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1. Nayuta - Burnt out
The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking from his clock and restless shuffling of paper as Nayuta flips through another page of his notes. His eyes were dry and bloodshot as he stared at his handwriting; a hand was running through his hair as he tried to decipher what his past self had written—what it meant. But the words just stared back, as if mocking him.
He’d been stuck on the same chapter for over an hour now. Diagrams blurred into meaningless shapes, and concepts he swore he memorized but now look alien to him.
With a frustrated sigh, he slumps on his desk. Maybe he should take a break or go to sleep. It felt pointless continuing since nothing was going in.
“But should you rest?” the voice in his head taunts. “Can you really afford to slack off?”
“Shut up.” he replies bitterly. But it's too late, his insecurity is already bubbling up. Screaming at him about his failures, accusing him of being lazy, demanding him to continue, to push harder because it never feels enough—
A knock at his door cuts through the noise in his head.
“Nayu, it's me.”
Nix.
Nayuta opened his mouth to reply but no sound came out. His throat felt tight, voice buried somewhere deep under layers of exhaustion.
“... I'm coming in.”
The door to his room creaked open and a warm, calming scent immediately filled the room. Nix stepped in quietly with a mug in hand—if he noticed the mess on Nayu’s desk, he didn’t comment on it.
“I made some tea. It's chamomile.” Nix said as he gently set down the cup on the table, avoiding the notes, textbooks and scattered stationary. “You’re still up studying?”
“Can’t rest… gonna fail,” Nayu mumbled, repeating the same words that had been circling in his head like a curse.
“Oh please,” Nix huffed as he rolled his eyes. “And I hate Kuromi.”
That got a weak giggle out of Nayuta, but he can’t deny it helped soothe the storm in his head.
“Anyways, that’s enough studying for you tonight. Off to bed.” Nix declared as he grabbed the back of Nayu’s chair and wheeled it away from the desk, making Nayu groan.
“But—“
”But nothing,” Nix said as he stopped Nayuta right in front of his bed. “You’ve done a lot tonight, I can practically see the fumes coming out of your head.”
Begrudgingly, he crawled into bed, letting Nix tuck the blanket around him. Once he settled in, Nix handed him the cup of tea. “Drink up, you feel better.”
Nayuta took it silently, fingers curling around the ceramic. The tea was warm, comforting. Each sip seemed to take a little of the edge off, like it was washing the noise from his head.
Nix stayed beside him, not saying anything. Just being there .
Then, from the corner of his eye, Nayuta noticed Nix’s hand reaching out—slowly at first, before brushing through his hair in slow, soothing strokes.
A soft hum escapes his lips as he nuzzles into the touch.
“You’re not a machine, Nayu,” Nix murmured after a moment. “You work harder than anyone I know. But breaks aren’t failures. They’re fuel. Even machines break down when you push them too far.”
Nayuta blinked slowly, eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. The warmth of the tea, the softness of the bed, the weight of Nix’s presence—it was all starting to lull him under.
“…I feel like I’m falling behind,” he whispered, almost hesitant.
“You’re not,” Nix said without hesitation. “You’re moving at your own pace. And that’s enough.”
“…What if it’s not?”
“Then I’ll remind you every damn day until you believe it.”
Nayuta didn’t respond. He just sipped the last of the tea, set the cup aside, and curled onto his side, eyes slipping shut.
“…Stay?” he mumbled, barely audible.
Nix didn’t say anything. But the bed dipped slightly behind him as he sat down, one hand still stroking Nayuta’s hair.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Nayuta allowed himself to rest.
2. Altus - Workout injury
Altus was used to quiet mornings like this—where the sun barely peeked through the skyline, and the rest of the house was still fast asleep. He liked the silence, the routine—mornings always began with working out, a fresh start as he would call it.
He shifted his stance as he moved to the final part of his workout. One leg hooked onto the resistance band as he stretched, further and further until—
Pain shot through his calf like lightning.
“Ah—shit.” he hissed, stumbling. The band snapped off as his leg seized up, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thud. Instinct took over as he curled up, jaw tight as clutched his right calf in pain, the cramp knotting the muscles.
The pain blurred everything—he barely registered the door to his room swinging open, until a familiar voice cut through the haze.
“Altus?!”
Nix rushed to his side, eyes wide with concern. “What happened? Are you okay? Can you sit up?”
Altus grit his teeth, face twisted in pain. “Just cramps,” he muttered. “M’fine.”
He tried to sit up, wincing as his body tensed up.
“You're not,” Nix said firmly as he put a hand over Altus's, coaxing him to let go. “You're clearly in pain.”
Altus winced as Nix gently massaged the injured muscle, fingers working to relieve the soreness.
“...I hate this,” Altus mumbled, hands curling into fists. The feeling of helplessness gnawed at him. “I’m supposed to—“
”Always have our backs? We don’t expect you to be strong all the time, Altus.” Nix says, gaze unwavering.
“But—“ Altus tries to argue but gets cut off by Nix.
“But nothing. It’s okay to show weakness, it’s okay to fall apart, you can rely on us.”
There’s a long pause in between them, Altus kept his eyes down and lips pressed tight. The tension between his brows doesn't ease up, still furrowed together. Nix watched him quietly, then he lets out a sigh but there’s a hint of fondness to it.
“Do you think any less of us when we ask you for help?” Nix asks, tone gentle. It was a rhetorical question, but it’s what Altus needed to hear.
“No, of course not.” came Altus’s immediate reply.
“Then why do you think we will think any less of you?”
Altus blinked, his mouth opened for a moment—then closed. Whatever retort he had died in his throat when Nix brushed against his arm, rubbing it soothingly, offering wordless but solid comfort.
Like a quiet reminder that he was here, that he didn’t have to shoulder everything alone.
Something in Altus softened as he let out a shaky breath and relaxed into Nix.
For once, Altus let someone catch him.
3. Ryzar - Kitchen injury
The sun sank below the horizon, colouring the sky in hues of red, pink and orange. Warm golden light filtered through the kitchen windows, casting soft shadows across the counter where Ryzar stood with his sleeves rolled up and hair tied back messily, sweat clinging to his temples as a soft, idle tune slipped past his lips.
Cooking was usually his thing. While it felt like a chore to some, Ryzar found it to be enjoyable and fulfilling, relaxing even. Hence why he volunteered to cook for everyone most of the time.
But today?
Everything was going wrong.
Ryzar sighed as he dumped another failed dish, the thick blob of overcooked vegetables slapped against the plastic in the bin like it was a slap to his face.
He bit the inside of his cheek as he shoved the scorched pan into the sink, metal clinging loudly against the stillness. A part of him wanted to throw it, smash it, but the rational part of him knew it would only end up as another mess that needed cleaning up.
So he leaned against the counter, head dropped forward as he breathed hard, eyes burning. He dug the heel of his palms into his eyes—half to stop the tears from running and half to force himself to get a grip .
It's just dinner. Why are you fucking up?
The quiet ticking from the clock on the wall signaled it was past 6pm.
Less than an hour to put together a decent meal for five people who trusted him to feed them, who never complained , who deserved more than a letdown.
With a rough exhale, Ryzar pushed himself off against the kitchen counter, and marched to the fridge with newfound determination. He yanked the door open, rummaged through various layers and compartments until he found it: a container full of marinated chicken adobo—a comfort food of his.
He laughed bitterly under his breath. “Surely I can’t fuck up some adobo,” he muttered as he pulled the container out. It was solid as a brick.
He set it on the counter and preheated the oven to thaw it—not the best choice but he was out of time. In a rush, he grabbed a knife to break the meat into smaller pieces, in hopes they would cook evenly, that this would work .
That was the mistake, the blade slipped.
Pain bloomed across Ryzar’s palm, and red seeped from between his fingers. He hissed, dropping the knife with a clatter and stumbling back.
His back hit the fridge and he slid down onto the floor, clutching his hand tightly.
At that moment, everything hit him at once.
Not just the pain—but the mounting pressure, the ruined food, the feeling of failing the one job he could do with love and ease.
He didn’t even realize he was crying until his palm began to sting, tears slipping down his cheeks and dripping down. His hand fell limp to the floor, blood pooling beneath it as he curled in on himself—knees to his chest, shoulders trembling with every shaky breath.
He didn’t hear the rattling of keys, didn’t hear the door creaking open, didn’t hear the footsteps until—
“Holy shit—Ryzar?!”
His head snapped up at the sound of his name.
Nix.
Ryzar opened his mouth to speak—to explain, to apologize—but the words were stuck in his throat.
Nix cussed under his breath, trying to keep his cool and he scrambled to find something to stop the bleeding. Then he spotted a roll of kitchen towels, pressed them against the wound which made Ryzar flinch from pain.
Nix swore under his breath, quickly dropping his bag as he crossed the room in long strides. His eyes scanned the situation. Without hesitating, he grabbed the nearest thing he could—paper towels from the counter—and knelt beside him.
“Hold still,” he muttered, pressing the towels to the wound. Ryzar flinched, hissing at the contact.
“Sorry, bud, I know it hurts.” Nix apologized, voice tight with worry. “Here, hold this for me—I’ll be right back, okay?”
Ryzar gave a faint nod and pressed the towels against his hand, watching as Nix scrambled off down the hall. A moment later, he returned with the first aid kit in hand, kneeling beside him once more.
Neither of them spoke as Nix cleaned the wound, his brow furrowed in concentration. Ryzar noticed the slight tremble in his fingers—the tension hiding behind the calm exterior. Guilt twisted in his gut.
“Sorry,” Ryzar whispered, breaking the silence.
Nix glanced up. “What for?”
“For everything,” Ryzar said quietly, voice raw. “For not making dinner… for messing up… for—“
“You have nothing to apologize for, Ry,” Nix cut him off gently. His voice stayed steady, but the white of his knuckles on the bandage betrayed his emotions. “You tried. That’s more than enough.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Nix said, finishing the wrap and finally meeting his eyes. “It’s okay to have off days, you know?”
Then, he pulled Ryzar into a firm hug. Something in Ryzar’s chest cracked open at that. He let himself fall into the grounding warmth.
Eventually, Nix pulled back, his voice softer now, almost teasing. “I’m gonna order takeout. Nayu’s probably gonna throw a fit.”
Ryzar huffed a laugh through his tears, a small smile finally breaking across his face. “Yeah… he’s gonna say I sabotaged dinner on purpose just to get sushi.”
Nix smirked, ruffling his hair. “Honestly? Smart move.”
4. Malim - Overwhelmed
Nothing felt right.
Everything was too much, the speakers were too noisy; the lights were too bright; his skin felt like it didn’t belong to him.
Malim hated this.
And really, he had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who insisted on tagging along with Nix for their bi-weekly grocery shopping. I can push the cart or something. He said. I’m not that helpless.
Yeah, that aged well. Well, sue him for trying.
It’s not like he anticipated getting lost—sure, it was a supermarket, but this place was like a maze with shelves stacked high and long aisles that seemed to never end.
And just his luck, there was a storewide sale today. People were shouting overhead, elbowing each other trying to grab deals, carts were thundering around him.
Malim was used to chaos—that was a given when you cramped five guys under one roof, guaranteed shouting on who got to shower first and arguments about chores. That kind of chaos was familiar. It was loud, but safe.
But this kind of chaos? It was different. It was piercing, suffocating.
It made his head spin and his throat close up, it made his chest tight and his stomach turn.
His breath hitched, his legs moved on instinct as he stumbled down the aisle until he found a secluded corner, as far away as possible from all the chaos.
Deep breaths. He told himself as he crouched down, back pressed against a wall. You know how to do this. You’ve done this before. Breathe in and—
Then, his phone rang.
The sudden noise from his phone makes him flinch violently. He scrambles to pull it out with trembling fingers, nearly dropping it in the process. The screen was a blur of colours until one name came into focus.
Nix.
He answers it without hesitation.
“Yo Malim, where you at?” Nix’s voice crackles through the speaker, tone casual but laced with concern.
“I… I don’t know…” Malim croaked. He swallows hard as his gaze darts around, observing his surroundings, “There’s…uhm, a lot of cleaning supplies here. Like mops, buckets and stuff.”
Nix hums in reply, “Alright, stay put. I’m gonna find you.”
Malim expects the call to cut but NIx doesn’t hang up. So he presses the phone tightly against his ear, grateful for the steady presence even through static.
He isn’t sure how much time has passed, still too overwhelmed by everything, until—
“Mal.”
Nix’s voice, this time in person.
Malim looked up to see Nix crouched down in front of him, worry written all over his face. Something in him cracks, he doesn’t think as he reaches out, clutching the fabric of Nix’s hoodie like it was a lifeline.
“I got you,” Nix murmured, wrapping his arms around Malim’s shaking frame, “It’s okay now, Malim. I got you.”
And Malim crumbles. His chest heaved with quiet sobs as he buried his face into the crook of Nix’s shoulder.
But NIx doesn’t let go—if anything, he holds on tighter—rubbing soothing circles along his back and whispering assurances into his hair. Entirely unbothered by the stares and whispers thrown their way.
“You’re did good, Mal”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“You tried as that’s all that matters”
Eventually, the panic faded away. The storm still lingers in his head but at least he can breathe now.
When he detaches himself from Nix’s shoulder, he frowns at the wet patch where his face was, guilt bubbling up inside him.
Nix stops him before he can say anything, “Don’t sweat it,” Grinning as he reaches a hand out to ruffle velvet strands, “Call it a fashion choice.”
Before Malim can argue, Nix rises to his feet, patting the dust of his pants. He reaches a hand to Malim, “C’mon, let’s go home.”
“But the groceries—”
Nix promptly cuts him off, “The groceries can wait, you’re my priority right now, Malim.”
Malim looked down, guilt flickering across his face.
“I mean it,” Nix gently adds, “You’re not a burden, I would gladly let you tag along again—only if you want to of course.”
Malim doesn’t say anything but he lets Nix pull him to his feet. His legs shaky from squatting too long but Nix steadies him.
They walked out of the store hand in hand together, empty handed but with something far more important—the quiet proof that Malim didn’t have to face everything alone.
+1 Nix - Phantom pain
It was movie night, which meant all of Ravanis were camped out in the living room. A tangle of limbs as they cuddled together comfortably with numerous blankets and pillows around them. Malim had claimed the corner of the couch, half-asleep on Nayuta’s shoulder. Ryzar and Altus sat cross-legged on the floor, munching on the various snacks laid on the table.
Nix laid his head in Nayuta’s lap, eyes half-lidded, one hand tucked under a throw blanket, letting Nayuta lazily card his fingers through his hair.
It was supposed to be a peaceful night.
Until Nix felt it.
It started with a twitch—barely there—but he knew the signs all too well. The warning barely had time to register before it swept through him like wildfire.
And then—
White hot agony.
His body jerked instinctively, pulling him upright with a sharp gasp.
“You okay?” Nayuta asked, an eyebrow arched in concern.
Nix only managed a grunt as the pain swallowed him. It felt like someone had crushed his foot under a truck, hammered at his missing hand with relentless precision, then dragged a blade up along the absence of his forearm. All at once. All too real.
Ironic, really, considering those limbs had been gone for nearly two decades. And yet, they still hurt like they never left.
He clenched his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache and bit the inside of his cheek to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the movie. The only hand he still had clenched around the edge of the blanket, trying to ground himself, trying to hold onto something real .
It's not the worst he's been through, yet the pain is unbearable every time.
Fuck.
“Nix?” Nayuta’s voice cut through again, sharper now. Shit, did he say that out loud?
Nayuta’s expression shifted instantly from curious to serious. “He’s having a flare,” he muttered, his voice steadying as one hand threaded gently through Nix’s hair in a grounding motion.
The movie kept playing, but no one was watching anymore.
Someone—Altus, from the sound of his footsteps—slipped into the kitchen and flicked on the light. Not bright enough to blind, just enough to cast a soft glow over the room.
Ryzar appeared next, already holding a bottle of pain meds and a half-full water bottle. “Here,” he said simply, kneeling beside Nix and pressing them into his grip. They always kept supplies stashed in every room. Just in case.
A few moments later, Malim padded back in with Nix’s prosthetics in hand—cradled like something fragile. He passed the arm to Nayuta and crouched beside Nix, tapping lightly on his shoulder.
“We’re gonna help you reattach these, okay?” he said softly.
Nix gave a weak nod. That was all they needed.
Nayuta adjusted the socket with slow, precise movements, the hiss of the magnetic clips locking into place breaking the silence. Malim helped reattach the leg, keeping one hand on Nix’s shoulder, grounding him.
No one said much. They didn’t need to.
Eventually, the worst of it passed—leaving Nix exhausted and trembling, but no longer in the grip of fire.
“...Thanks.” he rasped, voice rough.
“Don’t sweat it,” Ryzar replied, already cleaning up the mess on the table.
“Anytime. We got you,” Malim added, still crouched nearby, eyes steady.
“You don’t have to carry it all alone, y’know,” Altus said, voice gentler than usual.
“You’re always looking out for us.” Nayuta said, brushing Nix’s bangs back with quiet affection. “Let us take care of you for once, hmm?”
Nix didn’t have the strength to argue. He just hummed—a low, tired sound of reluctant gratitude—and let himself lean back against Nayuta’s shoulder.
He does something he rarely does.
He sleeps.
Because this was his family. And they had him.
Always.