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Sometimes, it just hurts.
There is no reason for it to, no disaster or argument or tragedy. Sometimes, some ugly feeling sits heavy in his lungs, and he forgets how to breathe. How to live.
It's been long enough - he is old enough, now - for him to know that it will fade, but - God , Seungmin is always naive enough to hope it never comes back. So naive.
So here he is, tucked under a pile of blankets and yesterday’s clothes, an alarm vibrating the phone off the bed, praying for sleep to envelop him again. He has an early schedule today, followed by a vocal lesson, but maybe, if he closes his eyes, he can pretend today isn’t happening. Maybe they’ll assume he’s ill and leave him alone all day. That’s probably the best he could wish for, now. He could pass it off as that pretty well enough, sweating from the pure insulation of three blankets, hair stuck to his clammy forehead and a haze in his eyes.
He could also be honest with someone - after so many years, there’s no secrets between the members, and they’ve all witnessed Seungmin’s bad days enough to build a routine for when they come. That never stops the shame and humiliation shooting through his veins at the idea of telling somebody he can’t work today because he’s sad. For no reason, especially. No, he would rather suck it up and not worry anyone.
There’s a light knock at the door. Seungmin doesn’t care to grace it with a response.
“Kim Seungmin, wake up.” It’s Minho, doing the morning rounds. He always starts with Seungmin, because he’s the easiest to wake, only needing a knock on the door before he’s up. No doubt Minho will spend the next ten minutes shaking Jeongin and Felix until they either fight back or groan loud enough to wake themselves up.
Seungmin doesn’t get up though. His limbs are heavy, chained down by invisible restraints. There’s mild panic, an instinctual reaction to being late, or disappointing Minho, but his head is mostly vacuous, anxiety drowned in layers of fog and haze. He stares at the ceiling, at the sketch of the skyline Hyunjin stuck to his wall a week ago. He did it in pencil, dull and grey and ashy, and it stares back in cruel irony.
Time moves faster, or slower, or not at all. There is silence in between the gentle thump of Minho knocking on Felix’s door, and Jeongin’s, but how much, Seungmin doesn’t know. There’s no light peeking out under the curtain, so maybe it’s cloudy. Maybe it will rain today. Seungmin doesn’t know, because he is solely focused on the herculean effort it takes to open his mouth and inhale and exhale.
The thumping is louder, dull smacks against his aching head, but it disappears altogether, after a moment. The door creaks open a little, and then a little more, clicking shut quietly behind the intruder.
“Seungmin-ah?” Seungmin turns his head almost imperceptibly, and blinks. “Min-ah, are you okay?” Another blink. The footsteps get closer, and then the back of Minho’s hand is pressed to his forehead, hissing in sympathy when he makes contact and Seungmin recoils minutely. He hums a broken little thing from the back of his throat, and hopes Minho understands.
“Ah, you’re too hot. Here, let me get you some water, I’ll be right back, Minnie.” he steps out of the room, shutting the door and letting the darkness cloud the room. Seungmin can hear a “Yongbokkie, can you call Chan-hyung or the manager? Seungmin’s schedules have to be moved,” and he whines to himself, because he’s not actually sick, they shouldn’t have to move everything around, but then Jeongin is opening the door, humming a light tune that is vaguely familiar in the foggy recesses of his mind, and Seungmin can’t hear Felix’s response.
“Hi, hyung. I have water for you, here.” Jeongin unscrews the lid of a bottle and pops a straw in, quietly imitating the little sound it makes as he bends it sideways, before offering it to Seungmin. He really does not have the willpower to get up, but the straw is just long enough for Seungmin to reach if he turns his head, and Jeongin is looking at him ever-so patiently. The way his face beams like sunshine when Seungmin takes a sip is worth it, he supposes.
“I’m not sick,” he rasps, voice cracking from disuse. He tries to swing his legs out of bed, forcing his aching bones to cooperate, but Jeongin is sitting in the way, blocking him. His smile only slightly falters.
“I know. It’s okay anyways. Minho-hyung knows too.” Jeongin takes two of the blankets and begins to fold them, the rustle of linen filling the silence until he continues, “I can’t miss this morning, but I will come back this afternoon, I promise.”
“I don’t know what to do, In-ah.” He leaves the context unsaid, but Jeongin understands.
“Do nothing at all, then. We’ll wait for you.” He sets the blankets, now folded, aside, just as Minho opens the door again.
“Ah, thanks Jeongin. Yongbok-ah made you food outside, don’t worry about us.” Jeongin just hums in response, reaching out for Seungmin’s hand and squeezing it lightly before walking out of the room. Minho takes his spot on the bed, cross-legged and donning an impossibly gentle expression. Seungmin sits up, shrugging the remaining blanket off until it just pools around his waist, before turning his tired expression towards Minho.
“Seungmin-ah, I know you don’t want to talk, but just answer these for me, yeah?” A nod. “Words, please, darling.”
“Okay.”
“Can I change or fix anything, or does it need to run its course?”
It
is the forbidden word, but it permeates the air regardless, filling Seungmin’s mouth with cotton wool.
“Second,” he manages, looking away and pulling the blanket back up.
“Ah, that’s okay, don’t stress. Do you want to be left alone or should I stay?” It’s a trick question; Minho will stay regardless, if only to sit in the same room and be otherwise occupied. Seungmin tells him to stay anyway.
“Touch or no touch?”
“Please,” Is all Seungmin can say before Minho is shifting closer, pulling Seungmin’s head until it rests on his chest, humming a tune below his breath. Seungmin grapples with the little strength he has until he’s gripping Minho’s back, fingers trembling with the effort.
“Okay, that’s okay. I’m staying, Seungmin-ah. We’re not going anywhere.” They still for a moment, soft breaths in and out, Minho’s exaggerated as Seungmin begins to match him. Jeongin and Felix are shuffling around outside, muffled behind the door, but Minho’s heartbeat is much louder, thudding and echoing in Seungmin’s mind as a reminder of life. Minho is clinging back, although at least trying to be subtle about it, strong arms wrapped around the younger’s shoulders like he might dissipate into the air if he lets go. It’s not even that he can’t be trusted alone, but all the members know how grounding it is to have the physical reminder that they are still here ; they haven’t left Seungmin in the dust.
A note slips under the door. Minho makes a little noise, shifting Seungmin so he’s comfortable against the pillows before he pads over, bones cracking as he bends down to pick it up.
“It’s from Yongbok and Iyen-ah.” He flops back on the bed, back against Seungmin’s legs, and begins to read. “ Good morning Seungminnie, Lix-hyung and I made breakfast, there’s some left for you! Jisung-hyung has to come with the rest of us for a schedule,” a schedule that Seungmin was supposed to go to, too, “ and Chan-hyung has a meeting, but everyone else will be over in an hour! We’ll be back as soon as we’re done, we promise. The hyungs want to have a movie marathon, I think it’s Changbin-hyung’s pick first. See you soon!” Seungmin nods.
“Nobody cancelled their schedules?”
“Nobody had much today; don’t worry about us, yeah? Worry about yourself. And your hygiene, come on, I need to brush my teeth.”
It’s as simple as that, Seungmin dragged up - gently, Minho makes sure - and down the hallway to the bathroom. He’s still not all there, but the elder doesn’t seem to mind, humming as he passes the younger’s toothbrush to him, before sitting down on the rim of the bathtub and just singing quietly as he waits. That’s the pattern they fall into, Minho walking Seungmin through his routine like everything is fine and normal. He knows the routine is grounding.
By the time they’re finished, Minho is halfway through his fourth song, grabbing Seungmin’s wrist and bringing him to the kitchen. Usually it’s clean, everyone knowing Seungmin cares about how presentable their dorm is, but today, it’s just a little out of place. A chair left pulled out, two bowls in the sink, couch cushions on the floor. Jeongin and Felix have left remnants of their mornings everywhere, as a reminder that they were here. Minho adds himself to the mix as he reheats the food they made, Seungmin left alone to slump into a chair.
It’s disgustingly domestic, and gentle, and non-confrontational. It’s wrong. They shouldn’t be this forgiving, this cooperative with him. It can’t last - they won’t be this patient forever - so why are they still trying now? It’s inevitable, Seungmin thinks; he’s just a ticking time bomb that will be left to explode alone.
Minho seems to disagree, stirring the pot on the stove vigorously as if it will heat any faster. He’s also boiling the kettle, tea bag and sugar already prepared in two mugs. Seungmin didn’t even ask. He just knows.
They don’t speak a word for another twenty minutes, and when Seungmin breaks the silence, it’s long after they’ve settled on the couch, tea and bowl of soup on the coffee table, left half-eaten and forgotten. He’s curled into Minho’s side, tucked far into the elder’s sweater, surrounded by the scent of lavender fabric softener. Minho is tracing patterns into his leg with his free hand.
“I can’t do this forever. This…nothingness.”
“It’s not forever, Seungminnie.” The elder’s voice is low, a soothing rumble against Seungmin’s aching head. It’s a salve to festering wounds, bubbling and bloody under the surface.
“Then how long is it?”
“As long as it takes, honey. We’ll be here until it ends, when it comes back, and when it goes again.” And, well, it really is that simple. They will love Seungmin until he remembers how to love them back. Slowly, the haze recedes - not forever, but for long enough.