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As soon as Hyunjin arrives back home after picking up their traditional Tuesday take-out, he can tell that something’s wrong. More specifically, he can tell that something is wrong but also exactly what it consists of, even if he’s not sure about the reasons yet.
Hyunjin racks his brain after toeing off his shoes in the hallway, sliding into his slippers and hanging his coat onto its proper hook and lining up his shoes diligently next to the other pairs they still use. He makes a mental note to switch them for more appropriate ones since winter is just around the corner, as it always is once Minho’s birthday has passed and they’re working through November.
(‘Surviving’ is more like it, Hyunjin thinks. Long before he came home today. He’s always found November to be the most useless, depressing, unnecessary month of the year, and he stands by it almost twenty-five years later. Why can’t they just fast-forward ‘til Christmas?)
“Hi, love,” Hyunjin calls, rounding the corner into the kitchen where Minho is banging away loudly. He wonders if his fiancé is aware of the noise he’s making. “I got your favorite, and mine, but I was starving so there’s some kimbap too if you’re interested.”
Minho doesn’t answer.
Hyunjin can’t tell if Minho registered that Hyunjin came home or that he just addressed him, but he can definitely tell that Minho is far too occupied moving every single glass they own from cupboard to counter to cupboard to counter to cupboard to counter and back in the cupboard once he’s finally deemed it right.
Unfortunately, the fourth glass isn’t right. That means that Minho needs to start over.
The heaviness is quick to fill Hyunjin’s heart until his chest feels rather constricted, as if his ribcage is too tight and his lungs can’t expand properly. He had hoped that Minho would respond. He’s not awfully surprised that he didn’t, but Hyunjin had hoped.
“Minho hyung,” he says clearly, as gently as he can while keeping his voice loud and steady enough that Minho should hear it over the clanking of their glasses, “I’m going to set up in the living room. I’m hungry and I’m sure you are too. Have dinner with me. It’s Tuesday.”
Trying to find the balance between encouraging and demanding is tough, Hyunjin has learned ever since he got to know his fiancé. He doesn’t ever want to make Minho feel worse than he already does whenever he gets like this, but Hyunjin also knows that leaving him be, free to do his thing, can be just as detrimental. Minho knows that as well. It’s why he’s explicitly asked Hyunjin to put his foot down even if that leads to a fight, because once the fight is over, Minho will know that Hyunjin did the right thing and thank him for it.
It’s hard, though. It’s so hard, Hyunjin has to admit. He hates fighting and he hates conflict and he hates the things Minho can say. When Hyunjin tells him to stop, he’ll get mad and scoff and let him know how naïve and stupid he is who doesn’t understand. When Hyunjin insists on something because Minho doesn’t stop, he’ll ignore him out of spite and keep doing it because it’s not right yet. When Hyunjin is hugged afterwards, Minho will apologize and hide his shame and his face and his sad eyes while promising that he’s not really mad, he knows Hyunjin is right, he knows Hyunjin only wants what’s best for him, he knows Hyunjin does exactly what Minho wants him to even if Minho can’t reciprocate.
It breaks Hyunjin’s heart sometimes, it really does. Minho didn’t choose his obsessive-compulsive disorder. He didn’t want hours of his life to go to waste because his hands only feel clean after eleven washes. He desperately hoped for his issues to disappear after finally getting help and correct treatment for it, only to end up disappointed whenever relapses happen, because they inevitably do. Like today, and last time. And the time before that.
It’s hard, Hyunjin knows, and sort of heart-breaking. For Minho who has to live it, and also for everyone around him who ends up witnessing and adjusting and changing their behavior because of it, similarly to Minho. Not the same, absolutely not, but similarly.
The image of their perfectly lined up shoes briefly flashes inside Hyunjin’s head.
He doesn’t touch or look at Minho while moving around him in their kitchen area, deeming it better to keep his distance rather than increase Minho’s current discomfort. He’s not sure whether his presence bothers Minho anyway, or what the reason for his sudden halt in movements is, but he stands propped up against the counter without addressing or reaching for Hyunjin either, so that’s how it’ll be.
Hyunjin only turns his head to state another quick ‘living room’ before leaving, bringing utensils and drinks and the bag of takeout with him as he goes. Silently, he ponders whether the food will grow cold before Minho gets here. He wonders if he’ll have to choose between eating his meal alone or eating it cold with a fiancé who might give him the silent treatment for the next hour or so.
It’s a far stretch from what Hyunjin was hoping to come home to, honestly. What he had been expecting to wait for him behind the door. He hasn’t had the worst day and doesn’t feel that bad personally, which he finds to be a relief because that certainly would have been a recipe for disaster. Instead, he’ll be the level-headed one. He’ll swallow his hurt or disappointment or whatever Minho might throw his way, and then he’ll let it out later while Minho apologizes and does his best to comfort him.
To put it shortly, Hyunjin knows the drill by now.
He starts the TV simply because he doesn’t want to hear the evidence of Minho’s stress and anxiety and the impending argument while he opens the steaming boxes, deciding to check on their meals to see if his appetite has remained. It has, mostly, considering how Hyunjin had to skip lunch today. And their food smells good, too. Perks of trying every restaurant around as they scoured their way to certain go-to’s when they first moved here.
Hyunjin is still in the middle of deciding whether to put on something he actively wants to watch or just some random channel or something Minho might enjoy too, in case he does come, when he hears the slow, approaching steps. He exhales in relief. Minho must have left it then.
“Hi,” Hyunjin’s fiancé says quietly, joining him on the couch on the next cushion. Hyunjin still won’t look at him or touch him, because Minho doesn’t like that. When he’s anxious and fighting to repress his compulsive urges, he usually doesn’t like that.
“Hi,” he replies though, making the effort of sounding as soft and not-angry as he can. He’s not actually angry. A bit disappointed, more than a bit sad, but not angry. He never wants to fight with Minho, and he doesn’t tonight either. “I haven’t opened yours yet, so the noodles should still be soggy. And warm, hopefully.”
“Thank you,” Minho mumbles, even more hushed than previously. Hyunjin’s heart aches.
Shouldn’t he hug him? Wouldn’t that help?
“Can I hug you first?” he ends up asking, swallowing down his nerves. If Minho says ‘no’, that’s fine. That’s okay. Hyunjin will live. He’ll get his hug before the night ends. It’s okay. It--
“Please,” Minho exhales, already slumping against Hyunjin’s arm before he can lift it to wrap around his fiancé. “Please hug me. I wanna go back. Tell me I shouldn’t.”
“You shouldn’t,” Hyunjin says immediately, pulling the older into his chest and holding him firmly with both arms. “You should stay here and eat your Tuesday takeout with me. You remember what the therapist said as well I do, hyung. When the urge to do it is the strongest, refraining is what will make it easier next time. It’s been so long, I think we can settle that it’s working, hmm? It hasn’t been like this since that one time during summer, right?”
“Right,” Minho murmurs, leaning all of his upper body weight onto Hyunjin’s chest. It’s much more welcome than the cage of his ribs containing him, that’s for sure. “I don’t wanna do that again.”
Hyunjin doesn’t want to do that again either. It was awful on several different stages; being sick in the first place, fearing what the change of plans and the disappointment of canceling their trip would do to Minho, not having the energy to help him out of it like normally, and having that follow-up with his therapist since Minho feared all his progress was lost.
It wasn’t, of course. They’d noticed that pretty quickly. It was reassuring to meet up again and to hear which suspicions were true and which were needless, and to be reminded that Minho’s meds were in their bathroom for a reason and that reason is to help him on the occasions he feels are harder. But it was awful to make the appointment when neither of them really knew where Minho’s head was at, and how his relationship with the disorder would be from there.
Needless to say, neither one of them wants a repeat of that. So far, they haven’t had one, and it doesn’t seem like they will tonight either. Hyunjin is sort of glad that it happened, in a way, because Minho was reminded of how bad he can get when he fails to keep himself in check and doesn’t have that one person he’s been relying on either. It made him work harder after. It made him pull up all his notes and worksheets from therapy to go over. It made him more determined to avoid anything like it in the future, and Hyunjin is glad. He thinks he’s been seeing the effects, but never as clearly as tonight.
“Well,” he says gently, running his fingers down Minho’s back, “it seems like we’re not. I tried to put my foot down and leave it up to you. You tried to pull yourself out of the compulsive actions and came to me. Even if it still feels bad, that’s good progress, hyung. Do you feel bad?”
“Kinda,” Minho huffs, burying his face deeper for a second. “There was a work thing. I think that’s what triggered it. Too much stress. It's probably been building up, but… Yeah, it’s work. I think I might need to drop one of my projects.”
“Okay,” Hyunjin replies, trying not to let his surprise show. “That sounds smart, love. Can you talk to your manager this week? You can leave it at ‘too many projects’, right?”
“Yeah,” his fiancé agrees with a small nod. “Yeah, I’ll talk to her. I think she’ll listen. And maybe… Maybe I should try the meds again.”
Hyunjin hums thoughtfully while he tries to figure out what to say. Minho could do that, obviously, if he wants to. They’re prescribed for him and they’ve had positive effects before, even if they lower his stress and anxiety levels rather than actually remove obsessive thoughts or compulsive actions. Hyunjin is grateful that Minho wanted him along for both doctors’ and therapy appointments so he’d get the full picture without having to rely on Minho to properly explain everything, and it definitely gave him more insight into how hard this must be to deal with on a regular basis. Or irregular, as of late. Minho has been significantly less bothered since then, apart from that mishap over the summer.
“Do you wanna take one now, then?” he asks, leaving it to Minho himself. “With dinner? If you feel better after we’ll know and maybe you can take one earlier next time. You seem better now though, if you wanna wait it out. You decide, hyung. They’re your meds. It’s your body.”
“Mmm,” Minho grumbles in dismay. An understandable reaction, Hyunjin would say. He wouldn’t be a great fan of being in the same position himself. “I’ll wait. If I take one and it feels better I won’t know if it was the pill or time or you or the food. If it doesn’t pass, I’ll take one. Can you ask me in an hour?”
“Of course,” Hyunjin replies, already checking his watch for the time. “Got it. Let’s eat then, hmm? Before I take a bite out of you instead.”
“Oh, really?” Minho asks, sitting up and smiling. Finally. The last captured breath is released in Hyunjin’s chest. “Maybe I should take all this food and hide it away, then--”
“No!” Hyunjin bursts, laughing while he reaches for Minho’s arm as it fakes scooping up his meal to remove it from his sight. “Don’t touch my food! You have your own and there’s kimbap! Leave my stuff alone, Lee Minho, you don’t want me to push that button.”
Minho grins, shaking his head at himself while he lets Hyunjin poke fun at him now that the mood is significantly lighter.
“God, if you’d picked up the glasses and put them somewhere else…,” he says, as if Hyunjin doesn’t already know that Minho would have had his head for such a thing. “I’ll leave your food, baby, don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” Hyunjin replies, bumping their shoulders together as he lifts his carton to settle on the couch until he’s able to sneak glances at Minho at the same time. “Get the remote, please. Entertain me.”
For the next half hour or so, his fiancé does exactly that. Hyunjin isn’t sure whether Minho feels bad about ignoring and/or worrying him, or if he’s just feeling sort of back to okay. The night turns out to be close enough to what Hyunjin was expecting earlier, which is a relief, and he ends up tilted sideways while Minho’s fingers draw patterns on his arm as he holds him close. They don’t talk about work or much of anything, which is perfectly fine really. Living together and having done so for years means that verbal communication isn’t always necessary or even prompted, and Hyunjin enjoys the cozy silence that’s only disturbed by Minho’s occasional hums and the buzzing from the TV.
He’s so relaxed that he’s pretty much on the verge of sleep when Minho nudges him carefully, chuckling when Hyunjin whines in dismay and rubs his bleary eyes.
“Time for bed,” Minho tells him, even though there’s more than just one hour left until midnight. “Come on, baby. I’ll go clean this up while you fix the pillows and blankets, yeah?”
“Are you sure?” Hyunjin asks, a little miffed. He’s usually not the one in charge of tidying up the apartment, both because he hates tidying up in general and also because it’s just easier for both of them if Minho gets it his way. “It won’t look as neat as when you do it.”
(Hyunjin does have other responsibilities, like laundry and keeping track of bills. And being cute, as Minho likes to remind him. He’s in charge of cuteness. Hyunjin has long since decided that he probably can’t argue that one.)
“I know, Hyunjinnie,” Minho replies softly, kissing his forehead softer still. “That’s the point.”
“Baby steps?” Hyunjin inquires, remembering how they started transferring little tasks years ago after Minho’s first therapy session had left him with that exact homework.
“Baby steps,” Minho confirms. “Today you’re in charge of the couch, who knows, maybe tomorrow it’ll be the kitchen?”
“Yeah, right,” Hyunjin laughs, knowing full well why ‘pick your battles’ is an actual saying in the first place. “You take care of your kitchen, but you can’t take too long because you have a sleepy fiancé to take care of after that. I need more cuddles.”
“I won’t take too long,” Minho says, mostly light-hearted. “The building won’t burn down if the glasses aren’t symmetrical, I… It won’t. I know that.”
Hyunjin’s heart aches again. He already knows that the older never intentionally wants to take ‘too long’, but rather can’t help himself sometimes. Minho doesn’t want to live in constant fear that he might do something wrong or forget something and as a consequence be responsible for catastrophic outcomes.
‘OCD’ sounds a lot nicer, a lot more normal than ‘obsessive-compulsive disorder’, Hyunjin has come to learn. It bugs him and irks him and frustrates him to no end when a colleague claims to ‘be OCD’ because she prefers to have the volume on even numbers, or because someone’s favorite number has been three all their life and they like having three copies of things. That can be a symptom, he knows now. It doesn’t have to be, though. Minho isn’t bothered by those kinds of things, so clearly one doesn’t have to be even while actually, clinically diagnosed. Maybe he’s judgmental, but he doesn’t think that’s the case with his coworker.
He doubts that she’s ever gone home and rearranged the kitchen seven times in one night because it doesn’t feel right, and explained in tears to her helpless partner that she was worried that something might catch fire if it was in the cupboard next to the stove or get water damage next to the sink or end up electrocuting someone from the microwave outlet. He doubts that she’s ever scrubbed her hands raw and bleeding because they didn’t feel clean the first, the second, the fifth, the thirteenth time, each more aggressive and violent than the last. That the soap was wrong and dirty and not right and rubbing the skin with intense friction and finally nails had seemed like the only option, until there were two people hurting and crying while trying to bandage wounds in a way that would leave some mobility to the mostly unharmed fingers. The bloodstains weren’t from Minho’s actual fingers, it turned out.
He’s never said that to his coworker, of course. He never will. He’s tempted every now and then, just to shut her up, but Hyunjin wouldn’t actually go around exposing what Minho considers to be his greatest flaw like that. Not when he’s baring it and his struggle and his constant battle to get it under control right in front of Hyunjin, already exposing himself over and over in the supposed safety of his own home.
Minho is the bravest person Hyunjin knows, he’s long since decided. His weakness has always been right there, tangible and transparent, and instead of trying to hide it or diminish it or cover it up, he wants Hyunjin’s help to deal with it. He asks for help, because he trusts Hyunjin with it, who genuinely can’t imagine what would ever be braver than that.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs before letting his fiancé go, drinking him in every second he can get. “You know that, right? So much, Minho. So, so much.”
“Yes,” Minho replies, about as quietly. “I assume that’s why you agreed to marry me, Hyunjinnie. Because you love me. Because I love you, too.”
“Damn right I do,” Hyunjin states, pressing a firm kiss to Minho’s surprised little pout before getting up and ushering the older away. “Go! Clean up! If you haven’t joined me in the shower in eight minutes, I’m coming to get you. Two songs, right?”
“Right,” Minho confirms, a little dazed as the smile works its way out onto his pretty face. “Two songs, yeah. That was the deal. That’s good. Baby steps.”
“Baby steps,” Hyunjin agrees, smiling right back.
That’s the compromise they settled on while tasked with trying to figure out how much time was appropriate to spend on compulsive behavior if absolutely necessary. That way, if Minho really can’t stop his urges, he’ll at least have a sort of decent timeframe for them that won’t ruin whole plans or entire days. And thankfully, it’s worked before, so Hyunjin figured it was a good enough suggestion to bring back into the conversation if Minho has been having a hard time and could benefit from the reminder.
He usually can stop the urges, though. These days, he can. When he takes a breath and remembers why exposure and response prevention are the major components of the most effective treatment, he can. Hyunjin understands that all that information and knowledge and experience aren’t the easiest things in the world to remember while under large amounts of stress, but it seems like their tiny chat about meds and Minho’s half-formed plan to talk to his manager helped with that. He managed to break out of his reverie in the kitchen and he stayed on the couch, even though his head might not be completely silent. Hyunjin doesn’t know that, but he kind of feels like he doesn’t need to know everything. As long as Minho wants him to help with what he can, that’s enough for him. It’s worked so far. It probably will for the rest of their days as well.
“Come to me,” Hyunjin murmurs one final time, holding the eye contact Minho seems reluctant to break. “If it’s hard to leave, your meds and I will be waiting in the bathroom. I know you can. You know you can. You’re the strongest person I know, hyung. Come to me.”
“Okay,” Minho whispers, clasping Hyunjin’s hand tightly in what feels an awful lot like gratitude. “I’ll come to you. Everything will be fine.”
“Everything will be fine,” Hyunjin confirms, holding on. “Nothing bad has ever happened, remember? It won’t today either. It will be fine, and then better than fine, because we’ll be together.”
“Okay,” Minho echoes, nodding, looking solemn and wide-eyed while he chooses to believe Hyunjin’s every word. That’s easier than his own, Minho has explained once, and Hyunjin hasn’t forgotten what that means. “Okay. I trust you. I’ll be right there.”
(He is, even before Hyunjin has gotten shampoo in his hair. He lets his fiancé do it instead, because Minho is meticulous and focused and cute, but also as practice, so Minho can concentrate on something other than the cupboard of glasses and has to relinquish control when Hyunjin washes Minho’s hair in return. Baby steps, as it were. Hyunjin likes that. He likes it a lot, and he spends the rest of the night explaining to Minho how loved he is and how well he’s doing and how proud Hyunjin will be to marry him next year. How much he actually cannot wait to call Minho his husband, and to nag him to insanity and support him unconditionally for the rest of their lives.)
(Minho seems to like that a lot, if the endless kisses he leaves all over Hyunjin’s face for the next part of the night are anything to go by.)