Work Text:
Minho stared at the floor to ceiling mirror. He was meant to be watching the reflections of the others as they moved through the new choreography, but his brain kept drifting. Thoughts kept snagging on someone’s elbow or how they rotated, only to lose the thread of why it was catching on that particular motion.
He blinked slowly, realizing the music had stopped, and Chan was staring at him with some mix of concern and expectation.
Minho blinked again, reaching up to tug on his beanie, only to drag his hand over his face.
“Sorry. Can we run it again?” He asked. Even to his own ears, his voice was sounding too flat.
“Hyung, we’ve already done it three times,” Hyunjin protested. “Can we at least take a break?”
Minho nodded, avoiding the gazes of everyone in the mirror. “Yeah. Ten minute break,” he said, pivoting away from the mirror in favor of walking to the couch against the back wall.
Not to sit on it. No, if he sat, he wouldn’t get back up.
Sleep had become a problem in the last few weeks. He was struggling to stay awake through the day, eyes drooping and mind going fuzzy around the edges the second he stopped moving. He was dragging his feet through the motions of normalcy—going to PT or working out, running through the new choreography in the practice rooms, recording and re-recording lines for the new album in the studio, attending meetings to iron out the final details of the upcoming comeback—all while fighting to pay attention, to offer valuable input.
Yet, the moment he got home at the end of the day, lay down in bed to sleep, it was like he’d downed five shots of espresso. He’d lay there for hours, tossing and turning, sleep hovering out of his reach.
Napping didn’t even help. If he drifted off, let his eyes shut for more than a few minutes here and there on one of the couches, he’d be up the whole night. There was absolutely no rhyme or reason to any of it.
A shoulder bumped his. Gentle enough that it should have barely registered, yet Minho stumbled, taking a side step to catch himself.
“Hey,” Jisung said, reaching out to steady him. “You okay? You’ve been off for a few days.”
Minho looked at him. It felt like he had hardly seen Jisung in the last few weeks, the younger stuck in the studio for hours with the rest of 3Racha after the other five had gone home. They’d been sleeping separately, because of the differing hours, only having a brief moment of quiet together in the mornings before the schedules of the day would throw them apart.
It wasn’t anything new. It was part of their lives, even if it was beginning to grate.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Minho admitted, leaning into Jisung’s space as the younger ran his hand up and down his arm. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Jisung asked, stepping until they were close enough to hug. Almost, but not quite—one of the managers with the Talker cam had been in and out of the room all morning.
“Yeah,” Minho sighed. “I just need a really solid night of sleep, and I’ll be good again.”
At least, he hoped that that was the case.
Jisung continued to rub his arm, the motion soothing. “Come up to the studio later, when we’re done here?” He asked quietly. “You’re done for the day otherwise, right?”
Minho gave a tiny nod, catching the Talker cam again from the corner of his eye. He took a slow step back, Jisung’s hand slipping to his briefly before they parted. Then, his brows knit. “Didn’t Chan say my lines were good? He didn’t change his mind, right?”
“No, no,” Jisung laughed. “Your lines are good. Perfect as always. Just thought maybe you could keep me company for a bit. Unless you want to head home early, that’s okay too.”
Minho was already shaking his head. “I’ll come up.”
Jisung grinned. “Great.”
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.
“Hyung,” Jisung’s voice was soft and right near his ear.
Minho blinked. He was looking up at the ceiling of the studio Jisung had been working in and the younger was leaning over him with a tiny smile.
Minho tried to piece together everything that had happened in the last however many hours. After showering and changing out of their dance practice clothes, they’d come up to the studio and Jisung had set about working while Minho had ordered food in. He remembered going to get the delivery from the lobby, and eating with Chan when he came to check in on how Jisung’s progress was going, and then lying back on the couch while Jisung hummed the tune for whatever song he was working on—all Minho knew was it wasn’t for the upcoming comeback, but probably whatever album was next. Or even the one after that.
He didn’t remember closing his eyes, let alone falling asleep. He must have, though, because the windows were a wall of black, pinpricks of light here and there in the night.
“We should go home, yeah?” Jisung asked, voice still quiet, gently pushing hair from Minho’s face. “Get some proper sleep in our bed?”
Minho heaved himself upright with a groan. The couch was stupidly comfortable, but the sound of sinking into the plush mattress at home, of maybe getting lucky and actually sleeping through the night, was far more appealing. Especially if he and Jisung were going home at the same time, which meant that Jisung wouldn’t sleep in the other room.
“Do we need to—oh,” Minho rasped, voice thick with his drowsiness. He’d meant to ask if they needed to clean up, but all of the containers from their takeout earlier had been cleared away.
“I didn’t want to wake you until I had to,” Jisung said, eyes soft.
Minho’s gaze flit to his face, taking in the shadows under the younger’s eyes. He frowned. “You’re tired, too. You’ve been working so hard.”
Jisung shrugged. “Yeah, but I slept the whole night through last night. You very clearly didn’t.”
Minho leaned forward to bump their foreheads together, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Let’s go home,” he murmured.
Jisung tipped forward, brushing a gentle kiss across his lips, before standing and offering a hand to help Minho rise.
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.
Minho had hoped after that night they went home together and he slept for six hours uninterrupted that maybe his bout of insomnia was done and over with.
He should have known better. The next night, when he went home alone, it was back to the pattern that had plagued him for the past two weeks: lying in bed, staring at the darkened ceiling for hours on end.
The one thing that emphasized the passage of time of him lying there, sleepless, was that Jisung would come to kiss him goodnight when he got home from the studio in the middle of the night, without fail. Thinking Minho sound asleep, he would only stay a moment before retreating to the other room so as not to disturb him.
Tonight was the same, closing in on three weeks since the insomnia had begun to plague him. Minho guessed it to be around three, maybe four in the morning when the keypad beeped on their front door, based on the last several nights of when Jisung had returned. They were close to wrapping up the album, so Minho knew it was lucky that it wasn’t six or seven when he got back.
He heard the shower run in the bathroom, a dull sound that normally wouldn’t wake him but now felt like a pounding in the back of his mind. He rolled onto his side, back to the door, huffing to himself. After the water shut off, there were a few minutes of silence, before the door opened, allowing a band of dim light from outside the room to creep in.
The mattress shifted—Jisung’s knee on the edge of the bed. Minho kept his breathing even, knowing it was well past when he’d said he was going to bed. Knowing he’d been lying there for hours, trying and failing to sleep.
Jisung’s lips brushed Minho’s temple, breath ghosting across his skin.
Instead of retreating, though, there was a pause.
“Hyung.” Jisung’s voice was soft, but loud enough for Minho to tell he knew he was awake.
“Mm?”
“Have you slept at all?”
Briefly, Minho thought about lying. About pretending that Jisung’s words had stirred him from his sleep. He shoved the thought aside, knowing that Jisung would see right through any excuse he tried.
He sighed, a drawn out sound, before rolling over and blinking tiredly up at him. “No.”
Jisung knelt on the edge of the bed, bent over him still. His hair damp and messy, face shadowed with the light from the hall silhouetting him. Despite it, Minho could read the concern in his eyes, in the faint downturn of his lips.
“When’s the last time you really slept?” Jisung asked, sitting up slightly.
Minho lifted a hand to his own face, scrubbing at his eyes. They were burning, and he distantly registered the feel as being on the verge of tears. “I don’t know. A while?”
“Jagi,” Jisung said, the endearment full of fondness. “Be honest with me.”
Minho sighed for a second time, pushing himself up to sit. Jisung shifted to allow him the space, before climbing up to sit next to him against the headboard. They shuffled, until Minho was half against Jisung’s chest, the younger’s arms wrapped around him.
“It’s been a couple weeks,” Minho mumbled. “The only exception being when you came home the same time as me last week.”
“Has it been since we’ve been working on the comeback?”
“Mm,” Minho gave a tiny nod.
Jisung hummed, reaching out to run a hand through Minho’s hair. “Is there something on your mind? Your thoughts keeping you awake?”
Minho could hear the tiredness in Jisung’s voice as he leaned into the gentle touch. Knew that Jisung had been up for eighteen or nineteen hours already, that he’d be about to do the same thing again the next day and the one after that as they rapidly approached the end of preparations for the album.
“I don’t know,” Minho said quietly. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You need to sleep, too. Chan will want you back in the studio first thing—”
“We have tomorrow off,” Jisung interrupted quietly.
Minho blinked at him. “…we do?”
Jisung laughed quietly. “Yes. I asked for tomorrow off. For you, specifically, but then Changbin and I were able to convince Channie that everyone should have the day off, and we’ve been ahead on almost everything with the comeback and with practicing ahead of the performances in two weeks, so…” he trailed off, shrugging.
“What? Why?”
Jisung’s brows pinched. “Because you haven’t been sleeping.”
“I’ve gone without sleep before,” Minho grumbled. Plenty of times. Especially when they were trainees.
“You’re not nineteen with endless energy, Hyung,” Jisung poked him in the stomach. “Remember what happened at MAMAs. You need to rest before your body decides to do it for you.”
“I tripped,” Minho protested, trying and failing to glare. It ended up looking more like a grumpy pout. “That is an entirely different situation.”
“The sentiment stands. I don’t need you getting sick. I’m not entirely convinced you aren’t already on the way there,” Jisung murmured, reaching to press his wrist against Minho’s brow, only for Minho to shift away.
“‘M fine,” he protested weakly.
Jisung shook his head. “Regardless. We have the day off tomorrow and I’m going to make sure you spend it actually resting. No workouts, no schedules. Just you and your pretty butt in this bed.” He kissed the top of Minho’s head, smiling against it when he spoke again. “Innie’s already planning to lock Channie in his room—he snuck in and hid all his at-home work stuff while we were still at the studio.”
Classic intervention tactics. Minho huffed in amusement, before realizing that he was also at the receiving end of an intervention.
“I don’t know that a spontaneous day off will fix it,” Minho said quietly, dread creeping up and threatening to overwhelm him. The pressure of sleeping, of needing to sleep, made it all the worse to actually be able to do so. “I’m so behind on sleep at this point—”
“It’s not meant to fix it,” Jisung said softly, running his hand through Minho’s hair again. “Just to help. To give your body a chance to rest without worrying about everything.”
Minho sat forward, pressing his chin to his knees. Jisung rested a hand on his back, palm flat and fingers spread over his spine. Minho felt the heat of it through his sleep shirt, a grounding warmth.
“Talk to me, Hyung,” Jisung murmured, running that hand slowly across the span of Minho’s back.
“I genuinely don’t know what’s going on,” Minho said quietly. He hated the whine in his voice when he spoke. “I’m so, so tired, Sungie. The way we’ve been running, I’d have thought I could just collapse into sleep; I usually can. I’ve been taking sleeping pills again and it’s still not helping. It’s to the point that I think I’m too tired to sleep.”
“Well, then I’ll just have to take care of you so you can.”
Minho twisted to look over his shoulder, attempting another glare that looked more like a pout.
“I’m supposed to take care of you,” Minho protested. Why did Jisung offering to do the same make him want to cry? It wasn’t like Jisung hadn’t taken a turn caring for him before. It was just so ingrained in Minho, that he took care of Jisung—making sure he was fed, that he slept, that he stayed hydrated.
“You do take care of me. You take such good care of me,” Jisung said, sitting forward to kiss Minho’s shoulder before sitting back again. “So much that I want to return the favor, especially right now. Let me take care of you, Hyung.”
Minho mumbled incoherently, allowing himself to be adjusted by Jisung’s hands as he was guided onto his back. Jisung shifted him until they were lying side by side in their bed. Jisung adjusted the pillows, tugging on the blankets until they were both covered appropriately, and Minho let him.
When he deemed things suitable, Jisung pulled him closer, Minho’s back against his chest, his mouth against the back of Minho’s neck.
“Close your eyes,” Jisung murmured.
“Baby, you think I’ve not tried that?” Minho asked, the words coming out frustrated.
“I know. Just bear with me, okay?”
Minho made an irritated sound, then squeezed his eyes shut.
Jisung’s hand on his waist slipped under the hem of his sleep shirt, fingers trailing slowly and soft against bare skin.
“Do you want facts about space or about marine life?” he asked, breath tickling against the hair at the back of Minho’s neck. “I’ve been watching more of those documentaries we started between breaks in the studio.”
It should have bothered him, the sensations. The trailing brush of fingertips over his skin. The puff of air against his nape. Instead, he felt himself sink further into them, the weight of Jisung’s voice a comforting lull.
“Space,” Minho said after a long moment.
Jisung pressed another kiss to his skin, and Minho could feel the smile in it. “Let’s see…did you know that if you had a spaceship that continuously accelerated by one-g indefinitely, you could traverse across the entire Milky Way galaxy in twelve years, even though its estimated to take one-hundred thousand light years to cross?”
“What? Bullshit,” Minho murmured, eyes opening as he twisted to face Jisung.
“Face forward,” Jisung laughed, squeezing him tight. “It’s because of time dilation.”
“Tell me facts that aren’t gonna break my brain,” Minho huffed, settling back down.
“Polaris hasn’t always been considered as the North Star,” Jisung said after a beat. “The wobble of the Earth’s axis means every so-many thousand years, it shifts. About five thousand years ago, it was Alpha Draconis, also known as Thuban. And in another ten or so thousand years, it’ll be Alpha Lyr, or Vega.”
The gentle rhythm of Jisung’s tired words and the warmth of their bodies tangled set Minho adrift far quicker than anything in the last few weeks, even that night when they’d come home together the week before. The steady lull had his muscles relaxing, mind focused more on the sound of Jisung rather than the content of his words as he quietly told Minho about the stars in their galaxy.
In minutes, Minho was asleep to the lullaby of Jisung’s voice.
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.
When Minho woke, his brain was fogged and his eyes bleary. Every inch of his body ached, limbs heavy. He’d slept hard, that much was certain. Hadn’t stirred so much as once during the night.
He’d twisted around in his sleep at some point, turning so that he held Jisung as much as Jisung had been holding him, and was now face to face with the younger man, their legs tangled together.
Jisung was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching Minho. He smiled when he saw that Minho was awake.
“Time is it?” Minho mumbled, blinking against the weight of sleep.
“A little after three,” Jisung murmured.
Minho’s blinks turned to confusion. It’d only been an hour? But the lighting was wrong; even with the blackout curtain drawn, there was a bar of golden light beneath it on the floor.
“You slept for more than twelve hours, Hyung,” Jisung chuckled, hand reaching out to push hair out of his face.
Minho groaned, burying his face against pillow. He could probably sleep for another twelve, if he wanted. His body and brain felt fuzzy enough for it.
Jisung traced patterns with a finger along his arm. “You can sleep more after you eat.”
“Don’t wanna,” Minho mumbled into the pillow.
“Sleep more? Or eat?”
“Eat.” He didn’t feel hungry, which was strange when he thought about it.
He felt the shift of the bed, then the weight of Jisung draping over him. The warmth of him against his back.
“You didn’t eat last night,” Jisung said close to his ear.
Minho lifted his head a few inches so he could speak. “Yes I did.”
Jisung made a disappointed sound. “No, because there were two containers of food leftover from whatever you made. Which means you didn’t eat your portion.”
Minho blinked, staring at the pillow an inch in front of his face for a long moment. He hadn’t eaten. He ran through his memories, because surely that was wrong. He’d gotten home around eight, had made dinner and then—and then he’d gone to shower, while it was cooling, before packing it away in the fridge. He’d done dishes, but only those he’d cooked with. Not a bowl that he’d eaten out of.
He pushed upright, dislodging Jisung as the younger made a sound of surprise, and frowned. “I wasn’t hungry,” he said, voice sounding wrong. Whiney. Edged with exhaustion, still, even after twelve hours of sleep.
Jisung’s arms went around his waist, and Minho leaned sideways into him.
“Come on. I’ll reheat the leftovers and we can eat. Then you can lie back down,” Jisung said, chin hooked over Minho’s shoulder.
“No, I can do it,” Minho said, reaching up to scrub at his face.
“What did I say last night? I want to take care of you, Hyung. Let me take care of you,” Jisung pouted.
Minho twisted enough that they were nose to nose, darting forward to kiss Jisung’s pout. When he retreated, Jisung chased after him, pressing kisses across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his eyelids when he squeezed his eyes shut.
Minho fell back with a laugh, Jisung still chasing after him, still pressing kisses to every inch of his face, to his jaw and neck, nipping playfully at his earlobe before pressing his lips to the tender skin behind it.
A tiny sound escaped Minho’s throat, and Jisung pulled back, chuckling. “Food first.”
Minho ignored him, reaching up to cup the back of his neck and draw him into a proper kiss, pulling Jisung’s lower lip between his teeth.
Jisung kissed him back, smiling, then drew away. “Food first, Hyung,” he repeated, still laughing.
Minho huffed a pout, allowing Jisung to pull him upright. To guide him to the kitchen and sit him at the counter. As soon as Jisung stepped away to fetch the containers of food from the fridge, Minho slumped over the counter, lingering exhaustion dragging him to rest his cheek on his arms. With half-lidded eyes, he watched Jisung move about the kitchen, dumping the contents of the plastic containers into their microwave safe bowls.
“Don’t fall back asleep yet,” Jisung hummed, leaning over the counter while the microwave hummed behind him.
“Not sleeping,” Minho replied, forcing his eyes wide.
Jisung relocated them to the couch with their food, pulling up the anime they’d left off on what felt like an age ago. Minho dutifully ate, eyes not focusing on the shifting colors on the screen, ears not processing the words being spoken.
He hadn’t even realized he’d dozed off again until Jisung was nudging him, taking his empty bowl.
“Shower, then back to bed?” Jisung murmured, running fingers through Minho’s hair.
Minho grunted an affirmation, heaving himself upright. He shuffled back to their room, dropping face first on the bed instead of grabbing a clean change of clothes. Less than a minute later, he heard Jisung come in behind him and sigh.
“Hyung, you’ll feel better if you shower first,” he said, hand rubbing circles on Minho’s back. “Am I this difficult when I’m tired?”
Minho muttered something against the comforter. Jisung laughed, hooking an arm under his chest to pull him upright. “Come on, jagi. Almost there.”
Minho would admit, if asked directly and only if asked directly, that he was being petulant knowing that Jisung would help him. Knowing that Jisung had fully entered care-taker mode, and that he was enjoying it just as much as Minho, when he joined him in the shower to ensure he stayed upright and to help him wash.
Minho let him, eyes closed as he leaned into the hands scrubbing shampoo through his hair. As those same hands toweled him off a few minutes later with a fluffy towel, then helped him step into a fresh set of sleep clothes. There was a soft pat to his butt as he stepped from the bathroom, and Minho couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him.
He crawled right into the bed, sinking into the blankets and pillows, his brain already ticking toward sleep. God, how he’d missed the pull of it the second he settled into bed.
Jisung was magic, he decided. Breaking the pattern of insomnia, getting them the day off, allowing his brain to just shut off and rest.
He was already dozing when Jisung came in, slipping beneath the covers beside him, laptop propped on his lap.
“Mm?” Minho asked, shifting to rest his head against Jisung’s side.
“Just checking a few things Chan sent over,” Jisung murmured.
“Thought Innie stole his stuff.”
“You know he’s got his backups,” Jisung laughed, running a hand through Minho’s hair. “Go ahead and sleep again, jagi.”
Minho shuffled closer, throwing a leg over Jisung’s beneath the blankets and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Only if you promise not to be too long.”
“An hour, tops,” Jisung promised, bending to kiss the top of Minho’s head.
Minho cracked an eye open, checking the time. Somehow, it had been several hours since they’d woken. He let it slip shut again, getting comfortable as Jisung clicked around the laptop quietly beside him.
This time, he didn’t remember drifting off. Only Jisung quietly humming at his side.
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.
“Hyung?” Jisung’s voice was heavy with sleep. “How long have you been awake?”
Minho looked up from the coffee machine, smiling softly art the image of Jisung stepping out of their room. Shirtless, sweatpants sitting low around his hips, a hand raised to rub sleep from his eyes, hair sticking out in a hundred directions. He looked especially soft in the mornings like this. Soft, and warm, and kissable.
“Good morning, jagiya,” Minho said, smiling as he pushed off the counter. He was in front of Jisung in a moment, drawing him into a slow kiss.
“You’re very cheery,” Jisung huffed in amusement, sliding his arms up to loop around Minho’s neck. “Finally get some good sleep?”
“Mm,” Minho agreed, leaning in to kiss his temple. “I’ve only been up about an hour. Come on, I’m making breakfast. We have enough time to eat before we head in to the company.”
Jisung laughed, causing Minho to blink at him in confusion. “Is something amusing?”
“Hyung, it’s Sunday,” Jisung grinned. “We don’t have work today.”
Minho’s hands, having found their way to Jisung’s waist, froze. “Huh?”
“Did you even look at the calendar?” Jisung chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Were you that tired that you lost track of the days?”
Minho frowned. “I must have. You really managed to get us a whole weekend off?”
Jisung shrugged, smile lopsided. “I only had to get yesterday. Today was already guaranteed. Besides, you clearly needed it. I’m pretty sure you’ve slept at least twenty-four hours in the last couple days.”
Minho hummed, rubbing his hands over Jisung’s bare sides. “Well, I guess we’ll have extra time to eat, then. And maybe we go for a walk along the river today. I think I need to get out of the house, so I don’t go crazy.”
“Or,” Jisung said, pulling Minho closer until they were flush, hands slipping up under the hem of Minho’s shirt. His hands were warm against Minho’s back, fingers trailing up and down either side of his spine. “I could maybe convince you to stay in a little more… with me…”
Minho grinned, ducking down to kiss him properly, arms tightening around Jisung’s middle. He nipped at his lower lip, releasing it before he tipped their foreheads together. “You took such good care of me yesterday that I think we can make time for that, too.”