingly selfish as the tears start welling up his eyes again, another ugly, broken sob breaking through his lips, and he hopelessly thinks that they sound so much happier without me there. I'm a burden. They don't need me.
And, God, he knows that is not true. But it somewhat sounds like it, and feels so believable in his head.
Somewhere in his twisted mind, some part of him wishes he was never part of Stray Kids, just so he wouldn't feel like this, even though it is none of their fault, and he doesn't really mean it. (He loves being part of his team and loves being on stage, he could never really mean it). It's a quick thought, so sudden, and he pushes it to the back of his mind, one more pained sob ripping its way through his chapped, bitten-out trembling lips at the thought alone.
Seungmin doesn't know why he feels so frustratingly overwhelmed and insecure today especially, and it's just too much. He's getting dizzy, so dizzy, and he wants it to stop. He wants the tears to stop, he wants the thoughts to stop, he wants to be held, to be loved, to be told he is good, and, fuck, he can't breathe. He can't breathe. He can't breathe, he can't— can't—
"Seungmo?" Minho's voice echoes, sweet, careful, and full of something Seungmin doesn't usually catch in it, and can't pinpoint exactly what it is.
He hadn't even heard the steps nearing his room, nor the door opening, and he doesn't even turn around, shrinking further into himself and letting out a broken sound, something between a sob, a whimper, and a desperate gasp. Seungmin closes his eyes when his head spins again. His hands shake more as the air doesn't feel his lungs no matter how much he tries to pull it in. It's too much. Too much, and he's going to die. He'll die, and—
The mattress dips behind his quivering body, and then there are frantic hands reaching for his limp arms to carefully turn him around and pull him closer. His own hands blindly scramble to find something he can grab, fingers curling around some sort of soft fabric.
"Seungmin-ah," it's Minho again, Seungmin registers somewhere in his hazy mind, "Seungmin-ah, look at me."
And his voice is so gentle Seungmin can't do anything but comply to his soft request, slowly opening his wet eyes. Through the watery blurriness in his vision, Minho looks like an angel, body framed in the dark by the bit of light that comes through the half-open door. And Seungmin still can't breathe, stuttered, desperate gasps not being close to enough.
Minho cups the vocalist's cheeks carefully, trying to brush the unstoppable tears away, then pushing his bangs from where it falls on his gradually sweaty forehead.
"Breathe, baby, you're okay," he whispers softly.
Seungmin shakes his head, "can't— I-I can't," he sobs out.
"You can, Min, you're okay," Minho repeats, so, so sweet, "hyung's got you. Deep breaths, yeah? Come on."
So Seungmin does try, then fails, and shakes his head and sobs, fingers clutching at Minho's jumper with a death grip, shoulders shaking every time he gasps and sobs and coughs between his failed attempts of breathing properly. It feels like it'll never stop, like the heaviness on his chest, or the squeezing on his lungs and the burning on his nostrils will never stop.
"H— Hyung," Seungmin gasps, and coughs, and more tears roll down his cheeks as he grabs Minho's wrist, "h-help, I can't— I—"
"Seungmin, hey," Minho sits against the headboard, hunched towards the younger man, and his pretty features twist in worry. "Seungmin-ah, hyung needs you to breathe, baby. Can you follow my breaths?"
And so Seungmin does again, trying hard just to fail, but he keeps going, watching the way Minho inhales and exhales exaggeratedly just so he can follow the older man's breathing, the way the other's chest moves up and down rhythmically.
It takes him several, tiring minutes and tons of sweet, encouraging, and comforting words whispered in his ear for him to be able to inhale and exhale properly. When he takes his first deep breath by himself, without the need for the older's soft-spoken guidance, Minho gently pets his messy hair, as if Seungmin is one of his cats, and whispers a loving 'good job, my Seungminnie' that sounds so genuinely proud that it almost brings the younger man back to tears.
It still doesn't, though, because he holds it all back like a good boy should, and buries his face into Minho's waist. His hyung feels so warm. He hadn't even noticed when his head was brought to the other's lap.
When he feels calmer, however, dread and embarrassment start to set in the pit of his stomach, and he almost considers pulling away to run and lock himself in the bathroom and never get out again, but he feels way too drained to do so, and the way Minho brushes his fingers through his hair doesn't help with making his limbs feel less like jelly.
"Feel better?" the dancer asks, and it's still sweet, none of that teasing tone they often wear when talking to each other.
It makes Seungmin feel even more embarrassed, having made Minho step out of his usual tsundere persona because of him and his fragileness.
He nods slowly, not trusting his voice at all. Minho hums, gently rubbing the vocalist's earlobe between his fingers in a silent comfort. It's nice, albeit just a tad weird; out of everyone, they're not the most touchy duo in Stray Kids, so this feels a bit out of place for them — to be this close without Minho complaining in faux annoyance. It's still nice, nonetheless.
Seungmin basks in his friend's presence in silence for a while, not being able to bring himself to speak, and lets the older one pet him like he is a scared little kitten Minho decided to protect. It feels safe like this. Minho waits patiently, and it doesn't seem like he wants to go anywhere.
Seungmin still thinks he might want to go back to what he was doing with Felix and Jeongin.
"I'm sorry," Seungmin finally croaks out after a long while, voice weak.
It's muffled and barely audible, but Minho catches it nonetheless.
"Don't be," the older man chuckles, "you have nothing to apologize for."
"But—," Seungmin sniffles, rubbing his face in the soft fabric. "You were having fun with Lix and Innie."
"Uh-huh, I was. And?" Minho says nonchalantly.
Seungmin slowly pulls away, frowning just the slightest.
"And I probably ruined the fun with… this," he mumbles, voice wobbly again. He hates it. This feeling. It's annoying. He wants it gone.
It's Minho's turn to frown for a moment, before he cocks an eyebrow.
"Hmm. How so?" the smaller man shifts a bit, making it more comfortable for both of them.
Before Seungmin can reply, though he doesn't know what to say, the man continues.
"I came here to get you. If you 'ruined the fun'," he raises a hand to pull two fingers up and down, making invisible quote marks in the air, "I would've left you here, alone, and Felix and Jeongin wouldn't have asked me to call you to hang out with us, Seungmin," Minho tips his head.
Oh.
"Oh," Seungmin breathes out.
Well, Minho does have a point. A part of him wants to beam and giggle and jump up when he thinks that I might not even be that annoying or insignificant to them, that Minho and Felix and Jeongin want him, that they really might miss him and his company. But another part of him just doubts and twists Minho's words sickeningly.
He slumps further, his own thoughts discouraging him.
"Are you sure you didn't just come because you heard me cry?" he asks, low and sad and pitiful, fingers tracing invisible lines on his hyung's right thigh.
"Seungmin-ah." Minho holds his hand then, the older's small palm so prettily fitting against his own bigger one. "I wouldn't have come if I didn't want you there, either. I came because we missed you."
The tears spill again before he is even aware of them welling up one more time.
Minho doesn't say anything, letting Seungmin have his moment while petting his hair again, careful and tender. He isn't sobbing this time; it's all but slow, silent tears falling down, and eventual shuddered breaths and sniffles. If anything, it's more of a relief-crying — because, phew, okay, his members may really not hate him —, but he still hates it anyway.
Seungmin quietly shoves his face against his hyung's clothed thigh, sniffling and letting out small whimpers. At least this time, the tears are quick to stop, and Minho brushes what's left of them off with his free hand when the younger one pulls his face away from its makeshift hideout.
"Were you insecure again?" and there it is, the soft-spoken sweetness.
Nothing like Minho, but also so like him, all the same.
"Yeah," Seungmin sniffles again.
Minho hums in understanding. He seems to be ready to say something, but, before he can, the door swings open unceremoniously, and the light is flickered on.
Seungmin has to squint his eyes at the sudden brightness in the before-dark room, whining softly, and he swears he hears Minho stifle a laugh, probably at the face he makes.
"What is taking you so long to—," Jeongin's voice is too loud in the quietness of the room, and he stops on his tracks as both men in the bed look at him.
He seems to notice the wet spot in Minho's shorts, right where Seungmin's head lays, and the other vocalist's bloodshot eyes and red nose, and it's clear the maknae understands Seungmin was crying in Minho's lap, worry flashing through his irises as he looks between his two hyungs. Seungmin panics for a moment, always being one to hate explaining what he is feeling and why he is feeling, dreading having to explain what happened.
Felix, standing right behind the youngest, peeks over Jeongin's shoulder, and quickly seems to catch on to what's going on. He steps aside and gasps dramatically as he takes a glance at the duo.
"I can't believe this! You're cuddling without us?!" the freckled man accuses, hands placed on his hips almost comically.
Seungmin can't help but giggle when Jeongin turns around to eye the Australian man suspiciously, but then turns back to Seungmin and Minho as he gets what he's trying to do, and copies Felix's pose, pouting cutely. He's almost sure he sees, by the corner of his eye, Minho smile down at him, so fond and so loving, and it does things to him.
Seungmin pretends he didn't see it, though, because it's still a bit awkward and it makes him feel something in his stomach, and Minho pretends he didn't do anything either, looking back up to the men standing by the door.
"Come here, you two," the oldest calls out, "Seungminnie does need some cuddles right now."
"I don't—," Seungmin tries to deny it, flushing red on the cheeks, but before he can, both Felix and Jeongin are already running towards the bed.
Though both him and Minho groan when the two throw themselves over them, Felix draped over him and Jeongin all over the oldest of them, it's nice. It's so nice and warm, so comfortable — though not very physically comfortable —, and it feels so good to be squished between his best friends' bodies, even though Minho's knee is kind of being dug in his ribs. He feels loved and protected. He feels loved. He is loved.
(He tries to not let out a happy, giddy squeal at the feeling, or flails his hands around in excitement, choosing to grab a hold of Minho's jumper instead.)
All of them, even Minho, wrap him in a tight hug, and he doesn't even complain this time, feeling Minho and Jeongin shuffle a bit so they fit better in the bed, Jeongin placing himself behind the lead dancer. It's a bit hard to squish themselves in Seungmin's bed, but he really doesn't mind right now. He hopes they can stay like this for the rest of the night. He feels safe like this.
Seungmin feels a few kisses being pressed on his nape, surely Felix pampering him like he always does, and long fingers card through his hair carefully — Jeongin, he registers under his sleepy haze. Soon he is closing his eyes, all the exhaustion finally coming again. There is a sweet press of lips against his forehead then, and he snuggles further against Minho, surrounded by his best friends' bodies and warmth, all three of them holding him closely in their cuddle pile.
"We love you," is what he hears, barely above a whisper, and he finds himself mumbling a small 'I love you too' before he lets himself slowly fall asleep.
Warm, safe, loved.