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For the past week, Minho had been feeling particularly off course as if something just wasn’t quite right. It was almost like everything was perfect but something was slightly off balance or the feeling that you’ve left something at home when you know full well that everything is safe and secure in your bag.
No matter how hard he thinks about it, he doesn’t know what’s causing this hellish feeling spreading inside him. It’s never happened before. With every step Minho takes, it feels like he’s dragging a weight alongside him.
While he’s happy, he’s sad too.
Minho could be out drinking with Changbin and Felix on their Friday night get-together but he’s still sad. Or on a late-night call with Hyunjin and Jeongin, he’s still sad and he knows full well that it makes no sense. However, all the while, he’s happy too.
It’s not like he’s in an ocean of his own tears, or drowning his sorrows away but that was the issue, there were no tears. It was just a feeling lurking in the darkness of his mind, waiting for him to notice it and pay more attention so it could pester him at every given opportunity.
Minho finds himself laughing at Jisung’s fruitless jokes, a genuine reaction to such a terrible joke but even that didn’t stop the pang in his chest. But he really can’t figure it out.
He tries to push it away as if it doesn’t exist but it always comes back ten times stronger. Minho had thought it was a temporary illness like the common cold but even that went within a week.
However, the more days that went by, it showed no sign of leaving him alone.
If there was one thing that Minho missed, it was waking up without this feeling of impending doom. It was like no matter how well his day was going, he just felt like something was going to go wrong. Something was bound to go wrong, why would it go well?
But that’s the thing because it does go well sometimes and even then it doesn’t feel like a victory. If today went well then tomorrow is going to be a disaster. These thoughts followed him daily, bugging him endlessly.
But what can he do? Especially when he doesn’t know what it is…
He’s just happy and sad at the same time.
~
“Sleep well?”
Minho lifts his head, running a hand through his dishevelled bed hair, “Same as,” He replies, making brief eye contact with a smiling Chan before he walks off into the kitchen. In the distance, he hears Chan stepping closer until he can sense the man leaning in the doorway.
It doesn’t take long for Chan to work out that something is bothering Minho, not with his superhuman skill of reading people. Even a closed book like Minho. While Chan wouldn’t describe Minho as a hermit, it was starting to look like that.
Every outing they had planned with friends, Minho decided to sit it out claiming he just wasn’t feeling it. He even missed out on Seungmin’s traditional poker night, even Jeongin had been hyped up to attend.
~
“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting strange,” Chan points out, raising his eyebrow ever so slightly as he practically analyses Minho.
Minho nods, albeit a little too quickly, “Why wouldn’t I be alright?” He deadpans, making a comment on how he’s always at least a little strange and Chan has to give it to him, he’s a good actor.
Although Chan desperately wants to sit Minho down and get to the bottom of what’s bothering him, he lets Minho walk away and back into his bedroom. He’d have to let Minho come to him this time, or at least, give him a bit longer to open up.
After all, he might be overthinking things. They were students, stress isn’t exactly uncommon.
~
A couple of days later and the feeling was still there plaguing his mind.
He’s tried everything, cleaning, meditating, baking, jogging and even yoga, you name it but none of it worked. All it had done was give Minho a nice clean bedroom with polished skirting boards and a new skill set in yoga.
It wasn’t until he was cleaning out his wardrobe that Minho realised he hadn’t regressed in two months and while he didn’t feel the need to regress every week, he still needed his downtime to blow off some steam.
He didn’t feel like he needed to regress but he wasn’t about to dismiss it without giving it a go.
Leaving the wardrobe behind, Minho takes a quick walk to Chan’s bedroom, peeking his head in to see Chan scrolling through his phone as if he hadn’t got piles of coursework piling up on his desk.
“Oh, Minho,” Chan smiles, patting the empty space beside him.
Keeping his eyes cast down at the floor, Minho dawdles over and plops himself on the bed next to Chan where he chews the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the rings on his fingers.
“Hyung,” He speaks up, staring at the clock across the room, “Are you free tonight? I was wondering if you could watch over me…” He mumbles having always found it awkward to ask despite the fact Chan was his literal caregiver and had been for a good three years.
“Of course, you don’t have to ask, Minho,” Chan lightly laughs, ruffling Minho’s hair to calm him down.
That night, Minho found himself sitting on the floor of Chan’s bedroom, a colouring book open with Chan’s arms gently wrapped around his torso. No matter what mood little Minho was in, he always found time for colouring in.
“What’re you drawing?” Chan asks, resting his chin on Minho’s shoulder where he sees the little deciding what colours to use, he decides on all neon colours.
Minho leans back on Chan’s chest, looking up at him, “‘S a puppy,” He quietly replies, pointing at the dog he’d coloured in bright green.
Chan complimented him on his choice.
He continues colouring in for a few more minutes but it didn’t take long for Minho to grow rather restless.
“Channie,” Minho blinks up at him, a pout forming on his lips, “Cuddles?”
Who was Chan to deny?
He picks Minho up and gets them comfortably settled under the covers where Minho immediately clutches onto the fabric of his hoodie, keeping Chan as close as possible.
“Min, is everything alright?” Chan had thought Minho’s problems wouldn’t follow him into his headspace but it appears he was wrong because even his little was acting like something was on his mind.
Minho doesn’t take a second's hesitation before answering, “Feel funny,” He admits but the vague answer wasn’t of all that use to Chan.
“Do you feel sick?” Chan asks but all he received back was a head shake and a quiet no. He never managed to find out what was wrong…Little Minho had fallen asleep at the flick of a switch.
The next time he woke up, the space next to him was cold and empty meaning that Minho had woken up out of headspace and hightailed it out of the bedroom.
Chan checks the time seeing it had just gone midnight and having just woken up from a nap, his head was all over the place. He could hear the muffled sound of voices coming from the front room meaning that the tv was on. Minho mustn’t have gone back to bed after leaving his bedroom.
He got up, stretching his back out when he noticed that the crayons and paper had all been cleared up and put back in their place.
His suspicions were correct.
As he rounded the corner, he saw Minho sitting there, staring at the tv but clearly not paying any attention to it. His lips were downturned slightly, his eyes distant and head far from empty.
Truth be told, Minho was devastated that regressing hadn’t taken this horrible feeling away. He had hoped it would solve everything, secretly, Chan had hoped the same thing.
Slowly, Chan walks over not wanting to startle Minho when he takes a seat on the couch next to him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Chan softly asks, he’d waited long enough and watching Minho struggle alone was paining him to the core.
Minho stares at his trembling hands, thankful when Chan cupped them in his own, “I don’t know,” He answers after a moment of silence, letting his words float in the air.
“I just want to…” Minho’s voice catches as he lets his words trail off, swallowing down the lump in his throat.
Chan frowns, running his thumb over Minho’s knuckles, “It’s okay to cry, Minho.” Chan’s voice was as soft as ever, “It’s okay.”
Those must be the magical words because Minho’s face instantly crumbled and his walls broke down letting the floodgates slam open faster than ever before. Everything he’d bottled up for the past month all came pouring out, the tears endlessly streaming down his red, blotchy cheeks.
He wasted no time falling straight into Chan’s awaiting arms where he tightly wrapped his arms around his body, shaking into oblivion, his frame wracking with each cry he let out.
Chan rocks them back and forth as well as he can while seated on the couch with Minho wrapped around him and, in all honesty, Chan doesn’t ever want to let him go. He’d never seen Minho cry quite this much, it was heartbreaking.
With each sob that left Minho’s mouth, the more pained he sounded. Chan blinked back his own tears at the broken cries right next to his ear and he knows, Minho wasn’t going to stop crying any time soon.
It wasn’t going to get better before getting worse.
Although Minho wasn’t little, he still found himself snuggled close to Chan as he drifted off to sleep and even when he woke up, Minho refused to move and Chan wasn’t going to complain. Having Minho held securely in his arms made everything feel at least a little better.
For the first time in weeks, Minho felt lighter. And while the feeling hadn’t quite subsided, he still felt better.
After all, he had Chan.
It’s okay to cry
<3