Work Text:
Blinding lights flashing on his screen, LALALALA echoing tinnily from the speakers of his laptop.
He could reach for his headphones, was able to see them hanging on the hook of his clothing rack behind the door from where he put them yesterday, but moving was too much effort.
Instead, he stayed curled up where he was, buried to his nose in an oversized hoodie, blanket on top, laptop on the mattress before him.
It wasn't even comfortable. On the contrary, Han lay crooked, spine twisted and legs drawn towards him in a very unnatural position, one that already gave him an aching back as of now. But again, moving was too much effort, even if it was simply correcting his posture, so he stayed where he was and continued watching their recent LALALALA performance with an expressionless face.
Today had been hard. Not because he was exhausted from their performances, although he was. Not because he had gotten too little sleep, although he had. Today had been hard because his brain had decided that he was suddenly feeling too much, completely overwhelmed to the point where he felt like crawling out of his skin, and then, boom - nothing. Numbness. Silence. He didn't even have energy to wear expressions on his stiff face, didn't have the energy to feel emotions more than scratching the surface. Just… not today.
When he paused the laptop and stared at Seungmin frozen in the middle of belting out his part, he could hear the faint frequencies of electricity in the air, or maybe it was a tinnitus, too, who knew. Silence was good and needed, but also so… saddening.
Was he sad?
Han continued to watch, stared at himself on the screen, paused again right in the middle of a passionate rap, eyes fixed on the camera with a fire in them that he couldn't feel right now. That in itself was nothing surprising, he always had alternating highs and lows of energy, so he knew his performance persona would come back with the right circumstances, but that didn't make it easier right now. He felt… tired.
He wanted to run again, away from it all, knowing all too well that nothing awaited him at his destination. What more could there be than what he already had here, where his second family really cared about him and he could live his dream?
But what did that say that he had all of this and still wanted to run?
What did it say about life that even when he should be happy, he was lying here, unmoving, wanting to outrun himself?
He could hear Hyunjin yelling loudly in the hallway, probably at Changbin. Han had heard him and Bang Chan come home from the gym a while ago, ditching them by claiming he wanted to catch up on anime.
“What are you watching?” Chan had asked, eyes curious and face open, but Han had only shrugged.
“Don't know yet, we'll see.”
He hadn't watched anime. He had tried, yes, but after staring at the screen for ten minutes, face blank and emotions not waking up, he clicked out of Netflix and spent his time on YouTube instead.
Apparently, he had done that for hours because his dorm mates were back now, but Han couldn't have told them what he had been doing all night.
“Is he still in his room?” he heard Changbin's voice through his door, loud and clear even when he talked conversationally.
Whatever the reply was, it was soon followed by a knock on his door.
“Han-ah?”
Silently, Han sighed, now making the effort to roll around, wincing and stilling when his back protested.
“Fuck,” he choked, then took a deep breath and answered in his normal talking voice, “What.”
The door swung open, and in peered Changbin, squinting into the half-dark.
“What are you doing?”
“YouTube,” he murmured, nodding to his screen. “You're back?”
Humming, Changbin stepped closer, studying Han’s wormly shape on the bed with intelligent eyes.
They had been living together for too long; Han knew that Changbin knew, didn't even try to hide his state. He wouldn't dare disrespect Changbin like that.
They looked at each other's faces for a few moments, before Han's eyes flitted away. Shame curled in his stomach, even though he knew it was alright, knew he didn't have to despise himself and his mind. It was okay.
“What are you doing?” Changbin asked again, a soft but urgent murmur.
“Hibernating,” Han tried to laugh it off. “I'm a bit tired today.”
It wasn't a lie; even his voice sounded tired and kind of expressionless.
“Come on, let's get food,” Changbin settled on, not asking further, and Han was really thankful for that. “Hyunjin's hangry already. He yelled at me.”
That got a grin out of Han, who seriously contemplated taking his blanket with him, but at least sat up slowly.
“What did you do?”
Eyebrows bouncing up then down, Changbin glowered. “Why do you think I did something?! He's just a moody man. A hungry, moody man.”
Laughing quietly, Han trudged after Changbin through his still half-dark room, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a royal gown, pausing on the threshold to blink and squint into the lit hallway.
“Moody?” Hyunjin hissed where he stood leaning against the wall next to his own door, narrowed eyes fixed on Changbin. “You better not be talking about me.”
“What's going on?” Han murmured, eyebrows now pinching with a hint of real concern.
Rolling his eyes, Hyunjin left for the kitchen, muttering about ‘gym bros’ and some other unpleasantries.
With raised eyebrows, Han stared at Changbin as they fell into their worn couches in the living room, expecting him to explain.
Sheepishly, Changbin scratched his neck.
“Might have forgotten to tell him Yongbok and Innie wanted him to come over for a movie night…”
Gasping, Han tried to school his face and stay neutral. This was… yeah well.
“Why didn't they ask him themselves?”
“Because,” Hyunjin hollered from the kitchen, ears open even from a different room, “my phone was on silent while I was painting. While Changbin had his phone on him next door and replied, apparently, but then forgot to tell me because he had to go to the gym.”
Han stayed silent, biting his lip, grimacing slightly as Changbin, who grimaced back. Yup, he had fucked up.
“Where's Chan? Let's order food,” Changbin tried anew to get food into the house as soon as possible, and Han readily pulled up menus.
Nobody answered, but Han thought he could hear the shower running.
“Jjamppong? Jajangmyeon?” Changbin thought out loud, obviously coaxing Hyunjin with food he liked. “What do you want?”
That was the moment the door to Chan and Changbin's bathroom swung open, and out swaggered Chan in a bathrobe. “Oh, food?”
“Yeah, come and choose.”
True to Stray Kids’s fighting policy, food did make everything better, and while Hyunjin stopped seething, Han felt the muscles in his face thawing until he could actually move them again.
“That's good,” he marveled, slurping the remaining hot soup into his mouth, feeling the warmth settling in his belly. “Woah, I'm full, but that was so good.”
“Don't tell Minho-hyung we ordered jajangmyeon without him again,” Hyunjin commented. Chan laughed next to him, eyes crinkling. “He was actually pissed last time.”
“Really?” Changbin and Chan asked simultaneously, then paused to slap each other in some form of rough affection.
“Mmh,” Han nodded. “But it's okay, we got sushi without you guys, too.”
“Again?!” Chan laughed, shaking his head. “When did you even?”
“Three days ago, after our schedule.”
They talked as the food settled into their stomachs, then quieted down when the food coma hit.
Smiling, Han cuddled closer into his blanket, staring at the dark TV screen out of slitted eyes.
He could only see the shadows of reflections in there; kind of like in his mind, sometimes, shadows of what was happening around him without really being able to give it colour and clear lines.
Maybe I should write that down, he thought, feeling inspired but also so sleepy.
Tomorrow, he decided then, taking the risk of waking up without any memory of this thought whatsoever.
But right now, he was cosy and fed, and he could feel his face again, the upwards quirk of his lips when he thought about Minho eating sushi with him or Innie and Felix falling asleep on the couch watching movies together.
His gaze strayed to Hyunjin, who rested his head against the backrest of his armchair, eyes closed. He hadn't returned to his room either yet, Han noted.
“Hyunjin-ah,” he murmured.
Without opening his eyes, Hyunjin hummed.
“What were you painting?”
“Love,” he mumbled, and honestly, what else. What else.
Smiling, Han asked, “Happy love or sad love?”
That had Hyunjin thinking for a moment. Opening his eyes, he squinted at Han, tired but contemplating. “Broken love. Love that hurts. …A bit jagged, but too familiar to let go.”
Inhaling slowly, Han studied his friend.
“Can I see it when you're done?”
“If it's good.”
Nodding, they fell silent again, and eventually, Han nodded off.
He woke up around midnight, only Chan lying stretched out on the other couch, snoring lightly.
With a crick in his neck and his back still protesting from earlier, Han fought his way up, then stumbled towards Chan on unsteady feet, dragging his blanket behind him.
“Chan-hyung. Hyung. Go to bed, hyung.”
Whining, Chan threw an arm over his face, but Han didn't let him, tugging at it insistently.
“Get up. Your neck will hurt.”
“Yeah yeah,” Chan rasped, groggy, forcing himself into an upright position before he slumped, elbows on his knees and head hanging down. “Fuck. I fell asleep?”
“Was the food,” Han mumbled, reaching out to nudge Chan’s shoulder affectionately. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Chan nodded.
When Han was halfway across the room, Chan lowly called out to him.
His eyes were on Han when he turned, sleepy but intent.
“You feeling better?”
Cheeks heating up, Han nodded, unsure how to word his emotions.
“Eating together was good.”
“Good.”
“Goodnight, hyung.”
“Night. Set an alarm.”
Huffing and rolling his eyes, Han shuffled into his room and closed the door. For a moment, he stood still and let his eyes get used to the darkness. He still had to brush his teeth… Shit, he should do it now, perhaps. He wouldn't do it once he lay down.
Before that though…
He pulled out his phone, set an alarm, snorting to himself when he silently admitted that he would have forgotten. But! He had done it now. And tomorrow was a new day. When he woke up, he could simply try again. He could always try again; and he would. Because actually, he had what he needed right here. So no running; trying again tomorrow it would be.