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These days, when Seonghwa’s left alone, he considers his life in its current state and what he's made of it. How far he's come, how much he's yet to achieve, what he wants to achieve. Who he really is, and how new information fits into his view of himself, whether good or bad.
And maybe Seonghwa has been thinking about life too much, but with the new privacy and quiet of a room to himself and a dorm of three instead of eight, there's not much else to do but think.
The new mug on his desk makes a clink sound when Seonghwa grabs his tweezers from it. Carefully, meticulously, Seonghwa uses them to pull two LEGO pieces apart, his nails too short to slip between the two small blocks enough to separate them. He succeeds easily, movements practiced and familiar, a comfortable and single-noted hum sprouting from the base of his throat as he works.
“Hyung?”
Seonghwa’s hands still, his hum tapering off into silence. He glances over at the slightly-open door of his room, blinking in surprise when he sees Mingi there, having half-expected San since he's the one who usually makes himself at home in Seonghwa’s room. Not that Seonghwa minds either way, he loves them both and he loves their company, but sometimes he gets into moods where holding a conversation feels like he's drowning. He still hasn't really grasped what type of day it is for himself yet.
But it is a day where the burden of the word hyung makes Seonghwa want to curl up into himself and hide from the world, free from expectation and free from idealisms. He likes the respect but he doesn't like the crushing weight it puts on his chest on some days. Sometimes he kind of wishes it was just himself and Hongjoong around, same-aged friends, equal language.
Taking a deep breath, Seonghwa turns his attention back to his LEGO set, brow furrowing as he looks at the instruction booklet. “You can come in, Mingya,” Seonghwa says, his voice quieter than intended, just a touch too soft and his words a little too jumbled.
It's one of those days, then.
From the corner of his eye, he can see Mingi hesitate at the doorway, opening it a bit more but not all the way. “If you don't want me to, I don't have to come in—”
“It's not that,” Seonghwa hurries to say, this time a bit too loud, clutching onto a LEGO piece like a lifeline. The sharp edges of it dig into his palm. “Just a little tired. You don't have to leave.”
Mingi opens the door fully and lets himself in before shutting it behind him. “Sorry, the ventilation in my room broke this morning and it's way too hot not to have air conditioning. I’d stay in the living room but there's too much noise, and San’s out.”
“Noise?”
“There's people here to fix the vents and stuff, they'll be here for an hour or two at most.”
Seonghwa stills completely, his stomach turning. Out of habit, he resumes his humming from earlier, then remembers he has company, so he stops himself. His throat itches with the need to make noise, but he swallows the urge, biting his lower lip and pointedly fixing his attention away from Mingi.
If Mingi notices his reaction, he doesn't say anything. “Can I sit on the bed, hyung? I just showered and my clothes are clean.”
“Yeah, it's fine.” It's really not. Normally, it would be, but things keep piling on and Seonghwa is becoming increasingly more overwhelmed, small things triggering alarms in his head that he continues to ignore. When he hears the bed creak slightly under Mingi’s weight, he can’t help but squirm in his seat, his skin crawling. It's fine. It's fine. He's been meaning to wash the bedding, anyway.
Only then does he realize how tightly he's holding the LEGO piece in his hand. He drops it as if he's been burned, wincing when the pain finally registers. There's angry red dents in his palm, and they sting, and Seonghwa can hear the electricity in the outlets and every single one of Mingi’s minor movements and—
“Hyung, are you okay?”
Seonghwa jolts, spinning his chair to face Mingi. He wants to say that he's fine, that maybe it's best if Mingi went to San’s room; but when he opens his mouth to speak it's as if his vocal chords have entirely disappeared. He groans to express his frustration, before he can stop himself and realize that won't help anything and will likely make Mingi worry even more.
Mingi’s eyes widen at Seonghwa’s response. Or, lack of response. “Shit, should I call Hongjoong-hyung?” He's pulling his phone out and typing rapidly before Seonghwa can try to stop him. Either way, it provides a distraction, an opportunity to bolt out of the room, past the repair workers and into the bathroom. He tries to lock the door behind him but his hands are shaking too much, he makes another frustrated noise and slumps to the floor in front of the sink, pressing his hands against his temples to try and relieve the untethered, ungrounded feeling in his head.
It doesn't work. He knew it wouldn't. But hey, at least he knows what's causing it, even if everyone else doesn't. He's not as terrified of the bundle of raw emotion in his chest anymore—even if he is still a bit scared—now that he can actually identify what it is. Although, he still hasn't come to terms with it. Identifying the problem is only the first step in recovery, except his problem can’t be cured. Seonghwa’s stuck with it, whether he puts a name to it or not.
The bathroom light is on, which is a fact that should've been obvious but Seonghwa only just registered. Not that it matters, seeing as his eyes squeezed shut the moment he hit the floor. His hands have moved from his temples to his ears, and the low hum from earlier is back, louder, reverberating from his throat to the top of his skull, and he wants to yell or scream instead but there's strangers in the dorm and he can't afford to damage his voice. His nails dig into the skin behind his ears, and he can feel his body begin to sway back and forth.
He wonders what Mingi told Hongjoong. He wonders if Hongjoong told Mingi what was going on with him, why it was happening—
No. Hongjoong wouldn't release Seonghwa’s personal information like that, not without his explicit permission. But knowing Hongjoong, he's probably on his way to the dorm already, and Seonghwa feels a pang of guilt at that realization. Did he interrupt him while he was working on stuff at the studio? Even worse, did he interrupt him during Hongjoong’s precious and limited rest time?
As his thoughts spiral further, he barely registers the sound of the door opening. Hongjoong couldn't have gotten here that fast, so he opens his eyes to check who it is, immediately shutting them again once he knows that it’s Mingi again. God, he never wanted any of his dongsaengs to see him in this state, or anyone for that matter, but it's out of his hands now. Mingi has seen him having a meltdown on the floor of their bathroom, like a child.
And Seonghwa really doesn't know what he expected from Mingi’s presence, but from what he can tell, the light is still on and the door is shut again. He knows Mingi didn't leave, he's keenly aware of the feeling that he's not alone.
Taking a deep breath, he removes his hands from his ears, relieved that there seems to be no more noise coming from the common area. He opens his eyes and looks over at Mingi, who has sat down a couple feet away, and makes an executive decision.
If he doesn't have his weighted blanket, his friend will have to do.
He beckons Mingi over with a hand, and the younger looks surprised at first, but it doesn't take long for him to follow Seonghwa’s instruction and shuffle over to where Seonghwa is sitting. Seonghwa signals for Mingi to keep going until he's right in front of him, and then he pauses.
He doesn't know how to communicate to Mingi what he wants him to do. His meltdown rendered him completely nonverbal, so it's not like he can ask, but he can’t really use his body language to convey what he wants either. Seonghwa doesn't force back his noise of frustration this time, knowing it's futile.
Mingi, though, seems to pick up on something. “Hyung,” he says, voice soft and low, “are you able to talk?”
Seonghwa shakes his head no.
“But you look like you have something to say to me, right?”
A nod.
At that, Mingi fishes out his phone, swiping through for a second before handing it to Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat when he sees that the notes app is open to an empty note, and he immediately starts typing. When he's done, he shows it to Mingi expectantly.
‘Weird question, but can you lay your full weight on top of me? The pressure helps.’
Mingi stares at the text for a moment, eyes wide, before he looks back at Seonghwa. “I think I would end up crushing you, hyung.”
Seonghwa lets out a breathy laugh, typing something else. 'That's kind of the point. It’s deep-pressure therapy.’
Mingi purses his lips, then looks around. “I'll do it, but the bathroom isn't really the best place for that, right? Would you prefer we go back to your room?”
Seonghwa nods, and he lets Mingi help him up from the floor and lead him back to his room. The workers that were in the living room earlier are now gone, and the dorm is almost completely silent. As soon as they reach Seonghwa's room, he flicks the room light off and turns on the lights for his display case, wanting enough light to see with but not enough to overwhelm him.
He climbs into the bed, lying there on his back for a moment before reaching his arms out to Mingi. Mingi laughs softly before crawling onto the bed and flopping himself down onto Seonghwa’s front with an oof. His head tucks just below Seonghwa’s chin and his arms wrap around Seonghwa’s waist, their legs tangling together.
Instantly, Seonghwa melts into the bed, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The crushing weight over every inch of his body is grounding, soothing him, and he lets his eyes flutter shut. He doesn't realize it at first, but the humming in his throat has returned, low and content. When he notices he's doing it, though, he stops, his jaw clenching as he forces the urge back.
“Hyung,” Mingi says softly, his voice muffled by Seonghwa’s shirt. “You can keep, um, doing that. I don't mind, you know.”
When Seonghwa remains silent, his muscles tense once again, Mingi does something unexpected. Quietly, and a bit hesitant, he starts humming Turbulence, an octave lower than the actual song, and it sends small vibrations through Seonghwa’s chest. His breath stutters when he realizes what Mingi is doing, and he can't help the smile that blooms on his face.
When Mingi reaches the chorus, Seonghwa joins the humming, feeling Mingi smile against him. They run through the whole song, but when it ends, Seonghwa doesn't stop; returning to the random, low notes that he usually resorts to when he's alone. He's a bit self conscious, but Mingi isn't asking questions, and the younger seems happy that he's not holding anything back.
“Feeling better?” Mingi asks, looking up at Seonghwa. When Seonghwa nods, Mingi holds him a bit tighter, burying his face into the eldest’s neck. “Good.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽∞☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Hongjoong shows up within the next fifteen minutes, quietly letting himself in. Mingi excuses himself from the room, and Seonghwa tries not to let it show how much he immediately misses his weight. But soon enough, it's just him and Hongjoong in the room, Seonghwa avoiding eye contact completely.
“Mingi called,” Hongjoong says, and Seonghwa looks up at him. “Did you have a meltdown?”
Seonghwa wants to lie, wants to shake his head and say he was just overwhelmed. But the true answer is right in front of Hongjoong’s face, so instead of denying it, he just nods. Why else would Seonghwa be rendered completely nonverbal, when that usually only happens after his meltdowns?
“I know this probably isn't what you want to hear,” Hongjoong says, running a hand through his hair, “but I think for the sake of your health, and so we can better prevent stuff like this, you should tell the rest of the group.”
Seonghwa freezes, his heart dropping to his stomach.
“I’m not going to force you or say you have to, but it's something to consider,” Hongjoong continues. “In the end, it's your condition, so you have the final say on who does or doesn't know. I’m just saying, it would probably do you lots of good to have a solid support system.”
Seonghwa chews on his lower lip, not meeting the leader’s eyes. He knows that Hongjoong is right. And he really does want to tell the other members, but it's difficult, no matter how much trust he has in them. Hell, he didn't even want to tell his parents when the results of his evaluation came back. What is he even supposed to say? He can’t even say the word to himself, in his own head, how is he going to say it out loud?
He still recoils when he hears it. It's a bad habit, he knows, and associating the word with something negative isn't something he should be doing. For the sake of himself, and for the sake of others. But still, he hasn't said it out loud since the day he got the diagnosis and had immediately bolted to Hongjoong’s studio because he didn't want to go back to the dorm.
Seonghwa frantically knocks on the door to Hongjoong’s studio, and when it opens, he rushes past a confused Hongjoong and all but collapses onto the couch, curling his legs up to his chest and burying his face in his knees.
“Seonghwa-yah?” Hongjoong asks carefully, approaching the couch but maintaining distance so as to not pressure the eldest. “What’s wrong? Can you breathe okay?”
“Yeah,” Seonghwa exhales, his voice shaky. “Not having a panic attack, just…” Seonghwa trails off, furrowing his eyebrows as he tries to find the words. Lost? Scared? Confused? All of the above, plus many more? How is he supposed to convey that? “Overwhelmed,” he finally settles on.
“Do you, um,” Hongjoong clears his throat, and tries again. “Can I sit next to you?”
Seonghwa hums his affirmation, and the couch dips a bit under Hongjoong’s added weight. “I got a diagnosis today.” Seonghwa tries to keep his voice steady but fails, his syllables wobbly and unsure.
“Oh,” Hongjoong says. “For what, if you don't mind me asking?”
Seonghwa's breath hitches and his stomach flips at the prospect of saying it out loud. Of someone else knowing. Of it being real. He can’t internalize it if someone else knows.
But this is Hongjoong. Seonghwa’s closest confidant and best friend; their team's strong, dedicated leader. Someone who has trusted Seonghwa with his deepest worries before, someone who respects Seonghwa and he respects in return. Hongjoong deserves to know. Seonghwa wants Hongjoong to know.
The silence stretches on for a bit too long, and Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “You really don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Hwa, I’m sorry for—”
“Autism spectrum disorder,” Seonghwa says abruptly, voice soft but still carrying.
It's only quiet for a few moments, but the silence following his words stretches out and threatens to suffocate him. He still refuses to look at Hongjoong, not wanting to see his reaction.
Eventually, Hongjoong speaks. “You're—you're autistic?”
Seonghwa can’t help the fact that he flinches at the word, curling further in on himself. Instead of supplying a verbal answer, he just nods.
“Look at me, Hwa.”
Seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat, tentatively peeking up at Hongjoong. His eyes widen when he sees Hongjoong’s arms extended out for a hug. To see Hongjoong, self-proclaimed skinship hater, willingly initiate a hug, is an extremely rare occurrence.
Seonghwa isn't going to take it for granted.
He pushes himself forward into the hug, wrapping his arms around the leader’s waist, burying his face in his neck. Hongjoong is smaller than him but his hugs always make him feel so safe, so protected, like nothing can happen to him if he's in his arms.
Hongjoong hugs him tightly, lightly scratching Seonghwa’s back. “We’ll figure it out together, I promise. But just know I don't see you any differently, okay?”
Seonghwa doesn't say anything, just nuzzles further into his touch.
It was hard at first, figuring out everything and making peace with it. Flashes of memories started sticking out to him, started making sense, and the pieces of the puzzle fused together before his very eyes. His childhood, his teen years, his years with ATEEZ. Previously innocuous moments bathed in a new light, viewed from a new perspective.
Seonghwa is honestly surprised nobody picked up on it sooner, shocked that the members never questioned any of his more strange behavior. Meltdowns were written off as panic attacks to both himself and others, stimming as fidgeting, social deficits as simple awkwardness. His fixations on Star Wars and LEGO were seen as hobbies, casual things he enjoyed, not as the special interests they actually were. He could go on forever.
“Seonghwa?”
Seonghwa blinks back to reality, only then realizing he had completely zoned out. Out of habit he starts to apologize, but his tongue gets stuck on the first syllable, unable to fully form the word. Right, he can’t talk. There's a lot he has to say, but none of the words are going to come out, and it would take forever for him to articulate himself over text—
“We can talk about this properly later, if you want,” Hongjoong offers, and Seonghwa just sighs, knowing he doesn't have a choice.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽∞☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Later ends up not coming. Hongjoong gets called back to the company for a meeting, and there's no telling when he’ll be back, so Seonghwa resigns himself to sitting in his room by himself until further notice.
He only has about an hour to himself before Mingi rejoins him, settling next to him in the bed when Seonghwa gives him the okay. Seonghwa since regained his ability to speak, which makes things a lot easier for himself, but he knows that now there's nothing stopping him from explaining what happened.
“So,” Mingi says, “wanna talk about it?”
Seonghwa sighs, picking at a loose thread on his sheets. “Not really, but I know I have to.”
“You don't have to—”
“I do,” Seonghwa says firmly. “It's important. I’ve been keeping something from you guys for the past few months. Well, technically the entire time we’ve known each other, but I only found out recently, so…” Seonghwa trails off when he realizes he's rambling, delaying the inevitable.
“I assume Hongjoong-hyung knows, though?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
Mingi frowns. “Why? I’m sure whatever it is, you had your reasons for not telling the rest of us.”
“Well,” Seonghwa takes a deep breath, “I’m gonna tell you now, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Do you remember when I was going to those medical evaluations a few months ago, but I never told anyone what they were for?”
“Yeah, but you said they didn't find anything.”
“I lied.”
Mingi furrows his eyebrows, pursing his lips. He looks like he has questions, but he keeps silent, so Seonghwa takes that as his cue to keep going.
“I got a diagnosis a while back, and I went straight to Hongjoong. Obviously since it got put on medical record, and it was something really important, the company also knows, but that's besides the point. The point is—” Seonghwa squeezes his hands into fists, the words right on the tip of his tongue. Just a few syllables. He can do it.
“The point is,” Seonghwa continues, shaky, “I’m—I’m autistic.”
Mingi's eyes widen. “Oh,” he says quietly, then his expression changes once more, his mouth opening ever so slightly. “Oh.”
Seonghwa laughs nervously. “Is that a good or bad reaction?”
“It’s an I’m surprised but it makes sense reaction,” Mingi clarifies. “You're still the Seonghwa-hyung I know. And I hope you know I’ll always respect you, because it’s true. You've always taken such good care of us, and I know you'll continue to—Wait, hey, why are you crying?”
Seonghwa tugs Mingi closer to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly. “I’m good, I’m good, these are happy tears.”
Mingi smiles, maneuvering them slightly so he can wipe Seonghwa’s tears away with his thumbs. “Okay, okay, just—let me know how I can help you, and I will. Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you, Mingi.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽∞☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
seonghwa
So
I told Mingi
hongjoong
oh!
i’m proud of you
everything went okay?
seonghwa
Yeah
Went really well actually
hongjoong
that's great!
sorry i had to leave so quickly
i wish we had more time to talk
seonghwa
It's okay, Joong-ah
I think I’m going to tell San when he gets home
I want the others to know too, but we’ll get there when we get there
hongjoong
good luck, hwa
again, i’m really proud of you
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽∞☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
With Seonghwa’s luck, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise when San doesn't come home that night. He had sent off a simple ‘staying with yunho and yeosang tonight’ to their dorm’s group-chat and left it at that, and Seonghwa couldn't figure out if he was relieved or disappointed.
Mingi sleeps in Seonghwa’s bed that night, which helps a bit, but by morning his anxiety about everything is through the roof. Their schedules have been pretty tame for the past few days, so the only plans for today are vocal lessons and then dance practice in the evening, but Seonghwa is tired and the added stress of yesterday is beginning to pile up. All he wants to do is bury himself under the covers and not come out for the rest of the day, but he has a job to do, so he pushes it all to the back of his mind and goes on with his morning.
By the time he eats a small breakfast and washes up, he feels a bit better, but only by a fraction. He's not too concerned about it though, because he's had bad days before and he's gotten through them just fine—well, just fine meaning he has a silent breakdown in his room at the end of the day, but if he can manage to pull himself together during schedules and around the members, it's a win in his book.
San is playing on his phone at the table when Seonghwa exits the bathroom, and his anxiety immediately resets to square one. He takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his fingers, before approaching his dongsaeng. “Good morning, Sannie.”
San looks up at him and smiles, then falters. “Morning, hyung, are you okay? You're shaking.” Seonghwa looks down at his hands, and sure enough, his fingers are trembling. He can feel it in his legs, too.
“I have to tell you something really important,” Seonghwa manages, subtly rocking on the balls of his feet. Before San has the chance to respond, though, Seonghwa just blurts it out right away, trying a new approach. Ripping the bandaid off, so to speak. “I got diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder a few months ago, when I was going to all those appointments, and only Hongjoong knew but then I told Mingi yesterday and I want to tell everyone but I figured I should tell you now because we live together and—”
“Hey, slow down, breathe for a second,” San says, reaching out to take Seonghwa’s hands. Seonghwa flinches at the movement but lets him do it, standing still as San massages slow circles into his hands with his thumbs, squeezing them every so often. “It's okay, hyung, you're good. I can’t say I don't have questions, but I can ask when you feel better, yeah?”
Seonghwa nods, carefully prying his hands out of San’s grip. It was soothing at first, but the longer it went on, the more Seonghwa’s skin crawled. “Thank you,” Seonghwa says quietly.
“Hyung,” San says, still sounding quite worried. “Are you… okay to do the schedule today? You could probably miss practice without causing any issues, and—”
“I’m okay,” Seonghwa interrupts him. “It’s just a bit of anxiety, I’ve pushed through feeling way worse.”
San frowns but lets it go, and Seonghwa is grateful, because he really doesn't need to have this conversation this early in the morning. Or at all. He resigns himself to sitting on the couch alone until his manager contacts him about his vocal lessons.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽∞☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Vocal lessons just leave Seonghwa feeling dissatisfied and tense, and he's unsure if he’s imagining the fact that the critiques were more harsh today. He even had to cut the lesson ten minutes short because his voice was threatening to give up on him, not for a physical reason—although his throat did feel quite raw—but because of the impending total breakdown he saw just on the horizon.
Inevitably, it will happen. He just doesn't know when.
Dance practice is Seonghwa’s own personal hell. He has the basic choreography down, and all he needs to do are touch-ups, but even that feels like an exhausting task with the way his brain has been running. The other members don't seem to notice anything off, but he swears he catches San and Mingi looking at him worriedly through the mirror. He pays it no mind.
A water break is called after what feels like hours, but he doesn't complain, just heads over to his bag and rummages around for his water bottle. Hydrating doesn't help his head feel better at all, but it eases some of the pain in his throat, so he downs half the bottle in one go.
He doesn't notice Wooyoung sneaking up behind him until it's too late, his dongsaeng’s arms coming up to wrap around him as he plasters himself against Seonghwa’s back. “Hyung…” Whatever Wooyoung says next is completely muffled, his brain refusing to process whatever he just said to him, and the only thing on Seonghwa’s mind is that he wants Wooyoung off.
Seonghwa pries Wooyoung off of him, muttering a quick don’t touch me that Wooyoung probably doesn’t hear but Seonghwa can’t be bothered to raise his voice. His throat hurts. His everything hurts, and he just wants to get practice over with so they can go home, but—
Most likely on pure instinct, Wooyoung’s hand circles around Seonghwa’s wrist. Seonghwa’s brain shuts off completely.
It's like he's moving on autopilot when he yanks out of Wooyoung’s grasp and pushes him away, the force of it enough to send the younger back a few steps. Guilt shoots through him, but when he tries to apologize, all that comes out is a frustrated whine.
It seems that this morning during his conversation with San, Seonghwa was very, very wrong, even more wrong than he thought he was. It wasn't just a bit of anxiety, or being a bit overwhelmed, something he could put off and handle later. It was a warning sign for whatever this is, his body telling him ‘hey, maybe take it easy for today?’ True to his fashion, he didn't listen.
And on a normal day, it would've been fine. He could've waited until he got back to the dorm to drop himself into his bed and have a silent meltdown, he could've pulled himself together just long enough to get by without questioning. But the past two days have been awful and all he wants to do is drop to the floor and cry.
A conversation is happening somewhere next to him. He thinks his ears might hurt, but he doesn't even feel like he's in his body enough to identify anything that he's feeling right now, physical or otherwise. The only thing he feels is the sensation of thousands of alarms blaring in each of his senses, all of his body parts, encompassing him entirely. He feels like a giant wad of cotton that's been lit on fire and tossed into a barrel of gasoline.
His feet start moving automatically, carrying him to the door without a second thought. Maybe the members are calling after him, but his ears are ringing too loudly for him to tell. Either way, he can’t go back—he hurt Wooyoung. He hurt Wooyoung. Perhaps not physically, but Wooyoung’s expression looked pained, which confirms the awful fact that Seonghwa hurt one of his members. He did pretty much the one thing he swore himself not to do, and he didn't even apologize for it.
When he finally registers that his feet have stopped moving and he's sitting down, he realizes he's in Hongjoong’s studio. He doesn't even remember opening the door, let alone sitting on the couch, but he can’t be bothered to try thinking back to the past few minutes. He curls his knees up to his chest, tucking himself into a ball, trying to breathe through the burning in his lungs.
Maybe he blacks out, maybe he dissociates. Maybe it's been hours, maybe it's been no time at all. All Seonghwa knows is that when he comes back to himself, his head is pounding, tear tracks drying on his cheeks. He's not alone anymore, he knows; he hasn't looked up yet but there's another presence in the room. Soft breathing, an occasional shuffle. Typing sounds. Humming. He knows who it is without having to look.
He focuses all of his effort on his vocal chords, forcing himself to speak at least one word so he can get the other’s attention. “H—Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa croaks out, and immediately, Hongjoong swivels around in this chair to face him.
“Hey,” Hongjoong says, smiling despite the clear worry in this expression. “Feeling better?” When Seonghwa just shrugs, Hongjoong deflates a bit, running a hand through his hair. “Nonverbal?” Seonghwa nods, and Hongjoong passes him a notepad and a pen, which he accepts and immediately starts writing on.
‘How long has it been? Where are the others?’
Hongjoong checks his phone for the time. “It's been around an hour.” Seonghwa’s eyes widen, but Hongjoong continues to speak. “The others are still in practice, but it's supposed to end early. Mingi’s come in a couple times to ask how you're doing.”
‘Has it really been an hour?’ Seonghwa writes, not missing the way his hand is trembling and his writing comes out shaky.
“Yeah,” Hongjoong says, chewing on his lower lip. “I was really worried at first, I followed you here. I tried talking to you but it was like you couldn't even hear me, you wouldn't respond to anything in any way. Words, music, physical touch, nothing. But uh—I looked it up. Autistic shutdown, apparently. Waiting it out was all I could really do at the moment.”
Seonghwa frowns, staring down at the notepad and twirling the pen in his hand. He doesn't know how to respond to that. ‘What did you tell the members? Are they mad?’
Hongjoong furrows his eyebrows at him, clearly confused. “Mad? They're not mad, Hwa, they're just—they're worried about you, that's all. And I didn't tell them anything, that's not my decision to make.”
‘I want them to know,’ Seonghwa writes, before pausing and hovering his pen above the paper. He takes a deep breath. ‘Can we call an emergency group meeting?’
“Don't you want to wait until you're verbal again?”
‘I should be by the time practice is supposed to end.’
“Okay,” Hongjoong agrees. “I’ll let them know when the time comes.”
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He doesn't get his voice back by the end of the members’ dance practice.
Which, for him, is extremely inconvenient, and makes hiding his condition that much more difficult. Wooyoung stops by Hongjoong’s studio to say he's not upset and that he just hopes Seonghwa feels better, and while it eases some of the weight on his chest, it hurts him when all he can offer as a response is a smile and a nod. Wooyoung doesn't ask why he's silent.
Yunho comes back to the dorm with Seonghwa, Mingi, and San; and the 99z are quite chatty during the drive there. When Yunho inevitably attempts to subtly rope Seonghwa into the conversation, Seonghwa can do nothing but sit and nod along, unable to give proper responses to anything. Again, Yunho doesn't ask about it, but Seonghwa can tell that he's confused.
Jongho and Yeosang visit the dorm at some point that night as well, and while they're more subtle about it, they still try to make conversation that is ultimately not reciprocated. Seonghwa feels worse than he has in months when he sees the visible upset on his members’ faces after multiple failed attempts at communication.
The next day, his ability to speak is still gone. And the day after. And the day after that. Certain schedules get rearranged, postponed, and canceled because of it. His psychiatrist assures him that it's temporary and a result of high emotional stress over the past week, or even a culmination of the past few months and he's only just now reached his breaking point, but that doesn't do much to reassure him. In the moment, there's no immediate solution, and that bothers him.
On the fourth day after his shutdown, he's in the kitchen getting ready to make breakfast when San leaves the bathroom, hair still damp. “Morning, hyung,” San greets, squeezing Seonghwa’s shoulder as he walks past.
“Good morning, Sannie,” Seonghwa says without thinking about it, then fully stops in his tracks to look back at San. His dongsaeng looks shocked but happy, a smile growing on his face.
Seonghwa allows himself to be happy for all of ten seconds before it dawns on him what this means. As much as he hated not being able to communicate verbally, he had an excuse to keep putting off the group meeting. He knows Hongjoong won't force him to tell the others if he doesn't want to, but Seonghwa doesn't know how much longer he can keep the others in the dark. He does want to tell them, he really does. So he allows himself another ten seconds of being happy, and then he speaks again.
“Can you message Hongjoong and tell him to call a group meeting at our dorm in two hours?” Seonghwa asks, returning to his task of preparing breakfast, feigning calmness.
“Oh, sure,” San says, already pulling out his phone. Seonghwa tunes out his actions after that, his mind zeroing in on his task so he doesn't have to think about the reality of his situation just yet. This time, when he notices that he's humming, he stops himself for a little while before remembering that he doesn't have to hide it anymore. At least, not with San or Mingi. He continues his humming, content to get lost in the way it reverberates through his throat.
A few moments later, Seonghwa is jolted out of his focus by San’s voice. “Hey, is it okay if I hug you?”
Seonghwa blinks a few times, his brain processing the question. He doesn't think his members have explicitly asked for permission to hug him before, it's commonplace for them to just attach to him, and he's usually completely fine with it unless he's overstimulated. But San must've taken note of what happened with Wooyoung or done some research of his own, and his thoughtfulness makes Seonghwa’s chest warm.
“Go ahead,” Seonghwa says, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth, there's the familiar weight of a body against his back and solid arms wrapping around his waist, squeezing him tightly. San buries his face in Seonghwa’s neck, sighing contentedly, his wet hair tickling Seonghwa’s skin. He wants to chide San about not drying his hair, but he decides against it, reveling in the moment of comfort San has offered to him.
“The group meeting,” San says eventually, his voice slightly muffled in Seonghwa’s shirt. “It's about what happened at practice, right?”
“Yes.” Seonghwa pauses for a moment, and San hugs him tighter. “I’m going to tell them about my diagnosis. And explain a few things. I know you all probably have questions.”
“Okay.” San squishes his face into Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, hyung.”
San stays attached to Seonghwa for the rest of the time he's in the kitchen. Seonghwa eats while standing so his dongsaeng can cling to him for just a little while longer.
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8 makes 1 team (8)
hongjoong
group meeting at hwa, san, and mingi’s in 2 hours
please don't be late
i need to speak to the managers so i’ll probably be the last one there
behave
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Seonghwa’s an anxious mess by the time everyone shows up. He’s got a paper clutched in his hands, folded up so he can’t see its contents, gripping it tightly to try and stop his hands from shaking. He’s tried to stop stimming but he physically can’t prevent his legs from twitching or the low tones that creep up from his throat, so he resigns himself to the questioning looks. They'll all know in time anyway.
“Hey,” a voice says, the couch dipping beside him. Hongjoong. “How are you feeling?”
Seonghwa shrugs, fiddling with the paper. It's the results they gave him after his evaluation, his diagnosis clearly printed in a neat little box, signed and dated. “I don't know,” he says, sinking into the cushion. “Realistically, I’m one-hundred percent positive they won't say anything bad, and they'll try to understand. But it's still just—I’m so—I don't know.”
In a rare display of skinship, Hongjoong takes one of Seonghwa’s hands into his own, interlocking their fingers and giving his hand a squeeze. “Do you need a few minutes to gather your thoughts?”
Seonghwa shakes his head, using his free hand to open the paper he’s holding. “Can you get their attention?”
When Hongjoong calls out for the others’ attention, the idle chatter in the room stops, and everyone looks towards the two eldest members. Seonghwa tenses up at first, but when Hongjoong squeezes his hand again, he takes a deep breath and tries to relax.
Here goes nothing.
“You guys have probably noticed that I haven’t been able to speak for the past few days after what happened during practice,” Seonghwa starts, earning a couple nods and hums of acknowledgment. “And you know about the evaluations I was going to a few months ago. I said that they didn’t find anything, but—” Seonghwa closes his eyes, not wanting to make eye contact. “But I lied to you. I got a diagnosis.”
At that, he shakes the paper in his hand, drawing attention to it. “Before I show you, I ask that you don’t treat me any differently than you have been, other than small accommodations or things that I ask for. I’ve had this condition my entire life even if I haven’t known about it, so please, please don’t change how you see me,” Seonghwa says, finally opening his eyes again.
Wooyoung, Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang are understandably confused but still look receptive and willing to listen. Seonghwa wishes he had the guts to say it out loud so they could all find out at once, but as it stands, the words get stuck behind his teeth and burn his tongue, so he settles for the next best thing. He passes the paper to Yunho.
Yunho reads over the paper, his eyes stopping presumably once he reaches the section with Seonghwa’s diagnosis. He looks up, meeting eyes with Seonghwa, his expression unreadable. “Hyung,” Yunho starts, “I don't know much, but I want to support you however I can. It's understandable to be stressed about this, and you don't have to hide that. I’m here if you need a listening ear.”
Seonghwa smiles, warmth blooming in his chest. “I really appreciate that, Yunho.” It's true. Even though there's still three members who have to find out, he already feels so much lighter, and he leans into Hongjoong’s space a bit more, finally comfortable.
The remaining three have similar reactions, predictably. Wooyoung spends a full four minutes rambling and only stops when he realizes Seonghwa is crying, and suddenly Seonghwa has a lap full of a fretting Wooyoung trying to kiss away the tears on his cheeks. If it were any other occasion, Seonghwa would've pushed him off, but he really needed this. Normalcy. Knowing that they aren’t going to suddenly act gentle or like they’re walking on eggshells. Wooyoung is being Wooyoung, the world is still spinning.
“Okay, Youngie, that’s enough,” Seonghwa says through a laugh, blocking Wooyoung’s kissing attempts with his hand. Wooyoung obeys but stays by his side, squishing himself between the arm of the sofa and Seonghwa.
“If you guys have any questions,” Seonghwa addresses the group again, “ask me tomorrow. You can do research but I prefer if you consult me directly to get my own personal explanation, since everyone’s different. I would explain more stuff today, but I’m exhausted. You can stay over if you’d like.”
The four who didn’t know previously end up leaving, although Jongho and Yeosang stay a little bit longer to talk to Seonghwa. Seonghwa is genuinely surprised when Hongjoong says he’ll be staying. He assumed that he would have more to work out with the managers, but Hongjoong just reassures him that the logistics will be settled tomorrow.
What surprises him even more is when Hongjoong asks for a change of clothes so he can sit on Seonghwa’s bed with him. He’s already emotional from earlier so the gesture nearly sends him to tears again, but he keeps himself together and offers Hongjoong some of his clothes. They’re a bit loose on the leader’s smaller frame but San or Mingi’s clothes would probably fit even worse so he takes what he can get.
Seonghwa plays Animal Crossing on his Switch for a while, content to sit silently with Hongjoong instead of making conversation. Mostly silently, at least. Seonghwa only realizes he’s echoing the characters under his breath about half an hour into playing, but that’s beside the point. Hongjoong’s focused intently on writing lyrics in his phone’s notes, so Seonghwa doesn’t disturb him, engrossing himself in his game.
After a while, though, Hongjoong puts his phone down and turns to Seonghwa. “Hey, Hwa?”
Seonghwa hums his acknowledgment, taking a few seconds to switch his focus over to Hongjoong but eventually looking up at him. “Yeah?”
“I know I’ve said this a billion times,” Hongjoong says, pausing to chew on his lower lip for a moment, “but I’m really proud of you. And I’m glad you finally felt that you could tell the others, even if the situation that sparked it wasn’t the best. I know you’ve struggled a lot in terms of accepting this part of yourself, which is totally valid, but I’m happy to see the progress you’ve made.”
Seonghwa smiles, setting his console down on his lap. “Thanks, Joong,” he says, reaching out to take one of Hongjoong’s hands in his own again. “You’ve been a huge help.”
Hongjoong doesn’t say anything, just laces their fingers together and squeezes before returning to his phone, not letting go.
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Things get easier.
Easier in the sense that he doesn’t hide his stims from the members anymore. Easier in the sense that preventing, recognizing, and dealing with meltdowns becomes something all of the members get good at. Easier in the sense that he’s more open to his own condition and starts understanding random things about himself he never paid any mind to before. The word autistic stops dripping with shame every time it leaves his lips.
But it’s still hard sometimes. Just because he’s come to terms with it doesn’t mean the symptoms have magically vanished. He still has days where even just existing in his own skin is overwhelming. Still, his members make it easier.
Seonghwa’s fiddling with his newest LEGO project when he sees the door open from the corner of his eye. He momentarily stops what he’s doing to slip his noise-canceling ear protectors off, grimacing a bit when his ears tingle from the buzzing of electricity that’s ever present in the dorm.
Mingi notices, his eyes going a little wide when he notices Seonghwa’s reactions. “Oh, is now a bad time? I just wanted to hang out for a bit.”
Seonghwa takes a good ten seconds to go over his options, staring at his incomplete LEGO set. Deciding he could use a break, he puts it to the side for now, gesturing for Mingi to sit on the bed while he slips his ear protectors back on. Mingi follows the instruction blindly, before a bit of realization dawns on his features, and he smiles, making room for Seonghwa when he climbs onto the bed after him.
It takes a bit of situating, but soon, Seonghwa is comfortable, Mingi starfished on top of him in an attempt at deep-pressure therapy. The familiar weight calms his frazzled nerves quite quickly, not all the way but enough for him to relax. “Thanks, Mingi,” Seonghwa murmurs, reaching up to card his fingers through the younger’s hair. He can feel Mingi smile against his chest, and he sinks further into his blankets.
This is definitely better than having a silent breakdown in the bathroom.